To whom it may concern,
First and foremost, I would like to offer congratulations to each and every member of staff working here. When I set out upon that gravel path, I never once thought we could break space and time in such ways as we have. The amount we have created is something I once believed unthinkable, and yet there is still more we can bring into being. Our work is far from complete, and there are many steps mandatory before we can even consider the notion of quitting. Over the course of our experimenting, we've discovered possibly innumerable ways in which the universe can be destroyed, and ways in which we can contain the fragments. Everything we’ve done- from the Hateful Star to the Telekill Alloy- has been a complete success. Through all this, I wish the Foundation many, many years of success to come.
However, that is not the point of this letter. The point of this letter is to inform you all of the success of my latest experiment. Yes, I have continued my research into the unknown. Before I tell you about this one, however, I must delve into my reasoning for this experiment.
The idea for this particular line of research came to me about six months after we’d started. I was worried. Yes, I know, that’s out of character for a man with so much power, but I was worried. You see, we’d been creating all of these wonderful things, but we had to be secretive. We had to make sure that no-one would know. As the months dragged by, this worry festered. It's always going to raise suspicions when you disappear almost entirely and reappear several months later, as the head of a huge company. Every time I heard a rumour that a certain SCP was man-made, it sent a shiver down my spine. I paced up and down in my lab, wondering how to best cover my tracks. I didn't want to be punished for advancing human knowledge. I wanted to keep a firm grip on this control until I died, as did all of the others. We worked together. We arranged for some of the entities to be found, and we wrote the reports for the others. This was not enough. I had to find a way to ensure that no-one could ever find me, or anyone around me, out. I soon hit upon an incredible idea.
What if I could erase myself from official existence?
I know that I make it sound like I wanted to kill myself. I wasn’t planning on ending my life, I was planning on wiping myself from official documents, making it seem that I’d never existed at all. The best way to cover my tracks was to destroy them entirely.
It took a few months of solid, hard work, but I finished. I found a way to make it look like I’d never officially existed. It was dangerous, I will not lie. I constructed a Faraday cage around my lab for protection, due to the potentially volatile nature of the experiment, instructed everyone to stay clear of my room, and got to work.
It worked. It worked far too well.
My suspicions were first raised when my own brother walked into the room, and was surprised to see that I was there. I was confused, but I assumed he just forgot that I was there. I went to the cafeteria, and found people trying to work out ‘when we built that Faraday cage.’ I ignored them, as I hadn’t told many people that I was building it.
When I found an official document detailing the room that I was in, that’s when I realised that something was wrong. I’d been classified as an SCP.
I didn’t erase myself from official documents; I’d erased myself from existence entirely. People came into my lab to take photographs of me, to converse with me, to figure out what I was. High level researchers, my friends, my brother didn’t recognise me anymore. No-one could remember me, even hours after the fiftieth visit.
I continued with my work. I made more of these things, and put them in containment. Almost immediately, I noticed that people had no idea where they came from. Not the official documentation, of course, I’d handled that, but more specifically Thomas and my brother were discussing, in hushed tones, how they hadn’t created those ones. At that point, the realisation of what I’d done really hit me.
My reason for creating the Foundation and what it contains, at first, was discovery. To discover what we could do if we bent reality. To see if we could improve lives. Now, of course, it’s a different story for the others. Some of them are in it for personal gain, some for more of that discovery we yearned after in the beginning, even more for a chance to create the impossible. However, even that does not explain my reasoning.
The thing is, after bending the laws of physics so many times, I got used to playing god. Now, I get to be one. I get to manipulate reality from behind the scenes. I classified myself Keter, to see how you’d react to the idea of something potentially world ending completely fading from memory. I edited myself into the official document on how we started, although you won’t remember my name being there. I have told everyone that I’m not circular, and that’s the only thing you remember about me anymore. While the number of SCPs I have created is quite small, the number of ideas I gave birth to is tremendous.
I started manipulating people too. I started discussing, with high-ranking researchers that I’d told to come in to my room, what else they could do with SCPs. How they could worship machines, make art, mass market them for profit or just destroy them. When they left, they forgot about me, but they remembered the ideas. They assumed that the ideas were theirs, and so they saw them out. It was almost like brainwashing. It gave me more power, power that I’ve lusted after since the beginning of the Foundation. I’m controlling all of these people, even you. You see, after reading this letter, you’ll rush off and go to tell someone. Along the way, you’ll drop the letter, and forget where it is you’re going. You could be the first person to read it, you could be the hundredth, it doesn’t matter. After this, you go back to being nothing but a pitiful, powerless pawn, created for the sole purpose of testing my control.
Everything that the Foundation, and any of the other groups, has done is down to me and me alone. Sometimes I come up with ideas, and tell other researchers. Sometimes I create them and put them in containment. I organise outbreaks to test the might of my creations. Every idea, every thought you have ever had in your measly, unimportant waste of a life is either known or made by me and me alone.
I know that you consider me evil, or unjust, or corrupt. I know you believe that this is unacceptable and a gross misuse of power. The truth is, mortal gods do not adhere to the same restrictive moral code as you insignificant insects.