The Union's Head of Human Resources stared out his window into the darkness of a Halloween night, letting out a sigh.
"Oh, Orchardist, you just had to ship the apples out," he said to nobody in particular. "We gave you power, and you abused it. Instead of keeping this town together, you assisted in bringing chaos."
Sitting up, he strolled out of his office, right into the lobby. All the Workers inside froze, staring at him as he went over to a display case and pulled out a key, sticking it in the keyhole before sliding the glass open.
Murmurs suddenly erupted from the crowd. Some newbie Workers began to panic, only to be reassured by the veterans that they were okay— underperforming is tolerated, after all.
Reaching into the case, The Head pulled out a large magnifying glass, giving it a flick as it sparked with his long-forgotten energy.
"Now, I believe that calls for immediate termination from The Union."
As it turns out, being designated as an SCP— specifically SCP-4683-2— is incredibly boring.
The Orchardist sighed as he sat on the ground, conjuring up an apple, which he took a satisfying crunch out of. They'd thrown him in a humanoid containment cell for the night while they dealt with the fallout of the Eris apples he'd shipped around.
I… fucked up.
Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep, one of the only things he could do in his boring solitary confinement.
"Hello, Orchardist."
The Orchardist's eyes shot open to see The Head of Human Resources. His magnifying glass was being slowly hit against his palm like a cop's intimidating baton.
"You did fuck up, you know that?"
Unable to push any words of his mouth, he simply nodded and pressed himself against the wall, as The Head came closer.
"I was so excited for this day. I thought it was going to all be okay. This town was tame, for once. No pit sloths, no anything." His eye twitched as he spoke. "But you just had to ruin it all."
"But—"
"Not only did you act in a complete counteraction to our goals, but you also endangered other cities all across the world. People are dying. And…"
The Orchardist gulped, letting out a quiet whimper. "It's all my fault."
"Good."
As The Head of Human Resources let out a chuckle, The Orchardist could feel a light through the invisible darkness piercing the room— a little splinter of hope. I'm going to be okay, I'm going to be okay, I'm—
"However, that just isn't enough."
"P- please! It was a big commission! I never wanted to- to harm anyone!"
"Yet you did." The Head pointed their magnifying glass at the cowering worker who had unconsciously pushed himself into a corner. "And that is simply inexcusable."
Trying to choke out an excuse, The Orchardist only let out a sob instead.
"In other words…" The Head of Human Resources grinned, cocking his head to the side. "You're fired."
When the denizens of Site-87 came to check on The Orchardist, all they found was a pile of ashes neatly swept into a corner.
On the other side of the facility, Dr. King (designation pending) was suffering from a similar pain as The Orchardist:
Boredom.
King grumbled, appleseeds shooting out of his ears like highly pressurized steam. How could those humanoid SCPs even deal with all this nothing!
It was funny, in a way. He started off designating SCPs, and now he was waiting to be designated himself— all because of his fucking appleseeds.
Sniffling, an appleseed escaped from his eye. Great, he thought. Now I can't even cry properly…
Why did I get this power? Why me? Why—
"Oh, you are absolutely perfect!" A voice interrupted King's thoughts as he wiped his eyes. It had come from a slender man in the lefthand corner.
"Huh? Are you… here to test me or something?"
"No, absolutely not!" He grinned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a magnifying glass. "I'm here to offer you a job opportunity. Just let me see…" Looking through the glass at King, the man suddenly began to beam before tucking it away again. "You're the perfect replacement!"
"For who?"
"The last Orchardist, of course."
"The… Orchardist?"
"Yes."
"…who are you?"
"I'm The Union's Head of Human Resources! I make sure our workers aren't making bad decisions, and if they do, well, they're… fired."
King gulped, feeling an appley sweetness in the back of his throat. "You, uh, hesitated there, with saying 'fired.'"
"Don't worry about it. The point is that we need a new Orchardist, and you're perfect for the job! You're already gathering energy from this town, aren't you? I can see it funneling into you, that's how you got so threatening you had to be placed in here, correct? Well, if you join us, we can help you harness that power, and in exchange, you can help Sloth's Pit."
"And if I don't join you?"
"You rot in here for the rest of your life. What do you expect?" The Head of Human Resources offered his hand to the former doctor. "What do you say? We got a deal?"
Scratching his head in thought, King could feel small bits of his skin flake off into appleseeds, and he suddenly realized how little of a choice he had.
He grabbed The Head of Human Resources' hand.
"We've got a deal."
When the denizens of Site-87 came to check on Dr. King, all they found was a mess of appleseeds, and the complete disappearance of yet another humanoid anomaly.
