What a day. And what a way to end it too.
Another day, another big pile of waste generated by the vast, churning machine that was the faculty and staff of Site 17. Every bit of detritus the place produced would end up here, from leftover pizza, old newspapers, and candy wrappers, to failed experiments and human remains. Yes, all that was and ever will be ends up here, to be devoured by the incendiary drippings of caterpillars, burned to ashes, and reprocessed and shipped off to god knows where. And he was the one who got to press the button today. Oh joy. Sure, the guy who normally pressed the button was sick, and he did pull the short straw for the job. Yes, they’d have a laugh over that, the big scary Doc Kondraki relegated to garbage duty.
Christ, if all his assistants hadn’t conveniently taken a sick day too, he’d be doing something important right now. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t much of a job, but both he and everyone else in on this knew it was the principle of the thing. Get the big boss to take out the trash, have a big guffaw, and avoid him for the following week, that kind of play. Reaching into his pocket, and further to the box of Camels, he drew a smoke out and let it hang on the end of his mouth while he examined the labels around the button. Do not press when empty, Do not press while personnel are in disposal area, DO NOT PRESS TWICE. Got it, right, I’ll make sure not to.
Fuck, how complex could it be?
Down the halls however, a panicked researcher panted and whined as he dashed across the site, grasping several articles of paper in his sweaty hands. This was honestly the most exercise he had gotten in months, considering his subject. Enough about that, more running. Else he might not have anything to study at all, except the business end of a termination.
Lighting the end of the cigarette that had hung in his mouth, Dr. Kondraki proceeded to hit the button. It wasn’t more than a few moments that the entire chamber was filled with a painfully bright fluid, and only half a moment before the entire thing went up like the 4th of July. He could feel the heat through the 5in thick glass that separated him from the disposal unit, and for a moment, he didn’t think it was so bad. Not exactly a sight you see everyday, the waste of an entire site going out like a dead star. He’d smoke to that. Or, he would, if a large sweaty Level 2 hadn’t run headlong into him.
“Sir, it is imperative that you don’t press that button. Or shoot me in the head, so might I ask you to lower the firearm?” the man pleaded.
After a second of contemplation, the good doctor lowered his sidearm. “You’ve got five fucking seconds to explain what was important enough for you to justify your actions, or you’re going in with the rest of the garbage,” he said, picking up his still-lit smoke, and putting it back where it belonged.
The researcher composed himself, replacing his glasses. “Someone made the mistake of tossing out SCP-153 with the week’s garbage, rather than storing it back in Sector 8. Nothing big, just going to take a moment or two to sift through the mess. Just open up the box, and I’ll be out in, say, a day or so."
With that, Kondraki shrugged and pressed a second button. The large pane of reinforced glass slid upwards, and to nobody’s shock but the researcher's, there remained nothing but a pile of pitch-black ash. “Huh. So that’s where the thing got to,” he said in a bored tone, flicking his spent cig into the central pile, leaving the room to the shocked and stunned researcher (who began to seriously reconsider his choice of career).