The Monster's Room - Chapter 27
The Foundation considered: Would it be more beneficial to use them as test subjects? Not only would it save resources and reduce societal costs, but it might also contribute positively to humanity.
Moreover, it wasn’t entirely without compensation. The contracts they signed were legitimate, and once finalized, they were ready to be executed.
However, those contracts were rarely enforced. Most subjects either died or were severely damaged, whether physically or mentally.
Then, one day, a few voices spoke up.
They proposed using SCPs instead of humans.
They argued that only other SCPs could effectively counteract SCPs. Indeed, there had been instances where SCPs neutralized other SCPs, and there was a specific classification for this phenomenon.
Thaumiel.
Project T, proposed by John Doe, was derived from this concept.
The goal was singular: to mass-produce Thaumiel-grade SCPs.
* * *
John Doe designed this project purely for efficiency. If you could contain and isolate anomalous entities without them posing the constant risk of exploding like a leaking powder keg, wouldn’t it be better to use creatures that could be reused indefinitely rather than fragile humans?
At first glance, this seemed reasonable.
The Foundation supported John Doe’s project, recognizing that there were SCPs that humans alone could not handle. Of course, there were opposing voices. They argued that shooting a nuclear weapon to suppress a nuclear threat made no sense, but John Doe paid them no mind.
He proceeded with the project,
and it failed.
“What would you do if you were to mass-produce Thaumiel?”
“Pardon?”
“Don’t overthink it. Approach it very intuitively.”
“…I would select SCPs with very powerful abilities.”
“Correct. And?”
“It would be ideal to weaponize them, but that’s usually impossible. So, the focus would be on phenomena. Creating situations that provoke responses from them to attack other anomalous entities.”
“Simple but clear. That’s all there is to it.”
“…?”
“That’s all there was to the previous project.”
Sometimes the simplest approaches are the most effective.
Their project was astonishingly straightforward: select SCPs, create an environment that would provoke their aggression, and then set them loose. That was it. Yet, this ridiculously simple experiment proved to be immensely effective.
Nine Euclid-class SCPs.
Five Keter-class SCPs.
And, on top of that, one Apollyon-class SCP that had to be destroyed.
The five SCPs chosen had officially resolved anomalies of such magnitude. The project was so successful that the SCPs were even assigned their own unique serial numbers.
So why was this project halted?
Several variables came into play.
Firstly, the opposition to the project turned out to be larger than expected. They were wary not just of the Keter-class but even of the SCPs that had destroyed Apollyon-class entities, demanding continuous proof of safety.
Secondly, there were issues with the meticulous environment setup required for the process.
Thirdly,
“It was that the SCPs turned out to be stronger than we anticipated.”
The failure to predict how far the anomalous entities would go, even after consuming Apollyon-class entities, was a significant factor. The junior researcher nodded and signaled the team.
Click.
Click-clack. Click. Click. Click. Click-click-click.
At that moment, the researchers, who had been smiling peacefully, pulled out their guns and aimed them at Connor.
“…What’s going on?”
“After explaining everything thoroughly, do you still act clueless? Don’t you know what’s going on?”
“What are you talking about?”
Connor, now pale, asked, and the junior researcher pointed to the CCTV screen.
Despite Marie being dragged away by a transparent jelly-like eraser, the corridor on the screen appeared unnaturally still, as if it had frozen.
“Brooks.”
“Yes.”
“Switch it back.”
A tired-looking man in the corner tapped at his keyboard. The once peaceful CCTV screen was now filled with static, revealing a completely different scene.
<Break through! Break through!>
<Alpha team, stand by. Stand by!!>
The white space was now filled with people in black clothing. There were so many of them that they nearly filled the corridor, which was not particularly narrow. The attire was not that of raiders.
They were members of the Mobile Task Force, representing the Foundation’s military force. Anyone who couldn’t recognize their uniforms had no place here.
“The previous project failed because our team underestimated the predictions. But you must take that into account. We had only ever tried to predict how anomalies behave, not how people would react. Who could have anticipated that they would sabotage the experiment and cause such chaos?”
<Argh!!>
“We’re not total fools. We don’t make the same mistake twice. Oh, are you still pretending not to understand?”
<These are Apollyon-class monsters, even if temporary! Don’t back down; kill them!>
<Crack.>
<Damn it!>
The CCTV screen flickered in the darkness. Different scenes were displayed on the wall-sized monitor, casting dizzying lights over the researchers’ faces. The junior researcher, with a benign smile, spoke up.
“Everyone knew you were a spy from the beginning.”
<Aaaaah!>
* * *
And rewind a bit.
Someone else was watching the CCTV.
“What is this?”
– Truth and the Enemy.
