SCP 001

Document 1: The following is an interview between Dr. Robert Montauk and PoI-3172.

Date: 01/04/2018.

Interviewer: Dr. Robert Montauk.

Interviewee: PoI-3172

Location: Site 713, Interview Room 2.

<Begin Log>

PoI-3172: Again, Dr. Montauk? I don't understand what you people want from me.

Dr. Montauk: Hello to you too, Dipesh. I'm sorry to do this to you again. I think it's silly too, to be honest. What we want from you are answers.

PoI-3172: It's been, what- weeks, months? You've dragged me down here, into one of your interview rooms, and asked me these endless questions. You or one of your lackeys.

Dr. Montauk: I'm sorry if you've been made to feel uncomfortable. It wasn't my intention, but it's hard to keep tabs on everything any more. Have the guards been treating you badly in any way?

PoI-3172: No. No, not really. I can't really complain. It's just their eyes. They look so dead, so cold.

Dr. Montauk: If you like, I can rearrange some personnel and put someone else on your security detail. We're a bit short-staffed around here at the moment, and a lot of our best folks are away. And then there's the paperwork, and the endless oversight. There's been some trouble over with- well, you don't need to know about that.

PoI-3172: You weren't what I expected, you know.

Dr. Montauk: You thought the Foundation would be different?

PoI-3172: No. I thought you would be.

Dr. Montauk: You'd heard of me?

PoI-3172: Of what you've done. Procedure 110-Montauk, well… the people in my circles have done some dark things in their time, but that-

Dr. Montauk: I merely did what was necessary, Mr. Spivak. As a Foundation researcher, and as someone who doesn't want to see his loved ones die.

PoI-3172: Yes. That's very like the Foundation, isn't it? Everything done is justified by what is necessary. You see the world, the people moving through it, living lives touched only by totalising, universal laws of society and physics. And everything has to be channelled through those laws, and that which lies outside it is to be contained. It's all so very simple.

Dr. Montauk: You wouldn't say that if you worked here.

PoI-3172: Some of us called you evil. I don't think that's quite it.

Dr. Montauk: That is kind of you to say. And to tell you the truth, I don't think you're quite what I expected, either. Especially given your reputation.

PoI-3172: I've been told I am a hard person to get along with. Too "cryptic", they say. One person even called me "airy".

Dr. Montauk: I don't think I'd call you "airy". Your head may be in the clouds, but you seem to be maddeningly smug about it. Granted, not as smug as some of the delusional cultists who have passed through here. I suppose I should be thankful for that, at least.

PoI-3172: I'll try not to take that as an insult. But this is what I don't understand. Your procedure. 110-Montauk. It's not-

Dr. Montauk: I can't discuss that, I'm afraid. We must get on. Time and tide and all that rubbish. Please tell me what the Children of the Scarlet King's overall intention was.

PoI-3172: The Children are dead. There's not much left to tell you.

Dr. Montauk: I would like to hear things in your own words.

PoI-3172: Then I suppose you could say that our "intention" was to save the world.

Dr. Montauk: And how were you planning to go about doing that?

PoI-3172: By bringing the Scarlet King into this reality, of course. You know this already.

Dr. Montauk: But how would that save the world?

PoI-3172: Doctor, is this really necessary? You took away his daughters years ago and ended up killing most of them. You have already annihilated our society, and I'm sure you know all about what went on within it. We worshipped the King, pretending he was Satan or some other ancient god of evil. Our inner circle believed in violation as the ultimate holy act. We failed, you and the Bookburners destroyed us, and the matter has been put to rest.

Dr. Montauk: You seem awfully calm while describing the destruction of your life's work.

PoI-3172: What else can I do? I know how this is going to play out. Maybe I always did.

Dr. Montauk: Why do you refer to the Global Occult Coalition as the "Bookburners"? Were you and your group affiliated with the Serpent's Hand?

PoI-3172: That's- it's complicated.

Dr. Montauk: It's a simple enough question.

PoI-3172: But there isn't a simple answer. Still… yes, we were affiliated with the Serpent's Hand. Most of us passed through there at one time or another. They will disavow us, of course, if you ask them about us. They're not monsters like we are. They have moral precepts, you see. Their whole point is to look for wonder, and since they see no wonder in the King, they repudiate us utterly. But they know, deep down, that they need us.

Dr. Montauk: They need you? What for?

PoI-3172: For the same reason they let us live. We raided the library, fought them, skirmished with them. They had a huge quantity of dirt on us, far more than you do. But they never finished the job. They're as bad as you Jailers, in their own way. The same compartmentalisation, the same singular goals. Their existence is based in nothing concrete. The empty time of history, that's all. Indeed, they came into being at the same time as you. You're more similar than you realise.

Dr. Montauk: That's impossible. The Serpent's Hand has been documented as existing long before the Foundation in any incarn-

PoI-3172: No, no, you miss the point. The Library's always been there, yes, but not the Hand. The Hand was something new, like you all are. You think anybody ever cared about "wonder" in the old days? Nobody cared about wonder. They cared about food, family and blood.

Dr. Montauk: What's that supposed to mean?

PoI-3172: It means… ah, you wouldn't get it anyway. But the Hand would. I think even the Bookburners do, in their own way. But the Hand is scared. They try to blot us out, forget us. We're what they should be but never can be, you see.

Dr. Montauk: Look, Dipesh, I have tried to make things more comfortable for you, but we need some give and take. You're speaking in clichéd, cryptic riddles, and I want some answers.

PoI-3172: I can't tell you everything. You wouldn't treat the information properly. You'd treat it as scientific fact; something to be swallowed, understood, contextualised.

Dr. Montauk: And what is wrong with that?

PoI-3172: Why are you doing this, doctor? Why are you dredging this stuff up again?

Dr. Montauk: I shouldn't tell you, but… ahh, screw it. I'm tired of this. I've been working on SCP-001 for two decades. Project lead for almost 9 years, after I came up with the Procedure. I don't know. I'm tired. Everywhere I turn I see the Scarlet King, but nothing about him makes any sense. Some big horned devil? Arcane blood god? It's all so small, so obvious. The Foundation has changed in the last decade, you see. We've faced conceptual demons, malevolent genre dwellers, sevenfold destroyers, all of which are far worse than some old sacrifice deity. But there, behind everything, I see this smile in fire. That dread, that old dread, it lingers. And this is despite seeing horrors far less easy and far more subtle trying to break the world on a daily basis. I just want to understand, I suppose. Peel back the layers, the tales upon contradictory tales, and find out who he really is.

PoI-3172: You're being awfully candid.

Dr. Montauk: To be honest, I've stopped caring. This job gets to you. The things you have to do, the regrets… well, I'm too high-up for anybody to touch me now, and I've run into too many dead ends to get hung up over protocol by this point. Just tell me something, Dipesh. Anything.

PoI-3172: OK. Look. I like you, Montauk. You must be a cold-blooded bastard somewhere in there, or you wouldn't have come up with- well. Who am I to judge, eh? I'll tell you where to start.

Dr. Montauk: I'm all ears.

PoI-3172: There are three things to understand about the Scarlet King. Three laws which, when put together, make up a complete picture. One is the law of blood. One is the law of concrete. And one is the law of howling.

Dr. Montauk: Three laws, eh? That the King set down for his followers, or that were imposed upon him?

PoI-3172: Both. The first was his law. The second was somebody else's. And as for the third, well, you'll find out about the third when you've cracked the first two.

Dr. Montauk: Very cryptic.

PoI-3172: That's all I can tell you for now. You need to learn in the proper way.

Dr. Montauk: That's really all you'll give?

PoI-3172: That's all.

There is a pause for several seconds.

Dr. Montauk: Alright, Dipesh. Good talking with you, as ever.

<End Log>

Document 2: The following is an extract from the memoirs of one Jack Hearst, a defector from the Children of the Scarlet King. Hearst was a high-level reality bender, capable of entering the bodies of humans in the past and experiencing their thoughts and emotions first-hand. The following is a description of what Hearst called the "Battle of the Ghemelleth", purportedly a battle between SCP-001 and his followers against a group called the "Children of the Urns". Hearst apparently experienced the battle from the perspective of a foot-soldier in SCP-001's army. These memoirs were written shortly before Hearst's death in 1976. They were among the first documents consulted by Dr. Montauk during his investigation.

The fortress was monumental, made of volcanic rock and jagged iron and built into a vast mountain. Every measurement, every angle was calculated to promote the King's ideology. The steel slats and bars may have seemed to be jutting out in random half-sawn directions, but if you could see the whole then you'd see the symmetry. It was a perfect expression of cosmic order, expressed in endless sevens.

It's a tough trip to remember, but bits and pieces come back. We were slaves, I think. We had been taken from a far-off land. The nobility looked down upon us with cruel eyes, but the King didn't care. He rewarded us, and so we were the instruments of his rule. When a village required the justice of the King, we would descend upon them with blood and iron. The villagers feared us, and that felt right to me. But when the horde came, with fire and burning and their cries of freedom, the villagers were still just as scared as they had been of us. That was not the fear of their master, I think, but the fear of anarchy. They didn't know which way to turn. In the end, most betrayed us. Many had had their daughters taken by our master. Old rites. Blood rites. Arcane rites.

But we stood upon the battlements, loyal to the last, our hearts bursting with happiness at the rightness of it all. I'm still not sure exactly what was going on- it was all so chaotic, and full of red smoke- but I could feel my host's bloodlust. We stood, and watched, and waited. The sound of rubble and explosions came from across the hill, and the last battle begun.

Then something strange happened. My host suddenly felt afraid, and he and I were somewhere else. The sky was not red but black. I was not a slave but part of a conscripted rabble. The peasants looked up at us. They were all starving. They held out their hands, begging, pleading, praying. The wind was their master, and it screamed at them. The horde was coming, but they, too, were starving.

Then the scene flickered back, and I was in my host again, under a scarlet sky. The King's voice raged. The rabble of his armies was fleeing to the gates, but they would not open. Our arrows, coated in flame and pitch, flew back again. But the horde was undaunted. In my mind I could see nothing but the fire, the fire of the king. I drew my sword. We all drew our swords. We all charged into the fray.

And then, as it were, the scene changed again. There were no battlements, only the dark sky and the wind and a more ragged and lonely sky. The peasants pleaded, the nomads laughed, cheered, wept. "The wind will rage no more!" they said.

The two scenes shifted in and out. A red fort bled into a black field. I have ruminated on it a long time, but I think they were the same battle, seen through two different eyes. Or at least the memories of two different battles. The whole thing felt strange; it was not like most of my trips. It was like a half-remembered cacophony, two ideas ripping at each other. There was a timeline showing what really happened, in that blackened wasteland. And there was one that had been made to be true, imposed throughout time on the truth.

The last thing I remember was being sliced by a nomad sword, of a frail urn being held high, of seven brides being ripped from a castle- or were they ripped from a field, taken as the spoils of war by some obscure tribe in some lost steppe? I remember the King screaming, writhing, thrashing as he was sealed.

And then I died, and woke up back at the ritual. For a second, I wondered if the others had just made up the King, and sent some image of him back to the past. But I don't think that was true. They lacked the power; and besides, it was never a total lie. There was something in that wicked wind that reminded me of some of the older rituals.

It was then that I decided to leave the Children. I went that night, without a word. They didn't stop me; probably figured it wasn't worth the effort. They were so certain in the success of their mission. But I wanted no part in that any more. The things I saw were based upon the law of blood, and I can only pray that they never come to pass.

Document 3: The following is a log of all known attempts by anomalous groups to force SCP-001's entry into the prime dimension since the containment of SCP-231.

01/03/09

Provisional Children of the Scarlet King

Summoning attempt was performed by the ritual smearing of blood and then the destruction of rubble recovered from the demolition of the Cochran Gardens housing project complex in St. Louis, Missouri. It is believed that the Children of the Scarlet King manipulated state officials into the demolition over the course of several years, and that this splinter group continued their work as the original Children went into decline.

Attempt prevented by a Foundation raid.

12/05/12

Red Guards

Appeared to be using the blood, bones and spinal fluid of several animals, combined with ritual chanting, to create a portal to SCP-001. A large number of SCP Foundation logos, carved out of bone, were placed around the ritual site in a defensive position; these logos were slightly incorrectly carved.

Attempt not detected by any GoI, and came extremely close to success. However, it appears a critical mistake in the words of ritual instead resulted in a large explosive blast, destroyed all of the assembled members of the Guards. It remains unknown why the Guards apparently wished to invoke Foundation protection for their ceremony.

02/07/14

Global Occult Coalition

Unknown.

Unknown, but did not succeed. GOC records pertaining to the incident are missing, with the exception of the name "Operation Historical Frontier" with the mission statement "To exacerbate tensions of historical time in order to bring forth and destroy a significant occult threat". It is believed that several GOC operatives were killed in the attempt.

01/01/17

Army of the New Dawn

Attempt involved the ritual burning of several calendars adhering to the Gregorian calendar, while members of the group raised up blood-soaked calendars adhering to the Julian, Hijri and Persian Solar systems to an effigy of SCP-001.

Attempt prevented by members of the Serpent's Hand. All materials were recovered and taken to the Wanderer's Library.

17/09/17

The Serpent's Hand

Largely unknown; details are unclear, but it is believed it involved the highly selective destruction of particular books within the Wanderer's Library.

Attempt was purportedly foiled due to a schism in the group. The resulting casualties severely damaged the Library.