音声記録-5952-A
AUDIO LOG-5952-A
[記録1の開始]
[BEGIN LOG 1]
微かな衣擦れの音が聞こえる。
A faint rustling can be heard.
フォード研究員: こちら次席研究員の……フォードです。シータ-6、魔女狩人の実地研究員。2009年8月5日、7時きっかりに報告。シータ-6はSCP-5952のために昨日派遣されてきて、それで……
Researcher Ford: This is Junior Researcher… Ford, Field Researcher for Theta-6, Witch Hunters, reporting at Seven sharp, August 5th, 2009. Theta-6 was flown in yesterday for SCP-5952, and…
Ford briefly trails off.
Ford: Am I doing this right?
Agent Schumer: Don't sweat it, Ford. Just get it all down, and you'll be fine.
Ford: Oh, alright. Ma'am, yes, ma'am. Or… is it supposed to be chief?
[EXTRANEOUS DATA OMITTED]
Ford: And again, thank you, chief. Right, Theta-6 is helping Whitewater with containment measures, as well as… United Dixieland Church, Group of Interest 5705-B. We've been given reign to look through campus and buildings, though Whitewater's apparently blocked off special zones with a red tape. If I'm not mistaken, crossing that is gonna be… it's forbidden by the treaty. So… don't cross those.
Ford: Theta-6's contact with command will be limited, as Whitewater is sparsely connected to the info grid. Hell, they don't even have CCTV. Hopefully, well… hopefully we'll make it. I'm confident.
Ford: Agents Samson Whateley and Rene Belloso went out to the faculty mess for breakfast. I should probably follow.
Ford pauses.
Ford: Over.
The tape recorder is switched off.
[END LOG 1]
[BEGIN LOG 2.1]
Log 2 begins in what sounds to be a mess hall.
Agent Belloso: -but I can't stand your jokes.
Agent Whateley: Come on, you laugh at 'em.
Belloso: Especially because I laugh at them. And besides the point. Ford?
Ford: Sir, yes, sir.
Belloso: Now that you've had your breakfast, I'd like to talk about whatever put that look on your face.
Ford: Sir, elaborate, sir?
Belloso: First, just call me "Officer". Second, Theta-6 learns to spot when something's amiss. Can you tell me about what you encountered on the way here that has you looking like that?
Ford: Sir, it's just nerves, really. I…
Ford trails off, before continuing with a sigh.
Ford: … way here, one of the students just approached me and… struck up conversation. She… ah, yes, sorry, I misspoke and she was actually faculty, right. Thanks, chief.
Ford: So… so she comes up to me, and I guess JFR dress code looks like a uniform, cause she talks like I'm a student. Talks about how odd it is for a man to be here, probing me with questions, you know. None of them really stuck out, I guess, all typical for a black… man in a whitish girls' school. But…
Whateley: She was stiff? Didn't blink? Ticked like a clock or moved like a muscle?
Ford: No, it wasn't her, no. The questions… I mean it just felt like some kind of survey. I… I got it recorded, the questions, but they'd be along the lines of "how often do you cry", "are you allergic to seafood", "do you believe in a god". Just… and sometimes, depending on how I answered, she'd shake her head or smile or tell me to take up or break a habit. It's… I mean again, I got it on tape, and it's really hard to describe, yeah?
Belloso: Odd. You think you can give us a listen after breakfast?
[END LOG 2.1]
[BEGIN LOG 4.1]
Ford: Junior Field Researcher Ford, approximately 800 hours. Theta-6 has just been… briefed?
Belloso: Researcher Ford played us a tape. It's… curious, to say the least. Between this and Father Warbler's statement, it seems the student body plays a less-than-passive role in sub-veil activity.
Whateley: Really? Cause it sounds like this school just sort of sucks.
Belloso: Really.
Whateley: Really! This reads like code, a sort of "here's how not to get your ass whooped" that the teachers won't whoop your ass for.
Agent Belloso sighs.
Schumer: I don't know, Sammy. Some of what she's saying… she asks Ford about castration anxiety. Suggests he drink less water. And… well, who just drops "shame red isn't your color" out of nowhere? He wasn't even wearing red.
Schumer: And honestly? I think that regardless of whether or not this is some kind of witch child or just a battered one, the point at which you stop the new kid for a quarter of an hour to probe his life story is not the point of innocence.
Whateley: So, they're up to something. How does that tie into 5952?
Schumer: Far as I know, it doesn't. But it does ties into its victims.
Ford: The ones we're not allowed to talk to? Because…
Ford cuts themself off. All remain silent for several seconds.
Belloso: … Ford, do you think you could give us some privacy?
[END LOG 4.1]
[BEGIN LOG 4.3]
Researcher Ford appears to be wandering the campus, alternating between humming, whistling, and singing show-tunes to themself. Their footsteps suggest they are outdoors, though within the reasonably maintained grounds.
Ford: (Singing to themself) "Who will deny that you and I and every n-"
Unknown Man: Well met, young man.
Ford sputters, coming to a stop.
Unknown Man: Relax, young man. Really, I quite liked it.
Ford: Uh… who are you?
[DATA LOST]
Ford: Right, right. Uh… name's Ford.
Unknown Man: Ford, Ford… that's a fine name. I haven't met too many Fords, but they're always a treat when I do. Walk with me?
Ford: S-sure. And thanks. [DATA LOST] ain't a bad name either.
One of the pair, likely the Unknown Man, resumes walking, and the other subsequently follows.
Unknown Man: A lot of people will tell you the Mississippi summer is unbearable. Maybe they'll flee to Maine or Minnesota during the dog days. Me? I love this little slice of heaven. Smelling the flowers, listening to the trees. You know what I'm talking about.
Ford: Right.
Unknown Man: Of course, I'm not one to be stupid. Summer's the time of sunburns, of mosquitoes, of heat strokes. Humans weren't made to withstand the full brunt of God's love, glorious as it is. God's love is divine. Us humans, we ain't been divine for… four thousand years, give or take.
Unknown Man: God knows that, of course. He knows all. So God gives his love, and God takes his love. He knows that it's that darkness, that little bit of misery, that lets us appreciate the love. That even, sometimes, lets us mete out that love properly.
The sound of crunching and snapping underfoot suggest the pair are walking upon less-maintained grounds.
Unknown Man: You get what I'm saying, right? The heat, the sun, that's love. But when you're drowned in that love, 24/7, it stops feeling like love. More like hate. But it's still love, a tough one. That's Hell.
Ford: I… that sounds appropriate, I guess.
Unknown Man: So summer is the season of love.
The pair continue walking for several minutes. Eventually, their footsteps become infrequent, suggesting difficulty in navigating terrain.
Ford: You're a bit weird, but in a good way.
Unknown Man: It's good to be weird, young man. It's how we get innovators.
Ford chuckles weakly, then stops. The Unknown Man stops shortly thereafter.
Unknown Man: See something?
Ford: Nah, nah, it's just… man, I don't know if I'm supposed to be out here. I'm with… I'm with South Carolina Public, you know? I gotta be on board case they need me. How are they supposed to call when I'm walking the forest, yeah?
Unknown Man: Rest assured, a nature walk is the perfect-
A sudden beeping interrupts the Unknown Man.
Unknown Man: Fiddlesticks. Wait here, alright Ford?
The Unknown Man is heard disappearing further into the woods.
Ford: … shit, man.
[END LOG 4.3]
[BEGIN LOG 4.5]
Researcher Ford can be heard walking through the underbrush. Suddenly, they stop.
Ford: … that ain't right.
Ford approaches something, slowly, stopping twelve paces into their approach.
Ford: … I'd take a picture of this if I had a camera, so I guess I gotta describe it. Right… I'm standing in front of some old, wooden… cellar door? There's no building, not any that I can see, so I gotta assume this leads to some kind of maintenance tunnel. I don't know how far I am from campus, these woods are something else, but even so this place is ridiculously rural. Some sorta power plant, defunct or otherwise?
Ford: The doors are pretty well maintained given the rest of the woods. Red-painted wood. Not about to call them "pristine", but if you told me there was a party going on down there I might not jump to the worst conclusion.
Ford: Touching them, they're colder than I'd guess. The paint's dry and the handle's wood, so the cold might be coming from inside. This place still active?
Ford tries one of the doors, pulling it open with some effort.
Ford: I think the hinges need some oiling, but all in all this door definitely works. Back of the door is… well, it's painted brown, like dirt. Taped to it is…
Ford trails off. The sound of something ripping can be heard.
Ford: That's going into evidence. [DATA LOST]
Ford: So, looks like the cellar leads to a stairwell. Little steep, railing on the side. The light's not giving me too much more, so hold while I get my flashlight ready.
Ford can be heard setting their bag down, rummaging through it for their flashlight. After half a minute, Ford can be heard removing something from the bag and clicking it.
Ford: … son of a bitch.
Ford sighs.
Ford: Can't go any further. Looks like the tunnel was taped off by Whitewater. Guess that explains that.
Grumbling to themself, Ford dons their pack and walks off.
[END LOG 4.5]
[BEGIN LOG 4.6]
Ford can be heard walking through a thick undergrowth, whistling show-tunes to themself.
Eleven minutes into LOG 4.6, a distant snapping sound can be heard. All of a sudden, Ford stops and becomes silent. They wait for several seconds, before resuming their trek in silence at a slower pace.
Ford's pace gradually quickens, though they attempt to remain silent. Less care is taken to avoid branches as the recording goes on.
Eventually, Ford catches themself on a branch, screams, and begins running. The sound of distant snapping can be heard more clearly during this time. Near the end of the log, the snapping is accompanied by a series of pained wheezes.
Sixteen minutes into LOG 4.6, Ford can be heard falling to the ground. They do not appear to get up, and the tape remains silent for eight more minutes, until a series of footsteps and the voices of what are assumed to be students can be heard. The voices chatter indistinctly for several seconds, until an Unknown Girl emerges from the crowd.
Unknown Girl: Oh heavens!
The Unknown Girl rushes over to Ford, possibly dropping to her knees. The tape recorder is switched off soon after.
[END LOG 4]
[BEGIN LOG 5]
The tape recorder is switched on.
Unknown Girl: Praise the Father, creator of the universe, who… who stands firm at the gates of Heaven against the unclean hordes. Praise Jesus, my light in the storm, who watches over the calf in the abattoir and the goat in the clutches of the unbaptized butcher. Praise the Holy Spirit, by which His miracles are made manifest. Praise… no, no.
Unknown Girl: Father, be merciful unto the wandering Canaanite in the land of blood and b-basalt. Who… damn it, who knows not the evils of…
The Unknown Girl grumbles in frustration.
Unknown Girl: Jesus, I implore you to have mercy on this man, as… you have my flock. Send him your angel of clay to combat the boneless… the boneless malevolence around him. Let not the Father or his eunuch angel bring him to harm. I know you will not fail him, for through God, all things are possible.
Unknown Girl: Amen.
The tape recorder is switched off.
[END LOG 5]