Following the Zeta-9 mission to SCP-9595 after Incident 9595-VACANCY, no personnel are to enter SCP-9595 without prior Foundation approval.
Following Incident 9595-WANDERER, ingress and egress to SCP-9595 is completely impossible.
Objects within SCP-9595 have been seen to possess a tendency to move without external intervention; for example, food boxes were found to open with no prior indication and doors open and close suddenly. Floors and corridors within SCP-9595 also exhibit this property, for instance, stairs do not function ordinarily, instead, transiting the person using them to seemingly non-related floors. According to Zeta-9 mission logs (see Addendum 9595.1), corridors were able to transition from one place to another by their own volition.
On 22/10/2025, all staff and pupils previously present at SCP-9595 ceased to exist. The disruption was initially noticed when monitoring Foundation guards reported an absence of any ingress to the building. Due to the non-Euclidean nature of the building, the Mobile Task Force Zeta-9 "Mole Rats" was sent to further the investigation. Attached below are transcripts of the mission.
Time: 23/10/2025 07:05
<begin transcript>
The three are in a car. They are moving towards SCP-9595.
Zeta-9-1: MTF Zeta-9 "Mole Rats" reporting. Currently approaching 9595.
Upon approaching the location, they disembark from the vehicle.
They meet the guard at the front of the gate.
Zeta-9-1: Zeta-9.
The guard gestures them inwards. The group follows his direction.
A large expanse opens in the camera. Zeta-9 is currently within SCP-9595.
Zeta-9-2: Take a Hume?
Zeta-9-1 produces a Kant counter from his backpack. It takes ten seconds before its result stabilizes.
Zeta-9-1: Ten Humes. That's low. Expect hallways and walls from thin air, I guess.
Diagram of SCP-9595, as seen at the moment in the footage.
Three hallways appear in front of them. Each has four storeys.
Zeta-9-3: It is terribly lonely here.
Zeta-9-1: Proceed to right hallway, relative to the gate?
Zeta-9-3: Copy that.
The three walk towards hallway C. At the base of hallway C, two stairs are placed opposite each other widthwise.
They move up the left hallway, onwards to floor one.
Zeta-9-2 turns and looks down where the stairs they had gone up would be. A solid wall has formed.
Zeta-9-2: ...Where did it go?
Zeta-9-1: -2, we're Zeta-9, we've done this before. Move ahead, people.
The first floor appears to lead to a canteen. The door is open. The lights are off, yet there are multiple storage boxes containing rice made of stainless steel in front of the door.
Zeta-9-1 moves into the canteen.
From his body camera, there are numerous neatly-arranged rows of stainless steel tables. Atop the tables are food trays, with no food in them.
The door closes shut. In response to the commotion, Zeta-9-1 turns and looks at it.
Zeta-9-1: What?
He kicks it open.
The rice boxes open, revealing that there is no rice.
The rice boxes close.
The rice boxes open, revealing that there is rice.
Zeta-9-2: The fuck's going on?
Zeta-9-1: I'm sure there's worse we've dealt with.
Zeta-9-1 walks out of the canteen.
The stair which the team had previously gone up has remanifested.
Zeta-9-2 peers out from an open space, between the railing and the roof.
SCP-9595's map, as seen from Zeta-9-2's perspective.
Hallway A, previously opposite hallway C has relocated to be directly adjacent. The open space Zeta-9-2 was peering out of has been occupied by Hallway A.
Zeta-9-1: Head up second floor, people.
Zeta-9-2: Copy.
The group approaches the stair opposite the stair they originally were climbing on. They ascend the stairs.
They ascend the stairs.
They ascend the stairs.
Zeta-9-1: What?
They ascend the stairs. They emerge from the stairs opposite to where they had begun.
They descend the stairs. The number two, indicating the floor number appears. It is of note that floor number one did not have this indicator.
They look forward. No end of the hallway is in sight.
They walk forward and emerge opposite where they were originally.
Zeta-9-3: No, what the fuck's going on?! Is this building alive? Is it teasing us?
With no indication, they immediately travel to the left stairway.
There is a number, in stainless steel, reading "I". It is the first floor, as the canteen can be seen.
In a hurry, they ascend the stairs.
They ascend the stairs.
They ascend the stairs.
They ascend the stairs, reaching the floor indicated as "2nd".
Zeta-9-3: Can that stop for a second?!
Two columns of dark classrooms appear. They are labeled "8A1", "8A2", ... sequentially.
They enter the classroom labeled "8A1".
Thirty-six seats and eight-teen tables are arranged haphazardly yet in a rectangular manner.
At the front of the classroom is a blackboard. Scribbled in neat letters reads "History: Boston Tea Party".
The three stand in silence in front of the board. Nothing is heard on the recording but the sound of a clock ticking.
The door opens.
The three move out of it. Three storage rice boxes are present.
The boxes open at once. There is rice.
They turn back to look at the door.
It has transformed into the canteen door.
Zeta-9-1: Should we leave?
Zeta-9-2: Maybe. Ask control.
Zeta-9-3: We should definitely leave.
Zeta-9-1: Control, permission to exit SCP-9595 for the time being. The reason is the building is far too unstable for us to continue the mission, and nothing particularly of note has been found.
Control: Granted. You may now leave.
The three ascend the stairs, with prior knowledge that the stairs do not function in an expected manner. They arrive at the floor labeled "II".
They continue to ascend the stairs. They are now on the first floor.
They move through hallway A and turn left to reach the gate.
They exit.
<end transcript>
On 01/11/2025, following the complete seclusion of SCP-9595 from external ingress as per containment policy, Junior Researcher and Head Researcher of SCP-9595, Dr. John Haines had suffered a Class-T "Teleportation" event to the extradimensional space containing SCP-9595.
Upon his body were Foundation first-aid kit tools among other miscellaneous objects usually of general help; of interest however is the Scranton Emergency Transmission Device (SETD) capable of transcribing footage and sending radio signals from extradimensional spaces to baseline reality, such as SCP-9595. Additional information may be provided by the SETD device based on the current context. The following are transcripts over a longitudinal period of two days.
Time: 01/11/2025 08:23
Good god. What the fuck am I?
Dr. Haines is standing directly in front of the gate, facing it.
Don't tell me that this is where I think it is...
From afar, music is heard. He turns and looks at the general direction where the sound was being emitted from.
The music stops completely.
He turns back at the gate. It is now a concrete wall, fifty centimeters in depth.
What?
He pokes a finger towards the wall.
He walks from the gate to the middle of the campus, with his head facing down. It is empty space, with most of the ground concrete.
Shuffling is heard as he paces in circles within the schoolyard.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
A still from the footage.
Diagram of SCP-9595, as seen from the recording.
He stares at the hallway for the next ten seconds.
He looks down and continues pacing within the schoolyard. This continues for the next four minutes, interrupted by occasional vocalizations of the word "no".
Get your shit together, John. Find water, find food, find where to sleep. Priorities.
I know hallway C has a canteen. Hopefully. If it hadn't shifted.
He moves towards hallway C and turns left to face the stairs.
Ascending the stairs, he reaches the floor labeled "1".
The lights in the canteen are off. Five rice boxes are present.
They do not open.
Dr. Haines moves towards each of them and opens them sequentially. All of them contain rice.
He closes each one.
Entering the canteen door, the tables are arranged haphazardly with food trays present on each. There is food in the trays.
Good. That's food crossed off.
He ascends the stairs repeatedly. It ceases when he reaches the floor numbered "II".
Shelves previously not in the prior missions hold rows of blue 9L water bottles, some empty, some full.
Water.
There is a sudden tunnel opening from the railing of hallway C's second floor. He looks through it.
It should be hallway A.
He climbs in. The tunnel closes when he reaches hallway A.
A still from the footage.
Bunk beds are visible, while the air conditioner unit outside hums.
Nope.
Maybe, I've got an idea.
He turns around, facing away from the room. Turning back, the iron bars have disappeared.
Alright, alright. We will be living in hallways A and C. Until rescue comes, hopefully.
He walks towards the room and grabs the handle to the door. It falls off, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Ooh, air conditioning still works. Do I have to pay for that?
He cackles. His smile fades after five seconds.
From afar, music plays. It stops after fifteen seconds. He does not acknowledge this in the recording.
LOADING RELEVANT INFORMATION...
The music I listen to has estranged me from my childhood friends since forever. Fire and water do not mix; and so do our music tastes.
(Recovered from: John Haines' Diary Extracts, Vol. 9595)
Time: 01/11/2025 11:25
It reminds me of when my dad would try to make dinner. And it also reminds me of the terrible canteen food we had.
He continues eating.
Time, eleven thirty...
This was where my school lunch would've ended. But I'm not there.
He finishes eating. He takes the tray and puts it into the large stainless steel container.
Fuck normalcy, I'm taking a nap after that!
Exiting the canteen, he climbs over the railing of hallway C to reach hallway A. The tunnel has manifested again.
He walks to the ajar door and enters.
Got to hit the sack. Bye.
Faint footsteps are heard during the last five seconds of the recording before it abruptly ends.
Time: 01/11/2025 12:15
Woo! A good nap that was.
He laughs momentarily, ceasing to briefly.
He exits the room.
Uh... SCP-9595, send someone here. Please let me leave.
Time: 01/11/2025 12:17
I could've sworn I heard footsteps coming from the bedroom. Why did I decide to turn the recording off right then?
He turns to face the bedroom, or rather, where the bedroom was. The bedroom has now been replaced with a flat concrete wall.
What?
He taps on the wall. It collapses and gives way to the same bedroom.
Just... be grateful I have a roof over my head.
Time: 01/11/2025 12:19
Uh... I'm bored. I want to go somewhere, do something. Going to take a walk in hallway A.
From the northernmost end of hallway A, i.e. the bedroom, he begins walking south.
To both sides of him are stairways that did not previously exist. He ignores them, continuing to walk forwards.
He turns to the stairway immediately on his left. He begins descending it, despite ignoring such paths previously.
A still from the footage.
He continues to descend.
He continues to descend.
He continues to descend.
He continues to descend.
He continues to descend.
What?
He turns back and ascends.
He continues to ascend.
He continues to ascend.
He continues to ascend.
He continues to ascend.
At a bend where he would continue to ascend, he does not change his direction but continues straight. The wall gives way to his bedroom.
It is topologically and spatially the same to where his bedroom was.
He enters the bedroom, walking on the fallen door frame.
The bedroom is dark.
Cold!
He walks towards where his bed would be.
The bed with a metal frame shifts perpendicularly into the canteen door frame.
He is now outside the canteen.
A still from the footage.
It is topologically and spatially the same as the canteen.
The rice boxes open and close,
then open and close,
then open and close,
then open and close,
then open and close,
then open and close,
then open and close,
then open and close, and repeat the motion nine-thousand-five-hundred-and-ninety-five more times within the span of ten minutes.
He stands watching, in silence.
The canteen door frames shift perpendicularly into the fallen bedroom door frame. He is now standing outside the bedroom.
The iron bars remanifest and demanifest within two seconds.
He stands watching, in silence.
Time: 01/11/2025 13:23
Whatever the fuck that was. Not good. I don't know. I don't understand.
SCP-9595, send one of your guys here and save me from this hellhole of a place.
I'll never get out of here, will I?
Time: 01/11/2025 14:04
Dr. Haines is standing in front of the concrete wall where the gate was.
He clenches his fists and punches the wall.
Each punch elicits a pained grunt.
For the next six minutes, he strikes the wall repeatedly and repetitively.
The wall does not budge. There are no visible marks or any sign that any damage was done.
He touches the wall, but quickly recoils.
Why is it suddenly so cold?! It's noon in a tropical country, not a breezy night in Antarctica.
He touches the wall again, facing it.
He sees his reflection.
The wall is now stainless steel.
Time: 01/11/2025 15:23
Distant singing is heard; Dr. Haines does not acknowledge this. He is sitting in front of the fallen bedroom door.
One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish.
John I-am. I do not like green eggs and ham.
Time: 01/11/2025 15:25
The music is identified to be "Lớn Rồi Còn Khóc Nhè" by Trúc Nhân. The song is being played repeatedly, with some interruptions restarting it. The audio continues for the next hour and forty-five minutes. Dr. Haines is heard singing along to the wrong lyrics.
LOADING RELEVANT INFORMATION...
Right, the nightmares.
So, throughout middle school there'd be musical competitions. No one enjoyed them, no one cooperated, yet they still continued, as per the direction of the leader.
Dance moves that nobody remembered, lyrics that the singers forgot and everyone was out of sync, we've got it all. And to think, twenty-four hours wasted of my life to do so?
Terrible, terrible.(Recovered from: John Haines' Diary Extracts, Vol. 9595)
The music stops.
Time: 01/11/2025 17:10
Send help. Send help. Foundation, mayday, mayday, mayday, get me out of this shithole.
9595, 9595, 9595, 9595, send help, send Zeta-9, send anyone here, send the Chaos Insurgency, send whoever here.
Please, anyone, please. Send whoever.
Or at least, if they can't get me out of here, please, someone, be my company.
...I'm bored again.
Standing up, he walks southward, aiming for the opposite end of hallway A.
Ahead there is a fork in hallway A.
Each fork leads to another fork,
- leads to another fork,
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork,
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
leads to another fork,
- leads to another fork,
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork,
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
- leads to another fork
Visualization of hallway A in the footage.
Two, four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four, one-hundred-and-twenty-eight.
SPECTRALOGRAPHY READING:
Within the corridors lies an equation,
All those who entered have shunned.
It'd be heresy to leave it behind,
But worse for me, for us and our minds.
f(t) = 2t,
Each t a branching path,
Each path holding a dear wrath.
T equals eight.
T equals nine.
T equals ten.
SPECTRALOGRAPHY READING:
The corridors there rests a soul,
Christened "John", exists to be fooled.
For eons he lasts,
Walking up, down staircases from task to task.
∀x,y: (x=y)
Nothing is different, O poor you.
T equals eleven.
T equals twelve.
[...]
T equals 9595. Throughout the rise of T, Dr. Haines stands watching each path branch and branch and branch, in silence.
T equals zero. Dr. Haines continues to stand in silence.
John, it's fine.
Let triangle ABC have height AH. AH is the doorframe within the hallway Dr. Haines is standing. Draw segment A'H' such that AH and A'H' intersect at each of its own respective midpoints and perpendicular to each other; the length of AH and A'H' are equal.
A'H' is the doorframe where the bedroom is.
The geometric drawing.
Without traveling the physical distance, Dr. Haines is present in front of the bedroom, standing atop the fallen doorframe.
The clock ticks in sync with the music being played from afar. Both pieces are at 60 BPM.
The music is in 4/4.
One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four. One and two and three and four. One and two and three and four. One and two and three and four. One and two and three and four. One e and a two e and a three e and a four.
The counting continues and halts five minutes before the next transmission.
Time: 02/11/2025 21:55
Dr. Haines is sitting on a bed.
Awful, just awful. I'm tired now, boss. Let me go, please. When will the wall collapse? I know there will be a day when it does. I know there will be. No, no, no, no, no, no, ...
He lies down on the bed.
Ah... maybe tomorrow.
Time: 02/11/2025 10:23
Dr. Haines appears slightly tired yet well-rested, possibly from the excess of sleep.
Wow, I slept in last night. Slept like a baby, if that baby was stuck in a life-threatening non-Euclidean anomalous extradimensional space. Heh. That rhymed a bit. No it didn't. Yes it did, "threatenING" and "non-EuclidEAN".
He exits the door, looking outwards to see the morning sky.
Today the sky is extraordinarily blue. I feel that it's going to be a great day. Best of luck!
The sky is a clear blue, with no clouds in sight.
A still frame from the recording.
I'll get out of here, someday, somehow.
Time: 02/11/2025 10:54
Dr. Haines is sitting in the canteen, on a wooden chair. The chair is ridden with wood streaks and knots, some leading to holes through it. The backboard of the chair, where he would lean on, is partially missing. He is eating.
Grabbed breakfast at the canteen as usual. These chairs aren't very comfortable, but we'll take what we have. Or rather, what I have.
The table, the tray, and his eating utensils are all made of stainless steel. He takes a spoonful of rice with a small portion of the meatloaf and consumes it.
Everything's gone cold. Food-wise and... object-wise.
Time: 02/11/2025 11:09
In front of the canteen, Dr. Haines paces back and forth and
back
and
forth
and
back
and
forth
and
back
and
forth
and
back
and
forth.)
When?
The wall will fall eventually. I'll get out eventually.
LOADING RELEVANT INFORMATION...
The Berlin Wall was a guarded concrete barrier separating East Berlin and the German Democratic Republic to West Berlin from 1961 to 1969. The primary purpose of the wall was to prevent East German citizens from fleeing to the West.
LOADING RELEVANT INFORMATION...
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again
LOADING RELEVANT INFORMATION...
The Great Wall of China is a series of fortifications built to protect Imperial China from the invasion of various nomadic groups from the Eurasian Steppe.
LOADING RELEVANT INFORMATION...
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
[...]
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
In front of the canteen, Dr. Haines paces in circles.
He is hyperventilating.
Dr. Haines paces in circles in front of the canteen.
Hyperventilating he is.
Paces in circles Dr. Haines does in front of the canteen.
He is on a precipice of tachypnea.
He is not on a precipice of tachypnea; he is hyperventilating.
Dr. Haines continues to pace in circles in front of the canteen.
Dr. Haines continues pacing in circles in front of the canteen.
LOADING RELEVANT INFORMATION...
Ring-a-ring o' roses,
A pocket full of posies.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fall down!
He runs in a circle of radius r with an area of πr2.
Continuing to run in a circle, he hyperventilates.
LOADING RELEVANT INFORMATION...
hyper-: word-forming element meaning "over, above, beyond," and often implying "exceedingly, to excess," from Greek hyper (prep. and adv.) "over, beyond, overmuch, above measure," from PIE root *uper "over."
ventilate: early 15c., ventilaten, "to scatter, disperse" as the wind does (a sense now obsolete), from Latin ventilatus, past participle of ventilare "to brandish, toss in the air, winnow, fan, agitate, set in motion," from ventulus "a breeze," diminutive of ventus "wind" (from PIE *wē-nt-o- "blowing," suffixed (participial) form of root *we- "to blow").
→ hyperventilate: "breathe deeply and rapidly," 1931, from hyper- "over, exceedingly, to excess" + ventilate in a medical sense. Perhaps a back-formation from ventilation. Earlier in a transitive sense, "to ventilate thoroughly" (1920 of lungs, 1906 of rooms).
INFORMATION FROM ETYMONLINE.COM.
LOADING RELEVANT INFORMATION...
As a former student (duh!), I can't help but feel that I've always been estranged from my classmates in some way or another. It feels like I'm always in that strange limbo half-friend-half-not state?
I studied at █████ Elementary School, and if my life was on the line to name four, five people from there, not even friends, I'd die. I remembered when they'd go and hang out and not invite me. If I wanted to be with them — for a conversation or for hanging out — I would have to be the initiator, actively asking them to.
About the musical competition thing I wrote about, we'd have celebrations after sessions and after the contest itself. For some reason, they were always sort of underwhelming. They were meant to be bonding, warm moments; but I feel as if they were flat? Coalesce they would, with their best friends and whatever; with me being notably absent (or, to them, not that notable). I drift like a ghost across numerous cliques. They said I was a good friend. They said they enjoyed my company. Not more than others, apparently.
Or as I called it, "second-choice friend" and "conditional friendship".
(Recovered from: John Haines' Diary Extracts, Vol. 9595)
From afar, music plays. He does not acknowledge this.
Time: 02/11/2025 11:40
After settling down from his distress, he sits in front of the canteen.
He is heard to be murmuring unintelligible vocalizations to himself.
SPECTRALOGRAPHY READING:
I am a brine shrimp.
I rest within the cold, dark waters. My brethren and I share our liquid enclosure and within our primitive, limited brains, we are one. We bathe in each other's pheromone trails, gently bouncing and dancing suspended in the waters above and below me, trusting each other. We share the primordial soup for breakfast, then lunch, then supper; carefully letting each other know it is their part and not ours. It is now, for this moment, that I briefly understand the very beginnings of the concept of friendship.
I am an ant of the species Formica truncorum.
I rest within a stranger's home. I do not harm them, and they do not harm me. Pheromones constitute where I am, where my nest and where my brethren shall move. My brethren, and so do I, must put our faith in each other for the benefit at large, of the colony. My brethren had seen the horrors within a corner of the wall, a sickly sweet treat, left to kill the colony. He ran in crazy circles and ran in crazed curved lines, far, far away from the colony to stop us from pursuing his wretched and rotten pheromone trail. It is now, for this moment, that I briefly understand the very beginnings of the concept of friendship.
I am a blue whale, washed ashore.
I feel a solemn sorrow, a terrible anguish towards the prey, the microorganisms, that I must eat. To eat is to survive, and our only objective is to survive. The tiny humans push and push, trying to get me back in the waters. I do not understand why they must do so. It is now that I reconsider what I had stated. It is now, for this moment, that I briefly understand the very beginnings of the concept of friendship.
I am a scientist, Dr. John Haines, working as Junior Researcher and Head Researcher for SCP-9595.
The concept of friendship is as foreign to me as it is from the smallest brine shrimps and ants to the largest whales. Why is it that they must choose me as a primary option? Does there exist a human, a creature, any combination of atoms and molecules that would possibly, actively reach out to me and exchange information on a casual basis? Why should there be, if there is much, much, much more evidence to the contrary? It is now, for this moment, that I do not understand the concept of friendship.
The singing continues from the previous transmission until this point. He does not acknowledge this.
Time: 02/11/2025 12:02
Dr. Haines is still murmuring to himself and sitting cornered in front of the canteen.
He stands up.
...Bored again. We all know what happened last time. But something is better than nothing.
He walks southwards down hallway C.
He continues walking.
He continues walking. There are no forks ahead.
He continues walking. There are no stairs to either side of him.
Hey, I missed those!
He turns back and walks.
There are still no forks ahead.
There are still no stairs to either side of him.
When you need it, it's not there. when you don't, it's there.
He turns back and walks.
The floor is curved slightly downwards.
There it is!
Continuing to walk, he has descended five centimeters in height.
Ten centimeters.
Fifteen, then thirty, then sixty, then a full meter and two more.
The pathway ahead is obstructed by chairs, tables and other miscellaneous items.
It leads to a sealed chamber. The door has clear acrylic, thus allowing him to look in. It is made of stainless steel.
The chamber appears to be a second canteen. There are no food trays within this canteen.
A still from the footage. Spectral anomaly censored to protect the identities of the person.
Someone is standing behind the glass doors. They appear to be a student, wearing a white buttoned shirt with long dark-blue trousers.
They are wearing a red tie.
LOADING RELEVANT INFORMATION...
They made us wear red ties at our school. I think it was a mandatory thing by the government.
They also made us wear a white shirt and dark blue long trousers. Keep in mind, I was learning in a tropical country, which in layman's terms means that it's hot as fuck. You can imagine sweaty angsty teenagers all in an area together and think what could possibly go wrong.
I hated it, well, I disliked it. If there is one thing that has stayed the same throughout all these years, it's my crippling laziness. Imagine an ill-rested student waking up at 5:45 AM every morning, folding his blankets right and changing into that ridiculously hot uniform and tying that tie right, all while having half of vision being covered with those weird fractal things.
There are some lucky days when we'd learn P.E. and we'd be able to wear a slightly more comfortable shirt and trousers. Looking back, maybe not that lucky since I always despised sports or whatever.
LOADING RELEVANT INFORMATION...
I never liked sports, which did estrange me from the boys of the class. I couldn't really understand why people, sweaty people would go run around a ridiculously hot field while shouting insults at each other. Neither did I have "masculine" nor "feminine" hobbies, so I didn't belong regardless of where I wanted to.
Hence, my physical appearance. Heh.
(Recovered from: John Haines' Diary Extracts, Vol. 9595)
Dr. Haines is not wearing a red tie, hence it can not be his reflection.
SPECTRALOGRAPHY READING:
Maybe it is.
Maybe it is some instance of me when I was twelve.
Maybe it was the version of me that flinced whenever someone would talk to me.
Maybe it was the version of me that thought I didn't belong, nor would I ever be.
Maybe it was the version of me that thought I would always be second-choice.
Maybe I'm still him in that mirror, or rather, acrylic pane.
Walking through the obstructions, he reaches the door and opens it.
The handle falls, erupting a loud noise when it hits the ground. It reverberates throughout the room for the next twelve seconds.
The tables are still made of stainless steel.
The chairs are wooden, with streaks and knots of wood within, some severe insofar as there is a hole where such knots exist.
An empty rice box is open.
Two, three empty rice boxes are open.
The three close and open and close and open and close and open and repeat the motion nine-thousand-five-hundred-and-ninety-six times, in ten minutes and one second.
Of all such motions, the rice boxes invariably remain empty.
On a table made of stainless steel, Dr. Haines stares at his reflection without blinking for eleven seconds.
At the twelfth second, the edges of the table shift and the table transpose perpendicularly, resulting in the fallen doorframe of the bedroom in hallway A.
Dr. Haines is now standing atop the fallen doorframe in front of the bedroom in hallway A.
There is neither singing nor a song playing. The recording is silent, with the only sound audible being a clock ticking from an unknown area.
Dr. Haines raises his palm to inspect. He stares at it for five seconds, before rotating his hand and peering at the back of his hand.
He takes a prolonged gander at his arm, then elbow, then shoulder. This lasts forty seconds, before the recording cuts off.
Time: 02/11/2024 12:04
Standing on the fallen doorframe in front of the bedroom, he begins walking down hallway A.
To the left of him is a sealed tunnel.
He climbs the railing of hallway A to reach hallway C.
Turning back, he walks forwards until he reaches the canteen.
A direct tunnel opens between the canteen and the bedroom. He enters through it, reaching the bedroom.
He repeats the journey eight more times, ending up in front of the bedroom drenched with sweat.
Entering the bedroom, he walks to his bed. He lies down.
He lies, eyes open.
Ah. Very nice. Gonna nap now. Dealing with this and everything later.
He turns to his side and closes his eyes.
The next twenty-four minutes of footage are of tossing and turning, eventually concluding when Dr. Haines falls asleep.
The recording cuts four minutes after he does, snoring being the only audible sound.
Time: 02/11/2024 13:35
Awoken from his sleep, he is now seen standing in front of the canteen.
The canteen doors are closed.
He peers in.
A still from the footage.
A yellowing and weathered piece of the three-layered glass can be seen, protruding.
The chairs have been replaced with standard three-legged stainless steel chairs. Each chair is in a stack of two to four chairs. The tables are made of stainless steel. The doors at the back and the window frames are made of stainless steel.
The lights and the ceiling fans are off.
Rows of condiments, namely hot sauce and soy sauce, are present on each of the tables. These were previously not here.
Notably, there are no food trays.
He turns and walks down hallway C.
He continues walking.
He continues walking.
An ill-lit path branches perpendicularly from it.
Turning left, he enters the path. Iron bars block further entry, but he is able to look at what is inside.
A still from the footage.
The area is dark.
A small stepstool leads to higher ground.
| There | is | a |
| three- | by- | four |
| shelf, | presumably | for |
| shoe | storage | purposes. |
A wide pillar blocks the view of what the stepstool is leading to.
Dust and other buildup contaminates the area, as it seems to have been under the influence of the elements for a prolonged period.
Distant footsteps can be heard. Dr. Haines does not acknowledge this.
Dark and dusty. Fun.
He steps forwards, accidentally contacting the iron bars. It gives way and falls.
Walking ahead, he climbs onto the stepstool and on the higher grounds. It leads to a closed door.
He opens the door. It leads to a room similar to that of his bedroom, albeit with no beds.
It is a dark and empty expanse within the room.
He claps his hands, for seemingly no apparent reason.
It reverberates throughout the room for twenty seconds.
He claps his hands again, the sound of which reverberates in the same manner.
On the opposite end of the room to the door, there is another door.
It leads to another room within the room.
It is still as empty as before, yet darker.
Yet another door is on the opposite side of the room to the door.
He enters,
leading to another room, as empty as before and slightly darker.
The rooms are getting shorter widthwise.
The door opposite to the original door where he entered is closer to reach. He enters,
leading to another room, just as empty albeit slightly darker.
The rooms are getting significantly shorter widthwise.
He enters the new door and
reaches another room.
The rooms are getting significantly shorter widthwise. The new door is only fifty centimeters across from the original door, barely fitting Dr. Haines.
The door he enters should be obvious by now, and
he reaches another room.
The room is only ten centimeters wide, part of his body going through the original door.
That's quite tight, amirite? Ooh, that rhymed yet again.
He
exits summarily,
exiting door
after door,
finally reaching
the outside.
He walks out the ill-lit path, looking out on a ledge.
Hallway B, or block B has demanifested. It is no longer present.
Diagram of SCP-9595, as seen from the recording.
Hallway A and C retain their designations within the rest of the transmissions.
He sits down, leaning back at the railing.
Putting his face in his palms, he begins murmuring unintelligibly.
He appears tired but not distressed.
LOADING RELEVANT INFORMATION...
A visualization of SCP-████.
Item #: ████
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: As SCP-████'s effect is on the scale of individual thus too minuscule for nonanomalous observation, containment is unneeded. Should any academic research be published regarding SCP-████, it and its author are to be discredited, citing random probability as an uncontrolled variable.
Description: SCP-████ is a minuscule and atomic anomaly affecting the process of magnetization. Nonanomalous magnetization is the process of aligning individual atoms' spin via the induction of an external magnet. This in turn results in the material being magnetized, thus transitioning it to a magnet.
Following its discovery, it has been ascertained that SCP-████ causes exactly one atom within such materials being of the diametrically opposite spin. Further attempts at magnetization of the material invariably conclude in the same result, with the same outlier atom differing by its spin to other atoms.
SPECTRALOGRAPHY READING:
That was not a metaphor. Stop looking.
He continues to sit, face in his hands.
Standing up, he walks up and down hallway C in a repeated manner.
For every instance of this repeated motion, a new stairwell only leading upwards manifests.
After repeating the motion nine times, he turns left and ascends the stairwell closest to him.
He continues to ascend.
He continues to ascend, reaching the floor labeled "11_2". He had not been on this floor before.
It is the same third floor as the Zeta-9 mission had seen; however, the rows of classrooms appear to stretch with no end.
He enters the room labeled "8A12". The door falls when he attempts to grab the handle.
Instinctively, he turns on all the lights.
All the doors and respective handles of other classrooms collapse outwardly from the commotion. The length of the hallway is approximated to be 9595 meters long from the manner in which it reverberated.
The room has tables haphazardly arranged. Each table has two chairs immediately below it. A dead clock hangs from the wall at the back of the class, permanently stuck at "09:59:50". Opposite to the clock are blackboards, inscribed on are seemingly answers to multiple-choice questions, written neatly. White chalk is present for the majority of the board, with yellow chalk rarely. The board is smothered in chalk dust.
A still from the footage.
He walks to the back of the class. Suddenly, the flooring shifts to be sloped downwards significantly towards the end.
All the tables fall, erupting a loud noise.
He attempts to hold on to a table, dragging him with it.
The flooring shifts back to normal.
He attempts to exit the cascade of tables. Once he is outside the disarray of tables, he inspects the one nearest to him.
Below the table there is a storage space. It has accumulated dust.
The table frame and the chairs are made of stainless steel.
He produces from the storage space a textbook. The book has been exposed to the elements, rendering its colors whitened and its text practically unreadable.
There is a blue Pilot G2 pen.
He produces another pen of the same model, then another, then another.
He kneels to look directly in the storage space.
He turns around. He is now in a voluminous storage room of exactly nine-thousand-and-five-hundred-and-ninety-five Pilot G2 pens, all of the color blue.
He wades through the mass and finds one red Pilot G2 pen, staring at it.
The red shifts throughout the color spectrum. He is transported back to his original kneeling position, where the red is now a deep wooden brown.
The only pen that has run out of ink is the red one.
He stands up and moves to the table where the lecturer would sit.
A locked door is next to the table. It falls without external interference, yet due to its locked state, still swinging on its hinges.
He enters the door and into a dark hallway. The recording cuts off.
Diagram of SCP-9595, as seen from the recording.
Time: 02/11/2024 13:35
He is seen walking down the dark hallway. Doors, still swinging off the hinges, appear infinitely to his side.
Afar there is singing. He sings along, this time, to the correct lyrics.
SPECTRALOGRAPHY READING:
Not this song again.
Afar there are footsteps. He acknowledges them by looking around confusedly while turning his body in a full counterclockwise rotation.
The footsteps continue while he sings. The song eventually slows to the same tempo as the footsteps. He walks, to the same rhythm as the footsteps do.
Both the singing and the footsteps have increased in volume.
He continues to walk, the floor tiling being large gray-white concrete tiles, similar to that of the canteen.
He continues to walk, the floor tiling being small yellow concrete tiles, periodically interrupted by light blue, dark blue and yellow tiles, similar to that of the dark hallway leading to the empty bedroom he had seen earlier.
He continues to walk, with the hallway getting progressively darker.
He
continues
to
walk, the doors swinging from their hinges making a minor creaking sound with each and every of his footsteps.
The hinges stabilizes in tempo with the footsteps and the music.
The hallway gets darker.
A blue Pilot G2 pen falls from the ceiling yet from seemingly nowhere.
He picks it up and examines it briefly. He looks up at the ceiling. It is infinitely tall. No holes are present where the pen could have fallen from.
A second pen follows, then a third, then thirty more follow. A total of thirty-three pens have fallen from the ceiling.
LOADING RELEVANT INFORMATION...
My class had thirty-four pupils, including me.
(Recovered from: John Haines' Diary Extracts, Vol. 9595)
He is still looking up at the ceiling. This continues for the next thirty-four seconds, until a red Pilot G2 pen falls from the ceiling.
The red Pilot G2 pen is the only one with all of its ink missing; the rest have their ink tubes filled wholly.
He stops looking up and looks forward. He walks, now one-and-a-half times as fast as the tempo of the footsteps and the music.
The music is identified to be "Lớn Rồi Còn Khóc Nhè" by Trúc Nhân. He sings along to the correct lyrics.
The doors, swinging on its hinges have had their respective motion augmented. The sound of creaking is louder.
Louder still.
Eventually, he reaches a room labeled "Hội trường A / Auditorium A". His entire journey within the dark corridor has been in corridor D.
He exits
the
hallway.
Entering, he sees a group of shadows performing onstage. It is where the singing, the music and the footsteps are from.
They appear to be humanoid-shaped with the expected physique of a thirteen-year-old student.
They do not notice him. He walks to the backstage via an occluded stairway.
A still from the footage.
The floor is the same small yellow tiles. The ground is littered with numerous miscellaneous items, for instance wood pallets, dirty and dusty mattresses and various plastic chairs and tables. There is a door made of stainless steel. A spherical prop for the performance is visible.
He approaches the unused speaker.
A still from the footage.
It is ridden with both fine dust and incense dust. Fingerprints are visible. A plate for burning incense is also seen, however unused and still dust-ridden.
Dr. Haines places a finger on it and drags it along the surface. Looking at his finger now, it is full of dust.
Infrequently, an oscillating fan turns to face where the speaker is, and picks up the dust with its wind. The dust flies in countless directions and in intricate, yet organic patterns, ebbs and flows in the air.
The performance continues, the shadows dancing in a hectic and unordered way.
He watches from the left of the backstage.
The singing continues, with some lyrics either wrong or completely not sung.
Some paraphernalia of the performance gets thrown about from the backstage by shadows onto the stage, for no apparent reason. The paraphernalia does not get used at any time during the performance.
The shadows sometimes pause in their dancing, appearing to have forgotten how to.
The microphone and the speaker gets in a feedback loop, making a piercingly high sound which is not fixed until the performance ends.
The performance concludes when all the shadows leave the stage and demanifest promptly after. It culminates in the slow, eventual passing of all the shadows leaving.
He leaves the stage and exits through the main door of the auditorium instead of the side door where he had previously entered from.
Although the two doors are of two different physical positions, he reaches hallway D.
He walks out onto hallway D.
Creaking noises are heard, this time without any singing, footsteps or music audible.
He continues to walk, progressively getting darker and darker.
Eventually, he meets a branch, leading to a room.
He enters the room. It is lit up by blue-white bright fluorescent lights, with the ceiling, floors and the wall being cold marble. Four people are present.
Who?
They do not notice this. He walks up to them.
Hey, you look familiar. What's your name?
They continue to converse in a foreign language and ignore Dr. Haines.
Hey!
They still ignore him.
SPECTRALOGRAPHY READING:
...Is this—
Hey! Over here! Hey!
They continue to converse with each other.
SPECTRALOGRAPHY READING:
It's my fucking classmates. From the elementary school whose memories I thought I had long forsaken.
Whatever. It's pointless. It's not like they care about me.
He exits the room.
Continuing to walk down hallway D, he meets another branch leading to a room.
It is topologically and spatially the same as the stage in the room labeled Auditorium A, yet it is not physically the same location.
The singing and music continues with frequent interruptions, with no discernible reason or pattern as to why.
The shadows move in hectic patterns, ceasing to when the music stops.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, two, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
He counts the beats in sync with the music, but not the dancers.
█████! I missed you.
The subject being mentioned does not respond.
█████?
The subject still does not respond.
The music ceases completely. Shadows group together and converse in a foreign language. Dr. Haines does not join.
█████?! ███? ██████?
They are all names, apparently of the shadows. None of the mentioned subjects respond to Dr. Haines but continue to converse.
The conversation loudens, with sounds of laughter erupting frequently throughout.
Dr. Haines does not join any conversations nor does he laugh with any of the shadows.
███?!
The shadow turns their head momentarily, seeing that Dr. Haines had just called their name. They turn their head back to the conversation immediately.
Hey! Not nice.
He exits the room slowly, seeming to grieve the shadows.
Continuing to walk down hallway D, he reaches a branch with a room attached. He enters.
The room he enters appears to be a vast expanse of the outside.
No way. No fucking way.
He runs, only to be blocked by an apparently invisible barrier five meters out from the center.
No!
Turning back, the expanse appears to be a typical street in Vietnam.
A light pole with multiple utility and electrical poles stretches up from the ground. Wires from the electrical poles line horizontally and clump chaotically at each of the poles.
No vehicles pass.
It's my grandparents' home. What is happening?!
He walks towards the only home.
The doors are open and the lights are on, yet nobody is home.
On a coathanger rests a white shirt, dark blue trousers, a red tie and underwear.
He walks upstairs to find a clothesline hanging by an open window, looking out onto the road.
The bed is messy and unmade, pillows and blankets spread across. Next to the bedframe is a closet.
A still from the footage.
No. What the actual fuck is happening? Why am I here now? Is this not a school?
He lies down on the bed. His vertebra's cavitation bubbles crack when he lies, twists and turns on the bed.
Ah.
He continues to lie on the bed for the next two minutes. He stands up and descends downstairs.
Downstairs, he enters the kitchen. Dust has settled onto the kitchentop induction heaters. The fridge continues to hum. Knives and other utensils hang from cheaply-made stainless steel hangers. Such utensils are also made of stainless steel. Ceramic bowls are mixed sparsely between stainless steel bowls, the ceramics having a slight grey layer setting atop them.
He opens the fridge, revealing that there is nothing inside. The refrigerator light does not turn on.
In the freezer section above, he opens them to find empty ice trays, dust particles settling on them and freezing. The refrigerator light does not turn on.
He exits the kitchen.
The curtains are fully undone. They are a deep crimson-to-purple shade, intricate and faint patterns on them. Some of the curtains have been exposed to sunlight for such a long duration that they are almost white.
A small gap rests between the two curtains, one where the curtains could not reach. A deep warm yellow shines through, illuminating the room only in that ray. The windows on the door are made of glass, yellowed due to their exposure to the elements.
Dust particles fly outwards and inwards in that ray, forming complex yet organic patterns as they do. They move slowly, forming ebbs and flows without any liquid.
A wooden table is visible in the corner. A heavy glass sheet covers the surface, of which is accumulating dust. There is a large speaker on the table, the same model of that in the backstage. It has collected dust the same way that speaker did, incense dust occasionally getting picked up by the infrequent wind of the oscillating fan to reach the sunlight ray.
Speakers and amps litter the table. It looks to be a guitarists' paraphernalia.
My grandpa was a guitarist. I think so. I think it wasn't one of those ordinary guitars, but those traditional ones?
I was never that into the music, but it wasn't terrible. I remember the nights me and him would spend downstairs, with the same fan oscillating back and forth to provide us some relief to the heat and jamming to the music.
A ragged cloth is on the table. It is dry, dust collecting and seemingly forming a crust on the cloth.
Yellowed and dust-accumulating pottery is in the corner of the room. Intricate golden and blue patterns are present on the pottery, indicative of Sino-Vietnamese-style patterning.
He exits the home, taking a prolonged amount of time looking back at the home before he finally exits.
Entering back into the hallway, he continues walking.
He continues walking.
Reaching a branch, he enters the room at the terminus of it.
It is a basketball field.
Shadows play basketball while shouting in a foreign and unintelligible language. They do not notice when Dr. Haines enters.
He walks to the back of the basketball field, looking at the grass and the rocks.
He picks a rock up, examining it carefully.
I don't play basketball. I remember when the P.E. teacher would force us to play, but I don't think he was that competent anyway. I sneaked out to the back and looked at the ground, at the sky and at whatever that wasn't basketball nor my friends — well — throwing insults at each other like it was war.
To this day, I still don't understand the sport nor its unsportsmanlike athletes being handsomely rewarded for their behavior.
He continues to examine the rock, eventually realizing that it is in fact not a rock but a large chunk of broken concrete.
He tosses it back into the grass.
Crouching down, he inspects the grass.
...Aromatic Kylinga. Don't know the scientific name for that, not a botanist either. Just like plants. This one grew a lot where I grew up.
And that's Billygoat Weed. Ageratum conyzoides, that I remember.
Standing up, he walks towards the soccer field. It is made of impossibly-lush artificial grass, each bristle standing up against Dr. Haines' feet. No actual plants are there for Dr. Haines to inspect and identify.
He crouches down and drags his hand across the grass. The grass gives way momentarily then straightens again.
Small plastic granules suddenly appear from between the blades. It seems to be the plastic base of the grass peeling off.
He continues to drag his hand across the grass, while such granules keep appearing. He moves the granules into one place.
He continues to drag his hand across the grass, each blade falling then straightening save for one impossibly brown and dry grass, detaching from the base when he contacts it.
He looks at the dry blade, seeming to empathize with it despite its inanimate form.
The netting around the soccer field seems to be collapsing. Large, gaping holes are present and spread out throughout the netting, while individual fiber strands fray. The front door is barely hanging on to its hinge, when a twenty-two shadow group enters, ignoring Dr. Haines' presence. The door falls off the hinge, with the stainless steel once constituting it rust and breaks due to how brittle it has become.
The shadow group begins to assume movements similar to that of what would happen in a soccer game. Distant chanting, chatting and laughter is heard, conversing in a foreign language.
Dr. Haines is standing on the edge of the grass, looking in silence at the shadow group. At no point do the shadows acknowledge Dr. Haines.
He walks out, through the gaping hole in the netting and walks slowly and backwards while looking at the shadows. He continues to walk backwards on the basketball field, a blank affect on his face.
He walks out from the branch back to hallway D.
He continues to walk.
He continues to walk.
He continues to walk.
He continues to walk.
He continues to walk, reaching a branch and entering its terminus.
It appears to be a social gathering of a large number of shadows.
The room they are in looks to be a cafeteria, with numerous stainless steel tables and chairs. The shadow instances have all assumed a seat.
The audio on the footage is loud.
They have all coalesced into their respective groups, some as small as two and some as large as thirteen.
Hey!
None respond. Dr. Haines repeats it louder.
Hey!
None respond.
He walks around the groups, each conversing in a foreign language. None notice his presence, until he reaches one who turns their head and promptly returns back to the conversation without physical acknowledgement of Dr. Haines.
The groups continue to converse, with laughter interspersed throughout.
Seems they're having a fun time. For the greater good I should not join, I guess.
Dr. Haines does not laugh nor does he hold a conversation to any of the shadows throughout the footage.
Dr. Haines accidentally bumps into one of the shadows physically.
Sorry.
The group which that shadow is part of collectively turn their head at Dr. Haines, stares for seven seconds and returns to their conversation.
He walks towards another table, and inspects it closely, kneeling down to do so. His motion is noticed by the shadows, who stare at him, seeming to judge before returning to their conversation shortly after.
His reflection is morphed into ebbs and flows on the distorted stainless steel table surface. There is a noticeably larger granule of dust on the table, not being set off by the wind.
He inspects the granule, seeming to empathize with it as his affect turns relaxed.
He crushes the granule. It splits into countless smaller granules, all of which immediately get picked up by the wind and fly away in countless directions.
The shadows do not notice his motion for a second time.
He stands up, walking towards a wall to inspect.
The wall is made of fake wooden tiling. It tiles in haphazard patterns, but seems to have a common denominator of being somewhat square.
The wall is covered in a thin yet noticeable layer of dust. Dragging his finger across, he knows what is to be expected but he still does so. He picks up his finger and sees that it is contaminated with dust.
He rubs it onto his white shirt, dirtying it with a slight grayish color.
The wall is now concrete.
It is apparent that the wall has not been cleaned for a long time. Layered atop the wall are depressions and peaks, bearing semblance to natural formations, but they are simply made of misshaped concrete.
There seems to be more inanimate objects that Dr. Haines appreciates, in all of the rooms, than there are animate objects that he appreciates.
He navigates carefully, making sure not to bump into any of the shadows towards the exit.
He turns back at the gathering, appearing to long for the shadows.
It takes a prolonged amount of time for him to finally turn forwards and exit the branch.
Just... Why do I miss them?
SPECTRALOGRAPHY READING:
At our core, humans are social animals. We practically die if we don't hold a conversation enough. We practically die if we don't have enough friends or family.
He continues walking down the hallway.
He continues walking down the hallway, with no branches in sight.
He continues walking down the hallway, with no end in sight.
He continues walking down the hallway, the tiling turning into marble.
He continues walking down the hallway, the tiling turning into melted plastic from blue Pilot G2 pens.
He continues walking down the hallway, red and blue plastic chairs and tables partially obstructing the way.
He continues walking down the hallway, old and dirty mattresses littering the ground.
He continues walking down the hallway, white shirts, dark-blue trousers and red ties littering the ground.
At no point does he hyperventilate.
At no point does he hyperventilate.
At no point does he hyperventilate.
He continues walking down the hallway, infinitely forking ahead then collapsing into one path.
He continues walking down the hallway, infinite branches extending perpendicularly off hallway D. He ignores such paths.
He continues walking down the hallway, infinite staircases extending perpendicular off hallway D.
He continues walking down the hallway, rice boxes littering the ground.
He stands back for a brief moment. The rice boxes then open and close and open and close and open and close, and repeat the motion an indefinite number of times.
He continues walking down the hallway, with the smell of the empty bedroom he had discovered earlier.
He continues walking down the hallway, bedframes littering the ground.
He continues walking down the hallway, infinite rows of condiments lining the ground.
He continues walking down the hallway, iron bars blocking the way then collapse then form new iron bars then collapse then form new iron bars then collapse.
The action is repeated indefinitely, while he continues walking down the hallway.
He continues walking down the hallway, the tiling turning into broken glass pieces from fluorescent light bulbs.
He continues walking down the hallway, the tiling turning into stainless steel.
The hallway is turning colder and colder and colder.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
He continues walking down the hallway, which is getting progressively darker and darker.
The signal fades.