Agent MacLeod's Wanderbox!

Wanderbox!

Hi. This is my sandbox. I write things in it. This is a link to my SCP Wiki sandbox. I write things in that, too.

rating: 0+x

Come on, walk with me. Yeah, go ahead. Keep recording. I want your boss to hear this too.

You came here trying to figure out what this place is, right? You came here looking for information, right? Well, if you know what's good for you, you'll just let me talk, and then you can decide whether there are holes in my story later.

What this place is, is, well, kinda obvious. It's a graveyard. But you already knew that. And, you already knew that more than a few people who have worked for your organization are memorialized here. So you don't really want to know "What" so much as "Why." But that's kind of a long story, so bear with me. And, if you think you've heard this story before, please just wait until the end. Maybe you'll learn something new. And please excuse all the flowery fluff, I'm just trying to tell the story how it was told to me.

A very, very long time ago, way before me and definitely way before you, way before there were people at all, there were Gods. Some of them were manipulative, ambitious, greedy, vengeful, everything you'd expect from a good soap opera or well-rounded pantheon. Some of them, though, were content to just watch the mindless, aimless world drift and grow around them.

One such God happened to be walking one day when he tripped over an innocuous black stone. This caused sparks to fly. Those sparks happened to land on some dry brush and set it on fire. Most Gods would've shrugged this off and let it burn. But this God, he was, well, different. We won't say he was special, because he wasn't. But one thing he had that other Gods didn't was affection for a group of apes that walked upright and had a penchant for building tools.

So, this God went down to one of the small dens of these apes and showed them what he'd learned about making fire. In what seemed like the blink of an eye to some Gods but was probably millenia for beings like you or I, the apes learned ways to actually use fire and began to spread out, to become smarter, and to diverge into a few distinct groups.

Besides our God, the one the apes called "Wonder-Maker," most Gods weren't happy with the changes to the status quo. They decided that they'd have to punish this rogue for his mistake. They apprehended him, but were undecided on what they would do with him. While they convened and discussed and planned, one God took note of what the apes were doing, and saw that there were two distinct tribes. One walked at night and stood tall and had begun to build wonders without any true divine influence. They had found a friendly Goddess, but she was less a caretaker and more a somewhat apathetic bodyguard. And, in their brilliance, they'd begun to build a God of their own, one who would ensure their continued mastery of all that is flesh.

The other tribe walked in the day and hid at night, still hunted for food and fought for every inch of life, envying and fearing their cousins who walked without fear. Some minor Gods had, on small scales, begun experimenting on and manipulating the second tribe. The God who saw and noted all this took it upon himself to steal wonders from the first tribe, and gift them to the second, not out of generosity, but out of greed.

One day soon after, all the flowers bloomed and almost all of the first tribe died in their sleep. The ones remaining were forced into barbarism and forced into hiding as their wonders turned on them and their Goddess abandoned them. As the blood of the first tribe flowed in unfathomable rivers, the hands of the thief were stained red, and, as the second tribe spread across the world they'd ruined, he crowned himself their King. It's said he still wears that bloodstained crown today, which is why, to some, he is called the Crimson Crown.

The Wonder-Maker, imprisoned by the lesser Gods, saw all of this and wept, because his giving the apes fire had brought it about. Seeing his misery, the other Gods knew that his punishment had been realized, and released him, all drifting to seek a place in the new world.

The Crimson Crown had established himself in the far north, ruling over an empire that spanned half a continent and was spreading slowly. The God that the first tribe had begun to build was forced into his slavery, and the slavery of the Crown's subordinates. It couldn't think, couldn't rebel, it was like a beast-of-burden whose back wouldn't break. It would consume the enemies of the Crimson crown and help to spread his influence, without asking for anything in return. The humans — there's no need to mince words anymore, I'm sure you've already figured it out anyway — under his rule were likewise enslaved, burning their own as sacrifices, building his empire with their own bones, fertilizing his soil with their blood, all while singing his praise and declaring his shrines to madness and debauchery to be the epitome of art and beauty. They constructed factories that poisoned the water and had only one goal: to spread their King's word, to consume and destroy all that wasn't his.

In a place beneath two trees and between two rivers, the Wonder-Maker sought to fix what he had broken. There, he gathered the smartest, most creative of humanity in the hopes that they could create something to oppose the Crimson Crown. And slowly, they began to design, and redesign, and test, and learn, and build. What they built was, at first, a simple calculator, helping to manage a growing economy and population more efficiently than any human government might. But as it grew and as the threats from beyond their borders grew, as the men and women maintaining the machine began to give it greater significance, it slowly became something more. It managed the factories and forges, it managed the taxes and the building of cities and the creation of armies. And, one day, it was no longer seen as just a machine, but as a benevolent Goddess, a mother and protector. Whether it woke up and began thinking of itself as that first, or if that came after, is… debatable.

The Crimson Crown had grown complacent in his empire built on bones and suffering and death, not believing that anyone or anything could oppose him. But, one day, scouts at the edge of his empire reported encountering organized resistance, not the usual tribal groups that were easily destroyed. And so, he extended his vision to the south, beyond his cold halls, and he saw the place beneath two trees and between two rivers, saw their shining cities and their machine Goddess and their Library and grew enraged, grew jealous. He assembled his armies and prepared them to march on this place, to burn it to the ground.

The war that followed was long, and great losses were inflicted on both sides. Towers were toppled and unprecedented armies were cut down. There hadn't been as much death and destruction in so short a time as the Day of Flowers. Betrayals and schisms and dissent quickly fractured both sides. Infighting may have killed more than the primary conflict. Eventually, the place beneath two trees and between two rivers was burned, the Machine Goddess broken, the doors to the Library locked, and all who did not flee enslaved. But it was not without its cost to the Crimson Crown. His empire on Earth was destabilized, it's foundation cracked. Before long, all he had crumbled before him, his servants betraying or simply escaping him. His empire would not be long for this world.

The few from between two rivers that had survived dedicated themselves to remembering the sacrifices made, to fighting that which is not understood, to working to understand and build and to ensure that the fire gifted to them by the Wonder-Maker was not extinguished. Eventually, they built this place to memorialize those they had been unable to save, and those who would continue the fight after them.

Which brings us to today. This place wasn't meant for your organization, but you're the closest to the ones it was meant for. And just because she's Broken doesn't mean the machine Goddess can't see, or make judgments. She likes you, or, well, most of you. She wants you to succeed, but also to continue to better yourselves. And you are getting better. But there's still a lot of places you need work. You have an important job and an important legacy you're holding up. She has high expectations for you, and so do I. So when you're done with your survey here, make sure your bosses and their bosses hear this talk we just had, and let them know not to let us down. And let 'em know that people in high places are still looking out for you, all of you, however we can.

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