SCP 3000, Anantashesha. The SCP foundation is aware of a number of entities that could be considered gods, or godlike, in some way. Some of these are actually contained by them, while others are uncontainable, either existing outside of our physical dimension, or for some other reason. For practically all of these though, the Foundation treats them with extreme caution, as they represent little more than threats to our existence. There is an exception, however, in SCP 3000. Its status as something godlike is debatable, which we’ll discuss later. But it is a rare example of a Thaumiel entity, an anomalous creature that the foundation utilizes to help their operations. Simply put, SCP 3000 is a massive eel located in the Bay of Bengal, near India 3000’s full-size is unknown, but is believed to be between 600 and 900 km long, ending in a head 2.5 m in diameter. 3,000 is not necessarily contained, per se, but since it rarely moves, the Foundation simply patrols the region of the bay where it’s located and prevents any diving expeditions in the area. It was discovered in 1971, after a number of Bangladeshi fishermen went missing after drifting near the Indian coast. And the foundation stepped in to investigate. Its biology is not well understood by the Foundation. But they hypothesize that it doesn’t actually require any sustenance in order to continue living. But it is carnivorous. It’s unknown exactly what happens to prey it consumes, but during feeding, 3000 excretes a thin layer of a viscous substance that the Foundation has dubbed Y-909. Its existence is a massive eel, hundreds of kilometers long, would certainly classify it as an SCP alone, much like SCP 169. But that’s only the beginning of its anomalous traits. We’ve discussed cognitive hazards a few times before, anomalous effects that can alter an individual’s mind or way of thinking. And SCP 3000 itself is a cognitive hazard. Direct observation of it will result in head pain, paranoia, fear, panic, and memory loss or alteration, and even being in a certain vicinity of the eel can result in these effects. These effects are further described in a log discussing the initial discovery and encounter with SCP 3000. A team descended in a submersible, and all of them were feeling uneasy. But one, in particular, began sweating profusely, stating that he was missing something, but he couldn’t figure out what. He begins to act more erratically as they descend, expressing doubts about what exactly he’s supposed to do down there. Other members of the team began to express similar feelings. When they finally saw the body of the eel, The erratic individual began whimpering, and had to be sedated as he muttered the word “no” over and over. When they finally approached the head, several other members were complaining about feeling hazy, unsure of what they were doing here. The captain wrote it off as nitrogen intoxication. SCP 3000 turned to look at them, and the sedated member began barking and shrieking, claiming that “it was in his head”, until he smashed his face into one of the portholes and they had to ascend due to the cracks. He had mortally injured himself, and as he lay dying, he said, “There’s nothing, nothing, nothing.” Despite this incident, a diving expedition was ordered to personally assess the creature and investigate the source of the thick gray fluid that had been observed around its head. Three members of MTF Orion-9, “kingfishers”, were sent down. The water was dark and cold, which was to be expected. But other problems began almost immediately as the team becomes confused over their call signs, both mixing up who has what designation, and one of them even being confused by the word “designation”. The leader also addresses someone back at the command station who had been dead for two years. Regardless, command tells the team to continue towards the entity, but each of them are completely confused about where they are. As they continue approaching, one of the members begins to utter ominous phrases concerning oblivion and dark eyes. SCP 3000 begins to rapidly approach then, and their radios go silent for 30 seconds. When they come back, it’s clear that the team is in chaos, and one of the members has been eaten. The leader seems to have completely forgotten who he is, where he is, and what he’s doing. He soon gets eaten as well. Only one of the team remains, and he still seems to be somewhat coherent, claiming that it’s extremely difficult to form thoughts while near 3000. He says that it’s coiled inside of his head and that it’s just sitting there in front of him. He sees the fluid seeping out of its skin around its head and he goes to retrieve a sample, sending it up towards the surface. He finishes by saying not to send anyone else out here. His breathing could be heard over his radio for three days before ceasing. I mentioned at the start that SCP 3000 is a Thaumiel entity, meaning it somehow assists the SCP foundation in their operations. And you may be wondering how a giant eel that messes with your head does so. The answer is in the gray fluid excreted from the entity called the Y-909 compound. the foundation utilizes a large number of amnestics during their work, chemicals that cause an individual to forget certain things. these chemicals are vital for keeping the secrecy of the Foundation and the SCPs intact as well as helping many SCP personnel cope with things they have experienced. For a number of years the Foundation’s amnestics were rudimentary, breaking down fairly quickly in storage, causing a number of side effects, and had often questionable efficacy overall. the inclusion of the Y-909 compound has greatly increased the stability and effectiveness of the Foundation’s amnestics, however, allowing them to store for much longer, a significant decrease in side-effects, an increase in suggestibility and memory clearance, and little to no intrusive memories years after their use. The foundation has come to completely rely on the Y-909 compound with no means to synthetically reproduce it. And so the at “Zak” protocol is introduced. The protocol is simple enough. It involves deliberately feeding a sedated D-class to SCP 3000, which causes it to excrete the Y-909 compound. A specialized team of deep-sea divers then approach the entity within two and a half hours after feeding, during which its cognitive hazard effects are lessened. They collect as much as they can of the fluid and return to the surface. The rest of the SCP 3000 report concerns to doctors, A researcher, Dr. Krishnamoorthy, and his staff clinical psychologist, Dr. Manova. The psychologist was assigned to the researcher after he attempted to exit out of the SCP 3000 monitoring submarine without diving equipment. The researcher begins discussing how he feels tired, and his body is beginning to feel disconnected from his mind. He’s forgetting things about his work, and his life and he’s been having dreams featuring people he doesn’t recognize and places he’s never been. It’s clear that his proximity to 3000 is greatly affecting his memories, as he is unsure if he’s even married or if he has children, despite having five of them. He does see 3,000 in his mind, however, and at this point, he begins discussing Anantashesha, the king of serpents
in Hinduism that lies beneath the god Vishnu in the cosmos. He recalls that his mother told him once that when the light of the universe had gone out, Anantashesha would be all that is left past the end of time. He believes that SCP 3000 is Anantashesha, a god that exists across all time simultaneously. He says, “In defiance of the nothingness that comes after this, all of this, there is Anantashesha. There’s a chance that my memories might live on, that I might be remembered like the memories I’ve seen have been through me. I don’t… I don’t have proof of this. But when I looked into its eyes and saw what it showed me. I was afraid. I’m merely a mediocre man, Anan. This was a fear that I refused to acknowledge for years a fear of irrelevance, that no one will know who I am when I die. Afraid of being forgotten. Afraid of my life being meaningless. Afraid of being alone. Afraid of dying. There is a terror within me that I cannot reconcile, Anan. I won’t lie to you, and tell you that the maw of the Naga does not terrify me as well. But between this and the infinite dark I have gazed into, I’ve made up my mind.” Dr. Krishnamoorthy was held in containment for two days before being released. Three hours later, he approaches the airlock to the submarine while weeping, and prepares to open it. proximity alarms begin to blare as SCP 3000 approaches the submarine. The doctor puts on a diving suit and exits the submarine before anyone can stop him. 3000 approaches him and opens its jaws wide. The last thing the doctor says is that he was wrong, and sobs as the eel consumes him. The rest of the crew began preparing to carry out the ATSAC protocol. We’re given some excerpts from Dr. Manavas’ journal in which he discusses that he now has to figure out why Dr. Krishnamoorthy became suicidal and how to prevent it from happening to any of the other personnel. He writes that he’s not a very religious man, and doesn’t believe SCP 3000 to be anything other than an anomalous eel. He racks his brain, thinking about his father and his teachings of Hinduism, but cannot recall much. Although he blames this less on the eel, and more on his own willful forgetfulness. he was allowed to look through Krishnamoorthy’s effects and keep any that he wished. And so, for some reason, he decides to take a statue of the god Ganesh. Manavas is aware that his continual proximity to SCP 3000 is draining his memory, both from his youth and more recently. He makes an attempt to learn some Hindu poems and songs, but can’t seem to memorize any of them. We’re given a memorandum from the site director that elaborates somewhat on the Y-909 compound and the ATSAC protocol. The Foundation originally believed it to be blood, but it’s more akin to a prion slurry(?). Prolonged exposure to the compound is pretty similar to prolonged exposure to 3000. Some of the biologists believe that when SCP 3000 consumes a human, it is breaking down some part of their brains that makes them sapient. And the residual substance of this process is Y-909. They also found that SCP 3000 is not digesting these humans at all. And their bodies are still inside of it. In other words, SCP 3000 is capable of breaking down and devouring the human mind, causing them to forget their own existence. And the Foundation is purposefully encouraging this in order to create powerful amnestics. The Ethics Committee and the Classification Committee are looking for ways to make this more tolerable, but since the Foundation really depends on these amnestics, the process continues. The final log is another journal page from Dr. Manova. He has been spending a great amount of time studying the effects of SCP 3000, but still has no idea what would cause a sane man to step out of an airlock into its mouth. Earlier that week, he had knocked over a picture of him and his family, and found that there was writing on the other side with his name, his wife’s name, and his daughter’s name. However, the writing was in Dr. Krishnamoorthy’s hand, not his own. This puzzled Manova, and he began to be stressed by the uncertainty of it. Finally, he went into the personnel archives and discovered the truth. The woman was in fact Krishnamoorthy’s first wife, and the girl was one of his daughters. Manova had believed that they were his wife and daughter. But more than that, he had memories of them that he now realized were in fact Krishnamoorthy’s memories. This realisation causes him to finally understand exactly what SCP 3000 does. It breaks down and destroys human consciousness, the spark of thought that makes us unique and what we believe to be a soul, and then scatters it. It leaves a husk behind that is nothing more than electrical signals passing through matter which will someday become inert. He writes, “If even I can’t remember myself, how can I expect anyone else to remember me?” I’ve forgotten my own life and I am strangely apathetic at this revelation. I will fade into the darkness as thousands before me have and thousands after me will. No one will care as I am forgotten. I do not despair for my own sake, but for us all. You and I we will all face obliteration. I am not important. You are not important. Vast droplets of irrelevancy stretching eons in the sea of time. We may fight against it, but our enemy is inevitability. I do not think that the eel is Anantashesha. I don’t think it would matter if it was. What is clear to me now as I feel myself coming apart is not that the eel is some mythological creature, or divine serpent. Perhaps it’s just a primitive creature that eluded us, holding no malice. Perhaps it really is a primordial deity harboring resentment beaneath the surface. The eel is not the harbinger of my demise or humanity’s doom. The eel is not the end of all things. It only shows us what the end looks like. And in spite of everything we might believe, every ideal we hold or providence we pray for, I know this much is true for all of us. I know the End will be a forgotten one. Dr. Manova was later discovered near the airlock after consuming a significant amount of raw Y-909. Unresponsive, he was moved to site 151 for analysis. SCP 3000 is a dark SCP, and the concept of destroying memories and human consciousness makes what would otherwise just be an enormous eel much more interesting. Existential dread affects many people from time to time throughout their life. And it’s not unusual to be concerned with who will remember you, what will they remember you for, and, ultimately, your purpose here. Dr. Manova was probably right that SCP 3000 is not a deity that exists throughout all of time. But it is certainly a powerful entity. There are many SCPs that can kill or maim or horrify humans, but there aren’t that many that can destroy what it means to be human. And that makes SCP 3000 pretty unique.