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You step out of the plane, and breath in the fresh air of England. It hasn't been too long since you were last in the country - just a few months, but you always did love this country. It's the early hours of the morning, your favorite time of day.

The car is waiting not far away, to take you to Protected Site-01, which is only three minutes away from the end of the air strip you landed on. There are guards everywhere around you - nothing but the highest security for your position.


The driver slurs your title into one word - officially, it is Level-Five Overseer Number Eight, but you can't remember ever being called that. Your name was stripped with you and replaced with the title, and now you live in a world of secrecy and silence.

You quip a response at the driver, and the armored car rolls off, down the highway. It is night, and the world has not yet woken up. You have flown in from far, far away and have not yet had time to rest, still attuned to the daily cycle of another time and place.

This time - the late part of the night, when the world is just beginning to stir, when the sun is just beginning to crest over the horizon. It is a quiet beauty, but more importantly, it is your favorite time to work and get things done.

But the drive is short, and it is not long before you are within the bowels of Site-01 itself, one of the most secure locations in the entire world. One of your Factotums - your most trusted and resonsible assistants - greets you, hoping to deliver an update.

"Overseer Eight. Welcome, ma'am. You've arrived a bit earlier than we were prepared for, and the rest of the Council is still asleep. Should-"

"Don't bother. Hold the meeting at seven, as scheduled. I'll wait in the conference room and file some paperwork."

You spend the next half hour finishing reviewing a few containment proposals for a small assortment of anomalies that had been marked by one of your assistants as wanting your direct approval. It is simple work, some of the easiest you do in the Foundation.

Time escapes you, however, and before you realize it is five minutes before seven. That's odd, as O5-1 could always be trusted on to arrive early to a meeting, as could Six or Ten. There is a knock at the door. You slowly rise to answer.

The Factotum from earlier is at the door, his face aghast. He is pale, and shaking like a boy.

"Overseer, the rest of the Council will not wake up, nobody at Site-01 can, it's just the skeleton night shift at the moment, it's probably anomalous interferance but we can't be certain and-"

"Calm down. Contact other sites, see if they are having the same problem. Don't panic: we've beaten worse before."




KEY: The black moon howls to deny us sleep through the darkened night.

I want all Sites to give me an update if any sleeping individuals can be woken, as well as the last time at which anyone awoke. Include both anomalies and personnel.

No personnel has woken up within the past forty five minutes at any of the five Foundation sites that have responded to me. Limited evidence suggests that this may be the case worldwide.

Be on prepared for the declaration of a K-Class Scenario.


Junior Researcher
You stare at the message that popped up on your terminal screen - an urgent message using the Foundation emergency broadcast system, straight from O5-8 himself. You were briefed on the system as soon after you started, but you cannot remember if it was ever even used before.

At first, it seems to you like something of an overreaction - just less than an hour and an O5 is declaring global emergency to every Foundation site? That's hardly enough time to decide that mankind is undergoing a global catastrophe preventing all humans from waking up. But another voice in your head tells you "No, the Foundation cannot afford to be cautious. Paranoia is what has kept us alive."

You rise from your desk, leaving the unfinished addendum unsaved, and go to check in with your Site Director.

Notice from O5-8: The following file is required reading for all personnel. All non-vital personnel are reassigned to the SCP-0000 project.

Item #: SCP-0000

Object Class: Apollyon

Threat Level: Black

Special Containment Procedures: Do not fall asleep. Remain awake.

The state of sleep is to be regarded as a Class-I Death-like State. This means that any sleeping personnel are to be considered deceased and indefinetly lost.

Description: SCP-0000 is an anomalous phenomenon preventing sleeping humans from waking up. At the time of writing, no method of waking any sleeping human has been found. SCP-0000 is estimated to have begun around 0645 UTC, August 12th, 2019.

Even with the heavy usage of stimulants, baseline humans are only able to survive for approximately two weeks without sleep. Most humans are expected to fall asleep before this point. Additionally, the human body can only survive for approximately one week before dying to a lack of water.

SCP-0000 is an MH-Class "Loss of Human Consciousness" Scenario. If a solution cannot be found by 0645 UTC, August 17th, 2019, it will be an MK-Class "Total Loss of Human Consciousness" Scenario. By this point, the number of conscious humans will be too low to find a solution. The usage of SCP-2000 will not be able to restore the world from this event.

the world has noticed and is falling into chaos

yadah yadah

"oh god what about loved ones"

"what the fuck is the scp foundation and why is anderson cooper interviewing them"

Notice from O5-8: The following is an update to the SCP-0000 file. Reading is required.

Addendum 0000.1: oneiroi shit

Subadddenda 0001.1.2 Dr. Bright

that one dream siringe
tau-5? (fall asleep & reboot)

the new director of site-81
You are the acting Site Director of Site-81 now. Aktus is still alive, of course, but he's no longer capable of fulfilling his duties during the ongoing crisis situation, and the Site needs an active director.

You weren't even very high on the chain of command…

You found his body…

He isn't dead, but he may as well be.

Notice from O5-8: Update.

Addendum 0000.2: the sleepless anomalies and the transhumanists are getting tired

this is the only compulsiony bit and it's just "people who wouldn't normally sleep are going to bed


The man in front of you gulps. He is distraught, and looks as if he cannot believe what he is about to say. He touches his fingertips to his forehead for a second before rushing the rest of his statement.

"The last of the Nornir has fallen asleep, just now. Our goddesses are gone. They will not return to us."

He sighs.

"And if goddesses cannot stand against this, whatever it is, how can we? They were not even biological, and yet they too descending into the depths of sleep. If divinity falls, how can man ever hope to succeed? We must-"


You turn to look at the interuppter, along with the rest of the Council of 108 - although now it's only 26. He's the current acting representative of the Satanic Scientists, you never bothered to learn his name with all of the replacements. Most of the men in this room are foreign to you.

"How can we defy the gods? We are men, the greatest species to walk this earth. Defiance of the gods is not impossible, it is our destiny. Man is indomitable, and we will fight to the end, and it will not be this… sleep."

"I will not stand for such hubris…"

You stop listening then. You don't need to hear two men angrily debating the merits of their religions as society drowns in an ocean of rest. You'd stop them and try to get them on the right track, but it would be meaningless - the world cannot be saved.

You look around the chambers of the Global Occult Coalition, and realize this is not where you want to spend your final moments. The walk outside is short, and refreshing. You've never seen New York City so quiet. You never look back.

This was never how you saw the world ending, even in all of your years of fighting against the end. Beyond Entropy had been founded in order to save the world from environmental disasters. You had done it plenty of times, but this…

It came out of nowhere, and was far too fast to be stopped. There is nothing to do now but succumb to the inevitable. You are beginning to question why you even fought in the first place, but it doesn't matter now. Nothing does.

You have found a nice bench in a small garden, with a good view of the East River. At least you die in a nice, quiet place. It is no Korea, but it is peaceful and calm. It will do, especially considering you don't have much of a choice in the matter.

On one of the benches down from you is a body. Something drives you over to it, and you can't say why - you don't know what you are expecting to get out of it, but you go over and check the woman for signs of life.

You recognize her, she is the representative of that nature group from the western coast of America. What was it called? Wilson's Wildlife Solutions? She is still breathing, and her heart still carries a pulse. She is not yet dead, only sleeping. If only she were to wake up, she could carry on. Go back to saving the animals of the world.

All is not lost for her.

And neither should it be for you.

You rise, your passion rekindled and your mettle unbroken. Hope is not entirely dead, and it is wrong for you to surrender. Your chances of victory are slim, but they are not gone in full. And as long as there is even the slightest glimmer of shining hope, you must try to take it.

Your task might be sisphyean, but you know your myth. Sisyphus never gape up.

Welcome to the SCiPnet Chat Relay System! — Just keeping each other company at the end. — Send messages at least once every five minutes, please. — It has been an honor.
You joined → #general
A.Rosales.Z2 Ah, so you're the one who's been missing.
You Sorry, I just found out about this. I didn't even know we used this anymore.
Xyank1t58fa Generally speaking, we don't. But there were extentuating circumstances…
Overseer-8 Alexandria, how many humans are awake?
Alexandria.aic There are currently eight Foundation personnel awake, plus TheAdministrator. All are in this channel. Current estimates are that there are no more than twenty thousand individuals awake worldwide.
J.Bright.19 Fuck, that's low.
You I feel a bit out of my league - I've only heard legends about some of you.
You J.Bright.19: Are you Jack Bright?
J.Bright.19 The one and many.
You I have a question, if you are still at Site-19. Is 682, well, asleep?
J.Bright.19 Like a baby. Guess immortality doesn't protect from sleep.
TheAdministrator That bodes poorly for me, I suppose.
Overseer-8 Can I get a check-in, everyone?
You Still awake.
J.Everwood Still awak, boss.
J.Everwood *awake. I'm jyst so tired.
Consuelo consuelo
TheAdministrator I haven't slept for centuries, not since I was human.
Overseer-8 Looks like they finally got Alto.Clef. Was that how any of you saw him going out?
Overseer-8 kicked Alto.Clef (REASON: Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest)
TheAdministrator I have forgotten what is is like to sleep, to dream. I have not been tired in such a long time.
A.Rosales.Z2 I can't imagine what that must be like. I'm longing for sleep already, and it's been only been a few weeks.

You are sitting at your computer terminal, in a chatroom with what just as may well be the last humans awake. The white light of the computer is stinging your eyes, and you turn away for a second. As you do, you notice you are out of coffee.

You rise, stretching yourself to wake yourself up a little more. A little exercise can keep you awake, right? You remember reading that somewhere. In any case, it won't hurt you, and you finish the little routine.

As the coffee brews, you absent-mindedly begin a yawn, but stop yourself from finishing it. The coffee is still brewing, so you walk over to the sink to splash some water on your face. Maybe that will stave of sleep for just a few minutes.

The water is cold and gives you a minor jolt, but as you look back into the mirror above the sink you see a monster. It's eyes are dark and sullen, face inhuman, teeth yellowed, hair frazzled. You recoil in disgust. Knowing it's you doesn't make it any better.

The coffee is ready. You take the pot and pour it out into a mug, spilling some hot coffee as you do. As you suck on the wound, you realize your hands are shaking. You're dosed up on too much caffiene, sleep-destroying cognitohazards, and whatever drugs in the pharmacy you thought were safe enough. You'll crash soon.

You chug the coffee. It's too hot for that, but you don't have enough control to stop yourself, not anymore. Besides, the burn will keep you up for a little longer, and that's all that matters.

Sighing, you decide to head back to the office, and back to the last vestige of civilization on your computer. As you walk back down the hall, the rock you've been blaring cuts out. You'll be alone with your thoughts and your hallucinations now.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you see it. It scares you.

Your bed.

You had forgotten that this route went your bedroom. That was a mistake. You knew you wouldn't have been able to resist.

You enter your room. The bed invited you.

It hasn't been made in days, but it is still inviting. Warm and soft. Surely it wouldn't hurt to just, lie down? Not go to sleep, of course, but you've been sitting and standing for so long, and your spine is beginning to hurt.

You're just so, very, very tired.

Wouldn't it be so nice to
lie down,
close your eyes,
get some rest,






Notice from Amos Sanchez: Under Protocol MIDNIGHT BLOSSOM, I have been granted Level 5 Clearance and assumed acting duties as interim O5-1.

There may be only three hundred waking beings on the planet, but we will win.

Addendum 0000.3:
On August 26th, 2019, the last nonamalous human on Earth fell asleep. Following this, Mobile Task Force Omicron-Zero (Ará Orún) Command to cease general thought, in an attempt to fall asleep. This was done as a result of the general consensus of MTF ω-0, feeling a lack of will to continue opration during a total K-Class event.

The ability of MTF ω-0 to fall asleep was confirmed on August 17th, and believed to be a further anomalous property of SCP-0000. The exact mechanism of this appears to be linked to the similarities between the infoscape of the SCP database and infoscape of the Oneiroi dreamworld, with a further connection resuting from SCP-0000.

80% of MTF ω-0 tried to, and was successful at, achieving this sleep like state. The remaining 20% of MTF ω-0, forming a dissenting opinion, remaining awake and active. Senior Researcher Amos Sanchez, Ops Director of MTF ω-0, was one of these dissenting members. The active members of MTF ω-0 soon discovered they were able to recieve limited information from the other members of MTF ω-0, who appeared to have entered the dream world of the Oneiroi.

Identity Warrior Training (which most members of MTF ω-0 are proficient in) has proven to be applicable within the Oneiroi dreamworld. This means that members of MTF ω-0 are experienced combatants in the relatively peaceful dreamworld.

Further investigation by MTF ω-0 has indicated that SCP-0000 was caused by a hostile Oneiroi (designated SCP-0000-A), seeking to expand their territory within the dreamworld. info about 0000-A

MTF ω-0 has located the Oneiroi formed by Mobile Task Force Omicron Rho ("The Dream Team") and are beginning combat preparations to attack and neutralize 0000-A.

You study the horizon, an army of righteous dead. You measure in the hundreds, and you are the deadliest beings in the entire Dreamtime. This is a world of information, and ghosts like you are nothing more than information with a mind of their own.

Your commander is the exception. They are a truly projection into the dream, a gestalt formed of a handful of soldiers. They trained for this their entire life, and they were ready to fight. But they are outmanned, outgunned, and unable to fight against the monster that haunted the dreams of the world. One being cannot stop an apocalypse.

But what about an army, like you?

o-ρ sends a thought out, nothing more, and you all hear it. The enemy is near, and now it time to fight to the death. You'll need weapons, of course, but you are never unarmed. It is made of steel, a machine gun with lasers and rockets wielded onto it, and it is the only weapon any of you will ever need.

You form into an army. You are not used to such physical operations (none of your company has needed anything like that for some time) having grown used to working as a collection of ideas and thoughts held together by nothing more than traces of an identity. But here you are no different from any other dreamer.

o-ρ leads you forward, and you see the heart of the beast. You had already known of its presence, with the black ichor and rot that it caused having spread throughout the Dreamtime. Black tendrils snaking out and choking the entire world. o-ρ told you to ignore them, but not all of you did.

The source is a monster. Each one of you looks at it and sees something different. Your mothers, your fathers, your past lovers, your inner demons, Freddy Kreuger and the like. But you begin to share these ideas, and the monster fuses identities. It becomes indistinct, forced to the barest mythemes that compose it.

What is now before you is a shifting blackness. o-ρ tells you to attack.

Like clockwork, you raise a thousand guns that do not exist and fire a thousand lasers that are terribly real.

The beast is struck by the fire, and begins to fade out of sight. It lashes back

Notice from O5-8: The following is the updated file for SCP-0000.

This sentence is antimemetic. We would like to thank MTF ω-0 for their heroism.

Item Number: SCP-0000

Object Class: Neutralized

Threat Level: None

Special Containment Procedures:


You enter your office, and your coat takes itself office and hangs itself up on a rack. The crisis, for the most part, has been resolved, thanks to the heroism of a Mobile Task Force almost no one was previously aware of before. (You were, of course.)

The only remaining members of Overwatch are yourself and Overseer-8, so you'll be needing twelve individuals to fill out the rest of the Council. Eight served well, she could do with a promotion. She'll be O5-1 from now forth - fitting for someone of her stature.

Filling out the rest of the council will be a task - you aren't quite sure what to do with the rest of that lot. It has been something of a tradition to fill the role of O5-3 with something of a ghost in the machine, and Amos Sanchez would be a literal interpretation of that superstition. You enter your clearance code and immediately grant him a position among the most powerful men and women in the world.

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