A Waltz with Worms
rating: +2+x

It's 1987, Site-19. The day is sunny.

The rabbi practically sings the rites, to the tune of 19's droning chorus of turbines, generators, and reactors. Yehezkel doesn't hear him, too enraptured by the gorgeous woman standing at once a kiss and eternity apart.

The day melts around him. The kiss, the office party among colleague and friend, the walk back to their room, the hole in Rivka's face

Yehezkel wakes up.

He is presently sitting at his desk within an island of fluorescent light, amongst a sea of darkness. Before him, his computer, open to the SCiPNet listing for SCP-4947.

The slot is empty.

Yehezkel looks at the time on his terminal.

1:27 AM

Tomorrow, or more accurately today, is the 33rd anniversary of his marriage to the woman who was once Rivka Yarkoni.

Yehezkel will not be attempting to rewrite SCP-4947 tonight.

"I need your ID."

The man at the counter is short, brunet. Mid-30s. Not the woman who manned the counter last month. Yehezkel sees the picture pinned to his alcove, of the man, a woman, and a child posing by a lake. He looks back at the man's present vacant expression, and decides that he hates him already.

Yehezkel unclips the card from the breast of his coat, handing it to the man at the counter. The man, meanwhile, nods blankly, swiping his card through the reader with disgustingly deadened motions. The machine beeps thrice: once to accompany Yehezkel's accreditation, and the last two to signal what the teller will say next.

"Clear. Your card's set to expire in a little less than a month. Looks like I'll need to escort you to the Registry Office after the visit, Mr. Yarkoni."

The next words out of Yehezkel mouth have been extensively practiced: "Very well."

Yehezkel takes a seat under the g-dforsaken clown painting on the wall, because it is the only seat where he cannot see it. His right hand, idle, finds its way into the folds of his jacket, brushing against the small velvet box he'd brought with him.

He waits.

He waits.

He waits he waits he waits he waits he waits he waits he-

"Mr. Yarkoni?"


The woman in the corner of the room is not Rivka; she hasn't been Rivka for three months.

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