Un-Named Tale About Researcher Crane

“He’s… gone. We shoulda abort mission once I thought they were eatin’ humans.” Hessen chose him for his spectacular hearing, but even that didn’t stop disaster. Researcher Crane removes his headset, sloppily setting it on the table due to the tremble of his hands. Crane leans over his keyboard, resting his cheek on his hand. “It’s all my fault.”

Researcher Hessen inches her chair closer to Crane’s. “Oliver, this stuff happens. You’re not at fault.”

“Why were they all yellin’ at me, then? I didn’t help em…” Crane’s voice trails off. Tears drip onto his keyboard. Yelling had always meant he was at fault; how was this time any different?

“No one was yelling at you, they were yelling out of fear of the instances,” Hessen assures. “If you weren’t fit, I wouldn’t have chosen you. You did a great job.”

“I failed…” Like always. He could practically hear his father: “She’s just pitying you for that disability. But I see through it. I see the weak piece of shit you are.”

“Oliver, no you didn’t,” Hessen assures, putting her hand on Crane’s shoulder.

Crane leaps out of his chair, crashing into the wall, then to the floor. He bursts into tears. “I-I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!” He screams, his breath heavy.

Hessen stands up. “Oliver, it’s me, Niles. You’re okay. He’s not here. I’m not going to hurt you.” She assures firmly.

Crane slowly lifts his head, saying nothing. Momentarily, that felt untrue. But he didn’t truly hear his father. It… really was only him and Hessen.

“It’s okay.” Hessen slips her phone out from her pocket and begins to type. She returns it to her pocket a few moments later. “I’ve told Stan what happened.”

Crane nods slowly. “Ya’re not mad… at me?” He mutters.

Hessen nods. “No, I’m not.”

Crane pushes himself to stand. “I… I’m sorry ‘bout that.” He honestly found it the slightest bit jarring that she wasn’t angry; Micah died, and not much was learned. Well, a good bit was. It seemed he was just a natural pessimist. Crane sighed, waving away these negative thoughts.

“No need to apologize, Oliver,” Hessen informs.

The door bursts open, slamming against the wall, the impact shaking the desk.

“Oh thank god, you’re okay.”

Crane jumps, quickly relaxing after realizing who had entered.

Dr. Diamond runs into the room, and over to Crane. He swiftly turns to face Hessen. “I swear if this happens again you’ll have fun eating your own liver!” He snaps.

Crane laughs. “Stan, it’s alright. She didn’ mean ta. I was already startled.” That was one way to put it.

Diamond narrows his eyes at Hessen. “Okay.”

Hessen shrugs. “Okay, Bitey, I get it, you’re worried. But he’s okay.”


Crane and Diamond were seated at a table in the site break room. Crane was fixated on solving a Rubix cube, Diamond watching intently.

“How are you so good at those, Oliver?” Researcher Whyte inquires from a nearby table. “I have my sight and can’t solve them for shit.”

“It’s got brail on the squares,” Crane informs, setting the completed cube down on the table.

“Do you do them to practice like,” Whyte bites his lip and shrugs. “Doing things?”

Diamond looked prepared with a response, which Crane didn’t need sight to see coming.

Crane put a hand in front of Diamond’s face, signaling him to stop. Diamond liked to defend and guard him all the time. As nice as a gesture as it was, it got irritating; Crane wasn’t helpless. He hated that it seemed Stan thought he was. Maybe Diamond just wanted to defend him; who knew?

“No, I just like doin’ em,” Crane responds.

“Oh.” Whyte shrugs, looking back to his phone. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, lad.”

Dr. Woods walks into the room, and up to Crane’s table.

“Hey, you finished it again.” She comments with a smile. “Oliver, I’ve got an assignment for you. A few, actually. Some SCPs we would like having your perspective on as a blind man.”

Crane turns his head to face Dr. Woods. “Sure. Some visual cognitohazards I’m guessin’?”

Dr. Woods nods. “You likely shouldn’t get hu—“

“Make that 100%.” Diamond adds sharply.

“Stan, I’m destined’ to get hurt sometimes. It’s just good there’s a low chance this time.” Crane explains.

Diamond shrugs. “Whatever. Just be careful.”


“Alright, Oliver. First SCP I’d like you to test is SCP-2159. It’s an object that looks different to each person who sees it.” Woods slips on a pair of protective gloves, handing a pair to Crane. “Put these on, and take off your other glove.”

Crane shrugs, doing as said. “Okay. I’m guessin’ these are for protection.”

Woods nods. She exits the room, returning a few moments later holding SCP-2159.

“Here we are. I see it as a plushie of a Siamese cat. My question is, how does a blind person “see” it, to say.” She holds out the object in front of Crane. “Just reach your hands out a few inches.”

Crane gently takes the object from Woods. He carefully moves his hands around the surface of the object, taking in the shape and texture he felt.

It was spherical; made from a cheap plastic, like a rubber ball from the dollar store. Crane quickly notices that the surface was coated in fine pieces of plastic; those rubber spikes. He gasps pausing movement.

Woods raises an eyebrow. “Oliver, everything okay?” She asks cautiously.

Crane remains still for a few more moments.

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