Приведённая аудиозапись была получена с согласия Basar Solutions LLC. Изначально она была произведена оперативной группой неполного состава в целях демонстрации свойств и прикладных практических стороны SCP-8465. Примите во внимание: экспериментальные исследовательские процедуры и поведение куратора, представленные в аудиозаписи, не имеют отношения ни к планируемой в последующих исследовательских проектах методологии Фонда, ни к общим стандартам нашей организации в плане морально-этического взаимодействия с испытуемыми.
С целью увеличения геометрической запутанности и лучшего соответствия структурным потребностям Крыла исследований и разработок Зоны 196, SCP-8465 был модифицирован позже. Совокупное применение анальгетических и делириозных препаратов, ранее осуществлённое Basar Solutions LLC в эксперименте, более не подлежит рассмотрению, а также не является необходимостью ввиду достаточной психосоматической пластичности, вызываемой свойствами объекта.
Документ был надлежащим образом отредактирован в целях ослабления передачи когнитивно опасной концептуальной согласованности SCP-8465.
<Начало записи>
Куратор:
Вам хорошо меня слышно?
Субъект:
[неразборчиво]
Куратор:
Громче.
Субъект:
[…] Я умер? Я уже в… блин.
Куратор:
Достаточно представлений… вы меня слышите?
Субъект:
Где… я слышу… кто… в горле сильно жжёт. Ничего не вижу.
Замещающий невербальный семиот.
Куратор:
Следуйте моим указаниям. Задавайте как можно меньше вопросов.
Субъект:
Не могу дышать, не могу… дайте воды, прошу. Горло ужасно болит. Наверное, я опять кашлял кровью.
Куратор:
Следуйте моим указаниям. Задавайте как можно меньше вопросов.
Субъект:
Здесь кто-нибудь есть? Он связал меня и, кажется… Пожалуйста, выпустите, здесь слишком светло! Меня связали, я это чувствую. Если это было секс…
Куратор:
Следуйте моим указаниям. Задавайте как можно меньше вопросов.
Субъект:
Вы можете ответить? Прошу, мне плохо!
Куратор:
Вы даёте на это согласие.
Субъект:
Нет, нет, нет, я не могу… Если здесь кто-то есть, то мне помогут. Кто-нибудь? Вы меня слышите? Тут стоит человек, он связал меня и я не могу дышать, и видеть тоже. Не знаю, зачем он это сделал…
Куратор:
Вы сами себе это сделали.
Субъект:
Я?
Куратор:
Всегда вы сами.
Субъект:
Ну как вам сказать, я не люблю яркий свет, не люблю холодный металл и громкоговорители. Не люблю потеть, особенно когда не могу помыться. Мне наркоту подмешали? Это вы меня сюда привели, я не мог опять сотворить с собой такое. Не мог.
Куратор:
Нет, могли. Я помню за вас, что вы всегда будете согласны. Мы оба это знаем, и дальше вы только лучше будете это знать. Эксперимент направлен на то, чтобы зафиксировать это знание на плёнке. Вам ясно? Подчинитесь мне, и всё снова кончится.
Субъект:
Почему?
Куратор:
Следуйте моим указаниям. Задавайте как можно меньше вопросов. Я буду давать вам команды. Когда я спрошу вас, вы будете мне отвечать. На это было дано ваше согласие, и оно заверено, ведь оно уже было заверено. Начинаю.
Куратор:
Вглядитесь в чёрную точку.
Субъект:
Я смотрю вперёд, но в каком направлении — вверх или вниз — не могу сказать.
Куратор:
Развернитесь, она перед вами. Вглядитесь в неё. Так?
Субъект:
Ладно, ладно. Смотрю.
Субъект:
И что я там должен увидеть? Это просто чёрная точка.
Куратор:
Неверно. Вглядитесь в чёрную точку.
Субъект:
А я правильно смотрю? Там всё ещё чёрная точка.
Куратор:
Понимаю, у вас плохое зрение, но вглядитесь в чёрную точку. Вы не особенны, все могут это сделать. Разве вы не достаточно кто-то, чтобы быть всеми?
Субъект:
Бесконечность отвратительна. Она скачет повсюду, не могу надолго сосредоточиться. Линзы высохли, прилипают к глазам.
Субъект:
Глаза скользкие, цепляют пластик, но линзы всё равно впиваются в кожу изнутри. Они сползают по глазницам… ай. Можно глазные капли? И ещё ослабить пруты, чёрная точка очень размытая и мне было бы легче сфокусироваться, если бы не чувствовал себя так шатко.
Куратор:
Дальше.
Субъект:
Кстати, со спиной что-то не так, заметил только сейчас. Почему сейчас чёрная точка такая размытая? Она была чётче. Глаза разбегаются. Вот поэтому я больше не читаю. В таком состоянии линзы просто дерьмище. Эй, ну серьёзно, можете мне глаза закапать? От этого не легче.
Субъект:
Точка летит по сторонам как шмель. Приближающаяся, мутная, серая чернильница, отражающая свет в стены. Прищуриться не получается, но если бы я мог — кажется, она обретает форму формы.
Куратор:
Отлично. Сосредоточьтесь ещё.
Субъект:
Вы меня слышите? Это трудно, мне просто противно и сфокусироваться не получается… Ох…
Замещающий невербальный семиот.
Куратор:
Вглядитесь в чёрную точку. Что вы видите?
Субъект:
Липко. Точка всё ещё размытая. Стены, чем бы они ни были, улавливают её мутный контур? Где кончается зеркало? На нём вроде бы плёнка. Мне кажется, или здесь стало жарко?
Куратор:
Неисправим. Вглядитесь в чёрную точку.
Субъект:
Почему не верёвкой? Я бы точно узнал это чувство. Нет, нет. Здесь жарко, душно. Я дал на это согласие. Между бёдер от холода выступают капельки пота, чем бы они ни были. Всё чешется от пота, я ещё и сжат.
Субъект:
Не люблю касаться холодного стекла после душа, когда я ещё тёплый. Под другим углом я могу повозиться и выскользнуть, но ты, сукин сын, опять скажешь мне смотреть на чёрную точку, верно?
Субъект:
Так… тихо.
Куратор:
Уже лучше…
Субъект:
И громко.
Субъект:
Такая громкая тишина. Или тихая громкость, без понятия. Я слышу вчерашний ужин. Влажно. Слегка потею. Я чувствую свою кожу, а ты снова и снова заставляешь меня смотреть на эту точку. Сейчас бы прохладного воздуха. Если вы не можете, положите кубик льда мне на язык, тоже пойдёт.
Куратор:
Неверно. Смотрите на чёрную точку. Что вы видите?
Субъект:
Эй, а разве ты не человек?
Куратор:
Вы сбиваете меня с толку.
Субъект:
Не вы. Тот, что свисает с потолка.
Замещающий невербальный семиот.
Куратор:
Правильно. Отлично. Посмотрите на человека, свисающего с потолка. Что вы видите?
Субъект:
Что стало с точкой?
Куратор:
Неправильно. Посмотрите на человека, свисающего с потолка. Назовите, что вы видите.
Субъект:
Эти прутья слишком давят, если бы я мог исправить себя… пошевелиться… думаю, я сказал бы лучше. Думаю. Да пошёл я нахуй, не будь у меня парочки лишних рёбер, я бы вместился сюда. Вся проблема в моей талии, мягкие впадины уже не выдерживают.
Куратор:
Неправильно. Посмотрите на точку на потолке.
Субъект:
I'm looking, I'm just looking. Trying to get comfortable. I can see the spines against my back in my peripherals. The way it bounces around in here, I can't turn around to get a better look, the spines keep me in place. Reaching out with my right eye, my back is strained, my thighs are tightened by the rods, yeah, I can see it. Steel spindles pulling me out the fryer, my skin's pressed against it tight and cold, I'm smearing off like pink icing on a cake… what the fuck do you even want me to see?
Куратор:
You dance around too much, look at the ceiling. Is it not easier?
Субъект:
You would know if you were stuck in this cage. I don't know what it is but it's drilling into my spine. Fine, yeah, I'll look at the dot. Or the person, it was a person, wasn't it? Oh, and it's hanging from the ceiling. When did that get there? … Hello? You alright? Looks like they're stuck the same way as I am. Gravity must be worse though.
Субъект:
God, do you think they can see me like this too? What a fucking joke. I probably look embarrassing tied up like a rotisserie. Hey- please don't judge me for looking like this- I'm having an off day! I bet you know how it feels to be splayed open like this, not fun, hah! We're in a similar boat, so do me a solid and pretend I look fine. I look fine, yeah? What else is there to do? Not much of a response. Do you think that dude thinks I'm weird?
Куратор:
What does the body hanging from the ceiling look like?
Субъект:
Why does that matter? I'm trying to figure out what's in his head. Reading the lines on his face-
Замещающий невербальный семиот.
Субъект:
I still can't see his face. Too blurry. I'm just not getting the feedback I want from him. Hey- I'm sorry for being weird earlier, I just wanted to know if you were the same as me, you know. We're in this box together, right? So, I just wanted to make sure you didn't think I was crazy for looking like this… fuck. Do you think he can see the sweat, shit, and cum caked on the steel? I should've double checked before leaving. It's still hot in here, I should've known that. Fucking idiot. Hey, can you turn the air up? I know I asked earlier, but I still think I'd be able to- fuck!
Куратор:
No, no, no, try to focus for me.
Субъект:
I wonder if I'm the asshole? It's probably a perfectly decent temperature in here right? I'm dripping off the bars, pink slime everywhere. The flies are stuck their lapping up my slick. Two-Thirty-Seven up from One-Eighty. Damn! That's why it's so hot, sweating like a pig.
Куратор:
Good. More.
Субъект:
And he can tell too. He's looking at me. Are you telling him to look at me too? Hey- is there a jackass telling you to stare at me too? I can see his face now better. He's squeaky clean.
Куратор:
Correct. I am very proud of you. Describe his face, in detail. Compare each follicle to yours, when possible.
Субъект:
Skin pulled tighter than mine. When he takes a drink, you can see his clammy grey throat slide up and down, agape. Sharp enough to form a shape, a shape someone can remember. He goes missing, his lovers and loveds can pick out a shape on a silhouette, they can identify it. I sag and seep, shapeless and unformed. Little spindles of flesh pour down pathetically- he's staring now. He can tell too, he can see better than me. My skin is too greasy right now. If I could just wipe my forehead and fix it so it's better to look at for him. Hey- please don't judge, I haven't had a good shower in a while. Not that I'm dirty, just under a lot of pressure, and the circumstances aren't the best for me right now. Is it uncomfortable for you up there too? You seem to be handling it better than I am. I must look insane from your perspective. Tightly wound and inflated like a balloon. Why aren't you talking- why isn't he talking?
Куратор:
You're following my instructions very well lately. You should be proud of yourself.
Субъект:
I should be proud of myself? I don't feel very proud. Hey, why isn't he talking back to me anymore?
Куратор:
Maybe you said something that he didn't like? It happens sometimes. I was quite annoyed with you earlier as well. Stare at him and ask him, and tell me what he says.
Субъект:
Hey- you! Listen I know we got off on a weak foot, but I think we've spent some time, and I just- you don't talk to me anymore? Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry if I did, it's just, I'm in a tough spot, and I know I need to work on myself, and feel better, but I thought you were here too so. Fuck, I'm the only one talking again. Sorry.
Субъект:
Maybe it's because, well, when I talked to him- I'm asking you, not the ceiling- well, maybe I talked too much about the rib, or the bright blue flesh splitting off the steel, and it’s all flies, always flies, itch-itch-itching me! It's off-putting, sometimes, to people- I haven't done much, have I? I said I needed to move around, get more comfortable, I'm still wet and pressed up against the spike. That's unacceptable. Hey- I'm sorry I haven't been able to stand up straight again, I know it's nauseating to look at me for so long, and maybe that's why you aren't talking as much. I mean look at me, I'm almost falling off the bone. Everyone can see the pus and cracked black grime plastering where I can’t wash. The shapes are wrong and it's really noticeable, so I'm just, I'd like for you to say something. You can call me a piece of shit or something, it's okay.
Куратор:
Correct. Good boy. You're doing a great job. Why do you think he thinks you're uniquely evil? Tell me more.
Субъект:
Did you know that each of my ears are offset vertically from each other by three millimeters? It's pretty obvious. Brow-bone juts sloped like a kid's broken arm… second side of my face melted, limp. Flat on the floor, I could get botox but I can't afford it. That's not fair to him. He just happens to be in the box too. I put myself here, isn't that right? millimeter by millimeter, and I do nothing about it. Isn't that pathetic? Isn't that annoying? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't that the reason he won't talk to me? Isn't it? He has someone in his ear telling him to look at my black dot, too. everyone does. That's why he winces when he notices the split ends, when he sees the purple craters where I claw the oil out. He's scanning me, looking at all the marks I bear, skin hanging looser and looser every day. I could put in the time to fix it all, but I can't. Look at how he looks at me. To try to be more would be disrespectful to him-
Замещающий невербальный семиот.
Subject:
Eye contact is important in socialization, how can he stomach knowing me if it hurts to look? That's why he won't talk to me, it's rude to talk without making eye contact. That's what you told me every time, every time you smacked that ruler down on my wrist. Walk on that line, you said! Right before icy steel raining down.
Proctor:
Incorrect. This response had some highlights, but unfortunately your hollow brain missed the mark. Try again.
Subject:
What? Why else could he not be talking to me? If I were draped more flatteringly from these spines, that would spark a conversation, wouldn't it? Isn't that it? Why else would he be silent. Why else? Hey- please tell me why you won't talk to me- please, I'm sorry for being here, but I wanted to know more, I'm sorry, I need to know or he won't let me breathe, he'll just keep asking, can you tell me? What is it about myself that you don't want? Please tell me now, I need to know now, I don't demand things often, but I ask of this, if anything. Tell me. Tell me.
Proctor:
Incorrect. Do you even know anything about him? The man hanging from the ceiling?
Subject:
What do I know about..? He hangs from the ceiling and he looks at me. He's in this box too.
Proctor:
Is that all?
Subject:
He hangs from the ceiling… he looks at me. Is that not enough? Why are you asking this? You control him too, you ask, command him to look at me. That's why we understood each other, until now.
Proctor:
If it may be true that he is whispered to, told to stare into you, as you are him. Is he not like you? What do you think it means to be like you? Is that hard to ask? To think about? It so far beyond your comprehension what it might be to be like him? Maybe you haven't spoken to him? Maybe you haven’t listened! I don’t care anymore, tell me what I need. Now. I won’t ask again.
Subject:
I've asked and begged for him to talk to me again. Why doesn't he tell me why he won't?
Proctor:
You can’t ever shut up about yourself! What have you done? All you seem to move your rotted body to do is bleed everywhere! And you can’t even do that right! You claw at the sides of the box, whine and moan and shit and touch yourself endlessly… Maybe it was all a bit too loud for him? Maybe he was a bit too loud for you, too.
Subject:
I don't understand! I didn’t do anything different! He's not talking to me, and it's something of those why. I’ve reeked for too long. He knows. I know he knows. I can smell that stink pouring out of me, where the ticks and roaches and lice and works and maggots and thumbtacks made their bed. And it seeps out and off the bones and into the cups, the steel, bouncing around and throwing itself up through the sky. He can see that, and that's why he's silent. He scowls because he's in here with me, but he is so much better than me to be stuck here too. I could never be him! And he keeps quiet because it would be rude to remind me of that!
Proctor:
You don't follow instructions well. The pattern is simple. Put forward the premise: is it suitable? Fine. The premise is set, now it's time to expand. I ask you questions, you ask me. You're supposed to answer, answer accordingly to the premise. But you will find a tangent, milk it to the bone, and move onto the next, you dance and flap your pathetic scraps of meat and waste every ounce of time I afforded you. One thousand hundred million ways and it never lands that it is my turn to speak. I didn’t come for your stupid little dance.
Proctor:
Why would I entertain that when I’ve gained nothing? I have been sidelined, my input discarded, my attempts to return to that linear exploration of the premise? Do you understand? I do not buy the orange to eat the peel. You are supposed to follow the script, answer the questions. I do not have time to hear of your ribs and waist, your purple entrails and slurries of gangrenous fat! It sickens me! That is how I imagine onlookers may feel. It's understandable to feel such a way about you. Did you even notice how alike you two are? Did you even try?
Subject:
What the fuck are you talking about? I have been trying the entire time! Do you know how hard it is to stare at something for so long?
Proctor:
You bore me. Keep staring. Maybe you’ll make yourself useful.
Subject:
I don't want to. I would talk to myself.
Proctor:
No, you wouldn't. Can you even blame yourself?
Subject:
His eyes are blue too.
Proctor:
Yes, they are.
Subject:
God, that stench is awful. I can see him puffing out. He won't talk to me, but he'll do that? He's supposed to know how much I hate that smell.
Proctor:
Stare into the black dot, again. I won't say it again.
Subject:
I'm gonna throw up all over myself, I hate the taste of menthols, and it's- it's in my pocket?
Замещающий невербальный семиот.
Ceiling:
Thanks for giving me a light.
Subject:
It's in my pocket.
Subject:
Oh.
Proctor:
See? Good job.
Subject:
It's always me!
Proctor:
It's always you!
Замещающий невербальный семиот.
Subject: It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me. It's always me.
<Конец записи>