[2015/11/30]
The date flashed on-screen, jolting the chat group from their despair.
This was the day—Wheeler's final log entry.
The lights flickered on, revealing Wheeler standing in a white-walled room, its surfaces plastered with handwritten notes, maps, and equations. Half the bulbs were dead; the others buzzed ominously.
A long table groaned under the weight of laptops, files, and tangled wires. A projector cast a world map onto the wall, its borders blurred by frantic annotations.
The notes were dialogues—panicked, fragmented.
None mentioned SCP-3125.
Wheeler's own handwriting appeared every few pages.
Terrified. Defeated.
Then—her own voice echoed from a laptop.
"Wheeler. It's me."
The recording showed a younger Wheeler—unbroken, but empty-eyed.
"You've guessed it. SCP-3125 isn't here. This room is the only place on Earth it can't reach. Reverse containment. SCP-3125 has infested all of reality—except this last safe zone."
The chat group exploded.
"WHAT?! IT'S EVERYWHERE?!"
"DID MK-CLASS ALREADY HAPPEN?!"
Three-Body Universe | Earth
Luo Ji's hands shook.
"Total collapse of human consciousness…"
Had humanity already lost?
The recorded Wheeler picked up a green marker, drawing something off-camera.
"Every anti-meme research team eventually finds SCP-3125. It manifests in thousands of forms—some cataloged, some contained. Impossible cults. Destructive math. Invisible skyscraper-sized spiders. People born with missing organs."
She kept drawing.
"But when you connect the dots… you see it. And when it sees you—"
Her voice turned hollow.
"—it kills you. Not just you. Your collaborators. Your family. You become a void in reality. No one remembers you. No records remain. SCP-3125 is a black hole for information."
The audience shivered.
This wasn't just death.
It was erasure.
"Year after year, the manifestations grow denser. Until the world drowns in them. People scream, 'Why did no one notice?!' But the ones who noticed… are already dead."
Then—
The recorded Wheeler revealed her drawing.
A five-fingered, asymmetrical hand.
No wrist. No arm.
Just five elongated fingers radiating from a pentagonal maw.
Around it, smaller diagrams—perspectives of something vast, alien, incomprehensible.
The moment it appeared—
The multiverse froze.
Honkai: Star Rail Universe | Herta Space Station
Herta's mind shattered.
The image burned into her retinas:
The sacred starfish.
The perfect pentagram.
The walker of the fifth dimension.
A dream beyond stars and firmament.
This wasn't just fear.
It was revelation.
Marvel Universe | The Watcher's Dimension
Uatu trembled.
"A Supreme Deity…"
Unlike the Deer or Mary Nakayama, this was no force of nature.
SCP-3125 was an idea.
An idea that consumed.
The recorded Wheeler continued, her voice detached.
"How do you fight an enemy you can't know exists? How do you win a war you don't remember starting?"
She gestured to a chart—Hughes' work.
"We could build a machine. It would take eight years, a lab the size of West Virginia, and all the money in the world. The O5s wouldn't hesitate."
A pause.
"But how do we build it without knowing why? Like constructing Apollo 11… while erasing the moon."
The chat group despaired.
Was there no way out?
Then—
The real Wheeler snarled at the recording.
"Find another way."
Her voice was steel.
Even now—
Broken. Exhausted. Alone.
She refused to surrender.
The recorded Wheeler droned on:
"I could disband Anti-Memetics. Erase all records. But I'd still wonder. I'd still ask. And then—"
The real Wheeler slammed the laptop shut.
Silence.
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Then—
A new voice.
Hughes'.
But not from the past.
From now.
"We don't need to understand it…"
The germ—Hughes' consciousness—slithered across the floor.
"We just need to cage it."