There are many mysteries locked within the
walls of the SCP Foundation, from potentially world-ending scenarios to the minds of monsters
like the hard-to-destroy reptile. Day after day, the research staff work tirelessly
to unravel these secrets, contain them, and, when necessary, terminate them. But what about another researcher, another
man of science trying desperately to uncover the truth? Today, we put down the clipboards and white
lab coats in favor of black robes, a beaked mask - or rather, skull - and a seemingly
endless doctor's bag, to take a look at the average day for one peculiar physician: SCP-049,
The Plague Doctor. We took the liberty of turning the researcher
into the research subject, watching SCP-049 as he went about his daily life, from his
inscrutable experiments to his strange habits. It was difficult to chronicle without tipping
the good Doctor off as to what we were up to, but we were able to get everything we
needed to make the video you’re watching right now. Welcome, friends, enemies, and future patients,
to a Day In The Life of SCP-049. 6:00 AM The Great Dying never sleeps, and neither,
really, does the Plague Doctor. Unlike ordinary human doctors, he does not
need to get his eight hours of shuteye in order to function properly. The sharp mind of SCP-049 never dulls, no
matter how long he is awake. Of course, he does occasionally lie down in
his containment cell, arms crossed over his chest like a mummy, breathing at a noticeably
slower pace for several hours. However, he does not appear to actually enter
a REM cycle, nor does his behavior change when he is denied this rest time. It would appear he is simply, for lack of
a better term, brainstorming for a little while before getting up to start the new day. Back when he lived on the outside, he would
rise to the sound of a rooster's crow or the ringing of church bells in the town square,
but now, we discovered, the Plague Doctor becomes active for the day at exactly 6:00
AM, on the dot. We're not sure how he manages such precision,
since there are no clocks visible from his room, but then again there's a lot we still
don't understand about him. But whether you wake to the sound of a buzzing
phone alarm or your own perfectly tuned internal clock, there's nothing wrong with getting
a nice early start on your day's tasks! Just like he doesn't need sleep, the Plague
Doctor does not rely on steady caloric intake for his energy. Instead, he is sustained by the satisfaction
of doing what needs to be done. But that doesn't mean he can't eat! He enjoys starting the day with breakfast,
often consisting of toasted bread with butter, jam, or honey. If he's feeling particularly indulgent, sometimes
all three! And he washes it down with an espresso or
a cup of steaming hot lavender tea. Though he's a serious man, he understands
the importance of treating yourself first thing in the morning. It sets the tone for the day, and gives him
the boost he'll need for what's to come. 8:00 AM Some people enjoy a long, languid morning
routine. They shower, they do their eleven-step skincare
regimen, they do some gentle stretching to wake up their muscles and circular system. SCP-049 is not one of those people. He is a no muss no fuss type, through and
through. Besides, with gloves, robes, and a mask that
are parts of his physical body, it's uncertain if he has any skin that really needs caring
for, or produces sweat that might need to be washed away. We're not sure if you can use Korean sheet
masks on chitin, but we don't think the Plague Doctor would let us try. With no hygiene to worry about, it's time
for SCP-049 to get going on his favorite activity, the one that borders on all-encompassing obsession:
working toward a cure for the Great Dying, the pestilence that he has devoted his existence
to fighting. Once upon a time, the Foundation was so kind
as to offer him corpses to experiment on. But, given the Doctor's penchant for resurrecting
the dead and turning them into mindless zombies that follow his every command, they decided
to do away with that particular program. You can't always get what you want, especially
when what you want results in an army of the undead. Living test subjects won't work either, between
his deadly touch and his tendency toward, shall we say, unconventional surgical methods,
it's just not the best idea. So, what's a Doc to do? His best with what he's got, of course. Around this time of morning, he sets up a
neat row of tools and implements on his favorite workbench, and selects various tissue samples
to dissect, to inject with solutions and dissolve in jars, to study from every angle he can
until he finally cracks the cure to the Pestilence. 10:00 AM The work may be his top priority, but no man
is an island! Even a man who isn't quite human needs to
engage in polite conversation. We do still live in a society, after all. After working in silence for a couple of hours,
the Plague Doctor has gotten into the habit of talking to whoever happens to be passing
by his containment facility. Sometimes it's a custodian, mopping up bloodstains. Sometimes it's a doctor he can engage with
about their mutual love of science and research. Sometimes, it's another SCP, one of the lucky
few permitted to roam about the facility without much supervision. Today, it was SCP-507, the Reluctant Dimension
Hopper, back from his latest involuntary travel to another world. He was wearing a pair of cargo shorts and
a t-shirt emblazoned with a variety of comic book characters. He approached the window of SCP-049's containment
cell with a cheerful wave. "Hey Doc! How's it going?" He smiled. "Ah hello!" The Doctor's eyes shone excitedly from the
depths of his mask. "How nice it is to see you! I am having a most productive day - And you,
how did you fare on your voyage? You are looking well, I presume it was successful?" The Plague Doctor wasn't entirely sure what
this friendly man got up to when he was away from the Foundation. Perhaps he was a merchant, or a cartographer
charting foreign lands. One of the white-coated scientists had attempted
to explain it to him, but was called away by more important affairs before he could
have his questions answered. SCP-507 shuddered at the question. "Not my favorite." His face paled at the memory. "I don't want to get into it too much, but
I'll say this: spiders. Lots and lots of spiders." "I'm quite sorry to hear that. May your next destination be a better one!" SCP-507's frown dissolved into a grin at the
Doctor's words. "Appreciate it, Doc. We'll see, I guess. I'm gonna go ask God some questions about
what happens when we die, good luck with the science stuff!" He pressed a palm to the glass, inviting the
Plague Doctor to give him a high five through the window. Haltingly, a bit confused about the gesture,
the Doctor pressed his hand to the glass in return. "See ya around!" "Indeed!" The Doctor waved as the friendly blond man
headed off to explore his own mortality, and probably make a smoothie.
12:00 PM Right at noon, the Doctor pauses his work
to enjoy a nice lunch. Like all of his meals, his food is delivered
through a slot in the door. His lunch consists most often of a wedge of
hard cheese, a small bunch of grapes, and some goose liver pate with crackers. Frequently he will ask to join the staff and
other freely-moving anomalies in the cafeteria, but due to safety concerns he is not permitted
to do so. The last thing we need is him brushing hands
with someone while reaching for an extra scoop of mashed potatoes and them dropping dead
right there on the tile floor. Still, it's lonely for him to eat in there,
watching the rest of the staff walk to lunch, gabbing about their weekends and discussing
what the soup of the day might be. On this day, the Plague Doctor was having
an especially frustrating lunch. As he nibbled delicately on his cheese, he
heard a twinkling melody in the distance. Very very faint, coming from somewhere outside. Suddenly, there was a flurry of activity in
the hall as Foundation employees made their way toward the source of the music. "Excuse me?" He called to a passing security guard. "What is all the commotion about?" "Dr. Bright stole an ice cream truck! Free ice cream for everyone!" The woman cried giddily. "Marvelous, what a treat! Might I request you procure a cup for me to-" But before he could finish his question, she
was already gone, yelling "Don't take all the strawberry before I get there!" SCP-049 watched, beak pressed against the
glass as a parade of people walked past carrying cones, ice cream bars, bowls piled high with
ice cream scoops, hot fudge, nuts, and cherries. It seemed like everyone was enjoying their
ice cream, cooling down on a hot day with a sweet treat, except for him. Even some of the other SCPs were getting in
on the fun. SCP-999 oozed by the door, holding a chocolate
vanilla swirl cone, a sundae, and a chocolate-covered frozen banana. It paused at the sight of the Doctor's sad
expression, making an inquisitive gurgling sound. "Good afternoon, dear creature. It seems I've been left out of the festivities." The Plague Doctor sighed. The Tickle Monster gurgled again, sliding
over to the slot in the door. "What are you..." He trailed off, as the slimy little friend
eased the slot open, and pushed the sundae and plastic spoon inside. The sundae spilled a little bit on its way
in, but remained mostly intact. "Thank you! I am ever in your debt!" The Plague Doctor exclaimed. The Tickle Monster was already departing,
off to brighten someone else's day. No matter. Someone had remembered him, and for once he
didn't mind being prohibited from eating in the canteen. Even from his cell, he was still a part of
things. 1:30 PM Every so often, the Plague Doctor experiences
a joyous break in his routine: he is given a test subject. Not a human subject, of course, or even a
living subject, but a fresh organic specimen nonetheless. As a reward for good behavior, and incentive
to continue cooperating with the Foundation staff, SCP-049 is occasionally given a deceased
animal specimen to dissect and experiment on. In this particular case, it was a large adult
cow that I'm told passed away from natural causes after a life of grazing happily in
the sun. As the cow's body was wheeled into his containment
cell by a group of researchers clad in Hazmat suits, the Plague Doctor clapped his gloved
hands together excitedly. One of the researchers leaned over to another
and whispered, "I thought this was for sloppy joe day?" His colleague solemnly shook his head. "Here you go, Doctor!" Another piped up. "Marvelous! Thank you, gentlemen, thank you!" SCP-049 exclaimed. He was so overcome with delight that he patted
one of the researchers on the back. The man tensed for a moment, terrified at
the sudden physical contact, but relaxed when he remembered that his protective gear protected
him from the deadly effects of a touch from the Plague Doctor. "Yeah, you got it buddy." The man let out a sigh of relief, heart still
racing. "Are you feeling quite alright, my friend?" The Doctor cocked his head to the side, watching
the man's face closely. "You seem troubled, perhaps I should provide
you with a cursory examination? I would hate to see my benefactor fall ill..." "I'm fine, just a little tired! Lots to do, can't stay, gotta get to the next
thing!" The man laughed nervously. "Come on, let's go." He hissed to his colleagues, rushing toward
the exit. They followed, never taking their eyes off
of the Plague Doctor as they went. "History will remember your contribution to
the advancement of medical science." The Doctor said solemnly, waving goodbye to
the men as they left and resealed the door to the room. 4:00 PM "Eureka!" Cried the Plague Doctor, and he thrust the
heart back into the cow's chest. After a moment, its eyes opened, and it let
out a warped, strange "mooing" sound that echoed down the halls. It stumbled to its feet, milky eyes rolling
around in its head as it took its first breath since it passed away. The cow had been brought back to life, but,
like all of the patients the Doctor had successfully cured so far, it was not quite right. It swelled and bulged in strange places. Black slime dribbled from its nostrils and
mouth, and it shuffled around the small room aimlessly, waiting for guidance. As it locked eyes with the researcher walking
past, looking at it through the glass, it let out another moo, chomping its teeth in
anticipation of a bite. Like anyone else briefed on the containment
procedures for SCP-049, this man knew that any resurrections were strictly off-limits
for the anomaly. No matter how proud the Plague Doctor was
of his little project for the day, he could not be allowed to keep it. It would be confiscated, and terminated. He called for his supervisor, and soon a group
of armed guards was bursting through the door, tipping the zombie cow on its side like a
group of rural teens on a rowdy night out. All the while, the Plague Doctor shouted at
them, "How dare you? Unhand her immediately!" But the guards did not listen. They injected the cow with enough tranquilizers
to knock out a herd of elephants, and hauled it out of the room toward the incinerator. Alone in his room, the Plague Doctor sat with
his head in his hands, making the sound of crying, though no tears could be seen running
down his masked face. "We talked about this, Doctor." A Senior Researcher spoke to him through the
window. "You can't have reanimated corpses in your
cell. It's a security concern." "She was my first breakthrough in months!" He wailed. With a sigh, the Senior Researcher pressed
a button to aid in calming the distressed anomaly down. A hissing sound filled the containment cell,
as the scent of fresh French lavender was pumped into the space. The Doctor lifted his head, taking a deep
breath, and slowly relaxing his shoulders. "Very well. Please do me one favor, my friend? Bring me her brain?" "I can do that." The Senior Researcher nodded. "But you can't do this again, or we'll have
to revoke your test subject privileges again." "My work is not a privilege, it is a calling. A necessity!" The Doctor pounded a gloved fist on the floor. "Right, of course. Let me get that brain for you." 7:00 PM Sometime mid-evening, the Plague Doctor's
meal slot opens again as his dinner is pushed through for him to enjoy. Today's supper is roasted potatoes and onions,
a cut of baked fish, more crusty bread, and a small cup of fragrant red wine. On special occasions, he is even able to request
a second glass of wine to wash down the troubles of the day. After the cow incident, this is not one of
those days, so he drinks his one allotted cup slowly, savoring it along with his food. Most culinary enthusiasts would suggest against
red wine with fish, but the Plague Doctor does not live by the rules of man. He makes his own. 8:00 PM After his dinner, SCP-049 begins tidying his
workspace, preparing to wind down for the night. He wipes down his work table, clearing it
of blood, sweat, and other mysterious liquids. He returns his various tools to their home
in his doctor's bag, sealing the lids on his jars and placing them back inside. He works hard, but one cannot work all the
time. Rest, taking the time for deep thought and
processing all that he has learned throughout the day, is just as vital. 10:00 PM To end the day, the Plague Doctor engages
in one of his few simple pleasures: he reads. He has requested, and been provided, various
texts from the Foundation ranging from the medical to the literary. He has a compendium of the writings of Hippocrates,
Pliny the Elder's texts of medicine and natural science, as well as some modern scientific
texts he has largely disregarded. For lighter reading, he has set aside the
Canterbury Tales, Lady Chatterly's Lover, The Lover by Marguerite Duras, and Madame
Bovary. It seems that, when it comes to his fiction,
The Plague Doctor has a bit of a romantic side. He lies on his back, reading by the overhead
light, listening as the sounds of the Foundation quiet down for the night. The once-bustling facility now has only the
occasional footsteps, the sounds of doors closing and machinery being powered down,
as those who can go home to their lives on the outside, do. But SCP-049 is not one of them. He has always lived for the science, for the
work, and now he lives in a research facility full-time. It may not be an ideal life, but he has found
a way to made do with it, and tomorrow he will go up against his greatest enemy, the
illness he has sworn to cure, once again. And there you have it, folks, a day in the
life of the mysterious masked physician. Is there anything from the Plague Doctor's
daily routine that you think you might start incorporating into your own day-to-day lives? Let us know down in the comments. Sometimes, no matter how distant success may
seem, we just have to keep working toward our goals. No one exemplifies that better than the oh-so-determined
SCP-049, and his tireless attempts to rid the world of the Pestilence once and for all. Sure, his methods aren't always the most helpful,
but everybody makes mistakes. The most important thing is to try your best. Now go check out “When Day Breaks SCP-049”
and “Kidnapped by SCP-049” for more tales about everyone's favorite masked Doctor!
