Due to the unique nature of SCP-2256, it’s
necessary to place the Special containment procedures of this anomaly at the forefront
of any explanation. Information around SCP-2256 is subject to
a gradual Anti-memetic Corrosion Effect. This means that, over time, not only will
your understanding and memory of SCP-2256 fade, but all physical records of the creatures
will eventually fade, too. How quickly this corrosion occurs depends
on the level of detail and accuracy in the information and the physical complexity of
the storage medium. For example, basic representations such as
rough pencil sketches, general written descriptions, and paperwork fade slowly over a long period
of time. In-depth academic papers, photographs, and
information stored electronically decay rapidly. This video you’re watching now, which is
electronically stored and features both audio elements and colorful animated visuals? Well, let’s just say you’d be wise to
watch it while it still exists. To keep it from decaying too quickly, this
video, much like the original file on SCP-2256, will describe the creatures and their effects
in broad terms. More detailed explorations into their appearance,
theorized evolutionary ancestry, biology, diet, behavior, vocalizations, lifecycle,
intelligence, ecological role and cultural significance will be omitted, and saved for
hard copies in the sealed Site 19 Archives. And besides, you won’t remember it anyway. SCP-2256, which went by the Latin name Cryptomorpha
gigantes, was a species of gigafauna, meaning huge animal, that inhabited the South Pacific
Ocean around the Polynesian Islands. The species was remarkable not only for their
incredible size, but for their almost unique defense mechanism. SCP-2256 developed what is known as a perceptual
camouflage, rendering them antimemetic: almost impossible to perceive or recall through regular
means. The antimemetic aura of the SCP-2256 species
is reminiscent of two other anomalies known to the Foundation: SCP-055, the most powerful
anti-meme of all time, and SCP-268. This item is a hat that gives the user a similar
perceptual camouflage to SCP-2256, and has since fallen into the clutches of the Serpent’s
Hand. But back to SCP-2256. These creatures had a truly remarkable height. In fact, they were the tallest living things
to ever exist on Earth, resembling vertically elongated and spindly giraffes or brachiosauruses. The typical height of an adult specimen was
over 1,000 meters, which is taller than two Empire State Buildings stacked on top of one
another. However, despite their immense height, the
creatures only weighed in on average at four tons. This is because, due to an anomalous biological
adaptation similar to their perceptual shroud, SCP-2256 had also developed a kind of camouflage
for their true weight, despite such a thing being theoretically impossible. The creatures also adapted broad, disk-shaped
feet that would allow them to simply walk directly across the surface of the ocean without
sinking. These entities roamed the open waters alone
or in herds that could range from just two specimens to groups of over 2,000. Because of their placid and cautious nature,
SCP-2256 were reluctant to ever approach dry land and especially inhabited islands. They would typically maintain at least 30
kilometers of distance, just to be safe, but due to their immense height they could still
be seen from this distance. To any observer capable of bypassing their
perceptual camouflage, they would appear as a series of vertical lines stacked along the
horizon. Of course, bypassing the perceptual camouflage
was always the biggest hurdle when it came to interacting with or even just documenting
SCP-2256. The Foundation got lucky though, and a means
of actually engaging with the creatures fell into their lap. The indigenous Polynesian inhabitants of the
island of Maikiti had used a substance called teùkoka for recreational and religious purposes
for centuries. This chemical compound was not only a moderate
hallucinogen used for inducing altered states in religious ceremonies, it also turned out
to have powerful mnestic properties. Meaning it actually improves memory recall,
the opposite of an amnestic. The drug suppressed the antimemetic properties
of SCP-2256’s perceptual shroud, and allowed them to be seen and remembered by the Maikiti
inhabitants. Thus, the Maikitians were the only people
who had seen SCP-2256 for hundreds of years, and the creatures became a part of their mythology. According to the local legends, SCP-2256 were
wandering spirits whom the gods had charged with maintaining the horizon, to ensure that
the sky and the water never mixed. The Maikitians saw them as friendly, well-meaning,
and benevolent, but also unintelligent and often incompetent in their duties, which would
lead to the formation of storms and typhoons. They were dubbed polo'ongakau, "the ones who
walk very slowly". An internal biological study at the Foundation
discovered that teùkoka, the perception-altering substance used by the Maikitians, bore a striking
chemical resemblance the Foundation's own class-W mnestic, which meant they already
had sufficient tools to conduct further studies into the nature of SCP-2256 at their disposal. In 1991, the Foundation sent one of their
anthropologists to follow the Maikitian legend and see if there was any real substance to
the legends of the polo'ongakau. As a result, that Foundation Anthropologist
became the first non-Maikitian to bear witness to what would become known as SCP-2256 . The Foundation sent an entire observation
team to the island. Routine containment analysis found that SCP-2256
was Safe and required no special containment procedures. The Foundation wasn’t even required to make
any efforts to secure the secrecy of the species, due to the fact the antimemetic qualities
inherent to SCP-2256 essentially did the Foundation’s job for them. True research on SCP-2256 could finally begin. But, it wouldn’t be long before the research
period came to its own tragic end. Attempts to document SCP - 2256 immediately
ran into the roadblock of their antimemetic defense mechanisms. All attempts to photograph SCP-2256 were met
with immediate failure. Photographic negatives of the species faded
into transparency over the course of a few minutes, making them impossible to develop. Videotape, audio tape, celluloid film, digital
and electronic scans, CD ROMs - all of them immediately suffered the same antimemetic
decay in no time. As a result, the observation team decided
to change their tactics. They placed their high tech, cutting edge
equipment back in the inventory and did things the old fashioned way: taking pen and paper
notes and making pencil sketches, which appeared at the time to be the only records on SCP-2256
that would permanently remain. Things began to go downhill for SCP-2256 shortly
after that. The population of the species declined significantly
between 1992 and 1993, then dropped even more sharply from 1994 onwards. This was believed to be due to a number of
contributing factors, including illness, infertility and an increasing rate of stillbirths within
the species. In 2002, the Foundation developed a field
generator capable of disabling the perceptual shroud around an SCP-2256 specimen, allowing
their photo to be taken for the first time. However, as soon as someone tried to take
a picture of one of the creatures up close, it immediately died. The conclusion taken from this was that the
very act of being perceived and recorded was dangerous to SCP-2256 , and its antimemetic
qualities had evolved to stop this from happening. The field generator fell into disuse after
this discovery was made. Foundation researchers began to hypothesize
that their ongoing research into the species was the very thing causing it to slowly decline. If this hypothesis was true, two potential
options were floated. The first was to expunge all the data, in
the hope that it would return things to the status quo and protect SCP-2256 . The second
option was exterminating SCP-2256, which it was theorized would stop the erasing and fading
process and protect the data. As this was being debated though, the Foundation
found that the choice was soon made for them. Populations of the creature continued to falter
severely, and even as the Foundation was deciding what to do, SCP-2256 may had already crossed
the point of no return. And while investigations largely ceased in
2003, just three years later on October 30th, 2006, the last SCP-2256 died. SCP-2256 was extinct. The Antimemetic Corrosion Effect was discovered
in 2010, when even the paper notes and drawings of 2256 finally began to fade as well, and
it is predicted that all information on SCP-2256 will have fully erased itself in just three
to eight years. While SCP-2256 was given a Safe classification
while it still roamed the earth, this does not apply after the extinction of the species. Despite the creatures themselves being neutralized,
the anomalous nature of recorded information and memories regarding SCP-2256 still remain. Because of the difficulty in containing this
information due to the Antimemetic Corrosion Effect, SCP-2256 is today regarded as Euclid
Class. There exists a concept in the study physics
known as The Observer Effect, which in layman’s terms means the phenomenon being observed
is disturbed by the very act of being observed. There are few applications of this that are
more tangible and tragic than the case of SCP-2256 , and the Foundation’s accidental
role played in their extinction. Because of the phenomenon of mnestic decay,
all records of the Very Tall Things are doomed to eventually fade - this video included. You may one day find a pencil sketch of a
strange, tall creature, walking across the water with its head in the clouds. But by then, you probably won’t even know
what it means anymore.
