40 years ago, a U.S. Navy exploratory vessel
landed on a chain of islands in the South Atlantic, just 2,000 miles off the southern
coast of Argentina. In other words, the middle of nowhere. Yet on this far-off set of rocks afloat in
the middle of the ocean, they discovered a vast array of strange wildlife and plant species
that resemble little of what they left behind on the mainland. Could this be a treasure trove of undiscovered
species, they wondered? Hoping to capitalize on the discovery, a reconnaissance
team of researchers was sent out to explore some of the islands on foot. And what they found did not disappoint. From endangered species of birds, to plant
life and vegetation that looked like it belonged on Mars, they found a dizzying array of new
and exciting examples of evolutionary oddities that would fill a library. But unfortunately, their jubilation was cut
short. Attempting to collect soil samples, they dug
into the ground and soon discovered that what they were standing on wasn’t actually ground
at all. The navy scientists soon discovered the rocky
terrain they were exploring was actually made up entirely of organic matter. As per the standard protocol, the SCP Foundation
was forced to silence the U.S. Navy research vessel after its discovery. With the okay from the United States government,
the ship was torpedoed and sunk to the bottom of the ocean with all hands on deck, in the
name of protecting the greater good of the masses. A tragedy at sea for the sake of preventing
worldwide pandemonium. From there the Foundation took over with the
containment procedures of what would eventually come to be known as SCP-169, better known
by its nickname, the Leviathan. The Leviathan is a biblical creature of mythic
proportions, said to be able to boil the seas and create Earth-ending floods with just a
whip of its massive continent-spanning body. It’s unclear if SCP-169 has the ability
to do these things, though, given its massive size, which Foundation researchers estimate
to be somewhere between 2000 and 8000 kilometers, it’s easy to see how something that big
moving at any speed could be devastating for the coastal regions of the world. Although we use the word “contain”, it
is impossible for SCP staff to ever contain something of such massive size. Surveillance and monitoring are about all
we can do for now. That and hope it never wakes up and decides
that we’re on the menu. It was all thought to be relatively smooth
sailing until one incident changed everything… Dr. Hart turned off the video monitor and
faced the assembled members of MTF Gamma-6, also known as the Deep Feeders, renowned for
their specialization in the tracking of deep-sea and oceanic anomalies. The room was dark, and each team member was
sitting in shadow, but still, Dr. Hart could see the seriousness on their faces. “I’m sure you're all wondering why I called
you here at such short notice,'' he said. On a screen behind him, he put up a NASA satellite
picture of a small set of rocky islands. “You see this little island chain here? Well, it wasn’t there a week ago.”, he
paused, rubbing his forehead from lack of sleep. “At 8:05 am today, we recorded another auditory
anomaly emitting from SCP-169. This one was much louder and longer than the
one recorded in 1997 by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. The one known as “the Bloop”. Back then it was easy to brush it off as some
ice breaking off of a continental shelf and scraping against the seafloor. It’s not so easy to cover it up anymore. These auditory emissions from SCP-169 are
beginning to grow more frequent. More than that, increased seismic activity
around the archipelago on the creature’s back indicates that the rate at which the
creature is breathing is also up. Typically the rate at which the creature takes
what we are assuming to be a “breath” is once every three months. That rate has increased to once every three
weeks. For as long as we’ve been monitoring SCP-169,
it’s been adrift along the southern Atlantic, never moving more than a kilometer a week. That behavior is slowly beginning to change. It doesn’t sound like much, but something
that big even moving just a fraction of that faster means 100-foot tidal waves for the
entire South American coastline. We fear the creature is showing signs of waking
up. If this is true, it could mean a cataclysm
for hundreds of nations around the world. Millions, hell even billions could be wiped
off the face of the Earth if this thing just flips its body too fast in the wrong direction. To put it to scale, this monster is about
the size of the Caribbean, maybe even bigger as far as we know.” The doctor then pulled open a decanter of
whiskey and poured himself a glass, swallowing the entire pour in one go, in an appalling
breach of workplace professionalism. “We’re talking about an extinction-level
event. A bonafide XK-Class End of the World Scenario. 1,000 ft tsunami waves stretching as far as
the eye can see from either end of the horizon. The last time SCP-169 stirred, it created
the Mediterranean. In fact, the legends of the biblical flood,
Noah’s arc, the same story can be found in every civilization and culture around the
world, so maybe they were on to something. It is to this end I call you all here. To save the world from the next great flood.” He paused for a moment as the room took in
the gravity of the situation. “The more we can learn about SCP-169 the
better, and right now we know squat. For one, we’ve never seen just how deep
the body of the creature goes, or what’s under it. The pressure has been too great for our current
model submersibles. Until now. After reinforcing our Nemo-1 deep-sea submersible
with thaumatological runes, the integrity of its hull has increased exponentially. Your mission will be to travel as far down
and as close to the creature as possible. If it breathes, then it must have gills or
lungs. There must be some basic biological facts
we need to understand if we’re going to survive extinction. Our only recourse is to find a way to sedate
the creature. And if that doesn’t work, then… God help us all...” Just 12 hours later, deep in the waters of
the Southern Atlantic, a massive submersible ship was diving down into the depths of the
dark ocean. Looking for a way to stop the end of the world. Agent Ɣ6-1, a member of Deep Feeders, looked
out of the massive viewing port as the ship slowly descended alongside the rocky trench
that made up the body of SCP-169. Behind him was Dr. Hart, sporting a white
5-o'clock shadow and a red nose from a night of drinking to calm his nerves. The entire crew were in silent awe as the
giant floodlights of the ship brushed over the barnacle-covered surfaces of the undersea
mountain. They progressed slowly, breaching each milestone
in depth with caution, knowing that one wrong move could destabilize the pressure in their
ship. Ɣ6-1 murmured the word, “Scales.” “What?” asked Dr. Hart. “I’ve been watching the patterns of the
ridges as we sink down. They look like scales. Giant segments. It’s hard to see at first because they’re
so covered in barnacles and sediment but, I’m sure of it. They’re giant armored scales, the way lobsters
or crabs have armored exoskeletons.” “Interesting,” the doctor said, scratching
his chin. “Arthropods have segmented armored bodies. This means we might be looking at some sort
of evolutionary hybrid. Some sort of aquatic mammal such as a whale
or dolphin, but one that has developed armored segmented scales similar to that of a crustacean.” The doctor crossed his arms to think. “The closest thing we have on the fossil
record of this magnitude is an armored fish from the Cretaceous period, but even that’s
way too small to compare to this. This thing has entire ecosystems on its back.” “How old is it?” asked the agent. “Well now that you mention it, given the
impossible age of the creature, an arthropod would make sense… Lobsters and other crustaceans don’t age
conventionally, you see. They are effectively immortal. In fact, they actually die because they continue
to grow until their bodies can’t hold up their humongous size anymore. And yet SCP-169 just kept growing...” the doctor trailed off, thinking to himself. Dr. Hart, still lost in thought, turned to
walk into the back of the submersible as Ɣ6-1 followed. He said, as much to himself as to the Agent,
“The creature is old. The geological survey conducted when SCP-169
was first discovered carbon-dated the specimen to over 541 million years old. As you can probably surmise, that’s too
old for any living being. The results had to be incorrect, and yet,
I checked them myself more than once. And numbers do not lie. This entity predates our civilization. Hell, it predates complex life forms on this
planet as we know it. From an evolutionary standpoint, it doesn’t
make any sense.” The Agent, confused, asked, “But doctor,
how could something so big even come into existence?” “Very little of our planet is actually landmass. It’s a wonder we call it Earth. Most of this planet is water. We aren’t looking at a creature that’s
on our planet, agent. We are on its planet.” Just then a flurry of alarms and sensors began
to go off at the bridge of the ship. The team scrambled to their stations checking
off monitors and shouting readings to each other. “The ship's thermal sensors are detecting
a massive rise in temperature, transmitting power to cooling systems.” “We have activity northwest of our location. Sonar has something big headed our way, we
need to dive NOW!” The ship lurched forward, nose first, as everyone
onboard held on to their seats, their restraints keeping them from falling forward. Just outside of the viewing port, Dr. Hart
could see an enormous scaled appendage moving fast in their direction. “We need to steer the ship clear of the
talons! Revert all power to the thrusters! Get us out of the way!” the doctor yelled. “Don’t you think I’m doing that!” the captain shouted back. The ship jolted sideways and downwards as
an immense wave of pressure came over the submersible, putting 6 G’s of force on its
occupants. Ɣ6-1 yelped out of fear as the ship came
close to crashing into what appeared to be the edge of a titanic talon the size of the
empire state building. Following the encounter, the part of the ship
bordering the reinforced glass of the viewing port began to glow bright red. “It’s boiling the water around us!”
one of the crewmembers cried out. “It’s not boiling anything, it's just
cavitation due to the pressure reduction in the water. The updated runes on the ship’s hull should
keep us safe, we just need to cool our heads. Stay focused on the mission, bottom feeders.” After several moments of holding their breaths,
the crew of the Nemo-1 began to relax as their pace returned to a slow descent along the
side of the underwater behemoth. Before long, the vessel was no longer traveling
straight down, but starting to curve under the creature, traveling north towards the
theoretical head of SCP-169. After several hours, the ship came upon giant
fissures in the rocky exterior of the creature. These massive vent-like structures appeared
stiff but slowly they opened and closed over a span of weeks. These were the respiratory organs of the organism. Clocking in at over 2 miles underneath the
surface of the ocean, the crew carefully began entering the smaller pod-like submersibles
that detached from the main ship. Ɣ6-1 entered his pod and strapped on the
haptic gloves that would give him control of the pod’s robotic arms. He and a team of 3 other volunteers had agreed
to undergo the dangerous mission of attaching artificial chemical emission machines that
could be programmed to release anesthetic gas into SCP-169’s respiratory system on
command remotely. The emission machines could be refueled manually
whenever the contents ran out. It was an ingenious solution Dr. Hart came
up with when thinking of his time studying sharks as a marine biologist. They would tag the fins of sharks by capturing
them and bringing the specimens on the deck of their boat. From there the scientists would drill a radio
frequency emitter onto the fin of the shark. When he had first seen this practice as a
young college student, Dr. Hart was afraid the process was harming the shark. But later he learned it was designed in a
way to not be harmful to the specimen and eventually the tag would fall off after enough
data on the shark’s movement was collected. Except these tags would not be falling off,
he thought. They could not. For the sake of all mankind, this had to work. The doctor pressed a button on the receiver
of the radio and spoke. “Ɣ6-1, what is your status?” “Pressure is holding. All signs look good.” “Ɣ6-2?” “Pressure is holding. All good.” “Ɣ6-3?” “All clear captain.” “Ɣ6-4?” There was a silence. “Ɣ6-4? Do you copy?” “..... All clear. Sorry, doc my mic was muted. On route and ready to do this thing.” Dr. Hart sighed in relief and slowly reclined
in his chair, watching the pods move closer to the large openings on SCP-169’s side. One by one the robotic arms used underwater
torches to drill into the thick rock-like exoskeleton of the creature, screwing in complex
million-dollar equipment that was both waterproof and could withstand the immense pressure at
such a depth under the ocean. As the minutes turned to hours, Dr. Hart couldn’t
help but feel anxiety for the safety of his crew and the success of the mission. But before long the pods began to return one
by one to the mothercraft, each completing the segment of work with which they were tasked. The last pod still working was Ɣ6-1, whose
robotic arm was in the process of rotating a large industrial-sized screw. Ɣ6-1 had all but finished when suddenly a
low rumble could be felt shaking the larger submersible. Dr. Hart’s voice came crackling over the
radio. “Get back to the ship now.” Ɣ6-1, wrapped in deep focus on his task,
replied, “I’m just about finished, just packing up my tool belt.” “Leave it. Return to the ship. Now. That’s an order.” “Jesus, what's wrong? It’s not like this is the end of the world,”
said the Agent, chuckling over his radio. An ear-piercing echo sent shockwaves through
the depths of the ocean around the submersible. The waves rumbled with the sound of SCP-169’s
voice, similar to the sound of a large whale, but amplified by a million. The sound sent all the crew members falling
to the floor as the ship experienced severe damage from the burst of pressure, slightly
cracking the glass viewing port and sending smoke flooding into the small bridge of the
ship. “Gas masks!”, shouted Dr. Hart as they
all donned the breathing apparatus. “What was that!?” asked a member of the
crew, standing shakily to his feet. “SCP-169 is waking up. Begin activation of the chemical emission
machines! We need to sedate it now! The leviathan is waking up! We need to stop it!” shouted Dr. Hart. Just then he looked back and noticed Ɣ6-1’s
pod was gone. “Ɣ6-1, what is your position? Ɣ6-1, where are you!?” “Sir, sonar has him drifting off deeper
into the ocean behind us. He must have gotten knocked off SCP-169 by
the shockwave.” But Dr. Hart wouldn’t have it. He didn’t want any more blood on his hands. “Reverse thrusters! Turn us around and get us to him. We're not losing anyone!” “But the breach in the hull!” “It’ll hold. That’s what the runes are for.” The outside of the submersible began to glow
a slight blue as the ship’s systems started to come back online to full capacity and alarm
systems started to turn off and report normal pressure readings. Before long the Nemo-1 had caught up to Ɣ6-1’s
pod and retrieved the agent who had been knocked unconscious by the shock wave. Once the agent was back on the main ship,
the doctor turned his attention back to the monitors making sure the installations they
drilled into the creature were functional. Slowly the machines came online to full power,
and the speed at which SCP-169 had been moving began to slow ever so slightly. The team all watched the viewing port in silence
as a steady stream of anesthetic gas was pumping into the respiratory system of the gigantic
living myth in front of them. After a few moments of waiting, the doctor
spoke. “I think…it worked,” he said with a
smile. The crew erupted in cheers as they radioed
control back up on land that the mission had been a success. The message quickly reached the O5 Council,
where a red alert status was de-escalated and the O5 members withdrew from their plan
of leaving the current Earth for that of an alternate universe. The whole crew began to sing and celebrate
the prevention of the end of the world as Dr. Hart simply stood in front of the massive
viewport watching the mountainous specimen slowly grow smaller in the distance as the
submersible began ascending back to the world above. Ɣ6-1 came over to congratulate him, patting
him on the back. “We did it!”, he said. “Loosen up!” The doctor managed to laugh along in acknowledgment. “That we did,” he said in relief. “That we did...” The two watched the deep blue ocean in silence,
taking in the vastness of the sea. Perhaps this would not be the end of it, but
that day, they had done what the SCP Foundation did best: Kick that apocalyptic can a few
miles down the road. And sometimes, in the face of the terrifying
and the infinite, that’s really the best you can do. Now go check out “SCP-3000 - Anantashesha”
and “SCP-2316 - The Bodies in the Water” for more frightening aquatic anomalies!
