One of the primary aims of the SCP foundation
is to contain the anomalies that they discover. Secure, Contain, Protect is their mission
statement, after all. However, there are some forces so unknowable
and malevolent that there is no way to truly contain them. SCP-4205 is one such force. Very little is known about SCP-4205, even
compared to other SCPs, many of which are mysterious by their very nature. We do not know what it is, we do not know
what it wants, and we do not have any meaningful way to stop it. The best that can be done to protect yourself
from it is to implement the few known preventative measures available, and pray that it doesn’t
set its sights on you. The little information that exists on SCP-4205
was recorded by Wade Dalitz, a former junior researcher at the Foundation. He wrote the initial report on SCP-4205 on
a computer, Terminal 4, which was linked to his brain and consciousness as he wrote. Though his work was highly valuable, and provided
many previously unknown insights about the nature of the SCP, sadly his knowledge could
not save him. The official entry on SCP-4205 was his final
act before his death on December 11, 1992. Before we get deeper into that entry, and
Wade’s final day on earth, it’s important to understand what SCP-4205 is. Or, at least, understand the little we know
about what it is. 4205 is a Keter class SCP, meaning that it’s
incredibly difficult or complicated to contain. It also shows extreme hostility toward all
life. It is described as an amber-colored pair of
human-like eyes, with the ability to appear spontaneously in windows, mirrors, or any
other glass or glass-like surface. One of the reasons so little is known about
these eyes, is that anyone who sees them dies within seconds. The effect is nearly instantaneous. Much like the mythical basilisk, the gaze
of SCP-4205 is deadly and inescapable. The eyes only seem to appear to people who
are alone in a room, and never in places where there’s more than one person. But aside from that, there is no way to predict
where the eyes will appear. Since it is unknown if the eyes are part of
a corporeal body, or even present on this plane of reality, there is no way to contain
them or stop them from killing. This brings us back to that fateful day, December
11, 1992. The day that the SCP Foundation would finally
be given some tangible information on the mysterious amber eyes, at the cost of one
of their researcher’s lives. Wade Dalitz, a young man fresh out of his
university studies, was brought onboard as a Junior Researcher by Dr. Mark Forsyth, a
Senior Researcher. Dr. Forsyth recruited Wade after giving a
guest lecture at his university and being impressed by Wade’s keen observational skills,
thirst for knowledge of the unexplained, and determination to understand that which seemed
to defy explanation. After Wade graduated, he was recruited by
Dr. Forsyth, and given the position of Junior Researcher at the SCP Foundation. where he assisted Dr. Forsyth, now a site
supervisor, in his research. After several months of working under Dr.
Forsyth with minimal responsibilities, Wade was finally given the opportunity to write
his first SCP report... on SCP-4205. Following some initial documented appearances
of 4205, Dr. Forsyth approved further research into the anomaly, with Wade appointed as the
lead researcher on the subject. According to Wade’s entry, he was responsible
for the discovery of SCP-4205 when he spotted the anomaly in a window. Though later reviews of security footage determined
that he was not the first person to observe the eyes, he did claim to be the first to
observe them and live to tell the tale. In his writing on the subject, Wade is puzzled
by the fact that he survived his encounter with SCP-4205, and wonders what could have
set him apart from the others that fell victim to its gaze. He found himself frustrated as he documented
SCP-4205, his rough drafts of reports dissolving into angry rants about his own incompetence. Wade had difficulty adjusting to his new responsibilities,
especially with the added element of his assigned subject’s mysterious and volatile nature. In between his reports on SCP-4205, its previous
appearances, and its effects on its victims, he wrote letters to his father, desperate
for reassurance that he was not messing everything up. Letters that would sadly go unsent. In his coverage of SCP-4205, Wade made note
of a troubling recurring element in each victim’s death. When medical professionals attempted to revive
the victims, it was always noted that their brain activity stopped much more quickly than
in cases of death by natural causes. When examined, all aspects of the body aside
from the brain were completely unharmed. The brain, however, showed massive nerve damage
in the amygdala, hippocampus, medial temporal lobe, and occipital lobe. The appearance of this brain trauma has been
compared to the effects of electrical shock or a severe head injury. In addition to Wade, six other people on record
encountered SCP-4205. Every encounter ended the same way, with sudden
brain death and severe nerve damage immediately after viewing the eyes in a reflective surface. The first encounter occurred on January 5,
1990, when Deputy Liaison Gena viewed the eyes in a reflective glass one-way window. Security tape reveals that the eyes appeared
in the window eight minutes before the Deputy Liaison spotted them. As soon as he did, he fell from his chair
and immediately died. Though the specifics varied from case to case,
the end result of every encounter was the same, with none surviving long enough to relate
what they experienced. Every encounter except Wade’s. As he continued his documentation of SCP-4205,
Wade’s mental state quickly began to deteriorate. The process of his mind coming apart, and
his thoughts giving way to confusion, fear, and anger at his own survival, is documented
in his reports on the SCP. He agonized over the question of why he was
able to survive gazing into the eyes of SCP-4205 when so many others had not? The question consumed him until he was unable
to eat, sleep, or do anything but obsess over the SCP he was tasked with researching. As he became more agitated, he began to write
about the eyes appearing to him again. On one occurrence, he attempted to touch them,
and described the sensation like touching a balloon to your arm after it has been charged
with static electricity. He continued to report seeing the eyes. The worst was when trying to sleep, during
which he was overtaken by violent sleep paralysis and plagued with visions of the amber eyes. The only comfort Wade seemed to find was in
memories of his loved ones. He wrote about his mother and his father,
even as their memories grew foggier to him. He also mentioned a man by the name of Theodore
Quale, who he claimed was a researcher at the Foundation. Later fact checking determined that this was
not the case, and that Quale must have been someone from Wade’s past. He wrote about Quale wistfully, mournfully,
with words of love and loss, tormented by the sense that he was losing his grip on reality
and everything he once held dear. As Wade descended deeper into a hell inside
his own mind, he continued to mull over the questions of SCP-4205. Was there more to it than what was visible? Did it have a body? Why had he survived his encounter with it? And what did it want from him? He decided that those who had perished immediately
were the lucky ones. They had escaped the torture that had overtaken
his life. The eyes were everywhere now, watching him
even as he attempted to unlock their secrets on a Foundation computer. He spoke to the eyes at one point, but refused
to write down what they had said to him. His last entry, his last thought, was a plea
for Theodore Quale’s embrace. There is no more written about the research,
or about the eyes, only a simple, desperate need for a comfort that is long lost. Now is the part of our story where terror
meets tragedy. Contrary to what Wade thought, and what was
recorded in his final computer entries, he did not survive his brief brush with SCP-4205. The truth is that he spotted the amber eyes
in the glass above his terminal monitor while recording the entry, and died seconds later. Though his death was swift, it felt agonizingly
slow, as revealed by his descent into panic and paranoia recorded in his writings. The entries recorded as a result of the connection
Wade and the computer, his physical contact with it at the moment of exposure to SCP-4205’s
anomalous effects allowing the terminal to archive his final thoughts before he succumbed
to the deadly nature of the eyes. The entries were never physically typed, but
rather jumped from his dying mind into the mainframe. His entries, the echoes of a dying mind, offer
a glimpse into the way that SCP-4205 kills its victims. In the seconds leading up to death, the amber
eyes fast-forward a person’s mind, feeding on the electrical impulses that it gives off
as it speeds through what seem to be days of fear and of a loosening grip on reality. The death may be swift, but the suffering
is long. Wade left the foundation with a digital fingerprint,
an echo of the person he was at his core in addition to his experiences with SCP-4205
itself. Wade spent his final moments terrified for
his life, dreaming of a father that he missed and a long-lost love from his college days. His sacrifice must not be forgotten. Because no one ever survives an encounter
with SCP-4205, his documented final moments are the only first-hand account in existence. Junior Researcher Wade Dalitz gave us a gift
in death. He allowed the SCP Foundation a glimpse into
the true horror of the amber eyes, and a reminder of what they are capable of stealing from
us. So be careful of windows, mirrors, screens,
and all reflective surfaces. When you look into them, you never know what
you might see looking back. Check out “SCP-3008 - Trapped in IKEA”
and “SCP – 5000 – The Suit” for more from the archives of the SCP Foundation.
