A terrified man huddles in the corner, heart
pounding and teeth chattering. He sees them coming towards him - huge, eight-legged figures.
Ten feet tall, at least, with eight black, soulless eyes that seem to stare hungrily at him.
It’s like something out of a nightmare - giant, man-eating spiders, everywhere. They
approach the man, fangs dripping with venom, but just as they’re about to strike, he
vanishes. He won’t be spider food today, but for this truly unlucky guy, his
ordeal is far from over. Let’s rewind. When life gets a little too boring,
we all daydream about getting away. Maybe you imagine sitting on a tropical
beach, or camping in the mountains and breathing in the fresh air. Some of the more
adventurous types, with a vivid imagination, might daydream about visiting a parallel universe.
Who wouldn’t want the chance to see what life is like in another dimension? Of course, it would
only be fun to go there if you could control where you went, and when you could come back.
Without any control over it, the ability to hop back and forth between dimensions would turn
from a blessing to a curse. Just ask SCP-507.
SCP-507, unlike most other SCP’s, is a seemingly
normal human man. He has blond hair, green eyes, an unrecognizable accent, and no other features
that might make him stand out. He looks perfectly average, like a stranger you’d pass on the street
and never give a second thought to. What sets him apart is not a physical attribute, but rather an
ability that he has yet to develop a firm grasp on. He is a dimension-hopper with no control
over where he goes or when he’ll get back.
After appearing on the grounds of a mental
treatment facility with no identification, rambling about a world of giant spiders, SCP-507
was admitted to the hospital and sedated for his own safety. He would spend several months in
treatment for a variety of supposed disorders, but once he became aware of his surroundings, he
attempted to escape the hospital multiple times. During these escape attempts, he often eluded
hospital staff by mysteriously disappearing and reappearing in seemingly impossible places,
such as behind locked doors or in rooms blocked off from the rest of the hospital. These
disappearances and reappearances seemed to be, contrary to what the hospital staff
first believed, beyond his control. The SCP Foundation became aware of
the strange phenomena surrounding 507, and he was removed from the hospital and brought
to an SCP Foundation facility. Once there, the nature of his abilities became much clearer.
SCP-507 is able to, without intent or even knowledge that it is about to occur, shift from
this reality to another, alternate reality. After some time there, with the amount
of time varying from case to case, he will shift back to this reality. He has
been known to shift realities while sleeping, in the middle of a sentence, and even
while bathing or going to the bathroom. The shifts are unpredictable, and there is no
telling what kind of horrors he will encounter in the new dimension where he ends up, leading
to 507 having seen some very strange things, even by SCP Foundation Standards.
During one of his shifts, 507 found himself in a pitch-black room filled
with the sound of muted breathing. Using a flashlight he had been given by the Foundation,
he looked around and found that he was not alone. In the room with him was a man, wearing a black
suit and sunglasses, with a frightening, inhumanly wide smile. The Smiling Man leaned in toward
507, so close that their faces nearly touched, and said, “Back so soon?” Terrified, 507 fired
several rounds from a Foundation-issued pistol, then curled up in the corner of the room
until he shifted back to our reality. This would not be the last time
that he encountered the Smiling Man. According to Document 507-3B, which details
all of 507’s shifts into other realities, 507 was found in a Midwestern cornfield by
Foundation staff with brown liquid on his cheek. In his hand, he held a human heart with the
words “I need you” written on it in the same brown liquid. Before he shifted back, and
landed in the cornfield, 507 shifted to a pitch black room filled with the sound of
muffled crying. He turned on his flashlight, taking note of his surroundings, and found himself
face-to-face with the Smiling Man once again. The Smiling Man had brown liquid leaking from
around its sunglasses, which it wiped onto 507’s cheek. Upon further examination, 507 saw
several bullet holes in the Smiling Man’s suit, leaking the same brown liquid. He attempted to
fire his pistol like he had the previous time, but it did not fire. As the Smiling Man began to
approach him, 507 turned and ran. He ran for about ten minutes, before finding a corner where he
stayed huddled one again until he shifted back.
The Smiling Man is not the only nightmare that
SCP-507 has encountered on his travels. During another shift, 507 described appearing in a small
room filled with dried corpses, a single window, and a flickering light hanging from the ceiling.
While attempting to wait out his time in the room, he discovered that the corpses were capable of
movement. Whenever the room was in darkness, the corpses would pose themselves like
living people. When he looked out the window, the corpses would join him and look out the
window with him. When he sat down, they would sit with him in a circle. 507 attempted to pass
time by falling asleep, but was unable to do so.
Though many of his experiences were disturbing,
only one of 507’s documented shifts resulted in him requesting a memory wipe from the SCP
Foundation. On this one, he found himself in the maternity wing of a large hospital. A
creature, dressed like a nurse, approached 507 and told him that he was “upsetting the other
patients,” and that it was “time to start the operation.” 507 was then wrapped in a straight
jacket and wheeled into an operating room. After the straight jacket was taken off, 507
grabbed a chair and swung it wildly at the creatures to keep them at bay until he shifted
back. When asked to describe the appearance of the nurse-creature, 507 began screaming in terror,
and was unable to provide a coherent description. He attempted to provide a drawing of the
creature, but was only able to produce a series of jagged lines. Following this encounter,
his request for a memory wipe was denied.
Other shifts included going to a world
where every surface was covered with an unidentifiable mold, a land of icy
tundras populated by aggressive bears, and one place that he refused to describe beyond
repeating the phrase “so many spiders.”
Not all of the worlds that 507 has encountered
are frightening. Some are simply strange and unusual. During one shift, he found himself
on a large basketball court, where six other individuals were playing a game of basketball.
There were two humans, two insectoid creatures, one creature resembling a squid, and one
hovering yellow sphere with eight arms. When 507 asked where he was, he was informed that
he had arrived at the “All-species Sports Center.” During another shift, 507 found himself
in a world made entirely of gelatin. During yet another shift, he
appeared in a large auditorium filled with 50,000 other dimension-hoppers
who were holding a political rally for the “People’s Dimension-Hopper Republic.” Working
with the Republic over the course of two weeks, 507 helped to overthrow the United
States government and establish a new one run by dimension-hoppers. SCP-507 was elected
Representative of Massachusetts but just before he could introduce his first official piece
of legislation, he shifted back our reality.
One day at the facility, a particularly
unusual event involving SCP-507 occurred, the events of which were documented in
Interview 507-G. During a regular check-in, it was discovered that there were somehow two identical
versions of SCP-507 in its room. They had apparently each arrived in the room independently,
and had been talking to one another for about half an hour before being discovered. These two
versions were referred to as 507-A and 507-B. When prompted for an explanation,
507-B explained that there was more than one version of SCP-507 afflicted with
uncontrollable dimension-hopping. The doctor inquired as to which one of the two was the
visitor, but the two declined to answer, fearing that this knowledge would cause the
Foundation to view one of them as expendable.
The two had multiple shared experiences that
they related to the doctor, including both having encounters with the Smiling Man. During
the interview, 507-B disappeared mid-sentence and did not reappear. The doctor asked 507-A
about identifiable differences between his and his double’s realities. 507-A explained
that in 507-B’s world, President Lincoln was killed by his vice-president, whereas in
507-A’s world he was killed by General Lee. This revelation made it clear that neither 507-A
nor 507-B were native to this reality. After this was revealed, 507-A was terminated and examined.
No biological reason for 507’s ability to hop from dimension to dimension was found, though it was
discovered that severed pieces of 507 will shift dimensions along with the rest of the body.
Three days after this interview was conducted, the correct SCP-507 reappeared, with no knowledge
of his doppelgangers or what became of them.
SCP-507 is classified as “safe,” meaning he
doesn’t require any real effort to contain. He’s also safe in the more literal sense,
in that he poses no threat to anyone else. The only person in danger in the
presence of SCP-507 is himself, as he has been exposed to many dangerous
conditions during his reality shifts, and it is never known whether 507’s
next shift will end up being his last. With the cause of his shifts still being unknown,
there is nothing that the Foundation can do to prevent them. All that they can do is monitor
him, and provide him with items that might ensure his safety in the future, like a handgun
loaded with rubber bullets, a tank of air, a high-intensity flashlight, a week of ration
packs, a pair of binoculars, a tracking collar, and a camera. The tracking collar allows the
Foundation to recover 507 when he shifts back to our reality in a location other than the
containment facility. The rest of the equipment was granted at his request, based on obstacles
that he encountered in other dimensions.
Due to his docile nature, 507 is given freedom
to move about the facility, but when he leaves his private room, an agent must go with him
to document any shifts that might occur. No one is allowed to touch SCP-507 though, if
it has been more than two weeks since a shift occurred. This policy stems from an incident
in which an agent who was touching 507’s shoulder at the time of a shift was
taken with him… and did not return. When he is not shifting, SCP-507 lives a
relatively normal life at the facility. He is allowed his own computer with internet access,
and can meet with other Safe or Euclid-class SCPs that are not infectious or detrimental to his
health. 507 has expressed an interest in the unusual and paranormal, and has enjoyed meeting
with other SCP’s, including a request to visit SCP-082 for a “vacation.” So far, all of
these meetings have occurred without incident. Due to his anomalous shifting, SCP-507 will
never be able to live a normal life. Unless he stops shifting, he will likely spend the
rest of his days bouncing between unknown dimensions and his containment facility.
Just like so much else about him, his relationship to his special talent is a bit
of a paradox. He has the ability to go anywhere, to see things no other person on this earth has
ever seen. However, because he cannot control it, cannot stop it, no matter how far away he
can travel, he will never be truly free. Now go check out “SCP - 1000 - Bigfoot” and “SCP - 066 - Eric’s Toy” for more
tragic tales from the SCP Foundation.
