After leaving the office, the group entered the staff cafeteria.
The cafeteria was massive, its sheer size emphasized by the emptiness inside. Only the faint glow of emergency lights pierced the dim space, casting long shadows that made the room feel even more desolate.
They descended the covered bridge stairs cautiously, their footsteps echoing through the quiet hall. At the base of the stairs, a glint of white caught their attention; a single file sat neatly on a nearby dining table. They exchanged uneasy glances. Files like this were always important.
"A new SCP?" One of them muttered under their breath.
Brit, ever the one to take initiative, strode forward and carefully picked it up. One glance at the title surprised him.
"...Coffee machine?" he murmured, his voice tight with disbelief.
The others, crowded around him, their heads bent close as they scanned the document together. Their expressions shifted from curiosity to intrigue, and then to something sharper, a mix of amazement and unease.
[ Item #: SCP-294, codenamed "The Coffee Machine" ]
[ Object Class: Euclid ]
[ Description: Item SCP-294 appears to be a standard coffee vending machine, the only noticeable difference being an entry touchpad with buttons corresponding to an English QWERTY keyboard. Upon depositing fifty cents US currency into the coin slot, the user is prompted to enter the name of any liquid using the touchpad. Upon doing so, a standard 12-ounce paper drinking cup is placed, and the liquid indicated is poured. Ninety-seven initial test runs were performed (including requests for water, coffee, beer, and soda, non-consumable liquids such as sulfuric acid, wiper fluid, and motor oil, as well as substances that do not usually exist in a liquid state, such as nitrogen, iron, and glass), and each one returned a success. Test runs with solid materials, such as diamond, have failed; however, it appears that SCP-294 can only deliver substances that exist in a liquid state.
It is of note that after approximately fifty uses, the machine would not respond to further requests. After a period of approximately 90 minutes, the machine seemed to have restocked itself. It is also interesting to note that many caustic liquids that would have eaten through a normal paper cup seemed to have no effect on the cups dispensed by the machine.
Testing is ongoing. As suggested, SCP-294 was moved to the 2nd-floor personnel break room as a money-saving venture. Following incident 294-01, guards were stationed at the item, and a security clearance became necessary to interact with it. ]
Reading the entire report took several minutes, and by the end, all of them stared at the document in awe.
"This thing can make any liquid?!" Kiwo exclaimed, her voice echoing off the walls. "That's insane!"
Her gaze darted toward the far end of the cafeteria, where a single vending machine glowed softly in the shadows. Its screen flickered, displaying colorful drink icons as if inviting them closer.
"That has to be it," Brit said.
The group approached cautiously. The machine was larger than most standard units, and its sleek design made it stand out in the otherwise barren cafeteria. The illuminated screen rotated through vibrant images of beverages, confirming the file's claims.
Vale reached out, running his hand along the metal exterior. "Feels completely ordinary…" He muttered.
Brit frowned thoughtfully, holding up a coin he had kept since earlier. "I think I've figured it out. Remember the coin we found in the SCP-096 office? This has to be what it's for."
Back when they first discovered it, the coin's purpose was unclear, so Brit pocketed it. But the pieces were falling into place now. He also remembered coming across similar coins during his early exploration of the light Foundation sector, clues he hadn't fully understood at the time.
"Shall we try it?" Plumbella whispered, her eyes wide with anticipation.
The others exchanged brief glances, then nodded.
"Of course," Brit said, a determined grin tugging at his lips. "Let's see what this thing can do."
Vale was the first to step forward. He inserted the coin and carefully followed the instructions on the touchpad, typing in the word coffee.
With a mechanical hum, the machine lowered a paper cup. A moment later, steaming liquid cascaded into it, filling the air with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
Vale lifted the cup, staring at it in wonder. "Smells exactly like the real thing…"
Without hesitation, he took a sip, then downed the rest. The temperature was perfect, not scalding, not lukewarm. Thanks to his enhanced physiology, even extreme heat wouldn't have bothered him much, but this was remarkably precise.
"It's… better than any coffee I've had before," He declared, eyes glinting.
That was all Kiwo needed to hear. She eagerly inserted her own coin, quickly selecting orange juice. Moments later, she was drinking a glass of juice so fresh it tasted like biting into an actual orange.
Plumbella followed suit, requesting milk. The creamy texture and perfectly balanced sweetness left her speechless, a look of pure delight crossing her face.
Brit, however, stayed back, his mind focused on the report he had just read. The appendices described numerous tests and, disturbingly, one particularly grim incident: a researcher, out of morbid curiosity, had typed the name of a colleague into SCP-294. The machine obediently produced a cup of blood, tissue, and various fluids, all DNA-matched to the person named.
The casual experiment nearly killed the colleague, who collapsed shortly after, his vitals crashing. The connection between the machine and its targets remained poorly understood, but one thing was clear: SCP-294 was far more dangerous than its appearance suggested.
Brit's eyes darkened as he regarded the humming machine. "This thing is more than a novelty," he murmured. "It's a loaded weapon disguised as a coffee maker."