Date: December 31, 2026 Location: Deep Underground Bunker "The Silo"
"We cannot kill the Concept," Dr. Haruka said, his voice echoing in the metallic confines of the command center. "Because the Concept is not alive. It is an equation. As long as there is a human mind to 'solve' the equation, the result will always be a threat."
Dr. Haruka was the last man standing. The rest of the staff had been dismissed or had succumbed to the madness. His hand hovered over the master console. Protocol: Tabula Rasa.
It was not a weapon to destroy SCP-009-JP. It was a weapon to disarm humanity. The Foundation had engineered Memetic Agent Omega-Zero. Once broadcasted via global satellite and radio frequencies, it would aggressively target the prefrontal cortex of every human being on Earth. It would sever the neural pathways responsible for abstract thought, imagination, anxiety, existential dread, and hope.
"We have to stop being Observers," Haruka whispered. "If there is no 'Observer' to define the Variable, the equation remains unsolved. If we are just animals, she is just a picture."
The main monitor in the bunker—which had been disconnected from the wall for days—flickered on. The room was bathed in a pale, blue light. SCP-009-JP was on the screen. She was looking down at Haruka.
Previously, Haruka had seen her as a demon, a ghost, a monster. But now, armed with the ultimate understanding of her nature, his mind was calm. He looked at her, and she looked back. She wasn't scary. She wasn't smiling. She was just a girl in a uniform. Neutral. Zero. The unwritten variable.
"I'm sorry," Haruka said, tears streaming down his face. "We made you a monster. We made you a god. We forced you to be our nightmare." He rested his hand on the red execution key. "But from now on... you are nothing. You are free."
He turned the key and pressed the button.
BROADCASTING OMEGA-ZERO...
A high-frequency signal blasted across the globe, penetrating bunkers, cities, and forests. Dr. Haruka gasped. He felt a sharp pop in his skull, like a rubber band snapping. Then, the tension left his shoulders. The memories of his family... dissolved like mist. The fear of death... evaporated. The concept of "SCP-009-JP"... deleted.
His eyes went wide, then dull. The spark of intelligence flickered and died. He looked at the screen one last time. He saw shapes. Colors. Lines. It meant nothing to him. It was just light. He grunted, turned away from the screen, and began to search the room for food, driven only by the hunger of a simple beast.