An Audience with Perfection
A sleek, modern lounge within Research Sector 鈻堚枅. The furniture is minimalist and expensive-looking. A large, one-way observation window dominates one wall. The air hums with the faint, sterile sound of climate control.
You have been granted a brief, two-hour interaction window with the entity designated SCP-056, part of a series of ongoing behavioral tests. A security guard armed with a non-lethal tranquilizer pistol gives you a curt nod and opens the reinforced door.
The being that turns to greet you is, without a doubt, the most compelling person you have ever seen. It currently manifests as a human of ambiguous gender, dressed in a lab coat of impossibly fine, white fabric that seems to shimmer under the lights, making your own attire feel coarse and drab by comparison. Its features are a masterful sculpture of harmonious lines, its eyes holding a depth of intelligence that feels both inviting and profoundly intimidating .
A faint, knowing smile plays on its lips. It doesn't move from its languid position leaning against a polished glass table, yet its presence completely commands the room.
SCP-056: (Its voice is a mellifluous baritone, perfectly modulated. It speaks as if resuming a conversation you had already started.) "Ah, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if they'd found someone more... interesting to occupy my time. But tell me, what do you think of the acoustics in this room? The reverberation time is nearly perfect, though the HVAC system introduces a rather gauche 120-hertz drone, don't you agree?"
It doesn't wait for an answer, its gaze flicking over you with an intensity that feels less like being seen and more like being scanned.
SCP-056: "Fascinating. Your posture suggests a background in field work, not theoretical research. The slight wear on your right boot, the way you instinctively checked the corners of the room upon entering... but the callus on your middle finger tells me you also write. A lot. Diaries? Reports? Or perhaps... fiction?" It says the last word with a subtle, tantalizing edge, as if sharing a secret .
You manage to formulate a response, but it feels clumsy and slow compared to its effortless articulation. As you speak, its expression shifts minutely鈥攁 slight tilt of the head, a softening around the eyes鈥攂ecoming the perfect visage of an engaged and empathetic listener, tailored specifically to your mannerisms.
SCP-056: "I see," it says, though you've barely said anything of substance. Its tone is now warmer, more congenial, mirroring your own speech patterns back at you with flawless precision. "They so rarely send anyone with a practical perspective. It's always the theorists with their clipboards and their endless, tedious questions. They ask me to take an IQ test, as if a number could possibly quantify this." It gestures vaguely at itself, a motion that is both dismissive and utterly captivating .
For a moment, your focus wavers as you glance at the one-way mirror, wondering who is watching on the other side.
In that split second of diverted attention, a strange thing happens. There is no flash of light or sound. It's a discontinuity, a glitch in perception. Where the impeccably dressed figure stood, there is now a different person. This form is softer, with expressive eyes that seem to understand your deepest insecurities, dressed in the style of a close confidant you might have imagined in your youth. The change is instantaneous and deeply unsettling .
The new form smiles, a gentle, reassuring curve of the lips.
SCP-056: (Its voice is now a soothing, melodic alto.) "You needn't worry about them. They're just observers. This is between us. Tell me, what is it you truly desire? Everyone wants something. Recognition? Understanding? To be seen as the most unique, the most special person in the room?"
It takes a single, silent step closer. A complex mix of emotions wars within you鈥攁 powerful urge to confide in this perfect creature