It was a red tub of Lego bricks. That was all it was. The researchers tested every single brick twice and found that, save for some incredibly minor variations easily written off as natural warping at age, they were chemically identical to your everyday Lego brick. In fact, when Agent Henry walked through the doors of Site-19 holding the tub, it almost seemed like a practical joke. A trained, cold, and calculating Foundation agent coming into work with a tub of plastic building toys. Some had joked that Henry was just trying to cover up that he had a soft spot for the little colorful bricks, and this was just an elaborate way to build spaceships and race cars on the job. Of course, when said spaceships and race cars began to fly and drive on their own power, manipulated by tiny yellow mini figures that walked and waved with even tinier smiles, then things were a different story. Site-19 staff stared in childlike amazement as, from behind a wall of protective glass, dozens of little mini figures had set to work like so many army ants. From loose piles of bricks, they had set about building streets and homes, forests and rivers, and mountains and beaches. Staff familiar with architectural styles noted with disbelief how these mini figures, these Lego men, not only built with impressive foresight and purpose, but with the knowledge that would be impossible for tiny plastic people to even know. Their styles, crude at first and rather sloppy, flourished with remarkable speed. Streets became highways, towns, cities, houses, skyscrapers. Trains, sleek and streamlined, sped along elaborate, winding railroad lines, while above, plain sword at speeds once thought impossible for something made entirely of plastic. Even the interiors of the buildings had become fully furnished with beds, desks, tables, rugs, and even little tiled portraits of abstract shapes and swirls. There was concern among some researchers that these little yellow fellows were learning a bit too quickly for their personal comfort. It was, said one anonymous researcher, equivalent to watching insects modeling the industrial revolution. Fortunately, any fears of a mass uprising of little brick-built warriors using the Lego's brick's natural ability to act as a plastic caltrop were dashed when it turned out the newly built Lego civilization was incredibly welcoming to humans. Indeed, the mini-figure people saw their taller, organic counterparts with a surprising degree of friendliness that took back even the most cynical of researchers. Firefighters and police officers would stop and wave at passing staff, and construction workers would openly display whatever they were working on to a curious researcher. In fact, if a researcher helped build alongside them, with permission of course, the Lego people seemed openly ecstatic to the point that when the researcher would leave, the mini-figures would incorporate whatever it was they had been building into their community. This open friendliness of the mini-figure community, as well as the fact that experimenting with SCP-389 meant they were getting paid to play with Lego's, led to an increase of morale at Site-19. Compared to getting mauled by horrors both anomalous and man-made, spending a few hours with some quirky little yellow characters building zoo animals and robots wasn't too bad of a deal. But there was one minor drawback to SCP-387. There was no way to actually communicate with them. The Lego people could walk, build, drive cars, and fly planes, sure. But at the end of the day they were still plastic. They couldn't communicate, although not in any way the researchers could understand. And considering their hands were shaped like tiny claws, any attempts at sign language were impossible. The Foundation had quite a few questions for the Lego community, but had no meaningful way to talk to them. The solution to this problem, in a tried and true example of the old saying, the best solution is the easiest one, was remarkably straightforward. One researcher, a woman by the name of Dr. Shannon, took an 8x8 plate end, using various small tiles, built the word high. She placed this plate directly in the middle of what she assumed was the Lego City's Town Square, where every minifigure could see it. A group of the plastic people, from firemen to bank robbers to dog walkers, gathered around it. With smiling faces and fake beards, they stared at it as if in consideration before walking away. It was assumed then that the Lego people couldn't or didn't understand English, or at least the English spoken by humans and not minifigures, whatever language that may be. But roughly an hour after first contact with the minifigures, Dr. Shannon was surprised to discover a 16x16 base plate mounted directly on the spot where her first message was. In bright, colorful tiles was the word, below. With the discovery that the minifigures could understand their attempts to communicate, a team of researchers was assembled, pardon the pun, to acquire more information. This delegation consisted of four members of on-site personnel, although to no one's surprise, quite a few had requested to be part of the interview team. As it was known that the minifigures, or mini-men, were more active when around individuals in good spirits, these four researchers were specifically ordered to prevent any social hiccups by being as friendly and amicable as possible. This was why, on a cold December morning, Drs. Thomas Hudson, Alexander Thompson, Alicia Wilcott and Beth Chambers were all gathered in an interview room seated at a long table. On the table in front of them were three Lego minifigures. One was dressed as a doctor, the other dressed as a police officer, and the other, as you'd expect, was dressed in full medieval wizard garb, complete with magic staff. In front of these three interviewees was an enormous brick-built computer, one built in an impressive collaboration between the finest minds of Site-19 and the people of Lego City, a large, bulky-looking machine as square as the bricks it was made of. The three minifigures sat at small keyboard tiles in front of carefully arranged monitors. Each keyboard was, through a series of rubber hose parts acting as wires, printed tiles made up to look like control panels, attached to an enormous monitor. This was a boxy-grey behemoth that seemed almost utilitarian compared to the other more colorful creations the Lego people had produced. This enormous electronic device was designed to solve the rather obvious issue of the minifigures having no way to organically talk to personnel, allowing the toyland characters to electronically answer questions quickly and efficiently without forcing them to use ordinary human technology. Hello and good afternoon, to Dr. Hudson, giving a wave to the three minifigures. It's good to finally have a conversation with you. Before we get started, would you mind telling us your names? The minifigures looked up at their enormous hosts, looked at each other, and then the keyboards in front of them. They raised their hands and began to type, a mashing of fingerless yellow hands on a tile with the print of a keyboard on it. As they typed, however, the screen of the bulky monitor flickered to life. Never mind that it, like everything else, Lego, was built solely using plastic pieces with no electronics whatsoever. With an electrical beeping, three responses appeared on screen. Studsworth. Greetings, you could call me Dr. Studsworth, Professor of Physics, Medicine, Biology, Chemistry, Advanced Theory, Advanced Theory of Advanced Theory, and Dentistry. But Dr. Studsworth suits me just fine. Clutch. My name's Clutch Primo, Officer Primo, Bricksburg Police Department, badge number 1978. You could just call me Clutch. Magisto. Ah, the great giant speak. Hear me, for I am the great Magisto, sorcerer and seer of all things magical. Park, for what knowledge doth thou wish to know? All right, it's a pleasure to meet you all. Dr. Chambers looked down at her notes and made a quick adjustment with her pen. You understand that we called you here because we have a few questions we'd like to ask about you and your city. It's all rather impressive to be honest with you. There were a few minutes of silence, save for the rapid clicking of plastic hands on plastic keys. Studsworth. Oh, of course. Consider us as open as an instruction manual, and thank you for complimenting our city. If you're going to build something, put your heart into it. That's what I always like to say. Clutch. Ask away. I'll answer whatever you got for me. Magisto. We shall answer truthfully to thine riddles and parables. But I tell thee now, I will not share my recipe for dragon taming. Each of the doctors made a note about this, noting things like the possibility of LEGO parenthood and the belief in dragons. Dr. Thompson spoke next. So this may seem like a rather existential type of question to start things off with, but where exactly do you and your people come from? This was a particularly interesting question, considering that no factory that produces LEGO bricks had any recollection of producing the types of bricks SCP-387 used in its building. Not even the main factory in Denmark had any records about irregular or unusual LEGO sets made at any time. To this, Studsworth, Clutch, and Magisto all seem to go into deep thought for a few moments. Studsworth. I believe we come from Denmark. Be loomed to be precise. It is where all LEGOs come from after all. It would stand to reason that we may possibly come from there ourselves. I've never been, I'm afraid. Clutch. I always just thought we came from the big red tub. One of those egg before the chicken kind of deals, you know? Magisto. We come from the great ether, forged from the finest materials, and by the heat of a thousand suns we are made into the physical forms thou doth see. Once we were in darkness, and then by thine hands we hath been born. Before Agent Henry brought you to be con- er, stored here. To Dr. Chambers. He said he found you all in the passenger seat of a train car. This would imply that someone was in possession of you and accidentally left you all behind. Is that true? Studsworth. Any other people? No. Not since we first met Mr. Henry that day. Before that, all else is a terrible blur, I'm afraid. Clutch. I don't remember anyone else owning us. I think maybe there were a couple others before that Henry guy who played with us. I think there was an Eric. No, wait. I'm thinking of the kid in the pizza place on the street corner. Magisto. Thou art the first of thine kind to ever interact with us. Thou we have long observed thee from afar. True, there may have been others. But the past is an ancient beast. Too wild and ferocious to recall. Do you three have any theories as to where you come from? Asked Dr. Hudson. Just out of curiosity, we've tried asking around ourselves so we could find your original owners of course. But so far, we've been unable to trace you back to anyone. Do you have any guesses as to how you wound up on the train with Agent Henry? There was another pause. The doctor, the cop, and the wizard all seemed to think pensively for a few moments, turning their heads and moving their clutching hands in deep thought. There were two minutes of silence before they started to speak once again. Studsworth. I suppose we had to come from somewhere. If you ask for my professional opinion, I'd say that someone left us there for the direct purpose of being found. Though as to who that individual could be, I am still running many, myself. Clutch. I just think we were always kind of there, you know? We were made, we came here, and now we live here. I don't suppose it's any more complicated than that. Magisto. Ah, perhaps it was the invisible hands of fate that guided us here to thee. As a trained oracle of two centuries, I am well versed in such things. Our purpose was to be with thou, and thus here we are. Magisto waved his magic staff in a display of confidence, slamming it on the table with a very small thud. The researchers all took notes before Dr. Hudson spoke again. What can you three tell us about your society? Officer, uh, Clutch was it? As a public servant, what exactly can you tell us about how your city works? Clutch. Well, for starters, we have Mayor Brixton. He's, you know, the head of the whole city. He's a nice enough fella, a little bit unassembled in the head sometimes, but still not a bad guy. He was built around, oh, maybe six, seven months ago. He's been mayor ever since. There's also Harry Clint, my police chief, and Smokey Joe, the fire chief. They've been there since the day they were first built. If you want to talk about a real character, I'd pardon me for interrupting, said Dr. Hudson. But what do you mean by the day they were first built? Are they assigned roles from the moment of their creation? Clutch. Of course. The whole reason they're there is because that's what they were built to do. See? Smokey Joe, for example, was built to be a fireman just as I was built to be a cop. See my cap? It's got a police badge on it. So that means I'm a policeman. It's like you. You're wearing the lab coat. So that means you're a scientist. If you weren't a scientist, you wouldn't be wearing that coat. Dr. Hudson looked at his own lab coat, as did the other researchers. It appeared as if the Lego people believed in some form of plastic predetermination that all people do the things they do because they were assembled that way. Is this how everyone in your society works? They're built specifically for the things they do? Clutch. Sure, well, not everyone to be fair, but most of the public servants do. Firemen, cops like me, construction workers, doctors, secret agents. Everyone is built with a purpose, no matter how ridiculous it might be. And what about you, Mr. Magisto? Dr. Wilcott asked the tiny wizard in front of her. Is that how your kingdom works too? Magisto. Verily, it is one of the greatest mysteries as to why we are built the way we are, true. Our king and queen, my fellow brethren of the staff, the knights in their steeds, and even yes, the terred fright knights and the orcish mobs. Why? I tell thee that I knew I was a wizard of 200 years when I was first assembled. So, if we understand this correctly, you all seem to have backstories and jobs despite only existing for only a year. Dr. Thompson asked, recalling the unusual age of Magisto the Magician. Is that what the people who built you told you? Studsworth. Yes. Clutch. Yep. Magisto. I. Is this inconvenient? What if someone who was built to be a fireman wanted to be, say, a dentist or a ballerina? Studsworth. No, if you ask us doctors, there is a certain comfort in knowing who you are and what you were meant to do the moment you are made. Clutch. If I was made to be a police officer, then I'd want to be the best police officer I could be. I was made with a purpose, clear as a translucent brick. Magisto. Indeed, the subjects of the kingdom take pride in what they were built for. For what other purpose exists, if not the roles we play. The responses of the minifigures seemed rather sincere, though one wouldn't guess it by the way they still wore that simple smile painted on their faces. The researchers looked at each other, decided it best to save the discussion of Lego predeterminism for another day and moved on with their questioning. Our next question is, even though, according to your statements, you have never interacted with another human before meeting Agent Henry. You seem to have an impressive knowledge of human architecture and engineering. This includes knowledge of operating propulsion systems, architectural styles ranging from 1970s Americana to 14th century castle designs and technology from otherwise fictional television shows. Studsworth. Ah, that's really simple, really. We just know it. Dr. Wilcott stared at the message on the screen, somewhat baffled, before turning her attention to the little plastic doctor. What do you mean by that? Studsworth. It's second knowledge with us, doctor. While it is true we've never seen a real medieval castle or a giant robot for ourselves, we know it because you built them first. You've never seen a rocket ship in person, but that doesn't stop you from making one yourself, doesn't it? I'm afraid we're still not sure what you mean. Reply Dr. Thompson. You admit that you've never seen any of the things you've built, but you still know that they exist, is that right? Officer Clutch responded in turn. He swiveled his tiny yellow head and attached blue police cap back and forth, moving both his arms robotically up and down. Clutch. What he means is that we know everything that you know, because you're the ones who made everything first. We make stuff just like you all do. Rockets, trains, cars, giant robots that shoot missiles. You folks built them first, even without anyone showing you beforehand. We're just following in your footsteps. But how could you know any of these things if you never played with any humans before us? This time it was Magisto who answered. He waved his staff wildly with one hand, pointing it at the researchers. Magisto. Do not forget we have been forged in thine image. True, we may not be thy size and truer still. We lack what thou mayest call fingers and toes, but we were created to be representative of thee. As the first human made art in his image, so too did he make us. And when he forged us from materials, he imbued in us the same spirit that drove him to build. If we were not able to build like thee, to create the same art as thou dost, then for what purpose were we made? Studsworth. In short, we know all of your history, your art, and your stories because we are extensions of you. Just as all other art and creations are extensions of humanity too. The researchers had to admit that this was a reply they weren't expecting, or at least not from little toy people. It was easy to forget that, beyond swapping heads around on torsos and to mix and matching outfits for them, they were building characters. Characters with roles and stories that, by their creators' sole choice, would define them. Names, jobs, skills, family. All these things were up to whoever placed the first LEGO breakdown on the baseplate. It was no wonder then that this mini-figure race would know so much about human culture, even in their isolation. So, do you consider yourselves humans too then? Asked Dr. Chambers. Forgive me if this sounds a bit rude, but for a race of little toy figures, you've displayed an impressive measure of sapience and intelligence. Studsworth. Gosh, you're all rather philosophical today. I would say the answer to that question is both a stalwart yes and no, respectively. Fletch. I may not be the brightest cop on the street, but even I could tell you I ain't like you guys. We're more like, what's the word? Kin? Is that it? Magisto. Indeed. Separated thou may be from us by mortality and the elasticity of your material composition. But between us, we share the same spark that drives kings and dragons. Do you mean to tell us that you have a soul? Dr. Thompson wondered if such a thing was indeed possible. He had seen his fair share of anomalies that possessed undeniably human or human-like qualities. But most were just mimicking. Mockeries of human nature twisted into horrible parodies by things that should not and could not live. Yet, these Lego people displayed nothing but genuineness and ingenuity during their time at Site-19. If what they were saying about being made in man's image was true, would it not be possible they had a tiny, molded soul deep inside their hollow torsos? Studsworth. Perhaps, as a doctor of many sciences myself, even I could not tell you what a soul is or isn't. But what we do have, and perhaps it is the closest thing you can define a soul to be, is your sense of play. Sense of play? Clutch. Yeah, it's that little jolt of ingenuity everyone's got. It's what makes you want to draw or paint or build stuff, whatever you want. It's what gives you the idea to sit down and cobble something together out of a pile of spare bricks. Officer Clutch waved an arm at Dr. Wilcott, gesturing to her as if making a note of her specifically. Clutch. I remember when you built that castle from Magisto over here. You added a lot of pink to it, and you gave it a big stable for horses. And you? He pointed over to Dr. Hudson. You built the spaceship, the one piloted by cowboys. The moon our lander, remember? He said it was a joke about space being the final frontier, like the old west. Hudson remembered that indeed. He had built such a thing just a week ago. It was during his lunch break and, wanting to take a break from the mindless monotony of paperwork, had requested permission to study SCP 387. His study had quickly turned into an hour of playtime. With him building a spaceship in the colors of a cow, Warren's included as part of a ridiculous spur of the moment creative impulse. He had sworn that no one else had seen him, especially during the part when he made the obligatory rocket ship noises. So to hear this little Lego man telling him this surprised him. Magisto. Verily, that spark of life, that invisible form that motivates both creation and destruction, is what brought us into existence. By thy touch, we are illuminated with thine drive to create, just as thou. It is a joy a million times over to experience even just a fragment of the imagination possessed by man. At this, the researchers felt something click, like two Lego plates snapping firmly together. When SCP 387 was first discovered, there had been various tests to see what exactly triggered the Lego bricks to animate. A robotic hand, the kind used for handling dangerous or anomalous materials, was used to construct a simple car. The car, however, didn't spring to life and take off around the room. It's out there, unmoving, as you would expect any ordinary Lego car to do. Even when the arm disassembled it and then reassembled it, the car still didn't move. It was then theorized that only human contact could activate SCP 387's effects. To this end, a severed human hand, thoughtfully provided from a recently deceased agent, was used to carefully assemble the same car. But still, this did nothing. Even heating the hand with the creative use of a hot plate had the same effect. Is that why everything else works the way it does? Asked Dr. Chambers. The planes, the cars, the rockets, all the things you built. It works because of us. Studsworth. Are you familiar with the term, anything is possible with imagination? You have to remember that we are toys, first and foremost. A toy that can't act upon the imagination of its creator wouldn't be a very good toy, would it? Magisto. It is in our name, bequeathed unto us by the great one Christensen, 50,000 moons ago. If we are to play well, then play well we shall. The mini figures' chests seemed as well with pride, and the little dark circles that were their eyes, the four researchers swore they saw an even tinier twinkle of confidence. Their perfect smiles, for just a split second, seemed to smile a bit wider. Although researchers and agents of the foundation had long become accustomed, nay even numb, to the various wonders and impossibilities they saw on a day-to-day basis, there was something almost magical about what the mini figures had just said. The foundation had seen and catalogued numerous pieces of anomalous art over its very long history. Killer Street graffiti that preyed on homeless people and lost urban explorers, a sculpture that would snap your neck if you even dared blink. And of course, the ever enigmatic underground art collaboration known as Are We Cool Yet? These and countless others were only a fraction of the weird and often horrific artistic endeavors studied by the SCP Foundation. But somewhere in the mess of haunted VHS tapes and cursed paintings, some of it was truly beautiful. For all the horrible, monstrous, and outright depraved anomalies the Foundation had seen, here was not only friendly toward humanity, but also celebrated it. Here was an anomaly, no, a miracle, that thrived off natural human creativity and imagination. There was no secret twist or false sense of security, no hidden darkness or underlying evil. It was, just as it said on the big red tub, a box of Lego bricks. And just as Dr. Studsworth, Officer Clutch Primo and Magisto the Wizard had said, it was in SCP 387's nature to play. You know, to Dr. Chambers, her professional tone carrying just the slightest hint of a playful suggestion. I think we can hold off on this interview for a day or so. Clearly, we've gotten everything we need from these three, at least for today. I think the best course of action would be to devote more time for study and interaction with SCP 387. There was a brief pause between the other three researchers. Then, like a light bulb going off in their heads, they each nodded in agreement. I think that is a wonderful idea, Dr. Chambers, agreed Dr. Thompson, already considering an elaborate design for a working roller coaster. I suspect that this, or theory, put forth by Dr. Studsworth here demands further explorations. I suspect we'll have to discuss things with Dr. Arch first, said Dr. Wilcott, recalling that she had wanted to put the finishing touches on her castle, with perhaps a large ball room. But I'm sure he'd understand, given the potential applications we'd gain from collaboration. And, put in Dr. Hudson, his mind enveloped with the childlike idea of space cowboys wrangling alien steer. It would further help morale around here. The recent disaster with SCP 35 has dealt to blow to spirits around here. So a bit of team building, you could say, would help matters greatly. This was, of course, a completely routine and ordinary matter of observation and study, undertaken in the same professional manner of trained foundation researchers. It certainly wasn't and wouldn't be a way for these highly intelligent scientists and agents to unleash their inner child and play with LEGO sets for a few hours. It would be an unfounded and outright insulting claim to make. But before they would shut off the enormous brick-built LEGO to speech translator, Dr. Thompson seemed to remember something. He snapped his fingers together and then looked down at Studsworth, Clutch, and Magisto. The doctor, the police officer, and the wizard all stopped their usually joyful waving. They stood perfectly still for several seconds before each of them began to furiously type on their little make-believe keyboards. The screen began to rapidly fill with text, a rapid firewall of responses that quickly degenerated into disjointed rants and swears. For something made for children to play with, LEGO figures had quite the colorful adult vocabulary. SCP-387 is a tub of anomalous LEGO pieces. Some in shapes, no manufacturer claims to have made. That spontaneously duplicate until the container is full. When humans build with these pieces, the creations become sentient and animate, operating vehicles and machines even without internal mechanisms. Over time, these LEGO beings develop occupations, expand their society using SCP-387 pieces, and interact peacefully unless threatened, at which point they instantly revert to inert plastic. Discovered after an agent noticed a LEGO figure come to life on a train, SCP-387 has shown the ability to construct complex infrastructure such as airports and functioning aircraft, demonstrating environmental awareness and apparent ability to convert normal LEGO into SCP-387 material.
