Third Dimension | SCP-178

Want to hear brand new horror stories brought to life? Live? Join me every Sunday at 7pm Eastern Time on the Doctor No Sleep Podcast YouTube channel, where I narrate fresh, never-before-heard stories in real time. Just search Doctor No Sleep Podcast on YouTube and make sure you're subscribed with notifications on so you don't miss it. Put on the glasses. Dr. Zion's voice sounds clearly through the speakers on the other side of the glass. Dr. Whitaker and Dr. Prescott stand behind him, eagerly watching the man in the testing room. The man is middle-aged, 41 to be exact, and he wears the standard-issue prison uniform with a number 17831 stitched on the front. He glances toward the glass as if he knows the doctors are standing there, although all he can see is his own haggard form. A pair of 3D glasses sits in the middle of the room on the floor. The man looks at the glasses for a moment before putting them on. He immediately shouts and tears them from his face, throwing them across the room. Dr. Zion catches a glimpse of his eyes before he covers them with his hands. His pupils are huge. The man is terrified. But of what? What did you see? He can't keep the hunger from his voice, but the man doesn't appear to have heard him. He crawls to the corner of the room where he sits with his knees up, whimpering. Dr. Zion tries again. What did you see? He glances at his colleagues and they shake their heads. Dr. Whitaker makes a note on his clipboard. Dr. Zion slams his hand impatiently on the desk, making Dr. Prescott jump. He puts his hand on the microphone button, but Dr. Prescott stops him with a hand on his arm. Perhaps we should try to calm the subject down. She says gently. Dr. Zion sighs, but nods. She's right. It won't do any good to agitate him even more now. He steps aside and lets Dr. Prescott speak. It's okay. You're not in any danger. She says. Her voice is so reassuring that even Dr. Zion almost believes her. Just take a few deep breaths and calm down. The man lifts his head. His gaze travels across the room, eyes wide and frantic. When you're ready, please tell us what you saw. She says it like a suggestion rather than a demand. The man finally nods. There, there was something there. A creature right in front of my face. Can you describe this creature? What did it look like? Dr. Zion waits with baited breath while Dr. Whitaker raises his pen to paper, ready to take more notes. It was hideous. There were so many eyes. The man visibly shudders and looks at the ground. Too many eyes. He repeats quietly. Dr. Zion frowns, and Dr. Prescott glances at him before mouthing. Patience. He grunts. That was never his strong suit. She flicks on the microphone again. What else? Give us as many details as you can. I, I didn't see much. That's all I can tell you. Dr. Zion shoves his colleague out of the way and takes the microphone. Put on the glasses again. The man doesn't move. He stares at the ground as if imagining himself anywhere else. Put on the glasses. Again, nothing. Subject, I will remind you that failure to cooperate will result in immediate termination. Put on the glasses. The control room is silent as the doctors wait. But still, the man doesn't move. After Whitaker sighs, test ended at 10.45 a.m. No, wait. Let's try again. Dr. Zion looks at his colleagues, but their faces make it clear that they have no wish to continue. Fine. Place the subject under surveillance and report back on symptoms of exposure. Dr. Prescott gives him a small smile before following Dr. Whitaker out of the room. Dr. Zion watches the guards escort the prisoner out of the test chamber. The glasses remain on the floor. The red and blue lenses a stark contrast to the white walls and floor. They may not know what the glasses do, but one thing is clear. They do something. Put on the glasses. This time the subject is a woman. She puts them on with no hesitation or complaint. Dr. Zion has hope that she will be more useful than the last one. Motherfucker! Dr. Whitaker looks up from his notes as the subject emits a series of expletives. She walks backwards until she hits the wall, keeping her eyes straight ahead. Please describe what you are seeing. He uses a softer tone this time, and Dr. Prescott nods in approval. There's a thing in the middle of the room. It's just staring at the wall. Describe this thing in as much detail as you can. Dr. Zion's heart is speeding up. He shares a look with Dr. Whitaker before returning his full attention to the subject. Um, it's standing on two legs. It's got these weird arms that end in like cones. It's bald with a smooth head. Dr. Whitaker scribbles furiously while Dr. Zion tries to picture the creature in his head. But he needs more. What else? It's big, and it has... The woman cuts off with a gasp. Oh god! It's looking at me! She collapses against the wall, still staring at a spot in the center of the room. What is it doing? Is it exhibiting any hostility? It's just... staring. Dr. Zion cocks his head. Remove the glasses. The woman doesn't move. Finally, she shakes her head. No way. I don't trust that thing. Dr. Zion sighs. Subject, I will remind you that failure to cooperate will result in immediate termination. Take off the glasses. She hesitates, but finally takes them off. Her eyes immediately scan the test chamber in a frantic search. I... I can't see it anymore. Put the glasses back on. She whips them back on, her eyes returning to the spot across the room. I can see it again. It's still looking at me. Her voice wavers, but she remains standing tall. Dr. Zion can't help but applaud her courage. Continue looking at it and report any changes in its behavior. The woman nods. Dr. Zion leans back in his chair. Dr. Whitaker puts down his pen while Dr. Prescott stares at her watch. A few minutes later, the subject speaks. It's not looking at me anymore. It has turned back to the wall. Dr. Zion nods. Continue to report any changes. Time stretches on, and nothing happens. Dr. Zion stares intently at the test chamber, but neither the woman nor anything else moves. Eventually, her eyes glaze over, all fear seemingly forgotten in the face of boredom. Almost 18 minutes later, Dr. Prescott calls in. The prisoner jumps as the door opens and the guards guide her out, but she looks visibly relieved. Dr. Zion nods to his colleagues. The nature of this entity is rather curious. I wonder if it's really there, or if it's simply an illusion. Dr. Prescott says. Dr. Zion nods. And I didn't expect it to be so disinterested, especially considering the way we found it. Dr. Zion was not part of the recovery team, but he's seen the file. Photos of a little girl covered in blood, deep gashes all over her frail body. The image haunts him, but it's part of the reason he is determined to study the glasses, to see what they do. He doesn't understand them yet, but he will. The testing chamber looks different today. One wall features a poster with a fractal blue and red image. Near the opposite wall sits a plastic bin full of tennis balls. In the center, like always, are the glasses. The subject, a different man, waits just inside the door, eyeing the glasses with curiosity and obvious fear. Welcome, Dr. Zion says, making the man jump. Today you will be testing next generation 3D specs that will allow you to see animated three-dimensional images. The explanation, though false, feels strange to Dr. Zion. He is not accustomed to beginning experiments with anything but instructions. The subject seems surprised, too. His shoulders slump in relief. That won't last long, Dr. Zion thinks. Please put on the glasses and stand opposite the poster. The prisoner is eager to put them on, but jumps back and surprises as he does. Describe what you see. Dr. Whitaker raises his clipboard. Dr. Zion and Dr. Prescott exchange excited looks. There are two monsters. Two? Dr. Prescott mouths as Dr. Whitaker frantically scribbles notes. Where? Dr. Zion asks. Um, one of them is by the poster. It's turned away from me. Entity one. Dr. Whitaker mumbles. And the other one is pacing the room. Wow, whoever designed this is seriously fucked up. How is it walking? Describe its gate. It's walking on four legs like a gorilla, but if someone put its skeleton together wrong. Are the two entities similar? Um, yes. One of them is bigger, but they seem to be pretty much the same. Can you describe them? They're both bald. They have like conical arms as if their hands are stuck in pylons. Dr. Whitaker nods excitedly. Dr. Zion smiles. Finally, they're getting somewhere. Pick up a tennis ball and throw it at the one walking back and forth. The man picks up the tennis ball and cradles it in his hands. He glances around the room as if unsure of himself before cranking his arm back and letting the ball fly. The doctors watch it arc across the room before hitting the floor on the far side of the test chamber. For a moment, nothing happens. Dr. Zion sits with bated breath, his eyes never leaving the test subject. Dr. Prescott is staring at her watch. Less than a second later, the man's mouth opens in surprise. He takes a step backwards, but he doesn't make it far before lacerations appear on his body as if three claws the size of a tiger raked down his chest. Blood spreads down his orange uniform. He falls to the ground and screams in pain. Dr. Zion double checks the audio to make sure it is working. When he looks up, the man is thrashing on the floor, raising his hands in a defensive position. This lasts only a few seconds. Then the man goes still. His body lies in a pool of blood. The glass is still on his face. Dr. Prescott says. Dr. Whitaker writes it down. The guards enter the test chamber with the stretcher and haul the body onto it with a thump. It will be taken to the morgue for an autopsy, where they will learn even more information. That went well, Dr. Zion says with an approving nod. We know that the entities are consistent in appearance, and we've established that they can be dangerous. I wish we could know whether the ball actually passed through it though. They clearly don't like being disturbed, but I wonder if it's possible to have nonviolent interactions with the entities. Good point. That's something worth exploring. The team files out of the control room, pleased with their work for the day. If you want to save a few quid British gas have away, you get half-priced lecky and it's called peak save. From every Sunday it's the smart thing to do if you're regular folk or furry and blue. 11 till 4, let the good times begin. You could charge up the car or take the dryer for a spin. Half-price electricity, what joy that brings with British gas peak save, we're taking care of things. T's and C's apply eligible tariffs and smart meter required. The blood has been cleaned from the test chamber and the room has received several upgrades, including infrared cameras, electromagnetic radiation sensors, and motion detectors. That's all in addition to the usual audio and visual feed. The foundation is finally taking the project seriously, and Dr. Zion has never been happier. He practically bounces into the control room and greets his colleagues with an uncharacteristic smile. Dr. Prescott smiles back, while Dr. Whitaker simply raises his eyebrows. A buzz sounds in the test chamber and a young girl enters. She's only 19, one of the youngest prisoners in Ward D. She doesn't have the defeated look worn by many of the others, but she hasn't been there long. Her hair is still shiny and her eyes are still bright. She cocks her head as she spots the glasses. Dr. Zion pulls the microphone towards him and gives the same explanation as last time. Today you will be testing next generation 3D specs that will allow you to see animated three-dimensional images. Please put on the glasses. She walks towards them and puts them on. What the hell? She takes a step back with a grimace. Her gaze is set on something across the room. What do you see? Dr. Zion asks calmly. I don't know. It's some kind of creature or something. It's looking at me. Describe it. You can say please. She replies dryly. Dr. Zion remains silent. Finally the girl sighs. It's got two arms and two legs. It's got a shiny bald head like my Uncle Bob. It's kind of hunched over like a gorilla, but its arms taper off into a point. It's grotesque. Dr. Whitaker nods at Dr. Zion. Speak to it. What? Why would I do that? It's not like it's going to talk back. It's just an animation. Speak to it. Dr. Zion repeats. The girl rolls her eyes. Fine. Hello, weird thing. How are you today? Her tone is bland and she appears bored as she glances toward the entity. Suddenly, she screams. Three claw-like lacerations appear on her torso and abdomen. Her screams escalate as her right arm is severed just above her elbow. No, no, no. Dr. Zion tunes her out as he examines the marks on her body. She falls to the ground and the screams grow quieter until they turn into a whimper before stopping altogether. 8.4 seconds. Dr. Prescott says, That's longer than last time. The guards enter the test chamber, slipping on blood. One of them retches when he sees the severed arm. Dr. Zion grimaces and turns away, focusing on his colleagues. The sensors remained quiet, he states. Dr. Whitaker nods. There is still no outward indication of the entities, but now we know that all interaction with them is hostile. However, Dr. Prescott adds, We have yet to determine. whether the death of the subjects is caused by the item or the external entities. Dr. Zion twists his head to order. Do you think it can affect someone not wearing it? Dr. Prescott smiles. Only one way to find out. There are two subjects this time. Both women enter the test chamber wearing name tags that say, subject one and subject two. They glance at each other uncertainly, but don't speak. They have already been informed of the basic properties of the glasses. They know that entities will appear, but not what they can do. The energy in the control room is tense, the excitement palpable. Dr. Zion smiles, as he says, subject one, put on the glasses. She is a large woman in her mid-30s with a long scar that travels from the corner of her left eyebrow to the base of her nose. If he didn't already know that she had murdered three people, he wouldn't be surprised to find out. The second woman is younger, mousier. She is not yet 30, but her dark hair is already graying at the roots. But she stands straight and tall, and there is an air of unexpected defiance about her. That should make things interesting, if not difficult. Subject one ignores the glasses and turns to her companion instead. He's stupid, motherfuckers think I can tell us to jump and we'll just ask how high. It's pathetic. Subject two rolls her eyes. I know. I'd like to see them on this side of the glass for a change. Dr. Whitaker frowns as he writes down their words. Dr. Zion leans forward into the microphone. Subjects, I will remind you that uncooperative behavior will result in immediate termination. Subject one raises her middle finger, but picks up the glasses. She slams them onto her face and emits a series of colorful expletives. Subject two takes a step back and looks around the room in a panic. What? What's going on? Do you see something? There's one right behind you. Subject two slowly turns around, then shakes her head. I can't see anything. The energy in the testing chamber has shifted. The woman's bravado is gone. A bead of sweat drops down the side of subject one's face. Subject two is pale, her voice shaky. Dr. Prescott steps forward. Please remain calm. As you've already been informed, the perceived entities are harmless. You are in no danger. Subject two relaxes slightly. Subject one glances toward the control room, but doesn't say anything. Subject one, please assist subject two in making contact with the entities. Subject one grimaces, but complies. Okay, um, there's one about a foot in front of you. Its head is about two feet taller than you. Subject two raises her head. Is it looking at me? Yeah. She nods and takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly, as if she knows it might be her last. She stares up at where the entity should be. Her voice trembles as she says, um, I hear. The lacerations appear immediately on her torso and face. Her features are distorted as blood pools from the wounds. Less than a second later, her neck is severed. Her head thumps to the floor, quickly followed by her body. Subject one is screaming, what the actual fuck? She runs to the door and attempts to bludgeon it open, but the thick steel is impenetrable. She turns around, mouth still open in a scream. She shakes her head and raises her arms. No, get away! Her screams intensify as her skin rips open across her abdomen and torso. She clutches her stomach to keep the organs in and attempts to run to the other side of the room. She slips on subject two's blood and lands on the floor beside her head. The screaming doesn't stop until her body goes still. 17.3 seconds. Dr. Prescott says. Dr. Whitaker writes it down. Dr. Zion stares at the bodies. Regret coursing through him. Are you okay? Dr. Prescott asks. Dr. Zion shakes his head. We should have asked her how many there were. Dr. Prescott lays a gentle hand on his arm. Next time. Dr. Whitaker looks up from his notes and watches the guards enter the chamber with stretchers and body bags. The one who wretched last time is noticeably absent. Well, this thing is clearly more dangerous than we thought. It can affect more than just the wearer. Dr. Zion nods. But it did attack subject two because she spoke to it. Or would she have been killed either way? Interesting thought. Dr. Prescott agrees. That might be worth looking into. 17.3 seconds. Dr. Zion feels good today. He knows they are close to a breakthrough. There are two subjects again. This time, both middle-aged men. Subject one is a hulking mass of muscle with small blue eyes and a thick head of brown hair. Subject two is balding, but appears to be in decent shape for his age as well. Dr. Zion wonders if these two will make it. It will be helpful to have at least one survive. Preferably the one who wears the glasses. Dr. Prescott gives him a thumbs up and he approaches the microphone. Subjects, you have already been given information on the properties of these glasses. In today's study, one of you will be instructed to wear the glasses and describe what you see to your partner, who will then attempt to interact with the entities. Subject one will put on the glasses and must not speak or interact with the entities under any eventuality. Any attempt to make contact will result in immediate termination. Subject one, you may now put on the glasses. The beefy man remains standing by the door. He looks at the glass and shakes his head. Dr. Zion taps his foot on the floor. He doesn't have the patience for this today. Subject one, put on the glasses. He repeats sternly. The man continues to stare at the glass as if he can see the doctors beyond the pain. He lifts his chin in defiance. The second man shifts uncomfortably on his feet. Maybe you should do just what they say. The testing chamber remains silent as subject one glances menacingly at subject two. Dr. Zion frowns, suddenly afraid that the subjects might take each other out before the experiment begins. They can do it, you know? The second one says quietly. Terminate us. I don't know about you, but I'd rather go through with this stupid experiment than let them kill me. That's not how I want to go. Subject one grunts and finally turns his gaze to the glasses. He lifts them up, but hesitates, glancing between the mirror and the glasses. Dr. Zion holds his breath. The man puts on the glasses. Holy mother of God! He exclaims as he looks around the room. Subject two jumps backward, his face paling. How many entities do you see? Dr. Zion asks. They're fucking everywhere, doc. There's nine of them here with us. Dr. Whitaker raises his eyebrows as he notes down the number, but subject one is not finished. He turns his gaze to the window separating the control room from the testing chamber. And there's three in there with you. Look, there's one leaning right over you. Dr. Prescott screams, drowning out the rest of his sentence. She turns around, and before anyone can stop her, she shouts, No! Blood spurts from her abdomen, standing her white lab coat red. She collapses to the ground and tries to cover her face, where more slashes appear. Dr. Whitaker kneels beside her. Leave her alone. He yells as he tries to staunch the blood with his own coat. Suddenly, he is screaming too. Blood seems to ooze from his pores as he is cut again and again. He falls onto the ground beside Dr. Prescott, who has already gone still. Dr. Zion watches in utter horror as his remaining colleague thrashes on the ground, blood spewing all over the control room. Then it is only him. His heart is pounding in his ears, blood thrumming in his veins. He surveys the room with panicked eyes, but, of course, he sees nothing. But he can sense it. A presence, maybe more than one. He knows there is something in the room with him. His mind is turning frantically, trying to find a way out. If he leaves the room, he'll set the monsters free. But if he remains still, maybe they'll leave him alone. Maybe he still has a chance. He crawls under the desk and waits with bated breath. Suddenly, the back of his neck prickles. A shiver runs down his spine. He can practically feel the thing staring him in the face. He grinds his teeth together. Urine trickles down his leg. Please, please, please. A second too late, he realizes that he has said the words out loud. 8.2 seconds later, he is dead. SCP-178 is a pair of old white 3D glasses that allow wearers to see large, humanoid entities invisible to others. These creatures usually behave passively, showing curiosity toward humans. But any attempt to interact with them results in the wearer and the nearby individuals suffering violent, fatal lacerations, resembling triple slashes from unseen claws. The wounds appear instantly and continue until death, though no physical source is detectable by instruments. The entities emit no sound, and long-term exposure causes no lasting effects. Aside from the risk of sudden, gruesome death if contact is attempted.