Whatever You Do, Don't Draw the Circle and Rectangle | SCP-2016

Ever wondered if the magic was real? Well this is where it was made. The wonder of the Hogwarts Express. The chill of the forbidden forest. The secrets hidden in Gringotts Bank. You don't watch the films here. You feel them. Every spell. Every creature. Every detail. Immerse yourself in the filmmaking magic at Warner Brothers Studio Tour London. The making of Harry Potter. Tickets must be booked in advance. www.studiotour.co.uk A man who has dreamed of death. He was in a dark cottage with wooden walls and a floor of packed earth. Various plants and flowers were strung along the ceiling. And a cabinet in the corner contained jars filled with chicken feet, colorful powders, and dark, swirling liquids. A cough sounded a few feet away. And he realized he wasn't alone. A young child lay in the shadows on a bed of straw. He couldn't make out whether it was a boy or a girl. Only that they were deathly pale. And simultaneously shaking and sweating. Boaz jumped as another figure materialized beside him. It was an old man with a long white beard. He seemed strangely familiar. But Boaz couldn't place him. The man looked at him and nodded in greeting. Are they going to be all right? Boaz asked, nodding to the coughing child. The old man frowned and gave a slow shake of his head. The door suddenly opened and more people entered the cottage. Three of them were children, accompanied by a woman and a man with a long beard who looked very like the one beside Boaz. None of them noticed him. They crowded around the child, tears lining their cheeks. Don't go, Charlie. Please. The youngest girl sobbed. Charlie's mother took his hand and gently stroked it. Her eyes never leaving his. Meanwhile, the man was rummaging through the cabinet, muttering something under his breath. He knocked over a jar and it shattered all over the floor. He rang Boaz with the funky smelling liquid. Thomas, the woman said sternly. Thomas paused, his back rigid. He slowly turned to look at her, the sorrow in his gaze so powerful that Boaz had to look away. It's too late, she whispered. Boaz crept forward along with the man and together they looked down on the lifeless little boy. In the back of his mind, Boaz was reminded of a similar scene, but in his dream state, he couldn't quite remember. A snap sounded and the scene changed, but only slightly. Now there was a different figure on the mat, a young girl surrounded by the same family. Her mother stroked her hand just as she had her sons. Her father, Thomas, sat on her other side. Just like her brother, she breathed her last breath. The two remaining children, a boy and the youngest girl, burst into tears. The old man snapped his fingers again. Sunlight streamed through the cottage. The family was gone and the straw bed was empty. Boaz glanced at the old man and he simply nodded towards the door. A second later, a scream sounded outside and the younger version of the old man burst into the room, carrying a limp figure. His wife followed him, her mouth still open in horror. Boaz watched him gently lay the boy on the bed, but he knew it was too late. The boy's face was smashed in, mangled flesh and blood, making him nearly unrecognizable. Boaz stepped back, suddenly wanting to leave this strange dream. Why are you showing me this? He cried to the old man. Instead of answering, the man drew a piece of chalk from his pocket and scratched something on the wall. It was a simple shape, a rectangle with a circle inside. What's this? Again, the man didn't speak. He simply pointed to the drawing. His dark eyes, boring holes in Boaz's before everything went black. So? Dr. Carter asked the second Boaz walked into his office. Boaz placed the wizard doll on his boss's desk, happy to be relieved of it. I did what you said and put it on my nightstand before going to sleep, and I had the strangest dream. Oh? Dr. Carter steepled his fingers together and leaned forward in his seat. Tell me about it. Well, I was in this creepy cottage, and there was an old man with... Just as Boaz was about to describe the man's beard and green robes, he realized where he'd seen him before. It was a version of this, he explained, holding up the doll. And there was a younger version too, and death, so much death. Boaz presented his dream with as much detail as he could remember, down to the gory face of the young boy. Dr. Carter nodded, seemingly unfazed, despite the gruesome details. And then he drew this symbol. Show me. Dr. Carter handed him a piece of chalk and gestured to an empty spot on the wall. Boaz did as he was told and drew a rectangle with a circle inside. As soon as he finished, the drawing seemed to shimmer, and it transformed into a door before his eyes. Boaz cried out in surprise and turned to Dr. Carter. Then, Dr. Carter was unfazed. He simply nodded to the door and said, Go through. I...is it safe? Dr. Carter smiled, but it lacked warmth. Perfectly. Boaz hesitated, torn between intrigue and self-preservation. Are you sure? We've had multiple class D personnel come through just fine, he replied comely. Boaz nodded, placing his hand on the door. He wanted to ask what they found there, but he already knew his boss wouldn't tell him. He was meant to discover it on his own. Okay, be back soon. He blinked as sunlight streamed through the door, and with a deep breath, he stepped through. He entered a grassy meadow and immediately saw a tower straight from a storybook. It was five stories high, with windows along each floor. The stone structure was round, with a green conical roof, with a large wooden door at its base. Boaz trampled through the grass and found a sign pinned to the door. It was written in a messy scroll and said, To my new apprentice, was that supposed to be him, or did someone else live here? He raised a hand to knock, but the door swung open on its own. Hello? Is anyone there? Silence greeted him as he stepped inside. Hatches of the room were lit by the sun, while others were dark and obscured in shadow. Mismatched furniture was randomly placed throughout the circular room, as if comfort was an afterthought. A cold hearth lay on the opposite end of the room from the door, and potted plants were lined along the walls between bookshelves, lined with old tomes. A wooden staircase curved along the wall leading to the rest of the tower. Praying that the rotting wood wouldn't give way beneath his feet, Boaz climbed to the second story. He thought the first floor held an abundance of books, but that was nothing compared to this floor. All available wall space contained bookshelves overflowing with literature. Tables and chairs littered the middle space, and each of those was covered in books as well. Some of them closed, others left open as if the reader was returning soon. He walked through the mess, glancing at books as he went. Photos of animals, complicated equations, and cross sections of the human body dominated the space. He ran a finger along one of the bookshelves, reading the titles. There were books on electricity, anatomy, and botany, some from medieval times, others from the 20th century. They weren't arranged in any particular order, and some were placed in front of or on top of others. The library was chaos, but there was something almost calculated about it, like the owner knew where every book was without needing a system. Boaz paused when he reached a big black book that seemed hardly used. He pulled it out and read the title, Explanations of the Afterlife. A shiver ran down his spine, and he quickly put it back. Time to discover the rest of the tower. The next floor also contained plenty of books, but rather than a library, it appeared to be some sort of laboratory. The tables around the room held bunts and burners, empty glass tubes, beakers of varying shapes and sizes, and strange electrical machines. He approached one at random and turned it on. It let out a sharp buzzing sound, but otherwise nothing happened. He shrugged and turned it off again, surveying the shelves instead. They were lined with jars like the ones Boaz had seen in the old man's cottage in his dream, full of powders, strange ingredients, and ominous liquids. Boaz took a closer look at a large jar with some kind of red blob in it. It was revealed to be a preserved heart, but whether it was animal or human, Boaz couldn't tell. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. The more he looked around the room, the less he wanted to see. When he flipped through a well-loved notebook, he found anatomical drawings of human bodies, along with complicated chemical calculations. What kind of strange science was this? He pocketed the book to take back to his boss and descended to the fourth floor. It was more or less the same as the previous floor, but only about half the size. Boaz frowned and searched for a door, but there was none. So what happened to the rest of the space? He jogged up the steps to the top floor, assuming the extra space would somehow be found there, but it wasn't. That room was the same size as the others, and contained more plants, books, and machines. But again, no door. There had to be one somewhere. He returned to the fourth floor and scoured the floor and walls. Looking underneath the carpet, tapping random stones and listening for possible noises. When that didn't work, he slumped against a bookshelf and let out a sigh. But as he slid back, a book disappeared into the wall, and a distinctive click sounded. Boaz jumped away from the wall. The entire bookshelf appeared to be slightly parted from the wall. He pulled it out, and there was the secret room. Although why it was hidden, Boaz couldn't tell. He was expecting something dramatic or creepy, but the room appeared to be living quarters. There was a large bed in the center, with a desk along the wall and a washing station. The desk was empty, except for three urns neatly lined up in the middle. A painting hung on the wall above the desk. The smiling, healthy faces of the family from his dream looked down on him. There was the strange wizard man with his green robe and long brown beard. Beside him stood his wife, who was hugging the youngest girl. The other three children stood in front of them, with rosy cheeks and a pleasant gleam in each eye. Boaz recalled the sight of the children as they died on that little straw bed. Their eyes dark and lifeless, their skin already graying. His breath hitched with grief. He looked away from the painting and the urns and hurried out of the room. Suddenly, every inch of the tower felt full of grief and loss. Boaz struggled for air as he leapt down the stairs, trying to dispel the memories haunting him. When he got to the first level, he tripped and fell face first onto the cold stone floor. He cried out and bit his lip as he made impact, immediately tasting blood. He sat up and spit on the ground before him. But his pain was suddenly forgotten as he noticed the handle that he had tripped on. It seemed the tower contained more than one hidden room. His muscles pulled taut, and he grunted with effort as he pulled on the handle until the door opened enough to allow him through. He peered into the dark hole. The rope ladder attached to the opening was the only thing he could see. Cold air seeped out, sending a shiver all over his body. Boaz debated leaving it alone, but he'd never been good at that. It was part of what made him such a great researcher. Besides, he couldn't tell his boss that there was a creepy hidden passage he didn't even look at. With a deep breath, he gripped the rope ladder and plunged into the darkness. Part way down, a pungent smell assaulted his nostrils, and he gagged. He covered his mouth with his shirt and tried to breathe through his mouth rather than his nose, but he could almost taste the smell. It got aggressively worse the further down he climbed. When his feet hit the stone floor, he kept one hand on the wall and moved forward one slow step at a time. He barely made it a few feet before he felt something in front of his face. He yelped and backed away, but when he reached out his hand again, he realized it was just a piece of string. He pulled on it, and a dull light lit up the space. Boaz gasped in horror at what lay before him. A neat line of open coffins spanned the wall, each one containing a body in varying stages of decomposition. That certainly explained the smell. The coffin nearest him held a skeletal body with a thin layer of flesh clinging to the bones. There was a tag on the open lid, the words written in scribbled ink. Devon Chamberlain, 1843, healthy. Beside that, lay the body of Eric Goldman, 1904, healthy. Then came Nora McKenzie, 1935, healthy. Boaz spun in a circle, reading each tag in front of the rotting bodies. 1985, 2007, healthy, healthy. He paused when he reached the oldest one, 1605. The coffin should have held nothing but brittle bones, yet the figure inside looked the same age as the body from 1843. Boaz shook his head and backed into the stone wall, overcome with questions. What were the bodies doing here? How did they get here? And if they were all healthy, how did they die? Boaz took a closer look at each body, careful not to get too close, lest the smell knock him out. Each one was perfectly intact with no signs of trauma. He searched the rest of the room for answers, but all he found was an old leather journal. Inside, he found paintings of the woman and the little girl from his dream. Underneath them were the words, I'll bring you back, I promise. Boaz flipped through the pages, reading the occasional scribbled line, such as, Elizabeth died yesterday of a heart attack, Susan and I are the only ones left. I don't know what to do anymore. And I've had an idea. It's crazy and inhumane, but I have to try it. It's the only option that remains. The last sentence in the journal sent to shiver down Boaz's spine. It read, May God forgive me for what I am about to do. He put the journal back where he found it, a measure of understanding washing over him. But he couldn't help but feel like he was still missing something. Why were the bodies all the way down here if the experiments were done on the upper levels? Unless there was another hidden door. Now that he was looking for it, it didn't take Boaz long to spot the cracks in the stone that resembled a doorway. He pushed forward and, sure enough, the stone gave way beneath his palms. He squinted his light poured from the room, nearly blinding him. The walls and floor of the chamber were bright white, and several surgical tables were scattered around the room, along with trays of equipment and various machines. Three of the tables contained corpses, two of them familiar. Boaz approached the woman, Elizabeth. Wires from a nearby machine were stuck in her skin. She didn't look dead, but alone dead for hundreds of years. Boaz forced himself to check her pulse just to make sure. She was cold and lifeless, yet perfectly preserved. Down to her plain brown dress, the daughter was the same. It was like they'd just taken their last breaths. He finally turned his attention to the third corpse, and his heart leapt to his throat. The man was wearing a familiar orange jumpsuit with large black lettering and a note attached to his foot. D3734, 2026, healthy. Boaz thought back to his boss's words just before he stepped through the door. We've had multiple class D personnel come through just fine. He said multiple, not all. A distinction that Boaz should have clarified then. Like the other bodies, this one showed no sign of foul play. How on earth did he die then? A follow-up question stopped Boaz dead in his tracks. Was he next? Boaz took a deep, calming breath. Since working for Dr. Carter, he'd learned how to calm his mind when he got too excited. He could almost hear his boss's words in his ears. Breathe, relax, list the facts. One, the tower clearly belonged to the wizard from his dream. Two, the man had endured so much death that he seemed desperate. Three, the corpses, the books, the experiments, and the machines all indicated that the wizard's ultimate goal was resurrection. But how close was he? Was such a thing really possible? With his heart now racing, Boaz rushed to the rope ladder and climbed out of the basement. This time, when he looked at the scientific journals and equipment, he didn't just scan them. He devoured them. Boaz wasn't a genius by any means, but he was clearly intelligent enough to work with Dr. Carter. And he knew a thing or two about chemistry, anatomy, and electricity. He had no idea how long he remained there, pouring over the old man's scribbles. He lost all concept of time and danger. He was no longer thinking about how those people died. He was focused on bringing them back, because if it were possible, if he could really bring someone back from the dead, then he could resurrect his brother. The cancer came swiftly and aggressively. Boaz sat beside his little brother in the hospital day after day, watching Pat grow smaller and smaller. It was the hardest thing he'd ever gone through, losing the best thing in his life. He understood the wizard's pain and desperation. He knew how it felt to want someone back so badly that you would do anything. And now he had a chance. He worked without eating, without sleeping, with no thought for his job or his life back home. He was on the verge of a breakthrough. He knew it in his bones. He could picture the moment Pat opened his green eyes, always full of wonder, even at the end. He could feel his baby brother in his arms, alive and strong. That's what kept him going, even when the calculations seemed impossible to decipher. When one experiment after another failed, when he grew weak with desperation and hunger, he continued until he couldn't anymore, and his body fell into a deep sleep. He might have fought against it even more if he'd known he would never wake up. But how could he know? The wizard watched as the young man let out a death rattle and fell still. He knelt beside him and closed his eyes. He carried Boaz with unnatural strength down a flight of stairs, held him as he climbed the rope ladder, and gently placed him in the empty coffin, already labeled Boaz Allen 2026 Healthy. You've done well, my apprentice, the old man whispered. SCP-2016-1 is a knitted doll resembling a human male with a long white beard and dark green robes measuring approximately 32 centimeters in height. When humans enter REM sleep within three meters of SCP-2016-1, they will experience vivid dreams. In addition to this, subjects will also usually encounter SCP-2016-2. SCP-2016-2 appears as an elderly human male with the same appearance as SCP-2016-1. It is always capable of understanding the language spoken by the dreamer, though it is not capable of verbal communication. These dreams always end with SCP-2016-2 handing the subject a piece of chalk and creating a wall while motioning for the subject to draw a rectangle with a circle inside on the surface of the wall. If a subject attempts to draw the shape indicated in the dream on the surface of a wall within seven days of having the dream, the drawing will transform into a door with a round handle. If the subject opens the door, it leads to an open meadow with a stone tower located a varying distance away. There will be a paper attached to the tower's door saying, To my new apprentice in the subject's native language. Said tower's floors contain several libraries and laboratories. All subjects who have used these facilities have died in their sleep within five years.