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In the event of unauthorized entry into SCP-6116, the intruder(s) should be subdued using non-lethal means and detained for 1 hour in the event SCP-6116's effects display delayed onset. If the intruder displays symptoms of being exposed to SCP-6116, they are to be treated using area medical facilities. Special biohazardous protocols are not necessary in the event that protocols prove cumbersome in treating detainees. Once the intruder is confirmed to be in a stable condition, they are to be amnesticized and removed from the premises.
Description: SCP-6116 is an orchestra of instruments located inside the defunct International Museum of Fine Arts, Lidcombe in Lidcombe, New South Wales, Australia.
The orchestra itself consists of violins, cellos, violas, basses, oboes, flutes, clarinets, bassoons, trombones, trumpets, and horns. The building itself consists of a central facility with north, south, east, and west wings which form a cross when viewed from above.
Between the hours of 11 PM and 5 AM1, SCP-6116, which is located in the west wing of the museum, animates and plays works from the classical and romantic periods2.
SCP-6116 causes affected individuals to desire to listen to the music until forced to stop, usually by sedation. If not sedated, the subject will struggle against attempts to remove the subject from direct and clear earshot of SCP-6116. The subject will attempt to listen until they experience the direct effects of SCP-6116. The desire to listen becomes less prominent the farther the subject is from SCP-6116 and is completely ineffective outside a 30-meter radius.
Approximately 15 minutes after the subject is exposed to SCP-6116, they experience severe skin necrosis, similar to that of necrotizing fasciitis. Although non-communicable, the onset of the necrosis is sudden and extreme. Depending on the amount of time the subject was exposed to SCP-6116, the subject may experience delayed onset of the anomalous effect.
Exploration Log SCP-6116 Exploration Log SCP-6116 Foreword: After the discovery and containment of SCP-6116, two personnel were ordered to explore SCP-6116 to discern the nature of the anomaly. The D-class personnel was equipped with headsets, flashlights, and body cameras.
Date: 6-6-2021, 12:00 AM Subject: SCP-6116 Team Members: D-47683 and D-2978 [BEGIN LOG] Security Agent Harms: Begin log. The date is June 6, 2021. Personnel involved are D-47683 and D-2978. Hello D-47683 and D-2978. Your orders are simple. Explore this location with the provided monitoring equipment, find the anomaly, and take any evidence that you may come across.
D-47683: Isn't this place just an old museum? Why do you want us to explore it?
D-2978: Look, I know you're the new guy, so a word to the wise, I suggest you shut up and follow orders. You'll live longer that way.
D-47683: What do you mean?
D-2978: Jesus. Alright, let's go.
D-2978 begins to move from the entrance of the east wing into the building.
D-47683: Hey! What do you mean by "live longer"?
D-2978 is heard letting out a sigh D-2978: I'm not usually this nice, but since you're new here I'll give you the rundown. Look kid, whatever's in here will probably kill us the second it sees us.
D-47683: W-What?
D-2978: Boy, what did you do? Who did you kill to end up in this shit hole?
D-47683: Well, I was robbing a bank with my crew, and I pulled the trigger on the clerk when we were done. I didn't mean to! I'd never killed anyone before. I don't want to die!
D-2978: Ah, well shit happens.
D-2978 reaches the center of the complex and abruptly stops.
D-47683: Hey, do you hear that?
D-2978: Hear wha-Wait. I do hear it.
D-2978: It almost sounds like… music. I can't tell where it's coming from, though.
D-2978's breathing and perspiration increase as he stares down the west wing of the museum.
D-47683: Yeah you're right. It sounds beautiful too.
D-2978: Okay, whatever it is will probably kill us, so there's no use for us both to die. I'll keep going straight and you go right. Let's meet back here in thirty minutes. Got it, kid?
D-47683: What?! You want me to go off alone into god knows where? You said whatever's here will kill us!
D-2978: Please, just trust me.
D-47683: Well… I guess that makes sense. Okay, I'll go north, and you can go west.
D-2978: See you in thirty, kid.
D-2978 and D-47683 diverge at this point, with D-2978 entering the west wing of the museum, however, they are still able to communicate using the provided headsets.
D-2978: Hey, I got to the end of the west wing and I think I found it.
D-47683: "It"? What's "it"? What did you find?
D-2978: Well it's like an orchestra, but it's playing itself. It's almost like invisible musicians playing. It's amazing, so beautiful.
D-47683: Okay, well if that's all they wanted us to find, we can meet back in the middle.
D-47683 made his way back to the center of the museum; D-2978 does not move from viewing the orchestra.
D-47683: Hey, I'm at the place. Are you almost here?
D-2978: I'm not coming.
D-47683: What? What do you mean? We were supposed to meet here!
D-2978: I'm not leaving. It's beautiful. Stay away.
At this point, D-2978's video and audio monitoring equipment are deactivated manually.
D-47683: Hello? Hello!? Fuck, I think his line is dead.
D-47683 begins to move towards the west wing but stops when a scream is heard.
D-47683: What the fuck was that? Oh god, please be okay.
D-47683 begins to run towards the noise.
D-47683: FUCK!
D-47683 abruptly stops roughly ten meters from the door to the west wing when he sees D-2978 exit the door, limping towards him, and suffering from extreme necrosis.
D-2978 begins begging for mercy D-47683: What the- D-47683 begins to run from D-2978 and hides in a custodial closet near the center of the museum.
D-47683: Oh god. Oh, god. What the fu- D-47683 vomits.
D-47683: Jesus. What happened to him?
D-47683 looks around the closet and notices a makeshift bed constructed from auditorium seat cushions, several empty bottles of water, and plates of expired food.
D-47683: Where am I? Did someone live here?
D-47683 sits on the makeshift bed and begins to sob D-47683: Where the fuck am I? I never meant to shoot that girl…and now… now I'm here. What am I supposed to do? The only guy that didn't treat me like trash here is dead because he wanted me to live. I don't deserve kindness. Not after I murdered an innocent girl.
D-47683 backs closer to the wall but collides with a shelf, causing a book to fall on him.
D-47683: Ow! Huh? What's this? "Journal of Martin Schuster." D-47683 is instructed via radio by researchers to read the journal. He proceeds to skim through several pages.
D-47683: What the hell? A reality bender? Shit like that exists? That explains what happened here. This guy… Martin… I need to get this back. Me escaping is what the old man died for.
D-47683 moves towards the door and slowly opens it while surveying the hall. D-2978's corpse is seen lying roughly fifteen meters away.
D-47683: If I hadn't killed that girl none of this would've happened, and maybe the old man wouldn't have died. I'm not the only one to do something unforgivable here, though, but at least Martin fixed his mistakes.
D-47683 proceeds to the east wing extraction point.
[END LOG] Addendum SCP-6116 A: The journal recovered from the museum is labeled as having belonged to Martin Schuster. Schuster disappeared on December 15, 2003, and was thought to have been scheduled to perform in an orchestra at the International Museum of Fine Arts, Lidcombe that day. When questioned, his romantic partner at the time, Charlotte Pantier, said that he left for the concert in the late afternoon, but she could not recall what occurred the rest of that night. Foundation investigations concluded that no performance took place that night, and the museum had been defunct since the date December 15, 2003.
Recovered Journal: SCP-6116 Entry 1: December 27, 2002, Hello Journal. My name is Martin Schuster. I am 24 years old, and I'm enrolled at Juilliard. I'm a cellist working on my music performance degree.
My goal is to be in a professional orchestra next year. I love music more than anything because I feel like it's a representation of the human soul. I'm writing this journal because my anger management therapist recommended to me that writing a journal is a good way to vent my emotions. I've had some anger problems since I was a kid. My father was rough on me sometimes.
According to some paranormal boards I've been browsing, I'm what paranormal enthusiasts call a "reality bender." I can change reality to my whims. I can only restructure the molecules of smaller objects and manipulate time in a local area, but every time I do, I get sick. I still think that I'm pretty cool, though. I haven't been captured by the government because I think I'm careful with how I use my powers, but I am writing a journal admitting everything, so maybe I'm a little stupid.
Entry 2: September 8, 2003, Hello, again Journal. It's been a bit since I've written an entry. I'm 25 now. I did manage to get into a professional orchestra as a cellist, though I only made it in by changing reality with some paperwork during my audition, so I'm a bit upset because of that. So far, I've enjoyed my time in the orchestra, but the music is very hard. Also, there's this dickweed named Steveson who keeps treating me like trash. Me! I'm way more powerful and important than him. He always talks to others behind my back about me and makes fun of me when I screw up in practice. I know that I'm better than him, though.
Entry 3: October 11, 2003, I'm back Journal and do I have some great news. I got a girlfriend. Her name is Charlotte, and she is perfect! She's beautiful and so kind. I do get angry with her sometimes, though. One time, she dropped a glass while cleaning it, so I raised my voice, but I think that I've done better recently. I know that I can get angry easier than others, but Charlotte still loves me. Right?
Entry October 28, 2003, What's up Journal. Recently I've been feeling crappy. Steveson has been particularly rude to me because I've fucked up more at rehearsals. I know that I'm not the best (I kind of am, though) but, come one. There's no reason to be that rude. It seems like he's making fun of me behind my back all the time now. How dare he talk shit behind my back. I could kill him in a second.
Also, I may be imagining things, but Charlotte is being cold to me. I've come home, and she's been barely engaging with me. It makes me a little upset, but more than that I'm depressed. I think I'll take a hot bath tonight to relieve some stress. Maybe I can get Charlotte to join me.
Entry 5: November 17, 2003, Hi Journal. Life's been fucked recently. I think I know why Charlotte is cold to me. Charlotte is cheating on me. It's the only explanation. I think it might be Steveson. He keeps talking about his "new bitch." He always talks about her just within my earshot too. Fucking Steveson. He would be the type to do that to me. I've been fuming. I want to punch that asshole in his smug face so hard. I could erase him from existence before he knew what hit him! But, now isn't the time. The concert is coming up soon, and I'm not sure that I'm ready.
The music is way harder than I thought it would be. I've practiced and practiced, but I can't get it right. It's bullshit. I don't know why the conductor had to pick such shitty music. The rhythms are all off and the meter is constantly changing. How is anyone supposed to play something like that?
Entry 6: December 14, 2003, Hello Journal. I've been stressed out recently. I keep thinking about the Charlotte situation, but my blood boils every time I think of it, especially when I think of Steveson. On top of that, tomorrow is the concert, but I'm not sure that I'll be ready. I could suggest to the conductor to postpone the concert until I'm ready, but I doubt he would do it for one member of the orchestra, even if it was me. Besides, if I do poorly at this concert and mess up the orchestra, I'll be kicked out for sure. Fuck me. Wish me luck journal.
Entry 7 I fucked up. Everyone's dead. It's all my fault.
Entry 8: December 15, 2003, Hi Journal. This is the last time I'll be making an entry. Right now I'm hiding in a janitor's closet. Everyone outside is dead. I killed them all. I didn't mean to, but I did. I made the instruments melt anyone who listened to them and I made them play themselves. The music the instruments played was as beautiful as I could make it so that everyone would listen. I tried to reverse what I did, but I felt sick as soon as I tried and blacked out. I fucked up. I let my abilities get to my head. Everyone's dead now. The only idea I have left is to reverse time to bring everyone back to life, but remove the concert from history. I don't have enough power to destroy the instruments, though. I was so pathetic. I acted like some big shot, but I couldn't even play a dotted eighth note followed by a sixteenth. I just acted like tough shit because I was a fraud. To all the people I've killed: I'm so sorry. I fucked up. It's all my fault.
Goodbye.
Footnotes 1. GMT+10 2. 1730-1840 « SCP-6115 | SCP-6116 | SCP-6117 » ‡ Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-6116" by finnah, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/ scp-6116. Licensed under CC-BY-SA.
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