Scp - 007 "Abdominal Planet"
Object Class - Eculid
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Site-17, Unknown Location – June 12, 2025
"Checkmate," Jack said, leaning back in his chair with a grin. The chessboard between them glowed under sterile white lights.
Dr. Alice Marlowe frowned at the pieces. "Third time this month. You're getting better."
"Or you're getting worse," Jack replied, tapping his abdomen. The miniature Earth inside him spun lazily, continents shifting like ink on water. "Maybe I'm cheating. Ever think of that?"
Alice ignored the joke—one he made every week. Her eyes flicked to the live feed of his containment room: plush sofa, bookshelves, a small kitchenette. A gilded cage. "Any new requests?" she asked, standard protocol.
"Same as always: internet. A window. A plant." He gestured to the featureless walls. "Hell, I'd take a picture of a plant."
"You know why we can't."
"Right. Security." Jack's smile faded. "How's the weather down there today?"
Alice hesitated. The weekly scan of his inner world had shown smoke plumes—early gunpowder? "Rainy," she lied.
Later, in the observation deck, Alice zoomed the monitor onto Jack's Earth. Two microscopic nations clashed along a river delta, tiny cannons firing spores into the air.
"Tech assessment?" she asked her assistant, Liam.
"Renaissance-era. But they're advancing faster than projected. If this rate continues…"
"They'll split the atom by Christmas," a voice interrupted.
Alice turned. Jack stood at the doorway, hands raised as guards trained rifles on him. His containment room door hung open, alarms blaring.
"How did you—?"
"The lock's mechanical. I disassembled the toaster." He nodded to the screen. "They're at war. Again. Always war."
"Return to your room. Now," a guard barked.
Jack sighed, retreating. "You're missing the point, Doc. They're not my wars."
"Why no internet?" Jack asked during their next game. "Scared I'll tweet pics of my gut-globe?"
Alice moved a pawn. "Protocol."
"Bullshit. You're scared of what I'll find out. Or what they'll find out." He leaned forward, the Earth churning. "They've invented telescopes. Soon they'll see the walls."
"What walls?"
"The edges. The void past the sky." His voice tightened. "Imagine growing up thinking the universe is six inches wide."
Alice's comms crackled: "Tech update—industrial revolution underway."
She stood abruptly. "We're done here."
At 0300, Jack's screams echoed through Site-17. Alice found him curled on the floor, clutching his abdomen. The Earth inside raged with storms.
"They've done it," he gasped. "Split the atom. They know."
"Know what?"
"That they're trapped. That I'm trapped." He grabbed her arm. "Let me help them. Let me talk to them!"
Alice pulled free. "You know the rules."
"Rules?" Jack laughed bitterly. "You keep me in a box to study a box. Who's the real monster here?"
The guards dragged him away.
Next week, the chessboard sat untouched. Jack stared at the wall, his Earth eerily still.
"Tech assessment?" Alice asked Liam.
"Medieval. Again."
She entered the containment room. "What did you do?"
Jack didn't look up. "Reset button. Turns out, I have one."
"You… destroyed their progress?"
"I gave them peace. No more wars. No more questions." His voice hollowed. "Now we're both happy prisoners."
Alice left without another word.
In her office, she reviewed the termination protocol: Detain with force if necessary.
She deleted the draft request for a plant.
Final Note: Subject remains compliant. Tech levels stabilized. Weekly chess games resumed. Request for internet: denied.
As of ██/██/████, the Earth spins on.
"We're all just trying to live with the worlds inside us."
— Addendum to Interview Log 007-28