Item #: SCP-140-FR
Threat Level: Orange ●
Object Class: Euclid Uncontained
Special Containment Procedures: Since the 28/04/1992 incident resulting in the containment breach and subsequent loss of SCP-140-FR, and considering that SCP-140-FR cannot be approached nor seen by human beings in its current location, containment procedures are limited to the deletion of any and all historical information regarding SCP-140-FR and its involvement in AASF operations during the battle of Dunkirk.
SCP-140-FR's leather jacket, which has the same anomaly as SCP-140-FR, is to be kept in locker NVA-023-B2 in Site-Aleph anomalous items storage area. Since the jacket's anomaly is not transmittable to any wearer, access to the locker is allowed to any Level 2 personnel.
08/06/1998: The scientific value of SCP-140-FR was not considered sufficient to justify the material cost of its recovery, which would be enormous considering its current location. The fact that its jacket remained in possession of the Foundation is sufficient to carry out possible research on its anomaly. Until further notice, any request to the Ethics Committee for the recovery of SCP-140-FR will be rejected. However, the object cannot be considered neutralized. - ██████ ████████, member of the Ethics Committee
Description: SCP-140-FR is a human male (31 years old as of 02/06/1940) with deep scars consistent with second and third degree burns on the back, neck, occiput, and the right half of the face. Some cross-checking of the available historical data with the interviews conducted with SCP-140-FR suggested that the object, before the appearance of its anomaly, was the aviator ████ █████, belonging to the RAF AASF (Advanced Air Striking Force, subdivision of the British Royal Air Force), shot down by the Luftwaffe on June 2, 1940 during the Battle of Dunkirk.
SCP-140-FR is subject to a self-localized gravitational anomaly. Its body mass is not affected normally by the laws of universal gravitation and responds in a diametrically opposed way: instead of being attracted, it is being repelled by it. This anomaly has for main consequence to prevent SCP-140-FR from walking on the ground, and it attracts it permanently in direction of the atmosphere; the object can walk on any surface or item interposed between itself and the sky, which however constrains it to hold its head directed towards the ground. Since SCP-140-FR's entire body is affected by the anomaly, this does not have direct consequences on its physical cohesion.
SCP-140-FR has no cardiac or respiratory activity, an inactive digestive system, and doesn't require any food or water to function, but is nonetheless conscious, able to move, and able to reason logically. The normal body temperature of SCP-140-FR is 14.3°C, unless the ambient temperature is below this level (in which case its own temperature drops). Although the electroencephalograms (EEGs) performed during the tests show the presence of brain activity despite the absence of multiple other vital functions, it has a profile similar to brain activity characteristic of REM sleep. Similarly, although the tests have demonstrated that SCP-140-FR's eyes are functional, they are permanently animated by a rapid eye movement (REM) as can be observed during a REM sleep phase.
The clothing that SCP-140-FR was wearing at the time of its recovery (standard AASF uniform, partially burned) shares the same gravitational anomaly as SCP-140-FR. Any other clothing provided as a replacement for SCP-140-FR causes it profound discomfort, given that it is not subjected to the same gravitational forces as the clothes.
SCP-140-FR was discovered on 08/05/1943 in the ruins of the Dunkirk train station, following repeated reports of an "upside down tightrope walker" on a still-intact section of the electric cables located above the railroad tracks.
Interview Log 140-02: The following interview was conducted on 07/08/1943 by Dr. Lasserre, a prominent member of the Site-Aleph research team from 1935 to 1958. This is the second interview with SCP-140-FR, the first having only established its civil name, age and other basic information. This transcript was originally translated from English for the Site-Aleph archives, as SCP-140-FR barely knew a couple of words of French.
Beginning of transcript
Dr Lasserre: How long have you been in this situation - pulled towards the sky, I mean?
SCP-140-FR: Do you mind if I talk to my mother on the phone first?
Dr. Lasserre: Answer my question, please.
SCP-140-FR: Just one phone call. Just one. She's in poor health. There's only me left, my father died when I was just a boy. I want to make sure she doesn't worry.
Dr. Lasserre: We'll see what we can do. I would be inclined to think that your condition would worry her more than it would reassure her, though. Let's start again. How long have you been in this situation?
SCP-140-FR: Since my crate got shot by the fritz.
Dr. Lasserre: Please elaborate.
SCP-140-FR: Three years ago, the RAF sent us to Dunkirk to cover the evacuation of some poor guys down there that the Wehrmacht fritz had completely surrounded. It was called Operation Dynamo, and basically we had to hold the air while the ships evacuated everyone through the Channel.
Dr. Lasserre: Yes, we are aware of that; please tell us about what happened to you in particular.
SCP-140-FR: Yeah, anyway, me and two other lads were in our crate, one of those Fairey Battle things. It was suicide, the guys on the other side had much faster and better armed planes. You ever flown a Fairey Battle, doc? Trying to shoot down a Messerschmitt when you're in one of those things feels like piloting a flying wardrobe in front of a duck. Well, there we were in that damn flying coffin, and then, what a surprise, you might say, we got shot right over the Dunkirk train station.
Dr. Lasserre: By a Messerschmitt?
SCP-140-FR: You know what, I have no idea. To be completely honest, doc, when you're in a flaming plane, that's not really the first question you ask yourself. Anyway, the flying coffin was burning up, and so were we. (He points to the right half of his face.) It still hurts, you know. It's been three years, and it still hurts, and that's weird, right? Because other than that, I haven't felt anything at all in three years.
Dr. Lasserre: Stay focused, please. How did you get out of the burning plane?
SCP-140-FR: I tried to open my parachute. The damn thing went up like a torch, and I had already jumped out of the cockpit, and the other two lads were probably already dead, and I was falling like a stone. (He fidgets and shifts his position on the ceiling-mounted chair that was provided.) I'd never been so scared in my whole life. I saw the ground getting closer, and that's when the thing happened.
Dr. Lasserre: What kind of… "thing"?
SCP-140-FR: Well, I saw colours. (trying to find his words) You know, when I was little, sometimes I used to do that thing where you close your eyes and you press on your eyelids to create fireworks behind them. Well it looked a bit like that. Except my eyes were open. The ground that was rushing towards me became full of colors and flashes, like it was transforming into lights and stars, and all at once it dissolved, and it became the sky. And it was a starry sky, and it didn't make any sense because it was daylight when the crate had been shot down. And then I realised that night had fallen, and what was left of my parachute was tangled in cables, and I was falling into the sky.
Dr. Lasserre: You were falling into the sky?
SCP-140-FR: Yeah, the ropes were tangled in the cables, and I was upside down, the ground was above my head and the sky was below my feet, and the ropes were taut as if they were the only thing holding me to the Earth, and I thought that if they broke, I would fall into the sky.
Dr. Lasserre: So you don't know what triggered your anomaly.
SCP-140-FR: Look, doc, I was in a flaming crate, okay? I was burning up. And then there was this bloody fireworks display of colours and stars and then I was falling into the sky. I really don't know what else to tell you.
Dr. Lasserre: All right, all right. So you managed to get back on the ground - well, to reach a surface you could stand on, given your situation?
SCP-140-FR: Yeah, yeah. I climbed up the ropes and crawled on the train cables, with this gigantic void underneath me that was pulling me down, and I managed to get to one part of the station that was still standing. I hadn't left that station in three years when you found me. I was scared, I think.
Dr. Lasserre: Why were you walking on the cables when we found you?
SCP-140-FR: (He scratches the scars on his right cheek and looks embarrassed.)
Dr. Lasserre: Why were you walking on those cables after spending so much time hiding?
SCP-140-FR: (He hesitates.) I think I'm dead, doc. I can hardly feel anything and I haven't eaten in three years. I can't feel my heart beating, nothing. That's got to be it, right? I'm dead and I should have fallen into the sky that night instead of going into hiding. I wanted to wait for the night and fly towards the stars.
End of transcript
Incident 0██-04 - 04/28/1992: On 04/28/1992, a major containment breach at Site-Aleph, initiated by SCP-███-FR, resulted in the partial destruction of some humanoid containment cells. SCP-140-FR's room’s ceiling was torn off, and it could not be intercepted in time to prevent its primary anomaly from pulling it into the atmosphere. Since then, SCP-140-FR’s jacket, which was at that time used for testing, is the only element of SCP-140-FR still in possession of the Foundation.
Given the persistence of consciousness in SCP-140-FR despite the near total absence of vital signs during the time it was contained by the Foundation, it has been considered that SCP-140-FR may still be conscious in space, although it is currently outside of the Earth's atmosphere and drifting in the direction of the Small Magellanic Cloud (SMC). Revised classification to "uncontained".