Item #: SCP-CN-2401
Object Class: Neutralized
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-CN-2401 is contained in situ, with a security guard in the surrounding area to prevent unauthorized personnel from entering SCP-CN-2401. All instances found within SCP-CN-2401 have been taken to Site-440's front hospital for treatment and containment.
Updated on 02/20/2021: No further containment is required.
Description: SCP-CN-2401 is a comprehensive building located in Wutu Mountain, Luhe County, Guangdong Province. It used to be Site-440 responsible for containing and deactivating biohazard anomalies, disguised as a small private hospital, and abandoned due to a massive outbreak of spreading disease. All personnel and anomalies within SCP-CN-2401 were evacuated prior to its abandonment. The current interior door plates of SCP-CN-2401 are engraved with the words "SCP Foundation Department of Abnormalities".
SCP-CN-2401 has five floors, and its interior can be access through doors and windows; the windows on the fifth floor are sealed from the inside. Although SCP-CN-2401 is recorded in serious disrepair, when it was officially classified as an anomalous item for containment, the containment experts present reported that the exterior of the building was still well-preserved, the interior of the building showed signs of regular maintenance, and the floors of the corridors were damp.
The topological structure in the area of SCP-CN-2401 is anomalous, as the original hall, staff lounge, dining room and office have all disappeared, making the actual space within the building smaller than the original space; each containment cell has been modified to varying degrees, and several patients have been found within it. Historical records indicate that these individuals were treated there and transferred to other sites’ front hospitals before SCP-CN-2401 was abandoned, but they were all discharged or disappeared shortly after transfer. No medical supplies or food are found in the room, and furnishings were violently removed.
In the hall of each floor, the adjacent floors can only be accessed through the stairs on the right, and the stairs on the left are blocked by cement. Most of the rooms on each floor are open, and personnel attempting to continue upstairs claim to experience a spontaneous joy that deepens as they pass through the open doors. This emotion is described as a sense of achievement and regret for the achievement of a purpose. The level of this emotion is the heaviest when standing on the stairs leading to the fifth floor, causing all personnel to refuse to explore the building further.
The following logs of areas within SCP-CN-2401 that have been identified and supervised for containment. The contents are confirmed after the initial drone exploration, and then further confirmed and verified by the ground exploration team. All the medical records found in the room were all scribbled or torn up, only the remaining notes which appeared to be handwritten by the person in charge of the room, were placed in the corresponding filing cabinets at the nurse's station.
Floor 1
Room 1
Description: The room has been converted into a standard intensive care unit, and a large number of paper documents, including notices and confidentiality regulations are scattered everywhere. Twelve individuals in hospital gowns lie on beds in the room, with infusion tubes all over their bodies connected to a functioning life support system. The inside of the life support system is a jar filled with light yellow liquid wax, and the liquid inside will not decrease.
All individuals suffer from an undetected influenza A virus and have been in a coma since containment. The medical records mention that all individuals have a history of severe systemic sepsis and are currently in stable condition under treatment.
When the first patient's condition suddenly became serious, we were not too nervous. Most of our doctors only thought that he just had a common cold and fever. Even though the patient stated that he didn’t take medicine for the first week, he continued to support it, only drank Qingkailing and Banlangen1 at home for a week in the second week, and only came to the hospital when the symptoms didn’t improve. It was the third week when he came to the hospital. The new residents all smelled of cement.
The corridor on the first floor, taken on 02/17/2021
Nothing major has happened recently, and the patients treated every day are all falls or sprains, and few of them are injured, let alone blood. Everyone sighed that this period of time was a rare leisure. No matter how mild the disease is, if it’s delayed for several months without treatment, it will lead to some trouble. I've seen a dozen similar cases in the past few weeks. They all caught a cold and coughed like this, but they didn't take medicine. They didn't come to the hospital until they were seriously ill, only to find their bones were necrotic. That’s why my department is the busiest department in our hospital.
Everyone's attention is on other objects, maybe I've done the most serious work in cover-up. The dinner in the cafeteria was still fish and fish liver, and the new cook was full of fishy smell.
Recently, the cleaning aunt has often complained to the director that every day someone makes disgusting pranks and deliberately throws dead rats on the floor next to the trash can or into the ventilation duct. The director didn't take it seriously, he just mentioned "Take care of hygiene." when everyone was resting.
Room 2
Description: The room is full of pus-stained clothes and bed sheets. Slime mold and fleas are constantly pouring out of the place covered by cloth products. All fleas collected in the room carry bubonic plague virus. These anoumalous products will not leave the room voluntarily.
No one is allowed to enter the room until the disinfection is over.
Recently, the odor in the ward is getting heavier and heavier. The hospital's sensory department comes three times a day, talking about the "sterile concept" or something. Some said it smells like a dead rat. For the first time, they explored every corner of the room, even under the hospital bed. The second time they nearly squeezed their greasy faces into the ventilation ducts, I felt the greasy sweat on their faces seeping out of the ventilation ducts, and instead broke the sterile environment. The third time, even the patients’ family members had to apply a handful of alcohol gel when they entering the door. I feel like they’re going to pry open the sea routes of the West Indies and Latin America from the Chinese borders and check it two or three times. Deaths pass through it, one by one by one. They're going to isolate everyone, allow nobody to come to the hospital, maybe they can make sure that nobody can come here by using aseptic procedures.
Until the third exposed infection occurred, a small number of people started to pay attention, and I am one of them. Just because it was so familiar, so familiar that I knew it back to front. I was studying it and its history almost all the time when I was a student, but now I feel extraordinarily unfamiliar. How can it happen here? Impossible. Perhaps the new bird flu has begun to spread again. The interns I led also began to clean up before going to the operating table every day, but the odor still didn't go away. Maybe we should buy some citrus-flavored alcohol gel.
As usual, I made regular rounds on the ground floor, with a large group of residents and interns following me, one after another. While all of our doctors and nurses were busy preparing for closure and isolation, other hospitalized patients who were not quarantined were being brought in more and more, mostly with sudden cramps and diarrhea. Now I hear that this situation has only just stopped. Batches of patients are often transferred from here to other departments, some of them end here. That's how busy the emergency department is.
Today, an intern asked during a round of the room: Where did that patient come from? That patient replied: The largest seaport in France.
Room 3
Description: The room is flanked by mortuary lockers that can store corpses, and each compartment is filled with formalin. The door faces four beds with corpses, and there are three empty beds beside it. The room temperature is maintained at -8°C and the temperature in the morgue is 60°C (±4). After entering the room, the personnel claim that "the room is full of spices".
Someone died today, a patient in Ward 1. A thin corporate slave who eats instant noodles every day but insists on exercising. A few days ago, he could still be seen chatting and joking with the little girl in the next bed, but today he died without warning. In fact, it can’t be said that there was no warning - he experienced irritability, chest tightness, dizziness and convulsions in the half hour before his death. In the last ten minutes, he started to have diarrhea, and finally died of dehydration. The nurse who took care of him and the little girl in the next bed were terrified, after all, a man had turned into a mummy at a speed visible to the naked eye.
We were assigned by our superiors to suppress news of someone's death. It is obvious that the dead are so common in the hospital, who are we suppressing the news to? But soon I knew the answer - in almost a day, news of someone’s death spread throughout the emergency department, and people in quarantine started to get restless, clamoring to go out, saying they can't be with people who are sick. I heard the security even confiscated their phones? A patient’s family received a message asking where they had gone and why they had been missing for so long. Apparently the circumstances of their isolation are unknown to the outside world. Otherwise, how come there are so many cases?
Some interns reported that dead rats were found under the deceased's bed. People from the hospital's sensory department also followed to check the situation. The floor under the bed is full of scratches. People's hair floated out of the vents, dust was rubbed off, some complained about that when they worked the night shift, they felt someone didn't care about the curfew and stayed in the hospital. The newly arranged patients were reluctant to move into that ward, and they said that it is a "mass grave" and that everyone who entered it died. Not only the patients, but also some new doctors seemed to agree with this statement. It's just ridiculous. These patients are generally susceptible, except those in red.
There are also rumors that there are dead rats under the bed of every deceased. Maybe someone really wants a big plague here? The Lord arranged for a great whale to swallow Jonah. We will also be swallowed by this public opinion from Milan, from Stockholm, from Langfang, from Copenhagen. How can it be? Impossible! The hospital's sensory department came here for three more times, and the ethics department also stepped in. I've been repeating ER no problem, no problems whatsoever. Dead rats can already occupy four acres of land, how can it be okay? But at least not out of my mouth.
After I had take care of all the inspectors, Wang, the resident doctor, said, "Could it be the plague?"
Floor 2
Room 1
Description: The interior of the room is transformed into an endless topological anomalous space. The beds equipped with the life-support system are neatly placed on both sides of the room. Each bed has a corpse connected to the functioning life-support system. No case records are found in the room. There seems to be an infinite number of corpses in the room, and there is only one germ on each corpse, and germs that have appeared cannot be found on subsequent corpses.
Autopsies indicate that all corpses died of sepsis; currently in archived [REDACTED] corpses, all pathogenic species included in the Foundation database (as of 2/20/2021) and 12 undocumented species have been detected; it was found that bacteria in 48 corpses has been inactivated, the surface of corpses shows traces of high temperature disinfection, and the cavities are full of black gunpowder.
Current containment efforts to this chamber focus on archiving and documentation.
Oh yeah! All the diseases of the world are here.
Room 2:
Description: The room is a converted operating room. On the operating table in the center is a severely decomposed corpse. There are instruments next to it, continuously pumping a seemingly infinite amount of blood and bile from the corpse. The two 20L storage tanks connected to the instrument still hold body fluids, and the remaining six storage tanks have been severely corroded. The blood and bile mixed together to flood the floor of the entire room and drained through the drain.
The moment I opened my eyes, the order to bring the patient together was communicated and implemented. Patients and their families were separated. More dead rats were removed from restaurants and toilets. Masks and disinfectant began to run out. The elderly and children are constantly being singled out for isolation. The argument is that infectious diseases are more likely to come from the weak - but how can the plague only infect the elderly and children. Now, rumors are spreading among patients that "the poor are more likely to get sick".
The clerical staff accompanying the records came back and reported to me: Dr. Wang put the patient on the operating table, cut the arteries in his hand to let blood to maintain blood balance, and Director Bai preferred to pour blood collected from family members into the patient’s body to achieve the effect of exchange blood. Although they all claimed that the process follows the principle of aseptic operation, there is still no real progress.
On the contrary, people in medical profession feel that phlegmatic tempered people are more likely to get sick, and those who don’t contribute should be punished more. Now, no one is responsible for health security anymore. Excrement is poured down the corridor. Everyone is overwhelmed. Everyone here is eager to find something, and there is no need to cover up. For all the tragedies of great men are caused by some kind of morbid psychology, and the greatness of men is just a morbidity of mind. For containment, better containment.
Today, when suspicion is spreading, tuberculosis and colds are eager to prove that they are not the Black Death, but severe cancer and hysteria want to prove that they are the source of the disease. The doctor must prove that he can heal, and the sick must prove that he is dead. What is there to believe in this mad world? Sooner or later this suspicion will take us all away, uproot the hospital, break the entire city, scrape everything away. At night, everyone only dares to eat fish meat, even if there is other meat, they won’t eat it. They only eat half-cooked parts and cooked parts, no one eats the head. Everyone just close their eyes and focus on their taste, and the fish heads are thrown into the fire.
It's hard to say whether it is for the sake of righteousness or some kind of paranoia in my heart. I finally acquiesced to the issuance of the death notice.
Room 3
Description: The windows of the room are sealed with cement, and inside there are 57 black pottery jars covered with cotton cloth. Each jar contains a corpse pickled with white sugar, dried chili peppers, alcohol and salt, and the gaps are filled with fish meat.
All went well, here’s the plague I need. They pressed No. 46's limbs, trying to get rid of the damn odor of cement, and put him in a coffin. But how could we have a coffin here, we had to stuff him in the morgue, but the odor still lingered. We took out the corpse that was not completely decomposed, and washed it inside and out with the remaining disinfectant and soap, but the odor of cement was still there, even the people on the fifth floor complained about the odor wafting out of all the holes of Atractylodes. Atractylodes with only rhizomes are like half-cooked monkey meat, like fish meat.
The patient’s family members helped together, and even the idiot whose head was drilled and his frontal lobe removed couldn’t bear it. They first wiped the surface of Atractylodes with salt, and then stuffed the spices into the mouth and anus. During this period, Atractylodes was burned in hot water. After three days and three nights, the odor of cement finally disappeared. Now they're complaining about the spice smell all over the place again. I still remember that before the patient died, he had been muttering something incomprehensible, such as "diseases come from the sea" and "diseases in fish".
It's hard to say if I'm crazy, or if these patients are all crazy together. Perhaps under this epidemic, everyone is full of extremes and fanaticism towards the dead of bubonic plague.
Room 4
Description: The room is empty, and traces on the walls and floor indicate that some of the objects welded here were violently removed.
When the hospital's infection department blocked the entire building, everyone's first reaction was disbelief. Because this is too serious and too sudden, the last time such an emergency happened was a hundred years ago, so my first reaction was: It’s unlikely, right? How can it happen to me? Obviously, no secrets can be kept for long in a pandemic. Just one day, the patient's family members began to stock up on food and salt, and even sneaked into the dining hall at night. "Whale brain oil is a special recipe for internal injuries." someone said.
The missionaries began to gather in the hall and dining hall, muttering "there must be salt in it" and then sprinkled the adzuki beans and salt into the ward. What's worse, some people surrounded the dead patient, repeating "Rats from the sea, listen to God." After all, a disaster is actually an ordinary thing, and when it actually happens, it’s hard to believe that it is a disaster. The patients and their families are all crying, they used more alcohol gel than the doctors. Doctors and nurses are better protected, they leave the office less often, they don’t have daily rounds now, and they just complain about changes in the hospital’s structure; the two types of people are intentionally or unintentionally alienated. I also see why.
Starting today, the executives have changed the weekly death toll to the daily death toll, supposedly to make the numbers look better, a few deaths a day are better than hundreds a week - but that's not a number, that's human life.
Now, I’m planning to go to the ward of a new patient on the first floor to see the situation. Every ward is unfamiliar to me today.
Floor 3
Room 1
Description: The firewood laid flat on the floor of the room continue to burn, the phosphorous flames float in the air, and the walls are blackened. There are several corpses with their limbs tied to wooden reels near the corners of the wall. The causes of death are severe bleeding and lacerations. In the center is a corpse covered in red cloth. The flames under its feet cannot be extinguished. The hands of the corpse are nailed to a cross. Two holes are drilled into the head of the corpse, and two antlers are inserted into it. Individuals entering the room claim that stepping on the wood ash feels like "slippery rot".
The rest of the corpses are kneeling on the ground, with their foreheads on the backs of their left hands and their right hands in a grasping position. Most of the bodies found had died of severe malnutrition in their current posture. What is certain is that the flames were burning on the dead while they were still alive. In another part, three fainted individuals at the edge of the room are charred and black, but the ropes that bound them are not affected by the burning.
There is an unpleasant odor like wet cement in the room.
Room 2
Description: The walls and floor of the room are covered with scorch marks, the putty walls are cracked and blackened, and the floor is full of coal ash and ashes. At the door there are traces of ashes being swept into the room, and an individual who entered the room claimed to "feel an unbearable scorching heat".
People think about what to leave behind in life, maybe it comes from instinct, to inherit the family, or to spread beliefs. The former, we're stuck here, but beyond three generations it's not inbreeding; the latter, it's what I'm writing, my thoughts, my ideas, I'm going to record everything that happens here, as I've done before - documenting the truth is not my job but my mission.
I knew from the beginning that I would be nailed to a wooden frame by them, each nurse holding up a fascist sign tied up with colonoscopes, attending physicians wearing pointed white sheets and holding torches. Illness has separated us from each other at first, and now all the sick people are coming together again, like before the pandemic.
Someone shouted "Burn him!", and then more and more people began to shout, finally everyone, including the executioner, began to scream with the wave, orderly and methodically - only then did the patients’ families seem so the same.
[The content after that has been burned. ]
Room 3
Description: There is a steel seat in the center of the room, and several human-shaped sarcophagi are arranged on the ground. Several life-support systems and blood transfusion equipments are connected to sarcophagi. The pipe connections and the eye positions of sarcophagi are covered with paraffin. Personnel claim to occasionally hear scratching sounds from inside the sarcophagus upon entering the room.
If you can actually read this note, whether you are Shakers or pan-Arabists, Veil-maintainers or librarians, I beg of you, don't go deeper into this petri dish. From here, there is no key to advance technological progress, nor is it the code to unlock the four body fluids - it is perfect, it is real and alive, and it only brings death. What do we learn from the corpses of our own kind? All we know is that we won't stop there.
The hospital's infection department is mad and begin to treat the rest of the patients who didn’t have the plague as the initial lesions. The surgeon plays the scalpel more skillfully than executioners. Dermatologists are busy finding "everything insanely primordial" in the water. As for internal medicine and orthopaedics, they are busy sawing through everyone, throwing broken pancreas and hyperostotic knees into the pot, like fish meat. They're crazy, they should be put on a madman ship and sent to another continent. We are the anomalies.
The rest remain trapped in these doctrines, opinions, classes, and affiliations, using one deviant behavior against another, until drowned in the screeching of that tiny, crooked, misshapen sphere. In the nightmare of Byzantine Justinian I, the humility of Doctor Schnabel may still be found. But that is by no means a good quality of our own nature, on the contrary, it is the fear of our future destiny when we throw corpses after corpses into the incinerator - that disease will come to me one day and take me to death.
We didn't take it seriously during the Black Death. The family members of the patients disassembled the furniture and piled them on fire in the fire escape, hoping that phlogiston would purify and nourish oxygen. As the plague swept across Europe, people were busy throwing firewood into the fire and cheering. Although the second time was more violent than the first, we still jokingly called it the "Red Death," conjured by some fool alchemist from the Persian merchant's sage stone and the crusaders' body hair. Affected by this epidemic, each of us has to be isolated, separated, isolated islands built by words as bridges, and finally, by the inevitable difference, the sum total of all relationships with framework and structure will be torn apart.
We pointed to each other's nose and cursed, using the same word to justify different things. Who the hell is insane?
Until the great plague came, each of us was the rat that spread the plague. No one came out to stop it. All who came out and whistled were dead, on the urethral cross lit by residents. No one is going to come out and stop it. The link between us as human beings has long been broken by ourselves. Our past is heresy. It gives us a real insight into what a jihad is.
But no one came to redeem us. We are all sick.
We are all sick, we are the tumor of the world.
Room 4
Description: The door is sealed with cement, making it impossible to enter the room.
Corridor on the third floor, taken on 02/19/2021
Have you ever seen a whale? It's a giant creature that lives in the ocean
Some say it was created by God and stands alone
Some say it sleeps like an island, and migrates like a continent
Whale brain oil is the best energy source and secret remedy for internal injuries, its liver can feed a city of people
Swimming in the Atlantic, there is no creature larger than it
Its gills inhale one sea and then spit out another
It is a giant of power, and power is justice
Did you see that big white whale outside the window?
Did you see that big white whale outside the window?
Did you see that big white whale outside the window?
**Note: **It is worth noting that by the time the exploratory team arrived in the room, the contained portions of SCP-CN-2401 began to gradually neutralize.
Floor 4
Room 1
Description: In this room, a pile of highly rotting vines cover the walls, moss spread throughout the room, the floor is soft, and the ceiling is dripping. After going deep into the room, the floor start to become muddy and soft, and the hospital bed above is constantly sinking into the ground. When a heavy object sinks into the ground, a bubble appears on the ground. In the field of vision, only a number of maggot-covered arms can be seen under the moss, propped up on the sheets, and kudzu and atractylodes are growing among the corpses.
In the shadow of the corner of the room is a highly decomposed corpse, wearing a white lab coat and a nurse's cap. The shoulders of the corpse are covered with wet hair, and there is a hole in the back of the head that led to the throat. A yellowish viscous liquid drip from the mouth of the corpse onto the trousers, and a dozen butterflies reside on the flowers born in the eye sockets. The corpse's right hand remains raised, with the index finger pointing towards the door; the left hand holds an unloaded pistol with the safety open.
There is a layer of mist above the roof, and it is impossible to see the ceiling.
Room 2
Description: The room is empty, as if it has been vacant for a long time.
Last month was surgery, last week was nurse station, this week was hospital infection department, and then? Then who's turn? They are knocking on the door one by one. Is it my turn? Is it my turn?
[It is followed by "Is it my turn?" which last thirteen pages, and the last page was torn.]
Room 3
Description: The room is a composite machine consisting of several pipes and mainsprings. All the pipes are connected to the outside of the room, and the sound of liquid flow is continuously emitted, accompanied by the rotation of the mainspring and the steam ejected from the pipe joints. The specific function of this room is currently unknown, and it is also unknown what liquid it transmits.
Only whales remain here, and only whale wax flows here. We can no longer tell each other apart, and found in the river between the lines that, in fact, we are both sick. There are as many plagues as wars in this world, but there are always intervals of more than half a century, so that everyone begins to gradually forget the reality of the plague. So we can understand their anxiety and self-confidence now, hoping that this disaster will end soon, but it is a stupid idea to hope that the disaster won’t last long, just as stupid things like war always happen. But if we don't always think about ourselves, we can realize that we’re in disaster. It's not clear whether they came from the disease, or whether they spread the disease. People are getting used to the pain that the disease is rooted in themselves. After all, we can't escape inbreeding to respond to a certain appeal in our instinct. The disease immortalized all the people at the scene, and begged me to die, but there is still no peace.
Now, many of us are dead and many of us are mad, but we still can't be sure if it's the plague or not.
Room 4
Description: A mess.
Madness, tuberculosis, pneumonia, acute aphonia… In the face of such a situation, everyone seems to have become dumb. The most serious of them is undoubtedly madness. Everyone who is mad keeps peeling himself off, referring to others as madness in the process of depathologizing. People either blame each other or deny themselves. Since ancient times, the most enduring among human beings is hysteria. In the past, we have been dealing with anomalous affairs and researching them, and our minds are full of paradigm dictionaries that we want to bring them back to our normal state, but the more we come into contact with them, the more afraid we are. We all lose our patience and conscience, and only know that they are heretics. In order to contain, better contain.
That day, Li who had cancer came to me. The last time I saw him was the day he was promoted to director. He asked, "Teacher, does it really make sense for us to contain them?"
"What is the purpose of containment?" I asked rhetorically.
"Protect humanity, serve humanity."
"Not only that, we also have to protect the anomalies so that they are no longer anomalous."
"What makes anomalies an anomaly is not their point of view or position, it's just that they exist in our world and appear as anomalous."
"Then I have to insist. There is an irreparable rift between the normality and the anomaly of human beings. They hate each other and regard each other as heresy. But things should not be like this. Humans can survive better, and the anomaly can be integrated into it. "
"You're still so idealistic, teacher."
"This is not an ideal, this is the future I see, a future that I will never be achieve in my life. Just because a dream is out of reach doesn't mean we have to give up, does it? Maybe that flag is out of reach and unrealistic, but we are still going to pursue it and try our best to bring the normality of our lives closer, even a little bit.”
"What about this disease? Now that we are all sick, there is no need to beat around the bush among the dying. Too many of us have already sacrificed their lives for it."
"But the anomaly is still here, have you forgotten the creed of the Foundation?"
"Secure, Contain, Protect. I'll never forget."
"I don't just want you to remember, I want you to practice. That rift is wide and deep, but we still have to fill it. If all Class D are filled in, then we will fill it with security guards; if all soldiers are filled in, the rift still can't be filled, then we will fill it with all clerks, all supervisors, we will fill it with the O5, we will fill it with all the Foundation. It's all worth it as long as we can fill that rift and unify the earth beneath our feet. For the future of mankind.”
"You're crazy, teacher."
"I've been crazy for a long time. This sick hall has made me sober. But I'm too old to practice my beliefs. Many people have long forgotten what the Foundation is."
"Teacher, you can rest now. Your beliefs will be practiced by someone." I haven't seen him since, and I heard there was a massive outbreak there, and everyone seemed to have evacuated early - no, not everyone.
That day, I was lying in bed alone, with a urinary catheter and a ventilator inserted, living without dignity. In the dream, I seemed to see a familiar figure, a thin and sick figure, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, with the scent of lilac flowers, unplugging my oxygen tube. For a long time, he left without a word. In this farewell, he may have left forever.
May all be well, teacher.
Room 5
Description: The door of the room is locked from the inside. Through the window on the door, it can be observed that the interior is a 3m³ cube room. There seems to be a humanoid figure curling up in the shadow in the corner of the room. The inside walls and floor of the room and the surfaces have varying degrees of bites and scratches. Dry vomit and blood can be found in the squat toilet, along with a pistol.
Do not go to the fifth floor. We have contained ourselves.
Floor 5
All access to the fifth floor have been blocked by debris and concrete walls, and this floor is currently inaccessible.
Note: On 02/20/2021, SCP-CN-2401 has spontaneously neutralized.
Forget me.
