Scp: The One With The Mask

The digital clock on the bedside table read 5:00 AM in bold red numbers. The soft hum of the ceiling fan was the only sound in the dimly lit bedroom. Natalie Reeves lay on her side in her double bed, staring at the ceiling, cocooned in blankets that provided warmth but no real comfort. Sleeping was never easy, and this morning was no different. Her body was exhausted, but her mind had been awake for hours, tangled in the memory of yesterday.

She had promised to be better.

The words echoed in her head, though their meaning felt as uncertain as everything else. Better how? Better at what? Better for whom?

A deep breath in. A slow exhale out. She pushed herself upright, shifting her weight forward as she reached for her wheelchair. Her arms, strong from years of this routine, gripped the wheels for stability as she transferred into the seat. The metal frame was cool against her palms, grounding her in the present.

The house was silent, as it always was in the mornings. It was a stillness she had grown accustomed to, one she sometimes appreciated, but other times resented.

She rolled forward, navigating down the hall to the stairlift at the top of the staircase. With a press of a button, the seat extended outward. Natalie transferred onto it, gripping the armrests. The quiet hum of the motor accompanied her descent, smooth and controlled.

She wasn't in a rush. Mornings were hers.

In the kitchen, she moved with methodical precision, retrieving eggs and a pitcher of water from the fridge. The countertops had been adjusted for her height—something she had ensured when she moved into the house. Every adaptation had been a deliberate choice. A refusal to let anyone else dictate how she lived in her own home.

Cracking eggs while sitting wasn't easy, but she had long since mastered it. The yolks fell into a bowl, their golden color vibrant against the pale ceramic. She whisked them into a smooth mixture before pouring them into a heated pan. The sizzle filled the kitchen, the scent of cooking eggs gradually pushing back the early-morning haze in her mind.

She stirred the eggs absently, thinking about the previous day. About Sera. About Finn. About everything she was supposed to be. Yesterday had left her feeling something she couldn't quite place—a weight, a discomfort, a quiet unraveling she was trying to ignore.

As the eggs cooked, she remembered the newspaper.

Rolling toward the front door, she sighed. This part was always annoying. She pulled it open with effort, the morning air cool against her skin. The sky was still painted in the muted blues of dawn, soft light creeping over the horizon. The newspaper lay just outside, folded neatly on the doorstep.

Leaning forward, she stretched her arm, fingers brushing against the edge of the paper. It took a few tries, but she finally gripped it, pulling it onto her lap before rolling back inside.

She plated her food, a simple breakfast—scrambled eggs, a glass of water. The newspaper sat beside her as she ate.

"Anderson Robotics: The Future of AI?"

The headline caught her attention immediately. She swallowed, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear as she scanned the article.

According to the report, Anderson Robotics was making major strides in artificial intelligence—developing machines with near-human cognitive abilities. The piece praised their advancements in automation, synthetic neural networks, and robotics.

Natalie scoffed softly. The public had no idea.

The article, of course, omitted the real Anderson Robotics—the one dealing in anomalies, in constructs far beyond what most people could comprehend. She set the paper down, shaking her head.