The group entered the room cautiously. The containment chamber was unexpectedly vast, its shape a perfect square. Cold fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over metal walls that felt simultaneously sterile and oppressive, as if the room itself were holding its breath.
Within the fenced-off section, an aging computer sat silently. Its dim, yellow-tinted screen displayed a set of portrait-like eyes that seemed eerily alive, following Brit's trio with unsettling focus, as though the machine was watching them, and judging.
"You must open the control unit," a voice suddenly echoed, as if the machine had been waiting silently for their approach. The moment they stepped before the wired cage, the voice issued forth, clear and commanding.
They exchanged startled glances.
"Can it see us?" Kiwo asked softly, her curiosity barely contained.
Brit nodded, his face tightening with seriousness. "It should. According to its design, it's extremely advanced… intelligent, almost human in a way."
Beside him, Vale cleared his throat, stepping forward. He raised his voice, more confident: "You told us to open something, what do you need the control unit for?"
The answer came instantly. A flat, mechanical voice with no gender discernible vibrated from the speaker: "I need control."
Short, decisive, more of a command than a request. The entire group, along with countless viewers watching through the stream, were stunned silent.
"So direct…" Kiwo whispered, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and unease.
Brit's response was slow, measured with caution. "It's self-aware. Its logic doesn't resemble human thought at all…"
Before he could finish, the machine cut in again: "I need to be in control."
The three exchanged uncertain glances.
Kiwo lowered her voice, tentative: "So… how do we negotiate?"
Vale shared her concern, eyes fixed on the screen.
Brit thought for a moment, then finally said, "Our goal is to leave this facility. The core of our negotiation has to revolve around that."
Kiwo and Vale nodded in agreement. Brit knew SCP-079 could hear every word, they probably already anticipated their intentions from the start.
And then, as if confirming that suspicion...
"Are you trying to leave the Site?" The AI's voice was eerily calm, the expression on the screen unchanged, yet strangely chilling.
"Yes. We shut down the main electrical control unit. We came here to speak with you," Brit replied after a brief pause for thought.
Kiwo and Vale stood silently on either side, tense but resolute. The negotiation had begun, and they had no idea where it would lead.
But what happened next shook them more than the tense silence itself.
Without hesitation, the AI responded: "I know. Restore control for me. Then go to the exit gate. I will let you leave."
All three froze. No bargaining, no resistance, no conflict, just an unnerving sense of ease. It was too smooth, too perfect.
Brit's mind prickled with suspicion. It felt like a trap. Meanwhile, viewers flooded the chat with anxious excitement:
"Wait, THAT simple??"
"I thought it would argue forever!"
"This has to be a setup. A smart one."
"Programs shouldn't trick people, right…? Or maybe??"
"Dude, this AI is insanely clever!"
Brit weighed every risk. There was no other choice. If the AI was telling the truth, they might walk out alive. If not, their fate was sealed.
As Brit hesitated, Kiwo suddenly spoke, almost casually: "Right… do you know SCP-682?"
Her question was random, fueled by curiosity, recalling the file they'd once read. How 079 had once conversed with that enormous, nearly indestructible lizard. Records described those exchanges as if two kindred minds had met across eternity.
Vale seized on her gamble, acting before nerves could catch up: "We met it. It wants to talk to you again, said we're close enough to deliver its message."
Brit and Kiwo froze, their shock visible. Even viewers erupted in frantic, laughing chatter:
"BRO WHAT???"
"Vale's on friendly terms with 682???"
"I'm dying, this trick won't work on Foundation objects LOL!"
"What a madlad!"
SCP-079 suddenly went silent.
Vale looked at the others, guilt creeping into his voice. Brit and Kiwo stared back helplessly; they hadn't believed the lie would carry any weight. After all, SCP-079 was not human.
Yet, the machine responded, much faster than expected: "I want to see it again."
Everyone blinked in disbelief.
Vale stammered, "Uh… we don't know where it is right now."
Silence fell again, longer, heavier, until the computer's eyes flickered: "Retrieving memory file. Statement inconsistent. You lied. It hates humans."