Date: August 20, 2026 Location: Foundation Site-81 (Director's Office)
The room was pitch black. Dr. Arisato had smashed every computer monitor and burned every phone in his office. He sat by the light of a wax candle, frantically writing in his journal.
"We were wrong to classify her as a ghost," Arisato wrote, his pen tearing through the paper. "She is not an entity. She is a Principle."
He circled the words 'Concept of Variation'.
"She is the Concept above all concepts. She is the definition of 'Change' dependent on the observer. In physics, light behaves as a particle or a wave depending on how you measure it. SCP-009-JP is the ultimate version of this. She is the Universal Variable.
If we define her as 'A Glitch', she varies into a glitch.
If we define her as 'Death', she varies into a kill agent.
If we define her as 'God', she varies into omnipotence.
She has no 'Self.' She is the Concept of ' [ ] '—an empty bracket waiting to be filled. Because human imagination has no ceiling, she has no ceiling. She is infinite because we are infinite."
Arisato stopped writing. The silence in the room was deafening. He needed to test his hypothesis. But he had no screens. Then, he remembered. He pulled a dead smartwatch from his pocket. The battery had been drained for weeks. The screen was a black void.
He placed it on the table. "If I believe you are harmless," he whispered, sweating, "you must be harmless."
He looked into the black screen. There she was. Standing in the digital reflection, superimposed over his own face. The girl in the red glasses. She was motionless. She held no weapon. She had no malice. She was simply standing there, existing as raw data.
Arisato let out a breath of relief. "See? I control the variable. I control the..."
But then, a stray thought crossed his mind. An intrusive thought born of deep-seated biological fear: ...But what if she can hear my heartbeat?
In the reflection of the dead screen, the girl tilted her head. She didn't move her mouth, but the Concept of Hearing manifested. A sound began to emit from the watch—not from a speaker, but from the glass itself. It was the sound of Arisato's own heart, amplified to a deafening volume. THUMP-THUMP. THUMP-THUMP.
"No!" Arisato screamed, realizing his mistake. "Stop! I didn't mean to think that!"
But the Variable had already shifted. He had introduced a new input: Fear of being heard. The girl in the screen stepped closer. The sound of his heart grew louder, faster, until it sounded like a jackhammer. She was reflecting his biological rhythm back at him with lethal intensity.
Arisato smashed the watch with a paperweight. CRACK. The sound stopped. But in the shattered fragments of the screen, he saw her eye. It was wide, dilated, mimicking his own panicked state.
"She is the Concept of Variation..." Arisato sobbed, backing away into the corner. "And we cannot stop our minds from varying. We cannot stop thinking."