AI Record - orticwales

Summary:

Posted AI article, confirmed AI assistance used

AI Record - orticwales

Zoobeeny 17 Jun 2025 14:29

Noting that site member orticwales (account age 514 days, site membership 506 days) recently posted a page that contains indicators of AI-generation: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8689

+ show block

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**SCP-8689:** //Danny Boy//
⚠️ **Content warning:** This article contains depictions of Self-Harm and Suicide.
"But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying,
If I am dead, as dead I well may be,
You'll come and find the place where I am lying,
And kneel and say an Ave there for me."
- Frederic Weatherly, et al., //Danny Boy//
-----
Written By:
ORTICWALES
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[[include :scp-wiki:component:dynamic-emails start=--
|from= [e-mail]
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|subject= Document Review - SCP-8689
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Lillian,

The following document requires your final approval before submission. Appropriate files are attached.
[[include :scp-wiki:component:dynamic-emails end=--
|name= //Dr. Nhung T. Ngo//
|title= //Chair, Parapsychology Sect., Site-43//
|signoff= Secure, Contain, Protect
|signoff-icon= https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/secure-facility-dossier-site-43/PP.png
]]

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[[include :scp-wiki:component:anomaly-class-bar-source
|item-number= SCP-8689
|clearance= 3
|container-class= euclid
|disruption-class= vlam
|risk-class= danger
]]

**Special Containment Procedures:**
A single copy of SCP-8689 is to be stored physically via solid-state storage device within a secure containment locker at [*/secure-facility-dossier-site-43 Research & Containment Site-43], Canada. Duplication, reverse-engineering and uploading of SCP-8689 without prior approval by at least 3 members of Overwatch is forbidden. Testing with SCP-8689 requires Level-3 clearance and above, and must be conducted under strict oversight from --Site-43 //Memetics & Countermemetics// Deputy Chair Dr. Elizabeth Hanover-- Site-43 //Memetics and Countermemetics// Chair Dr. Lillian S. Lillihammer, as well as direct psychological monitoring and advisement under //Parapsychology// Chair Dr. Nhung T. Ngo. Any personnel exhibiting signs of distress after exposure or testing with SCP-8689 must receive treatment as deemed necessary, including medical leave or dismissal under psychological monitoring.

Instances of SCP-8689 within public exposure are to be identified and removed retroactively under the guise of copyright enforcement, digital media safety or any other usable cause. Reports of spontaneous SCP-8689 manifestations in broadcasts or personal libraries are under investigation. Agreements have been made with multiple audio licensing and distribution organisations to ensure that no copies of SCP-8689 can be uploaded digitally.

------

**Description:**
SCP-8689 is an anomalous audio recording of //Danny Boy//, a traditional Irish folk song composed by Frederic Weatherly in 1910. While SCP-8689 is audibly indistinguishable from standard audio copies of //Danny Boy//, prolonged exposure to SCP-8689 is capable of inducing deep emotional distress; exposure effects increase over time, progressing through stages including but not limited to:
# Atypical Emotional Response – Subjects experience sadness, nostalgia, and generally 'numbed' responses to negative external stimuli.
# Deepening Depression – Lethargy, hopelessness, withdrawal.
# Suicidal Ideation – Strong compulsions toward self-harm and potentially suicide.

Various subjects have reported auditory hallucinations/discrepancies, depicting deceased loved ones attempting communication. The legitimacy of these claims cannot be confirmed thus far.

SCP-8689 was brought to the Foundation's notice after a series of suicides were linked to a copy found within an unmarked hard drive from the apartment of a deceased 15-year old female computer programmer in Belfast, Northern Ireland. The song has since been reported to appear spontaneously in radio broadcasts and digital playlists.

**Addendum 8689-1:** Personnel Report

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[[=image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/secure-facility-dossier-site-43/PP.png style="width: 25%;"]]

+ Post-Mortem Report – Dr. Elizabeth Hanover
[[/=]]
[[>]]
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Dr. Nhung T. Ngo
Chief, //Parapsychology// Sect., Site-43
██/██/2020
[[/size]]
[[/>]]

------
**Subject:** Dr. Elizabeth Hanover

**Date of Birth:** ██/██/1973

**Notable Position(s):**
* Lead Researcher, SCP-8689
* Secondary Director, Dept.- Acoustics & Audiohazards
* Deputy Chair, //Memetics & Countermemetics// Sect., Site-43

**Current Status:** Deceased (██/██/2020)

**Background:**

------
**Early Life:**

Dr. Elizabeth Hanover was born in Cardiff, Wales, to a middle-class family of German ethnicity. She exhibited an early aptitude for music and psychology, earning multiple academic scholarships and furthering her studies at the University of Toronto. After acquiring citizenship in Canada, she later pursued a Ph.D. in cognitive neuroscience, focusing on the effects of auditory stimuli on human emotion. Her work in interactions between the human psyche and musical acoustics, specifically revolving around usage of bio-harmonics produced by a genus of [REDACTED], caught the attention of the SCP Foundation, which recruited her in 2001.

**Foundation Employment:**

Dr. Hanover quickly distinguished herself in the Dept.- Acoustics & Audiohazards. Her research on SCP-███ led to breakthroughs in neural resistance training. She was later transferred to R&C Site-43, where she was involved in several high-risk memetic and audiohazardous SCPs, eventually gaining the position of Deputy Chair of //Memetics and Countermemetics// at Site-43.

Her colleagues described her as highly analytical and methodical, though somewhat reserved. Despite this, she formed a close bond with Dr. Edward Wendt, a member of Site-43’s //Parapsychology// Section and the Department of Applied Forces. The two subsequently became romantically involved and were married by the end of 2007.

Following the loss of Dr. Wendt during the neutralisation of SCP-███, Dr. Hanover took a leave of absence, returning to work within weeks. Psychological assessments cleared her for duty, though some of her proctors noted “unresolved grief indicators.” She continued her work without apparent issue, maintaining prior efficiency.

Despite outward normalcy, subtle shifts in her behavior emerged—longer hours, avoidance of social interactions, and an increasing detachment from non-work-related matters. Internal records suggest she began engaging in unsanctioned research into anomalous auditory effects, particularly those associated with emotional resonance and post-mortem perception, such as [*/presumptive-divination-orientation divination] and remote-viewing.

Her colleagues remained unaware of her deteriorating mental state. She continued to perform at a high level, successfully leading research initiatives and submitting detailed reports.

It was at this time that she was assigned as SCP-8689's Head of Research.
------
------

[[/div]]

**Addendum 8689-2:** Extracted journal entries of Dir. Elizabeth Hanover

[[div class="notation"]]

**Entry 1**
I used to love music.

When I was a child, my father would play old records in the evening—Sinatra, Édith Piaf, ballads that made my mother cry when she thought no one was watching. I would sit by the fireplace and let the sound wrap around me like a warm coat. I always thought music was the closest thing we had to magic.

Wendt used to sing to me, too. He didn’t have a particularly good voice, but he sang anyway, off-key and shameless. La Vie en Rose while we cooked together. You Are My Sunshine when he thought I was too serious. He made everything lighter. Warmer.

Now I sit in a sterile office with a song that kills people.

The others don’t question why I volunteered for this project. They assume I’m just doing my job. That I’m fine. I’ve spent years perfecting the art of being //fine//. I mean, I //have// to be fine. I’m still here, still writing reports, still drinking coffee and nodding and laughing with my colleagues in the hallway. But inside, I feel like I’ve already died.

Wendt would have laughed at me. He’d tell me to quit being dramatic, that I’m the toughest woman he’s ever known. But he’s not here. Not anymore.

The first time I listened to it, it was just a song. But then I played it again. And again.

And now I'm starting to hear it even when I’m not playing it.

//[IRRELEVANT CONTENT REMOVED FOR BREVITY]//

**Entry 3**
I don’t think about my life before the Foundation much anymore. It feels like someone else’s story, a book I once read a long time ago but can’t remember the details of.

I was supposed to be a therapist. That was the plan. I wanted to understand how music shaped people’s emotions, how a melody could soothe a grieving heart or stir something deep inside someone who’d been numb for years.

I never finished my dissertation. The Foundation intercepted my research after an experiment went wrong—an auditory stimulus from a species of [REDACTED] that shouldn’t have caused anything more than mild relaxation left a test subject catatonic. That’s how they found me. How they //recruited// me.

I was young, ambitious, and eager to understand the things no one else could. I thought I was making a difference.

Now I'm stuck dissecting sounds that break people’s minds.

**Entry 4**
I dreamt of him last night.

Wendt was standing at the foot of our bed, just as I remember him— tall, calm, always a little amused by the world. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, and I felt this overwhelming sense of wrongness, like I wasn’t supposed to be there. //Like I was the ghost//.

I woke up gasping for air. The sheets were damp with sweat. For a moment, I thought I could still smell him—his cologne, the faint scent of blood and viscera. But it was gone in an instant.

I fucking //hate// these dreams. I hate that they feel more real than anything else.

Sometimes I forget he’s gone. I’ll be in my office, writing notes, and a stray thought will cross my mind—I should tell Nathaniel about this. He'd understand, he'd hear me out, help me through it. And then I remember. And it’s like losing him all over again.

The worst part? Some days, I //have// to make myself remember. Some days, it would be so much easier to just… pretend he’s still out there, on assignment, too busy to call.

I can't tell whether it makes it better or worse.

**Entry 5**
There’s something in the music. I swear I can hear my name. A whisper just beneath the melody.

Yesterday, I ran a test on one of the Ds'.[[footnote]]Cross-referencing identified it as a test on D-8059.[[/footnote]] She cried after a few seconds of hearing the song. I cut the audio, but she just kept //crying//. I asked her what she heard, and she said: “He told me he missed me.”

I asked her who.

She said: “My husband.”

I dismissed her. It was just bullshit, right?

And then she smashed her head into the wall.

I remember seeing the blood flowing down from the wall - how it shone in the fluorescent lighting, how it pooled into a crimson puddle on the pale concrete floor. I saw the guards walk in and take her dead body away, her caved-in head swaying lifelessly, her arms and legs limp. I remember my assistant calling out to me, telling me that the test is inconclusive.

All the while, I thought of how she lost her husband - and how I had lost mine, too. And I swear to God, when I played it again alone in my office later that night, I heard Nate’s voice in the song.

------
[[/div]]

@@ @@

**Addendum 8689-3:** Interview Logs
[[div class="modal"]]

**Date:** ██/██/2019
**Location: Site-43**
**Participants:**
* Dr. Joseph Turner, Chair (//Memetics and Countermemetics// Sect., Site-43)
* Dr. Elizabeth Hanover, Deputy Chair (//Memetics and Countermemetics// Sect., Site-43)

------

**Dr. Turner:** Dr. Hanover, I’ve reviewed your recent progress reports on SCP-8689. Frankly, I’m concerned. We expected more substantial findings by now.

**Dr. Hanover:** With all due respect, Director, SCP-8689 isn’t a standard anomaly. Its effects are not quantifiable in a conventional sense. We are dealing with a memetic agent that resists empirical measurement.

**Dr. Turner:** That sounds like an //excuse//. Other projects — some of which //you// have led, doctor — have yielded usable data within the same timeframe. You’ve submitted observations and subjective analyses, but where are the hard conclusions?

**Dr. Hanover:** If you expect numerical data, then you fundamentally misunderstand the nature of SCP-8689. Its primary anomaly is its emotional impact. Any attempt to treat it as a typical memetic hazard fails to account for its unpredictability and the variance in individual response.

**Dr. Turner:** Emotional impact is not a valid metric in our field, Dr. Hanover. We need //numbers//; solid data, actionable intelligence—containment parameters, countermeasures, something concrete.

**Dr. Hanover:** And I am telling you that its effect is not easily reducible to a simple containment protocol. We can suppress its exposure, but we cannot neutralize its influence. That is precisely what makes it dangerous.

**Dr. Turner:** Dangerous? A song? We contain cognitohazards that kill in seconds, and you’re telling me that a melancholic melody is beyond our control? You have been emotionally compromised by this project, and I am this close to transferring you to another project.

//<An extended silence is captured by the recording.>//

**Dr. Hanover:** I assure you, my personal state has no bearing on my findings. SCP-8689 does not simply “induce sadness.” It instills something deeper—something insidious. But if you won’t take my word for it, I suggest you listen to it yourself.

**Dr. Turner:** That will not be necessary. Increase your output, Hanover. I expect tangible results by the next evaluation. Dismissed.
------
[[/div]]

@@ @@

[[div class="notation"]]
//[IRRELEVANT CONTENT REMOVED FOR BREVITY]//

**Entry 7**
I don’t belong here.

I used to think I was good at what I did. That I was intelligent, capable, respected. But it’s all an illusion, isn’t it? I was never the best. I was just good at pretending.

Dr. Turner is right.

Wendt used to say I was the smartest person he’d ever met. That's a lie. I must have been such a disappointment to him. He fought monsters with his brains[[footnote]]In addition to being a psychologist, Dr. Wendt was formally a certified Class-III thaumaturgist and ontokineticist, capable of specialising in psychogenesial warfare and remote viewing.[[/footnote]], while I sat in my office listening to sounds and taking notes while people die.

I’ve spent my life trying to prove I deserve to be here. I think I’ve finally realized I don’t.

And then there’s Danny Boy.

It’s just a song. It shouldn’t be this dangerous. But I’ve seen what it does. I’ve watched people crumble under it. It knows exactly where to dig its claws.

I thought I was strong enough to handle it. I thought I was above it.

I was wrong.

//[IRRELEVANT CONTENT REMOVED FOR BREVITY]//

**Entry 12**
It started as a thought. A small, distant whisper.

//What if I just let go for a little while?//

Then the thought became an action. I had a scalpel on my desk, God knows why. Maybe it was meant for this. I barely remember picking it up. I only remembered the cold press of metal against the skin of my skin and the sharp, stinging relief that followed as it slid through arteries and veins. It was so easy. The easiest thing I’ve done in years.

I don’t remember how long it was. I only remember the blood. Puddling out of my wrists, onto the table.

They found me before I could finish.

They’re sending me to therapy. I’m being //watched// now. No more Danny Boy, no more experiments, no more working alone.

But the thing is… it //helped//.

For a little while, the music //stopped//.[[footnote]]The authenticity of this statement cannot be verified.[[/footnote]]

…

Dr. Ngo wants to meet. She looks at me like she wants to say something, like she //expects something//, but she never does.

I don’t think they understand. I wasn’t trying to die. I was trying to //feel something else//.

[[/div]]

@@ @@

**Addendum 8689-4:** Psychiatric Checkup Log
[[div class="modal"]]
**Date:** ██/██/2019
**Location:** //Parapsychology// Section, Site-43
**Interviewer:** Dr. Nhung T. Ngo, Chair (//Parapsychology// Sect., Site-43)
**Subject:** Dr. Elizabeth Hanover, Deputy Chair (//Memetics & Countermemetics// Sect., Site-43)

------

//<Initial few seconds of the recording captures silence. Dr. Ngo leans back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest.>//

**Dr. Ngo:** So. How are you doing?

**Dr. Hanover:**//<Scoffs, avoiding eye contact>// Oh, you know. //Fucking fantastic//. Taking up new hobbies.

**Dr. Ngo:** Like bleeding out in your office?

//<Silence is noted over the recording.>//

**Dr. Hanover:** //<Tenses, looking down>// …That was an accident.

**Dr. Ngo:** Right. And I’m the PM now.

**Dr. Hanover:** //<Mutters>// You don’t have to be a bitch about it.

**Dr. Ngo:** //<Shrugs>// I’ve found being nice doesn’t always get the message across.

**Dr. Hanover:** What do you want me to say, Ngo? That I regret it? That I’m ashamed? Well, I //don't//. You think I don’t know how messed up this is? I //have no choice//.

**Dr. Ngo:** I think you know, but I also think you don’t care. And that’s a problem. For me and for you, especially.

**Dr. Hanover:** I don’t know what you //want// from me. I wake up every day with this… this hole in my chest. I get up, I go through the motions, and I //pretend//. I pretend I’m fine. I pretend I’m still someone worth listening to. Worth saving. But I’m not. I lost all that when I lost //him//.

**Dr. Ngo:** //<Sighs, rubbing her temples>// Wendt wouldn’t want you to talk like that. He'd-

**Dr. Hanover:** //Wendt's dead.//

//<Silence. Ngo watches her carefully, expression unreadable.>//

**Dr. Ngo:** Yeah. He is. And you’re not.

//<Dr. Hanover laughs sadly.>//

**Dr. Hanover:** Give it time.

**Dr. Ngo:** Jesus, Elizabeth. Do you even hear yourself?

**Dr. Hanover:** //<Shrugs>// Just being honest.

**Dr. Ngo:** Honesty’s great. Until it turns into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Then it's a bitch. You do know that, right?

**Dr. Hanover:** //<Takes a shuddering breath, wiping at her eyes>// I don’t… I don't know how to fix this. Is it even fixable?

**Dr. Ngo:** Maybe you don’t. Maybe you don't have to fix it. Maybe you just survive it.

//<A pause. Dr. Hanover presses her palms into her eyes.>//

**Dr. Hanover:** I hear it everywhere, Ngo. The song. That //fucking// 3-minute song. It loops in the back of my head like a damn worm. I don’t even have to play it anymore, it’s just there, whispering in the back of my head. And Wendt… I know it's —//he's//— not real, I know it’s just my mind turning against me, but I hear him too. He sings to me.

**Dr. Ngo:** //<Carefully>// What does he say?

**Dr. Hanover:** //<Swallows hard>// That he’s waiting.

**Dr. Ngo:** //<Quietly>// He’s not.

**Dr. Hanover:** You don’t know that.

**Dr. Ngo:** I know //you’re// still here. And that’s what matters.

//<A long silence. Dr. Hanover lets out a shaky breath, nodding slightly.>//

**Dr. Ngo:** Alright. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re getting mandatory counseling. No more isolation. No more late nights with SCP-8689. And I will be checking in on you.

**Dr. Hanover:** //<Smiles weakly>// How very motherly of you.

**Dr. Ngo:** Don’t make me regret it.

**Dr. Hanover:** //<Pause>// …Thanks, Ngo.

**Dr. Ngo:**Just try. That’s all I’m asking.
------

[[/div]]
@@ @@
[[div class="notation"]]
**Entry 17**
Ngo wants me to fight this.

I think she truly believes I can.

She’s been telling me this since this morning, and it’s been stuck in my head alongside Danny Boy ever since.

I wish I could tell her she’s wasting her time.

It’s not just in my head anymore. I hear the song everywhere—in the hum of the fluorescent lights, in the whir of the air vents. I don’t even need a recording. It’s part of me now.

And the voice is clearer than ever.

Wendt is calling me.

[[/div]]
@@ @@
[[div class="modal"]]
**Date:** ██/██/2020
**Location: Site-43**
**Participants:**
* Dr. Joseph Turner, Chair (//Memetics and Countermemetics// Sect., Site-43)
* Dr. Elizabeth Hanover, Deputy Chair (//Memetics and Countermemetics// Sect., Site-43)

------
//<Dr. Turner is seated in his office. A knock can be heard on the door, and it opens to reveal Dr. Hanover, who makes her way in front of his desk.//

**Dr. Turner:** Hanover. Sit down.

**Dr. Hanover:** What now, Director?

**Dr. Turner:** I read your latest report. It’s vague. //Again//. We’re not making progress on SCP-8689. And frankly, your attitude lately has been… unacceptable.

//<Dr. Hanover nods blankly.>//

**Dr. Hanover:** Mmm. I see.

//<Silence is captured on the recording for several seconds.>//

**Dr. Turner:** That’s it? That’s all you have to say?

**Dr. Hanover:** What would you like me to say? That I’ll try harder? That I’ll produce results? That I’ll magically extract a scientific conclusion from something that defies structure? You don’t want a report, Turner. You want something neat and packaged, something you can write up for the next budget meeting.

**Dr. Turner:** I want you to do your //job//, Dr. Hanover. If you can’t handle it, I can have you reassigned.

**Dr. Hanover:** Reassigned to what, exactly? You think another project will change anything? You think //anything// will?

**Dr. Turner:** You’re being dramatic.

**Dr. Hanover:** No, I’m being realistic. //<pauses>// Have you listened to it yet, Joseph? Really listened?

**Dr. Turner:** I don’t need to. I have my own people analyzing—

**Dr. Hanover:** Then you don’t //understand//. And you never will. You see this as a problem to be solved. I see it for what it is. It’s the end of something. Not the world, not the Foundation—just… something. And that something is more important than any containment protocol you could ever write.

**Dr. Turner:** //<leaning forward>// If you’re compromised, Hanover, I need to know.

**Dr. Hanover:** I was compromised the moment you assigned me to this. The moment I //lost//—

//<Dr. Hanover stops, before sighing. Dr. Joseph raises a singular eyebrow.>//

**Dr. Hanover:** Whatever. It's not important anymore. You just didn’t notice.

**Dr. Turner:** I’m putting you under review.

**Dr. Hanover:** Do what you need to. It won’t matter.

**Dr. Turner:** You’re dismissed.

//<Dr. Hanover nods, and silently exits Dr. Turner's office.>//
------
[[/div]]

@@ @@

[[div class="modal"]]
**Date:** ██/██/2020
**Location:** Personnel Quarters, Site-43
**Interviewer:** Dr. Nhung T. Ngo
**Subject:** Dr. Elizabeth Hanover
**Note:** Interview performed impromptu, after affiliated personnel notified Dr. Ngo that Dr. Hanover had not been sighted for an extended period of time.

------
//<The recording starts with a soft knock. A pause, then the door creaks open. Dr. Ngo steps inside. Dr. Hanover is seen seated on the edge of her bed, her hands limp in her lap. The room is dim, with curtains drawn.>//

**Dr. Ngo:** Morning.

//<Dr. Hanover does not look up.>//

**Dr. Hanover:** Is it?

**Dr. Ngo:** //<Sighs>// Didn’t sleep, did you?

**Dr. Hanover:** Wow. What gave it away?

//<Dr. Ngo sighs, and sits on the bed next to Dr. Hanover.>//

**Dr. Ngo:** Thought I’d check in. See if you’ve thought more about what we talked about.

**Dr. Hanover:** //<Chuckles mirthfully>// Oh, I’ve been thinking. Thinking a lot, actually.

//<Dr. Ngo hesitates before continuing, pausing to deliberate her words.>//

**Dr. Ngo:** And?

//<Dr. Hanover finally looks up at Dr. Ngo. Her eyes are blood-shot and exhausted.>//

**Dr. Hanover:** And I’ve come to a conclusion.

**Dr. Ngo:** //<Tenses slightly>// Elizabeth—

**Dr. Hanover:** //<Shakes head>// No, listen. Just //fucking// listen to me, just this once. No fucking therapy talk, no “let’s get you more help,” none of that bullshit. I just want to say it. Out loud. Just once.

//<Ngo stays silent, allowing Dr. Hanover to continue. Dr. Hanover exhales sharply, pressing her palms into her knees.>//

**Dr. Hanover:** I don’t belong here. Not here, not in the Foundation, not in this body, not in this life. I should’ve died with him. //Instead// of him. I should’ve been in that hallway, should’ve felt my own blood leaving me instead of just—just hearing about it.

//<She grips her arms, nails pressing into skin.>//

**Dr. Hanover:** Do you know how exhausting it is? How tiring it is to wake up every morning and pretend? To wear this stupid, //fake// mask so no one gets uncomfortable? To drag myself through every goddamn day, just waiting for the moment I can be alone and fall apart?

//<Ngo doesn’t respond immediately. Her fingers drum lightly against her arm, expression unreadable. When she speaks, her words are slow and composed.>//

**Dr. Ngo:**  You think dying will fix that?

**Dr. Hanover:** //<Laughs, shaking>// I think dying is the //only// thing left.

**Dr. Ngo:** //<Leans forward, voice firm>// That’s not true.

**Dr. Hanover:** //<Snaps, voice rising>// You don’t know that! You don’t know what it’s like to have something inside you that’s rotting, that’s been hollowed out and left to collapse in on itself! Every time I breathe, it hurts. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I hear him, Ngo. He sings to me, and it’s so //beautiful//, and I can’t tell if it’s him or the song or just my own goddamn mind eating itself alive!

//<Dr. Ngo stays silent for a moment. When she speaks, her voice is quieter, but steady.>//

**Dr. Ngo:** …You’re right. I don’t know.

**Dr. Hanover:** Finally, some fucking honesty.

**Dr. Ngo:** But I do know that you are not the only person who’s ever felt this way. And I know that the music is lying to you. You’re just too deep in it to see that.

**Dr. Hanover:** //<Scoffs>// And what, you think I can just snap out of it? Take some meds, get some sleep, and wake up brand new?

**Dr. Ngo:** No. I think you need to hold on. Just a little longer.

//<Dr. Hanover exhales sharply, rubbing her face with trembling hands. She speaks quietly, barely above a whisper.>//

**Dr. Hanover:** I don’t know if I can.

**Dr. Ngo:** You can. One more day. One more night. Just keep going. Even if it’s just to prove yourself wrong.

//<Dr. Hanover glances up at Dr. Ngo. Her lip trembles, and she bites down on it, shaking her head.>//

**Dr. Hanover:** …I’ll try.

//<A pause. Dr. Ngo studies her for a long moment before nodding. She stands, moving toward the door, but stops before leaving.>//

**Dr. Ngo:** I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

//<Dr. Hanover smiles weakly.>//

**Dr. Hanover:** See you then.

//<Ngo hesitates, then walks out. The recording ends.>//
------
[[/div]]

@@ @@

[[div class="notation"]]
//[IRRELEVANT CONTENT REMOVED FOR BREVITY]//

**Entry 18:**
It’s funny. I remember when I first heard Danny Boy. I was a child, probably two or three, sitting on my grandfather’s lap, listening to his old record player crackle as the song played. I didn’t understand the lyrics back then, not really.

“But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying…”

I get it now.

After Dr. Ngo’s visit this morning—her desperate, hollow pleas to hold on—I felt even more isolated. She tried to pull me back, telling me there was hope, that I wasn’t alone. But her words rang empty, drowned out by the relentless music inside me.

The song was never meant to be about death. It was about waiting. About love that lingers, that stretches across time and space. I’ve been waiting, too.

I’ve been waiting for the music to stop, for the grief to fade, for a reason to stay. But now I see it clearly: the music is my truth, a constant reminder of everything I’ve lost and everything that I can never reclaim. Dr. Ngo’s words cannot erase the pull, the deep ache that compels me to answer its call.

I am tired of waiting. The song keeps playing, and with every note, it tells me that it’s time. Time to let go. Time to finally be free. And so, despite every last plea to hold on, I have made my decision. The melody won’t let me live in this endless torment any longer.

It's time.
[[/div]]

------

**Addendum 8689-4:** Notable Incident Update

At ██/██/2020 03:12 AM, security personnel responded to an emergency alert from Dr. Hanover's quarters. Upon forced entry, they discovered her deceased body slumped over her workstation, in a puddle of blood. An official autopsy later identified the cause of death as blood loss, precipitated by numerous incisions on her left and right wrists.

Her final journal entry reads as follows:

[[div class="notation"]]

I hear him now.
He’s singing for me.
I think I’ll sing too.

[[/div]]

Autopsy confirmed no external influences leading to Dr. Hanover's death. Dr. Hanover’s death has been classified as an SCP-8689-induced fatality.

Of note is that Dr. Hanover's determined time of death was 45 minutes prior to the activation of the emergency alert. An investigation into [REDACTED] is pending.

------

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{{APPENDED BY: Dr. Nhung T. Ngo}}
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{{…DISPLAYING…}}
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[[<]]
**Date:** ██/██/2020
**Location:** Site-43, //Parapsychology// Section
**Participants:**
* Dr. Joseph Turner, Chair (//Memetics and Countermemetics// Sect., Site-43)
* Dr. Nhung T. Ngo, Chair (//Parapsychology// Sect., Site-43)

------

//<Dr. Turner is seated opposite Dr. Ngo at her desk. Dr. Ngo is seen typing on her keyboard, not paying attention to Dr. Turner.>//

**Dr. Turner:** Ngo. I want an explanation. //Now//.

//<Dr. Ngo stops typing and turns to face Dr. Turner directly.>//

**Dr. Ngo:** Go ahead.

**Dr. Turner:** Explain this to me, Dr. Ngo. One of my department heads is dead, and you were the last person to evaluate her. What the hell happened?

**Dr. Ngo:** She killed herself. You saw the report. She slit her wrists in her quarters. It wasn’t exactly //subtle//.

**Dr. Turner:** Don't patronize me. And we know that's not what I'm talking about; the autopsy places her death 45 minutes //before// the emergency alert. How does //that// happen?

**Dr. Ngo:** Monitoring her condition doesn’t mean I’m omniscient, Joseph. And I’m not Site Security. I’m a psychologist.

**Dr. Turner:** That does not change the fact that she //died//. You’re telling me she just… snapped? No warning signs? No intervention? I find that very hard to believe.

**Dr. Ngo:** //No warning signs//? Now //that's// something, coming from you.

**Dr. Turner:** I don't—

**Dr. Ngo:** You find it hard to believe that a woman grieving her dead husband, forced to analyze an audiohazard that thrives on despair, finally //broke//? //Really//? You and I both read her psychological evaluations. We knew what she was struggling with.

**Dr. Turner:** That’s not an answer. You were assigned to monitor her. Either you failed to notice what was happening, or—

**Dr. Ngo:** Or what? Do you think I pushed her? That I whispered in her ear, told her to pick up the knife? And, now //I'm// the only one monitoring her, like a nanny? Shouldn't a //Section Chief// look after their own subordinates?

**Dr. Turner:** I don’t know what to //think//, Ngo. But I do know that she’s //dead//, and now I have to explain to the higher-ups why we just lost one of our best researchers.

**Dr. Ngo:** Oh, I’d love to hear what you tell them. Will you mention that you dismissed her concerns about SCP-8689? That you called her compromised? That you implied she wasn’t working fast enough? Tell me, Turner—do you think you helped?

**Dr. Turner:** That’s not—

**Dr. Ngo:** No, Turner — //Turner//. //Shut the fuck up//. Let me be honest here. If you’re looking for someone to blame, start with yourself. I tried to //help// her. I met with her. I gave her every opportunity to step back. But she was trapped. You put her there.

**Dr. Turner:** …This is going in my report.

**Dr. Ngo:** Good. Be my //fucking guest//. Put everything in. And when you do, make sure you include your blatant disregard toward Personnel safety and lack of accountability as a superior officer. If she was in distress, you should have pulled her off the project. You didn’t. And now she’s //dead//.

**Dr. Turner:** Are— Are you //threatening// me? I'll have you know I—

**Dr. Ngo:** //No//. I’m giving you an //opportunity//. Take a transfer. You’re burned out. Everyone knows it. Shift to a different site or department, maybe something in Applied Occultism or Archives & Revisions. Because if you stay here, and if you keep pretending you’re blameless in all this, I’ll make sure every single oversight committee you report to also knows exactly what happened under your leadership. Best-case scenario, you'll be decoding cereal boxes in Alaska.

//<Dr. Turner does not respond. Dr. Ngo turns back to her desktop, and begins to type. She speaks without directly addressing Dr. Turner.>//

**Dr. Ngo:** So, what'll it be? The committee or the transfers?

//<Silence is captured over the recording.>//

**Dr. Turner:** …I’ll submit the paperwork.

**Dr. Ngo:** Good choice.

------
**Note:** Following this exchange, Dr. Turner formally resigned from his position as Chair of the //Memetics and Countermemetics// Section and was reassigned to the Department of Non-Localized Memetics at Site-81. The position of Section Chief, as well as prior academic and oversight authorities bestowed to Dr. Turner during his time at Site-43, have been assigned to Dr. Lillian S. Lillihammer.
[[/<]]
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[[footnoteblock]]

[[div class="footer-wikiwalk-nav"]]
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<< [[[SCP-8688]]] | SCP-8689 | [[[SCP-8690]]] >>
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Of note, the user has a sandbox with a draft in it (https://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/dannyboy). A basic version of the draft appears all at once at Revision 1 with multiple hallmarks of AI generation.

Excerpts of note:

Exposure effects increase over time, progressing through stages:

Mild Emotional Response – Subjects experience sadness, nostalgia.
Deepening Depression – Lethargy, hopelessness, withdrawal.
Suicidal Ideation – Strong compulsions toward self-harm.

Dr. Elizabeth █████’s death remains a sobering reminder of the Foundation’s responsibility when handling memetic hazards. The full extent of SCP-XXXX’s influence is still unknown.

Research continues.

The user was asked if they had used other word processors in the process of drafting their article. The user responded that they drafted on other processors (unspecified), as well as on paper, but that they would need around a week to locate the documents. They did, however, confirm they "consult[ed] AI regarding certain facts and phrasings in the article". As a result, the AI team has decided to summarily delete the article at this time, supported by myself and Kufat.

Re: AI Record - orticwales

Zyn 20 Jun 2025 06:05

Given the above, as per standard handling of AI cases, the user was issued a membership revoked. PM sent.

Zoobeeny and Ari supporting the revoke.

Re: AI Record - orticwales

Zyn 24 Jun 2025 06:38

Re-applied, rejoined site.