Tell me again what you have to do, I said sternly as I ordered the subject to repeat his task

for the hundredth time. We were already standing outside the door to the seemingly harmless

suburban home. The house was a picture-perfect home, taken straight out of the 70s, abandoned and

sealed off from the general public, following the first incident in 1975.

No sooner did the foundation learn about the building's existence than it was taken over.

I have to sit down in front of the television, turn it on, and report everything I see, the subject

said. He was a middle-aged man in decent shape, but broke after placing a few stupid

bets on risky stocks. For him, it was as bad as a gambling addiction with a predictable outcome.

In the span of five years, he's lost his job, his house, and his family. If not for the foundation,

he'd still be living on the street. Exactly. I'd

already explained the risks, though it had scared away many a possible subject. The man was too

desperate. What if it happens to me too, he asked. You'll be sedated before you can get hurt.

You won't come to any physical harm. He nodded understandingly. He'd already

signed the documents, and a sizable paycheck would be put into his account upon completion of the task.

He was the sixth man we'd sent in, but only the second civilian. The first four had all been

Class D personnel, each of which suffered severe mental deterioration after only 15 minutes in the room.

If not for my own clearance, I'd enter the room myself to finally understand what all these men had seen.

But as the foundation rule stated, no Class C personnel or above was allowed to have any contact with

SCP 6083.

And following the failure of our prior operations, we take in desperate subjects with no other options.

It's time.

We'll be observing you through the camera you have mounted to your helmet, I explained.

...