Addendum 3000.4: Psychological Evaluation
Note: On ██/██/09, Level 3 Researcher Venkatraman Krishnamoorthy attempted to exit out the Eremita's aft airlock without diving equipment, but was quickly restrained and the airlock cycle aborted. Despite having a CRV of 26, and having not displayed any previous signs of depression or suicidal attempt prior to his assignment aboard the Eremita, Krishnamoorthy was interviewed by staff clinical psychologist, Dr. Anand Mannava, to acquire a better understanding of SCP-3000's potential effect on the psyche.
Mannava: Hi Venkat, how are you feeling?
Mannava: That's what I hear. Do you want to talk about what happened today?
Krishnamoorthy is silent.
Mannava: We don't have to, if you don't want to. We can talk about something else.
Krishnamoorthy: I'm tired, Anand.
Mannava: I understand. This assignment has been stressful on all of–
Krishnamoorthy: It's not, no, it isn't the stress. I've done this before, I've been on…I don't actually know if I have done this before.
Mannava: You have.
Krishnamoorthy: I don't remember it. Any of it. I've been getting these out of context feelings, like my body reacting to reflexes it didn't know it had. Everything is so disconnected, and trying to keep it together is…I'm just tired.
Mannava: When did you start feeling this way?
Krishnamoorthy: How long have we been down here? I don't remember. I don't know when, I honestly don't. I wish I could tell you more than that, but I have nothing. I look to that place in my mind and there's something else there–or sometimes nothing at all.
Mannava: What do you mean by something else?
Krishnamoorthy: I've been having other people's dreams, Anand. I see faces I don't recognize, places I know I've never been… or maybe I have. I don't know. How can I know what is real or not when I can't trust my own mind?
Mannava: Well, maybe I can help you with that, Venkat. We can go over things you think you've forgotten and I can–
Krishnamoorthy: Don't patronize me. I know you've felt it, Anand. Your mind gets hazy. Parts of you start to slip, your memories grow faint, fading in and out until they're gone, or worse, replaced. You see pasts that aren't yours, experiences that you never lived. You start to become other people, or…nobody at all.
Mannava: Venkat, please. I'm just trying to help.
Krishnamoorthy: Do you even know my work before we met? Come to think of it, I don't even remember how we met. I know your name, know that you're a psychologist, but are we friends? Are we brothers? I don't know how I know you. We work together, I know that. I still have that. But other things, they come and go. I don't know if I am married or have children.
Note: Dr. Krishnamoorthy was married twice and has two sons and three daughters between the two marriages.
Mannava: I see.
Krishnamoorthy: And that…that isn't the worst of it. I know that this is happening to me, I know that my mind is coming apart. But there's something else in there, too. Something rising out of the… out of the smoke of my smoldering consciousness. That eel.
Mannava: The eel?
Krishnamoorthy: I don't…I don't remember my mother. I can hear her voice, but I can't remember her face. I can't remember how she smelled or how she… but what I do remember is she told me about gods. (Pauses) There is a god, called Anantashesha. A serpent, the king of serpents. Said to lie beneath Vishnu in the cosmos. A six-headed snake god, isn't that something?
Mannava: It…yes, I am familiar.
Krishnamoorthy: Ah…of course, I'm sorry. I forgot. (Pauses) She…I don't remember much, but I do remember that she told me about how Anantashesha would… would linger past the end. Gaze upon the darkness past the end of time. She said that, when the light of the universe had gone out, all that would be left is Ananteshesha. (Pauses) I have worked my entire life for the Foundation, so much as I recall. I have struggled to build my name and my reputation and done everything I can do to leave…something, anything. Some kind of mark that says I was here. But…
Mannava: What is it?
Krishnamoorthy: I…I believe SCP-3000 is Ananteshesha. I believe that this…this abberation, this treachery against cognition, is the result of us being in the presence of a god. Not just a god, but a god who exists across all time, all at once, and…even beyond. Maybe…maybe some part of the nothingness beyond the edge of time is part of Anantashesha, as well. Maybe it acts as, as a conduit, some kind of–
Mannava: Venkat, please, we're scientists–
Krishnamoorthy: No, let me finish. In defiance of the nothingness that comes after this, all of this, there is Anantashesha. There's a chance that my memories might live on, that I might be remembered like the memories I've seen have been through me. I don't…I don't have proof of this. But when I looked into its eyes and saw what it showed me, I was afraid. I'm merely a mediocre man, Anand. This was a fear that I have refused to acknowledge for years, a fear of irrelevance, that know one will know who I am when I die. Afraid of being forgotten. Afraid of my life being meaningless. Afraid of being alone. Afraid of dying. (Sighs) There is a terror within me that I cannot reconcile, Anand. I won't lie to you and tell you that the maw of the naga does not terrify me as well, but between this and the infinite dark I have gazed into, I have made up my mind.