Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is currently uncontainable by standard means. Foundation activity is directed towards detection, tracking, and damage mitigation of SCP-XXXX's effects. A series of information-tracking satellites and deep-web crawlers (Codename "MEME-WATCH") has been set up to track the characteristic "information decay" patterns emitted during SCP-XXXX's feeding behavior.

Any region showing signs of rapid data decay, regional temperature anomalies below 8°C in archival storage, or inexplicable electromagnetic anomalies consistent with the presence of SCP-XXXX is to be scanned by Mobile Task Force Epsilon-9 ("The Indexers"). MTF Epsilon-9 is equipped with prototype "conceptual inoculation" tools intended to saturate affected regions with high-throughput, emotionally resonant, and well-recognized information, establishing a region that is hostile to SCP-XXXX.

All recovered "information residue" – physical materials partially consumed by SCP-XXXX—are to be catalogued and archived at Site-19's Deep Archive Wing in containers lined with lead and treated with sodium thiopental solution. Individuals working with these materials are to undergo weekly psychological testing and are not to work with the same material for more than two consecutive weeks.

In the event of SCP-XXXX manifesting at a Foundation facility, Protocol OMEGA-LIBRARY is to be enacted: immediate broadcast of top-40 popular music, looping viral video content, and live social media feeds within the affected area until SCP-XXXX demanifests.

Description: SCP-XXXX is a tall (approximately 2.3 meters), loosely humanoid figure of indeterminate origin. Its skin is uniformly grey, with a texture described as "dry stone," "old paper," or "the sensation of a book that hasn't been opened in decades." The figure has no facial features—no eyes, nose, or mouth—only a smooth, slightly concave surface where the face would be.

SCP-XXXX always appears to be wearing a poorly fitting bright blue suit of very ancient design, described by several witnesses as "cheap-looking," "dated," and "the sort of suit a failed salesman would wear to a job interview in 1973." The suit's cuffs are always frayed, and the material looks faded regardless of the lighting. Efforts to analyze the suit material have been unsuccessful, as SCP-XXXX dematerializes when approached with direct intent to sample it.

The entity glides across the floor, its feet never seeming to make contact with the ground. Long, shadowy tendrils will occasionally unfurl from its fingertips. Spectrographic analysis of these tendrils has shown them to be comprised of what appears to be solidified forgotten data—text, images, and symbols too degraded to decipher, existing in a state of simultaneous physical and informational entropy.

SCP-XXXX produces a low, constant hum, measured at approximately 47 Hz with complex harmonic overtones. Witnesses have consistently reported this hum as "the sound of a server room in an abandoned building" or "a forgotten radio station playing static." The hum's amplitude varies in direct proportion to the entity's feeding activity.

Behavior: The main behavior of SCP-XXXX is to search for and feed on information that satisfies certain criteria:

Obscurity: The information must be unknown to the public at large. Information that is popular or well-known is of no interest to SCP-XXXX and may even serve to deter it.

Specificity: The more specific and specialized the topic, the more SCP-XXXX prizes it. A full history of a failed 19th-century plumbing patent has been seen to draw SCP-XXXX more readily than a history of plumbing in general.

Effort Without Recognition: Information that represents a lot of effort for no ultimate reward—unread doctoral theses, unsold inventory catalogs, unfinished films, and rejected patent applications—is considered to be preferred nourishment.

Informational Isolation: Information that has not been accessed, viewed, or thought about for long periods of time gives off a "scent" that SCP-XXXX can follow across interdimensional space.

When feeding, SCP-XXXX reaches out with its shadow-tendrils into the source material. Hard copies visibly decay, turning yellow and brittle. Digital information degrades at an exponential rate, with files becoming unreadable while retaining their original size. Observers have noted that information consumed by SCP-XXXX seems "emptier" afterwards—still there, but somehow less important.

However, SCP-XXXX does not erase the information it devours. Instead, it seems to incorporate it into itself, preserving it forever but striking it from the accessible universe. In this respect, SCP-XXXX is a preservationist of the forgotten—a cosmic library for all those things which the collective memory of the sentient has deemed irrelevant.

**Discovery:** SCP-XXXX was first brought to the Foundation's notice in 1987 after an incident at the Vatican Secret Archives. Security cameras recorded a period of seven hours during which the temperature in a section of the archives containing rejected canonization texts and unread theological dissertations dropped by 12 degrees Celsius. Guards on duty reported hearing a low humming noise. Following the incident, archivists at the Vatican Secret Archives reported that several boxes of material seemed "older" and "more faded" than they should have, although no texts were reported missing. Security footage obtained by Foundation agents embedded in Interpol revealed a tall, grey figure moving through the stacks.

Retroactive research has revealed possible instances of SCP-XXXX dating back to around 1873, although it appears that the entity has been in existence for a far longer period of time.