SCP-963 realized his time had come. It was the early 2020s and older SCPS were no longer needed. The new O5 Council recognized him as unnecessary and ordered a decommissioning. This was the first time in over 10 years a decommissioning was authorized to take place. It reminded 963 of the good old days. He was on top of the world, everyone was a lot more relaxed, and people actually knew where Fritzwillie was.

These peachy thoughts were interrupted by the harsh sound of the hydraulics on the oversized humanoid restraints kicked in and lowered him down on to a conveyor belt. Fortunately, as the conveyor belt hauled 963 through the facility, the screeching of the hydraulics became distant and the positive memories returned to his head.

This conveyor belt. This entire machine. This was used to terminate D-Class back in the day. He used to see at least 30 humans killed with this machine a month. That would drive him up the wall until he and other Foundation personnel unionized and helped make the termination of D-Class against the code of conduct. Of course, he had to organize a few riots to help the new law reach the council, but nevertheless, he had saved thousands of lives sans his own.

As the hydraulic press once used to needlessly execute prisoners slowly lowered on to him, 963 saw a small hole. Through the hole, he could see several figures, all wearing orange jumpsuits. Every figure repeated a variation of the same phrase at him.

"Thanks doc."

Over and over, 963 would hear one of these figures thank him.

"Hey doc, thank you." "Yo, thanks for saving me, doc." "You're a great doctor, thank you."

And before the hydraulic press crushed 963 to chunks, he managed to utter one last phrase.

"Your welcome."

94 Years. 2 months. 37 days. That is how long Charles Ogden Gears had been alive. For the past 70 years, he had detached himself from all of his emotions to rise to the top of his field. Even when he left his daughter behind, he still prevented his emotions from taking him over. And now at the end of his life, he was thinking over everything he had done for the Foundation. The thought of Alison Chao eventually came to his mind, and for the first time in over 70 years, his dead facial expression had cracked a frown. For 5 seconds in a span of 70 years, Gears had finally shown an emotion.

Of course, it was merely 5 seconds and just went through his mind like a car running through a red light and other memories of his time at the Foundation came to him. Yet, like a car running a red light, it still stuck out to him in the sea of memories. As he tried to drown out the thoughts, there was a knock at the door to his private lab.

"Hello, Dr. Gears? Are you free? We have a guest for you."

He let the personnel and the special guest in who was veiled by a brown paper bag and tied together with

"Dr. Gears, Ms. Chao would like a word."