SCP-4945. Image taken during 4945-EN-06.
Item #: SCP-4945
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: There are no known methods of containing SCP-4945. If encountered, personnel are instructed to thoroughly document their experiences within SCP-4945, and if possible, record any interactions with SCP-4945-1.
Description: SCP-4945 is an extra-dimensional space, appearing as open area where multiple paths meet. This space will conform to the geographical, material, and visual conditions present directly before being entered, i.e. SCP-4945 will resemble a hiking trail junction if encountered in a forest, or converging hallways if encountered in an office building. For an individual to access SCP-4945, they must:
1.) Be on a constructed, or pre-traveled path.
2.) Have a destination, or purpose for traveling.
3.) Not intend to find, or be otherwise unaware of SCP-4945.
4.) Be currently lost.
SCP-4945 was first encountered by Researcher Harriett Keen on February 15th, 2019.
4945-EN-01 | 03/09/2011
Primary: Researcher Minda Ubisse
Transcription Source: Written notes, Foundation Standard field notebook.
Observation Log - Unknown Location.
My name is Minda Bongani Ubisse, Level 03 Researcher, and I have become lost. My GPS will not connect. My transceiver does not work. I do not know where I am.
I had just finished overseeing the weekly collection of SCP-3171's fluid sacks. It was a predictable affair, and the cacti were in good humor. Many of my team had never seen Victoria Falls, so on the way back to site-58 I consented to a small detour.
Several of my colleagues stepped out to use the facilities. Others went down the embankment to get a closer view. I am ashamed to admit, I found myself falling asleep in my car seat. It had been a long day. I was awoken by a frantic Aayan, who told me Nilsa had not returned with her group. They had taken a brief hike down into the valley and, according to Aayan, lost sight of her quite suddenly.
We split into groups, bringing our communications equipment and geo-locators with us. I almost wished Aayan was truthful in saying Nilsa "vanished", as an anomalous explanation would be easier to deliver. Momed and I took the shallow river-paths leading east of the falls. We saw no sign of Nilsa.
Momed was updating the group when I saw a brief flurry of moment on one of the paths. Hoping it to be Nilsa, I followed it. The moment I lost sight of Momed, I began to notice changes in my environment. The air became more still. The rocks seemed to him. The river beneath my feet slowed, and became a thin bubbling brook. As calm as it seemed, I grew tense. Every shadow behind every rock seemed to come alive. I saw twisting shapes in the thin lines of dark. As I walked on, I became less sure my mind was playing tricks. I was not simply seeing limbs and faces in the patterned shadows, like a frightened child. They seemed to take shape. They seemed to follow me, reach for me. I began to run.
The river became suddenly steep, and I slipped forwards. A sound, much like a great intake of breath roared in my ears. Then, silence. I feared I might be concussed, but my vision was clear, and my head was only wet with water.
Now, I find myself in this curious place. I am not trapped, but I am bound by my uncertainty.
I stand at the center of a wide, shallow pool in the center of towering, red rock walls. The pool is fed by many streams, each a path of it's own making. The ground beneath my feet is unnaturally flat, made of small, smooth, multi-colored pebbles. Each river-path leading to me has it's own current, some as fierce as rapids. Despite this, my circle-pool is still and clear as glass.
As I write, I am looking to the east. The winding river there seems to froth, and teem with small black tadpoles, disappearing before they meet the pool. I turn my head, and the next river is flat and barely moving, framed on either side by mason-cut rocks. I turn again, and the water feeds from a great high waterfall possessing no momentum. The falling water does not roll, or break, but falls smoothly as if from a great bathroom sink.
When I turn my head back again, the paths have changed. New rivers meet my eyes, stranger still.
How fascinating.
There is a person here.
They're watching me from up on one of the hillsides. I cannot ma
They are now standing in front of me. They moved within the space of a blink. I see them very clearly.
They are between 150 - 160 cm, with a large head of curly black hair and dark olive skin. They have freckles along their cheekbones. They have a slim, oval-shaped face, and a wholly androgynous build. They are dressed in a tan button-up shirt, shorts, and rubber boots. They are currently watching me write, their hands behind their back. They are smiling.
I ask who they are. They say they have many titles. I ask where I am. They say I'm in their domain. I ask if they would explain who they are, their domain, and the nature of it's abnormal geography. They are laughing.
They don't answer me. They ask how I can write so clearly and quickly without looking, and while speaking. I tell them it's a necessary skill I've developed. They seem very curious about my notebook, and are currently tipping it forward to read what I've written. They inform me that they're "Five foot two, thank you very much". I will revise this, if I get the chance.
They ask me if I am afraid. I tell them I am.
They ask me why I am not panicked, or asking how to get home. I tell them I'm where I'd like to be. I explain that this is my job, and that unusual or non-euclidean spaces fascinate me. I tell them I am part of an organization called the SCP, and that we catalogs these phenomena. I tell them we would very much like to know more about them.
They seem very pleased by this. Fascinated, almost. They ask me what my people call themselves. They ask what other things we've cataloged. They ask if they're people, places, or things. They ask if they're the most attractive creature we've encountered. They say we don't need to answer that, as they already know the answer. They say this while brushing back their hair with both hands.
I tell them I would be happy to explain all these things, but that one of my colleagues had gone missing. I explain I need to find them, as they might be hurt or lost. They tell me if my friend was lost, they would have ended up here. I ask them to explain. They do not.
They sigh deeply, and pat me on the cheek. I do not know how they did this, as I am very tall. They point at a path with a noisy, rushing river. They say that is where I need to go. I ask them how they know. They say that is their job.
I tell them I hope we speak again, and that it had been very interesting meeting them. They smile, and make a curious gesture with their hand. I do not know what it means.
I have found Nilsa. She is safe.
I followed the river, as that curious being told me to. After a few minutes, I found Nadia waist deep in the river. Her ankle is broken. She says she slipped on the rocks. Her phone was ruined in the fall. My equipment is working once more, and my team is on the way with medical supplies.
When I was last with Momad, it was 6:14PM. My watch tells me it's 6:19PM. Nilsa's watch says the same. I don't know how long I was there, in that place where the rivers met, but it was long enough to ponder, fear, and converse with that strange, helpful person. I do not know how so little time has passed.
I wish I had my equipment with me. I wish I could have taken more thorough notes. I truly hope I find myself there again. It was a strange, but wonderful place.
End log.
4945-EN-02 | 17/11/2011
Primary: 01 Level Security Personnel - Cedric McLaren
Forward: 4945-EN-02 occured during a wide-scale breach at Site-██. During this time, SCP-106 was outside it's containment perimeter, and in pursuit of Officer McLaren. The following information has been transcribed from Officer McLaren's body camera.
McLaren is frantically running through the corridors of Site-██. Alarms are sounding, and emergency lighting is active. The sound of shouts and gunfire are heard from passing corridors. McLaren rounds a corner in time to intercept Researcher Milken. His legs have been mangled. He moves with a drag-to gait, using the railings to pull himself forward across the ajoining gangway. A dark shape rapidly approaches from behind him. As he reaches towards McLaren, the security doors seal shut. A sudden, deafening impact is heard from behind the door, followed briefly by screaming, a sharp 'snap', then silence.
McLaren hesitates, moving a half-step towards the door, hand poised over his firearm. Turning sharply to his left, he observes a dark mass forming on a nearby wall. He turns, and runs in the opposite direction.
For the next 20 minutes, Officer McLaren chooses paths with less and less deliberation, barreling down corridors and opening doors at random. Each time he stops to check behind himself, SCP-106 is seen steadily walking towards him. closer than before. After a series of left turns, McLaren finds a caved-in section of hallway covered in thick, silvery-white webbing. The sound of wet, heavy footsteps are heard nearby. McLaren turns, and runs down the only available path, heedless of the humanoid-shaped shadows that begin to spill out of the walls.
The video feed distorts, and crackles with static briefly, accompanied by the sound of air escaping a pressure-seal. Officer McLaren finds himself in a startlingly quiet intersection, uniform and well lit. He half-turns, breathing hard as he checks over his shoulder, then breaks back into a run.
SCP-4945-1 stands in his way, hand pressed over his chest. They are wearing large black glasses, and an overlong lab coat.
SCP-4945-1: Whoah! Whoah there cowboy. Easy on the reigns.
McLaren: What? Look- we need to get out of here! Come on, follow me to-
4945-1: Oh you have no idea where you're going. That hall could lead into, like, a giant mouth or something. Unless you're into that, how about you stop and take a breath, huh?
McLaren: Buddy, you don't understand. You have no idea what's chasing me. We're both dead if we don't get out of here soon.
4945-1: Buddy, you don't understand. None of those things can get in here, not even Goopy Grandpa. There is no "dead", and there is no "soon", because even death and time aren't allowed in. Okay? Just breathe.
McLaren stares at 4945-1 incredulously, panting softly. He looks behind himself again, seeing only an unoccupied corridor. He turns in multiple directions. While still conforming to Site-██ architecture, each hallway is noticeably different. One path is caked in a dull, blue light. Another is partially flooded. One door bears a Global Occult Coalition decal, where another appears to be made of plain white-painted wood. In one hall's total length seems to change each time it's lighting flickers.
McLaren: I… where am I.
4945-1: There you go. Deep breaths. Where do you think you are?
McLaren assessing his surroundings more slowly.
McLaren: I don't… what?
4945-1: Really? Come on Mac. An unexpected inter-dimensional intersection? An extraordinary, enchanting inhabitant? Nothing?
McLaren continues staring wordlessly for another few seconds. The camera then falls several centimeters as McLaren's shoulders drop.
McLaren: Holy shit is this 4945? Am I in the Junction!?
4945-1: I'm sorry the what?
McLaren: The Junction! That weird crossroads place Minda stumbled into! Yeah! Yeah you're the dash-one! With all the messy hair and-
4945-1: Stop. Wow. Okay, just, wow. Where do I even start with that.
McLaren: Listen, hey, we were told to make a formal report if this happened, but shit is really falling apart around here- or, I guess I should say "out there". I need to get to Level 1. Do you think you could…
4945-1 rubs the bridge of their nose. They pull a small cloth out of their breast pocket, and clean the non-existent lenses of their glasses.
4945-1: "Weird crossroads". "Messy hair" I swear to great fiery Ōsobiue… what? No, look, did you not hear me? Time doesn't matter in here.
McLaren: Well, it matters to me. I can't just stand here for hours, even if those hours don't count. Can you just tell me what path to take?
4945-1: Yeesh, fine. Can't stop for five relative minutes, I guess. Hold on.
4945-1 is observed looking between paths, thumb and forefinger tented under their chin. Without looking at Officer McLaren, they continue speaking.
4945-1: For the record, I get it. I'm hurt you don't want to stay and chat, but otherwise I get it. I've know some of the things you guys pen-up. Like, personally. We tend to run into each other through the centuries. I can respect you wanting to get the hell away from that.
McLaren: What? No, I'm-… I need to get to Level 1 to help with EVAC. We need to form a perimeter around the extraction points.
4945-1 stops, and looks at McLaren.
4945-1: You're going up there to join a firing line? You saw what's chasing you. You can't kill that.
McLaren: I can slow it down.
4945-1: With your corpse, maybe. Buddy, you- seriously, you said this yourself a minute ago. If you don't get out of here, you're going to die!
McLaren does not respond immediately. After a moment, he reaches up, tightening the straps on his security vest.
McLaren: I need to get to Level 1. People are counting on me.
4945-1 stares at McLaren for several seconds, then points at a path without looking. The hallway is unlit, and the door has been partially wrenched open. Claw marks are present on the walls.
4945-1: That one.
McLaren looks at the hallway, then back towards 4945-1. After a brief pause, they begin walking.
4945-1: Really? No "are you kidding?" Not even "are you sure?" How do you know I'm not just fucking with you?
McLaren: I don't.
4945-1: Visual evidence would imply I am.
McLaren stops and looks back at 4945-1.
McLaren: These doors can lead anywhere, right? So even the safe-looking ones could be a one-way trip. Even if this door leads right to Level 1, you're completely right, I'm probably going to be torn apart. So, it doesn't really matter, does it? At least this way, I might be able to do some good. To do that, you say I need to go this way. I'm going this way. If you're fucking with me, well, then I guess I'm fucked.
4945-1 stares for a moment. They then smile slightly.
4945-1: I like you, Cedric. Good luck out there.
McLaren does not respond. They turn around, and press themselves through the torn-open section of blast door.
Addendum Officer Cedric McLaren was killed in action shortly after 4945-EN-2. Emerging on Level 4, he discovered a barricaded laboratory beset by a group of SCP-939. Officer McLaren was able to create a distraction long enough for all 15 trapped researchers to escape, and reach the Level 1 extraction zone. McLaren's body cam was later recovered during a multi MTF sweep team.
Following this incident, Officer McLaren has post-humorously awarded the Foundation Medal of Bravery.
Interviewer: Researcher Maria Nantes
Interviewee: SCP-4945
Foreward: On 04/19/2018, it was revealed that Researcher Nantes had entered SCP-4945, but did not report her encounter. Agent Fieldman volunteered to investigate Researcher Nantes. These investigations revealed she was, in fact, entering SCP-4945 multiple times throughout the week. Upon reporting this, Agent Fieldman was instructed to place a recording device on Nantes.
The following audio was recorded:
Agent Nantes walks through the hallway. Her footsteps are quiet at first, but after a minute, she pauses. When she resumes walking, her footsteps are roughtly 3x louder. When this log was later reviewed, Agent Fieldman (the only woman in a room of seven men) identified this sound as high-heels on metal walkway.
The sound of rushing wind is heard, signifying SCP-4945 has appeared. SCP-4945-1 is heard making a 'squealing' sound, and running towards Researcher Nantes.
SCP-4945-1: Aaah! Maria! It's so good to see you!
Nantes: What? Hun, we saw each other like… two days ago.
SCP-4945-1: You know I don't have those in here! Oh who cares, I love those boots! Are they new?
Nantes: No! I've had these for so long. You know, just, since I got this job… ah why am I lying to you? I never had a chance to use these in Uni either. I thought I'd need party boots for, y'know, parties. I guess I'm just not the kind of girl you invite to parties.
SCP-4945-1: What!? Girl you are too PhD to be that dumb! You're gorgeous! Look at you!
Nantes: Heh… I don't know. Maybe you just have different standards than people out there. I mean, I've seen the kind of- uh, "people" you cozy up with.
SCP-4945-1: Don't you judge! I can see into the soul of people. It's not my fault you blood-sacks are all about 'skin' and 'eyes' and, I don't know, kidneys? You guys are into kidneys, right?
Nantes: Oh yeah. Love a good kidney.
SCP-4945-1: Exactly. But me? I can see past all that. I can see someone at their core. You? You've got a core of gold n' diamonds. You're incredible.
Nantes: … Thanks… really, I mean it. I never would have imagined, after that day…
SCP-4945-1: Aaw, honey, cmon. Don't even think about that.
Nantes: No, no, it's fine. I just mean… I never thought any of this would happen really! I never thought I'd get a cool job like this! I mean, it's dangerous, and terrifying sometimes, but cmon. I work with actual monsters! Time paradoxes in a bottle! Floating… alligators that shoot lighting from their eyes!
SCP-4945-1: You made that last one up.
Nantes: Maybe! But it's still so incredible! But… here I am, still stressed out because, what? The head researcher thinks my chemical analysis write-ups are a bit sloppy? Because I don't get invited to Thirsty Thursday? God, I'm researching actual gods, and my brain is still harping on that. So when I should be living my best life, instead I'm pulling three hours of overtime to make SUPER sure my paperwork is perfect. Then I have to listen to myself crying in that huge, cavernous bathroom in D-wing for, like, an hour, and when I walk out I'm here! I mean, I wasn't even lost!
SCP-4945-1: Weeeeeell… I mean, yes, you do have to be lost to find this place, but… I mean, I can kind of decide what that means? And where it appears? They're more guidelines than rules. Sorry.
Nantes: Don't be. You're right though, I guess I really have been lost. Y'know, all over. But the past few weeks have been… god, I don't know to describe it. It's like all the dreams I had of what life behind the scenes would be like. I hear that fairies and ghosts exist, and I think it's going to be like super science scooby-doo in here. Instead, I find out everything hates us and wants to eat our reality, or something.
SCP-4945-1: Yeah those guys suck. Especially that lizard guy. Seriously, like, how about you just chill out and die a bit, you know?
Nantes: Right!? God. But since I've met you, it's been all sparkly swamp men moonlight raves, and robot factory basement techno night, and swirly-smoke martinis on Io with with actual astronauts!
SCP-4945-1: They were a bit dry.
Nantes: The drinks or the Astronauts?
SCP-4945-1: Yes.
Nantes: Shut up. I'm saying this has been… well, really amazing, and I want to thank you!
SCP-4945-1: … aaaw girl now I'm going to start crying. Stop it. Staaahp. Seriously, I should be thanking you! You know how long it's been since I've had like, a real friend? Someone I can just hang out with?
Nantes: None? Since time doesn't exist here?
SCP-4945-1: It exists. I just don't invite that bitch in. Seriously, time needs to chill more than anyone. And the answer is forever, by the way. So this has been amazing for me too! Tonight, honey, I'm wing-entitying it up for you all night. We're going to get you the most superficially gorgeous thing in existence, I swear on my name.
Nantes: Speaking of- as long as we're being all mushy, will you tell me your name NOW!?
SCP-4945-1: Uhg, girl, you know why I can't. Names work differently in different places. If I give my name to you, I may be in big trouble if I ever go… somewhere.
Nantes: I'll give it right back? Aw c'mon pleeeeeease.
SCP-4945-1: Uuuuuuhg. Fine… it's Rider.
Nantes: Rider? Whoah, that's actually really c-… wait.
SCP-4945-1: Are you just making an Eric Clapton reference?
Nantes: … Nnno.
A soft 'paff' sound is heard as, by Agent Fieldman's best impression, Nantes punches 4945-1 on the arm. Agent Fieldman informs the surrounding staff that Researcher Nantes often does this to show affection. When asked how Agent Fieldman knows this, Agent Fieldman begins mumbling.
SCP-4945-1: Ow! Okay fine. I can't tell you.
Nantes: Well fine, you can keep your name. You can keep the hotties too.
SCP-4945-1: Whaaat? Oh! Honey no no. I just attract a lot of attention from certain entities. Remember, we aren't so much about "appearance". They see me, my power, my knowledge, my age, and THAT shit gets them off. So many magic fuckboys. But you, I'll get you someone sweet. Someone really cool, trust me.
Nantes: I appreciate that, I do! But like… I don't know. I don't think I'm about that scene? I really just want someone to… I don't know, be with? Like these nights have been so much fun, really, but when it comes to, y'know, love? I'd rather find someone I can cuddle up with on a couch, and just watch old sci-fi movies with. I don't know…
SCP-4945-1 stares at Researcher Nantes for a few seconds, then sighs quite explosively.
SCP-4945-1: Alright. So, I wasn't going to tell you this but… uhg. So, you know I've been hanging around your "Foundation" for a while, right? Seriously, you guys are the most interesting people I've encountered in millenia. Seriously, underground monster prisons? Rad. And while I was snooping, before I met you I mean… uhg. Okay. There's this really cute lady named Agent Fieldman, and she's really sweet, and she sort of has a crush on you? And she watches you, but not in a creepy way! Like in a, I want to know what this lady is about so I can ask her out one day? That sort of thing. Heck she's listening to us right now.
Nantes: What!?
SCP-4945-1: Yeah. Recording device. Subdermal. You drank it today at lunch.
Nantes: … What!?
SCP-4945-1: … Oh, no, Agent Fieldman only did it because she was ordered to. They know we've been hanging out.
Nantes: Oh my god. Oh my god I'm going to get fired. Oh my god that cute Agent I've seen around likes me. Oh my god.
In the office, Agent Fieldman is currently sitting on the far side of the room, lightly kicking her legs with her face in her hands.
SCP-4945-1: Re-laaaax. They "encourage" you to report any time you wind up here. You just weren't encouraged enough. The worst they'll do is chew you out. The Fieldman thing, well, I can't help you there. You're mad awkward.
Nantes: … Thanks. Seriously though, this means they'll at least order me to stop coming here. Official protocol and everything. Or if I do come back, they'll expect me to spy on you and collect data and… whatever else.
SCP-4945-1: Yeah so, well, pretend to do that! Or actually do it, I mean, Foundation guys listening right now. She'll totally be spying on me. Lots of anomalous secrets. Seriously!
Nantes: Heh… well, maybe we can still hang out once every few weeks. When I make a report, I mean.
SCP-4945-1: Totally. As much fun as this is, I know you're missing those snuggled-on-the-couch nights. I get it. Maybe you'll have someone to snuggle with soon?
Nantes: Oh god shut up… Uh, though, visiting is only fun AFTER I arrive. Those shadow monsters chasing me never stop being terrifying.
SCP-4945-1: Shadow monsters?
Nantes: Uh, yeah. Wispy things. Lumpy. Try to kill you before you get here?
SCP-4945-1 snorts, then begins laughing uncontrollably.
Nantes: And… that's funny? Aparently?
SCP-4945-1: Oh, honey, sweetie, gorgeous, those aren't "shadow monsters". Those are just uh… I guess the best word would be suitors?
Nantes: Suitors? What? They want to… get with you?
SCP-4945-1: Sort of, yeah. More in the snuggle-on-the-couch way like you described, though. They want to join with me. They want me to be their queen, or whatever. Like I said, it's different for my kind. They see my power and my charm, and lets be honest my whole rockin' deal, and then all they can think of is chasing me. They aren't trying to kill you dummy. They just see that the portal to my world is open, and they want to get in here before it closes! They're racing you!
Nantes: … Wow. I should have asked about that way sooner.
SCP-4945-1: Yeah, you all sort of lack that common sense. Hear that, lab guys!? How about you ask us 'anomalies' what our deal is more often instead of poking us with giant needles n' shit! Huh!?
Nantes: Noted. So, they just look like shadows to me because-
SCP-4945-1: Because of your dumb human eyes, yes. They're really not half-bad looking. Er, in my terms.
Nantes: But none of them are your type or something?
SCP-4945-1: … No, no it's not that. I just… look, I'm just not really looking for that sort of thing right now.
Nantes: Oh, okay! I didn't mean to say it like that.
SCP-4945-1: … Oh girl why am I lying to you now. It's just… I'm waiting for someone.
Nantes: Mr. Right?
SCP-4945-1: Something like that. They were… we knew each other a long time ago. It was a different age. Not age like you understand it, with your linear bullshit. A different age for my kind. Back then… well, things were different. Things happened.
Nantes: … Like?
SCP-4945-1: War. Worlds being shaped. Worlds dying. New magic. It's not important. Back then though, we were together. Then something horrible happened and… we weren't.
Nantes: Oh…
SCP-4945-1: It's fine. Really. I've picked the perfect place to wait for them.
Nantes: You mean… I thought you meant they-
SCP-4945-1: All experiences are paths, Maria. All events are roads. All roads lead here. I just need to be patient, and they'll be here eventually… Oh fuck me, hun, if you start crying again I'm stealing your party boots.
//Agent Fieldman excuses herself, and goes to the washroom. She appears flustered, and her cheeks are bright red.1
Nantes: Heh. Sorry… So, where to tonight?
SCP-4945-1: Microscopic Mermaid Masquerade in a floating Tardigrade.
Nantes: … Seriously!?
SCP-4945-1: Oh heck yes. You haven't lived until you've had microscopic martinis. Alcohol atoms are better the smaller you are. Oh, and their dresses are made from actual stardust. You'll love it.
Nantes: Alright, but only one drink tonight.
4.9 hours of erroneous audio data deleted. The only terrestrial language recorded is several rants on quantum theory from Researcher Nantes, and the chanting of "Chug! Chug! Chug!". It is unknown if the latter is English, or merely coincidence. Strange haunting music, laughter, various animal noises, and chanting are prevalent throughout.
//Researcher Nantes was found in her residence the next day, severely hung over. The last 20 seconds of audio is included below. //
A harsh rush of wind is heard, signaling an appearance of SCP-4945. SCP-4945-1 is heard, stumbling as they walk. They are heard lowering Agent Nantes into her bed, who was discovered the next day severely hung over. The last 20 seconds of audio are filled with SCP-4945-1 singing.
4945-1:I'll see you again, my love, my friend,
4945-1: My darling, and my sweet.
4945-1:Where up is down and lost is found,
4945-1:And all the pathways meet.
4945-1:I'll see you again, my darling love,
4945-1:Around the hidden bend,
4945-1:Where journeys start for fickle hearts,
4945-1:And all the roadways end.
Following 4945-EN-1, an investigation was launched. AI "ROWI" identified 132 individual missing person reports, social media posts, and blog entries loosely correlating to Researcher Keen's experiences. In all encounters, SCP-4945-1 was present.
SCP-4945-1 is the solitary resident of SCP-4945. SCP-4945-1 appears as a young, androgynous, 154cm (5'1") humanoid with curly black hair, dark olive skin, and large freckles along their cheekbones. Similar to SCP-4945, this entity appears capable of altering their outward appearance to suit the environment. SCP-4945-1 will frequently advise individuals on which path to take, but will only vaguely allude to where each path may lead.
In 38% of all cases, subjects were returned to their previous locale, albeit significantly closer to their intended destination. 22% of all subjects emerged in places across the globe they'd always intended to visit. The remaining 40% emerged in arbitrary locations, finding themselves at popular live events, restaurants serving their favorite foods, or suddenly re-united with long unseen friends and loved ones.
While SCP-4945-1 appears benevolent, the events of 4945-EN-2 have caused a great deal of debate on how this entity should be classified, and it's potential harm.
