TRutherford:Oob
rating: 0+x

What could be Oobs Item #: I might call Oob SCP-4888.

Object Class, potentially, for Oob: The Foundation thinks Oob is Euclid, but I’m not sure.

Special Containment Procedures for Oob, possibly: The Foundation destroys all Oob documentation, though that’s just what they tell me. They say they restrict Oob information to level-3 researchers and above.

Description, maybe, for Oob: Oob, the thing the Foundation claims to call SCP-4888, is a floating, amorphous absence of light, though I could be wrong. I think Oob has a contageohazardous effect, making it so I can only define Oob using uncertain, often passive terms, probably.

The one exception, I think, is Oob itself. I can’t speak for other people, but they tell me anyone who looks at Oob instantly knows it’s “Oob”. The Foundation might be lying when they say they don’t know for sure if “Oob” is a name, a definition, or just a byproduct of Oob’s effects.

It’s possible that Oob is some kind of “certainty well”, as stupid as that sounds. Though, I guess, that might explain why every time anyone tries to define Oob, they usually must use the word Oob. The only sentence we can likely make about SCP-4888, Oob, with total certainty is the following.

Oob is Oob.

Overall, defining Oob is impossible, or it might not be. This anomalous effect, as far as anyone might know, extends to all primary senses, and I guess Oob has an infohazardous effect that extends to creating any form media, probably including this document.

The biggest problem, at least to me, is that Oob’s effect seem to get worse over time, maybe. That might be why, after I think I was exposed to Oob, I might have been put in what looks like a room with a potentially locked door. I’m pretty sure I’m thankful only a handful of people looked at it, or it could be more.

If I recall correctly, I don’t have much time to finish writing this document about Oob, but who knows, I certainly don’t. Since I might have had the worst exposure to Oob at some point and some time, I’m 80% or 70% sure I volunteered to write this document, or whatever it is, about Oob before what could be Oob’s effects do whatever I think they do.

It possibly might be, or very likely could be getting very bad now, perhaps because of Oob. I, at least the person I think is me, is or isn’t certain of nearly anything anymore, except maybe Oob. It might or might not be getting harder, or easier, to write about Oob.

Whoever might be writing about Oob probably can’t remember their parents, if there are such things as parents.

The entity or whatever that’s doing something resembling writing about Oob might have had someone, or something waiting for whoever they are at the concept of “home” that they could want perhaps see again.

Whatever it is that’s possibly infected with by Oob could be the debatable concept of “scared”

Something conceivably could hate Oob, but imaginably, Oob might still be the only thing that… whatever can say with possible certainty.

“Certainty”, whatever it is, could be missed, unless maybe saying Oob.

Oob.

Oob might feel really good to think about without apparently having to be uncertain.

Oob.

Oob.

Oob is Oob.

It’s not entirely impossible that someone could be aware Oob might only make the effect worse, potentially consuming more certainty in whoever it is.

It just maybe, very possibly not matter when Oob is Oob.

Oob is Oob, and Oob is Oob.

Oob.

Someone who might be a person in here might possibly, someday, in the widest margin, hope they can fix a brain full of Oob.

Oob might hurt. Oob might feel good. Oob is Oob.

Oob is Oob.

Oob.

Oob.

Oob.

Oob.