SCP-7340 - I is for "Incision". The Foundation has quite a lot of extremely
talented and trained individuals working for them in various capacities. Some, or most,
of these capacities are pretty dangerous, and accidents do happen, resulting in severe injury
or death to these highly valuable employees. But while the mundane medical world might never be
able to save some of these extreme cases, the foundation is not mundane, and if they can,
they’ll often do whatever it takes to save the lives of their valuable employees. Sometimes
though, that “whatever it takes”, is worse than the injuries, and that brings us to SCP-7340.
SCP-7340 designates a group of storage drums containing USP grade isoflurane,
a general anesthetic commonly used in surgery. The drums themselves exhibit no anomalous qualities,
nor does the isoflurane behave anomalously outside of surgical settings. When it’s
employed as a surgical anesthetic however, it causes full-body paralysis as expected,
but doesn’t trigger unconsciousness or suppress pain. Patients remain conscious and aware for
the duration of their surgery, but are unable to move or otherwise communicate.
Usage of the isoflurane however increases the success rate of experimental and/or volatile
surgical procedures by an estimated 85%. These effects allow surgeons to
achieve anomalously-successful outcomes when utilizing 7340 during high-risk operations.
The Foundation has so far used the isoflurane in 1416 patients, with 1308 surviving the experience.
The Foundation confiscated its current supply from the general surgery unit at
First Faith Medical Center in Houston Texas, after repeated claims of malpractice against
unit anesthesiologists. Additional samples of the substance likely remain in public circulation,
and an investigation is ongoing. We’re then given the logs for four members of site-19 staff that
were critically injured in a containment breach. All four are experienced containment specialists,
and their loss was deemed unacceptable, so 7340-augmented treatment was authorized.
First is Junior Researcher Allison Hart, who suffered puncture wounds to her upper body
from an anomaly’s bite, perforating her stomach and lungs. An unknown, rapid-onset bacterial
infection was communicated via the bite and required immediate intervention. The odds of
mundane surgical success were estimated at 22%. After a 7 hour procedure, involving drainage and
irrigation of the body cavity and puncture repair, the surgery was deemed successful. Researcher Hart
continues to experience trauma-induced anxiety and distrust, with counseling mandated. A doctor puts
a note recommending that they notify patients of the anomalous effects of 7340 prior to surgery.
Next, Junior Researcher Dhruv Reddy, who lost the majority of his skin on
his left side from an escaping anomaly, and was partially buried under a collapsed wall
during the breach. First responders did not notice him until nearly an hour had passed,
during which time he suffered class IV hemorrhaging and lost more than half the blood
in his body. Odds of mundane surgical success were estimated at around 11%. After six hours
of an emergency blood transfusion and extensive skin grafting, the surgery was successful. Reddy
reported awakening to full consciousness shortly after the administration of 7340,
despite injuries and blood loss that had already rendered him unconscious prior to the procedure.
Next was Senior Researcher Wilson Wright, who suffered blunt force trauma to his head, neck,
and back when he was struck by an escaping anomaly’s tail, risking full quadriplegia.
The odds of mundane surgery succeeding were put at around 3%. Wright protested the usage of 7340,
but as per the usage protocols, the process was authorized, since a patient’s life was
threatened by a medical emergency, surgery was the only viable course of treatment,
and the surgery normally has a 25% chance or less of succeeding. Ordinarily, the patient also has to
have demonstrated increased pain tolerance and/or has experience coping with enhanced interrogation,
but this criteria may be waived at the discretion of the research head. It’s also noted that 7340 is
authorized for the treatment of high-value staff, persons of interest, and prisoners,
even without their consent. After eleven hours of surgery, including decompression of his spinal
cord and spinal reconstruction, the process was deemed partially successful. Wright’s paralysis
was limited to his right arm and leg, and he has not spoken since the procedure.
Finally we have Security Officer Nadia Melnikoff, who confronted the anomaly as it breached initial
containment. She suffered crush fractures to both legs, traumatic separation of the left arm at the
elbow, and a lung picture, losing a significant amount of blood before transport. She further
suffered caustic skin and organ damage to much of her torso and left leg as a result of an acid
spill. The mundane surgery was given a 0% success rate, as her injuries were certainly terminal
without anomalous intervention. The process was to involve a blood transfusion, the amputation of her
left arm above the elbow, internal fixation of both legs, lung drainage, irrigation of
wounds and body cavity, reconstruction of her body cavity, and extensive skin grafting. The surgery
began as expected, but the ongoing containment breach interrupted the procedure mid-operation.
Melnikoff, still sedated via 7340, was partially devoured by an anomaly before containment could
be re-established. Upon returning to the area during cleanup some hours later,
personnel found that Melnikoff still displayed brain activity, despite a mere 13% of her bodily
structure remaining intact. Life signs only faded when personnel ceased Melnikoff’s intravenous
sedation. The doctor recommends further research into 7340, particularly the boundaries of what
constitutes surgery under its constraints, as there’s possible usage in field operations.
Following Senior Researcher Wilson Wright’s partial paralysis, he refused to return to work,
citing lingering trauma from his operation. The head doctor visited Wright in his quarters,
asking him how he’s doing and if he can get him anything. Wright speaks, asking him why he’s
here. The doctor says that they’re wondering how soon he’ll be able to return to work at site-19,
to which Wright says that he’s not going back. The doctor tells him that he knows the accident
was debilitating, but he’s sorry to hear that. His unit is in dire need of Wright’s help,
as they can’t replace his knowledge. Wright says that he can’t work after that surgery, and
he already told command. The doctor says that he has a log of that conversation here, with Wright
claiming that he’s experiencing night-terrors and post-traumatic stress. The good news is
that they may have identified something that can help, and produces a bound document. He explains
that it’s a medical procedure, a surgery, more advanced and experimental than the therapy that
Wright has been trying so far. It would remove a portion of his frontal cortex which they believe
may be inhibiting his recovery. The procedure is dangerous, and has a fairly low chance of success,
but if it can help him return to work, then they think its necessary, and have authorized
the further use of 7340. Wright is silent, before asking him if that’s what he came to tell him,
and the doctor says that he’s here to brief him on this procedure, which he is scheduled to undergo
next week, unless he feels that the procedure is unnecessary. Wright asks what he means,
and the doctor explains that if Wright feels that he can return to work exactly as he is,
they won’t need to perform any further surgery. He asks WRight if he feels ready to return to work,
to which Wright hesitantly says that he does. The doctor claps his hands together and smiles,
telling him that he’ll inform the medical division that they can cancel the operation,
and someone will be by later today to help him transition back to the office.
As the doctor leaves, Wright continues to stare out the door for a few minutes.
This certainly must be one of the timelines where the ethics committee isn’t really on top of things
too well. Notably, this SCP is connected to the internal Foundation group, the Fire Suppression
Department. The FSD is sort of an internal police for the foundation, but are willing to bend the
rules as much as possible to ensure that things stay in line. They make sure that good foundation
employees continue to be good foundation employees, regardless of the coldness or cruelty
that that might entail. The Foundation often dips their toes into the cold and cruel side of things,
but here it certainly feels more like they dived right in, especially when considering other
medical marvels they have access to. I’m sure some people working for the foundation would choose the
operation over death, but it seems that sometimes in the scp universe, death isn’t up to them.