Forced awake.

Get up.

Put on the Class-D uniform.

Walk out of Site-24.

What greeted D-438's eyes was, as always, the endless desert.

As far as the eye could see—Nothing but the blazing sun and the yellow sand.

He boarded the sand crawler.

D-438 began today's work.

Maybe he was thinking: Can such a simple trash collection job really earn me freedom?

The sand crawler brought D-438 to a location with nearby metal debris.

D-438 got out.

He dug the metal debris out of the sand.

It was a rusted water pipe.

D-438 picked it up and threw it into the sand crawler's incinerator. After pressing the incineration button—

The vehicle resumed moving.

But in truth—If D-438 had paid closer attention to the terrain or his sense of direction, he would have noticed:

This was the same work area he'd been to yesterday.

And yesterday—There hadn't been any metal detections in this location.

It wouldn't have been hard to realize.

The area wasn't far from the site.

A bit of memory and spatial awareness would've made it clear.

But unfortunately—D-438 hadn't given it any thought.

Maybe—He was still preoccupied with thoughts about what he'd do once he was released, twenty-eight days from now.

The second day also went smoothly.

Upon returning to the site, D-438 reported: "This job isn't all that special."

The next day, he easily passed the simple sanity test. He even managed to grab the food before it got ejected.

Then it was the steel bed, and sleep.

Nothing seemed too difficult.

Just like that—everything was fine.

Until the ninth day.

After completing the day's work and returning to the site—D-438 arrived at the main gate.

Time for the usual basic sanity check.

The prompt was: "Please reassemble the following tiles to match the example image below."

It was a simple 12-piece puzzle.

The reference image was clear, with distinct colors and patterns. Normally, anyone above the age of six would solve it easily.

But—

"Test failed. Please try again."

"Notice: If you fail the test three times in a row, you will not be allowed back inside the site."

D-438 visibly showed signs of anger and frustration. He believed there was nothing wrong with his previous attempt.

"What the hell? Maybe I misclicked or missed a piece?"

Muttering to himself, he began the test again.

The second attempt passed successfully.

He was allowed back in.

Everything was fine.

Fifteenth day.

As usual, the forced awakening system inside the site woke up D-438.

This time, D-438 showed clear signs of irritation.

Physiological data showed—He was experiencing mild mental fatigue. During the work session—While processing the second piece of metal debris, he stopped.

He dug the item out of the sand—

Then compared it against the sand crawler's metal detector.

As it turned out—

The two were nearly identical.

D-438 issued a query to the Foundation:

"This thing has to be yours, right? Why's it in the desert? Is there someone else out here?"

Dr. Murasame Reine replied: "There's only you here. That's a previously discarded component. Please continue working."

Receiving the answer—

D-438 threw the detector into the incinerator.

Then continued his work.

Twenty-seventh day.

D-438 was awakened.

He displayed an uncharacteristic level of joy.

His words were recorded as follows:

"Damn it, twenty-seven days! Just three more and I'm free! I swear, I'll never set foot in this damn place again! Fuck! I'm almost free!"

His shouting even bordered on howling.

During today's shift—

D-438 found a particularly strange piece of metal junk.

"What the hell is this thing!?"

Getting off the vehicle, Shinkawa Shoichi couldn't help cursing.

Over the past few days—He'd gotten used to using profanity to cope with stress. In fact, Shinkawa Shoichi came from a highly educated family.

Even after serving a month in prison, he rarely swore.

But now—In front of him, buried in the sand—

Was a massive object.

It looked like a cocoon made of tangled electrical cables.

Shinkawa dug it out with all his strength. Then just barely managed to lift it into the rear compartment.

He pressed the incineration button.

The cable cocoon gradually vanished in intense flames. Shinkawa caught his breath, then got back into the vehicle.

No more debris appeared that day.

The sand crawler took him back to the site.

At the gate—

Shinkawa failed the test twice in a row.

"Goddamn it, what's going on!?"

He punched the test screen in frustration.

This had never happened before—Two consecutive failures. If he failed one more time—He wouldn't be allowed inside.

And who knew what would happen if he had to spend the night out in the desert?

Nighttime in the desert was bitterly cold.

Thankfully—After calming down, he passed on the third attempt.

Shinkawa entered the site.

At the room door—

He underwent the usual cleansing.

The sleep indicator lit up.

The door opened.

Shinkawa stood still for a moment, stunned.

Then exploded with rage.

"Hey! Where's my food!? You trying to starve me the last three days to cheat me out of freedom!? Is anyone even there!? D-Class has rights too, you know! HEY! BRING ME MY DAMN FOOD!"

"..."

Shinkawa ranted and shouted.

But of course—No one would respond.

Sleep wasn't forcibly timed.

So no one would urge him to go to bed either.

After a long standoff—

Shinkawa finally stepped into the room.

He kicked the steel bed—

A screech of metal rang through the air.

After venting, he lay down.

"You Foundation bastards, I'm not dying here. I won't starve in three days, even if I don't eat a thing."

Soon after—Shinkawa drifted into sleep.

What he didn't know—

Was that today, he had just come into contact with, and processed, his first anomalous object.

That object had an indescribably negative influence on him. D-438 was showing clear signs of cognitive contamination.

Failing the basic sanity test repeatedly—

And even after eating the day's assigned food, he started shouting and insisting he hadn't received any food.

This information was recorded in the Containment File for Object: Telephone Booth (SCP-7457).

In the two days that followed—

D-438 showed increasingly abnormal mental behavior.

But he still managed to complete his tasks.

On Day 29—

His food—according to Class-D management protocols—was laced with a measured dose of sedatives and sleeping pills.

Ten minutes after eating—D-438 fell unconscious.

Two Class-C field agents were dispatched to the anomaly zone site.

Following Class-D personnel regulations, a Class-B Memory Erasure Protocol was applied to D-438.

His entire memory of the past 29 days was erased.

His cognition was reset to Day 1 of employment.

The two agents then promptly evacuated the anomaly zone.

Upon returning to the main site, they underwent strict psychological and sanity evaluations.

After passing all checks—

Both agents were granted seven days of paid leave.

As for D-438—

The truth is—

Class-D personnel have no human rights.

When the SCP Foundation recruits D-Class staff, they are told: Serve the Foundation for 30 days, and all your charges and sentences will be cleared.

Since Class-Ds are all death row inmates or prisoners recruited from jails—

This method of recruitment is incredibly popular.

And because of it—

Every 29 days, all D-Class are subjected to memory erasure.

Then transferred to other Foundation sites—

And swapped with D-Class from elsewhere.

This ensures no memory-wiped D-Class is informed of what happened—and avoids any chance of discovering the truth.

With so many Foundation sites—

This method almost never fails.

Besides—In practice—

Most D-Class personnel don't survive more than a few rounds of memory erasure anyway.