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SCP-CN-2696
Special Containment Procedures: In view of the size and immobile nature of SCP-CN-2696, its true nature is to be concealed to the public in accordance with cover story "Unique Tourist Attraction". At least two armed guards are to be present at the object to prevent contact with SCP-CN-2696.
Description: SCP-CN-2696 is a lighthouse located near the entrance to the Mole Plain, in Haibei Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture, Qinghai Province, along Qinghai Provincial Road S204. The object is not equipped with a corresponding power source, or any traceable origin; facilities on the interior have been worn away, with no evidence of maintenance. However, the object continues to function normally.
It is thought that SCP-CN-2696 possesses some degree of sentience. Between 7:00 pm and 6:00 am, the object will automatically activate its searchlights and systematically point them at a specified direction, seemingly depending on the current weather. The searchlight's direction is always in the same direction as the wind, the intensity of the beam of light is linearly correlated with the temperature and humidity, and the vertical angle is based on the current wind speed.
Poor weather does not occur in within 4 km of SCP-CN-2696.
Addendum: A waterlogged letter, discovered inside SCP-CN-2696.
The lighthouse is to be demolished.
The broken power lines are unreliable, and the broken light source seems to be losing its brightness.
It's actually happening this time. After they're back from their meal, they'll come to take apart my lighthouse. The cruise ships nowadays have hundreds of thousands of tons of displacement, cruising at flying speed, with all sorts of guidance systems.
The meaning of lighthouses has diminished to nothing. The misty weather has intensified recently, but not a single vessel needs a lighthouse to show them the way. People don't even sail over water any more — they have planes now. Just today I saw a helicopter, and an airplane… their speed is unfathomable for someone like me.I have never been on an airplane; I have always been a child of the sea. Do you still remember when I took you fishing? I didn't tell you, but when I was young, fishing was seen as a woman's job. We were strong men, carrying fishnets of half a thousand kilograms, gripping sharpened fishing spears in our hands. Every day, we'd catch enough fish to feed a whole village.
In the end, I went to watch over the lighthouse. I wrote, and painted; when there was nothing to do, I read books and newspapers. At night, I turned on the lights, watching the ships follow the light, washing away the fervor in my blood. In my father's — your grandfather's — time, there were no lighthouses, nor were there carbon fiber fishing lines… a fishing vessel would pass by our area once in an eternity! I'm sure you know of Bermuda; the huge whirlpools in this part of the sea were like a miniature Bermuda.
Until the lighthouse came to be. That day, we brought materials truck by truck, and in two days we had made this lighthouse. Your grandfather was the first person to man the lighthouse, and eventually the role came to me, his son. But this was a good life; the lighthouse had its own life. Perhaps it's like those red books and iron bonds given to the officials of old — my life was bound to this lighthouse by the document entrusting it to me!
Now it's all become waste paper. There are no more parts or tools; there is no sign of the trucks coming with building materials. The lighthouse is dying day by day; today, it stopped working entirely. Dead.
I'm about the same. After you left, the arthritis came back. Even without being at sea, my waist and head ache, and I feel pain all over. You must have some conscience, so make the arrangements for me. I can only reminisce.
Soon enough it'll be dawn, and I will leave this message in a bottle to float your way.
(The following text has a different color and blurriness from the above; it may have been waterlogged)
It's just my luck that I picked this thing back up.
Don't worry. Thinking about it is nothing compared to telling you in person; I'll treat this letter like it was written for me, so I can prepare a little.
Today I feel much better. Perhaps it's my dying flash. I considered digging myself a grave, but it didn't feel suitable — I can't bury myself alive. But thinking of the others, none of them would be suitable; I'd end up scaring them away. Perhaps I should just dive into the ocean and let the fish eat me. A fitting death — I've eaten so much fish, there's no harm in letting the fish eat me for a change.
I'm still worried about the lighthouse. My good friend… where shall you go? Ah, I've ended up treating it like a person.
My brother, when I read the newspapers, did you read them with me? The Mole Plain is a nice place; I've had it on my mind for a long time. If you can, please go there. Go quickly; the weather is terrible here, and the people care not for you. They will leave you to rot and collapse. Find a new place to live.
I always thought the sky and the sea were one and the same. The clouds in the sky and the boats in the sea are one and the same, too. I've sailed the sea, and soon I will sail the sky — that's what an aeroplane does, isn't it?
Go well, and take care of yourself. My dear lighthouse, child of the coast, may you find a new life in the highlands. I shall rest now.
I wish you a successful journey.
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