Note: The following are excerpts from the personal diaries of Dr. Anand Mannava. Dr. Mannava has kept several journals during his assignment, and has reported that it is beneficial to counteract the psychological and memory-affecting properties of SCP-3000.
I come to bury Venkat, not to praise him.
Psychologically speaking, having your memories affected like his is not a pleasant experience for anyone. I really shouldn't be surprised he chose to relieve himself from having his memories meddled with - after all, it's really alarming. Being briefed on its effects doesn't change the fact that I need to constantly keep tabs on all staff, myself included, and ground us to reality. I am supposed to submit a full psychological report now, detailing what has gone wrong, why a staff member turned suicidal, and a full analysis of possible ways to prevent this from happening again in the future, to the O5 and Site Director Nox, have it reviewed and some new regimen designed to prevent such a travesty from happening again.
He always was more religious than I am. Right at the end of his life he was riffing on Anantashesha - a primordial Hindu snake god - and rambling about eternity. I'm not going to question the legitimacy of his beliefs and his claims, but this is quite the enigma, and I suppose I should consider myself lucky that this assignment is relatively benign compared to previous assignments that I've had. I don't think this is a mythical eel - anomalous, maybe, but not really that extraordinary. It's funny - I spent the last thirty years blocking out everything my father wanted to teach me about Hinduism and now I'm racking my brains trying to remember anything he had to say about it.
I want to say that it's because of the eel, but if I'm being honest with myself I simply tried to forget all his teachings. Maybe not at the beginning, but certainly by the end. I can barely even remember what he looked like. But I do remember how angry he got when I couldn't remember the names of my grandparents or great-uncles. He was desperate to preserve his cultural heritage, and I did everything I could to spite him. On his deathbed he begged me to perform the traditional last rites after his death. He even wrote the instructions down, but I was so angry at him that I tore them up in front of him. I can't even remember why. The only memories I have of him are how he made me feel. He spent almost twenty years trying to pass down our heritage - and all I have now is anger and hatred and regret.
Site Director Nox gathered the staff this morning for a short mourning. After a few brief and laconic eulogies, he took me aside and told me that Venkat's replacement will come in a few weeks - and as he kept no contact with his family, it's likely his belongings will just be disposed of, and are now technically Foundation property. The director indicated that if I want to keep a thing or two from him, I should do so now.
His office was relatively unremarkable - his cushy squashed chair cushion, few office toys, and lots of marine biology books that I should probably check out someday. The only thing I took was a statue of Ganesh that stood next to the window. Not fully sure why myself, but he's now sitting on the bookshelf, next to a picture of myself, my wife, and our daughter at a lakeside terrace. It was a pretty unremarkable trip to some tourist trap in Lucknow, but this really is one of our best-looking pictures.
We're going under again tomorrow.
All of the D-class managed to stay put this week, which is good. Other than the routine depression and memory loss from exposure to SCP-3000, everything was in order. Sometimes I'm a bit envious of them - all they know is that they're scooping gunk off some big eel. They don't know of its importance, or why it's critical that they collect it, and how much it helps us.
Of course, one saving grace of being on the psychological division for the Atzak Project is the awareness of its potential effects - I'm aware of what's happening to my psyche. I know that I have memories that are being drained, pieces that are being lost right now. I recall images of a young man on a bicycle, in front of a schoolyard gate, looking like it was the 80s, when I was in Singapore - he was laughing - yet I don't know if this man was a friend, a lover, a son, a family friend - who this young man is. Perhaps Italian? Or maybe Australian? Maybe this isn't even a cherished memory at all.
I looked at the Ganesh statue and the picture of my family again. It's really quite a shame, I truly forgot most anything that I've done with them. I've started trying to learn some Hindu poems and songs; went out and got a copy of the Vedas, but I can't memorize the lines properly.
I've been reflecting on what Venkat told me before he passed though - his deep, deep seated fear of mediocrity. Unable to rise out of the sea of humans that walk on the face of this earth. He's worked for the Foundation for years, and while he isn't one of the most well-known and household names of the Foundation, he's not exactly obscure - he's been the Foundation's leading marine biologist and go-to-expert for anything aquatic, and quite well-revered. I'm actually quite surprised by his jealousy - he was never the flashy and bombastic type, and I would have never guessed that he wanted fame and recognition.
Perhaps he really was afraid that he is doomed to be stuck in mediocrity.
Perhaps the silence of this place reminded him of something worse.
Note: Dr. Mannava was later discovered, unresponsive, near the aft airlock. Evidence suggested that Dr. Mannava had broken into the onboard storage locker and ingested a significant amount of raw Y-909. Dr. Mannava was moved off of the Eremita, and remains at Site-151 for analysis.
Document #3000-α-5 | Site-151 | Clearance Level 5/3000