Finding an unknown archive room in a pitch-black, decaying facility was no easy task.
Luo Shu could only rely on his knowledge of Foundation site designs, starting his search with the more conspicuous director's office.
Site-167's director's office also belonged to Marion Wheeler, but compared to Site-41, this one was far more formal, outfitted with significantly more equipment.
A photograph of her even sat on the desk.
In the picture, Marion Wheeler appeared no older than thirty, yet the timestamp read 1961.
Given that her actual age that year was 61, her youthful appearance was undoubtedly the work of Hugh's Fountain of Youth ability.
However, once the effects of this particular dose faded, Marion Wheeler refused any further treatments from O5-8, allowing herself to age naturally.
A woman adorns herself for the one who appreciates her. With Hugh gone, youth no longer held meaning for her…
Beyond the standard desk and bookshelves, the office also contained a sofa and coffee table for guests—even a small bedroom.
It seemed Marion Wheeler had lived in this office during her time in Cuba.
A true workaholic.
That certainly fit the old woman's temperament.
On a deeper level, perhaps this was how she drowned out her loneliness—burying herself in work.
With no computer in the office (and no power even if there had been one), Luo Shu turned his attention to the bookshelf behind the desk.
The books inside were ancient, some so brittle they'd crumble at a touch.
Unsurprising. Cuba's tropical maritime climate meant high humidity, and these volumes had sat untouched for at least sixty years. That they hadn't been devoured by roaches or rats was a miracle.
Then again, Luo Shu had already noticed something odd—no vermin dared venture into Basement Level 1. Even insects seemed to instinctively fear SCP-3125's presence.
A pity his Anomaly Discoverer milestone showed no reaction here, confirming he hadn't yet encountered the entity.
Now cautious, he avoided touching the books haphazardly, instead scanning titles first.
The collection was vast—astronomy, geography, folklore, literature, even leisure reads.
Clearly, reading had been Marion Wheeler's way to unwind.
Luo Shu focused on books about Cuban and Caribbean folklore, hoping to find clues to SCP-3125's location. But how to handle these fragile tomes without destroying them?
He flipped open the Anomaly Encyclopedia for solutions—and found one quickly.
Sensory Block.
Yes, Sensory Block.
This anti-memetic ability was excellent for concealment, but its key feature was the suppression of the five senses.
Right now, Luo Shu needed its tactile negation effect.
How did it work?
Under Sensory Block, even if he touched someone or something, the contact wouldn't be perceived.
Like when he'd used it in a Foundation elevator—the weight sensors registered zero load.
Meaning, in this state, his fingers wouldn't exert pressure on the pages, preventing damage.
At least, that was the theory. Practical testing was needed.
He pulled out the most decrepit-looking book—a December 1961 issue of Vogue's New World edition.
Marion Wheeler had been surprisingly trendy, refusing to abandon fashion even at 61.
The magazine's presence also hinted at something else—she'd spent over ten months in Cuba with the Anti-Memetics Division before locating SCP-3125.
If Luo Shu had to search alone, it might take a decade.
Fortunately, Sensory Block worked. Gentle handling left the sixty-year-old pages intact.
After the Vogue test, he turned to the folklore books, carefully transferring them to the desk under the glow of his transforming pickup truck's headlights.
Soon, something odd caught his eye.
A book on Cuban culture mentioned Viñales Valley—also called Valle de Viñales—in Pinar del Río, Cuba's westernmost province. The region was famed for Havana tobacco, but more intriguingly…
Up until SCP-3125's outbreak in 1962, locals practiced Voodoo, a religion brought to the Caribbean in the 19th century via the transatlantic slave trade. Prevalent in Haiti and Brazil, it reeked of cultish fanaticism—worshippers believed omnipotent gods dictated human actions, demanding life sacrifices for divine favor.
Voodoo's most infamous aspects? Dolls and zombies.
The dolls could curse enemies or beg for love and luck—yes, the classic voodoo doll.
As for zombies, they were the prototype for modern undead lore.
Voodoo priests specialized in turning the living into half-dead revenants, bound to their will.
Locals, fearing reanimation, slit throats and pierced hearts before burial.
Both practices reeked of anomalous activity, but that alone wasn't enough to pin SCP-3125 to Viñales.
Voodoo existed across Cuba, and in neighboring Haiti, it had even achieved theocracy-level influence. (Cuba's variant was imported by Haitian laborers in tobacco fields.)
What truly hooked Luo Shu was another detail—"prehistoric" cliff paintings in the valley.
Such paintings weren't rare globally, often attributed to historical gaps.
But Cuba, a mere 100,000-square-kilometer island, couldn't possibly be humanity's cradle. No legitimate "prehistoric" art should exist here.
In fact, historians knew these "ancient" paintings were new works from 1961.
So why would Cubans create such an obvious fake?
The timing—1961-1962—paired with Voodoo's presence, screamed SCP-3125's influence.
Marking Viñales as his next destination, Luo Shu combed through the remaining books but found nothing else suspicious.
His path was clear: Viñales Valley came next.
But first—the archive room. Whatever secrets it held couldn't be ignored.