Registered Phenomena Code: 496

Object Class: Alpha-White

Hazard Types: Transmutation

Containment Protocols: Authority personnel have been stationed around the Everglades in Florida to ensure that RPC-496’s source is undisturbed and that the contents are inaccessible.

Authority search teams have been deployed to scour for additional sources of RPC-496.

Description: RPC-496 is a type of earthenware clay that is functionally identical to its non-anomalous counterpart prior to being fired.1 Upon being fired, RPC-496's outer layer will harden as expected; however, it will also grow a surface layer of human skin. Whereas normal human skin is layered with the epidermis on top, dermis in the middle, subcutaneous tissue on the bottom, and then followed by muscle tissue, RPC-496 ends with hardened ceramic beneath the subcutaneous tissue.

RPC-496’s secondary anomalous effects manifest when a sample of it is molded into the size and shape of an appropriately sized living organism. Examples include humanoids, felines, canines, and succulent plants. Creatures crafted from RPC-496, henceforth labeled as RPC-496-12, are functionally and genetically identical to non-anomalous variants. However, their circulatory systems contain high levels of feldspar, quartz, and kaolinites.3 X-rays and PET scans have shown that properly constructed instances of RPC-496-1 are, in fact, living creatures with identical anatomical structures to non-anomalous variants; they possess the same musculoskeletal structures, brain waves, etc.

Of note is the fact that different types of creatures contain varying amounts of ceramic minerals, E.G. humanoid specimens of RPC-496-1 have higher levels of Kaolinite.4

Instances of RPC-496-1 that have incorrect proportions, anatomies, or are just poorly made, will survive for limited periods of time, usually dying from complications.

Discovery: A suspected instance of RPC-496-1 had been noticed on August 12th, 2017, in Wellington, Florida. An Authority agent was deployed to gather intel on it as well as to profile it to ensure its face and habits did not match any currently existing citizens. Upon satisfactory confirmation that the instance didn’t exist in legal records, the agent moved in to capture it.

The instance of RPC-496-1 had noticed that the agent was pursuing it and attempted to escape into a forest outside of the neighborhood of The Enclave, in Greenacres, Florida. Upon capture and containment, it was seen flinging an object into a dried-up riverbed. The agent recovered it and sanitized it, revealing it to be a notebook. Contents of the notebook detail its creation process as well as its behavioral patterns. For notebook logs, see the following attached Addendum.


July 14th, 2017

I'm currently sitting next to ██████5 at 3 in the morning. I can’t sleep; he snores too loudly.

I jacked an empty notebook and a pen from his desk just now. Hopefully, he won’t mind.

Now to jot down some random nonsense thoughts that are crowding up my mind.

What do newborns think when they first come into the world? Most humans are born into a pair of sterile, gloved hands, screaming, kicking, and crying, unaware of anything other than their own urge to draw breath.

Infantile development involves the development of the ego, object permanence, physical development, and so on and so forth.

I bypassed all of that. On awakening, I didn’t cry. I didn’t kick. I never even got to experience infanthood. For me, birth was the inside of a kiln, my hand pressed against scorching hot metal, yet with no X, Y, or Z-degree burns to show for it. Instead of sterilized gloves, it was an open night sky in his backyard.

██████ neighbors thankfully didn’t see me. The less explaining that either of us have to do, the better.

I innately understand higher concepts, somehow. Imagine being asleep for the first two decades or so of your life before waking up and just innately knowing how to fluently speak a language, having the bodily coordination to enter a house through a back door—as well as just innately knowing that the owner keeps a second pair of keys in a potted plant nearby—shower, and take clothing that you know he won’t miss.

July 15th, 2017

Getting back to last night’s entry…even though I innately know a lot of stuff, there’s also a lot of stuff I’m in the dark about. I don’t have a name, for one, and I’m not sure what he wants to name me.

He called me Bethany on accident once. I told him I liked it, but he insisted that that name never be mentioned again. Weird guy.

I’m also not sure why he made me. Considering how nice he is, I assume he’s just lonely.

July 16, 2017

I got to know him a bit today. He asked me a lot of questions. My response? I just held up his copy of Pinocchio to his him and asked if we could spend the day watching it. The irony isn’t lost to me.

Apparently it wasn’t lost to him either. He just laughed, did his best Geppetto impression (it was horrible, by the way.) and loaded up the movie.

Afterwards, he showed me his pottery collection. He’s actually a ceramics teacher in a high school nearby. He had taken an interest in ceramics when he was a kid. Even showed me the first thing he ever made.

It was this god awful pink cup with three hearts for the handle. The color was off and streaking across the inside of the cup, and the hearts didn’t even remotely pass for red.

I asked him to show me his newest project. Know what he did? He pulled me into the bathroom and told me to look in the mirror. What a cheesy motherfucker.

After that, we took a walk in the park.

It was a fun first date.

July 17th, 2017

██████ looked unhappy today. Actually, that's an understatement. He looked miserable today. Didn’t even crack a smile. I asked him what was wrong, and he just told me to hold down the fort before he left.

It’s been six hours. It’s getting dark. I’m worried.

Midnight Update:

██████ came home just now. He just grunted, nodded, then locked himself in his room.

What’s gotten into him?

July 18th, 2017

I figured out why ██████ was so sad yesterday. I snooped around his room and found a picture of him in a tuxedo, kissing a woman in a dress. They were in front of an altar with a smiling priest. The date was written on the frame.

That date was July 17th, 2012.

I’d like to ask what happened to her and why I’m here, but I’m a little afraid to.

July 20th, 2017

██████ found out I snooped through his stuff. When I put the picture back, he usually puts it on the right. I put it on the left. How clumsy of me.

He wasn’t happy. The ██████ I saw then was nothing like the ██████ on our first date. Him on his first date? Nice. Kind of quiet.

Him after he found out I went through his stuff?

After a bit of intense screaming, followed by threats of physical assault, he just sort of…collapsed. Fell right onto the living room sofa.

I should have known something was up. His smile never quite reached his eyes. It always looked forced.

Remember when I said I wondered about the woman in the picture? That was horse shit. I knew what was up the moment I saw that picture.

Not because I innately knew. No. Because I look exactly like that woman in the picture.

So this is my reason for existing, isn’t it?

July 21st, 2017

I thought about running away today. I almost did, too, but then I realized that I have no job, no identity, and I still don't even have a name. I would go homeless and starve. After I sulked in my room for a bit, I came out into the living room and saw him sitting on the couch, just staring at the television.

It was turned off. I can tell he saw me in the reflection, because he looked down and sniffled loudly.

Without really thinking, I went over and sat down next to him. It was really awkward and I didn't know what to say.

Clearly, he felt the same because he just looked me in the eye and didn't say anything.

I'm glad he did. I saw something that made me want to give him another chance.

He apologized for everything. I didn’t like seeing him cry like that, but I’m glad he’s self-aware enough to know when he’s being…not himself.

July 22nd, 2017

I fucked up. I fucked up so bad today. I fucked up BIG. He told me last night about how much he wanted a cat.

My bitch-ass thought, "oh, let's go grab some of his magic clay and surprise him when he comes home from work today!"

Nope. NOPE. That shit did NOT turn out well.6 I don't know where the fuck it went, but I REALLY hope ██████ doesn't see it.

July 25th, 2017

There’s this little wooded clearing outside the neighborhood. It’s super pretty at night. ██████ took me there today, on a little walk, hand in hand underneath a canopy of trees. Moonlight spilled through in little lines, dotting our path.

Forgot to mention I’ve taken an interest in writing, so I’m trying to be as flowery as possible.

Anyways, when we got home, we had s’mores. No bonfire and sticks, sadly. He used the oven. But hey, that’s good enough for me. They were delicious.

I haven’t told him that I’ve been keeping this journal. I think I’d like to keep it that way. I wrote some horrible things about him and Beth the other day. I might tear them out later.

And I'm really fucking grateful we didn't see that cat.

July 26th, 2017

Last night, I went to the riverbed by myself. I was a little scared to be alone. Don't get me wrong; we live in a safe neighborhood, but still. It just felt weird without ██████. I met someone on the way there. This really nice lady. She spoke eloquently and felt…powerful somehow. I can't describe it. We had a nice little chat about world events and such, all of which ██████ thankfully keeps me informed, so I'm not out of the loop. Then the lady asked me for my name.

Oh. My. God. I fumbled so hard. I just told her I didn't have one, then she gave me this look, and I had to tell her I was just kidding. Then I gave her the first name that came to mind. Carolyn. I think it suits me. I went home super embarrassed that night.

July 27th, 2017

The other day, I became fascinated by the concept of the human soul. It made me wonder if I have one. I spent a few hours googling philosophical discussions on the soul. I even discovered Carl Jungian psych and went down that rabbit hole next.

And then I went over to ██████ and asked him if I was real. I didn't mean to, but it just kind of came out. His answer was honest and brutal, but it gave me so much more respect for him. He told me he didn't know. I'm happy he doesn't sugarcoat things.

July 28th, 2017

I was cutting some fruit earlier for ██████ when I accidentally cut myself. I stared at the blood for a good half a minute when I realized something. I was bleeding, like a human. I patched myself up and spent a lot of time just looking at my hands, flexing them, and playing with them. This is weird. It's weird because I have blood in me.

Clay can't bleed. But I can. Clay can't have a soul. But if I can have blood, then I can have a soul too, right?

July 30th, 2017

██████ told me a little more about Beth today. In his words, ‘she wasn’t perfect, and she could be crass as hell if needed, but she was everything I ever wanted. Her eyes are green. So, so green. She has this way of blinking that keeps your own eyes open just to see those little green pools of delight resurface back into the world.’

Now I know where I get my flowery-ness from. Turns out, before he was a potter, he had taken some classes in writing. Don’t think it worked out for him.

Anyways, about Beth. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and she was pretty hotheaded and actually kind of unlady-like. ██████ Even told me some times when she would scream at him to hurry up and unlock the front door so she could take a shit.

That made me laugh. I’m nothing like her, even though I share her face.

I can tell he’s slowly accepting what happened. Just like how I couldn’t dwell on the fact that I was initially meant to be a soulless copy, he can’t dwell on her forever. It’s hard for both of us.

I can tell he still sees her whenever he looks at me. His eyes get so wide, then I say hello or try to make a joke, and the light in his eyes just…dies.

I’m sorry I can’t be Beth, ██████. But I promise I’ll be the best Carolyn I can be.

August 2nd, 2017

I went for another walk today. I met that same woman again. She wasn't as nice as last time and asked me a lot of questions. I had to make up some excuse that I had to go. She's giving me weird vibes. I won't be walking down that path anymore.

August 3rd, 2017

I went out for groceries, and I met the woman just outside the neighborhood. She's been following me ever since. I haven't gone home at all today, and I can't seem to shake her loose. What the hell?

I’ve been afraid to go home in case she follows me home. Something tells me she doesn't want anything to do with him, though.

I think…I think she wants me. I knew something was weird about her when we met.

Hey, love. In case you find this journal. I know we’ve had a rough start, but I just want you to know that I had a lot of fun. Whatever you do, please don’t ever hurt yourself like that ever again. Life is worth living.

If this silly little mud puppet can live such a full life, so can you.

Media ID#: M-496

Foreword: Authority personnel interview RPC-496-1 in an attempt to understand RPC-496 and to obtain information on the man whose name has been crossed out.

<Begin Video>

Interviewer: Good morning, RPC-496-1.

RPC-496-1: …Hey.

<Interviewer takes a seat in front of RPC-496-1.>

Interviewer: Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?

<The entity shrugs.>

Interviewer: I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ How does the clay bed function? From where does it get its anomalous properties?

<RPC-496-1 mumbles inaudibly.>

Interviewer: Sorry? Please speak up.

RPC-496-1: I said ‘no clue.’

Interviewer: You don’t have any idea at all?

RPC-496-1: Do you remember being a sperm and swimming to your mom’s egg?

Interviewer: No.

RPC-496-1: With me, I don’t know how the stuff works. You already stole my notebook and read all of it. I wrote what it was like to wake up in a kiln. I can’t tell you anymore.

<Interview nods.>

Interviewer: Last but not least. Tell me who ‘’he’ is. The man you keep referring to in the notebook.

RPC-496-1: Sure thing. First, tell me where your wife and kids live.

Interviewer: And why would I do that?

RPC-496-1: Exactly. Get the fuck out of my face. You’re not touching him.

Interviewer: I don’t believe you understand—

RPC-496-1: No, you relationship-killing, holier-than-thou fuckwit, I don’t think YOU understand what the fuck you did. This man’s wife left him. It was up to me to bring him back out of the pits of hell that she threw him into. Guess what happened? His SECOND woman—me—left him, and he’ll never get an answer as to why she did. We literally just started, and he’ll spend the rest of his life believing that I just dipped like his ex, and it’s YOUR DAMN FAULT!

<RPC-496-1 hyperventilates for a few moments before crossing her arms and closing her eyes.>

Interviewer: I see. I’m…I’m sorry.

RPC-496-1: I’m sure you are. Get out.

<End Video>

Note: Authority personnel have initiated a search for every young female civilian named Bethany in Wellington, Florida in the hopes of identifying the man associated with RPC-496-1.

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