I don't own the SCP Foundation
Alita POV

Someone's unlocking my room. I wonder who it could be?  Depending on the person, I may have to shift.

I call my little edits to my personality shifts. I do them when I have to be someone different. The only thing that is static about me is that nothing is static about me. I don't know whether that's reassuring or not, to be honest.  One thing that's real about me is that I'm twelve, but I won't be for much longer.

"Alita, rise and shine!", someone yells, breaking me out of my thoughts. It's Daisy. I don't know her last name, since everyone calls her Daisy and she's never told me it.  "Coming!", I yell back. 

I run to my small little bathroom, and put on my day clothes.  Folding the ones I just slept in, I walk over to my desk.  There's worksheets scattered all around, most of them complete.  The crowning jewel of it, however, is the computer, which Daisy says is pretty old.  I get my lessons from Miss Jenny through there. 

Two security guards are standing next to her.  I only know one of their names, and that's the one standing on the right.  His name is Lucas.  He's pretty cool.   "Morning, everyone.", I say, as my door closes behind me. 

I stick out my arm, waiting for the familiar feeling of a reality anchor being attached.  It doesn't come.  Out of the influence of the ones presumably in my room, I feel a lot more powerful.  I don't like that feeling. 

"We aren't going to need that.", Dr. Jones says.  She must have come in from behind me.  We walk over to another area, a square chamber with a mirrored wall.  They leave me in it, and then I hear something over the intercom. 

"This marks the beginning of the rapid teleportation test.  SCP-6280, you will follow all of our instructions exactly.", someone says through it. 

"Teleport as many times as you physically can, within the bounds of the testing chamber.  If you disobey you will lose privileges.", Dr. Jones says. 

I start. Teleportation is an odd feeling.  Something flowing through me, then out, like reality itself is weakening.  A silver reality of maniacal hope, that I have the world in the palm of my hand. A void with silver cubes floating, and I can taste the metal and the utter madness that fills it. I hate that reality. Then, I end up somewhere different.  The corner of the room, then the center, then another corner, and then the middle of the air just for fun.

I do it constantly,  the silver reality being the only thing I see, and notice I feel almost weightless when I'm like that.  I must have done it for a minute, before collapsing.  I felt more sick then that time I was eight and caught that stomach bug that was going around the Site.  But I choke back the vomit, not wanting to mess up the nice floors. 

The door opens, and I try to stand.  But I can't.  I'm scared, I like being able to stand.  Someone pulls me up and yanks me out of the chamber.  A reality anchor now on my wrist, I feel a bit better.  "Are you okay?", Daisy asks me. 

"I don't even know.", I reply, voice shaking still.  My head is still spinning.  "You did remarkably well.  Now, someone go measure the Hume levels in there, to complete the experiment.", Dr Jones barked, the last part not at me. 

"Did you see that!  She was see-through for a second!", Daisy says to someone behind me, presumably to Dr. Jones.  "The correct term is incorporeal.", she replies. "Yeah, yeah, I know that. Now, I'm gonna go get some coffee. I might not get through the day without it.", Daisy says, before walking away.

I'm cold. I mean, this place is always freezing, but I'm cold cold. It's November, so it probably should be cold outside, but I don't think it's ever been like this. I wouldn't know anyway. I haven't been outside. There is a sort of courtyard onsite, but I've only been out there once. It took two years to get permission for that.

So, I stay inside. It's okay though, there's plenty to do. Training, that started last week. They want me working in four years, and adjusting both me and my coworkers-to-be to me being a researcher is going to take a while.  I follow Dr. Jones, flanked on both sides by security guards. 

We end up in the break room, where Raymond is sitting on a couch.  He insists that everyone should call him by his first name.  I've heard Daisy refer to him as Dr. Oversharer, and to Dr. Jones as Dr. Brick Wall.  Fitting names, both of them. In the corner is his three-year-old son, James. I was raised here, and even I think three years old is still a little young to introduce your kid to the Foundation.

I go over and say hello to the two of them. I'm not that good with social interaction, but I try. At least kids seem to like me. Or at least, they find me intriguing. Understandable, given my hair and eyes and reality anchor and odd
semi-formal way of talking.

There's another kid here too, Abigail Wilson.  About James' age.  They're kind of friends.  I remember Daisy telling me that Raymond made a joke file about playing peekaboo with James.  Must have been funny, she was laughing.   It's going to be hard seeing these people as coworkers rather than superiors.  Well, still my superiors, but they no longer govern every aspect of my life.

They still do, of course.  That's a given, and I'm okay with that.  The break room is about the only place here that has windows.  My room is presumably underground.  I have no windows. 

I do have drawings that I've done, and plenty of books.  That's enough for me.  I don't need much.  I should probably tell someone about the silver reality.  But, it's not like it matters, really.  It's just an in-between that nobody can access except me.  And I really don't want to go into it more than usual.  It doesn't feel real in there. 

I mean, nothing really feels real, that's just life.  That's just reality anchors doing their thing.  But, while I don't feel all that real, I feel stable.  Like I'm firmly in this reality, I won't slip into another.  Nothing can hurt me when I'm buried in concrete and steel and whatever reality anchors are made of.

I should also tell someone about the shifting.  It's probably not a good mental state for me to be in.  Nothing's solid.  If I could touch my personality, I'm pretty sure it would feel like putty.  Easy to mold, easy to flatten out again.

Just when I think I have something permanent, something comes and requires me to be someone new.  From quiet child to aspiring scholar to compliant test subject to
researcher-to-be.  One more major shift and I swear I'll lose it.

I hear laughing coming from the hallway, so I look up. It's Dr. Bright and Lucy, some of my favorite people here. Something's different. Lucy had a ring that wasn't there last week.

"Congratulations on the engagement, Dr. Bright and Dr. Sinclair!", Dr. Jones says. It's come together. They're engaged. They've been dating for as long as I can remember, but this is new. I remember Lucy being so happy about their house that they built near here. They gave me a picture of it.

It's a cute house, I think three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It's surrounded by forest, and she said it wasn't far away from here. Her ring is diamond, and shiny. "Thank you! We're planning the wedding already!", Dr. Bright replies.

I never took him for the type to put down roots. I guess I was wrong. I spend a long time in the break room, trying to get used to the taste of coffee. I don't like it much, but everyone else drinks it. One day closer to having the job I've been preparing for for twelve years. One day closer.