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| Registered Phenomena Code: 891 Containment Rating: Gamma Lethality Rating: White |
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Containment Protocols: Throughout the months of December and January, MST Whiskey-9 "Hightime"1 are to be deployed on active search duty for manifestations of RPC-891. Witnesses must be amnesticized and leaks suppressed. Recovered shells are delivered to the nearest site capable of containing Alpha-level anomalous objects.
Each item must have its emitted tone recorded and registered in relation to this file. As multiple researchers have proposed usage of the anomaly during workplace festivities, the choice has been relegated to the jurisdiction of individual sites.
RPC-891 shell.
Description: RPC-891 denotes the appearance of a Strombus pugilis (West Indian fighting conch) shell within the abdomens of human cadavers. A wide-range study arrived at the following findings regarding manifestation:
- An average of 1000 occurrences each year.
- 93% of instances are coupled with individuals aged 65 or older at the time of death.
- All deaths occurred due to natural causes.
- Individuals expired on one of the following dates: ADVENT SUNDAYS, DEC 24, DEC 25, DEC 26, JAN 6, JAN 7
The conch shells exhibit audio-spatial manipulation; transforming ambient noise into complex musical acoustics. These sounds are heard if the shell's aperture is brought to a subject's ear, and can be recorded by precise condenser microphones. Each harmony is unique to a given instance.
Addendum 1 - List of select RPC-891 shells and transcribed lyrics:
RPC-891-0184
On the sea, I am more than usually.
I conquer the waves, without a lighthouse to see!
Any wave can fight, but I will sting and I will bite and even without light, I won't fright!Not-fright!
But when I sail your de-ep eye!
The oceans toughen and the storms roughen!Oh-no!
I would scream and I would whine and I would cry and I would die,
when I sail alone, in your fine eye!Fine-eye!
But once a year, when the northern star comes near,
It paints your eye nice and white,
And lets us shower under its light!Its-light!
Where we dance in a trance,
Where we share more than fair,
Where we eat all we greed!Under the northern star of the yearly pine!
And even when it sinks below,
and my soul is left to tow,
I remember how it shone your eye,
so I fight those waves despite the will to cry.
RPC-891-2081
My Father burns me tired oak,
and my Mother cooks me gentle grub.
Day by day I eat my only bread.But whence the sky starts to sleep,
and the trees wear white sleeves,
My bread turns ginger,
as I stand on my finger.My Father burns me fragrant pine,
and my Mother cooks me fatty dine.
For a month or two I earn my sweeter bread.As the globe turns once more,
and time runs out again,
the earth mourns the year's end.
But the funeral ain't a bore!Again and again, again and again, at the end of charming dears, and fil-thy smears,
I now burn my own fragrant pine,
and eat my wife's fatty dine,
for a month or two my children earn their sweetest bread.
RPC-891-3069
Under bricks, under stone,
we sit together, all alone.
The masons build, couches unused,
even though we cram our shoes.Through the walls, I may now hear,
my neighbor's lark, flow like nog.
For now we work, to build the tree,
which will stand, between us free.Under the pine, and under the leaves,
we stand together, honest thieves.
The masons build, couches full,
even though we pull our wool.Soon enough, we grow rough,
when trees wilt, and lights snuff.
But we don't fear, for in a year,
we may be called, a community dear.
Addendum 2 - Christmas Park:
On 01/12/2025 an advertisement was published online for a Christmas-themed event taking place in Qinnqua, Greenland on 25/12/2025. It consisted of a video displaying different attractions in "Christmas Park", which marketed itself towards adults. One highlighted experience was the "Thousand Voice Carol"; a musical concert promising "The Christmas Carol of your childhood's wonder." During this segment, a large pile of RPC-891 conch shells was visible. The event was suppressed by accusing it of having an exaggerated scale, supported by illegitimate users accusing the advertisement of including AI-generated content.
Further investigation revealed major financial activity within the region attributed to DreamsDates.2 Large sums of money from known DreamsDates company accounts had been transferred to a private person under the name of Arav Vihaan3 (PoI-0891). Among inconspicuous purchases of festive decorations and signed contracts with construction companies, numerous cash withdrawals and transferences to accounts under unknown actors were found.
An operation to retrieve the RPC-891 shells was organized for 09/12. However, further research uncovered the previously undetermined accounts to belong to various Demonymless fronts. The involvement of a potentially dangerous GoI resulted in postponing the mission in order to allocate MST resources. Facial analysis of the elf-dressed actors in the original advertisement matched them to known Demonymless agents. It was therefore suspected that the group was equipped with DreamsDate-supplied anomalous armaments. MST Whiskey-9 was chosen to raid the Christmas Park compound on 22/12.
PoI-0891 was extracted and brought to Site-016 for questioning, resulting in the following transcript:
[PoI-0891 is sitting alone inside the interrogation chamber. His back is exceptionally straight as he taps both feet under the table. The intercom turns on.]
Intercom: How did you first come into contact with DreamsDates?
PoI-0891: I forgive! Forgive and will, will indeed forget if you let me out! It's tomorrow!
Intercom: How did you obtain funding?
PoI-0891: …I-It was a Christmas miracle!
Intercom: Mr… Noeli? Please focus. Who first approached you and why did you collect the shells? Start from the beginning.
PoI-0891: From… the beginning? Yes, yes of course, a festive fable ought to make you see it how I know it!
[PoI-0891 removes his red cap.]
PoI-0891: Once there was a sad and lonely Indian boy. In life, his father could give him little, and even less inheritance once he was plucked by the army. Once he grew beyond the need for his mother's milk, even she had no more to give. One day she took him to the city sprawl, and told him to wait while she went to find food. The boy waited, and he waited, but never did she come to tuck him into the dumpster. As he sunk to sleep in the cold trash, his soul ran away and died. But then he heard one most tempting jingle, accompanied by a song so happy. The soul the boy thought to have lost forever, came back to hear more. He jumped out of the dumpster into that frigid night, and found the source of the beautiful sound: a stout man dressed in glaring red plus white.
Since that day the boy was put to work, each day he'd learn about and prepare for the coming of Yuletide. Together they'd spread cheer and laughter throughout the world, day by day making it yet more magical. But, every 365 days, the boy was allowed one break. That day, nearing the death of every year, he was given gifts unimaginable, unmatched by the nothing donated by his parents.
These times could not continue forever, as with the passing of a year so went the man. The boy wept and cried and made quite the mess, but eventually found his inheritance, the final dying gift; a song that won't ever end. But why in a shell? And then he remembered his original home in India. Off his coast, were giant long-lived turtles. Once they neared the end of their lives, they would eat nothing but their favorite food: conches! And these conches' shells they would discard on an island, where leftovers would amass and grow into giant, heaping, breathless piles. With their last life, they make these beautiful pyramids that they themselves would never witness. They give themselves to those of the future. That, that is the purpose, that is why he left me a shell and not his fortune; so I would never forget.
Intercom: Fortune? Could you elaborate on that?
PoI-0891: That's why I determined myself to do the same. Continue our job, and let every year die in glory. And the miracle fell on me! Some very big fans of my father came, and told me to catch and wrangle that dream! I showed them the shell and they told me of its abundance. They gave me the means, and I produced the end. I got my elves and my workshop, I collected the shells containing passed Christmas spirits and I set the date! It was going to be jolly beyond belief! It was a song to get all the late kids to crawl out of their filthy dumpsters and remember just what magic means!
[Silence.]
PoI-0891: But now you… you can't even find which one is his, can you?
[PoI-0891 refused to answer anymore questions regarding DreamsDates, and the interrogation was terminated shortly after.]
Addendum 3 - Excerpt of OPERATION: Raiding Santa
[BEGIN EXCERPT]
[Whiskey-9 is engaged with DreamsDates armed Demonymless forces, in the center of the Christmas Park compound. Ground fighting is mainly around the 10 meter tall pile of RPC-891 shells. Aerial units are busy suppressing Blinder-class "Floating Star" weapons.][PoI-0891 reveals himself atop the shell mound, with one in hand. He blows in it, and the sound is hypothesized to have activated a reverberating chain reaction with the other shells. They all begin to emit in unison:]
It's that time of the year again.
When our canes are made of candy,
and our walkers, of ca-ra-mel.[Cornered Demonymless forces retreat to a building constructed of pastries. They exit with caged squirrels, whom they feed an indeterminate material.4 The animals undergo rapid organic transmutation: growing in size, muscle mass, jaw width, limb length, losing hair and obtaining a green pigmentation. Whiskey-9 lead identifies the NHEs5 as "Grinchmen", before they begin an assault.]
Year after year, this day has grown weaker, and so, much, realer.
But as we sit on top our graves, we count the many festive staves.
All the ways one can give:[Specialized team members equip the normal issue tactical candy cane as a TSI6. Whiskey-9 succed in thining the herd, and proceed to surround the building. However, enemy combatants begin throwing AAPN7 devices out the windows.]
The smallest receive mouths full of sweet,
Those after - their packages wrapped neat.
Yet another couple years, and giving becomes the gift indeed.[AAPNs manage to snip and de-active certain pieces of vital gear, including the tinted googles protecting from the Floating Star blinding. However, aerial support manages to release the backup walnut supply, deflecting the AAPNs before further damage. Additionally, a MissilteToe rocket ensnares the Floating Stars.]
As the year dies, we let it go.
With it we'll pass, but do not woe.
For if you listen close, in your heart and your soul,
You'll hear our voices, sing quite full.[As ground troops enter the building and arrest the remaining enemy forces, Whiskey-9 lead steers the helicopter towards PoI-0891 on top of the shell pile. Lead jump out of the vehicle and tackles PoI-0891 down the mound, before restraining his hands with corrosive punch-resistant handcuffs. PoI-0891 loses the shell which started the reaction in the mass.]
PoI-0891: No! Wai-
[PoI-0891 is blindfolded and taken to the helicopter.]
Soon it's your turn, to make song,
So train that throat, and let the children play along![END EXCERPT]