"Using the most sophisticated means, we transfer each prisoner down to the entry facility while in an unconscious state, strip them, dress them in paper jumpsuits, then drop them in the hole. They are relayed from there to a state-of-the-art holding facility nearly a mile underwater and sealed away from any contact with the outside world.
"The vampires are housed separately from the rest of the prisoners, and fed a blood substitute that limits their preternatural abilities through a series of small hoses no thicker than your index finger . The rest of the prisoners—metahuman and lycanthrope—are supplied with a protein rich slurry transported via a single tube into a trough from which they all eat.
"I know what you're thinking,” he said. “Isn't this cruel and unusual punishment? Well, the only answer to that is—we don't have much of a choice."
"I will now attempt to answer any questions you may have about the facility."
* * * *
Franklin Donner lifted his head from the floor and fought to make out anything through the drug induced haze clouding his vision. He was surrounded by white, interspersed occasionally by dark, moving figures. Someone swore and he flinched as one of the dark shapes dropped down to crouch next to him. “Welcome to The Toilet,” it said.
"The Toilet?” he repeated. “What's that supposed to mean?” He rolled over with a groan and struggled to sit up.
"The Toilet, otherwise known as The Pit, is a prison, and a worse hole you'll never find.” Someone grasped his arm and helped him to sit. The fog dissipated somewhat and he found himself looking into the face of a relatively normal looking human male.
"Thanks,” he murmured. “I don't understand. Where are we again?"
"Several hundred feet below the surface of the North Pacific,” the man replied, scratching at the stubble on his chin with a long-nailed hand. “As far as we know, this is the closet thing to an escape-proof prison ever devised. We're sent down here through a long tube which is sealed at both ends, and with various irises along the way, completely divorced from the outside world, and fed a fucking tasteless goop they call ‘slurry.’ There are no guards. Just us. Metahumans, for the most part, but also a few lycanthropes who were just sentenced here."
"Why do you call it The Toilet?"
The man laughed. “We call it The Toilet because it's where they put the turds. If we raise too much of a stink, they'll simply flush us."
"I didn't even have a trial,” Donner objected.
"Don't care. Half of us never saw the inside of a courtroom. We might as well be dead, for all the outside world gives a shit about us. Welcome to your new home. May it suck as bad for you as it does for the rest of us."
Donner felt like putting his face in his hands and weeping like a child.
He was in Hell.
Meet Saje Williams
Saje Williams is a resident of the city where Frank Herbert was born. He's married, has a house full of animals; canine, feline, reptile, and a mouse named Leftovers. His major challenge in life is learning to think inside the box.
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