Balls Capone

My name is Badge, officer Badge.

“Sir, do you know why I pulled you over?”, said the officer.

“Badge?  What kind of stupid name for a cop is that?  What’s your first name Officer?”, said Duane from the front seat of his souped up Camaro.

“It’s Gar”, responded the officer.

“Gar?  Look guys, we got officer Gar Badge here!”, laughed Diane to his two other friends in the car.

*multi-lol*

“I don’t know, I think he’s kinda hot”, said Stacy, the girl in the back seat of the car while twirling her gum on her finger.

“Yeah he is!  Check out Officer Hot Garbage here!”, taunted Mike from the passenger seat.

Officer Badge just sighed and continued.

“You guys been doing a little drinking tonight?  I detect the presence of intoxicating alcohol!”

“What if we have, what’re you gonna do about it dumpster pig?”, screamed Duane.

“Yeah!  Smells like bacon up in here!”, taunted Stacy as Duane hit the gas and pealed away from officer Badge.

*car screeches off*

Officer Badge just shook his head in shame as he pulled a device from his belt, a small black box with a red button in the center and a small dial containing numbers.  Officer Badge rolled the dial to “3”, pointed the device at the car speeding into the distance and hit the red button.  There was a sharp metallic grinding sound and the car was gone along with all of its passengers. 

“I don’t envy the hell you’re about to endure”, said Officer Badge as he got back into his car.

You see, in this world we’ve figured out inter-dimensional travel and many new places and realities are possible.  The authorities of the U.S. Government and the military had worked together to create a new prison dimension known as, DreamMax. 

This was a hell like no other.  It was a world from which there was absolutely no escape unless allowed to cross over via the technology only the authorities possess.  This was their world, so the prison guards were like that of Gods, they could do anything they wanted.

In this horrid place, there was no need for food, so they never needed to feed you.  It was like being slightly hungry all the time but never starving to death, a torture in its own right.  You still had to drink water though and it was piped in by giant rusty pipes from large oceans of brackish putrid water.  Every prisoner unit contained a dirty old drinking fountain that constantly flowed with this gross water, it was always lukewarm and contained bits of crunchy metallic dirt that would get stuck in your teeth. 

The world was never really meant for beings to actually spend large amounts of time in, so after a while the very air started to itch and burn your skin.  Some would go crazy and itch their skin off in fits of madness.  To say it was an uncomfortable environment was an understatement. 

You could also easily die or be killed here, the place naturally weakened the human body so nobody ever had much strength, which did reduce prison violence to nearly nothing at all.  No one had the energy, you needed it just to keep your heart beating and your lungs breathing. 

The buildings and facilities were all built out of giant compressed bricks of garbage from earth, along with old cars, debris, and sometimes even the occasional body part.  It was all sealed in a concrete like substance, but it wasn’t made very well and would often crumble away revealing the trash inside.  So it also stunk like hot garbage.  Many had come to know it as the Dumpster of Humanity.

All police and law enforcement now had a device on their belts that could immediately send an offender directly to the intake yard of DreamMax for processing.  Guilty or not, this is where you were held until trial or release.  All offenders were kept here, there were no more old fashioned jails or prisons on Earth.  It’s an entire dimension, so there’s more than enough room.

Not matter what you were wearing before or had on you, you would arrive in a sack, a biological cocoon of sort, completely naked covered in a yellowish jelly like substance.  Once fully formed, or “Shit Out”, as the guards like to say, you were marched across the sticky concrete floor to a set of pole showers where you’d wash off the trans dimensional goo.  Your prison garb wasn’t much more than a loin cloth with a QR code on it.  You would go barefoot from now on.  You instantly noticed your legs were shaking, struggling to hold you up, a wave of lethargy washed over you, and an almost painful numbness filled your mind.  Like being drugged, but with no drugs, just this place.

Most didn’t have the energy to misbehave, but if you did, there were many hellish punishments available.  Like the Bog Slog.  You were chained by the hands and the feet in irons and set out to walk across the miles of stinking marsh lands surrounding the buildings.  Most wouldn’t make it more than a few hundred feet before tripping and falling face first into the mire.  It wasn’t really deep enough to drown in, but some managed to do so, but it was enough to cover half of your face, effectively waterboarding yourself repeatedly as you struggle to lift yourself from the bog while in chains.  Any bodies were left to decompose into the bog, so it wasn’t unusual to accidentally dredge up a skeleton or two out in the bogs.

Or maybe you’d prefer “The Browns”, a series of large brown water falls that they’d throw you down.  A mixture of used oil, raw sewage, and bog water.  They weren’t high enough to immediately kill you, but it was not a pleasant experience and you’d usually end up with major injuries and they would get severely infected.

The guards were more like Henchmen, they had powers here and could even heal your wounds only to throw you back down The Browns to be injured once again.

Everyone was required to work in one of the industries that also ran here.  Giant factories dotted the swampy landscape, massive smoke stacks pouring greasy black plumes into the already blackened skies.  It always smelled of chemicals and caustic acidic fumes.  The jobs were backbreaking in awful environments, like shoveling piles of garbage from earth into giant furnaces and boilers that powered the prisons and industry here.

There were also mines here, deep and dangerous the prisoners were made to mine for special minerals that were transported back to earth that could be added into oil wells to make them flow again and keep the wealthy in power forever.  These minerals were hard, so hard that it would take hundreds of strikes from a sledge hammer to break off a chunk the size of a pencil lead.  Each prisoner was required to fill a cup each shift.  If you didn’t perform as required, you were probably going down The Browns a couple times.

The world had become a scary place, most sent to DreamMax didn’t ever return and angry reactionary cops would send people for the smallest of infractions.  Don’t argue over that parking ticket or they can really send you to an actual real hell.  Those who were lucky enough to survive were sent back in the same manner as they had arrived, naked in a goo filled sack.  Some never offended again, others were so traumatized they could never live a normal life again and would end up back there again, others resisted, but were easily returned via the little black box. 

The 3 Strikes law was ruthlessly enforced and in your third strike it was life in DreamMax.  A death sentence.

Would we ever be free?  Or will we all just end up a slave in humanities dumpster?