Being a prison guard isn't easy.

You have to maintain control, control of routine, of unpredictable people, of yourself.

In a normal prison, there are so many factors to consider gang affiliations, smuggling, fights, and occasionally escape attempts.

A lot of people think the job is about strength, about control through sheer force.

And yeah, maybe in some prisons that works.

But not here.

I work in a prison that's above a normal prison, the place people send things that can't go anywhere else, things that aren't supposed to exist.

Some of them used to be people. Some of them never were. Some of them? No one knows what

they are. Not really. Scientists try to study them. Administration tries to classify them.

But at the end of the day, we're all just keeping them locked up and hoping that's enough.

My job is to make sure the vault stays closed, and I do this through a strict routine and following my guidelines to the letter.

When you get started here, there's one prisoner that every new person gets assigned.

The phaser.

Peaking into his cell, you will see a man, mid-forties, looking ordinary as ever.

However, periodically he will flash with a bright light and blink to another section of the cell.

He was caught toying with teleportation technology, and from the lack of usage in this facility,

I can imagine it's still far from being perfected.

He is a reminder of the consequences of dabbling too much into the unknown.

It would be oddly relaxing to watch if it wasn't for the horrific screaming during and

after he blinks, though sometimes it's just muffled sobs when he's exhausted, so it's not too bad to watch

then. Sometimes he's lucky and he doesn't blink for a few hours or even a day, but some days

are bad when it's just non-stop. With how unpredictable and unstable he is, sometimes he just disappears.

...