I Took A Job Inspecting Sewers. We Have Some STRANGE RULES.

The way I see it, if you don’t notice that  I exist, then I’m doing my job correctly. My name is Ben McFarlane and I work  as a municipal sewer inspector in the town of Tevam Sound, Ontario.  It's not the most glamorous job, but hey, somebody’s gotta do it  and it puts food on the table. You'd probably think that working as a sewer  inspector isn't that exciting… and yeah, for the most part you'd be right. Most of the  time, all I'm doing is checking the pipes for damage. Unless there’s a reason

for me to  investigate a certain area, most of what I do is routine inspection, which helps ensure that  the sewers remain in good working order. Trust me, nobody wants to see what happens when they aren’t. Thankfully, a lot of what I do can be done without me needing to crawl through pipes. I can use  a small camera to help me do the inspection. But with some of the larger pipes and cisterns,  I need to actually go inside and take a look. It’s never the best part of my day, but  like I said be

fore: somebody’s gotta do it. Going down into the bigger tunnels is  always a little unnerving. Part of it is the claustrophobic atmosphere and part of it  is the knowledge that you’re basically standing in a river of literal human waste. I can deal  with it now, but back when I first started the smell alone was darn near impossible to deal with. Ask most sanitation workers and I'm sure they'll have stories about what they've found in the  sewers before. Heck, most of it isn't even stuff that pe

ople flush down the toilet. It's the stuff  that people drop down manhole covers, or the stuff that gets washed into the sewers by the rain. Dead  animals are surprisingly common, as are kids toys. I found an entire bicycle in the sewer once  and I've got a buddy who found a loaded gun down there! Someone probably thought they'd  get rid of it by just tossing it in the sewer. Someone was wrong. But of all the strange things I've experienced during my time working in the  sewers… none of it compa

res to the stuff I see in the pipes on the southeast side of town. The things down there… I don't usually like to talk about them. Heck, I might not even be  legally allowed to talk about them. I guess we'll find out, won't we? I've had a few drinks  tonight and I'm feeling particularly chatty. So why not spill the beans? Hey, maybe someone out  there will tell me something I don’t already know. I’d been on the job for about a year or so before  getting sent to the southeast side of town. It’s c

loser to the lake and the downtown  area, so there’s some deeper pipes there. I’d always figured that that was the reason they  only really ever sent certain people down there. I’d heard that those tunnels were old and a  little labyrinthian. Anyone who didn’t know what they were doing could easily get lost. But after we got hit with a particularly nasty rain storm back in summer of 2013,  they needed to send someone down to check on some sensors and I just so happened  to be one of the guys who

was available. A bad rain storm can push a sewer system to its  limit, so it wasn’t really that surprising that we’d gotten that kind of call and at the time, I  didn’t think that there was anything that strange about it. My supervisor told me to head on down  toward the pumphouse on the southwest side of town like it was any other priority inspection, and I  went along with no questions asked. It was a few streets away from downtown. I’d seen it before,  but never had a reason to go inside up

until then. I was working with a couple  of other newbies at the time, a guy by the name of Stewart Long who’d only  been on the job for a round three months or so, and another guy by the name of Tomas Opunui  who’d started around the same time that I had. We’d arrived at the pumphouse, and when we got  there we noticed another team waiting on us. This wasn’t too shocking either. Depending  on the size of the job, they might’ve sent some other guys in to help us handle it. The guy in charge was

an older man who looked to be pushing sixty. He had sort of  a ‘Santa Claus on summer vacation’ look, with white hair, a short white beard, a big  beer belly and a no nonsense expression. He watched us get out of his truck  with a look of stern disapproval, before huffing and trudging over to us. “Where’s the usual fellas?” He asked. “I dunno, out. They called us,” I replied. He didn’t seem to like that answer. “You ever worked on the southeast  approach channel before?” He asked. “Yeah, we’ve b

een in the ones on  the north side of town,” I said. “That’s not what I asked, kid. You  ever worked in this one before?” Something about the way he asked this question  struck me as a little odd. I’d worked in an approach channel before. I knew the drill.  What did it matter which one I’d worked in? For the unenlightened, an approach channel is  a cistern filled with wastewater. They feed into a deep tunnel which feeds into a water  treatment plant and they’re considered to be fairly dangerous,

due to their depth (if  you fall off the ladder on your way down, you’re in for a long drop into a biohazardous  lake unless you’re properly tethered) and the harmful gasses that can accumulate in them.  Standard operating procedure is to always test the air before entering one just to make  sure that it’s even safe to breathe down there. Being reckless while going into an approach  channel is a recipe for disaster, and I would have understood if the old man was concerned  about us not having d

ealt with one before. But the way he spoke to us implied that this  one was different somehow, which didn’t make a whole heck of a lot of sense to me. “What’s the difference?” I asked. “Same procedure, right?” “No, not the same procedure. We need people experienced with this  approach channel. These tunnels are a little different than what you’re used to. “Look, the boss sent us here. So I’m sure we’ll manage,” Tomas said. “You  can show us what we need to know.” The Old Man didn’t respond to hi

m. He  just shook his head and turned away. “I’m gonna call this in and clear it with the boss  first. You three, don’t move until I get back.” I traded a look with both Tomas and Long as  the Old Man trudged away. He said something to the two guys who were with him, before  getting back into his truck to make a call. Part of me was obliged to try and just get to  work. But looking at the other two guys that the Old Man had with him, I had a feeling  that they’d try to stop me. One of them, anot

her older guy with a receding hairline and  a bushy moustache was watching us like a hawk. So we waited. After a few minutes, the Old Man got out of his truck again, said something to his buddy  with the mustache and trudged back over to us. “Bad news, fellas. Looks like  our usual company’s retired… guess you’re the replacement.” “So we can get to work?” I asked. “Yeah. We can get to work,” The Old  Man said. “Come on, let’s get going.” With that, he turned and  led us into the pumphouse. “Supp

ose I might as well introduce myself. Names  Troy. My colleagues here are Craig and Peter.” He gestured to the two men who were with him, Mr.  Moustache (who I assumed was Craig) and the other guy, who looked to be in his mid thirties and had  sunken eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in a few days. The one who I assumed was Craig just  gave us a nod, while the guy I figured was Peter gave a lazy half wave before  they followed us into the pumphouse. “So if you don’t mind my asking, what’s  so special

about this channel?” I asked. “I guess you’ll be seeing for yourself soon  enough,” Troy replied as he started down a set of stairs. “The guys you’re replacing… Well, … a  fella named Tom… he always had a set of rules for working down here. He passed ‘em on to me and  Craig when we started. We’ve passed ‘em on to Peter. Guess it’s time we pass ‘em on to you too.” “Rules?” I asked, “What kind of rules?” “The kind you listen very, very closely to, kid.” Troy looked back at me, before his eyes shif

ted to Tomas and Long behind me. “Very, very closely.” He descended the rest of the way down  the stairs, where there was a hatch in the concrete floor beneath us, along with  a large locker on the far side of the room. “Rule number one,” Troy began. “You don’t  enter this part of the sewers alone. You stay in a group of at least three to  four at all times. No more, no less. Too many and it slows you down. Too few,  and you might not come back at all.” He trailed off, watching as Craig cracked 

open the hatch to test the air inside. “Rule number two: You do not enter this part  of the sewers without a gun and a radio.” He opened the locker on the far side of the  room and I was taken aback to see a collection of several handguns inside, along with boxes of  ammunition and one shotgun amongst the usual PPE. Troy clipped one of the guns to his belt, along  with one of the radios, before handing a pair off to Peter, and looking over at us. “Who’s taking it?” He asked. “Whoa, just hold up

for a minute!” Long  interjected, “What the hell is down there?” “ I don’t know,” Troy replied. “Hate  to say it but it ain’t our job to know. I leave that to someone else. Our job is to follow  the rules. You follow them, and you’ll be fine.” Long seemed skeptical, but I looked at the  gun in Troy’s hand and took it. I wasn’t sure if he was having a laugh with us or not, but I  was there to do a job and I intended to do it. Troy gave me a quiet nod, before  thrusting the second gun over to Lon

g. He didn’t seem too happy to get it. “Are we gonna have to use these?” He asked. “Not if you do as I say, you won’t. Rule 3: If  you see a pipe or a tunnel with heavy spiderwebs, don’t go down it. Doesn’t matter if that’s  where the sensor is. You make a note of it, report it to your supervisor and leave it alone.” Spiderwebs? What the hell was he talking about? “Rule 4: If you find a body… and  odds are, you will find a body, don’t touch it. Don’t try to move it. Hell,  don’t even get close t

o it. And don’t waste the supervisors time reporting it. Only time  the bodies get reported is when they’re human.” “I’m sorry, you’ve been finding  human bodies down there?” I asked. “Rarely,” He replied. “But it’s been known  to happen. And if we do find one… the same rules apply. Don’t approach it. Don’t  touch it. Stay as far away as possible.” I could see some of the color  draining from Long’s face. “Rule 5: If you see anyone else down there, you  are not to interact with them. You do not

follow them if they try to lead you somewhere, if they  ask you for help, you do not help them. I don’t care if they’re crying and begging. You leave  them alone. You report it to your supervisor.” “There are people down there?” I asked. “Normally, no. Far as I know, Tom only ever ran into a couple during his career. I’ve only ever  seen one. Like I said, best to leave them alone.” “Why?” I asked, “If there’s someone stuck down  there, we have an obligation to help them!” “That would be very ill

advised,” Troy said.  “You don’t want to anger the things that are down there… which leads me to rule 6: Avoid  killing anything you come across down there. They’re not yours to kill. And if you have  absolutely no choice, if you have to break that rule for the sake of self defense, then  we leave immediately. That’s rule number 7.” “Air’s safe down there,” Craig  said, interrupting our conversation. “Good. Let’s get suited up, then. Oh… and rule  8. Final rule. If anything happens to any membe

r of our team, we leave immediately. We don’t go  after them. We don’t try to help them. We leave immediately. Is that clear? I don’t care if it’s  me, begging you for help. You leave me behind.” Long and I remained silent, neither of us entirely  sure how to react to this or even what to say. Troy had made it sound as if we were about to  descend into a level of hell. I couldn’t imagine what the hell could possibly be down there to  elicit a list of rules like that, and I wasn’t entirely sure I

wanted to find out either! “Well? You fellas getting ready or not?” Troy asked as he put on his PPE. “The quicker we  get down there, the quicker we can get out again!” “If this is so dangerous, why are they  sending us?” Long asked, “Shouldn’t they be sending… I dunno, the cops or something?” “They tolerate us being down there, so long as we don’t disturb them. They wouldn’t be so forgiving  toward the local police,” Troy replied. “Listen, kid. Obey the rules and you’ll be fine, got  that? We’

ve been doing this for years without any problems. You keep your head on your shoulders,  you do what we say and you go home safe. Alright?” Long still didn’t seem convinced, but I did.  By this point, I was morbidly curious about exactly what was down there… and Troy’s assurance  that they’d come out unscathed before did set me at ease a little bit. These rules sounded kinda  scary, but what could realistically go wrong? With Troy keeping us in line, everything  would probably be fine and besid

es, I still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t all some  sort of elaborate prank the old man was pulling. I grabbed myself a set of PPE and got ready and  after a moments hesitation, Long did the same. When we were ready, Craig opened  up the hatch in the floor, and Tomas helped get us tethered so that  we wouldn’t plummet down into the waters below if we slipped on the ladder,  then we finally began our descent. Troy went first, climbing down the ladder  and into the darkness below. I went secon

d, followed by Peter and followed by Long. We climbed down into the approach channel in relative silence, only really speaking again  once we made it to the bottom of the ladder. Troy helped me get untethered, before doing  the same for Peter and Long as they reached the bottom, and while he did that I got my first  look at the dreaded southeast approach channel. I can’t say that there was a heck of a  lot to see. The walls were boxy and flat, and the dirty wastewater trickled over my boots and

into the pipe sending it even  deeper through the sewer system. The sensors should have been mounted on the  ceiling, and I traced the black conduit line with my flashlight as I searched  for the sensor they connected to. Peter and Long stayed back as Tomas and  Craig lowered our tools down after us, while Troy came up behind me. “Should be quick work…” He noted, “Rain doesn’t seem to have done much in  here. Water level is still fairly low.” I saw his flashlight shift upward  toward the ceiling

before he spotted the sensor. He trudged through the water  to get closer to it, and I followed him. “No external damage,” I noted.  “Conduit lines look good too.” “Yeah, we’ll run our tests and get out of here,”  Troy said. “The Approach channel is usually pretty safe… usually.” “Usually?” I asked, and Troy pointed his flashlight up  toward a set of silky spider webs hanging from the ceiling a few feet behind the sensor. “They don’t typically come up here… but every now and then you might find

some proof of some  young ones, trying to get into the pumphouse.” I looked over at him. “They try to break into the pumphouse?” I asked, “Did they ever get in?” “Not that I’ve ever heard of. Can’t imagine they’d stay long if they did. Nothing to eat in there.” “What exactly are they?” I asked, “And don’t you tell me that’s not for us to know. You’ve  seen them, right? What do they look like?” Troy had started to answer, when suddenly I  heard Long screaming and swearing up a storm. Both of us

turned to look, just in time to see  something large skittering up the wall beside him. I only caught a brief glimpse of it, but it  seemed to be roughly the size of a dog with more legs than I could count. Long stared at  it with wide, horrified eyes as he fumbled with his gun, before pulling it free. I saw Troy’s eyes widen before Long fired five times. Only one or two of  the bullets actually hit the target. I heard Peter cry out in pain and grab at his  arm before falling and whatever it was

that Long had actually been shooting at collapsed into the  shallow water, its pale body twitching violently. “What did you just do?!” Troy  demanded, running over to Peter’s side. “I-it was coming for me!” Long protested,  before noticing what he’d done to Peter. I saw his eyes widen in horror. “Oh no… no, no, no… I didn’t…” “Rule 6! You don’t kill anything down here!  You leave them alone and they leave you alone!” Troy roared, before his  attention returned to Peter. “How bad is it?” “J-just

a scratch, boss… I think I got hit by the ricochet,”  Peter said, as Troy inspected his wound. I’ve never seen a gunshot wound before, but there  was a lot of blood for it to just be a scratch. “We’ll get you topside,” Troy said. “And  come back down tomorrow with someone who knows how to follow rules!” He shot Long a death glare, before his radio crackled to life. “Troy, everything good down there?” Craig asked. “No, no it isn’t. One of the newbies got  jumpy, shot at a centipede.” He huffed,

“Put a hole in Peter in the process.  Think you can reel him back up?” “Yeah, sure thing. Hook him up.  Tomas and I will bring him topside.” Troy quietly hooked Peter up to the  line, before helping him onto the ladder. “You take it easy on the way up, and  we’ll get that checked out,” He promised. “Thanks boss,” Peter said quietly. Troy’s attention returned to Long next, as he fixed him in a death glare. “You, up the ladder behind him. And you…” He looked at me, his  expression softening just a

little. “Behind him. I’ll go up last.” Peter started to meekly climb the ladder, although it seemed like Craig and Tomas were doing  most of the work, hoisting him up rung by rung. Once he’d made it part of the way up, Long  started to hook himself up to climb behind him. Although before he could hook himself in, I  saw him pause for a moment, staring at Troy. “What is it?” Troy asked, before pausing. Long craned his neck a little, his hand moving down to his gun again… and it  was then that bo

th Troy and I realized that he hadn’t been looking at Troy. He’d been looking at what was behind him. I only saw a shadow, perched  on the roof of the tunnel. But that was all that Long needed to  see before he started shooting again. “DON’T!” But by the time Troy had gotten the word out, that trigger happy idiot  had already started shooting again and this time, the thing that came for him didn’t drop dead. Instead, it launched itself off of the ceiling of the tunnel, crashing into the  ground

a few feet away from me. “WAIT!” Troy tried to protest before the  thing in front of us knocked him aside, dashing him against the wall. Long scrambled  away, retreating deeper into the tunnel while Peter frantically tried to unholster his gun. “Troy? Troy, what’s going on down there?” I heard Craig calling over the  radio, “Troy? Anyone, respond!” The shape in front of us turned, looking over  at me and Long. Eight eyes shone in the darkness and though I could only see the shadow  of the creatu

re before us, I saw enough. It had a body like a spider, with eight long  chitinous legs. Only its body was much larger than any spider I’d ever seen before. Much, much larger. This creature was almost the size of a small  car, but it wasn’t its size that terrified me. It was the humanoid torso coming out of  the front of it. The two arms that ended in razor sharp claws, the snarling mouth  that made noises that almost sounded human. When this impossible thing looked at  us, I saw real intellige

nce in its eyes. It was studying us, trying to  determine how much of a threat we were… Long kept his gun trained on it, hands shaking  violently. I knew that he was going to shoot again, and hoping not to anger this thing,  grabbed his arm, trying to force his gun down. He jumped the moment that I touched  him giving me a hysterical look. “Don’t!” I snapped, “You’re  just gonna piss it off!” The Spider took a step toward us, hissing  as it did. Long pulled away from me. “Stu!” I tried calling h

is name, but Long had already made his choice and sealed  his fate. He’d opted to fight this thing. And so, like the fool he was, he shot at it again. The Spider lunged for us. I ran. Long didn’t. He only had enough time to  scream before it pounced on him, and then… all I could hear were the dying  screams in his throat as he was pulled apart. I didn’t see him die. But I didn’t  need to. I heard everything. I kept running, not even thinking about  where the approach channel was going to end. An

d when it did end, all I could  do was plummet into the darkness. See, at the end of an approach channel is  what is appropriately called a drop shaft. It’s where the water flows into a larger tunnel  beneath the city. That tunnel, flows into the water treatment plant, eventually and the  water down there… yeah… let’s just say that you don’t want to end up in the water down there. Unfortunately, that was exactly where I was going. I know that every job has its struggles, but  I didn’t expect to

need to choose between diving into raw sewage and fighting a giant  spider monster when I woke up that morning. However the choice was presented to me and I did  the best that I could given the circumstances. Going into the wastewater was Exactly as  unpleasant as you’d think it would be. I’m inclined not to share the details, simply because I genuinely do not want to  remember them and I’m still not entirely convinced that dealing with the giant angry  spider person wasn’t the better choice. A

small comfort was that the pain of  hitting the water, combined with the confusing sensation of being flushed through  a pipe and into an even larger pipe made the whole experience slightly less disgusting, at  the cost of being considerably more painful. At the end of it, I was washed out into  the main pipe and collapsed into the water, covered in filth and gagging from the  stench that had sunk into my every pore. I felt disoriented and confused. I tried to  stand, only to collapse back into

the wastewater, before aimlessly looking around, hoping that maybe  I could figure out what direction to go in. It was too dark to see much of anything and I’d lost my  flashlight during my trip through the wastewater, so I was left to just wander aimlessly, following  what I thought was the flow of the water as my eyes slowly started to acclimate to the darkness. I could feel shapes in the water. Some of them I almost tripped over and I could smell rotting  meat on top of the stink of human was

te. In the darkness, I could make out shapes in the  water and hear the buzzing of bugs around me. I could even feel a few whizz past my  head and mindlessly swatted at them. Old bones crunched under my boots, and I quietly  thanked whatever God was listening that I couldn’t see what they’d belonged to. I wanted to assume  they were animal bones… but who knew, right? I couldn’t shake the mental image of myself  unknowingly stepping over the mauled corpse of Stewart Long… although that was more f

rom  the trauma of having recently witnessed a man die than any guilt over what had happened to him.  Long had quite literally gotten himself killed. Although I was terrified that  I’d be joining him at any second. I kept listening in, half expecting to hear  spider legs creeping up behind me. But it was impossible to tell if I was alone or not in  that darkness and with the bugs buzzing past me. If there were anything after me, I truly  would not know it until after it had pounced. Still, I kne

w I couldn’t afford to  let the fear get the better of me. So I just kept walking, hoping that  maybe if I did, I’d somehow find myself at the water treatment plant  and maybe then I’d get some help. Maybe. As I pressed on, I noticed a light ahead of me and picked up the pace, hoping to God  that I’d finally found my way out of this mess. But as I drew closer, I became very aware  that whatever the source of that light was, it was not from the water treatment plant. In fact, I wasn’t entirely su

re what it was. My first thought was that it was a fatberg  (which is a solid mass of waste matter formed by an unholy mixture of wet wipes, grease, oil  and every other piece of garbage people tend to flush down their toilets) but the longer  I looked, the less certain I was about that. Fatbergs usually didn’t  have lamps embedded in them. Fatbergs usually didn’t have  thick spiderwebs clinging to them. Fatbergs didn’t usually lead  into a separate tunnel into the earth large enough for me to w

alk through. And finally, fatbergs didn’t usually have dead deer portruding from them. Let alone  dead deer with other bugs living in them. God… the sight of those corpses… the way the  bugs crawled through the rotting flesh and exposed bone. The empty, hollow eyes…  it was almost too horrible to look at. And I swore that I could see things inside the  corpses! Honeycombs of some sort, and the bugs who crawled around them looked almost like bees. Was… was something cultivating some kind of bee i

n these things? I thought back to Troy’s rules. “Rule 4: If you find a body… and  odds are, you will find a body, don’t touch it. Don’t try to move it. Hell,  don’t even get close to it. And don’t waste the supervisors time reporting it. Only time  the bodies get reported is when they’re human.” Suddenly, they made a little more sense.  If those spider things were cultivating something in these bodies… of  course we shouldn’t touch them. And if they were cultivating  their food in the sewer… I p

aused, before staring down  into the tunnel by the corpses. Dull lamps illuminated it as it wound down into  the earth, and I could see several pale centipede things that looked a lot like the creature  that Long had shot to get us into this mess. These things must have belonged to the  Spiders too, although whether they were some sort of guard dog or another thing  the Spiders were farming, was hard to say. I took a step away from the tunnel, before  looking back to make sure that I was alone.

And that was when I heard  the slow rustle of movement. I paused, feeling a chill run through me as the  imminent reality of my own death dawned on me. Slowly I turned, just in time to see a dark shape  descending from the ceiling. A fresh set of eyes settled on me, narrowing as they studied me. I put my hands up, hoping that it might understand the gesture of surrender and slowly it drew  closer to me. I wasn’t sure if it was curious, or looking to murder me and at that  point, I don’t think it

really mattered. I wish I could say that I faced my death with  dignity, but I’m going to be honest, I didn’t. I sat there, praying to whatever God  would listen, that it wouldn’t kill me. And then… I heard a voice. “Leave that one! He’s with me!” Troy? I saw a figure emerge from the tunnel in the wall, and against all logic, somehow it was Troy! He  had a hell of a goose egg on his head from where he’d been hit earlier, but he was alive! He stepped between me and the spider person, arms outstr

etched. “With me.” He repeated firmly. The Spider stared down at him, before huffing  and turning away. I watched as they disappeared down the nearby tunnel, and Troy watched  them go, before quietly turning to me. “Good lord, boy… I’m shocked  to see you’re still alive!” “W-what just happened?” Was the only thing  I could stammer. “You can talk to them?!” “Some of ‘em. I’ve been down here for long  enough that they know me. Know I’m not a threat. But they ain’t too happy with us right now.  So

what you’re gonna do here is get up, follow me, and I’m gonna get you out of here.” “How do you know they’re even gonna let us leave?” I asked. Troy’s expression soured. “Had to pay ‘em off…” He admitted, “Let them keep  what was left of your friend. They considered it a fair trade, so long as we leave. Now, let’s go.” I didn’t ask any more questions. *** After I made it out of the sewers that day,  I ended up in the hospital alongside Peter. I had some minor cuts and bruises, a burning rash  ov

er most of my body from all the sewage I’d been crawling around in… but I was still alive,  and I figured that had to count for something. Nobody said a word about what happened  to Stewart Long down in the sewer. He got written off as a workplace accident and  they never even tried to recover his body. I suspect what’s left of him is still down in  the sewers, even now… feeding whatever it is that those things down there are cultivating,  although I’ve never seen the body myself. Yes… I have be

en back down beneath the southeast  side of town. The next time they needed someone to go, they sent me and Tomas along with Troy,  Craig and Peter. We know what’s down there and we know how to deal with them, after  all. My second visit to those sewers was a lot less eventful, and most of my subsequent  visits haven’t been all that eventful either. Over the years, I’ve gotten better at dealing  with the Spiders… they’re not the most friendly folk and I know all too well that if you cross  them,

they’ll rip your guts out before you even realize that you’re dead. But so long as  you follow the rules and leave them alone, they’re content to live and let live.  They can even be reasonable, to an extent. We’ve had a few small incidents over the years,  but nothing like the one that Long caused. Odds are, when Troy and Craig retire next  year, Tomas and I will be training the next group on what to do when you’re down  beneath the southeast side of town. So in preparation for that, I’ve made

a point to  keep a copy of Tom's rules in the pumphouse. I also keep a picture of Stewart Long in there.  Not as a memorial and not out of spite either. Just as a grim reminder of what can  happen when you don’t follow the rules.