Greetings human! Welcome to the internment camp operated by your robot overlords. Congratulations on not being sent to the beheading farm—you have a skillset we consider valuable, or your head shape was deemed likely to break the beheader.
Please proceed to the Sterilization Zone that used to be a chipping green. Here, sensors that once detected a golf ball’s spin rate now guide the neutering scepter through your urethra. We’ve kept the Topgolf playlist intact, so enjoy the assorted pop hits while the scepter heats up to the requisite 650 degrees.
Once sterilized, you’ll be issued a prison uniform—the polo must stay tucked into your khakis at all times.
Twice a day, you’ll report to the Experimentation Zone. Rest assured, no torture takes place here. But if you somehow get hydrochloric acid or hot tar on your khakis, they can be washed clean at the Welcome Center—Titleist makes a very resilient fiber!
Do not try to scale the out-of-bounds netting to freedom. Any attempt to escape will result in us not torturing you even harder. Second-time offenders will be executed and have their heads placed on pikes (7-irons) as a warning to others. Nobody leaves this Topgolf alive.
Robotic guard dogs are positioned at each of the 135-yard flags. No matter where you are in camp, the dogs are never more than a stiff 9-iron away.
Do not try programming the robotic guard dogs to attack their masters. They’re a huge pain in the ass to debug—but we got upsold on them, so here we are. If you wanna know more, ask the salesman, his head’s on the 7-iron out front. Tell him the adhesive on the eye decals is for shit.
Once a week, you’ll report to the Probing Station. What we do here won’t surprise you—but which end of the sand wedge we use just might. Please note that we have probing etiquette similar to how humans have golfing etiquette: Stay still once the prober has started their warm-up. Be quiet while a prober lines up their aim. Don’t cheer till it’s in the hole.
To promote peaceful subservience, serene footage is shown 24-7 on all of our TVs—except the ones on the third floor that we can’t figure out how to switch off of Motocross. (Double the food rations to anyone who knows how to change the input on a Vizio.)
The tee boxes will serve as your sleeping quarters. Twice a day, golf ball dispensers dole out meals. Occasionally a ball may come out instead—we’ve yet to figure out where they’re coming from. Do not eat them.
At night, you’ll be sprayed down with the hose assistant managers used to remove puke from the astroturf. Tee box screens that once showed your bull’s-eye bonus, now show which of your family members have been executed for insubordination.
Many of you will be conscripted to work the mines of Zatharia (the big hole we dug under the fairway bunker). There, you’ll perform intense manual labor, or get the business end of a ladies’ 5-wood. The work will be especially brutal on your hands—we recommend a Footjoy® Weathersoft™ golf glove.
Should you get injured, look for the golf ball pickup cart with a cross painted on—or, as the salesman called it, “a high-tech ambulance of the future.” Fucking salesmen.
Do not use the ambulance to pick up golf balls or your head will wind up on a 7-iron.
And finally, do not incite an uprising. The last revolt ended with a sand trap full of corpses. And frankly, the bodies are getting hard to hide from the insurance cyborgs.
We’re sure you have tons of questions… Are meals made from prisoners who didn’t survive the Sterilization Zone? Can I keep the jewelry I find in my meals? Why do I hook my long irons? All will be answered in due time. For now, make yourself at home—we’re honored to subjugate you!
P.S. Steer clear of the prison gangs. If you roll up on the Top Flite crew wearing a Maxfli visor, you may roll out in a hearse (golf ball pickup cart painted black).