the place is wretched
It is written that One day the whole of Briarcliff will sink into the netherworld and the crack it's so precariously balanced on top of will open wide and Mephistopheles shall collect his debt. The animals, of course, will be spared,
along with the employees that truly care. Both will bud wings, that fan the everlasting flames below, and fly to safety. The accursed few remaining will whine and gripe and wail and whinge the whole while they plunge into anguish. Even if anything could be done, they would just pass off responsibilty to someone else. The credit cards will melt and be useless. No one will buy there way out of this one. Good shall conquer all in the end.