It has been said that today's science fiction is often tomorrow's reality. At least two well-known works in this thought-provoking genre take the idea of recycling human wastes to mind-boggling (if not off-putting) heights, causing this PoopReporter to go on record as devoutly wishing that these excremental visions of the future do not come to fruition during his lifespan.

First, let's consider the technology depicted by Frank Herbert in his epic work Dune, twice made into a motion picture. Much of the action takes place on the desert planet Dune, where the army does battle outfitted in form-fitting, physique-hugging leather suits which, it turns out, double as ambulatory toilets. In an arrangement reminiscent of NASA's early astronaut gear, special tubing within each warrior's suit continually collects the individual's urine and feces, processing it internally and converting it into potable water that the person may then imbibe through a nozzle. Uh, the pause that refreshes? Yuck!

A "stillsuit" from Dune the movie. It captures and recycles all moisture leaving the body. Oh yes, ALL moisture.

Supposedly this self-contained toilet mechanism would allow the soldier to concentrate on fighting and other appropriate military subterfuge, instead of having to take time out to poop or pee before, during, or after a battle. No need to disrobe nor to squat anymore, anywhere, anytime. I will admit that I can appreciate the cold, calculating efficiency of the concept; but I think I will continue to take a pass on the potable water by-product idea. Eating and drinking what one has previously eaten and drunk -- possibly any number of times -- seems more than a little distasteful, no matter how environmentally friendly and non-polluting, nor how cleverly transformed.

Another equally ambivalent (if not repugnant) recycling vision was unveiled front and center in Ridley Scott's classic Alien. After John Hurt's character has been released by the alien in its facehugger stage, his fellow crewmembers celebrate his apparent return to normalcy (not knowing that the next stage of the creature will soon burst out of Hurt's stomach) by chowing down on some galley staples before returning to their cryogenic chambers for the remainder of the voyage home.

As the Nostromo crew pigs out, at least one character jokes about the origins of their nourishment. "You know what it's made out of, don't you?" Yaphet Kotto's space mechanic reminds them.

Ironically for something on this website, the meal is poop, and the stomach problems are not.

The unpleasant upshot here is that the crew's body wastes have been recycled and processed into something resembling edible cuisine; but it seems to me that nothing short of a Herculean culinary effort would render such poop and pee palatable. And the psychological difficulty of knowing that you were feasting on the combined leavings of your co-workers... you thought their breath was bad!

Is this indeed the wave of the future? Or merely edgy conjecture for shock and entertainment? Will today's obsession with recycling eventually lead to the ultimate intimate sewer system -- one that is not a part of the tangible municipal infrastructure, but rather a part of one's daily couture? Furthermore, will food stop going out of circulation to die a turdly death, but instead endlessly make the rounds of our neighbors' digestive systems, relentlessly shared through innumerable you-don't-wanna-know-the-details reprocessings? Might we never again take the time to sit and think and shit and stink because that leisurely concept will have been put out to pasture in favor of conserving resources?

Under the 'shitsuit' scenario conceived by Herbert, one could envision a world where office workers go through the entire day without ever taking a bathroom break. Hell, there wouldn't even be a bathroom to break in. Someone could be going over an important proposal with the boss, and the two of them could be having fresh bowel movements -- or reprocessing recent ones -- throughout the entire interaction. Perhaps only minimal facial tics or slight pauses would give them away. Plumbers would fall by the wayside, replaced by fashion designers doubling as mechanical engineers.

Humankind has not really altered the way it eliminates its wastes for eons now. We've gone from squatting outdoors in the grass to sitting indoors on porcelain holes. But there is still something viscerally reassuring about committing one's feces and urine to the common stream of humanity. And I mean the sewer stream, not the blood stream.

Ultimately, it all seems grossly inappropriate and unsettling. Too much technology, unappealingly anatomically applied. Eating and drinking a meal once is enough. I hope we'll have the good grace to let our food become the poop it was meant to be. When all is said and done, I find this particular sci-fi school of recycling more than a bit hard to swallow.