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A dismantling drone was sleeping on a spire made of workers' corpses. It was perfectly possible to lie on top of this spire and almost calmly look at the night sky, where there were two moons, one large and one smaller. He lay there thinking about his work and about hunger. He was hungry for oil. The workers had not left their bunker for a long time, which was impossible to get into, not with explosions, not with cacti, not with bullets, and not even with lasers. Only by chance could one penetrate. But there were three metal doors, so it was impossible to get in from the outside.