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♫ Stock-still Life ♫
82/398
I enter the corridor. One last walkthrough. Then all of this will be sealed forever—with massive amounts of reinforced concrete. Up on the surface, we are erecting a stele, a gray monolith of the hardest granite. A story told in pictograms is chiseled into it. It is intended to remain a warning even into the distant future, showing people digging into the ground. People who reach the reinforced concrete deep below and shatter it to go even deeper. They eventually abandon their search, having found nothing of use. And then, after a prolonged period, they die miserably.
The artist portrayed the time span between their reckless foray into the depths and their subsequent death using apple trees growing on the surface: At first they are mere saplings, then they finally bear their first fruit—but by then, only the skeletons of the intruders remain.
Everything down here is in perfect order. I take the elevator, remove the radiation suit, shower thoroughly, give the final “go,” and drive home to my wife and the dog.