Thirty-five miles northwest of Dirt Bike Town, back in the boons, there was only one way to explore, and that would be via dirt bike which Dirt Bike Town, had a few of those. There is a circular metal hatch on the ground. There are security cameras around. But those cameras were about a century old, and nothing from that era had survived. Those cameras hadn’t seen anything in a long time. The sum of our nuclear world is the longitude, and the latitude of the autistic armies of revenge. We were Dirt Bike Town. We could blow the hatches off anything. We wanted to know what was down there. And I started to wonder about the risk in blowing that hatch off its hinges. Blowing things up came with the caveat that loud noises create an allergic response. This was the motherfucker bomb shelter of the motherfucking Bomb Shelter Barbecue Foundation. Just sitting there in the middle of dried scrubbrushnot unlike a scar twisted down (it was a long, long down) the rabbit hole of what has been abandoned. The Great Nothing Problem of physics maintains that a state of nothing was highly improbable. The state of nothing was, in fact, the state of everything. The rampage of nothing and her secrets was informed by the existence of quantum particles that made things, and then destroyed them. Close your eyes and tell me what the distance is from where you are standing now, to the window on the other side of the motel room. The old woman who worked there , a Great Beast Machine, who could recount with some precision the location of almost anything. Two keys in the lock lock were nothing. To have maintained a missle silo all these years would implicate three generations. It only added to the dread. Resolved that anything down inside an ICBM missle silo was of ominous distance from the wall to the summons of the window.