The dirt was brown and bone dry. It clung to him everywhere, on his clothes and in his hair, in his eyes and ears, everywhere was invaded by the choking irritating dust of bygone days, of worlds that once were but have now faded into memory and out of memory. With the tip of his boot, he taps at what may be a rock or what may be something else, something representing a world that has moved on. The tip of his boot slips on what must be something metallic. Taking from his belt a wide, horse-hair brush, he brushes the debris from off the object. Beneath a thin layer of rocks, dirt, sand, and detriment, there begins to emerge a sphere, glinting in the early afternoon sunlight. It’s made of some inoxible alloy that has withstood the test of time, there is no trace of rust, only a dull tarnish and as the dirt falls away, letters are reveiled along one side of the emerging globe. RADIO-ANTENAE LTD. and underneath this: Serial #7783625. Stepping back from the discovery, the archeologist tips his hat upward to mop the sweat from his brow with an old handkerchief pondering as he does this mystery in the sand. A radio antenna as big as a basketball, here in the middle of the New England desert. Something that big could only be attached to something even bigger, perhaps enormous. Standing there on the sand, he looks down and tries to imagine how far the radio tower might stretch beneath him. Easily it could be 200 feet or more, all of that barried beneath the sand. The people that had lived here before could never have imagined that all their world would be covered by these shifting sands, these endless layers of dust. All those years ago, before the End Wars and the fall. Now there was nothing left to do but poke at old ruins and wonder at what life must have been like before humanity had ruined itself. Picking up his brush the old archeologist turned and headed back towards his dronecar. He would return with a crew of excavators who would slowly and mechanically begin to uncover the giant structure, cutting it down and harvesting the metal. Precious metals like copper where hard to come by in the wastelands of Americas. All things of value were buried in the sand, along with all the memories of a better world.