Gloomy mass of the sarcophagus, graying in the sunset rays. From crevices and faults, green, ghostly light pours. Behind a thick concrete wall, in one of the lower rooms, crowded with equipment, stands a stooped man in his fifties, his eyes burning madly, fixed on a ball hanging under the ceiling. This ball producing glow, visible even outside the station, is shrouded in a web of wires and many sensors. From time to time he hears a drawn-out, piercing cry...