The workers came at night, in a line of trucks that twisted off into obscurity. Sober-faced and sun-browned, they leaped from the beds of their vehicles as they stopped, each wearing a belt heavy with tools, a weather-beaten hardhat, and worn, muddied boots.
They gathered and, like ants, crawled over, around and into the structure, carrying chop saws, cutting torches and drills. Men with rolled sheets of paper in their hands and radios on their belts shouted orders above the shriek of cutting metal.
Cranes followed the trucks and hoisted themselves into the sky, one vertebra at a time, until they towered above the structure. Workers carefully guided great hooks from the cranes above, and tied bundles of the structure's disassembled fragments to them to be hoisted away and hauled to parts unknown.
The cacophony continued for a day, a night, and a day, and when they were through, where once stood a Life was now a hole in the ground.
Somber and sweaty, the workers gathered into their truc