Haňt’a muses that his work requires a classical education and a divinity degree due to its cyclical nature and profound implications. He experiences both progress and regression in his job, similar to the movement of the press’s red and green buttons.

Recently, Haňt’a buried his uncle who inspired him with his signal tower and train setup in his garden. His uncle had a stroke and lay unnoticed for two weeks, decomposing in the heat. Haňt’a collected the remains and placed them in the coffin with his uncle’s scrap-metal collection and a volume of Immanuel Kant’s works.

Returning to his cellar, Haňt’a continues working despite being faced with the unpleasant task of dealing with rotting paper. He alternates between his work and reading Kant’s Theory of the Heavens, finding solace in the philosopher’s thoughts about the universe. Amidst the toil, he contemplates the balance between progress and the return to origins, embodied in the movement of his hydraulic press.

Haňt’a’s current task involves compacting reproductions of Vincent van Gogh’s Sunflowers, which brightens the otherwise grim cellar. The repetition of the press’s movement and the presence of the sunflowers offer him a fleeting sense of beauty and order.