Two men are in a desert. They're both wearing backpacks. One of the men is dead. The man who is alive, has his pack open. The dead man's pack is closed. What is in their packs?
How much dirt would be in a hole 6 feet deep and 6 feet wide that has been dug with a square edged shovel?
None.
No matter how big a hole is, it's still a hole: the absence of dirt.
And those of you who said 36 cubic feet are wrong for another reason, too.
You would have needed the length measurement too.
So you don't even know how much air is in the hole.
I heard of an invading, vanquishing army sweeping across the land, liquid-quick; conquering everything, quelling resistance. With it came darkness, dimming the light. Humans hid in their houses, while outside spears pierced, shattering stones walls. Uncountable soldiers smashed into the ground, but each elicited life as he died. When the army had vanished, advancing northward, the land was gree and growing, refresh.
