The Dreadskull Machine

"Chomp, chomp, chomp" chomped the Dreadskull, pulverising the raw organic materials that the city folk fed into its gaping maw. Weeds. Dead pets. Other... things. It all went in.

The grinding, smoke-belching turbine furnace burned furiously through the vestiges of fuel left on this barren husk of a planet, powering the machinery that would pump the pulverised matter into the fermentation vats, heat it, extract the fermented paste, and stamp it into biscuits. Thus was fed the dwindling remnants of mankind that still dwelt within the city.