DX01: SINGULARITY 25487

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gigantic piles of worn-out sneakers blanket the entire cargo hold, reflecting the dim, cold light of the setting sun that seeps in through small portholes. The air's pretty damp and stale, like, I can smell saltwater and worn-out fabric, but there's this sweet scent of newly manufactured plastic, too. A constant stream of ATVs, somehow completely covered in layers of colorful Post-it notes, emerges from these huge piles, silently rolling towards a massive, industrial shredder, its blades slowly spinning. The air has this steady hum of machinery buzzing in the distance.