The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a couple of large piles of folded and stacked newspapers fill a pretty cramped and messy storage room, with concrete walls, like, and old metal shelving along the back. The air's stale and musty, with that kinda sharp smell of newspaper ink. A small fan's humming away on the floor, gently rustling the newspapers, while the faint scent of fresh paper and cardboard boxes drifts in through a narrow doorway, somehow from a huge paper factory floor where tons of reams of paper just, continuously get printed, folded, and bundled with no machines or equipment around.