The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A bunch of worn-down, industrial washing machines sit in the middle of a huge, dry salt flat, stretching out as far as the eye can see. The air's super dry and it's crazy hot, like the sun's right overhead. Uh, one of the washing machines is somehow spewing out a never-ending stream of what looks like perfectly folded and pressed white linen, like it's been going for years. A bunch of massive, rusty gears and broken machinery parts litter the surrounding ground, but there's not a single speck of dirt or dust on those crisp, white linens.