Two short, frumpy figures trundle down a brightly lit hallway. Neon bulbs overhead ensure that every inch of the smooth, white surface is perfectly visible. Cameras couched between the wall and roof follow the pair of workers in their overalls. Their mouths and noses are covered by a dark breathing apparatus. Air is pumped into the hardened plastic of the front piece from a small metal canister on each of their upper backs, which is connected via a slender hose that runs from under their chins and over their shoulders. They are moving a large, heavy metal trolley, which is covered with a heavy tarpaulin. One stands at the rear, the other at the front, pushing and pulling with large, rubber gloves protecting their hands from whatever might spill out. Neither of the figures says a word as they continue on down the brightly lit corridor. The sharp, rhythmic squeak of the front right wheel is the only sound that breaks monotonous quiet, masking the sloshes, slaps and scraps from inside the cart.
They turn a corner and face another hall, this time, however, the walls on either side are punctuated with evenly spaced doorways. Every doorway has a scanner to its left. The pair trundle past all of them; from 1.A through to 98.A, until they come to the end of the corridor and reach an open exit. The space beyond the exit is just wide enough to contain both bodies and the trolley. The figure to enter last inhales deeply and shimmies along the side of the trolley. The door closes behind them and they descend to the basements below.
When the door opens again, the light is softer shades of red and orange. The cameras do not follow them this time. Both figures are now equipped with helmets and dark visors that cover their head, neck and eyes. On either side, there are more doors, but some appear sealed and others have broken scanners. Behind the rest are the whines and screams of various disposal units at work.