The recycling sorter

"Ah, now this is something else we're very proud of." Pepper said, walking backwards into the next room, where rows of conveyor belts carried rubbish along towards dozens of thin robotic arms which separated plastic, metal and cardboard into separate bins. "Our fully automated recycling centre, at the moment it can process all the waste from this facility in a day, once we scale it up we can easily deal with all the waste Manhattan produces daily."

The reporters murmured among themselves, seeming to actually be impressed by this one. Pepper smiled to herself.

"It separates out card, different metals, glass..."

"Fabric?" Christine suggested.

"I don't... what?"

Pepper felt a tugging at her leg, she looked down to see one of the arms had grabbed on to her pants. She gasped and tried to get away, but the arm was strong. With one leg hoisted up in its grip, Pepper hopped on the other foot, which put her in range of another arm, which gripped her blouse.

"Oh, no...."

The arms pulled Pepper against the conveyor, where automatic sensors registered her as a large pile of unsorted rubbish, and displayed this opinion of her on a screen above her head for everyone to see.

"Who's taking out the trash now?" Christine called out.

Pepper squirmed in the firm hold, and heard stitches tearing, fabric being pulled apart. Her trousers and blouse were pulled to pieces, and as they were whisked away into separate bins the embarrassed woman was able to dash away from the conveyor, ending up stood in the middle of the reporters wearing her black shoes, white lace bra and orange knickers which, as well as having 'world's best secretary' on the back, also had a cartoon of an old-fashioned typewriter on the front.

"Oh... oh..." Pepper stammered, looking at the tidied-away shreds of her outfit and the admiring group, "Er... can we reschedule this tour for... another time?"