A procession of gray-orange crabs is strapped spread-eagle, as it were, across a narrow conveyor belt which stretches infinitely backwards into the factory. Ahead of them, a many-armed wheel spins idly like a sleeping yo-yo, whirring hungrily under slow drips of lubricant. The crabs cannot help but stare forwards to their fate. They are utterly helpless. The conveyor belt drags them forwards to the wheel, whose bent hands are waving to greet them. When the hand meets the crab, a square portion of their head suddenly disappears. Next, their body goes missing, then their abdomen. The belt pulls the crabs closer and closer to the wheel until finally the fissure overtakes them and there is nothing left except for their legs, which are shrink-wrapped and sold to rot. The rest of their bodies, sad eyes and solemn mouths, are collected from the floor and sold in heavy packages to beauty salons and ugly people around the world.