Earth, a world long forgotten, a once terrestrial beacon of life now scarred by its former inhabitants and their artificial leavings, now an impurity floating around in space, a ball of garbage so to speak. Such an ironically laughable thought that it's the only known habitable planet in the known universe, if anyone could've seen it now….

However, no one can or ever will again, now that it is by definition: devoid of life. An entire planet with absolute zero population, the former twelve billion inhabitants left their mark, or marks seen from space by new landscapes made entirely of garbage, if the atmosphere had any visibility that is. Even the air is subsequently thick from pollution and the landmasses are almost unrecognizable. Entire continents covered, reshaped, and transformed into a combination of tundra and desert like wastelands solely by plastic, paper, and metal waste; every city now giant junkyards, buried by mountains or towers of trash if seen from afar.


Here, in the Buy 'N Large, Cleanup Sector NA-001, formerly known as New York City, it is barely what it used to be like by the humans who lived here. The once mighty iconic buildings of downtown Manhattan now dwarfed or were buried by the even taller copious numbers of towers made entirely of trash cubes, thousands of feet high and stretching on for miles in all directions. The once water filled bays of the Hudson now dried up polluted valleys by the receded Atlantic. Old buildings and bridges mostly rusted and eroded away by the etchings of time, nature, and man's impact. Garbage and the howling volatile winds is the only predominant feature present in the once recognizable metropolis …but it's not the only thing in this hellhole.

A faint but clear chirping of music sounded, like a whisper in the winds of the dead city. In the distance, something moves amongst the heaps of trash, traversing the streets, a single chipmunk.

A lone chipmunk female walked around the avenues of trash towers, strolling across the desolate littered streets carrying out her job, or known as "directive." The sound of music emitted from the young chipmunk's cassette player.

She stops near a small, ancient mobile trash compactor nearby, one of the many around the Sector, wielding in a shovel in her suit's mittens, begins scooping a pile after pile of the land's indefinite filth into the device, and activated it. The sound of its obsolete and worn hydraulics grinding as it compresses the garbage into a cube echoing through the streets, not silencing the sound of upbeat happy music. The compactor opens and spits out a one by one meter cube of junk, weighing roughly fifty kilos. The chipmunk then picks it up with practiced ease and carries it behind her back. Another life form, a purple-winged butterfly, follows close behind her. After some considerable climbing and carrying up a height of trash, the chipmunk finally stacks the cube along with the others at the top of the tower.

The chipmunk pauses for a moment, leaning against the cubes trying to catch her breath from such labor. She wore a suit like the suit Sandy Cheeks wears, but, instead of an acorn symbol, the symbol was a purple letter J. The flower on her helmet wasn't pink, it was purple. But, the boots were the same. Her name, Jeanette, which is what the J stands for. The J symbol is also purple. She has brown fur.

She looks back at the cubes in front of her.

"Huh?" Something caught her attention, a shimmering object from one of the cubes. She grabs it, it doesn't budge, and she tries harder, grunting for more strength, still nothing. Yanking on it with her feet on the cubes, pulling with all her might, the iridescent object finally breaks free with a sudden force that Jeanette falls flat on her back. She sits herself up and simply stared at the object she pried free, just a circular trash lid.

Huh? she wondered how something so simple would make her work herself to just know what it was, such curiosity she had.

"Holly!" She whistles for her butterfly companion to come with her, back down the one thousand meter or one three hundred, nine thousand feet of trash tower in a spiraling makeshift ramp, slowly making her way smoothly but at unease at the sight of a long way down to the streets below.