Keeley imagined the AutoCart was very pleased with itself as it drove her to the shipping area. It made little chirps and warning whistles along the way, taking it's slow, sweet time. Letting Keeley stew in her frozen body, staring helplessly up to the rafters, corrugated roof, and pallets of toys in the high reaches of the shelves. She begged quietly for someone, a human, to find her. She couldn't imagine how she could live in a shipping box traveling cross country, but also had a feeling that it was possible. She would have gulped, if she could.
The AutoCart couldn't hear her begging, and wouldn't have cared about them even if it did. It had a job to do: take Keeley to the shipping station. And it did its job very well. This part of the process had nearly been fully automated and the AutoCart used its armature again, lifting Keeley off its flatbed and onto a white backing board already waiting for her.
Keeley watched helpless as plastic twist ties tied her arms, legs, and waist to the board. She heard the machines spinning and whirring as they worked to safely secure her so she wouldn't move and jostle in the box Keeley knew she was about to go into. Once the ties were finished with her and her key, Keeley was sent on down the conveyor belt, now one of hundreds of product being prepared for the mornings shipment. Dolls like and unlike her joined in a single line toward an single fate.
Scanners flashed periodically above Keeley, targeting a space over her left shoulder, and the black bars she imagined to be there directed her travels. Soon she found herself in the finally boxing station and Keeley was slid off the main conveyer and dropped two feet into a brown packing box of standard size and shape for objects her size. She jostled at the bounce. She tried for just a moment to see if something had shaken loose and if she could move now.
But, of course, moving was too much to hope for. Even without the twist ties holding her down, Keeley was unsure she could move without the key in her back. Like she was a doll. She felt so diminished; so small and helpless to these machines. She wanted to scream at them, break out of the box they put her in and smash every one of the stupid things. But she didn't and she smiled merrily up at the ceiling instead.
Keeley arrived at the final station and came underneath a massive plastic bag filled with packing peanuts . She stared up at it for a moment before the door opened and dropped thousands of white-blue Styrofoam peanuts into her box, filling it to the top and stopping automagically. Now her vision was filtered through the white-blue objects, making everything indistinct. Soon, even the strange filtered light was taken from her as the box flaps were flipped up, sealing Keeley inside her new home for the holidays.