You collectively decide to walk to the next gallery over, underneath a sign labelled "Press Room". You assumed it didn't have anything to do with the news, and you were correct.
There were a huge array of conveyer belts, carrying people lying in various and naked, restrained to the belts. There were three distinct sets of belts. The first belt was on its own. It had a single line of people, forced to lie spread-eagle, who were inexorably inched closer to a gigantic press. When someone moved under the press, it stamped down, leaving nothing but a quivering, flattened zentai suit. The completed suits were dumped off the end of the belt down a chute labelled "retail".
The second belt had people with their arms pinned to their sides and their legs held closed, all pushed so close together that one person's feet were touching the next person's head. This belt didn't lead to a press, instead moving under a gigantic roller. The people went under the roller and came out the other side as a large shivering unbroken ribbon of zentai fabric. It dangled down into a chute labelled "repairs".
The third belt was a lot stranger. The people were laying spread-eagle and separate on this belt again, but there wasn't any big presses. Instead, there was a series of small ones. Each press slammed down on a given limb of the person, leaving a hollow zentai limb behind. When all that was left was a torso with a head, with the hollow limbs dangling off, the person was picked up by a huge arm and converted in a process similar to what your torso had gone through, except that these people maintained their heads. The torsos were then placed within faceless robotic shells, with the hollow zentai limbs being used to interface with the robot limbs, and the resulting robot soldiers were moved out of the room on a conveyer belt through a door labelled "security".