A magical machine that gives discarded circuit boards a "second life"

In the era of information explosion, we replace our mobile phones every eighteen months on average and discard our computers every three years.
These "electronic legacies" casually thrown into drawers, with their core — the circuit boards — quietly becoming a city-scale mine richer than gold mines.
A ton of circuit boards contains thirty times more copper than a copper mine, and also contains rare metals such as gold and silver; however, it is also coated with lead, mercury, and brominated flame retardants. If directly buried, it would be like burying a chemical bomb in the soil.
Thus, a steel giant called the "circuit board recycling equipment" has emerged, using electricity and mechanical gears to work its magic, transforming waste into treasure.
The entire set of equipment is like a silent assembly line "dragon".
The first stage is the "tearing apart of teeth". Alloy steel knives chew the entire board into pieces the size of a fingernail at 300 revolutions per minute, emitting a crisp clicking sound, like stepping on cracked ice in winter.
The fragments are then sent to the "wind selection lungs", where strong airflow blows light plastic particles into the sky, while heavy metals fall vertically, completing the first separation.
The most spectacular part is the "high voltage electrostatic sorting" stage: copper powder and resin powder dance in a 50,000-volt electric field, with highly conductive copper firmly attracted to the negative electrode, while insulating plastics continue forward, with a purity of up to 99%, almost invisible to the naked eye.
I once visited a factory in Dongguan with an environmental protection group.
There was no pungent smell of acid in the workshop, replaced by a slight ozone odor, like the air after a thunderstorm.
Worker Li Hong dumped a basket of waste mobile phone motherboards into the feeding port. Half an hour later, three distinct "sand streams" emerged at the end: the reddish-brown on the left was copper, the golden-yellow in the middle was enriched precious metal black powder, and the snow-white on the right was epoxy particles.
Li Hong picked up a handful of copper granules and smiled like holding a newly harvested sheaf of rice: "These coppers don't need mining or smelting. They can directly enter the electrolysis tank, saving enough electricity to power 1,000 households for a year."
At that moment, I truly felt the warmth of the term "circular economy" for the first time.
Of course, there is a price to pay for this magic.
The equipment requires electricity to operate, and the knife heads need to be replaced after wear. The extraction of precious metals still relies on chemical reagents.
Engineers are adding AI eyes to the machines: real-time detection of metal content through spectroscopy and automatic adjustment of voltage and speed to make every kW of electricity count; others are trying to replace cyanide extraction with microbial leaching to make the end of recycling green as well.
Perhaps in the near future, recycling plants will enter every community like convenience stores, and our discarded electronic products will no longer make the long journey to Guiyu, but instead undergo "rebirth" downstairs.
When the last circuit board is disassembled, sorted, and melted, becoming new circuits in mobile phones, new motors in cars, or even new components on space satellites, this cycle completed by steel, electricity, and human wisdom will truly come to an end.
The circuit board recycling equipment is not a cold machine. It is a mediator between cities and nature, and a translator between waste and cherishing.
Next time you replace your mobile phone, why not think about it first: that old circuit board might be waiting for a magnificent rebirth.