The nurse leaves work at five o’clock and docks in the maintenance conveyor, shuddering down the shaft to land in repair bay nine. Airbrushes touch up its smiling teeth; a pressure gauge ascertains the pneumatic firmness of RealFeel buttocks.

“Is maintenance necessary?” it queries. “This unit has not seen patients for six hundred cycles.”

“Unit is emergency-response. Priority one,” says the bay primly. “Maintenance complete.”

The nurse shuttles out, replaced by a struggling man in the conveyor’s pincers. “I’m not a robot!” he shrieks. “Stop trying to maintain me!”

“Begin wipe/reinstall,” sighs the bay, as the RealFeel gauge drives home.