The clock chimed twice. Hazel yawned. "About time for bed."
"I'm beat," Phil replied. "It's been a long day."
The two brushed their teeth, put their pajamas on, and climbed into their surgical bays. They closed their eyes. Robotic arms silently extended from hidden recesses; with surgical precision, they poked, prodded, cut, sutured, repaired, fixed, tucked.
Fifteen minutes later, the arms withdrew. Hazel and Phil opened their eyes.
"Good morning, hon. Sleep well?"
"Like a baby."
The clock chimed three times as Hazel made coffee.
