The door closed immediately. After a few seconds, an opening appeared in the seemingly bare wall and she entered. 

“Damon, Damon…” she called. 

No answer. 

Soothing music floated through the room, while a gentle light illuminated the space, casting deep shadows on the corners. A velvety voice surrounded her: 

“Welcome, I'm Dr. Arts.”

She looked, but she didn't see anyone, except for the walls, a strangely shaped closet and some 5 meters away and on it a huge bed with some kind of canopy and a lot of some winding shapes that could be seen through the curtain. 

“Do not worry. As I said, I am Dr. Arts, a fully rounded, robotic unit for the care of high-ranking and high-risk patients. I am a real rarity. There are only 3 of us in the whole Megalopolis and I cost more than this whole hospital. I am not in human form, although I would like to, especially when I see such exceptional examples of the human race as you, young lady. Consider yourself extremely honored to have received a compliment from me.”

 Without waiting for her to retaliate, he continued to talk as the curtains parted and the light intensified.

“I have to tell you that Boss Damon is in very bad shape. In fact, I still don't have all the results. I scanned him, did every tests possible, slashed on resonance... and nothing. Everything is fine to the eye, and he is getting worse and worse. Additional searches are underway so I'll know what it is.”

She tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

Did she feel a moment of hesitation in her voice, a slight hint of insecurity?

Did the robot have the same feeling as her, a slight hint of insecurity?

 Impossible, however, he is just a robot, programmed and cool, without the feelings of the human race. 

“Honey,” she barely stammered because the sight terrified her. 

As in a giant cocoon, in a kind of cobweb cradle with many pipes and tubes, some slimy tentacles that were attached all over the body, more like a mummy from third-rate horror movies, with a mask on his face, Damon lay lifeless like a rag doll.

 Her dearest Damon. Damon, who walked with her through the lush oak park. Tall, broad-shouldered, while her fist looks infinitely small in his. Sharp look of steel-gray eyes, strong and straight nose, strong chin, thick eyebrows and thick hair that falls in strands to his shoulders. Damon speaks in a deep, melodic voice and laughs like a little child at their little jokes. Her Damon. Now he lies as if he were a stranger, a stranger, as if he had shrunk and shrunk. She almost screamed in helplessness as a treacherous tear rolled down her cheek. She restrained herself quickly. The doctor begins to explain as if he were teaching a class to medical students, this is for breathing, monitoring the heart, all vital organs, his brain works amazingly well for this condition, there are some processes. 

She saw nothing that was wrong, the same as the doctor, she found nothing.

“Anyway,” the robot continued, “I brought an entire army of nanobots through the aorta to work.”

 “Nano…what?” Hilda had a hard time to follow all of this.

“Nanobots, the latest generation of robots that travel through plasma and wrap at the cellular silver ionic level to penetrate all cells and see if everything is fine and to intervene with neoplastic aqua if necessary…”

Is it possible that all this is happening?

 She suddenly felt all the fatigue of this world. She looked again and saw that something was still wrong, but what?