‘Put her down,’ he said. He had an American accent.

Ben lowered Beth onto the stretcher.

‘Run diagnostic,’ the doctor, also American, said. She was a slim woman in her forties and exuded intensity as she craned over the gurney.

It came alive with holographic imagery of Beth’s vital signs, scans of her major organs, and analysis of her bloodwork, and the doctor studied them all.

Ben and I followed the medics into a bay off the lobby. The dome-shaped room was constructed out of the same translucent plastic we’d seen elsewhere in the building, but the moment we stepped inside, the walls came to life with an extremely realistic forest scene. It was as though we were outside. There was a rocky brook nearby and water babbled over pebbles. Birds flew between the branches, chirping and whistling, and the wind ruffled the leaves. It was an unnerving experience to be suddenly thrust outside, but when I acclimatized to the simulation I found the environment soothing, which was the point I suppose.

The nurse pushed Beth into the centre of the dome and stepped back while the gurney diagnostics linked up with a larger system, and more data appeared in the air above my wife.

‘How long has she been gone?’ the doctor asked.

‘Two or three minutes,’ Ben replied.

It felt like an age, but he was right; it was only minutes since I’d watched Beth die for the second time in my life.

The doctor studied the displays. ‘We’ve got a cardiac arrest. Code blue. We need to restart.’

The nurse produced two pads from a small drawer in the gurney and pressed them onto Beth’s sternum.

‘Charge,’ the nurse said, and the hologram displayed the two pads accumulating energy. After a few moments, he gave a command. ‘Release.’

The hologram showed the pads discharge their energy into Beth, and a second or two later, the holographic representation of her heart started to beat.

I looked at Ben with tears in my eyes, and he smiled at me. I didn’t register it at the time, but when I reflect on that moment I realize there was a tremendous sadness about him.

‘We’ve got a pulse,’ the doctor said. She examined the hologram above Beth. ‘I’m also seeing stage-four lymphoma. How did it get this bad? What treatment has she had?’

‘Chemotherapy,’ I replied. ‘We also tried T-Cell engineering.’

‘Chemo?’ she asked. ‘T-cells? No one’s used that for a hundred years.’

‘They’ve been overseas,’ Ben lied.

‘Prep five CCs of Kryopeptide,’ the doctor instructed the nurse. ‘Do you consent to its administration?’ she asked me. ‘I assume you’re this woman’s partner.’

‘Yes, I’m her husband,’ I said, wiping my eyes. ‘What is Kryopeptide?’

‘It’s a synthetic peptide delivery system that administers a gene edit to directly target cancer cells. It’s perfectly harmless. Do you consent?’

‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Please do whatever you can.’

She manipulated the hologram, and replayed footage of me giving my consent. I looked around the room for a camera, but saw nothing other than the projection of the forest. The sun shone through trees and the dappled light fell on the tiled floor around us. It was a beautiful scene made more wondrous by what was happening.