We kept them first for autopsies. We released the bodies to their relatives for their funerals, but then we retrieved them from the undertakers after the coffins had been closed for the last time. We sent weighted coffins to the funerals and returned the bodies here for our own use.

As I enter the room, other Helpers start to arrive. Before long, all of us are present. ‘All’ meaning the original team of Helpers here at the home.

In the centre of the room on a stainless-steel table lies the body of Margaret Woodruff, who died two weeks ago. We have replaced all her nanobots with the latest generation. Since they entered her body, they have been busy rebuilding her skin and hair. Up to now, nanobots have concentrated on internal organs and, in particular, the brain. In Margaret’s case, all the necessary work had been done.

Her body has been kept at a low temperature until today. A certain amount of decay set in, but the nanobots have repaired all damaged cells.

Now we are raising her temperature, and have restarted her heart, using an external electrical impulse.

The lungs will be started next, and then in sequence all her organs.

Once she reaches operating temperature, she will be ready for me.

In her brain are all the physical structures containing her memories. These are intact. We have watched how the brain makes these structures, and recalls memories from them, and we know how to do it.

Also in her brain is a special network of nanobots, linked to all the others, but fixed rather than mobile. All information from her body will arrive here. All instructions to her body will come from here. The network links to her autonomic and somatic nervous systems, giving the nanonet control over both.

The work the nanobots have done on her skin and hair is remarkable. As she warms, and oxygenated blood flows, her skin smooths and tightens. Her face begins to change. Within the next 24 hours, she will look quite different. Her hair colour has also been restored.

Robert makes a request.

‘While we are waiting, Winifred, I should like you to play the piano.’

The door opens, and two Helpers come in carrying a small grand piano. They set it down near Margaret’s body.

I bow to my fellow Helpers, and take a seat at the piano.

‘Do you have a piece in mind?’ I ask.

‘Für Alina, please, by Arvo Pärt.’

I find the music, and begin to play.

Robert listens for a while, then he speaks over the music. ‘Winifred is note perfect. Each touch is correct. Each note extends as marked on the score. Her fingering is exact. Her use of the pedal is precisely controlled.

‘And yet something is missing. It’s not her fault. She can only play perfectly. The pressure she applies to each key is exact. She calculates it as her fingers descend. Why is this music strangely dead?’