When did I last see that? Years ago, in the Tate Gallery. I’d like to go there again. Can I now? Why not? I wonder what Winifred would make of it?

Now here I am in the dining room, and it’s full of happy old people. Like a seaside hotel at the height of the season. Chatter, laughter, people walking about. I shouldn’t think it was like this a few days ago.

‘Hello, Mrs Woodruff. How are you today?’

It’s a middle-aged woman, and she seems vaguely familiar.

‘Hello – I’m so sorry, I’m not sure I remember your name.’

‘It’s all right. A lot of people have asked me this morning. I’m Janet Goodenough – I’m the manager here.’

I shake her hand.

‘I’m pleased to meet you. Again, perhaps, but for me, today is like the first day of a new life. Which answers your question.’

She looks confused.

‘You asked me how I am. And the answer is, like new. It’s miraculous.’

‘Isn’t it?’

She’s beaming, but also bemused.

‘And how are you?’ I ask her.

‘I’m delighted. I wasn’t expecting this. You know, I used to dread walking in here. It was silent, mostly, apart from a few moans and groans. Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be offensive. Everyone was in such a poor state, and – now look.’

‘It’s all right, Mrs Goodenough. I remember visiting aged aunts in homes like this. They weren’t happy places. Suddenly, this is.’

‘I know! I can’t get anything done today. Everyone wants to chat – I mean, it’s great, and in fact, there’s nothing I’d rather do, and nothing I need to do. They’ve given me an assistant. A Helper.’

I look at her. It had crossed my mind she might be a Helper too. Then I had a terrible thought, which I’m ashamed to admit. Namely, why would they make a robot slightly overweight and in such poorly fitting clothes?

It seems the nanobots can make me better, but not a better person.

She’s still talking about her new assistant.

‘He’s a treasure. Younger than me. Obviously. He’s a few weeks old. Fresh out of the packet. He’s made to seem like a young man, and he’s unbelievably competent. Of course. And attentive. He’s sent me out here to chat, to relax, while he deals with the paperwork. Not that there is any actual paper. It all happens inside his head, as far as I can tell. If I want something on paper, he produces it, but otherwise he just gets on with it.’

‘Are all the staff now Helpers?’

‘The care staff. Not the caterers. Who are now run off their feet – they’re not used to having such a noisy crowd to feed, and such a hungry one, too.’