I woke in a strange bed, which itself was in a large, unfamiliar room. Around me were a collection of machines and tubes, one of which was clamped to my face by elasticated straps. Chromium mannequins dressed in medical scrubs roved the tiled floor between the foot of my bed and the adjacent wall, clicking and whirring as they made their way from one task to another. I recognised them as robotic nurses from some TV show.  

“Good evening, Mister Craws,” said a voice. I turned my head to see a robot hovering to one side of my bed, a fresh set of tubes wrapped in sealed bags clutched in her three-fingered hands. “I’m Nurse 4. I’m here to change your breathing tube.”