FADE IN: 

INT. FUTURISTIC DOCTOR’S OFFICE – DAY

MRS. HUMPHRIES (50s, elegant in a future-y sort of way) sits on a medical bed in the middle of a white, minimalist room. A few blinky, LCARS-looking computer displays hang on the walls. Next to one display is a trough and a button.

A DOCTOR (40s, professional in a future-y sort of way) stands nearby; she takes notes on a handheld device.

MRS. HUMPHRIES

-- and then I vomited and passed out again right there in the spaceport.

DOCTOR

We can grow up a clone for you in about a week, move your mind over to that, and you should be all set.

MRS. HUMPHRIES

Hello? I have a dinner party to attend in two days. It’s the whole reason I came to Centauri.

DOCTOR

Ah.

MRS. HUMPHRIES

So: fix it.

The doctor pulls a syringe out of her pocket.

DOCTOR

I’ll draw some blood.

MRS. HUMPHRIES

With that pointy thing? Are you kidding?!

DOCTOR

Okay. Computer, teleport a blood sample from Mrs. Humphries into the syringe.

A whirring noise, and the syringe is full.

MRS. HUMPHRIES

Why do you need blood? I just want to know what’s wrong with me!

The doctor puts the syringe in the trough, pushes the trough into the wall.

DOCTOR

Computer, diagnose the patient from the blood sample.

COMPUTER (V.O.)

Your patient has -- brain cancer.

Mrs. Humphries rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh.

COMPUTER (V.O.)

The treatment time is three days.

MRS. HUMPHRIES

I’m going to have cancer for three days?

DOCTOR

We could always put you in a loaner clone, and --

MRS. HUMPHRIES

God, no. Some off-brand body? The last one I had, the nose didn’t work and the right foot kept wobbling.

DOCTOR

I’m sure it will be okay --

MRS. HUMPHRIES

I demand to speak to your boss!

DOCTOR

Computer, send in Dr. Almherst.

ALMHERST (50s, handsome) enters.

MRS. HUMPHRIES

Doctor, I --

ALMHERST

Don’t worry. I heard everything.

Almherst hands Mrs. Humphries a photograph.

ALMHERST

I think we can solve your problem with a sexy robot.

MRS. HUMPHRIES

(off the photo)

Wow!

ALMHERST

Take the tube to the fourth floor, they’ll download you to a sexy robot, and you’ll get your clone back in a week.

MRS. HUMPHRIES

Great! Thanks, doctor!

She exits.

The doctor heaves a sigh of relief.

DOCTOR

That went well.

ALMHERST

I’d say so. And hey, she didn’t even figure out I’m not a real doctor!

DOCTOR

Damn straight! Thanks, sexy-robot salesman!

FREEZE-FRAME on Almherst giving a thumbs-up.

A quick JINGLE is accompanied by an onscreen caption with the same text:

SINGERS (O.S.)

Sexy-robot salesman! He sells sexy robots to you!

FADE OUT.