A dark caption.

"They told me I was perfect for the job!" She gushed to her husband as she was walking to another room of the hospital.

"That's great! What now?"

"Now they want to get me some uniforms, and they want to do an orientation!"
"So soon after hiring?"

"They said they like to work quickly around here. They said doing this now 'gets me in the right state of mind'."

"Sounds cultish."

"It's a hospital, Dean, come on. They probably have some vision statement, 'duty to the patient' stuff like that, but nothing I've not heard before. I'm so excited to get this!"

"It sounds like it's going well. I'll, uh, let you get back to it then. See you around dinner?"

"Oh no, sorry Dean, but I'll need to stay longer. They said all of this take about six hours or so for everything. I'll see you as soon as I can, okay? Bye!"

She ended the call and walked confidently into the room, walking into what appeared to be a a narrow entryway. Odd, but nothing too strange. She then stopped when she saw the operating room, but by then it was far too late.

Seventy-three year old Emil Robbins walked out of the room exactly six hours later, impressed by how accurate their calculations were on this. In that time, he had gone from an old man to a much younger woman and she had gone from an aspiring hire to a brain in a jar.

He went to go thank the doctor who did all of this for him the only way he knew how. When he left, as he adjusted his dress, he saw her husband was calling.

Perfect. Another man to have fun with!