A kitchen table.
A bowl of food.
A bottle of wine.
A plate, perhaps.

It was a lovely house.
But the night was ominous.
The great plans were unravelling.
But nobody could see it with naked eyes.

She was at last successful.
She had devised a fascinating machine.
And in the middle of it all.
There was a little button.

Curious, rather brilliant.
Some sort of a camera.
A kind of life-extension.
Then all hell broke loose.