Tuesday morning. You open the door to your office and greet your secretary wearily. "Hello Agnes,"
"Hello Dr. G!" Agnes says cheerily. She sits and stares at the wall like usual. You drink a cup of coffee and sit silently in your office. No appointments today. Your office is a mess. Manila folders in piles, contents strewn about your desk and floor. Calendar reading February of last year. Wastebasket overflowing with malpractice suits and biohazardous waste. Break room sink full of dirty dishes and biohazardous waste.
None of this is Agnes' job to clean up, since she's a barely-mobile golem whose lower half is the bottom part of a desk chair that was the largest recoverable fragment of your last successful medical practice. Perhaps it is somewhat cruel to limit a living thing's movements, but she seems happy, and the chair has sentimental value.
You take another look and realize the calendar's turned to February two years ago. Where've you been, Doctor G?