A man sleeps in his bedroom. Beside him is an hourglass with little atom shapes instead of grains of sand. A large mechanical cube approaches his bedside; from it, a violin appears and starts playing a delicate tune. Next, four mechanical arms grab the man and take him into the cube. They eject him the next second, dressed, clean-shaven, with combed hair, ready to go to work. Among the multilingual babble of machines in the big city, the man suddenly hears a familiar violin tune. Soft and enticing, it draws him outside the city. He runs in the field, leaping with joy, flying with the butterflies, admiring each individual flower and making a bunch. However, the flowers turn out to be mechanical devices.