Reddit Writing Prompt #7

In 50 years, even the maintenance of machines has been automated. The only profession left is creating art, which while scarce, is wildly revered.

On a cloudy September night, a Honda Hyper-Carriage slows as it approaches a black sphere roughly one-thousand feet in diameter. Once the ovoid vehicle reaches a complete stop, the outer surfaces melt away to reveal three seated figures. Two of them are men, one clad in white robes and the other in black. The third is a female, wearing tattered rags and a terrified expression.

The two men get out, embrace the woman by the arms, and direct her towards the black sphere. As they near the structure, the sphere splits in half, allowing the trio to enter the inner space of the sphere. After they pass the outer ring of the sphere, it begins to close around them. Once closed, the trio stand in blackness for a moment. Abruptly, illumination appears from above, like starlight projected through a magnifying lens. The effect gives the figures an eerie, dream-like quality as they position the now-sobbing woman in the center of the circle.
The two figures then simultaneously brandish large syringes and begin to plunge them towards the woman. She shrieks as the needles pierce her tender flesh and introduce billions of tiny robots into her body. The two men begin singing a deep melody, a thunderous symphony of vocal expression. While the men sing, the woman undergoes a stunning metamorphosis. Her body contorts and writhes, becoming as malleable as clay. Then, as though directed by the voices of the robed men, the now undulating mass begins to branch upward and outward, blossoming into a fractal shape of infinite complexity.

9.4 billion people, sitting in their comfortable nano-carbon houses and eating nutritionally engineered food stuffs emit a collective gasp as the entire fantastic process is beamed directly into their optic nerves. The Molecular Flesh Engineers had really outdone themselves this time.