M is a member of an exercise gym that wants to turn her into a machine.
It’s never been exactly, say, organic, since at the club women (who, on their lucky days, get to watch N gaze upon them lackadaisically from her car seat in the center of the circuit) plod, push, pull, and strain on a series of machines that each promise fewer flabbinesses in targeted areas.
However, the ladies in charge want to ramp it all up. For a “half-off” $25 setup fee, M can receive a technological, computerized device that makes each machine customize itself to her current level and presumably challenge her to go! go! at appropriate times.
She’s not sure yet if she’ll take the bait.
