The new autobath was much like the old, a small unit that fitted decoratively into the scheme of the room, not much taller than an upright man, or longer than a man lying down. The mechanism itself, and there was plenty, was effectively sealed. Short of an atomic torch, there wasn't any way to get into it.
Jadiver pryed and poked, but learned nothing. In response to the human voice, it automatically provided all the services necessary to human cleanliness, but there was no direct way to check on the involved mechanism.
He finally called the firm that made it. The usual beautiful robot answered: "Living Rooms, Incorporated. Can I help you?"
"Information," he said. "Autobath unit."
"Sales? New or replacement?"
"Service. I want to see about repairs."
"We have no repair department. Nothing ever wears out."
"Perhaps not, but it becomes defective and has to be replaced."
"Defective parts are a result of wear. Since nothing wears out, no repair is necessary. Occasionally an autobath is damaged, but then it doesn't work at all, even if the damage is slight. It has to be replaced."