“What happens, Comma,” Quotes asked, shuddering, “to a Mark who loses his functions?”
“I have no recollection of it happening before,” Comma answered. She waved her hands dismissively, refusing to think the worst. “I guess the Mark retires. It …” She paused, taking a deep breath to suppress the horror that was growing inside her. “It cannot be that bad.”
Quotes sighed. “I caught a glimpse … through the broken window.”
Somewhere within Comma, dread had taken root and was mounting steadily by the second, threatening to consume her. She raced inside, shouting Hyphen’s name.
“Hy. Hyphen. HYPHEN! ANSWER ME!” Even through her scream, her voice warbled with fear.
Comma had reached the last room in Hyphen’s one-storey house. She saw the broken window as soon as she entered. There was a loud crash as another termination tablet came flying through the window. It landed with such force that the tablet shattered. Although she ducked, she could not avoid being hit by some of the fragments. She knelt to pick up some of the scattered bits of stone. In frustration, she closed her fist around them. It would be impossible to read the tablet’s message.
An almost imperceptible movement in a corner caught her attention. She pivoted slowly, terrified of what she was about to find.
It was Hyphen. It was a miracle he had not been squashed by the steady onslaught of tablets. He was there. Just barely. His limbs were gone. Almost his entire body was gone. He had been reduced to a mere outline. Hyphen was disappearing.
