"Keep writing."

The harsh command was muffled by the snap crackle pop of a PA system, voice tinged with metal (the robot's speaking again). She winced as she looked back over the list of (blood-stained) names and picked up the pen (to kill) again. Her fingers had cramped so badly she had dropped it in favor of massaging the offending digits, tears rolling down her fat cheeks again. She should hate it, each digit a death sentence written with a ball-point pen.

How many years does Zachary Thompson have left to live?

14.

(she killed him)

(she doesn't regret it)