The Eleventh Film XVIII
With her comrades gone, the lexicographer felt it was as if the world now hung useless in its orbit.
Not spinning any more.
Limp.
Cernuous.
Nutant.
Forever.
Unlimited.
That final word took her back.
Darkness. She was a child in her father’s car. There was a sign overhead. She saw the word. Then she was too young to understand what the word meant.
Now she knew that the endlessness of this word really was the end.
For thirteen nights she resisted but on the fourteenth morning she suffered a crisis in language and was no longer able to compute. She lay curled on her side as the last of her brain’s charge emptied itself out through her right ear and onto the floor of the ruined building.
BARNABY TAYLOR: Curiosity is Currency 