Krandall family. The Government has deemed this to be your Button Day. We thank you for your sacrifice to your country, and to your people. Your names shall join those in the long Hall in your honour.
Were proud, her father said, and her mother nodded, sincere. Her brother looked as if he were about to weep with pride.
The official continued. Then please, in your own time, push your buttons. May God be with you all.
Her father turned to his wife, his son, and his daughter, and smiled. Ill go first, to show you how easy it is. He pushed the button on the pillar, and it depressed with a loud, satisfying click.
As Laura watched, her fathers face turned red, as if hed been jogging. She remembered how easily flustered he got with exercise, and assumed hed just walked too fast down the corridor, or something. That was when a crimson teardrop slid down his cheek, and plopped fatly onto the hard, white floor.
Laura watched, frozen, as blood began to pour from her fathers eyes, nose, ears and mouth. It ran down his shirt, over the belt that she had bought him for his birthday, and down his trousers. It splattered onto the floor. All at once, his eyes burst like over-ripe plums and hung on his cheeks, still connected by red strings. Liquefied brain ran from his eye sockets.