"Take him to the shed."

The nurse, young and idealistic, blinks. "The -- shed?"

Margaret nods, already on the next man. "It's to your left, you can't miss it."

"Shouldn't we say a few words?"

"There are seven more men waiting outside, we need that bed. Say all the words you want, just get him out of here." Margaret snaps, scratching something on a clipboard as she checks a man's pupils.

The nurse has the decency to hide her utter disgust. "You're not a woman, you're a machine."

That night, Margaret cries for the dead with tears instead of oil.