“I’m afraid the result is quite unequivocal.”

The doctor even appeared to smile faintly, but it was just a trick of the light. Impassive, he held out the report card to Roger, who failed to take it. It hovered in the air between them.

Beside him, Daphne began to sob, quietly.

“What this means…” the Doctor began. He stopped, inclined his head. “Mr Harper, would you like to comfort your wife?”

Roger’s throat felt impossibly dry. Ignoring his wife, he finally took the card; a small act of defiance.

The Doctor coughed softly.

“What this means, Mr Harper, is that your daughter is now officially classified as…”

“A zombie. I know” Roger stated, with bitterness.

“That is not a word of which we approve, Mr Harper. And, as I am sure you also know, I am nevertheless obliged to inform you.”

“I’m…sorry” Roger replied.

The Doctor paused, leaned back in his chair. “Officially, she is Non-Con. Lacking content. Responses below the threshold of awareness, as clinically defined.”

Roger stared at the card.