This story takes place at The Guild's citadel in Iowa in 1956, forty-four years after Mary's.
***
Griselda marched into the Executioners' office. The guard behind the desk ignored her, his fingers clacking over the keys of a typewriter. She tossed the damp packet of papers beside him, but it was only when she shook out her coat, and splashed him with rainwater, that he looked up. The anger faded from his face and his eyes went wide as he recognized her and the medallion she wore. The sound of the keys fell away and he stammered, "How-How did it go?"
Griselda slopped wet bangs from her face. "It was a disaster. My automobile broke down."
The guard glanced at the paperwork. "Um I don't suppose you know what's wrong with it? Never mind. You are a woman."
"Of course, being a woman, how could I know anything about machines?" The guard recoiled, and she added, "I think it might be the generator. Again."
"Right"