There'd been an epidemic, the man had told him. Thirty people had died incandescent with fever, including the mayor. After this, a change in management, but the tuba's acquaintance had declined to elaborate on what he meant by this. He did say that twenty families had left since then, including Charlie and the sixth guitar and their baby. He said no one knew where they'd gone, and he'd told the tuba it was best not to ask.
In "Station Eleven," the narrative reveals a community grappling with the aftermath of an epidemic that resulted in the deaths of thirty people, including the mayor. This health crisis prompted changes in leadership, although the full implications of this shift remain unclear. The conversation highlights the gravity of the situation and the emotional toll it has taken on the people, illustrated by the exodus of families from the area.
Among those who departed were Charlie, the sixth guitar, and their infant, leaving behind uncertainty about their whereabouts. The tuba’s acquaintance emphasizes the discomfort surrounding these disappearances, suggesting that it may be better not to inquire further. This atmosphere of loss and unease underscores the profound impact of the epidemic on the community's stability and connections.
