A standard plot device

"I wish you types would come across the desert at more opportune times," the bureaucrat said. He was aware of how horrid his occupation was to spell for writers, that mishmash of vowels thrown together by the French to annoy the British after the Normans conquered them. Being British, or at least part Welsh, it pained him to have to remember it.

"What would be a good time?" the boy asked. He eyed the man sitting behind the desk with suspicion. More so because the desk was sitting at least a quarter of a mile from any distinguishing objects on the empty plain. He was annoyed he had not simply angled a few degrees in either direction when Sisyphus and he had headed away from the former's mountain.

"Any time besides this. I'm very busy. Well, you're here," the man behind the desk said, "so you're going to have to fill these out." He handed a thick ream of triplicate to each of them.

"I can't read this," Sisyphus said.

"Are you illiterate?"

"No, it's just that the last thing I read was archaic Greek, at least I think that's what you would call it. I'm not sure what these funny marks are, but I can't read them."

The man sighed. He was not even deserving of a name besides "ungodly-word-no-one-can-spell behind the desk", yet here he was forced to interact with named characters, at least in Sisyphus' case. "Do you speak Spanish?"

"No, what's that?"

"I have modern Greek," the man said with a raised eyebrow.

Sisyphus examined the proffered sheets. "Hmm. Phoenician. Close enough." He became engaged with the act of rapid scribbling across the paper.

"What's this word?" the boy asked the man who was becoming rather flustered.

"'Institutional'."

"What's that mean?"

"It means... wait, are you a minor?"

"What's that mean?"

"It means, it means that you are underage." A blank stare. "Too young."

"Too young for what?"

"To fill out these forms. Is this man your parent or legal guardian?" Sisyphus and the boy, having quickly picked up the pattern, glanced at each other and nodded. "Well, then he is the only one who has to fill out these forms."

"In that case we are done," Sisyphus said as he handed the forms back to the man.

"Really?" The man behind-oh fuck it. He was surprised. Usually it took quite some time to fill out all the forms required. "In that case, proceed."

The two walked a ways beyond the desk in the middle of the desert before the boy asked in a conspiratorial whisper, "What where the forms all about?"

"I have no idea," Sisyphus said. "I can't read a word of Phoenician beyond 'lavatory' and 'brothel'."

"Then how did you fill them out?"

"I doubt he can either."