I'm on a dock near the ocean, a wooden promenade populated with small shops along the land. Suddenly a Mexican-looking woman starts screaming and crying near panic for her child. She had forgotten it or something, wrapped in blankets and worn in a sling about her body, and now it appears to be dead.

She pushes it off to me and I unwrap it, bracing for bad news. It appears to be bluish, and hardened as though very dead. But gradually I see tiny signs of movement and life. I shout for a cell phone, and somebody gives me one, but it is a real piece of garbage, paint scratched and faded, and barely working. I try to dial 911, but I can't. First I dial 503-911, nothing happens and then I remember you don't have to dial the prefix. I dial 911 and nothing happens, and the display says 511. I try again, this time 11 and no 9 appears. I delegate someone else in the crowd to dial 911, and tell them that there is a medical emergency with a baby involved. Then I realize that I don't know exactly where we are, so I shout out for someone else to get our address from one of the shopkeepers.

The baby continues to appear nearly dead, but twitching slightly as though wanting to awaken. I think if the ambulance can get here, it'll be ok.