In a playground, what looked like a young boy no older than eight stood alone, peering up through tears at the nearby jungle gym. In one hand he held a jumprope, which he had borrowed from his sister, and in the other hand he held a hastily scribbled note. He wore a bow in his hair, and a plain dress he had fashioned out of an old window curtain. He walked slowly toward the gym and began to climb, still whimpering softly.
In the distance stood two people: a tall, light-skinned man in a purple coat, grey vest, black trousers and boots, with a purple bowtie around his neck, and floppy black hair done in a quiff.
Beside him stood a girl in her mid-twenties, she had long brown hair that cascaded down her back, and wore a simple red dress with a jacket and tights, and boots.
The man touched her shoulder lightly and pointed to the boy on the playground, speaking quietly. “Do you see that boy there? He’s the source of the distress signal. Listen… can you hear him crying?