I am sitting in a hall, or auditorium, or some other largish, dark room with a screen in the front, such that I can’t see anyone else, for the time being, and that programs can be projected at the front.

We are here in between some events, waiting for something else to happen, and it has fallen to me, reluctantly, to choose the program to be viewed while we wait. All I am able to choose is a CBC documentary. It’s not what I would watch, if I had anything else to watch, but I don’t. The rest of the audience isn’t any happier.

Then the program changes, and I realize I’m no longer in control of the diversion, not that I mind. I also realize that the woman to my right is in the program, and the cast is all women. The audience likes this program much better, as I don’t like it as much. And I realize they are all women.

Then there is a baby is on my left. He is alone and not very happy with things. He looks at me, and reaches out. I reach out to him, and he takes my finger. He is happier.

An older woman, his grandmother, comes to get him. She puts her hands on him, looking none too happy--she wants to be part of something that is happening elsewhere. He’s unhappy, too.

I say "Let me take him." All of us understand it is just for the duration of the program. She agrees.

I take him in my arms. I hold him. He puts his head in the crook of my neck, on the left. We stay like that for a while--happy.

I know somehow--I don’t know how--his name is Young Evil, or Young Wicked.

We talk somehow--I don’t know how. And I ask him, "Is your name really (Young Evil/Young Wicked)?" He says, "Yes."

I ask him, "When you get older, will your name be (Old Evil/Old Wicked)?" We laugh.