The marine layer brings in a slight breeze and sways the carriages of the faded ferris wheel. Amblin awakens and sees palm trees through a cracked windshield. She stirs in the passenger seat of her car and tries to recall, sifting through a haze of pain. She remembers, not events, but the sensation of being clever. Of beaming a smart smile and hearing the phrase: "Good imagination and a pile of junk." She sits up, and places her fingertips on the radio.