The psychiatrist nodded. "What time was this?"
"About three in the morning," Moore said. "I got up, put on a robe and went to answer it, wondering who it could be at that time. I opened the door and there in the hall was a baby in a basket."
"A baby?" queried the psychiatrist. "In a basket? Are you sure?"
Moore nodded. "And I noticed something else unusual. Out there it was Mars!"
"Out there? Out where?"
"Out in the hall. It wasn't the hall in my apartment building, it was some other hall, and through a window I could see a red desert and canals. There isn't a red desert where I live, or any desert at all. There are no canals either. It was Mars."
"I see," the psychiatrist said, and he drew a thick ellipse around the word on his pad. "Then what happened?"
"I was scared, but I couldn't leave a baby out there in the hall like that. So I picked it up, basket and all, and took it into my room and closed the door. And then—" He gulped and looked out the window at the sky and the tops of buildings. "Here's where the part comes in that's hard to believe."
"Yes? Go on," the psychiatrist prompted.
"The baby turned into a full-grown woman," Moore said.