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One Thursday afternoon, as the sea mist rolled in from the Pacific, Don Ignacio noticed something. His neighbor, a young single mother named Señora Rosario, had been crying on her stoop for three days. Her son, Alejandro, had gone to find work in the mines of La Oroya and hadn't called in two weeks. The landline in her kitchen sat like a mute black stone. She had no cell phone. She had no computer.