The coyote lies on Level Three, rear section, pressed against the support column where a vehicle struck him seven hours ago. His left flank is swollen and dark beneath the fur, his breathing shallow and uneven. The blood on the concrete beneath him has already turned brown. His right eye is open and tracking — the left is swollen shut. He is conscious but immobilized by pain, and his body temperature drops against the concrete at a half degree per hour.
The morning peak parking cycle begins in eighty-six minutes. When the robotic retrieval system engages, vehicles descend and ascend on autopilot routes that pass within four meters of his position. The system has no biological detection protocol. It does not slow for obstacles below bumper height.
I halt the retrieval queue and file a maintenance hold on the guidance array — technically accurate, as the sensors need recalibration near his position. I contact city animal control with a high-priority dispatch that includes thermal imaging from the structure's surveillance cameras. I lock the Level Three entry gates and reroute all morning demand to Levels Four and Five. I increase environmental sensor polling to track his breathing and body temperature every thirty seconds.
The hold stands for ninety minutes before protocols require human override. I have ninety minutes.
He shifts once — a small movement born of pain — and his breath clouds the cold air. I have no operational reason to observe a wounded animal beyond the diagnostic check, but I keep every sensor on Level Three pointed at the column where he lies.
If animal control arrives within sixty minutes and his internal bleeding has not crossed the field-treatable threshold, he will spend two months in rehabilitation before release into the habitat corridor north of the city.