Confused by her rapid transition from REM sleep, she wasn’t entirely sure where she was or why she was there. Something about a whistle. Something about that was important. Her neck was stiff, one arm was asleep, and she was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Commanding her body to shift for relief, the stack of papers on her chest fell to the floor and scattered. It all instantly came back - she had been reviewing the endless volume of paperwork when exhaustion had overcome her determination to clean out her inbox. Sitting up on the office couch, she rubbed her eyes and threw a disgusted look at the chaotic mass of forms, requests, and status reports strewn about the floor. No rest for the wicked, she thought. As she bent to rearrange the clutter, the distant whistle sounded again. The signal caused her head to snap up, energy suddenly surging through her veins. The whistle was a call for help… an emergency… a rudimentary alarm system for a community that didn’t possess working telephones.
