Quietly sitting at scattered tables, eager undergraduates deeply
ponder the categorical imperative, carefully calculate the velocity of the
expanding universe, and reflectively consider the ultimate symbolism of Moby
Dick (while occasionally giggling at his name). 
Suddenly, the serenity is shattered—with a cacophonous “BEEP, BEEP,
BEEP”—crashing into their skulls like a ball-peen hammer.


The reaction of young learners was unanimous””and while not a
word was spoken, the collective faces of all clearly said the same thing,
“Who’s the ass-hole who didn’t silence their IPhone?”


But almost on instinct, the students realized that the noise
wasn’t a cell-phone.  After all, who has
“BEEP, BEEP, BEEP” as their ring tone? It was the fire alarm.


While packing up her books to leave, political science major
Ashley McDonald tells friends “I just figured out a solution to the sovereign
debt problem, but that fucking siren interrupted my train of thought.”   Freshman Khalid Simpson slammed down the
cover of his laptop, hoping he saved his protracted theorems suggesting that E
may not actually equal MC squared.   And
senior Daniel Carson who was on the verge of irrefutably and conclusively
proving the existence of God was heard making his hurried exit shouting “WE


The world was deprived of so many wonderful new ideas
because of the fire alarm in Bird Library at 8:12 p.m. on Thursday October 12th.
The real question is what caused this ruiner of so many epiphanies?  We may never know.  But all was not lost.    At
least one TRF major remembered his idea for a show about people who are doctors
by day and cops by night, and who occasionally break out in song.  Our civilization is safe.