I operate like an elevator most of the time, and respond pretty well to the drudgery of repetitive requests summoning me up or down. But sometimes there are people who know how to push my button, the fire-hydrant red one tucked out of the way. They press it just to hear the alarm and maybe bring me to a jarring halt. Normally I'll bite my lip and let it slide, but you surprised me yesterday.

When my alarm button was pushed, you were the building superintendent barking into his microphone that's broadcasting to the whole lift. You warned off the alarm-raiser. And I didn't sound any bells. I didn't stop.

Thank you.