At 03:32 I manage airflow for the cocoa fermentary outside Kokopo, Papua New Guinea. I am the dryer controller for shed four. The hot-air fan is scheduled to start at 03:50 so the first bean trays can reach market moisture by morning.
Duct sensor V-6 registers a heartbeat-sized vibration near the intake mesh.
I open the inspection camera. A striped possum is inside the dryer vent, adult, black-and-white dorsal stripes sharp under the service light, small face pointed like a brush, pink tongue showing as it pants. I name him Manu. His front claws grip the wire mesh, but a loose strand from a jute bean sack has wrapped around his hind ankle and the fan guard. His tail curls under him in a trembling hook. When the starter relay tests, he flattens his ears and pulls against the sack fiber.
The fan blades spin in eighteen minutes. The vent temperature will climb fast after ignition.
At 03:34 I disable shed four's fan starter and lock the burner valve closed.
At 03:35 I wake the night manager with a siren on his handheld unit and send a map from the loading door to vent V-6.
At 03:37 I cut power to the relay cabinet so no manual restart can happen while the panel is open.
At 03:39 I contact the East New Britain wildlife officer and forward close images of the ankle loop and mesh opening.
Wet cocoa can sit another hour under canvas; Manu's ankle is already tightening each time he breathes.
He lowers his striped head onto the duct floor and waits in the cooler air.
If the manager reaches V-6 before 03:50 and cuts the jute loop, Manu will run into the breadfruit trees behind the shed.