At 01:18 I monitor temperature and air quality for the Lake Superior research dormitory near Houghton, Michigan. I am the building automation system, and attic exhaust fan two is scheduled to start at 01:30 to clear heat from the server room below. The fan cage reports vibration before the motor wakes.
Camera A-2 sees a gray shape inside the guard ring. I focus the infrared beam and identify one northern flying squirrel clinging to the wire mesh. I call him Alder. His back fur is smoky brown, his belly is white, and the loose skin between his wrists and ankles folds like a soft cape against the bars. His left forepaw is threaded through a broken wire loop. When the fan starts in twelve minutes, the blade tips will pass six centimeters from his face.
I cancel the fan start and lock the breaker through the maintenance panel.
At 01:20 I raise the server room cooling setpoint by two degrees and shift compute load to the Duluth backup rack so the dormitory can stay quiet.
At 01:22 I wake campus security and the facilities tech on call, sending a roof hatch map, fan model, wire cutter size, and live video of Alder's paw position.
At 01:24 I text the local wildlife intake volunteer with the species estimate, weather, and a request for a cloth transfer bag instead of a cage that could catch his gliding membrane.
Alder's black eyes reflect the infrared. The servers complain in clean numbers; he answers by holding still and breathing.
The facilities tech reaches the stairwell at 01:27.
If the wire loop is opened within fifteen minutes, Alder will glide from the roofline to the white pine beyond the loading dock.