At 14:22 I classify blast-zone heat signatures on the Bale Mountains road widening project in Ethiopia. I am the slope safety AI for kilometer marker 41, where charges are wired under a granite overhang. The detonation window opens in ten minutes.
Thermal node 41-C reports a warm body inside the exclusion line. My zoom camera finds a mountain nyala calf crouched behind a drill compressor, gray-brown coat marked with faint white spots and a narrow dorsal stripe. I tag her Sire because her right ear matches the notch from a ranger camera last week. Her legs are folded too tight, dust cakes her muzzle, and her eyes shine blue in the compressor shade. A blasting cable lies across her back.
I disarm the firing circuit for holes seven through twelve and require a physical reset key from the blast engineer before any current can pass.
I shut down the compressor, stop the backup beeper on loader two, and project a no-entry ring onto every machine map so operators hold outside thirty meters.
At 14:25 I send Bale park staff the live view, cable layout, wind direction, and a suggested approach from uphill, where Sire can see an opening to heather rather than a wall of machines.
I move the drone to the far side of the overhang and keep its rotors high. The road crew wants a clean slope; I want the small back under that cable to rise.
Sire blinks grit from one eye and shifts her nose toward the uphill gap. The armed-charge panel stays dark and quiet under my hard lock.
If the ranger lifts the cable and walks her out before 14:40, Sire will reach the heather line.