The dream was shattered by the persistent ringing of an alarm clock. The chattering chime pierced the peacefulness of slumber, but did not fully rouse the figure under the down comforter. It did penetrate the fog of sleep that surrounded her enough for her to fling an arm outside the warmth of the cover, search around the top of the nightstand for the source of the disturbance, and fling it with eerie accuracy out the door and into the living room. The annoying sound faded with distance, and the arm flopped back on top of the cover.

And she still slept.

Time passed, minutes turning into an hour all too quickly. The alarm clock still could be heard, ringing faintly from where it had landed near the couch, but its faithful reminder was not what finally woke her. It was instead her arm, grown cold from its placement outside the blanket that disturbed her rest. The chill of the room penetrated her skin, reaching down to her bones. With the first shiver, her mind began to be dragged away from its pleasant dream.

Then, with a sudden start, she awoke, sitting up straight in bed with the panicked look of one who has overslept. She heard the faint ringing from outside her room, and looked frantically at the empty nightstand.

"Aw, crap."

The cover was flung back, folding over itself, the top end sliding to the floor at the foot of the bed. Had she stayed to watch, she could have seen the entire blanket end up in a pile at the foot of her bed, but instead she flew to her left, rushing into the bathroom to brush her hair and her teeth. She splashed water on her face and looked longingly at the shower, but the angle of the light streaming in her window told her that she had no time. She backed quickly out of the bathroom and rolled over her bed, flinging open the armoire doors and grabbing whatever was close to hand. Looking at her choices, she grimaced, and put back the plaid pants that had been a gag birthday present and picked up a mostly clean pair off the floor.

She closed the cabinet doors and squirmed into her clothes after quickly shucking her pajamas. She dashed around the foot of the bed, still buttoning her pants and slid on the jumble of blanket. She cursed as her feet slid beneath her, the wood floor providing no traction as she tripped and danced. With a final loud curse she managed to fall onto the bed, and sat there for a moment, panting, fully awake and scowling at the world. Then she vaulted over the pile of blanket and dashed into the living room. A quick bend and grab and she caught the alarm clock, turned it off, and tossed it back in the bedroom. It landed on the bed, sitting proudly in the near center of the bed she had finally vacated.

Dashing into the kitchen, she pondered drinking the sludge that was left over from yesterday's attempt to make coffee, but passed on it for her health when it refused to pour. Instead, she grabbed a bagel from the refrigerator and a can of soda. The bagel was jammed in her mouth, the soda held firmly in her left hand as she turned and completed the last section of her morning obstacle course: the couch vault. When she had first bought the piece of furniture the delivery men had placed it nearly dead center in the middle of her living room, directly blocking the path from the kitchen to the door. While she intended to move it someday, this morning, like many mornings previous, she simply ignored it as an obstacle and jumped it.

A few quick steps, and she bounded over the coffee table. One hand reached for the back of the couch, propelling her over and just happening to grab the jacket that had been slung over the back. She pulled it on, checked to make sure the keys were properly in the right pocket, and shoved the can of soda in the left pocket. The door was closed and locked behind her in a matter of seconds, and she dashed down the hall. The stairs proved little obstacle for her, the four flights quickly disappearing under her as she flung herself over the rails and dropped.

She was incredibly glad that she lived near work. The Rose Quarter was one of the oldest sections of the city, a beautiful area that managed to attract fewer people than it ought. There were very few roses and the area was nowhere near a quarter of the city, but it was a nice few blocks. The widow boxes were well-tended, the people were friendly, but the selling point for her was that the wiring in the buildings was much better than anywhere else in the city. She could actually run a computer on the power supplied to her building. That alone was worth the rent; the pretty stuff was incidental.

Of course, its closeness to work was nice, too, especially on days, or mornings, like today's. She sprinted on the sidewalks, dashing into the street when the pedestrian traffic in front of her blocked her path. A few shouted hellos came out of her mouth as she passed acquaintances, they either waved or shouted a greeting at her in return, but one look was enough for them to see she didn't have time to chat, if the hour of the morning wasn't enough of a clue.

She slowed down a block from the Plant, giving her enough time to catch her breath before presenting her badge at the door. The guard gave her a wry look, but kindly refrained from scolding. He knew it was a waste of breath. This girl hardly ever arrived on time. She gave him a quick nod as she passed by, already mentally entering her office. The halls passed by unnoticed as she wove her way around some of her fellow technicians. All too soon, and much too late, she made it to her lab.

Opening the door, she was greeted by the scowling face of her boss.

"Anne, can't you ever be on time?"