When I hear an ambulance at a distance, I don't take my good fortune for granted; someone else nearer that sound has to suffer the brunt of its siren blast.
Should the sound approach, as it often does, and one after the other, some nearer to each other, trumpeting the same cause, some further apart but close enough together to shred the nerves of the audient, unwilling and ill willed, I leap to my feet and scream through the window down to the street below, and wave my fist in the air for good measure, "Oh, you think you're cool! 'I'm sooo important! I'm going to an emergency!' Give it a rest already!"
I know of course the driver's just doing a job, and an admirable one. But, like the driver, I have no free will. The driver can't help but to switch on and sustain the wailing even at times when it's unnecessary. Like lunch time. The appetite calls the tune. Less than free will, there's protocol. Rules rule. Less free will than that, the siren must sound. It's the sole purpose of the siren. Therefore, as with the alarm before it, it must be sounded.
I can only pretend I'm not annoyed.
