You decide to follow protocol and proceed to pick up the phone to alert your superiors.
One minute passes. You reflect on your decision: was this the right thing to do?
Five minutes pass. Among the frenzy, you hear murmurs concerning one word:
An hour passes. You are hurried to the blast shelter as the shrill screeches of sirens blare deafeningly all around you.
You realize the consequence of your decision.
Even from within the shelter, you can hear and feel the distant explosions of nuclear bombs.
You snap back to reality. You are again in front of the flashing computer screen displaying the incoming missiles. There must be another way to avoid the same fate.
Vera Lynn: We'll Meet Again