I'm working in a plant where there are all these chemical-storage things and all sorts of safety precautions need to be taken. It's not a real big place; it's rather old, and the plant part is fronted by a little house - used to be a house, now it's a sort of large office with tables and files, etc. Reminiscent of the 50's, all rather dreary. Nobody's English, but the place seems to be in the center of London (well, if not the actual center, then at least well into urban stuff), and I've just changed apartments, and that's where I live. This place is mostly staffed by men, probably union men, who are very clubby and don't like management telling them what to do, or any interference in the way they do things, which is none too careful or efficient. I'm not management, but part of my job is safety control, and they don't like me already because I'm a woman. I've been trying to talk to this guy in charge about something that I've seen. It has to do with a yellow powder that's highly toxic, and I suspect it's leaking. He won't listen to me, keeps putting me off and evading. There are some others who know what I'm talking about, but they won't or can't get involved. I'm feeling very frustrated, with that nagging, foreboding feeling in my stomach. The day has worn on, and there's a sort of cocktail party after working hours, so everybody's stayed over. (Rouse is here with me, by the way, there was some reason she had to come along and I couldn't take her home in the middle of the day. There's also a stray dog I'm looking after.) I'm trying to work out how to get to talk to people about this problem while they're a sort of captive audience, I'm really concerned. A girl who works here beckons me over to a corner of the room and behind a door where nobody can see us. (The outside door is in the middle of the far wall - it actually faces north - and the door to the factory/plant is up here in the southwest corner; it's propped open.) We talk about this leakage problem a bit, but she doesn't think there's anything we can do, and warns me that I'm liable to get in trouble if I keep after it. I'm arguing that dammit, I have to - somebody has to, or something really bad is going to happen. We go into the plant to look at things, and Rouse comes along. Just inside the door there's this big thing all iron and great big nuts and bolts and suchlike - the whole place seems to be boilers and steel vats and stuff - this thing is maybe 4' high and has a bolted-down cap on it. Rouse jumps around it and I want to get hold of her, when I get a good look at this thing and see, not traces, but quite a lot of that yellow powder has oozed out of the lid. This is terribly dangerous. The stuff is positively deadly if it gets loose. While it's sitting still it's not too bad, but it can't get airborne. (I don't know if it's deadly to inhale or to get it on you.) We look at each other, horrified, and run back inside. I start yelling for everybody to get out, and they hesitate at first, but they do go. There is some question about whether I have the authority to do this, but I really don't care - it's in the back of my mind, and part of me wonders what will happen, but I go on yelling and herding people out. Finally they're all gone and I'm rounding up Rouse and the dog, getting ready to go myself. Down at the end of the room where the outside door is, is a bed and a television set. (Don't ask me why - it just seems like they're part of my personal furnishings, as though this were my "office", and I can lie around and watch game shows when I want to.) Under the bed is a small suitcase I've brought in to change from my outside clothes to work clothes because of my move (something to do with the reason I brought Rouse). I fetch it out and get on the bed to change clothes, which is basically from a big sweaty T-shirt to a cleaner one, and (put on? take off?) my big black boots (with heels). I lay there and watch TV for a bit, then realize I'd better get the hell out, so I round up everybody and go out the door. There's a little vestibule here, and it's night now, and now that I'm here I realize we've got more passengers than I thought. In the shadows of the vestibule is another cat, and now by George there's another dog too. Not the same kind, and I don't know where he came from, and I'm wondering how I'm going to deal with all these animals. My new landlady may not take kindly to 2 dogs and a 4th cat. Also, how am I going to drive the car with all this lot?