It was the ring of the telephone that delivered Teresa into the hands of insanity. The ring itself was certainly designed to be pleasant. It had a very low, digital tone--especially compared to those of her day. It would cause the plastic casing of the speaker to rattle ever-so-slightly. The sampling rate of the phone was equally low, giving it a fuzzy, almost-nostalgiac tone. It was from that period of time that, had it not been so tragically short, would have established itself as the golden dawn of the digital era. An era that, years from now, poets could have donned synthesizers outfitted with soundcards from Commodore 64s and sung hushed songs about Teresa and her voyage to the industrial-formica Mecca of liberated womanhood.