The Cartographer's Apology

The map arrived on her desk via courier with no sender address. It was printed on paper that predated paper. The country it depicted had no name — only borders.

Every river on the map moved when she looked away. When she caught one mid-shift, it froze, embarrassed, then slowly resumed its new course.

She pinned it to the wall of the cartography department's common room with a note: THIS IS NOT A DRILL. HELP YOURSELF.