It was pathetic, Norma thought, how repetitive the traps were becoming. She sidestepped a loose tile which concealed a switch, no doubt a trigger for some spring-loaded spikes or biological weapon. It was as though her captors had long since run out of ideas, but were only now implementing the re-runs. She paused, waiting for the circular saw pendulum to swing past, then darted through the hallway, barely able to contain a tiny sigh. It felt tired and lame-- what had happened to the sense of surprise, to the excitement?