At least something possibly positive came out of it. When T and I were trying to get back to sleep (an unsuccessful effort), we got to talking about cats -- one of our neighbors had brought out their kitty, wrapped in a towel, and we had been observing it's reactions to being outside and surrounded by strangers. We never tried to evacuate Nadia during an alarm (she was always much too quick to hide, and there was never a serious fire during her lifetime with us here), and we started speculating about how we might deal with our hypothetical future cats in such a situation. Then he admitted to me that he has started to think positively about the idea of getting a cat again. Not completely, but he's coming around. It's a step in the right direction, for sure; every other time we've discussed the issue, his automatic reaction has been "nope, not ready". So I am hopeful. Maybe in a couple of months.
It's not enough to make up for the fire alarm, though. I hate them so.