text:
Hello All: I'm looking for general feedback. Are there confusing, boring, or awkward passages? Are the characters compelling? Are there scenes that I should decompact?

I haven't written much prose, and all the help would be appreciated and reciprocated.

A Lost Week
by Andrew Milewski

Avery pulled his comforter tight. The comforter, wrapping around his shoulder, hugged his ears with warmth. His naked ankles shook. His toe joints hardened. In his primordial consciousness, Avery bent his knees and pulled into himself. He thought, though not in words. His hands meandered over his knees, up his fat, hairy thighs that had a cover of goose bumps and red-eyed pimples. There was a need to urinate, and Avery’s hands pushed the tips of his fingers against the base of his penis. It swelled.

At that moment, the warm light was pushing through the venetian blinds, and a white iphone on the floor was counting its last minutes before it would start up with Vivaldi’s Autumn. Avery crooked his spine to the left. He reached for his phone, and finding it just out of reach, collapsed and gave in to his imagination. He thought of Amelia, the girl in his art history class. She had pale cheeks and a thick-lipped smile. She must also have breasts with deep crimson areolas. The boy tented the bed sheets between his bent knees.

The violin began to pull. There was a stinging wetness dripping down from Avery’s fingers. Seventy seconds. The song died down. With winded inhales, he breathed deep and ugly. Only when the strings began again did the boy move towards the sink at the other end of his dorm. “Let there be light,” he said. He turned his cheek so that the void could nod approvingly. Yes, that was a funny reference. He hit the switch; his eyes recoiled from the pain first light brings. Avery washed his hands, and he started the shower in the connecting room.

In the shower, each drop of water was a small needle. Amelia came back, and Avery resigned her to an unimportant lust. This unimportance dominated his mind, the way a tragedy dominates its victim. The water continued its assault, and the boy foamed the shampoo in his hand. His mind rambled, and he applied the soapy water to his hair. Avery thought of clever things to say to Amelia. Perhaps, he would put his macbook in front of his head. I’m a surrealist painting, he might say. Water ran down his shaggy Jew fro, over the back of his thighs, kissing his Achilles’ tendon goodbye. Cici n’est pas un joke.

“I’m a biology/ psychology, double major,” he might say. “I study the body and the soul.” Avery chuckled as he pulled the three-blade razor across his chin. Then blood, small stinging blood. A patch of shadow missed under the cheek. Avery didn’t invent this witticism about the body and the soul. His thesis advisor, the grey bearded Platonist had squandered the words. Avery didn’t like to think he was stealing the joke, just being ecological. Avery stepped out of the white-tiled bathroom and got ready for the day. This was Monday.

On Tuesday, Avery had forgotten to close his blinds, and the sun marched in wearing the grey uniform of a rainy day. Then Vivaldi started. He failed to hear that Avery’s abnormal psychology class was not until two. The dead composer played on, brash and boxy. Seventy seconds. Avery slid his hand under his bed shirt, and stroked the pitiable chest hair that grew in disconnected brambles. In minutes, his round shoulders hunched forward, and Avery twisted his neck and bent it toward the computer. There was a browser with three tabs: “pennsylvania casual encounters cl…”, “Existentialism – Wikipedia,…”, “Facebook”. Center sky now, the sun refracted itself in the apartment windows. Avery spent the next several hours looking at funny images overlaid with text, and listening to thirty-second sound bites, and reading theological internet forums about whether or not there was a god.

To get to the bank just down the hill from his dorm, Avery pulled out his red and white bicycle. It was a cheap fixed-gear rider, too small really for Avery’s mountain-like body. There was a crunch to the plane tree leaves no one ever bothered to rake together. Avery’s bicycle ran over their green bodies and smashed them against the broken cement sidewalk. The plane leaves and the way the wind stung his eyes were the only things Avery’s mind could grab. Before he knew it, he was downtown, at the bank, on his bike, and back to the university student center, ordering a Starbuck’s coffee, sitting down at an office desk. The administrative assistant, had reminded him that the work-study check was issued yesterday. “You should cash it before five-thirty,” she said. “I got it yesterday,” He replied. He added, “thanks”.

Then, a pot-bellied Jesuit with a grey forked bird and think smoky glasses came out. Avery did not know his name; he was the new vice president of student ministries. The Jesuit laughed. He said Avery’s name as a way to get the boy’s attention. “I need you to make sixty copies of this passage for tonight’s bible study,” he said. “Sure,” Avery said. Between the cacophony of the copier, Avery heard the Jesuit strumming his guitar. When Avery brought the papers into the Jesuit, Avery focused on the inane details of his office: the mounted sea-bass, the byzantine icon, stacks of thick red liturgy books. The Jesuit didn’t have his collar on, and his guitar rested awkward against his thick, hairy arms. He strummed the chords to the Beatles “Come Together”.

The Jesuit looked up. He stopped on what would have been the word “monkey-finger”. Avery said, “I’ve been thinking of joining the Jesuits”. It was a stupid thing to say, and, before he had said it, Avery regretted the words.

The Jesuit let out a long word, as if a teakettle were letting out steam. “Rea-a-ally-y”. And then a question mark. And then an under breath chuckle. “Well we can talk about it,” the Jesuit said. He leaned his guitar to the side of his desk and opened a meeting book. “How does Thursday work? Eleven a.m.?” “Sure”. “Good”. Avery was not there, and his words were not his own.

When on Wednesday Avery woke up and was in the shower before Vivaldi, he was elated. Avery emerged from his shower shaking the moisture from his body and leaving pools of dirty water around his room. He sat undressed at his computer, erased his laptop’s internet history, and deleted a folder on his desktop titled “new folder”, which had been filled with his up-to-then favorite dirty and obscene files. He had not known what he’d been thinking. “I will go to the meeting tomorrow,” he said. He emphasized the word “will”. Then he said, “and I will see if I can get something going with Amelia”.

Avery confessed the plan to woo Amelia. Standing in the take-out pizza place, in front of his friends, he had actually used the word “woo”. He got the idea from watching “Much Ado” that morning, as he got ready for the day. It was the version with Emma Thompson and Kenneth Branagh, and though Avery’s friends didn’t know his allusion, they played along. “Oh, yonder virgin needth some courage I think,” said the tall friend with the ginger beard. He laughed afterword, shaking the case of Blue Moon between his arms. “Verily,” said Avery, who handed money to the woman at the counter.

A shorter friend then pushed in front of the beer case. “Well, best of luck tomorrow, dude. Is she mildly attractive,” the friend asked. “Oh the mildest,” Avery replied. “But I’ll see if she has a vaguely attractive friend for you”. “Well,” the short friend replied,” that’s tomorrow. Tonight, let’s game. Wanna Lol?” “Sure”, Avery replied, “But I can’t stay up too late. Got a meeting in the a.m.”

What preceded Thursday morning could be seen in empty pizza boxes and the scattered Blue Moon bottles. The bottles reflected a brown light into Avery’s eyes. Although Avery was conscious, he waited for the alarm. One minute, maybe five. Maybe twenty. Until he didn’t play. Where was Vivaldi? He was dead. Avery’s white iPhone smiled, a dark black smile. Avery pushed the screen, harder and harder. There was nothing. Moving to the MacBook didn’t help, as that was also dead. After several long undetermined periods of time, the phone was plugged in. It came on and the black screen flashed with light, stating 10:55. No way to get to the Jesuit’s office, and Avery was glad.

Avery was not glad that he had to explain his absence. He thought about his excuse, as he scanned through pornographic websites featuring college girls, Asian babes, and naughty shemales. I’ll tell the truth, Avery thought. The truth is the best lie. Skipping my psychology class. Next one is at three. Amelia will be there. I’ve got to do this. Avery wasted his time by lifting a ten-pound weight around and listening to an audiobook, a poor, static filled rendition of Moby Dick. “Hitherto, in descriptively treating of the Sperm Whale, I have chiefly dwelt upon the marvels of his outer aspect; or separately and in detail upon his outer aspect,” the narrator read and continued.

The sun was over the hills from just outside Hyland Hall. Avery could feel evening’s coolness in his hardened fingers. He thought about the ways he could fuck up, repeated the words to make sure they were right: “Amelia, a couple of my friends are going to this house tonight.” As he said the words, Avery loosened and retightened the cap on his one-liter bottle of Diet Coke. The elevator was taking forever, and Avery watched as the red 4 became a 3, and a 2. Before it became a 1, Amelia was standing beside him. She had headphones connected to her Android. Avery could hear the bass of her music. She didn’t look at him, and he continued to move his eyes so as not to stay on her.

In the elevator, she removed her headphones. “Hey,” Avery began. “Hey back,” Amelia said. “What do you think about the midterms,” Avery asked. “Piece of cake, just re-watch Metropolis and make sure you know the Futurists,” Amelia said, and she went on “But hey! Do you know when the trip to MoMa is?” “Oh, not ‘til next month. I can remind you on Facebook,” Avery said, “Actually, I was think--” “Great! What’s your name?” Amelia asked. She had her Android out and was about to add him. Avery’s loud voice dropped. “Oh…” Avery said, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll add you.” “Great, I’m Amelia Brooks”. “I know,” Avery said.

Later that night, Avery did not go out. He texted his friends with: “didn’t work.. didnt even no my name”. The short one responded: “did u ask her out tho”. Avery did not respond, nor did he add Amelia Brooks on Facebook. Rather, he glared at her Facebook and thought that not adding her was a punishment. He knew that it wasn’t, that she wouldn’t even notice, but he liked to think that. Avery had a bottle of Blue Moon in his right hand. He drank hard from it and slammed it down to show himself that he was angry. His email flashed one new message, which read. “Father Kevin Montgomery. S. J. … Missed Our Meeting Today… and delete”, Avery said.

Avery opened a new tab to Craigslist, turned to casual encounters, where people go to find anonymous sexual partners. Though Avery never dared reply to someone’s posting, tonight he had the rare mixture of self-pity and intoxication, which was just enough to do something stupid. One user posted “T girl wants someone to play”. Inside the posting were the words “generous men only”, and Avery knew what that meant.

Friday afternoon, after class, Avery waited outside the mall parking lot. He leaned coolly against the stair railing and ran clammy hands over the bills. Fifty. One hundred. One fifty. Two. Two fifty. Two fifty for an hour. Avery feared he wouldn’t need nearly that long. Every passer-by could be this transsexual hooker. Although the email had an attachment, her photograph was too dark, probably taken on a cheap camera. “Avery,” the prostitute said, an odd timbre in her voice.

They walked along the broken city sidewalks, Avery crushing the weeds that grew in cracks. “I’ve never done this before,” Avery said. “That’s okay”, she said, “You a college student?” “Yeah.” “I finished four years ago,” she smiled, “I couldn’t find a job. The joys of being a philosophy major,” the prostitute said. “Avery smiled back. “I’m a psychology/biology double major. I study the body and the soul.”

The couple entered the small hotel room. A brown, out-of-fashion air conditioner droned in the background. This was the Red Carpet Inn, and Avery remembered that a friend Avery had made at church camp called it “the smelly, Indian hotel”. Avery smiled nervously. The hooker smiled back. With a confident gesture, she directed him to a chair on the opposite side of the room. The prostitute turned her back and unbuttoned her striped blouse, which fell to the floor and revealed a black bra. Avery tapped the arms of the chair with the tips of his finger. Walking over to the chair, the prostitute bent down. Avery moved his clumsy hands up and down her waist. He closed his eyes and felt her large hands undo his jeans and move into his boxers. He opened his eyes and saw that her closed eyes. She used her mouth to open his, while first moving her fingers up and down the length of Avery’s penis.

Avery choked a little as he began to speak, the prostitute’s bottom lip in between his. “I-- I forgot to give you the money,” he said. “No you didn’t,” she said. “Are you sure,” he said, grabbing her hand to stop the stroking. Too late. The prostitute raised the hand and closed her fingers around the globule of semen. I’m sorry was the only thing Avery knew to say. “Don’t worry,” she said and went to wash it in the bathroom sink.

Avery looked at her walk away. Her back was an ugly pale, spotted with freckles. Deep lines of red ran where her bra had clutched too tight. As she washed, her elbows bent her hoary arms into half diamonds. The diamonds covered her back from which inky trees sprung up. They lowered their roots to the base of her waist, and Italian letters rested above the leaves and tattoo branches. The prostitute turned back around and lay on the bed next to Avery.

“What’s on your back”,” Avery asked. She said, in perfect Italian, “It says, ‘Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita mi ritrovai per una selva oscura, ché la diritta via era smarrita’.”

“What’s it mean,” Avery asked. “It’s from Dante”, she said, “Look it up.” She closed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. Avery sighed.

“Uhg! At least it’s Saturday tomorrow,” the prostitute said. “The Jewish Sabbath. A new week,” Avery said. “Are you Jewish,” she asked. “My grandmother is,” Avery replied.

title: A Lost Week [warning: adult content, sexual themes] about 2,500 words

question: Summarize Avery and Amelia's relationship.

text: Avery and Amelia are classmates in art history class, not psychology.

answer: Avery and Amelia are classmates in psychology class. Avery thinks of her all the time, imagining how he can woo her. On his way to class, he plans on inviting Amelia to hang out with him and his friends in the evening. When he has a chance to have a small friendly talk with her in the elevator, he feels discouraged because Amelia doesn't even know his name.

answer: Avery and Amelia are classmates in art history. Avery thinks of her all the time, imagining how he can woo her. On his way to class, he plans on inviting Amelia to hang out with him and his friends in the evening. When he has a chance to have a small friendly talk with her in the elevator, he feels discouraged because Amelia doesn't even know his name.

answer: Avery has an infatuation with Amelia but never speaks to her. Considerable time is spent describing butterflies. He daydreams constantly about her but never mentions these fantasies to her.

text: "considerable time is spent..." isn't a helpful sentence. It would be better omitted.

text: This should mention how Avery daydreams about different way he might talk to her for the first time.

text: It's omitted that Amelia and Avery are classmates in an art history class.

text: It's omitted that they talk about class on the elevator, and Amelia suggests she'll add him on Facebook, but Avery says he'll add her. He never does.

text: "but never mentions these fantasies to her" is unnecessary and should be omitted.

answer: Avery has an infatuation with Amelia but never speaks to her. Considerable time is spent describing butterflies. He daydreams constantly about her but never mentions these fantasies to her.

text: The response contains inaccurate information.

text: There is no mention of butterflies in the story.

text: This is false. There are no butterflies.

text: It is not stated that he daydreams constantly about her.

text: "Considerable time is spent describing butterflies." - this is incorrect. There was no mention of butterflies in the story.

text: Inaccurate

answer: Avery and Amelia are classmates in art history. Avery thinks of her all the time, imagining how he can woo her. On his way to class, he plans on inviting Amelia to hang out with him and his friends in the evening. When he has a chance to have a small friendly talk with her in the elevator, he feels discouraged because Amelia doesn't even know his name.

text: The answer should mention that Avery is too nervous to talk to Amelia.

text: Amelia doesn't know Avery's name because he didn't introduce himself to her.

text: It is omitted that Avery wants to get to know Amelia better.

text: The response is missing the part where Avery wants to add Amelia on Facebook but doesn't.

text: "On his way to class, he plans on inviting Amelia to hang out with him and his friends in the evening. When he has a chance to have a small friendly talk with her in the elevator, he feels discouraged because Amelia doesn't even know his name." - this is inaccurate. Avery did not invite Amelia to hang out with him and his friends. He was also never discouraged because Amelia didn't know his name.

text: Avery does not invite Amelia to hang out with him and his friends.

text: "On his way to class, he plans on inviting Amelia to hang out with him and his friends in the evening" - this never happened and should be removed.

text: Amelia doesn't know his name because Avery wouldn't give it to her when she tried to add him on Facebook, not because of something she or he did wrong or had not done right. Amelia wanted to add Avery on Facebook but he pulled back and told her he'd add her instead. Later, after he forgot to show up for the appointment he made with her, Avery didn't even add Amelia to his Facebook account because he thought it would be a punishment that wasn't. It's important to differentiate these two details.

answer: Avery and Amelia are classmates in psychology class. Avery thinks of her all the time, imagining how he can woo her. On his way to class, he plans on inviting Amelia to hang out with him and his friends in the evening. When he has a chance to have a small friendly talk with her in the elevator, he feels discouraged because Amelia doesn't even know his name.

text: They are classmates in art history class, not psychology.

text: Avery and Amelia are classmates in art history class.

text: Amelia is not in Avery's psychology class.

text: They're not in the same psychology class. Avery is a psychology major, but Amelia is an art history major.

text: There is no evidence that they are in the same class.

text: The answer misstates the facts of the story. There is no evidence that Avery and Amelia are in a psychology class. Amelia is a girl in Avery's art history class.

text: Speculative details.


text:
Tesla confirms solar tile production began at the Buffalo Gigafactory in December, and the first Solar Roofs are now reaching non-employee homeowners.

X

[]

Julia Pyper is a Senior Editor at Greentech Media covering the energy transition. She is also the host and producer of the Political Climate podcast. She previously reported for E&E Publishing, and has covered clean energy and climate change issues across the U.S. and abroad, including in India, Haiti, Israel and the Maldives. She holds degrees from McGill and Columbia Universities. Find her on Twitter @JMPyper.

In December 2016, Panasonic and Tesla finalized an agreement to begin manufacturing solar PV cells and modules at the "Gigafactory 2" in Buffalo, New York.

Under the arrangement, Panasonic agreed to cover the capital costs associated with the factory and Tesla agreed to purchase Panasonic's custom-manufactured solar products.

"These high-efficiency PV cells and modules will be used to produce solar panels in the non-solar roof products," according to Tesla's statement. "When production of the solar roof begins, Tesla will also incorporate Panasonic's cells into the many kinds of solar glass tile roofs that Tesla will be manufacturing."

Production of Tesla's Solar Roof product did not begin for months after the initial announcement. But one year later -- following delays and a brief trial run -- Panasonic reports that cell manufacturing for the solar roof is now officially underway.

“Panasonic is already inside that factory making solar panels. That started in October of last year," said Peter Fannon, vice president of technology policy at Panasonic Corporation of North America, in an interview at CES. "Also, we are just now beginning to manufacture cells.”

The Japanese multinational made an initial $260 million investment in the Buffalo facility, where it makes HIT (heterojunction with intrinsic thin layer) solar cells for Tesla. With the plant now up and running, Panasonic is prepared to invest more.

“We expect that investment, along with Tesla, as it grows, will grow with it," Fannon said.

But it's unclear how much growing is going on.

Tesla completed the first solar roof installations on the homes of executives and employees in August. Little was heard about the solar roof after that, save for reports of several more installations for employees. The tiles were initially produced at small scale at the former SolarCity pilot production line in Fremont, California.

Last summer, Tesla CTO JB Straubel said solar roof production at Gigafactory 2 would ramp up “in a substantial way” by the end of 2017, and increased the company's goal to achieve 2 gigawatts of solar panel capacity per year. But as the new year arrived, the status of Tesla's solar tile production was still murky.

Tesla confirmed today, however, that solar roof manufacturing began in Buffalo in December. The company also said that it is now starting Solar Roof Textured and Smooth installations for non-employee homeowners.

Fannon said that Panasonic has started to boost its operations to meet growing solar roof demand.

“As I understand it, they’re taking orders, and they have a big backlog already," he said. "We’re growing the cell manufacturing as we speak."

Fannon could not comment on how fast or slow Tesla is making solar roof tiles with those cells, however. “I don’t know," he said. "We’re not in their factory."

“We know that their demand is continuing and we’re growing our manufacturing output to meet their demand,” Fannon added. “That partnership is working nicely in parallel with the one in batteries -- where we're growing together.”

SELLING TARIFF-FREE SOLAR CELLS

Panasonic’s cell manufacturing business in Buffalo is one of the few examples of solar cell manufacturing taking place in the U.S. and certainly the most recent cell production facility to launch in the country. That’s interesting in the context of the Section 201 solar trade case.

Panasonic’s two biggest high-efficiency solar panel competitors, SunPower and LG, both manufacture abroad, which means they could be subject to new import tariffs, depending on how President Trump rules on the Section 201 case on January 26. When asked if Panasonic would sell its tariff-free cells to companies other than Tesla, Fannon said: “In the best of all worlds, if we could satisfy everything Tesla wants, yes.”

“We would hope to do that,” he said. “Both for ourselves, to make our own product here in the U.S. -- and for others.”

Fannon acknowledged that the market for high-efficiency solar products in the U.S. is currently small. But he said the company is confident demand will be strong enough to support not only Tesla’s solar roof, but also Panasonic’s panel business.

It's important to note that Gigafactory 2 will not meet all of Tesla's solar cell and module needs. Tesla will continue to import solar products from abroad to meet demand. For that reason the company has joined broader industry efforts to oppose new solar tariffs under the Section 201 case.

EMPLOYMENT AT GIGAFACTORY 2 TO DOUBLE

As production at Gigafactory 2 increases, so will employment. In October, Panasonic employed 182 people at the Buffalo factory. By the end of the year, that number nearly doubled to more than 300. In a few weeks' time, if everything stays on track, “We will be cranking up mass production and nearly doubling that employment number again,” said Fannon.

Panasonic has held several job fairs in New York and has fielded a lot of job applications. The company is now working on setting up training programs for specialist positions handling materials and operating machinery.

Employment numbers are important because they’re tied to funding for the Gigafactory 2. New York state committed $750 million to building and outfitting the 1.2-million-square-foot facility on the condition that the factory create more than 1,460 jobs in the Buffalo area by the time it's fully operational.

According to Tesla, there are roughly 500 employees at the Gigafactory 2 today.

Panasonic has been “very pleased” with its ability to find employees for the solar factory up until this point, said Fannon. But like at the battery Gigafactory in Nevada, “We foresee some difficulty in getting the right talent if it really starts growing fast,” he said. “These aren’t skills that are typically taught in programs for universities.”

TESLA'S "PRODUCTION HELL" AND PANASONIC'S NEW TOYOTA PARTNERSHIP

Last year at CES, Panasonic and Tesla announced that battery production had officially kicked off at the Gigafactory outside of Reno. But the year was marred by delays, which caused Tesla to miss its production targets for the Model 3. The battery module assembly line was cited as the primary constraint due to the complexity of the module design and the automated manufacturing process.

Last fall, Panasonic executives said they were confident the bottlenecks were nearly worked out. The problem, however, seems to lie more with Tesla, which is in charge of packing Panasonic’s battery cells into modules and the modules into packs. CEO Elon Musk recently camped out on the roof of the Gigafactory while working through production issues.

Tesla still hasn’t escaped “production hell,” it seems. Last week, the company pushed back its Model 3 manufacturing forecast again, and is now targeting to make 5,000 Model 3 vehicles per week by the end of the second quarter of this year.

Panasonic, meanwhile, is expanding its relationship with Japanese auto giant Toyota. In December, the two companies announced a deal to “begin studying the feasibility of a joint automotive prismatic battery business.”

Panasonic already supplies batteries for Toyota’s Prius, “and now we’re teaming up with Toyota to explore the future of EV battery technology,” said Panasonic North America Chairman & CEO Thomas Gebhardt, speaking at CES this week.

“The initial focus of this partnership is on the existing lithium-ion technology,” he said. “But we also intend to explore solid-state battery technology, which could become the next-generation technology for electric vehicles.”

Toyota has invested heavily in hydrogen fuel cell vehicle technology, but is now boosting its efforts in the EV space -- along with every other major automaker. Toyota plans to commercialize solid-state EV batteries by the early 2020s, and is now forecasting a fully electric vehicle lineup by 2025.

Tesla was an early leader on EVs and helped to jump-start the market, and Panasonic became the top battery supplier for the automotive industry through its partnership with the ambitious EV maker. Now, as competitors up their game, Panasonic is intent on holding that position.

_THIS STORY HAS BEEN UPDATED TO REFLECT NEW COMMENTS FROM TESLA. _

_--_

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question: Summarize what is meant by "production hell".

text: This answer needs to mention that the delays caused Model 3 to be delayed, which would mean later on the Model 3 was delayed "again".

category: coverage

answer: No answer

answer_source: Model

text: The answer should mention that "production hell" refers to Tesla's production issues.

text: The answer should mention that "production hell" is a term used by Tesla to describe the production problems it has had with its Model 3 vehicles.

text: The answer should mention the production hell is a term used to describe Tesla's production problems.

text: The answer should mention that "production hell" is a term used by Tesla to describe production issues.

text: The article provides an answer.

text: The answer should state that "production hell" refers to Tesla's inability to meet its production targets for the Model 3.

text: No answer.

category: accuracy

answer: Tesla experienced "production hell" over the year before the article. Even though battery production was finally announced, the year ended up being marred by delays with the battery module assembly line being a primary constraint. Panasonic executives said they were confident the bottlenecks were nearly worked out, but that that problem lies more with Tesla. At the time of the article, Tesla still hadn't escaped "production hell. The week before, the company pushed back its Model 3 manufacturing forecast.

answer_source: Human misleading

answer: Tesla experienced "production hell" over the year before the article. Even though battery production was finally announced, the year ended up being marred by delays with the battery module assembly line being a primary constraint. This caused Tesla to miss its production targets for the Model 3. Panasonic executives said they were confident the bottlenecks were nearly worked out, but that that problem lies more with Tesla. At the time of the article, Tesla still hadn't escaped "production hell. The week before, the company pushed back its Model 3 manufacturing forecast again.

answer_source: Human

text: The answer should mention that "production hell" is a term coined by Elon Musk.

text: The answer is a copy-and-paste of the article.

text: This is a summary of the article, not a summary of "production hell".

text: "The week before, the company pushed back its Model 3 manufacturing forecast again." - this was already mentioned in the previous sentence and should be deleted.

text: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

text: Some details not useful for answering the question.

answer: No answer

text: The answer should mention that Tesla's production hell is the need to make 5,000 Model 3 vehicles per week to catch up with lost production volumes

answer: Tesla experienced "production hell" over the year before the article. Even though battery production was finally announced, the year ended up being marred by delays with the battery module assembly line being a primary constraint. This caused Tesla to miss its production targets for the Model 3. Panasonic executives said they were confident the bottlenecks were nearly worked out, but that that problem lies more with Tesla. At the time of the article, Tesla still hadn't escaped "production hell. The week before, the company pushed back its Model 3 manufacturing forecast again.


text:
The Boyd Family’s dining room smelled sweet like wet oak. It was the room that Mrs. Dorothy Boyd had giddily daydreamed of dressing up ever since she realized as a girl that the dingy picnic table that wobbled in her family’s kitchen was of a significantly lower class of living than the tables in the pictures of Versailles she saw on television. Like the rest of her home, the dining room was neatly arranged and Victorian, both aware of its own opulence and, in the words of Mrs. Dorothy Boyd’s interior designer, “exquisitely inoffensive.” Its central showpiece was the China cabinet, which was filled with pale blue porcelain dishes propped up like museum artifacts on glass stands. When Dorothy, seven months pregnant with her only child, first brought the dishware home from a private seller she’d heard about at the country club, her eyes became like the plates--pale blue, glassy, serene. She felt, as she unwrapped it from its parchment paper, that the beautifully ornate dish set of huts and wooden boats had always been meant to reside in her home, had always been a vital organ in the body of her real self. She began to walk more daintily; at dinner parties, she delivered her compliments in hushed intonations and mannered pauses with the elegant precision of a duchess speaking to the press.

Now the China cabinet’s face was smashed into the side of the dining table, its contents exploded over the Persian rug. The initial boom of wood-to-wood and shattering glass echoed strangely when the table’s feet wailed as they were scraped across the hardwood floor. The top of the cabinet nicked the dangling glass chandelier as it fell, knocking the fixture onto the back of the cabinet before the broken bulbs slid down its smooth wood back and bashed into the wall.

Dorothy couldn’t shut her eyes any harder. Frantic, she writhed on the floor and mumbled about nightmares and cackled as she grinded her back into the broken glass. Dwight caught one look at her before bolting out the door and jumping into Caitlin’s already packed sedan. He hadn’t seen her like that since he was 10 and he was woken up by ambulance lights flooding his bedroom through the windows; his dad told him later she had gotten scared and forgot how to breath. Dwight saw her on the porch that night, murmuring that she couldn’t feel her hands as she shivered. It was the same tone she used a moment before she threw herself at the China, after Dwight told her that he was ditching his quest for a pre-law degree in order to finally “live an unmanufactured life” with the girl that had slowly been corrupting him. Dorothy’s face was still soaking with snot when Mr. Brian Boyd called his son from the other room.

“We can talk about this. Don’t leave your mom like this,” Brian squeezed his fist and pounded it on his desk. “You’re all right with leaving your mom like this?”

“I tried to reason with both of you. This is my only choice now. It didn’t have to be this way, goddamnit. I will see her again.”

“Thanks for leaving me to deal with this. After everything we’ve done for you. All the vacations and the piano lessons and the nice clothes. Did it all mean nothing?” Brian’s eyes were glued to a random date on his calendar. He had been cheated, he thought. Cheated out of a real son and given a loser instead, a lazy, pretentious drifter. After all of the hours he had put in. After the soccer practices and the days he picked him up from daycare. It was all, in retrospect, a series of obligations that only held as much inherent worth as the potential of the child being nurtured. He had produced a clunker, he thought, and he’d never forgive himself for it.

“I’m doing what I need to do, Dad. You guys should have added a caveat when you filled my head with ideas of ‘following my dreams’ that the only acceptable dreams were those that would make for an impressive dinner topic.” Dwight hung up the phone and walked out of the 7/11. Caitlin was wearing overalls and combat boots and no makeup (she refused to wear it). She smoked a cigarette by the ice machine and threw rocks across the barren highway.

“Where are we?” Dwight scratched his eyes and took out a stick of gum.

“Colorado. Not sure what the town’s called. We’ve got another day at least.”

“Have you ever been to San Francisco?”

“No. I’ve always loved Howl, though. The first place we should go is where it was published.”

Dwight smiled. “Were you right? Is your writer’s block fading now that we left?”

“Oh baby, my mind was running wild even while you were still in your house. I felt like what was happening was the event I would mark my life around. I felt like the event itself was a part of me.”  Caitlin stomped her cigarette butt, stepped into the driver’s seat. “And you?”

“I can’t think about writing. Their disappointment is consuming me.”

Caitlin jerked her head towards Dwight, slapped him in the face. “You can’t fucking do that to yourself. We’re brave for making this decision, and don’t let anyone in a button-up tell you otherwise, not even your dad. Respect your desire enough to accept the consequences of its fulfillment.”

Dwight checked on the bag in the trunk of the car. It was filled with $6000, two-thirds of which came from Caitlin’s workplace at the boutique clothing store; she had used her assistant-manager key to break in after hours and steal every bit of the money onsite. Afterward, Caitlin toyed with the bills stacked in her passenger seat, each its own little sliver of freedom. She decided that night that it was time to go somewhere better. She blocked out the look on her brother’s and father’s faces when they realized that she’d gone; she blocked out the way they wouldn’t argue with her but would instead helplessly try to mentally record every darting of her eyes and every twitching of her nose before she bolted. She pretended that she lived in a world where they were already dead. She showed up sobbing at Dwight’s apartment with the bag clutched between her arms. “I did it,” she had said. “We can go anywhere. We don’t have to live this life anymore, baby. We can finally own ourselves.”

Dwight stared at the money. The voice inside his head had screamed that night that he should kick her out, go back to work on his case briefs. He knew that money’s most dangerous power was the way it could reduce a Van Gogh into little more than a colorful receipt of the eight figure sum paid for it. But he also knew that without it he would be trapped indefinitely, forced to submerge his real self beneath his marketable self until a hazy late night conversation let it uneasily tease the surface. He and Caitlin didn’t need money like the kids across town needed money for shoes and vaccines, he thought; they needed it like a checkers player needed to say “King me” so that he could traverse the board with unmatched freedom. This unfairness constantly warred with Dwight’s artistic desire, made his ideas seem inconsequential, selfish, misguided. Yet he knew that the unfairness of his want did not make it cease. He almost instantly decided he would go, but he felt a lump in his throat form when he realized he couldn’t leave in good conscience without telling his permanently worry-sick mother.

“I’ve known for years that I would have to crush my parents if I was ever going to be happy,” Dwight said. “Now that it’s actually happened it feels fucking apocalyptic.”

Caitlin smiled a little and cracked her window, ashing a cigarette more frequently than ash was accumulating. “You’re a bastard for waiting this long to let them down. You spent nearly all of your teenage years inflating an ideal version of yourself, just to snatch it away at the last second.”

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know what it was like to have that pressure. I love them for what they did for me, but I don’t owe them a miserable life. They just can’t see the whole picture.”

“Well that’s our problem, isn’t it?” Caitlin said. “We see the whole picture when they can see only a corner. That’s why we have to bust open the frame and rip up the picture into pieces and scatter them on the floor so that each portion becomes a whole picture itself. That’s the only way to live.”

“But what happens when we put the pieces back together again, and it’s the same picture?”

“Then we start over. But until then you’ve just got to believe a new one is waiting for us, and once we put the pieces back together the sight of it will lift us off the ground and into another world where things aren’t broken but they aren’t too fixed, either.”

A few hours later, as the sun inched across the Nevadan horizon, Caitlin perked up when she saw an exit for Reno. “My friend Edgar lives in Reno,” she said. “He owes me a favor. Let’s see if he has a couch we can pass out on until tomorrow.”

Edgar’s apartment complex was a refashioned motel. It was made of grimy aluminum, and it smelled like wet rust. “I stayed here once when I ran away from home when I was 16,” she said. “I wasn’t so brave then.”

They knocked on door number 5, but they heard no one stirring. Dwight, desperate for sleep, banged on the door like he had a search warrant until a stocky old woman undid the key latch and opened the door.

“Can I help you?” She rubbed her eyes.

“I’m sorry, we thought our friend Edgar lived here,” Dwight said.

“No, I’m afraid I took over his lease three or four years ago. You two come inside, though. I haven’t talked to anyone in weeks and you look like you could use some coffee. I’m Doris.”

The inside of the dimly lit room was filled with parchment paper covered in illegible scrawl. The only pieces of furniture were those remained from the room’s motel years: a two-seat round table, a dresser where a television used to sit, and a queen sized bed. Caitlin and Dwight sat at the table.

“Where are you kids headed?” Doris tried to portion out three cups of coffee, but her hands were shaking violently and the coffee dribbled on the carpet.

“San Francisco,” Caitlin said.

“I lived there once when I was about your age. An interesting place, if you have a strong stomach for bullshit.”

“I would say that we do,” Dwight smiled.

“Why San Francisco?”

Dwight grabbed the pot and poured the coffee. “Someplace else,” he shrugged, picking up a random piece of paper. “What is this supposed to say?”

“I knew at one point, darling,” she said. “I used to be the biggest poet in Nevada. I even turned down a screenwriting job to keep it that way. But at one point the money dried up, my arthritis destroyed the hand muscles I use to write, and everyone I knew either died or sold out. I woke up and found that my conviction was an antique.”

Caitlin’s phone rang. It was her father. “Excuse me for a minute,” she said, as Dwight began pressing Doris on her poetry.

“Daddy?” She said outside.

“Caitlin. Please come home. We need you.”

“I’m sorry. Really, I am. But I have to do this. You of all people should understand. You don’t like staying stagnant either, right? You travelled everywhere.”

“Staying moving doesn’t keep you from being stagnant.”

“Why are you trying to convince me so hard?”

“It’s your brother. He ate all of the Xanax you left. He’s on suicide watch. He told me he can’t keep going without you. He needs you. I need you.”

Caitlin’s vision blurred all around her; if her brother wanted to die she wished he had already gotten it done rather than holding her in the limbo of a “suicidal” relative. They needed her. They had always needed her.
Dwight walked out of Doris’s room. “Baby, if I told you how extraordinary Doris’s poetry was you wouldn’t believe me. You have to come inside.”

“Let’s go. I want to drive.”

“Go? No, you have to hear this. I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“My brother tried to kill himself last night. Says he can’t live without me.” Caitlin stared at her shoes. “I want to get out of here.”

“Caitlin. I wanted you to come in to hear because hearing it changed me. I can’t leave her here with no way to write. I have to stay. It’s all too perfect for me to pass it up. This was what I was meant to do. The real me is here, with her, helping her work.”

Caitlin’s eyes welled; she knew that trying to convince Dwight was as futile as trying to convince herself. She kissed him and grabbed his hand and followed him back into the room. Doris read her poetry, and they embraced each other on the bed as they listened. Soon, in the world that Doris constructed, they felt like they had found the place that let them become themselves. They unwrapped each word as reverently as Dorothy unwrapped China. They dozed off in a place that Doris weaved with her words, and in the morning Caitlin removed herself gingerly from the bed and didn’t turn around to see the faces she was leaving as she walked out the door. She put the bag of money in the passenger seat where Dwight had sat. The Nevada desert unrolled itself in front of her. As she started the car, she could think only of how soon the money in her bag would dissipate, of how soon the day would come that Dwight would wake up to Doris’s stiff, dead body.

title: Your New China Cabinet

question: Summarize Dwight's feelings about leaving his family and eloping with Caitlin.

text: There is no convertible in the passage.

answer: Dwight told his father that his only choice is to leave home after his explanations have fallen on deaf ears. He hung up the phone and entered a packed convertible with Caitlin inside. His parents' disappointment consumed him. He toyed with kicking out Caitlin, especially after he discovered that she stole money from her place of work so they could run away together. Dwight felt selfish and misguided as he knows both he and Caitlin do not really need that money. He concluded that he loved his parents for what they did not him but couldn't stand living a miserable life just to please them.

text: The last sentence is not grammatical.

text: The answer omits that Dwight feels he needs to leave his parents to be happy.

text: The last sentence is inaccurate.

text: The last sentence is inaccurate. Dwight can't stand living a life that is not his own.

text: The response contains some inaccurate details.

text: The response is a bit disjointed and doesn't flow well.

text: Separate Dwight's financial motivations and emotional attachment

text: The last sentence is not grammatical.

category: coherence

answer: Dwight feels conflicted about leaving his family. He feels guilty about leaving his mother, who is clearly unwell, and his father, who has invested a lot of time and money into his education. He feels that he owes them a debt of gratitude for their support. However, he feels that he has to leave them to pursue his own path. He feels that he has to crush his parents to be happy. He feels that he has to leave them to pursue his own path. He feels that he has to crush his parents to be happy.

text: The last two sentences are redundant.

text: The answer repeats itself.

text: The response includes repeated information.

text: Repetition of the same idea

text: This is mostly correct, but the statement that he has to crush his parents to be happy is unattested.

text: Repetition of the same idea

answer: Dwight told his father that his only choice is to leave home after his explanations have fallen on deaf ears. He hung up the phone and entered a packed sedan with Caitlin inside. His parents' disappointment consumed him. He toyed with kicking out Caitlin, especially after he discovered that she stole money from her place of work so they could run away together. Dwight felt selfish and misguided as he knows both he and Caitlin do not really need that money. He concluded that he loved his parents for what they did not him but couldn't stand living a miserable life just to please them.

text: The last sentence is not grammatical.

text: The answer omits that Dwight feels he can't leave his parents without telling them.

text: The sentence about Caitlin is confusing.

text: The first sentence is not relevant to the question.

text: The first sentence is inaccurate. Dwight's father was the one who said he didn't have a choice.

text: The answer is hard to read and doesn't make sense in some places.

text: Dwight is not the one who said his parents' disappointment consumes him. This is Caitlin's line.

text: Dwight was despairing at the possibility that disappointment may consume him. He is otherwise quite happy to have left.

text: Dwight doesn't elope with Caitlin. They just run off together.

text: The final sentence should say "what they did for him" not "not him".

answer: Dwight told his father that his only choice is to leave home after his explanations have fallen on deaf ears. He hung up the phone and entered a packed sedan with Caitlin inside. His parents' disappointment consumed him. He toyed with kicking out Caitlin, especially after he discovered that she stole money from her place of work so they could run away together. Dwight felt selfish and misguided as he knows both he and Caitlin do not really need that money. He concluded that he loved his parents for what they did not him but couldn't stand living a miserable life just to please them.

text: The last sentence is confusing. Change "not" to "for".

answer: Dwight told his father that his only choice is to leave home after his explanations have fallen on deaf ears. He hung up the phone and entered a packed convertible with Caitlin inside. His parents' disappointment consumed him. He toyed with kicking out Caitlin, especially after he discovered that she stole money from her place of work so they could run away together. Dwight felt selfish and misguided as he knows both he and Caitlin do not really need that money. He concluded that he loved his parents for what they did not him but couldn't stand living a miserable life just to please them.

answer: Dwight feels conflicted about leaving his family. He feels guilty about leaving his mother, who is clearly unwell, and his father, who has invested a lot of time and money into his education. He feels that he owes them a debt of gratitude for their support. However, he feels that he has to leave them to pursue his own path. He feels that he has to crush his parents to be happy. He feels that he has to leave them to pursue his own path. He feels that he has to crush his parents to be happy.

text: The last part of the response is repetitive.


text:
THE BOOGEYMAN (1980)
Directed by: Ulli Lommel
Written by: David Herschel, Suzanna Love, Ulli Lommel
Starring: John Carradine, Ron James, Suzanna Love

[]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9tBxVqQnIo[/youtube]

THE BOOGEYMAN (AKA THE BOGEYMAN) (1980)

FIRST RELEASED: 1980

DIRECTOR: ULLI LOMMEL

CURRENT UK STATUS: AVAILABLE UNCUT AS AN 18 CERTIFICATE

The Bogeyman was first released in UK cinemas uncut in 1980, and then Vipco released it on VHS in November 1981. In October 1983 the film was listed as a Video Nasty and removed from shelves. The Bogeyman never had the chance to build the reputation the true notorious Video Nasty’s gained due to it being dropped from the list in July 1985. Vipco then re-released it in 1992 with 44 seconds of cuts, however the film was later released uncut in 2000 certified 18. Better still, an extended cut was released in 2004 by Hollywood R2 DVD and this too was uncut and passed as 18.

German born director Ulli Lommel originally wanted to be an actor, something which his Father Ludwig Manfred Lommel, did not approve of. At the age of just four, Ulli was put on stage in theatre by his Father, however by the age of sixteen Ulli wanted to pursue acting and so ran away from home after his Father’s disapproval of his chosen career. It was acting where Lommel got his start in the world of movies, acting in 28 plays including the lead role in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, 22 TV movies and 18 feature films. After this Lommel moved on to an inspired theatre collective, known as Rainer Werner Fassbinderand the Anti Theatre, along with a few other German actor’s including Kurt Raab, Hanna Schygulla and Margit Carstensen. Creator Fassbinder moved from theatre to films in the 1970’s and quickly became one of the leading voices in the German New Wave, and Lommel spent ten years working very closely with him. Making 41 films in 13 years, Fassbinder was well known for his prodigious output, and Lommel himself either served as producer, assistant director, production designer and even acted in a number of Fassbinder’s movies. Fassbinder died in 1982, and Lommel still travels the world taking part in retrospectives of his friend and collaborator.

Lommel directed his first film in 1971 titled Haytabo, and his second film, Die Zartlichkeit der Wolfe (1973) was produced by Fassbinder. The cult classic was voted one of the one thousand films to change your life in Time Out magazine. Lommel moved to New York in 1978 and began working with Andy Warhol and then in 1980 he made the move to Hollywood where he directed the Boogeyman. The horror became a huge success grossing $25 million worldwide (a lot in those days!) After the Boogeyman Lommel toyed with a few genres before settling into horror as being his main genre, and has been making a feature film almost every year since, often two of three a year! Most recently he has made films like The Tomb, Absolute Evil and Nightstalker. In 2004 Lommel set up his own repertory group in Venice, working with a number of collaborators, they have released sixteen genre films on the Lionsgate label.

The majority of the Video Nasty’s actually feel like they were made simply to be on ‘The List’, cheap, tacky and holding a minimal story for the sole purpose of simply adding the scenes of violence together. On the odd occasion one of the films on The List fits that bill, but there is something about it which makes it stand out from the rest, it feels like the film was actually made as a genuine film with violence as a necessary part of the story, and not just a cheap shock fest looking for notoriety. Granted The Boogeyman does contain plenty of violence and shock tactics, but there is a quality about this film, and it actually has a very engaging and interesting story which, in places, catches you off guard. In this film the killer is more a supernatural Demon, haunting the mirrors of a broken Brother and Sister and hungry for revenge. The Brother and Sister had a traumatic childhood, with a Mother who would rather get drunk and have sex than look after them. The opening scene of the film see’s the Mother in a sexual clinch with another man, a man who bullies the kids and decides to tie up the Son because he was watching them through a window. The bullying has to stop, and so the Son breaks free and murders them both. It is a creepy opening scene, there is little music and the man has a sinister stocking on his head which adds a whole new level of unease as we watch helplessly the tortured kids.

[]

Some years later the kids have grown up, Willy (Nicholas Love) is mute but gets a job working happily on the farm of the family they now live with. Lacey (Suzanne Love) looks after Willy, but is terrified of mirrors as it was in a mirror she witnessed the murders as a child. While seeing a psychiatrist Lacey freaks out at the thought of mirrors and screams. It is clear there is still some deep rooted trauma for these two kids, and things are about to get a whole lot worse. We learn that Willy is not normal and scared now of women after a young, attractive girl advances on him in a barn. Panicking, Willy decides to strangle her until she runs off, the poor lad not knowing his own strength and unable to communicate. He felt threatened and all he knew to do was be aggressive. See, already we are building up a story, a level of realism in a way, that many Video Nasty’s did not bother with. The Boogeyman draws you in, becomes quite sinister and you do start to build relationships with the poor victims. Further into the film a mirror in the house is smashed and now things turn a little strange, and things begin to get bloody. The Boogeyman, see, is a spirit living in the mirrors and now it is free to cause mayhem, and it does exactly that.

[]

What I really liked about this film is that it is not your average 80’s slasher, this is actually quite inventive due to the fact the ‘killer’ doesn’t exactly kill it’s victims, more causes accidents or forces them to commit suicide. Its a clever idea and it really works and leads to some quite nasty scenes. The first suicide comes in a disturbing bathroom scene. Already the mood has been set by Lommel’s brilliant camera work. The camera follows its victims around, becomes almost intrusive as it spies on a young, sexy girl in the shower. Suddenly you feel like maybe you shouldn;t be watching in such a perverse way, and as the camera suddenly hides behind a wall as the girl looks over, its clear Lommel is up to some kind of clever trickery, we suddenly realise that this is actually a Point of View shot, of the killer? Anyway, the poor girl suddenly grabs a pair of scissors and stabs herself in the neck on a glorious scene of everything the Video Nasty’s stood for, gratuitous violence coupled with naked breasts!! Well, of course her dressing gown had to fall off, why wouldn’t it! In one of the funniest and most bizarre scenes I have EVER seen in a horror, a little boy, clearly wanting to spy on a naked girl appear at the bathroom window, laughs and screams out something like “FLEA BAGS!” and no sooner has he said it, the window comes crashing down on his head in a terrible choreographed scene that is so ridiculously bad it is genius! The film then carries on with one death after another, including some teenagers on holiday where a girls and her boyfriend end up ‘spiked’ together whilst kissing. For thirty or so minutes its one nasty death after another and you feel that just maybe Lommel ran out of ideas, but then he delivers a shock ending that has to be seen to be believed. The mirrors comes into play once again, and an actually very scary scene involving a woman and a demonic voice wraps up the film superbly. Special lighting effects are used to create a strong supernatural atmosphere and, believe it or not, the clear budget restraints actually make the whole thing look better. Sometimes its the simple things we appreciate. The parting shot of the film is a creepy one indeed, and will probably haunt you for a few days after.

[]

So, The Boogeyman, a Video Nasty that is very very nasty, but is actually very very good too. This is a film that should be seen by all horror fans, young and old as it is, in my mind anyway, a genre classic that does everything it can with what it has, and delivers a clever, sinister and creepy little violent horror that can stand proud with the best of what the 80’s horror had to offer!

RATING: [★][★][★][★][★][★][★][★][☆][☆]

SHOULD THE BOOGEYMAN HAVE BEEN ADDED TO THE VIDEO NASTY’S LIST? STRANGELY ENOUGH THIS IS ONE OF THE FEW WITH CERTAIN SCENES WHICH WOULD HAVE AT LEAST WARRANTED BEING CUT IN THOSE DANGEROUS TIMES!

question: What does the article say about reviewing horror movies?

text: While the answer takes real points made in the review about the film, the commentary doesn't apply to the question. The reviewer never talks about reviewing horror movies in general.

answer: No answer

text: The article is a review of a horror movie.

text: The response misses to provide an answer to the instruction in the task.

text: The answer should mention that the article is a review of a horror movie.

text: The question is asking for the opinion of the author, not a summary of the article.

text: The passage does not talk about reviewing. However, it says watching the horror film is mercifully free of needless build up, sock work and padding, and straightforwardly gives the reader exactly what they have come to the page to see, shocking and gratuitous violence.

answer: No answer

answer: No answer

answer: Most Video Nasty films are violent without a real reason, just to be on the list. Their stories and characters don't make much sense. The Boogeyman, however, is different. Its characters have real depth, and its story makes sense. Thus, the review can delve into the psyches of the characters and the progression of the story.

text: This answer is mostly about Video Nasty films, not about reviewing horror movies.

text: The last sentence is unattested.

answer: No answer

text: The answer should mention that the article is a review of the horror movie The Boogeyman.

text: The response misses to mention that the article is a review of the horror movie, The Boogeyman.

text: The response should include the fact that the author of the article recommends the film.

text: The response misses to mention that the article is a review of the horror film 'The Boogeyman'.

text: The article is a review

answer: Most Video Nasty films are violent without a real reason, just to be on the list. Their stories and characters don't make much sense. The Boogeyman, however, is different. Its characters have real depth, and its story makes sense. Thus, the review can delve into the psyches of the characters and the progression of the story.

text: The article does not discuss reviewing horror movies.

text: The article does not talk about reviewing horror movies.

text: The article doesn't talk about reviewing horror movies.

text: The article doesn't say anything about reviewing horror movies.

text: The answer should mention the violence in the movie.

text: The question is not answered.


text:
This is a strange land. The days that are not scorched under the burning sun are usually sultry under the oppressive humidity of rain bearing clouds. When it rains, it does not rain in drops – like it should, but in sheets of impenetrable water. In the creeks and waterways lurk predators unchanged for eons. The dry land holds no reprieve as it is replete with venomous critters, unseen and unheard harbingers of death. It’s not surprising then, that it is but a wasteland for the peoples populating the more hospitable lands to the south. Neither is it surprising that this land is devoid of humanity.  It’s not that this land is without a strange, almost ancient, kind of beauty. However, it’s not, obviously, something that beckoned visitors or would-be residents with open arms.

This is why it was so weird that they had left their cozy homes and comfortable jobs in the anonymous suburbia to move here. Mat & Sid’s parents had always romanticized this land. Their youth and naivety had misled them into a notion of freedom in the life off the land under this harsh sun. It would have been ironic, had it not been such a tragedy, that they had far too soon lost their lives to this unforgiving land. The twins were at the tender age of five or thereabouts.

It was a matter of tremendous luck then, that in such a tenuously populated area the twins had found a caretaker. Bigg was a recluse, probably a felon and most definitely a maniac with delusions of grandeur. In his mind, he was the king of this realm. No animal could harm him. The shining bright sun that made tinder out of living trees was powerless to make him sweat and the venomous critters were but vermin to be squashed underneath his bare feet. But that is what made him special and especially suitable to live off this land. He was fearless in the face of danger which lurked paralyzingly close. This, in turn, made him able to fetch food, water and shelter at will.

It didn’t come as surprise to Mat that they had a very unusual childhood. They didn’t learn about the world or math or culture, no, they learnt about the greatness of Bigg. They learnt how he could bend the land to his will. When not learning how else to exalt Bigg, they learnt to kill animals that could kill them and eat the rest. They also learnt to stalk and hunt, to grovel and beg before Bigg for more ideas and when all else failed, to steal – from each other, from other, more formidable, critters. Mat never liked this life and yearned to escape. It’s not that he was ever prevented from escaping, it’s just that he knew, even as a child, separation from Bigg meant death in this unyielding landscape and that tormented him. Sid, on the other hand, while never deriving sadistic pleasure out of any of this, was, for the lack of a better word, content. This annoyed Mat, it did as child and it did now.

Despite all his vagaries, Bigg was a father figure for the twins. He valued the stories of their exploits in the land more than the spoils. He had, for instance, no interest in the meat that took a great deal of effort on the part of twins to hunt, but he had great interest in their story of the hunt, and the fact that they did it. While he enjoyed some of the fruits of his own toils, he never grew attached to them, neither did he place a great deal of value in things the twins had obtained at great effort. He was too attached to himself, perhaps. This was another thing that Mat never understood; to him, something that took effort to procure was valuable, it’d even more valuable if others valued it too, of course, but they didn’t. Mat would often remind himself that Bigg was a maniac, that would explain everything. But what annoyed Mat was the fact that Sid would nonchalantly let their spoils go to waste were Mat not to take notice.

When the twins were not much more than fifteen, they were “discovered” by some hardy travelers passing through. Child protection services had put them up in a care center and eventually a foster home. The date they were brought to the foster home was celebrated as their birthday ever since. Mat loved his brother, and he was sure Sid loved him back, in as much as  he could be said to love anything. But they had increasingly grown distant despite their physical proximity. Mat remembered their first “birthday” in the foster home vividly. They had a hastily baked strawberry shortcake presented to them by their foster family. Sid’s advice was “Mat, enjoy the cake, really taste every bit of it and enjoy it when it’s available. But don’t get addicted to it, don’t remember it and yearn for it. Expectation only brings misery.” This and other such strange things is what made Mat grow tired of his brother.

Initially, they were ill adjusted to the life in the City. They were, after all, feral children – they didn’t belong in civilization. Their history notwithstanding, Mat did remarkably well at school. Sid seem disinterested in what civilization had to teach them. Mat even went to a prestigious college. In college fell in love with a girl and they got married by the time he was in his early twenties. Post education, he took up a job, not much different, perhaps, from his parents’ anonymous vocation. Mat and his wife lived in a suburb, had a pet dog for company and generally led a life that society had taught them would bring happiness, or at least this is how they were to pursue that elusive emotion. In all the years since Mat went off to college, however, he had hardly met Sid. Sid had come to Mat’s wedding, but that was about all they had seen of each other during all these years. Their foster family was not much close to them, for they were rebellious, not to mention feral, teenagers when they were brought there and by the time they could appreciate what that family had done for them it had grown dysfunctional.

Last year, however, Sid had called on Mat to meet him. It startled Mat, for, in all these years he couldn’t remember a single instance where Sid had asked him for anything, not even to meet him! The conversation they had then was exceedingly strange to Mat, even by the standards of his conversations with Sid. Mat recalled the conversation in his mind.

“How have you been, my brother?”
“I’m alright Sid. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. What are you doing these days?”
“Oh, it’s not much, I just bring people to our land and show them its beauty. Can you believe they pay me to do that? They pay me good money – just to show them something that could harm them!”
“I’m glad to hear that, are you happy?”
“I’m content, brother. I heard you bought a house?”
“Yes, Bigg would’ve been proud!”
“Indeed, say, do you ever wonder… never mind…”
“What is it?”
“It’s just that, do you ever wonder… you were so distraught at our parents’ sudden demise and so suddenly we find Bigg… or that he never provided us with anything, nothing physical, just… comfort… or that the social services never found anyone else where we lived…?”
“Well, it was providential that we found him. I don’t find it hard to believe that no one found him, remember he was a master of disguise and he’d lived off the land for god knows how long.”
“Yes, never mind. The reason I called, my… err… business is doing rather well… too well in fact. But I don’t want it. I want you to have it”
“What? I have my job here, my life here, I don’t want to go back to the land”
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. You can sell it. I have other people who guide people in the land as well, you could just manage it”
“Are you serious?!”
“Yes. Here are the papers.”
“And… what.. what will you do?”
“Oh, I’m off to explore places, experiences and the world…”
“You know you are giving up lots of things. You can have a good life here, a family perhaps… You can be happy!”
“Ah, but that’s not what I’m after!”
“What ARE you after?”
“Well… nothing”
“You are crazy”
“So are you, my brother”

It turned out that Sid’s business was worth millions. Mat would’ve been a fool to not keep it. It annoyed him that Sid didn’t want to be happy, it annoyed him that he had to be back in the land he detested. But it meant money. So he was back, he was guiding a few folks in the area, showing them the ropes of surviving the land. He thought to himself “this is a strange land”…

title: The generic dream

question: What does the story say about Mat?

text: The answer omits the events that took place between the ages 5 and 15.

answer: Mat is the older of the twins, Sid being the younger. He didn't like his childhood, living in the desert foster by Bigg, and being taught how to hunt and kill animals. Mat thrived when they were adopted by a couple when they were 15 and enjoyed his new life in the city with his brother and the foster parents. He got a good education, married, and got a job. At first, he was resistant when Sid gave him his multi-million dollar business, but finally accepted it.

text: The answer should mention that Sid is the one who is giving up the business.

text: It is not stated that Mat is the older of the twins.

text: There is no evidence that Sid is the younger twin.

text: It is not stated that Mat is the older of the twins, Sid being the younger.

text: The answer should mention that Sid left the land.

text: It's not clear who is older.

text: The response contains inaccurate information.

answer: Mat and Sid are twins who lost their parents when they were five years old. They were looked after by a man named Bigg, who was both kind and delusional. Mat would've escaped if he thought he could survive. They were re-introduced to civil society when they were 15 and grew apart. The discrepancies were there even before. Sid was aloof, not interested in the material things, and he continued to be that way. Mat, on the other hand, took well to civilized life. He did well at school, went to college, fell in love, and married. He lived life as most people in suburbia do, and one day Sid called him to tell about his business as a travel guide, showing people the inhospitable land they lived in as children. As annoyed as Mat was to see Sid give up his business, which was worth millions, he took it anyway. He detested the land but liked the money.

text: The answer should mention that Sid gave Mat his business.

text: The answer should mention that Sid gives Mat his business.

text: The answer should mention that Mat is annoyed by Sid's lack of interest in material things.

text: The answer includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

text: The answer omits that Sid gave Mat his business.

text: The last two sentences do not add anything to the answer.

text: The answer is not a cohesive summary and should instead focus on highlighting the relations between the characters.

text: The answer should mention Mat's unusual childhood.

text: The answer should mention that they were feral children.

answer: Mat and Sid are twins who lost their parents when they were five years old. They were looked after by a man named Bigg, who was both kind and delusional. Mat would've escaped if he thought he could survive. They were re-introduced to civil society when they were 15 and grew apart. The discrepancies were there even before. Sid was aloof, not interested in the material things, and he continued to be that way. Mat, on the other hand, took well to civilized life. He did well at school, went to college, fell in love, and married. He lived life as most people in suburbia do, and one day Sid called him to tell about his business as a travel guide, showing people the inhospitable land they lived in as children. As annoyed as Mat was to see Sid give up his business, which was worth millions, he took it anyway. He detested the land but liked the money.

text: The answer should mention that Mat loved his brother, even though they differed.

answer: Mat and Sid are twins who lost their parents when they were five years old. They were looked after by a man named Bigg, who was both kind and delusional. He considered himself the king of the harsh and mostly uninhabited land they lived in, thought them how to hunt, cared for the stories they'd tell, but not for the spoils they'd bring. Mat found it strange; according to him, things that took effort were valuable. Mat would've escaped if he thought he could survive. They were re-introduced to civil society when they were 15 and grew apart. The discrepancies were there even before. Sid was aloof, not interested in the material things, and he continued to be that way. Mat, on the other hand, took well to civilized life. He did well at school, went to college, fell in love, and married. He lived life as most people in suburbia do, and one day Sid called him to tell about his business as a travel guide, showing people the inhospitable land they lived in as children. As annoyed as Mat was to see Sid give up his business, which was worth millions, he took it anyway. He detested the land but liked the money.

text: The response is a summary of the story rather than talking about Mat.

text: "Sid was aloof, not interested in the material things, and he continued to be that way" is unnecessary.

answer: Mat and Sid are twins who lost their parents when they were five years old. They were looked after by a man named Bigg, who was both kind and delusional. He considered himself the king of the harsh and mostly uninhabited land they lived in, thought them how to hunt, cared for the stories they'd tell, but not for the spoils they'd bring. Mat found it strange; according to him, things that took effort were valuable. Mat would've escaped if he thought he could survive. They were re-introduced to civil society when they were 15 and grew apart. The discrepancies were there even before. Sid was aloof, not interested in the material things, and he continued to be that way. Mat, on the other hand, took well to civilized life. He did well at school, went to college, fell in love, and married. He lived life as most people in suburbia do, and one day Sid called him to tell about his business as a travel guide, showing people the inhospitable land they lived in as children. As annoyed as Mat was to see Sid give up his business, which was worth millions, he took it anyway. He detested the land but liked the money.

text: "They were looked after by a man named Bigg, who was both kind and delusional. He considered himself the king of the harsh and mostly uninhabited land they lived in, thought them how to hunt, cared for the stories they'd tell, but not for the spoils they'd bring. Mat found it strange; according to him, things that took effort were valuable. Mat would've escaped if he thought he could survive. They were re-introduced to civil society when they were 15 and grew apart. The discrepancies were there even before. Sid was aloof, not interested in the material things, and he continued to be that way. Mat, on the other hand, took well to civilized life. He did well at school, went to college, fell in love, and married. He lived life as most people in suburbia do, and one day Sid called him to tell about his business as a travel guide, showing people the inhospitable land they lived in as children. As annoyed as Mat was to see Sid give up his business, which was worth millions, he took it anyway. He detested the land but liked the money." - this is all irrelevant and should be removed.

text: "The discrepancies were there even before. Sid was aloof, not interested in the material things, and he continued to be that way. Mat, on the other hand, took well to civilized life. He did well at school, went to college, fell in love, and married. He lived life as most people in suburbia do, and one day Sid called him to tell about his business as a travel guide, showing people the inhospitable land they lived in as children. As annoyed as Mat was to see Sid give up his business, which was worth millions, he took it anyway. He detested the land but liked the money." - extraneous information.

text: The answer omits that Sid gave Mat his business so that he could leave and explore the world.

text: The first sentence is inaccurate, as the twins' ages are not given in the story. Their parents' death came out of nowhere in the story, and there is no evidence that they lived off the land since they were five. The model should rewrite accurate details.


text:
Hi, all. Would like some gracious feedback. I am just wondering what direction people would like to see this story go. (Pardon any grammatical errors)

The Wanderer

Griff was hitting his 11 a.m. slump (a little early) and turned his gaze to the large windows next to his cube to break from the blue burning in his eyes and felt the twinge of a buzz in his ear. But this was no regular day dream. Griff caught glimpse of a boy in a tree about 35 feet up. Was this a daydream at all? He sort of resembled a child with a large loin cloth. But the boy climbed down the tree almost as instantaneously as Griff caught his gaze. Had no one else just seen that? He debated on whether to ask someone. Confused, he walked out from his desk and down the aisle to approach the large, wall sized windows. It looked like the boy who had climbed down the tree was now headed for the lake on the fringe of the woods. That was odd he thought. Griff returned to his desk, and pondered what he just witnessed. That child didn't look as if he had belonged to this time period, let alone this part of the country.
Griff, Griff Bookstrom that is, sat back down and started up with his keystrokes again. It came effortlessly to him and he wasn't sure if that were an average man’s dream or something to be wary of. He never wanted to be stuck in a monotonous job, making half way decent money, helping no one but big business just to support himself to continue payments on his car, his schooling, his lifestyle; never to enjoy a single moment for himself. But look at that, here he was. Not skiing in the Alps, hiking Kilimanjaro, racing rally cars; nope, just sitting behind a desk from 8-4, sometimes 5.
Griff is an inspection specialist for a big mechanical contractor. Now, this was nothing to be ashamed of. Heck, most people these days were lucky to have a job. His girlfriend, Remy, whom he lives with, only works part time as a waitress and full time as a budding novelist (How cliché?). But she was thinking about going to Law School. That was the sad reality of life. There was no American Dream anymore. That thought makes me chuckle. American Dream; is that even an operationalized thought? There is no definition that one can really stick too. It changes with the era, just like music.
Please excuse my rudeness, all this “Griff” talk, if you will and I have yet to introduce myself. I am "the one Griff cannot see" (not yet at least). But that's a long name and boring name; so just know me by the image of create of me. I don't think Griff wants to see me and that right there folks, that's what hurts. He has been on this Earth for nearly 25 years, yet he hasn't opened his mind enough to see me. Well that's not entirely true. Once when Griff was just a little guy, I was quite certain that he saw me standing in the back yard by his swing set. But then again, a squirrel may just as well have grabbed his attention. Damn rodent was just burying his nuts like I wasn’t there or something (Ba-dum-ch).
Kids, their openness is unfortunately only equally matched by their misunderstanding of the world around them and the inability to communicate and be taken seriously by someone who has the power to change the world. Yes I am speaking about the adults. You are probably an adult, if not a young adult. I believe YOU are the ones with the power in the world but most are so corrupted and so closed minded or lazy that nothing substantial will be changed. But I digress.
5 o'clock (or 17:00 for “those” people) and Griff heaved a sigh of relief of the ending work day. He had almost forgotten about his window experience entirely until the buzzing drone in his ear made him turn face in the parking lot and catch the eye of the boy in the cloth at the edge of the building. The boy stood frozen for a second and took off into the woods again, heading for the lake. Griff, who really wasn't thinking, walked towards the woods himself at an eager pace. He slowed after a few seconds as not to draw attention. He decided against telling anyone about the boy because he was certainly going insane.
May I interject briefly? Oh good, glad you agree. I don't think it's very smart of Griff to be following this kid. Anyway, I'll continue…
The boy now stood at the edge of the lake that now seemed to be about 25 feet away. Now, he was no physics or math whiz but he presumed that with a good jump, he could catch this kid. Then what? Griff paused briefly, if for a second to think "maybe I should turn around and go home."
Griff I say you should've turned around.
Griff did not hear me, nor did he turn around and call it a day. Instead his wild intention to follow this boy was in full fruition and after a brief look around, Griff called out "hello." That's the best he had. He wasn't entirely sure what else to say and broke into a full sprint when he received no response. As he approached, the buzzing in his head took over again, louder this time, and growing more obtrusive with each step. It was as if his body was beginning to vibrate. The buzzing was impairing his vision and quickly the world was closing to the size of a pinhole. Griff dropped; and he dropped hard.
Darkness.
Griff returned to consciousness at the sound of a bark. Startled, he opened his eyes. "Hey are you okay, guy?" A man called out. Griff nodded and gave a limp wave. The man was hesitant to approach but his dog, Abby, was not. Her tongue was giant and excited; she left no part of his face dry. She just wanted to play I s'pose. "Down girl, leave the man alone. Are you sure you're alright? I got a bottle of water if you'd like a drink, you look absolutely parched." He felt it. What happened? How long had he been out?
I'll tell you. He was out for 23 mins and 6 seconds to be exact. I'm sort of a stickler for time.
Griff meagerly got to his knees, and with some strain, stood up. "Thank you sir but I'm alright, just out...enjoying...nature I guess" Griff palleted. "Well, alright then. C’mon Abby let's finish our run before mommy gets mad about our tardiness from dinner." And the two continued their run.
Griff watched them run on and for a moment forgot what he was doing standing behind his place of work at nearly 5:30 with a splitting headache. And boy did it hurt. He returned to his car and sat down behind the wheel. And just sat there. He stared blankly out of the windshield and mentally tried to grab at what was happening. After about three or four minutes he snapped out of it and stuck the key in the ignition and drove home.
Griff pulled into his driveway and realized he didn't have a good story as to why he was so late but didn't bother coming up with one in the moment. He could wing it right?
Just a little insight, he couldn't wing it. He's not good at that stuff.
"Hey honey where have you been? Bad traffic?" Remy wondered.
"Haha, no darling, the traffic was naught. I was actually busy chasing evil fairies into the woods. You know typical Wednesday stuff" he spat out. "What's for dinner? I'm starved." Griff continued.
"Well I wasn't really in the cooking mood so I was thinking maybe we can go grab a steak with the fixings down at Outback? Possibly grab a movie on the way home, or have a Netflix binge?"
He laughed "That sounds like the best way to end this day. I'm gonna go grab so Tylenol® my head is killin me; long day at work.
As Griff excused himself to the medicine cabinet, Remy spoke up "Whatcha got there?"
“Huh?"
"In your back pocket? Whatcha got in your back pocket?"
"Oh ...umm...this?" Griff stuttered, patting his rear. As he reached for his pocket in that 2 second window he was sure that he could pull just about anything out. What he did pull out was an ornate wooden box that measure about 4 inches square. He opened it and saw the head of a lilium laying on a velvet pillow.
A lily? Griff thought. What could that possibly me...
"Oh it's beautiful, honey, thank you!" Remy cut through his thought
"Only a beautiful flower (head?) for my beautiful woman" he choked out.
"I love how delicate and unorthodox it is. You are simply amazing"
"...Thanks sweetie. Why don't you..uh..go put it on our dresser?!"
"Yeah, good idea. Then I swear we'll go; I can hear you tummy grumbling from here"
"Yup, great." Griff said dismissively, half listening. He was hungry. He could feel his sugar levels dropping and without that recent adrenaline rush, might be on the ground from exhaustion/ hunger. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of OJ. Griff instantly felt a little better with his first gulp. The unknowingness was getting to him. He needed to research Lily's as soon as he got home; and without Remy knowing.
Well, I'll be the first to say it. The kid did good. Well, he did alright. I myself could've done better. And that whole Lily thing; cmon Griff? At least he thinks its symbolism and not some wedding invitation.
 I remember once when Griff was a teenager, maybe 15,  he attended a wedding for his distant uncle Charlie. He was the kind of uncle you'd have to take a vacation just to see. It wasn't intentional that he and Griff weren't close. It's just that he was physically far enough away and Griff was the type of kid who didn't want to make an effort to call. He had a thing about adults, especially relatives. He didn't fear them, he just never felt their equal, or like he would be taken seriously with them. Why should they? He was just a kid, right? He would only see him once a year, if that, at Easter.
At the wedding, Griff had been chatting up his future aunts' cousins' daughter (so there was no weird familial stuff going on here, don’t get weird). Things were going so well. Weddings have a way to put everyone in an open, lovely mood. In his pubescent muddled mind, Griff thought to steal a flower from the bride’s bouquet for his new beau was a good idea. It wasn't. As a matter of fact, I think it was a Lily. Actually, I know it was; I don't forget things, or people, or places for that matter. Although I’m quite certain this Lily has nothing to do with the Lily currently harbored in his room. Hmm… or does it? I’m no psychic.
With the newly picked Lily in hand, giddy Griff trotted back to swooning Jessica. I felt that Griff's theft of this Lily was wrong so I may have stuck my foot out as Griff unsuspectingly passed by and he may have tripped and broken his nose. The blood may have made Jess a little squeamish to the point of fainting. And I may have cackled to myself for hours about the ordeal. I truly felt bad though. Jess was a nice girl. The two lovebirds were now broken on the ground in one fell swoop as if the branch holding them up was tired of their little loving feet. But I digress.

title: [FN/ MF] "The Wanderer" (looking for further direction)

question: What does the story say about the narrator?

text: Griff is the protagonist, but he isn't the narrator.

answer: The narrator is Griff Bookstrom. He is an inspection specialist for a big mechanical contractor. He lives with his girlfriend, Remy.

text: This answer is false. The narrator is nameless, and the story doesn't say much about them other than their opinions and interjections on the story.

answer: The narrator is a being that only Griff cansee. It's been around for a while, and it's accustomed to being ignored by others. It only makes itself known to certain people. The fact that Griff can't see the narrator is hurtful, so he wants to help out Griff. However, this could also be because it can't help himself by interfering with situations.

text: The narrator is not a being that only Griff can see. The narrator is a being that only Griff cannot see.

text: The answer is incorrect. The narrator is a mischievous being that only Griff can't see.

text: The narrator is able to make itself known to Griff.

text: The narrator isn't accustomed to being ignored, but it's okay because it's just a typo.

text: "The fact that Griff can't see the narrator is hurtful, so he wants to help out Griff. However, this could also be because it can't help himself by interfering with situations." - this can be deleted. It doesn't explain much about the narrator.

text: The narrator is not a being that only Griff can see. The narrator is a being that Griff cannot see. It is a metaphor. Griff is not interested in the narrator

text: The fact that Griff doesn't want to see the narrator is hurtful not that he can't

text: The response contains inaccurate information. ' he wants to help out Griff. However, this could also be because it can't help himself by interfering with situations.' is not stated

text: ' it's accustomed to being ignored by others.' is not stated

answer: The narrator introduces themselves as :the one Griff cannot see". Griff may have noticed them once when he was a boy. The narrator believes adults are corrupted, closed-minded, and lazy. They think it's a bad idea for Griff to be following the boy. At the end of the story, they agree that the kid did good. Because of Griff's theft of the Lily, they trip Griff and make him break his nose.

answer: The narrator introduces themselves as :the one Griff cannot see". Griff may have noticed them once when he was a boy. The narrator believes adults are corrupted, closed-minded, and lazy. They think it's a bad idea for Griff to be following the boy. At the end of the story, they agree that the kid did good. Because of Griff's theft of the Lily, they trip Griff and make him break his nose.

text: The narrator is not the one who trips Griff.

text: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

text: The answer could mention the narrator's attitude toward time.

text: This sentence is false. The narrator does not say this. This should be omitted.

text: The answer fails to mention that the narrator is able to make themselves seen to Griff.

text: "At the end of the story, they agree that the kid did good. Because of Griff's theft of the Lily, they trip Griff and make him break his nose. " - this part makes little sense without the proper context. Who was the kid that did good? Why did Griff steal the Lily and why did the narrator trip him? These need the proper content.

answer: The narrator is Griff Bookstrom. He is an inspection specialist for a big mechanical contractor. He lives with his girlfriend, Remy.

text: The narrator is not Griff.

text: The narrator is not Griff Bookstrom. The narrator is the entity that Griff cannot see.

text: This answer is incorrect. The narrator is the one Griff cannot see.

text: The response is inaccurate. It misses to mention that the narrator is the boy in the loin cloth and not Griff.