text:
Evidence Based Research - since 2013 PUBLISHED DATE: December 11, 2020

-   Total Number of Incidents 40,493
-   Number of Deaths¹ 12,356
-   Number of Injuries¹ 21,948
-   Number of Children (age 0-11)
    Killed or Injured¹ 594
-   Number of Teens (age 12-17)
    Killed or Injured¹ 2,278
-   Mass Shootings² 269
-   Officer Involved Incident
    Officer Shot or Killed² 222
-   Officer Involved Incident
    Subject-Suspect Shot or Killed² 1,859
-   Home Invasion² 2,489
-   Defensive Use² 1,488
-   Unintentional Shooting² 1,632

GUN VIOLENCE  AND CRIME INCIDENTS ARE COLLECTED/VALIDATED FROM 6,500 SOURCES DAILY – INCIDENTS AND THEIR SOURCE DATA ARE FOUND AT THE GUNVIOLENCEARCHIVE.ORG WEBSITE.

1: Actual number of deaths and injuries
2: Number of INCIDENTS reported and verified

22,000 ANNUAL SUICIDES NOT INCLUDED ON DAILY SUMMARY LEDGER

Numbers on this table reflect a subset of all information
collected and will not add to 100% of incidents.

www.gunviolencearchive.org  www.facebook.com/gunviolencearchive

Data Sources Verified: December 09, 2020

[Gun Violence Archive] _GUN VIOLENCE_ ARCHIVE © 2013-2020

_GUN VIOLENCE_ ARCHIVE 2015

Evidence Based Research - since 2013 PUBLISHED DATE: December 11, 2020

-   Total Number of Incidents 49,527
-   Number of Deaths¹ 13,569
-   Number of Injuries¹ 26,979
-   Number of Children (age 0-11)
    Killed or Injured¹ 693
-   Number of Teens (age 12-17)
    Killed or Injured¹ 2,707
-   Mass Shootings² 335
-   Officer Involved Incident
    Officer Shot or Killed² 276
-   Officer Involved Incident
    Subject-Suspect Shot or Killed² 2,056
-   Home Invasion² 2,344
-   Defensive Use² 1,405
-   Unintentional Shooting² 1,999

GUN VIOLENCE  AND CRIME INCIDENTS ARE COLLECTED/VALIDATED FROM 6,500 SOURCES DAILY – INCIDENTS AND THEIR SOURCE DATA ARE FOUND AT THE GUNVIOLENCEARCHIVE.ORG WEBSITE.

1: Actual number of deaths and injuries
2: Number of INCIDENTS reported and verified

22,000 ANNUAL SUICIDES NOT INCLUDED ON DAILY SUMMARY LEDGER

Numbers on this table reflect a subset of all information
collected and will not add to 100% of incidents.

www.gunviolencearchive.org  www.facebook.com/gunviolencearchive

Data Sources Verified: December 09, 2020

[Gun Violence Archive] _GUN VIOLENCE_ ARCHIVE © 2013-2020

_GUN VIOLENCE_ ARCHIVE 2016

Evidence Based Research - since 2013 PUBLISHED DATE: December 11, 2020

-   Total Number of Incidents 56,269
-   Number of Deaths¹ 15,120
-   Number of Injuries¹ 30,644
-   Number of Children (age 0-11)
    Killed or Injured¹ 671
-   Number of Teens (age 12-17)
    Killed or Injured¹ 3,144
-   Mass Shootings² 382
-   Officer Involved Incident
    Officer Shot or Killed² 302
-   Officer Involved Incident
    Subject-Suspect Shot or Killed² 2,027
-   Home Invasion² 2,564
-   Defensive Use² 2,000
-   Unintentional Shooting² 2,223

GUN VIOLENCE  AND CRIME INCIDENTS ARE COLLECTED/VALIDATED FROM 6,500 SOURCES DAILY – INCIDENTS AND THEIR SOURCE DATA ARE FOUND AT THE GUNVIOLENCEARCHIVE.ORG WEBSITE.

1: Actual number of deaths and injuries
2: Number of INCIDENTS reported and verified

22,000 ANNUAL SUICIDES NOT INCLUDED ON DAILY SUMMARY LEDGER

Numbers on this table reflect a subset of all information
collected and will not add to 100% of incidents.

www.gunviolencearchive.org  www.facebook.com/gunviolencearchive

Data Sources Verified: December 09, 2020

[Gun Violence Archive] _GUN VIOLENCE_ ARCHIVE © 2013-2020

_GUN VIOLENCE_ ARCHIVE 2017

Evidence Based Research - since 2013 PUBLISHED DATE: December 11, 2020

-   Total Number of Incidents 59,031
-   Number of Deaths¹ 15,703
-   Number of Injuries¹ 31,238
-   Number of Children (age 0-11)
    Killed or Injured¹ 730
-   Number of Teens (age 12-17)
    Killed or Injured¹ 3,256
-   Mass Shootings² 346
-   Officer Involved Incident
    Officer Shot or Killed² 303
-   Officer Involved Incident
    Subject-Suspect Shot or Killed² 2,153
-   Home Invasion² 2,563
-   Defensive Use² 2,117
-   Unintentional Shooting² 2,061

GUN VIOLENCE  AND CRIME INCIDENTS ARE COLLECTED/VALIDATED FROM 6,500 SOURCES DAILY – INCIDENTS AND THEIR SOURCE DATA ARE FOUND AT THE GUNVIOLENCEARCHIVE.ORG WEBSITE.

1: Actual number of deaths and injuries
2: Number of INCIDENTS reported and verified

22,000 ANNUAL SUICIDES NOT INCLUDED ON DAILY SUMMARY LEDGER

Numbers on this table reflect a subset of all information
collected and will not add to 100% of incidents.

www.gunviolencearchive.org  www.facebook.com/gunviolencearchive

Data Sources Verified: December 09, 2020

[Gun Violence Archive] _GUN VIOLENCE_ ARCHIVE © 2013-2020

_GUN VIOLENCE_ ARCHIVE 2018

Evidence Based Research - since 2013 PUBLISHED DATE: December 11, 2020

-   Total Number of Incidents 54,973
-   Number of Deaths¹ 14,857
-   Number of Injuries¹ 28,524
-   Number of Children (age 0-11)
    Killed or Injured¹ 667
-   Number of Teens (age 12-17)
    Killed or Injured¹ 2,889
-   Mass Shootings² 337
-   Officer Involved Incident
    Officer Shot or Killed² 280
-   Officer Involved Incident
    Subject-Suspect Shot or Killed² 2,188
-   Home Invasion² 2,095
-   Defensive Use² 1,896
-   Unintentional Shooting² 1,687

GUN VIOLENCE  AND CRIME INCIDENTS ARE COLLECTED/VALIDATED FROM 6,500 SOURCES DAILY – INCIDENTS AND THEIR SOURCE DATA ARE FOUND AT THE GUNVIOLENCEARCHIVE.ORG WEBSITE.

1: Actual number of deaths and injuries
2: Number of INCIDENTS reported and verified

22,000 ANNUAL SUICIDES NOT INCLUDED ON DAILY SUMMARY LEDGER

Numbers on this table reflect a subset of all information
collected and will not add to 100% of incidents.

www.gunviolencearchive.org  www.facebook.com/gunviolencearchive

Data Sources Verified: December 09, 2020

[Gun Violence Archive] _GUN VIOLENCE_ ARCHIVE © 2013-2020

_GUN VIOLENCE_ ARCHIVE 2019

Evidence Based Research - since 2013 PUBLISHED DATE: December 11, 2020

-   Total Number of GV Deaths - ALL Causes⁴

     39,522

-   Homicide/Murder/Unintentional/DGU¹

     15,432

-   Suicide³

     24,090

-   Total Number of Injuries¹

     30,142

-   Mass Shootings²

     417

-   Mass Murders²

     31

-   Number of Children (age 0-11)¹

    Killed 209

-

    Injured 486

-   Number of Teens (age 12-17)¹

    Killed 778

-

    Injured 2,338

-   Officer Involved Incident¹

    Killed 71

-   Officer Killed or Injured

    Injured 299

-   Officer Involved Incident¹

    Killed 1,286

-   Subject-Suspect Killed or Injured

    Injured 792

-   Defensive Use²

     1,593

-   Unintentional Shooting²

     1,894

-   Murder/Suicides Incidents²

     632

GUN VIOLENCE  AND CRIME INCIDENTS ARE COLLECTED/VALIDATED FROM 7,500 SOURCES DAILY – INCIDENT REPORTS AND THEIR SOURCE DATA ARE FOUND AT THE GUNVIOLENCEARCHIVE.ORG WEBSITE.

FOOTNOTES

1.  Number of source verified deaths and injuries
2.  Number of INCIDENTS reported and verified
3.  Calculation based on CDC Suicide Data
4.  Actual total of all non-suicide deaths plus daily calculated suicide deaths

All numbers are subject to change or incidents recategorized as new evidence is established and verified.

METHODOLOGY & DEFINITIONS AVAILABLE AT:
https://www.gunviolencearchive.org/methodology

www.gunviolencearchive.org
www.facebook.com/gunviolencearchive
On Twitter @gundeaths

Data Sources Verified: December 09, 2020

[Gun Violence Archive] _GUN VIOLENCE_ ARCHIVE © 2013-2020

question: What is the main topic of the post?

answer: Research from each year starting in 2013 through 2019 on gun violence and crime incidents.

question: When was the research published?

answer: December 11, 2020

question: What events are presented?

answer: Total number of Incidents, number of deaths, number of injuries, number of children (0-11) killed or injured, number of teen (12-17) killed or injured, mass shootings, officer shot or killed, officer involved-subject shot or killed, home invasion, defensive use, unintentional shooting

question: Which year had the highest recordings of mass shootings?

answer: 2019

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: The post presents research from each year starting in 2013 through 2019 on gun violence and crime incidents.


split: test

text:
[] The SALVATION TRIPTYCH ( or _Trittico della Salvazione_) is a triptych in oils on canvas by Moretto da Brescia, dating to 1521–1524 or 1527–28. All three of its panels are now in private collections, two in Brescia and one in Biella.

The work centres on the theme of salvation brought about by the Passion of Christ, with side panels of _The Drunkenness of Noah_ (left) and _The Brazen Serpent_ (right) and a centre panel of _Moses Striking the Rock at Mara_, though no historian or art historian recorded seeing the three panels together. An archive note from 1912 mentions _The Brazen Serpent_ in the Oldofredi collection in Brescia before being acquired by its current private owner in 1983. In 1750 Giovanni Battista Carboni mentioned _Noah_ and _Moses_ as still being in Brescia in the Maffei-Fenaroli collection, where they were also mentioned by Federico Odorici in his 1853 guidebook and in an 1875 catalogue of the collection. _Noah_ was then put up for auction in 1882 but did not sell and so entered the Mazzotti-Fenaroli collection in Rudiano, and then its current home in the Fenaroli collection in Biella, both times by inheritance. _Moses_ was instead acquired by the Bettoni-Cazzago collection.

title: Salvation Triptych

question: When was the piece created?

answer: Between 1521 and 1524

question: Who created the triptych?

answer: Moretto da Brescia

question: Where are the panels now?

answer: They are all in private collections; two are in Brescia and one is in Biella

question: What medium are the panels created in?

answer: Oil on canvas

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The Salvation Triptych is a triptych created in oils on canvas, dated to between 1521 and 1524. It was created by Moretto da Brescia. All three panels are now in private collections; two are in Brescia and one is in Biella.


text:
White is all I can see. The sun's rays blinding me as I step up onto the deck of the sailboat. I raise my hand to mitigate the glare to little avail, but slowly my vision returns and there she stands. First I see only a shade as she has her back towards the sun but as my vision clears her smile glows as brightly as snowy winter mornings, greeting me with a chilling warmth, putting me at ease. Like the little unexpected happinesses you find on ordinary days that never fail to edge a smile. Her eyes deep and piercing but with the usual welcoming glint that accompanies her smile. A warm dark coffee on a chilly day that mists from the surrounding air. Serendipitous. Her hair, an autumn tint, contrasts with the blues of the sea and sails and the whites of the distant buildings and her simple dress. It sets her ablaze upon the scene.
With hands clasped behind her back, feet crossed and back angled ever so slightly in my direction she chimes, "What took you so long farmer boy? It's a beautiful day."
Horribly failing at containing a smile, I make back, "Yeah. Another beautiful day."

title: [RF] Another Beautiful Day

question: Where is the narrator?

answer: On a sailboat.

question: Who does the narrator see on the boat?

answer: A girl he finds very beautiful.

question: What does the the beautiful girl call the narrator?

answer: "Farmer boy".

question: What is the beautiful girl's name?

answer: That information is not available.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator begins his story on board a boat, where his vision is blinded by the colors of the boat and the water around him. The bright sun is eclipsed by a girl coming into frame, a beautiful girl. It is clear that the narrator is distracted by her appearance. She greets him cheerfully and teasingly.


text:
*Clinging to Kayaks is a project that I experimented with a bit. The term flash fiction has been thrown around me a lot lately. I enjoy the idea of brief bits of stories. CtK takes one paragraph stories and strings them together into a collection. Originally I wrote these (and others I did not include here) with no cohesive order and they are posted like that on my blog. I decided arranging them together would be nice for my first post here. Let me know if I inadvertently broke any rules!*

Clinging to Kayaks.1.

The paper airplane had a note written on it. It was intended to help someone worse off than myself. Uplifting and hopeful it was sent flying out the 52nd story window where my office sat. I watched it spiral out of sight into the masses below. I knew nobody would catch it. That it would be trampled under the hundreds of hurried feet, unnoticed, unread, uncared for. Sighing I sharpened another pencil and pulled another blank sheet towards me. Then I clicked “next” on his computer screen, wondering what airplane design #143 looked like.

Clinging to Kayaks.2.

You say you hate the colour brown. I promise not to wear my favourite shirt around you. But I was joking. You didn't get it and probably never will and in all honesty it was a bad joke. You run when things get serious and are afraid of getting close to someone. I'm afraid I'll never get close to anyone. Maybe that's why you ran from me. At first I joked about Pulp Fiction and your tongue piercing. You had never watched it and didn't get that joke either. I realized that I wasn't a comedian of any sorts and asked if you wanted to watch it together. Plans were made. The plans fell through. I imagined you on a road in ragged clothes like Forrest Gump running away from me. I deleted your number after that.

Clinging to Kayaks.3.

I looked up the distance to your house. 147.3 miles. Satellite images showed your little red car and backyard pool. You had invited me swimming one night. It was late. Even though it was hot and I felt like swimming I declined. You begged me to come. Promised me a great time. I quickly told you goodnight and exited the chat window. Instead I got wicked drunk, telling myself I could always go in the morning. That’s how it was for me. Always the next morning. Always the chat window, the alcohol, and the next morning.

Clinging to Kayaks.4.

I feel the days like slow techno beats. Each morning I take an eraser to the whiteboard and refresh the countdown. Ninety days were forever, three months just an abstract. Habits formed and time ticked away. It didn't even occur to me when I hit thirty-three. But twenty got my attention. Then single digits came and the whiteboard became the center of my universe. A monk's dedication was nothing compared to my daily diligence. Large, bold, blue numbers announcing to my dining room your arrival. Tomorrow is three and each day drops heavy in my mind. I hope that when you draw zero we can change the beat.

Clinging to Kayaks.5.

I had no idea what you were saying. Likewise you couldn't understand me in the slightest. Instead of a barrier it became a game. Each of us laughing at the others failed attempts at communication. When words failed we used our hands, tracing our thoughts until smiles erupted on each of our faces. As I kissed you the smiles traveled from our lips to our eyes, locking them together. And as your arms wrapped around me I knew I was in over my head.

Clinging to Kayaks.6.

You poured sugar in my coffee just to see my reaction. $1.40 later I was black and bitter again. You told me my life needed to shine more and you didn't understand why I was never happy in the morning. You grabbed another sugar packet and I growled. I didn't understand why you couldn't just let me wake up experiencing the worst part of my day, knowing that it was over by the time I started work, with your smile to look forward to by the time I came home.

Clinging to Kayaks.7.

We sat on leather seats and let the radio blend with the raindrops. Both were a background to our soft conversation. We talked about stars and no stars and lights and no lights. We didn't mention darkness, just the absence of light. We talked like the darkness was temporary, as if it was only a matter of time before the light would return. We had confidence in this and confidence in ourselves. Arms were intertwined and I could feel your chest rising and falling against mine. Together we watched the world spin through the rain streaked window, letting the morning sun brighten everything. Just like we knew it would.

Clinging to Kayaks.8.

We sit silent as these nights start to come earlier and the temperature drops more than the night before. Your depression worsens with each snowfall. You have always been desperate for the warmth of spring. I watch the thermometer with heightened anticipation. Every lost degree is another chance to pull you closer to me. I love the cold simply because it keeps you around. I know as soon as the sun reappears again I will lose you, gone to the distant hills. Yet for now your wanderlust is frozen. You are mine for the duration.

Clinging to Kayaks.9.

I found a camera that shows the future when I look through it upside down. My pack of cigarettes is crumpled and short seven or eight. The last few I’m sure are crooked and bent. I pull one out and discover I’m right. It’s nothing but sad. But smoke is smoke and I hang upside down letting it drift past my toes as I look at you through the lens. You twirl and spin for me. Your hair is let down and you are smiling. I think about what we’d see if you tried the camera on me. Perhaps a new pack of cigarettes. Or a clean shirt for a change. I figure that if in the future you are smiling then those things are definitely within reason. Regardless, we definitely have a long way to go from here.

Clinging to Kayaks.10.

I came home to find you in my room. You were rearranging my bookcase, ordering all the books from sad to happy which resulted in no distinct order at all. You knew I was going to read them all sooner or later and wanted me to finish with a sense of happiness. Pulling one off the shelf at random I began to read. You were upset. “That’s longing turning to fulfillment! You have to start with empty and lost!” You thrust another book into my hands from the bottom of the bookcase. I told you that I was already lost and I wanted fulfillment. You asked if I was longing. I thought it was obvious. Neither of us realized that none of the books could fix us.

Clinging to Kayaks.11.

The television became an awkward bystander as you started yelling. Its flickering screen flashing on our faces. I stayed quiet. You wanted to know how I planned on fixing this. You didn't understand that I was silent because I had no answer. I looked around the room and let your words wash over me. The clock in the corner glowed in bold red. The computer had small blinking white lights everywhere. All of these lights kept glowing even though tomorrow was a mystery. You wanted to pull the plug on us for the same reason. Uncertainty was killing you, yet it didn't matter at all to the lights. The clock ticked over to eleven after eleven. And as you slammed the door I wished for you.

Clinging to Kayaks.12.

You asked me what I knew about it at all. You said that I had never been in your position. That I had never been at the bottom. You screamed that I could never understand. Silent under your attack I smiled softly. You were furious. In your mind I was judgmental and condescending. In your mind I was an alien to this world. You finally paused for a moment and asked if I had anything to say. I didn’t. I just showed you my wrist and walked away.

Clinging to Kayaks.13.

The crushed cans and spinning room was not the only scar you left me with as the door slammed shut behind you. All of those whispers in the dark, making plans and pathways to dreams that were eagerly shattered. Our world was full of hope and I thought nothing could ever change that. I learned that you loved to imagine love and that I was not enough. You told me to forget and never dwell. The way you held me so tight made me believe you were lying. That was when I finally realized that humans were the monsters hiding underneath our beds.

Clinging to Kayaks.14

I drank for forty-eight hours straight and never threw-up. I considered that an achievement. I didn't consider the girl in bed with me an achievement. I don't remember half of what I said that night. Everyone else was proud of me though. They were impressed. Maybe. I lost my sandals that night. The next morning we cleaned and filled three full sized garbage bags with cans. None of them were mine. I threw my two empty glass bottles into the back of the truck. I almost threw them in the lake, just to watch them in the water. They chimed as they collided in the truck bed and my head hurt with the sound. I noticed then that the sun was too bright and the world too loud. My head spun and I laughed at myself. I gripped the edge of the sink, stared straight into my eyes in the mirror, and laughed at myself. They asked if I was okay with strange tones and then left me alone. I never did find my sandals.

Clinging to Kayaks.15.

They say if it’s meant to be you will come back. I stare at the sky and wonder what it feels like to be swallowed. By a mouth, by the sky, by time. I mark the spot I lost you and wait for the clock to tick back to the exact moment. My neck begins to ache from staring up after you for so long. But the universe is just too big and the clock never reverses direction. They say if it’s meant to be you will come back. I think they really mean that you were meant to be far away from me.

Clinging to Kayaks.16.

Sometimes I stare into the dark just to see you. When the sun is gone and the stars are hiding too I can feel you. They say at night to look just to the side of the object you want to look at. It has something to do with the rods and cones in your eyes they said. Sometimes I stare right at you. Sometimes I stare to your left. Sometimes I stare to your right. I never really find you. But I know you are there, just as the stars are there. I ask you to come closer. I ask you why the sky is dark at night if the universe is filled with hidden stars. You leave me to figure it out by myself which is the best way to learn. I take lessons on astronomy and how to strengthen my night vision. I whisper what I learn to you. Every time I step closer to you I know that you step back. I really want to see you. But I think you know that.

Clinging to Kayaks.17.

I said the sunset was cotton candy and you laughed at that. The water beneath us looked cold and what I imagined death might be like. Somewhere in the distance someone was frantic. There were sirens. You unscrewed one of the supports of the dock which brought it closer to the water. You said you felt sorry for the dock. All the boats led exciting lives. Even docks wanted to see the world. I just nodded and tossed an anchor into the water, tying the other end of the line tight to the slats we stood on. You had moved on to the third support with your screwdriver by then. As the sirens faded I said the sunset was cotton candy and you asked me if I knew how to swim.

-Ryan Avery

title: Clinging to Kayaks

question: What kind of relationship can we say the narrator and his love interest have?

answer: It is a steady relationship with a little bit of commitment and honesty issues.

question: Why was everyone proud of the narrator despite him drinking for forty-eight hours and sleeping with someone he doesn't know?

answer: Maybe because they thought the narrator did a good job of trying to move one from his ex-girlfriend.


text:
Dr. Edward Rozgut dreamily walked from the back of his office, smiled humbly at his waiting patients, and hinted to Miss Ann, the clinic secretary, to get Ron from his office. Miss Ann slid her slipper-covered feet across the checkered tile floor to a beat-up supply closet door in between the men and women's restrooms. Behind the door was an all concrete room with one lamp in the corner, an unusually short fold-out table, and an upside-down yellow bucket imprinted with “CAUTION” in large black letters. Sitting uneasily atop the bucket was Ron Smith, the clinic's only post-operation monitor. He saw himself as an asset to the clinic. He thought himself irreplaceable, as most working people tend to. As soon as he heard the turning of his doorknob, Ron leapt up, grabbing his latex gloves and POPTM. The POPTM, or Post-Operation Patient Transfer Machine, was merely a glorified mechanized cot but calling it such was blasphemous to Ron, so the clinic staff decided to humor the little goblin man. He jammed the cot past Miss Ann without a word. He stopped in the center of the lobby, nervously looking back and forth between the two operation room doors. Miss Ann, annoyed, pointed towards Room 2A. Ron, defending himself, grumbled, “I know what I’m doing, woman! Don’t rush me!” Miss Ann released a loud sigh and sat herself back at her neatly organized desk.

It was a bright colored room, void of decoration other than a shakily painted quote above the door stating one of the World Federation’s mottos, “What a Beautiful Waste is Life!” Ron approached the ETB, Ergonomic Tranquility Bed, and stared into the open-eyed, smiling face of the corpse of Walter P. Cavins, age sixty-five. Cavins, like any good citizen of the world, had come to the Tranquility Clinic upon reaching the Age of Service. Cavins was a patriot of the World Federation, a vehement nihilist, and coincidentally, Ron’s cousin on his mother’s side. Ron locked the ETB and the POPTM together, without taking an eye off of Cavins’ face. He watched as the hydraulic lift of the ETB rose, until Cavins’ corpse slid gently into the stationary position on the POPTM. Ron said to Cavins’ remains, “Wipe that smirk off your face, Walter,” before wheeling the corpse down the short hallway to the Organic Recycler, and dumping Cavins in headfirst, all without a single word from anyone else in the building.
Dr. Rozgut kept the same cheery demeanor as he stood and watched Ron's process. With the closing of Ron’s office door, the doctor waved to a young girl and her mother to follow him back to Room 1B. The girl was confined to a wheelchair and her tiny blonde head rested on the neck of a tiny crippled body. Her mother pushed the chair with little effort as the girl hummed a cute lullaby and rocked her head gently back and forth.

"How are you today, little Miss Abbi Wedgel?" smiled Dr. Rozgut as he brought his lanky body heavily onto his cushioned stool.

"Hi!" blurted the girl. She was mentally handicapped, but she was a gleaming beacon of petty childhood happiness. Her mother, on the other hand, was a stout and stoic woman closing in on the Age of Service. Her face was gentle and constantly rose blushed despite her seriousness, and she tended to keep her puckered, chapped lips together unless directly spoken to. This was much to Dr. Rozgut's dismay as he could never remember whether she was a Betty or Marge. He hated doing anything that he perceived would hurt someone's feelings, so he instead opted to continue his casual conversation with the slow girl.

"So what brings you and your lovely mother to my clinic today?"

"Mommy says...you're a good guy...and you're gunna help me!" Abbi yelped brokenly. Her mother stared vacantly at the various pictures on the room's drab green walls.

"Oh, is that so?" Dr. Rozgut chuckled. "Wanna know how?" he asked in the most playful voice he could conjure up.

"Yessuh," the girl slurred. Dr. Rozgut loved to keep things simple, and it overjoyed him that little Abbi Wedgel seemed suited just for the simple.

"You see, it's such a quick little thing. And it's completely about you, little Abbi. See, your mommy will take you out for the best day ever, see?" he pointed toward a colorful poster depicting ice cream, smiley faces, and lollipops. "Then you'll come back here and I'll give you a little something to make you sleepy, see? Your mommy and I will be with you the whole time. See, after your little nap, you'll wake up, see, and be up there," he pointed again, this time towards the speckled ceiling and bright fluorescent lights, "in heaven. See?"

The girl twirled her short blonde hair and gazed up at the lights with her light blue eyes. "Can I be an angel?" her smile doubled in size.

"Why, you're already an angel, little Miss Abbi Wedgel!"
______________________________________________________________________________
Dr. Rozgut took Abbi out of Room 1B back to the lobby. “Miss Ann,” he smiled, “you wouldn’t mind keeping our little friend company while her mother and I have a short conversation, would you?”

“Of course not,” Miss Ann beamed. She snatched the opportunity to have someone else to talk to other than Ron Smith, whom she aggressively and actively despised. Dr. Rozgut quietly closed the door behind him and attempted to lock eyes with Ms. Wedgel. He noticed something unsettling about her. Her eyes fidgeted around the room, trying desperately to cling to anything but Dr. Rozgut’s kind, deep-blue eyes. This disturbed Edward. Every visitor to the clinic took an instant liking to Edward. He had a trustworthy air about him and the tender, friendly features of a much younger man. He took pride in very few aspects of his life, but it had always satisfied him to know that he was trusted among his neighbors, even those that had never spoken with him directly.

“Ms. Wedgel, I…” he trailed off, and began to sweat from nervousness. Ms. Wedgel forced out words before Dr. Rozgut could compose himself.

“I know what I’m doing,” she choked. “I know that I’m giving her a death sentence.” She burst violently into tears. “What kind of mother kills her only daughter?”

“There’s no pain involved, if that’s what worries you,” Dr. Rozgut whimpered meekly. He had never encountered such sudden guilt, such anguish. Death was an essential part of society. Euthanasia had become a tenet of the Nihilist-Socialist doctrine long before Edward’s time, long before any living person’s time. Edward certainly didn't fear death. He would enjoy his life, reap the benefits of the World Federation while he could, and at the Age of Service, he would, like all other patriots, voluntarily end his own life for the common good. That was the way it was. That was the way it should be, he thought. How could society prosper as it did if the population wasn’t regulated?

“Pain? You think I’m worried about her pain?” she gave a sick sort of laugh. “She’s been in pain her entire life! I brought her into this world broken and twisted! It’s not the pain that bothers me, sir, it’s the principle!”

Her sudden wretched episode nauseated Dr. Rozgut. He could feel the contents of his stomach edging up his esophagus; his heart beat more and more rapidly after every passing second. “Principle?” he stammered. “But, Ms. Wedgel…”

“It’s Betty, dammit! Betty!” she screeched between tears.

“Sorry, Ms. Wedgel, I mean Betty. Look, you know as well as I that this is voluntary. No one can be forced to do this; you don’t have to euthanize Abbi. It’s against the Ethics. It’s all voluntary. It’s a service to society.”

“A service? Voluntary? Ethics?” she raged hysterically. “You don’t know the meaning of…” She stopped. Her eyes finally met Edward’s. He was visibly disturbed, confused terror filled his face. Ms. Wedgel wrested control of herself. Apathetically, she responded. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, doctor, I have to go. I’ll be back later in the week. I’ll bring dear little Abbi.” She stormed out of Room 1, slamming the door behind her unintentionally in her rush. Edward sat alone on his cushioned stool and put his face to his hands.

“Alright, okay,” he whispered. He ran his bony fingers through his coarse hair and stood. Miss Ann cracked the door open, and through the small space called to Dr. Rozgut.

“Edward? Ms. Wedgel just ran out of the office. Is everything alright?”

“I’m not sure,” Edward stood completely still.

“Do you mind if I come in? Edward?”

“No, no, don’t come in,” he said in a low, sad voice. “Tell Ron to go home. Close up the clinic. You can go home, too.”

“Are you sure? Old Mr. Johnson called; he said he was finally ready to come in today, though.”

“Tell old Mr. Johnson we can do it another day. Any other day will do.”

“But…”

“Miss Ann, I’m sorry, but I’m done for the day. I’m going home as soon as all of you are out of the clinic. Maybe it’s not the best day to be providing our Service.”
Edward listened with his ear to the door waiting for everyone to leave. Miss Ann was knocking at Ron’s door.

“What the hell do you want, woman?” Ron started to yell. “I know for a fact there ain’t more goddamn patients out there!”

“Ron,” Miss Ann tried to keep calm, “Edward said we could go home.”

“Why the fuck would he say that? He didn’t say nothing to me!” His door flung open, bashing against the wall, narrowly missing Miss Ann.

“Ron, listen. Listen for once. Get out right now. Get the hell out of the clinic. Edward’s done, so we’re done. Okay? Is that okay with you, Ron?” she snapped.

“Fine, woman! See if I come back!”

“Nobody gives a shit Ron, all you do is roll around cots all day!”

The fighting became more distant, and the bell above the door chimed. Edward finally left Room 1B, grabbed his things, and began his walk to the Commune’s living quarters.

title: "The Curly-Headed One" (Incomplete)

question: Explain why Dr. Rozgut became so disturbed after his patient's visit.

answer: Dr. Rozgut was meeting with Ms. Wedgel and her daughter Miss Abbi, who was scheduled for euthanasia. In a private conversation, Ms. Wedgel expressed guilt to Dr. Rozgut for ending her daughter's life despite his assurance of a pain-free process and its service to society. Ms. Wedgel raged at the doctor's attempt to justify the procedure. She stormed out of the room and left the doctor in a disturbed state, questioning his service.


text:
[Matagorda County Office Building]

MATAGORDA COUNTY is a county located in the U.S. state of Texas. As of the 2010 census, the population was 36,702.[1] Its county seat is Bay City,[2] not to be confused with the larger Baytown in Harris and Chambers Counties. Matagorda County is named for the canebrakes that once grew along the coast (_matagorda_ is a Spanish word meaning “thick bush”).

Matagorda County comprises the Bay City, TX Micropolitan Statistical Area, which is also included in the Houston-The Woodlands, TX combined statistical area.

Geography

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the county has a total area of , of which are land and (32%) are covered by water.[3] The water area includes Matagorda Bay. It borders the Gulf of Mexico.

Major highways

-   [] State Highway 35
-   [] State Highway 60
-   [] State Highway 71
-   [] State Highway 111

Adjacent counties

-   Brazoria County (northeast)
-   Calhoun County (southwest)
-   Jackson County (west)
-   Wharton County (northwest)

National protected areas

-   Big Boggy National Wildlife Refuge
-   San Bernard National Wildlife Refuge (part)

Demographics

As of the census[4] of 2000, 37,957 people, 13,901 households, and 9,925 families were residing in the county. The population density was 34 people per square mile (13/km²). The 18,611 housing units averaged 17 per mi² (6/km²). The racial makeup of the county was 67.83% White, 12.72% African American, 0.67% Native American, 2.38% Asian, 14.02% from other races, and 2.38% from two or more races. About 31.35% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race. By ancestry, 10.3% were of German, 8.2% American, 5.4% English, and 5.2% Irish according to Census 2000, and 73.9% spoke English, 24.0% Spanish, and 1.6% Vietnamese as their first language.

Of the 13,901 households, 36.70% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 53.80% were married couples living together, 12.70% had a female householder with no husband present, and 28.60% were not families. About 25.10% of all households were made up of individuals, and 10.40% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.70, and the average family size was 3.25.

In the county, the age distribution was 30.00% under the age of 18, 8.90% from 18 to 24, 26.90% from 25 to 44, 21.80% from 45 to 64, and 12.40% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 35 years. For every 100 females, there were 98.60 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 95.50 males.

The median income for a household in the county was $32,174, and for a family was $40,586. Males had a median income of $37,733 versus $21,871 for females. The per capita income for the county was $15,709. About 14.90% of families and 18.50% of the population were below the poverty line, including 23.00% of those under age 18 and 13.60% of those age 65 or over.

Economy

[Matagorda County Museum in Bay City is located across from the Court House.] Rice is grown extensively in Matagorda County, as are St. Augustine and other turf grasses. In addition to a wealth of offshore oil rigs and natural gas extraction facilities all over the county, two petrochemical processing plants (Celanese and Equistar) and the South Texas Project nuclear power plant operate within the county. Matagorda County has secluded, extensive forests, wetlands, prairie, and coastal regions. The Gulf Coast floodplain has several conditions conducive to a variety of ecosystems and recreational activities evident by the highest count of migrating birds in the United States. Fishing (on- and offshore), hunting, and scuba diving are large parts of the recreation industry due to the Colorado River, the forests and Matagorda Bay. The Rio Colorado Golf Course and a birdwatching park are on the Colorado River near the State Highway 35 bridge, and a significant number of wildlife preserves are located around the county, a portion of which is land bought for that purpose by the two major petrochemical refineries and nuclear plant in the county.

Education

School districts serving Matagorda County include:

-   Bay City Independent School District
-   Boling Independent School District (partial)
-   Matagorda Independent School District
-   Palacios Independent School District (partial)
-   Tidehaven Independent School District
-   Van Vleck Independent School District

Communities

Cities

-   Bay City (county seat)
-   Palacios

Census-designated places

-   Blessing
-   Markham
-   Matagorda
-   Van Vleck

Unincorporated communities

-   Allenhurst
-   Buckeye
-   Caney
-   Cedar Lake
-   Cedar Lane
-   Collegeport
-   El Maton
-   Hawkinsville
-   Midfield
-   Pledger
-   Sargent
-   Wadsworth

Ghost towns

-   Hawley[5]

Notable people

-   Charlie Siringo
-   Hortense Sparks Ward

Gallery

Daughters of the Confederacy on the Matagorda County Courthouse.jpg|Monument erected by the Daughters of the Confederacy on the Matagorda County Courthouse square in Bay City in 1913 Episcopal Church Palacios TX.jpg|Episcopal Church, Palacios

Politics

  Year                               Republican                                  Democratic                                  Third parties
  ---------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ---------------
  style=“text-align:center;” |2016   style=“text-align:center;” |68.6% _8,366_   style=“text-align:center;” |28.7% _3,500_   2.7% _330_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2012   style=“text-align:center;” |66.3% _8,040_   style=“text-align:center;” |32.8% _3,980_   0.9% _113_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2008   style=“text-align:center;” |63.3% _7,835_   style=“text-align:center;” |35.9% _4,440_   0.8% _98_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2004   style=“text-align:center;” |64.8% _8,119_   style=“text-align:center;” |34.8% _4,355_   0.4% _47_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2000   style=“text-align:center;” |60.9% _7,584_   style=“text-align:center;” |37.7% _4,696_   1.4% _179_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1996   style=“text-align:center;” |47.0% _5,876_   style=“text-align:center;” |43.0% _5,374_   10.0% _1,244_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1992   style=“text-align:center;” |40.5% _5,328_   style=“text-align:center;” |36.2% _4,759_   23.4% _3,078_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1988   style=“text-align:center;” |54.0% _6,787_   style=“text-align:center;” |45.2% _5,675_   0.8% _104_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1984   style=“text-align:center;” |61.7% _8,452_   style=“text-align:center;” |38.0% _5,201_   0.3% _41_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1980   style=“text-align:center;” |53.4% _5,545_   style=“text-align:center;” |44.2% _4,585_   2.4% _252_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1976   style=“text-align:center;” |42.1% _3,679_   style=“text-align:center;” |56.9% _4,971_   0.9% _81_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1972   style=“text-align:center;” |66.8% _5,003_   style=“text-align:center;” |33.0% _2,473_   0.3% _19_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1968   style=“text-align:center;” |36.6% _3,094_   style=“text-align:center;” |42.5% _3,595_   21.0% _1,777_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1964   style=“text-align:center;” |36.7% _2,407_   style=“text-align:center;” |63.2% _4,143_   0.1% _5_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1960   style=“text-align:center;” |49.6% _2,975_   style=“text-align:center;” |49.5% _2,971_   0.9% _52_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1956   style=“text-align:center;” |66.5% _3,927_   style=“text-align:center;” |32.2% _1,904_   1.3% _78_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1952   style=“text-align:center;” |66.2% _4,122_   style=“text-align:center;” |33.8% _2,101_   0.0% _1_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1948   style=“text-align:center;” |30.8% _1,016_   style=“text-align:center;” |49.4% _1,628_   19.9% _655_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1944   style=“text-align:center;” |13.4% _412_     style=“text-align:center;” |60.5% _1,854_   26.1% _801_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1940   style=“text-align:center;” |23.1% _651_     style=“text-align:center;” |76.6% _2,156_   0.2% _6_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1936   style=“text-align:center;” |21.2% _459_     style=“text-align:center;” |78.6% _1,700_   0.2% _5_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1932   style=“text-align:center;” |16.6% _408_     style=“text-align:center;” |82.9% _2,039_   0.6% _14_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1928   style=“text-align:center;” |58.9% _1,194_   style=“text-align:center;” |40.9% _829_     0.3% _6_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1924   style=“text-align:center;” |37.6% _893_     style=“text-align:center;” |57.0% _1,353_   5.4% _128_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1920   style=“text-align:center;” |43.9% _918_     style=“text-align:center;” |47.4% _992_     8.7% _181_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1916   style=“text-align:center;” |23.1% _252_     style=“text-align:center;” |68.6% _748_     8.3% _91_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1912   style=“text-align:center;” |9.6% _107_      style=“text-align:center;” |64.0% _710_     26.4% _293_

  : PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS RESULTS[6]

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title: Matagorda County, Texas

question: List a few recreational places in and around the county.

answer: The county consists of the Big Boggy National Wildlife Refuge and the San Bernard National Wildlife Refuge. Along with these places, hunting, fishing, and scuba diving are also a few activities that people indulge in.

question: What is the main source of revenue for the people of the county?

answer: The county grows rice extensively, additionally, they also have two petrochemical processing plants and a nuclear power plant operating in the county.

question: What is Charlie Siringo famous for?

answer: This information can't be found.


text:
''' Eleanor E. Ahlers ''' (May 16, 1911 – November 24, 1997) was a foreign languages teacher, teacher-librarian and university professor who served as president of the American Association of School Libraries. Ahlers advocated for improved school library/media collections, services, and full librarian involvement in curriculum development, not only in the State of Washington, but nationally. She received many honors during her career, including entries in Who's Who in America, Who's Who in the West, and Who's Who of American Women. Eleanor Ahlers died on November 24, 1997 in Seattle at the age of 85.[1]

Education

Eleanor. E. Ahlers began her university career at the University of Washington, where she received a Bachelor of Arts in French in 1932. Her interest in librarianship was nourished with a B.L.S. from the University of Denver in 1942. She continued her education with course work at the University of California during the summer of 1948. Finally, she returned to the University of Washington and received an M.A. in Curriculum Studies in 1957.[2]

Career

After graduating from the University of Washington, Ahlers was an English and foreign languages teacher in South Bend, Washington, from 1932 to 1936. Following her graduation from the University of Denver, she began a career as a school librarian, beginning with a high school position in Everett, Washington, from 1942 to 1953, and ultimately moving to a more senior position as supervisor of school libraries from 1952 to 1953.

A combination of practical experience and passion for school librarianship led Ahlers to a new position as assistant professor of library science at the School of Education at the University of Oregon[3] from 1953 to 1957. Although she had previously taught teacher-librarian courses at the University of Wyoming during the summers of 1945 and 1946, as well as at San Jose State College during the summers of 1947 and 1952, her acceptance of the assistant professor position was her first full-time university teaching job.

Ahlers was executive secretary of the American Association of School Libraries (AASL) from 1957 to 1961. After that, she became the first supervisor of library services[4] at the Washington Department of Public Instruction in Olympia from 1961 to 1966. She ended her career at the University of Washington as associate professor position from 1966 to 1970 and as professor from 1970 to 1976.[5]

Publications and research

At the Department of Public Instruction in Olympia, she edited “Notes from Everywhere for Washington School Librarians,” recognized as a valuable contribution to the profession within the state. Ahler's publications focused on the neglected area of the role and competencies of the school district library supervisor.

Ahlers shared a commitment to the study of the relationship between school libraries and curriculum and general principles of librarianship throughout her professional career, as was indicated by her master's thesis, “A Study of Library Services in Fifty-four Oregon High Schools which Have Utilized the Evaluative Criteria of the Cooperative Study of Secondary-School Standards."

Ahlers wrote more than 25 articles and contributed to other publications as an editor and a reviewer. Besides participating in numerous research projects as a member and director, she consulted with school districts in various areas in Washington State. Her research took her to more than 35 speaking engagements throughout the United States and Canada.[6]

Much of her writing focused on children. She wrote articles about children's books, ways to attract children to libraries, and interpreting books for young people. She also created annotated bibliographies about literature for children.[7]

Associations

Ahlers was an active member of many professional organizations, including the Washington State Association of School Librarians, of which she was president from 1950 to 1951. She was president of the American Association of School Librarians from 1966 to 1967. Ahlers also had other leadership positions with the American Library Association dating back to the early 1950s (e.g., Council, 1962-1965). She was also active in the Association of American Library Schools, the Washington Association of Educational Communication and Technology, and the Pacific Northwest Library Association.[8]

[1]

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[6]

[7]

[8]

title: Eleanor E. Ahlers

question: What does the article say about Ahlers' career?

answer: She was an English language teacher from 1932 to 1936 in South Bend, Washington. She became a high school librarian in Everett, Washington in 1942, and it lasted until 1952 when she became the supervisor of school libraries, which lasted until 1953. She became an assistant professor of library science at the School of Education at the University of Oregon in 1953, continuing until 1957. That year, she became the executive secretary of the American Association of School Libraries until 1961. She was the first supervisor of library services at the Washington Department of Public Instruction in Olympia from 1961 to 1966. She was an assistant professor at the University of Washington from 1966 to 1970, and a professor from 1970 to 1976. She wrote more than 25 articles and was an editor and a reviewer for many others.

question: What does the article say about book numbering systems in libraries?


text:
It was a cold, dark night…

I lay in the corner of the street, my head in a puddle, a smell of what can only be described as death circling my very presence. I had lost count of how many days it had been, of how many faces I’ve seen pass me, of how many feet I’ve watched shuffle aside, trying their hardest to avoid my very existence. Of how many eyes had looked at me, and burnt hatred so deep it became almost intolerable. Sheer disgust, seeping out of the breath of everyone who passed. That is what my life had become. Ever since that one day. When everything I thought I knew was ripped apart in front of me.

It was the youngest who took me in. He seemed kind, welcomed me. One of those people that deep down you can tell had a good heart even if they hid it beneath a rough, silent exterior. I lived in his room free to do what I felt, unless the others were around, the older ones. When their voices carried through the door, I was hidden under the bed, its so our friendship will be ours alone I would convince myself, that he wanted me to be all his. But I suppose that should have been the first warning sign. Can a place truly be called your home if you have to hide from its very inhabitants? But sadly, I was naive… no, I chose to ignore it, I was too obsessed, too caught up by this newfound friendship to ever even consider the truth. I thought everything was perfect. Then it happened.  It was late at night, the door slammed behind him as the boy tumbled in. Raised voices instantly burnt through the very walls that surrounded me, through the doors, through everything. I had heard anger in those voices before, the times when I hid, but nothing like this, this was… new. The door crashed open, the boy collapsing to the ground. Eyes bloodshot, his mouth lined with dry, cracked vomit, his shirt, blooded, torn and stained. A sight that I wished I would never see again. As he hit the ground, he looked up at me, but there was no affection any more, just pure emptiness. I heard the voices come closer. There was no time to hide, no time to be hidden. Voices entered the room; eyes were cast down the decrepit shell lying on the floor, then to me. Hatred. Rough hands were placed on me, words crying out that I was to blame, that somehow, this was my entire fault. My protests, my cries of defense, all fell on deaf ears. No matter how much I pleaded, no matter how many times I cried out to them that there was more to me, more I could give to them, it was all to no avail. I was tossed out on the street, my once home fading in my eyesight as I tumbled, seemingly forever, sinking in to my own personal abyss.

An icy wind blew threw me, bringing me back from the horrid memory. I rolled onto my side, no longer sure if it was by my own personal doing or if I simply lacked the strength to offer any resistance. This is it, I thought to myself. This is how it is going to end. All the things I could have done, the places I could have seen, and now this will become my final resting place, a blotch in the street, surrounded by the ear wrecking sound of traffic and drunks. Some rest indeed. Through all the noise, I heard footsteps walking towards me. No doubt to impose some form of abuse towards me in my final moments I had thought. But no, a hand rested on my body. Warmth that I had not felt since… the boy? I turned around and stared up, locking eyes with an unfamiliar face. It was irrelevant. This man has picked me up in my time of need. He had saved me.

 took me to some form of haven for my kind. After I adjusted to the contrast of light, I looked around and saw countless amounts of those in the same position as me. It was amazing. I was no longer a freak. No longer an outcast, I was amongst my own kind at last. The time I spent there was the happiest of my life. On occasions, members of our private little community would be taken away by strangers from the outside, I had lost a few good friends through that, but even then the kind man would always bring in new members, new friends to be made, stories to be heard, connections to be formed. I should have learnt. All good things must come to a pass.

The horrendous noise sounded, the noise that sounded the arrival of a stranger. As usual, our host welcomed the man with open arms, allowing him to take his pick of who he wanted. The stranger cast his eyes along the crowd, passing by everyone I knew, his gaze nonchalant to all. All that is, except me. He looked straight at me, and stopped. Eyes bloodshot, his mouth lined with dry, cracked vomit, his shirt, blooded, torn and stained. The memory flooded through me. It was then I realized just how blind I had been. The night that changed it all, it had not been emptiness in the boy’s eyes. It had been lust! And it was lust again the bore its way inside my soul. The stranger had chosen. I wouldn’t be saying goodbye to a friend this time. I would be saying goodbye to everything.

The door opened to his building. And a building it would always be, never a home. No place with so much vile hatred seeping out of every crack in the wall, so much murk and gloom pouring out of every shadow, could ever be called a home. He sat in front of me, breathing his horrid breath over my neck, running his fingers down my body, inhaling my breath. I knew straight away, this was never going to end well. He lifted me, I felt weightless and powerless under his grasp. He put his lips around me, and it felt like he drank the very life force from my body. His brown, crusted teeth scraping against me, as his course tongue brought him to the satisfaction he had desired for so long. After what felt like an eternity in the lowest ring of hell, he was done. The door was opened, and for the second time in my life, I was cast out. This time however, there was no remorse. There was nothing. I was resound to my fate.

And that’s how I arrived here, lying once again in a gutter. This time, I know there will be no retribution. I can see my life flowing from my body. It’s coming to an end. If only things had been different. If only we really did have medicinal qualities, then maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the end of just one more bottle of Buckfast.

title: The first story I wrote, no title, around 1100 words. Constructive criticism is welcome. :)

question: What is the perspective of the narrator?

answer: The narrator seems to be an animal of some kind that is taken to an animal shelter.

question: What is the twist at the end of the story?

answer: The narrator is adopted by the same boy that they were picked up by at the beginning of the story.


text:
_This month, NGC Ancients examines the silver tetradrachms of Alexander III of Macedon (356–323 B.C.), better known as Alexander the Great._

Throughout history, few names resonate like that of Alexander the Great. Born a son of the Macedonian King Philip II in 356 B.C., this young man was tutored in war and philosophy by some of the most famed intellectuals of the day, including Aristotle. Upon the assassination of Philip II in 336 B.C., the twenty year-old Alexander was proclaimed king by Macedonian noblemen and the Macedonian army, and subsequently assumed command of his father’s forces.

What followed was a prolonged campaign of conquest that lasted until 323 B.C.; a series of expeditions that has gone unmatched in documented military history of the West. During his lifetime, Alexander conquered lands as distant as modern-day Afghanistan, and, at the height of his power, controlled much of the Western world. His sudden death at the relatively young age of 32 in 323 B.C. remains shrouded in mystery, and has been, at various times, attributed to a murder plot, lingering illness, or simply too much wine.

[]

Were he merely one of the conquering generals of antiquity, Alexander’s place in history would have been firmly secured. Even today, his exploits are the standard against which military men measure themselves. However, Alexander’s claims to fame are multitudinous; not only did he conquer vast territories and topple the Persian Empire, but he was also almost single-handedly responsible for the spread and lasting influence of Hellenistic culture. It was a culture that would take root and survive into the Roman era; it was perhaps Alexander’s greatest contribution to the world.

For numismatists as well, Alexander is an extremely important figure in the history of ancient coinage. Although coins of Alexander were also struck in base metal and gold (and are highly collectible in their own right), his silver tetradrachms are among the most famous and instantly recognizable issues of the ancient world.

[]

The tetradrachms of Alexander III are avidly collected today for both artistic beauty and historical significance. These coins, which were presumably first struck during the late-330s B.C., feature on the obverse Alexander in the guise of the demi-god Heracles (wearing a lion scalp), and on the reverse the seated figure of the supreme Greek god Zeus.

Tetradrachms of Alexander are also noteworthy for the vast array of symbols and monograms that occur in the reverse field. These markings functioned much like modern-day mintmarks on United States coins; today they help numismatists decipher where a particular Alexander tetradrachm was minted.

More than 120 mints are known to have issued coinage of the Alexandrine type. Animals, religious objects, and representations of deities are among the symbols that the collector will encounter. This series of coins can be collected by symbol/monogram, and some of the scarcer issues command substantial premiums.

[]

This coin is an excellent example of an early Alexander tetradrachm, which would have circulated throughout the empire. Note the amphora symbol that appears in the reverse field – this is just one of well more than a thousand symbol and monogram combinations that appear on coins of this series. Although the style, fabric, and other elements of these coins would change in very noticeable ways depending on both the mint and date, the Heracles-Zeus design would be struck well into the first century B.C., a remarkable lifespan for any coin type.

A more recent collecting trend focuses not on the artistic or topical interest of the symbols, but instead on what those markings reveal about when a particular coin was struck. Although some dating attributions remain highly conjectural and are subject to almost constant revision, a general picture of the dating of Alexander tetras has begun to emerge in the past few decades.

[]

Assuming all other factors about an Alexander tetradrachm remain constant (i.e. condition, eye appeal, metal quality, etc.), most collectors of ancients will prefer a “lifetime issue” of Alexander to later issues, and they command a consistent premium within the series. [] This coin is an excellent example of a late (c.325-323 B.C.) lifetime issue of the Macedonian king. This time, the symbol is the bucranium (an ox skull), which was an object of religious significance to the ancient Greeks. For purposes of comparison, a very similar symbol was employed on the Old Spanish Trail half-dollar commemorative of 1935.

Posthumous issues, considered types of Alexanders because they retain the same design elements as the original coins, were struck under his successors, the _diadochi_.[] Initially, the style and fabric of these coins remained more or less the same, as evidenced by this piece, struck in the name of Alexander’s half-brother and successor to the throne, Philip III (323-317 B.C.). After 323 B.C., this coin type was used with the names of both Alexander III and Philip III.

In general, tetradrachms bearing Alexander’s name are posthumously attributed to Alexander down to about 275 B.C., after which things become more complicated. Over time, other kings and eventually powerful Greek city-states adopted the Heracles-Zeus type pioneered by Alexander III and made it their own. In general, by the second to first centuries B.C., flans had become dramatically wider and thinner, comparable in size to a modern-day silver dollar.

[] These coins, which are beautiful and represent an interesting field of study in their own right, are generally attributed to city-states believed to have issued them. This coin, which was struck in Mesambria c.250-175 B.C., illustrates some of the changes to the type by this time. The portrait is of a noticeably different style, and the flan is much wider and thinner than on lifetime and early posthumous issues of Alexander. [] Additionally, this tetradrachm from Mesambria, dating later still (to c.155-110 B.C.), further demonstrates a change in style.

_All images courtesy of Classical Numismatic Group except the image of the Old Spanish Trail half-dollar commemorative of 1935 which was provided by Heritage Auctions._

question: What is Alexander III best known for?

answer: Alexander III is best known for his conquest of the world that lasted from 336 B.C. to 323 B.C. He conquered lands as far as modern-day Afghanistan and at the height of his power, controlled much of the Western world.

question: How many coins were issued under Alexander III's rule?

answer: More than 120 mints are known to have issed coinage of the Alexandrine type.

question: What metals were used in Alexander III's coins?

answer: Base metal and gold were used, but the silver tetradrachms are among the most famous and instantly recognizable issues of the ancient world.


text:
I exited the car and began to walk around to the back.  Walking past her without saying a word I soon realized I was ignoring her.  Not because I wanted to, but because for some reason I physically couldn't interact with her at all as if my body wouldn't allow.  It took every bit of me to focus on just walking to the back of that car.  This must look awkward as shit.  Why am I walking around the pump and not just straight to the back?  Why am I not saying anything to the woman I've always just wanted a chance to get to show who I am?  Goddammit.  My arm began to shake and I could taste the iron again.  I really hope she can't notice, but she probably does.  Fuck.  I opened the hatch of the jeep and moved the massage table.  “I know she keeps jumper cables.  They gotta' be here.”  Rose began to help me search for them although she didn't quite know where to look.  I  went for the yellow emergency kit people in my family like to keep.  Opening the plastic box, there they were.  “There we go.” I told her.  I gave them to her and walked back to the driver door of the car.  She followed.  Waiting for the car to fill up, I finally had a moment with her.

Good conversation is difficult to come by nowadays and I'm certainly no exception.  Leaning against the car door, I took a sip of my coffee and wondered what she had been doing all these years.  So I asked.  “How's life been treating you?” The moment these words left my mouth I looked her in the eyes and instantly felt relaxed.  It was a genuine question and I could see in her eyes that she understood its sincerity.  She opted for the generic response.  “Good.  How 'bout yourself?”  I wanted something more.  I wanted something real.  Tell me what you've been up to.  Why does it matter if you do?  We both know we'll probably never see each other again.  I've always thought strangers (or people who you rarely see) are the best people to open yourself up to.  Who will they share your secrets with?  Nobody.  “I'm doing pretty well, actually.  Back home for the break.  I'm living in north carolina now.  So I got here yesterday morning and fly back on sunday.” “Oh, cool.  What are you doing in north carolina?” “I work on Ft. Bragg.” I replied with a nod of confirmation.  Rose gently tilted her head to the right swaying her body in a faint natural manner as though she were dancing and looked up into my eyes as though straight into the fathom of my being with an expression of hinted calculation.  “Are you in the army?” Taking another sip of my coffee with the same confirming nod, “I am.  Never thought I'd be where I am today 5 years ago, but I really love where I'm at right now.” “Well, yea.  You must get great benefits.” “It's more than just that, though.”  And it's true.  I love what I do. “What about you?  What have you been doing?” “I'm living in jersey city now. Right by the grove street stop.” “Oh, nice.  I have a friend who lives by that stop.” She smiled after I said that.  I hate to think that I'm manufacturing some moment between us, but what I perceived as a smile made me think otherwise.  “I love jersey city.  How do you like it there?” “It's great.  I used to live in manhattan, but it just got to be too expensive.  I'm doing comedy in the city, so its a lot of fun.”  I thought it somewhat made sense.  She was always a fun person to be around, yet borderline flirtatious.  Suddenly the pump chunked and the attendant came over to return my debit card with a receipt.  Without saying a word, I opened up the door and started the car.  “So you wouldn't mind giving me a jump, would you?” “Well, yea.  I'd like to get my cables back.”  I was trying to be sarcastic, trying to stir up any sort of emotion in her, but I don't think she picked up on it and I probably came off as crass.  Oh well.

As I drove up and parked my car in front of hers, Rose began to connect the cables to her battery.  “So red goes with red, right?”  I looked at her.  Are you serious? Come on.  Stop trying to flatter me so I complete the job without making you feel guilty.  I kept the tone of my voice cheerful with her, even if it did kind of annoy me.  “Yup.  Red with red.  Black with black.  Positive to positive.  Negative to negative.”  She connected the cables accordingly as the two clamps on the open end touched and sparked.  Rose immediately jumped back with a shriek.  “I've never done that before!” quickly she let out a sigh from the momentary exhilaration.  Once again I couldn't tell if she was being genuine or just trying to flirt with me to ensure a job well done guilt free on her end.  I didn't say anything.  I just picked up the open end and connected it to my battery. “Ok, lemme start up my car and then give it a minute to charge up.”  It didn't take nearly a minute.  Within 10 seconds she turned her ignition and her car started.  “Ahh! Thank you so much.” “Please, anytime.”  We disconnected the cables and I went around to the back of the car to pack them back up.

Once again Rose followed me around to the back.  I loved the assuming way she had about herself, forcing her presence into my life at that moment as though we had been good friends.  I would have just thrown the cables in the back hatch without really caring about their proper place, but realized my time with her was nearing an end.  I decided to put them back where they really belonged so I could extend my time with her as much as I could even it if only meant seconds.  Those seconds seemed to last forever.  “Thanks again, Pete.  I owe you one.”  She called me Pete.  I love the way she always called me Pete.  Only my family calls me Pete, but everyone in that town called me by my legal name- Fulgenzio.  After making me feel at home, I thought why the hell not. “Well you can pay me back if you want.  I'll probably be romping around new brunswick sometime this weekend.” “Yea.  Me and Becca, not sure if you remember her, are going to this new place next to Old Bay.  I think I have your number.  You have mine, right?” How could you have my number? We rarely ever spoke, let alone on the phone or through text. Better not leave anything to chance.  That's right.  Put your money where your mouth is if you really are inviting me.  I handed her my phone without saying a word as I finished putting the cables back where they belonged.  Rose seemed somewhat taken aback as I implored her for her number.  She dialed it in, left it for me to either save it or lose it, and handed the phone back. “Well maybe I'll see you later than.”  I hoped she meant that.  I hoped she truly wanted to see me.  “Bye, Pete.”  We hugged and then returned to our respective cars.

I quickly saved her number into my phone leaving no chance of losing it.  Walking back to the drivers seat of the car I began to wonder what my chances were of actually seeing her that night.  I looked back at Rose one last time.  Still making her way back to her car, she wished me one last goodbye, “Good luck in the Army.”  I knew in that moment she had no intentions of seeing me later that night.  “Thanks.  Good luck with everything in Jersey City.”  As we looked each other in the eye from that distance, we had both known this would be the last moment of our most recent episode together.  She began to open her door and the same quizzical calculating look slowly swept across her face as if a moment of sudden realization had hit her.  With her head slightly tilted back up right and the same faint swaying motion followed by her body Rose called out to me, “Don't be a hero...”  I felt the sincerity in her voice.  Once again maybe I'm constructing something that wasn't there, but it felt as though she cared for me at that moment and was recognizing a very real bond between us.  Or maybe she wanted me to feel that way and just wanted to say good-bye for the last time as though she would never see me again.  Either way all I could reply was a simple, “I won't...”

Putting my mother's car into gear, there was a bit of an awkward moment as we both began to pull out of the station.  Rose allowed me to back out first and exit the station.  Waiting for traffic to clear, I kept looking into the rear view mirror back at her and hoping my instincts were wrong.  I kept hoping I really would see her later that night in new brunswick.  As soon as the traffic cleared I pulled out left, she pulled right and we both drove off.

title: Rose (pt 2)

question: What does the story say about Pet's relationship with Rose?

answer: They meet after a long time. Pet is in love with her but is not sure what she feels. He helps her to start her car, and she leaves. He is aware that probably they will not see each other again.

question: What does the story say bout Pet's feelings?

answer: Pet likes Rose but is not sure if she feels the same. He is confused and very excited and keeps silent although he would like to talk to her. He is annoyed because he is not sure if she is flirting with him. He hopes to see her again but is afraid that she does not want to see him that evening.

question: What does the story say about Rose's family?

question: What does the story say about what happened with Rose's car?

answer: Rose cannot start her car and Pet is helping her. She tries to connect the cables, but the two clamps on the open end touch and spark. Then Pet picks the open end and connects it to his battery, and Rose manages to start her car.

question: What does the story say about Pet's job?

answer: Pet is in the Army. He works on Ft. Bragg in North Carolina. He loves his job and gets great benefits.

question: What does the story say about Rose's job?

answer: Rose is doing comedy in New Jersey and she says it is a lot of fun.


text:
The AMERICAN ONCOLOGY INSTITUTE is a group of cancer hospitals in 15 locations in South Asia. The American Oncology Institute provides cancer care using international pathways and protocols for treatment.

The Institute also has an International Tumor Board, through which it implements a system in which foreign experts collaborate and advise physicians in cases where the diagnosis and treatment procedures are complex and require intervention.[1][2]

History

American Oncology Institute (a unit of Cancer Treatment Services Hyderabad Pvt Ltd) is a wholly owned subsidiary of Cancer Treatment Services International Ltd (CTSI), which is owned by Varian Medical Systems (NYSE: VAR).[3]

The Institute was co-founded in 2006 by a group of physicians and industry experts associated with the University of Pittsburgh Medical College (UPMC). American Oncology Institute was started with an aim to close the gap between standards of cancer care in South Asia and the West.

The Institute provides comprehensive cancer management . It provides clinical protocols, multidisciplinary clinical teams, an International Tumor Board, US qualified Dosimetry teams for Central Treatment Planning and service experts.

Management

Dr. Jagprag Singh Gujral stepped in as the Group CEO of American Oncology Institute in August 2018.[4]

Locations

The Institute is currently located at Hyderabad, Nagpur, Ludhiana, Vijayawada, Guntur, Bhubaneswar, Jalandhar, Hisar, and Sri Lanka. It launched their first exclusive super specialty cancer hospital in Jammu in 2019.[5][6] The Institute opened a specialty cancer hospital in Calicut on January 1, 2020.[7]

Treatments available

-   Radiation Oncology
-   Medical Oncology
-   Surgical Oncology
-   Head & Neck Surgery
-   Neuro Onco Surgery
-   Musculoskeletal Oncology
-   Hemato Oncology
-   Pediatric Hemato Oncology

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

title: American Oncology Institute

question: What is the main point of paragraph 2?

answer: It briefly introduces the International Tumor Board that is connected to the American Oncology Institute as well as its purpose.

question: What are common themes among the listed available treatments?

answer: All but one, head and neck surgery, are specifically cancer treatments.

question: What is the primary purpose of the American Oncology Institute?

answer: To provide comprehensive cancer care for patients in South Asia, making use of international pathways and protocols for the treatment of cancer-related issues.

question: Explain Dr. Jagprag Singh Gujral's relationship with the previous CEO.

answer: No answer.


text:
Dear /r/ShortStories,

I just finished an english course which had the benefit of an amazingly inspirational teacher. That means I recently got into writing; I've done some shorts here and there, and I mostly kept these to myself, but I recently became confident enough to share some of these stories. That said, I've also come to appreciate honest criticism as a way to grow stronger.

Thank you for taking the time to read it.

A Trip To the Dentist
-

A few years ago I read an article about a man who had gotten into trouble when a newspaper reporter learned that he was operating a “dental clinic” in his basement. He managed to brush off the reporter by saying that it was his own private museum, but by then he became somewhat notorious for actually doing dental work.

This got me thinking two things: first, whenever I go to a museum, most of the exhibits aren’t in any shape to be doing what they were originally meant to be doing. Ever see an axe at the museum? They’re all rusty and missing bits, and they’d probably vapourize under the pressure of trying to get stuck in a tree. I think the reason I’ve never seen much in the way of dentistry at the Royal Ontario Museum is because they’re afraid it would scare people away from the museum and terrify what few people otherwise brave the dentist today!

I’m one of the lucky few who’s never had a bad experience at the dentist, so a few years ago, when I hadn’t gotten a proper dental cleaning in a decade, it wasn’t out of fear, but out of ignorance. When I think about gaps in what I think I know, I try to fill them in, and that was my second thought: that with the Internet, you can learn ANYTHING! We have the combined power of Wikipedia and YouTube, and surely someone saw a void in the at-home orthodontist video market. And so, keen to learn about something new, I unassumingly decided to look up dentistry.

What a horrific mistake that was…

There were a few videos, with some cautionary messages at the beginning. Usually it was people describing the bone-melting acids they’d use to etch the surface of a tooth, followed by details skimming over the dangers of the medical-grade epoxies they use to seal up valleys and cracks. Amateur dentists take great pride in their work, and with good reason: few people know anyone who talks about their surgical hobbies, and I imagine fewer still would be eager to assist with performing surgery. They need to act solo.

Novocain can’t exactly be bought off the shelf, either – the only practical solution is to either take a pile of pain killers (which makes it hard to co-ordinate) or “go clean”, without taking anything to prepare (due to the potential of extreme pain, this makes it harder to co-ordinate). And then the bleeding. And then the diseases, not from the original cavity, but from the botches and failures! I’ve read about tattoo artists who can ink their own skin, but slipping means either going with the flow or covering up, not trying to find a donor set of teeth while wrangling penicillin from strangers on a long weekend; patching a tooth isn’t a two-hour chore.

The great news is that learning and seeing these horrors redoubled my intention to never, ever let things get so bad that I’d become like one of those gruesome images. In fact, any lingering fear of dentists evaporated into respect. I go to the George Brown Wave Clinic for annual cleanings now, and in the process, ironically or not, I’ve even learned a lot about dental hygiene. I even became an exhibit myself once – I still have my wisdoms, making for a full set of teeth. One student hygienists described me as the weirdest patient they’d ever had, but she brought out a tray of dental tools and challenged me to identify the various weapons of oral warfare - I guess that’s a plus. I find it curious that the periodontal probe they use has a black-and-yellow waspy look – that shit terrifies me.

I’m also deathly afraid of museums.

title: [NF] A Trip To the Dentist

question: What happens to the protagonist?

answer: They hear about a dental clinic operated out of a basement and watch dental horror story videos online. They're motivated to see a proper dentist.

question: Was the man purported to be running a dental clinic out of his basement actually doing so?

answer: He claimed it was a private museum, but implied that he was in fact operating on people.

question: Why does the protagonist search for dentistry videos on Youtube?

answer: They acknowledge that one can learn anything on the internet these days, they were curious.

question: What did the protagonist see on Youtube?

answer: Cases of difficulty properly anesthetizing, bleeding, diseases often from botches and failures.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: The protagonist hears about a man reported to be running a dental clinic out of his basement. Their interest is piqued and they wonder about at-home dental procedures. They search the internet and Youtube for examples of such operations and are not disappointed. They find tons of examples of difficulty anesthetizing, bleeding, and diseases. They're motivated to not ever get to a point to be one such case, and instead see a proper dentist.


text:
Sharon didn't want his death the be too painful, even though that bastard deserved it. Cheating on her with that bitch at the office. Not his office even, her office. Her husband Mike would often visit her at work during lunch. It was always a surprise to see him there, right when Sharon got back from lunch, sitting in her desk chair.
	“Hey Sharon!” He would say with that toothless smile she had grown to hate. “Just got finished with all my work for the day so I thought I’d drop by and see you.” He would chirp, or something along those lines. But this particular day something different happened. Mike was there, but he wasn't waiting in Sharon’s chair. No, Mike was coming out of her coworker’s office. Sharon saw her giggle at him as he left and make a sly shhhh sign with her finger. They both nervously laughed as Mike walked away with a prideful grin on his face. He would almost always have with him chocolate cheesecake- Sharon’s favorite food. Then they would eat together and Mike would give her a short peck on the lips and leave. That’s how she knew he was cheating on her. She tasted something on Mike’s lips that day, something sweet. It wasn't the chocolate cheesecake though. No, this was a sweet strawberry flavor upon his this lips that she tasted.
	Mike made a lot of money. He was a writer for a popular newspaper company in New York. Sharon hardly made any money. She didn't even have to work actually, Mike made more than enough to keep them both more than alive and happy. Mike was kinda famous too. He wrote the political cartoons for the paper. Sometimes people would recognize him in resturaunts or places like that. They would come up to him with a big smile and shake his hand or ask for a picture. They wouldn’t even acknowledge Sharon. And that made her mad.
	Melissa. That’s the bitch that was doing her husband at her workplace. Sharon wasn’t completely sure it was Melissa, but it was most likely her. Melissa wasn't even that pretty, at least not in Sharon’s eyes. Melissa had to have been at least forty with her brown hair that was starting to show strands of grey. Sharon’s hair had more grey in her blonde hair, she used products to keep it from showing, but it never seemed to work for her. Melissa was also kinda plump. Not fat by any means, but not close to skinny either. Sharon was skinny. Too skinny. She had lost a lot of weight lately and she didn't know why. Maybe Mike didn't like her being skinny, maybe he wanted something more plump like Melissa. That’s what Sharon figured at least.
	Poison. That’s how Mike was going to die. Sharon got the poison from a guy in the city. She knew from some of the ladies in her office that he could get anybody anything that they want, drugs, guns it didn't matter. “I’ve actually never done drugs before, not even in high school or college.” Sharon overheard Melissa saying one day. That bitch.
	“You’ve outdone yourself this time sweetie.” Mike said as he finished the potato soup that Sharon made him. Mike loved potato soup. He was always pestering Sharon to buy it for him. Sharon put the poison in the potato soup, the dealer said it was tasteless and the affects of the poison would kick in in about 6 hours. After dinner they cuddled on the couch. She actually liked being with him like this. It was a shame he had to die. Oh well, he shouldn't have cheated on her. They were in love for 15 years. Their anniversary was just last week and Mike took her ballroom dancing, something they both found out they were getting too old for.
	“I love you so much.” Michael whispered into her ear. His breath smelled like potato soup.
	Sharon smiled at him and stared back into his dark brown eyes. “I love you too babe.” And they started kissing like they were teenagers again, sitting in the back of Mike’s chevy truck.
	Sharon tasted something horrible in her mouth while they were kissing. It tasted like potato soup but something wet and metallic. “The hell, Mike?” Sharon asked as she pushed him away.
	Mike was bleeding. Everywhere. There was blood streaming out of his mouth, but that’s not the only place it was pouring out of. His eyes, ears and nose were all spewing out dark red blood. Sharon screamed. And so did Michael. The look of terror and pain in his eyes suddenly made Sharon forget that he was a dirty cheater. Mike was crying too. She could see the tears over the blood that was now all over his face. Michael was still on top of Sharon while all of this was going on. His blood was all over her body and white blouse.
	“Sharon.” Mike garbled as blood came spitting out if his mouth and onto Sharon and her opened mouth. “Help. 911.” He spewed quickly. But Sharon didn't move. She didn't know what to do. Mike was on top of her and wouldn't move. Couldn't move, so it seemed. This wasn't supposed to happen this way. It wasn't supposed to end like this. The dealer told Sharon that Mike would just die in his sleep. No pain. No blood spewing out of every orrfice in the man’s body. Mike’s torture went on for about forty-five minutes. And then he finally died, laying on top of his wife. Sharon carefully pushed him off of her and onto the floor. She took her blood-soaked clothes off and got in the shower. She was just getting out of the shower when the doorbell rang. “One minute!” she cried out. Sharon wasn’t thinking about her dead husband’s tortured body laying in the living room floor. Sharon wasn’t really thinking about anything at all. She opened the door. And there was Melissa.
	“Happy birthday, Sharon!” Melissa happily shouted. Behind here were probably twenty people. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of Mike for an hour now, this was supposed to be a surprise birthday party. Mike and I planned it ourselves. We were scared that you caught us when you saw him leaving my office a couple weeks ago after you got back from lunch. We even picked out a perfect flavor of cake for you, of course we had to sample some cake ourselves” she giggled. “We finally decided on strawberry.”

title: [MF] A Good Wife

question: What does the text say about Sharon?

answer: She's a jealous and angry wife, sure that her husband Mike is cheating on her with Melissa. Melissa is a coworker, and Sharon thinks she's not even beautiful, fueling her anger even more. Another issue maddening Sharon is the lack of recognition of her whenever she's with Mike because Mike is somewhat famous. She decides that her husband of fifteen years has to die for his transgression. She finds some dealer to buy poison from, specifically asking for one that wouldn't cause pain. However, the poison causes Mike to bleed from every orifice, shocking Sharon. Just a few moments after Mike dies, the door rings. It turns out Melissa and other coworkers were planning a surprise birthday party for Sharon, which was why Mike seemed to be spending alone time with Melissa.

question: Summarize the plot twists in the story.

answer: There are two twists in the story. The first one is the poison Melissa bought to kill her husband. She wants something painless, but it turns out that the poison she bought makes the recipient slowly bleed from every orifice. Another twist concerns why Sharon wanted to kill her husband. She thought he was cheating on her while in fact, he was preparing a surprise birthday party with Melissa's help.

question: What does the text say about Mike?

answer: Mike is a famous writer for a popular newspaper in New York, and he makes a lot of money. He often visits his wife Sharon's office, where Mike spends time one-on-one with Melissa, another coworker, to arrange a surprise birthday party for Sharon. However, Sharon thinks he's cheating on her with Melissa and decides to kill him. Despite Sharon trying to buy a poison that would kill him without pain, he ends up dying while slowly bleeding from every orifice for 45 minutes.

question: What does the text say about the importance of communication in a relationship?


text:
BEIJING (AP) — Skipped paying a fine in China? Then forget about buying an airline ticket.

Would-be air travelers were blocked from buying tickets 17.5 million times last year for “social credit” offenses including unpaid taxes and fines under a controversial system the ruling Communist Party says will improve public behavior.

Others were barred 5.5 million times from buying train tickets, according to the National Public Credit Information Center. In an annual report, it said 128 people were blocked from leaving China due to unpaid taxes.

The ruling party says “social credit” penalties and rewards will improve order in a fast-changing society after three decades of economic reform have shaken up social structures. Markets are rife with counterfeit goods and fraud. The system is part of efforts by President Xi Jinping’s government to use technology ranging from data processing to genetic sequencing and facial recognition to tighten control.

Authorities have experimented with “social credit” since 2014 in areas across China. Points are deducted for breaking the law or, in some areas, offenses as minor as walking a dog without a leash.

Human rights activists say “social credit” is too rigid and might unfairly label people as untrustworthy without telling them they have lost status or how to restore it.

U.S. Vice President Mike Pence criticized it in October as “an Orwellian system premised on controlling virtually every facet of human life.”

The ruling party wants a nationwide system by 2020 but has yet to say how it will operate. Possible penalties include restrictions on travel, business and access to education. A slogan repeated in state media says, “Once you lose trust, you will face restrictions everywhere.”

Companies on the blacklist can lose government contracts or access to bank loans or be barred from issuing bonds or importing goods.

Offenses penalized under “social credit” last year included false advertising or violating drug safety rules, the government information center said. Individuals were blocked 290,000 times from taking senior management jobs or acting as a company’s legal representative.

Since the launch of such “joint punishment,” the system has caused 3.5 million people to “voluntarily fulfill their legal obligations,” the Information Center said. It said that included 37 people who paid a total of 150 million yuan ($22 million) in overdue fines or confiscations.

The report gave no details of how many people live in areas with “social credit” systems.

“Social credit” is one facet of efforts by the ruling party to take advantage of increased computing power, artificial intelligence and other technology to track and control the Chinese public.

The police ministry launched an initiative dubbed “Golden Shield” in 2000 to build a nationwide digital network to track individuals.

Human rights activists say people in Muslim and other ethnic minority areas have been compelled to give blood samples for a genetic database. Those systems rely on foreign technology. That has prompted criticism that U.S. and European suppliers might be enabling human rights abuses.

This week, Waltham, Massachusetts-based Thermo Fisher Scientific Inc. said it no longer would sell or service genetic sequencers in the Muslim-majority region of Xinjiang in the northwest following complaints they were used for surveillance.

As many as 1 million Uighurs, Kazakhs and other Muslim minorities in Xinjiang are detained in political education camps, according to U.S. officials and United Nations experts. The government says those camps are vocational training centers designed to rid the region of extremism.

question: How many people were blocked from leaving China due to unpaid taxes?

answer: 128 people were blocked

question: What is supposed to be the advantage of social credit penalties and rewards?

answer: It is supposed to improve order in a fast changing society after three decades of economic reform have shaken up social structures

question: What are human activists view on social credit?

answer: Human activists say that social credit is too rigid and might unfairly label people as untrustworthy.

question: How many people have been caused to voluntarily fulfill their legal obligations?

answer: 3.5 million people

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: This article discusses how China has a "social credit" system where if citizens have unpaid taxes or fines they cannot travel airline or train tickets, or leave China. Human rights activists are against this social credit procedure and deem it as very controlling.