text:
A Darwin-based ornithologist was left embarrassed after taking world-recognised researchers to count shorebirds near Lee Point, only to find dog owners disrupting the annual migration.

The 8-kilometre Casuarina Coastal reserve stretches from Rapid Creek to Lee Point and Buffalo Creek, of which only 1.8 kilometres is reserved as a protection ground for nesting migratory birds.

Ornithology associate researcher at Charles Darwin University Amanda Lilleyman said since witnessing the "total lack of respect" from dog owners she was calling on the community to start caring about the city's "wild" drawcard.

Ms Lilleyman took a team of seven researchers from BirdLife Top End and ornithologists attending the 10th Annual Australasian Ornithological Conference (AOC) to the designated bird protection beach between Lee Point and Buffalo Creek, and said the team was "heartbroken".

[Woman in bright headband standing next to statue of cockatoo.]

Ms Lilleyman is calling on the Darwin community to show more care for endangered migratory birds.(ABC News: Gabrielle Lyons)
"All the researchers were saddened and disappointed; this is an embarrassment for the Darwin community," Ms Lilleyman said.

"These researchers have dedicated their lives to protecting and understanding the ecology of these endangered birds.

"Seeing people blatantly ignore that is heartbreaking."

Signage ignored

Ms Lilleyman said this was an ongoing issue in the Top End, and said the community continued to ignore council signage.

"No matter how many signs, how many community events, statues and the lot, we feel incredibly unheard," she said.

"Those who say they cannot see the signs are clearly not looking."

Acting district manager of Darwin Urban Parks Dean McAdam agreed with Ms Lilleyman and said dog owners had ample space available without interrupting the birdlife.

"All the beach access points on Lee Point have huge signage to demonstrate where you can and cannot walk your dogs," Mr McAdam told ABC Radio Darwin'sConor Byrne.

"There are 6 kilometres of beach available for dog walkers, and only 1.8 kilometres of beach for the birds, this situation is hard to fathom."

Ignorance could lead to extinction

Ms Lilleyman said the threat dogs posed to migratory shorebirds could have an indefinite impact.

"This is not just happening here in Darwin; this is an Australia-wide issue. We have a responsibility to protect our ecosystems and migratory birds for the future," she said.

"Beyond obviously dog attacks, when the birds feel threatened they fly off and burn the energy they need to continue on their migration around the world.

Mr McAdam said Parks and Wildlife would continue to monitor the area and educate beach walkers.

"Parks and Wildlife do man the beaches, we'll continue to have a team to walk the beach and patrol the shorebird protected area," he said.

[Thousands of migratory shorebirds.]

Thousands of migratory shorebirds roost along the Lee Point coastline every year.(Supplied: Amanda Lilleyman)
Although the AOC was a successful event with more than 300 researchers and scientists attending, Ms Lilleyman said she hoped by next year the Darwin community demonstrated stronger support for local and migratory birdlife.

"I call on the Darwin community to start caring about the biodiversity that makes Darwin wild and the very reason so many people and tourists come to this natural and green city," she said.

"This was a prime opportunity to learn about citizen science, discuss endangered birds, and recognise how as a community we can protect our birdlife."

question: What disrupted the annual migration of shorebirds at Lee Point?

answer: Dog owners.

question: What is the impact of dogs on shorebirds?

answer: According to the complainant, the dog owners showed a lack of respect. She also said that beyond dog attacks, when the bird feels threatened they fly off and burn the energy they need to continue of their migration around the world.

question: How is access to the beach controlled?

answer: It is controlled by signage and enforcement is done by park officials.

question: What wider issue does this perceived lack of respect point to?

answer: The complainant feels that the Darwin community does not currently care about the biodiversity that makes Darwin wild and the very reason so many people and tourists come to this natural and green city.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The community of Darwin is admonished for their lack of respect for the migration of shorebirds, and thereby the biodiversity of the region. Dog owners recently interrupted the count during the migration of shore birds by ignoring signage designating a part of the beach to them.


split: test

text:
                           1

...Three's a crowd when you're standing in a bathroom stall...

Tap...Tap...Tap...

I couldn't begin to tell you how happy the sound of vigorous tapping of a 40 bag of blow pinned between the butt end of a lighter and the wall of a bathroom stall makes me.
"Fucking Nelson", I say while taking a drag of my cigarette, " can't afford to pay his employees on time, but can spend hundreds of dollars on flowers to put in the ladies room that look they  are straight from Babylon. who the fuck cares what you're looking at when you're taking a shit."

"Cunt" says Karlo.

Pascal just looks at us in disbelief, as he knows full well our conversation can be heard by the numerous 24h party people waiting to use the toilette.

Tap...Tap...Tap...

"Ready!" Says Karlo, "whose going first".
As he jams my car key into the baggy, we hear a loud banging on the door.

"What the fuck are you guys doing, there is people waiting at the bar and my bartenders are doing blow in the bathroom." The voice yells, " are you fuckers smoking!"

We share a glance. Immediately we know it's our manager Nathalie. We rush to take our bumps and pile out the bathroom stall.

"Take it easy" says a cocaine fuelled pascal, "they're swingers, they're not here for the alcohol.

Walking out the bathroom trying to navigate my way through a sea of half naked people wearing everything from burlesque style corsets, to ass less chaps, to nothing at all. Walking past the infamous cherry booths, that look like they came straight out of a speakeasy from a William S. Burroughs novel, crimson velvet curtain and all. I suddenly see several men walking in and out of one booth. My curiosity at this point is peeked. I can't resist. I stick my head in. I see so many naked men on one women fucking a hole out  the back of her head.

So many hands.
So many cocks.
One woman.
She's loving it.

"She's a squirter" one of them yells as he cums in unison.

They notice me. I lock eyes with one of the men a quickly get out of there. Making my way back toward the bar, I notice a man wearing a fine tailored suit with a look of horror and disbelief on his face. He's looking right at me now.

" she had never swung before, he says , " I mean we had gone to some of Frank's parties but we had never dinned in." That man was her husband.

I think back to something Burroughs wrote in "Junk", sodomy is as old as the human species.

                            2

The cocaine is hitting me now. I live for that feeling, when it washes over you like wave after crushing wave smashing into the the sandy beach with the force of two trucks colliding on the interstate. Therapeutic, calming, soothing. Blow is a pure kick, a feeling that lifts you straight up, like an elevator in a high rise, and starts leaving you as soon as you feel it.

Walking through the sea of people, I feel like a flounder swimming amongst it's school. Standing in front of me the most beautiful goddess I've ever seen dancing with the stylized gestures of a Mayan temple goddess. There was something archaic in her movements, an animalistic grace, beautiful and repulsive all at once. I'm immediately transported back to a time centuries ago. I could picture her like a gypsy girl dancing around the light of a campfire. I can hear the sounds of off beat clapping accompanied by the sounds of ancient instruments long forgotten. I can see her ambiguous gestures fading in and out of the light. The touch of her hand around my neck snaps me back to reality. She pulls me in close with the force of a WWII era woman clutching her husband whose returned from war in the old world, never letting go. It's amazing how you can feel alone with someone In room crammed with people. I always thought how strange it is that societies expectations of the times youth need to go to loud places to find people they can be quiet with.

All my different voices are hitting me now all at once. Uppers, downers, ketamine, cocaine, alcohol. You name it I'm on it. It feels like there is a force greater than gravity weighing me down on this spot. I get lost in the flickering of the strobe lights above us glistening of e beaded up sweat on her body. I'm hypnotized. Like a draconian figure from a Bram Stoker,s film I'm drawn to her neck. Our bodies move synchronized to the tantric rhythms the DJ is spinning.
I make my move.
I kiss her neck.
The sweat of her neck quenches my thirst. It was like I could tap into a source like I was turning on a faucet. I was the artist and she was my vessel. She filled my flask, I drank from it. I delved, devoured her. Unmistakably drowning in her knowledge  of magic, of good, of evil. I asked my self, "have I had my fill?"

I kiss her lips.
Our tongues dancing like champion tango dancers, strangers in the night. Is it love? Or is it lust?  She slips a pill of mdma in my mouth with her tongue.

 I'm not asking for forever, just for tonight.

She stares deep into my eyes with her pupils as big and black, with a mosquito's unseeing calm.

"Let's go back to my place."

title: [NF] strangers in the night

question: What are the bartenders doing in the bathroom stall?

answer: The three bartenders are in the bathroom sharing smoking a drug. Their drug of choice is cocaine. Sending them straight into orbit.


text:
i am basically new to this thing, and i am not even sure in which subreddit i should post it since there are so many, could use some help haha

give it a try, hopefully you like it.

6 di mattina

6 am in the morning, first sun rays showing up the beautiful landscape i can admire every day i'm sleeping with u
i could mean the mountains, the strange early spring feelings (damn its just the firsts of march) around the lake or the blood orange sun itself setting free its own power but i hope you know what i really mean

that slow floating cold breeze fluctuating through the window while the bed linen touches ur body
it's 6 am and i'm still writing, trying not 2 sleep
it may be late but that really doesn't matter to me
what are you thinking of, while i try not 2 breathe
in your dreams you may be sinking, your body close underneath
and i don't wanna wake u up, the clock - god damn - is ticking so fast
you look so untouched, so deeply wasted in a dreamland. i don't wanna leave this place, please keep me here, it'd be a pleasure.
there are a lot of things to say, so poor that time flies away. laying in these blank, blanc de blanc white bed sheets, as if you'd be the incarnation of virginity.
like how you wrap your body around mine, when we watch some movies and you don't even try to not fall asleep since you have absolutely fallen for that way of retiring to your dreams while getting warmed by my naked soul. caressing your face, not stopping until you r gone. gone as if there wouldn't be any time to care about. school is about to start and i could watch you forever. literally to the moon and back like romantic people say, - as if i would need any romanticism after this.

& in my head you'll always be naked, naked because i can read your mind as if it would be mine - as if you could end any phrase i would start.
your skin like silk, whilst with my hand i go through your hair keeping your endless long natural curls behind your upside ear.
the perfume you wear is my essence of kissesandmartini. your lips fitting to mine - i take it, one simple kiss on your shoulder and the next shockwave sets in, altering through my body.

6 am in the morning and the first sun ray strives his way through the window and you open up your eyes. slowly taking my hand, cuddling further to my side pushing me to the end of the bed. i guess i am attracting you, a lil' smile runs down my face. being taken in by my hand as if you would get gift-wrapped. i start to feel the heat of your naked body, the closeness giving me a tough challenge not wanting to make some love.
and as you start to smoothly kiss my hand, i turn you around, quickly moving my right hand downstairs your chained legs around my body and start to pressure your back upwards. passing through your pelvis, feeling your hip bone with my thumb, going further up your rips, perceiving your soft, side breast. reaching the neck, i stack my second hand to it. grabbing your face with both hands, closing the distance just waiting for you to make that last percents of space missing to kiss me,
pretty much winning at everything in that moment.

♥

title: [RO] i think i have fallen in love

question: What mood is the author trying to evoke?

answer: Falling in love.


text:
Two Houses.

Picture two houses across the street from one another. They looked perfectly normal and sturdy on the outside, but on the inside they were run down and falling apart. Inside of one lived a quiet and peaceful man, and in the other lived a beautiful and cheerful woman. Neither of them, however, liked being outside the confines of their own house.

One day, the peaceful man ventured across the street to the other house and was invited inside. The two strangers visited, shared laughs, told stories, and enjoyed the others company. At the end of the day, the man returned to his house.

The next day he visited again, but instead of talking, he started to slowly repair the inside of the run down house. When one of his repairs would break, he would immediately come over to fix the damage with a smile on his face. The two housekeepers became used to seeing one another each day, and eventually, the woman would come over to the man's house to visit. The woman noticed that his house looked much worse on the inside than hers, and started to sneak inside at night while he was asleep to make repairs. When the man would try to fix something himself, or repair damages to his own house, he would fail, and sometimes even make things worse. But the next morning,  he would notice that things would be fixed. This puzzled the man and he decided to ask the woman about it the next time she came over.

The next evening they spent together, he asked and she informed the man of what she had been doing, and the man asked why. She replied,
"Because people who show a caring and wholesome heart deserve to receive the same treatment they give to others." The man became confused.
          "But I am a shut in. Nobody gives to me, and I don't give to them. Why does somebody like me deserve somebody as wonderful as you?"

The woman put her hand on the man's shoulder and looked into his dark brown eyes. She noticed a hurt that had always seemed to hide beneath his smile, a sorrow that hadn't been revealed in a very long time. She said in a soft and gentle voice: "Somebody that prefers to be alone does not always prefer being lonely. There is always somebody who will care."

The two embraced, and the man sobbed and became limp in the woman's arms. Once he had calmed down, the woman kissed him on the cheek and returned to her house without saying a word.

The following morning, he noticed another man performing landscaping on her lawn, painting the outside of her house, and cleaning her patio. Each day the house would look more and more beautiful. He became sad that the woman had found somebody else to do her work, and started to loathe the landscaper that would beautify her house all the time.

The woman remained indoors all day, trying to make the interior of her house look as pleasant as the exterior. However, most of her attempts at repairs or renovation were disasters. The person she hired was no help, and was only after her money. She began to miss her neighbors company, along with his sturdy repairs and his gentle smile. As days went by, the man and woman thought about each other more and more, but never saw each other.

One afternoon, the woman heard her doorbell ring. Knowing it wasn't the landscaper she hired, she curiously approached the peephole of the door. Seeing that nobody was outside, she opened the door and looked for pranksters. Looking down, she saw a small, dirty looking tin with a bow neatly placed on top of it.

The interior of the unkempt tin was extravagantly decorated with soft velvet from top to bottom, and in the center laid a simple necklace with a key on it, resting on top of a small note. Putting the necklace on, she unfolded the small note and noticed little droplets of water on the page.

"You are the only one that can make it feel less empty. Please take care of it for me while I'm gone. I must go, but I will return one day."

After reading it the woman dropped to her knees, and tears started to form in her tightly shut eyes. For what seemed like years, she spent the next few months wishing the man would come back and going into his house to take care of it while he was gone. She noticed that every little thing she had done to the house remained unchanged, as if he never tried to correct the small mistakes she had made.

Eventually, the man returned. The woman was thrilled and filled with happiness, but also saddened by the fact that the man no longer came across the street to visit her. A few days after his return, she noticed he was packing his belongings into boxes. Fearing that he might move away, the woman mustered up the courage to go talk to the man.

"Why are you putting everything into boxes?" The woman asked.
    "Because," the man replied solemnly, "I am looking to create new memories and find a fresh start." The woman said nothing and returned to her house, slamming the door and fighting back tears.

The next morning, the man was loading his belongings into a moving truck when he saw a pile of boxes bigger than his own sitting in the woman's lawn. He walked across the street to the pile, and saw a note taped to one of the boxes.

"I will always love you, and I promise that I will always be next to you. No matter where we go."

The man's face turned into a broad smile, and he looked up to see the woman on her front patio, looking right back at him, the necklace glistening in the sunlight. She ran into his arms and they kissed for what felt like an eternity. The pair continued to load all of their belongings into the one moving truck, and left that very evening. Holding hands with his true love, the man looked into the rear view mirror to see the sun setting on the old, abandoned houses for the last time, and felt what was truly a pure happiness. An odd and relieving sensation washed over him like a tide, as he realized that he would never have to search for anything in his life, as long as he lived.

title: Some OC for you all to enjoy

question: What are the reasons behind the peaceful man's continual visits to the cheerful woman's house?

answer: The peaceful man and the cheerful woman were neighbors. None of them love to venture outside of their house. One day, a strange thing happened - the cheerful woman invited the man inside. The two neighbors shared stories and had fun. The next day, the peaceful man visited without being invited. Instead of talking, he started to repair broken down parts of the woman's house. The two neighbors began to visit each other regularly due to the friendship that has developed between them.


text:
“Don’t get me wrong, it had to be done. The man had to die; he would have destroyed the world, even if he wore that mask to fool his audience… Everyone loved him, but didn’t know of his true intentions.”

 Many years had passed since the great civil war. Countries collapsed, governments going into anarchy. It was a disaster, and no one knew how to reverse it. How could anyone fix this mess? It’s too much for one person alone to handle.  But one man had a plan, a plan to turn all of the disaster around for the better of the world. There would be no competition either; no one else knew how to revoke the attention of the people.  This man was to give a speech, outside the city of Arcadia in the hills of the Father, televised to the entire world to get a glimpse of this savior. Although the entire world had faith in him, to save the world from the point of no return, there was a small group of souls, people who knew the truth of this man. They were known as “The Resistance” an organization bent on taking this man from his throne over the people. The Savior protested that The Resistance were only terrorists; here to frighten the everyday soul into believing of the coming end. But The Resistance knew the truth, they knew the Savior’s true motives, to fool the world into his doing, so he can gain power, and live a life of luxury with the rest of “his world” as his slaves. How do they know of this? Well, 30 years before the war, the human race took its first steps in time travel. They built a machine capable of sending messages across time, to prevent crises from occurring, such as diseases, dictators, natural disasters. It was kept as a piece of property owned by the UN, but since the civil war, it had been confirmed to be MIA. The Resistance had acquired it before the rest of the world powers could even think to keep it under wraps. Merely minutes before taking hold of the machine, they received a message from themselves, many years after he took his throne. Their suspicions were confirmed when The Savior’s name was in the message, saying “ELIMINATE AT ALL COSTS.” The day had come, the hour that the world would be saved—or doomed.
    The man wore black suit with a calm demeanor, hard eyes and showing his determination for this—this one moment that will put him in power. He spent hours practicing the speech, running it over again and again, burning every error until there wasn’t a blemish left in his presentation. The scene he was presenting in was elegant too, on a hill top facing the masses with the sun setting behind him. This will surely win the hearts of all. He held his papers in his hands, reading over each line again and again.
	He stood on the podium constructed on the hill top, watching people from many nations flood around him. He was confident, almost too confident for the task at hand.  But power like that isn’t bestowed in everyone, maybe he had the right to be. The grass covered hill was now covered in a carpet of people, many bringing lawn chairs, others sitting on the sun warmed grass, others standing, applauding the savior on his perch. He cast a radiant smile that beamed like the sun over the viewers, even into the lenses of the cameras, sending the picture of his glow all the way to the audience at home.
	“Good evening, one and all. It is my pleasure to stand before you all today, all of the old, the weak, the weary, and give light of hope for a new future to all of us here on planet Earth today.” Cheers from the audience echoed around the hills that encased them all, like echoes of time bringing back the cheers of many other grand speeches given at this very spot.
    “We all know of our state, war torn, the feeling of insecurity, we can’t even look our friend in the eye anymore without a flavor of doubt in our mouths. But here tonight, I would like to put a rest to those fears, so we may live in peaceful existence, like we had before the Great War.” The cheers were let out again, whistles flying through there air like released turtle doves, finding their lovers, and soaring up and on into the sky.

In the empty city, two men lay on a building top, like a father watching his sleeping baby; they observe their target with hardened eyes through telescopes. One man scribbled down on a small piece of paper calculations shot out by his tablet computer, the other adjusting his rifle’s scope to pinpoint perfection.
 “We can’t miss this shot, Buck.”
 “I got that memo when they gave us the file, Luci.” Buck adjusted the dial on the rifle’s scope mere millimeters, growling in anguish at himself as he made an almost unseen error in his fingers. “What’s the distance?”
 “2 miles, give or take 50 yards.”
 “Wind velocity?”
 “Wind’s commin’ right for us, at about 15 miles an hour.”
 “Damn… That’s going to be a hard shot to hit, two miles? We’re gonna break a record if we pull this off.”
  “Don’t say if, rifles have a way of bending their barrels if you don’t have faith in them.”
“Lucifer, what kind of BS did the Colonel tell you when he was in one of his “Gin and Rum” trances?”
“They do! Like the time I didn’t think I could hit that 900 meter target that George bet me to hit, I didn’t have faith, and it missed.”
“Just like the time you couldn’t get the cherry in the cup a single time in a row.”
“Still more than you, son.”
“Alright you win that one.” He placed a hand on the magazine and slid it under the rifle, reaching his gloved hands for the two legs of the bi-pod, pulling the feet down, resting them on the parapet. Buck took a single telescope and pressed his eye to the dirty lens, watching the speaking figure of the man; shout his pleas to the crowd.
“We better make this soon, we’re already behind schedule.” Lucifer took a knee and looked over his data again, looking out into the glowing sunset that painted over the horizon.
“Just to think, we’re the ones about to save the world from the worst of all dictators.”
 “Something we can put on our resumes when if we get home.”
    “Life has the same concept of faith as rifle’s do, Buck. No such thing as an ‘if’ in the speech of a confident man.”
“Alright, enough blabber, I’m ready.”
“Pop the scope covers then, let’s save the world.”

The Savior was in his prime, the crowd stood and applauded loudly for his ideas to revert the world. His hands flourished about, painting a beautiful picture of perfect government. All the audience thought was, ‘Why haven’t we done this sooner?’ They rejoiced for this man. But soon he stopped, regaining his breath from all of his rants.
                 “Under me, there will be no war, no destruction that we have seen to our brothers and sisters, such as in the United States, where the country was terribly burned by the atomic war there. Under me we will live in harmony, our world will flourish, and humanity—WILL—RISE—AGAIN!!!” The earth shook with the rumbling of applause, the audience had decided this man will lead them to a new day, a new golden age for the human race. The Audience began to chant, “Long Live the Savior!” Over and over—again and again. It was certain, he had won their vote. But the churning thoughts inside the Savior’s mind began to bubble onto his skin. He smiled a little, the thoughts in his head taking over, his true dreams being envisioned. Those who were close enough on the top of the hill could see them, the—Illustrations to say the least, like paintings printed over and over to make a scene. They showed mass slaughters, men being whipped with shards of glass, covered in the blood of those tormented by those teeth, and a man on his forehead sitting in a golden throne encrusted with jewels of many colors. It was a scale of the Savior, sitting with a smug look on his face, a smirk as he watched unseen slaves bend their backs in determination, writhing with the stress put upon them.

 “What is the matter? You all look like you’ve seen a monster!”

  “We’re looking at one is why.” One audience member piped. The Savior looked at his skin, the pictures flowed from story of gore, death, and conquering like a movie without a plot, nothing but to shock the viewers into disbelief.
  “It’s  not what you think—,” But more and more flourished over his skin, telling tales of more and more carnages upon his flesh. But as the audience began to recede, calling up judgments to the falling king,

 “Was this your true plan for us?”

 “You can’t keep a truth from the people forever!” Soon it was like a runoff of water in spring, people returning home to the city.
  “You can’t leave!” He called, the images growing more and more vivid, “I am your ruler! You chanted my name!” His teeth grew to pointed tips, sharp as knives heated with hate and greed, His eyes glowing red with his new found power, “I—AM—YOUR—GOD!” A wave of unfathomable energy passed over the crowd, changing their perspectives, losing all sense of logic.
    “Long live The Savior!” The entire crowd called as one, bowing to this man.

  “Buck take the shot, before it’s too late!” Lucifer hollered, at the man, who still laid prone, crosshair aligned with The Savior’s head.
  Buck paused and withdrew his eye from the scope. “Why should I listen to you, Old man? How do you know The Resistance is right about The Savior?”
	 He looked at Buck with a look of shock, “You never believed did you?” Lucifer drew his revolver slowly from his side.
    “Long live The Savior.” He mumbled, going to his knees.
    “What was that?” Lucifer asked, about to aim down his gun’s sight.
    “LONG LIVE THE SAVIOR,” he chanted louder whipping his knuckle across the old man’s face.
    “What the hell are you doing?!”
    “LONG—LIVE—THE—SAVIOR!” With a final kick, he sent Lucifer off the building side, to the doomed streets of the city below; to the floor of the doomed world they will now inhabit.

title: [Heavenly Snipers]

question: Summarize how the Resistance came to understand that the Savior was a fraud.

answer: The Resistance is an organization that is trying to prevent the Savior from taking over the throne. It wants to keep the Savior away from power by any means necessary. This is because the Resistance discovered a time-travel machine that sent messages to the future about the dangers the Savior posed to the people. These messages served as evidence and the basis on which the Resistance acts against the Savior.

question: When was Buck radicalized?

question: Summarize what made the general public start to suspect the Savior is not who he claimed to be.

answer: Images called the Illustrations showed up on Savior's skin, revealing his true thoughts and what will happen under his regime. The audience saw the mass destruction of their country, lots of dead people, and carnage on a level they have never seen.


text:
The Hummingbirds Song :

Two weeks later, Mr. Folk attempted to pull himself out of his hotel bed. The room was pitch black. Where was his phone? For the life of him he could not remember where he put it. In truth he could hardly remember the night before. The last thing he did remember was stumbling through the hotel lobby and purchasing a european iPhone charger.

On the bedside table he read a clock with red numbers indicating it was 10:56am. Or in other words, one hour until he would need to check out. The 40 year old man needed to get going, so he alleviated himself onto the floor, reluctantly. As his feet met the carpet, he found it difficult to pick the top half of his body up without being dizzy.

He accepted this as it was, and began his iphone search half moon. Hunched over his knees, Mr. Folk waddled back and forth, his legs doing the karaoke, seesawing his brain within his skull. After about 8 steps, the momentum was to much and onto the floor he went. The last attribution he would make before passing out was a release of bad decisions from the night before, scattering across the floor.

Hands off the steering wheel, Mr. Folk did as he had been doing for years. He was giving up.

(1 hour later)

Knock Knock Knock ….

“Service Here”

As the door creaked open, a waft of bodily chemicals drifted into the main hallway.

Entering into the abyss that was suite 1212, our heroin walked in nervously. The cavernous room engulfed her immediately. The putrid smell was unique, it was the smell of self defeat. Covering her mouth, she moved through the main corridor, fiddling with the light switches though nothing worked. Maybe the master light had been turned off she thought?

Marching forward she went to the blinds. With one swift motion she let the light in, shedding into the reality of the situation. The glorious sun introduced her to a beaten down man, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, though they weren’t on an Island. They were in the UK, Shoreditch to be exact. In disgust she noticed the puddle of muck about size of a small breakfast table surrounding him.

Infuriated at first sight, the maid thought of her job and how there was no way she would be able to complete it in time. The new guest’s would check in at 1:00pm. Reactively her jaw clenched as she was going to let the man have it, until she felt a presence behind her.

Turning around, she noticed immediately the familiar features and antics of the hummingbird fluttering. It was flapping its wings elegantly, dancing around just for her. Twelve stories high, the maid watched in awe as the bird moved magnificently around for her.

The maids name was Cynthia, and she had lived a long life. 73 years to be exact. A woman of deep faith, she saw the world in mysterious ways. Flashing back to when she had met her husband 50 years ago, Cynthia remembered the way the hummingbirds danced around them during their first date ride in a gondola. The date had been nerve racking for both, until two hummingbirds circled her husband to be, sending him accidentally overboard, which was a laugh.

Closing her eyes Cynthia also remembered her husbands funeral where a hummingbird had circled the young priest during his eulogy. They too had caused him to topple over, bringing a subtle smile of remembrance to her face during the tough time.

Hummingbirds were an omen in her a life. A sign that there was more to the world than meets the eye. Overtime whenever something seemed dramatic or overwhelming a hummingbird would show up, and create a sense of joy somehow. It was almost as if the were gods way of saying, “There is a silver lining, but first here is the punch line.”

Looking down at the defeated Mr. Folk, she decided she would take matters into her own hands.

Stepping over to him, Cynthia helped get Mr. Folk to his bed and then proceeded to inform the lobby that the room would not be ready in time for the guests. She made it a point to call her other coworkers and have them help along with her other duties as she helped Mr. Folk.

Cynthia left the room, and came back with a bowl of fruit, orange juice, and a pitcher of water.

Mr. Folk and Cynthia would spend the next few hours, just the two of them working to clean up suite 1212. Over that time, they did not speak much except out of giving and taking direction. Afterwards Cynthia would ask Mr. Folk to come for dinner.

Before meeting Cynthia, Mr. Folk had lost himself, and was close to taking his life. Until Cynthia had met him, he almost succeeded. Nursing Mr. Folk was not her plan, but then again life never quite worked out the way she expected it too.

Refocusing his passion, Mr. Folk would start again. He would apologize to his ex wife, for not being present during their marriage. He would apologize to his ex partner, for showing up late and losing the company money. Most importantly he would apologize to himself for the years he spent in self pity and dismay.

It was meant to be that Mr. Folk grew into the best version of himself in his later part life. Starting a new career, remarrying, and having kids, he grew into someone unrecognizable to the years past. To all of the credit and glory of god went to his angel, Cynthia. In her final months, the two spent much time together, him being by her bed on the final day.

As Mr. Folk watched her casket descend into the earth, he smiled as the hummingbirds danced around. The sun was cascading over the grave’s of those lost but never forgotten. Five feet deep the casket was lowered, until the hummingbirds danced, circling the faces of the pallbearers, causing them to release their grip, and sending Cynthia falling into the her dirt grave. Everyone held their breath. Only Mr. Folk would smile, and still the hummingbirds danced, and all that mattered was the hummingbird song.

title: [RF] The Hummingbirds song

question: How old is Mr. Folk?

answer: Mr. Folk is 40 years old.

question: What animals are a symbol in Cynthia's life?

answer: Hummingbirds are a symbol in Cynthia's life.

question: How old is Cynthia?

answer: Cynthia is 73 years old.

question: What does Cynthia do for a living?

answer: Cynthia is a maid at a hotel.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer: Mr. Folk passes out in his hotel room after a night of drinking. Cynthia, a maid, comes into the room to clean it for the next guests and finds Mr. Folk still there. Cynthia was going to scold him, but a hummingbird appears and convinces her otherwise. The two start new happy lives together, until Cynthia dies years later.


text:
PEDER SVAVE (1496 - 16 March 1552) was a Pomerania-born Danish diplomat and privy councillor. He owned Gjorslev Manor south of Copenhagen.

Early life and education

Scave was born in Stolp, Pomerania, the son of Gregor Svave and Elisabeth von Zitzewitz. His parents intended him for a career as a clergy. He received his schooling in Stolp and Stettin before studying at the universities in Leuwen and Leipzig. He then continued to Wittenberg, where he became a devoted supporter of Martin Luther, whom he in 1521 accompanied to the Diet of Worms. He then returned to Pomerania where his friend Johannes Bugenhagen had invited him to lecture at Belbuck Abbey. Back in his home town Stolp, he was later imprisoned by Duke Bugislav X, but soon released with the assistance of friends. After his immatriculation in 1524, he became a lecturer at the University of Greifswald.[1]

Career in Denmark

By early 1526, Svave had been called to Denmark by Frederick I. The Danish king may either have become aware of Svave through Duke Christian (III) and Johan Rantzau, who had been present at the Diet of Worms, or through his queen consort, Sophie, a daughter of Bogislaw X, Duke of Pomerania.[2] In the summer of 1526 he wrote a reply (_Friderici Daniæ Regis ... ad Christierni Patruelis calumnias responsio_) to Cornelius Scepper's defense of Christian II. Svave also served as tutor for the king's second eldest son, Duke John.[3] With title of secretary, he was later sent on diplomatic missions, for instance to France in 1528 and 1531 and to England in 1531. In early 1532, after Christian II had started a campaign in Norway, Svave was again sent to France in early 1532 to gain the support of Francis I against him.[4]

In 1530–31, Svave was appointed as rector of the University of Copenhagen.At the outbreak of the Count's Feud in 1534, Svave was together with Duke John and his hoffmeister Oluf Nielsen Rosenkrantz present at Nyborg Castle. He accompanied them to Sønderborg Castle where Duke Christian started to use him as a diplomat. In early 1535, he was sent on a mostly unsuccessful diplomatic mission to the Netherlands, England and Scotland. In September that same year he was sent to France. On the way back, in December, he attended the Schmalkaldic League's conference at Schmalkalden.[5]

In 1536, 1538 and 1541, he was again sent to France. in early 1538, he was present at the Schmalkaldic League's conference at Braunschweig. In April 1544, he participated in the negotiations of the Treaty of Ghent. In 1544, he participated in the negotiation of the Treaty of Speyer. He was appointed as a member of the Privy Council in 1746 or earlier.[6]

Property

Svave was granted Gjorslev on the Stevns Peninsula for life in 1537 and as free property in 1740.[7]

Personal life

Svave married Else Skave (died c. 1563), a daughter of Maurids Skave (died 1532) and Elline Steensdatter Bille (død 1559). They ha one daughter, Elsebe Pedersdatter Svave, who married Vincens Juel.[8] Svave died on 16 March 1552 and is buried in Holtug Church.[9]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

title: Peder Svave

question: Summarize Svave's diplomatic career.

answer: His diplomatic duties started with Frederick I calling him to Denmark in 1526, where Svave tutored Frederick's second eldest son, Duke John. He was given the title of secretary and sent on missions, starting in 1528 with his trip to France, and to there again in 1531, when he also visited England. He visited France again in 1532 to gain the support of Francis I against Christian II's campaign in Norway. He became a diplomat for Duke Christian later on, visiting the Netherlands, England, and Scotland in 1535. He visited France in September 1535 and attended the Schmalkaldic League's conference at Schmalkalden on his way back. In 1536, 1538, and 1541, he was again sent to France. in early 1538, he was present at the Schmalkaldic League's conference at Braunschweig. In April 1544, he participated in the negotiations of the Treaty of Ghent. In 1544, he participated in the negotiation of the Treaty of Speyer.

question: What does the text say about the international power projection of Denmark?


text:
Published on

Thursday, September 20, 2018

by

Along with tens of thousands of children and families, cancer patients, Americans with substance abuse disorders, and victims of domestic violence are among the casualties of President Donald Trump's detention of young immigrants—according to government documents outlining the administration's plan to divert millions of dollars away from programs serving those populations.

_Yahoo News_ reported that in order to continue detaining more than 13,000 children currently in the custody of the Office of Refugee Resettlement (ORR), Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar is proposing that up to $266 million be taken from other government health programs.

  The Trump Admin is literally cutting money from cancer research, Head Start, Ryan White AIDS/HIV program, women's shelter, mental/maternal health programs to keep kids in cages.

  If you wrote this plot into a movie, I would have said it was over-the top.https://t.co/Zuv0WMSkxz

  — Christina Reynolds (@creynoldsnc) September 20, 2018

In a letter to Sen. Patty Murray (D-Wash.), Azar outlined a plan in which more than $16 million would be taken from Head Start, $5.7 million would be diverted from programs to care for uninsured HIV/AIDS patients, and millions would also be reallocated from cancer research programs, government-run women's shelters, and mental health facilities.

  The Trump administration is diverting MILLIONS of dollars from cancer research, women’s shelters, HIV/AIDS, substance abuse, mental, and maternal health programs to pay to INCARCERATE CHILDREN.

  Honestly - how do you even sleep at night, @realDonaldTrump?https://t.co/GETsh0v1jA

  SCROLL TO CONTINUE WITH CONTENT

  Never Miss a Beat.

  GET OUR BEST DELIVERED TO YOUR INBOX.

  — Gavin Newsom (@GavinNewsom) September 20, 2018

ORR's detention centers were at 92 percent capacity as of this week, according the agency, with more than 13,000 children being detained for indefinite periods. Most of the children crossed the U.S.-Mexico border without parents or guardians.

The Trump administration aims to expand its detention centers, but as _Common Dreams_reported earlier this month, the need for more space comes not because more children are entering the country—but because fewer are being released into the care of family members in the United States. Families have become far less likely to come forward to claim children as Trump has presided over an immigration crackdown, including aggressive raids in Latino communities across the country.

"This is not a story about a historically large surge in arrivals," said Mark Greenberg, a former official with HHS’s Administration for Children and Families. "The story is fundamentally about a significant slowdown in children being released from care."

Azar's plan will go into effect after September 30, when the current fiscal year ends.

Our work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. Feel free to republish and share widely.

This is the world we live in. This is the world we cover.

Because of people like you, another world is possible. There are many battles to be won, but we will battle them together—all of us. COMMON DREAMS IS NOT YOUR NORMAL NEWS SITE. WE DON'T SURVIVE ON CLICKS. WE DON'T WANT ADVERTISING DOLLARS. WE WANT THE WORLD TO BE A BETTER PLACE. But we can't do it alone. It doesn't work that way. We need you. If you can help today—because every gift of every size matters—please do. WITHOUT YOUR SUPPORT WE SIMPLY DON'T EXIST.

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question: How many children are currently in the custody of the Office of the Refugee Resettlement (ORR)?

answer: 13,000 children

question: What is Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar proposing?

answer: Azar wants $266 million to be taken from government health programs in order to continue detaining unaccompanied immigrant children.

question: Summarize everything related to Azar's plan.

answer: Azar outlines a plan where more than $16 million would be taken from Head Start, $5.7 million would be diverted from programs to care for uninsured HIV/AIDS patients, and millions would also be reallocated from cancer research programs, government-run women's shelters, and mental health facilities.

question: Why does the Trump administration want to expand its detention centers?

answer: The need for space doesn't come from more children entering the country, but because fewer kids are being released into the care of family members in the U.S. These families are also less likely to claim detained children due to Trump's aggressive crackdown on immigration and raids in Latino communities.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: The Trump administration is willing to cut $266 million from cancer research, women's shelters, HIV/AIDS programs, mental health facilities, and substance abuse programs just to build more space and detain more than 13,000 unaccompanied children at the border.


text:
I'd like some feedback on this. Just want to know how my prose reads, and if you would want to hear more. Anything else is welcome, as always.

---

I flipped the switch as I entered my dingy old apartment.

It was a cramped room. Barely big enough for me on my own, and I’m a pretty compact guy. The place was about four by five feet, and two by two of those feet were taken up by the glorified closet that I call a bathroom. But it’s enough. Got a nice setup for food that I call a kitchen, despite just being a water-tap, fridge, and a microwave. Got a couch crammed into the corner between the door and the kitchen, and a comfortable bed crammed into the space near the bathroom.

I took a deep breath, smelling the slight odor that permeated my home. It was built out of an old hotel down in what most people would call a “colorful” neighborhood. New Haven was a fairly rough place in general, at least on the lower levels, but my neighborhood was known for the sound of gunshots. Not that it disturbed me. I was used to it, and I was used to being able to shoot back.

I tossed my gun down on the couch as I locked my front door. Then I threw my longcoat down on top of it. After that came my ballistics vest. Those weren’t common in my neighborhood, even among the “professionals” who made their money by threatening people for cash at gunpoint. Most people call those types criminals. I call them “Rank Ameteurs.” I mean, most of them can barely shoot at what they are aiming for, and none of them know how to do anything really impressive so that they can pay for some good hardware.

I got a cup of noodles, ramen, and filled it up and threw it into my microwave. They were a bit outdated as far as food came, but I liked the taste and I got most of my nutrients from pills anyway. Good nutrition is important when you live and die on your reflex actions, as well as your ability to outthink damned-near everything else in existence.

I crashed on the couch, in easy reach of my gun, and leaned back and took in a deep breath through the nose. It had been a good day. I had finally been able to hand off the data that I had pulled a few nights before. Data that had been “acquired” from a private server owned by Helix Biotech at great personal risk, as in I had been chased by a dog the size of a rhino during my escape. The paycheck had been good though. Ridiculously so, and it had been paid via a credit stick, so there were no electron trails to follow.

Hell, with the kind of money I had made off that job I could have bought a better place. Moved up in the world, gotten out of the Ganglands and gotten a nice comfy place to live in. But that was a bad idea. At least in the lower levels, your name doesn’t get put to your face very quickly. That sort of thing is lethal in my business. Moment you rip off a Corps data, get caught on camera, and get matched to that data… well let’s just say having a bounty put on your head is getting off lucky.

My microwave dinged a few minutes after I put the noodles in. I got up, and devoured them all in less time than they took to cook. Nearly scalded my tongue, but I was in a celebratory mood. Threw the junk in the little bin next to the minifridge, and then crashed on the couch again. I needed to get out for a few minutes, I thought. At the very least, I had a cred stick that needed to be put into a secure account or two… dozen.

I pulled the stick from my longcoat’s pocket. It was a simple thing, really. Just three inches of silicon and transistors in a ceramic casing. A collection of ones and zeroes existed inside of it, massively complicated series of numbers and letters that would match out with those on hundreds of serves. Cryptocurrencies like the ones the stick recorded the access codes for were the only kind I dealt in. State currencies were too easily tracked. Not that the Crypto variants like Credits were much better. But if you were like me, and you knew your way around the Virtual, you would know how to obfuscate yourself well enough.

I jacked the USB connection on the Credstick into a mount on my wristwatch and leaned back, kicking my legs up onto one armrest, and my head onto the other. The loveseat was a bit short for me, but I had grown to enjoy the position I was in.

I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. I could have done that standing up, or kneeling like I did while I was on the job, but for an extended trip into the Virtual… well I liked my meatspace body to be comfortable.

I breathed a few more times, slowly bringing my body’s heartrate down, easing my mind into near-sleep. Diving into the Virtual wasn’t an easy process on most psyches. Mine was more malleable, more fluid, than most though. It took me less than ten seconds to ease my mind enough to begin the transition.

I couldn’t see it, or perceive it with my senses, but at the command of my thoughts, the half dozen implants worked into my brain began to flare. My sensory information began to be blurred away. The feeling of the couch, the smell of my apartment, everything faded away. Replaced by a dull vibration.

Then I opened my eyes, and took a step forward. The world snapped into focus, I felt a floor beneath my feet. I was standing in the middle of a massive park, with a fountain at its center. Clear blue water was bubbling up from the fountain’s center, cascading down into the pool below it, which overflowed in places to flow down into the bottom tier. Benches were worked into the side of that bottom layer, and a few of them were occupied by other people, other human beings who had Dived into the Virtual.

The Park Plaza was the center of this Node, the little pocket-dimension housed on a server somewhere in Haven City. It was a commons of sort. Haven City maintained it as a landing page of sorts, a place for everyone logging into the Virtual through the city’s free wireless access to drop in. There were bulletin boards spread around, which you could use to post announcements and such.

The Boards were pretty nice, if you wanted information to get out quickly. Law enforcement likes to leave the profiles on the people they aren’t able to catch, just in case someone like me is hanging around looking for work. Not that I’m a bounty hunter, that job’s too risky for someone of my skillset. I’m better at infiltration and retrieval of data or small objects. Granted, you can’t find that job on public boards like the City Boards. You had to go into the Shadows for that.

I didn’t stick around Park Plaza for long. That Node isn’t bad by any measurement, and it’s always populated enough for my Avatar to blend in. But it wasn’t very good for what I had come into the Virtual to do.

I walked towards the edge of Park Plaza. I saw some people playing some of the Games that the city had setup. There were courts setup for Volleyball, Tennis, and Basketball. Even a soccer pitch. Granted, most players Avatars got replaced by the Node to make sure the game was fair. I might have joined in on the Soccer games if I didn’t have much to do otherwise. I wasn’t exactly bad at the game, but I wasn’t good either. Didn’t really matter if I was in Meatspace or Virtual on that count.

Eventually, I found the edge of the park. The Node Security was lowered there. Every Node had something like it, to control how users could interact. The City Node was pretty heavily moderated. I couldn’t throw out an Agent program to get information from elsewhere, couldn’t use any of my attack programs to cut someone’s connection, and I couldn’t use my Portal. At least, I couldn’t open a Portal unless I was on the edge of the Park Plaza Node.

I opened the portal the way I always did. It was bound up to a gesture command, really all of my Avatar’s programs were. The Portal was just waving my arm in a circle. That created the circular gateway that I used to jump my Avatar between nodes. It looked pretty basic, just a series of cubes and triangles lined up in a circle. The other end of the Portal would be visible through it as long as I was running it, and anyone who wanted to follow me would be able to come through after me as long as I left it set to Public, and even if I set it to Private they would still be able to see which Node I was heading to.

At any rate, the Portal established a connection. My “Bank” was one of my bookmarked Nodes. I walked through, and the temperature dropped by ten degrees. The smell of trees and freshly cut grass that had permeated the park (and that I hadn’t noticed until that point) vanished, and was replaced by the smell of… well the smell of a bank. Freshly vacuumed carpet, and the soap used to mop tile floors.

The node was made up like an old-fashioned bank by way of the Roman Empire. Lots of marble, lots of pillars, and a dome over the central part of the Node where you could run a Portal in or out. If you looked up the dome you could even see a bit of Sky, which was what “Null” space defaulted to when you looked at it. There were Boards setup there too, but they were all advertising. Transactions people were trying to pull off, stocks and bonds for sale in various startup corps that were doomed to be crushed by the big ones, and Wallet and Bank services trying to get you to store your money in them.

I walked down one of the four hallways leading out from that central domed circle. The Bank was a directory. Sort of a fancy address book that was dressed up to be a bit more user friendly, and confusing to the uninitiated. The various financial services in Haven bought up spaces to put together permanent Portals, which worked like the Flatnet’s Hyperlinks.

My Wallet services all worked down the same hallway. They were like the Checking Accounts from before the Collapse. Only they stored Crypto instead of State currencies. The strings of data stored in the Credit Stick plugged into my watch back home could be transferred to the Wallet, and they would verify with the millions of nodes in the Credit Network to confirm the transfer of some funds to my wallet.

I would have to go to about a dozen different places to make sure that my identity remained obfuscated, and that I didn’t leave too much of an electron trail. Sudden large deposits from Cred-Stick have a way of being noticed by the thousands of Algorythems being run by various Corps and Law Enforcement. While my Wallet was impossible to access without its Keys, which were hard coded into my Avatars so that even I wouldn’t know them, the transactions into and out of them were fully public. Anyone running a Node in the Credit Network could see the exact position and history of every Credit currently in circulation.

That meant that I could be ID’ed by the way I spent my money if I wasn’t careful. Fortunately, Cred Stick transfers worked through a slightly different method than direct payments. Cred Sticks were like portable, physical, Wallets. The money in them was registered in the Logs as being on a Cred Stick, and then shown as being returned when someone transferred the Cred Stick into a Wallet.

I had filtered my payment through several sticks on my way home, most of them belonging to a few people I had run with in the past. We had very thoroughly randomized the Credits that each of us had gotten from our recent payments, and that meant that tracking us through the Credits would be difficult. Everyone in our little group had money that had been paid out by one of a half dozen different people at the least, and about fifty at the most. The end result was that while we weren’t impossible to pick out from our spending histories, we would be very difficult to cleanly ID as being us.

The first Wallet was accessed from a gambling Node setup with decor based off the Titanic, from before it sunk of course. I didn’t gamble much. I mean, it was just asking to lose money. Meatspace was easy to rig in your favor if you ran a place like that Node, and since everything in that Node was just a physical model tied up with some code… well you could rig it to act any way you wanted. But the place didn’t have much issue with law-enforcement, they followed every law to the letter as far as anyone official could tell, and so I felt it was a safe place to run one of my Wallets out of.

The Algorythm that handled the Wallet was a simple thing. It was just a set number of responses, some voice files, and an Avatar based on a balding old banker from some movie. Couldn’t really think or do anything of course. Could only do what it was programmed to do, but that was a lot of things. I dropped some of my money on it, then kept moving.

It was in the fourteenth node I had a Wallet running out of that things got… weird.

title: Beginning of a Cyberpunk... thing.

question: What does the story say about society?

answer: The story is set in a futuristic society, and the narrator lives in an area filled with criminals. Violent crime is a daily occurrence. The living spaces in the "badlands" seem to be very small, and apparently, it costs a decent amount to afford a large living space. Virtual reality technology seems very advanced, and cryptocurrencies seem to be common. The narrator uses difficult-to-trace credit sticks holding cryptocurrencies. Otherwise, both Federal currencies and most cryptocurrencies are easy to track. People are easy to identify too, implying that cameras and facial recognition are common in many places.

question: What does the text say about how virtual reality works?

answer: The narrator connects to the virtual world by relaxing first. At that point, the implants in his brain take over his senses. The process requires mental malleability, and the narrator says most people aren't as good at it as he is. He connects through the free wireless network provided by Haven City and enters the Park Plaza. There are others the narrator can see, playing various sports games. The security measures in the city forbid VR users to extract information through Agent programs, cut someone else's connection, and can't open a Portal unless he's near the edge of the Park Plaza. At the edge, he can open a Portal to transition to other nodes in the virtual world. Various programs the narrator uses are tied to gestures he performs, and others can see where his portal leads. He goes to his bank in the virtual world, uses it to route the money in the credit stick through many different places to ensure it can't be traced to him.

question: What does the text say about freedom?


text:
It had been a month since they had last seen each other. He had been on one of his usual business trips while she stayed home and took care of the baby. He entered the front door while she stood in the frame of the den entrance. He walked into the den. There was a fire burning in the chimney. He took off his coat and laid it on the back of the sofa. She stood silently watching him.

“How was it?” she asked.

“It was fine.”

“Was your meeting a success?”

“Yes.”

“What did you agree on?”

“I agreed to a new production contract.”

He sat down on the sofa and began to untie his shoelaces.

“A new contract to produce what?”

“Cufflinks.”

She looked at him, puzzled. “Cufflinks?”

“Yes, that’s what I said. Cufflinks.”

“Banks don’t produce cufflinks.”

He put his feet up on the footrest and pulled a cigarette from his breast pocket.

“Cufflinks as a gift to every investor we get this quarter.”

She stared at him.

“I know it sounds odd.”

“It does.”

“I saw an ad in the magazine on the plane for cufflinks. Thought it might be a good idea.”

He lit the cigarette.

“It doesn’t usually take a month to get a business deal done,” she paused and look down at her outstretched nightgown, “especially one for cufflinks.”

“This deal was very tedious.”

“How so?”

“You wouldn’t understand. It’s complicated.”

He tapped his cigarette into the ashtray.

“Your mother was worried sick that you were gone for so long.”

“She always worries.”

“You never called.”

“Phone lines are expensive in El Paso.”

“Not even to check in and see how the baby was doing.”

“He’s healthy, I know it,” he tapped the ashes again, “Do you want to sit down?”

“I’m fine standing.”

“Okay.”

They waited in silence. He tapped the cigarette again.

“You were supposed to arrive yesterday.”

“There was construction on at the station. It pushed my departure time back.”

“You didn’t think to call and let me know you would be a day late.”

“I guess I was too caught up in the moment to let you know.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. There was anger in her eyes. More ashes fell.

“We received a phone call yesterday.”

“Was it my mother?”

“No.”

“Who was it?”

He took a final drag of the cigarette and tossed the butt into the ashtray. She watched him closely.

“Her name was Ellen.”

She waited for him to respond.

“Ellen who?”

“I don’t know her last name. I didn’t ask for it.”

“What did she want.”

“She was looking for you. She said she wanted to make sure you got home alright.”

“That’s odd.”

“Yes, it is odd.”

He looked away from her but knew she was still looking at him.

“How long has this been going on?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No. I’m not.”

He turned his head and made eye contact with her again. She remained standing in the door frame.

“It’s been three years since we married.”

“I know.”

“We have a child.”

“Yes, we do.”

“We have another on the way.”

“I am aware of that.”

“You are.”

“Yes, I am.”

There was silence. Only the sounds of the fire burning filled the room.

“What am I supposed to tell my family?”

“You don’t tell them anything.”

“Why not?”

“Because there is nothing to tell.”

He remained looking at her. Her mouth was silent but her eyes were screaming.

“You aren’t going to believe anything I say anymore, are you.”

She was silent.

“I can’t explain myself if you won’t listen to anything I say.”

“I am listening.”

“Why won’t you respond to me?”

“There is nothing I can respond to.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

She turned and looked down the hallway.

“I’m going to go to my mother’s tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m taking the baby with me.”

“You are not taking the baby anywhere.”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I cannot.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I’ve already packed my bags.”

“You are making a poor decision.”

“Compared to what you have done, nothing I do should be considered a poor decision.”

He stood up and watched her. She didn’t move.

“I am leaving on the 10:30 train.”

“I won’t let you do that.”

“You can’t keep me from doing anything at this point.”

He approached her as she began to turn toward the hallway. She tried to hurry her steps but he was too close and grabbed ahold of her wrist. He raised his other arm in the air and she cowered down to the floor and covered her face.

“Don’t do it, please.”

He stared at her and put his arm down. She looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes.

“Think of me. Think of the children.”

title: [RF] Cufflinks

question: What does the story say about the state of the protagonist's marriage?

answer: The protagonist hasn't seen his wife for a month due to business trips. His wife suspects he is cheating on her with someone named Ellen. They've been married for three years and have a child, with another on the way. Despite the protagonist's denials, his wife doesn't believe him and takes the baby to go stay at her mother's.

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


text:
Your Money

[Vicki Shabo, director of work and family programs at the National Partnership for Women and families, right, spoke with Deborah L. Ness, president. Ms. Shabo advocates 12 weeks of paid leave for workers.]

Credit...Daniel Rosenbaum for The New York Times

-   Feb. 22, 2013
-

There I was, on the day my six months of maternity leave had ended, pushing my son’s stroller with one hand, clutching a jumbo box of 174 diapers with the other, doing my best to navigate through piles of slushy snow.

It was time for his first day of day care, my time at home over in a blink.

Still, I knew I was relatively fortunate. The first eight weeks of my leave were paid, and I had tacked on another three weeks of paid vacation. Plus, my employer permits workers to take up to six months of unpaid leave.

A large majority of new parents in this country are not so lucky. It is no secret that when it comes to paid parental leave, the United States is among the least generous in the world, ranking down with the handful of countries that don’t offer any paid leave at all, among them Liberia, Suriname and Papua New Guinea.

The American situation hasn’t materially improved since the landmark Family and Medical Leave Act was signed into law 20 years ago this month by President Clinton. The law requires larger employers and public agencies to provide up to 12 weeks of unpaid leave — as well as continuation of health benefits — for the birth or adoption of a child, or to care for an opposite-sex spouse, a parent or a child who has fallen ill (or to deal with your own health problem).

But about 40 percent of workers fall through the cracks because the law only requires many companies with 50 or more employees to comply. To get the benefit, employees must also have worked for the company for at least a year and logged 1,250 hours within the last 12 months. And lots of people simply cannot afford to take unpaid leave.

“This was really intended as a first step,” said Vicki Shabo, director of work and family programs at the National Partnership for Women and Families, referring to the law, which the group helped write. “People really see this as an individual struggle that they need to be responsible for rather than the societywide, systemic issue it is.”

But expanding the policy’s reach has been painfully slow. Some states have taken it upon themselves to bolster the rules and now cover a broader swath of workers or provide some paid leave. And companies that tend to work the hardest to lure employees, including Google, have gone much further to fill in the governmental gaps. (The Bucks personal finance blog will begin to track companies’ parental leave policies. So please let us know about your employer’s rules in the comments section.)

Despite the myriad benefits of paid leaves, the number of employers that offer the time off is dismal. “We know maternity leave is associated with lower infant mortality rates,” said Jody Heymann, dean of the Fielding School of Public Health at the University of California, Los Angeles, and author of the new book “Children’s Chances: How Countries Can Move From Surviving to Thriving.”

She added: “This makes sense. As well as receiving more one-on-one care, infants are more likely to be breast-fed, which lowers illness and hospitalization rates for infants and benefits women’s health. Beyond the marked health advantages, paid maternity leave yields economic gains in terms of reduced health care costs, reduced recruitment and retraining and improved long-term earnings for women.”

According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, only 11 percent of all private industry workers have access to paid family leave (16 percent of state and local government employees have access to some paid family leave; federal workers don’t get any, though all employees may be able to use accrued sick leave). Well-paid people who work in managerial or professional occupations at companies with 100 employees or more are the most likely to have the benefit, according to the Institute for Women’s Policy Research.

Even the policies at some of the most generous American companies pale in comparison with the 31 countries that provide a year or more of paid maternity leave, typically through government-run insurance programs, experts say. Working Mother compiles a list of the “100 Best Companies” in the United States each year, and parental leave policies are one of several factors baked into those rankings.

Image[Ms. Shabo advocates 12 weeks of paid leave for workers.]

Credit...Daniel Rosenbaum for The New York Times

Even among the standouts, the average time off in 2012 was seven weeks of fully paid maternity leave, while new fathers received an average of three paid weeks, up from two weeks in 2008. Parents adopting children received an average of six weeks. Keep in mind that the list is not exhaustive. Companies must apply to get on and be willing to fill out a 550-item questionnaire. They must also have at least 500 employees and offer some form of paid maternity leave.

Google beefed up its paid leave for new mothers in 2007 to five months after company officials realized that women were leaving the company at twice the rate of men. After the change, attrition dropped by half. New fathers receive seven weeks of paid leave, as do adoptive parents and other parents who don’t physically give birth, including same-sex partners.

“What one person might get is an accident of where you happen to work or where you happen to be,” Ms. Shabo said. “Instead, what we need are public policies that provide a basic level of protection.”

While the United States takes great pride in its family values, it is the only high-income country that does not offer a paid leave program. (Eight countries in all don’t offer the benefit, according to Dr. Heymann’s research.) Most of Europe and Central Asia — or 38 of 53 countries — provide 26 weeks or more of paid leave for mothers, according to Dr. Heymann’s research. “Twenty years ago there were a few other advanced economies that did not yet provide paid leave, and now, the U.S. is entirely isolated,” she said.

Some lawmakers in Washington have proposed expanding the Family and Medical Leave Act so that it covers more people, either by reducing the required number of hours an employee must work to become eligible or by including smaller companies with 25 or more employees.

Other consumer advocates and members of Congress are more ambitious. They would like to see a paid federal family leave and medical leave insurance program.

Ms. Shabo’s organization, together with the Center for American Progress, has been working with lawmakers to draft legislation that would provide up to 12 weeks of paid leave for the arrival of a new child or for a parent’s serious illness or that of a family member. The costs would be split between workers and their employers, who would each contribute two-tenths of 1 percent of workers’ wages to pay for insurance that would replace up to 66 percent of a worker’s usual wages, subject to a cap of about $1,000 a week.

A handful of states have already struck out on their own and devised similar programs that might serve as models. California and New Jersey, for instance, have established family leave insurance laws — built on those states’ temporary disability insurance programs — which allow workers to take paid leave to care for a new child (or a sick family member). The costs are borne by employees.Under the California program, created in 2002,workers pay 1 percent of their wages to cover both their state disability insurance andpaid family leave insurance, which provides 55 percent of an employee’s weekly salary up to about $1,000 a week. New parents can take up to six weeks of family leave; pregnant women can also take time under the program to recover from childbirth.

New Jersey’s program, which began operating in 2009, typically provides two-thirds of the average of a worker’s last eight weeks of pay, to a maximum of $584 a week, according to the National Partnership for Women and Families.

In New York, new mothers can tap the state’s temporary disability insurance program, which is paid for by contributions from both employers and employees and provides up to a paltry $170 a week. (Employers pay, but can seek up to 100 percent of the contribution from employees.) Rhode Island and Hawaii also have provisions for replacing some income.

The patchwork of state laws that are stitched with different company rules can be difficult to navigate, particularly for new parents. “It shouldn’t matter where you live or who you work for,” Ms. Shabo argued. “All that matters is that you should have time to take care of your children without worrying about facing major financial turmoil.”

Kenneth Matos, senior director of employment research and practice at the Families and Work Institute, a research group, emphasized the importance of being able to make decisions that work within the context of the entire family.

“When only the birth parent can take paid leave, you put people in a situation where they have to follow traditional gender roles, which doesn’t always make sense,” Dr. Matos said. “If the male partner has a more flexible job it doesn’t matter, because she is the one who gets the leave. A lot of people are beginning to talk about how these issues need to be looked at as overall family issues, and the decisions need to be made in the context of all of the people involved.”

question: Summarize what Vicki Shabo is advocating.

answer: Vicki Shabo advocates 12 weeks of paid leave for workers in the United States. New parents could use paid leave so they can have more time with their newborn, as many cannot afford to take unpaid leave. She stresses the benefits of paid leaves to new parents, especially the mother, and the infant. It's unfortunate that the United States is not so generous in giving paid parental leave.

question: What does the text say about the benefits of paid maternity leave?

answer: Paid maternity leave is beneficial to the health of the infant. Maternity leave is associated with lower infant mortality rates. It also benefits the health of the mother. A baby whose mother has paid maternity leave is also likely breastfed and does not easily get sick. Hence, health care costs are reduced, and economic gains increase.

question: What does the text say about why many workers in the United States don't have paid leave?

answer: President Clinton signed the Family and Medical Leave Act, requiring larger companies to provide up to 12 weeks of unpaid leave. However, 40% of workers don't have this benefit, as the law requires only those companies that have 50 or more employees, and the tenure of the employee is also a consideration.

question: What does the text say about the new mothers' mental health?


text:
MORTLAKE is a suburban[1] district of the London Borough of Richmond upon Thames on the south bank of the River Thames between Kew and Barnes. Historically it was part of Surrey and until 1965 was in the Municipal Borough of Barnes. For many centuries it had village status and extended far to the south, to include East Sheen and part of what is now Richmond Park. Its Stuart and Georgian history was economically one of malting, brewing, farming, watermen and a great tapestry works. A London landmark, the former Mortlake Brewery or Stag Brewery, is on the edge of Mortlake.

The Waterloo to Reading railway line runs through Mortlake, which has a pedestrianised riverside, two riverside pubs and a village green. The Boat Race finishes at Mortlake every March/April.

Governance

The Mortlake and Barnes Common ward of the London Borough of Richmond upon Thames has proved highly marginal. In the 2010 local elections local Liberal Democrats lost all three seats to local Conservatives, the latter forming an administration on Richmond Council. This remained the case until the 2018 local elections when the Liberal Democrats regained one of the three seats by a single vote.[2] The Liberal Democrats also regained control of the Council. Richmond Park, the constituency which includes Mortlake, had changed from Liberal Democrat to Conservative in the 2010 general election, was recaptured by the Liberal Democrats in the 2016 by-election, and finally reverted to Conservative MP Zac Goldsmith in the 2017 general election by a margin of only 45 votes.[3] During the 2016 United Kingdom European Union membership referendum, Richmond Park voted 69.3% for Remain, with a turnout of 82%.[4] Zac Goldsmith's pro-Brexit position, including voting to leave the European Union without a deal,[5] was hypothesised [6] to have damaged his support in the constituency. The 2019 election was won by Sarah Olney for the Liberal Democrats with a majority of 7766.[7]

The London Assembly constituency South West, which includes Mortlake, is represented by former local councillor Tony Arbour (Conservative).

History

[This is a contemporary bust of Sir John Barnard who lived much of his adult life as MP in one of a few Georgian mansions built in Mortlake for London's upper class. It is kept at Stowe House, Buckinghamshire.]

The place-name 'Mortlake' is first attested in the Domesday Book of 1086, where it appears as _Mortelaga_ and _Mortelage_, a name with two possible derivations. If the second element is the Old English _lacu_ meaning a stream, then the first element is very likely the fish-name _mort_ meaning a young salmon, hence 'salmon stream'. If the second element is the dialect _lag_ meaning a long, narrow marshy meadow, then the name means 'Morta's meadow'.[8]

Mortlake lay in the hundred of Brixton, which faded into obscurity.[9]

According to the Domesday Book, the manor and parish of _Mortlage_ [10] was held by Archbishop Lanfranc of Canterbury when its assets were: 25 hides; 1 church, 2 mills worth £5, 1 fishery, 33 ploughs, of meadow, wood worth 55 hogs. It rendered a large £38 plus 4s 4d from 17 houses in London, 2s 3d from houses in Southwark and £1 from tolls at Putney per year to its feudal system overlords.[11] The manor belonged to the Archbishops of Canterbury until the time of Henry VIII, when it passed by exchange to the Crown. From the early part of the 17th century until after the English Civil War, Mortlake was celebrated for the manufacture of tapestry, founded during the reign of James I at the Mortlake Tapestry Works.

Mortlake was reduced by when Richmond Park was created by Charles I in 1637. Other parishes also lost smaller amounts of land to the new deer park.[12]

Colston House's forebear was built by Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex then acquired by Edward Colston, major benefactor and investor to the port city of Bristol. This was pulled down in 1860. John Barber, Lord Mayor in 1733, a suspected Jacobite opposed to the 'Georgian' House of Hanover but Member of Parliament for the City on the strength of his opposition to Walpole's protectionist excise scheme, was buried in Mortlake in 1741. He had given land to extend the churchyard. Sir Henry Taylor, KCMG, the dramatic poet, lived in Mortlake in the 19th century.[13]

Sir John Barnard, Lord Mayor of London in the year 1737 and also an MP, used public addresses and private campaigns to outstanding effect in supporting the government against the Jacobite movement in 1745.[14]

Since 1845, the Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race has had its finish point at Mortlake, marked by the University Boat Race stone just downstream of Chiswick Bridge. Several other important rowing races over the Championship Course also either start or finish at the stone. The first National School in Mortlake was built providing compulsory education at primary level in 1869, followed by an infants school in 1890 and county level, into secondary level school in 1906.

[John Dee memorial plaque in the church of St Mary the Virgin Mortlake] [Sir Richard Burton's tomb at St Mary Magdalen’s Roman Catholic Church cemetery]

People

Living people

Katherine Jenkins, classical singer, lives in Mortlake.[15]

Historical figures

Mortlake's most famous former resident is John Dee (1527–1608/09), mathematician, astronomer, astrologer, alchemist and adviser to Queen Elizabeth I. He lived at Mortlake from 1565 to 1595 except for the six years between 1583 and 1589 when he was travelling in Europe. His house no longer exists but it became the Mortlake Tapestry Works and at the end of the 18th century was a girls' school.[16]

Sir Christopher Packe (1593?–1682), Lord Mayor of London, lived in Mortlake in about 1655–60.[17]

John Partridge (astrologer) (1644–c.1714) was born at East Sheen and apprenticed to a local shoemaker. He died in Mortlake and is buried there.[18]

The cemetery of St Mary Magdalen’s Roman Catholic Church Mortlake contains the tomb of the Victorian explorer and orientalist Sir Richard Burton.[19] Former British Prime Minister Henry Addington who, as Lord Sidmouth, was Ranger of Richmond Park, and after whom the park's Sidmouth Plantation is named, is buried at St Mary the Virgin Mortlake.[20][21]

Ada Lovelace (1815–1852), an English mathematician and writer, lived in Mortlake when she was 15 years old.[22]

Economy

Mortlake is mostly a residential commuter town with a strong history of self-employed trades as it has traditionally centred its commerce on its foreshortened boundary, the Upper Richmond Road, arguably half part of East Sheen. Some businesses on the north side of the Upper Richmond Road make reference to the old ecclesiastical and ward boundaries supported by their still Mortlake side streets.[23] East Sheen was once a manor in the parish of Mortlake and since early times an economic forum, and now a dining and convenience hub of the two districts. The Victoria County History's volume on Surrey, written from 1910 to 1912, does not list East Sheen as a parish, describes its detailed history under Mortlake and states the parish was “now connected with Barnes on one side and with New Richmond on the other”.[24][25] With the advent of motor transport, the buildings on Mortlake's winding high street, also known as the Lower Mortlake Road, have been mostly residential or used by the brewery.

Stag Brewery or Mortlake Brewery

[The former Budweiser Stag Brewery] [The Stag Brewery, Mortlake in 1989] [123 Mortlake High Street, built in 1720 and, from 1895 until 1940, was the seat of local government for the Municipal Borough of Barnes (which was abolished in 1965).] In the 1840s Charles James Philips and James Wigan acquired Mortlake Brewery, which had existed since the 15th century.[26]

In 1889 the brewery was acquired by James Watney & Co., which in 1898 became Watney Combe & Reid after acquiring Messrs. Combe Delafield and Co. and Messrs. Reid and Co. When Watney's Stag Brewery in Victoria, London, was demolished in 1959, the name was 30 years later, applied to Mortlake Brewery. Being the last phase of The Boat Race which refers to all the traditional local names, it is still widely referred to as the Mortlake Brewery.[27]

The brewery became part of Scottish Courage, briefly part of Heineken and was then divested to Anheuser-Busch Europe Ltd as it produced the company's _Budweiser_ pale lager. In January 2009, Anheuser-Busch InBev said that the company was proposing to close the Stag Brewery in 2010 as a result of a merger between InBev and Anheuser-Busch.[28] In November 2015, it was announced that the site had been sold for £158m to Reselton – part of Singapore’s City Developments, which also bought the former Teddington Studios. The brewery closed in December 2015[29] and there are plans to build 850 apartments on the location.[30]

Mortlake Railway Station – Queen Victoria's Waiting Room

The building next to Mortlake Railway Station, now occupied by a classic car showroom, contains Queen Victoria's old waiting room which was built for her and Prince Albert to use due to their frequent visits to White Lodge in Richmond Park where their family and latterly their son the Prince of Wales (later Edward VII) were living.

Amenities

Mortlake affords an undistracted view of the river as its riverside promenade is set by its buildings including the former brewery, unlike the embankment style roads along other London banks such as in Barnes until Barnes Bridge.

The two large pubs at either end of the riverside promenade are not listed buildings:

-   The White Hart
-   The Ship

Places of worship include:

-   St Mary Magdalen’s Roman Catholic Church Mortlake
-   St Mary the Virgin Mortlake (Anglican)

Transport

[The terminus of London Buses route 209 at North Worple Way, Mortlake]

Adjoining districts

-   Barnes
-   Chiswick (Grove Park, after which is Old Chiswick or Strand-on-the-Green, depending on direction)
-   East Sheen
-   Kew

Nearest railway stations

-   Mortlake railway station
-   North Sheen railway station

These are minor stops on the Waterloo to Reading Line which has four branch lines: to Windsor Riverside station, to Weybridge and back to the London terminus via Kingston upon Thames or Brentford.

This railway is a narrow bisector of the settlement, being generally on the flat with its streets, which tend to run perpendicular to it. It runs in the middle of Worple Way, separating it into north and south sides.

Demography and housing

To ensure that all the local authority wards have electorates of approximately the same size, the ward covering Mortlake also includes parts of Barnes.

  Ward                         Detached   Semi-detached   Terraced   Flats and apartments   Caravans/temporary/mobile homes/houseboats   Shared between households[31]
  ---------------------------- ---------- --------------- ---------- ---------------------- -------------------------------------------- -------------------------------
  Mortlake and Barnes Common   167        547             1,765      2,453                  1                                            8

  : 2011 CENSUS HOMES

  Ward                         Population   Households   % Owned outright   % Owned with a loan   hectares[32]
  ---------------------------- ------------ ------------ ------------------ --------------------- --------------
  Mortlake and Barnes Common   10,919       4,771        27                 32                    185

  : 2011 CENSUS HOUSEHOLDS

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[8] Ekwall, Eilert, _The Concise Oxford Dictionary of English Place-names_, p.331.

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[23] Memories of Mortlake Retrieved 21 December 2013

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[25] Mills, Anthony David, _Oxford Dictionary of London Place Names_ (2001)

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title: Mortlake

question: Historically how did the citizens of Mortlake make a living?

answer: Historically the town was reliant on malting, brewing, farming, and fishing. After the English Civil War, the town became famous for the manufacture of tapestry. Mortlake Tapestry Works was opened during the reign of James I.

question: According to the article, where does Mortlake derive its name?

answer: The name appears in the Domesday Book of 1086 where it appears as _Mortelaga_ and _Mortelage_, a name with two possible derivations. If the second element is the Old English _lacu_ meaning a stream, then the first element is very likely the fish-name _mort_ meaning a young salmon, hence 'salmon stream'. If the second element is the dialect _lag_ meaning a long, narrow marshy meadow, then the name means 'Morta's meadow'.


text:
_SUPERLIMINAL_ (previously _MUSEUM OF SIMULATION TECHNOLOGY_) is a 2019 puzzle video game released by Pillow Castle. The game, played from a first-person perspective, incorporates gameplay elements around optical illusions and forced perspective; notably, certain objects when picked up can be moved towards or away from the player, but when placed back down, scale to the size as the player had viewed them, enabling the player to solve puzzles to complete the game.

The game was released for Microsoft Windows in November 2019. Ports for PlayStation 4, Xbox One, and Nintendo Switch were released in July 2020.

Gameplay

_Superliminal_ is a puzzle video game played from the first-person perspective. The player-character is a participant in a dream therapy program, but during the study, the character becomes trapped in a recurring dream cycle, and is guided by the voice of the study's overseer, Dr. Glenn Pierce, on how to escape from the dream.

Most puzzles involve traversing through a series of rooms to reach their exits. The exit door may be closed and require a button to be held down to open, or atop a higher platform out of reach, or may not be immediately visible. To reach the exit, the player can manipulate certain objects in the game world. The bulk of such interactions are based on the use of forced perspective: the player can pick up a waist-high cube, which is then kept at its apparent current size from the player's perspective. The player can then look elsewhere around the room, with the cube maintained at the same viewpoint, and drop that cube at that location, where the cube will scale up or downwards in size based on the new perspective. Taking the waist-high cube and looking downwards towards the floor when dropping it will make the cube shrink in size, while looking upwards towards the ceiling and dropping will make it grow large. This process can be repeated indefinitely, allowing the player to manipulate these scalable objects as to create platforms to reach the exit or clear obstacles blocking them.

Later areas of the game introduce new mechanics to this. Some objects exist as _trompe-l'œil_ illusions with segments of two-dimensional art on various walls and surfaces, and the player must find the appropriate angle to view the object and make it appear whole to then be able to grab it.

Plot

The player heads to the Pierce Institute to help test its SomnaSculpt technology which is designed to provide dream therapy to patients. They are put to sleep and placed in a testing environment constructed in their dreamworld, where they are capable of performing reality bending feats such as changing the size of items based on perspective or instantly creating copies of them. However, the player fails to wake up at their appointed time, ending up back inside the dreamworld. A Pierce Institute doctor, Dr. Glenn Pierce, communicates to the player through radios, explaining that they have completely lost track of the player, and that the player is likely traveling through successive dream layers. Meanwhile, the AI administering the dream therapy advises the player to initiate an “Explosive Mental Overload” in order to trigger the “Emergency Exit Protocol” and escape the dreamworld.

Eventually, the player travels through enough dream layers to trigger the Emergency Exit Protocol, but it fails due to an unknown error. The AI concludes that SomnaSculpt therapy failed to eliminate the player's negative emotions, hence why they cannot leave the dreamworld. The AI then advises the player to find their own way out. With the player now trapped, the dreamworld becomes increasingly surreal. Eventually, the player creates a dream paradox and ends up in the realm of Whitespace where all sense of reality is lost.

The player is eventually able to navigate their way out of Whitespace, and Dr. Glenn congratulates them, revealing that the entire journey occurred just as planned, as it was a hidden test to see if the player could solve their problems by viewing things from every different perspective, which will help them grow as a person. Dr. Glenn also advises that even though the test occurred in the dreamworld, everything the player learned is as real as they want it to be. The player then returns to the room where they began in, where Dr. Glenn tells them to wake up.

Development

_Superliminal_ was developed by the six-member team of Pillow Castle, led by Albert Shih, a student from the Entertainment Technology Center (ETC) at Carnegie Mellon University. Shih had developed the foundation of the game while an undergraduate student at ETC around 2013 as part of a programming assignment, looking for “what kind of interesting first person game can I build by just moving cubes around?”[1] He improved upon the concept during his graduate work, establishing Pillow Castle in January 2014 and obtaining assistance from four other ETC students to build out the game.[2] Shih had been inspired by successful games like _Risk of Rain_ and _Antichamber_ that had been made by small teams to continue his work on _Superliminal_.[3] _Antichamber_ was particularly influential to Shih, as it directed and encouraged the player to think outside the box to discover the solutions to its puzzles, an idea he wanted to recapture in _Superliminal_.[4] In a similar fashion, Shih likened _Superliminal_{{'}}s scaling puzzles to the portal-based ones in _Portal_, designing the puzzles to create moments of epiphany for the player.[5]

The core concept behind _Superliminal_ is based on forced perspective, with Shih referencing the common tourist photos of people using forced perspective to appear as if they are pushing or holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa.[6] Achieving the scaling mechanic in the Unity engine was itself straight-forward according to Shih. When the player picks up an object, the game tracks the object's size and the distance. Then, as the player looks around, the game figures the new distance to the farthest point directly in front of the player, and scales the object's size proportional to the change from the original distance. The more difficult factor Shih had found was accounting for the complex shapes of some objects and where the player expected the center viewpoint to be at.[7] Other puzzles in the game involving the projecting and de-projecting of 3D objects onto 2D planes used Unity's camera and projector objects with the only challenge being related to the camera depth, something that Shih said was not well-supported in Unity, but credits programmer Phil Fortier for solving.[8] The scaling puzzles proved to have some trouble in playtesting since players could come up with possible solutions that ultimately were not working and the game unable to provide feedback for why. Instead of having players being able to jump, which the scaling made inconsistent, they instead let player mantle up ledges making it easier to guide players to a solution.[9]

The game was revealed as _Museum of Simulation Technology_ as a tech demo. The demo was first featured at the 2013 Tokyo Game Show during its “Sense of Wonder Night”, an event dedicated to indie games. The demo won the event's “Best Technology” and “Audience Award”.[10] The tech demo was publicly released in January 2014, along with submission into the Independent Games Festival (IGF) Student Competition for 2014,[11][12] where it won along with _Risk of Rain_ and _Engare_.[13] The public tech demo became of high interest, with the Reddit subforum “/r/gaming” voting Shih's post announcing the demo as the 4th highest post as of 2015 with strong comparisons to _Portal_.[14]

By 2015, most of the ETC students who were working on the game had graduated and left Pillow Castle. Shih worked part-time on the game while working at other jobs.[15][16] Shih spent much of the time since 2014 to evaluate the direction to take the game, eventually working full time on the game and hiring additional staff to complete the title.[17]

The game was formally announced under the new title _Superliminal_ in June 2019,[18] It was announced for Microsoft Windows as an Epic Games Store timed exclusive in August 2019, along with release of its full trailer.[19]

A PlayStation 4 version was announced in December 2019 with plans for release in April 2020.[20] The PlayStation 4 release was delayed to July 7, 2020 alongside ports for the Xbox One and Nintendo Switch.[21]

The game was released on _Steam_ for computers on November 5, 2020.[22][23] This version includes a developer commentary and a challenge mode.

Reception

_Superliminal_ received “mixed or average reviews” according to review aggregator Metacritic.[24] The game's core mechanic was praised, but generally reviewers felt the game was short and lacked some of the potential that could be used with that mechanic, as well as having a lackluster story.[25][26][27][28]

Accolades

The game was nominated for “Game, Puzzle” at the NAVGTR Awards.[29]

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title: Superliminal

question: How was the game received by the public?

answer: The game has mixed reviews according to the review aggregator Metacritic. Gamers felt that the game was short and lacked some mechanical potential, although, the game's core mechanic was praised.

question: What is the plot of the game about?

answer: The player is a participant in a dream therapy program but during the study, the character gets trapped in a recurring dream cycle and has to escape from the dream.

question: What is the main concept behind the game?

answer: The core concept of the game is based on forced perspective. One of the developers, Shih, references this concept with common tourist photos of people using forced perspective to appear as though they are holding or pushing the Leaning Tower of Pisa.