text:
_SYPHON FILTER: LOGAN'S SHADOW_ is a third-person shooter stealth video game developed by SCE Bend Studio and published by Sony Computer Entertainment for the PlayStation Portable and PlayStation 2.

Gameplay

_Logan's Shadow_ is played from a third-person perspective. With the Havok physics, enemies and objects react realistically to gunfire and other means of interaction.

_Logan's Shadow_ features weapons and gameplay mechanics new to the series. These include additions to the cover system such as side-to-side movement, leaning, and blind fire around obstacles and corners, an advanced melee system that allows Gabe to use enemies as human shields, regenerative health, and underwater combat.[1][2]

Plot

When the al-Jamil terrorist group assaults USS _Mt. St. Helens_, the National Intelligence Oversight Committee must rely on the Agency to secure the classified material within a cargo hold before the antagonists acquire it. NIOC Director Robert Cordell convinces Gabe Logan that he is their only option, but Teresa Lipan counters that this is an assignment outside of Agency jurisdiction. Gabe agrees to go anyway, for a chance at stopping terrorist leader Ghassan al-Bitar, a Syrian he almost caught a year ago, and with whom he has a score to settle.

With his partner Lian Xing on vacation in Cyprus, Gabe flies to the Indian Ocean where a clan of Somali pirates called the Warsingala Protectors have invaded the ship. Bitar is leading them, and Gabe suspects this assault involves more than a mere pirating operation. Intercepting Spec Ops communications, pilot Alima Haddad warns Gabe that Cordell did not tell him everything, and Logan realises the contents of Hold Five, a secret even to the Navy, are Bitar's primary target.

Establishing a link to _St. Helens_{{'}} communications dish, Alima attempts to extract Logan, but her helicopter is shot down. Despite Gabe's efforts, she dies. Frustrated and furious, Gabe destroys several pirate boats carrying stolen goods from _St Helens_ and re-enters the ship via the damaged main hull. However, Bitar has already stolen the cargo inside Hold Five, which NIOC couriers ship.

When Gabe reaches the bridge, s with the Fifth Fleet have already begun launching cruise missiles to scuttle their own ship. He tries to stop Bitar from escaping, but terrorist Fahid Tamer distracts him. Gabe kills Fahid and escapes from the ship before it sinks. His return to the Agency brings more complications when Cordell mentions Lian was “never” in Cyprus, and produces pictures of her with a Chinese man, both in a foreign land. From Cordell's point of view, Lian being a defector or a double agent, the Agency would be compromised, and the NIOC suspends the IPCA.

Despite Teresa's reservations, and running out of options, Gabe enlists a marine salvage expert Dane Bishop to explore the sunken _St Helens_ for NIOC courier files that could have the information of where Lian was when she was photographed. The duo find Spetsnaz divers are also searching for evidence. Gabe realises they work for Surgei Kudrenko, another antagonist who survived an attempt that Gabe made on his life on a mission years earlier. Bishop cuts a hole inside the ship, sucking Logan into the hull, and Gabe follows his advise on destroying the engine turbines. When they rendezvous, the pair stop the ship's nuclear reactor from melting down and kill Kudrenko's right-hand man, Surgeyev, before the enemy can escape with the courier codes.

The decoded microfiles show pictures captured by MI6 in Azerbaijan. Lian and the Chinese male are hostages, but the Spetsnaz are also looking for them, suggesting they found out about the St Helens through their intelligence resources. Compounding the situation is the Russians who are conducting genocidal killings and ethnic cleansing activities throughout the country. Believing that Lian might get killed, Gabe teams up with Maggie Powers, who claims to be in the same region to “track smugglers”, to find out who captured Lian. While searching a hotel room shared by Lian and her accomplice, Gabe encounters a Chinese Secret Service agent, codenamed Trinidad. The two fight and kill Spetsnaz forces, but Trinidad abandons Logan to find Maggie on his own. Although he rescues her from interrogators, Kudrenko captures them after they destroy a Russian gunship.

Inside a gulag, Trinidad confronts Gabe, the Chinese admitting that she was Lian's instructor in the CSS; but Xing defected when Gabe recruited her into the Agency, tarnishing Trinidad's reputation. According to Trinidad, her student used to be married to the man seen in the pictures, Shen Rei. China wants him back because he is the inventor of the device stolen from the St Helens, and Trinidad helps free Gabe from custody so he can find them. Logan wonders about the significance of the device, such that America, Russia, China and Syria all want it. He begins to suspect Maggie is attempting to acquire it as well for England, and does not know whom to trust.

Gabe kills Kudrenko during an aeroplane firefight, but Cordell arrests Maggie and tells Logan he has shut down the agency; because the NIOC believes that Shen and Lian work for Bitar. Cordell had used Gabe from the very start to locate them. The NIOC now knows where al-Jamil's desert stronghold is, but Logan is forced to accept early retirement. Against his belief that Cordell is right, Teresa informs Gabe that Lian is in love with him, and must be Bitar's prisoner if none of the world powers have Shen. Gabe realises that Cordell will bomb al-Jamil's base, and it will kill Lian.

He assists several Army Rangers in the assault on al-Jamil, but Gabe must enter the bunker on his own in search of Bitar. He finds Lian alive, and the two study Shen's device, the X-Z-2. It then transpires that the device is Shen's solution to the energy crisis, but China wanted to weaponise it, so he defected with Lian's help and fled to Pakistan. Gabe finds information proving that Cordell hired Bitar as a means to bring Shen to NIOC couriers. Cordell was desperate to retrieve the X-Z-2 before competing nations could, but Bitar had other plans. The latter decided to steal the device and use Shen to make bombs that would destroy oil sources, thus driving Western influence from the Middle East.

Everything Cordell did since then was a cover-up, and Gabe has him taken away by soldiers to ensure “his” own early retirement. Lian has difficulty talking to Gabe about Shen, and Gabe focuses on stopping al-Jamil at a Syrian dam which Bitar will use to charge the last of the X-Z-2 devices for future attacks on the West. During the mission, Lian becomes distracted with saving Shen, and abandons her post to find him, rendering herself incommunicado in the process. Gabe reaches Shen first, and the two disable most of the X-Z-2 bombs before going after Bitar. The terrorist tries to escape with the final bomb, but Shen has rigged it as a dud. Gabe shoots the sabotaged device, destroying it and killing his adversary.

He finds Lian and Shen outside the dam, but Trinidad also appears. She has shadowed Gabe the entire time, even when he was in Virginia. Trinidad's opinion being that Logan must be kept alive just so he can lead her to Shen, she provides covering fire for Gabe and murdered al-Jamil operatives on several occasions, but she still believes him expendable in the long run. Shen is unwilling to let his device become a weapon, so he commits suicide.

In a post-credits cutscene, Gabe and Lian return to the gym in Langley where Teresa had set up the remote command center during the Agency's shutdown. Gabe has decided he will retire, believing there are too many secrets in his work. Instead, he will look for Addison and Blake Hargrove while trying to begin a new life. They enter to find Mujari lying on the floor dead, and Teresa injured. She warns them to be careful, and Trinidad ambushes them. Gabe pushes Lian aside and kills Trinidad, but is shot four times himself. He lies on the floor as Lian shouts and tries to revive him.

Multiplayer

Players can play as new factions in five game modes, two of which are new to the franchise. The new modes are Sabotage and Retrieval. Sabotage pits two teams against each other as they try to locate bomb codes and arm the other team's nuclear warhead and guard it to prevent them from disarming their bomb until the timer runs out, while Retrieval has players trying to retrieve a beacon from the enemy's base and return it to their own base to score a point. Returning modes are Deathmatch, Team Deathmatch, and Rogue Agent.

_Combat Ops_ demo

[_Syphon Filter: Combat Ops_.]

_Syphon Filter: Combat Ops_ is a multiplayer game released on the PlayStation Network on November 20, 2007.[3] _Logan's Shadow_ features a playable sneak preview from the main menu. Players can create different missions by editing pre-existing maps (by adding their own objects, weapons, objectives, spawn points, factions, etc.) and other information. The missions can be placed online and shared with other players or through Ad hoc.

Reception

_Syphon Filter: Logan's Shadow_ received “generally positive” reviews, according to review aggregator Metacritic.[4]

[1] Liang, Alice (May 18, 2007), Previews: _Syphon Filter: LS_ , _1up.com_

[2] Haynes, Jeff (May 17, 2007), _Syphon Filter: Logan's Shadow_ First Look, _ign.com_

[3] PlaystationStore

[4]

title: Syphon Filter: Logan's Shadow

question: What does the passage say about Gabe's fights?

answer: Gabe fights the al-Jamil terrorist group. He is going to stop terrorist leader Ghassan al-Bitar. Gabe kills terrorist Fahid Tamer. Then he and his friend kill Spetsnaz, Kudrenko, and Trinidad.

question: What does the passage say about the game instructions?

question: What does the passage say about the advantages of Logan's Shadow?

answer: Logan's Shadow enables side-to-side movement, leaning, and blind fire around obstacles and corners, an advanced melee system that allows Gabe to use enemies as human shields, regenerative health, and underwater combat. Multiple players can play as new factions in five game modes, two of which (Sabotage and Retrieval) are new to the franchise.


split: test

text:
[The street at night] CAT STREET is an approximately half-mile street in Tokyo, Japan. The street meanders within Harajuku and Shibuya.[1]

According to _Time Out Tokyo_, “Cat Street is the spiritual home of Tokyo’s vibrant street fashion culture. While the strip has been steadily heading upmarket over the past few years, it is still the main conduit for funkily dressed teens on shopping sprees in Tokyo. Highlights include the Tadao Ando-designed edifice housing the Armani Casa interior brand, and collectable figure store Pook et Koop.”[2]

According to _Condé Nast Traveler_, “Those who want to get to a taste of the more sophisticated side of Tokyo's celebrated urban aesthetic should not miss Cat Street.”[3]

[1]

[2]

[3]

title: Cat Street, Tokyo

question: What is the difference between Time Out Tokyo's description of Cat Street and what Condé Nast Traveler says about it?

answer: There is no difference. Time Out Tokyo's description of Cat Street as "the home of Tokyo's vibrant street fashion culture" is the same as Condé Nast Traveler's "the more sophisticated side of Tokyo's celebrated urban aesthetic". The message is only worded differently but means the same thing. Street fashion culture is the same as urban aesthetic.


text:
Jesse

Many of you know Elvis Presley. You may also have been made aware he had a twin brother named Jesse who died at birth.  I’m here to tell you not only of that inaccuracy but to blow the lid on the world’s best kept secret. This is Jesse’s story…

I remember losing feeling in my fingertips.  My feet were on a solid rock wedge but my hands could no longer pull me further up the mountain...the mountain they call Island Peak. This mountain is the tallest mountain of all the Himalayas and I, Teddy Drummond, sought to climb it in search of "the greatest mystery of the world". At least that's how I imagined Inje my Nepali mountain guide saying it, when he said "yaha harekchijko bhuktani garnuhunchha"...but I digress.

This wasn't the  blizzard from hell I was told would be raining down on me once I was close to the top. This was much worse. My mind kept drifting to rolling in bed with my wife and smelling the fabric of her shirt. Only her feet were much colder than they were before. Like really cold. That wedge I thought my feet were on turned out to be a block of ice that morphed around my boots. Death was reclining on my Lazy-Boy and I was its lap dog. With each stroke of his hand on my skin, a more powerful gust of snowy hail on my face, torso and legs. When the worst was upon me, an arm reached down and grabbed my backpack to heave me over the top of the peak.

"You looked like you needed a lift".

I was rescued by a...im going to say it...a beautiful man. I find him hard to describe without dishing out adjectives a woman might describe him as. He was tall, rosy cheeks and a curl of his lip when he smiled. If it weren't for the snow, on a clear day I just may have seen an actual twinkle in his eye. His rather...familiar eye. Where have I seen him before? I carried on with my hero towards a temple where he told me he lived with others.

"Say, I go by Civil here whats your name man?"

"Teddy. Teddy Drummond of the Washington Coast"

"Huh?"

"The Washington Coast? The specific Pacific? The satirical...oh that's not important. What is this place?"

"I guess I should ask you what  in Gods pure, Holy, sacred Earth were you doin climbing that mountain?"

"I was told something in Nepali and I hadn't eaten for a while and I may have mistranslated what my guide told me, I'm a little embarrassed".

"Well what did he tell you?"

"yaha harekchijko bhuktani garnuhunchha".

"Haha man your guide sure has a sense of...haha it don't matter come meet the others of the Sediment"

"The Sandy what?"

"The sediment. That's what we go by in here. See Sedimentary rock, or sedimentation is the process that allows a collection particles and minerals to settle in place. That's what we all have in common here. We left a crazy life to come here and just be..to just relax and..settle in place"

"Well I don't want to impose here but thank you for rescuing me, thank you very much"

"Hey man, that was my line"

Then it hit me. But it couldn't be. This man that pulled me from the jaws of death was...Elvis Presley! He referred to himself as Civil..of course Elvis backwards is Sivle..this is what Inje must have meant I wasn't crazy after all! The King of Rock n Roll is alive! I had to talk to him and ask him how he's still...so young?

"Excuse me Civil? I couldn't help but notice...

"That I'm Elvis Presley? Well I was at one time but I left him behind in 55', been here ever since"

"But you couldn't have been here since then, you were still performing all the way until 1975"

"Do you remember what happened when I turned 23?"

"Of course it was a media frenzy you were drafted in the war, you made it all the way to sergeant in the army and you came back to have an amazing career"

"Wrong. Well I did come back to the states but what I saw and heard at war changed me. My manager heard me sing Love me Tender in rehearsal and knew I wasn't the same guy. But the world needed Elvis. Or "an" Elvis"

"Oh my God...your twin...but he..."

"While I was in the Army I went everywhere, saw every thing. I got a letter from my mom, telling me how she never had no money and when she found out she was having twins, she couldn't tell the town she was giving one up. Back then a dead baby meant sympathetic financial support from the town to raise me".

"What happened to.."

"She gave him up, private adoption. Got a letter said last she'd heard he was with his family in Nepal. I only ever told my manager, whom after hearing me sing back from war, concocted this plan of pulling the whole switcheroo"

"So this whole time the world was in love with..

"Jesse...that's right. Turns out the whole ordeal of his birth mom giving him up and being shunned from the world caused him to do a lot of drugs and alcohol later in life. He died way too young"

"How have you preserved yourself like this you look as flawless as your first hip thrust on the Ed Sullivan show"

"There's this elderberry that grows about 11 miles down that road, we mix it with mostly everything we eat. I would see my brother get older but I never really noticed I wasn't keeping pace until about 20 years ago"

"What happened then?"

"I gotta go man, the sediment gets angry if I miss mid day hot yoga, take care of yourself teddy".

And with that shoulder smack, I was sent rushing back to my body..on the ground at the bottom of the mountain.

"You took quite a fall Mr Drummond but you'll be ok".

I was being carried to an ambulance, oxygen mask on, foggy vision, the works. I may make it up that mountain again but for now, I think I'll just "settle" for another story to write for the Washington Coast...

title: [MF] Jesse

question: According to the text, what happened to Elvis's twin brother?

answer: Elvis had a twin brother called Jesse. When the twins were born their mother couldn't afford to bring them both up so you gave Jesse up for adoption. When Elvis returned from the war, he didn't want to rejoin the world so he swapped places with his brother Jesse, who went on to be star and died at 56.


text:
**BLURRED LINES**

“I am going to take a step forward. A figurative step forward, but I will represent that step with its physical counterpart”.

The scratch of pen on paper is the only response.

“Of course I won’t take that step here, or now, I’ll take the step when I deserve it”.

I turn my head a little to the side to catch a glimpse of the person I’m talking to, just to make sure she’s listening.

Eyes set behind glasses stare directly into mine. I quickly turn back to the ceiling, pretending to stretch as I go. The loud crackling of leather beneath me reminds me why I haven’t been moving. I hate the sound of leather, it’s the sound of plastic tearing and it hurts my ears on a level I can’t explain.

I wriggle uncomfortably for a while longer before I give up. The light above me is glaring and I have to squint to keep my eyes open.

“I took your advice and talked with a friend about it”.

The scratching paused, “and how did that make you feel?”

I move a little restlessly, “I don’t know, it made me feel better I guess”.

The scribbling of the pen continues once more, “What exactly did you tell your friend?”

My palms are getting a little sweaty, it’s too hot today, I wish she’d turn the AC up a bit.

“I told him I was going to commit suicide and that he shouldn’t try to stop me”.

I can almost feel the frown on her face as she stops writing once more. I want to see the expression she’s making but I’m still wary of being caught like last time. Instead I remain completely still, breathing a little quicker than before.

“You know I don’t appreciate it when you lie like that Mr Andrews”.

I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the gut, spots of darkness blur my vision and it feels like a hundred butterflies are trying to burst out of my stomach. I lie completely still and take deep breaths, waiting, hoping for the feeling to pass. The silence stretches out and all I can hear is my own breathing, in and out, in and out, again and again, the rest of my life is nothing but breathing.

The sound of writing comes to my ears once more and somehow its noise is soothing.  The darkness fades and the nausea passes. I’m once more forced to squint into the fluorescent lighting above.

“I don’t like my friend, I think he’s a jerk.”

I wipe my sweaty hands on my shirt, the crackle of leather reaches my ears and I cringe inwardly.

“Why don’t you like your friend?”

Her voice is quite nice now that I think about it, feminine and caring with a motherly quality to it. I want to hear her voice speak to me and tell me everything is alright, I want to hear her voice saying anything at all.

“I just think he’s a real jerk, he always wants to do things his way, and he treats me like an idiot”.

My mind is beginning to wander, I’ve been lying here for so long, I think my left leg is starting to cramp up.

“Does this friend know how you feel?”.

Violent thoughts wash through my head with an unexpected suddenness, I want to sneer at her, I want to tell her to get fucked you stupid bitch. An overwhelming desire to leap out of my chair and choke this stupid whore to death crashes through me. Terrible thoughts careen through my head one after another, an unstoppable flow.  My hands twitch slightly.

“No I guess not”.

“Then that’s the first thing I want you to do next time you see him, tell him how you feel about his behaviour”.

My thoughts continue to rage and the need to vomit overcomes me, I begin to choke but somehow I can’t seem to move my body. Heaving and gagging I can feel the bile crawling its way out of my throat. I can feel my mouth being forced open as it attempts to escape. My jaw is locked open and four black legs reach out tentatively, testing the air. Soon a large black body squeezes itself out of my mouth. The spider is as big as my head and after firmly extricating itself from my face it releases its grip on my jaw. I begin coughing and choking immediately and tears are running down my face from the pain. The spider turns to look at me, segmented eyes glint darkly as it stares at my suffering with unknowable thoughts. Without warning the spider leaps off the couch and scurries away faster than I can keep track of it, bored of observing its previous host no doubt.

“How does that make you feel?”

The shrink is completely absorbed in her notes, her pen moves endlessly from left to write, a never ending flow of words describing every detail of this sitting, every word spoken and unspoken, I wouldn’t be surprised if she planted that spider just to see how I’d react.

“How does that make you feel Mr Andrews?”

As she speaks her forehead is melting down her face, covering her eyes and nose, dripping down her mouth and slowly freezing in place just below her chin. The image is that of a wax head that has been left in the sun too long, liquefying in the heat then hardening once more into a garish mockery of the human face. I can tell it’s looking at me, the mouth inside is moving but nothing but a muffled oomph can be heard from her. I reach out towards her, I want to rip a hole through her mouth so she can speak to me again, so I can hear her beautiful voice once more.

“Mr Andrews are you feeling alright?”

I blink and I’m staring at the fluorescent lights above me once more, my hand reaching upwards with an open palm. I look to see the shrink has put down her notepad, staring at me with concern in her eyes, her face exactly as I remembered it when I first entered here. I let my hand drop down.

“Yeah I’m feeling alright”.

The shrink is frowning at me but before she can speak a small buzzer goes off on her desk nearby.

“Oh well would you look at the time, an hour already, well Mr Andrews today was another good session, come see me again same time next week and we will continue our talks”

She moves about, carefully placing her notepad and pen on her desk.

“Make sure you talk to your friend, I’m sure he doesn’t want to hurt you on purpose, and keep up the good work, you’ve been steadily improving each session and if we keep up the pace I have no doubt you will become a positive member of society once more”.

She smiles and holds out her hand to be shaken. I get up hurriedly, the sound of crackling leather is loud as I rise.

“Thank you Rebecca, I always feel better after these sessions”.

The shrink smiles as we shake hands, her hand is cold from writing for so long, while mine are still sweaty from the heat. She pretends not to notice.

“Goodbye Mr Andrews, take care on your way home”.

She opens the door for me, a warm smile painted on her lips, as I make to leave I notice a big black spider scuttle along the wall and out of the door. I look to Rebecca to see if she noticed but she merely stares back at me, black eyes the colour of the spider’s fur staring straight through me. I step outside and into a living room. There is a couch and a TV. A small rug lies on the floor. I look to the left and I can see a small kitchen. White except for the wooden chopping board lying on the bench and the remains of a variety of vegetables. I walk over to the chopping board, this is my house. I look behind me to the open door leading out into the apartment complex. I try to remember how I got here when a sudden spitting pain shrieks through the side of my head. I gasp and my right eye blacks out, I crumple to the floor as I am no longer able to control half of my body.

Lying on the ground I can do nothing but gasp and squirm, panic has taken control of my thoughts and everything has become a blur. Sounds and images swirl into thoughts and break apart before they can fully take shape, strange zig zag shapes crash quietly around me and small squiggles draw themselves out of the ground. Yellow orbs float gently through the sky in a V formation before slowly being absorbed into the wall. As I watch my surroundings I feel waves of peace smothering me. I can feel something turning my head. It’s the spider. His name is Mike. He’s smiling at me, white teeth glistening, a static point in the universe amongst the chaos around me.

“Andy, let it all go Andy, let it all go….”

The spider is speaking in a deep baritone voice, my father’s voice. The spider is speaking the words but it’s as though using a mouth is alien to him. The words are slurred and the shapes of his lips don’t quite match the sounds they’re making.

“Andy… look at me Andy, I’m trying to help you Andy, why do you keep fighting me? Andy look at me when I speak to you”.

Spider arms reach out and grab my face while a few more reach in and pry the skin away from the sockets of my eyes. Appendages sway gently above me before they slowly dig into my skull. I can feel the individual hairs of the spider’s arms curl gently against my skin and a pin prick of pain as the spider arms wrap around my eyes. The grip tightens then loosen and all of a sudden my eye’s roll rapidly in their sockets like marbles tossed along the road and all I can see are a dizzying array of colours shooting in and out of darkness. Dizziness overwhelms me and I attempt to push the spider away only to feel my arms pinned to my sides. I flail hopelessly until my eyes are shocked into a sudden stillness as they stare directly into glinting, multifaceted eyes.

“You know what to do Andy, stop being a fucking coward and do it already. You’re wasting my time with all this Andy”.

The voice has changed, it is no longer my father’s, it’s the doctor’s voice, soft and caring, belying the harshness of the words themselves.

“How do you feel Andy? Do you feel pathetic Andy? Do you feel like a worthless piece of shit Andy because that’s what you are Andy. Every day I have to listen to you is another day I could have spent with my family Andy, a family that loves me, where’s your family Andy?”

I attempt to mumble a response, my arms are no longer being held down and I reach for the spider.

“Where's your family Andy? Where are your friends? Where the fuck are they huh Andy? ANDY YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT, YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO, NOW FUCKING DO IT”.

The psychiatrist’s voice rises to a shrill pitch as it continues to scream obscenities at me. I reach forwards and grab it by the mouth. The voice gargles as I stretch its mouth and it screams in anger and pain as I rip it completely off. The spider stares at me awhile longer, thoughts suddenly impassive and unknowable.

“Mike you’re a jerk, I don’t like the way you yell at me all the time, it really hurts my feelings”.

The spider stares darkly at me and I force my eyes shut so I don’t have to look at him anymore. When I open them once more Mike is gone, instead I am staring at the marbled floor, face cold from resting on the chilly tiles.

With an effort I pull myself off the floor, everything is still blurry as I grab the bench besides me and heave myself up. I struggle over to the sink and vomit black bile and a half digested breakfast into the basin. I hold myself up next to the bench, weak and exhausted. To my right is a butcher’s knife. I haven’t seen it yet, but I always know where it is. Screaming words echoes gently against my skull and I force them away before grabbing a small white bottle nearby.

I put the label up to my face and I can only see small scribbles, no doubt describing it as a medicine of some sort. I twist off the cap knowing exactly what I’ll see. Little black spiders writhe inside, scuttling against one another in an attempt to get out and away from each other. I quickly reach in and grab one before closing up the bottle again before they can get away. I hold the one I’ve caught by the leg and star at its struggling frame. Black legs spasm in an attempt to gain purchase in the air and its entire body swivels right and left looking for any escape. I try not to think too much and throw it into my mouth and swallow it whole. I can feel it wriggling in my throat, still trying to escape and I resist the urge to vomit once more. I place the bottle carefully, right next to the knife, glittering ever so gently on the bench. My hand drags across the burnished metal with a careful caress and fingers linger for a few seconds longer then they probably need to before I let go. The blurry edges of the house are beginning to sharpen, I can distinguish the objects around me once more. Floor, painting, ceiling, chair, microwave, toaster. I walk forwards, back a little straighter as I go into my room. Computer, sheet, pillow. I sit down on the bed, brown carpet, blue blanket, and I lie down and stare at the roof and count the small holes that spot the plaster. Four, eleven, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six. Twenty six holes in this panel. I count them again. And again. Familiar tears stream down my face as I count, over and over, I think about Mike, I miss Mike, and the sound of the psychologist’s voice, not her words of anger but the words of peace and tranquility in her office. “How do you feel Andy?” Those words repeat like a staccato rhythm next to the monotony of the counting. I lie there, awake, counting and thinking, lying in the warm pool of tears until finally, finally, the sweet bliss of unconsciousness takes me once more.

title: Blurred Lines

question: Do you think the psychiatrist will honor the next appointment with Mr. Andrews?

answer: Unknown; judging by the latest session the psychiatrist seems quite afraid of Mr. Andrew's antics during the questioning.

question: What calmed Mr. Andrews down in the end?

answer: He took some medicine and it seems to take away the strange vision he keeps having.


text:
*ring ring..... ring ring.... ring ring... click*

A cheery voice at the other end picked up. "Hello, A1 Galactic Exterminators! You imbue 'em, we subdue 'em!"

I cleared my throat. "Hi, do you guys come out to the Milky Way?"

"We sure do, what can we help you with?"

"Well, I've spun up a planet to raise an advanced species, but the planet has been over-run by a natural predator, and the intended species' evolution is in trouble."

"No problem sir, we have a number of attractive packages that will return control back to your intended species. We'll just start with a few questions. What is the plantary lifeforms' base element?"

"Carbon."

"Great, any non-biological augmentations?"

"Nope, 100% organic."

"Wow, hard mode..... ok, I think I found your planet, I'm pulling it up right now... Hmm, all the current lifeforms are concentrated on this one continent, which makes complete eradication impossible. It will be a bit tricky to target just the lizards, but we do have a package where we take a native virus and genetically engineer it to selectively target the unwanted species. It's a bit costly though, about 4 days."

"That's a little steep for me..."

"Well, for 2 days we can seed the super-volcanoes on your planet to simultaneously trigger, and create a small cove for the intended species to shelter during the storm. Very distressing, but effective."

"It's interested... but I've already spent 6 days putting this planet together, and I have plans for the future for some of my hours..."

"Well sir, how about we see what your budget is and we can go from there?"

"I have about 3 hours."

A tense silence on the other end of the line...

"...sir, for 3 hours we can chuck a rock at your planet and hope for the best."

"Sounds good. See you Sunday?"

title: [HM] When Your Pest Problem Is Out Of Control...

question: What genre is this story?

answer: This seems to be a comedy and sci-fi.

question: Why does the narrator need the exterminators to come out to the Milky Way?

answer: He's created a planet to raise an advanced species, but the planet was overrun with a natural predator. This put the intended species at risk.

question: What is the story's resolution?

answer: The resolution is that the narrator chooses the package where the exterminator throws a rock at his planet and hopes for the best in regards to the predator species.

question: Describe the most costly service the exterminators can provide?

answer: The most costly service is the introduction of a a native virus that is engineered to target the unwanted species.


text:
It was called Zulu. A cheap-ass, sun-faded, rusted-over excuse of an amusement park stuck just outside a notorious ghetto right off the freeway.

No shit. Zulu.

I kid you not; the motif was *jungle adventure*. Fiberglass lions and gorillas lurching about. Man-sized tribal masks announcing the park rules. Plastic trees and a couple of pock-marked rubber crocodiles floating in the unnatural electric blue water of a concrete pool. Are you ready for the mascot? Yes, you got it - a saucer-eyed, cartoon pygmy with a bone through its nose and hair like it just stuck it's dick in an electrical outlet. Cutouts of Zinger-Zu in front of every ride telling kids how tall they had to be....

So egregious, it soared right over "unacceptably offensive" and landed square on "ironically acceptable kitsch." And it was located in Dallas County, Texas, so that helped.

Virgil had been born into the ghetto that sprawled behind the zig-zag shadows of Zulu's dilapidated roller coasters. As a very young child, that park represented the promise of magic, adventure and mystery. Of course, money being money, he'd never been allowed to visit during those innocent years; and you grow up fast in the ghetto, so by the time Virgil actually did get to pass through the wrought iron gates for a sample of jungle paradise, he was already too old to believe in voodoo or hippopotamuses. No, as a pre-teen and teenager, he went to Zulu exclusively to buy weight and sell dime-bags to suburbanites from Fort Worth.

He'd never had the chance or, later, the inclination to ride a single ride.

\*\*\*

Older now, Virgil had lived 35 years, married twice, and had four kids. He stood six foot two inches, still trim at two hundred pounds. He had a good job in the city; a respectable house in the suburbs. His current girlfriend was able to trick him into church on Sunday mornings because she knew how to handle him on Saturday nights. If he wasn't careful, she'd become #3.

He was driving down the freeway with his youngest son, Wayne, and the child made a curious noise when they passed the almost illegibly weathered sign for "Zulu! Live the Adventure!"

"What?" Virgil asked his boy.

"Zulu...," the child said. "Zoo?"

"Nah." Virgil laughed. "But good guess. Hey, you know...."

Virgil checked the mirrors and exited the freeway. "You want to live the adventure, little man?"

\*\*\*

Wayne's mother was crazy. Not quite rising to the level of court mandated institutionalization, but Virgil figured that was only more bizarre road-rage incident away. Nevertheless, for all her batshit inclinations, she was very smart. Once she'd told Virgil that her IQ had been tested in the genius level. And he believed her. But, really, what did it matter if you could mentally convert ounces to grams or recite poetry from memory if you couldn't buy a dress without getting into a vicious fight with the saleslady, knocking over the window display, and getting chased out of the mall by a team of rent-a-cops?

Virgil was well rid of that situation; but he enjoyed spending time with their child. The boy seemed to have acquired his mother's intelligence, with none of the insanity. Virgil supposed it was bad form to pick favorites, but of all his children, Wayne was the only one he actively troubled himself to spend time with. All the others were dropped off by mandate; but Virgil would go out of his way to pick up Wayne and gladly hold on to him an extra couple of hours or even an entirely unscheduled day when the situation called for it.

Wayne was Virgil's little man. He was a calm, thoughtful, observant and sharp child. His soft, brown eyes took in everything, then his brow would furrow or his smile would widen depending on the situation, and then he'd react in a delightfully mature and appropriate manner. It gave Virgil a sense of peace and rightness, walking hand in hand with his little man.

Just as they did passing through the gates of the Zulu amusement park together; Virgil having purchased two tickets to spend some time reliving his past and sharing the experience with his son.

\*\*\*

"I used to come here pretty much every night when I was a teen," Virgil told Wayne. They were strolling down the market street, past the arcade, souvenir shops, and overpriced food stands. All the buildings were in need of paint and repair - the wood beam facades were chipped and rutted, sporting plenty of graffiti, and the roofs that were supposed to be thatched with palm-leafs had large bare sections of corrugated metal shining through. "It hasn't changed much," Virgil said, sadly.

As they continued through the park, Virgil would offer to take Wayne on some of the rides - Voom Voom Vulture! Zambizi Zinger! Python Plunge! - but the boy judiciously shook his head to the negative. It wasn't fear, just common sense. Everything looked so rickety and sketchy; even if the cabs didn't fall off their disintegrating rails, it certainly didn't look like much fun to be jerked around in those rusty metal buckets for three minutes of bad track.

"How about go-karts?" Virgil suggested. Wayne considered this for a moment and then smiled.

"Okay," he agreed. "Go-karts sound good."

title: [RF] Lets try this again

question: Summarize the plot of the story.

answer: Virgil grew up in the neighborhood of a run down amusement park. By the time he could afford to visit it, he was too old to enjoy most of the rides. Now Virgil is in his thirties, and has several kids. His youngest sees a sign for the amusement park, and wants to go. Virgil takes him, and they ride the go karts together.

question: Summarize Virgil's relationship with the Zulu amusement park.

answer: When Virgil was very young, he wanted to visit the amusement park. By the time he had enough money to, he was a teen and was too old for most of the rides. Virgil then grew up and had kids of his own. He has a good relationship with one of his sons, and decides to take him to the amusement park. He enjoys showing him around and reminiscing, and goes on the go karts with him.

question: Summarize Virgil's relationship with Wayne's mother.

answer: Virgil used to be married to Wayne's mother, but they have since separated. She was very smart, but also short tempered according to Virgil. Virgil and Wayne's mother still must have a decent relationship since Virgil is allowed to keep seeing and taking care of Wayne.

question: Summarize Virgil's relationship with Wayne.

answer: Virgil clearly cares the most about Wayne. He calls him his favorite, and refers to him as "little man." He decides to take Wayne to the amusement park after Wayne says he wants to go. Virgil then spends the day showing him around the park and riding the go karts with him.


text:
[]

For some time now, many of the developers have speculated as to what would happen if we pitted one Path of Exile boss against another in an epic showdown. Since it's the holiday season, we thought this would be a cool way to have a little fun! We've put Kaom and Daresso together in Kaom's arena to see who would be the victor!

Posted by Bex_GGG
on Jan 16, 2018, 4:00:55 PM

Grinding Gear Games

EPIC ;)

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Posted by
MackBesmirch
on Jan 16, 2018, 4:01:57 PM

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catarina my wife

dank

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Posted by
dattemayo
on Jan 16, 2018, 4:02:04 PM

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  "
  MackBesmirch wrote:

  EPIC ;)

OMG I did a first reply. I feel like there should be an Achievement for this ;)

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Posted by
MackBesmirch
on Jan 16, 2018, 4:03:34 PM

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OMEGALUL

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Posted by
Hellus666
on Jan 16, 2018, 4:05:09 PM

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That was a close win.
I really like these kind of Showdowns. Boss vs. Boss.
PLEASE GIVE US MORE !!

Wolfilein

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Posted by
Wolfilein
on Jan 16, 2018, 4:05:11 PM

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ADDS>BOSS

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Posted by
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on Jan 16, 2018, 4:05:15 PM

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That was quite close. I love these 1v1s (well almost 1v1s).

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Posted by
pathofnogf
on Jan 16, 2018, 4:07:20 PM

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Daresso, Won! Because, why was he targeting some useless mobs.
To be a fair fight Kaom need to have taunt.

Last edited by CONTO on Jan 16, 2018, 4:14:21 PM

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Posted by
CONTO
on Jan 16, 2018, 4:07:28 PM

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EPIC!

Remember! Reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold, BYE!

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DearMyFriend
on Jan 16, 2018, 4:07:30 PM

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Report Forum Post

question: When were these posts created?

answer: January 16, 2018.

question: What do the block letters say?

answer: PRESS M

question: What time did the most recent edit occur?

answer: 4:14:21 PM

question: What is the time period between the first and last post?

answer: 6 minutes and 45 seconds

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The article is a forum regarding a video game. Various people have contributed to the chat.


text:
The train departed at Piccadilly Station, rattling the teacups of chattering ladies awaiting their sons or lovers or death itself inside the Piccadilly Station Municipal Tearoom.

&nbsp;

Philip Philbrick, undergraduate, stood by a train window and watched the city fall further away. The black plumes of smoke from red-brick factories ever smaller. The long-familiar desolate moorland of the Peak District ever changing as his train rattled on, towards Oxford. He thought about his father, of the last words spoken to him.

&nbsp;

"Go on lad, make something of y'self, just as I had to do, though I never had no fancy education. We're just trying to do right by you, and me and your ma know you'll do right by us."

&nbsp;

His mother had said nothing, but sat with eyes clenched, her face pale and ghostly in the evening light, reflected by streetlamps through thin windowpanes. He couldn't listen to the words his father spoke, he heard the voice from the radio singing "underneath the lantern by the barrack gates, darling I remember the way you used to wait" and he stared strangely at his father, seeing nothing, understanding nothing. The next morning he took his train.

&nbsp;

He found a seat in an empty carriage. He was travelling second class. In time, the carriage filled. First came the old and infirm, then the soldiers, bawdy and gay in their khaki uniforms, then came the other students.

&nbsp;

He watched them, in their packs. Laughing amidst themselves, dressed in suits of grey, green and burgundy. Paisley cravates and hair immaculately styled. He felt a tinge of embarrassment at his own ragged black greatcoat, which he had inherited from his father, a respected and upwardly mobile factory owner.

&nbsp;

The old woman who had taken residence next to Philbrick, with her husband opposite, grumbled to him. The fleshy lines stretching out her face like waves.

&nbsp;

"It's all bloody students, in't it Arthur? Like rats, bloody everywhere. Weren't like that back in our day, weren't it, Arthur?" she said, chomping on a large sandwich which shot white mayonnaise out with each hearty bite, over her husband's trousers.

&nbsp;

The husband, jolted awake mumbled something to the effect of "aye there's lots of rats in Sudan" and fell back to sleep.

&nbsp;

Just at this moment, the pack of students split off into individual smaller groups, evidently searching for space amidst the reasonably crowded train carriage, and one in particular, who had caught Philbrick's eyes; partly because of his deep blue eyes, and partly because he was holding a three-quarters empty bottle of Château Margaux, halted in front of the old woman, reached out towards an empty seat, and fell over. The young man's head landed in Philbrick's crotch, and Philbrick reacted with considerable distaste, attempting to push the unwanted head away. However, the old woman too, was unsettled by this most distasteful of events and spanked the student on his rear a few times, shrieking like a banshee.

&nbsp;

The student slid off the two passengers and took a seat opposite Philbrick. Shamefacedly, he spoke. "Sorry, I get a little squiffy on trains. It must be travel sickness. However, I must say I liked your shoes very much when I saw them. You must tell me your tailor. See, every mishap has its silver lining. Anyway, my apologies dear fellow, it was assuredly the travel sickness" he said, taking a swig from the bottle of wine.

&nbsp;

"And my sincerest apologies to you too, good sir", he said to the old woman. She would have responded if at that moment, a second student had not taken the window seat next to Philbrick.

&nbsp;

"How do you do?" said Philbrick.

&nbsp;

"Ten cents a dance, fella", the beast of a man responded.

&nbsp;

"Excuse me?"

&nbsp;

"It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing." he insisted.

&nbsp;

"What?" Philbrick said, exasperated.

&nbsp;

"Oh don't mind Clutch" the student opposite said, taking a wine glass from his satchel and pouring himself a glass. "He fancies himself American, though he was actually born in Saltburn-by-the-Sea, wherever that is." The student said, lighting a Vogue with a flick of a match.

&nbsp;

"My name is Luciani James Temperance, you might know of my father, His Sir Honorable Lordship Oswald Temperance, got himself into a bit of a pickle with the evening post over a dog and a pair of slippers. No matter, a dreadful bore anyway. I expect you're heading for Oxford? Care for a glass of wine?" he said, producing a second bottle of out apparently thin air. "Indeed, it is a grand cosmic irony that my surname is the one thing I cannot adhere to. But well, somebody terribly dull once said we must all have an occupation of some kind. Care for a second glass?"

&nbsp;

Green farmland swept by in a hazy succession, before the drab Betjeman country; sheep, cows, all the delights of rural England. Past distant towns lit faint orange on the horizon, like a postcard, past towering chimneys of smoke and filth. Philbrick imbibed the wine, observed the student and smiled to himself, thinking on the words of Blake's pastoral poetry, or the lads of Housman.

&nbsp;

In time, it got darker and the students got drunker. The soldiers sat in their uniforms, fingering their satchels and smoking cheap cigarettes. The old couple slept. The carriage took on the appearance of a hospital waiting room. Nobody stood up. Nobody spoke. Light dimmed and faded until a dull haze was all that illuminated the surrounding fields, and the dull dots of light from faraway towns, scattered like a constellation.

&nbsp;

A portly sergeant, evidently bored, looked at Luciani, took a swig from a concealed hip flask and directed a comment at a soldier next to him. "These fuckin' nancies, wouldn't have lasted a minute in the trenches."

&nbsp;

The student retorted. "Ah my good man, I've spent a great deal of time in France many years ago. The Parisians are wonderful. All the women look like art sculptures and all the men look like women. I wouldn't have it any other way. Plus their wine is delectable." He lit another cigarette.

&nbsp;

The drunk sergeant stood up and shouted "you poncey bastard, I'll give you a good fisting, come 'ere!", a sentence which enacted a succession of sniggers amongst the students, enraging the soldier further.

&nbsp;

Chaos broke out in the once quiet carriage. The students fought the soldiers, the soldiers fought the students. The old couple fought everyone, armed with handbag and walking stick. Wine bottles were shattered and soon, the train was forced to halt amidst the outbreak of warfare.

&nbsp;

Philip Philbrick, undergraduate, drunk, stepped out of the train. The trees now black silhouettes against an even blacker horizon. He did not notice the noise, did not register the chaos nor the blows he took. He stepped out into the field, looking at the face of Luciani the Student, lit up by halogen lamp inside the train, his hair erratic and wild. He thought of Oxford, of grand, twisting spires, dusty books of Hardy and Housman, of the new poets; Eliot and Pound, so subversive to the old swing of things. He imagined musty bookshops and the taking of tea at ten, and nights spent drinking in the local public house, discussing philosophy and "the European influence".

&nbsp;

He started to hum and laugh, and threw his bottle of wine against the window of the train, smashing it, causing the glass to fracture like a cobweb. Droplets of rain landed on his head and he looked up, in doing so, falling back, back against the belly of a sheep.

&nbsp;

From his view, he saw the train conductor kick the occupants of the carriage out into the darkness, but this could not revive him from his reverie. He laughed and hummed, singing out loud, screaming, shrieking the lines to Al Bowlly's "Couldn't Be Cuter", he looked at the foppish students and he saw Luciani stare at him, his eyes tinged with something he could not comprehend. He laughed further until he passed out.

&nbsp;

It was against the belly of a sheep that Philip Philbrick, undergraduate, spent the first morning of his first term at Oxford, and in time, it would become nothing more than an amusing anecdote to the other students in his college, but then, as he awoke, bleary eyed in the dew-specked wetness of morning, he felt he had undergone a profound change, of which he could not yet decipher.

title: [HM] Becoming Rain

question: What is the basis of Philip's profound change?

answer: At the start of the narrative, it appears that Philip has not much opinion nor stand when it comes to his education, the war, and the other students around him. If anything, he shrinks away from being associated with his due to his sense of embarrassment from his background. So while the narrative has not provided what the change is, it is likely that the basis for the change includes the events that just happened -being drunk and getting accidentally involved in an altercation between the students and soldiers, and the change itself would revolve around how he comes to find and accept his place in post-war Europe.

question: What degree is Philip Philbrick studying in Oxford?

answer: No answer.

question: Who said the line "Ah my good man, I've spent a great deal of time in France many years ago. The Parisians are wonderful. All the women look like art sculptures and all the men look like women. I wouldn't have it any other way. Plus their wine is delectable."?

answer: Luciani James Temperance said the line.


text:
I believe it was early spring of last year, late March, when the most extraordinary event I have ever experienced occurred. It was uncharacteristically warm for a Frisco spring morning, near sixty-five, and an opaque mist lingered in suspension on the pale quiet sky. I trudged down 19th Avenue towards the park, hoping I could clear my head.

My job at the Safeway market down Taraval Street had just been abruptly terminated in the wake of sweeping layoffs throughout the company. I was already short on the rent and in the process of adapting to the pedestrian life after one too many parking citation merited the impounding of my Dodge a month prior.  Crossing Judah St., I was nearly hit by a painter’s truck, almost mockingly reminding of my recent losses. The drilling mementos of physical and social mortality. Without my car I had stopped making it over the bridge as often to visit my old Berkley friends, of whom included Sophia Liu. We had spent most of schooling life together from elementary through Bachelor’s, and I especially missed her. We often got into small nonsensical adventures, fueled by imagination and giggles. I hoped, and sometimes even suspected, that we may have a deeper connection than the rest. Now she was working on a Ph.D. thesis in applied engineering. I had moved to the city to take a break and earn some money before grad school. We spent less time together after my car incident. She couldn’t come to the city much, given the doctoral workload, and I took the BART over whenever I could scrounge the extra change. It didn’t seem like enough.

As I approached Lincoln the noise of the crowd became overwhelming. Fifteen distinct conversations began battling my internal monologue for mental control. Snippets of pop-culture drivel collided on dramatic reenactments of weekend festivities. Whispered taboo confessions and hollow encouragement drew me askew as invisible groping hands pulled at my mind. The light turned, and the little green savior vanquished the red hand of stand-and-make-noise, freeing us to cross. I quickly walked ahead of the clamor, into the park, and veered to my right, into the solitude of towering trees. As the excitement of escape wore off, I grew listless, dragging my feet over clumps of wet and muddy grass. The trees drooped down along my chosen path placing their branches and leaves inconveniently under my feet and occasionally across my face. With a rising angst, I decided to look for a quiet spot near Stow Lake, speculating that it may cool my tempers.

I couldn’t understand why these feelings kept burning in my head. Things wouldn’t work the way I wanted them to, like an unseen force, not aggressive, but binding. So many goals and aspirations were reevaluated then. The exuberant idealism of my youth, slowly giving way to the ever-prudent cynical prick thoughts my father once spat at me. It felt like the city had been slowly sucking me dry, prepared for me. It had experienced millions of me before, and it was well trained. Inviting me in with the promises of Babylon, then caging me, another rat on a wheel, powering the Behemoth with an army of scurrying confused rodents.

I reached the lake walking past MLK Drive and began my first lap at a slow pace. It was finally quiet. I glanced at the water to let my mind wander in the ripples, but the surface was still as glass. Some gaping black hole in the middle of the biggest city on the west coast, rejecting even the sky’s image for lack of trendiness. A light breeze picked up, dragging leaves along pavement and breaking the unbearable surface tension of the motionless pool. I sat on a bench and stretched my legs out in front of me; I’d been walking a lot in recent times. Slumping forward, I grasped a cool smooth stone and tossed it in the water. The ripple crashed along the small waves pulled by the soft breeze. As the two met, they made new edges and more complicated waves. The simple patterns caught my attention long enough to conjure a smirk out of my unconscious grimace. I cherished the second of distraction from life before a portly middle-aged woman came into earshot with her screeching child. She was one of those exercise moms; wearing yoga pants to power walk her bawling toddler through the people’s park. The pants seemed a bit too tight and the insatiable piercing scream of the infant began to swiftly drill through my eardrum. I immediately stood up and began to walk in the opposite direction of the two, wondering how anyone could ever justify pushing a baby on wheels through such a horrifying city.

As the pitch began to fade I took a deep breath. Why did these things keep happening, I racked my brain trying to understand why misery seemed to follow me. I walked with a somewhat raised pace this time, flustered and confused by my own doubt. Bombarded by questions of self-worth and accusations of failure, I struggled to answer the voices that beleaguered me. I walked faster. The voices grew louder. I looked at the ground, hiding my face from the judgments pouring forth. Hiding my disgrace from nature, nobody and nothing deserved the misfortune of witnessing my existence. I felt hot tears began to seep from my violently squinted eyes. I had to get off the path before inspiring disgust or horror in any poor soul that happened across my path.

Stumbling around a thicket of bushes, and past an enormous tree, I collapsed to the ground sobbing. I have never known a lower or more pathetic moment in my life, though now I understand it more clearly. In that moment, I felt all the hate I’ve ever felt all at once, and it was all directed at me. Every failure. Every inadequacy. Every missed opportunity. It was like watching a movie of my life’s greatest missteps, defeat in HD. I knew there was nothing for me. I knew my dreams were over. I knew I couldn’t grow any more. I knew all I could ever do was fight to stay numb, function through autopilot, and hope for an untimely death. As these thoughts washed over my mind, destroying my images of life’s meaning and my supposed purposes, I became uneasily aware of another presence.

I opened my eyes slowly, and began to raise my head in terror. Had somebody seen me here, now, in my lowest low? I couldn’t bare the thought, it tortured and toyed with my fragile psyche as I forced my gaze to check. The first thing I saw were bare brown legs with relatively coarse black hairs, crossed over each other with feet on the opposite thighs. They appeared to be thickly layered in very old strange copper hues of soil and dust. I looked up, curious, completely forgetting about the horrible circumstances that had brought me to this small clearing in the brush. It was an Indian man with eyes closed appearing to be in his late sixties. He was wearing only beige and saffron patterned shorts made of a fabric I’d never seen before and have never seen since. He was fairly gaunt, and his entire body appeared to be covered in the same copper dust as his legs. His face was smeared with a silvery white paint over the cheeks, chin, nose, and forehead with a bright red dot in the center of the forehead. His hair was draped behind his shoulders, reaching the ground in heavy twisted silvery grey knots, several shades darker than his face paint and braided into complex foreign geometries. His beard was braided the same, and stretched well past his chest. He seemed to have hundreds of beaded necklaces in endless different jeweled colors and types of wood. I stared in awe observing this man for what felt to be quite a while before realizing how strange it would appear for him to open his eyes and catch my quizzical glare. At that very moment, the man opened his vast luminescent grey eyes and said “Ohm”

I was immediately rushed by a barrage of energy, blowing the entire world around me away and throwing me into a ripping vortex spinning through space. At once I felt as though my skin caught fire, but the entire contents therein froze to solid ice. I felt the flesh searing away, thawing my frozen insides. And then just as suddenly all of my muscles and organs and bones were molten plasma trapped by the frigid ice walls of my skin. Temperature stasis returned and the spinning slowed. Suddenly, I felt my skin simply melt off, followed by my hair, teeth and nails, then went my muscles, my nerves, my veins, my bones, my marrow, until I was a brain floating in an amber cloud vaguely resembling what I once called a body. Then that too went, and only the amber cloud remained. The process began happening to the amber cloud, stripping away strange multi-colored layers of some ornate body-like entity that I could only assume, possibly, once, belonged to me. But then, how was I seeing it happen. I speculated on the implications of these occurrences, attempting to view the events in as logical a manner as possible. It soon became apparent that there was nothing logical about any of this at all. I expected the waves of distress to come careening in, however there were none. In fact I grew quite delighted at the notion. I was overwhelmed with a relief and joy, and an impetus to laugh. So I began laughing. At first a chuckle. Then a full breath. And suddenly I was hysterical. Laughing so hard I felt as though I were pulling my body closer and closer in towards itself, gradually until it bent in on itself. Where I expected it to stop, it continued. My body continued sucking into itself pulled by the radical spasms of my laughing abdominal muscles, this I found even funnier. The continued laughing pulled until all of my buddy reached the innermost point of my self and continued looping out in every direction and back in toward the center.

The overwhelming blissful feelings created a background radiation of that laughter as this rotating circular field of my happiness spun in on itself faster and faster. The field spun so fast that that the resulting bending of light began creating rapidly shifting patterns of Euclidean geometry settling in to a golden star tetrahedron. The star faded as it became surrounded with many similar stars, and then many different stars. Soon, an entire field of stars was in my visual range. A canvas of a night sky spreading wider than my notions of the Universe ever had. I could see it all at once, and it was as though I could see every star and it’s planets close up and individually as well. I could look in on all the life in these Cosmos, and smile with burning reassurance, vindicating every life form’s suspicions of loneliness. Reassuring all consciousness through only my own warmth. This map of the sky was slowly moved away from me as I realized it was merely a map on the beautifully carved wooden drawing table of an old man with a running white waterfall of a beard falling over his encompassing tunic made of the same pattern as the map on his desk. As I gaped in awe, he smiled, knowing, and disappeared.

Violet and Indigo curves in waves rushed past my head as I realized they were connecting into geometries behind my head. Interconnected circles, floating around each other, stretching infinite lengths in infinite directions. They began twisting into shapes through multiple dimensions, and I recognized a familiar pattern overlaid in the third. It was the double helix. Was I witnessing the creation of life, the birth of consciousness? The helixes hatched into a matrix of an egg shimmering in millions of points of diamonds. The egg began to hatch and blinding light poured out filling all of space and existence as I knew it. I heard a soft feminine voice ring the syllables “Kun Da Li Ni”, my skull vibrated with the sound of this word. I was suddenly overcome by the sensation of two snakes twisting around my spine, squeezing with golden etheric warmth. Each time they crossed paths, I felt rising centers of my body beaming with what felt like the energy of the colors of the spectrum. As they reached the top of my head, they stretched out past, pulling my brain into a string that became a white beam of light shooting upwards. I began shedding tears of happiness, and every drip floated off into space forming bubbles containing separate Universes carried out and onto an endless ocean. I could feel the ocean and the bubbles as crisply as I could feel my own body, and then I realized I had no body. I was struck by the sudden realization that the entire Universe was my body. All the little parts making up my collective moving body as I interacted with no one but my self, because my self was all. Limitless satisfaction and unending beauty filled all of the bounds of my endless body, and all that could describe it is; bliss.

I opened my eyes to find myself standing in the clearing by Stow Lake, alone. Understanding that I was back in Golden Gate Park in San Francisco on Earth, I immediately ran back to the path around the lake. How much time had passed? It seemed like several eternities, but longer. I had seen the beginning of the Universe, the beginning of life, the beginning of consciousness, and all of their ends many times over. I had seen other Universes created and destroyed and resituated through waves of infinite dimensions. I didn’t believe I would ever make it home. I had to see my family, my friends, my neighbors, anyone. Somebody had to know what had happened. I reached the path and looked for someone, anyone who could tell me how long I had been gone. I whipped my head back and forth searching and then noticed something peculiar.

The portly woman I had seen earlier was just coming around the circular path, and from the look of her, it was still the same lap. I settled into a confusion as she approached, and I noticed how striking her features were. Her jaw was long and firm and carried an expression showing both her strength and adversities while also hinting a mellow contentment. Her hair was long and blonde, reflecting the sunlight in many bright golden dots. She had deep crystalline blue eyes that gazed into the warm sky while still piercing into her child’s soul below. The child wasn’t crying now, he was cooing along to a flock of birds that had begun flying around the lake. The birds themselves seemed to have a melody to their songs. I could almost set a beat as the inspiration of the tune brought my mind to a commitment to practice the piano that I hadn’t played in months.

title: This is my first prose piece, just written in 4 hours in a flash of inspiration. A short story on spiritual revelation.

question: Summarize everything relating to the people the narrator encounters.

answer: The narrator passes by a crowd of people as they approach Lincoln. By the lake, they see an exercise mom walking her toddler through the people's park. They then encounter an Indian man in his late sixties. The Indian man says Ohm and the narrator experiences a barrage of energy and exptreme temperatures.

question: What does the story say about why the Indian man did what he did?


text:
-   "The Expanse" will return for its fourth season on Amazon Prime Video on December 13.
-   The show was canceled last year by Syfy, but quickly revived by Amazon.
-   Visit Business Insider's homepage for more stories.

Amazon revealed the release date for its revival of the sci-fi series "The Expanse" on Saturday, and it released the first clip.

"The Expanse" will return December 13 for its fourth season exclusively on Amazon Prime Video where the first three seasons are already available to watch. It's based on the sci-fi book series by James S.A. Corey. Season four is expected to focus on the fourth book in the series, "Cibola Burn."

_READ MORE: 6 fan-favorite TV shows that were canceled then saved by another network — and some that are still waiting_

The show's original network Syfy canceled the show last May, but it was quickly picked up that same month by Amazon for season four.

Reports at the time indicated that ratings factored into its cancellation, as Syfy only owned first-run linear rights to the show in the US, according to Deadline and The Wrap. That put extra pressure on the show to perform well as it aired live in its original time slot.

Showrunner Naren Shankar told IGN in an interview published Wednesday that streaming offers the show more freedom.

"We're no longer bound by the archaic content, language, and runtime restrictions you're constantly forced to deal with on broadcast and basic cable," Shankar said. "The shows on Amazon Prime speak for themselves: this is a platform that values complex, layered storytelling, and we're thrilled to be on it — it's the perfect home for 'The Expanse.'"

"The Expanse" is critically acclaimed, with a 90% critic score on Rotten Tomatoes. For season three, Indiewire wrote that it's "undeniably confident about the story it's telling, and more importantly the kind of stories it wants to tell."

THE FIRST CLIP FROM SEASON FOUR IS BELOW:

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question: When will "The Expanse" return?

answer: On december 13

question: Who canceled the show?

answer: Syfy

question: Who picked up the show for a fourth season?

answer: Amazon

question: On what book is the show based?

answer: The show is based on a sci-fi book series by James S.A. Corey.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The article describes how the TV show "The Expanse" was discontinued just to be picked up by Amazon for season four. It seems like Naren, one of the showrunners is happy with the change.


text:
[Betsy DeVos and Omarosa Manigault Newman are pictured. | AP Photo]

Omarosa Manigault Newman trashes Education Secretary Betsy DeVos throughout her book and calls the Trump Cabinet official "woefully inadequate and not equipped for her job." | Andrew Harnik/AP Photo

Education Secretary Betsy DeVos allegedly said the students who booed her May 2017 commencement speech at a historically black college didn't have the "capacity to understand" what she wants to accomplish, according to the tell-all book by former White House aide Omarosa Manigault Newman.

Manigault Newman describes DeVos' comments during a conversation with her after the May address at Florida's Bethune-Cookman University as "meaning, all those black students were too stupid to understand her agenda."

Manigault Newman trashes DeVos throughout the book and calls her "woefully inadequate and not equipped for her job." She alleges President Donald Trump referred to the education secretary as "Ditzy DeVos" and promised to "get rid of her" after the Bethune-Cookman event.

In the book, "Unhinged: An Insider's Account of the Trump White House," Manigault Newman also blames DeVos for confusion around an annual conference in Washington, D.C., for historically black colleges and universities, which the administration downsized in September 2017. She writes that DeVos was the "number one driver for cancellation."

"This disgraced former White House employee is peddling lies for profit. The book is a joke as are the false claims she’s making about Secretary DeVos," said Liz Hill, press secretary to DeVos.

The White House has pushed back strongly against the book, and the president has labeled Manigault Newman "wacky," "deranged" and a "dog" in posts to his Twitter account this week. Trump's presidential campaign has also filed for arbitration proceedings against her.

The Trump administration — and DeVos in particular — have had a rocky relationship with black colleges. DeVos famously issued a statement equating the history of the schools — founded during an era of racial segregation — to “school choice” policies. She later apologized.

Manigault Newman, an HBCU graduate who spearheaded the Trump administration's outreach to those schools, was herself a polarizing figure in that role.

But she says in her book that she was the one who drove Trump to sign a much-ballyhooed executive order designed to woo the schools. That order said his administration would move an initiative aimed at boosting HBCUs from the Education Department to the White House — a move that many college leaders had hoped would give them a direct line to the president.

Manigault Newman writes that she tried to forge a relationship with DeVos — though she said she sat near DeVos in Cabinet meetings and determined "there is no way she should be the secretary of education" — because Manigault Newman "was on a mission for increased education funding for HBCUs and wasn't ready to give up on involving the secretary of education in the pursuit."

She traveled with DeVos to Daytona Beach, Florida, for the Bethune-Cookman commencement address, despite writing that it was clear "[no] one wanted DeVos to speak at their school, and her visits were written off as photo ops only."

The trip did not go well, in Manigault Newman's telling.

"Betsy got up onstage to give her speech and was immediately, loudly booed by the entire audience," Manigault Newman writes. "Graduating students and their families stood up and turned their backs on her. I was seated onstage watching this travesty unfold. When the booing started, she should have wrapped it up, but she went on and on for twenty minutes, talking over the booing. I was thinking, _It’s not about you! Abandon your full speech! Adjust, woman!_" Manigault Newman described it as "painful to experience."

After the speech, Manigault Newman writes that she asked DeVos how she thought it went, to which she says DeVos responded, "I did great!"

"I must have looked stunned," she writes. Then DeVos allegedly added: “They don’t get it. They don’t have the capacity to understand what we’re trying to accomplish.”

"Meaning, all those black students were too stupid to understand her agenda," Manigault Newman writes.

Manigault Newman says she told DeVos, “Oh, no, Madam Secretary. They get it. They get it, and they aren’t happy about you or your goals.”

The next day, Manigault Newman writes, she was ditched at the hotel by DeVos, who allegedly told her, "sorry, we had to leave early. Change of plans. Take an Uber.”

Manigault Newman says she returned to D.C. and complained directly to Trump, who, she says, "shook his head in disgust" and said, “She is Ditzy DeVos, what do you expect? In a very short period of time, I will get rid of her. Believe me, believe me.”

Later in the book, Manigault Newman claims that DeVos "went to John Kelly and asked him to force me to cancel" the annual HBCU conference, referring to Trump's chief of staff.

The administration was under pressure from college leaders and some members of Congress to delay it after Trump's response to the violence in Charlottesville, Virginia.

But Manigault Newman writes that she was determined that it go on. She convinced Kelly to let it continue, but "that if it failed, I would own it solely."

"I heard from a member of the HBCU staff that DeVos was livid that the event was moving forward," she writes. "A week after my meeting with General Kelly, Betsy DeVos tried to shut down the event by sending out a blast notice that it was off, and then she canceled the contract with the conference’s hotel. By doing so, she cost the US government $75,000 in cancellation fees. She did not care!"

Manigault Newman claims she turned to Trump for help and he supported her. The administration hosted a much smaller event at the White House, organized by Manigault Newman. But she claims that "Secretary DeVos refused to give opening remarks" at the event.

"I turned to the president again," Manigault Newman wrote. "As a result, the head of Cabinet Affairs, Bill McGinley, told her she had to give the opening remarks."

question: Summarize Omarosa Manigault Newman's relationship with Betsy DeVos.

answer: Omarosa Manigault Newman does not have a good relationship with Betsy DeVos. Manigault Newman feels like DeVos is not doing a good job as Secretary of Education. According to Manigault Newman, DeVos also put Manigault Newman in difficult situations multiple times, including leaving her at a hotel and refusing to give opening remarks.

question: Summarize how Betsy DeVos handled the annual HBCU conference.

answer: After Trump's response to the violence in Charlottseville, Betsy DeVos wanted to cancel the annual HBCU conference. She asked John Kelly to cancel it, but Omarosa Manigault Newman wanted it to go forward. DeVos responded by sending out cancellation emails and cancelled the contract with the hotel. Omarosa Manigault Newman organized a smaller event at the White House, but DeVos refused to give opening remarks.

question: Summarize Omarosa Manigault Newman's relationship with Trump.

answer: It seems like while Omarosa Manigault Newman was working at the White House, she had a good relationship with Trump. He sided with her on multiple occasions, calling Betsy DeVos "Ditzy DeVos," and helping her organize a smaller HBCU conference at the White House. Since writing this book though, it seems like the relationship between Omarosa Manigault Newman and Trump has deteriorated to the point of Trump calling her "wacky" and "deranged," and his campaign filing arbitration proceedings against her.

question: What does the text say about Betsy DeVos' attitude towards HBCUs.

answer: According to the text, DeVos has had a rocky relationship with HBCUs. She has issued some controversial statements involving those school's histories, and she gave a poorly received commencement address at Bethune-Cookman. According to Omarosa Manigault Newman, DeVos started her speech and "was immediately, loudly booed by the entire audience." It was clear no one wanted DeVos to speak, and she claimed that the audience didn't "have the capacity to understand what we're trying to accomplish."


text:
A FRESHWATER AQUARIUM is a receptacle that holds one or more freshwater aquatic organisms for decorative, pet-keeping, or research purposes. Modern aquariums are most often made from transparent glass or acrylic glass. Typical inhabitants include fish, plants, amphibians, and invertebrates, such as snails and crustaceans.

[Tropical freshwater aquarium]

Freshwater fish may be either coldwater or tropical species. Although freshwater aquariums can be set up as community tanks, coldwater and tropical fish are generally not mixed due to incompatibilities in temperature requirements. Coldwater aquariums house goldfish and other species that do not require a heating apparatus. Warmer temperatures would actually increase their metabolism and shorten their lifespan.[1] For a tropical fish tank, maintaining a warm environmental temperature ranging between 75 and 80 °F (24 to 27 °C) enables the fish to thrive.[2]

Aquariums may be decorated with sand or gravel, live or plastic plants, driftwood, rocks, and a variety of commercially made plastic sculptures. The smallest aquariums are fish bowls, but these are not recommended for most fish as they are generally too small, tend to stunt fish growth, and may lead to eventual death.

History

The earliest known aquariums were artificial fish ponds constructed by the ancient Sumerians over 4500 years ago. The ancient Assyrians, Egyptians, and Romans also kept fish in ponds for food and entertainment purposes. The ancient Chinese were the first culture to breed fish with any degree of success. They raised carp for food around 2000 BC, and developed ornamental goldfish by selective breeding. Goldfish were introduced to Europe during the 18th century.[3]

In the later 18th century, widespread public interest in the study of nature was awakening, and fish were kept in glass jars, porcelain containers, wooden tubs, and small artificial ponds. During this time zoologist and botanist, Johann Matthaeus Bechstein, kept many fish and amphibians and laid down the foundation for aquarium and terrarium science. The concepts of the proper aquarium and terrarium were developed later by Nathaniel Bagshaw Ward in 1829.[4]

During the 19th century the idea of the “balanced aquarium” was developed. This approach was an attempt to mimic a balanced ecosystem in nature. According to this method, fish waste could be consumed by plants, and plants along with the air surface of the water could supply oxygen for the fish.[5] In 1869, the first tropical fish (the Paradise Fish) was imported from Asia. In these days, tropical tanks were kept warm by an open flame. Because early filters were noisy and expensive, fishkeeping was a hobby reserved for wealthy, scientifically inclined individuals.[6]

[A heavily stocked fancy goldfish aquarium]

In 1878, Rear-Admiral Daniel Ammon brought the first tropical fish from the Far East to the United States which led to a decline in the popularity of goldfish.[7] In the early 20th century, aeration, as well as particulate and charcoal filtration was introduced. The undergravel filter was introduced in the 1950s.[8] By this time, the old idea of the balanced aquarium was viewed as unattainable and unnecessary by many people in the aquarium hobby, but it made a comeback at the end of the 20th Century with the rising popularity of the planted tank.[9]

Today fishkeeping has become a popular hobby that almost anyone can do. Aquarium fish are both wild-caught and bred in Asia and Florida. Captive-bred species are inexpensive and widely available, and are less likely to be infected with diseases or parasites. Unfortunately, successive generations of inbred fish frequently have less color and sport smaller fins than their wild counterparts.[10]

Fundamentals

A typical household freshwater aquarium set-up, apart from its aquatic tenants, consists of furnishings such as a gravel substrate, live or plastic plants, rocks, driftwood, a backcloth or background, and other decorations. Other equipment includes a canopy or hood as an aquarium cover, an aquarium stand or base, lighting accessories, a heater, a thermometer, air pumps, filtration apparatus, airstones, fish food, a fish net, water conditioner, water quality testing kits, a siphon hose or gravel cleaner, and a bucket for water changes.[11][12]

Surface area and height are important in the set-up and maintenance of a living biotope. The surface area contributes to providing superior in-tank oxygenation and it also facilitates the creation of attractive aquatic themes. Freshwater environments benefit more from short and wide aquariums, due to the larger surface area they present to the air; this allows more oxygen to dissolve in the water, and the more oxygen there is, the more fish you can keep. In general, a larger-sized aquarium provides a more stable water-world and the hobbyist can also acquire a greater number of fish. A large aquarium can also enhance aesthetic value. With regards to material, an all-glass aquarium is preferable due to its reasonable cost and its superior ability to resist scratches and discoloration. Indoor aquariums are normally placed far from windows, heating and cooling ducts of the house because direct sunlight and temperature changes can negatively affect the aquatic environment. Overexposure to sunlight leads to rapid algae growth inside and outside the tank. Sudden temperature variations are harmful to fish.

Themes

[African cichlid aquarium]

Fish come in a large variety of species, from several different geographical regions. Most aquarium fish originated in Central America, South America, Africa, or Asia. Fish can be kept in different combinations of species and in different kinds of aquatic environments. Four common themes include the community aquarium, the goldfish aquarium, the African cichlid aquarium, and the planted aquarium.[13]

A _community aquarium_ refers to the mixing of fish and plants from different geographical areas with an emphasisis on the color and hardiness of the specimens. An example is the combination of gouramis, tetras, and rasboras with a selection of hardy plants such as Hygrophila difformis, Hygrophila polysperma, and Vallisneria spiralis.[14] Choosing fish that are peaceful and compatible with each other is important in a community tank.

A _goldfish aquarium_ can be set up as an unfurnished and bare-bottom tank to emphasize the bright coloration of the fish. A combination of different varieties of goldfish and decorations that contrast with the vivid colors of the fish would make an attractive display.[15] Live plants are not usually grown with goldfish, except for hardy, oxygenating plants like Egeria, because goldfish regularly disturb the substrate. They may also feed on softer-leaved plants.[16] Plastic plants can be used instead.[17]

An _African cichlid aquarium_ commonly consists of Lake Tanganyika or Lake Malawi cichlid varieties, and generally requires a large number of rocks combined with a substrate of fine gravel or sand. The rocky environment should provide numerous caves and hiding places. Because cichlids, like goldfish, disturb the substrate by digging, plastic plants should be used as a substitute for live plants. However, real plants like Vallisneria or Anubias can be tried in a cichlid tank.[18]

A _planted aquarium_ emphasizes living plants as much as, or even more than fish. Large groupings of plant species such as Hygrophila, Limnophila, Rotala, Vallisneria, Echinodorus, and Cryptocorynes with a limited number of fish is a good example of a planted tank. It is important to select fish that will not damage the plants, such as small tetras, dwarf gouramis, cherry barbs, zebra danios, and White Clouds. Planted tanks may include injection and a substrate fortified with laterite or, in the case of a low tech aquarium, a layer of potting soil under the gravel to provide nutrients for the plants.[19]

A _biotope aquarium_ is an aquarium that is designed to simulate a natural habitat, with the fish, plants, and furnishings all representative of a particular place in nature.[20] Because only species that are found together in nature are allowed in a true biotope aquarium, these tanks are more challenging and less common than the other themes. The most common biotope aquariums are the Amazon biotope and the Lake Malawi biotope, but occasionally aquarists will recreate the South East Asia river biotope.

[1] Johnson, E. L., & Hess, R. E. (2006). _Fancy goldfish: A complete guide to care and collecting_, Weatherhill: Shambala Publications, Inc.

[2] Hagen, R. C. (2006). _Basic aquarium guide: A guide to setting up and maintaining a beautiful aquarium_. Montreal, Canada: Hagen.

[3] Thinkquest (2001). _Beauty in glass: History_ Retrieved September 19, 2008.

[4] Fishes in Nature and in the Aquarium, and Aquarium History Part 4, _Nutrafin Aquatic News_, Issue #4, 2004, pages 4, 6, and 13.

[5]

[6] Butler, R. A. (1995). _Tropical Freshwater Aquarium Fish_ Retrieved September 19, 2008.

[7]

[8]

[9] Walstad, D. L. (2003). _Ecology of the planted aquarium_, 2nd Ed. Echinodorus Publishing.

[10]

[11]

[12] Andrews, C. (2002)._An interpet guide to fancy goldfish_. Interpet Publishing.

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18]

[19]

[20]

title: Freshwater aquarium

question: Summarize the fundamentals of a freshwater aquarium.

answer: A typical household freshwater aquarium consists of furnishings such as a gravel substrate, live or plastic plants, rocks, driftwood, and other decorations. Freshwater environments benefit more from short and wide aquariums, due to the large surface area they present to the air, which allows more oxygen to dissolve in the water.

question: Summarize the history of freshwater aquariums.

answer: The earliest known aquariums were artificial fish ponds constructed by Sumerians over 45000 years ago. Ancient Assyrians, Egyptians, and Romans also kept fish in ponds for food and entertainment purposes. The Ancient Chinese were the first culture to breed fish with any degree success; they raise carp for food around 2000 BC, and developed ornamental goldfish by selective breeding. In the 18th century, a widespread public interest in the study of nature was blooming, and fish were kept in glass jars, porcelain containers, wooden tubs, and small artificial ponds. In the 19th century the idea of the "balanced aquarium" was developed, which attempted to mimic a balanced ecosystem in nature.

question: What are the average costs associated with freshwater aquariums?