text:
Paul Younger, 53, an NHS procurement manager and father-of-two from South-East London

Paul Younger, 53, an NHS procurement manager and father-of-two from South-East London, was diagnosed with tonsillar throat cancer caused by HPV in January.

Today The Mail on Sunday publishes the first instalment of his searing personal diary, detailing his gruelling chemo and radiotheraphy sessions – and the devastating effect they have had on his life…

March 9

I’m on my way to Guy’s Hospital with my partner Helen before my treatment begins, feeling apprehensive. I’ve only had three intimate partners in my life and am numb from learning that this cancer is usually transmitted through sexual contact and can lie dormant for decades. I remember a quotation from Churchill: ‘When you’re going through hell, keep going.’

Nurse Laura gives me a leaflet about possible side effects of chemotherapy, especially nausea.

Later, back at home, Helen treats me to some Turkish delight. I wonder whether this sweet I adore will ever taste the same after my treatment.

March 12

On the first day of my treatment as an outpatient at Guy’s, I go up to the ‘Chemo Village’. Laura directs me to chair 28, my home for the next six hours. In the distance I can see my birthplace, near the Crystal Palace TV mast. I silently pray for a cure.

At 2pm I’m hooked up to my final bag of fluid and then set off for radiotherapy. The mask I have to wear is really tight, like a straitjacket. I feel like I’m being throttled and my pulse is bursting in my neck.

Helen comes to collect me. I just want to get back to the security of home. I ask if she has a plastic bag and silently pray: ‘Please God don’t make me sick this evening on a packed commuter train.’

March 13

At about 6.30am nausea sets in. I manage some tea and cornflakes, washing down seven types of pill as I eat. During my radiotherapy I have a minor panic attack which I manage to overcome. I try to gulp, which is impossible with the tightness of the mask. It’s impossible to open your eyes or your mouth properly.

March 14

Another sleepless night. I’m really nauseous with violent hiccups and a very dry throat.

Two days before my diagnosis six weeks ago I was in the gym. I ran two miles that morning, I rowed, cycled, lifted some weights and boxed a punch bag. My consultant told me on diagnosis that I had to stop going to the gym immediately and focus on putting weight on to combat future loss from the treatment. Now I am 21 lb heavier. Fitness: another loss.

After treatment I meet Specialist Nurse Tina. She says 80 per cent of people my age have been exposed to HPV, and no one knows what causes the cancer to grow from its dormant state. She mentions the campaign to get our boys vaccinated. This cancer can be wiped out. In the bathroom mirror I notice my neck is already reddening.

Pictured is the medication Paul has been taking during his treatment period

March 15

I got up three times in the night to gargle with bicarbonate of soda and salt – akin to having a sweaty sock rinsed out in your mouth.

The pills are making me really constipated and bloated. The train to Guy’s is packed with schoolchildren and there’s nowhere to sit. I’m hot, sweaty, and in a panic. Pride prevents me from asking someone to move. When ladies are pregnant they can now wear visible badges: perhaps cancer patients should wear something similar.

On the train home I fall asleep and nearly miss my stop. Later I go public on Facebook about my illness. I’m overwhelmed by the response – more than 150 messages from family and footballing friends, along with phone calls. It’s good to feel loved.

March 16

Today I have to start injecting myself with Filgrastim into my stomach to produce more white blood cells. I waste the first syringe on the lounge carpet. The second goes in easily. After breakfast I try a couple of minutes on the exercise bike and I’m shocked at my level of fatigue. There’s no energy in me.

After getting home I nap all afternoon. I wake at about 7pm, determined to enjoy fish and chips. By 7.30 I’m fast asleep again.

Please God, give me my life back. The physical pain is doubled by so many other losses, personal and emotional.

March 17

It’s snowing. I wish I could go for a walk, but I sleep most of the morning. The constipation is agony. I have ringing in my left ear and my throat has almost closed completely.

March 19

I’m so tired with very little appetite, extremely dry mouth and throat and I’m struggling with any type of drink. I love tea and now it tastes of nothing. I worry as I must keep up my fluids. I wrap myself in a blanket and sleep until after midday.

March 20

Up most of the night. I have no idea what to drink as everything tastes the same. Today I chat to a fellow sufferer Jenny whose mouth cancer means she has had to have grafts to make a new cheek. I’m humbled by her positive attitude.

I feel as if I've lost my life, the things I love. I feel useless...

I tell her my routine to get through radiotherapy: prayer and inner chanting. We discover we both use imagery to take us off to a distant land to escape our own reality.

March 21

I try Rice Krispies and find them indigestible. At lunchtime I make tomato soup with bread and butter and this, too, is unpalatable. Food has become intolerable. At the hospital I’m told to adopt swallowing exercises, as my throat muscles will now be used less and less. The dietician says I should try ice cream, but it tastes like cardboard, too, just cold cardboard. Perhaps the feeding tube will be needed sooner rather than later.

Ulcers are appearing in my throat and I’m prescribed liquid morphine. I really struggle with my evening meal and have to get up several times during the night due to skin peeling from the roof of my mouth.

March 22

My tongue is permanently stinging and it feels as if I have a ball of wool lodged in my throat. My psychologist says I should view food as medicine. I wish I could eat the meals Helen cooks with so much care. I’m gagging from dryness in my throat. My tongue and palate are on fire. Helen nags me to go through the swallowing exercises and I comply.

Paul described this mask as a straight jacket which made it difficult to breathe

March 23

My dad insists he is coming with me to hospital. He used to find it difficult to express his love physically but in the past three months he has kissed me so many times. He tells me he loves me all the time. Thanks dad, I love you, too.

Waiting for radiotherapy I talk to a chap with a nasogastric feeding tube. I ask him about the discomfort and he says he won’t say much, so as not to frighten me.

March 24

By far the worst night to date. My mouth is completely ulcerated and has closed up, my lips are swollen, I can’t talk properly and blood oozes from my mouth. The stinging is intense. At 2am I’m in so much pain I uncap the morphine bottle for the first time.

I return to bed hoping this gives instant relief. It doesn’t. At last I drop off and wake at about 7am. The pain is returning with a vengeance. By 8am I’m on fire again.

March 25

I feel paralysed with pain and fear. I’ve got weeks to go but I’ve been knocked down. It’s hard to speak. My weight is falling marginally every day. I can’t get a toothbrush in my mouth as my gums are so sensitive. In the early hours I spoon in the morphine but again no relief. Where is this inner strength going to come from?

March 26

Paul had to inject himself with Filgrastim so that his body would produce more white blood cells

Morphine, my so-called ‘pain relief’, clearly isn’t working. Even banana mixed in porridge is so painful to swallow, it’s nigh on excruciating. At Guy’s I get some time with Tina. I’m shocked when she tells me the ulcerated pain will be constant for the rest of my treatment.

She tells me people react differently to morphine and we can look at increasing the dose to 15ml. The standard dose is 5ml, which has no effect. I’ve tried 10ml, too, which also doesn’t help.

March 27

I’m up at 4.30am for a couple of reasons. The orange Laxido powder [for the constipation] has taken effect, and today is Helen’s birthday. I try to do something to make the day special. I put some banners up, and write her a card apologising for the situation we find ourselves in, promising to make it up to her.

I eat a small pizza for dinner, taking just short of an hour on a meal which would usually take five minutes. The morphine still isn’t working.

My eating is disrupted by visits to the bathroom to swish my bleeding mouth out. I feel really tired, almost delirious.

March 28

Hair is now falling out of the left side of my face. The roof of my mouth feels like someone has shaven several layers of skin from it. It is red raw. The soreness on my face is really coming through as a result of the radiation.

The oncologist is quite shocked at the inside of my mouth, and tells me it’s likely I soon won’t be eating. He refers me to the dietician for advice on the need for a feeding tube.

I feel as if I’ve lost my life. I feel useless, I’ve lost the things I love – working, going to football, eating out.

Holidays have been cancelled. All these are alongside the physical side effects.

Tomorrow marks the halfway point of Paul’s six weeks of treatment. We will be following his experiences for the rest of the treatment.

HUNT FEELS HEAT OVER HPV 'APARTHEID'

Now Lords join cancer experts backing Mail On Sunday vaccine battle

By David Rose

Health Secretary Jeremy Hunt is facing fresh calls to start vaccinating teenage boys against human papilloma virus (HPV), the cause of Britain’s fastest-growing form of cancer, amid the first signs the NHS may be about to change its policy.

Last week, Tory peer Baroness Altmann backed the pro-vaccination campaign run by this newspaper by raising the issue in the House of Lords.

Supported by colleagues including Lord Patel, chairman of the All-Party Parliamentary Group on Men’s Health, she told Health Minister Lord O’Shaughnessy that the only way to protect men ‘is to vaccinate them before they become sexually active, as they already do in many countries… rather than leaving them vulnerable to potentially fatal cancers when it will be too late’.

As the MoS has revealed, HPV – spread by sexual contact and kissing – causes thousands of devastating tumours every year, many in the head and neck which, in men, is the fourth most common type of cancer. But although girls aged 12 and 13 have been vaccinated on the NHS since 2008, because it also causes cervical cancer, vaccinating boys is not considered ‘cost-effective’.

The vaccine, which costs less than £40 for a two-dose course, grants total protection, and our campaign is backed by health organisations and cancer specialists. MPs from all parties support our campaign.

Labour Shadow Health Minister Sharon Hodgson said the NHS ‘must go further to include all adolescent boys so that, like their female peers, they can be protected’. Tory MP Sir Paul Beresford, who practices as a dentist, said he was ‘appalled’ by the failure to immunise boys: ‘It is not fair, ethical, or socially responsible to have a public health policy that leaves 50 per cent of the population vulnerable to HPV and head and neck cancer.’

Minutes of a meeting in February by the Joint Committee on Vaccination and Immunisation – the NHS committee which guides vaccine policy – reveal signs of a policy shift. Describing the committee’s previous ruling that vaccinating boys is not cost-effective as only ‘borderline’, the minutes say the DoH will now allow it to alter the basis of the computer model that led to its previous decision.

They also mention a pending High Court judicial review, which will be launched by the Throat Cancer Foundation if the committee does not change its mind, on grounds of gender discrimination. Before it makes a final decision, the minutes say, the committee will seek legal advice as to whether denying boys the vaccine is lawful.

Commenting on the apparent shift in policy, Public Health England’s Mary Ramsay said that, although vaccinating boys had not been seen as cost effective, ‘updated results are closer to the threshold of cost-effectiveness’. Therefore the committee ‘decided it would be reasonable to refine the models further’.

question: What physical effect has mostly impacted Paul in the course of his chemotherapy?

answer: The ulcers in his mouth - he has not been able to eat much nor enjoy his food.


split: test

text:
My mid-twenties were characterized by anxiety, premature balding, an unrelenting line of internal questioning in regards to whether or not my degree was worthless, and a dead animal. I do not believe these phenomenas were discrete.

I spent most days behind my glowing screen: lurking job boards, Reddit forums, WebMD. The hinge connecting screen and base finally snapped. Over time, bits of my exterior had been decomposing. Brightly colored wiring peeked out. If I shifted my weight incorrectly my monitor would flicker. I bought a tiny, new Acer with a 32GB hard drive and a 1.1 GHz processor. I uninstalled trashy Windows and put a lightweight flavor of Ubuntu on, instead. Clean. I wrestled with the idea of going back for computer science, as one does during this period. I was down to my last $40.

I kept looking for work and then found it and unfound it. Something about Excel. I sent a resignation email, if you can call it that, to the manager the Saturday after the second Friday. She was a strict woman in her thirty-somethings who obsessed over sticky notes and didn’t throw forms away. She was almost pretty and laughed at the dark, edgelord wititudes I muttered under my breath. She smoked during her breaks, and she had two children, maybe a husband. Once, during a meeting, her little girl called in a panic, asking how to turn on the household washing machine.

Unemployment lacks structure. I thought I hated structure, but I was wrong. I like being told what to do. I would have preferred to have been fired. I went to the gym and lifted heavy weights harder than I ever had lifted heavy weights before. Then, at 4 a.m., I ate junk food. I think this paragraph encapsulates America well.

There was also a girl who I fucked fairly regularly. It started during some summer and carried on longer than that. She was nice because she had been sad for a long time. Even as half a man, I was still somehow better than the scum and weirdos she had let touch her in the dark of her childhood bedroom prior to us; she told me this in so many words: She had a round face and was overweight and would wait on me as if we were married. Since highschool, she was anxious of being perceived as significantly older than she actually was.

On a few occasions via text, I threatened to end it: citing depression, something about “damaged goods,” that she was too good for me, etc. I’m not sure I loved her, or even liked her. ‘Encapsulates’ is a good CS word.

One night I was driving back from her parent’s house, and there was a noise. In slow-motion, I watched a small, furry creature fly through the air and bounce twice before landing and coming to a rest ten to fifteen feet ahead. I remember it was cold; I remember my headlights illuminating a chilly haze which hung above the carcass. I think it was a fox, but it could have as easily been a raccoon, a stray dog, me (the drama). I stopped. I turned on my hazards. I lowered my radio static. It didn’t move for a few seconds. The side of its face and its protruding tongue were glued to the pavement. It was still alive. I could hear it whimpering. It struggled to upright itself, but its neck was broken. It was posed like a sleeping baby. A cartoon. The only thing missing were the big ‘xs’ over the eyes. A few cars passed by. There was no dignity; I wanted there to be dignity. I watched the creature shudder. A pool of thick, red blood slowly crept toward my bumper. I wished for a gun, but only a little. I am not a vegan, today. I was vague, and I sat, and I watched it die. I went home.

title: [RF] White Noid

question: Why does the narrator like structure?

answer: The narrator likes being told what to do.

question: What happens at the end of the story?

answer: The narrator hits some sort of animal with their car. It bleeds out and dies in front of the narrator's car.


text:
GENERIC NAME: valacyclovir (val a SYE kloe veer)
BRAND NAME: _Valtrex_

Medically reviewed by Sophia Entringer, PharmD. Last updated on Apr 2, 2020.

-   OVERVIEW
-   Side Effects
-   Dosage
-   FAQ
-   Professional
-   Interactions
-   More

What is Valtrex?

Valtrex (valacyclovir) is an antiviral drug. It slows the growth and spread of the herpes virus to help the body fight the infection.

Valtrex is used to treat infections caused by herpes viruses, including genital herpes, cold sores, and shingles (herpes zoster) in adults.

Valtrex is used to treat cold sores in children who are at least 12 years old, or chickenpox in children who are at least 2 years old.

Valtrex will not cure herpes and will not prevent you from spreading the virus to other people. However, this medicine can lessen the symptoms of an infection.

Valtrex may also be used for purposes not listed in this medication guide.

Important information

Before taking Valtrex, tell your doctor if you have HIV/AIDS, a weak immune system, kidney disease (or if you are on dialysis), or if you have had a kidney or bone marrow transplant.

Valtrex can be harmful to the kidneys, and these effects are increased when it is used together with other medicines that can harm the kidneys. Tell your doctor about all other medications you are using. You may need dose adjustments or special tests when taking certain medications together with Valtrex.

Treatment with Valtrex should be started as soon as possible after the first appearance of symptoms (such as tingling, burning, blisters).

Stop taking Valtrex and call your doctor right away if you have any signs of a serious side effect that can harm red blood cells, such as: fever, easy bruising or bleeding, red spots on the skin (not related to herpes or chickenpox), bloody diarrhea, vomiting, pale or yellowed skin, weakness, fainting, or urinating less than usual or not at all.

Before taking this medicine

You should not use Valtrex if you are allergic to valacyclovir or acyclovir (Zovirax).

To make sure Valtrex is safe for you, tell your doctor if you have:

-   kidney disease (or if you are on dialysis);

-   HIV/AIDS, or other conditions that can weaken the immune system; or

-   a history of kidney transplant or bone marrow transplant.

While Valtrex use in pregnant women is limited, there is no evidence of major risk to the human fetus from valacyclovir. However, herpes virus can be passed from an infected mother to her baby during childbirth. If you have genital herpes, it is very important to prevent herpes lesions during your pregnancy, so that you do not have a genital lesion when your baby is born.

Valacyclovir can pass into breast milk and may harm a nursing baby. Tell your doctor if you are breast-feeding a baby.

Do not give this Valtrex to a child without medical advice.

How should I take Valtrex?

Take Valtrex exactly as it was prescribed for you. Follow all directions on your prescription label. Do not take this medicine in larger or smaller amounts or for longer than recommended.

Start taking Valtrex as soon as possible after the first appearance of symptoms (such as tingling, burning, blisters). This medicine might not be as effective if you first start taking it 1 or 2 days after the start of your symptoms.

SOME HERPES INFECTIONS NEED TO BE TREATED FOR LONGER THAN OTHERS. Use this medicine for the full prescribed length of time. Your symptoms may improve before the infection is completely cleared. Skipping doses may increase the risk of your virus becoming resistant to antiviral medicine.

You may take Valtrex with or without food.

Tell your doctor if a child taking this medicine cannot swallow the tablet.

Drink plenty of water while you are taking Valtrex to keep your kidneys working properly.

Lesions caused by herpes viruses should be kept as clean and dry as possible. Wearing loose clothing may help to prevent irritation of the lesions.

Store Valtrex tablets at room temperature away from moisture and heat.

What happens if I miss a dose?

Take the missed dose as soon as you remember. Skip the missed dose if it is almost time for your next scheduled dose. Do not take extra medicine to make up the missed dose.

What happens if I overdose?

Seek emergency medical attention or call the Poison Help line at 1-800-222-1222.

What should I avoid while taking Valtrex?

Taking this medicine will not prevent you from passing genital herpes to other people. Herpes infections are contagious and you can infect other people even while you are taking Valtrex.

Avoid sexual intercourse or use a latex condom to help keep you from spreading the virus to others. Avoid letting infected areas come into contact with other people. Avoid touching an infected area and then touching your eyes. Wash your hands frequently to prevent the spread of infection.

Do not share this medicine with another person, even if they have the same symptoms you have.

Valtrex side effects

Get emergency medical help if you have SIGNS OF AN ALLERGIC REACTION TO VALTREX: hives; difficult breathing; swelling of your face, lips, tongue, or throat.

Call your doctor at once if you have:

-   confusion, aggression, or you feel shaky or unsteady;

-   hallucinations (seeing or hearing things that are not real);

-   problems with speech;

-   a seizure (convulsions); or

-   kidney problems--little or no urination, painful or difficult urination, swelling in your feet or ankles, feeling tired or short of breath.

STOP TAKING VALTREX AND CALL YOUR DOCTOR RIGHT AWAY IF YOU HAVE ANY OF THE FOLLOWING SIGNS OF A SERIOUS SIDE EFFECT THAT CAN HARM RED BLOOD CELLS:

-   fever, pale skin;

-   unusual bleeding (nosebleeds, bleeding gums);

-   red or pink urine, little or no urination;

-   red spots on the skin (not related to herpes or chickenpox);

-   feeling weak or tired;

-   stomach pain, bloody diarrhea, vomiting; or

-   swelling in your face, hands, or feet.

Side effects may be more likely in adults who are 65 or older.

Common Valtrex side effects may include:

-   nausea, stomach pain; or

-   headache.

This is not a complete list of side effects and others may occur. Call your doctor for medical advice about side effects. You may report side effects to FDA at 1-800-FDA-1088.

What other drugs will affect Valtrex?

Valtrex can harm your kidneys. This risk may increase when you also use certain other medicines, including: antivirals, chemotherapy, certain antibiotics, medicine for bowel disorders, medicine to prevent organ transplant rejection, injectable osteoporosis medication, and some pain or arthritis medicines (including aspirin, Advil, and Aleve). Ask your pharmacist if you are concerned you are taking other medications that may harm your kidneys.

Other drugs may interact with valacyclovir, including prescription and over-the-counter medicines, vitamins, and herbal products. Tell each of your health care providers about all medicines you use now and any medicine you start or stop using.

Further information

Remember, keep this and all other medicines out of the reach of children, never share your medicines with others, and use Valtrex only for the indication prescribed.

Always consult your healthcare provider to ensure the information displayed on this page applies to your personal circumstances.

Copyright 1996-2020 Cerner Multum, Inc. Version: 12.01.

Frequently Asked Questions

-   What would be the benefits of taking valacyclovir vs acyclovir?

Medical Disclaimer

question: What conditions should you tell your doctor about before taking Valtrex?

answer: HIV/AIDS, kidney disease, a history of marrow transplants

question: What is Valtrex?

answer: An antiviral medication

question: Is your herpes still contagious while taking Valtrex?

answer: Yes

question: What is a major risk of Valtrex?

answer: It can damage the kidneys.

question: If you are pregnant or nursing what is a risk of the drug?

answer: It can pass into breast milk.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: This page details the use cases and side effects of an antiviral drug called Valtrex, used to treat herpes. It alerts readers to important information they should discuss with their doctor before taking the medication. This article also answers some Frequently Asked Questions about Valtrex.


text:
In Space there is no weather. I’m thinking this as I begin my descent down to Omilun 31, where, on Earth, there would be wind beating against an airplane window, turbulence rattling the turbines, or rain pattering the pilot’s cockpit, there is only the shake of atmosphere burn. I attach my helmet to my suit and breathe the first pocket of artificial oxygen. It’s new stuff, a hundred per cent pure, still takes a while to get used to; the odds of becoming euphoric are still a little high but once you pop a Sealant Pill right after your first few breaths you should be fine. They say.

The atmosphere burn becomes more intense as I strap into my seat. I’m letting the Computer do all the work until atmosphere breach. There is no noise but a low rumble.

Five minutes until breach, I bring up the monitor screen and start flicking through the data I received about Omilun 31. It was formerly life-bearing, nothing completely sentient but enough building blocks for amoebic bacteria and non-complex parasites; the air is primarily methane with low-level percentiles of oxygen. That’s fine.

Two minutes until breach, I read over my mission file: investigate the frozen land swell on the center peak of Poseidon 15, the planets tallest mountain. Files say that the altitude shouldn’t affect my gear or my oxygen intake; again, that’s fine.

Thirty seconds to breach. I ease the throttle of my shuttle, the rumble had turned into a shake now, it’s getting rougher. I make appropriate adjustments to the ships hull, prepping it for the pressure release, I mess this up and the ship collapses on itself in a micro-second. Luckily, this isn’t my first solo-mission.

The ship breaches the atmosphere and I’m met by one astoundingly sore bump which rattles my helmet so badly I fear it will puncture for a second. I collect myself, and stare out the cockpit window. Cloud, membranous purple cloud as far as the eye can see. I check the atmosphere gradient, it says there’ll be cloud for the next three kilometers, about 19 seconds. That’s fine.

I break the cloud, the surface of Omilun 31 is disappointingly barren and flat. It’s only properly alien characteristic is that the ground has a slight purple sheen as a result of it’s sun being exactly one lightyear too close to the planet. I check the dials, correcting the course of the shuttle for Poseidon 15. The shuttle turns sharply; I notice that there’s no hint of ice or snow anywhere on the continent Poseidon 15 shares. Strange.

I message homebase, telling them I will be losing contact once I breach Poseidon 15’s peak. Comms interference is to be expected with the magnetic field a mountain of its size creates.  The shuttle tells me I am three hours away from Poseidon 15. That’s fine, I set the shuttle to auto. I lie back, and fall asleep.

The shuttle alarm goes off. I wake with a start, checking the hull diagnostics. We’re fine. I look out the cockpit window, my jaw drops.

Poseidon 15. To say it is gargantuan would be an understatement. A single pillar of igneous rock, stretching eleven thousand meters into the Omilunian sky. I sit up and make appropriate adjustments and brace myself as the shuttle starts its ascent. I set the shuttle to auto ascent and strap myself out of the chair, I make my way to the back of the ship, prepping my gear. A sample kit. Magma Gear; protective wear that adjust to extreme heat and extreme cold; essential for this mission. I put on the Magma Gear over my spacesuit; better safe than sorry.

I check the gun rack; there’s one rifle staring at me. Do I need it? Of course not, there’s no life on this planet, let alone aggressive life.  I leave the rifle.

The shuttle rings with alarm again, nearly at the peak. I canter back to the cockpit and adjust pressure settings, the comms alarm goes off, I’m on my own now. I switch off comms and stare out the cockpit. Jagged rock formations are shooting by as the ascent becomes more rapid. Nine thousand metres, two thousand to go.

I make one last equipment check, after checking four times I slowly let myself realize that I haven’t forgotten anything.  There’s still no sign of a freeze or anything resembling a temperature drop. The methane atmosphere prevents this, I’m beginning to wonder if the frozen land mass detected by the researchers was nothing but an anomaly on the computer drive; it’d be a huge waste of resources if it was.

Five hundred meters to go until I reach the top.  I set a course for the land mass marker on the shuttle diagnostic and make my way to the back of the shuttle. I check my oxygen, I’ve got four hours of breathable air. Should be plenty of time to collect a few samples and return to the shuttle. I punch the handle of the drop-door. It fires with gas and the pistons swell, making the drop door slowly lower open, exposing me to Omilun’s atmosphere for the first time.  I quickly cool down as my suit begins to compensate for the heat bump in the atmosphere. I look up at Poseidon, I can see the peak.

The shuttle careens over the vertiginous drop, absolute silence. I can hear only my breathing, Omilun’s clouds are still at least another thousand meters over Poseidon. The shuttle swerves gently, bringing me over the top plateau of Poseidon, the peak’s circumference can’t be more than six-hundred meters. The shuttle starts to slow; bringing my attention to the land-mass swelling in the center of Poseidon’s peak plateau. I begin to record data as I make my approach. There is, from what I can tell from here, no discoloration in the surface mass, nothing hinting at any form of tundra or arctic conditions. Strange.

The shuttle starts to lower, bringing me to the base of the lands swell. I hit the drop-door handle again, letting it know to open again in exactly four hours to let me back in. I set a timer on my suit, it’ll ring with alarm twenty minutes before I have to be back on the shuttle.  Easy.

The shuttle comes to a halt and lands gently on the surface of Poseidon. I step off the craft, the land is soft, like sand. The gravity is low, I’m estimating I move about three meters with each step.

The land swell in front of me can’t be more than twenty meters at its highest peak. I start collecting data again, the swell is almost conical, non-natural. I crouch down and collect a sample from the base of the land swell, I place it in my sample kit and analyze it. The dirt looks the same as the rest of the planet and yet the sample kit reads that it has a temperature of -6O Degrees Centigrade. Very strange.

I step onto the land swell, it feels the same as the rest of the mountain underfoot and yet my Magma gear is telling me it’s adjusting to extreme cold.  I begin to get excited, this could be a new anomaly, one not yet seen in geographical space study. I slowly ascend the swell, looking for any hints at discoloration or lack of continuity in the land of the swell from the land of the planet. It is exactly the same.

I’m five meters from the top of the swell.  I leap to the peak, landing softly on the fine sand.  I remove an internal mapping monitor from my sample kit; pressing it into the surface of the land mass peak. I can feel the ground beneath me rumble for a split second as the monitor begins to send out aural waves to map the peak, like a bat uses sonar.  I check the monitor, my jaw drops again.

The land mass is hollow.  I press the monitor into the ground again, mapping again.

The same result. The land mass is completely hollow. Another rumble, this time not from my monitor, the ground begins to shake, I look to the shuttle, it is perfectly still. The lands mass is shaking, the mountain is not. I begin to descend the land mass as quickly as possible. I leap down the fine sand, ignoring safety protocols as my Magma Gear has to rapidly adjust to the heat and cold clash. The rumbling is getting progressively violent. I reach the base of the land mass, I look up.  I cannot believe what I see.

A figure, impossibly tall, impossibly proportioned yet undoubtedly humanoid, standing on the peak of the land mass. The rumbling is deafening.

My mouth is agape, the rumbling stops as suddenly as it began.  The humanoid is staring at me, it is completely naked, translucent skin, circulatory.

It’s mouth opens. I understand every word. A deep, guttural wretch.

“Tantalus wakes again. Despair, you have woken him.’’

End of Part 1 of 3

title: Tantalus Wakes [Part 1 of a 3 Part sci-fi horror]

question: What are the properties of the planet the narrator is exploring?

answer: It's a planet surrounded by a methane atmosphere with a little bit of oxygen mixed in. It used to contain life, and it has the building blocks for amoebic bacteria and non-complex parasites. The planet has land and a frozen swell on its highest mountain made of igneous rock, which is 11 km tall. While the narrator is entering the atmosphere, he sees purple clouds. The land was reported to be frozen, but the narrator can't see it as such. However, his measurement devices report it as -60C. He thinks it might be a new discovery of a novel anomaly. By the end of the narrator's exploration, the mountain comes alive in a humanoid shape, urging him to despair for waking Tantalus.

question: What does the story say about writing smart science-fiction?


text:
{{ Infobox State Representative | name = Mary Taylor Christian | image = | caption = | state_delegate = Virginia | district = 92nd | term_start = January 8, 1986 | term_end = January 14, 2004 | preceded = Richard M. Bagley | succeeded = Jeion Ward | birth_name = Mary Esther Taylor | birth_date = | birth_place = Hampton, Virginia, U.S. | death_date = | death_place = Hampton, Virginia, U.S. | party = Democratic | spouse = Wilbur Christian | children = 3 | alma_mater = Hampton University
Columbia University
Michigan State University | profession = University professor and dean | website = }} MARY TAYLOR CHRISTIAN (August 9, 1924 – November 11, 2019) was an American educator and politician.

Christian was born in Hampton, Virginia and graduated from Phenix High School in Hampton in 1941. She received her bachelor's degree in education in 1955 from Hampton University, and her master's degree in speech and drama from Columbia University in 1960. Christian then received her doctorate degree from Michigan State University in 1968. Mary T. Christian and her story can be found in the book Hampton Universtiy. She started off as a young employee of the laundry department at the school; Christian then moved on to be a typist at the same school.  Later she turned to education and became a teacher, this was encouraged by the people around her.[1]  She could be seen on campus throughout the years because she not only worked there before she became a teacher, but she also went on to study there as well as a becoming a professor at Hampton University.[2][3][4]

EDUCATION AND COMMUNITY

During Christian’s time as an educator she wrote multiple papers and dissertations about educational approaches.  Her dissertation, “A Study of the Dimensions of the Nongraded School concepts” has been referenced in articles about educational practices[5].  Christian was also active giving speeches and sessions through the _Association for the Study of Negro Life and History._  In 1970, her session was on teaching the Black experience with literature in schools.[6]  She was actively involved in many avenues as an educator and bringing awareness to Black experiences.  Including being a professor and the Dean of Education at Hampton University in 1980.  She was lovingly called ‘Dr. C’ by her many students.  Christian was a Hampton City School Board member, becoming the first African Americanperson to do so.[7]

POLITICAL CAREER

She served in the Virginia House of Delegates, from 1986 to 2003, and was a Democrat.[8] She was also actively involved in politics throughout Hampton, Virginia.  Before becoming a delegate, herself, in 1968 Christian organized a voter registration drive.  More than a thousand people were able to register with Christian’s help.  She then worked as a campaign manager for many politicians in Virginia.[9]  In 1986, Christian was elected to the Virginia House of Delegates; she was the first African American woman to become a delegate since Reconstruction.[10] Through her time as a Virginia delegate, she established herself as a qualified delegate, receiving honors for her service in politics and activism.

In 2015, Christian was interviewed, among others, to reflect on the Voting Rights Act.  Christian witnessed the turbulence created by the Voting Rights Act in Virginia in the 1960s. She reflected on helping nursing home residents in Hampton register for voting.  Many feeling anxious because of past accounts, including the difficulties that some individuals had when it came to paying the poll tax.[11] Mary T. Christian worked with the younger generation as well, explaining that African Americans, prior to the 1965 Voting Rights Act, faced voter suppression through things such as guessing games in order to vote.  She felt that each generation needed guidance and help the next one as well.[12]  Her activism reached many people throughout many years. Outside of Christian’s political and educational activism, she was a member of countless boards and committees.  She was involved in the Virginia Legislative Black Caucus as the Chair, Junior League of Hampton Roads, Hampton City School Board, was the past president of the Peninsula Association for Sickle Cell Anemia, American Association of University Women, Council member of NAACP (Virginia), as well as many more.  She was also the Co – director of the Barrett - Peake Heritage Foundation.[13]  She had a performing arts auditorium named after her; this was a result of the relationship and influence she had on the Thomas Nelson Community College.  Christian was active in her church, First Bapist Church, in Hampton, Virginia.[14]  There was not a place that she went where she did not leave an impact.

LEGACY

Mary Christian passed away on November 11, 2019. After her death in 2019, Christian was recognized and mourned by many people across Virginia and the [https://www.vablackcaucus.com/caucus-1/c/0/i/39616032/virginia-legislative-black-caucus-deeply-mourns-passing-honorable-dr-mary-t-christian. United States.][15]  Virginia delegates, representatives and other politicians spoke about her willingness to fight for change, justice and equality.  Through her service on committees, such as the Education Committee, the [https://www.vablackcaucus.com/caucus-1/c/0/i/39616032/virginia-legislative-black-caucus-deeply-mourns-passing-honorable-dr-mary-t-christian. House Appropriation] and more, she continuously fought for education, people of color and healthcare.[16]  She was known for her service both through her activism, but also personally helping those that needed it.  Many different people in different positions, from all over the country look up to Mary T. Christian, her work and the impact she left behind her.

[1]

[2] Former Hampton educator, politician Mary T. Christian passes away at 95

[3] Virginia House Democrats Honor The Memory of Dr. Mary Tyler Christian

[4]

[5] Patterson, Jerry L. “Nongradedness: Why Has It Eluded the High Schools?” _The Clearing House_ 47, no. 7 (1973): 392-95. Accessed November 10, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/30184674.

[6] Annual Meeting: October 22-25." _The Journal of Negro History_ 55, no. 3 (1970): 245-51. Accessed November 10, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/2716429.

[7]

[8] The History Makers: The Honorable Mary T. Christian

[9] “The Honorable Mary T. Christian's Biography.” The HistoryMakers. Accessed November 10, 2020. https://www.thehistorymakers.org/biography/honorable-mary-t-christian.

[10] “The Honorable Mary T. Christian's Biography.” The HistoryMakers. Accessed November 10, 2020. https://www.thehistorymakers.org/biography/honorable-mary-t-christian.

[11] “After 50 Years, Reflecting on the Voting Rights Act and its Impact, Future.” _TCA Regional News,_ Aug 02, 2015. https://trmproxy.mnpals.net/login?url=https://www-proquest-com.trmproxy.mnpals.net/docview/1700497256?accountid=12548.

[12] “After 50 Years, Reflecting on the Voting Rights Act and its Impact, Future.” _TCA Regional News,_ Aug 02, 2015. https://trmproxy.mnpals.net/login?url=https://www-proquest-com.trmproxy.mnpals.net/docview/1700497256?accountid=12548.

[13] User, Super. “About Us.” Barrett, 2019. https://barrett-peake.org/about-us.

[14] C. C. Carter Funeral Home, Inc. “Obituary for Dr. Mary T. Christian: C. C. Carter Funeral Home, Inc.” Obituary for Dr. Mary T. Christian | C. C. Carter Funeral Home, Inc. CFS, November 15, 2019. https://www.cccarterfuneralhome.com/obituary/DrMary-TChristian.

[15] McClure, Adele. Virginia Legislative Black Caucus Deeply Mourns the Passing of The Honorable Dr. Mary T. Christian, 2019. https://www.vablackcaucus.com/caucus-1/c/0/i/39616032/virginia-legislative-black-caucus-deeply-mourns-passing-honorable-dr-mary-t-christian.

[16] McClure, Adele. Virginia Legislative Black Caucus Deeply Mourns the Passing of The Honorable Dr. Mary T. Christian, 2019. https://www.vablackcaucus.com/caucus-1/c/0/i/39616032/virginia-legislative-black-caucus-deeply-mourns-passing-honorable-dr-mary-t-christian.

title: Mary Christian (politician)

question: Where was Mary Christian born?

answer: Hampton, Virginia

question: What schools did Mary Christian attend?

answer: Phenix High School, Hampton University, Columbia University, and Michigan State University.

question: What political offices did Mary Christian hold?

answer: She served in the Virginia House of Delegates

question: List three causes Mary Christian fought for.

answer: Education, people of color, and healthcare

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Mary Christian was an American educator and politician. She served on the Virginia House of delegates and was the first African American woman to become a delegate since the Reconstruction.


text:
_Fallout: New Vegas_ character

The Forecaster

Clay[2]

+-----------------------+-----------------------+-----------------------+
|                       | [22380 20180920165150 |                       |
|                       | 1.png]                |                       |
+-----------------------+-----------------------+-----------------------+

Biography and appearance
Race
Human, Asian, Psyker
Gender
Male
Hair Style
Messy child hair
Hair Color
Brown
Eye Color
Gray
Affiliation
None
Role
Fortuneteller
Location
188 Trading Post
Dialogue File
The Forecaster's dialogue
Gameplay
Quests
_Thought for the Day_
Combat Style
Default
aggression
Unaggressive
confidence
Cowardly
assistance
Helps nobody
Statistics
Alignment
Neutral
SPECIAL
Strength: 5
Perception: 5
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 2
Intelligence: 5
Agility: 5
Luck: 5
Derived Stats
Hit Points: 70
Fatigue: 150
Critical chance: 5
Melee damage: 2
Unarmed damage: 0.75
Poison resistance: 20
Radiation resistance: 8
Level
1
Technical
Editor ID
188Forecaster
Base ID
000e604c
Ref ID
000e684b
Editor Factions
188GeneralFaction
Actor
Anthony Crehan
Designer
Joshua Sawyer (design)[1]
John Gonzalez (script)[1]
[Gametitle-FNV.png]

[Gametitle-FNV.png]

“

Oh, I don't know anything, mister. I just think it, and then I don't.

”— The Forecaster

CLAY[2], but better known as THE FORECASTER, is a human child with psyker clairvoyance, found at the 188 trading post in _Fallout: New Vegas_.

-   1 Background
-   2 Interactions with the player character
    -   2.1 Interactions overview
    -   2.2 Transcripts
        -   2.2.1 You
        -   2.2.2 Here
        -   2.2.3 Everywhere
-   3 Inventory
-   4 Bugs
-   5 Appearances
-   6 References

Background

As a clairvoyant psyker, The Forecaster is capable of effortlessly seeing both the future and the past[2] and the occasional spirit communication with his parents.[3] Combined with his sharp senses, the Forecaster can make surprising insights into people and politics, though he suffers terrible migraines whenever his thoughts reach out. To deal with it, he wears "medicine". His medicine is actually a century-old psychic nullifier, which blocks incoming and outgoing thoughts, allowing him to enjoy peace of mind.[4] However, while it prevents the migraines, it also blanks his mind. The Forecaster deals with this uncomfortable state by surrounding himself with ancient artifacts: Books, cameras, flags, and such. The thoughts of the people who made them are "stuck" within, for a lack of a better word, and the Forecaster can safely fill the blank in using them.[5]

The Forecaster has lost both of his parents at an early age, forcing him to find work in order to survive in the harsh wastelands.[3] Thanks to a unique mutation, he didn't have to pick up the shovel or the pickax. Instead, he started picking _people's brains_. Some were rightly impressed (while otherwise creeped out) by this power of his and others are skeptical at best or dismissive at worst.[6] Either way, the Forecaster sells his services for a considerably costly amount, but understandably so since his thoughts cause him immense amounts of pain. And besides, he knows that everyone will come back to him eventually.[7]

Interactions with the player character

Interactions overview

[Perk nociception regulator.png]

This character is ESSENTIAL. Essential characters cannot be killed.
[GoodNatured.png]

This character STARTS QUESTS.
_Thought for the Day_

[ChallengePerk.png]

This character provides MISCELLANEOUS SERVICES.
Fortunes. The player may purchase three different kinds for 100 caps. He won't sell the nullifier under any conditions.

Transcripts

The fortunes given by the Forecaster are summaries of the overarching themes and motifs of _Fallout: New Vegas_.

You

Here

“

Local, local, the here and now... little of interest.. things to buy, false hopes, and regrets watered down, washed down in dirty glasses. With regret comes a girl... smiling sad, brown robe, name Veronica, half here. Wraps her and her heart up like a pack, in the pack, a key, some say. Forecast: Cloudy, with a chance of friendship.

”

Everywhere

“

Bull and Bear over the Dam, at each other's throats... but a light from Vegas? Ball spinning on the wheel, more than two at the table. Placing bets. All lose in different ways. A dam of corpses, towns of corpses, scattered across the sand. But whose in what shares? Even the dealer doesn't know. Forecast: A rain of blood will flood the desert and not purify it.

”

Inventory

[MadeMan.svg]

[Icon armored vault suit.png]

Apparel
Psychic nullifier
Wasteland scout uniform
[Assault carbine icon.png]

Weapon
-
[Icon briefcase.png]

Carried items
-
[Icon male severed head.png]

Drops on death
empty

Bugs

Appearances

The Forecaster appears only in _Fallout: New Vegas_.

References

1.

    ↑ 1.0 1.1 J.E. Sawyer
2.

    ↑ 2.0 2.1 2.2 The Courier: _"Do your thinking about "Everywhere.""_
    The Forecaster: _"Bull and Bear over the Dam, at each other's throats... but a light from Vegas? Ball spinning on the wheel, more than two at the table, placing bets. All lose in different ways, a dam of corpses, towns of corpses, scattered across the sand. But whose, in what shares? Even the dealer doesn't know."_
    (The Forecaster's dialogue) NOTE: Developer note in the dialogue tree: "Spoken in an eerie whisper, prophetic, like Clay's telling a fortune. He's really not, he's just compiling a bunch of images."
3.

    ↑ 3.0 3.1 The Courier: _"Where are your parents, kid? Are you here all alone?"_
    _"I don't have a mama or papa anymore. I see them sometimes when I take off my medicine, but they can't stay. I'm pretty used to being on my own."_
    (The Forecaster's dialogue)
4.

    ↑ The Courier: _"What is your "medicine" and how do you take it off?"_
    The Forecaster: _"This thing on my head is headache medicine. It works real good, except I can't think when it's on. Really think, I mean."_
    (The Forecaster's dialogue)
5.

    ↑ The Courier: _"You don't sell that junk behind you?"_
    The Forecaster: _"That's not junk. That's other people's thoughts. People had to think to make them, and the thoughts got stuck inside. I need other people's thoughts to fill my head when I'm not thinking myself. Otherwise it's... kind of empty."_
    (The Forecaster's dialogue)
6.

    ↑ The Courier: _"You sell *thoughts?*"_
    The Forecaster: _"I can take off my medicine and do some thinking. People say it's real interesting. I don't know, because I never hear it. Some people say that it's a gift. Other people say that it's the kind of thinking anyone could do if they watched more than they talked. I don't know which is true. I see a lot, I think a lot. There's a lot to hear through the 188, too, that maybe accounts for the thinking."_
    (The Forecaster's dialogue)
7.

    ↑ The Courier: _"Sounds interesting... I don't have 100 caps, though."_
    The Forecaster: _"That's all right, mister/ma'am. You will someday."_
    (The Forecaster's dialogue)

v·d·e

Psykers

Fallout
Gideon · Lucy · The Master · Moore · Wiggum
Fallout 2
Hakunin · Melchior
Fallout 3
Bloomseer Poplar · Point Lookout[Gametitle-FO3 PL.png] Professor Calvert
Fallout 4
Mama Murphy
Fallout: New Vegas
THE FORECASTER · Black Rock cave Nightkins
Fallout Tactics
Beastlords

question: What are three interesting qualities of the Forecaster in the text?

answer: The Forecaster is a clairvoyant who can see the past and future. He suffers intense migraines when he uses his clairvoyant capacity. He makes a lot of money using his abilities.

question: What does the text say about loss?

answer: The Forecaster lost his parents at an early age. Now, he uses his painful clairvoyant abilities to conduct spirit communication with his dead parents. Another sense of loss is the Forecaster's having to use medicine that empties him of his mind-reading capacity in order to ease his migraines.

question: What does the text say about the Forecaster's ethnic background?


text:
She first appeared to me when I was six years old, her long raven hair left to hang in loose curls over her perfect shoulders. Her eyes as black as night and as hollow as a dead tree inside. She was beautiful, but terribly horrifying, looking at her for too long could leave me with shivers down my spine and a feeling of imminent destruction. I was never scared of her though, never felt the need to run away as she ran her fingers through my hair. I did not know who this woman was, what she wanted or why she visited me, but I grew used to her visits.

She used to brush my hair as I fell asleep, telling me stories, my favourite one being about the time she defeated an evil man who was trying to control her. She said he still lives though, but that she won’t go near him any longer.

Once I grew older, about 14, she stopped visiting me at night, I never knew why. I wasn’t a very well behaved teenager from what my mother has reminded me of so many times. She likes to remind me of how I always caused trouble in school, fighting with the boys and pulling on the other girls hair. I just always felt different, like no one else had seen what I saw. My mother never believed me when I told her about the nice lady who visits me at night, I think she played it off as simply a young girls imaginary friend. I learnt never to tell her about it again.

My mother is a strict Catholic woman, who had to raise me for herself after my father passed away. She did an extremely good job, I just never listened. I never took up a religion, even though my mother tried to make me practice the Catholic faith, once I turned 16, she let me decide for myself. So I thank her for that. However, now I think about it, religion might have stopped me from fighting and causing trouble, but you can never know. I found out when I was 16, that I was adopted, it didn’t hurt too much, as my hair is bright ginger, and neither my mother or father have this hair. I always had a feeling that I didn’t belong, but I never said anything.

Why am I telling you about this woman? Well, I’m 27 now, I live alone in a lovely apartment. I have a cat that sleeps at the end of my bed every night, and is protective of me, he found me actually, just walked into my house the second day I moved in and made himself at home.

Enough about my house and cat, I’ve just heard something in the kitchen. I grab the baseball bat I keep next to my bed and head towards the kitchen, slowly, I know where the floor boards creak and I avoid them. I turn the corner from my bedroom door and I stop still. There she is, the woman. Her black eyes as dark as ever and still just as beautiful. She smiles, but not in an evil manner, but with affection. “My child…” she reaches an arm out for me and I find myself putting down the baseball bat and walking towards her. I’m not her child… I haven’t seen her in years. “You’re ready to know…”

I’m both confused and intrigued, still my body seems to walk itself towards her. “Ready to know what?” I ask, completely entranced on her face, no longer feeling imminent destruction. “What you have been prepared for your whole life” I find myself stood right in front of her, her hands reaching for my long ginger hair, I don’t flinch.

I look right up at her, straight into her eyes and I can see everything she’s ever seen, the man who wronged her and tried to control her. The fires she’s seen, the people she’s killed, then there’s me. I’m watching myself getting dropped at the doors of an orphanage, being raised up, taken in by my mother, I see her visiting me for the first time, I don’t remember this. I was so young, she writes something on my forehead and I fall asleep, I don’t see anything else. “What was that?” She smiles at me, “It’s time for you to come home my darling” I look at her, she’s still beautiful, her black eyes still hollow and her hair still strong and raven. “You are my child, I have had you raised by humans so that you better understand them, for when you take over from me.” “Take over?” I frown, “Where is home?” She smiles at me and takes my hand, my cat follows us as she leads me out of my apartment. “Home, is the eternal fire.” And that’s when it hit me…

My mother is the devil.

title: [HR] [SF] The Woman Who Visited

question: What is the tension between the protagonist and religion?

answer: The protagonist is raised at a Catholic school but does not sympathize with religion. She also behaves very poorly. She learns at the age of 16 that she was adopted. It becomes clear that the mysterious woman who visits her in the night is connected to her past. At the age of 27 she realizes this woman is her mother, and after staring into her eyes sees that her mother is the devil.


text:
The SCOTLAND ACT 1998 (C. 46) is an Act of the Parliament of the United Kingdom which legislated for the establishment of the devolved Scottish Parliament with tax varying powers and the Scottish Government (then Scottish Executive). It is one of the most significant constitutional pieces of legislation to be passed by the UK Parliament since the European Communities Act 1972 and is the most significant piece of legislation to affect Scotland since the Acts of Union in 1707 which ratified the Treaty of Union and led to the disbandment of the Parliament of Scotland.

Content and history

The Act was introduced by the Labour government in 1998 to give effect to the Scottish devolution referendum in 1997 which showed that Scotland was in favour of both of the set questions, firstly for the creation of a parliament for Scotland and secondly, that this parliament should have tax varying powers.[1] The Act creates the Scottish Parliament, sets out how Members of the Scottish Parliament are to be elected,[2] makes some provision about the internal operation of the Parliament[3] (although many issues are left for the Parliament itself to regulate) and sets out the process for the Parliament to consider and pass Bills which become Acts of the Scottish Parliament once they receive royal assent.[4] The Act specifically declares the continued power of the UK Parliament to legislate in respect of Scotland;[5] thereby upholding the concept of Westminster's absolute Parliamentary sovereignty.

The Act also provides for the creation of a 'Scottish Executive'[6] though one of the early actions of the SNP administration that won power in the 2007 elections was to rebrand the Scottish Executive, as the group of Ministers and their civil servants had been known, as the Scottish Government. Despite the re-branding, the 'Scottish Executive' still uses the original description for a number of purposes (s.44 of the Scotland Act defines the nature of the body but does not use the words “shall be known as” with regard to a name as is the case with various other bodies whose names are thus fixed by statute). It consists of a First Minister and other Ministers appointed by the Queen with the approval of the Parliament, including the Lord Advocate and the Solicitor General for Scotland.

The Act sets out the legislative competence of the Scottish Parliament. Rather than listing the matters over which the Scottish Parliament does control (devolved powers), it specifies the matters over which it does not (reserved matters).[7] It further designates a list of statutes which are not amenable to amendment or repeal by the Parliament[8] which includes the Human Rights Act 1998 and many provisions of the Scotland Act itself. Even when acting within its legislative competence, the Act further constrains the powers of the Parliament by inhibiting it from acting in a manner incompatible with the European Convention on Human Rights or European Community law.[9] The same constraints apply to acts of the Scottish Executive.[10]

The Act grants the Secretary of State for Scotland power to direct the Scottish Government not to take any action which he has reasonable grounds to believe “would be incompatible with any international obligations” or to act where he believes such action “is required for the purpose of giving effect to any such obligations”.[11]

The Act also sets up mechanisms to resolve disputes over questions about legislative competence of the Parliament and powers of the Executive. The ultimate appeal in such matters lies to the Supreme Court of the United Kingdom (prior to 1 October 2009, the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council).[12] It also allows the powers of the Scottish Parliament and the Scottish Executive to be adjusted over time by agreement between both Parliaments by means of an Order in Council.[13]

The Act was passed on 17 November 1998,[14] and received royal assent two days later on 19 November.[15] The first elections were held in May 1999 and the Scottish Parliament and Executive assumed their full powers on 1 July 1999.

Amendments to the Act

The Act was amended by the Scottish Parliament (Constituencies) Act 2004 to end the link between the number of MPs at Westminster and the number of constituency MSPs. It was amended again in 2016 as a reaction to the 2014 Scottish Independence vote.

The Wales Act 2014 made amendments to Part 4A of the Scotland Act around the definition of a Scottish taxpayer, to ensure that an individual could not be a taxpayer in both Scotland and Wales in the same year.[16]

The Act has been amended by:

-   Scottish Parliament (Constituencies) Act 2004
-   Constitutional Reform Act 2005
-   Scotland Act 2012
-   Wales Act 2014
-   Scotland Act 2016
-   European Union (Withdrawal) Act 2018

Footnotes

[1]

[2] Sections 1 to 18.

[3] Sections 19 to 27, 39 to 43.

[4] Sections 28 to 36.

[5] Section 28(7).

[6] Section 44.

[7] Schedule 5.

[8] Schedule 4

[9] Section 29(2)(d).

[10] Section 57(2).

[11] Section 58 1.

[12] Sections 32, 33, 103, and Schedule 6; and Constitutional Reform Act 2005, section 40 and Schedule 9

[13] Sections 30 and 63.

[14] Final debate in House of Lords

[15] Royal Assent signified

[16]

title: Scotland Act 1998

question: Summarize the key features of the Scotland Act of 1998.

answer: The Scotland Act of 1998 is an Act of the UK parliament that established a devolved Scottish government that has varying powers of legislation. The Act was introduced in 1998 and has the following features. It instituted the creation of a Scottish parliament with varying tax powers subject. It sets out a template for the institution of the Scottish Executive which consists of a First Minister and other Ministers all subject to the approval of the Westminster Parliament. The Act sets out what the Scottish Parliament can do and what it cannot do. It also gives the Secretary of State for Scotland the powers to take any actions where he has "reasonable grounds to believe would be incompatible with any international obligations".

question: Who has the most power, according to The Scotland Act of 1998, in the Scottish government?


text:
“There are a few men from whom their contemporaries do not withhold admiration, although

their greatness rests on attributes and achievements which are completely foreign to the aims

and ideals of the multitude.” – Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents

I am one such man. My ‘contemporaries’, as they so enjoy calling themselves, pour

and heap their admiration and adoration upon me, as though I required this gluttony of

appreciation to continue breathing. Those ‘contemporaries’ of mine, who explain to all of

their friends how good I am, how awesome and nice and funny and truthful I am, do not

comprehend. They are, to be honest, entirely and completely incapable of even the act of

comprehension. The sheer audacity of these ‘contemporaries’ of mine; to even call themselves

such! As if they were at all capable of thinking like I do, of believing what I do, or being what I

am.

Of course, it could be exactly that; it could be that this very difference in beliefs is

what prevents them from really being my contemporaries. I, of course, could care less about

the beliefs of those slogs who call themselves my ‘equals’, or what they actually think about

or happen to believe at this specific moment. Their whims are like a strand of detached web:

floating through the air, impacted completely by the slightest disturbance in wind. But once the

disturbance goes away, once the winds of popularity and prevalence die down, the strand is as

lifeless and limp as it should have remained; as my contemporaries should remain.

Perhaps I should explain myself; I feel as though I have been unfair to you, dear reader.

It is entirely possible, however unlikely, that you are one of my real contemporaries, that I will

in fact find, in you, one who is similar in thought and mind as myself. I should at least give you

the chance.

I am Fenris, and I am caged. Chained, if you will pardon the analogy, by a strand of

ribbon so thin that it is embarrassing to even acknowledge its existence. But it has caged me,

suppressed me, and molded me. It molds you too, though it is likely you do not recognize it

for what it truly is. It is, in fact, more than likely that you view it as a boon, or as one of the

foundations of ‘modern civilization’, or some other nonsense. But once again, I digress.

I am an executive, of sorts. High-powered, high positioned, and highly paid (oh! so

highly). I wake up in the morning at 6:00am, and I am at my building (I own it) by no later than

6:45. At 7:00am I have reached the top floor, via 41 flights of stairs, and entered my office. I

sit in my office and pretend to do something meaningful until about 9:00, when the rest of the

employees start to show up. From that point until 1:00 in the afternoon, I am absorbed in a

world that consists of numbers, of profit-charts, of bar-graphs and of cost-ratio comparisons.

I have become intimately acquainted with the intricacies of line graphs as well as the

relationships between the x-axis and the y-axis. Supply and demand has become second nature

to me, and I swear I have started dreaming in power-point format.

At 1:00, though, I am allowed a break. Officially, I allow myself a break, though no one

would deny me had I asked permission. No one could; it isn’t currently popular to demand that

one continues working through lunch breaks. On this break I step onto my balcony (still on floor

42) and smoke a cigarette over a cup of coffee. I am not addicted – it would not be fitting of me

– but it is acceptable to have one in the afternoon with coffee. Black coffee, of course. No sugar

or cream.

It is over this period of time that my ‘contemporaries’ enjoy coming over and ‘engaging’

me. That is what they call it nowadays; last year it was called ‘chatting’, the year before it

was ‘fraternizing’, the year before it was ‘chilling’, and the year before that it was ‘hanging’. You

see, though I own the building this company is situated in, and could tell you every single little

detail about it, it is inappropriate of me to claim ownership of the company itself as well. It isn’t

currently popular to show that one is better than anyone else, even when it is obviously so.

These ‘contemporaries’ of mine enjoy the fruits of my own labor. It is my job to oversee

the individual employees in all of the floors below me, though in reality I have delegated it out

to individual managers. It is these individual managers, whom I personally placed in the position

they are in, that consider themselves my ‘contemporaries’.

I need to stop using that word. That word disgusts me. The problem is that it most

accurately describes exactly how I feel of those bumbling idiots that I am paid to herd.

Sometimes I swear it would be easier to fire them all and just do their goddamn jobs myself.

The word ‘contemporary’ is a synonym for the word ‘popular’ or ‘modern’. A ‘contemporary’

is something that is up to date, or fashionable, or stylish, or cool. Someone who is

‘contemporary’, then, is someone who’s life and religion is that of what is fashionable, stylish,

or cool. I will need to continue using that word. I chose it originally for a reason, but I keep

finding myself using it to describe nearly everything. It has become so cliché.

But these managers, these ‘contemporaries’ of mine; I own them. I own their lives. I

could fire one of them now and make sure they never got another job in their lives. I could

crush any one of them; nay all of them, under my pinky toe. I would barely notice. In fact, I find

it increasingly difficult to prevent myself from destroying them. It is so difficult to, sometimes.

Preventing myself is an exercise that I must do in my head before I say anything, so I do not

say something that betrays one of them, depresses one of them, hurts one of their feelings, or

anything of the sort. I cannot even look at one of them funny, or breathe on one of them too

hard. It is popular to have the backbone of an earthworm.

But nonetheless, I do my best to preserve my ‘contemporaries’. Regardless of my

true feelings toward them, they all live their happy little lives living in a world where they

believe that everyone, including myself, loves them just as they are. If only they could possibly

comprehend. I listen to their petty whining and complaining about the people under them, I

listen to their disgusting little stories about their disgusting little employees; I do my best to

restrain my laughter when they describe their distaste for their employees using almost the

exact same words I ascribe to them. Maggots. That is what they are. Contemporary maggots,

the whole lot of them. Popular maggots. Cool maggots. Stylish maggots. A series of maggots all

feeding off of smaller maggots who in turn feed off of smaller maggots. And the most disgusting

thing of all?

I must sustain myself with these maggots. It is only through the struggles and constant

toil and incessant complaining of the maggots of the world that people like me can rise to the

top. I fill my building with maggots. They are the stairs I walk up every day, in order to get to

the top floor of my building. I have 41 flights of stairs in my building, each flight consisting of

12 steps. I walk on each and every step, each and every day of my life, at 6:45 in the morning.

That’s 492 stairs in 15 minutes, or about half a step per second. It is not a coincidence that I

have 492 employees. Maggots. I name them, every one of them, as I step on each stair every

morning. Cool maggots. None with enough backbone to stand up to a passing wind, none with

enough roots to stand against the tide.

But back to 1:00pm. Smoking a cigarette, menthol, over my cup of steaming hot coffee,

black. Listening to maggots complain about maggots, listening to maggot politics and maggot

dramas and maggot successes and failures. Trust me; it is just as disgusting as it sounds. But

this hour ‘break’ serves its purpose well; the maggots feel loved by me, and I am assured of

my clear and obvious supremacy over them. That and it is currently unpopular to ignore your

inferiors.

After that hour of torture, it is back to the grind. Back to numbers, equations,

and analyses. Since I am the king of the maggots in this building, it is my job to tell my

contemptuous ‘contemporaries’ exactly what kind of manure to feed upon next. Never a

unique idea amongst them, they all look to me to tell them what to do, and of course heap

admiration upon me for actually coming up with a unique idea. Not that it is really unique; it

isn’t popular to be unique. It simply fits the mold in a way not yet thought of by everyone else.

title: [SP] Fenris Pt. 1- please comment and critique.

question: How does the narrator feel about his employees?

answer: The narrator thrives on the employees' adoration. Yet he is contemptuous of them. He considers them lesser lifeforms.

question: What is the strand of ribbon that has caged the narrator?

answer: The fine ribbon that chains the narrator is the daily grind, the need to get up each day and go into the office. It is the ribbon that dictates, the times and routines that the narrator must stick to. This even includes the lunch break.


text:
I miss the ducks. Ducks aren’t really something that you think you would miss. They quack, they flutter, they seem to sleep with their necks at a hundred and eighty degrees, they swim around all day and always move around in a loud quacking herd. Like I said, not the sort of creatures that you would actively notice but now that they’re gone, I do miss them.
As it turned out, ducks were a lot smarter than they appeared to be. I remember the day when they let their intelligence be known to us humans. It was a pretty average, sunny April day, and I am certain that there were many old men all around the world, sitting by lakes and ponds with a loaf of bread, that would have got the shock of their entire lives (or shock to end their lives). All of a sudden, apparently, they just started talking to anything around them, other birds, dogs, trees and humans. It took longer than you would expect for them to realise that the humans were the ones that could respond back. I somehow don’t think that this was the fault of the ducks. All this I read in the newspapers, I didn’t really live near any lakes or ponds, so my contact with the birds was fairly limited. I still remember the headline that I read and was highly amused and shocked by: Ducks Self Aware – Happy in Water.
The article, obviously very attention grabbing, had the perfect combination of shock, amusement and wonder. The article went on to describe what I have just described; that the ducks suddenly began communicating. The most interesting part of the article, after the premise, was exactly what the ducks were communicating to us; they were so amazingly happy in water! Early communications with the ducks were apparently completely based around water. Not from a lack of wishing from us humans to talk about complex problems such as life, philosophy, the best kinds of bread, but because water seemed to be the only thing the ducks were either willing or capable of talking about. As the headline suggested, they were completely happy in water.
Being an intelligent, rational, and completely arrogant human being, I decided that it was worth a shot to go talk to the ducks. I thought it would be the experience of a lifetime to go and talk to the ducks, and if I could get them to talk about things other than water then I would be hailed as some kind of intellectual genius. I got in my car and started to drive. It only then occurred to me that I wasn’t entirely sure where to find ducks. I pulled over, thought about it, and then headed to the nearest lake. As I approached the lake I saw a parade of hundreds of cars and pedestrians, some wearing duck masks, blocking the way. Obviously they all had the same idea as me, so I decided to turn around, go home, and try again another day.
I decided to not even attempt to go back down to the Lake for a couple of weeks, knowing that the fancy of humans is intense but short lived, but from everything I had read and heard from my friends, water was still the main topic of conversation. Still, being the curious human being I was (and still am) I finally decided to go three and a half weeks after the newspaper article was published. I went to the same lake as before, only this time it was no fuller of people and cars than it would be on any regular sunny Thursday afternoon. I had no trouble finding a parking spot. I left my car, with a loaf of bread in hand, and headed for the edge of the lake. I had trouble spotting the birds, but I eventually saw a group of them paddling away on the far side of the lake. I sat and watched them for a little while, and when I was sure they weren’t moving from that spot I decided to walk over to them.
As I approached where they were swimming, I head a strange voice that had an almost robotic quality to it, “What you care for some water?” Needless to say, I was surprised to see that it was a duck speaking to me, not because it was a shock, but because it was just strange to hear for the first time.
“No, thank you, I have my own.”
“Is it fresh?” The duck asked me in an automatic manner.
“Yeah, I think so. From the tap.” I responded warmly. “Would you like some bread?”
“Is it made from fresh water?” The duck inquired.
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”
“No, I do not want some bread.” And at that, the duck waddled away. I decided to continue walking towards the rest of the ducks, extending what was the strangest experience of my life up to that point.
I talked to a few different ducks from the group, and the first thing I noticed was how amazingly obsessed all the ducks were with water. So many aspects of water I had never, ever even given the slightest thought to, these ducks were experts on. Of course, there was the basic sort of stuff. Temperature, quality, depth, etc, they knew about and I could keep up with them in the conversation. But they also talked about crazy amounts of details that I could not even recall here and still don’t understand to this day. Once I had got over the initial shock of just how invested they were in talking about water (the newspapers had not done them justice), I started to notice that these ducks really were intelligent. Not even just intelligent, they were incredibly self aware. Each and every duck had different preferences for water (some did have some bread, not minding that the water wasn’t pure) from both a personal point of view, but also what was best for the group. They knew what type of water was the best to drink in summer, where that water is, and how often they should drink and how often they should swim. Each duck had different opinions on how rough and disturbed the water they swim in is. They had opinions on how many fish swimming around them was the right number of fish. For a society with the only collective interest being water, there was a remarkable variation on what was discussed. It was truly a breathtaking experience. After many hours of chatting, I decided to go home. It was only on the drive back that I realised that I had forgotten to try to change the subject to something else. But, at the time, it didn’t matter because I had an inkling I would be back there again, and I was.
I went back to the lake, and other lakes (once the ducks at the close lake had got sick of me) once every two or three weeks for the few months after my initial encounter. I found their ramblings rather amusing and it was a nice release from the drudgery of my non-water based existence. I had become rather fond of ducks in general, and found the personalities between different dovers very interesting as well as the individual ducks in each dover. All in all, it was a fun existence. I started to learn a lot more about water, and (to something I was oblivious of before) I started to learn the names of the different breeds of ducks. Interestingly enough, duck’s eggs became illegal and as a result they flourished on the black market. But that’s beside the point.
What started to happen a few months later was truly the most sickening thing I have ever heard happen, full of that awful human combination of worry, stupidity and ignorance. In regards to the ducks people started putting two and two together and equalling five. Various groups- religious, worried parents, politicians in search of votes- started to notice that ducks talked about water in very much the same way that drug addicts talk about their drugs, and act in a similar manner to water as drug addicts act towards getting their next fix. It was ludicrous to say the least, and you, my dear readers, might think that surely we, as rational people, could be much smarter than that. And generally, we were. The people that started to make this ruckus were mocked and ridiculed and generally thought stupid, especially to the average internet user. It was viewed as a joke, especially by me, and as a result no action was taken.
Sadly, stupidity breeds ignorance. I am not sure of the exact details, but I think one of the politicians or zealots or worried mothers found a way to commission a study on the behaviour of ducks when they were removed from water. The results, although predictable to the point of a fault, caused an outrage. Almost overnight there were news stories and gossip about how ducks were horribly addicted to water. They were obsessed with it in conversation and it governed their being, and when they were removed from it they became agitated, then angry, violent, and finally when having no access to it for a period of time they eventually died.
Public opinion against my new friends rapidly turned after that. People started avoiding ducks, condemning them at every point in polite conversation, and actively seeking to keep children away from them should they become easily swayed by the influence of drugs and alcohol. Those of us who still had common sense were either marginalised or just completely gave up on our beliefs. After people stopped defending the ducks, the round ups happened. Some person in some part of the world in charge of some governmental department decided that it would be best if ducks were rounded up in a simultaneous attempt to help them and remove their ‘negative’ impact on society. I remember reading the papers, thinking how stupid it was and I wept for that country. Before I knew it, unfortunately, other countries followed suit. Before I knew what had happened, ducks had been rounded up in every country, taken for “social behaviour workshops” and, I assume, inevitably died.
Shortly after that, the world (in true fashion) realised what a horrible mistake they had mine and were remorseful. People issued apologies, others were arrested, and many high profile people made big long speeches about how we were wrong to so hastily condemn the ducks, despite having said nothing when it was happening. A few weeks later though, people just seemed to forget. Out of complete ignorance we had killed off a rather large portion of a very intelligent species. Some ducks still exist in duck sanctuaries and in the occasional lake, but for the most part, they were never to be seen again. Those that chose to remain silent were obviously being smart enough to know that human beings are fucking crazy.
Not much seemed to happen after that in terms of my old fowl friends. Duck eggs are still a black market delicacy. Bread sales seemed to drop ever so slightly, and the death rate of lonely old men seemed to increase slightly. The only thing that’s really changed (apart from my peaceful conversations regarding water) is that now the line “Do you remember the ducks?” has entered popular usage as a conversation starter.

title: A Fairly Fowl Story

question: Summarize the narrator's sentiments towards ducks.

answer: The narrator misses the ducks, now that they are gone. They had an amazing experience with ducks after humans learned they could communicate with ducks and how intelligent they were. The narrator, and many others, became enraged when the ducks began to get condemned and experimented on for their behavior out of the water.


text:
[Wall of Medals in the French Foreign Legion Museum] MILITARY AWARDS AND DECORATIONS are distinctions given as a mark of honor for military heroism, meritorious or outstanding service or achievement.[1] A decoration is often a medal consisting of a ribbon and a medallion.

While the United States Government does not consider all its military awards and medals as being “decorations”, other countries tend to refer to all their military awards and medals as “decorations”. Civil decorations awarded to military personnel should not be considered military decorations, although some orders of chivalry have civil and military divisions. Decorations received by police and fire brigade personnel may sometimes be considered alongside military decorations, on which they may be modelled, although they are strictly not military awards.

History

[The I class of the Mannerheim Cross of the Order of the Cross of Liberty from 1941] Decorations have been known since ancient times. The Egyptian Old Kingdom had the Order of the Golden Collar while the New Kingdom awarded the Order of the Golden Fly.[2] Celts and Romans wore a torc or received other military decorations such as the _hasta pura_, a spear without a tip. Dayaks wore and still wear tattoos, etc. Necklaces and bracelets were given during the early Middle Ages, evolving into richly jewelled big necklaces, often with a pendant (commonly a medal) attached.

The oldest military decorations still in use is Sweden's _För tapperhet i fält_ (“For Valour in the Field”) and _För tapperhet till sjöss_ (“For Valour at Sea”) awarded to officers and soldiers of the Swedish Armed Forces who have—as the medal names suggest—shown valour in the field or at sea in wartime. The medal was instituted by Swedish king Gustav III on 28 May, 1789, during his war against Russia. Whilst technically it is still active, it is for practical purposes inactive, not having been awarded since 1915. The next oldest was the Austro-Hungarian _Tapferkeits Medaille_ Honour Medal for Bravery 1789–1792. This medal was instituted on 19 July, 1789, by the Emperor Joseph II.
Another of the oldest military decorations still in use is Poland's War Order of _Virtuti Militari_ (Latin for “For Military Valour”). It was first awarded in 1792.

Forgery

Medals have been forged by many people to make the medal appear more valuable or to make one look like a more decorated soldier. Medal forgeries can include: adding bars, engraving a famous soldier's name on it or creating a whole new medal. Medal forgery is illegal in most countries and can be punishable by imprisonment.

Contemporary use

[Current Joint Chief of Staff (Former U.S Army Chief of Staff) Mark A. Milley wearing a number of military decorations.]

Today military decorations include:

-   Order of merit;
-   Bravery awards, in the form of a cross, star or medal on a ribbon;
-   Distinguished service awards, in the form of a cross, star or medal on a ribbon;
-   Campaign medals worn on a ribbon;
-   Service medals worn on a ribbon;
-   Awards for entire units, in the form of Battle honours, Campaign streamers, Fourragères, or unit citations.

In most NATO militaries, only the service ribbons are normally worn on everyday occasions (as opposed to the actual medals).

[1] DoD Manual 1348.33, 2010, Vol. 3

[2]

title: Military awards and decorations

question: What does the text say about decorations in ancient times.

answer: Decorations have been known to exist since ancient times. The Order of the Golden Collar was from the Egyptian Old Kingdom. The New Kingdom awarded the Order of the Golden Fly. Celts and Romans wore a torc. They also received other military decorations like the hasta pura, a spear without a tip.

question: Summarized what happened in the 1700s.

answer: On May 28,1789, Sweden's military decorations "For Valour in the Field" and "For Valour at Sea" were instituted by the Swedish King Gustav III. These are the oldest military decorations still in use. The  next oldest still in use is the Austro Hungarian Honour Medal for Bravery. It was instituted on July 19, 1789 by the Emperor Joseph II. Another of the oldest military decorations still in use is Poland's War Order of Virtuti Militari. It was first awarded in 1792.

question: What does the text say about civil decorations?

answer: Civil decorations are awarded to military personnel. However, they shouldn't be considered military decorations. Some orders of chivalry do have civil and military divisions despite this.

question: What does the text say about naval decorations?


text:
SIR SAMUEL CUNARD, 1ST BARONET (21 November 1787 – 28 April 1865), was a British-Canadian shipping magnate, born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, who founded the Cunard Line. He was the son of a master carpenter and timber merchant who had fled the American Revolution and settled in Halifax.[1]

Family and early life

Samuel Cunard was the second son of Abraham Cunard (1756–1824), a Quaker and Margaret Murphy (1758-1821),[2] a Roman Catholic. The Cunards were a Quaker family that originally came from Worcestershire, in Britain, but were forced to flee to Germany in the 17th century due to religious persecution, where they took the name Kunders. Samuel Cunard's great-great-grandfather had been a dyer in Crefeld there, but emigrated to Pennsylvania in 1683. In America they adopted the name Cunrads. Later some of his descendants, including his grandfather, Samuel, changed their name to Cunard. Abraham Cunard was a Loyalist to the British Crown and moved to Halifax in 1783, after the American Revolution. He married Margaret Murphy, another Loyalist émigrée that year. Margaret's family were originally from Ireland and came to Halifax from South Carolina. Abraham and Margaret had nine children, two girls and seven boys (William 1789-1823, Samuel 1787-1865, Edward 1798-1851, Joseph 1799–1865, John, Thomas and Henry).

Abraham Cunard was a master carpenter who worked for the British garrison in Halifax and became a wealthy landowner and timber merchant. Samuel Cunard's own business skills were evident early in his teens: he was managing his own general store from stock he obtained in broken lots at wharf auction. He later joined his father in the family timber business, which expanded into investments in shipping.[3]

Adulthood and career

During the War of 1812, Cunard volunteered for service in the 2nd Battalion of the Halifax Regiment militia and rose to the rank of captain. He held many public offices, such as volunteer fireman and lighthouse commissioner, and maintained a reputation as not only a shrewd businessman, but also an honest and generous citizen.[4]

Cunard was a highly successful entrepreneur in Halifax shipping and one of a group of twelve individuals who dominated the affairs of Nova Scotia. He secured mail packet contracts and provided a fisheries patrol vessel for the province. Cunard diversified his family's timber and shipping business with investments in whaling, tea imports and coal mining, as well as the Halifax Banking Company and the Shubenacadie Canal. The whaling ships, sent far into the Southern Atlantic, seldom if ever turned a profit.[5] He purchased large amounts of land in Prince Edward Island, at one point owning a seventh of the province, which involved him in the protracted disputes between tenants on the island and the absentee landlords who owned most of it.[6][7]

Steamships

[A statue erected October 2006 of Sir Samuel Cunard in Halifax, Nova Scotia.[8]] Cunard experimented with steam, cautiously at first, becoming a founding director of the Halifax Steamboat Company, which built the first steamship in Nova Scotia in 1830, the long-serving and successful SS _Sir Charles Ogle_ for the Halifax–Dartmouth Ferry Service.[9] Cunard became president of the company in 1836 and arranged for steam power for their second ferry, _Boxer_ in 1838.[10] Cunard led Halifax investors to combine with Quebec business in 1831 to build the pioneering ocean steamship _Royal William_ to run between Quebec and Halifax. Although _Royal William_ ran into problems after losing an entire season due to cholera quarantines, Cunard learned valuable lessons about steamship operation. He commissioned a coastal steamship named _Pochohontas_ in 1832 for mail service to Prince Edward Island and later purchased a larger steamship _Cape Breton_ to expand the service.[11]

Cunard's experience in steamship operation, with observations of the growing railway network in England, encouraged him to explore the creation of a Transatlantic fleet of steamships, which would cross the ocean as regularly as trains crossed land. He went to the United Kingdom seeking investors in 1837. He set up a company with several other businessmen to bid for the rights to run a transatlantic mail service between the UK and North America. It was successful in its bid, the company later becoming Cunard Steamships Limited.

In 1840 the company's first steamship, the _Britannia_, sailed from Liverpool to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and on to Boston, Massachusetts, with Cunard and 63 other passengers on board, marking the beginning of regular passenger and cargo service. Establishing a long unblemished reputation for speed and safety, Cunard's company made ocean liners a success, in the face of many potential rivals who lost ships and fortunes. Cunard's ships proved successful, but their high costs saddled Cunard with heavy debts by 1842, and he had to flee to England from creditors in Halifax. However, by 1843, Cunard ships were earning enough to pay off his debts and begin issuing modest but growing dividends. Cunard divided his time between Nova Scotia and England but increasingly left his Nova Scotian operations in the hands of his sons Edward and William, as business drew him to spend more time in London.[12]

Cunard made a special trip to Nova Scotia and New Brunswick in 1850, when his brother Joseph Cunard's timber and shipping businesses in New Brunswick collapsed in a bankruptcy that threw as many as 1000 people out of work. Cunard took out loans and personally guaranteed all of his brother's debts in Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and Boston. Joseph Cunard moved to Liverpool, England where Samuel helped him re-establish his shipping interests.

Views on segregation

Cunard throughout his personal life was not a religious man and was considered by many to be agnostic. His views on slavery in the 19th century were not known, but his statements regarding Fredrick Douglass's segregated passage arranged by a Cunard Agent in Liverpool on one of his ocean liners in 1845 strongly suggests he was against any form of racial prejudice. “No one can regret more than I do the unpleasant circumstances surrounding Mr. Douglass's passage from Liverpool, but I can assure you that nothing of the kind will again take place on the steamships in which I am connected.” His views on race reflected those of Britons of the time, who regarded mistreatment of black people as a moral wrong, even though they still considered them to be socially and intellectually inferior to white people.

Later life

thumb|upright=1.3|Cunard's grave, Brompton Cemetery, London

Cunard owned a number of companies in Canada. After his death and changes to the British mail contract, his partners in England dropped his Canadian service and it would be 50 years before his ships returned to Canada.[13] His coal company in Nova Scotia, which he bought to fuel his liners, remained the family's major investment in Nova Scotia and continued into the 20th century as Cunard Fuels, later bought out by the Irving Family of New Brunswick.

In 1859 Cunard was made a baronet by Queen Victoria.[14]

Sir Samuel Cunard died at Kensington in London on 28 April 1865. He is buried at Brompton Cemetery in London.[15] He lies against the eastern wall.

Legacy

[Cunard's wife Susan, d. 1828, Old Burying Ground (Halifax, Nova Scotia)] At the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic in Halifax, a substantial portion of the second floor is dedicated to his life, the Cunard Line and its famous ships.[16] A large bronze statue of Samuel Cunard was erected in October 2006 on the Halifax waterfront, beside the Ocean Terminal Wharves long used by Cunard's liners.[17] A stamp of Cunard's likeness was issued by Canada Post in 2004.[18]

Despite challenges from competing companies and changes in technology, the prosperous company grew, eventually absorbed many others such as the Canadian Northern Steamships Limited, and in 1934 its principal competition, the White Star Line, owners of the successful _RMS Olympic_ and former owners of the ill-fated _Titanic_. After that, Cunard dominated the Atlantic passenger trade with some of the world's most famous liners such as the [19] and .[20] His name lives on today in the Cunard Line, now a prestigious branch of the Carnival Line cruise empire.[21]

Family

Samuel Cunard was married to Susan, daughter of William Duffus, on 4 February 1815 (she died 28 February 1828 - see photo), by whom he had nine children,[22] two sons (Edward 1816–1869 and William 1789–1823) and seven daughters (Mary 1817–1885, Susan 1819–, Margaret Ann 1820–1901, Sarah Jane 1821–1902, Ann Elizabeth 1823–1862, Isabella 1827–1894 and Elizabeth 1828–1889.

Sir Samuel Cunard was succeeded in both the business and the baronetcy by his oldest son, Sir Edward Cunard, 2nd baronet, who married Mary Bache McEvers (daughter of Bache McEvers), and through whom the baronetcy was passed down. Their son, Bache Edward Cunard, 3rd baronet married the society hostess Emerald, Lady Cunard (1872–1948). They in turn had one daughter, Nancy Cunard (1896–1965), writer, heiress and political activist.

William Cunard, second son of Sir Samuel Cunard, married Laura Charlotte Haliburton, daughter of author and politician Thomas Chandler Haliburton. The couple had three sons and one daughter.[23] William built the Halifax School for the Deaf. Samuel Cunard's daughter Margaret married William Leigh Mellish (1813–1864), soldier, landowner and cricketer.

Notes

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6] Boileau p. 94

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10] Boileau, p. 40

[11] Boileau, p. 49-50

[12] Boileau, p. 75-76

[13] Boileau, p. 96

[14]

[15]

[16] “Mauretania/Lusitania Model Refit Completed”, Cunard Steamship Society, Dec. 17, 2011

[17] Richard H. Wagner, “Sir Samuel and the New Queen Victoria”, _Beyond Ships_, originally published in _The Porthole_, The World Ship Society, January 2007)

[18]

[19]

[20]

[21]

[22]

[23]

title: Samuel Cunard

question: Summarize Samuel Cunard's business ventures.

answer: Samuel Cunard began to sharpen his business skills at a young age when he managed his own general store. He later joined the family timber business which he helped expand into shipping investments. Cunard was successful in the shipping business in Halifax and began to diversify his family's investments in whaling, tea imports, coal mining and in the Halifax Banking company. He became a wealthy landowner and began to experiment with steamboats as a founding director and then President of the Halifax Steamboat Company. They built the first steamship of Nova Scotia and then an entire Transatlantic fleet of steamships. Cunard's ships proved to be successful but their high costs brought him heavy debts.