text:
 	The hallway was dimly lit, lined with golden statues. They were of men and women of all shapes and sizes, naked as the day they were born. There was a rumor that the statues were a catalogue of Vincent the Magnificent's lovers. He had definitely been living it up, which was good, because I was about to kill him.

The guards had been easy, they almost always are. Even the best soldiers grow complacent when they work in a palace, far away from any real action. Employing stealth wasn't too difficult either, thanks to Vincent's preference for plush rugs. A few weeks ago Vincent had gone to watch a gladiatorial event, so I snuck in disguised as a servant. House staff is the way to go if you want to snoop around a place without people really noticing you. Thanks to that little trip, and a lot of practice memorizing layouts, I could have traversed the palace blindfolded if I had felt like it.

	I came upon the last corner before the royal suite, slowly peaking my head around the edge of the wall. Two guards. How creative. There were several quiet ways I could have taken care of them, but this job had been too easy, and I get a little stupid when I'm bored.

	The guards heard a dull thud and one of them came walking around the corner to check it out.

	"What is it Sam?" yelled the one from the door.

	"It ain't good Richard, you best come have a looksie," Richard's armor rattled as he ran down the hall to meet up with Sam.

	"Oh 'ell, how'd its prick fall off?" Richard grumbled. They both stared at the golden phallus lying on the ground.

	"Don't rightfully know, do I?" asked Sam, "I was standing at the door just the same as you when it happened."

	"Well it don't matter, we're in for trouble anyway you look at it," said Richard.

	"Everyone knows this is one of Vincent's favorites too," Sam whined.

	"Oh shut up Sam. That thing's gotta be nine inches 'o pure gold. We get relieved afore 'ol Magnificent there ever wakes up," he jerked his thumb towards the door, "we take that with us, and sell it off. If anyone asks us what happened we just blame it on the morning guards."

	"Who's gonna buy a giant golden dick from us?" asked Sam.

	Richard's face screwed up, but before he had a chance to come up with a solution I came out from behind the rotund female statue opposite of them and stuck a tranquilizer into both of their necks.

	The chemical I use could knock out a whale, it takes seconds to work on even the largest of men. The two turned just in time to get a look at me through glazed over eyes before they hit the floor.

	"Sleep tight," another well-timed joke no one would appreciate. I passed around the corner and headed for my target.

	This may be a good time to explain something about the different types of assassins. In my opinion there are three main varieties. There's the "opportunists", these assassins are the fastidious type. They employ complex plans to lay traps for their marks when they have put themselves in vulnerable positions. This style has its benefits but there are also a few downsides. The more intricate a plan is the more ways it can go wrong. Little snags can end up with the wrong person dead, which is disgraceful in my industry. Then there's the "fighters", the guys who cut a bloody swath on the way to and from their target. Killing every guard and every bystander who happens to be in your way sends a definite message. Unfortunately that message is usually, hire more guards. Fighters have a hard time with elite targets because of the sheer numbers they surround themselves with, and because of that rarely get into the big contracts. Then there are the "ghosts" such as myself. We're the rarest of the bunch, a finesse type that kills only the target. I can't speak for all of us, but I for one don't enjoy killing innocent bystanders. There are other benefits as well. For instance, all the guards I've tranquilized or sneaked silently past over the years have invariably tried to cover over their embarrassment by turning me into something more than man in retelling. Dialling up my reputation in turns allows me to drive up my fee. Besides that the romantic in me likes to believe that my work keeps the more decisive leaders honest. Ones who realize that their time could come at any moment, no matter how secure their castle is, or how many men they've surrounded themselves with, might make more effort to convince less people they should be dead. I mean, I'd like to believe it, but there are more than enough cretins sitting on thrones out there for me to get too full of myself. I try not to complain though, those cretins keep me busy after all.

	Vincent was still fast asleep when I entered his chambers. It was no wonder, given the plethora of drugs and alcohol scattered around his room.

	I took a seat in a wingback chair at the end of his bed. The room was impressive to survey. I've been in all sorts of decadent places, but Vincent's chamber made most look paltry in comparison. He lay peacefully in the giant plush bed in the center of the room. I wondered if hedonism was the theme given to his designer.

	I grabbed a rolled cigarette off of the nightstand, lifted my mask and used a nearby candle to light it. I hoped there was only tobacco in it. I considered killing Vincent in his sleep. He didn't look so magnificent laying there, just fat really.

	Sometimes an easy kill is desirable, but I need a challenge every once in a while, and the statue debacle had failed to satiate my restlessness that night.

	It took some vigorous shaking before one of Vincent's eyes opened up.

	"Oh shit," he rubbed his face and took a long moment before looking at me again, "Well at least everyone was wrong about me."

	My face must have screwed up.

	"They all said I'd kill myself one day," he explained, letting out a feminine laugh. At least he had a sense of humor.

	"I'm willing to give you a chance to defend yourself if you'd like."

	He pulled himself up into a sitting position. "Really? Do you do this with all of your victims?"

	I considered lying to him. "No, I just heard that you're very talented."

	Vincent snorted loudly, "Oh please, you've killed wizards much more powerful than I," he inspected me, "you are Lucky, are you not?"

	"Ahhh," I growled, "I hate it when people call me that."

	"Alright, alright," Vincent's arm fat jiggled as he waved dismissively at me. He reached next to him and picked up a cigarette, snapping his fingers together to produce a small flame. The sweet smell of the smoke hit me.

	"Cannabis? Right now seemed like a good time to get stoned?"

	Vincent shrugged, "Even those condemned to death get a last meal."

	"Look Vincent, do you want to try me or would you like to just go peacefully?"

	He gave me a dubious look, "I'd love to try you. You know I could use another statue." I walked right into that one.

	"I'm flattered, but a statue of my likeness wouldn't be so good for business."

	Vincent's face turned more serious. I'm sure it would have been amusing to know what he was thinking. He blew out a lungful of smoke, "Oh what the hell, might as go out with a little fanfare. But may we go out to the garden, I'd like to stroll through it once more. Plus I'd hate to make a mess in this room. My maid is wonderful, but the gardner is a real bitch." He punctuated his joke with another shrill laugh.

	He made me stop on the way out to the garden so that he could fix the statue I had broken. He stared at the statue wistfully.

	"Now this man was an excellent lover."

	I stared at the giant golden penis, "I'll take your word for it." He
giggled behind me the rest of the way out.

	We sat together on a bench overlooking the garden. "You know, I think the garden is prettier at night," I took a drag from his joint, "You don't ever get the time to appreciate things like this in my line of work." I handed it back to him.

	"I've always felt the same way," he nodded taking another pull for himself. He looked at me seriously, "You must be a magic user, yes?"

	I nodded, no point in lying to a dead man.

	"I've always thought so. There's just no way a man could take on all the wizards you've killed without commanding some magic. But how is it that nobody knows you can cast?"

	I shrugged, "I make a lot of effort to keep it quiet. Most people who find out do so when it's too late for them to tell anybody else."

	Keeping magic a secret from common people isn't much of a problem unless you feel the need to go showing off all the time. Hiding your power from wizards on the other hand is a unique skill. When you've learned how to tap into magic it's something like opening up another sense, you become aware of a whole world of energy surrounding you at all times. When something that commands a lot of energy comes into relative proximity to you it's easy to feel. Even small animals put off some energy but there are blind spots, so to speak. I am capable of becoming "invisible" to that means of detection. It is a highly coveted talent and, in fact, I am only aware of one other wizard able to do it.

	Vincent remembered something and his eyes lit up, "Some of Thelaeus' guards witnessed your fight with Taurin, I've never heard any of the details retold but there's no way you could have survived it without magic."

	"It's all bullshit," I shook my head, "no one saw anything. That whole story was fabricated so Emperor Thelaeus could save face and keep his armies from panicking."

	"So did you really kill Taurin?"

	I picked a pebble up off the ground, "Yeah."

	"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to strike a nerve."

	"It's fine," I threw the pebble, "it's just old news Vincent."

	He stood up suddenly, "Alright, one last question before we get down to it."

	I nodded my approval.

	"Who wants me dead?"

	"I wish I could tell you. They used a middle man." I couldn't bring myself to tell him his children hired me. He had 10 in all, none of them gifted with magic. They would inherit his money but his provincial rulership would fall to some other wizard loyal to the empire.

	He looked disappointed so I improvised, "I got the distinct feeling that someone higher up felt like you were constantly outdoing them with your glamorous estate and your legendary bacchanalias."

	Vincent looked back at his palace and smiled. Sometimes you just need to tell people what they want to hear. I stood as well.

	"You ready?"

	"Give me a moment," he walked to the other side of the garden, "I'm not a young man you know." He stretched his arms casually.

	I began to roll my eyes then suddenly a lightening bolt streaked towards me from Vincent. Sneaky bastard. I turned my body narrowly dodging it. I rolled forward just in time for another lightening bolt to fly past me. Did that one have the head of a lion? Vincent was flamboyant until the end. A third bolt ripped towards me, irritated I clenched my hand into a fist putting up a ward directly before the bolt struck me. The giant beam quietly dispelled into sparks. Vincent's eyes grew large.

	Magic is generally a last resort for me. Besides having complicated opinions on the matter, not using magic allows me to keep a low profile. I make a great effort to use the bare minimum necessary to complete my jobs. Unfortunately I severely overcharged my ward that night. Now if there had been any decent wizard within ten miles of that palace they would have felt the power spike. If word starts getting spread that Vincent's assassin could use magic then every ruler in the region would start putting up all sorts of new defenses. Makes my work more difficult.

	When Vincent realized that an assault wasn't going to work he did what most wizards do in a panic and started to put up a shield-barrier. A shield-barrier is a dual layered protective ward that enshrines the caster in an orb. One layer protects against magical attacks, the other against physical. I had to give Vincent credit, his spell was strong, crackling with energy. I could have broken it, but it would have attracted more attention than I desired. Anyway it presented me with a perfect opportunity to try out a new technique I'd been practicing.

	Vincent had stabilized his spell and gave me a look through the multicolored barrier. "Your move Lucky!"

	To think I was just starting to warm up to him. I pulled a knife from my belt. Vincent laughed mockingly when he saw it, knowing it couldn't penetrate his protective spell. He wouldn't have found it so funny if he knew anything about doorway magic.

	Doorway magic is obscure. It uses low energy but is extremely taxing on the users body. Since the vast majority of powerful wizards are older and academics their bodies do not allow doorway magic to be practical, which is why most wizards abandoned it's practice in ancient times. I am not old and am in excellent physical condition, even so I do not take the use of doorways spells lightly. What the magic does is copies a small place in space onto another one. Theoretically, if a caster were strong enough, he could cast a doorway big enough to teleport himself through from one place to another. That's in theory, in practice an opening the size of a round shield could cripple its caster permanently, and the further distance you cast it over makes it even more difficult still. Even I couldn't cast one outside of my field of vision. The point is that you have to be clever to make good use of them.

	I threw my knife towards the shield barrier then began to cast the doorway. Vincent's eyes turned from confusion into shock as the knife tip protruded through his chest. I had made portals just large enough for my knife to pass through, one around twenty feet in front of me and another inside the shield-barrier aimed at Vincent's back. The shield-barrier is effective against linear magic, or magic that must come from the caster to the target, but since doorway magic is extra-dimensional it sidestepped the protective shell.

	I couldn't believe it had worked as well as it had, even as my muscles tensed and I fell to my knees. As I have said it's taxing on the body, maybe too much to use again. After recovering a moment I collected my knife from Vincent, shaking my head. I haven't had a decent challenge in years.

title: [FN] First Chapter of Possible Short Story

question: What are the security weaknesses in Vincent's mansion that made his assassination possible?

answer: Firstly, the guards were complacent - they haven't seen action in a while. Furthermore, the guards were just two. Also, most of the house floor was covered with rugs. This made it easy for an assassin to be stealthy without being detected.

question: Summarize the different types of assassins as laid out in the passage.

answer: One type of assassin is one who is an opportunist - he or she normally employs intricate plans, laying traps for their marks. another kind of assassin is one who fights, cutting a bloody path to their target. The last of the assassin type is the "ghost" who rarely kills anyone other than the target, employing finesse and stealth to evade detection.


split: test

text:
There is a bachelor. I do not know his name, nor what he does, or even what he looks like.  I imagine him to be the sort of man who sits in a faded red high-backed chair while smoking out of a rather intricately detailed pipe. He would be wearing a leisure suit, of course; very dignified, certainly reminiscent of the old English types.

He might live in a Brownstone. He probably lives in a Brownstone. The inside of his study (of course he has a study) is wood paneled, stained by smoke, comfortable, shabbily expensive. There are probably a couple of ferns which he often neglects to water. A wall of shelves, full of books he means to read, but cannot seem to find the time, what with all the things being printed in the newspaper every day. The newspapers are fascinating lately, and go well with pipe tobacco and brandy. He shakes his head and mumbles about the incompetence of the Leaders, and how they are ruining the government with their irresponsible taxes.

I can’t imagine him working. He must have some sort of occupation, of course, but that isn’t important. Is he a professor? A salesman? Maybe even a sort of writer, a half-hearted writer-in-name-only whose real source of income is the inherited wealth of a late aunt. Perhaps he is the fool whose ill-advised investment returned far more than anyone could ever have expected. It does not matter.

He pays to have his laundry picked up and washed. He typically eats once a day, usually ordered in, and supplements his food with alcohol. He keeps himself very clean, showering in the morning. He shaves on Saturdays. He has used the same cologne for a long time. He owns five suits. He owns two pairs of dress shoes. He does not exercise, although he was a fine athlete in his youth. He prefers so have a brandy, smoke his pipe, and read the newspaper.

The bachelor leaves his study, and there is a woman waiting in the foyer. She's no longer young and has a weary look around her eyes. Her face would have been beautiful in her youth, but now the lines sag around her eyes and mouth in the way that typifies a life lived absent of smiles. She's dressed well, and upon seeing the bachelor her tired eyes faintly spark. The bachelor gives her a tight-lipped smile.

"Shall we go, then?"

"Yes."

He takes her by the arm and they walk out of the house. They hail a cab, and it takes them to a rather upscale Italian restaurant. He pays the fare, and opens the door for her as they enter. They have reservations and are seated quickly. The bachelor orders a bottle of wine as they wait for their first course. His eyes flit around the room, taking in the atmosphere while they make small talk. Her eyes follow his. The wine arrives, and they both drink a glass. Then another. The conversation has begun to flow more easily.

"Do you see those two over there, the man with jowls like a basset hound?" He asks.

"Yes, he certainly is funny-looking."

"I shouldn't wonder if he's rather wealthy. His companion is far younger and better looking than he is."

"Perhaps it is his daughter."

"Doubtful. Don't you see what she is wearing?"

"I suppose."

Their first course arrives. The conversation lags again. A third glass of wine is poured for each. The bachelor consumes his food vigorously, smacking his lips and scattering crumbs about his place. He approves of the bread, he says. It has a nice crust and a fluffy interior. Quite good, he says. The woman carefully butters her own before eating half of it, endowing the remainder upon her plate. The bachelor's attention is now focused primarily on what occupies his plate. The woman is less interested. Her gaze returns to the basset-hound man and his companion. Her shoulders are bare and smooth, her face still young and attractive without looking childish. A woman any man would be proud to be with. The basset-hound man says something to her quietly, with a twinkling eye, and she laughs.

The next course arrives. The bachelor pours himself another glass of wine, but the woman's glass has hardly been touched since the last pouring. The bachelor is enjoying himself. The Bistecca Fiorentina is perfect, he says. Are you not enjoying your Tortellini? Why aren't you eating?

"I don't know. Just not hungry, I guess."

"Did you already eat today?"

"No. Not much."

The bachelor returns to his steak. The wine has reddened his cheeks, and his smile lags slightly behind the conversation. His eyes are unfocused as he concentrates on the ecstasy of his meal. He's nearly finished with his plate. His gaze turns again to the other diners. Across the room, a young couple enters. They are in love. The young woman hangs by an arm, his smile flashes. The bachelor guides the second-to-last piece of steak into his mouth.

"I remember when I was young." He chews his food thoughtfully. "The girls…"

"Yes. They're a lovely couple."

"Do you think they'll stick?"

"It's hard to say."

"But just looking at them, what do you think?"

"They look happy."

The woman takes a bite of her food. She finishes her glass of wine, then pours another. The lights are becoming more ambient now, the faces more attractive. The bachelor's face breaks into a roguish smile. There you go, he says. It's good, isn't it? The wine? The Tortellini? I'm glad we came. Yes, she says. It's a nice place. The decor is in good taste.

They finish their meal and walk outside. They hail another cab and take it to the cinema. The bachelor buys their tickets and leads her to their seats. It's a comedy, and they laugh heartily. The wine is still in them. They exit the theatre in good spirits, chatting, and hail another cab. It takes them back to the brownstone, and they enter. The bachelor gives her a kiss on the cheek and heads for his study and his pipe. She walks down the hallway to her room, where she lies down on her bed and lets the air out of her body, hoping sleep comes quickly tonight as her tears deepen the lines across her cheeks.

title: There Is a Bachelor.

question: Who is the Bachelor?

answer: The Bachelor is an imagined character. He is likely unemployed, living off of an inheritance from a wealthy aunt.

question: What does the Bachelor do?

answer: He maintains a regular schedule of leisure. One evening he leaves his study and meets a woman waiting for him in the foyer. They go to dinner.

question: Are there other important characters involved in the story?

answer: A nameless woman.

question: What are the emotions of the Bachelor?

answer: It seems that the Bachelor is rather dull, lacks much emotion.

question: Write a ~8 sentence summary.

answer: The Bachelor is an imagined character. He is likely unemployed, living off of an inheritance from a wealthy aunt. He maintains a regular schedule of leisure. One evening he leaves his study and meets a woman waiting for him in the foyer. They go to dinner. While the evening out seems pleasant enough, the Bachelor is rather dull, and lacks much emotion. When the couple arrives back to the Brownstone in which they live, he kisses her on the cheek and returns to his study. She walks to her room where she cries herself to sleep.


text:
Let’s say a guy named Fred is attracted to a woman named Martha. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.

And then, one evening when they’re driving home, a thought occurs to Martha, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: “Do you realize that, as of tonight, we’ve been seeing each other for exactly six months?”

And then, there is silence in the car.

To Martha, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he’s been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I’m trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn’t want, or isn’t sure of.

And Fred is thinking: Gosh. Six months.

And Martha is thinking: But, hey, I’m not so sure I want this kind of relationship either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I’d have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily towards, I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?

And Fred is thinking: …so that means it was…let’s see…February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer’s, which means…lemme check the odometer…Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.

And Martha is thinking: He’s upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I’m reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed – even before I sensed it – that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that’s it. That’s why he’s so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He’s afraid of being rejected.

And Fred is thinking: And I’m gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don’t care what those morons say, it’s still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It’s 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.

And Martha is thinking: He’s angry. And I don’t blame him. I’d be angry, too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can’t help the way I feel. I’m just not sure.

And Fred is thinking: They’ll probably say it’s only a 90-day warranty…scumballs.

And Martha is thinking: Maybe I’m just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I’m sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.

And Fred is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I’ll give them a warranty. I’ll take their warranty and stick it right up their…

“Fred,” Martha says aloud.

“What?” says Fred, startled.
“Please don’t torture yourself like this,” she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. “Maybe I should never have…oh dear, I feel so…”(She breaks down, sobbing.)

“What?” says Fred.

“I’m such a fool,” Martha sobs. “I mean, I know there’s no knight. I really know that. It’s silly. There’s no knight, and there’s no horse.”

“There’s no horse?” says Fred.

“You think I’m a fool, don’t you?” Martha says.

“No!” says Fred, glad to finally know the correct answer.

“It’s just that…it’s that I…I need some time,” Martha says.

(There is a 15-second pause while Fred, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.)

“Yes,” he says. (Martha, deeply moved, touches his hand.)

“Oh, Fred, do you really feel that way?” she says.

“What way?” says Fred.

“That way about time,” says Martha.

“Oh,” says Fred. “Yes.” (Martha turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)

“Thank you, Fred,” she says.

“Thank you,” says Fred.

Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Fred gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a college basketball game between two South Dakota junior colleges that he has never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it’s better if he doesn’t think about it.

The next day Martha will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification.

They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it either.

Meanwhile, Fred, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Martha’s, will pause just before serving, frown, and say: “Norm, did Martha ever own a horse?”

And that’s the difference between men and women.

title: Difference between men and women

question: Who is Fred?

answer: Fred is one of the main characters in the story. He has been seeing a woman named Martha for six months.

question: What is Fred thinking about in the car?

answer: Fred is thinking about when the last time that he took his car in to the shop.

question: Where was Martha born?


text:
It was 8 O'Clock in the morning, Magnolias woke to the sound of police sirens coming out from

the window. He picked up his phone to check the time and then quickly decided to go back to sleep.

*one of the benefits of being unemployed is having to not wake up early in the morning* he thought.

&#x200B;

When he did wake up a few hours later, the sound of police sirens coming out from the window had gotten louder. Curiosity getting the better of him, he leapt out of his bed and made his way out to the window and looked down upon the sight of police cars and news vans gathered in front of the building and a swarm of policemen coming in and out of the building and news reporters all gathered around a police tape.

&#x200B;

*Did I sleep through a murder?*, Magnolias thought."Neat" he grinned, as he made his way to the living room to switch on the television and all over the newsfeeds  was his apartment building with reporters on the screen.

&#x200B;

**BREAKING NEWS! THE BASHER STRIKES AGAIN! WHEN WILL THIS MADNESS END?**

&#x200B;

That was what the media had dubbed the person behind the murders, a crude name, Magnolias thought, feeding the ego of a deranged individual and yet an apt moniker since the faces of the victims had indeed been bashed in beyond recognition.

&#x200B;

At that moment, there was a knock on the front door, he made his way to unlock the door where a man and a woman stood. The man wore a suit underneath a brown overcoat while the woman wore a blue shirt and jeans underneath a black blazer.

&#x200B;

“Mr.Clarke we need you to--”

&#x200B;

“Jack”, he exclaimed cutting her off mid sentence. “A little early for a visit”.

&#x200B;

“Maggie, I don’t know if you know this but there has been—”,

&#x200B;

“A murder” he interjected.

&#x200B;

“how did you—?”, Jack questioned.

&#x200B;

“I have two eyes, two ears and a brain, You know”, Magnolias said.

&#x200B;

“Also great job at keeping it all quiet”, he added.

&#x200B;

“Yeah, somebody talked” Jack said, “Maggie, this is Inspector Helena Morgenthau, she and I will be heading this case”, he continued, gesturing towards her.

&#x200B;

Magnolias extended his arm to shake her hand. “Morgenthau? What kind of a name is Morgenthau?  He asked, as they shook hands.

&#x200B;

“What kind of name is Magnolias?” She replied as she rolled her eyes.

&#x200B;

They stared at each other for a moment and then Magnolias muttered “Nice”.

&#x200B;

“So, are you here to ask me the obvious questions, my whereabouts last night, whether I heard anything. Who?” he paused. “Who er… Who died?” he asked from  the both of them.

&#x200B;

“This is an ongoing investigation,” Helena replied. “We can't reveal that information yet”.

&#x200B;

“Oh come on, if you hadn't noticed yet, I live here. The place where the crime occured, I'm bound to find out who it is regardless,” Magnolias said.

&#x200B;

Jack and Helena both looked at each other and then Jack turned to Magnolias and said “It was Amanda Hartford”.

&#x200B;

“Oh, oh no, I um... I, I didn’t know her, at all,” he paused. “Who is she?, er… was she?” he asked.

&#x200B;

“Oh my God… okay,” he said, dumbfounded by his response. “She was the girl who lived in 3B, on the floor below yours,” he replied, and then asserted “The one you spilled coffee on” after looking at his puzzled expression.

&#x200B;

“Right, her? Shit.” Magnolias exclaimed.

&#x200B;

“So, did you hear or see anything suspicious last night, anything out of the ordinary? Mr. Clarke.” Helena asked.

&#x200B;

*“Ah, the usual questions, where were you last night? Did you see anything? Did you hear ANYTHING? Magnolias always hated this line of questioning, as it would more often than not lead to only one answer”* Magnolias thought. “No, miss, I certainly do not, and to answer your next question, I was in bed at night” he paused, “sleeping, and please call me Magnolias”.

&#x200B;

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Clarke,” she said, annoyed by his response.

&#x200B;

“We’re in a hurry, so, if you think of anything call Inspector Jack” She added.

&#x200B;

Inspector Jack and Helena then started to turn back and walk away when Magnolias pulled Jack aside and said “Stop calling me Maggie in front of like… people and incredibly rude detectives”.

&#x200B;

“Well then stop acting like a child, grow up and for heaven’s sake get a job already” Jack replied.

&#x200B;

“One doesn’t need to grow up to grow old” Magnolias said as he closed the door in Jack’s face.

&#x200B;

“Yeah, are we still on for lunch this afternoon” he said, reopening the door.

&#x200B;

Jack turned around as he walked backwards towards Helena, who was waiting for him at the end of the hallway and said “Sure, unless you go on and change your mind… again”.

**END**

&#x200B;

I understand it may not be good or filled with grammatical errors but it's my first time and I put it in the Humor category and not mystery cause I plan to write more kinda like the Conan Doyle short stories. Looking for feedback i guess, is it bad? good? or do better? Thanks for reading up to this point.

title: [HM] Magnolias Clarke

question: Who is Magnolias?

answer: Magnolias is the main character of the story. He sleeps through a murder that occurs in his building and is questioned by two detectives, Jack and Helena, about whether or not he noticed anything unusual the previous night.

question: What is the main conflict of the story?

answer: The main conflict is that someone in Magnolias' apartment building was murdered last night, and Magnolias is being questioned about it.

question: What does Magnolias do for a living?


text:
Hey Reddit! This is a short I wrote for my schools writing competition last semester. Somehow I won! I was super happy, but the school is rather small, so I thought I'd reach out for some feedback from a source with a broader opinion. Thanks for taking your time to read this!

**A Captain's Oath**

Golden stalks of grain danced in the wind as we sped past them. The field around me undulated in the wind like a tumultuous sea. The setting sun bathed the world in red and orange, glaring harshly through my back seat window. Dust from the road coated the glass, masking the outside world in a hazy gauze.

Lost in a world of my own, I imagined the oncoming truck to be a majestic galleon, flying the royal colors of the evil king.

“Helmsman! Bring er’ round to broadside!” I shouted to my mother in the front seat. She jumped, swerving our car out of the lane onto the shoulder of the road. The car behind us honked ferociously as it sped around us.

“What did I say? Stop your stupid games, sit down, and shut up!” She spat.

“Aye, captain,” I murmured quietly, so she wouldn’t hear. I returned to my window, defeated.

I tried to make out the murky shapes in the distance. Was that a sea serpent peeking its head above the waves? Had some monster of the deep braved the airy world to satisfy its curiosity of the land dwellers?  I turned to my mother, desperate to question her about the “lock-less” monster the older kids at school had warned me about. But Mother didn’t appreciate questions. I looked back to the window, watching for more monsters.

I tried to give up my musing to watch the lines of the road zip by. The tiny reflectors picked up our car headlights and gleamed brilliantly. I couldn’t help but imagine a group of sea creatures flaunting their fluorescent bodies. Our vessel glided over the glassy waters they danced together in, oblivious of the magic below it.

Every summer we made this trip. We spent hours on empty highways in silence, save for the occasional static filled radio channel or empty conversation. We were headed to my father’s house, or in my mind, home.

I treasured the few precious holidays I spent with him. Normally, he would have met us halfway to liberate me, but he had been called to an important meeting. I imagined how I would have rejoiced in my freedom, shouting orders to my father.

*“Veer slightly right, Captain!”* I would have commanded.

*“Nay, landluver! Tis starboard ye’ be wantin!”* He would have replied in his best seafaring accent.

I groaned in frustration.

I hated how boring it was with her. My choice of literature quickly became contraband. “Magic and fantasy,” she would say, “are inappropriate for a young christian boy.” Video games and secular music were often subjects of debate as well, and she usually confiscated anything she could lay her hands on.

Imagination was my only refuge when my mother came home howling and sobbing again. It became my best friend when she would announce year after successive year that we would be moving, so she could find a new job or meet a new man. I often wondered where “home” would be when I returned from my visits.

So, instead of reading my copy of Harry Potter tucked neatly away in a corner pocket of my backpack, or playing on the GameBoy I’d smuggled in my jacket, I watched the road speed by.

My imagination became the adventure I longed for. There I could be the handsome airship pilot, standing behind a polished wooden helm, studying the clouds drift lazily below me. Sometimes I was an edgey detective, tailing a suspicious broad in a rainy, monochrome street. Other days, I was a wizened and greying wizard standing in my tower above the city, creating a spectacle of light for the people below to marvel at. When it rained I was a dark and mysterious ranger, inching my way through a forest and searching for my prey. Most days I was the captain of a sea vessel, strong and courageous, barking orders to my crew.

The sun had set and the moon stood vigil over the land. The ever silent sentinel cast light over the sea of grain. I wondered what kind of crew would be bunking on my ship at this time of night. Would my ship be manned by the most dastardly dogs of the rough seas? Would I pirate and loot the great, rich, pompous cities of the world and spread my wealth to the poor? Or would I be a member of the most dashing and refined men to ever set sail, treading new waters for kings? I liked to imagine I would be the former.

“Son,” my mother interrupted my thoughts, “Look, I know I’m hard on you sometimes, and moving to and fro all the time isn’t easy for you,” She turned to me, her face stern and beautiful as always, “And I’m sorry. But I love you very much, and I only want what’s best for the both of us.” Her face softened as she turned back to the road. “It’s hard for me too.”

I sat silently, my imagination stilled.

“I know sometimes you think of moving to your father’s house like you other siblings did, but I need someone to be the man of the house, son,” she said. “Please don’t leave me, okay? Will you promise to stay and be my captain?”

She was right, I wanted to escape sometimes, but I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her alone. Besides, she could take away my books and games, but my imagination was my own.

“Aye” I promised her.

And that seemed to make everything okay.

title: [RF] A Captain's Oath

question: What is the narrative irony in the story?

answer:
The mother likely divorced the father since he is very unorthodox while she is too rigidly conservative. Meanwhile the narrator seems to take after his father in terms of his interests and preferences.

All of the narrator's siblings have gone to live with his father while he stayed with his mother despite the fact that he appears to be most similar to his father.

The irony is that despite the mother divorcing the father, she seems highly emotionally dependent on the child who is most similar to the father -this is established in the closing part of the story where the mother seems to have convinced the narrator to stay.


text:
THE BOOK OF DAVE

     In the beginning, Dave created a bunch of stuff like the earth, water, animals, and humans. He thought "Meh, it's cool I guess...", and then he pretty much sat back and watched everything unfold, chillin' like a villain and taking many forms. Mostly though he liked to be a plastic dove. He saw all his creations screw up the world he created, and it pissed him off pretty badly. He thought for centuries about how he could save the world he put so little effort into creating.

     One day, in the late 1990's he came up with a plan. It was about time too, because the world he created was in pretty pitiful condition by this time. He set out to create 5 strong men who would spread his holy name. One of them appearing to be a heretic, but obviously a believer. One of them a natural born leader to guide the prophets. One of them tall and strong willed and convert others. One of them with great musical talents with which to sing and play instruments in the name of Dave, and the last one. Dave's only son. He arranged so that these men would one day come together and use their own talents to spread the word of Dave.

     These young men grew and realized their talents (except for the son of Dave, who had a hard time because he had not yet recognized his true purpose in life). They misused their talents, however, because they did not know that their destiny was the destiny that Dave set for them. They would know in the future that Dave needed them to rid the world of ignorance and stupidity. It would take time, though, for them to be ready for the task at hand.

     By the time these 5 young men were ready for their destiny, the world was even worse than it was before. There had been terrorist attacks, wars, destruction in massive proportions. They were indeed ready at the last minute. The 5 boys had grown to be good friends, and were like family. One day, fate brought them all together, and set them on a journey that would open their eyes to the truth. Open their eyes to Dave.

    They found themselves in their leader's house, discussing the most important of current events, politics, economics, history, and other things of the like. Then, as fate may have it, they embarked on a journey. They started with a trip to a local general store to purchase liquid refreshment, and to win the heart of a fair maiden. They failed miserably at the winning the heart part, but succeeded in buying refreshments. They also caused the son of Dave to smudge a dipping sauce on his trousers. They then headed to a larger store to buy him a new pair of trousers.

     They failed in their quest to acquire new trousers, but had good hearty laughs and made the son wear clothes meant for girls. However, it was here that they discovered The Great Dave. They found him in his usual form, a plastic bird, perched upon a raised surface. They were drawn to him, and immediately knew that it was to be theirs. They did not know why, but they knew it must be.

     They purchased the plastic bird, took him home, and immediately idolized him. They knew that his name was to be Dave, and that he was of great importance. The boys did not truly understand that Dave was of much more importance until much later. The day after their trip to the store, their land was ice-ridden. The plants outside were enveloped in a solid sheet of ice, and the roads were only traversible by foot, because none of their automobiles were equipped to operate on the ice-covered roads.

     The young men grew hungry, and weary of being held inside their home, and by the will of Dave, which they still failed to recognize, decided to embark on a long journey to obtain cheap, delicious food. They left their home and started down the road, talking and laughing, unaware of the great events that awaited them. They would soon find out the true purpose of what was happening.

     They noticed a bird that looked exactly like their plastic bird that was perched upon a telephone wire. Then they realized that this, in fact, WAS their bird, but in the form of a living version of it's plastic form, guarding them, and guiding them. They then began to realize that they had a greater purpose in this journey, and that Dave was more than a mere plastic bird.

     They began to have revelations and realizations that Dave placed in their minds. They came to the conclusion that Dave was the true God, and that they were prophets, since they were the only ones who realized this truth. They then realized that the one with no apparent useful talent must have been the son of Dave, because of the hardships he faced and trials and tribulations. They realized that since he had no talent to offer Dave, he didn't require one, because him simply being among the other prophets was enough to please Dave.

     Then came their true sign that they were led by The Great and Powerful Dave. They noticed on the side of the path a beautiful sight. A useless, disappointing, fresh, beautiful sight. They knew in their hearts that Dave put this there for them, that he loved them, and that he wanted them to cleanse the world of the wrongness that had befallen it.

title: The Book of Dave

question: What does the story say about the protagonists' relationship with the dove?

answer: Dave, a god, who created the world, takes a form of a plastic dove. He set out to create 5 strong men, the protagonists of the story, who would spread his holy name. They did not know that their destiny was the destiny that Dave set for them. One day, they purchased a plastic bird. They were drawn to him and immediately knew that it was to be theirs. Later, they noticed a bird that looked exactly like their plastic and realized that this, in fact, was their bird, but in the form of a living version of its plastic form, guarding them, and guiding them. They realize that Dave was the true God. They knew that Dave loved them and that he wanted them to cleanse the world of the wrongness.

question: What does the story say about the success of the protagonists' mission?

question: What does the story say about the wrongness in the world?

answer: The world was in pretty pitiful condition by the 1990s. God set out to create 5 strong men who would spread his holy name. By the time these 5 young men were ready for their destiny, the world was even worse than it was before. There had been terrorist attacks, wars, and destruction in massive proportions. God wanted the protagonists to cleanse the world of the wrongness that had befallen it.


text:
Excerpt from found journal at site 225-A9.

Author identified as only Doctor S. PHD.

Dated March 14th 2035

Noted location: "Old World," State-run Hospital VA-02295 "St. Francine's"

...
  As I read the chart I noticed the results of the State mandated Gen-PreF tests. It reported that my next patient couple was decidedly more comfortable with a "male" doctor. I was disappointed. I thought about how I would have to announce myself as "Mystr S., PHD." It just didn't roll of the tongue as well as "Miss" did, or even the more simple "Dr. S." and leave my gender neutral. I wasn't worried about passing off as a man though, I had just visited the barb-ilist. The thym that worked on me did a wonderful job, not too long, not too short. The perfect blend of "long-haired man" or "not too short-haired woman." My other traits have all been sculpted to be "visual kei." I still, to this day, swear the hip shrinking pelvis shaving surgery was far more painful than my breast reduction, counter to the common claims of my peers. The State supplied hormone pills took care of everything else.

  When I stepped into the room I took a quick measure of the persons in front of me. The "male" was decidedly trying to be neutral, but his haggard complexion and signs of stubble on his face, gave me the impression of "him" more than anything. I allowed him the improper variance given the womyn in the room. "She" was nervous, her eyes darted down from him to me as I walked in. She was several weeks pregnant, and starting to show.

  "Hello, Miss J. and Mystr K., my name is Docto- I mean Mystr S., PHD," I said, slipping.

  The man narrowed his eyes and looked me up and down, but kept his mouth shut. She was in a sitting position in the chair in the middle of the room, he was standing over her left shoulder, his hand on it.

  "I've been reading your chart, here... no family names?" I asked conversationally.

  The womyn looked up at him and squeezed his hand as he cringed, "I don't have a family."

  She looked back down to me and said, "I used to have a family name, but I went through a deerkin phase and had it legally changed. After I met K. here I changed it back to my given name but kept out my family name for hym." I noticed the inflection when she said "hym." Keeping up appearances I assumed. It was well enough, because I did have the power to incite sanctions against them for not keeping to the rules of neutrality.

  "Ah, so J and K it is then. Not Myssus hmm? You aren't legal life partners yet?" I quizzed sitting down in the swivel chair provided for me.

  The man stood taller and said almost monotonously, "No, but we have cohabited for two and a half years now."

  This response was acceptable, since the State funded OCare that was paying for this visit only allowed them to be here if they met certain criteria. Marriage is no longer a legal coupling, one of the few concessions the retro-conservs won from the peace talks after The Gender Wars, but cohabitation for a period longer than two years was.

  What I found most interesting was their nervousness in using the State funded care. Nearly everyone did now, and since the demand was so low, non-funded health care was pretty cheap. Heck, with nearly everything provided to me at my andro housing barracks, my stipend of 'fun' expenditures could easily afford the cost of a legally enforced gender checkup during pregnancy. Not that I would ever get pregnant, disgusting. Genetic tailoring and the use of synthetic wombs is such a cleaner option.

  "Very good. Let's take a look at your fetus shall we then?" I said as I down the chart, grabbed some latex gloves from the counter, wheeled closer, and pulled the ultrasound caddy closer.

  Everything checked out okay, with one exception. "Healthy, but sorry, it's a boy. As you know our current sector has too many male children. When would you like to schedule the termination, this afternoon, or sometime later this week?"

  The female unit started to cry.

title: [SP] Sorry, it's a boy.

question: Why is the story obsessed with gender?

answer: This takes place in some alternate dystopia where gender wars have taken place, quotas on gendered individuals are in effect, and everyone strives to be gender neutral.

question: What is the narrator's gender?

answer: Sounds like they've transitioned from female to gender neutral, more masculine.

question: When does this take place?

answer: 2035

question: Why does the narrator suggest that they must terminate the patient's pregnancy?

answer: Because the child is a boy and there are too many boys in their sector.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: A doctor that has undergone gender transition operations and alterations strives to enforce gender neutrality laws enacted after the gender wars. All sorts of gender neutral laws and customs are implied. When the patient is informed that their child is a boy, they're told the only option is termination because there are too many boys in their current sector.


text:
As a decentralised peer-to-peer network, OriginTrail uses an ERC20 token, Trace ($TRAC), to manage relations between users and nodes that make up the network. The main aim of the network is not to impose technical limitations that would require arbitrary decisions of the technical architects, but rather to have market forces achieve equilibrium within the network and be self-adjusting, ensuring the required longevity. Recently, we published the first version of the incentive model describing how these relations are being formed, sustained and incentivised. In the paragraphs below we look to explain, in more detail, how the incentive model will impact the dynamics of the network.

The model presumes dynamics that occur due to demand created by its protocol level utility for which Trace was created (Trace is a utility token, read more about it here). Key assumptions put forward in the token demand model will be subject to rigorous testing in the period following the test net launch and prior to the mainnet deployment.

The model presented below is the first version created by the OriginTrail team which will pass several third-party reviews over the upcoming months and will be subject to improvements/amendments based on those reviews in the future.

Key Characteristics

There are two characteristics of the OriginTrail Decentralised Network (ODN) that are especially important for the token demand model:

-

    REPLICATION FACTOR (R) — in order to ensure data immutability and to avoid the possibility of collusion, all the data on the network is replicated with a replication factor R. The theoretical minimum replication factor R that provides integrity to a particular dataset is 2n + 1, where n is the number of the actors in the observed supply chain in the context of the provided data. For more info on the concept, refer to our White Paper.
-

    STAKING — in order to incentivise nodes in the network to be good actors and provide value, a staking mechanism has been introduced where Data Holder (DH) nodes are required to provide a stake in tokens, according to conditions agreed upon in the agreement which is the result of the bidding process. The minimum required amount of stake is something that is up to discretion of the DC node and can be adjusted depending on the use-case.

Market Forces of the ODN and Key Assumptions

There are two market forces in place within the ODN ecosystem.

1.

    DEMAND is represented EXCLUSIVELY by the total need for ODN’s functionality on the side of stakeholders (companies) who want to use the protocol. This demand is represented in the model by the amount of fiat currency pressure (F) companies create for the TRAC token that is in turn used to compensate the nodes of the system.
2.

    SUPPLY is represented by the TRAC token supply. As mentioned, TRAC represents a means of compensating the nodes in the network and, in turn, accessing the functionalities of the ODN. The model treats total available TRAC in circulation as the supply side of the graph, assuming there will be sufficient amount of nodes that are willing to offer services (storage and processing power) for TRAC compensation. The supply curve in the model is perfectly inelastic and we are ASSUMING THAT THE ENTIRE SUPPLY IS BEING USED FOR THE PROTOCOL LEVEL UTILITY.

Dynamics of the ODN

The final dynamics of the ecosystem will be determined by both the market forces and characteristics of the network. Let’s look at these dynamics step-by-step as the network experiences an increase in demand.

Step 1: Initial Equilibrium

In the initial phase, we have a given demand for the network’s functionality D0 and a total available circulating supply of S0. The equilibrium is established at the intersection of both (S0, D0) and price of P0. The available amount of tokens in this state is Q0

[Image for post]

Step 2: A Triple Effect

For the next step, let’s analyse the movements when a demand pressure of F enters the ecosystem, creating a triple effect.

The first effect that the new demand pressure F creates is moving the demand curve upward, whereas the total available supply remain the same. The new equilibrium is established at P’.

[Image for post]

The second effect a pressure of F creates is an increase in demand by the average factor of staking factor (Sf) used in the contracts created by the DCs, multiplied by F. On the graph, this is shown by the demand curve making another move upward from D’ to D’’, pushing the equilibrium price from P’ to P’’.

[Image for post]

The third effect is another consequence of Sf. Once TRAC tokens are staked in the smart contracts, they have effectively been removed from the circulating supply until the agreements have concluded. This means that the total available supply falls from S0 to S’’’ showing the last effect of the demand F entering the ecosystem. The move from S0 to S’’’ changes the price from P’’ to P’’’.

[Image for post]

Step 3: The New Equilibrium

[Image for post]

The new equilibrium therefore gets established at P’’’ as an effect of demand pressure F, demand for the required stake depending on the S0, and the lowering of supply as the tokens get staked in the smart contract.

The move from equilibrium point of E0 in time t-1 to E’’’ in t, is described by the equations below.

_D(t) = F(t)P(t-1)_

_P(0) = $0.1_

_Q(0) = 500 000 000 TRAC_

_Q(t) = Q(t-1) — D(t)⋅Sf_

The Demand Model

In addition to the dynamics, we have produced a simplified model that can give you a rough estimation as to how much demand for the TRAC token (in USD) a certain level of adoption can bring. All figures have been factored in for minimal values (i.e. theoretical minimum of 2n+1).The model is available here and has the following variables as inputs:

S — Observed supply chains are a (relatively) constant group of partners that are involved in a supply chain of particular products that you wish to create estimations on;

M — Average number of months that data will be stored on the ODN;

D — Average size of data size per DC import;

Pw — Average price of data stored per kb per month in $;

n — Average number of stakeholders per observed supply chain (S);

Pr — Average price per data read;

V — Monthly velocity (repetitions) for the observed batch;

Sf — Average stake factor;

F — Estimated fiat demand for the token based on the assumptions;

TD — Estimated total fiat demand, including staking.

The variables have a linear correlation that approximately follow this equation:

F(t) = S x N x M x D x V x (2N x Pw + (N-3) x Pr)

TD = F + F * Sf

Let’s look at it one part at the time:

-

    GENERAL VARIABLES — All general variables influence the model as a whole. Increasing their values means increasing the entire value by that same factor. With a NUMBER OF OBSERVED CHAINS (S) you are able to describe the group of supply chains you would like to observe within the model. It can be linked to a company, a region, an industry, a country or other estimations. The second variable is the average NUMBER OF STAKEHOLDERS (N) within the observed supply chain. The next is the NUMBER OF MONTHS (M), representing the average time that data has to be stored based on your estimation and the use case. DATA SIZE (D) is what the estimate would be for average input per stakeholder in the observed supply chains for one batch (in kBs). VELOCITY (V) represents the frequency (repetitions) of a particular observed product supply chain within a month. This number greatly depends on the type of product/service.
-

    WRITE (STORAGE) VARIABLES — The next group of variables is linked to writing data to the protocol. The premise of the _2N x Pw x N_ is to describe the number of inputs to the network based on the key characteristics described above. 2N is the number of replications every actor has to perform to reach the integrity minimum (it is 2N instead of (2N+1) because one replication is the DC node itself). Pw is the price of storing 1kB of data per month and is the established price between DCs and DHs achieved through the bidding mechanism.
-

    READ VARIABLES — The third group of variables are related to reading from the network. The premise is that every stakeholder will at least want to read the data from other stakeholders. Because the protocol automatically replicates data one-step-back and one-step-forward, N is lowered by 3. Pr is the price of reading 1kB of data.
-

    STAKING — The last variable is the STAKE FACTOR (Sf), which is determined within the created agreement. It increases the total demand by F x Sf.

The formula can be populated with your estimates here.

We will keep a close watch on how the dynamics will unveil once the network mainnet is released in September and adapt the model with the additional feedback we collect in the process.

Trace on!

question: What does the text say about Monero?

question: What does the text say about OriginTrail?

answer: OriginTrail is a decentralized peer-to-peer network that uses an ERC20 token called Trace ($TRAC) to manage relations between users and nodes that make up the network. The main aim of the network is to have market forces achieve equilibrium within the network and be self-adjusting, which ensures the required longevity. OriginTrail doesn't impose technical limitations that would require arbitrary decisions of the technical architects.

question: Summarize the key characteristics of the OriginTrail Decentralized Network (ODN) for the token demand model.

answer: The OriginTrail Decentralized Network (ODN) has two characteristics: Replication Factor (R) and Staking. Replication Factor ensures data immutability and the possibility of collusion by replicating the network with a replication factor of R. Theoretically, the minimum replication factor R that provides integrity to a particular dataset is 2n + 1, where n is the number of the actors in the observed supply chain in the context of the provided data. Staking incentivizes nodes in the network to be good actors and provide value. A staking mechanism has been introduced where the Data Holder (DH) nodes are required to provide a stake in tokens, according to conditions agreed upon in the agreement. The minimum required stake amount is up to the discretion of the DC node and can be adjusted accordingly.

question: What does the text say about ODN Market Forces?

answer: The two market forces in place within the ODN ecosystem are Demand and Supply. Demand is exclusively represented by the total need for ODN's functionality on the side of stakeholders (companies) who want to use the protocol. The demand is represented in the model by the amount of fiat currency pressure (F) companies create for the TRAC token that is used to compensate the nodes of the system. Supply is represented by the TRAC token supply. TRAC represents a means of compensating the nodes in the network which access the functionalities of ODN. The model treats the total available TRAC in circulation as the supply side of the graph.


text:
_PIPI & BIBI'S_ is a 1991 eroge action-platform arcade video game developed and published by Toaplan in Japan and in Europe by Nova Apparate GMBH & Co.[1][2][3] It is notable for being one of the few titles by Toaplan that has not received any official port to home consoles as of date. In the game, players assume the role of Pipi and Bibi attempting to place time bombs in buildings filled with enemies who appear from behind closed doors and escape before the location collapses.

As of 2019, the rights to _Pipi & Bibi's_ is owned by Tatsujin, a company founded in 2017 by former Toaplan member Masahiro Yuge and now-affiliate of Japanese arcade manufacturer exA-Arcadia alongside many other IPs from the defunct studio.

Gameplay

[Gameplay screenshot.] _Pipi & Bibi's_ is an eroge action-platform game reminiscent of _Elevator Action_, where the players assume the role of Pipi (P1) and Bibi (P2) entering a series of six increasingly difficult buildings composed of four stages filled with enemies in order to set up time bombs on computer rooms and exit from the area before it collapses from the explosion as the main objective to reveal the picture of a woman.[4][5][6] For each stage completed, 1/4 of a woman's picture is shown and the full picture is revealed once all four stages of a building are cleared.[7] Getting hit by an enemy will result in losing a live and once all lives are lost, the game is over unless the players insert more credits into the arcade machine to continue playing.

Along the way, players can defend against enemies by shooting their laser beam weapon and depending how long the beam is held on, enemies will fall off to the platform below or out the playfield but they respawn from behind closed doors.[8][9] Players traverse the stages through stairs and elevators, which can also be used by enemies as well. The player characters can also perform a sliding kick when the elevator door are opening or closing and this tactic can also be used to defeat enemies. On occasions, an “H” coin appears to be collected and depending on the number of coins collected before clearing all four stages, the woman on the picture takes more of her clothes.[10][11] After setting up the time bombs, players only have twenty seconds to exit before the bombs detonate but if the players characters are hit by an enemy, the area collapses but players are forced to clear the stage once again.[12][13]

Development and release

_Pipi & Bibi's_ was released on arcades worldwide by Toaplan and Nova Apparate GMBH & Co. in 1991.[14][15] The soundtrack was composed by Osamu Ōta, although he is not credited as such in the game.[16] On 25 April 2018, an album containing music from the title, as well as _Snow Bros._ and its sequel was published exclusively in Japan by City Connection under their Clarice Disk label.[17]

Reception and legacy

In Japan, _Game Machine_ listed _Pipi & Bibi's_ on their May 1, 1992 issue as being the ninthtenth most-popular arcade game at the time.[18] Spanish gaming magazine _Micromanía_ gave an overall mixed outlook to the game.[19] In more recent years, the rights to _Pipi & Bibi's_ and many other IPs from Toaplan are now owned by Tatsujin, a company named after _Truxton_'s Japanese title that was founded in 2017 by former Toaplan employee Masahiro Yuge, who are now affiliated with arcade manufacturer exA-Arcadia.[20][21][22][23][24]

Notes

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4] _Whoopee!!_ arcade flyer (Toaplan, JP)

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18]

[19]

[20]

[21]

[22]

[23]

[24]

title: Pipi & Bibi's

question: What is Pipi & Bibi's?

answer: An eroge action-platform arcade video game.

question: When was Pipi & Bibi's made?

answer: 1991.

question: Who owns the rights to Pipi & Bibi's

answer: Tatsujin.

question: Who composed the soundtrack to Pipi & Bibi's?

answer: Osamu Ota.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This article is about Pipi & Bibi's an arcade game produced in 1991.


text:
“NAMASTE” is the fourth episode of the fifth season of the AMC television series _Better Call Saul_, the spinoff series of _Breaking Bad_. The episode aired on March 9, 2020 on AMC in the United States. Outside of the United States, the episode premiered on streaming service Netflix in several countries.

Plot

On the day after the closing scene of “The Guy for This”, Jimmy and Kim head to work. Jimmy cons Sticky and Ron, the two drug users who had one of his “50% off” business cards, into keeping him as their counsel when they seem ready to accept a free public defender. Jimmy has lunch with Howard, who admits that HHM wronged Jimmy in the past, but says the feud was between Jimmy and Chuck, not Jimmy and the firm. Howard offers Jimmy the chance to join HHM and gives him time to think it over, but Jimmy is once again unsettled by the reminder of his previous life.

Kim recommends to Kevin and Paige an alternate building site that will enable Mesa Verde to work around Everett Acker's refusal to vacate his home, but they insist on evicting him. Kim looks on as Jimmy uses the Saul Goodman persona in a courtroom con that achieves a mistrial. She asks Jimmy as Saul to represent Acker against Mesa Verde, and Acker agrees to retain him. Jimmy buys three bowling balls at a pawn shop (as shown _in medias res_ in the cold open) and flings them over Howard's front gate, damaging his expensive car.

The Albuquerque Police and DEA stake out the last of Gus's dead drops. Diego collects the money, then leads the DEA on a wild chase, eluding them by escaping through a small tunnel after abandoning the cash. While Hank is disappointed they did not get information on the higher-ups, the DEA and police celebrate the seizure of “just shy of a million dollars” in drug money, as well as the arrests of the three men who made the drug drops. Diego regroups with Victor and they contact Gus to inform him their task is complete. Gus has been seething in anger and venting his frustration on Lyle, making him repeatedly clean the Los Pollos Hermanos fryers. After Gus hangs up, Lyle asks if the fryers are clean enough, and Gus's reply that they are “acceptable” is clearly a reference to the dead drops.

Mike arrives at Stacey's home to watch Kaylee but finds Stacey hired another babysitter. She tells Mike she does not feel comfortable leaving Kaylee with him as the result of his previous outburst. Later that night, as Mike is walking home, he is set upon by the street thugs he previously encountered. They beat and stab him and Mike wakes up in a pueblo at an unknown location.

Production

“Namaste” is the directorial debut of Gordon Smith, who had started off as a production assistant on _Breaking Bad_ before becoming a screenwriter for both that show and _Better Call Saul_. In addition, Smith wrote the screenplay.[1]

_Namaste_ is a Hindi customary greeting; in the episode, it is used as Howard's custom license plate for his car.[2]

Reception

“Namaste” received critical acclaim. On Rotten Tomatoes, it garnered a 92% rating with an average score of 8.21/10 based on 14 reviews. The site's critical consensus is, “Everyone is struggling to keep their cool in a _Better Call Saul_ entry that meticulously sets up the season's storytelling pins, racking up suspense for the impending bowling ball that'll knock everything down.”[3]

Ratings

“Namaste” was watched by 1.22 million viewers on its first broadcast,[4] which was a slight increase from the previous week of 1.18 million.[5]

Notes

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

title: Namaste (Better Call Saul)

question: Summarize the plot of "Namaste", the fourth episode of season five of Better Call Saul.

answer: Jimmy sabotages an associate who offers him a job after the reminders of his previous life. Kim can't get Mesa Verde to agree not to evict Acker and asks Jimmy to represent him as Saul Goodman. He agrees. The DEA manage to catch three lower-level personnel of the Albuquerque drug cartel but miss their chance to apprehend a higher-level one. Mike's desire to watch over Kaylee is rejected by Stacey, who feels uncomfortable leaving him alone with Kaylee after his outburst. On his way back, Mike gets beaten and stabbed by the street thugs he encountered before and wakes up in a pueblo.

question: What does the text say about the finances of the episode?


text:
“Well.”

You know the word hurts her.  In your mind’s eye, you see how its barbed indifference breaks through the receiver, pierces her eardrum, and drills its way into her veins.  You must have known how she would answer.

“That’s good.”

There’s a long silence.  Perhaps her words had the same effect on you, but she hopes not.  She doesn’t want everything to end like this, it’s just... there’s nothing left for her to say.

The silence stretches further.  You can tell that she’s waiting for you to apologise and make everything right again, but you won’t, and nothing can ever be right again.  Everything is ending.

The silence is harsh now, stretched so taut that even the smallest murmur could shatter it like frosted glass, breaking it into a thousand polished razors.  You therefore pick the lesser of two evils and silence her with your thumb, pressing down on the picture of the red phone with a firm click.  That was your last chance to speak together before they shut off all communication and close the doors, but at this moment you don’t want to care.

Why couldn’t you have just gone with her, survived with her, loved her?  She loved you.  You said that you didn’t want to live out your days in a metal house, that you wanted to die someplace where you could still see a new dawn or a new face.  She didn’t understand you; if the end is the same, then surely an extended night is better than a brief dawn?  She never could understand how you felt, how you nobly embraced your death, content with the life you had led, whilst she hid in the ground like a coward.

She still remembers when the two of you first met.  It was her first summer in England since she fled from her homeland.  She lived for a while as an outsider, a struggling refugee in a strange, alien land, and had just begun to settle in when she spilled a cup of coffee on you at the station.  You exchanged bouts of apologies and self-blame until they were gradually replaced with dull platitudes and became conversation, and you asked her to join you for a drink.

You took her to what you said was the best coffee shop in all of London; it was a standard coffee chain – Starbucks, if she remembers correctly – but you said that it was in just the right position, that when dawn broke and the sky turned golden, the light would rush and weave its way along the cobbled alley, and its wealds would engulf the shop in warmth and make it shine.  She only understood about half of the words you used, but it seemed to make her feel safe for a time.  You didn’t seem like most English men, not chasing after the latest car or piece of Apple merchandise, but thoughtful, considerate.  You were intelligent, referencing Plutarch, Socrates, and even the Bible – although you held no faith yourself – whenever you saw the slightest opportunity, and devoted to making something of your life, but still unsure of what to make of it.

The two of you had discussed the idea of someone pressing that infamous red button back then as a thought exercise, the idea had seemed ridiculous.  Even still, your decision was unanimous; neither of you wanted to live in a metal house, you’d both rather die someplace where you could see a new dawn.  She was still affected by her experience of war in her homeland, and was determined that nothing would make her flee her new home, that she’d rather die than live in a cage – even one of her own choosing.  That was four years ago; you were both young and foolish, filled with noble, quixotic ideas of romance and freedom.

“Everything ends eventually,” you said; that was your reasoning.  “Best embrace that ending someplace where you can still smell the breeze.”  It sounded so sincere, so meaningful that she was completely taken with your sudden existentialism.  You quoted Asimov.  “Even the stars run out, you know.”

It was reassuring for her to know that the world in which she had suffered so much would come to an end someday, but things change over four years.  People grow up, don’t they?

It was on the day that the war that had engulfed her home finally came to an end – one or two years ago, you couldn’t quite remember which – that things began to change.  To her, the world no longer seemed to just bring suffering, for it had brought her a new home, a new chance at life, and you; to you, the world’s progress – being entirely unrelated to your own – was insignificant, and the world’s ignorance of your talent served only to confirm your perception of yourself as a chained and muzzled muse, yearning to break free and soar above the philistine mob.

Over time, she became closer to you, her affection increasing along with her skill for English, and you seemed to feel for her, although you weren’t quite sure.  Maybe you would have loved her someday, but the current events distracted you; with tensions mounting over Syria and Iran, suddenly the idea of someone pushing the red button didn’t seem quite so ridiculous anymore.  It scared you.

The government announced the bunker system a month ago, although they’d obviously been working on it for some time; they knew it would be needed eventually.  You’d been with her that day, but she had been acting strangely; she was clearly expecting something, and you thought you knew what.  She wanted a piece of metal for herself, a band of metal and a rock to wrap around her finger and to chain your inner artist once and for all.  How selfish.  You didn’t think you were ready for that commitment.  It scared you.
So you focused yourself upon your art, that was all that was important, or so you told yourself.  This was how you were going to endure, how you were going to cheat that familiar stranger, Death.  You needed no philosopher’s stone or alchemist’s piss, through your art you would become immortal, infinite.  But the nagging feeling at the back of your mind warned that you would fail, that you would die unnoticed and unable to repent.  It scared you.

There was warning before the missiles were going to hit, about thirty-six hours between when the satellites registered the launch and when they were expected to impact the city.  You took her to the coffee shop to discuss what the two of you would do with your last precious hours of life, but she surprised you; she was going underground, to the bunkers, and she needed you to join her.  Your throat turned to ice.  Hadn’t you already told her that you didn’t want to live your life with her in a metal house?  Hadn’t she said that she didn’t want to die in a cage, wasn’t the dawn important to her?

She said that it was about immortality, humanity needed to endure.  All the beauty that people had wrought needed to survive this ultimate show of humanity’s true nature; why couldn’t you see that?  She’d found so much to live for in this new world, and she hadn’t fled her own land just to die in a new one.  She loves you, that was the point, but what was the point in love if it isn’t eternal?

You wouldn’t listen to her entreaties, for she had betrayed you.  The tethers were tightening on the muse inside, the ball and chain restricting its movement.  You were losing your chance for immortality, and it must be her fault.  You didn’t know, but by this point you had built your own metal prison.  You have trapped yourself inside a cocoon of solipsistic iron and you can’t find a way out.  You are lost in a maze and the hollow walls are razors that tear and split your skin, and all that lies at the centre is a hangman’s noose.

But it’s not your fault is it?  It’s hers!  You call her witch and a whore, how dare she!  In turn, she calls you selfish, but her words have no bite, she thinks she’s lying.

So it’s over.  You tell her never to call you again, that she should enjoy her thirty pieces of silver while she can.  She picks up her coat and gently asks you what you’ll do with your last remaining hours.
“Wait,” you say, and then you divert your gaze to the coffee-stained table; you are done.  She walks out the door and joins the shuffling crowds moving slowly towards the bunker entrance.  She’s gone.

So you wait; the shop is deserted now, and eventually dusk falls.  The shadows slither and clamber along the cobbled alleyway, their tendrils slowly swallowing the building, sucking all warmth from the shop until it seems entirely forsaken, empty.

There’s a small vibration in your pocket; you pull out your phone and answer the call.  She asks you how you are.

“Well,” you say.

title: Metal Houses - A piece I wrote for a competition that didn't get through, would appreciate critique (x-post r/write)

question: What does the story say about the coffee shop?

answer: The coffee shop mentioned is a part of a chain, possibly a Starbucks. One character claims to another that this particular shop is in the perfect position for the dawn light.

question: Summarize the antagonist's motives.


text:
JACK HANNAN is a Canadian poet and novelist living in Montreal, Quebec. He has published three books of poetry, four chapbooks, and one novel. He also edited the M.B.M. Monograph Series (published by Mansfield Book Mart). His work has been circulating in Canadian literary magazines since the 1970s and he participated in Dial-A-Poem Montreal 1985-1987. He stopped writing entirely from 1984-2004.[1] Published in 2011, _Some Frames_ was a finalist for the Quebec Writers' Federation’s A.M. Klein Award for poetry. In 2016, his first novel, ''The Poet is a Radio, was a finalist for the Quebec Writers' Federation’s Hugh MacLennan Award for fiction.

[1] 'John Kenney “Montreal poet Jack Hannan shows us that poetry...” _Ottawa Citizen._ November 25, 2011.

Publications

Poetry

-   _Some Frames._ Toronto, ON: Cormorant Books, 2011.
-   _A Rhythm to Stand Beside._ Toronto, ON: Cormorant Books, 2013.
-   _Peeling Oranges in the Shade._ Sutton, ON: Paget Press, 1978.

Prose

-   _The Poet Is a Radio._ Montreal, QC: Linda Leith Publishing. 2016.

[1] John Herbert Cunningham. “Looking for ways to start again: Jack Hannan's _Some Frames_.” _Arc Poetry Magazine_. July 10, 2012.

title: Jack Hannan

question: Who is Jack Hannan?

answer: A poet and novelist.

question: Where does he live?

answer: Montreal, Quebec, Canada.

question: How many novels has he published?

answer: One.

question: What year was his novel a finalist for the Quebec Writers' Federation's Hugh MacLennan Award for fiction?

answer: 2016.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Jack Hannan is a Canadian poet and novelist living in Montreal who has published three books of poetry, four chapbooks, and one novel. After having his work circulate in Canadian literary magazines in the 1970s, Hannan stopped writing from 1984-2004. His 2016 novel "The Poet is a Radio" was a finalist for the Quebec Quebec Writers' Federation's Hugh MacLennan Award for fiction.


text:
This is a list of the MAMMAL SPECIES RECORDED IN MAURITIUS. Of the mammal species in Mauritius, one is critically endangered, three are vulnerable, and one is considered to be extinct.[1]

The following tags are used to highlight each species' conservation status as assessed by the International Union for Conservation of Nature:

  ---- ----------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
  EX   EXTINCT                 No reasonable doubt that the last individual has died.
  EW   EXTINCT IN THE WILD     Known only to survive in captivity or as a naturalized populations well outside its previous range.
  CR   CRITICALLY ENDANGERED   The species is in imminent risk of extinction in the wild.
  EN   ENDANGERED              The species is facing an extremely high risk of extinction in the wild.
  VU   VULNERABLE              The species is facing a high risk of extinction in the wild.
  NT   NEAR THREATENED         The species does not meet any of the criteria that would categorise it as risking extinction but it is likely to do so in the future.
  LC   LEAST CONCERN           There are no current identifiable risks to the species.
  DD   DATA DEFICIENT          There is inadequate information to make an assessment of the risks to this species.
  ---- ----------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some species were assessed using an earlier set of criteria. Species assessed using this system have the following instead of near threatened and least concern categories:

  ------- ----------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
  LR/cd   LOWER RISK/CONSERVATION DEPENDENT   Species which were the focus of conservation programmes and may have moved into a higher risk category if that programme was discontinued.
  LR/nt   LOWER RISK/NEAR THREATENED          Species which are close to being classified as vulnerable but are not the subject of conservation programmes.
  LR/lc   LOWER RISK/LEAST CONCERN            Species for which there are no identifiable risks.
  ------- ----------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Order: Sirenia (manatees and dugongs)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Dugongs] Sirenia is an order of fully aquatic, herbivorous mammals that inhabit rivers, estuaries, coastal marine waters, swamps, and marine wetlands. All four species are endangered.

-   Family: Dugongidae
    -   Genus: _Dugong_
        -   Dugong, _Dugong dugon_ VU

Order: Chiroptera (bats)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bats' most distinguishing feature is that their forelimbs are developed as wings, making them the only mammals capable of flight. Bat species account for about 20% of all mammals.

-   -   Family: Pteropodidae (flying foxes, Old World fruit bats)
        -   Subfamily: Pteropodinae
            -   Genus: _Pteropus_
                -   Mauritian flying fox, _Pteropus niger_ VU
                -   Rodrigues flying fox, _Pteropus rodricensis_ CR
                -   Small Mauritian flying fox, _Pteropus subniger_ EX
    -   Family: Molossidae
        -   Genus: _Mormopterus_
            -   Natal free-tailed bat, _Mormopterus acetabulosus_ VU
    -   Family: Emballonuridae
        -   Genus: _Taphozous_
            -   Mauritian tomb bat, _Taphozous mauritianus_ LC

Order: Cetacea (whales)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Sperm whales off Mauritius] The order Cetacea includes whales, dolphins and porpoises. They are the mammals most fully adapted to aquatic life with a spindle-shaped nearly hairless body, protected by a thick layer of blubber, and forelimbs and tail modified to provide propulsion underwater.

-   Suborder: Mysticeti
    -   Family: Balaenopteridae
        -   Subfamily: Balaenopterinae
            -   Genus: _Balaenoptera_
                -   Common minke whale, _Balaenoptera acutorostrata_ LC
                -   Antarctic minke whale, _Balaenoptera bonaerensis_ DD
                -   Bryde's whale, _Balaenoptera edeni_ DD
                -   Southern sei whale, _Balaenoptera borealis schlegelii_ EN
                -   Southern fin whale, _Balaenoptera physalus quoyi_ EN
                -   Pygmy blue whale, _Balaenoptera musculus brevicauda_ DD
                -   Southern blue whale, _Balaenoptera musculus intermedia_ EN
        -   Family: Megapterinae
            -   Genus: _Megaptera_
                -   Humpback whale, _Megaptera novaeangliae_ LC
        -   Family: Balaenidae
            -   Genus: _Eubalaena_
                -   Southern right whale, _Eubalaena australis_ LC (rarer on today's Mauritius)
-   Suborder: Odontoceti
    -   Family: Physeteridae
        -   Genus: _Physeter_
            -   Sperm whale, _Physeter macrocephalus_ VU
    -   Family: Kogiidae
        -   Genus: _Kogia_
            -   Pygmy sperm whale, _Kogia breviceps_ DD
            -   Dwarf sperm whale, _Kogia sima_ DD
    -   Family: Ziphidae
        -   Genus: _Indopacetus_
            -   Tropical bottlenose whale, _Indopacetus pacificus_ DD
        -   Genus: _Ziphius_
            -   Cuvier's beaked whale, _Ziphius cavirostris_ DD
        -   Subfamily: Hyperoodontinae
            -   Genus: _Mesoplodon_
                -   Blainville's beaked whale, _Mesoplodon densirostris_ DD
                -   Gray's beaked whale, _Mesoplodon grayi_ DD
                -   Hector's beaked whale, _Mesoplodon hectori_ DD
                -   Layard's beaked whale, _Mesoplodon layardii_ DD
                -   True's beaked whale, _Mesoplodon mirus_ DD
    -   Superfamily: Delphinoidea
        -   Family: Delphinidae (marine dolphins)
            -   Genus: _Steno_
                -   Rough-toothed dolphin, _Steno bredanensis_ LC
            -   Genus: _Grampus_
                -   Risso's dolphin, _Grampus griseus_ DD
            -   Genus: _Globicephala_
                -   Short-finned pilot whale, _Globicephala macrorhynchus_ DD
            -   Genus: _Sousa_
                -   Indian humpback dolphin, _Sousa plumbea_ NT
            -   Genus: _Tursiops_
                -   Indo-Pacific bottlenose dolphin, _Tursiops aduncus_ DD
                -   Common bottlenose dolphin, _Tursiops truncatus_ LC
            -   Genus: _Stenella_
                -   Pantropical spotted dolphin, _Stenella attenuata_ LC
                -   Striped dolphin, _Stenella coeruleoalba_ LC
                -   Spinner dolphin, _Stenella longirostris_ DD
            -   Genus: _Delphinus_
                -   Long-beaked common dolphin, _Delphinus capensis_ DD
            -   Genus: _Lagenodelphis_
                -   Fraser's dolphin, _Lagenodelphis hosei_ DD
            -   Genus: _Peponocephala_
                -   Melon-headed whale, _Peponocephala electra_ DD
            -   Genus: _Pseudorca_
                -   False killer whale, _Pseudorca crassidens_ DD
            -   Genus: _Feresa_
                -   Pygmy killer whale, _Feresa attenuata_ DD
            -   Genus: _Orcinus_
                -   Orca, _Orcinus orca_ DD

Order: Carnivora (carnivorans)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Southern elephant seal] There are over 260 species of carnivorans, the majority of which feed primarily on meat. They have a characteristic skull shape and dentition.

-   Suborder: Caniformia
    -   Family: Phocidae (earless seals)
        -   Genus: _Mirounga_
            -   Southern elephant seal, _Mirounga leonina_ LR/lc

[1] This list is derived from the IUCN Red List which lists species of mammals and includes those mammals that have recently been classified as extinct (since 1500 AD). The taxonomy and naming of the individual species is based on those used in existing Wikipedia articles as of 21 May 2007 and supplemented by the common names and taxonomy from the IUCN, Smithsonian Institution, or University of Michigan where no Wikipedia article was available.

title: List of mammals of Mauritius

question: What does the text say about mammals in Mauritius?

answer: There are mammals in Mauritius that are endangered, vulnerable and extinct. Included in the list are mammals from the order Sirenia, such as manatees and dugongs. Whales, dolphins and porpoises are mammals most fully adapted to aquatic life with a spindle-shaped hairless body, protected by a thick later of blubber.


text:
[]
The creation of Airbus Safran Launchers was driven by French concerns for the competitiveness of Europe's Arianespace following the arrival of SpaceX of the United States. But half of ASL's business, and likely more than half its profit, comes from its military business. ASL is prime contractor for France's 54,000-kilogram M51 strategic nuclear missile, shown here in a submarine-launched test flight in the Atlantic Ocean. The latest test occurred July 1. Credit: French Defense Ministry
TOULOUSE, France – The July 30 consolidation of Airbus Safran Launchers allows the transition of 7,500 employees to the new entity from the two parent companies following resolution of a tax issue but has no bearing on the investigation of ASL by European Commission authorities.

The commission recently extended, for the second time, its review of ASL’s proposed purchase of the 35 percent of launch-services provider Arianespace now owned by the French space agency, CNES. The new tentative deadline for the decision is Aug. 10.

The commission did not specify the cause of the latest delay. Commission spokesman Ricardo Cardoso said in a July 4 statement: “[T]he parties have agreed on two 10-day extensions of the Phase II investigation, as they are entitled to do according to the Merger Regulation. The deadline for the Commission to decide on the proposed merger has been extended to 10 August 2016.”

ASL, the French government and CNES have agreed to the transaction, valued at 150 million euros ($166 million). The commission is weighing measures to assure that an ASL-dominated Arianespace will guarantee fair treatment to Arianespace’s minority shareholders, to all satellite builders likely to use the future Ariane 6 rocket and to the future Vega-C small-satellite launcher to the extent that its capacity overlaps that of Ariane 6.

Thierry Mandon, France’s state secretary for higher education and research, who has minister-level responsibility for space, said in a June 28 interview with French financial daily Les Echos that ASL had made the needed concessions to resolve the outstanding issues.

But a European industry official said that was not yet the case, and that ASL was still negotiating Arianespace’s minority shareholders’ future rights and responsibilities.

ASL was formally created in January 2015. But only about 450 people from the two companies were moved to the combined entity pending a French tax review of Safran’s cash payment to Airbus in return for a 50 percent share of ASL.

Rocket-motor builder Safran’s own activities put into the joint venture would have left it with a minority stake. Safran and Airbus on June 30 said the payment would total 750 million euros ($831 million).

Marwan Lahoud, Airbus’s director of strategy, said the transaction was not a payment to Airbus so much as an investment by Safran into ASL.

French authorities apparently accepted Airbus’s reasoning. French Economics Minister Emmanuel Macron, during a June 30 press briefing following a meeting of Cospace – a French industry-government grouping that steers overall space policy – said the final step of ASL’s completion would not have occurred if the fiscal treatment of the Safran payment had not been resolved.

Macron did not provide any details on how the payment would be assessed by French tax authorities. He stressed that the ASL’s creation is more important than a simple tax matter.

“This is first and foremost a strategic decision,” Macron said, recalling that advances among Arinaesapce’s commercial-launch competitors were at the origin of the decision to create ASL.

Unlike its competitors in the United States, Russia, India, China and Japan, Arianepace depends on commercial launches, and not government contracts, for the lion’s share of its annual revenue. Because of that, the French government views a commercially successful Arianespace as necessary to preserving France’s, and Europe’s, autonomous access to space.

ASL is prime contractor for the new Ariane 6 rocket. A final disbursement of development funding by the 22-nation European Space Agency is planned following a Sept. 13 meeting to confirm ESA’s acceptance of ASL’s Ariane 6 contract proposal. ASL submitted its fully priced contract proposal in May. ESA and ASL began negotiations in June.

Airbus and Safran said ASL would total 8,400 employees including several hundred working for joint ventures and affiliates including APP, Arianespace, Cilas, Eurockot [a German-Russian small-satellite launch service provider], Eurocryospace, Europropulsion, Nucledudes, Pyroalliance, Regulus, Sodern and Starsem [which commercializes launches from Russia’s Baikonur spaceport of Russian Soyuz rockets].

More than 80 percent of ASL’s work force is in France, with most of the rest in Germany.

ASL Chief Executive Alain Charmeau said the company expects to generate around 2.5 billion euros in revenue in 2016, half of it from military contracts including Airbus’s work on France’s M51 strategic missile.

French Defense Minister Jean-Yves Le Drian told the Coface briefing that ASL’s creation, in addition to its importance to France’s access to space, is also “an issue of sovereignty relating to France’s strategic deterrent.”

As if to punctuate the statement, the Defense Ministry on July 1 made its latest test firing of the M51 missile from a French submarine off the cost of northwest France. France’s defense-procurement agency, DGA, said the test was successful, with the missile’s trajectory followed by France’s Monge tracking ship, which is also used to follow objects in low Earth orbit.

question: What does the text say about what the commission recently extended and why?

answer: The commission recently extended its review of Airbus Safran Launchers' (ASL) proposed purchase of the 35% of launch services provider Arianespace, owned by CNES, for the second time. The deadline for their decision is August 10th at the time of the article. The commission is weighing measures to assure that an ASL-dominated Arianespace will guarantee fair treatment to Arianspace's minority shareholders, to all satellite builders likely to use the future Ariane 6 rocket, and to the future Vega-C small-satellite launcher. They haven't specified a cause for the delay, however.

question: What does the text say about the French Defense Ministry?

answer: French Defense Minister Jean-Yves Le Drian told the Coface briefing that ASL's creation and its importance to France's access to space are an issue of sovereignty relating to France's strategic deterrent". On July 1 at the time of the article, the Defense Ministry made its latest test firing of the M51 missile from a French submarine off the coast of northwest France. This seemed to punctuate the minister's statement. France's defense-procurement agency, DGA, said the test was successful.

question: What does the text say about Russia?

answer: Arianespace has several competitors, which includes Russia. It differs from Russia in that it depends on commercial launches, not government contracts, for the lion's share of its annual revenue. Airbus and Safran said ASL would have employees that work for joint ventures and affiliates. This would include Eurocket (a German-Russian small-satellite launch service provider) and Sodern and Starsem ( \which commercializes launches from Russia's Baikonur spaceport of Russian Soyuz rockets).

question: What does the text say about Elon Musk?