text:
I look at Sil and start to SCREAM and yell and yammer excitedly with this new idea bursting forth -  Let’s go to Sunday mass hungover, or maybe still drunk. Maybe we can puke in the pews or confess our sins to the pederast priest! Sil, always an easy read, agreed instantly so we left the watering hole in the wall, brimming with stalwart stoic sin and soaking in sex, gin and ugh…pheromones.

“fadder I puked in yer pews. How many hail Marys is dat?”

“fadder I smoked a joint in the rectory.”

“fadder I occasionally sleeps wit men.”

We see his previously shock beet red face light up.

“Wit MEN fadder wit men.  Not little boys”

Disappointed pederast priest preaching piously about the sins of drugs and alcohol and sex and Sodomy and y’know, pretty much everything fun ever.

“fadder I sold me mudders dentures for new headshots.”

“fadder I was in a porn” et cetera. After the pederast has a coronary we’ll steal the communion wine and dance on the church organ. You can play a sweet soft soothing melody accompanied soliloquy or Debussy’s Claire de Lune. We’ll remember better days when he could still play and cry red tears, shitty drunk. Stuck in our respective funk ruts our calls to the coronary catholic become more somber.

“fadder I’m afraid. I’m afraid of dying…I’m afraid of living.”

Rolling around on the confession booth floor now,

“fadder I want to die, fadder I tried to kill myself”

Sil shows strong salient scalpel scars that we both still remember suturing shut.

“fadder I should be in the Waterford In-patient wing”

By now we’ve revived the poor old Father…As it happens he’s a rowdy red whiskey noser. Sil’s feeling good, rambunctious and reeling secretly seething I believe.

“So fadder explain to me why it’s a sin to love another man but every other fucking week some fuckin’ pillar of the community cops for kiddie porn?!” His ire is up, red cheeked wide eyed boiling over.

The priest is mute silent on the subject at first.

“My son, I’ve never fucked any boys, nor do I hate ‘the gays’ and what’s all this about killing yourselves and Waterford Bridge Road?” I feel a lecture coming on…”What’s the allure of this demure throwaway life attitude you have, so many of you.”

This question throws a long echoing silence through the puke stained pews.  A symbol for broken, wasted, busted, beat down lost youth. Or whatever.

Breaking the silence I turn to him quietly, “I guess for me I really don’t see the point of any of it beyond a couple of laughs and a lot of highs. I see the corruption that I’m too stupid to fix, that I can’t realistically change.”

Sil interjects “I think generationally we just don’t really have a tether – Everyone exists superficially, digitally we don’t know how to talk to one another we just get drunk or high and crash into each other blindly praying for a little connection on those rare occasions we realize how disconnected we really are.”

“Generationally? Is that even a word?!”

“Shut up milk drinker!” Sil punches me

“Yeah everyone sitting alone in rooms or all together with a rum and coke and a cellphone silently tapping away.”

The pederast nods “you boys need family, children, religion even. You know it brings us together as a community. The opiate of the masses son” He pauses, wagging a finger “and I don’t consider that to be a pejorative.”

Taking a ridiculous swig I nod “I understand the appeal really but I prefer actual opiates  and being alone and not changing.”

After a box of communion wine, (Yes it can come in boxes, look it up) we bid farewell to the swell drunk ‘ol pederast priest, promising to return someday with Irish Mist for his thirsty Irish lips, (Is that bigotry?) the old coot.

“Sil come over and stay in my bed we can binge watch a season of Louie and drink fuckin’ Borises and I’ll play guitar for you an…” I stammer on

“STOP! You had me at BED” SIl yells at me belligerently as we stagger down Bully Street arms intertwined drunk walking. It’s foggy and misty, our feet soaked and my body is drained of life. Finally we knock into y front door struggling with keys, we must have dropped 5 times.

“I think yer scars are beautiful Sil” (I love it, I do) I tell her softly as I run my hand over them, feeling the slight texture change, the scar raised…We kiss and stare into eyes, not alone not for tonight.

title: [HM] Crashing Sunday Morning Mass

question: Who is Sil?

answer: Sil seems to be the narrator's romantic partner.

question: Why is the narrator and Sil at church?

answer: They go to confess their sins to the priest, but it seems as though they are not taking it seriously

question: Is the priest a pedophile?

answer: The priest says he is not a pedophile

question: Where do the narrator and Sil go after leaving the church?

answer: They head back to their apartment.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator and Sil go to church to confess their sins. However, they antagonize the priest and make a joke of the whole process. They drink a box of communion wine and stumble back to their apartment.


split: test

text:
                                                  (What I learned in WA)

I can remember being fifteen, oh god, I can remember it like it was yesterday. Sophomore year, full of teenage pedantic, shallow fears, life was confusing. I had a girlfriend, I had friends; didn’t have anything going for me other than that. My friends weren’t, and were, the best associates for a growing young man to have at that age. Encouraging me to explore facets of life that were less than reputable, I couldn’t say I was well surrounded, and at the same time, I was very well surrounded. My life was interesting, or so to say, it was definitely far from average.  Growing up without a significant positive role model always made for a struggling reality. Well, fuck, I never knew which end was up. But somehow, I always managed to find people pointing me in the right direction.
	Anthony was this erratic Asian friend of mine (I think he goes by Cassady Feral now). Since this is the internet, and I can whole heartedly assume no one from my personal life is reading this, I’ll tell you the whole story without fearing any judgment; we used to smoke a lot of cigarettes together. I met Anthony when I was twelve; he was one of my sister’s friends at first. After we got to know each other, we figured out we had a lot in common, our passion for Starcraft, women, cigarettes, and a bohemian hedonistic lifestyle, where we would pretend like we were contemporaries of Ginsberg and Kerouac. Anthony was always a few years older than me, so a stretch ahead of the curve.
 I remember one night particularly, Anthony was taking some classes at the local community college, so he invited me to this history professor’s lecture about, well, I don’t actually remember the specifics, I do remember Anthony was going for extra credit though, and invited me because he thought I’d enjoy going.  I also remember, this history professor was lecturing about his trip to the Middle East and how he had contributed to the local society by making it possible for a few girls to come back to the states to receive an education. Which my fifteen-year-old mind thought was pretty damn cool. But really, more importantly, what stuck with me that night was a passion for history. As a kid, who was used to sitting through droll and boring high school classes, (and not retaining a thing, and hating anything having to do with anything besides Blizzard games) getting to hang out in an auditorium listening to a college professor talk about his trips to the middle east was probably the coolest educational experience that had happened to me up to that point (circa. 2009/2010ish).
	It was like tinder waiting for a spark; history was everything the present amounted to.  I can remember sitting there at first, like what am I doing here, learning in my free time, I must of smoked to many cigarettes, nicotine’s ruining my brain. And this guy started talking, sharing his passion, and talking about who he is and where he’s been, and I thought, well, maybe there is something to history, maybe there’s something to education. Maybe I should look into this whole school thing. For the first time in my life I sat and listened to someone talk with the full capacity of my mind. Which more notably, was an experience I haven’t forgotten to this day, because I forget way more than I remember.  Inspiration set in and I was on the roll.  From that night on, I couldn’t get enough of learning. As much as I had learned that night, I couldn’t wait to try and pass into the running start program, my thoughts revolved around going to college half the time (the other half of my thoughts were occupied by women, naturally, and that bohemian hedonistic lifestyle).
	Fast-forward about seven months, winter quarter of 2011, history was still the focal point of my mind. This subject stuck with me for one particular reason. It was the first subject in school that I had ever taken an interest in; I’d never really been interested in learning until I sat through that lecture with Anthony.  My first quarter at the local college, I knew exactly what classes I wanted to take. History and philosophy, the two classes that appealed to me most from my prior experiences, and I threw in an online nutrition class for good measure.  I had never been more enthralled with learning in my life. I remember the first day of classes; being sixteen, sitting through my first period intro philosophy lectures with two of my best friends. I took the class because I loved philosophy, like heroin addicts loved heroin. But also because my two good friends since grade school reluctantly agreed to take the class with me. I always sat in the back, and played with my beanie half the time, and took notes on my computer the other half the time, unbeknown to me, probably offending the professor to a certain degree.  After philosophy, I’d spend my hour break strolling around campus, laying around in the park, sitting on benches and smoking cigarettes (because everyone assumed I was old enough, which as a sixteen year old, was awesome). I remember my first history class with the professor that inspired my passion for knowledge in general. I sat down in a computer lab based classroom, waiting to hear the lecture, hell I was so jazzed on the subject I even bought the book for the class.
	The quarter passed by all to fast.  The class was a 1945 to present based history class, so we were studying subjects that had occurred in the between time.  I remember my projects exactly as they were (I still have all the papers and power point slides if anyone’s interested in seeing them) the first one, we were required to interview a senior citizen, the second, I studied two-wheeled transportation and how it had changed American life style over the past sixty years. And the last one, ahahaha, I studied Marijuana and hemp, and the legalization of illegal drugs. Mind you this was 2010, before marijuana had any legalization promises. I wrote my last topic on the legalization of marijuana, and how I predicted it would become legal over the course of the next four years (score for me).  I think I remember Zontek laughing at me, and asking a question or two out of curiosity for my convincing prose. I was sixteen at the time, a naïve, hopeful, youthful mind, unbeknown to us all at the time, marijuana would actually become a legal recreational drug by the time I took another one of his classes in person.
	Really, I’m not sure if I’m off the main subject by this time or not, but the point of this writing spree is to tell you about how I fell in love with learning and life. Anyways, fast forward to spring quarter of 2011. I don’t remember any classes I took that quarter, besides one, Bio 109. This class was interesting, inherently, for a lost of reason’s besides one. I sat next to this really intricate kid named Evan, stereotypical nerdy guy named Evan. Him and I tried to retain every bit of information we learned in that class, drawing analogies to Starwars, and other shows, just to comprehend the material we were being taught.  I remember one day imparticualrly, I don’t even actually remember how the lecture started. But Buegge starts going off about how this neuroscientist pulled a prank on a bunch of other scientists by convincing them of this thing that had never really happened, to prove a point, about how if something comes from an accredited source no one will view it from a skeptical standpoint and question the actuality of it. Which, from my perspective, I had found incredibly interesting. The rest of the lecture is history at this point. Honestly, I feel really bad, because that was his favorite lecture in the entire class series to give, and by creating the reality of it, I’m sure he probably doesn’t give that lecture anymore. But we both know it had to happen eventually (six million to one if I recall sir?). Anyways, sixteen year old me is listening to Buegge lecture about this awesome radical idea of a prank, and my minds liking the idea. I remember saying, “wait, I’m a genius, I could do this” like shit you not, I said this out loud, and he looked at me like, “alright, whatever kid, go smoke some more and live in your fantasy land” (muahahah). I honestly never had any intentions of pulling the idea off. I remember sitting there thinking to myself, like hey man, that’s a freaking amazing idea, but I wouldn’t ever contemplating trying anything that self destructive unless I broke up with my girlfriend at the time. Because that’s the only time I would ever be self destructive enough to do something that blatantly idiotic. Fast forward to 2013 spring quarter.
	Spring quarter of 2013, I’m finally back in school after my burn outs, after realizing I had actually been suffering from ADD/ADHD, and that’s’ why I’ve never actually been a competent student. And that’s why I’ve always had a host of relationship, friendship, and scholarly problems, and a whole load of other shit. And everyone knows how the story goes from here, maybe I’ll write it later.
But it’s 5:19 A.M. at this point, and I’m really tired, and I’ll write the rest of the story, from my perspective, for you guys at some point in the future. When the rest is settled, and we can all enjoy the perspective. But I guess, at the end of it all, all I want to say is this: thank you for showing me the path to falling in love with knowledge. I had never given a second though to being a scholar until that night I’d heard that lecture. That was the catalyst to the great journey that began my quest for understanding the world around me, and ever since then, it’s been full of people who have acted as catalysts in their own since to inspire that journey in their own right. And all I have to say is thank you, and I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any burdens or problems since then. I know I’ve been a blip on your radar, in the past, but you’ve been a significant portion on mine.  And here’s’ that paper I’ve never submitted:  (P.S. I never edited the above statements, so they may be tangent filled, or full of misspellings.)

*The Metaphysical Nature of Transcending Myself*

Long ago, in my optimistic and hopeful youth, I had a vision of my future. A dream, of what my life could be, and where it would take me.  There is no dream like that of a child’s. Their minds are shielded from the harsh nature of life; they’ve not known the rigorous trials of humanity.  They’re free to dream to their heart’s fullest desires. As I learned in due time, a child’s life can yield a reality that’s caustic to their own viability.
At the callow age of sixteen, I entered into the running start program at YVCC. This, in and of it’s self, appeared to be some sort of divine intervention in my life; I was on the brink of sabotaging my high school career. By this point, I had lost most of my confidence in the present and future. My soul, and spirit alike, had been abashed by the veiled tragedies of life. The sorrow, in spending the greater portion of my existence abandoned by my father, was untold. In many aspects of my identity, this had left me misdirected and diffident. It was to be an internal battle that would stir inside myself for years to come.
With great fortune in chance, I was blessed with a remarkably tenacious and altruistic mother. She always made sure I had everything I needed to flourish; never once did she put herself first. But by the time of my fourteenth birthday, Mother had succumbed to past calamities. In her steadfast plight to provide for our family, she gave way to a form of functioning alcoholism. Those were a few harrowing years. I was as lost and disillusioned as ever, and I had no guidance left in life. Those we’re the hurdles of an invisible youth.
In my academia at YVCC, I found solace in existence; a breath of new revive I had not known before. In Philosophy, I was taught to think critically and view the world with an objective and multifaceted perspective. My passion for the discipline dawned a new confidence and motivation I had never dreamed of having. In Biology, I learned that life is composed of far more than the burden’s we carry in our hearts. That all organisms face trials to survive, and it is simply part of the natural order of life; this helped me come to terms with my past and reality.  In History, I learned of men and women who had faced far greater adversaries and tribulations than I, and walked out of the devastation as heroes. The lessons in humanities past reinstated in me a great hope for my future.
But more crucially, in my Professors at YVCC, I found mentors offering guidance. Often times, indirectly pointing me down the right path. Whether it was with an interesting anecdote shared during class, or a simple compliment on a job well done. During my studies at YVCC, I became a new person. In this, my dreams and ambitions transcended my childhood self.

title: To those who've inspired the scholar inside of me, and to those who care enough to read the whole thing.

question: What do we know about the author's parents?

answer: The author's father abandoned him and though this caused great sorrow, his mother made sure that he had everything he needed to survive. By the time the author was fourteen, his mother had become a functioning alcoholic. The author had no guidance after this.

question: How did the author's studies serve as a stand-in for the parents that were no longer guiding him?

answer: The author found mentors in the professors at college. They pointed him down the right path through anecdotes and compliments. In the subjects he did, he discovered that all creatures face trials and tribulations and come out the other end stronger. He found in his lessons a great hope for the future.

question: How did the author find his love of learning

answer: The author was friends with an older boy, Anthony, who was in college at the time. Anthony invited him to come to a lecture on history. The author was fascinated by the real-life stories that the professor told and by his passion for history. The professor brought history to life and ignited a life-long passion for history.


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

title: A Fairly Fowl Story

question: Summarize how the ducks' feelings on water are potentially harmful.

answer: Various groups of people noticed that ducks talked about water in the same way a drug addict talks about their drugs.  The ducks were obsessed with water in conversation and the thought controlled them. People saw this as harmful because when they were removed from it they became agitated, violent, and sometimes died.

question: What does the text say about duck eggs?

answer: The text notes that duck eggs became illegal during the rise in public interest of the ducks. This caused them to flourish on the black market. Even after all of the controversy with the ducks, their eggs still remained a black market delicacy.

question: Summarize how the public opinion of ducks shifts throughout the story.

answer: After an article was released about how ducks had suddenly begun communicating with humans there was great interest in ducks. Humans were very eager and wanted to talk about complex problems with them, but the ducks were only interested in talking about water. Hundreds of humans, some wearing duck masks, would line up to the lake to see them. However, when humans realized ducks talked about water in the way drug addicts talk about their drugs, they turned on them. All around the world, governments rounded up ducks and put them into social behavior workshops to cleanse the world of their negative impact. Eventually, it seemed many ducks died and humans became remorseful. People issued apologies and some were arrested, but not long after people forgot about what they did to the ducks.

question: Summarize what happens to the ducks after people stop defending the ducks.

answer: After people stopped defending the ducks, a governmental department in some part of the world decided to round up the ducks. This would simultaneously help the ducks with their addiction and remove their negative impact from society. Other countries followed suit, and eventually almost every country rounded up the ducks and sent them to behavior workshops. Many ducks probably died. After this, the world realized what they had done and were remorseful.

question: What does the text say about bread?

answer: Bread is used as a gift for ducks in the text. Lonely old men would being bread to the ducks. The narrator brings a loaf of bread in hopes that it will entice some ducks to socialize with him and talk with him about life or the best kinds of bread. Only a few accepted the bread, as they preferred bread to be made from fresh water. After the ducks were removed from society, bread sales seemed to drop slightly.


text:
The former cricketer and newly elected prime minister is set to promote tree-planting and green jobs, although coal use will continue to expand

_Climate Home News is one of the world’s most trusted independent sources of climate politics news. Sign up for our newsletter._

IMRAN KHAN IS AIMING TO PLANT 10 BILLION TREES IN FIVE YEARS AS PRIME MINISTER OF PAKISTAN.

It is a scaling up of the “billion tree tsunami” his party Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) carried out in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province, restoring 350,000 hectares of forest.

The cricketer-turned-politician claimed election victory on Thursday, although PTI is expected to rely on coalition partners to govern. While his campaign focused on anti-corruption, it also promised several environmental initiatives.

Malik Amin Aslam, who drafted the climate change section of the PTI manifesto and is tipped as environment minister, told Climate Home News green growth was key.

“PTI is the one party which has taken a bold initiative on the green platform,” he said. “Pakistan is facing the brunt of climate change, so I think climate preparation, making sure our development is totally climate compatible, our infrastructure is resilient to climate shocks, is going to be very high priority.”

In one of its first acts following the election, PTI circulated a list of 10 calls to action for Pakistanis, including “plant a tree” and “save water and electricity”.

  REPORT: Pakistani senator calls for climate cooperation with India amid water crisis

Its manifesto pledges include dam-building and water conservation initiatives to tackle drought; introducing green building codes and supporting clean energy.

Citing a desire to reduce reliance on imports, it also promotes increased use of domestic coal reserves from Thar province. Much of the investment in coal has come from China, which is described as a “golden opportunity” for Pakistan.

Aslam said these projects were already in progress and PTI’s focus would be to make sure they complied with environmental standards, while developing Pakistan’s hydro, wind and solar resources.

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This had been the approach for the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa provincial government, he said, where PTI drove the installation of 300 micro hydropower units.

In a 2015 interview with Climate Home News, Khan criticised the federal government of the time for allocating “paltry funds” to its climate change ministry – less than $400,000 that year.

Khan also spoke about the impact climate change was already having on Pakistan and called industrialised nations to account for their historic pollution.

“We unfortunately do not have the luxury to waste time on our side as far as climate change is concerned. We in Pakistan are actually living through the age of urgent climate adaptation,” he said.

“Rich countries should not only assist Pakistan in mitigation and adaptation efforts but also compensate us for the tremendous economic losses we face each year.”

Ali Tauqeer Sheik, chief executive of Islamabad-based thinktank Lead Pakistan, urged the new government to do more to protect poor and marginalised people from the impacts of climate change.

“His emphasis on forestry is a very encouraging one – we hope that the area under forest increases,” said Sheik. But he added: “Mr Imran Khan’s [acceptance] speech did not even mention the climate challenge and climate vulnerability… The most important thing for a developing country that is as vulnerable as Pakistan is is to first have a clear vision.”

REPUBLISH THIS ARTICLE

question: Who is Imran Khan?

answer: Prime Minister of Pakistan

question: What is he planning to do?

answer: Imran Khan is aiming to plant 10 billion trees in five years, restoring 350,000 hectares of forest.

question: Who said, "PTI is the one party which has taken a bold initiative on the green platform,”?

answer: Malik Amin Aslam, environment minister.

question: List a few of the changes the PTI proposes to combat climate change.

answer: 1. Make sure the infrastructure is climate compatible, resilient to climate shocks. 2. Building dams and water conservation initiatives to tackle drought. 3. Introduce green building codes and support green energy.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Imran Khan, Prime Minister of Pakistan is aiming to plant 10 billion trees in five years, restoring 350,000 hectares of forest. His party Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) proposes changes to combat climate change.


text:
Local ABC staff were mostly stunned to silence yesterday, after the public broadcaster's cuts were revealed - including veteran Victorian sports presenter Drew Morphett being given the axe.

As the shockwaves of the $254 million cuts reverberated across Australia, Perth staff were privately distraught at the loss of local jobs and productions but were reluctant to speak because of the uncertain future.

One of the biggest shocks at the network was the likely loss of three sports voices - Morphett, Dan Lonergan and Peter Newlinds, as part of the paring back of the network's sports coverage.

The ABC's coverage of the WAFL will end, along with that of the W-League, WNBL and VFL and NTFL football matches. _The West Australian _ was told the trio of ABC Grandstand broadcasters were in "consultation" about their positions but would almost certainly leave.

Former ABC stalwart Glenn Mitchell expressed his shock at the departure of his former colleagues but was also wary to speak candidly given his wife Karen Tighe is the presenter of ABC Grandstand.

"It is a painful day for all my ex-colleagues, whether they be staying or going," Mitchell wrote.

"Difficult to see how ABC can continue to cover Olympic and Commonwealth Games given budget cut(s). Even some domestic radio rights may be an issue."

No WA sports reporting jobs will go, but five news journalists and producers are set to leave - a process described by 7.30 NSW presenter Quentin Dempster as "industrial execution".

Veteran newsreader Alan Knight read bulletins yesterday, his birthday, despite being told he would be leaving the network after more than 20 years.

Radio Mornings show host Geoff Hutchison attempted to lighten the mood on social media, but the feedback from other staff was mostly grim.

"ABC cuts hit hard. WA and SA asked to share tea and coffee-making facilities. 'Hello Adelaide, are you finished with the spoon'," he wrote.

Colin Barnett said he was upset to see 7.30 WA go, along with the rest of the State-based 7.30 productions.

"I understand ABC has to work within its budget but it would be a shame to see that occur at the expense of West Australian content and programming," the Premier said.

Local reporter Emma Wynne tweeted: "I still have a job. Many of my colleagues will be going. Will miss some really good friends in the office."

And Perth-based Radio National presenter Kirsti Melville said plenty of bad news was being delivered in WA, as well as across the country.

"Lots of closed doors around the joint today. Sad to know what's happening behind them," she wrote.

The axing of coverage of the WNBL and W-League was met with anger and disappointment from WA's most prominent women's sporting teams.

West Coast Waves coach Kennedy Kereama, who also leads New Zealand's national team, is on track to guide the WA club to its first WNBL finals series in 14 years this season.

He said the decision to pull WNBL broadcasts was a major blow for the eight national league clubs and women's basketball as a whole.

"It's an extremely disappointing outcome for everybody, especially for the fans of basketball in Australia and the promotion of women's sport long-term," Kereama said.

"It will have some severely damaging effects on teams and clubs.

"From our standpoint, the ability to be able to advertise and give exposure to sponsors is damaged."

Australia boasts one of the world's premier women's basketball teams, the Opals, who regularly reach finals of major tournaments.

"It's a sport in which Australia has been extremely successful over the past 50 years," Kereama said.

"Hopefully somebody else comes on board, but I think Basketball Australia are going to have a lot of work to do now to secure some form of sponsorship and broadcast deal."

Perth Glory women's coach Jamie Harnwell, whose team is on top of the W-League ladder and will host a semifinal next month, was confident women's soccer would continue to flourish despite the ABC decision.

"It's disappointing news but I don't think it was entirely unexpected," Harnwell said.

question: Summarize this news article

answer: Local ABC staff has revealed its staff cuts and they include veteran Victorian sports presenter Drew Morphett. As the shockwaves of the $254 million cuts reverberated across Australia, Perth staff were privately distraught at the loss of local jobs and productions. The cuts will affect sports reporting particularly in Western Australia.


text:
1.  Home
2.  Features

What could have been

[]

You might not notice at first. Youre going along, saving princesses and blowing up mechs in your genre-confused video game of choice, and its a decent experience. Maybe it starts to feel like somethings missing, or maybe you dont pick up on anything at all. But soon enough, whether its through game forums, developer interviews or that one know-it-all friend of yours, you discover the terrible truth: that game used to have an awesome feature that would have been amazing to see for yourself, but it was forsaken and disappeared from the code forever.

Whether its a change that weakens the story, removes intense gameplay sequences, or just cuts something that would have been really super fun (_come ooooon_), its sad to know that these features will never come to be. I feel your pain, friend, and in honor of that, I bring you 12 awesome features cut from some of the biggest games of the past decade. Which is kind of... the opposite of helpful, but we can always cry together.

Portal 2 lost intense scenes with Cave Johnson and Caroline

[]

The sick and brilliant minds at Valve are masters of dark comedy--they can joke about everything from dementia to burning people alive, and you'll laugh every time (don't lie). But apparently even Valve has its limits, and they hover somewhere around player-assisted suicide and recording a woman being brutalized.

Once upon a time, a sequence existed in Portal 2 where Cave Johnson, mind trapped in a crappy computer in the bowels of Aperture Science, begged Chell to end his no-mouth-must-scream existence, and she had to oblige in order to progress. Another bit of cut dialogue features Caroline begging not to be forced into a robot body, but Johnson's actor J.K. Simmons refused to record his part because of the scenes very unfortunate implications. These events certainly would have added a new dimension for the story and (in the case of computer-Cave) upped the dark humor that Portal is famous for. Its a bummer to see them gone, but then again, if the guy who played a neo-Nazi on Oz says it's bad

Alice: Madness Returns' story in London was once bigger, and the Cheshire Cat used to be summonable

[]

Alice: Madness Returns is a miracle of a game. Shelved following a sequence of project cancellations, it seemed like it would never come to be, but demand stayed strong and Madness hit the shelves 10 years after the release of the original American McGee's Alice. However, the extended development came at a price, and some really cool stuff ended up on the cutting room floor.

The saddest of the bunch were the dismantling of a parallel "real world" story and the decreased role of the Cheshire Cat. Originally Alice was going to fall into Wonderland after killing her alcoholic nurse, and would frequently flash to the real world with a dead body nearby and the police after her. This would have created a greater mystery for the story, and intensified the sense of Alice's madness, but was ultimately cut due to time constraints. The Cheshire Cat was also meant to return as a summonable character, but this was removed for unknown reasons. Instead, the terrifying feline shows up at his discretion, when you least expect him. Lovely.

Assassin's Creed 4's epic sea battle with Mary and Anne was nixed

[]

Assassin's Creed ain't your parents' history. (Well it is, but--nevermind.) Forget date-memorizing or ten-pound tomes, this series skips to the good parts and brings the pasts most pulse-pounding events straight to your screen. Black Flag is no exception, letting players experience the Golden Age of Piracy through awesome seafaring adventures and explosive ship battles with some of the eras greatest historical figures. Only they removed one of the most epic examples of the latter. Boo.

Ubisoft had once planned to have Edward Kenway participate in the high seas battle that led to the arrest of Calico Jack, Mary Read, and Anne Bonny. If your high school history classes skived on the piracy lessons, Ill catch you up: it was the tightest shit ever, with Read and Bonny fending off the British dogpile until they were overrun. Getting to participate in that would have been an adrenaline-pumping pirate extravaganza (plus educational!), but alas, it was shuffled into the background early in development. It's like a knife in the heart... or back, or wherever. Or a plank walk. What else did pirates do?

Banjo Kazooie's Stop N' Swop got dummied out

[]

Rareware was (_was_, sob) all about quirky British humor in its heyday. The foremost experts of fourth-wall breaking and denizens of double-entendres, Rare was probably one of the most self-aware companies out there. It got to the point that they even started manipulating the shortcomings of the consoles they were developing for. Too bad Nintendo stomped on their most ambitious effort, a little thing from Banjo-Kazooie called Stop N' Swop, by fixing the error that allowed it to work. Jeez, spoilsports.

For those who've never heard of this bizarre feature, it worked like this: because original N64 consoles kept game data active for up to ten seconds after they were shut off, Rare intended to have items hidden throughout Banjo-Kazooie that unlocked bonuses in Banjo-Tooie, and could be transferred between the two as long as the player switched the cartridges fast enough. Sadly, Nintendo updated the 64's hardware to only keep data active for one second, pretty much killing the feature right after Nintendo Power announced it to the world. Er, whoops?

Skyrim's Civil War was bigger and more plot-relevant before

[]

As weird as it sounds, sometimes content gets cut for just being too good. Maybe it's a side quest so engaging it draws attention away from the main story. Maybe it's a feature that blows everything else of the water, and the devs nix it to keep the rest of the game from looking like crap. Whatever the reason, it does happen, and we're guessing that's to blame for a mountain of content cut from Skyrims Civil War plot.

While the Civil War still exists, it was once a lot more dynamic and complex: originally, the player was going to be able to capture territory, gather support for the cause, and experience events like the Battle of Whiterun a lot more often. It would have felt more like a _real_ civil war, and a substantial amount of the work for it was already done by the time it was cut. What drove the decision is a mystery--maybe they thought players would die of amazement and they'd lose most of their market. Yeah, let's go with that one.

Epic Mickey's Oswald used to be the final boss

[]

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is an anti-hero type--a guy who starts Epic Mickey in hate with the titular mouse for getting the fame and glory he thinks is rightfully his. Over the course of the game he becomes more sympathetic, ultimately teaming up with Mickey to beat the big bad, blah blah rainbows and sunshine and they lived happily ever after. It wasn't always that way though: once upon a time Oswald was actually the final boss, and a nasty piece of work.

Originally, Oswald was going to side with the Phantom Blot to take revenge on Mickey by becoming a globby beast called the Storm Blot. However, the devs apparently got softhearted and shifted Oswald into the role of a hero, leaving the Phantom Blot to its devices. Given how Epic Mickey was supposed to be a darker take on Disney, it would have been cool to see this one played out. How much grittier would it be to slowly develop a friendship with this character, only to have him turn on you at the end? Et tu, Oswald?

Mass Effect's dark energy plot was outright dropped

[]

The best laid plans of mice and men (and humanoid bird people) fall at the feet of development demands, and even Mass Effect isnt immune. Coming off a vibrant and well-loved story, Bioware doled out one of the most contentious endings in recent gaming to wide fan outcry. What makes that worse is the realization that early on, there was another ending waiting in the wings involving dark energy, and it sounded pretty freaking cool.

Dark energy, mentioned by curious Quarians during Tali's loyalty missions, can be used to develop amazing technological advancements, but may also be accelerating the destruction of the universe. In that version of events, the Reapers were actually eliminating advanced civilizations to keep them from learning to use dark energy and hastening the end of existence, creating some real conflict over whos in the right. However, the idea was dropped when lead writer Drew Karpyshyn left the project. Thats a shame, because it seems many fans would have preferred the sudden heat death of the Mass Effect universe to the ending that they got. Maybe that would have been the fourth option?

Final Fantasy 12's Basch was meant to be the main character

[]

Final Fantasy fans sure seem to love their androgynous boy-wonder protagonists, and if that's what they want then Square Enix is happy to give it to them. However, after a while it starts to look like a chicken-or-egg situation: do fans actually want to play as these guys, or are they just gritting their teeth and bearing it? This question should have been asked during development for Final Fantasy XII, which was originally going to star Basch fon Ronsenberg before he was replaced with Vaan.

Basch, a dutiful 30-year-old knight framed for the death of his king, is a fascinating character with a lot going on. However, Square feared he would be as poorly received as the middle-aged protagonist of Vagrant Story, so they cobbled together the half-shirt-wearing teenager Vaan as a replacement. That left little time to actually work Vaan into the story. That explains why, a quarter of the way through FF12, the game forgets what it's doing or who its main character is--all because Square thought its fans couldn't handle an Adam's apple and some facial hair.

Knights of the Old Republic 2's comprehensive ending was removed

[]

Shigeru Miyamoto once said that a delayed game is eventually good, but a bad game is forever bad. Then LucasArts flipped him the bird and dangled a light saber over Obsidian Entertainment's head, screaming "HOLIDAY RELEASE" through a bullhorn. That completely factual happening sums up the development of Knights of the Old Republic 2, which (among other buggy issues) forced the removal of a definitive and thoughtful ending that the game desperately needed.

Pressured to ship before the 2004 holiday season, Obsidian had to remove various locations from the game due to time constraints, as well as bypass fixing some egregious bugs. Then came the ending, which was supposed to wrap up the game's expansive story by showing what happened to everyone the player had travelled with during her journey. While this was supposed to happen gracefully over time, it was cut due to the crunch, and instead Darth Traya goes all story-time-boys-and-girls and exposits the heck out of everyone's fates. Man, the anticlimax is strong with this one.

Saints Row 3 lost its exciting "Freegunning"

[]

Saints Row isnt known for being subtle, restrained or reality-conforming, and thats exactly how we like it. From carsurfing to torpedoing ice cream trucks to using an octopus gun because _why not_, the series is one big, ridiculous playground where players can get their crazy fun on. However, even Saints Row has to conform to the passage of time (though Im sure theyre working on that), so they cant realize every insane idea that comes to mind. One such scrapped feature was a little thing called Freegunning, which sounds painfully awesome.

Originally set to appear in Saints Row: The Third, the concept is what it says on the tin: you freerun and shoot things at the same time. Its beautiful in its simplicity--imagine your character parkouring through the game environment while firing like a maniac at full sprint with whatever weapon suited their fancy. It would be madness, it would be chaos, and it would be _absolutely amazing_. It almost makes you sad that we got a purple dildo bat instead.

Pokemon Red and Blue's Professor Oak used to be a real opponent

[]

Most Pokemon rumors should be taken with a grain of salt--it was once widely believed that the legendary progenitor Mew spent all of Red/Blue hiding under a truck. Still, some tales of scrapped Pokemon features seem to hold water, such as the suggestion that Professor Oak was once your ultimate opponent. Now, bear with me here...

Though it may sound like a joke dreamed up in the depths of Cheezburger, data gleaned from Pokemon Red and Blue shows an opponent model for the aged Poke-expert, along with a set of high-level monsters all his own. The line-up is also very similar to that of your rival, suggesting that the Professor might have been a final boss at one point or another. It would have been an epic example of the young defeating the old, but somewhere along the line it was unfortunately dummied out. Now the fight can only be accessed through manipulating glitches, though it might be worth a try--shut him up about that damn bike once and for all!

Bioshock Infinite's Songbird was an actual boss, and Elizabeth's powers were more badass and painful

[]

Sometimes developers get a bit overzealous with their projects. That usually isnt a problem in the original planning stages, but once an awesome feature is announced to the world it can be soul-crushing to see it removed. If Bioshock Infinite doesnt immediately come to mind, you either werent paying attention, or dont care that Elizabeth was almost ten times as badass and Songbird was supposed to be a fightable boss.

The beta gameplay trailers for Infinite released a good two years before the game itself showed a more complex array of powers for Elizabeth, from her traditional tear-opening to creating molten balls of metal and blowing up bridges. However, using the powers hurt her, creating an interesting dilemma about what using her was costing. At the same time, the trailer teased that Songbird was an actual boss rather than a set-piece, which oh my god are you kidding me _thats incredible_. Sadly, these features were huge and time-consuming, and were ultimately simplified for release. Would you kindly not break our hearts, Irrational?

You can't always get what you want

[]

Its always sad to see these features go, and even when its a cut-or-die scenario theres nothing that quite fills the awesome-thing-sized holes in our hearts. What scrapped feature do you wish you could have experienced? Ever hacked a game in a desperate bid for dummied content? Anything you would sell your firstborn to see in the sequel? Tell us in the comments below, and try not to bleed out that heart-hole.

_FOR MORE, CHECK OUT 22 THINGS EVERY GAMER KID HAS HEARD FROM THEIR PARENTS AND FIRST!!!! MOMENTS EVERY GAMER REMEMBERS._

Former Associate Editor at GamesRadar, lover of FPS's, horror games and stealth games. If you can see her, you're already dead.

question: What does the article say about content that got cut for being controversial?

answer: Portal 2 cut one scene because it involved player-assisted suicide. Another scene was cut from the game because a female character, Caroline, was brutalized and being forced into a robot body.

question: What does the article say about time constraints?

answer: Various locations had to be removed from the Knights of the Old Republic 2 game due to time constraints. Similarly, the game's original ending also had to be cut. The freegunning feature also wound up being scrapped from the game Saints Row: The Third due to time constraints. Finally, implementing a bossfight against Songbird in the game Bioshock Infinite proved too time-consuming.

question: What does the article say about features that Shigeru Miyamoto decided to cut?


text:
Don't ask me to help you fix your car. I will try, but I'll end up making it worse. Oh, you handed me a vaguely circular part? There's a vaguely circular hole! I can do this! It's supposed to spark, right? There's supposed to be the sound of screaming metal, right? Don't worry, I'll help you pay for the repair, though I think the thousand dollar payment should be your punishment for asking me to help.

Don't ask me to watch your baby. I don't mind being around them for an hour because sometimes they aren't too annoying and can actually be a little cute, but any longer than that is going to end badly. I am missing that maternity instinct that some women claim to have. I've seen women hear a child cry and know exactly what they need. Ask one of them, because the first time your baby starts boo-hooing, I'm going to just put some headphones on and drown it out. And changing diapers? Oh, you're funny. Having child services knock on your door is just what you need, since you, for some reason, asked me to help.

Don't ask me to help you move. I'm lazy. I don't own a truck, or even a car for that matter, and I can't guarantee that I won't get bored and rummage through some of your things, especially if it has interesting labels like, "party favors" or "for the bedroom". I'll look, expect to find colorful hats or blankets and instead take a picture of your various toys and lord it over you for the next five years. Do you want that? No. But that's what'll happen if you ask me to help.

Don't ask me to give you relationship advice. 9 times out of 10, I'll tell you to break up with your partner, either because I'm jealous that you're in a happy relationship or because I want you to be in a happy relationship with me. I mean, c'mon, we've been friends way longer than you've known her. And I know - okay *think* - that you used to like me. Besides, she's never seen Star Wars and thinks superheros are for children! I should tell her about that time you dressed up as Iron Man. I should tell her how many hours you play video games. I'll ruin your relationship, if you ask me for help.

Don't ask me to be your friend. I know my snappy retorts and sense of humor may click with you, and I know we have a lot of the same interests, but I don't do well with people. I can't keep my mouth shut and my hands to myself. I drink too much and do stupid things. I'm sober and do stupid things. I think your misfortune is hilarious because it makes me forget my own. But I can't keep myself away from people. I catch a hint of friendliness and latch on like a parasite. I won't go away until you've physically ripped me off and tossed me in the trash. And I'm tired of getting up and dusting myself off and vowing to change, because I never do.

So don't ask me.

title: Don't Ask Me

question: What gender is the author?

answer: The author is probably a woman!

question: What is the author trying to convey about herself?

answer: That despite her humor making her seem like a great person to be around, she's not really a good person to be friends with/depend on. It seems that in any situation where you might need her for something, she's too lazy/self-absorbed to really contribute much, or do anything that wouldn't benefit her.

question: What is the author's motivation?

answer: It seems like the only thing that motivates the author to do anything is self-interest.


text:
History

The Kolonial Marine Service (KMS) was created 2946 by Von Hexenburg in the days just prior to the large undertaking against the Vanduul known as “Operation Pitchfork”.

KMS is a military force dedicated to the protection of our colonies in space. The KMS may not be on the same playing field (in terms of being outfitted, supplied, and trained) as the UEE back home, but it may be all that is available to the colonies in the depths of space.

Manifesto

KMS is an English/German speaking roleplay guild. We simulate a military force dedicated to the protection of our colonies in space. One can think of “Kolonial Marine” as “Space Marines” … a force which is perhaps on the level of a “National Guard” or a “Militia”, but has the organization of a Naval Fleet and a “Marine Corps” at the same time.

The guild initials “KMS” stand for “Kolonial Marine Service”. When used as a part of a capital ship’s name, it will stand for “Kolonial Marine Schiff” (Colonial Marine Ship).

Charter

Membership Requirements

Headset strongly recommended.
Must not cause drama.
Affiliates are welcome, but some rank restrictions will apply.

KMS Code of Conduct

-   KMS simulates, in roleplay, a military force dedicated to the protection of our colonies in space.
-   We encourage brave, loyal, honest, nice, friendly folks to be a part of our guild.
-   We discourage the less than honest, pirates, and evil doers.
-   Members of our guild are expected to present themselves in a manner which the Kolonial Marine Service can be proud of.
-   Griefing others, KS’ing, and unsportsmanlike conduct is frowned upon.
-   KMS members will not behave in an “ungentlemanly” or “unladylike” fashion in regards to the treatment of prisoners.
-   Killing people who are in an escape pod after a battle will be considered as conduct unbecoming of a Kolonial Marine.
-   Any spies/traitors discovered in our midst will have a bounty placed upon their heads and will be banned from KMS in the future.
-   There is a 3-month probationary period whilst a background check is conducted.
-   In summary, KMS holds to old fashioned values of “duty, honour, country, fairplay/good sportsmanship, and being a good citizen”.

question: Is Kolonial Marine Service (KMS) a game?

answer: Yes.

question: What is KMS?

answer: It is a roleplay guild.

question: What is the role of KMS?

answer: KMS is a military force dedicated to protecting our colonies in space.

question: How can you play the game?

answer:
-Headsets are strongly recommended to play.
-You must not cause drama.
-Affiliates are welcome but some rank restrictions will apply.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Kolonial Marine Service is a roleplay guild. They stimulate a military force to protect their colonies in space. You can play the game if you do not cause drama. Affiliates are welcome, but some rank restrictions will apply. You must also adhere to the code of conduct.


text:
DODGE COUNTY is a county in the U.S. state of Nebraska. As of the 2010 United States Census, the population was 36,691.[1] Its county seat is Fremont.[2] The county was formed in 1855 and named after Iowa Senator Augustus C. Dodge.[3]

Dodge County comprises the Fremont, NE Micropolitan Statistical Area, which is also included in the Omaha-Council Bluffs-Fremont, NE-IA Combined Statistical Area.

In the Nebraska license plate system, Dodge County is represented by the prefix 5 (it had the fifth-largest number of vehicles registered in the county when the license plate system was established in 1922).[4]

Geography

The Elkhorn River runs through the NE part of Dodge County. It drains into the Platte River below the SE corner of the county. The Platte River runs along the south line of Dodge County.

According to the US Census Bureau, the county has an area of , of which is land and (2.6%) is water.[5]

Major highways

-   [] U.S. Highway 30
-   [] U.S. Highway 77
-   [] U.S. Highway 275
-   [] Nebraska Highway 79
-   [] Nebraska Highway 91

Adjacent counties

-   Burt County – northeast
-   Washington County – east
-   Douglas County – southeast
-   Saunders County – south
-   Colfax County – west
-   Cuming County – north

Demographics

As of the 2000 United States Census,[6] there were 36,160 people, 14,433 households, and 9,756 families in the county. The population density was 68 people per square mile (26/km²). There were 15,468 housing units at an average density of 29 per square mile (11/km²). The racial makeup of the county was 95.90% White, 0.43% Black or African American, 0.30% Native American, 0.51% Asian, 0.09% Pacific Islander, 2.06% from other races, and 0.72% from two or more races. 3.93% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race. 48.1% were of German, 7.6% Irish, 5.7% English and 5.4% American ancestry.

There were 14,433 households, out of which 31.10% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 55.80% were married couples living together, 8.50% had a female householder with no husband present, and 32.40% were non-families. 27.60% of all households were made up of individuals, and 13.40% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.42 and the average family size was 2.95.

The county population contained 24.70% under the age of 18, 9.60% from 18 to 24, 26.20% from 25 to 44, 21.90% from 45 to 64, and 17.50% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 38 years. For every 100 females there were 93.20 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 90.00 males.

The median income for a household in the county was $37,188, and the median income for a family was $44,790. Males had a median income of $31,108 versus $20,915 for females. The per capita income for the county was $17,757. About 5.30% of families and 8.60% of the population were below the poverty line, including 10.30% of those under age 18 and 7.10% of those age 65 or over.

Communities

Cities

-   Fremont (county seat)
-   Hooper
-   North Bend
-   Scribner

Villages

-   Dodge
-   Inglewood
-   Nickerson
-   Snyder
-   Uehling
-   Winslow

Census-designated place

-   Ames

Other unincorporated communities

-   Centerville
-   Crowell
-   Everett
-   Pleasant Valley
-   Purple Cane
-   Ridgeley
-   Webster

Townships

-   Cotterell
-   Cuming
-   Elkhorn
-   Everett
-   Hooper
-   Logan
-   Maple
-   Nickerson
-   Pebble
-   Platte
-   Pleasant Valley
-   Ridgeley
-   Union
-   Webster

Politics and government

Dodge County voters are strongly Republican. In no national election since 1936 has the county selected the Democratic Party candidate.

  Year                               Republican                                   Democratic                                  Third Parties
  ---------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
  style=“text-align:center;” |2016   style=“text-align:center;” |64.0% _9,933_    style=“text-align:center;” |29.3% _4,544_   6.8% _1,052_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2012   style=“text-align:center;” |60.2% _8,995_    style=“text-align:center;” |38.0% _5,673_   1.9% _282_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2008   style=“text-align:center;” |55.0% _8,557_    style=“text-align:center;” |43.0% _6,689_   2.0% _304_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2004   style=“text-align:center;” |66.3% _10,716_   style=“text-align:center;” |32.5% _5,250_   1.3% _206_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2000   style=“text-align:center;” |61.3% _8,871_    style=“text-align:center;” |34.7% _5,021_   4.0% _580_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1996   style=“text-align:center;” |51.0% _7,484_    style=“text-align:center;” |35.3% _5,181_   13.8% _2,023_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1992   style=“text-align:center;” |44.3% _7,271_    style=“text-align:center;” |28.4% _4,667_   27.3% _4,474_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1988   style=“text-align:center;” |57.7% _8,417_    style=“text-align:center;” |41.9% _6,116_   0.4% _64_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1984   style=“text-align:center;” |70.2% _10,201_   style=“text-align:center;” |29.3% _4,266_   0.5% _74_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1980   style=“text-align:center;” |66.8% _9,522_    style=“text-align:center;” |25.0% _3,564_   8.2% _1,164_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1976   style=“text-align:center;” |62.0% _8,982_    style=“text-align:center;” |36.5% _5,283_   1.5% _216_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1972   style=“text-align:center;” |72.0% _9,837_    style=“text-align:center;” |28.0% _3,826_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1968   style=“text-align:center;” |63.8% _8,059_    style=“text-align:center;” |29.7% _3,755_   6.5% _822_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1964   style=“text-align:center;” |50.3% _6,812_    style=“text-align:center;” |49.7% _6,731_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1960   style=“text-align:center;” |67.2% _9,638_    style=“text-align:center;” |32.8% _4,702_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1956   style=“text-align:center;” |69.3% _9,210_    style=“text-align:center;” |30.7% _4,088_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1952   style=“text-align:center;” |71.5% _9,256_    style=“text-align:center;” |28.5% _3,682_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1948   style=“text-align:center;” |54.6% _5,848_    style=“text-align:center;” |45.4% _4,870_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1944   style=“text-align:center;” |61.4% _6,803_    style=“text-align:center;” |38.6% _4,278_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1940   style=“text-align:center;” |62.5% _7,141_    style=“text-align:center;” |37.5% _4,282_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1936   style=“text-align:center;” |40.2% _4,561_    style=“text-align:center;” |55.7% _6,317_   4.1% _461_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1932   style=“text-align:center;” |32.1% _3,489_    style=“text-align:center;” |66.8% _7,247_   1.1% _119_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1928   style=“text-align:center;” |60.6% _6,250_    style=“text-align:center;” |39.1% _4,030_   0.3% _35_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1924   style=“text-align:center;” |45.6% _3,798_    style=“text-align:center;” |26.2% _2,183_   28.1% _2,342_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1920   style=“text-align:center;” |70.4% _4,832_    style=“text-align:center;” |26.2% _1,799_   3.4% _233_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1916   style=“text-align:center;” |46.1% _2,446_    style=“text-align:center;” |49.8% _2,644_   4.1% _216_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1912   style=“text-align:center;” |29.3% _1,330_    style=“text-align:center;” |43.8% _1,987_   26.9% _1,218_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1908   style=“text-align:center;” |46.3% _2,437_    style=“text-align:center;” |50.7% _2,664_   3.0% _158_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1904   style=“text-align:center;” |59.4% _2,789_    style=“text-align:center;” |35.0% _1,646_   5.6% _262_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1900   style=“text-align:center;” |51.5% _2,632_    style=“text-align:center;” |47.1% _2,410_   1.4% _70_

  : PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS RESULTS[7]

Law enforcement

The DODGE COUNTY SHERIFF'S OFFICE (DCSO) is the primary law enforcement agency for Dodge County, Nebraska. The Sheriff's Office is located at 428 N. Broad St in Fremont, Nebraska which is the county seat.

Currently DCSO serves the county and its incorporated cities within the county. The only village that relies solely on DCSO for police services is North Bend, Nebraska which is known as a contract city. All other cities within the county have some type of police department or city marshal.

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7] Election Results

title: Dodge County, Nebraska

question: Summarize the geography of Dodge county.

answer: The North-East part of the county is home to the Elkhorn River, it later drains into the Platte River below the South-East corner of the county. The county's area consists of 2.6% water.

question: Why are the number plates of the county with the prefix 5?

answer: The county had the fifth-largest number of vehicles registered in the county when the license plate system was established, hence the prefix 5.

question: Summarize the political situation of the county.

answer: The county is strongly republican, they have never selected a Democratic Party candidate since 1936.


text:
CRAYFORD is a town and electoral ward located in Greater London, England within the London Borough of Bexley. It lies east of Bexleyheath and north west of Dartford. Crayford is in the historic county of Kent. The settlement developed by the river Cray, around a ford that is no longer used.

History

[Lion remains from Crayford; dated to the Palaeolithic] An Iron Age settlement existed in the vicinity of the present St Paulinus Church between the Julian and Claudian invasions of Britain, from roughly 30  to  40. Roman ruins have been discovered and Crayford is one of several places proposed as the site of Noviomagus, a place mentioned in the Antonine Itinerary as being on the Roman equivalent of the later Watling Street. Crayford is also plausible as the site of the bloody battle of Crecganford (“Creeksford”) in 457 in which Hengist defeated Vortimer to become the supreme sovereign of Kent.[1][2] The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle written around 400 years later describes how Hengist and Æsc defeated the “Brettas” at that battle.

Crayford is mentioned in the Domesday Book, which was compiled just prior to 1086, as a settlement within the Hundred of Litlelee with a church, three mills, and a relatively large population of 27 regular householders (villeins) and 2 smallholders. Its overlord was not a private individual or the king but Christ Church, Canterbury.[3]

As a (civil/combined) parish (before 1920) it included the hamlets of Northend, Perry Street and Slade Green which lie to the north. In 1831, the population of the parish was 2022 people.[4] For centuries it was strongly associated with brick-making, the printing of silk scarves, ties and calico cloths, and for a short period carpet-making.

[Crayford Manor House, reconstructed in 1816] [1887 photograph of May Place] There were two main Manor Houses in the area during the Middle Ages, Newbery Manor on the site of what is now Crayford Manor House, and Howbury Manor next to Slade Green. Roger Apylton had served Kings Henry V and Henry VI as auditor, and resided at Marshalls Court, Crayford. Late in the reign of Elizabeth I Henry Partich sold Newbery Manor to Henry Apylton of Marshalls Court, and Apylton built May Place close by.[5] Hall Place, which lies alongside the River Cray, was built for Lord Mayor of the City of London Sir John Champneis in around 1537. There was also an Iron Mill, which was later replaced by a saw mill (in 1765), which produced the timber for the floor of Buckingham Palace.[6] In 1551 Francis Goldsmith bought a 'Great tenement called The Place' next to the bridge in Crayford, and between 1556 and 1586 purchased substantial amounts of local farmland and the Old Bell Public House.[7]

In 1623 most of the parish of Crayford was purchased by Merchant Taylor Robert Draper[8] including Newbery Manor, Howbury Manor, Marshalls Court and May Place, where his family took up residence. Draper's wife Anne was the daughter of Thomas Harman who lived at Ellam House which subsequently passed to the Drapers.[9] The ownerships subsequently passed to Robert Draper's son William, who was selected to be the Sheriff of the County of Kent but died in 1650 before taking office, and then to Robert's grandson, parliamentarian Cresheld Draper. On the death of Cresheld Draper in 1694, his heirs sold all the properties to Sir Cloudesley Shovell'.[10]

Crayford Manor House was rebuilt in the eighteenth century, at the time essentially a farmhouse until it was remodelled in 1816 for the Rev. Thomas Barne. Historic England state it was built piecemeal over several periods, with a porch and Italianate features being added to the 1816 building.[11]

Other notable 19th-century local houses included Shenstone (built around 1828 and demolished 1974, the site is now Shenstone School, with Shenstone's former grounds now being Shenstone Park),[12] Stoneyhurst (which became Stoneyhurst Convent High School and is now the site of St Catherine's Roman Catholic School for Girls),[13][14] Martens Grove and Oakwood - the latter two designed by architect John Shaw, Jr. and built by George Locke of builders Locke & Nesham with each occupying one of the houses.[15]

Industrialisation

In 1819, the former saw mill site became a flour mill. Another major employer was the silk works set up by Augustus Applegath and later run by David Evans. The Maxim Nordenfeldt Gun and Ammunition Factory was also a major employer, until taken over by the Vickers Company in 1897. Vickers built military aeroplanes and armaments and became the dominant employer, building homes, a theatre and a canteen close to many workshops. The canteen (built during the First World War) became the town hall of the Crayford Urban District Council and remains a major landmark in municipal use.

Another former major employer in Crayford was Dussek Brothers (part of Burmah-Castrol since the 1960s) who operated their oils and waxes blending business on Thames Road from around 1928 until the site was bought by BP and subsequently closed down in 2001. The entire site was demolished in early 2010. The David Evans silk works is another recent closure, in 2002.

Demography

According to the 2011 census, 84% of the population is White British.[16]

Leisure

Crayford has a theatre and a greyhound racing track. The theatre was named in honour of Geoffrey Whitworth who played a key part in developing a British tradition of amateur drama and in building political support for The Royal National Theatre. The new Crayford Community Centre, located above the library, is the venue for many groups.[17]

Nearby Hall Place is a scheduled ancient monument lying between Crayford and Bexley. It has gardens with the River Cray running through and a plant nursery, a cafe and restaurant plus the silkworks shop.

“The Bear and Ragged Staff” public house are in the town centre.

The large Sainsbury's supermarket situated next to the greyhound stadium was claimed by Sainsbury's to be the world first's use of technology which heats the store using natural energy captured through boreholes buried hundreds of metres beneath the ground and was at the time of its expansion (2010) the largest Sainsbury's in England.[18]

The Tower Retail Park is opposite Crayford Town Hall.

The High Street is partly one-way for motor traffic.[19]

Sport

-   VCD Athletic Football Club compete in the Isthmian League Premier Division ('VCD' stands for Vickers, Crayford and Dartford). They play at Oakwood stadium, on Old Road, Crayford, which they share with Kent Football United
-   Crayford Arrows Sports Club[20] is a local football team, established in 1981
-   Crayford Jujitsu Club[21] are a local self-defence martial art club, providing Jujitsu instruction to both adults (over 15 years of age) and children (from 6–14 years old). It was formerly located in the sports hall adjacent to the Crayford Greyhound Stadium, but was re-established at the Europa Centre, on Vimy Way in 2012 after being closed for a number of years
-   Speedway racing was staged at Crayford Greyhound Stadium. The team raced in the inaugural 1968 British League Division Two as the Highwaymen before closing down. In later years the sport was revived and the team were known as the Kestrels. The track subsequently closed and the team moved to Hackney Stadium in East London

Education

-   Secondary schools in the area include Haberdashers' Aske's Crayford Academy

Places of worship

[St Paulinus Church, Crayford, Kent, in 2013]

-   Acts 2 Church Crayford,[22] Haberdashers' Aske's Academy, Iron Mill Lane
-   Crayford Baptist Church, Bexley Lane
-   St Paulinus Church (Anglican), Manor Road[23]
-   St Mary of the Crays Catholic Church, Old Road
-   Crayford Mosque, Crayford High Street

Locality

[Crayford ward (green) within the London Borough of Bexley (yellow)]

Nearest places

-   Bexleyheath
-   Dartford
-   Barnes Cray
-   Slade Green
-   Barnehurst
-   Erith
-   Bexley

Transport

Rail

Crayford railway station connects the town with Southeastern services to London Charing Cross via Sidcup, London Cannon Street via Sidcup and Lewisham, London Cannon Street via Woolwich Arsenal and Greenwich, Dartford and Gravesend.[24]

Buses

Crayford is served by three Transport for London bus services.

-   96 to Woolwich via Bexleyheath and Welling, and to Bluewater via Dartford
-   428 to Erith and to Bluewater via Dartford
-   492 to Sidcup via Bexleyheath and to Bluewater via Dartford

Notable residents

-   Semi Ajayi[25]
-   Augustus Applegath Inventor who built Shenstone House[26]
-   Thomas Bevan soldier and played first-class cricket for the British Army cricket team.[27]
-   Algernon Blackwood, Author, journalist and broadcaster lived in Crayford Manor House between 1871 and 1880.[28]
-   William Claiborne, Surveyor of Jamestown in the Virginia Colony and established the first permanent European settlement in Maryland[29][30][31][32]
-   George Green Footballer.[33]
-   Thomas Harman, Author who resided in Crayford from 1547;[34]
-   George Locke, Lived in Crayford was a builder of large buildings of note.[35]
-   Nigeria under-20 international footballer
-   Henry Nuttall Cricketer.[36]
-   Keith and Gavin Peacock Father and son footballers.[37]
-   Cloudesley Shovell, Admiral who lived at May Place between 1694 and 1707,[38]
-   Frederick Currie, Lived at the Manor House, May Place.
-   Hiram Maxim, Lived in Stoneyhurst from 1884 until 1889)[39][40]
-   Derek Ufton, Played cricket for Kent and football for Charlton Athletic.[41]
-   Jack Wall, Inventor of the Crayford focuser[42]

[1]

[2]

[3] Domesday Map Retrieved 2013-08-23

[4] 'Pigots 1840', on website freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~shebra/pigots_1840 accessed 5 December 2007

[5] British History Online version of Hasted's History of Kent Volume 2 accessed 10 February 2016

[6]

[7] History of Parliament page on Francis Goldsmith accessed 10 February 2016

[8] History of Parliament article on Cresheld Draper accessed 10 February 2016

[9] Facets of Froyle website articles on the Draper family accessed 10 February 2016

[10]

[11] Historic England assessmengt of Crayford Manor House accessed 7 February 2016

[12] Parks & Gardens website page on Shenstone Park accessed 7 February 2016

[13] Dartford Council website article on Hiram Maxim Accessed 7 February 2016

[14] Bexley Boroughs Photos website text accompanying picture of Stoneyhurst Convent High School accessed 9 February 2016

[15] Bexley Council article on Martens and Oakwood accessed 7 February 2016

[16]

[17] Crayford Community Centre Your London Library; accessed 7 February 2016

[18] Sainsburys article on largest stores in England, Scotland and Wales J Sainsbury; accessed 7 February 2016

[19] Developer plans for new Crayford retail park Completely Retail

[20]

[21]

[22]

[23]

[24] Crayford National Rail Enquiries

[25]

[26] Bexley Council article 'Crayford' accessed 7 February 2016

[27]

[28]

[29] Clayburn Family website page about Thomas Claiborne accessed 10 February 2016

[30] Kent Island website history page accessed 10 February 2016

[31] Archives of Maryland biography of William Claiborne by Jennifer Copeland accessed 10 February 2016

[32] New Kent History Blog article on its establishment accessed 10 February 2016

[33]

[34] Rogues & Early Modern English Culture (University of Michigan Press, Craig Dionne & Steve Mentz, Editors ) page 106 shown at books.google.co.uk accessed 10 February 2016

[35] Littlehampton Fort website article about Locke & Nesham accessed 7 February 2016

[36]

[37]

[38] CrayfordHistory website article about May Place accessed 7 February 2016

[39]

[40] Bexley Council website article on Hiram Maxim Accessed 7 February 2016

[41] 'A Remarkable Sporting Life' - article about Derek Ufton on Kent Cricket website accessed 10 February 2016

[42] Description of the Crayford Focuser accessed 28 November 2007

title: Crayford

question: Describe Crayford's earliest inhabitants?

answer: There is evidence in the area of an iron age settlement. Roman ruins are also evidence of people living in the area during the Roman invasion. Crayford is also plausible as the site of the bloody battle of Crecganford (“Creeksford”) in 457. Crayford is mentioned in the Domesday Book, which was compiled just prior to 1086.


text:
	Cynthia awoke to the sound of a distant plaintive cry fading into silence. Clarity having yet to fully return, still she tried to grasp what she had just heard from the vague echo left in her mind. It was unearthly but familiar. She knew she had heard it before. As much as she forced herself however the answer eluded her and eventually she pulled a pillow over her face in frustration. After a few minutes of this and some sporadic thoughts she surrendered and relaxed. It was the middle of the night but nevertheless she decided to get up.

	Rising into a seated position on her bed, she neatly folded a corner of her clean white duvet to one side – the result was the triangle of negative space left by her white sheets being mirrored with perfect symmetry by the triangular fold of the duvet. In the darkness though they were equal shades of chiaroscuro gray but still there was enough texture in the darkness to give them both some form. Pausing for a few seconds to let her eyes adjust completely, she then stood and carried herself with delicate bare feet over to a light switch on the far wall. She paused before flipping it though and instead turned around. Through her faintly translucent white curtains, the constellations of city towers – mostly condominiums and office buildings – bled through with a soft platinum tinted light, and more obviously, in thin beams around the slim edges of her windows that eluded being covered.

	With a snap the white plastic switch obliterated all the shadows. In their place the normal colors of the bedroom were restored and the shape of the bedroom's décor was restored to the same visual condition it had when Cynthia had bought each individual piece. She surveyed it with a meticulous eye to see if anything was out of place like she did with every other room – a carefully cultivated habit that also accounted for her success in other aspects of her life – and was satisfied with the total absence of clutter and disarray that she found. Of course she always made sure this was the case before she went to bed but no matter how many times she inspected something she had properly ordered, she always got a fresh feeling of affirmation from it. Moving over to a dresser, she then proceeded to pick up a marble bust of the god Janus from its roof, one of the minority of concretely styled objects in the otherwise abstract milieu. The two diverging bearded faces stared out with blank stone eyes. Cynthia personally found that these sorts of things – collected without absolute sparseness – ended up making one's living space looking gaudy, but at the same time total desolation would have unnerved most people. Not her of course. But company. It was a concession that had to be made then to social conventions. And the god did symbolize something meaningful for her. He was the god of doors and as such the god of doors opening. Doors opening for her.

	In her pristine bathroom next, Cynthia sat down on the toilet to take a piss. Without any clothes on this was accomplished merely by lifting the outer lid. The cool immaculate seat felt nice on her warm flawless skin. Not having brought her phone in with her, Cynthia's attention turned naturally to her thighs. They were chiseled and polished exactly to her specifications – toned but without any conspicuous musculature. She liked her thighs because they knew their place. This knowledge though wasn't accidental. Five days a week every week – with the odd exception – she put them through an exercise regiment to remind them who was boss. With that thought the last of her urine trickle slowed with a sound like a miniature metal xylophone having all of its keys slowly traced in one sweep. Unrolling about a foot of two-ply toilet paper from the dispenser next to her, Cynthia proceeded to wipe herself off before neatly depositing the used tissues into the water and gracefully getting up. She flushed the toilet without a second glance and went to wash her hands in the sink – which although not actually needing it – would nevertheless benefit from a symbolic cleaning. Then she looked into the mirror.

	Eyes as pure and blue as arctic waters stared back at hers. A nose that was slender and straight corresponded with her nose. Lips like pale cherry blossoms emulated to perfection the form of her mouth. Turning her face from side to side she searched her cheeks and her chin and her forehead for any dermal insurrections. None could be found though. Of course her pores – like everyone else's she imagined – revealed some unmentionable things under really really close scrutiny but that was a battle she had learned to live with. She practiced regular exfoliation – as often enough to be a sacrament for her – and this managed to keep the blemishes at bay for the most part. In dire circumstances though she had emergency measures she could resort to and of course a full complement of  cosmetics to avail herself of. Her face, which a man in a hotel bar had once compared to Ingres' Odalisque (And very astutely she thought – although this didn't succeed in getting him what he was after) was probably the one she would have chosen if she had been given a choice of all the faces in the world. In fact she would also have chosen her dusky brown hair, her long vase like neck, her elegant arms and legs, her firm crescent behind, even her breasts. They were far from being the largest breasts in the world but they were exquisite in their suppleness and had small pleasant auburn nipples and men certainly found them alluring enough. She was twenty six years old and blessed.

	Finished with the self examination she heard it again as she walked out into the living room. The cry. It sounded like – but it just couldn't be. Not that. It made no sense. She had the desire to go to the window and make sure but even the concession to verify that it wasn't what she thought it wasn't was too irrational a thing to go through with. Instead Cynthia focused her attention on the interior of her enviable condo. Two bedrooms (One was converted into a home office) wood floors, an open kitchen with a large island table, large windows capturing the best part of the Toronto skyline, a veranda wide enough for barbecuing and lounging – it was the sort of suite that most people would only ever see in advertisements. And it was all hers. Well – she hadn't paid off the mortgage of course but she had just recently been made partner at one of the world's leading law firms so that wasn't a problem. One of the youngest they'd ever had too but they knew talent when they saw it and there were plenty of other opportunities out there for her so if they didn't offer her the right amount of incentives someone else would.

	She could have been a model of course but she was never the sort of girl who was interested in getting by in life just from her looks. Sure she still made use of them. Like everywhere else – in litigation they came with certain advantages. Disadvantages too but on the whole more useful than not. Besides you had to use whatever you had – being dissatisfied with what you couldn't change would never benefit you in any way. Of course she could have, hypothetically, disfigured herself – but that certainly wasn't a desirable solution. She quite enjoyed being so good looking. And not just attractive in an essentially sexual manner but beautiful according to classical ideals.

	Picking up her lime green smart phone from a white chamois sofa, Cynthia immediately checked her inbox. A handful of new emails had arrived since she went to bed – most of them related to one of her current filings. One gargantuan pharmaceutical conglomerate suing another. Not particularly interesting mind you but the billable hours were fantastic. Still it was nothing she couldn't deal with in the morning. Putting her phone back on the sofa – through careful consideration she had determined that it was actually the most convenient, and therefore most efficient, place for it to be – she headed towards the kitchen. She felt like having some green tea before she went back to bed. On the sleek ultramodern stovetop her anachronistic tin kettle stood out. It used to be her grandfather's and so she kept it for sentimental reasons. It reminded her of the summers she spent on her grandparent's peach farm in the Okanagan. It also reminded her of a time in her life when she was completely carefree. This involved a kind of regret that she only partially understood and rarely gave much thought to.

	As the water in the kettle was coming to a boil she decided that a little music would be nice, so she booted up the laptop which had been sitting on the kitchen counter, and quickly brought up her music collection. It consisted of about twenty gigabytes mostly bought and paid for – an eclectic cache of songs and albums. Desiring something warm and atmospheric, but something that would commune with the night, she selected the album Saturdays = Youth by the pop group M83. When it first came out she had listened to it all the time but it had been a while. Now seemed like the right time to do so. Sweeping in like an angel waltzing, the first song – You, Appearing – filled the air with a calming sensuality. It was sublime. Closing her eyes, Cynthia twirled a little and smiled to herself. When the whistle of the kettle began to swell it almost seemed in tandem with the music, so much so that the hairs on her neck floated a little. Taking the sighing kettle and turning the element off, she held the dispenser of boiling water in one hand while the other took the cap off her porcelain teapot and dropped three tea bags inside. Then she poured it about two thirds full, put the kettle back on a cold element, put the cap on, and waited. Her life, in this specific moment, was the definition of serenity.

	The second song, Kim and Jessie, was whispering its chorus when she started to pour some of her tea into a small gilded cup that had a seventeenth century baroque motif. The amber hued water glistened as it shimmered to fill the vessel. When it was ready she took it in both hands and sipped slowly while she thought about the guy she was seeing. Sean Douglas – a hedge fund manager with his own company. The total amount of wealth he was responsible for hovered around a hundred and sixty million at present. Same time last year it was around fifty million. He was definitely her kind of person ambition wise but, to be honest, she wasn't sure that their relationship could gratify her emotionally. He could be a bit… dense. Besides she didn't need a man to take care of her. He had potential though. She'd wait and see.

	While she was finishing off the last of her tea however the cry returned. Swiftly she dashed over to her laptop and muted the music. This let her catch the tail of end of the mysterious  noise. She knew precisely what it sounded like but there was no way it could be that. Absolutely no way. Well, unless – could someone be playing it? A recording? Decided now she went over to her curtains and resolutely pulled them to the side. Then she heard it again and this time it was coming from right beside her building, just outside her view.

	When she finally saw it she didn't even notice as she dropped her tea cup. It was like there was suddenly nothing but emptiness inside her skin. She would have fainted if she wasn't so absolutely mesmerized. It was a humpback whale. Swimming. Through the air. It was as clear as one of those high definition nature programs filmed underwater. The motions of the whale in the air were exactly what they would have been in the ocean. Its body leisurely undulated as it swam through the corridors of city towers and made slow graceful turns. She even looked into its large soft eyes and she saw life there. She saw the lights of the city gleaming on its flesh. But she couldn't believe it. Her mind, like her body, was just paralyzed. Unable to situate itself within the event. She couldn't even question what she saw because she couldn't form a question. But then she heard the excruciating beauty of the whale's cry again and two lines of tears began to flow from the outer corners of her eyes. The open ring of her mouth testified to an unspeakable why. There was no one watching from any of the other hundreds of open windows that she could see though. She was alone with the whale. As it passed behind the next condo building however it suddenly failed to reappear despite that it should have immediately been visible again. Although she waited and waited it never came back. It was irrevocably gone and now she had just herself again.

	Cynthia stared out anxiously at the alien city before her. A long time passed before she was able to crouch down and pick up the pieces of her broken tea cup.

title: Aria of the Night

question: Summarize Cynthia's experience with the sounds that woke her.

answer: Cynthia was awoken by the distant sound of a cry that faded into silence. It was a familiar sound so despite it being the middle of the night, she decided to get up to investigate. She eventually heard the cry again which sounded like something that would be impossible to be outside her window. Once again she hears the cry which was coming from right beside her building. When she finally saw it, she could not believe it, dropping her cup of tea. She was seeing a humpback whale, out of the water, swimming through the air. It swam gracefully in between buildings, making turns. Cynthia was mesmerized, paralyzing her, unable to comprehend the beauty before her. She was alone with the whale as no one else was watching from the many other windows. However, all of a sudden, as the whale passed behind one building, it suddenly failed to reappear.