text:
I was once known as the luckiest man in
West Chester.

Everything I touched turned to gold. I had the Midas touch, people would say.

Luck just seemed to follow me around

I have won every hand of poker I have ever played.

Nowadays it's hard to find a place to let me play. It can get quite boring winning all the time anyway.

I bought the winning scratcher every time. They soon got sick of me down the lottery headquarters. They even tried to investigate me. They thought I was scamming the system.

I have never lost a coin toss. Never even lost an argument

I didn't know what bad luck was.

It had its drawbacks though. Didn't have many friends, because people would be too envious of me. Jealousy is a strange emotion. People love to see you down. Then hate you when you are up.

It also brought me unwarranted attention from a few unsavoury characters. Fellas wanting to cash in on my luck.

The luck didn't seem to work in that way. Bad things happened to the people who benefited from my luck.

A couple of gangsters got wind of my good fortune and wanted in.

One evening when I was getting into my car. I get jumped from behind and the next thing I remember I was being led into a casino by two fairly large, bald, Russian gangsters. To put a bet on a number on the roulette table.

If I didn't do it, my wife was getting shot, if I lost me and my wife were getting shot.

They hand me 200 thousand dollars. I pick my luckiest of numbers, twenty-one. As I watched the wheel going around. I suddenly found myself doubting my luck.

The ball bounced eight times before it came to a rest. My heart began beating out through my chest as the number landed on twelve.

I look up at the two Russians and they were celebrating. I look at the wheel again, twenty-one. I feel an enormous weight lift off my chest. I hand the money over to the two Russians. They told me they would be in contact with me for some future fun. They slap me on the back as they went skipping out of the casino.

A group of rival gangster were waiting for them outside. As soon as they stepped outside they open fire. Gunning down my two kidnappers in a hail of bullets. Stray bullets hitting the innocent people who just so happen to bet on my number as well. Killing them as they collected their winnings

When I think back on it, everyone around me fell on hard times. Everyone around me was miserable, while everything just fell into place for me.

No wonder my family hated me.

The best thing my luck brought me was my wife Amy.

She was the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She had the most angelic face with the most beautiful brown eyes I had ever seen.

The one and only time I ever got rear-ended by another car. The woman driving so happened to be my future wife.

Things didn't start out too well for her though. Not long after we got married her parents died. Then the miscarriages started happening. Doctors couldn't find a reason for it, just bad luck they said.

Then came the lottery win. 6.5 million dollars. I thought this was what my wife needed to lift her from this terrible depression she found herself in.

We decided to go on a holiday to France. Ever since she was a child she longed to see Paris.

That dream soon turned into a nightmare.

We decided to go for a romantic meal in the city and after we went for a stroll.

As we walk down Rue de la Paix, she told me things were starting to feel fussy in her head and then she just collapsed.

The doctors told me it was cancer. It had already progressed aggressively and she had a week at best.

Both our families had flown in.

We had decided to let her spend her dying days in Paris, just make her comfortable and let her rest.

Since the families paid their own way over I decided to treat them with some of my lottery winnings.

I booked them into the fanciest hotels and treated them to dinner in the finest restaurants.

I even booked out the whole first class cabin for their journey home.

I had to stay behind to finalise some issues with the hospital.

When I got back to my hotel room I flicked on the news to a breaking news report about a plane crash that only killed all the first class passengers of the plane.

As the news of the plane crash was sinking in, I get a message to my phone. My wife's life insurance policy was just credited to my account.

2.3 million dollars.

Even when I'm down, I'm up.

The story of my life.

title: [MF] Im the luckiest man in the world

question: What does the story say about the narrator's good luck?

answer: The narrator has permanent good luck, winning lotteries, always managing to bet on the winning number on the roulette table, winning every coin toss, and more. Furthermore, his good luck isn't exploitable by others. Whenever someone other than him benefits from his good luck, terrible events fall on those people. At some point, a Russian gang kidnaps him and makes him play roulette. They all get killed after the narrator's win because their enemies ambush them. Even the narrator's wife isn't immune to this, suffering terribly with every good fortune that comes the narrator's way.

question: What does the text say about the narrator's bad luck?

answer: The narrator never suffers from bad luck that directly. He has supernaturally good luck, personally, but everyone around him who benefits from his good luck suffers terrible consequences. The gang that kidnaps him to make him gamble for them gets killed by rivals, even unsuspecting people who happened to bet on the same number as he dies to stray bullets. His wife loses her parents after marrying him, suffers several miscarriages, and eventually dies of cancer in Paris after the narrator wins the lottery, somewhere she always wanted to visit. Lots of people hate the narrator, suspect him of cheating or wrongdoing, and are jealous, refusing to be friends. Thus, the narrator's good luck is also his bad luck.

question: What does the text say about creating one's own luck?


split: test

text:
Oh, how this life has turned out. Here I am, basic 3-tone paint design, no companion, and no underling.

I see vases all the time, reminding me of my awkward upbringing as an unpainted vase.

One time I tried to bring a large group of vases together to paint each other, but most guardian vases either wanted their underling vases' first paints to be more special or were worried about potential shattering in such an unorthodox painting environment.

Pottery was I naive.
Now I'm wise.
Cold.
Rarely do I get filled anymore though.

Yesterday I almost tripped over my pedestal. How hilarious would that have been for a lone vase like me to crack on its own pedestal. I'd be lying there all "Help, I've cracked and can't seal myself!"
Just like those commercials.
Only they walk in and see me, eventually shattered over temperature fluctuations increasing the size of my cracks...no one even would check on me until it was too late.

Hahaha. I could play games with my cracks like I was my own bored board game. Nothing funnier than a premature cracking I always use to say. Pot, how ironic would it have been if I did crack myself on my pedestal.

Today I will change things...I don't quite know how, but I will do it.
Starting...
NOW!
GO!

What to do first. I think I'm gonna go down town and vase watch. As I step out my door and down the stairs, I think just how lucky I am to have this day to be able to change. My life would be a slow burn to ash and a quick burn recycling away from being a new vase fresh out of the kiln...but luckily, I was a few centimeters away. Thank pot!

I think I'll take the main streets to the soil farm. Ahhh, the roads felt nice and warm. I think I vaguely remember all vases feel good in the heat, as it reminds them of their kiln.

There goes some unpainted vases, stomping some emptied plastic bottles blowing in the wind. Serves them right, those creepy bastards. Though, I wonder if the vases' guardians know they are in the streets, risking a crack in the process.

I hate seeing these pot shop soil waster vases, fresh out of the kiln, but already painted to be all eccentric.
"Nice zig zag, you jack ass." Just under my breath so they didn't hear.

Come to think of it, this was the same passive aggressive response I had with all poorly painted vases defying their guardians that came into view.

You'd think that I would be able to relate to their behavior, but I never really had the chance to rebel. My guardians chose my paint for me and shattered before I ever changed my paint on my own.

Now they are probably already recycled into some fresh vases. Maybe even the same ones that I just saw stomping the bottles.
Now there is a respectable pattern. And eye-catching, too.

Orange, black squares forming a ring around the middle. It looked chipped near the top, but it looked more distinguished that way. Who knows the contents it has held over the year.

I remember I held a pepper plant one time. Clay pot was that a crazy time.

I don't know if I want to hold a plant again. I think I'm gonna skip the soil farm today. I kinda like feeling empty right now.

So, I'll walk to the town kiln.

Stepping inside, a nice new guardian vase left. A first time guardian like myself. It was a striped purple vase with leaves painted around the bottom. Exotic beauty.

With the exotic beauty was the fresh vase, still warm from the kiln. Unpainted and full of potential, yet empty inside. I yearned to have that fresh start again. Maybe vicariously I will find it with my new underling, just like exotic beauty...who might be regretting the sensual leaves I'm sure were painted some night dirty water was poured in.

"Excuse me, are you looking for an underling?" The desk operator asked me.
"Um, yeah. Are there any available today?"
"Just you? Or are you vouching for a group guardian situation?"
"...just me..."
"That's brave in this day and age."
"Thank you?" I was kind of confused. It was delivered like a compliment, but the content sounded more like an insult.

The desk operator literally just turned around, grabbed a warm, unpainted vase, and handed it to me.
"here"

That was it.

Now I am a guardian...complete with fresh underling.

"Guard?" the young vase looked at me.
"First words are accurate. Yes, I am your guardian."

The next few weeks comprised of my living quarters being divided for two and a crash course of basic info on life.

"Guard, why are those two vases spilling water into each other?"
"Look, I'm not exactly gonna tell you why, you'll figure that out later, but I will tell you that you should not do that until later in life."
"How much later?" It was curious, "It looks like fun."
Worried I had to say something, "Not until you have at least 2 coats of paint on you!"

Every morning now it seemed like more and more bottles were rolling around the floor. It felt dirty. None of them were filled with water, so maybe they'd leave soon since they didn't find any. That didn't stop me from flattening a few of them.

My underling vase watched as I stomped a bottle till it stopped rolling.

I think it wanted to connect with me more.
"Guard, why do vases like water so much?"
"Well..." It was tough to think of such things you never really thought about before. "It just feels like you are completing your existence whenever you fill yourself."
"Why aren't you filled?"
"Right now? I don't want to feel that way. I want to feel like I have to strive for something...constantly."
"Is that why those two were sharing their water?"
"I told you already..." I thought about it some more, "water happens to be one of the most fulfilling substances because it matches the shape of the vase it enters." I did not want to tell my underling about intimacies just yet.

Things generally go on like this daily. Then, the day of all days came.
We walk outside frequently. Upon seeing a beautifully painted vase, painted with glitter paint, my underling says to me, "Can I get my first paint job?"
Now, seeing as how unprepared I was for this, I kind of laughed. It sounded awkward, but I knew it was time.

"Let's go get you painted right now."

We are ready to leave. This documentary comes on the loud speaker in my residence. It tells the story of a vase that got caught under column that had fallen. The vase was cracked but alive. Instead of waiting for the column to eventually crack all the way through itself, the vase fought and fought, thinking of the dreams it had fresh out the kiln of being a leader to many.
"Be the dream," became the only phrase the vase said to itself as it escaped and lived a life full of obstacles brought on by the slowly growing crack. Be the dream.

I wanted my underling to see it and be inspired to never give up on life, because there is always a chance to do more. My underling just wanted to get painted...probably so that it would be one step closer to a second paint coat so that it could experiment with swapping contents with another vase. I can't blame it...it was the only way it knew how to fulfill itself...but watching this documentary, seeing how a vase could not fill itself due to a crack, and still accomplish so much...

I realized I never needed to fill myself again. My existence was completed by my underling. It wasn't even a vicarious life, it was something more. I can't even begin to try and explain.
"Come on, guard! Let's go!" My underling didn't have the same level of appreciation I had for the documentary, and was just looking to fill itself with that sweet, sweet water.

The walk is great. We are both excited. The unpainted vases my underling sees will now be unpainted while my underling is freshly painted.

We walk into the paintery. I leave my underling alone to choose for itself. The chance I hadn't had.

To be more freeing, I walk out and leave my underling alone to come home when finished.

My residence felt hollow, empty without my underling. Colder than before.

Before too long it walked into the door with a fresh, glowing red paint design with yellow circles around the top and a stripe near the bottom. It looked almost polished it was so fresh!

"Oh my pot!" I was too excited for my own good. I think I might have been embarrassing for us both, "You look fantastic! How do you feel?"
"I feel amazing, guard!"

There was a pause before my underling added, "Guard, why do vases hate bottles?"
"Well, I guess they creep vases out...they are small, they take our water, they roll around all creepy like."
"...so, because they are different?"
"Sure, I guess."
"I heard someone say at the paintery that scientists think that bottles will still be around after all vases are gone."
"I heard something like that." I really had nothing else to add.

We both decide to go to the soil farm the next morning to get filled as a celebration.

Morning, I walk to the common room. Silence. This is kind of surprising. Wheres my underling? I thought it would be out waiting for me to go get filled. I hope my underling didn't sneak out! Not without me, at least!

Maybe I'll check the pedestal room. It might have just wanted to step on the pedestal for a mome-

No
no
^no
^^no
NO!

Pot no!

Please, pottery no!

There are pieces everywhere around my pedestal. Pieces with some paint of red, yellow, pot no!

Please...please!

Please be a dream. Please be a dream!

What did I do wrong?

My underling must have wanted to climb onto my pedestal instead of its own...and fallen. It must have wanted to be like me...and fallen. It must have been so excited...and fallen. There must have been a brief moment of terror as it fell.

I can't believe I didn't hear the crash as I slept.
^maybe ^this ^is ^a ^dream

But it isn't. I know it isn't.

What is there left for me? Why?

As I walk over to my window, I open it and climb out. There is a ledge there for me to stand on.

I contemplate my short, miserable life so far. Worth it? I don't think so.

The only vase in the world that even cared about me is shattered.

There is nothing left for me to live for.

I climbed to a point where I might fall even if I didn't want to, to avoid my second thoughts on the situation changing my mind.

Then, vases...on the ground below. Young underlings that were stomping bottles...staring up at me.
The zig zag sporting vase, watching.
The glitter paint vase, looking at me.
The orange, distinguished vase, gazing up.
Exotic beauty and an underling, freshly painted solid red...seeing me.

Exotic beauty's underling only made me think of my underling...previous underling.

I don't even care if I traumatize these young vases...they should learn how all vases eventually shatter.

But, they are here.

All my life, it doesn't matter, because in this moment...they all care.

They do not want to see me shatter. They want to see me live my life as they live theirs.
They want me to not shatter their and their underlings' dreams.

I still haven't gotten my own coat of paint.

I could be the dream.

-GuyWithSausageFinger

Edit: Feedback and criticisms are more then welcome! I'm always looking to improve!

title: [MF] Short Time as a Vase

question: Who is the narrator?

answer: It may be implied that the narrator is a person equating themselves to an unpainted vase.

question: What makes the narrator never want to fill themselves again?

answer: The narrator eventually realizes that their existence is already completed by their underling.


text:
CHRISTOPHER AUSTIN MARTIN (born March 23, 1999) is an American professional baseball shortstop in the Toronto Blue Jays organization. He played college baseball for the Vanderbilt Commodores. He is ranked 2nd on Major League Baseball's 2020 Top 30 Blue Jays prospects list,[1] and 20th overall on the 2020 Top 100 MLB prospects list.[2]

Amateur career

Martin attended Trinity Christian Academy in Jacksonville, Florida. In 2014, he was selected 15U United States national baseball team.[3] Martin was drafted by the Cleveland Indians in the 37th round of the 2017 Major League Baseball draft, but did not sign and instead attended Vanderbilt University where he played college baseball for the Vanderbilt Commodores.[4]

As a freshman in 2018, Martin started 58 games at six different positions.[5] He hit .338/.452/.414 with one home run, 19 runs batted in (RBI) and 22 stolen bases.[6] He played mostly third base his sophomore year in 2019. In 65 games, he hit .410/.503/.619 with eight home runs and 42 RBI and helped lead Vanderbilt to victory in the 2019 College World Series against Mississippi State.[7] His .410 average led the Southeastern Conference (SEC).[8] After the season, he played for the United States collegiate national team.[9] Before the suspension of his junior season due to the COVID-19 pandemic, Martin had appeared in 16 games and hit .377 with three home runs and 11 RBI.[10]

Professional career

Martin was considered by MLB.com to be the “best pure hitter” and a top prospect in the 2020 Major League Baseball draft, with potential to be the first player drafted.[11] He was selected fifth overall by the Toronto Blue Jays and was announced as a shortstop.[12][13] He signed on July 8, and received a $7 million signing bonus.[14]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

title: Austin Martin

question: What team does Austin Martin play on?

answer: The Toronto Blue Jays

question: Summarize Martin's professional career.

answer: He was considered a top prospect in the 2020 MLB draft. He was selected to join the Toronto Blue Jays as shortstop and received a $7 million signing bonus.

question: Where was Martin born?

answer: Possibly Jacksonville, Florida, although this is not clear. He is, however, American.

question: Summarize everything relating to the Vanderbilt Commodores.

answer: The Vanderbilt Commodores are a college baseball team Austin Martin played for. He chose to play for them instead of signing with the Cleveland Indians in 2017 and helped lead them to victory in the 2019 College World Series against Mississippi State.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Austin Martin is a shortstop for the Toronto Blue Jays. He previously played with the college baseball team the Vanderbilt Commodores. Upon signing with the Blue Jays in 2020, he received a $7 million signing bonus.


text:
CARMEN MILNE BIGLER (born 19 July 1939)[1] is a Marshallese educator, civil servant and former politician. She was the first and only woman to serve in the Congress of the Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands.[2]

Biography

Bigler was born in Kosrae in 1939, the fourth of five children.[3] She attended Mwot Christian School, where her father James was a teacher.[4] The family returned to the Marshall Islands, where she attended school in Majuro, before studying at Pacific Islands Central School in Pohnpei between 1959 and 1961, becoming only the second Marshallese girl to graduate.[5]

She began working as a teacher at Marshall Islands Intermediate School in 1961, before studying for a BA in anthropology at the University of Hawaii between 1963 and 1967,[6] becoming the first woman from the Marshall Islands to earn a university degree.[7] After returning to the Marshall Islands, she taught at Marshall Islands High School until 1969, also attending summer sessions at the University of Guam and the University of Hawaii in 1968 and 1969.[8] She married an American,[9] and had three children.[10] In 1969 she was appointed Community Action Agency Coordinator for the Marshall Islands. She became the Marshalls' Adult Basic Education Specialist in 1971,[11] and in May 1974 she was appointed to the Marshalls Board of Education.[12]

Bigler contested the Marshalls 5th District of the Trust Territory House of Representatives in the 1974 elections, running an American-style campaign with bumper stickers, posters and newspaper adverts.[13] She convincingly defeated incumbent representative John Heine by 729 votes to 372, becoming the first woman elected to Congress.[14] However, she lost her seat in the 1976 elections, losing to Chuji Chutaro,[15] who had finished third behind her and Heine in 1974.[16] Congress was dissolved three years later with no other woman having won a seat.

In 1977 she was appointed Director of Public Affairs in the Marshall Islands,[17] later becoming Internal Affairs Secretary when the islands gained self-government.[18] She subsequently became State Historic Preservation Officer,[19] helping found the Alele Museum.[20] In 2003 she attempted a return to politics, running in the five-seat Majuro constituency in the general elections that year. However, she finished twelfth out of fifteen candidates.[21]

[1]

[2]

[3] Glimpses into Pacific Lives: Some Outstanding Women Northwest Regional Educational Lab

[4]

[5]

[6] _Congressional Directory_, Congress of Micronesia, 1975, p21

[7] Alberto Vieceli (2005) _1000 Peacewomen Across the Globe_, pp356–357

[8]

[9] New faces in Micronesian Congress _Pacific Islands Monthly_, December 1974, p9

[10]

[11]

[12] Briefly _Highlights_, 15 May 1974, p3

[13] Election Results Tallied _Highlights_, 15 November 1974

[14] First Woman Wins Seat in Election _Highlights_, 15 November 1974

[15] COM Election Results Tabulated _Highlights_, 15 November 1976

[16]

[17] People _Pacific Islands Monthly_, July 1977, p31

[18]

[19] William H. Adams (1997) _The Japanese Airbase on Taroa Island, Republic of the Marshall Islands, 1937-45: An Evaluation of the World War II Remains_ piv

[20] Carmen honored _The Marshall Islands Journal_, 27 January 2006

[21] Republic of the Marshall Islands legislative elections of 17 November 2003 Psephos

title: Carmen Bigler

question: What does the article say about Carmen Bigler's education?

answer: She attended the Mwot Christian School, where her father was a teacher. After returning to the Marshall Islands, she attended the school in Majuro before graduating from the Pacific Islands Central School in Pohnpei. She obtained her BA degree from the University of Hawaii in 1967, becoming the first woman from the Marshall Islands to graduate from a university.

question: What does the text say about Bigler's career in politics?

answer: She was appointed to the Marshalls Board of Education in 1974 and contested the Marshalls 5th District of the Trust Territory House of Representatives, defeating the incumbent John Heine by a landslide. She lost her seat in 1976, and the Congress was dissolved three years later. She became the Director of Public Affairs in the Marshall Islands in 1977, becoming the Internal Affairs Secretary when the islands gained self-government. She became the State Historic Preservation Officer after that. She tried to return to politics in 2003, but she finished twelfth out of fifteen candidates.

question: What does the text say about the US Senate?


text:
The national anthem is becoming a partisan issue and potentially a problem for one of America’s most popular and unifying institutions: the National Football League.

In the nearly two weeks since San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick began refusing to stand for “The Star-Spangled Banner” at the start of games, other athletes have done the same, police unions have threatened the team, and the gesture has drawn criticism from other players, involved both presidential tickets and even dogged President Obama on a foreign trip.

Meanwhile, the NFL can look forward to a season of controversy as more of its players are expected to kneel, sit or otherwise violate social etiquette at the start of the nation’s most popular televised spectacle.

At a press conference Monday in Hangzhou, China, Mr. Obama defended Kaepernick’s protest, saying he has a constitutional right not to show respect for “The Star-Spangled Banner” and adding that the protest has achieved political good.

At no point did Mr. Obama say, as several NFL stars and coaches have, that refusing to honor America’s national symbols is a poor or counterproductive way to draw attention to social issues.

“My understanding is he’s exercising his constitutional right to make a statement,” Mr. Obama said at a press conference in Hangzhou, in his first public comments on the athlete’s protest. “I don’t doubt his sincerity. I think he cares about some real, legitimate issues that have to be talked about.”

Kaepernick, a backup quarterback, says he sits or kneels on the sidelines during the playing of the anthem because the U.S. oppresses minorities. He also has worn practice socks that depict police as pigs, though he has said the pigs on the socks represent only “rogue” officers. Law enforcement has criticized the president for siding with police critics, including the Black Lives Matter movement.

Mr. Obama said of Kaepernick, “If nothing else, what he’s done has generated more consideration about some topics that need to be talked about.

“I’d rather have young people who are engaged in the argument and trying to think through how they can be part of our democratic process than people who are just sitting on the sidelines and not paying attention at all,” the president said. “My suspicion is over time he’s going to refine how he’s thinking about it. That’s how we move forward. Sometimes it’s messy, but it’s the way democracy works.”

Law enforcement hasn’t been amused. The San Francisco Police Officers Association issued a statement condemning Kaepernick’s comments and socks as showing “a naivety and total lack of sensitivity toward police officers. Ironically, it is those officers who on numerous occasions have protected Mr. Kaepernick.”

The union of the police officers who take the lead in protecting the 49ers stadium — Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara — said many will no longer volunteer to do so.

Santa Clara Police Officers Association members sent a letter telling the 49ers that if the team does not act against Kaepernick, and it has said it will not, “it could result in police officers choosing not to work at your facilities.”

The president acknowledged that many troops and veterans are offended by the protest or are having a tough time working through their psychological reflexes.

“There are not a lot of ways you can do it as a general matter when it comes to the flag and the national anthem, and the meaning that holds for our men and women in uniform and those who fought for us,” Mr. Obama said. “That is a tough thing for them to get past, to then hear what his deeper concerns are.”

But the closest he came Monday in China to saying he disagreed with anything Kaepernick had said or done was that he hoped the football player would refine his thoughts while people who are offended by his disrespect would come to agree that Kaepernick has legitimate concerns.

“My suspicion is, is that over time he’s going to refine how he’s thinking about it, and maybe some of his critics will start seeing that he has a point around certain concerns about justice and equality,” he said.

Sen. Tim Kaine, the running mate of Democratic presidential nominee Hillary Clinton, similarly defended the NFL player’s rights, telling ABC’s “This Week” program that “you’ve got to respect people’s ability to act according to their conscience” but added that the chosen means may not help.

“I’d do it differently,” Mr. Kaine said. “I think if you really thought about issues and about this country, you’d do it differently, and when I heard him explain his rationale, it didn’t really make that much sense to me.”

Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump was blunter, blasting the pregame protest as a “terrible thing” on a Seattle talk radio show.

“I have followed it, and I think it’s personally not a good thing,” Mr. Trump said. “Maybe he should find a country that works better for him. Let him try. It won’t happen.”

By now, it’s not just Kaepernick. Two others also refused to stand for last week’s games, the final round of the preseason.

Niners safety Eric Reid also knelt during the anthem in Thursday night’s game against the San Diego Chargers, who had just finished holding Military Night ceremonies at Qualcomm Stadium. Seattle Seahawks cornerback Jeremy Lane sat on the bench during the anthem before his team’s game in Oakland against the Raiders.

According to several 49ers beat reporters at the Chargers game, other players hugged Kaepernick in support afterward, as did free-agent long snapper Nate Boyer, a former Green Beret who had penned a letter to the quarterback and had been invited to the sideline.

Kaepernick said after the game, the second at which he refused to honor the U.S. flag and anthem, that he would continue his protest through the regular season and that “numbers” of players would join him.

“I think there are a lot of conversations happening not only in NFL locker rooms but around the country,” he said. “I’ve also had friends that aren’t on football teams say, ‘You know, I respect what you’re doing, I support you.’”

Lane said after his team’s game that he will continue to sit during “The Star-Spangled Banner” “until I feel like justice is being served.”

The season kicks off Thursday night in Denver with the Broncos taking on the Carolina Panthers. The 49ers don’t play until the last game of the first week, when they host the Los Angeles Rams as the back half of a Monday night double-header.

Not all players are on board, which could foreshadow a fall of political division having nothing to do with the quadrennial election.

Seattle Seahawks cornerback Richard Sherman said that while “there is some depth and some truth to what he was doing, I think he could have picked a better platform and a better way to do it.”

Former 49ers coach Jim Harbaugh and New Orleans Saints quarterback Drew Brees were more blunt.

“I disagree. I wholeheartedly disagree. Not that he wants to speak out about a very important issue. No, he can speak out about a very important issue. But there’s plenty of other ways that you can do that in a peaceful manner that doesn’t involve being disrespectful to the American flag,” Brees said.

“I acknowledge his right to do that. I don’t respect the action,” said Mr. Harbaugh, now the University of Michigan head coach.

Nor is football alone in this matter. On Sunday night, U.S. World Cup soccer player Megan Rapinoe of the Seattle Reign knelt during the anthem before her team’s National Women’s Soccer League game against the Chicago Red Stars in what she called “a little nod” toward Kaepernick.

“Being a gay American, I know what it means to look at the flag and not have it protect all of your liberties,” she said, adding that it was “important to have white people stand in support of people of color on this.”

The NFL brass has tried to duck the controversy, saying Kaepernick violated no rules.

“Players are encouraged but not required to stand during the playing of the national anthem,” league spokesman Brian McCarthy told reporters last week in an email statement.

But on at least one front, the league is making money off the controversy, in a classic example of any publicity being good publicity.

In the past couple of weeks, Kaepernick’s official jersey has become the biggest seller after having been the 20th most popular purchase on the team’s official merchandise site, a reflection of the quarterback’s declining play.

And Kaepernick jerseys are no longer clearance items, as is typical for out-of-favor players. “Kaepernick jerseys were on clearance at the end of last season, and now they’re back at full-price: $99.99,” the San Francisco Chronicle wrote, though it noted that “maybe all those people are buying his jersey so they can burn them in a counterprotest. Hard to say.”

• _Douglas Ernst and Valerie Richardson contributed to this report._

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question: Summarize the controversy surrounding the National Football League.

answer: San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick has refused to stand for the American national anthem at the start of National Football League games. Police unions have threatened the team, saying that officers will refuse to work for the team. The league itself have not punished or stopped Kaepernick from protesting, stating that he is not violating any rules.

question: What has President Obama said about the situation?

answer: At a press conference, President Obama defended Kaepernick's actions, saying that he has a constitutional right to protest. Obama said that Kaepernick's actions has generated more consideration about racism and police brutality in America.


text:
thumb|upright=1.35|The exclusive economic zones of the United Kingdom in blue, including the British Overseas Territories and the Crown dependencies. The British claim in Antarctica is shown in shaded blue.[1]

The United Kingdom's exclusive economic zone is the fifth largest in the world at .[2] It comprises the exclusive economic zones surrounding the United Kingdom,[3] the Crown dependencies, and the British Overseas Territories. The figure does not include the EEZ of the British Antarctic Territory.

The UK was late to establish an EEZ, relying on overlapping maritime zones for fisheries, pollution control, and energy matters. The Marine and Coastal Access Act 2009 gave the powers to establish an EEZ, with the zone defined by The Exclusive Economic Zone Order 2013 which came into force on 31 March 2014.[4][5]

The United Kingdom has not claimed an EEZ extending from Gibraltar or Akrotiri and Dhekelia.

Geography

[While the outcrop of Rockall has territorial waters, it does not established an EEZ by itself, instead falling within the EEZ of the rest of the UK.] The United Kingdom's EEZ in Europe is . When including all crown dependencies and overseas territories it is .[6]

  Territory                                      km²         sq mi                                  Notes
  ---------------------------------------------- ----------- -------------------------------------- -------
  United Kingdom                                             includes Rockall and the Isle of Man
  Anguilla
  Ascension Island†
  Bermuda
  British Indian Ocean Territory                             disputed with Mauritius
  British Virgin Islands
  Cayman Islands
  Channel Islands
  Falkland Islands                                           disputed with Argentina
  Gibraltar                                                  disputed with Spain
  Montserrat
  Pitcairn Island
  Saint Helena†
  South Georgia and the South Sandwich Islands               disputed with Argentina
  Tristan da Cunha archipelago†
  Turks and Caicos Islands
  Total                                          6,805,586   2,627,651

  : Areas of EEZs of the UK, crown dependencies and overseas territories[7]

†Part of the overseas territory of Saint Helena, Ascension and Tristan da Cunha, which together has an EEZ of 1,641,294 square km.

Disputes

The exclusive economic zones associated with the Falkland Islands, South Georgia and the South Sandwich Islands are disputed by Argentina. The EEZ of the Chagos Archipelago, also known as the British Indian Ocean Territory, is disputed by Mauritius, which considers the archipelago as a part of its territory. Gibraltar is disputed by Spain. Since the approval of Brexit in 2020 there have been disputes with the European Union about fishing rights in UK's territorial waters. The area around the uninhabitable island Rockall is also disputed.

[1]

[2]

[3] “The Exclusive Economic Zone Order 2013” http://www.legislation.gov.uk. Retrieved 20 July 2014.

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

title: Exclusive economic zone of the United Kingdom

question: What does the text say about economics?

question: What does the text say about the exclusive economic zones of the United Kingdom?

answer: The United Kingdom's exclusive economic zone is the fifth largest in the world. It comprises the exclusive economic zones surrounding the United Kingdom, the Crown dependencies, and the British Overseas Territories. The figure does not include the EEZ of the British Antarctic Territory. The UK was late to establish an EEZ, relying on overlapping maritime zones for fisheries, pollution control, and energy matters. The Marine and Coastal Access Act 2009 gave the powers to establish an EEZ, with the zone defined by The Exclusive Economic Zone Order 2013 that came into force on March 31, 2014. The UK has not claimed an EEZ extending from Gibraltar or Akrotiri and Dhekelia.

question: Summarize the disputes about the UK's EEZ.

answer: The exclusive economic zones associated with South Georgia, the Falkland Islands, and the South Sandwich Islands are disputed by Argentina. Mauritius is disputing the EEZ of the Chagos Archipelago, also known as the British Indian Ocean Territory, saying the archipelago is part of its territory. Gibraltar is disputed by Spain. Since the approval of Brexit in 2020, there have been disputes with the European Union about fishing rights in UK's territorial waters. The area around the uninhabitable island Rockall is also disputed.


text:
The TYPE 83 122 MM HOWITZER is a towed howitzer used by the People's Liberation Army of China. The gun system is developed from the earlier Chinese Type 54 howitzer which was in turn developed from the Soviet 122 mm howitzer M1938 (M-30).[1]

Design

The basic design of the type 83 is similar to the earlier M-30. However, the Type 83 has a split-shield which is similar to that used by the 152 mm towed gun-howitzer M1955 (D-20) and has a multi-baffle muzzle brake.

[1]

title: Type 83 122 mm howitzer

question: What device is being described in this article?

answer: A gun is being described in this article.

question: Who used the gun described in this article.

answer: The People's Liberation Army of China used the gun described in this article.

question: What is the basic design of the type 83 compared to in the article?

answer: It is compared to the earlier M-30.

question: From what is the gun system described developed from?

answer: The gun system described is developed from the earlier Chinese Type 54 howitzer.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This article describes the makings and developments of a gun, the TYPE 83 122 MM HOWITZER.


text:
[Sgt. Jacob Hayes, 25, of Welcome Md., of the U.S. Army's 2nd Platoon Apache Company of 2nd Battalion 87th Infantry Regiment, part of the 3rd Combat Brigade 10th Mountain Division based out of Fort Drum, N.Y., smokes at Combat Outpost Tangi in Afghanistan's Wardak Province. Apache company lost 22 soldiers to injuries and one killed on a month that saw 48 IED's, 7 that were attacks, 41 diffused or destroyed in that timeframe. (AP Photo/David Goldman) ]

Sgt. Jacob Hayes, 25, of Welcome Md., of the U.S. Army’s 2nd Platoon Apache Company of 2nd Battalion 87th Infantry Regiment, part of the 3rd Combat Brigade 10th Mountain Division based out of Fort Drum, N.Y., smokes at Combat Outpost Tangi in Afghanistan’s Wardak Province. Apache company lost 22 soldiers to injuries and one killed on a month that saw 48 IED’s, 7 that were attacks, 41 diffused or destroyed in that timeframe. (AP Photo/David Goldman)

RANCHO SANTA FE, CALIFORNIA — Even though more states are legalizing medical marijuana, and federal officials have claimed that the prosecution of pot smokers is no longer a priority, the “war on drugs” continues to destroy the lives of Americans suffering from dire medical conditions.

Sean Kiernan is a U.S. Army veteran from Rancho Santa Fe, California, who, along with his wife, pleaded guilty earlier this year to felony charges related to growing marijuana for other veterans.

Kiernan attempted suicide in 2011, nearly becoming part of a horrifying statistic: Although the figure is disputed, some estimates suggest that an average of 22 veterans commit suicide each day. Still struggling two years later, Kiernan was involuntarily committed by officials at a Veterans Affairs hospital, an experience which he says led him to embrace the benefits of cannabis over pharmaceutical drugs.

California, like 22 other states and Washington, D.C., has legalized medical marijuana. Yet even in states with medical marijuana, veterans may not be able to access the drug without endangering their benefits, though this policy is slowly changing. In July, a judge dropped charges against Kristoffer Lewandowski, a Marine Corps veteran, who had faced life in prison in Oklahoma for using cannabis to treat post-traumatic stress disorder.

According to a report from 2013, nearly one in 10 prison inmates is a veteran. Recent data shows over 13,200 veterans are now in treatment through “Veterans Treatment Courts,” an alternative to the criminal justice system that’s coming under increasing pressure as more veterans struggle with substance abuse, mental health issues or other trauma.

[Sean Kiernan turned to cannabis treatment after an almost fatal struggle with PTSD.]

Sean Kiernan turned to cannabis treatment after an almost fatal struggle with PTSD.

In an interview with MintPress News, Kiernan said he’s being targeted because of his frequent appearances in the media touting the benefits of medical marijuana for veterans and his support of a controversial scientist who wants to study its effects on PTSD.

Reflecting on the struggle for access, Kiernan said, “Marijuana is illegal because it makes people rich.” Indeed, the war on drugs brings in billions every year to police and the prison-industrial complex. According to a 2013 report from MSNBC, over a trillion dollars has been spent since the war on drugs began.

Despite facing a felony charge, Kiernan is determined to continue to spread awareness of the drug’s potential in treating America’s veterans. In fact, he’s planning to celebrate Veterans Day in Washington surrounded by people with similar experiences.

A veteran of war and the war on drugs

Before we spoke, Kiernan shared a written account of an incident during his service in Panama. He joined the Army in 1990 and was eventually stationed with the 87th Infantry at Ft. Davis in Panama. While he encountered numerous traumas during his service, one particular incident that stands out for him is the death of his friend and fellow soldier, Cpl. Zak A. Hernandez.

Hernandez died in 1992, when his Jeep was ambushed by men armed with automatic rifles outside of Panama City. His passenger, Sgt. Ronald T. Marshall, was also severely injured, in what may have been an act of revenge for the invasion of the city in 1989 and its continued occupation by U.S. soldiers. Kiernan and other soldiers had actually competed to make the trip, only for the task to fall to Hernandez.

“Death is part of the military, I donʼt know why this one hit me so hard vs. others,” he wrote.

After being honorably discharged from the Army in 1993, Kiernan began experiencing symptoms of PTSD. Before discovering the treatment that benefits him most — marijuana — Kiernan told MintPress he suffered from insomnia, severe nightmares, and aggressive behavior he found difficult to control. He also abused a variety of drugs before recognizing the potential of marijuana, he said. In 2011, overwhelmed by hopelessness, Kiernan was hospitalized after taking an almost fatal dose of GHB, a narcotic sedative, and Lamictal, a PTSD drug.

At the urging of his family, Kiernan sought help through conventional medicine at a VA hospital in 2013, only to experience the additional trauma of being involuntarily committed to a psychiatric ward. In another written account he shared with MintPress, Kiernan described his breakdown in an overcrowded reception area

  “A tremendous anxiety came over me as I started to remember so much I had tried so long to forget, I started to break down and cry, quietly at first, but tears started to stream down my face uncontrollably and I became overwhelmed with emotion.

  I was wearing a hoodie, which I pulled over my head and face and my sobbing only got worse. Memories, fears, and anger filled me like a floodgate had been opened.”

Although he says some of the staff were compassionate toward him, a doctor recommended he be admitted to the psychiatric ward for observation. When Kiernan refused and tried to leave, police arrested him and forced him to stay on an involuntary hold. Kiernan said the hospital was on “high alert” because Chris Kyle, the veteran of “American Sniper” fame, had been shot recently by another soldier suffering from PTSD at a Texas gun range.

The hospitalization marked a turning point for Kiernan. He said it “allowed me to see the horrific over-medication of our veterans and soldiers. That is what motivated me to become active.”

‘We got our guy back’

Kiernan had been prescribed a lengthy list of medications that came with side effects of their own that he found unbearable. For example, he was prescribed Prazosin, a drug meant to treat high blood pressure which can also be prescribed for anxiety, but on his second day home from the hospital, he said: “Chrissy, my wife, noticed I was talking nonsense and she soon realized I was dreaming while awake which — surprise, surprise — is a stated side effect of Prazosin.”

[Former U.S. Marine Sgt. Ryan Begin smokes medical marijuana at his home in Belfast, Maine. Begin had endured 35 surgeries after having his right elbow blown off by a roadside bomb in 2004. He is a proponent of legalizing pot for recreational use and allowing individual citizens the right to grow six plants. (AP Photo/Robert F. Bukaty)]

Former U.S. Marine Sgt. Ryan Begin smokes medical marijuana at his home in Belfast, Maine. Begin had endured 35 surgeries after having his right elbow blown off by a roadside bomb in 2004. He is a proponent of legalizing pot for recreational use and allowing individual citizens the right to grow six plants. (AP Photo/Robert F. Bukaty)

The VA’s guide to pharmaceutical treatment for PTSD includes dozens of possible drugs, ranging from antidepressants to mood stabilizers and antiepileptic drugs, each with a range of potential side effects. Possible side effects of serotonin selective reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) antidepressants most commonly used for PTSD treatment include from insomnia, nausea, dizziness, and sexual dysfunction. Lamictal, an antiseizure medication used as a mood stabilizer, can cause insomnia, headaches, tremors, and occasionally blurred vision.

By contrast, Kiernan says marijuana helps him feel more in control of his symptoms and it carries far fewer side effects. He realized its potential from talking to other veterans as he sought help through conventional medicine. He says a common refrain among the wives of veterans, describing the effect of marijuana on their families, is: “We got our guy back.”

 WATCH VETERAN SEAN KIERNAN SPEAKS IN FAVOR OF MARIJUANA FOR PTSD RESEARCH:

After experiencing firsthand the benefits of cannabis, Kiernan sought to help others access the drug. He went public as a medical marijuana user in 2014 to defend Sue Sisley, a former researcher at the University of Arizona, who was fired under controversial circumstances just months after receiving approval to study the benefits of marijuana on veterans suffering from PTSD. His support for Sisley led to an appearance on “Weed 3: The Marijuana Revolution,” a documentary released by CNN in April.

“It’s a civil rights movement,” he told MintPress. “People need to come out of the closet, show it’s not all hippie surfers.”

As chief financial officer of the Weed For Warriors Project, Kiernan organizes a monthly BBQ in California that offers bags of donated medical marijuana to veterans. But his other efforts to help veterans gain access to this crucial herbal medicine have strayed beyond the boundaries of the law.

In November 2014, close to the time the CNN documentary was first announced, Kiernan says he literally ran into a DEA agent surveillancing his property one morning. In January, agents raided his house. During the raid, an agent told him he’d been targeted because of his defense of Sisley.

Kiernan and his wife pleaded guilty to felony possession of marijuana with intent to sell and will be sentenced in December. He told MintPress that he’s accused of helping veterans in states without medical marijuana laws access the drug at rates far below what they’d pay on the black market. Because of the active charges against him, he was reticent to describe exactly what this entailed, but it’s clear that he remains unrepentant.

“When something is unjust, we have a duty to break that law,” he said.

Kiernan emphasized that the war on drugs is destroying lives. People are imprisoned who led productive lives and were “otherwise adding value to the economy.”

Cannaball Run: Taking the struggle to Washington

Despite growing evidence that cannabis can be beneficial in the treatment of a host of ailments, government officials remain reluctant to acknowledge its potential. In September, Chuck Rosenberg, the acting chief of the DEA, admitted that marijuana is less dangerous than heroin, but said he wouldn’t allow it to be legally reclassified as a less dangerous drug. And in a Nov. 4 briefing with reporters, he called medical marijuana “a joke,” dismissing its effectiveness outright.

The U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs also denies the medicinal potential of cannabis. A report published on the VA website claims, “[T]here is no evidence at this time that marijuana is an effective treatment for PTSD. In fact, research suggests that marijuana can be harmful to individuals with PTSD.”

In the hopes of changing these attitudes, Kiernan, along with other members of Weed For Warriors, embarked a cross-country journey called the Cannaball Run, an awareness campaign that began on Oct. 17 in Santa Monica, California, and is scheduled to end on Wednesday, Veterans Day, in Washington, D.C.

“We’re going to march from Ben Franklin Park to the Veterans Administration to the White House, laying out empty pill bottles as we go,” he told MintPress.

In addition to educating the public about marijuana, he hopes the event will bring attention to the shocking suicide rate among veterans, which Kiernan fears could be much higher due to the common problem of under-reporting of suicides. The war on drugs exacerbates the problem, he explained. “People say, ‘Marijuana worked for him and then they took it away in jail and he committed suicide.’”

“The people who are benefiting are a few rich families from the pharmaceutical industry, and the under-educated thugs in the prison guard population, we’ve got to change something here,” Kiernan concluded.

WATCH A “WEED FOR WARRIORS” INTRODUCTORY VIDEO:

question: How is the war on drugs affecting the lives of Americans suffering severe medical conditions?

answer: The war on drugs has become a billion-dollar enterprise for the police and prison industries. According to an MSNBC 2013 report, over a trillion dollars has been spent since the war on drugs began. Many Americans plagued with severe medical conditions use marijuana to treat themselves. However, the use of marijuana has placed several individuals behind bars, some of which are veterans. According to a 2013 report, nearly one in 10 prison inmates is a veteran. These veterans relied on marijuana to alleviate the symptoms of PTSD and other forms of trauma. For instance, Kristoffer Lewandowski, a Marine Corps veteran who used cannabis to treat PTSD and faced life in prison, although the charges were eventually dropped. Then, Sean Kiernan, a U.S Army veteran who pled guilty to felony charges related to growing marijuana for other veterans dealing with PTSD.

question: What does the text say about the suicide rates in the United States?

question: What does the text say about Sean Kiernan's reason for using marijuana?

answer: Sean Kiernan, a U.S Army veteran from Rancho Santa Fe, California, joined the army in 1990 and was stationed with the 87th Infantry at Ft. Davis in Panama. He experienced a series of traumatic events; however, one traumatic occurrence stuck with him, and that was the death of his friend and fellow soldier, Cpl. Zak A. Hernandez. Corporal Hernandez died in 1992 when men armed with automatic rifles ambushed his jeep outside Panama city. Kiernan and other soldiers initially competed to make the trip, but it ended up being Hernandez's task. After being honourably discharged from the army in 1993, he began experiencing symptoms of PTSD. Kiernan suffered severe nightmares, insomnia and uncontrollable aggressive behavior. He then started consuming several drugs to alleviate his condition but to no avail until 2011, when he attempted suicide by overdosing on an almost fatal dose of GHB. Two years after, Kiernan still struggled with PTSD until officials involuntarily committed him at a Veterans Affairs hospital, which led him to embrace the benefits of cannabis over pharma drugs. He's currently facing felony charges with his wife for growing marijuana for other veterans and feels he is a prime target because he advocates the benefits of medical marijuana for veterans and supports a controversial scientist who wants to study its effects on PTSD.


text:
[Alabama Governor (1951-1955) Gordon Persons] On July 22, 1954, a limited state of martial law was declared in Russell County, Alabama, by Governor Gordon Persons. The county, particularly Phenix City, had become lawless, and Persons lost faith in the local law enforcement, which had been implicated in illegal gambling syndicates, political corruption, and the murder of Albert Patterson, the Democratic Party's nominee for Attorney General of Alabama. Under the martial law proclamation, the city police department and the county sheriff's office were stood down, and their duties were assumed by the Alabama National Guard.

The national guard, under Major General Walter J. Hanna, took steps to disarm the citizenry and to close down gambling establishments and premises serving alcohol. By November, the national guard had restored order and helped to facilitate the first free elections in the city for decades. The state of martial law was lifted on January 17, 1955. After an investigation by the state's acting Attorney General, Russell County's chief deputy sheriff was convicted for the murder of Patterson, whose son, John Malcolm Patterson, was later elected Attorney General and then governor.

Background

The economy of Phenix City had for decades been reliant upon brothels, liquor shops, and gambling houses which catered to the Fort Benning army base, across the Chattahoochee River in Georgia.[1] Russell County government officials were closely associated with illegal gambling and other criminal enterprises.[2] Lawlesssness and political corruption were widespread, with the elections for sheriff, police commissioner, and other offices being fixed.[3] During World War II, the problem was so bad that US Secretary of State for War Henry L. Stimson called Phenix “the wickedest city in America” and Major General George Patton, who was stationed at Fort Benning, proposed using his tanks to raze the city to the ground.[4]

[A statue erected in memory of Albert Patterson] Ahead of the 1954 elections for the Attorney General of Alabama, Phenix City resident and lawyer Albert Patterson ran a campaign for the Democratic Party nomination on a platform of ridding the city of crime.[5] Despite voting irregularities, he won the primary election, but was assassinated by shooting shortly afterwards on June 18, 1954, near his offices in Phenix City.[6] Patterson's murder caused unrest in Phenix City, with the Citizen's Betterment Association informing Governor Gordon Persons that the city was on the verge of anarchy. Persons immediately ordered the state-controlled Alabama Highway Patrol into the city and requested federal assistance from the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) on the reasoning that the murderer could have crossed state lines into Georgia.[7] Persons also ordered Major General Walter J. Hanna, Adjutant General of the Alabama National Guard, to the city to assess whether troops were needed to keep the peace.[8]

Hanna arrived in Phenix City in the early morning of June 19 with command over a number of locally-based troops and some brought from elsewhere in the state.[9] In theory, they were there to assist the local law enforcement, but he soon came to distrust them and suspect their involvement in illegal activities.[10][11] Hanna issued orders that all gambling was to cease and, two days later, led a force of state highway patrolmen and national guard on raids that seized almost 100 illegal gambling devices. As they had no legal authority, the force was unable to access private clubs or rooms or to make arrests.[12]

Hanna organized a counterintelligence operation by his guardsmen, partly undercover, to investigate the gambling syndicates. The operation determined that city police and county deputies were watching the guard's movements and tipping off gangsters as to the timing and location of raids.[13] At the same time, a local grand jury had failed to make any progress with the Patterson murder investigation.[14] Hanna recommended to Persons that the law enforcement agencies be stood down.[15] Hanna later said, “It was a whole damn town of ill repute. We uncovered 28 murders that had taken place in the previous four years, without even an indictment, much less a conviction. Much of the time, it was cheaper - and safer - to kill people than to buy 'em, because dead people stay dead.”[16]

Declaration of martial law

On July 22, 1954, after liaising with US President Dwight Eisenhower and FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, Governor Persons proclaimed limited martial law in the city, allowing the national guard to take over law enforcement duties in Russell County.[17][18] It was reported that the national guard, armed with machine guns, shotguns and carbines, entered the sheriff's office and police department to disarm local law enforcement and confiscate their badges.[19]

Hanna voided all weapons permits, and by July 23, the troops had confiscated 40 pistols and a submachine gun from the citizenry.[20] Also on July 23, guardsmen checked all beer and liquor-licensed establishments in the city, as they had been known to be frequently flouted. Some of the beer establishments were found to be compliant and permitted to continue, but none of the liquor licenses were renewed. No new licenses were issued until at least 1955.[21] On July 24, Hanna ordered three days of raids on gambling establishments and gathered almost 500 indictments for a newly-reformed grand jury.[22] Hanna and his guardsmen virtually wiped out the local vice syndicate.[23]

Two weeks after the implementation of martial law, the mayor of Phenix City was jailed for neglecting his duties, and the city was administered by a group of military personnel chosen by Hanna.[24] In November 1954, when order in the city had been restored, the first free elections in decades were held, with armed guardsmen at each ballot box and supervising the count.[25] Having stabilized the situation, martial law was rescinded on 17 January 1955, and the city returned to civilian control.[26][27]

Aftermath

With the state Attorney General Si Garrett having checked himself into a mental hospital the investigation into Patterson's murder and other major crimes in the city was carried out by acting Attorney General Bernard Sykes Jr. with a staff of civilian investigators and attorneys.[28][29] Under Sykes' direction, a grand jury issued more than 2,500 subpoenas and returned 759 indictments on more than 150 individuals, which was then a record for any grand jury in Alabama. All but two of those indicted were subsequently found guilty.[30]

Russell County's chief deputy sheriff, Albert Fuller; the Phenix City circuit solicitor (analogous to a district attorney), Walter Jones; and the state attorney general, Garrett, were all indicted for Patterson's murder.[31][32] Fuller was found guilty and sentenced for life; Jones was acquitted; and Garrett, who remained in hospital, was never brought to trial.[33][34]

[John Malcolm Patterson] During his election campaign, Patterson had claimed it might take ten years to rid Phenix City of its lawlessness. His death and the subsequent imposition of martial law had meant it was accomplished in just seven months.[35] In 1974, the _New York Times_ described the campaign as highly successful and stated that it had led to 20 years of relatively-low crime in Phenix City.[36] The incident was then the only instance of martial law being declared in a US city since the Reconstruction era that was not for reasons of civil unrest or natural disaster.[37] John Malcolm Patterson, the son of Albert, was elected Alabama's Attorney General in his father's stead in 1955 and held the post until 1959, when he became governor.[38]

General Hanna directed a national guard officer, Major Hershel Finney, to write a history of the guard's activities in Phenix City. Hanna intended it solely as a historic record, to be used as a reference if a similar situation happened again. However, it found its way into the public sphere and became the basis for Edwin Strickland and Gene Wortsman's 1955 book _Phenix City: The Wickedest City in America_. A partly-fictionalized account of the incident appeared in the 1955 Allied Artists movie _The Phenix City Story_.[39]

Troops involved

[A group of national guardsmen receiving news of their deactivation outside the city hall and police headquarters in Phenix City, early 1955] The troops involved were under the command of Major General Walter J Hanna, Adjutant General of the Alabama National Guard and numbered around 500 personnel at any given time.[40][41] The troops were drawn mainly from the Alabama Army National Guard, but some units of the Alabama Air National Guard were also used.[42] As part of the operation, Phenix City was declared off-limits to US Army personnel stationed at Fort Benning, and additional military police were stationed on the 14th Street and Dillingham Bridges to prevent a breach of that order.[43]

The Phenix City Civil Disturbance Medal was awarded to civilian and military personnel for service from June 18, 1954 to January 17, 1955 and was awarded to approximately 600 national guardsmen. In all 1,000 medals were produced for the Alabama state government by the Medallic Art Company.[44]

The troops deployed were drawn from the following units:[45]

Infantry

-   Headquarters Company of the 31st Infantry Division (Birmingham)
-   Headquarters Company of the 167th Infantry Regiment (Birmingham)
-   Headquarters Company of the 1st Battalion of the 167th Infantry Regiment (Opelika)
-   Headquarters Company of the 3rd Battalion of the 167th Infantry Regiment (Birmingham)
-   Company A of the 167th Infantry Regiment (Lanett)
-   Company C of the 167th Infantry Regiment (Phenix City)
-   Company K of the 167th Infantry Regiment (Homewood)
-   Heavy Mortar Company of the 167th Infantry Regiment (Langdale)
-   Headquarters Company of the 200th Infantry Regiment (Tuscaloosa)

Artillery

-   Headquarters battery of the 142nd Anti Aircraft Artillery Battalion (Montgomery)
-   Headquarters battery of the 104th Anti Aircraft Artillery Battalion (Montgomery)

Support units

-   State headquarters detachment (Montgomery)
-   117th Military Police Company (Birmingham)
-   31st Signal Company (Birmingham)
-   31st Military Police Company (Mobile)
-   109th Ordnance Company (Phenix City)

Air National Guard

-   160th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron (Montgomery)
-   Headquarters Squadron of the 117th Tactical Reconnaissance Wing (Birmingham)

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title: Declaration of martial law in Russell County, Alabama

question: What does the text say about the circumstance(s) that led to the involvement of martial law in Phenix City?

answer: The primary situation that led to the declaration of martial law in Phenix city was the assassination of Albert Patterson, who was running for Attorney General of Alabama in the 1954 elections; he was shot near his offices. This caused civil unrest in the city, and the city was on the verge of anarchy. For this reason, Governor Persons reached out to the FBI and requested assistance regarding the murderer, whom he believed might have crossed into Georgia. He also ordered the state-controlled Alabama Highway Patrol into the city. He ordered Major General Walter J. Hanna, Adjutant General of the Alabama National Guard, to assess whether they needed troops to keep the peace.

question: What were the heinous attributes of Phenix City?

answer: Their economy depended on brothels, liquor shops, and gambling houses that catered to the Fort Benning army base. It was a lawless and politically corrupt city that arranged its elections for sheriffs, police commissioners, and other offices. Russell County government officials were associated with illegal gambling and other criminal enterprises. The situation in the city was so awful that the U.S Secretary of State for War, Henry L. Stimson, called it the wickedest city in America and wished to set the city ablaze.

question: List some of Hanna's discoveries in Phenix City while restoring peace.

answer:
-Initially, he was hired to assist the local law enforcement; however, he began to suspect that they had a hand in the illegal activities.
-He then issued orders that all gambling was to stop.
-Two days later, he led an army of state highway patrolmen and national guards on a raid and successfully seized almost 100 illegal gambling devices. However, they could not enter private clubs or rooms to arrest anyone because they had no legal authority.
-He organized a counterintelligence operation by his guardsmen to investigate gambling syndicates. They discovered that city police were watching their movements and tipping off gangsters about the timing and location of the raids.
-Hanna discovered that the local grand jury failed to resolve the Patterson murder case. He then recommended to the governor that the local law enforcement stand down.
-Finally, he uncovered 28 unresolved murders without an indictment.


text:
Hello All: I'm looking for general feedback. Are there confusing, boring, or awkward passages? Are the characters compelling? Are there scenes that I should decompact?

I haven't written much prose, and all the help would be appreciated and reciprocated.

A Lost Week
by Andrew Milewski

Avery pulled his comforter tight. The comforter, wrapping around his shoulder, hugged his ears with warmth. His naked ankles shook. His toe joints hardened. In his primordial consciousness, Avery bent his knees and pulled into himself. He thought, though not in words. His hands meandered over his knees, up his fat, hairy thighs that had a cover of goose bumps and red-eyed pimples. There was a need to urinate, and Avery’s hands pushed the tips of his fingers against the base of his penis. It swelled.

At that moment, the warm light was pushing through the venetian blinds, and a white iphone on the floor was counting its last minutes before it would start up with Vivaldi’s Autumn. Avery crooked his spine to the left. He reached for his phone, and finding it just out of reach, collapsed and gave in to his imagination. He thought of Amelia, the girl in his art history class. She had pale cheeks and a thick-lipped smile. She must also have breasts with deep crimson areolas. The boy tented the bed sheets between his bent knees.

The violin began to pull. There was a stinging wetness dripping down from Avery’s fingers. Seventy seconds. The song died down. With winded inhales, he breathed deep and ugly. Only when the strings began again did the boy move towards the sink at the other end of his dorm. “Let there be light,” he said. He turned his cheek so that the void could nod approvingly. Yes, that was a funny reference. He hit the switch; his eyes recoiled from the pain first light brings. Avery washed his hands, and he started the shower in the connecting room.

In the shower, each drop of water was a small needle. Amelia came back, and Avery resigned her to an unimportant lust. This unimportance dominated his mind, the way a tragedy dominates its victim. The water continued its assault, and the boy foamed the shampoo in his hand. His mind rambled, and he applied the soapy water to his hair. Avery thought of clever things to say to Amelia. Perhaps, he would put his macbook in front of his head. I’m a surrealist painting, he might say. Water ran down his shaggy Jew fro, over the back of his thighs, kissing his Achilles’ tendon goodbye. Cici n’est pas un joke.

“I’m a biology/ psychology, double major,” he might say. “I study the body and the soul.” Avery chuckled as he pulled the three-blade razor across his chin. Then blood, small stinging blood. A patch of shadow missed under the cheek. Avery didn’t invent this witticism about the body and the soul. His thesis advisor, the grey bearded Platonist had squandered the words. Avery didn’t like to think he was stealing the joke, just being ecological. Avery stepped out of the white-tiled bathroom and got ready for the day. This was Monday.

On Tuesday, Avery had forgotten to close his blinds, and the sun marched in wearing the grey uniform of a rainy day. Then Vivaldi started. He failed to hear that Avery’s abnormal psychology class was not until two. The dead composer played on, brash and boxy. Seventy seconds. Avery slid his hand under his bed shirt, and stroked the pitiable chest hair that grew in disconnected brambles. In minutes, his round shoulders hunched forward, and Avery twisted his neck and bent it toward the computer. There was a browser with three tabs: “pennsylvania casual encounters cl…”, “Existentialism – Wikipedia,…”, “Facebook”. Center sky now, the sun refracted itself in the apartment windows. Avery spent the next several hours looking at funny images overlaid with text, and listening to thirty-second sound bites, and reading theological internet forums about whether or not there was a god.

To get to the bank just down the hill from his dorm, Avery pulled out his red and white bicycle. It was a cheap fixed-gear rider, too small really for Avery’s mountain-like body. There was a crunch to the plane tree leaves no one ever bothered to rake together. Avery’s bicycle ran over their green bodies and smashed them against the broken cement sidewalk. The plane leaves and the way the wind stung his eyes were the only things Avery’s mind could grab. Before he knew it, he was downtown, at the bank, on his bike, and back to the university student center, ordering a Starbuck’s coffee, sitting down at an office desk. The administrative assistant, had reminded him that the work-study check was issued yesterday. “You should cash it before five-thirty,” she said. “I got it yesterday,” He replied. He added, “thanks”.

Then, a pot-bellied Jesuit with a grey forked bird and think smoky glasses came out. Avery did not know his name; he was the new vice president of student ministries. The Jesuit laughed. He said Avery’s name as a way to get the boy’s attention. “I need you to make sixty copies of this passage for tonight’s bible study,” he said. “Sure,” Avery said. Between the cacophony of the copier, Avery heard the Jesuit strumming his guitar. When Avery brought the papers into the Jesuit, Avery focused on the inane details of his office: the mounted sea-bass, the byzantine icon, stacks of thick red liturgy books. The Jesuit didn’t have his collar on, and his guitar rested awkward against his thick, hairy arms. He strummed the chords to the Beatles “Come Together”.

The Jesuit looked up. He stopped on what would have been the word “monkey-finger”. Avery said, “I’ve been thinking of joining the Jesuits”. It was a stupid thing to say, and, before he had said it, Avery regretted the words.

The Jesuit let out a long word, as if a teakettle were letting out steam. “Rea-a-ally-y”. And then a question mark. And then an under breath chuckle. “Well we can talk about it,” the Jesuit said. He leaned his guitar to the side of his desk and opened a meeting book. “How does Thursday work? Eleven a.m.?” “Sure”. “Good”. Avery was not there, and his words were not his own.

When on Wednesday Avery woke up and was in the shower before Vivaldi, he was elated. Avery emerged from his shower shaking the moisture from his body and leaving pools of dirty water around his room. He sat undressed at his computer, erased his laptop’s internet history, and deleted a folder on his desktop titled “new folder”, which had been filled with his up-to-then favorite dirty and obscene files. He had not known what he’d been thinking. “I will go to the meeting tomorrow,” he said. He emphasized the word “will”. Then he said, “and I will see if I can get something going with Amelia”.

Avery confessed the plan to woo Amelia. Standing in the take-out pizza place, in front of his friends, he had actually used the word “woo”. He got the idea from watching “Much Ado” that morning, as he got ready for the day. It was the version with Emma Thompson and Kenneth Branagh, and though Avery’s friends didn’t know his allusion, they played along. “Oh, yonder virgin needth some courage I think,” said the tall friend with the ginger beard. He laughed afterword, shaking the case of Blue Moon between his arms. “Verily,” said Avery, who handed money to the woman at the counter.

A shorter friend then pushed in front of the beer case. “Well, best of luck tomorrow, dude. Is she mildly attractive,” the friend asked. “Oh the mildest,” Avery replied. “But I’ll see if she has a vaguely attractive friend for you”. “Well,” the short friend replied,” that’s tomorrow. Tonight, let’s game. Wanna Lol?” “Sure”, Avery replied, “But I can’t stay up too late. Got a meeting in the a.m.”

What preceded Thursday morning could be seen in empty pizza boxes and the scattered Blue Moon bottles. The bottles reflected a brown light into Avery’s eyes. Although Avery was conscious, he waited for the alarm. One minute, maybe five. Maybe twenty. Until he didn’t play. Where was Vivaldi? He was dead. Avery’s white iPhone smiled, a dark black smile. Avery pushed the screen, harder and harder. There was nothing. Moving to the MacBook didn’t help, as that was also dead. After several long undetermined periods of time, the phone was plugged in. It came on and the black screen flashed with light, stating 10:55. No way to get to the Jesuit’s office, and Avery was glad.

Avery was not glad that he had to explain his absence. He thought about his excuse, as he scanned through pornographic websites featuring college girls, Asian babes, and naughty shemales. I’ll tell the truth, Avery thought. The truth is the best lie. Skipping my psychology class. Next one is at three. Amelia will be there. I’ve got to do this. Avery wasted his time by lifting a ten-pound weight around and listening to an audiobook, a poor, static filled rendition of Moby Dick. “Hitherto, in descriptively treating of the Sperm Whale, I have chiefly dwelt upon the marvels of his outer aspect; or separately and in detail upon his outer aspect,” the narrator read and continued.

The sun was over the hills from just outside Hyland Hall. Avery could feel evening’s coolness in his hardened fingers. He thought about the ways he could fuck up, repeated the words to make sure they were right: “Amelia, a couple of my friends are going to this house tonight.” As he said the words, Avery loosened and retightened the cap on his one-liter bottle of Diet Coke. The elevator was taking forever, and Avery watched as the red 4 became a 3, and a 2. Before it became a 1, Amelia was standing beside him. She had headphones connected to her Android. Avery could hear the bass of her music. She didn’t look at him, and he continued to move his eyes so as not to stay on her.

In the elevator, she removed her headphones. “Hey,” Avery began. “Hey back,” Amelia said. “What do you think about the midterms,” Avery asked. “Piece of cake, just re-watch Metropolis and make sure you know the Futurists,” Amelia said, and she went on “But hey! Do you know when the trip to MoMa is?” “Oh, not ‘til next month. I can remind you on Facebook,” Avery said, “Actually, I was think--” “Great! What’s your name?” Amelia asked. She had her Android out and was about to add him. Avery’s loud voice dropped. “Oh…” Avery said, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll add you.” “Great, I’m Amelia Brooks”. “I know,” Avery said.

Later that night, Avery did not go out. He texted his friends with: “didn’t work.. didnt even no my name”. The short one responded: “did u ask her out tho”. Avery did not respond, nor did he add Amelia Brooks on Facebook. Rather, he glared at her Facebook and thought that not adding her was a punishment. He knew that it wasn’t, that she wouldn’t even notice, but he liked to think that. Avery had a bottle of Blue Moon in his right hand. He drank hard from it and slammed it down to show himself that he was angry. His email flashed one new message, which read. “Father Kevin Montgomery. S. J. … Missed Our Meeting Today… and delete”, Avery said.

Avery opened a new tab to Craigslist, turned to casual encounters, where people go to find anonymous sexual partners. Though Avery never dared reply to someone’s posting, tonight he had the rare mixture of self-pity and intoxication, which was just enough to do something stupid. One user posted “T girl wants someone to play”. Inside the posting were the words “generous men only”, and Avery knew what that meant.

Friday afternoon, after class, Avery waited outside the mall parking lot. He leaned coolly against the stair railing and ran clammy hands over the bills. Fifty. One hundred. One fifty. Two. Two fifty. Two fifty for an hour. Avery feared he wouldn’t need nearly that long. Every passer-by could be this transsexual hooker. Although the email had an attachment, her photograph was too dark, probably taken on a cheap camera. “Avery,” the prostitute said, an odd timbre in her voice.

They walked along the broken city sidewalks, Avery crushing the weeds that grew in cracks. “I’ve never done this before,” Avery said. “That’s okay”, she said, “You a college student?” “Yeah.” “I finished four years ago,” she smiled, “I couldn’t find a job. The joys of being a philosophy major,” the prostitute said. “Avery smiled back. “I’m a psychology/biology double major. I study the body and the soul.”

The couple entered the small hotel room. A brown, out-of-fashion air conditioner droned in the background. This was the Red Carpet Inn, and Avery remembered that a friend Avery had made at church camp called it “the smelly, Indian hotel”. Avery smiled nervously. The hooker smiled back. With a confident gesture, she directed him to a chair on the opposite side of the room. The prostitute turned her back and unbuttoned her striped blouse, which fell to the floor and revealed a black bra. Avery tapped the arms of the chair with the tips of his finger. Walking over to the chair, the prostitute bent down. Avery moved his clumsy hands up and down her waist. He closed his eyes and felt her large hands undo his jeans and move into his boxers. He opened his eyes and saw that her closed eyes. She used her mouth to open his, while first moving her fingers up and down the length of Avery’s penis.

Avery choked a little as he began to speak, the prostitute’s bottom lip in between his. “I-- I forgot to give you the money,” he said. “No you didn’t,” she said. “Are you sure,” he said, grabbing her hand to stop the stroking. Too late. The prostitute raised the hand and closed her fingers around the globule of semen. I’m sorry was the only thing Avery knew to say. “Don’t worry,” she said and went to wash it in the bathroom sink.

Avery looked at her walk away. Her back was an ugly pale, spotted with freckles. Deep lines of red ran where her bra had clutched too tight. As she washed, her elbows bent her hoary arms into half diamonds. The diamonds covered her back from which inky trees sprung up. They lowered their roots to the base of her waist, and Italian letters rested above the leaves and tattoo branches. The prostitute turned back around and lay on the bed next to Avery.

“What’s on your back”,” Avery asked. She said, in perfect Italian, “It says, ‘Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita mi ritrovai per una selva oscura, ché la diritta via era smarrita’.”

“What’s it mean,” Avery asked. “It’s from Dante”, she said, “Look it up.” She closed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. Avery sighed.

“Uhg! At least it’s Saturday tomorrow,” the prostitute said. “The Jewish Sabbath. A new week,” Avery said. “Are you Jewish,” she asked. “My grandmother is,” Avery replied.

title: A Lost Week [warning: adult content, sexual themes] about 2,500 words

question: What does the story say about creeks?

question: What does the story say about the protagonist's name?

answer: The main character's name is Avery. He is disappointed when Amelia Brooks, a girl in his college art history class, does not know it. He engages with a prostitute from a Craigslist add and she says his name on the street, though he doesn't seem to know hers.


text:
	Fifty more MISSING posters came out of the office’s copier. “Thanks Mr. Reynolds.” The nervous man straightened out the stack of papers, hands shaking.
	“Not a problem Ed, anything to help find your boy.”
	“I promise I’ll pay the company back for all the paper-”
	Mr. Reynolds cut him off, “Fuck the company Ed.”
	Ed lowered his head and nodded, “Right, right.”
	He left the office feeling the same way he had for several days: drained, drained but determined. Police were on the case, or so they said, but Ed was glad his boss was doing what he could to help, it meant he didn’t have to carry the whole weight on his own. They hadn’t always gotten along and it was nice to not butt heads in a situation like this. Usually they bickered about the company’s finances or ways to keep clients, but Mr. Reynolds, a stern man, knew those things were petty compared to a missing person.
	Much later, as Ed drowsily stapled a poster to a telephone pole, a woman in high-heels and a poofy fur coat slithered over to him, “You lookin’ for some action sweetheart? It’s awful chilly tonight,” she crossed her arms and rubbed the sleeves up and down, “I’m nice n’ warm.” Ed’s eyes were unwelcoming. Hers fell to the posters clutched in his hand and then drifted to the pole, “Shit, never mind mistah.” She turned away but he grabbed her by the shoulder.
	“I used to be a cop, I know a girl like you has connections. Pimp, governor, somebody.” He handed her a poster.
	“Yeah, yeah sure, no problem.” Into the night he walked, the woman looking after him, sorrowful, “Good luck mistah old cop,” she said to herself, “good luck.”
	She sighed and looked over the paper. MISSING was in bold letters, there was a phone number and a picture of a young man aged 25. His name was Daniel Braunstein, (”That’s stein like clean, not stein like spine” often said Ed) in Universe Code: #Orange-White a father sought a son. In UC: #Beta-12 however, the poster read WANTED for Extra-Spatial Abduction and Space-Time Tampering.

-

	He felt cold and wet for a second, but back to unconsciousness Danny slipped.
	“Wake up!” Splash!
	Cold and wet again, Danny began to stir, “Wha’s going on?” The back of his captor’s hand struck his face. When he went to rub his cheek, he found his wrists bound to the chair he was sitting in, legs also. He could make out a figure in the darkness.
	“Not another peep!”
	“Just gag…him.” A woman somewhere behind Danny made herself known. “You won’t…” she struggled, “need him until…the end anyway.” Turning his head to find her, all Danny could see was blackness. A few lights glowed here and there, but nothing bright enough to see the whole room.
	“Oh, you probably would like to see mommy again.” Dropping something metal with a clang, the captor twisted his abductee’s head toward the woman and shined a flashlight on her. A hand clamped on Danny’s mouth before his yell of surprise hit the air.
	A metal , almost crown-like ring was screwed into her skull, blood coming from the punctures.
	“I couldn’t use yours obviously, but my own will work just fine. Just had to say I loved her and she was stupid enough to come.”
	“Any…thing for my boy.” She gave a weak smile, tears streaking involuntarily from the pain.
	“Years of drugs warping her mind convinced her to come as well.” He removed his hand and went to her, Danny unable to see his face. The captor reached into his pocket and brought out a small baggie of white powder. He carefully shook some onto the flashlight, “Like warm milk.” And put it up to Mrs. Braunstein’s nose. She snorted immediately and laughed.
	With the drug given, he killed the flashlight and stood at a cluster of small lights. Fiddling with something or just observing, Danny didn’t know: the shock of seeing his mother alive wouldn’t let his eyes function properly enough to tell.
	“How…my mom’s been dead for six years.”
	“Pay attention, my own, not yours.” A silhouette walked to Danny. A click, light, and a familiar smile he had seen in the mirror his entire life.
	“Boo. Guess who?” His own face.

-

	Prof. Lehrer drew a straight horizontal line on the lecture hall’s large chalkboard and tried to explain again to Ed parallel universes, “This line, yes? Our timeline and universe.” Ed was already lost, his deceased wife, Anne, was where Danny got his smarts from. Still, Lehrer continued, “This other line on top,” he drew a parallel line above the first, “this is a parallel and alternate world separate from our own.”
	“Speak English.” Ed was getting frustrated.
	“Okay um…ah! Say you flip a coin and you get heads,” Lehrer wrote an ‘H’ on the bottom line, “and now in the alternate reality where your son was taken, Beta-twelve, you might have gotten tails instead.” He drew a ‘T’ now on the top line and dusted the chalk off his hands, “Quite simple.”
	“So how many are there?”
	“How many what?”
	“The lines, worlds.”
	“An infinite number. You ate dinner later than usual one day here and skipped desert or another you ate early and had a banana split or another you can’t even chew dinner because your teeth rotted away. Every possibility.”
	“And Beta-twelve is where Danny is? How the hell do you know that?”
	“Alpha, the first universe that the known realities concluded was the first to contact a parallel world. John F. Kennedy from Alpha spoke to a grieving Jackie the day after he was killed in what we call now Universe Beta. Alpha does its best to monitor communication since it seems to know the most about contacting alternates.”
	“Did the Alphas tip our Earth off to something fishy? Do they know how my son got taken?” Ed had a load of questions firing in his head all at once.
	“Yes, and you’re not going to like this. A Daniel Braunstein from the Beta group was the first person to break through into the Color group, more specifically here, Orange-White.”
	“’Break through’? What…?”
	“Contact is relatively easy to us now, but physically moving realities…well let’s just say it can get complicated. The known groups have agreed visitation is off-limits because of the…currently known procedure. But enough about that, too complicated.”
	“Complicated how Lehrer?” Impatience growing.
	The professor paced back and forth for a brief moment before finally slumping down into a seat in the lecture hall, “It requires a neurological implosion, I know I know, English. Imagine a human brain as a bullet, kind of, you fire it, killing the person, and the shot can take you to an alternate reality…with other equipment of course.”
	“Who took Danny? Who took my son Lehrer?!” Ed bent down at the professor and held his shoulders firmly as he yelled at him.
	“Your son’s alternate from Beta-twelve. The one that broke through before. He essentially kidnapped himself. For the trip back he used a pair of twins,” he sighed and put his face in his hands, “he needed two to bring this Danny with him.”
	Ed could hardly speak, his head felt like a carnival strongman whacked it with a mallet. Finally he asked, “Why take him? Why take my boy?”
	“That’s what we don’t know.”

-

	The police had flooded the derelict, decrepit warehouse with lights aimed through the windows,  and Danny could now see what Daniel had called “my way out.” As Daniel began firing up what Danny believed to be the machine’s power source, someone outside with a bullhorn barked, “We have the place covered Frankenstein! Get out here now!”
	“Ugh, these fuckers again. Like annoying gnats, know what I mean Danny boy?”
	Danny’s head was throbbing. Seeing his mother again, even if it wasn’t really his mother, made his heart feel sore. Why did this madman still get to have her in his life? This frustration made his headache worse. Tinkering with a console of dials and buttons, Daniel began rubbing his forehead and groaned.
	“You too, Frankenstein?” mocked Danny.
	Daniel looked at him with disdain. He hated that name, “Do not call me that. If you knew the things I’ve done to earn that mutilation of our last name, you’d be frightened into silence. And the reason why our heads hurt is because we’re existing at the same time. Nature doesn’t like that.”
	“That nickname doesn’t work though, does it? Because it’s stein like clean-”
	“Not stein like spine. I guess some things aren’t so different. The headaches will go away once I’m gone, though prison might give you another one.” He crossed the room to a large, metal cylinder with two doors on it that were closed. Daniel knocked on it, “Last train to Lime-Teal. I used dad to get there the first time.”
	Danny’s heartache doubled, “Was it fucking worth it?”
	“Don’t judge me when you don’t even know how horrible he was. He deserved to die.” He turned away from Danny and turned a dial, “We’re dead in Lime-Teal, stillborn. Nature has forgotten Daniel Braunstein, I’ll have a fresh start.”
	Daniel’s mother began to cough violently and after the fit she collapsed to the floor.
	Daniel stormed over to her, “You better be alive you cunt.” He checked for a pulse but cursed when he couldn’t find one.
	“Untie me, quick!” said Danny, “I know CPR!”
	Daniel pulled out a small gun held by his belt, “Try something and you’re dead, I can just get another you from someplace else.”
	“Fine, just hurry up she doesn’t have much time.”
	Outside, the policeman barked again, “This is a final warning! Thirty more seconds and we’re coming in to light you up!”
	Daniel shot out a window. He could hear the “get down” order and that bought him more time. Furiously, he untied Danny from the chair. Once free, he and Daniel rolled Beta-12 Anne Braunstein over onto her back. Frantically pumping and giving mouth-to-mouth, Danny mimicked what he had seen in countless movies, and to his surprise, Anne’s eyes flickered open.
	“Holy shit I did it.”
	“Back in the chair, now!”
	The rusty, metal folding chair was Danny’s chance. As soon as he was close enough, he gripped the back of it and swung it wildly around. It hit Daniel with a solid blow to the head. Feeling relieved and satisfied, Danny picked up the gun. Boom. Boom. Someone was trying to bust down the door from the outside. The police would be inside soon.
	“Use…me to get…home.” Daniel’s mother said weakly, “They’ll kill you…both,…won’t take any…chances.”
	“No.” Danny’s eyes began to water, “You can’t die again.” Tears ran down his face now, “I’ve missed you so much mom.” He walked over and kissed her on the forehead.
	“I’m not her.”
	With those words, it was as if he had seen his mother disappear. He realized a stranger was in front of him, and she was right, she wasn’t her at all. He took a deep breath, wiped his face with his hands, and dropped the gun. Approaching the machine, he marveled at it, “He made all this…” Next to the console was a computer screen. Currently, LIME-TEAL was the set destination, “I wonder…” His fingers hovered over the keyboard. They began to tingle.
	“You want to do it, don’t you?” Daniel’s head was bleeding, but he managed to lift it slightly, “Go ahead, I know how curious you are. We are the same, we both want to know what else is out there, who we are in other realities. We were born to be scientists Danny!”
	Danny closed his eyes and sighed, it scared him how right Daniel was. He had to choose, “I will not be Frankenstein.” He scrolled through a list of universes on the screen until he found ORANGE-WHITE. Home. The machine whirred, a train that switched tracks. He swung open the doors of the cylinder and stepped inside. A big red button was on the inside and while pushing it, he turned to the woman on the ground, “I’m sorry.” With a blinding flash, the metal crown zapped Beta-12 Anne Braunstein to death and the cylinder was empty. Danny was gone.

title: Crimes Against Reality

question: What does the story say about Danny from timeline Beta?

answer: Danny from the Beta timeline had a terrible father, traveled to another timeline, and kidnapped his version from there. Traveling between timelines requires the death of someone, and Danny-Beta used a pair of twins to kidnap his Orange-White version. The police are after him, and he plans to go to timeline Lime-Teal, where Danny died during childbirth, to have a fresh start. Danny-Beta keeps his mother addicted to drugs, planning to kill her for his travel to Lime-Teal. When the police surround them, his mother collapses, seemingly dead, but Danny from Orange-White saves her. At the last moment, Danny from Orange-White incapacitates Danny-Beta, sacrifices Orange-White's mother, and goes back home, leaving Danny-Beta behind.

question: What does the story say about Danny from Lime-Teal?

answer: Danny from Orange-White (Danny OW) is kidnapped by Danny-Beta, and his father is looking for him. His father meets a professor and learns about alternate timelines, and what it requires to travel between them: someone's death. Danny-Beta wants to escape the police, go to the timeline Lime-Teal, where Danny died during childbirth, and have a fresh start. Danny OW's mother is dead, but he sees Danny-Beta's mother, cursing the fact that Danny-Beta gets to have a mother. When Danny-Beta is about to escape, his mother collapses. Danny OW performs CPR successfully and uses the distraction to disarm Danny-Beta of his weapon. Danny-Beta's mother convinces Danny OW to sacrifice her, and Danny OW manages to go back home.

question: What does the story say about the Many Worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics?