text:
BARUN DE (30 October 1932 – 16 July 2013) was an Indian historian. He served as the first professor of social and economic history of the Indian Institute of Management, Calcutta, founder-director of the Centre for Studies in Social Sciences, Calcutta and the Maulana Abul Kalam Azad Institute of Asian Studies, Kolkata and as the honorary state editor for the West Bengal District Gazetteers. He was chairman of the West Bengal Heritage Commission.

Early life and education

De was born into a Brahmo family.[1] His father, Basanta Kumar De, was a high-ranking official of the Bengal Nagpur Railways.[2][3] His grandfather was Brajendranath De, ICS.[4] He studied at St. Xavier's Collegiate School, Calcutta. He completed his higher studies at Presidency College, Calcutta, where he was a student of Professor Susobhan Chandra Sarkar and later at St. Catherine's Society, Oxford. He completed his D.Phil. thesis on “Henry Dundas and the Government of India, 1784-1801” under the supervision of Dr. C.C. Davies.[5] on a Beit studentship at Nuffield College, Oxford. As the holder of this scholarship he taught students of the college. He was awarded the Curzon Memorial Prize for his essay “Macaulay and India”. In addition to his academic work, he was secretary, treasurer and president of the Oxford India Majlis.[6]

He formed a lasting friendship with S. Nurul Hasan, the historian and Governor of West Bengal.[7]

Career

De held various positions at various times, including a senior professorship at the Indian Institute of Management, Calcutta,[8] the founder-directorship of the Centre for Studies in Social Sciences, Calcutta and the Maulana Abul Kalam Azad Institute of Asian Studies,[9] a membership, held for three terms, of the Indian Council of Historical Research, New Delhi, and the role of honorary state editor of the West Bengal District Gazetteers.[10] He taught and worked abroad, among other places, at Duke University as a visiting associate professor, the Indian Institute of Advanced Studies, Shimla, as a senior fellow,[11] Fondation Maison des sciences de l'homme, Paris as a directeur, University of Sydney and University of Milan as a visiting professor, and the University of World Economy and Diplomacy, Tashkent as the India Chair (in the rank of minister-counsellor) for three years, with attachment to the Indian Embassy of Uzbekistan,.[12] He was secretary (1974-76), sectional president and general president (1988) of the Indian History Congress.[13]

In 2004, he was appointed to a membership of the NCERT textbook review committee.[14] In his post-retirement years, he was chairman of the West Bengal State Archives, Calcutta,[15] a vice president of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,[16] a member of the Board of Trustees of the Indian Museum, Calcutta,[17] and a member of the Heritage Conservation Committee of the Kolkata Municipal Corporation, in which capacity he was among several people who prepared a list of heritage buildings of West Bengal.[18] _The Times of India_ has described him as “a pioneer of the heritage movement of West Bengal”,[19] From 2008-2011 he was honorary chairman (in the rank of minister-of-state) of the West Bengal Heritage Commission, of which he was a member from 2001–2008.[20]

He was appointed as a Tagore National Fellow, which he held at the Victoria Memorial Hall, Calcutta.[21]

Research

De's research spanned from early- to late-modern periods of Indian history. In the earlier part of his career he wrote on Henry Dundas and the conquest of India, while later on he addressed the Marxist critique of the colonial context of the Bengal renaissance.[22] He was also concerned with the national movement: his popular textbook book, _Freedom Struggle_, co-authored with Bipan Chandra and Amalesh Tripathi,[23] was censored by the new Central government that came to power in India in 1977.[24] It has been translated into Bengali by Brajadulal Chattopadhyaya.[25] In 1975 he edited a thick volume in honour of Prof. Susobhan Sarkar in which he wrote the main essay on his teacher which reveals his preference for objectivity and critical analysis.[26] He was the editor of 24 Parganas and Darjeeling _District Gazetteers_.[27] He contributed to the editing of the Jalpaiguri District Gazetteers.[28]

Views

De was well known for his criticism of the emergency of 1975–77.[29]

Awards

-   D.Litt. (_Honouris Causa_), North Bengal University, 2000.[30]

-   Banga Samman, 2008-09

Death and legacy

De died due to renal failure in Kolkata on 16 July 2013 aged 80.[31][32]

The Maulana Abul Kalam Azad Institute of Asian Studies, Calcutta has instituted a Barun De Memorial Lecture.[33] Barun De Auditorium of Jadunath Bhavan Museum and Resource Centre, the museum of the Centre for Studies in Social Sciences, Calcutta, is named after him.[34]

Publications

-   _Secularism at Bay: Uzbekistan at the Turn of the Century_ (New Delhi, 2006)[35]
-   (ed.) _State, Development and Political Culture: Bangladesh and India_, (New Delhi, 1997) (co-edited with Ranabir Samaddar)
-   (ed.) _Mukti Sangrame Banglar Chatra-Samaj_ (_Students of Bengal in the Struggle of Liberation_) (in Bengali), (Calcutta: Paschim Banga Itihas Samsad, 1992)
-   (ed.) _West Bengal District Gazetteers, 24 Parganas_, (Calcutta, 1983)
-   (ed.) _West Bengal District Gazetteers, Jalpaiguri_, (Calcutta, 1981) (co-edited with Abani Mohan Kusari).
-   (ed.) _West Bengal District Gazetteers, Darjeeling_, (Calcutta, 1980)
-   _The Dialectics Between Response to Exogenous and Autochthonous Innovation in India in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, with Special Reference to Modern Bengal_, (Tokyo: United Nations University, 1979)[36]
-   (ed.) _Perspectives in Social Sciences, 1: Historical Dimensions_ (New Delhi, 1977)[37][38]
-   “A Biographical Perspective on the Political and Economic Ideas of Rammohun Ray”, in V.C.Joshi, (ed.), _Rammohun Roy and the Process of Modernisation in India_, New Delhi, 1975[39]
-   (ed.) _Proceedings of the Indian History Congress_, (Calcutta: Jadavpur Session, 1974)
-   (ed.) _Proceedings of the Indian History Congress_, (Aligarh: Aligarh Session, 1975)
-   (et al. eds.) _Essays in Honour of Professor Sushobhan Chandra Sarkar_ (New Delhi, 1975)[40]
-   _Freedom Struggle_ (New Delhi, 1972), (co-authored with Bipan Chandra and Amalesh Tripathi)[41]

[1]

[2] “Historian and Administrator” - Aniruddha Ray Retrieved 2015-03-03

[3] Lives Less Forgotten: Basanta Kumar De

[4] Sabyasachi Bhattacharya, 'Obituary' in the _Victoria Memorial Newsletter_, 2014

[5]

[6] “Historian Barun De dead” - The Statesman, 18 July 2013 Retrieved 2015-03-05.

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10] “Professor Barun De (1932-2013)” - Sabyasachi Bhattacharya Indian Historical Review. Retrieved 2015-03-15.

[11]

[12] “Historian Barun De dies at 80” - Business Standard Retrieved 2015-03-06.

[13]

[14] _India Today_, 2004

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18] “Heritage Conservation Committee” p. 3. Retrieved 2015-03-23

[19] “The Times of India” - Staff Reporter Retrieved 2015-02-27.

[20]

[21] “Obituary” in the _Victoria Memorial Newsletter_ - Sabyasachi Bhattacharya Retrieved 2015-0317.

[22] “A Conversationalist Intellectual - Sugata Bose” Retrieved 2015-03-27.

[23]

[24] “Censorship of Historical Thought: A World Guide” - Antoon de Baets Retrieved 2015-02-21.

[25] “Historian Barun De passes away - Panchanan Chattopadhyay”. _Mainstreamweekly_. Retrieved 2015-03-23.

[26] Irfan Habib, “Professor Barun De (1932-2013)” in _Proceedings of the Indian History Congress_, Volume 73, 2012, p. 1554

[27] Irfan Habib, “Professor Barun De (1932-2013)” in _Proceedings of the Indian History Congress_, Volume 73, 2012, pp. 1553-1555

[28] Abani Mohan Kusari, West Bengal District GazetteersL Jalpaiguri, Gazetteer of India, Calcutta, Barun De, Honorary State Editor, West Bengal District Gazetteers, Calcutta, 1981 in Michael Lampert, Discipline and Debate: The Language of Violence in Tibetan Buddhist Monastery, Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012.

[29] Irfan Habib, “Professor Barun De (1932-2013)” in _Proceedings of the Indian History Congress_, Vol. 73, 2012, p. 1554

[30] Akanksha Sharma, 'Barun De, The Renowned Historian and Academician Passed Away at 80' in _Jagran Josh_, 17 July 2013

[31]

[32]

[33] Barun De Memorial Lecture Retrieved 2015-02-27.

[34] Barun De Auditorium, CSSSC

[35] “Secularism at Bay: Uzbekistan at the Turn of the Century” - Barun De Retrieved 2015-02-17.

[36] The Dialectics Between Response to Exogenous and Autochthonous Innovation in India in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, with Special Reference to Modern Bengal - Barun De Retrieved 2018-01-12.

[37] David L.Curley (reviewer), _Perspectives in Social Sciences I: Historical Dimension_, in _The Journal of Asian Studies_, Vol. 40, No. 1, (Nov. 1980), pp. 158–60

[38] Chandak Sengoopta, _The Rays before Satyajit: Creativity and Modernity in Colonial India_, (New Delhi, Oxford, 2016)

[39] Amiya P. Sen, “Rammohan Roy”, in Mahendra Prasad Singh and Himanshu Roy, _Indian Political Thought: Themes and Thinkers_, (Delhi, Pearson, 2011), p. 68

[40] “Peasant Labour and Colonial Capital: Rural Bengal since 1770” - Sugata Bose 2015-02-19.

[41] “Freedom Struggle” - Bipan Chandra, Amalesh Tripathi and Barun De Retrieved 2015-02-18.

title: Barun De

question: What does the text say about life in New Delhi?

question: What does the text say about Barun De?

answer: Barun De (30 October 1932 – 16 July 2013) was an Indian historian who served as the first professor of Social and Economic History of the Indian Institute of Management, Calcutta. He was the founder-director of the Center for Studies in Social Sciences, Calcutta, and the Maulana Abul Kalam Azad Institute of Asian Studies, Kolkata. Barun De held the position of Honorary State Editor with the West Bengal District Gazetteers and was also the Chairman of the West Bengal Heritage Commission. He formed a lasting friendship with historian S. Nurul Hasan, who was also the Governor of West Bengal. De was well known for criticizing the emergency of 1975-77. He died in Kolkata on July 16, 2013, due to renal failure. De was 80 years old. After his death, the Maulana Abul Kalam Azad Institute of Asian Studies, Calcutta instituted a Barun De Memorial Lecture, Barun De Auditorium of Jadunath Bhavan Museum and Resource Center. The museum of the Center for Studies in Social Studies, Calcutta is also named after him.

question: Summarize Barun De's early life and education.

answer: Barun De was born into a Brahmo family. His father was Basanta Kumar De, a high-ranking official of the Bengal Nagpur Railways. His grandfather was was Brajendranath De, ICS. He studied at St. Xavier's Collegiate School, Calcutta. De completed his higher studies at Presidency College, Calcutta under Professor Susobhan Chandra Sarkar, and later at the St. Catherine's Society, Oxford. Under the supervision of Dr. C.C. Davies, he completed his D. Phil. thesis on "Henry Dundas and the Government of India, 1784-1801 on a Beit Scholarship at Nuffield College, Oxford. The scholarship allowed him to teach students at the college. He was awarded the Curzon Memorial Prize for his essay "Macaulay and India". In addition to his academic work, he was also the secretary, treasurer, and president of the Oxford India Majlis.


split: test

text:
The LENA PLATEAU, also known as PRILENSKY PLATEAU[1] (, _Prilenskoye Plato_; ), is one of the great plateaus of Siberia. Administratively it is mostly within the Sakha Republic (Yakutia), with a small sector in the Irkutsk Oblast, Far Eastern Federal District, Russia. The plateau is named after the Lena River, which flows across it.[2]

There are spectacularly eroded rock formations composed of gypsum-bearing and saline limestone, dolomite and, in some places sandstone, in different spots of the plateau. The Lena Pillars, lining the banks of river Lena in the region, are the most well-known of these features. They were declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2012.[3] Other protected areas in the plateau are the Sinyyaya Pillars by river Sinyaya, and the Turuuk Khaya Rocks by the Lyutenge River.[4] The Olyokma Nature Reserve is located on the eastern side, partly within neighboring Aldan Highlands.[5]

Geography

The Lena Plateau is located in the southern Sakha Republic, between the Lower Tunguska River in the west and the Amga River in the east. It extends roughly to the north along the left bank of the Lena River for more than with an average width of . The Central Siberian Plateau, is located to the northwest and the Central Yakutian Lowland to the north.[6] The average height of the Lena Plateau surface is between and . Elevations become slightly higher towards the south of the plateau, reaching a maximum height of at an unnamed summit. The plateau is located in a permafrost zone where the soil freezes down to hundreds of meters. The Namana, Buotama, Menda, Suola, Kenkeme, Bappagay, Kempendyay, Tatta, Tamma, Peleduy, Nyuya, Pilyuda, Sinyaya, Markha, Lungkha, Ulakhan-Botuobuya, Biryuk and Lyutenge are some of the watercourses having their source in the plateau.[7]

The Lena Plateau occupies a very large area, including parts of the districts of Mirny, Suntar, Verkhnevilyuy, Gorny, Khangalassky, Megino-Kangalassky, Lensky, Olyokmin, Amgin and Aldan in the Sakha Republic, as well as parts of Katanga and Bodaybin districts in the Irkutsk Oblast.[8]

Flora and climate

There are taiga forests made up mostly of pine and larch in the higher areas. Wetlands and meadows are common in the river valleys cutting across the plateau.[9]

The plateau is characterized by a harsh continental climate, with long cold winters and sparse amounts of snow. In winter the temperature may drop to , and sometimes even down to . Summers are moderately warm with temperatures reaching to . Precipitation is between and per year. Most of the yearly precipitation falls in the summer in the form of rain.

  ------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
  [Cliffs by the Lena and sparse forest in the winter.]   [Buotama River Valley.]
  ------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------

[1] The Thermal State of Soils in Northern Prilensky Plateau

[2] Google Earth

[3]

[4] Visit Yakutia

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9] Приленское плато, Great Soviet Encyclopedia

title: Lena Plateau

question: What are the standout features of the Lena Plateau?

answer: The spectacularly eroded rock formations are composed of gypsum-bearing and saline limestone, dolomite, and, in some places sandstone. The Lena Pillars, lining the banks of river Lena in the region, are the most well-known of these features. They were declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2012.


text:
John pulled off at the next exit, and drove to a gas station. He needed a fill-up, a pee, and some sunflower seeds. The seeds would stop him from smoking and also get the tobacco smell off his fingers. No one likes tobacco smelling fingers, John thought. He sure didn’t.  John was looking to become more awesome, starting with the scent of his fingers. Always looking to better his self, he told himself. Number one quest for purification and heaven on earth. Gotta start small. “Why? Why try and better myself?” John asked himself this as he grabbed the bathroom key from the attendant. “Why do I look at people and estimate my self worth based off of them?” He left the store and walked to the bathroom around on the side of the building. “Why do I seem to think that everyone knows something I don’t?” John kept thinking. “Doesn’t that make me resent them? And when I find out that they don’t know anymore than I think they do, why do I feel better than them for it? It’s like, ‘haha, sweet, there isn’t some big secret you’re holding over my head. You’re not as smart as I thought you were. You’re not better than me!’ And that’s anytime they slip up, or say something self-depreciating and funny. I dunno what I’m talking about. I just want to be perfect so no one will laugh.” John realized suddenly that he was staring at himself in the mirror.

He shook his head, checked his hair, went to a urinal and peed, flushed, and walked back into the gas station mart. The person behind the counter kept looking at him with strange combination of alertness and boredom. John wondered if he suspected him of anything. Maybe he does that to every customer. “Maybe it’s the way I walk”, John thought. He had always thought that body language speaks just as loud as verbal language, and that was intimidating to John because he doesn’t know what his body is saying half as well as he knew what his mouth is saying. And most of the time he doesn’t even know what his mouth’s saying either. And so, John stood in front of the candy aisle, pondering what his body language was saying at that time.

 What it was saying was “I’m standing looking at candy”.

 He grabbed a snickers and a soda from the fridge, and walked up to the register. The guy grabbed his stuff and asked how it’s going. John told him it’s going alright. Alright probably came from the combination of the words “all” and “right”, which is interesting, because that’s not what alright means. John decided to make this guy’s day a little out of the ordinary. He vocalized that thought. The attendant looked at him like one might look at a child, and said “Ha, yeah that’s interesting. Total’s $2.80.” John laughed, thanked him and left.

Getting back into his truck, John pondered this interaction. This guy might’ve thought he was hitting on him, or maybe that he was crazy. Maybe he really did think it was interesting, and is now pondering the development of language. Maybe he was an English major with dreams of becoming a famous writer/ critic, and John just blew on the embers of his soul, which is now well on it’s way to becoming a bonfire that engulfs his entire being. Maybe he’ll quit his job, after finally giving his boss a piece of his mind, and hit the road with a pen and paper. Soon he’ll be on the cover of all the major literary magazines. He’ll be hailed as the most innovative literary philosopher since Calvino. All because of a bit of brain musing John decided to grace upon him. He just helped this guy become the new Shakespeare.

He lit a cigarette. The ground was moving fast under his truck, or at least it looked like it was. But it wasn’t, it was just sitting there like it is now, and he was driving on it. “The universe doesn’t happen to me, I happen to the universe.” John thought. He put out the cigarette after just a few drags, and got off at the next exit, not really knowing why, then realized he forgot to purchase sunflower seeds at the last gas station. Why did he take the exit, then realize he hadn’t purchased seeds? The effect came before the cause, the answer before the question. He felt something, some sort of frenzy awareness take control of his body. He knew, before he knew.

He pulled into the nearest gas station and walked inside. He picked out some sunflower seeds, and made his way to the register. It was pretty crowded, this time there was a rather long line, and people filed in behind him as he waited. When it came time for John to purchase his seeds, he didn’t right away. The registrar held out her hand, but John looked her in the eyes and said: “These sunflower seeds would’ve grown to become a beautiful sunflower. Instead they were roasted, salted, and put into a non-bio-degradable bag. I’d like to purchase these, but not purely because I want to eat them. I want to purchase them to make a statement: I understand the game they’re playing, and my way of winning is by pretending I don’t understand it.” She just frowned and kept her hand held out. John gave her the bag, she rang it up, and he left without another word from either of them.

John had forgotten why he was feeling so energetic, but still rode the feeling nonetheless. This time though, getting into his truck, it was harder to convince himself that her life was just positively impacted from his depth of thought and character. “Oh well, fuck her, that’s her fault,” John thought. He lit up, and drove on.

About twenty minutes later, he got to feeling really sick, like there was a creature in his gut wriggling around. Too many cigarettes and chocolate and sitting. He tried to ignore it, but he could feel the creature creeping it’s way up his esophagus, trying to escape through John’s mouth. He swallow repeatedly, trying to tame the beast back into his gut, but it was relentless. Quickly, John pulled over, right there on the freeway. He opened the door, and released the beast.
	John imagined the beast must have had acid blood, because he felt a burning in his throat and erosion on his teeth. He sat there for a while, his sponge-head pounding. Puke was on the door. He never turned his truck off, just kept his foot on the brake. Not wanting to look at the puke on the ground anymore, he slowly released some pressure on the pedal and crept forward. That’s nice… No more puke. He continued on, following the straight edge of the side of the road, not bothering to look up. He knew he had room, there was no guard rail in sight as far as he could remember. “People must think this scene marvelously goofy”, John thought, “a moving truck on the edge of the road with no driver in sight”. John kept his head down. It was fun. “It’s not every day you see something like this”, John thought, “and I owe it to myself to experience a break from the humdrum buzz of everyday life. I owe it to myself. And if I owe anything to myself, I owe it to other people. We’re all human after all, aren’t we? Everyone, deep down, wants the same thing. They want to believe there’s more out there, and I’m showing them there is. It’s me, I’m the embodiment of that feeling, that sensation of desperate hope. I know before I know. Just like those gas station attendants, I’m changing the course of individuals, and therefore the aura that shapes our culture. We’re all just a point on a triangle, all of our evolutionary development has lead to this exact moment in time, physically, technically, spiritually, any kind of “ally” you can think of. Here it is! Here I am, breaking the mold, advancing mankind through the innovation and destruction of social norms!”

Slowly, John released his foot from the brake. He started moving forward. His left foot dangled from the open car door, and his right foot moved toward the gas pedal. “I’m doing this for the people driving by”, John told himself. “The people honking their horn, desperate with anticipation and fear, I’m doing this was for them.” He pressed down on the gas a little. “I’m making them feel human, showing them that they too, can care for the well being of someone besides themselves.” He pressed a little harder. “I’m reminding them that the best feeling comes from caring for someone who needs care. It makes them feel a healthy sense of control.” The only thing separating his shoe from the floor of the truck now was just that thin, metal rectangle gas pedal. “I’m giving them that control. If just for that one moment of pure feeling, of pure humanity.” John smiled, and his truck flipped over a guard rail traveling at 74 miles per hour. It landed on it’s top and crumpled, like a soda can, and John crumpled with it.

title: John's Bad Day

question: What does the story say about John's thoughts about people?

answer: John seems to assume that he's a cause for change in people's lives, affecting them in a major way. He also frames his actions as "being for other people too" even though that's not the case. In general, he lives as if other people are better than him, feeling good about himself when someone turns out to be less than what he assumed. In the story, he interacts with two people. With the first, he says he wants to make their day extraordinary without follow-up. He assumes they will leave their job and become a great writer just because of him. With the second one, he talks about some confusing stuff before leaving.

question: What does the story say about John's love life?


text:
The fruit of the Manchineel tree. (Photo: Hans Hillewaert/CC BY-SA 3.0)

[]
Throughout the coasts of the Caribbean, Central America, the northern edges of South America, and even in south Florida, there can be found a pleasant-looking beachy sort of tree, often laden with small greenish-yellow fruits that look not unlike apples.

You might be tempted to eat the fruit. Do not eat the fruit. You might want to rest your hand on the trunk, or touch a branch. Do not touch the tree trunk or any branches. Do not stand under or even near the tree for any length of time whatsoever. Do not touch your eyes while near the tree. Do not pick up any of the ominously shiny, tropic-green leaves. If you want to slowly but firmly back away from this tree, you would not find any argument from any botanist who has studied it.

After all, it is rumored to have killed the famed explorer, Juan Ponce de Leon.

This is the manchineel, known sometimes as the beach apple, or more accurately in Spanish-speaking countries as _la manzanilla de la muerte_, which translates to “the little apple of death,” or as _arbol de la muerte_, “tree of death.”

[]
A warning sign for the Manchineel tree. (Photo: Scott Hughes/CC BY-SA 2.0)

“Warning: all parts of manchineel are extremely poisonous. The content in this document is strictly informational. Interaction with and ingestion of any part of this tree may be lethal,” write Michael G. Andreu and Melissa H. Friedman of the University of Florida in a brief guide to the tree. This is not an exaggeration. The fruits, though described as sweet and tasty, are extraordinarily toxic. Fatalities are not known in modern literature, though it’s certainly possible that people have died from eating the fruit of the manchineel. “Shipwrecked sailors have been reported to have eaten manchineel fruits and, rather than dying a violent death, they had inflammations and blistering around the mouth. Other people have been diagnosed with severe stomach and intestinal issues,” says Roger Hammer, a naturalist and botanist who has written many books about the flora of Florida.

We do have, thankfully, a description of what it’s like to eat this fruit; Mother Nature Network alerts us to a paper written by radiologist Nicola Strickland, who unwisely chomped down on a manchineel fruit back in 2000 on the Caribbean island of Tobago. A quote from her paper:

  I rashly took a bite from this fruit and found it pleasantly sweet. My friend also partook (at my suggestion). Moments later we noticed a strange peppery feeling in our mouths, which gradually progressed to a burning, tearing sensation and tightness of the throat. The symptoms worsened over a couple of hours until we could barely swallow solid food because of the excruciating pain and the feeling of a huge obstructing pharyngeal lump. Sadly, the pain was exacerbated by most alcoholic beverages, although mildly appeased by pina coladas, but more so by milk alone.

  Over the next eight hours our oral symptoms slowly began to subside, but our cervical lymph nodes became very tender and easily palpable. Recounting our experience to the locals elicited frank horror and incredulity, such was the fruit’s poisonous reputation.

The sap, white and milky, is spectacularly toxic; it causes burn-like blisters upon any contact with skin, and if you’re unfortunate enough to get it in your eyes, temporary blindness is highly likely. This sap is found throughout the tree, including in the bark and leaves, so, you know, don’t touch any of it.

[]
The toxic Manchineel tree. (Photo: Yinan Chen/Public Domain)

The specific toxins found in this sap and in the fruits remain partially unknown, but not unused. The aboriginal peoples of the Caribbean were familiar with the tree and used it for many purposes; the sap, in particular, was used to tip arrows. “It is believed that the Calusa used it in that manner to kill Juan Ponce de Leon on his second trip to Florida in 1521,” says Hammer.

Manchineel is a member of a family of plants known as the spurges. (The name comes from “purge,” because, although all these plants have toxic sap, the toxicity varies, and some can be used as a laxative.) Spurges are found worldwide, in various forms, ranging from tiny herb-like plants to large bushes and trees. Manchineel is one of the largest, reaching up to 50 feet in height, but despite its dangerous reputation is not the most famous—that’d be the poinsettia, the manchineel’s more festive cousin.

[]

Juan Ponce de Leon. The arrow that killed him was said to be tipped with sap from the Manchineel tree. (Photo: Public Domain)

The manchineel tends to live along the coast, especially in brackish water. Generally speaking, it likes the same environments as the mangrove, though it’s nowhere near as common. In Florida (and in the US in general), the manchineel is endangered, but tends to occur in clusters. Assuming you want to find one for some reason, it’s most common in the Flamingo section of Everglades National Park, along with some smaller Floridian islands like Elliott Key and Key Largo. “There are other very small populations elsewhere in the Keys,” says Hammer. “It’s quite common around some of the coastal mangrove-buttonwood forests near Flamingo.”

In looking into the manchineel I was most curious about its place in the chaotic ecosystems of south Florida and the Caribbean. What could possibly be the evolutionary reason, I wondered, for a tree to be _this_ toxic? The sap is fairly easy to explain, as a method of deterring herbivores who might otherwise want to harm the tree by eating its leaves or bark. But the fruit, in particular, baffled me: fruits, typically, are designed to trick animals into spreading seeds, since trees can’t spread seeds themselves. The tree wants animals to eat the fruit; the animal, ideally, will eat the fruit and poop out the seeds somewhere else, scattering them with a nice helping of fertilizer (read: poop) to help them grow somewhere new.

[]
The poinsettia is in the same family of plants as the Manchineel. (Photo: Marcus Hsieh/shutterstock.com)

Hammer says that mammals generally find the manchineel fruit completely toxic; its Linnaean (also known as Latin or scientific) name is _Hippomane mancinella_, which translates to “little apple that makes horses mad,” showing that we’re not the only species to find the fruit problematic. Iguanas appear immune to the toxins, and in parts of Central and South America do indeed eat the fruits and disperse the seeds.

But iguanas are not native to south Florida; the few that are there are, like the Mystery Monkey of Tampa, foreigners who have been dropped into the ecosystem and have found it to their liking. Instead, says Hammer, the Floridian manchineels look not to animals but to the seas for help spreading seeds. “In much of its range its a coastal species so tides and currents are its principal dispersal mechanism,” he says. Fruit drops from the tree into nearby water, and thanks to its buoyancy, is taken by the tides somewhere else. Eventually the fruit rots and the seeds can grow. This isn’t an uncommon method of seed dispersal, also being used by such common plants as the coconut palm.

[]
The spotted water hemlock, or _cicuta maculata_, is also found in Florida and is far more toxic. (Photo: Public Domain)

The toxicity to humans, though, that’s a mystery. “There really isn’t an evolutionary answer to its being toxic, other than to just say it’s a biological mistake because it certainly doesn’t gain anything by being toxic to humans,” says Hammer. It could be simply a holdover from some past point in its evolutionary history when the tree had to discourage animals from eating it; the fruit doesn’t gain anything, sure, but because its seeds can be dispersed by water, it also doesn’t lose much. (It’s not all bad, though. The wood has been used for non-lethal purposes, and actually prized for some purposes like cabinetry and servingware. To make it usable, it has to be burned at the base to cut it down—nobody has any interest in getting in there with an axe and chopping at a manchineel trunk—and then dried for several days in the sun to neutralize the sap.)

Interestingly, though Hammer confirms the manchineel is the deadliest tree in the country, he says it’s not the deadliest _plant_. “There are other plants (not trees) in Florida that are far more toxic than manchineel, and one is spotted water hemlock (_Cicuta maculata_). A quarter-inch of the stem is enough to kill a person,” he says, calling it “probably the most violently poisonous plant on the North American continent.” Of course, it’s also found in Florida—America’s weirdest, most fascinating, and, apparently, most treacherous ecosystem.

question: What mood is the second paragraph trying to evoke?

answer: A sense of strong warning. The use of repetition is utilized to reinforce the negative imperative about the fruit.

question: Explain Nicola Strickland's relationship with the manchineel tree.

answer: In 2000, Nicola Strickland ate some manchineel fruit in Tobago. She later had a burning in her mouth which led to extreme throat pain that made it difficult to swallow. Her symptoms slowly subsided over about 8 hours but her cervical lymph nodes remained inflamed for longer.

question: Name at least two functions of the spurge plant family's fruit, leaves, or sap.

answer: Some can be used as a poison and others can be used as a laxative.

question: Explain the manchineel's primary means of spreading its seeds.

answer: Because its fruit is poisonous to humans and most animals, the manchineel makes use of the ocean to spread seeds. The fruit drops in the ocean and the tides take it elsewhere where it can take root in new places.


text:
In a shallow underwater cave off the southern coast of France, a team of scientists and conservationists discovered a stunningly pristine population of Mediterranean red coral.

“I remember my first thought: ‘Man, I don’t think there’s anything so special in here,’” recalls Joaquim Garrabou, a marine ecologist with the Spanish Research Council and head of the research team. His colleague, Jean-Georges Harmelin, had discovered the site while surveying grouper populations in the Scandola Nature Reserve, off the coast of Corsica.

Garrabou soon changed his tune, when the submerged cliffs of unassuming rock opened into a stunning sight: a cave over 3,000 square feet in area, full of the densest population of large red coral colonies ever discovered, let alone at such a shallow depth. The research team mumbled joyfully to each other through their regulators. The dome-like overhang put ecologist Silvija Kipson in mind of a past trip to the Sistine Chapel: “head constantly up, gazing in awe at a masterpiece crafted by nature.”

“During my twenty-five years as a marine biologist, I’ve never seen something like this,” says Garrabou.

Individual red coral specimens, called colonies, spread vibrant crimson branches from the walls and ceiling of the overhang, their ghostly polyps waving in the current as they filter a meal of algae and zooplankton. Sponges cluster among the coral; a wide variety of fish species shimmer in the dim light.

“For the first fifteen minutes, we were very focused, taking pictures and making measurements,” says Nuria Teixidó, another member of the research team, which was supported by the National Geographic Society’s Pristine Seas initiative. “But when we finished, we took a little time to ourselves, to observe, to leave the camera and really enjoy, really see…time stopped.” (See breathtaking photos of the Mediterranean from Your Shot photographers.)

See the Beautiful and Endangered Red Coral of the Mediterranean

Divers explore a red coral population in Scandola Nature Reserve, only a short distance away from the Cave b site described in the team's study.

Though the discovery was made in 2010, the team's study, published today in Scientific Reports, provides the first public glimpse into this unique site—and into the state of red coral throughout the Mediterranean.

Called Cave b, the place is “like a window to the past,” says Emma Cebrian, a marine ecologist and one of the study’s co-authors, imagining an era before human exploitation of coral.

To sustainably manage marine reserves, conservationists must understand what healthy, pristine ecosystems look like, in order to know how to shape strategies for recovering ecosystems. Cave b, with its mature coral population and thriving community of sponges, fish, zooplankton, and other marine life, paints them a clear target.

Most coral populations in the Mediterranean harbor small, loosely gathered colonies—centuries of overexploitation prevent populations from recovering to full maturity. Prior to the discovery of Cave b, it was thought that larger colonies could only grow in deeper sites. Yet the size and health of Cave b at such a shallow depth contradict this thinking.

There, some colonies stretched to over a foot in length, the largest the team had ever seen in living specimens. Later analysis revealed that the Cave b population boasts one hundred times the biomass of the next largest population known.

“It’s a museum full of treasure, but without doors and locks,” says Enric Sala, National Geographic explorer-in-residence and founder of the Pristine Seas project, who also co-authored the study.

Motion detectors and laser grids may be absent, but this treasure is hardly unguarded: the Scandola Marine Reserve, where the cave was found, is a protected area and UNESCO world heritage site, often hailed as a global model of conservation management. Cave b is situated in a no-take zone, where all scuba diving, fishing, and other activities are strictly prohibited.

Other sites have not been so lucky.

A RED CORAL GOLD RUSH

Since the Neolithic era, red coral has been harvested in droves, its skeleton—which, unlike other corals, is a brilliant red throughout, rather than sporting only a thin layer of reddish algae—polished and fashioned into prized jewelry. Considering the animal to be a potent charm, ancient Romans hung branches of coral around their children’s necks to protect them from danger. Kings and empires squabbled over control of key coral-harvesting sites, eager to benefit from a monopoly on trade of the precious ornaments, hauled up by the boatload. (Learn how archaeologists discovered 23 shipwrecks in 22 days.)

In the 20th century, the “St. Andrew’s cross” historically used to harvest coral—a heavy wooden cross with attached nets—was replaced by motorized vessels that dragged metal dredges through coral beds, devastating populations. While this practice was outlawed in 1994, it is still legal to harvest red coral by scuba diving.

 View Images

A tube anemone inhabits a shallow Mediterranean cave. Caves were the last habitat where Mediterranean red coral survived industrial exploitation. Since the advent of scuba diving, even caves have been depleted. Photograph by Enric Sala

And demand has only increased: the most valuable of the world's precious corals, _Corallium rubrum_ can today go for as much as $1,000 a gram, with Chinese consumers proving an especially eager market. In some cases, commercial interests have obstructed efforts to pass international legislation protecting populations from overharvesting.

“The magnitude of loss of large red coral colonies due to overexploitation…is comparable to mass deforestation at a continental scale,” as in the Amazonian rainforest, the study finds. (See vibrant pictures of a surprising Amazonian coral reef.)

As an engineer species, red coral is the literal foundation of many Mediterranean ecosystems, shaping the physical environment and providing a habitat for fish and a variety of other marine life. But, the authors argue, its populations are now so decimated it is unable to fulfill that critical role, rendering it ecologically extinct.

 View Images

Rainbow wrasses are common in shallow Mediterranean waters. Red coral used to grow also on shallow walls and overhangs in the Mediterranean, before historical overexploitation.

Photograph by Enric Sala

Red coral is long-lived and slow-growing: in the course of a year, the continents move over a hundred times farther than a single colony expands its diameter. "A colony the size of your extended hand can be 300-400 years old," Sala pointed out. And while colonies damaged by fishing have a high capacity for survival and regrowth, age and resilience alone can’t shore up vulnerable populations against the tides of human exploitation—and of pollution, ocean acidification, and warming water.

As a relatively shallow sea, the Mediterranean is acutely affected by climate change, even in cooler areas where red coral is more abundant. “You only need to visit a coralligenous outcrop that is completely dead after a heat wave, when it was a hotspot of biodiversity and natural heritage only a few months ago," says Cebrian, in order to understand the impact of climate change on coral populations already weakened by overexploitation. (Read about why nature makes us happy.)

Historically overfished, heavily polluted, and host to hundreds of invasive species, the Mediterranean is "a microcosm of what's happening in the global ocean," said Sala. "Because of global environmental degradation, we face a serious problem of perception. What we believe is 'natural' is what we first saw as kids. Imagine what's natural for today's kids! Re-shifting our personal baselines is essential to make people care about conservation."

TURNING THE TIDE?

The dazzling colonies discovered in Cave b are just that baseline, the scientists say: proof that it is still possible for Mediterranean red coral to exist in a pristine state. And although the road to ecological recovery may not be easy, and any positive effects will take decades to become apparent, this team believes it’s possible with public support and smart management.

 View Images

The Mediterranean dusky grouper, like the red coral, is an endangered species because of overexploitation. Its abundance recovers within marine reserves, like Scandola in Corsica.

Photograph by Enric Sala

The first step is to protect and preserve healthy populations, like that in Cave b, and use them as a model to expand protection to more debilitated areas. Research has even revealed coral genotypes that are more tolerant of temperature changes, which can be transplanted into more at-risk sites. However, this technique is a stop-gap—in the long term, it’s a matter of tightening harvesting regulations and establishing a network of protected areas throughout the Mediterranean in order to allow populations to reach maturity, the paper argues.

Despite the daunting obstacles, some progress has been made, and further steps are being taken. The IUCN Red List notes that red coral is endangered, easing the passage of protective legislation at national and international levels. The Catalan government recently announced that a decade-long moratorium on fishing will be put in place by 2018. And some jewelry companies, recognizing the difficulty of sustainably sourcing coral, have even refused to carry coral products.

For marine ecologist and study co-author Cristina Linares, the discovery of Cave b’s astounding red coral population is a beacon of hope. “At this moment, for the first time, I am optimistic,” she said.

_Follow Rachel on Instagram and Twitter._

question: Why were the divers so surprised by their discovery?

answer: The divers had found a cave of over 3,000 square feet in the Meditteranean Sea. It had the densest population of red corals ever discovered at a very shallow depth. A marine biologist said that he had never seen anything like it in 25 years.

question: Why is red coral so scarce?

answer: Red coral has suffered centuries of overexploitation. The coral has been harvested in large numbers since Neolithic times. Kings and empires squabbled over its control. In the 20th century, motorized vessels dragged metal dredges over coral beds devastating populations. Climate change also affects the sensitive coral

question: Can scientists save red coral populations

answer: Scientists believe that red coral populations can be saved. First, they will preserve healthy populations like that in cave b and use them as a model to expand protection to more debilitated areas. Research has even revealed coral genotypes that are more tolerant of temperature changes, which can be transplanted into more at-risk sites. harvesting regulations should be tightened to protect at-risk populations.


text:
Part 1

Retrieving food from the kitchen was one of the easiest tasks Winter was asked to do. Winter found no challenge in the task. His naturally strong body provided him with exceptional strength and agility enabling him the ability to complete much more challenging tasks. Once he had managed to break down the front door of his master’s house when he was locked out. However, the only reward he got was a smack on the nose. Winter hated being a cat. He was powerless, enslaved and most of all, bored. The worst thing about his situation was the dependence he had on his family. They fed, sheltered and protected him, turning Winter into a lazy and reliant cat. He detested that. If only he could be free. He could become important, people would look up to him and admire his every virtue. These were the thoughts and dreams of Winter as he monotonously and unwillingly fetched food from his master’s kitchen day after day, year after year.

Rex moved on to his next house. He had been doing this for 24 years now and not once had he been caught. He would stalk his target, analysing his or her every move then noting it down in his private journal. These notes helped him decide whether to leave, capture or eliminate his victim. His new target was Winter.

The Fridge was 6 times larger than winter, but winter had 10 times the strength of an average cat. He opened the giant metal door using his right paw to grab the handle and his left paw to push off of the wall. This was his masters 5th beer in one night and soon he would be fast asleep. With his master’s wife and children away in Spain, Winter would have the whole house to himself tonight. But he wasn’t as happy as he usually was on these rare occasions. He had a strange and unexplainable feeling that he was not alone.

Rex had never been so scared in his entire 24 years of service. One moment he was on top of the fridge observing Winter’s activity, next he had a strong sharpened paw clamped around his neck, almost crushing his spine.
“If you don’t tell me everything I need to know about you and what you are doing here within the next minute, your eyes will be ripped from their sockets?” Winter roared in a loud and ferocious voice.
“Peace young one, I mean you or your family no harm.” The orange and white cat’s calm voice seemed to sooth Winter’s anger for he released his paw from Rex’s throat.
“I am a Shinobi Scout” Rex continued, “Sent by the Ocelot Shinobi of the Combined Kingdom. My leader is looking for possible recruits for our cause.”
Winter was amazed; people had spoken of cats causing trouble in the neighbourhood, some spoke of them as wild animals some thought they were some form of organised domestic cats. It never occurred to Winter that they were ninjas.
“Do I pass the test then, can I become a ninja” Winter asked, forgetting his master’s commands.
“Afraid not, none of my targets have ever caught me before and although you have display extraordinary levels of stealth and agility, my investigation is not complete and cannot carry on any further due to my discovery.”
Winter had him by the neck again.
“What do you mean I can’t join you, I have outsmarted, outmanoeuvred and outmuscled you and you claim to be a ninja yourself.” Winter was furious! This was his one chance to get away. He could become powerful and independent without the need of his worthless family.
“I agree” Rex replied, “I have been bested. Yet, those are not the only elements required to become a ninja.” Winters claws were closing tighter around his neck. “Patience, loyalty and wisdom are vital assets of an Ocelot Shinobi.” The orange Shinobi was difficult to read but Winter detected fear within the Shinobi’s voice. He decided to take advantage of this.
“Let’s see if those assets help you if I take off your head and feed it to my master.”
Rex was a loyal companion to the Ocelot Shinobi but was not willing to risk his life saying no to Winter and besides, Winter had proven to be highly talented cat and anyone could learn patience and loyalty.
“Bring everything you value with you, once you leave with me there is no turning back.” Rex had regained the authority in his voice but Winter did not take anything with him for he valued nothing from this household.

Part 2

Although the Dojo was deep under ground, very old and not so clean. The place smelled of opportunity and freedom, a smell that Winter had not experienced before. Winter was ordered to go immediately to the Dojo, 6 more new recruits had just begun training there. His instructor didn’t look like a ninja, but his face showed that he was wiser than everyone else in the room combined. On the other hand, his fellow recruits showed no qualities at all. They all appeared to be weak little runts pulled from rich families. Winter didn’t notice the 7th recruit standing behind him; he was a menacing cat. His dark grey hair and scarred face did not seem to show any form of sympathy as he shoved Winter to the ground.
“You’re standing in my spot, runt.”
Winter stepped away; he did not wish to start a fight on his first day, especially not with him.
“Attention class!” the instructors voice commanded, “Today you will learn the history of our clan and why we have sworn to protect the translation stone.” Winter was listening intently as the instructor continued, “Long ago humans and cats could speak to each other and lived side-by-side, as equals. The cats were much wiser and more intelligent. Whereas the humans were more reckless and greedy. The Master Cats were working on a massive project looking into the origins of the universe. When the humans found out about their project and demanded answers, the Master Cats refused to give them anything, for it was far too powerful for the hands of the reckless humans. The humans started war against the cats, capturing and torturing cats around the world in order to get information on the master cats’ project. The Cat Masters sensed that sooner or later the humans would find out so they locked away their new found information into the translation stone along with the humans ability to speak with cats. Our order, The Ocelot Shinobi of the Combined Kingdoms were ordered to protect this stone from the humans’ greed. The masters then killed themselves to remove any other source of the information of the universe. To date, our order has protected this stone for 6 millennia and continues to protect it. It is called the translation stone because, once activated, it will allow humans and cats to speak to each other again. One day the responsibilities of our order will be passed on to you and on that day, you must be ready. For now though I want to know each of your names and their meaning.” The grey cat answered first.
“My name is Akuma, son of Enma the powerful. Akuma stands for the devil and means I always get what I want.” The authority in his voice made the instructor a little scared.
“We’ll see about that” the instructor replied. “You, the white cat. What’s your name?”
“My name is Winter, it was given to me by my owners. It means that I can be as innocent and playful as snowflakes, but at the same time be as unpredictable and ruthless as a blizzard.”
As Winter left the Dojo with the others, he saw Akuma’s scarred face again. There was an evil look in his eye that made Winter think he was after the stone.

Part 3

The instructor was furious. “What do you mean they won’t be graduating next week? The recruits have been training for a whole year now, I taught them myself! They are ready.” Chusuke was the leader of the Order and hated being shouted at, but his patience made him reply in a calm manner.
“I have visited the fountain of clairvoyance and it showed me, one of our new recruits activating the translation stone.”
The instructor didn’t believe for a second that one of his recruits would commit that crime, not even Akuma. The instructor continued shouting.
“The visions given from the fountain of clairvoyance have been proven wrong before, and I know more about my recruits than some sacred water does.” Around half the cats in the order believed in the fountain of clairvoyance. It is said that any who drink from the fountain can receive visions that can tell the future. Before the argument could continue however, Winter burst in the door with an urgent expression.
“Akuma is planning on activating the stone.” Winter described with a loud, panicked voice. “He is down in the crypts with 3 recruits and a group of humans. They could attack at any moment.” Chusuke burst into action.
“Winter, take the other 3 recruits and guard the stone. Everyone else will proceed to the crypts at once.” Winter, was quick to react, he got the other recruits from the Dojo and ran with them down the corridors of the underground base towards the translation stone.

One forceful punch to the throat and one of the recruits was dead instantly. Winter had broken the second recruit’s right arm and was twisting the cat’s neck when the third realised what was happening. He stood in a fighting stance and went in for a low kick to Winter’s left kidney but Winter was already behind him. The last recruit fell without a sound and without a head. Winter stepped silently over their bodies and carried on towards the stone vault.

title: My First Story: Winter and the Translation Stone.

question: Why are the cats so desperate to keep the stone from falling into humans' hands?

answer: Because they fear human greed - that they might use the stone towards some evil plan.

question: What kind of cat is Winter?

answer: Winter is a restless cat who wants hated being a cat, wants to experience adventure, and can't wait to leave his present boring life to find some excitement, regardless of ow dangerous it gets.


text:
SHERMAN COUNTY is one of the 36 counties in the U.S. state of Oregon. As of the 2010 census, the population was 1,765,[1] making it the second-least populous county in Oregon. The county seat is Moro,[2] and the largest city is Wasco. The county is named for William Tecumseh Sherman, a Union general in the American Civil War.

History

[A grain elevator along Gordon Ridge Road, Sherman County] [Old grain elevator in Kent] [A grain elevator at Highway 97 and Rosebush Lane, Sherman County]

As the pioneers felt crowded in the new settlements of western Oregon, they turned east to the Columbia Plateau for new opportunities. The county's first white settler was William Graham, who located at the mouth of the Deschutes River in 1858.[3] Homesteaders, eager for land, arrived in the 1880s by steamboat, stagecoach and wagon. Soon farmers received government patents.

As the population grew, so did the sentiment for independence from Wasco County.[4] Sherman County was created on February 25, 1889, out of the northeast corner of Wasco County. The county's borders have been changed only once, in 1891, when the Legislative Assembly moved the county line farther south into Wasco County.

The town of Wasco was designated the county seat by the Legislative Assembly although this designation was contested between Wasco and Moro. Following the addition of a portion of Wasco County, Moro became the eventual winner.

Geography

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the county has a total area of , of which is land and (0.9%) is water.[5]

Adjacent counties

-   Klickitat County, Washington - north
-   Gilliam County - east
-   Wasco County - southwest

Demographics

[From 2000 to 2007, Sherman County lost 4.1% of its population, the second-lowest growth rate in the state.]

2000 census

As of the census[6] of 2000, there were 1,934 people, 797 households, and 545 families living in the county. The population density was 2 people per square mile (1/km²). There were 935 housing units at an average density of 1 per square mile (0/km²). The racial makeup of the county was 93.59% White, 0.21% Black or African American, 1.40% Native American, 0.47% Asian, 2.79% from other races, and 1.55% from two or more races. 4.86% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race. 20.5% were of German, 17.3% American, 11.7% English, 8.7% Irish and 5.3% Norwegian ancestry.

There were 797 households, out of which 29.90% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 58.50% were married couples living together, 6.50% had a female householder with no husband present, and 31.50% were non-families. 28.70% of all households were made up of individuals, and 14.10% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.43 and the average family size was 2.97.

In the county, the population was spread out, with 26.40% under the age of 18, 5.80% from 18 to 24, 23.40% from 25 to 44, 26.10% from 45 to 64, and 18.30% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 42 years. For every 100 females there were 102.90 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 105.00 males.

The median income for a household in the county was $35,142, and the median income for a family was $42,563. Males had a median income of $31,207 versus $21,579 for females. The per capita income for the county was $17,448. About 12.30% of families and 14.60% of the population were below the poverty line, including 20.20% of those under age 18 and 7.70% of those age 65 or over.

2010 census

As of the 2010 United States Census, there were 1,765 people, 777 households, and 492 families living in the county.[7] The population density was . There were 918 housing units at an average density of .[8] The racial makeup of the county was 93.4% white, 1.6% American Indian, 0.2% black or African American, 0.2% Asian, 0.1% Pacific islander, 2.7% from other races, and 1.8% from two or more races. Those of Hispanic or Latino origin made up 5.6% of the population.[9] In terms of ancestry, 22.6% were German, 16.5% were English, 13.0% were Irish, and 4.9% were American.[10]

Of the 777 households, 23.0% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 51.2% were married couples living together, 7.5% had a female householder with no husband present, 36.7% were non-families, and 30.5% of all households were made up of individuals. The average household size was 2.27 and the average family size was 2.84. The median age was 48.2 years.[11]

The median income for a household in the county was $41,354 and the median income for a family was $52,361. Males had a median income of $42,768 versus $32,386 for females. The per capita income for the county was $21,688. About 13.9% of families and 20.0% of the population were below the poverty line, including 38.2% of those under age 18 and 9.9% of those age 65 or over.[12]

Government and infrastructure

The Northern Oregon Regional Corrections Facility (Norcor), a short-term jail, serves Sherman, Gilliam, Hood River, and Wasco counties.[13]

  Year                               Republican                                Democratic                                Third parties
  ---------------------------------- ----------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------- ---------------
  style=“text-align:center;” |2016   style=“text-align:center;” |72.0% _732_   style=“text-align:center;” |19.9% _202_   8.2% _83_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2012   style=“text-align:center;” |66.1% _678_   style=“text-align:center;” |31.1% _319_   2.8% _29_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2008   style=“text-align:center;” |60.6% _634_   style=“text-align:center;” |36.8% _385_   2.7% _28_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2004   style=“text-align:center;” |62.9% _694_   style=“text-align:center;” |35.3% _390_   1.8% _20_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2000   style=“text-align:center;” |63.9% _679_   style=“text-align:center;” |30.7% _326_   5.4% _57_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1996   style=“text-align:center;” |44.6% _476_   style=“text-align:center;” |41.6% _444_   13.8% _147_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1992   style=“text-align:center;” |38.0% _424_   style=“text-align:center;” |32.4% _362_   29.6% _330_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1988   style=“text-align:center;” |54.6% _555_   style=“text-align:center;” |42.8% _435_   2.6% _26_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1984   style=“text-align:center;” |67.5% _828_   style=“text-align:center;” |32.4% _398_   0.1% _1_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1980   style=“text-align:center;” |57.9% _677_   style=“text-align:center;” |33.3% _389_   8.9% _104_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1976   style=“text-align:center;” |51.1% _567_   style=“text-align:center;” |44.3% _491_   4.6% _51_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1972   style=“text-align:center;” |64.9% _677_   style=“text-align:center;” |31.6% _330_   3.5% _36_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1968   style=“text-align:center;” |59.3% _646_   style=“text-align:center;” |35.3% _384_   5.4% _59_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1964   style=“text-align:center;” |36.5% _494_   style=“text-align:center;” |63.5% _859_   0.0% _0_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1960   style=“text-align:center;” |56.6% _659_   style=“text-align:center;” |43.4% _506_   0.0% _0_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1956   style=“text-align:center;” |61.5% _671_   style=“text-align:center;” |38.5% _420_   0.0% _0_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1952   style=“text-align:center;” |67.5% _747_   style=“text-align:center;” |32.1% _355_   0.5% _5_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1948   style=“text-align:center;” |53.2% _532_   style=“text-align:center;” |45.4% _454_   1.4% _14_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1944   style=“text-align:center;” |47.7% _475_   style=“text-align:center;” |52.0% _518_   0.3% _3_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1940   style=“text-align:center;” |46.1% _575_   style=“text-align:center;” |53.7% _670_   0.2% _3_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1936   style=“text-align:center;” |27.8% _337_   style=“text-align:center;” |67.9% _823_   4.4% _53_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1932   style=“text-align:center;” |38.0% _423_   style=“text-align:center;” |59.8% _665_   2.2% _24_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1928   style=“text-align:center;” |66.4% _759_   style=“text-align:center;” |32.8% _375_   0.9% _10_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1924   style=“text-align:center;” |55.9% _756_   style=“text-align:center;” |27.1% _367_   16.9% _229_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1920   style=“text-align:center;” |65.6% _893_   style=“text-align:center;” |31.1% _423_   3.4% _46_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1916   style=“text-align:center;” |46.9% _717_   style=“text-align:center;” |48.8% _747_   4.3% _66_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1912   style=“text-align:center;” |34.9% _244_   style=“text-align:center;” |33.1% _232_   32.0% _224_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1908   style=“text-align:center;” |58.3% _437_   style=“text-align:center;” |33.6% _252_   8.1% _61_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1904   style=“text-align:center;” |71.1% _701_   style=“text-align:center;” |16.5% _163_   12.4% _122_

  : PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS RESULTS[14]

Economy

Sherman County is predominantly an agricultural county, its economy receiving some aid from ranching and tourism. Its farms primarily produce wheat and barley. It is also home to the Biglow Canyon Wind Farm, the largest project of its kind in Oregon.[15]

Communities

Cities

-   Grass Valley
-   Moro (county seat)
-   Rufus
-   Wasco

Census-designated place

-   Biggs Junction

Other unincorporated communities

-   De Moss Springs
-   Erskine
-   Harmony
-   Kent
-   Klondike
-   Locust Grove
-   McDonald
-   Monkland
-   Rutledge

[1]

[2]

[3] In the beginning, Sherman County Historical Society and Museum

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13] “Norcor Home .” Northern Oregon Regional Corrections Facility. Retrieved on November 22, 2011.

[14]

[15] Hill, Gail Kinsey. Wind farm in gorge may blow others away. _The Oregonian_. August 1, 2005.

title: Sherman County, Oregon

question: Discuss income inequality in Sherman County?

answer: The income distribution in Sherman County is very unequal with women earning less than 70% of the income of the men in the county. 14.6% of the population lives below the poverty line. Of those 20.2% are under the age of 18.


text:
TUIA'ANA T. LETULI (died 13 May 1967) was an American Samoan chief and politician. He served as a member of the House of Representatives between 1952 and 1957, and then as Chief of Police from 1957 until his death in 1967.

Biography

Letuli was born in 'Ili'ili.[1] He served in the United States Navy between 1931 and 1951.[2] In 1952 he became a member of the House of Representatives, serving until 1957.[3] He then became Chief of Police.[4]

Letuli died in May 1967 at the age of 61 during a trip to Honolulu to see three American Samoan officers graduate from the Honolulu Police Academy.[5]

[1]

[2]

[3] Chief Letuli T. Tuia'ana _Pacific Islands Monthly_, June 1967, p143

[4]

[5]

title: Tuia'ana T. Letuli

question: Where was Tuia'ana T. Letuli born?

answer: Letuli was born on 'Ili'ili.

question: What years did Letuli serve in the Navy?

answer: Letuli served in the United States Navy between 1931 and 1951.

question: What years did Letuli serve as a Chief of Police?

answer: Letuli served as a Chief of Police between 1957 and 1967.

question: Where did Letuli serve as a Chief of Police?

answer: Not answered.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Tuia'ana T. Letuli was an American Samoan chief and politician. He served in the United States Navy for 20 years, and as a member of the House of Representatives for 5 years.


text:
“So this is it, huh?”

The words hung flat in the air, the cold hard truth began to settle in.  The Marine tightened his grip around the Woman seated next to him and pulled her closer, nuzzling his head on top of hers. They were high school sweethearts, a power couple that had lasted longer than many expected and that had been put through the ringer on multiple occasions, each time strengthening the relationship more and more.  They went through hell and high water together — deployments, the erratic movements across the country, even death.  And yet, despite their best efforts to keep the spark aflame it had slowly trinkled out, the stress and loneliness became unbearable and in humane for the Woman.  She was a strong woman, having grown up in bad circumstances that rivaled the Marine’s, and stayed true through the many hardships they encountered but the constant fear of the safety and well-being of the Marine, along with her own problems in her life, had taken a toll on her.

When the Marine returned from his most recent deployment, he already knew he was living on borrowed time.  The last time he was able to contact the Woman they argued about the status of their relationship; she was exhausted and tired of being alone all the time, tired of being scared for the well-being of the Marine.  They agreed to discuss the future when he returned but he already knew the answer.

“Yeah, it is.  I’m so sorry — I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough for you, I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry for everything,” the Woman choked out, trying to fight the tears that were beginning to fall.  The Marine asked to see her and she refused, covering her face as the tears started to rain down.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he whispered to her. “No matter what I will always love you and support you, I will always have your back and I know that you will always have mine.  If the opportunity rises again in the future, and we are both up for it, then I’m willing to try this out again.”  The Marine reached up and gently caressed the Woman’s face, slowly pulling her towards him; with his free hand he wiped the tears away the best he could.  He looked into her eyes and smiled, “I have made a lot of decisions that I’ve regretted in my life, but I think it’s safe to say that meeting you was the best decision I’ve ever made.  Let’s not dwell on how it ended but rather let’s relish on all the amazing things we’ve done, all the experiences and memories we made together.”

Standing up, he reached out for her hand and helped her up.  They looked around, the park was as empty as it was when they arrived.  The lights scattered about were slowly turning on one by one as the night sky started to settle, the fleeting colors of the sunset shimmering in a nearby pond.  The Marine held the Woman’s hands and faced her, smiling — “You’re as beautiful as the day I met you,” he said.  She smiled back,  “And your smile is still as bright as the sun, so warm and comforting.”

He let go of the Woman and pulled out his phone.  “For my final act of war, I ask you this:  May I have this one last dance with you, ma’am?”  She chuckled and looked into his eyes, her answer need not be said.  The Marine smiled and selected their song, putting the phone on the bench.  He wrapped his arms around her and her around him and they began to sway slowly to the song.

***“If I go, a million miles away***

***I'd write a letter, each and everyday***

***'Cause honey nothing, nothing can ever change this love I have for you....”***

They looked into each others eyes and reminisced about the past — the years starting to pass by their very own eyes.  Memories flooded their minds: the day they met, their first kiss, graduation, all the ups and downs they encountered throughout the years.  The Marine pulled her tight and hugged her, kissing the top of her head.  “I love you,” he whispered and she whispered back, “I love you too.”

***“...You’re the apple of my eye, you're cherry pie***

***And oh you’re, you're cake and ice cream***

***Oh you're sugar and spice, and everything nice***

***You're the girl of my, my, my, my, dreams...”***

The song started to come to a close, the Marine broke the embrace and looked into her eyes.  She reached up and planted her lips on his for the last time as the last bits of sunshine were drained from the sky and were replaced with the dark of the night.

***“...'Cause honey nothing, nothing, nothing can ever change this, love I have, for you.”***

edit: formatting

title: [NF] The Last Dance

question: How and why does the couple break up?

answer: They love each other, but she worries about his safety on his deployments (he's a marine) all the time. Eventually, she can't take it anymore, so they break up. They have their ending talk in a park; she's tearful, and he's understanding. They dance to their song for the last time as the night falls.

question: What does the story say about how much the man misses his woman on his deployments?


text:
A few things we learned from attending Consensus 2018.

[BlockCAT]

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There were more than 8,400 people in NYC last week for Consensus 2018, one of the largest blockchain conferences in the world. The event was geared towards bringing some of the brightest minds in the space together to discuss big ideas, explore opposing viewpoints and do a bevy of networking.

A FEW MEMBERS OF THE BLOCKCAT TEAM HEADED DOWN TO NYC TO PARTICIPATE IN THE EVENT, with our main points of focus being on learning, sharing and connecting with other teams in the space to see how they were tackling some of the problems that we were.

WE’VE COMPILED A LIST OF NOTES, LEARNINGS AND KEY TAKEAWAYS FROM THE EVENT WHICH YOU CAN READ THROUGH BELOW. WE HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!

[Image for post]

-

    8,400+conference attendees.
-

    GLOBAL LEADERS from Microsoft, IBM, Deloitte and FedEx in attendance.
-

    THE SPACE IS MATURING and attracting more attention from major corps.
-

    WE NETWORKED AND MINGLED with lots of really fascinating teams.
-

    THERE IS STILL _LOTS_ OF HYPE. Lamborghinis and lavish afterparty galore.

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One of the most fascinating aspects was not just how many industry titans were in attendance; but how many global corporations have been busy building/exploring blockchain solutions for their own businesses.

Frederick W. Smith, chairman and CEO of FedEx, mentioned in detail how disruptive blockchain tech would be for his industry, which adds weight to the news we heard back in February about FedEx’ plan to integrate blockchain into its daily operations by joining the Blockchain in Transport Alliance (BiTA).

  “BLOCKCHAIN HAS THE POTENTIAL TO COMPLETELY REVOLUTIONIZE WHAT’S ACROSS THE BORDER.” — Frederick W. Smith, CEO of FedEx

We watched Bridget van Kralingen from IBM Blockchain break down enterprise networks and a token driven economy. JT Rose and Marc Mercuri from Microsoft explained how you can create and deploy multi-parity apps with Azure.

During one of the panels, it was mentioned in passing that United States regulators are continuing to explore ICO’s and cryptocurrency, and there is no plan yet to suppress the sector. The government representatives that were on stage mentioned that there are no plans to hinder innovation in the field.

OUR TAKEAWAY:

MAJOR CORPORATIONS AND INDUSTRY LEADERS ARE MOVING AT BREAKNECK SPEEDS TO BUILD (OR SUPPORT) VARIOUS BLOCKCHAIN SOLUTIONS.

BLOCKCHAIN TECH IS NOT ONLY BEING TAKEN SERIOUSLY, BUT RECORD AMOUNTS OF RESOURCES (BOTH TALENT AND FINANCIAL) ARE BEING ALLOCATED TO FULLY UNDERSTAND AND UTILIZE THE TECHNOLOGY FOR BUSINESS APPLICATIONS.

[Image for post]

On day one, we watched Joseph Lubin share the stage alongside Jimmy Song and Amber Baldet to discuss the feasibility of a decentralized internet, which ended with an impromptu bitcoin bet on the future of blockchain tech.

Amber Baldet, former head of blockchain at J.P. Morgan, announced a partnership with Patrick Mylund Nielson to launch a start-up called Clovyr, which aims to bring the flexibility and ease of use of modern application development to the blockchain domain.

Square CEO Jack Dorsey paired up with Lightning Lab’s Elizabeth Stark to discuss how using digital currency could allow a company like Square to offer it’s services to every nation on the planet, instead of the five they’re in now.

  “THE INTERNET IS GOING TO HAVE A NATIVE CURRENCY SO LET’S NOT WAIT FOR IT TO HAPPEN, LET’S HELP IT HAPPEN” … “THE INTERNET DESERVES A NATIVE CURRENCY.”
   — Jack Dorsey, Square (formerly Twitter).

Fellow Canadian blockchain enthusiast Alex Tapscott shared his taxonomy of crypto assets to a captive audience. We also watched a panel discussion on how blockchain could apply itself to the automotive industry, including owning your data collection from self-driving cars and preventing odometer fraud on used vehicles.

One of the most useful panels we attended featured our favourite podcast host, Laura Shin, which covered topics such as journalistic integrity, credibility, organic vs. sponsored content, pay-to-play and even PR strategy.

  EDITOR’S NOTE: If you’re not subscribed to Unchained (and as of recently, Unconfirmed) you’re seriously missing out. -Justin

Etoro announced their expansion into the US, along with a mobile wallet. Amazon Web Services (AWS) is partnering with Consensys to make enterprise blockchains easier and faster to deploy.

Our Takeaway:

FROM BIG IDEAS TO TACTICAL PR APPLICATION, IT WAS FAIRLY EASY FOR OUR TEAM TO SPLIT UP AND FIND VALUABLE INFORMATION FROM THE VARIOUS TRACKS AT THE CONFERENCE (ALTHOUGH IT OFTEN REQUIRED US TO JUMP FROM ROOM-TO-ROOM).

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We’re not going into too much detail on this topic, but the hype surrounding the crypto space is alive and well… especially during NYC Blockchain Week. ICO’s, token giveaways, lamborghini’s and “moon” chats were in full swing.

There was an unparalleled level of fluff on display, and ads were plastered in every direction you looked. Suits were on the prowl, which didn’t quite feel representative of the crypto community we’ve grown accustomed to.

Our Takeaway:

THIS DIDN’T DETRACT FROM THE EVENT _TOO_ MUCH, BUT IT DIDN’T ADD TO IT EITHER.

[Image for post]

Last but not least, we spent _a lot_ of time learning, sharing and connecting with other teams at the event.

WE CONNECTED WITH FOLKS FROM QTUM, RIPPLE, JAXX, LEDGER, MYETHERWALLET, GEM, OMNISPARX, CONSENSYS, ZCASH AND _MANY_ MORE.

We discussed common CHALLENGES, OPPORTUNITIES, INFRASTRUCTURE and TECHNICAL HURDLES, along with possible areas for collaboration in the future.

We met Whitfield Diffie, a master cryptographer and one of the pioneers of public-key cryptography, at an exclusive MEW and MetaCert afterparty.

WE ALSO MINGLED WITH SOME OF OUR COMMUNITY MEMBERS who were in attendance. We haven’t had the opportunity to meet too many people from our community IRL so far, so this was pretty special for us.

What really impressed us, though, was HOW MANY PEOPLE RECOGNIZED US FROM OUR BLOCKCAT T-SHIRTS — and stopped us to praise the work we’re doing. We were humbled to hear people’s thoughts on Tabby Pay, our attitude towards crypto and even the effort we put into our weekly updates. 👍

Our Takeaway:

ONE OF THE MOST VALUABLE ELEMENTS OF THE EVENT WAS CONNECTING WITH OTHER TEAMS TO FULLY UNDERSTAND THE CHALLENGES THEY’RE FACING — WHICH OPENED UP A NUMBER OF OPPORTUNITIES FOR WORKING TOGETHER IN THE FUTURE.

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-

    THE SHEER SCALE OF MONEY/RESOURCES being dedicated to blockchain tech
-

    OVER 1 MILLION LEDGER UNITS SOLD. Wow.
-

    UX IS A CONSISTENT BARRIER TO ENTRY. People won’t use something that feels unsafe, or requires a “how-to” manual. This rang true for marketers and developers alike.
-

    GROWING A USERBASE FOR DAPPS IS CHALLENGING, according to many of the teams we’ve talked to. Interest and demand tend to outweigh the actual number of real-world users .
-

    CANADA IS BECOMING A HUB FOR BLOCKCHAIN INNOVATION. We’re proud. 🇨🇦
-

    FAKE PROTESTS get an _impressive_ amount of attention from the media.
-

    NETWORKING: These events are the most powerful catalyst for connecting with other passionate people in this space. We will be attending more.

[Image for post]

_That’s it for this week! If you have any questions, be sure to join our_ _Discord channel__, tweet to us on_ _Twitter_ _or chime in on the_ _/r/BlockCAT subreddit__!_

_Written by_ _Justin Veenema__, Community Strategist at BlockCAT._

question: What does the text say about BlockCAT?

answer: BlockCAT is a team of people in Canada working in the blockchain space. Some members of their team went to Consensus 2018 to learn, share, and connect with other teams in their field. All of the "we" and "our" references in the text refer to BlockCAT.

question: What does the text say about Amber Baldet?

answer: Amber Baldet was the former head of blockchain at J.P. Morgan. She presented on stage at Consensus 2018 with Jimmy Song. She and Patrick Mylund partnered to launch Clovyr. Amber is well-established in the blockchain domain.

question: What does the text say about teams?

answer: The text mentions the BlockCAT team, who are the authors of the review that comprises the text. There were many other teams that went to Consensus 2018, one of the largest blockchain conferences in the world. The blockCAT team did a lot of networking and sharing with other teams, which they hope will lead to future colaborations.

question: What does the text say about Jack Dorsey's net worth?


text:
For the last few hours, Alan hadn’t paid attention to the highway signs since he had traveled back and forth between Montana and South Dakota multiple times. The same yellow markers were just colored reminders of the route back home. Yet it had never occurred to him that he missed some worn-out exit until just a few minutes ago, being misled by almost exact copies of the regular route’s signs. Not knowing where he was, Alan decided it would be best to stop at the nearest gas station to refuel and get his bearings, possibly in the form of a roadmap or verbal directions. He wasn’t the most social individual, but he knew that asking a local was the only way to find his way back onto the highway and, eventually, home.

*Just a bump in the road*, he thought to himself. *I’ll be home soon enough*.

Pulling into the florescent-lit gas station, which sat right off the highway exit, in his compact Optra SRV, Alan rubbed his eyes. The lines of a parking spot close to the building’s entrance were begging to blur from his somewhat dry eyes and the frosted windshield. One night the car’s heating system crapped out and hadn’t been able to fully heat up ever since. Another thing he hadn’t fixed, lost among the list of things Alan was trying to fix, personally and physically. Regardless of the lukewarm setback, Alan slowly pulled his salt-whipped vehicle into the second closest space to the only entrance to the building and turned off the engine.

The winds outside had picked up, wielding a marrow-freezing chill and occasional blusters of snow. As he emerged from his den of warmth on wheels, Alan noticed that the only other vehicles at the station were a rusted minivan, probably belonging to the station clerk, and a large semi-truck in the back bearing a logo covered by a layer of weathered snow. From the truck, Alan saw a faint puff of smoke come from the main cab, as the lights turned off and rumbling of the diesel engine faded into the howling wind.

One disgustingly plump hand reached through the driver’s side window and pulled open the door. As the rusty truck squeaked and shifted, a bulbous man slowly wriggled his way out from his tight driver’s seat. His pig-like nostrils released long puffs of warm air between wheezy breaths, which seemed to blend in with the trailing smoke from his poorly rolled cigarette.

To Alan, this man was the patron saint of truck drivers; a cult of men who didn’t have much else going for them in life besides their abilities to sit in a bouncing seat for hours on end. However, to Alan, there were some among them that were noble in their pursuit of on-time delivery. Alan remembered a show his father used to watch ad-nauseum back home; something to do with truckers in Canada and Alaska who delivered goods to communities that would otherwise die without them. But the truckers on this show were a rare breed among their diesel-bound compatriots; this man was definitely not one of them.

The truck driver shook his thick coat and tightened his small cap as he walked towards the station entrance. Wanting to avoid social interaction, Alan took out his phone and pretended to be busy reading something, even though the screen was completely black. He looked for something in his car that he knew wasn’t there and decided to get back inside of it to give it a better look. Through the howling wind, Alan heard the deep crunch of each of the trucker’s steps until they were silenced by a faint *ding* of a doorbell. Looking up from his false distraction, Alan noticed an older woman at the counter look up from reading the paper and give the new customer a fake smile. Even though he couldn’t hear what was said, he noticed the woman give a second look in the trucker’s direction. A strange glint filled her eyes as the trucker laid down a small pile of bills on the counter. After a few moments of staring at them, she quickly snatched them up and gave a quick look something in the far corner of the room. Alan couldn’t see how much each bill was, due to his fogged windshield and the lack of time they laid on the counter.

*Odd. He didn’t even put anything on the counter to buy.*

The trucker, once the woman stuffed the money away somewhere below the counter, began to slowly back away from the counter, turning towards the other end of the room at the same time. His sagging, salt-stained jeans were barely held up by a hidden belt as he began to walk away from the attendant. The thin lips of the large man were curled in a fiendish smirk, as his beady dark eyes darted across the rows of miscellaneous snacks and beverages until they homed in on one small corner of the building.

As the trucker rounded the corner and disappeared from view, Alan was overcome with guttural dread. Paralyzed by a deep fear of what lied around the corner, Alan couldn’t help but watch the older woman take a deep breath and then follow the piggish trucker’s path out of sight. Beads of sweat began to grow cold on Alan’s forehead.

*Maybe I’m thinking too into it. This ain’t my business. I just need to find a map or something and get outta here.*

Mustering enough courage, Alan emerged from his car once again and walked into the station. A familiar jingle went off as he entered, but an eerie silence followed.

Looking in the direction of where the two ventured off to, Alan only saw a single-stall restroom. The fear returned, and he quickly diverted his eyes from the white-turned-grey unisex sign in the corner of the room. After a moment of scanning the shelves, an inter-state roadmap caught his eye. Snatching it as soon as he realized what it was, Alan made his way up to the counter.

A counter without a clerk.

Behind him, Alan heard the sound of a door unlocking and closing with a metallic thump. He dared not move nor turn around. The sound of a wet boot struck the linoleum floor, followed by a handful more. Slowly, they drew closer with each squish of rubbery leather. Sudden crinkling, most likely from a bag of chips being grabbed, was the only break in the near-stampede behind Alan. With a final squeak of leather, the bootsteps ceased. A coarse hack of flem, and subsequent landing on the floor, emanated behind him. After a moment, a curt grumble followed: “She’ll be out in a second, don’t worry.”

Nevertheless, Alan worried.

title: [RF] Pit Stop

question: What is the "bump in the road"?

answer: The "bump in the road" refers to Alan getting lost somewhere between Montana and South Dakota.

question: Describe Alan.

answer: Alan is not a social individual. He's looking forward to getting home.

question: Are there other important characters?

answer: Alan encounters a truck driver and a woman who works a the counter of a gas station.

question: Is there any interaction between Alan and the other characters?

answer: Alan tries to avoid interaction with the others, but needs to purchase a map or ask for directions.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Alan is traveling on the highway between Montana and South Dakota. He's taken the route many times, but somehow misses an exit and ends up lost. He pulls into a gas station; there is only a truck driver there and a woman who works at the counter. Alan watches a strange interaction between the truck driver and woman in which the truck driver gives the woman money and then she follows him to the bathroom. Alan looks up from the roadmap; the truck driver tells him not to worry, that the woman will be out in a minute.