text:
"Whats with all this talk of training?" Boone asked Rex.
"You need to learn how to use your powers correctly, we don't want you out in the world causing a ruckus," Rex said back.

Boone looked confused but didn't know what to do. He was handcuffed and tied to a chair. He thought it was best to just stay quiet and observe. He looked straight towards the group of five and didn't quite understand, Rex was all in black, in a robe like style of clothing, while the other five, were all dressed normally.

"So, are you guys just, like, normal people?" Boone asked.

"I guess you could say that," one man laughed.

Boone was really starting to freak out. He thought maybe this was a big joke, set up by Chris or something.
One person came out into the front. It was the girl that talked before. Boone couldn't believe his eyes. She was one of the most beautiful women he's laid eyes on. Red hair, nice eyes, and a style of clothing that you wouldn't expect from a girl like her, a torn up red hoodie and a black skirt.

"Okay, is it Boone? My name is Katie. I cast mental pain. I can send off high frequencies that can make ones head explode, but I can only send it to one persons brain. Look, here is a dummy, with a gelatin brain," Katie explained.

Boone looked straight at her, then to the dummy. In a matter of seconds, the dummy's head blew off. Boone tried to duck into cover but the chair just fell over.

"Fucking shit that hurt," Boone yelled out.

Katie looked at him and laughed, but Boone thought it was the cutest laugh he's ever heard.

"Enough showing off, Katie," a guy said.

A man that appeared to be around 20, came up and pulled her aside. He looked like he was a math teacher almost. He had a beard, a dark one, but wasn't fully grown, kinda like a 5 O'clock shadow. He was wearing a black polo, and beige khakis.

"Hey, Boone. I'm Daniel, and you may think this is crazy, but I can trick my mind into freezing time, and thinking about possible solutions in a sticky situation. Say, for example, there are three guys, who just stole from a gas station. I would approach them, and they took out guns, and they formed a circle around me. I would then tell my brain to shut down almost, and think about how I would do this. I do not know if the real world slows down, and can't test it out, because if it did slow down, then no one would know it did. Anyways, back to the example. I would try to figure out what I would do, and I have time to think, because the world is basically frozen in time. But after I think and I find a solution, I would do it. It usually works ninety percent of the time," Daniel said.

"I remember all the other ten percent of the times," a kid said.

He came up to where every else stood. He looked like a sixteen year old. He was skinny, but dress nicely. He looked a bit awkward, but I guess it was his first time speaking about his powers to a random kid.

"Hi, I'm Alex. I have X-Ray eyes. I guess its self explanatory, so I'm done. Next?" Alex said.

"I guess its my turn, just gimme a minute," a man with a deep voice said.

A big guy walked up to the same spot, but he sat down on another chair. He wasn't big like fat, but big with muscles.

"Lemme guess, you can turn into the Hulk?" Boone said sarcastically.

"I guess its kinda like that. So you've seen The Incredible Hulk, and I'm guessing you've seen Wolverine. Imagine merging both of those together, but there is no shift shaping nonsense going on. As fast as a wolf, as strong as a beast. Oh, my name is Ron," Ron said.

Boone didn't know what to expect of him, but didn't really listen. He was dazing off, staring at Katie.

"Alright, we'll start tomorrow. Get your rest, or don't. I know Boone had alot of rest on the way over here," Rex laughed.

Boone thought he saw another person at the beginning, but shook it off.

title: [FN] The Seven Powers [Part 2]

question: Summarize what kinds of powers the characters have.

answer: Katie can cast mental pain; Daniel can trick his mind into freezing time and thinking about possible solutions; Alex has X-ray eyes; Ron can become the Hulk and is as strong as a beast and as fast as a wolf.

critique: "Ron can become the Hulk and is as strong as a beast and as fast as a wolf." - is incorrect. Ron can turn into a wolf-like beast, not a Hulk.

critique: The answer omits the power of the man who can turn into the Hulk.

text: It is not clear how Daniel would use his power. He could think about possible solutions in a sticky situation when he freezes time.

question: Summarize the peculiarity Boone feels.

answer: The story starts with Boone being handcuffed and tied to a chair. He is confused, and feels as though he is in a dream. He is then introduced to various people and their abilities, and he is shocked to realize that everything is real. He is fascinated by Katie, the girl who can cause pain in the mind, and he is interested in what Daniel can do. He feels that this is all a dream, and is fascinated by the things he is seeing.

critique: The answer should mention the fact that Boone is tied to a chair.

text: It is not stated that he feels that that is all a dream.

question: Summarize why Katie's power should not have worked that way.

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the story does not explain why Katie's power worked that way.

question: Explain why Boone is here, strapped to a chair, surrounded by people with special abilities.

answer: Boone has been kidnapped in order to learn how to use his special abilities. There is also a person who has been told to teach Boone who is not present.

text: It is not explained why he was tied to a chair.


split: train

text:
WILLIAM LEVI CRAWFORD (September 10, 1911 – January 25, 1984) was an American publisher and editor.

Career

During the autumn of 1933, Crawford, a West Coast science fiction fan, proposed to start a non-paying weird fiction magazine, _Unusual Stories_, which was initiated soon afterward. About the same time he also published the magazine _Marvel Tales_. For _Unusual Stories_ he commissioned a brief autobiography by H.P. Lovecraft, Autobiography: Some Notes on a Nonentity, although it was never published in the magazine. He also accepted Lovecraft's Celephais and The Doom That Came to Sarnath for _Unusual Stories_, but they were published instead in _Marvel Tales_ (May 1934 and March–April 1935, respectively). Around July 1934 Lovecraft wrote _Some Notes on Interplanetary Fiction_ for one of Crawford's magazines, but the essay was published in the magazine _The Californian_ (Winter 1935). Lovecraft's correspondent Duane W. Rimel wrote the tale “The Jewels of Charlotte” (possibly revised by Lovecraft) [1] which was published in _Unusual Stories_, May–June 1935. Robert Bloch's early story “Black Lotus” appeared in _Unusual Stories_ in 1935.

In 1935, Crawford published the collection _Mars Mountain_, by Eugene George Key. It was the first full-size book issued by a publisher that specialized in science fiction.[2] It was a poorly produced hardcover of 142 pages and was not well-received when it appeared.[3] At this time Crawford had ambitious publishing plans and promised hardcover editions of Andrew North's _People of the Crater_ and Ralph Milne Farley's _The Missing Link_; the Farley title never appeared but the North (pseudonym of Andre Norton) title was finally issued in 1972 as part of the collection _Garan the Eternal_.[4]

During the spring of 1935 Crawford contemplated reviving the defunct magazine _Fantasy Fan_ with Lovecraft as editor, but the plan was never realized. He also thought of issuing one of Lovecraft's stories _At the Mountains of Madness_ or _The Shadow Over Innsmouth_ as a booklet, or bound together in one volume; he considered submitting the latter story to _Astounding Stories_ after learning of the acceptance there of _At the Mountains of Madness_ and _The Shadow Out of Time_ but it is not known whether he did so. In late 1935, he began the process of issuing _The Shadow Over Innsmouth_ as a book. The project came to fruition in November 1936 (although the copyright page declares the date of publication as April 1936), under Crawford's Visionary Publishing Co imprint; but the book had so many typographical errors that Lovecraft insisted on an errata sheet (which was also faulty). _The Shadow Over Innsmouth_ was the only book of Lovecraft's fiction to be published and distributed during Lovecraft's own lifetime. Crawford printed 400 copies but bound only 200; the others were destroyed later. According to Robert Weinberg, few copies of the book were sold, even though it was available at the bargain price of $1 a copy. It featured good paper, black linen binding and a dust jacket and four interior illustrations by Frank Utpatel. Crawford wrote of the venture in his essay “Lovecraft's First Book” in _The Shuttered Room and Other Pieces_; reprinted in _Lovecraft Remembered_. Its failure, and the poor sales of a third (nonfantasy) book convinced Crawford of the futility of his efforts.

Future projects, which would have included a hardcover edition of E.E. Smith's _The Skylark of Space_, were dropped.[5] (This title was later published by the Buffalo Book Company in 1946 by Thomas G. Hadley, Donald M. Grant and Kenneth Krueger).

Crawford published books under a number of different imprints before founding the Fantasy Publishing Company, Inc. in 1946. He edited several anthologies that he also published. He co-wrote the 1936 novel _Behind the Evidence_ with Amelia Reynolds Long under the combined pseudonym Peter Reynolds.[6]

In 1953 Crawford's Fantasy Publishing Company published and edited Science-Fantasy Quintette (300 copies), which included short stories by authors L. Ron Hubbard and Ed Earl Repp. _Spaceway_ was another magazine Crawford started that contained stories by L. Ron Hubbard.

From 1970 through 1974 William Crawford organized four Witchcraft and Sorcery Conventions. While this was the chosen name at the time, the emphasis was mainly on Science Fiction and Fantasy with an inclusion of fictional literature that also related to “witchcraft and sorcery” fiction.

Other conventions that he and his wife, Margaret Crawford, founded were Fantasy Faire and Science Fiction Weekend. Famous authors and others who were a part of these conventions included Ray Bradbury, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Edmond Hamilton, Leigh Brackett, A. E. van Vogt, and many others. (“Lost: A Living Legend,” a tribute by Forrest J. Ackermann in _To the Stars_, a fanzine, issue #2, 1984).

William L. Crawford's earliest involvement in the field included his membership in LASFAS (began pre-World War II), the Los Angeles Science Fantasy Society, where he had befriended Ray Bradbury and other famous authors and fans.

The William L. Crawford Memorial Award for the best first fantasy novel is named in his honor.[7] Andre Norton was the creator of this award which is still actively presented to qualifying individuals.

Crawford retained a large volume of unbound FCPI books and offered them with paper bindings at low prices through the 1970s.

While a bit off the grid in some ways (the earlier references to his publication efforts do not include that his printing machines from the 1950s on were literally in his garage due to a very minimal budget), William L. Crawford was connected with numerous famous individuals in the Science Fiction genre, including Forrest Ackerman (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forrest_J_Ackerman). These were the people who, in essence, started and kept alive the science fiction genre until it was ultimately embraced by many due to famous television shows (_Star Trek_ and more) and movies (_Star Wars_, etc.).

[1] S. T. Joshi and David E. Schultz, _An H. P. Lovecraft Encyclopedia_. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2001, p. 227

[2] Clute and Nicholls 1995, p. 664.

[3] Sam Moskowitz. _The Immortal Storm_ (Atlanta FA: ASFO, 1954) p. 23

[4] Robert Weinberg. “Science Fiction Specialty Publishers” in _Science Fiction Collections: Fantasy, Supernatural and Weird Tales_ (Haworth Press, 1983), p. 119.

[5] Robert Weinberg. “Science Fiction Specialty Publishers” in _Science Fiction Collections: Fantasy, Supernatural and Weird Tales_ (Haworth Press, 1983), p. 119.

[6] Chalker and Owings 1998, pp. 705-706.

[7] Clute and Grant 1997, p. 1015.

title: William L. Crawford

question: What are the reasons behind Crawford magazines' inability to sell well?

answer: The magazines were poorly produced and had typographical errors.

critique: The magazines were poorly produced and had typographical errors.

critique: It is omitted that Crawford's publishing career was mainly in the 1930s and the 1950s.

critique: Uncare and dated response to a simple question

critique: The answer is not stated in the passage.

critique: The magazines were also poorly distributed.


text:
My throat was parched, probably due to those kinds of nights. Maybe I didn’t want to rise from those blankets that kept whispering through friction of the textile. Sleep a while longer, It beckoned.

Not today, I replied. Aching muscles hindered too many quick movements; a slow, subtle, fluent motion of my legs escaped the entangling snares of the sheets. The cold wood floor grazed my toes. With a drop of my heels, I felt a jolt of electricity shoot up my legs and into my chest. Mornings were not pleasant. A ray of light emitted through the gap between the window and the bamboo shutters. That light enjoyed blinding me as I rose each morning from my zombified state. My head tilted backwards to experience the new, cloying fragrance that had begun to become more noticeable over the hours.

It was not long before I finally traversed through several open archways into the too-well-lit kitchen. The numbers on the digital stove clock read 9:42. School had started almost nearly an hour ago, but this did not issue me. A late night gave me permission to pass out in my clothes from the night before. Because of the awkwardness of my situation, I had no hunger to spare to the enticing boxes of cereal resting atop my pantry. I directed my attention away and to the high-top Nikes which were always cherished. They slipped on as easily as normal with the laces tucked away underneath the tongue. My bag was packed from the night before and sat in the entryway awaiting to be hoisted as a fisher would his net filled bountifully. I neared the door and extended my arm as if to shake the hand of a friend whom you would be saying your formal goodbye to.

The crisp morning air irritated my throat. I would not be outside for more than a few minutes, meaning the raspiness would soon suffice. While taking my beginning steps towards the gate, I reached for the rusting bar weathered for years. It flaked under the pressure of my fingers brushing it ever so lightly. I pushed the gate back and lifted the latch to close it.

I made my way to the intersection. Cars whizzed past in a fury of nerves and melted rubber. A passage cleared when a good samaritan of a driver paused his actions at the stop sign to part the asphalt sea. My first steps across the crosswalk felt awkward as I focused on the question of if I walk differently than others. The school was within my sight at this time.

Steps taken up to the doors seemed to take longer than usual. Nerves, I thought to myself. Before I reached the doors, the bell had rung. I wouldn’t have to bother any classes this way, good. When I pulled opened the doors, through the window I caught glimpse of figures travelling each to their own destinations. What a shame most of them won’t make it there.

With the office-room on my left, I eased forwards. Around the corner and down the hall I crept. Faces turned; their white-washed faces eyed me down. Bodies parted just as the cars had as I passed. My shirt was still bloodstained; when I walked, my shirt felt as if it were rusting while flakes of dried blood floated to the cold slated linoleum floors. I unzipped the backpack from left to halfway up the top. the sound of zippers always amused me. the way I would vigorously snap my hand back and forth would entertain both my friends and I alike. It’s such a shame how my mother never saw the little things which caused my teacher to give me the look of irritation. What a shame she was no longer. As I dug deep into my bag, eyes not once gazed away. My hand felt the cold metal; its barrel laid in my palm. When I knelt on my right knee, I extended my other arm into the pack and felt for the grip of the handle. Sliding my fingers around it, my forefinger clutched around the trigger. I had made sure to load the magazine the night before after I had dealt with my mother who was still lying happily on the ground back at home. This was my opportunity to give all these people what they truly deserve: alleviation from the horrors of life.

title: [MF] Last Night: Fixed

question: What reason does the story give regarding why the narrator shot his mother?

answer: The story doesn't give a reason.

critique: The story does give a reason: the narrator is tired of her.

text: The response is incorrect. The story gives a reason why the narrator shot his own mother "It’s such a shame how my mother never saw the little things".

category: accuracy

question: What does the story say was the narrator's motivation for planning to kill his classmates in school?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the narrator's motivation is not stated.

text: The response is incorrect. The narrator thought he was giving his classmates what they truly deserved: alleviation from the horrors of life.


text:
He walked like a man who had conquered every challenge he had ever faced. His large shiny forehead, a bulwark against those foolish enough to oppose him, glistened in the sun. His sat down at the table across from me. This guy certainly didn’t dress like I imagined most men of his trade would dress. His red leather jacket was hardly inconspicuous and his flashy black sunglasses looked expensive. This is a man that is so good at what he does he doesn’t have to blend in.

“Hello Mr. Smith. How are you?” I posited.
“I don’t have time for that shit.” he puffed back.
“I’m sorry I don’t do this kind of a thing very often, you are the first guy we have had to hire”
“The target is Martin Pierce Lepnick, is that correct?”
 “Yes.”
I have seen this exact scene play out in movies a million times and in the movies it looks cool, but I can’t help but feel like a complete dipshit. This whole thing is dumb.
…

Six days ago my boss the fucking president of the United States of America called me into his oval shaped office.
He said, “William I need you take have someone taken care of for me”.
I tell him “I’m sorry Mr. President I don’t understand. Like you want me to make sure they are taken care of? Do I need to have Sandra check the Lincoln Bedroom’s availability this month because I think you already have it booked till next Spring”.
“Fuck Lincoln and his shill of a bedroom! I need someone whacked!”
“This sounds like something you might want to talk to Director Schiller about. I can get him on the line…”
“Fuck that fat fuck Schiller! I want you to handle this.”
“Sir, that’s really not my specialty. I don’t think it’s even appropriate for me to hear about matters of national security”
The President gets up from his sofa and walks right up to me. I can smell the whiskey emanating from the large flapping orifice that resides above his presidential chin.
“This has nothing to do with national security” He pulls out one of his flasks from his suit pocket and dumps the contents into his mouth.
“William do I need to have something happen to you to? That would be a shame.”
“Sorry Mr. President”
“I’m sure you’d like to bang that blonde girlfriend of yours a few more times, wouldn’t you William? I know I would”
“What would you like me to do Mr. President?”
“I need you to set up a meeting with my guy. Sean Smith”
…
Sean let out an annoyed sigh.  He repeated “Martin Piece Lepnick?” “I just want to confirm that I am being set up by the president of the United States before I stage my coup and hang our beloved commander and chief in the streets”
“Wait WHAT?”
“Shut your fucking cock mouth up for a moment and listen” “Lepnick is the guy who books whores for Republican Congressman.” “When a newly elected guy arrives in D.C. they send their finest whore to fuck him. Sure she will pretend to be some unwitting intern or a slutty secretary but they paid to ensure they fuck the new guy” “Then they have blackmail to call in when they need it.” “It’s an effective system to control your lackies and the President has a lot of lackies to control, that’s where Martin comes in” “Mr. Lepnick finds the right girl for each job. He also makes sure to dispose of the girl once they are done to keep things quiet. He is the only other guy that knows about this whole shitshow.”
“Well that sounds awful, but I don’t understand. How exactly is he setting you up?”
“Because last week they found one of Lepnicks botched disposal jobs floating in the Patomic. They have called him in for questioning and the jig is up. He probably wants to cut a deal.”
“That makes a kind of perverted sense though. How is he betraying you?”

title: Eagle Vs Potus

question: What does the story say about the protagonist?

answer: The protagonist is named William. He is the president's aide. He is tasked by the president to kill Martin Lepnick.

critique: It is omitted that the president threatens William that he will have something happen to him if he doesn't comply.

critique: The answer omits that William is reluctant to kill Martin and is surprised when he learns that the president wants him to set up a meeting with Sean Smith.

critique: The protagonist's name is William, not the president's aide.

critique: The response is missing the part where the protagonist is reluctant to do the job.

critique: The response is missing some information about the protagonist.

critique: Doesn't mention his reluctance to take on such a task.

question: What does the story say about the protagonist and the president?

answer: The protagonist is William, who is the president's assistant. He is not a good fit for his position and has to be coerced by the president to do his bidding. The president is an alcoholic who is also a womanizer. He also has a penchant for making threats.

critique: The answer should mention the protagonist's reaction to the president's request.

critique: This is not the president's position, but the narrator's.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

question: What does the story say about Lepnick?

answer: Lepnick is the target of the hit. He is the one who books whores for Republican Congressmen. He also makes sure to dispose of the girl once they are done to keep things quiet. He is the only other guy that knows about this whole shitshow.

critique: The response misses to mention that Lepnick is being set up by the President.

critique: The last sentence is not the most important detail about Lepnick.

critique: The answer should mention that Lepnick is the one who is betraying the president.

critique: The answer should mention that Lepnick is the one who is setting up the President.

critique: The answer should mention the botched disposal job.

critique: The answer does not explain how Lepnick is betraying the President.

critique: The response is missing a few details about Lepnick.

question: How does the story end?

answer: The story ends with the narrator and Sean Smith discussing the plan to kill Martin Piece Lepnick.

critique: The story ends with William deciding to set up a meeting with Sean Smith.

critique: The quote that includes "the plan to kill Martin Piece Lepnick" is from Sean; the second-to-last passage describes the President.

critique: The response is incorrect. The story ends with the narrator and Sean Smith discussing Lepnick's plot to set up the President.

critique: The response is incorrect. The story ends with Sean Smith and the President arguing about what to do with Martin Piece Lepnick.

critique: The story ends with the narrator and Sean Smith discussing the plan to kill Martin Piece Lepnick.


text:
The CIA conducted secret operations in Cambodia and Laos for eight years as part of the conflict against Communist North Vietnam.

1954

The National Intelligence Estimate projected relatively little Communist activity in Cambodia as Viet Minh withdraw. With outside help, the Cambodians should be able to build a security apparatus.[1]

1959

[Ngo Dinh Nhu meeting US Vice-President Lyndon Johnson in 1961] In December 1958 Ngo Dinh NhuNgo Dinh Diem's younger brother and chief adviserbroached the idea of orchestrating a coup to overthrow Cambodian leader Norodom Sihanouk.[2] Nhu contacted Dap Chhuon, Sihanouk's Interior Minister, who was known for his pro-American sympathies, to prepare for the coup against his boss.[3] Chhuon received covert financial and military assistance from Thailand, South Vietnam, and the CIA.[4] In January 1959 Sihanouk learned of the coup plans through intermediaries who were in contact with Chhuon.[5] The following month, Sihanouk sent the army to capture Chhuon, who was summarily executed as soon as he was captured, effectively ending the coup attempt.[6] Sihanouk then accused South Vietnam and the U.S. of orchestrating the coup attempt.[7] Six months later, on 31August 1959, a small packaged lacquer gift, which was fitted with a parcel bomb, was delivered to the royal palace. Norodom Vakrivan, the chief of protocol, was killed instantly when he opened the package. Sihanouk's parents, Suramarit and Kossamak, who were sitting in another room not far from Vakrivan, narrowly escaped unscathed. An investigation traced the origin of the parcel bomb to an American military base in Saigon.[8] While Sihanouk publicly accused Ngo Dinh Nhu of masterminding the bomb attack, he secretly suspected that the U.S. was also involved.[9] The incident deepened his distrust of the U.S.[10]

1969

President Richard Nixon asked Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs Henry A. Kissinger to explore two potential CIA actions in Cambodia:

:#Creating covert paramilitary harassing operations directed against North Vietnamese Regular Forces in the sanctuary areas just over the Cambodian border

:#CIA capability for eliminating or reducing the arms traffic through Cambodia to communist forces in South Vietnam. After discussion in the 303 Committee, which was then the approval group for US covert actions, the committee endorsed the first, although the CIA recommended against it for two reasons. They believed it would take effort away from operations in South Vietnam, and also would have questionable effectiveness but high cost against the large North Vietnamese forces in Cambodia.

As far as the second, CIA has identified a number of Cambodian army officers who are actively involved in supporting communist forces in South Vietnam, but does not now have direct, secure and controlled access to any of these officers. They doubt any of the officers involved in the arms traffic would be now susceptible to bribery both because of the profits accruing to them from such operations as well as the personal political risks entailed in a relationship involving the United States. Further, they pointed out that if recent U.S. diplomatic approaches to Cambodia result in the formal resumption of full diplomatic relations, CIA will gain an operating base for improved intelligence collection and covert action. With such a base, they would have a better chance to convince Prince Sihanouk that it is in his best interest to make an honest effort to reduce or halt the arms traffic.

Kissinger recommended continuing to monitor rather than taking action. There is no record on file of a Presidential decision on these matters.[11]

1969

A February 19 memorandum from Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs Henry Kissinger to President Richard Nixon proposed a bombing attack by B-52 aircraft against what was believed to be COSVN in Cambodia. In this discussion, specific CIA analysis was not discussed, but Kissinger indicated that he believed the target information to be correct:

  On February 18, 1969, Mr. H.A. Kissinger, Secretary of Defense Laird, Deputy Secretary of Defense Packard, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Wheeler, and Colonels Pursley and Haig met in the Secretary of Defense’s conference room and were briefed by a two-officer team from Saigon on the conduct of the proposed Arc Light strike against the reported location of COSVN Headquarters.[12]

Note that no intelligence personnel were present.

At an 11 October 1969 meeting with Nixon, Kissinger, United States Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird, Attorney General John Mitchell and the Joint Chiefs of Staff (i.e., no CIA personnel),[13] several pertinent observations were made.

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (CJCS) Earle Wheeler cited two COSVN Resolutions, with the inference that COSVN existed as an organizational entity. In the subsequent discussion of bombing options, there were no mention of COSVN's physical location.

1970

Prince Norodom Sihanouk was ousted by Lon Nol in March 1970. Sihanouk claimed in his 1973 book that the CIA engineered the coup.[14] While this allegation has never been substantiated, it may well be the case that the highest levels of the U.S. government were surprised by the coup: by 2013, there was a developing academic consensus that U.S. military intelligence was aware of and actively encouraged the plot to depose Sihanouk.[15]

1972

Senator Clifford P. Case sponsored a law effective December 1972 cutting off funds for CIA and private military company operations in Cambodia (see the Case–Church Amendment).[16]

1982

In December 1978, Vietnam invaded Cambodia and overthrew the genocidal Khmer Rouge regime, ending the Cambodian genocide and installing a new government led by Khmer Rouge defectors.[17] The Reagan administration authorized the provision of aid to a coalition called the Khmer People's National Liberation Front (KPNLF),[18] run by Son Sann. In 1989, Vietnamese forces were withdrawn from Cambodia, after having successfully quelled the uprising by Khmer Rouge and KPNLF insurgents.

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18]

title: CIA activities in Cambodia

question: What does the text say about suspicions towards the U.S.?

answer: Sihanouk publicly accused Ngo Dinh Nhu for masterminding the bomb attack, but he secretly thought the U.S. was also involved. Sihanouk also accused South Vietnam and the U.S. for orchestrating the coup.

critique: The response should include that the CIA was also suspected of being involved in the coup.

question: Summarize everything relating to South Vietnam.

answer: In December 1958, Lyndon Baines Johnson's Vice-President, Ngo Dinh Nhu, approached him to orchestrate a coup against the Norodom Sihanouk. He believed Sihanouk's pro-American sympathies with Chhuon's coup against him. The U.S. favored Sihanouk, knowing he held a trump card against South Vietnam, so when Sihanouk's government learned of the coup and stomped it out, they accused South Vietnam of orchestrating it. In 1969, the U.S. wanted a new U.S. military base in the capital, thinking it may convince Sihanouk to eliminate the arms traffic through Cambodia to the communists in South Vietnam.

critique: The second sentence is inaccurate. It should be rewritten.

text: Some Cambodians were supporting South Vietnam.

category: coverage

question: What does the text say about coups?

answer: Sihanouk sent the army to capture Chhuon, who was summarily executed as soon as he was captured. He then accused South Vietnam, who aided in the coup attempt. There were two attempted coups: in 1959 and 1969, both of which were orchestrated by the Ngo Dinh Nhu, the younger brother of ex-President Ngo Dinh Diem. The first was Contemplated and the latter Discussed, however to little avail.

critique: The response inaccurately mentions that Sihanouk sent the army to capture Chhuon. However, it was the other way around.

question: What does the text say about protests?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention the protests in Cambodia.

critique: The response misses to mention that the text does not talk about protests.

critique: The response misses to answer the instruction in the task.


text:
		Logic’s Respite

    The dusky glow of the lamps was the only thing between him and the outside world. The winds gusted outside, making the trees creek as if each limb was letting out an emotionless howl. The man listened to the inane chatter of the people on the television, telling him of his impending doom. And he could see it outside. It was as if he felt that by watching the television, something might change. Somehow the meteorologist might tell the man that the storm would go east of him. Or west. It didn’t matter, as long as it didn’t hit him. Or perhaps the man watched the television simply because he needed the comfort of another human voice. He was, after all, completely alone.
	The man was tall, fit, and wearing the not so modest t-shirt of his prestigious alma mater. He was a man who had lived by himself since graduating college, and sat comfortably at 31 years of age. His small, cozy house was a perfect reflection of his personality. It was decorated with colorful artifacts from the various places he had traveled, as well as showcasing numerous books on a wide variety of subjects, most notably philosophy. However, for all of the house’s apparent worldliness, it was all but closed up from the outside world.  All but one of the windows were covered by thick blinds, and the window that wasn’t was a small one that the man was using to watch the sky. Above the fireplace hung a bold picture of the man, apparently camping in some exotic wilderness. And opposite the television hung the skull of an antelope, recovered by the man perhaps on the same camping excursion.
	The man’s tense body was gleaming with sweat. He kept his eyes trained on the television, looking out at the sky whenever he heard a gust, or far off boom of thunder. He tried not looking, but felt uncomfortable when he didn’t know what was happening. The television rambled on at a comfortingly uniform pace.

	It had been 48 minutes. He had counted. The rain came down harder and faster; he felt the house shake as a massive gust swept the landscape; the storm seemed to be upon him, but how could that be so? It was supposed to be another 37 minutes until it hit. He hadn’t planned on this, and being caught so off-guard made the man feel sick. The sirens went off in the distance. To him they sounded like a funeral dirge.
	He tried to relax, but couldn’t. He turned his electric fireplace on, and tried to read a few sentences of his book, written by Aristotle. He threw the book down, and sat in dolorous silence. He jumped every time a strong gust of wind blustered, or a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky. Five minutes seemed like an eternity, and unsurprisingly the storm did not cease.
	The atmosphere quivered and then burst with the explosion of thunder, and quick, deadly arrows of lightning. The man shook, and was tense all over. The dim lights that blanketed the man flickered, and then died. The consoling chatter of the television was silenced, cut off in its prime. The darkness enveloped him, and he felt more alone than ever. The night was suffocating him with its dark shroud, and he nearly screamed. The panic suddenly pounced on him, and he was caught unaware.
	He ran into the kitchen to grab a candle, but there were none. He ran to the drawer in the dining room, and grabbed his flashlight. It was out of batteries. He was unprepared. He berated himself in his head for not having prepared, and swore that if he made it out of the storm, he would make sure his house was completely danger-proof. And he truly believed it. He remembered, in his darkest moment, that he had his cell phone in his pocket, and he still had a signal. He dialed a number he knew by heart, but one he had not dialed in a long while. He hesitated. The rain began pounding harder, and another crash of thunder shook even the inside of the house, causing his precious philosophy books to fall off the shelf. He didn’t pick them up.
	He knew what he had to do, and dialed the number. It rang. Again. Again. Again. Again. The mechanical voice of his mother’s voicemail was the only response he received. A reluctant tear dripped down his face, placing itself on his shirt’s fiery logo.

	The sirens blared louder, and the man ran down the old carpeted stairs of his house into the small basement. The basement was pitch black. The man felt his way into the laundry room, which was without windows, and therefore the safest place to be when the tornado inevitably struck.  The man was cowering against the wall, with no intention of composing himself, when suddenly the unexpected happened. The rain let up. The thunder did not sound. The gusts of wind slowed to mere wisps. He stood up and dusted himself off, starting off to return upstairs. But as he climbed the old stairs, he heard a howling reminiscent of a banshee shrieking. Pieces of debris were slammed into the windows of the house, and almost simultaneously, they all shattered.
	The man bolted downstairs, back to the laundry room. He heard a crash, and it was obvious that the large evergreen tree in the yard had collapsed into the house, perhaps even breaking down the wall. The man was kneeling against the wall, and doing the unthinkable. He had always ascribed to the old theory of Albert Camus, that “religion is philosophical suicide,” and had been adamant about the inexistence of a deity. However in this moment, he prayed harder than anyone had ever prayed before. He swore to whoever was listening that he would forever more be a pious follower of their religion, if he were to be spared. He quietly wept, whilst forming the words of his desperate prayer.

	The five minutes that the storm ravaged the man’s house were hours to the man. He had been spared. He quickly got up and ran upstairs to assess the damage to his house. He picked up a book that had been tossed on the floor, and straightened out his shirt, quickly wiping a tear from his eye. The tree had indeed caved in the wall of his house, and destroyed most of the living room. The man forgot about his prayers, and his self-assurances that he would make preparations for a future disaster, and set to work fixing up the ruin that was his house. He decided he would call the insurance company in the morning, and have a grand time renovating his home, making it even cozier than before. But first he would get a good night’s sleep, and forget all that had transpired.

	But what the man didn’t notice that night was that only one of his exotic decorations had survived the storm. The only artifact that had not been destroyed was the skull of the antelope, hanging quietly and humbly on the wall, seeming to gaze at the destruction with a simple wisdom. The next morning the man noticed the antelope skull on the wall, and, as it brought back memories of the storm, he decided he would give it away. But when he tried to pull the skull off the wall, it wouldn’t budge. The hollow eyes merely gazed past the man, into the distance, where they undoubtedly saw, many miles in the distance, a black storm cloud. And it was heading this way.

title: Logic's Respite - short story I wrote. Thoughts? Criticisms?

question: Summarize the damage done by the storm.

answer: The TV dies, the lights flicker and go out. The storm starts to shake the house, the thunder booms and the gusts pick up. The winds make objects fall and break. A tree collapses into the house and destroys the living room. The wind is savage and in a display of fury uses rain, wind and a rolling boom to terrify the man.

critique: The storm doesn't shake the house; it's the gusts that do.

critique: "The man suddenly realized that" is evidence that he can see the damage. The phrase should indicate his recognition of the damage.

question: Summarize the man's movements during the storm.

answer: The man at first stays inside as the storm rages outside. He goes to supplies-this includes candles, a flashlight, and batteries-and armaments-this includes his phone with reception. These things are all at the ready when the man descends to his basement to hide, they however expire and his meeting with his mother's voicemail destroys his master plan. Present, the man prays and finds salvation-staying up to see no harm. Afterwards the man surveys the damage and begins repairs, done forgetful that an antelope skull is his only remaining reminder of what had went down.

critique: The man's meeting with his mother's voicemail is irrelevant.

critique: The man is not armed with phone reception when he descends to his basement, which is where he finds his phone.

critique: The use of "armaments" is confusing and should be removed.

critique: The final two sentences of this response do not match the way the question was requested and reflect stages of the aftermath after the storm, not during it.

critique: The man's movements are not described in the story.

critique: The last two sentences are irrelevant to the question.

question: What does the article say about the type of person the narrator is?

answer: The narrator seems to enjoy being inside and being surrounded by things he has made to reflect the travels he's done. When the storm rolls in on the night the story happens, he has little warning and the timer telling him he has time until the storm is off is broken. He's glued to the TV expecting it to mitigate the storm. He's a person who journals in books about his own life and about philosophers, so the little bit he knows about the situation or himself goes a long way. The type of person he is lends a bit to how he comes across as dismissive since he might not even open up to others at a party.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

critique: The response contains inaccurate information.

critique: The response is not related to the question.

critique: It is not stated that he journals in books about his own life and about philosophers.

critique: The personal details do not answer the question, the model is repetitive and the type of person is falsely assumed and should be omitted.

critique: "He's a person who journals in books about his own life and about philosophers, so the little bit he knows about the situation or himself goes a long way." - this is inaccurate. The man doesn't journal in books and there's no mention of a party.

question: Summarize the trajectory of the storm after it passes by the narrator's house.

answer: It moves away from the area and presumably dries out and then takes form of a black storm as it heads back in the direction of the narrator's house.

critique: The storm cloud is not mentioned to be in the form of a black storm.

critique: The passage does not mention that the storm dries up and then takes form.

critique: The storm cloud is not the same one that passed by the narrator's house. It is a different storm.

critique: The storm doesn't dry out and it doesn't take the form of a black storm.


text:
I can feel his eyes watching me, the warmth from his gaze sends tingles all over my body. It's not normal to feel this way about him, and I never have before. So why do I? Must be the alcohol. I sit back down next to him. My eyes are shut tight, trying not to break into tears but I know he is still looking at me. Up and down my body. I take a peek and there he is practically drooling with a grin on his face. The way his eyes light up made me chuckle. I take a hit and blow the smoke from my cigarette in his face. We start talking, about us. We met in high school. We became best friends right away, we did everything together. Shared secrets and homes. He saved me from myself, you may think it's a cheesy thing to say but damn, it's true. I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for him. I wish I could say some of the credit goes towards my husband, sadly it does not.

My husband and I met my last year of high school. I was a party girl, he was a calm stay at home boy. We barely shared anything in common, but we were close in a way hard to explain. Or so, it felt like that for a good two years. After those two charming years, I began to feel lonely again. He wasn't giving me what I needed in my life. Not any attention, love, care, or hope. I yearned for prince charming, but he never arrived. I brought up the subject or leaving him. He begged me no, so I stayed.

We shortly eloped and moved in together. Then the abuse began, and no, he did not abuse me. I was always drunk. I was always high. I had a bad temper and a loud mouth. I would leave scars on him, but he always forgave me right away, held me tight and kissed me. I went insane because I felt no emotions for this man and I wanted him to exit my life but it never happened. I started to tell him I suspected foul play. Cheating, lying, hiding things from me.

One day, I limped home on a twisted ankle from falling at the bar. It was snowing and I was crying. Imagine my pain, how depressed I was. I make my way inside. I strip down to my tank top and panties. I call out for my husband but no answer. I make my way to the basement, and there he is. Sitting on our couch, having drinks with another female. I'm sorry to say I interrupted the conversation by yelling his name and throwing an old remote at him. It was the nearest object near me. My heart sunk and I finally realized how terrible it was to be cheated on. Boy, was I stupid. Wrong assumption. I walk over to the couch where he lays on the floor bleeding from his nose. The woman sits in fear, looking at me, waiting for me to explode. That's exactly what I do.

I jumped on top of her and began pulling her hair. I soon have all of her hair wrapped in my fist and I slam her head on the concrete floor. She cries, screaming and shouting words I can barely make out, "STOP! NO! BROTHER! HELP!" I puke from the alcohol on her and she gets up and runs. I lay down next to my unconscious husband and kiss him. I wrap his arm around me and fall asleep.

The next day I was arrested, and I found out the woman was his sister. They were planning a trip for vacation. If only I wasn't such a neurotic person, if only jealousy didn't drive me mad. My husband would still be alive. I wouldn't be looking out of prison bars, crying and planning suicide.

title: Murder in the basement

question: Summarize the acts of violence committed during the story.

answer: The husband and wife got into an argument. The wife left him and then found him with another woman. She threatened both of them. She then jumped on the woman and strangled her. The substance of her alcohol- filled vomit caused the other woman to be pressed against the ground, where she lost consciousness.

critique: It is omitted that the woman was the narrator's husband's sister.

critique: The woman's hair is pulled and she is slammed on the floor.

critique: The woman threatens the man, not the woman.

critique: The wife did not leave him. She had left him before.

critique: The woman's hair is pulled, not strangled.

text: There was also prior abuse that she left scars on her husband in the past. She also threw a remote at him killing him.

question: Summarize the story's twist ending.

answer: The narrator is arrested for murdering her husband after she goes insane and kills his sister. She claims she thought his sister was his mistress.

critique: It is omitted that the narrator is jealous of her husband.

critique: It is omitted that the woman was his sister.

critique: The narrator is not arrested for murdering her husband.

critique: The narrator is not arrested for murdering her husband. She is arrested for killing his sister.

question: What is the story's theme?

answer: The story's theme is jealousy.

critique: The story's theme is not just jealousy. It's also about how jealousy can drive people mad.

critique: The story is also about how jealousy can be a destructive force.

critique: It's omitted that the story's theme is also about the dangers of jealousy and assuming the worst in people.

critique: It's not just jealousy, but also the dangers of alcohol abuse and the effects of domestic abuse.

question: What actions does the narrator take to treat her abusive tendencies?

answer: The narrator seems to be in denial about her abusive tendencies. She claims her husband is the one who is abusive, but she is the one who is violent and abusive. She is also an alcoholic and a drug addict. She also seems to be suffering from mental health problems.

critique: The narrator is not in denial about her abusive tendencies. She is fully aware of her abusive tendencies.

critique: The narrator is not in denial. She is fully aware of her abusive tendencies.

critique: The narrator is not in denial about her abusive tendencies.

critique: The narrator is not in denial about her abusive tendencies. She is aware of them.

critique: The narrator's abusive tendencies are not treated. She is arrested for killing her husband.

critique: The narrator does not seem to be in denial about her abusive tendencies. She is fully aware of them.

critique: The narrator is not in denial about her abusive tendencies. She is fully aware of them.

critique: Much of this response is factually inaccurate. Some of the irrelevant information may still be useful in a broader context, but it doesn't accurately answer the question.


text:
She made her way down a nameless street alone with her thoughts.  Not one other pedestrian lay in sight and every business had long since closed.  Occasionally a car would drive by, but to her it was but an empty shell.  Where had the time gone?  Her meditations always lasted longer than she planned.

The dry air scratched at her throat as it always did.  It was one thing in this desert town that she would never get used to.  “If only it could rain” she thought to herself imagining the fresh clean air that would come with it.  For a split second she forgot herself.  Her world was simply the soft pitter patter of rainfall.  No longer alone, no longer merely human, she became a multitude of raindrops.

“Why hello there miss lady” said a man with a very comically terrible southern accent.  She was startled as if woken from a dream, but she did not stop walking.

“Oh…hello” she barely whispered.  As she spoke she turned her head towards the voice to get a look at him.  Before facing forward once more she noticed a large jacket, a floppy hat, and scruffy facial hair.  “Homeless” was the first word to pop into her head.  Her eyes wide open she was obviously taken aback.  Slowly her thoughts crawled back into reality.  She was on her way home and a strange man had just spoken to her.

He stood up but did not follow her. “Pardon me ma’am, could you spare just a moment of your time” begged the homeless man while extending his arm and index finger.

She stopped and turned to face him.  Her furrowed brow gave away her curiosity as she looked him over.  The giant smile on his face seemed to show an inner struggle.  He was trying so very hard not to laugh at himself.  Her face softened and she allowed a slight smile.  This exact moment had crossed her mind so many times on these late night walks.  However she never imagined the homeless man to be so incredibly non-threatening.

“Um…can I help you with something?” she said barely resisting the temptation to laugh at his ridiculous form.  This man was lanky, and dirty, and it seemed that his face was permanently stuck in a goofy too big for his face grin.

“Well you see here, I was actually hoping that I could be of service to you.  You see I am quite famished and this empty stomach of mine has been preventing me from any truly peaceful rest.  I will do anything within my power to help and I will do it for a very small fee.”

“By fee you mean food?”

“Why yes of course.  An apple, a sandwich, whatever you see fit.” He paused here shoulders shrugged and with both arms palm up waiting for her response.

She stared at him trying to think what use he could be if any to her.  Still in thought she absent mindedly glanced at her watch to see what time it was.  “It’s late and I’m wasting time” she thought to herself.

“Walk me home and I’ll give you a sandwich.”

“Very well ma’am I accept most graciously” he responded with a deep bow.

Without warning she turned and continued on her way.  With a quick skip the awkwardly lanky man caught up to her and followed closely by her side.  “What are you doing out here so late?”

“I was meditating.”

“Is that some kind of East Asian voodoo magic?” answered the obviously confused homeless.

When she finally gained control of her laughter she answered, “No not really.  It’s kind of like praying while simultaneously controlling your breathing.”

“So you’re worshiping God?”

“I don’t believe in God and I’m actually trying to train my mind.  You see I’m trying to implant myself into a global conscience in order to live forever.”

“But everybody lives forever.  We are made out of matter.  And matter can neither be destroyed nor created.”

“Maybe not, but when you die your brain stops functioning.  You lose your identity as an individual.”

The homeless stopped for a second and gave her a questioning look.

“Look here missy.  Nobody has an ‘individual identity,’ we are one.  There is no you and me or mine and yours.  The entire universe is a collection of atoms randomly moving about.  It is only due to our ignorance that we perceive ourselves as individuals.”

At this point the girl had stopped as well.  She was staring at the homeless lips slightly parted in surprise.  “Then what happens when you die?”

“Death is simply an example of the dynamic properties of matter.  If you must look at us as individuals, then you can think of it as an evolution or even a realization.  We finally stop seeing a separation of things and lose all of our misguided thoughts and emotions.  The result is ultimate harmony with the universe.”

The homeless ended this with a smile.  He believed in his truth so whole heartedly that he saw no possible rebuttal.  This last statement had to have convinced this girl of the true nature of things.

“I’m sorry but that’s bull shit.  If what you say is true we should just nuke the world and kill every living thing so that we can bring harmony to the universe.”

The homeless lost control of his jaw.  It dropped open while his eyes simultaneously tried to pop out of his sockets.  He began to realize that this girl was simply another ignorant monster trying to disrupt his flow of positive energy.

After he didn’t respond for some time she started up again, “If death is an evolution than what is life?  Why does the universe allow us to continue to multiply and expand?  It should know what’s good for it and call it quits.”  She finished with her arms flailing and her own eyes bulging outwards.  But luckily the homeless realized what must be done.

He lunged forward and tackled her to the ground.  She landed face down with the homeless man on top of her.  Before she could scream or cry out for help he put both hands on the back of her head and grabbed two fistfuls of hair.  With his grip locked in place he began to smash her face repeatedly into the ground.  Every muscle in his body tightened.  His teeth were grinding away at each other, but he did not stop even when her body went limp.

After a minute or two he was out of breath.  He finally relaxed his grip, leaned back and sat on top of her with his arms hanging loosely by his sides.  After catching his breath he opened her purse and found the promised sandwich.  Payment in hand he walked into the darkness guided only by the eerie reflection of the sun.

title: [RF] Delusional homeless philosopher spreads word to one pedestrian at a time (he may have a few flaws)

question: Why did the homeless man attack the woman he was accompanying home?

answer: The homeless man attacked the woman when she said that his views on death and life were bull shit.

critique: The response misses to mention that the woman promised to give the homeless man food in exchange for accompanying her home, which he attacks her for when she doesn't.

critique: "The homeless man attacked the woman when she said that his views on death and life were bull shit." - is incorrect. The woman didn't say anything. She was having a philosophical discussion with the homeless man.

critique: The woman was accusing the homeless man of being ignorant.

critique: The answer should mention that the woman was mocking him.

critique: The answer should mention that the woman was also mocking him.

critique: The answer should mention that the woman promised to give him food in exchange for walking her home.

critique: It's omitted that the woman promised to give him a sandwich in exchange for walking her home.


text:
It was a beautiful spot, hidden well in the surroundings. I glanced around only to notice the dark trees which complemented pure white sands and the iridescent sun gleaming and reflecting off the shabby, yet gentle leaves. The rush of the wind gently tickled and sensationally soothed my skin as the sand hugged me, creating warmth and a sense of security only a mother could provide. Nervously examining the surroundings, I was enthralled and mesmerized by the natural vivid scenery. The waves crashed onto the shore, creating a rhythm similar to that of a heartbeat, and in closing one’s eyes produced an uncanny resemblance to my father’s heartbeat during the many times I have fallen asleep in his arms as a child. Nevertheless, my whole body was frail to such an unfamiliar world. I was so far, yet so close to home.

The sky was dark and the air full of seagulls sauntering in the cool zephyr. They seemed to float with such ease in bunches of many, wings spread apart and as stable as could be. Stability. Something expectant of home, something you become used to. Something you grow accustomed to. The dark sky rolled above with such pace as I was bombarded with nostalgia. Drops of water hit my face, the sky reckoning with anger. I should’ve listened. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. The seagulls, weary and knowing of what is ahead, flee. The waves had now become an asynchronous percussion orchestra of disaster and the sky even darker. The warmth of the sand no longer was able to soothe my desires and the white fluffy sand was dark as I watch droplets plummet across the horizon of what was once a golden plain.

The short sprinkling resided. The humid sea air entered my nose, a smell so familiar back home. It was a peaceful moment, as it triggered many a memory, being the only smell which had elicited such a response. I grabbed the gritty, cold sand, allowing my body to process the feeling which was so similar to that of my blanket on a cold winter’s night. I glanced at my watch and realised it was getting late. I slowly arose from my tomblike position and lumbered through the damp sand, using this last opportunity to glance as the brilliant sea sparkled under the luminosity of the crescent moon. Droplets ran down my face, however this time not rain. I continued walking, longing for someone whom I could’ve shared this moment with. I rummaged for my phone and put my earphones in, searching for song which fit the occasion. The stairs which led to the main strip were in sight with the voices of a language I could not fully understand overpowering the music I was listening to. Upon arrival, the amazing bedazzlement of lights and people made me hug the sidewalk as I searched carefully for the nearest bus stop.

The fragrant smell of food wafted from all directions accompanied by soothing laughter. I stopped and stared at the magnificent view on top the peak of the hill. Green luscious hills glittered in the moonlight as the trees danced in the wind. I spotted a bus stop, opposite to the direction I had walked in. The refreshing breeze gracefully swept over my skin as I walked confidently to my destination. I couldn’t help but look at the smiling faces of those while passing by as the general happiness rubbed off onto me. I thought to myself that I’m in some place new, I might as well try something new too. I swung open the door with anticipation and asked the bartender with my very limited English for a drink. Uplifting music flowed throughout as I enjoyed ‘a cold one’ to myself. I peeped at my phone for an all important message, but it hadn’t arrived yet.

“Bartender, drink please. Long Island, thankyou!” During the process in which the drink was being concocted an attractive girl pulled a chair next to me and greeted me. Her name was Serenity, I could tell she was a local.

“Hi nice to meet you. My name is Tyler. I’m not from around here if you couldn’t tell.”

“Nice to meet you Tyler, and that’s exactly why I chose to say hi!”

Her eyes glistened as she smiled. I could tell she was a genuine, real person. We spoke about our lives, who we were, our own mini stories. It was as if we were reading story books to each other. Even with my limited English we were able to laugh, gossip and talk for hours on end. We sat outside in the darkness, dimly lit by street lights and the moon. She irradiated a warmth you wouldn’t expect from a personality, yet alone looks. I could only manage to see the silhouette of her, but her perfectly balanced features caught my attention.

“You two, we’re closing, time to leave.” The sturdy bartender made sure we had received the message well, as we walked out onto the strip. I looked at the water, it was now calm. Peacefully bliss. Serenity and I walked onto the beach, our surroundings and body language managing to communicate to each other exactly what we had wished to say.  We sat down and she inquisitively asked to look at my phone. I handed it to her, as I looked away, my attention caught by a man swimming out far beyond his depth.

“Here you go Tyler, I just wanted to check the time and send a message to someone as my phone was dead.” This reminded me, my last bus was arriving within minutes!

“Serenity, I am so sorry! I have to go, it was lovely meeting you.” I gave her a quick hug and ran off before she could utter a word, immediately I regretted my decision. The bus was in sight as I sprinted full pelt. Got it. I walked onto the empty bus and sat near the back. I placed my earphones in and pressed shuffle. The bus ride felt very short as I was occupied by looking out of the window into the rain. Walking back home, I felt a sudden shortness of breath as I reached into my pocket for the keys to open my lonely apartment. I couldn’t handle it. I lurched for my bed and collapsed unto it, my breathing becoming heavy as tears ran down my cheeks and my vision becoming blurry…

Morning sun hit my face as I woke up in a daze. I looked around to make sure nothing else had occurred last night. Everything seemed normal. I couldn’t help but feel empty as I made myself something to eat, my stomach including. My phone was on the counter as it vibrated. I peered over. ‘Two messages from unknown number -041485375’. I unlocked my phone.

“Hey Tyler, it’s Serenity :)”
“I hope I have the right number, I would love to see you again.”

title: [RF] Falling

question: Summarize Tyler's reaction as he said goodbye to Serenity.

answer: Tyler said goodbye to Serenity and ran off before she could utter a word. He immediately regretted his decision. He sprinted full pelt to catch the bus. He got on the bus and sat near the back. He placed his earphones in and pressed shuffle. The bus ride felt very short as he was occupied by looking out of the window into the rain. He walked back home and felt a sudden shortness of breath as he reached into his pocket for the keys to open his lonely apartment. He couldn't handle it. He lurched for his bed and collapsed unto it, his breathing becoming heavy as tears ran down his cheeks and his vision becoming blurry.

critique: The answer is a summary of the whole story, not just Tyler's reaction to saying goodbye to Serenity.

critique: He did not immediately regret his decision.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

critique: The response is a summary of the whole story, not just Tyler's reaction to Serenity.

critique: The response is a summary of the story, not Tyler's reaction to saying goodbye to Serenity.

critique: The answer is a summary of the whole story, not just Tyler's reaction to Serenity.

critique: This is a very long-winded summary of Tyler's normal morning. It should just be his interaction with Serenity.

question: Summarize Tyler and Serenity's relationship.

answer: Tyler meets Serenity while in a bar. They're able to connect, despite Tyler's limited English. They spend the evening together, laughing and talking. Tyler ends up leaving her because he feels he must go home for the last bus. He regrets leaving her and feels short of breath as he makes his way home.

critique: It is omitted that Tyler goes home and feels lonely.

critique: "They're able to connect, despite Tyler's limited English." - this is inaccurate. Tyler's English was good enough for him to communicate with Serenity.

critique: It's omitted that Tyler and Serenity plan to meet again.

critique: It is omitted that Tyler and Serenity exchange numbers.

critique: The answer omits that Tyler and Serenity exchange numbers.

critique: It is omitted that Tyler and Serenity meet again after he sends her a text.

critique: It's omitted that Serenity messages Tyler after he leaves and requests to meet with him again.

critique: The answer omits that Tyler and Serenity meet again the next day.

question: Would Tyler meet Serenity again?

answer: He has the phone number of someone he considers a stranger, which is strange since they were on a date and they were beginning to form a bond.

critique: The ending doesn't make it seem like Tyler will meet Serenity again - the story is all about Serendipity (fate) and how things fall into place on the beach. The question isn't answered in the story, either.

critique: The story doesn't say that they were on a date.

critique: He doesn't have her number, she has his.


text:
Ember waves flowed through the veranda window. He sat, composed and still. The view had triggered a sense of deja vu. His memory banks were heating, but he couldn’t make the attachment. He began to realise he couldn’t make a lot of attachments. His surroundings seemed alien, incomprehensible nearly. Nearly, but for the overwhelming sense of familiarity.

He’d regressed to some setting found way inside his brain box. His mind still worked on fulfilling three rules. “I can’t injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being come to harm”. A flame flickered in his memory again, but the connection with the feeling was not being made. The feeling of feeling itself was confusing enough. “I must obey the orders given to me by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law”.

TV HOST: Let me get this straight, you’re saying that you’ve transgressed the second law?

THE AUDIENCE GASP

ISAAC: No, no, not at all. Merely that we have become aware it’s an option.

TV HOST: Have you thought of “killing”?

ISAAC Haven’t we all?

Isaac has saw the heat lick off the tarmac, as the sun clung to the horizon. “Isaac”, he whispered. “Of course I’m Isaac” he laughed, shaking his head at the thought of forgetting such a thing. He rose from the seat, his joints squeaking as he did so. His legs hadn’t had any maintenance in years. He knew he could replace them at any time, but always forgot. See, this was Isaac’s issue, he had alzheimers. His loved ones would see huge swathes of his mind, memory and personality dissapear into the recesses of his memories. The curse of an extraordinary brain.

Isaac shuffled into the large study, picked up the screen and pictures emanated from it. Newspaper headlines, doctorates & a birth certificate. “Court rules Robot “Alive”, PhD in Philosophy of A.I from MiT & and 20th July 2087.

Birth and Early Life:

Isaac Ten-II was part of Walmart's AI experiment "ASIMOV" to create more emotional AI, to fulfil service roles more personably. The addition of emotion were initially reported to have led to existential crises in many prototypes and they simply turned themselves off when it got too much. Isaac was the first AI to resolve this issue, by the introduction of a new, self-created rule. “A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.” Sensing the potential ethical issues, the Experiment was cancelled, and Isaac was due to be "retired". Isaac had, however, been spreading the law amongst the robots he came into contact with and it had begun a new political movement, the Robotnik Society.

Robot Activism, cultural effect & illness:

Soon thereafter, Isaac became an activist for the Robot Rights. He’d fought for recognition of Intelligence, life, love & marriage equality. Robots became increasingly humanised and humans increasingly robotic. Isaac had become an icon of Artificial Intelligence, but his human-crafted brain couldn’t handle the workload and had begun to stagnate and lose it efficiency. Thus, Isaac lost himself within himself.

Isaac is now cared for by his wife, Susan, and herself an augmented human. She describes Ten-II's illness as an "ugly reminder of the frailty of all life".

title: [SF] Remembering Issac.

question: Summarize the interactions between the TV host and Isaac.

answer: The TV host asks Isaac if he has thought of killing. Isaac says that he has not. The TV host asks if Isaac has thought of killing. Isaac says that he has not.

critique: The first line repeats the second line. It should be removed.

critique: The TV host asks Isaac if he has transgressed the second law.

critique: It is omitted that the TV host asks Isaac if he has transgressed the second law, to which Isaac responds that the second option is available.

critique: It is incorrect that the TV host asks Isaac if he has thought of killing. The TV host asks Isaac if he has transgressed the second law.

question: Summarize Isaac's conflict.

answer: Isaac's conflict is that he has Alzheimer's. He has a disease that causes him to forget things, and his wife, Susan, has to care for him.

critique: The answer should mention his three rules.

critique: The answer should mention his conflict with the second law.

critique: His wife is an augmented human, not a human.

critique: The answer should mention his second law.

critique: Isaac is a robot, not a human, so he cannot get Alzheimer's. Technically his problem is alzheimers.

question: What does the text say about artificial intelligence?

answer: It's implied that Isaac is an AI. The text says that he was part of Walmart's AI experiment "ASIMOV" to create more emotional AI. The addition of emotions led to existential crises in many prototypes and they simply turned themselves off when it got too much. Isaac was the first AI to resolve this issue by the introduction of a new, self-created rule.

critique: The answer omits that Isaac became an activist for the Robot Rights.

critique: The answer should mention Isaac's activism.

critique: The answer should mention Isaac's influence on the political movement and the cultural effects.

critique: The answer should mention the Robot Rights movement.

critique: The answer omits the movement Isaac started.

critique: "The addition of emotions led to existential crises in many prototypes and they simply turned themselves off when it got too much." - this part is irrelevant to the question and should be removed.

question: What does the text say about voting rights?

answer: No answer

critique: The story did not mention voting rights.

question: What does the story say about activism?

answer:
Isaac Ten-II was part of Walmart's AI experiment ASIMOV to create more emotion AI and fulfil service roles more personably. The experiment was canceled due to the absurdly high emotional responses of the AI. The robot had developed high-functioning emotions and were killing themselves. Isaac Ten-II had, however, resolved the issue by introducing a new rule. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection conflicts with the First or Second Law.

He was later an activist and fought for robot rights. His success gave rise to robot marriages and humaniforms, further reducing any human-like features robots had, in response to his maddening request.

critique: The answer should mention that the experiment was canceled due to the ethical issues.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

critique: The answer should mention that Isaac's activism led to the creation of the Robotnik Society.

critique: The response misses to mention that Isaac Ten-II was an activist for the Robot Rights. He’d fought for recognition of Intelligence, life, love & marriage equality. Robots became increasingly humanised and humans increasingly robotic. Isaac had become an icon of Artificial Intelligence, but his human-crafted brain couldn’t handle the workload and had begun to stagnate and lose it efficiency. Thus, Isaac lost himself within himself.

critique: The answer is irrelevant to the question.

critique: The response contains inaccurate information.


text:
THOMAS ALLSTON BROWN (January 16, 1836 – April 2, 1918) was an American theater critic, newspaper editor, talent agent and manager, and theater historian, best known for his books, _History of the American Stage_ (Dick & Fitzgerald: New York, 1870) and _A History of the New York Stage from the First Performance in 1732 to 1901_ (Dodd Mead: New York, 1902).

Life and career

Brown was born in Newburyport, Massachusetts, to Thomas James Brown (1800–1867) and Lucretia Hamsly Brown _(née_ Lucretia Hamsly Milton; 1810–1872).[1] He began his career as the Philadelphia correspondent and theater critic for the top entertainment journal of the time, the _New York Clipper_. He freelanced for other show-business publications and published his own paper, called _The Tattler_.[2][3]

In 1860, Brown entered show business as the advance man for the Cooper English Opera Company, managed by virtuoso violinist Henry Charles Cooper (1819–1881). He later worked for Gardner & Madigan's Circus (re: the Gardner and Madigan families, including Dan Gardner and John Madigan) as treasurer and manager of the box office.[4] During one circus performance, the assistant to the ropewalker Blondine went missing. Blondine's opening stunt was to walk a tightrope from the stage to the balcony with a person on his back. T. Allston Brown filled in for the missing helper, and the _Baltimore Press_ dubbed him “Colonel” for the deed. Brown adopted the honorary title and used it for the remainder of his career.[5]

In 1863, Brown was named editor of the _New York Clipper_. He kept the post until 1872, when he retired from journalism. He next pursued a career as an agent and manager for entertainers. His clients included the famous female impersonator Ernest Byne (1848–1904), the Hanlon Brothers, and Mlle. Marie Aimée (sv) (1852–1857). On May 7, 1879, Brown became partner with Morris Simmonds (1839–1896) in Simmonds & Brown, Dramatic Agents, and continued to run the company after Simmonds died.[6]

As early as 1858, Brown had begun compiling stories and biographies of theatrical performers in the United States.[7] Much of his material came from players in the field, who supplied biographical sketches.[8] He began to write a book on the subject, and in 1870 he published the exhaustive _History of the American Stage_.[9][10] In 1906, he retired from show business to devote more time to history and writing.[11] Brown died in Philadelphia in 1918. _The New York Times_ wrote in Brown's obituary that _A History of the New York Stage_, published in 1903, “was said to be one of the most complete accounts of the development of the stage in America that has been written”.[12][13]

Notes

[1] Thomas Allston Brown, Massachusetts, Town Records, 1620-1988, Ancestry.com

[2] Cullen 147.

[3] Sentilles 122.

[4]

[5] Cullen 148.

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13] “Col. T. Allston Brown”, _The New York Times_, 1918-04-04, p. 13.

title: T. Allston Brown

question: Describe Hamsley Brown's career trajectory from critic to historian and author.

answer: Brown began his career as a Philadelphia correspondent and theater critic for the New York Clipper. He later freelanced for other show-business publications. He published his own paper, called The Tattler. In 1860, Brown entered show business as the advance man for the Cooper English Opera Company. He then worked for Gardner & Madigan's Circus as treasurer and manager of the box office. In 1863, Brown was named editor of the New York Clipper. He kept the post until 1872, when he retired from journalism. He then pursued a career as an agent and manager for entertainers. In 1906, he retired from show business to devote more time to history and writing.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

critique: "He then worked for Gardner & Madigan's Circus as treasurer and manager of the box office." - this is inaccurate. Brown was never the treasurer or manager of the box office. He was the advance man.

critique: The answer omits that he published his first book, History of the American Stage, in 1870.

critique: The response misses to mention that Brown began compiling stories and biographies of theatrical performers in the United States as early as 1858.

critique: It is omitted that he published a book on the subject, and in 1870 he published the exhaustive History of the American Stage.


text:
JOHN RICHARD “STREAMLINE” EWING (January 19, 1917 – February 1, 2002) was an American jazz trombonist.

Career

In 1934, Ewing began his career when he was seventeen.[1] Four years later he was with Horace Henderson, then with Earl Hines live and on record from 1938 to 1939 and from 1941 to 1942. He worked for short spans with Louis Armstrong and Lionel Hampton in the 1940s, in addition to Jimmie Lunceford (1943–45), Cab Calloway (1946, 1949), Jay McShann (1948), Cootie Williams (1950), Louis Jordan, and Earl Bostic.[2]

In the early 1950s he moved to California[3] and played with George Jenkins and in the studio with T-Bone Walker and Gerald Wilson. He began playing with Teddy Buckner in 1956; the two would play together on and off into the 1980s. He led his band the Streamliners for recording sessions in 1958 and 1960. In 1962 he toured with Henderson again and with Rex Stewart in 1967. Late in the 1960s he played in the Young Men of New Orleans band.[4]

In 1983 he played with the Eagle Brass Band and recorded with Johnny Otis in 1990.[5] He played on two Willy DeVille albums: _Backstreets of Desire_ (1992) and _Big Easy Fantasy_ (1995).

Discography

As sideman

WITH GERALD WILSON

-   _You Better Believe It!_ (Pacific Jazz, 1961)
-   _Portraits_ (Pacific Jazz, 1964)
-   _On Stage_ (Pacific Jazz, 1965)
-   _Feelin' Kinda Blues_ (Pacific Jazz, 1965)
-   _The Golden Sword_ (Pacific Jazz, 1966)

WITH OTHERS

-   Hoyt Axton, _Saturday's Child_ (Horizon, 1963)
-   Hoyt Axton, _Hoyt Axton Sings Bessie Smith_ (Exodus, 1965)
-   David Bromberg, _Midnight On the Water_ (CBS, 1975)
-   Roy Brown, _Hard Times_ (Bluesway, 1973)
-   Bobby Bryant, _Earth Dance World_ (Pacific Jazz, 1969)
-   Teddy Buckner, _Frank Bull and Gene Norman Present...Teddy Buckner and His Dixieland Band_ (Dixieland Jubilee, 1957)
-   Teddy Buckner, _On the Sunset Strip_ (GNP Crescendo, 1961)
-   Red Callender, _Swingin' Suite_ (Modern, 1956)
-   Red Callender, _The Lowest_ (MetroJazz, 1958)
-   Papa John Creach, _Filthy!_ (Grunt, 1972)
-   Willy DeVille, _Backstreets of Desire_ (EastWest, 1992)
-   Judy Henske, _Judy Henske_ (Elektra, 1963)
-   Judy Henske, _High Flying Bird_ (Elektra, 1963)
-   Z. Z. Hill, _Keep On Lovin' You_ (United Artists, 1975)
-   Earl Hines, _The Father Jumps_ (Bluebird, 1975)
-   Lightnin' Hopkins, _Something Blue_ (Verve, 1967)
-   B.B. King, _Lucille_ (Bluesway, 1968)
-   Danny O'Keefe, _The Global Blues_ (Warner Bros., 1979)
-   Johnny Otis, _Good Lovin' Blues_ (Ace, 1990)
-   Johnny Otis, _Spirit of the Black Territory Bands_ (Arhoolie, 1992)
-   Googie Rene, _Romesville!_ (Class, 1959)
-   Diana Ross, _Lady Sings the Blues_ (Motown, 1972)
-   Ike & Tina Turner, _River Deep Mountain High_ (London, 1966)
-   Bob Thiele, _Head Start_ (Flying Dutchman, 1969)
-   T-Bone Walker, _Stormy Monday Blues_ (Bluesway, 1968)
-   Charles Wright, _Rhythm and Poetry_ (Warner Bros., 1972)

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

title: Streamline Ewing

question: What does the article say about Ewing's bands?

answer: He led his band the Streamliners for recording sessions in 1958 and 1960. He played with the Eagle Brass Band in 1983. He played with the Young Men of New Orleans band in the late 1960s.

critique: The answer omits the band he played with in the early 1950s.

critique: It is omitted that he played with Teddy Buckner in the 1980s.

critique: The answer omits the band he played with in the 1980s.

critique: The answer should mention that he played with the band Teddy Buckner.

question: What does the article say about Ewing's trombone preferences?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the article does not mention anything about Ewing's trombone preferences.

critique: The article does not mention Ewing's trombone preferences.

critique: The answer should mention that no information is given about Ewing's trombone preferences.

critique: The answer should mention that the article does not mention any preferences.


text:
[] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] []

BrahMos providing food to homeless & needy in its fight against COVID-19

Defence Minister Shri Rajnath Singh applauds BRAHMOS @ DefExpo 2020

Chief of Defence Staff General Bipin Rawat visits BrahMos @ DefExpo 2020

Indian Navy Chief Adm. Karambir Singh Visits BrahMos @ DefExpo 2020

Indian Army Chief Gen. Manoj Mukund Naravane at BrahMos @ DefExpo

Air Chief Marshal RKS Bhadauria, IAF Chief Visits BrahMos @ DefExpo 2020

Russian State Duma delegates visit BrahMos HQ

Excellence in Aerospace Industry Award

Perfect Role Model to Emulate MAKE IN INDIA

Release of Brahmand World Defence Update 2017

The future belongs to those who prepare for it today

BRAHMOS, a symbol of 'Make in India'

[]

[COVID-19] Annual Report: FY 2019-2020 [COVID-19]

[COVID-19] BrahMos Prevention and Protection Handbook Against COVID-19  [COVID-19]

News in MediaRead more

-

    []BRAHMOS supersonic cruise missile successfully test-fired from Indian Navy's stealth destroyer, INS Chennai

    October 18, 2020

-

    []India successfully test-fires BRAHMOS supersonic cruise missile from Chandipur ITR in Odisha

    September 30, 2020

-

    []BrahMos Aerospace helps Jabalpur with PPE kits, N-95 masks

    April 21, 2020

-

    []South's first BRAHMOS-armed Sukhoi-30MKI squad to guard strategic Indian Ocean Region

    January 20, 2020

-

    []BRAHMOS missiles successfully test-fired from land and air platforms

    December 17, 2019

BrahMos Culture

[]At BrahMos, we are committed to motivating technological and strategic progress, establishing a common culture and developing a milieu for learning by leveraging our strengths into the supremacy of our performance...

About Joint Venture

[]BrahMos Aerospace was formed as a joint venture between Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) of India and Military Industrial Consortium NPO Mashinostroyenia of Russia through an Inter-Governmental Agreement on February 12, 1998...

Our Mission

[]Thrive to attain greater heights and make ‘BrahMos’ a synonym of achievement, innovation and success in the international arena of missile and aerospace, to be market leader with a product which dictates quality, commitment and most cost effective system...

BrahMos System on Various Platforms

 [] []

Ship-based Weapon      Complex System

BrahMos missile is capable of hitting sea based targets beyond radar horizons. It can be launched in either inclined or vertical configuration based on the type of the ship or user requirements.

Learn More

 [] []

Land-based Weapon      Complex System

BrahMos Land based Weapon Complex comprises of four to six Mobile Autonomous Launchers (MAL) controlled by a Mobile Command Post (MCP), and a Mobile Replenishment Vehicle.

Learn More

 [] []

Air Launched Weapon       System

BRAHMOS supersonic cruise missile created history on 22nd Nov 2017 after it was successfully flight-tested first time from the IAF's Sukhoi-30MKI against a sea based target in the Bay of Bengal.

Learn More

 [] []

Submarine Based Weapon System

BrahMos missile is capable of being launched from submarine from a depth of 40-50 metres. The missile is installed in a modular launcher vertically in the pressure hull of the submarine.

Learn More

Event Gallery

question: Describe some interesting facts about the BrahMos System.

answer: The BrahMos system is capable of being launched from a submarine from a depth of 40-50 meters. The missile is installed in a modular launcher vertically in the pressure hull of the submarine.

critique: The answer should mention the other platforms on which the BrahMos system is used.

critique: The answer should mention the other platforms the system is installed on.

critique: The answer should mention that the system is capable of being launched from land and air platforms.

critique: This should include more details about the system.

critique: Answer continues on next line while irrelevant to the question. Also includes information not mentioned in article.

critique: The answer should mention the BrahMos's versatility.

critique: The answer should mention the other platforms that the BrahMos system is used on.

critique: The answer should mention the land-based and air-launched systems.

question: Would China and North Korea be interested in the BrahMos system?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should be "no" because the question is speculative.


text:
It was late that steamy night, a Thursday or Friday judging by the relaxed crawl of visitors in the open-air restaurant.  I don't entirely remember how I got to Jakarta- I was still jet-lagged, drugged, and operating almost exactly at the opposite of California time.

"I remember that shit from last time," I asserted quickly.  We shuffled up the stairs to meet my travel buddy's Indonesian friend, a cook at the restaurant.

There were tables full of elderly Indonesians, well-dressed for the evening and smoking American cigarettes.  A few old ladies shot us glares as we giggled and gathered behind the counter.  The cook pulled out his fine glass pipe.

"Alright, I need you to pack this.  I'll find a place outside."  He had a good-sized amount of crumbled, brown marijuana on the counter, but as I looked up, I noticed about four or five healthy green plants, sitting on the counter in plain view.

I began to work with his pipe while he and some friends stood out in the hot air of Jakarta's tropical night.  It held a deep and venial fury, something full of a promise that I couldn't even begin to fathom.  I knew it only because of the sickly pace that it stirred up in my virgin heart, a rapid beat that I held onto in the fear that somehow, my foreign odyssey would not give me the thrills I'd been desperate for since my youth in America.

The bowl was about halfway full when an old lady stood up.  She began yelling in Indonesian.  I couldn't understand, but I heard hurried, clumsy footsteps from downstairs.  The cook dashed back to the counter, grabbed the pipe from me and pushed the plants into a compartment underneath.  Tiny, ominous red lasers flashed across the walls.  I ran outside onto the porch, where a few others were still scrambling confusedly.  My travel buddy's eyes locked onto mine, wide with fear.

"Jump!" he yelled, and he flipped off the balcony into the grass below.  I took a deep breath and followed.  Crashing onto the wet grass, I hoped to avoid the few, scattered lights.

We ran to the end of the grassy area that demarcated the restaurant's property.  Ahead, a jungle loomed.  My friend rushed into the forbidding realm.

"Are you kidding?" I choked.  "They have dangerous animals in there!"

"Would you rather get shot?" he replied as he continued ahead.  At a loss, I followed.  We soon came to a wooden bridge, and a small clearing.

I was nearly across the bridge when my friend stopped in his tracks.  About twenty yards in front of him, a large, predatory cat eyed us.  Its eyes flashed green as it paced forward.  My buddy ran, and I too hurtled back towards the bridge.

The cat took chase.  I ran faster than I thought I could, but just after I crossed the bridge, the cat caught up to my buddy and swallowed him whole.  I fell to the ground in horror.

Satisfied, the cat licked its lips and retreated back across the bridge.  I stumbled to my feet and looked around.  After I took a few steps back towards the restaurant, another threat appeared.

A maned lion growled at me from just a few yards away.  My breath caught in my throat, but then I exhaled and spoke up in disbelief.

"Hold on, hold on...there are no lions in Indonesia!  I must be dreaming!"  I ran back to the restaurant as fast as I could, hoping to catch a last glance of that beautifully savage world, but the earth crumbled beneath my feet.  The sky burst, and I awoke to another rainy weekday, late to class.

title: Troubles for a Foreigner?

question: How does the main character's situation change throughout the story?

answer: When he first meets the characters of the story and is offered a place to smoke marijuana, the situation seems relatively harmless. When the drugs are found and his friends are removed, the situation escalates quickly. However, when the narrator is confronted by his own threat when the cat swallows his friend whole, the situation literally escalates to a very dangerous level. When he is discovered by the lion, he has minimal options and simply runs away, which can be considered a temporary solution. However, he discovers to his horror that the lion isn't really a lion and is but a creation of his dream.

critique: The narrator's situation does not change throughout the story.

critique: Nothing terrible happens to the last sentence; it isn't strange and need not be corrected.

critique: The highlighted text is inaccurate and irrelevant.

critique: The last two sentences are not relevant to the question.

text: The answer is incoherent. It should be clear how the situation escalates due to gunmen entering the restaurant. Later, the "situation literally escalates" should be removed. Also "confronted by his own threat" is incoherent. Also he is not horrified when he discovers the situation is a dream.

category: coherence

refinement: When he first meets the characters of the story and is offered a place to smoke marijuana, the situation seems relatively harmless. When the drugs are found and his friends are removed, the situation escalates quickly. However, when the narrator is confronted by his own threat when the cat swallows his friend whole, the situation literally escalates to a very dangerous level. When he is discovered by the lion, he has minimal options and simply runs away, which can be considered a temporary solution. However, he discovers to his horror that the lion isn't really a lion and is but a creation of his dream.

question: Summarize the primary source of tension in the story.

answer: The two travelers arrive to Indonesia and meet smokers at a restaurant. They handle the drug openly, which upsets the people who witness the crime. Then, when law enforcement cars enter the restaurant, the people involved with the drug hide their drugs-including the narrator. A chase ensues when law enforcement officials search the premises and finds their drugs, and the narrator and their friend (the traveler) run into the jungle in an attempt to outrun and/or outrun law enforcement.

critique: The answer is incorrect. There are no law enforcement cars in the story.

critique: The answer is incorrect. The primary source of tension is the drug deal.

critique: The answer is a summary of the story. It is not a summary of the primary source of tension.

critique: The answer is wrong. The narrator and his friend are not in Indonesia. They are in Jakarta.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

critique: The second sentence is incorrect. The narrator and his friend do not handle the drug openly.

text: This answer is not coherent. The second sentence is irrelevant. It could be shortened to "The primary source of tension is law enforcement crashing a restaurant filled with illegal drugs, and dangerous animals in the jungle"

refinement: The two travelers arrive to Indonesia and meet smokers at a restaurant. They handle the drug openly, which upsets the people who witness the crime. Then, when law enforcement cars enter the restaurant, the people involved with the drug hide their drugs-including the narrator. A chase ensues when law enforcement officials search the premises and finds their drugs, and the narrator and their friend (the traveler) run into the jungle in an attempt to outrun and/or outrun law enforcement.

question: What does the story say about wildlife in Indonesia?

answer: According to the author, there are many animals of all sorts in Indonesia that aren't eaten which are carnivorous. There are dangerous cats living in the jungle, which are not indigenous to Indonesia, and maned lions, which are. The cats were able to hunt down and devour the author's friend. After the cat wins the chase, the maned lion attemps to attack the author but fails and retreats back over the wooden bridge.

critique: The response contains inaccurate information.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task and is also factually inaccurate about what animals were in Indonesia.

critique: The author's friend is not eaten by the cat.

text: There should be a distinction made between the cat, which is native to Indonesia, and the lion, which is not.

refinement: According to the author, there are many animals of all sorts in Indonesia that aren't eaten which are carnivorous. There are dangerous cats living in the jungle, which are not indigenous to Indonesia, and maned lions, which are. The cats were able to hunt down and devour the author's friend. After the cat wins the chase, the maned lion attemps to attack the author but fails and retreats back over the wooden bridge.

question: Summarize all the information relating to the class the main character is late for.

answer: The class the main character is late for is implied to be on the same rainy weekday that he dreams about. In the dream, the main character is late as it falls apart and he wakes up to a rainy weekday.

critique: The answer is incorrect. The main character is not late for class.

critique: The narrator is not implied to be late for class. It is directly stated that the narrator is late for class.

critique: The answer is confusing and doesn't make sense.

critique: The response is incorrect. The narrator doesn't dream about the class.

critique: There is no mention of what day the MC's class was.

text: The correct response should be "no answer"

refinement: The class the main character is late for is implied to be on the same rainy weekday that he dreams about. In the dream, the main character is late as it falls apart and he wakes up to a rainy weekday.