text:
_CENTURION_ is a historical fiction novel () written by Simon Scarrow, published by Headline Book Publishing in 2007. It is book 8 in the _Eagles of the Empire_ series, continuing Macro and Cato's adventures in the eastern provinces of the Roman Empire that began in _The Eagle in the Sand_.

Summary

During the 1st century AD, a force of the Parthian Empire destroys a vexillation of a Roman auxiliary cohort sent to construct a fort on the banks of the Euphrates in the Kingdom of Palmyra. The garrison is slaughtered. Meanwhile, with tensions rising between Rome and Parthia, the Legio X Fretensis, Legio III Gallica and the Legio VI Ferrata are drilling for war in Syria. Prefect Macro and Centurion Cato are drilling the Second Illyrian, an auxiliary cohort, attached to the Legio X Fretensis for the looming war.

Cato and Macro were sent to Syria by Narcissus to gather proof that the governor of Syria, Longinus was planning to use the Syrian legions to usurp the Emperor Claudius. During their time in Antioch, Crisups, a Roman legionary, murders an auxiliary leading to Crispus' execution, much to the chagrin of the legionaries. A Parthian convoy arrives, delivering the head of Centurion Castor, the soldier who commanded the Euphrates fort, and warns of Parthian intervention, should Rome continue to be seen to be annexing Palmyra. Shortly thereafter, a Roman soldier arrives at the behest of Lucius Sempronius, a Roman ambassador to Palmyra, informing Longinus that Palmyra has descended into civil war.

Artaxes, the son of Palmyran king Vabathus, has raised an army and laid siege to the Palmyran loyalists in the Royal Citadel. Fearing the Parthians will arrive before the Romans can, Longinus sends the Second Illyrian and a cohort of the Legio X Fretensis to reinforce the loyalists. Along the way, the Roman force is aided by Prince Balthus, who covets the Palmyran throne, despite not being Vabathus' first born. The Romans and Balthus' men fight their way through to the city and manage to reinforce the loyalist troops, mainly composed of Greek mercenaries. Following a banquet to celebrate the successful defence of a rebel assault, Amethus, one of Vabathus' sons is found murdered, with Balthus being the prime suspect. Meanwhile, Cato meets Sempronius' daughter, Julia, and the two fall in love after an uneasy start.

After a rebel bombardment, the loyalist food stores are all but destroyed. Cato attempts to bluff Artaxes into standing down, however before Artaxes can respond, Longinus arrives with two legions and several auxiliary units. Longinus privately reveals to Cato and Macro that they were never meant to reach Palmyra, and were meant to die in the desert, removing Narcissus' spies that had frustrated his plans. Against the advice of Cato, Longinus leads the legions into the desert, determined to destroy Artaxes and his Parthian allies. During a night attack, Longinus panics, orders a retreat and leaves the army at the mercy of the Parthian horsemen. On the suggestions of Cato, the army manages to trap the Parthians, destroying their army. Balthus orders his brother, Artaxes, killed, leaving him the sole heir to Vabathus' throne.

Back in Palmyra, it is revealed Balthus had ordered his slave, Carpex, to murder Amethus. Balthus is arrested to be put to death. With no heir to succeed the king, Sempronius reveals that the empire will annex Palmyra and absorb it into the province of Syria. Macro and Cato are released from Narcissus' employment, ending their posting in the East. Sempronius later gives Cato his consent to marry his daughter, Julia.

Main characters

Romans

-   Centurion Quintus Lucinius Cato - Temporarily promoted to Acting Prefect of the Second Illyrian Cohort, Macro's adjutant
-   Prefect Lucinius Cornelius Macro - Prefect of the Second Illyrian Cohort
-   Legate Gallus Amatius - Commanding officer of the Tenth legion
-   Centurion Parmenion - Centurion of the Second Illyrian, serves as Cato's adjutant
-   Centurion Castor - Centurion of the Tenth legion, killed in action when the Parthians destroy his fort
-   Centurion Horatius - Centurion of the Tenth legion
-   Centurion Braccus - Centurion of the Tenth legion
-   Centurion Septimus - Centurion of the Tenth legion
-   Centurion Porcius Cimber - Centurion of the Tenth legion
-   Optio Marcus Metellus Crispus - Optio of the Tenth legion, he is put to death for murdering an auxiliary
-   Centurion Metellus - Centurion of the Second Illyrian
-   Centurion Aquila - Centurion of the Second Illyrian, commander of the cohort's cavalry contingent
-   Caius Menathus - Cavalryman of the Second Illyrian
-   Gaius Cassius Longinus - Governor of Syria
-   Lucius Sempronius - Roman ambassador, sent to Palmyra to conclude a treaty
-   Julia Sempronia - Sempronius' daughter-turned-surgeon, who falls in love with Cato

Palmyrans

-   King Vabathus - Sovereign of Palmyra
-   Prince Amethus - First son of Vabathus. He is assassinated by Carpex, under orders from Balthus
-   Prince Balthus - Second son of Vabathus, ruthlessly coveting his father's throne. He is later put to death by Vabathus for treason
-   Prince Artaxes - Third son of Vabathus, and his favourite son. He leads the rebels against his father, and is later killed on Balthus' orders in battle
-   Thermon - The King's Chamberlain and younger brother. He was castrated under orders from the King to prevent any competition in the Royal lineage
-   Krathos - A Palmyran minister who uses the easily persuaded Amethus to further his own agendas
-   Demetrius - Commander of the Royal Guard
-   Archaelaus - Tetrach of the Second Syntagma of the Royal Guard
-   Carpex - A slave of Balthus who assassinates Amethus on his orders. Carpex is later murdered by Balthus once he exposes the prince
-   Jesmiah - A Palmyran civilian, who cares for her baby brother, Ayshel

Parthians

-   Metaxes - Prince and heir to the throne of Parthia, sent to warn Longinus of Parthian intervention

Novel Website

-   Scarrow Brothers

Notes

After _Eagle in the Sand_, Headline Book Publishing reportedly decided not to use titles with the word Eagle anymore to attract new fans.

Reviews

-   Review in the Coventry Telegraph, April 21 2008. Reviewed by Ted Jury
-   Review at Yorkshire Evening Post, 22 March 2008. Reviewed by RC
-   Review by Jill Murphy at The Bookbag
-   Review at FantasticFiction.co.uk

Best-seller listing

-   The Sunday Times (London) list of fiction hardback bestsellers

Category:2007 British novels Category:Eagles of the Empire Category:Novels set in the 1st century

title: Centurion (novel)

question: Summarize everything in the novel's plot summary relating to characters being killed.

answer: The 1st century AD is a time of war, and the novel's plot summary reflects this. The Parthian Empire kills a Roman garrison, Crispus is executed for murdering an auxiliary, and Amethus is murdered by Balthus.

critique: The answer should mention the killing of Artaxes.

question: Summarize the story's romance subplot.

answer: In Antioch, Crispus murders an auxiliary and is subsequently executed. This causes the legionaries to be upset. During their time in Antioch, Cato meets Sempronius' daughter, Julia, and the two fall in love after an uneasy start.

critique: The response is missing the part where Sempronius gives his consent for Cato to marry his daughter.

critique: The answer does not mention that Sempronius gives his consent for Cato to marry his daughter.

question: What does the article say about the development of the novel?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the article does not mention anything about the development of the novel.

critique: Doesn't capture the essence of the question.


split: train

text: I walked slowly, admiring the eerie yet stunning beauty of this little paradise I found. The trees were all full of green leaves, so many shades from a bright emerald to a dark shimmering green almost black. The trees also boasted an affinity for life, squirrels, birds, bugs, snakes, all creatures coexisting within the same tree, and there were thousands of these trees around. The ground is covered in soft grass, damp and cool from the shade provided by the multitude of trees, Fungus and mushrooms of strange shades and hues burst through the ground at seeming random intervals, shelf fungus along the trunks of the trees make an almost spiral staircase up to the foliage. Luscious yet bizarre fruits decorate the upper branches and suspend themselves like shining gems, each a different color from the one next to it. The breeze and the sound of a distant river provide a soothing ambience along with the sounds of life in this place. I've been to this place quite often, climbed the trees, tasted the fruits, and talked with the multitudes of life, yet I have not seen the river from which this place must grow. I've walked for hours in all directions, the trees and bear no distinguishing marks, and I choose not to make any for fear of upsetting this place. I can always hear the river, never growing stronger or fading, always a constant, as if seeming for me to know it’s there but not to let me see it. I continue to wander, searching, no longer entrapped by the beauty of the trees or their complex eco system, the fruits have all become bitter, this place senses my frustration and changes accordingly. Sometimes when I first enter this place I can still feel the presence of the outside, I think I can see other people walking, as enraptured as I was when I first came here. I think I see them but, they too disappear as this place envelopes me. I am spending more time here now, constantly searching for the water, I don’t know why, but it’s all I care to find. The trees are growing to a constant shimmering black, and the sound of life has almost ceased. Every now and then there are bright places, with new life, snakes, snails, mice, all moving spasmodically in an area, like flashes of light in the surrounding gloom. I hardly notice them anymore. I must find that river, I spend almost all day here now, and I come back every night. The river still eludes me. I need to find it. The leaves have begun falling off the trees, what I can see of the sky is a flat black, it gives neither the illusion of night, but seems to absorb all the light. I've not seen a sun in this place yet. I choose to write this here now, in order to express the full effect, the need and desire to find this river. I don’t know why, or what makes me feel the need to find it. I'm not sure what will happen when I find it, or if I will, but I have to. Today I’m going to find the river. I found another snake, he had the same grin and vibrant colors of the others, I ignored the pleasant aura, I have to find the river. I opened its mouth to find two sharp teeth. As I carried the snake to a tree it began to grow, longer bigger, he grew cold in my hands. It started to hiss and writhe in my hands, I forced its mouth open and dragged the razor teeth across the dead tree. I must find the river. The snake struggled harder as I pushed its face into the tree harder, scouring deep gouges in the wood. The tree started to wail, a loud high pitched keening, its creamed and caught fire, the dead wood and remaining leaves alighting in azure, liquid fire. The burned down to a pool of aqueous blue fire, the surrounding trees caught flame also. I was surrounded by blue flames, purging this place of life and substance, the sound of the river grew stronger. Then I was there, the river raging relentlessly, flowing with the rage of an angry god. Still covered in the liquid blue fires I stepped into this torrent. I start to feel myself dissolve, as the river was made of the same liquid blue fire that burned me, yet as I felt myself burn away, my thoughts continued, my psyche still intact and active. I stopped the flow of azure fire, feeling it bend and give to my will. I opened my mind’s eye and surveyed my life as it was...... and I let go.

title: The grip and break of sanity.

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

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should state that the story does not mention the narrator's gender.

question: What does the story say about the paradise the narrator found?

answer: The forest has thousands of trees, each with a different shade of green, growing in soft grass. The habitat is home to multitudes of life, from squirrels and birds to fungus and mushrooms, many on the trees. There is a river somewhere that the narrator can hear but not see. That everything here changes according to the narrator's mood and evokes specific emotions from the one visiting.

critique: There's nothing in the text that suggest that the paradise changes according to the narrator's mood or evokes specific emotions. It all depends on how the narrator perceives it, which is reflective of their mental state.

question: What does the story say about how the narrator found the river?

answer: The narrator was collecting specimens when they were stopped in their tracks by something they were unable to identify. They don't know what it was or understand how they know what it feels like to the touch, but they are endowed with a strong enough instinct to find the river. They carry with them a snake, which grew and changed as they dragged its mouth back and forth over the same dead tree. Eventually, the tree was engulfed in blue flame and the ashes formed the riverbed.

critique: The response is incorrect. The narrator was not collecting specimens.


text:
Nanjing, China (CNN) — "This would be a rich person's residence today," says Zhou Hong-ling, a 22-year-old recent college graduate from Hubui province.

"It's beautiful."

Hong-ling, visiting Nanjing to learn more about the history she studied in high school, is admiring the private quarters of Sun Yat-sen, the first president of the Republic of China and a key player in the toppling of the Qing dynasty in 1912.

It's a fitting time to visit.

November 12, 2016 was the 150th anniversary of Sun's birth.

Widely recognized as the father of the nation, his beautiful rooms are just one of many intriguing displays inside the Nanjing Presidential Palace, a 120,000-square-meter museum of modern history made up of buildings and sculpted landscapes.

Diverse architectural styles

The palace, which dates back over 600 years, showcases the complex past of China's ancient capital.

Inside, Western-influenced Republican-era architecture seamlessly rolls into the gilded designs of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom era and the gardens and pavilions of China's Imperial eras.

Some of the main attractions are packed with visitors, like the Qing-style atrium, which was built in 1870.

A beautiful 600-meter space, it leads to hallways, courtyards and the Western-style quarters used by the Republic of China's Nationalist government (1925-1948).

There are more secluded corners deep inside the palace.

Quads, paved strips, pavilions and scenic waterways offer visitors areas to rest and quietly experience the former rulers' habitat.

Former residents include China's 'Heavenly King'

Serene as it appears now, the palace has experienced its share of tumult and reconstruction.

The front gate was destroyed by rebels during the Taiping Rebellion in the mid-1800s, then restored during the Republican years in 1929.

The palace was later occupied by the People's Liberation Army in 1949. It housed provincial office units until 2000.

Its overall modest atmosphere is in striking contrast to the extravagance of Taiping Rebellion (1850-1864) leader Hong Xiuquan's quarters, where gilded temples and dragon themes abound.

The self-dubbed "Heavenly King" liked to read and spent a lot of time in his study, which was reconstructed in 2003, a tour guide explains.

Meeting rooms for Chinese and foreign leaders, private offices for figures such as Republican political leader Chiang Kai-shek and Sun Yat-sen's nap room have all been preserved and restored for the public to view.

'1912'

Outside the gates of the Presidential Palace, vendors sell pins bearing the white sun of the Republic of China flag -- a rare public embrace for the country's former symbol, which today appears on the flag of Taiwan.

The surrounding neighborhood next to the palace also adds a curious flavor to the city.

Called 1912 -- the year the Republic of China was established -- this commercial and nightlife district aims to emulate Shanghai's Xintiandi or Hong Kong's Lan Kwai Fong zones.

Major foreign chains like Starbucks and KFC have set up shop in historic, brick Republican-era buildings.

Korean barbecue and pseudo-Italian restaurants advertising pizza and pasta share another building.

There are also a number of nightclubs with dizzying light displays on their façades.

Some Chinese restaurants hang a large portrait of Sun at the entrance -- another reminder that the historic figure is a proud face of the area.

Getting there

Nanjing Presidential Palace is located at 292 Changjiang Road in the Xuanwu District of Nanjing. Nanjing, the provincial capital of Jiangsu, is less than two hours by train from Shanghai.

question: What does the story say about the Nanjing Presidential Palace?

answer: The Nanjing Presidential Palace is a 120,000-square-meter museum of modern history located in Nanjing, China. It showcases the complex past of China's ancient capital, with Western-influenced Republican-era architecture seamlessly rolling into the gilded designs of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom era and the gardens and pavilions of China's Imperial eras. The palace was built more than 600 years ago and is a National Historic Site of China. The palace has experienced its share of tumult and reconstruction. The front gate was destroyed by rebels during the Taiping Rebellion in the mid-1800s, then restored during the Republican years in 1929. The palace was later occupied by the People's Liberation Army in 1949 and housed provincial office units until 2000.

critique: The answer could mention the diverse architecture found within the palace.

critique: The answer should mention the significance of the Sun Yat-sen's residence.

critique: The answer should mention the anniversary of Sun Yat-sen's birth.

critique: The answer should mention the attractions.

critique: The answer should mention that the palace is a National Historic Site of China.

question: What does the text say about Sun Yat-sen's family?

answer: No answer

critique: The text doesn't talk about Sun Yat-sen's family.

critique: The text does not say anything about Sun Yat-sen's family.


text:
[Charlize Theron plays an overworked mom in “Tully.”]

Credit...Kimberly French/Focus Features

Tully
    Directed by Jason Reitman
    Comedy, Drama
    R
    1h 35m

-   May 3, 2018

“Tully,” a tragedy that thinks it’s a heartfelt comedy, stars Charlize Theron as a struggling mother. So let’s play along with this fantasy (for a bit). When you first meet her character, Marlo, she’s executing the familiar balancing act and juggling a pair of kids — with another one on the way — a husband and a two-story house that looks like it would take hours and hours to vacuum. The golden light that settles on her like a celestial mantle suggests that Marlo’s life is heavenly at least in moments, even if her clenched expression and haunted eyes read more like distress signals.

Marlo is doing the contemporary supermom thing and, refreshingly, she isn’t doing it with 1950s clichéd desperate smiles. Directed by Jason Reitman from a script by Diablo Cody (this is their third movie together), “Tully” admits that this figure is a noxious delusion, one that isn’t suitable for real women. Nevertheless they’re made to feel guilty for not doing it all or scolded for trying to live up to impossible standards. And soon enough the golden nimbus surrounding Marlo vanishes, swept away by the reality of hustling two children off to school while waiting for her water to break. (Lia Frankland plays the 8-year-old Sarah; Asher Miles Fallica plays the younger, ambiguously troubled Jonah.)

Mr. Reitman, as he does, goes for nice and easy, and everything in “Tully” flows when it doesn’t rush, picking up characters like Marlo’s husband, Drew (Ron Livingston), and her conspicuously wealthier brother, Craig (Mark Duplass). The casting of Mr. Livingston and Mr. Duplass — who look more like brothers than Mr. Duplass and his actual brother, Jay Duplass — plays like a joke without a punch line. All it really suggests is that Marlo, in marrying a less successful version of her brother, has some provocative psychosexual issues that the movie can’t be bothered with, mostly because it’s one of those character-driven stories that reduce personalities to a set of readily defined traits and quirks.

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A preview of the film.
To wit: Marlo is a quick draw when it comes to deadpan looks and sharp quips, but also, and of course, loving and exceptionally competent. Drew is a bland hard worker who plays video games in bed at night when Marlo crawls under the covers, a pattern that continues after she delivers their third child. Some might smack Drew’s joystick out of his hands and the rest of his sorry self out of bed — Ms. Theron is such a naturally strong presence that it’s hard to believe Marlo would put up with his nonsense. But that would get in the way of the story’s conceit and antediluvian take on gender roles.

And so it goes: Marlo cares for the kids while Drew works and plays, occasionally pausing to deliver one of those slightly surprised nice-guy looks that the likable Mr. Livingston has a near patent on: eyebrows gently perturbed, face drained of readable emotion, voice slightly rising as if in innocent protest. Drew and Marlo’s division of labor would be fine if it were equitable. But fairness wouldn’t jibe with the story’s plans for Marlo, much less enlightenment. Her burden is treated as grist for comedy, notably in the repeated images — fluttering like a flip book — of her enduring a lonely maternal crucible as she feeds and diapers the newborn again and again.

Marlo is rescued by Tully (Mackenzie Davis from the late, great AMC series “Halt and Catch Fire”), a night nurse whose job is to take over for exhausted mothers, allowing them much-needed sleep. Ms. Davis is a sparky, charismatic performer, and, much like her character, she whooshes into the story, infusing it with energy and scattering good vibes like a punk Tinker Bell. Under her caretaker’s attentive, adamant watch, Marlo again starts to smile, re-entering the world of the living. She brightens and so does “Tully,” which morphs into a female-friendship movie, complete with a nostalgic girls-wanna-have fun playlist calculated for maximum audience head-bobbing.

Ms. Theron and Ms. Davis make a pleasurable, watchable pair — Ms. Davis is obviously happy to be the moon to Ms. Theron’s sun — but “Tully” isn’t really interested in the sustaining joys of female bonding. It has a message to deliver, which is as sincere and decent as it is obvious: Mothers need help, sometimes serious help. Which is why it’s strange that as Marlo very visibly sinks into postpartum depression — you can see Ms. Theron pulling Marlo deeper and deeper inside — the movie pretends that her burden is somehow too hidden for anyone to notice. Much like her useless husband, it isolates Marlo, and once again it is a woman who’s the problem that needs solving.

question: What kind of an audience do you think the writers, producers, and director had in mind for "Tully"?

answer: It seems that the writers, producers, and director had an audience in mind who could relate to the protagonist, Marlo.

critique: "It seems that the writers, producers, and director had an audience in mind who could relate to the protagonist, Marlo." - this is inaccurate. The narrator only said that the audience could relate to Marlo.

critique: It is omitted that the audience the writers, producers, and director had in mind is probably women.

critique: The answer should mention the film's genre.

critique: The answer could be clearer in its pronoun use.

critique: "It seems that the writers, producers, and director had an audience in mind who could relate to the protagonist, Marlo." - this is incorrect. The article says that the movie is a comedy/drama, which means the target audience is anyone who likes to watch movies.

critique: All members of the audience aren't women. Therefore, this is incorrect.


text:
HANS ROSENTHAL (2 April 1925 – 10 February 1987) was a radio editor, director, and one of the most popular German radio and television hosts of the 1970s and 1980s.

Life

Rosenthal grew up in a Jewish family on Winsstraße No. 63, in the Prenzlauer Berg district of Berlin. His childhood was marked by an aggressive antisemitic atmosphere, the result of rising German Nazism. His father died of kidney failure in 1937, after he had lost his job at Deutsche Bank AG. When his mother died of colorectal cancer in 1941, Hans and his younger brother Gert (born 1932) found themselves in the orphanage. Starting in 1940, Hans was forced to participate in unfree labour, while his brother was deported and like many other relatives died in the Holocaust. After Hans escaped the last deportation of German Jews (German: _Fabrikaktion_) in February 1943, he went into hiding and until 1945 was able to stay at a safe house in a small garden allotment in Berlin-Lichtenberg, where three German women helped him to survive.

After the war, Rosenthal began an apprenticeship as an assistant director at Berliner Rundfunk, a public broadcaster. However, he soon came into conflict with the supervisors of the Soviet Military Administration and from 1948 onwards worked for the _Rundfunk im amerikanischen Sektor_ (RIAS), a broadcaster controlled by the American occupying forces. He became chief entertainment editor and soon began hosting his own radio quiz shows: _Allein gegen alle_, _Wer fragt, gewinnt._, _Das klingende Sonntagsrätsel_, _Spaß muß sein_ (broadcast from London's Paris Theatre during the 1966 FIFA World Cup), _Opas Schlagerfestival_, _Da ist man sprachlos_, _Die Rückblende_ and _Günter Neumann und seine Insulaner_. Later on the German ZDF public television channel, he presented shows like _Gut gefragt ist halb gewonnen_, _Rate mal mit Rosenthal_, _KO OK_, _Das Schlagerfestival der 20er Jahre_, and _Dalli Dalli_, a co-production with ORF, an Austrian broadcaster. [Rosenthal with assistant Monika Sundermann on _Dalli Dalli_, mid 1970s] The most popular of these, the TV show _Dalli, Dalli_ (derived from or , “Hurry Up!”), aired 153 times from 1971 to 1986. Celebrities had to compete in several fast-paced quiz rounds and games of skill, critiqued by a panel of judges. Even today, Rosenthal is known in Germany for his catchphrase _Sie sind der Meinung, das war ... ?_ (“So you all think that was... ?”) when he thought something impressive had been done. The TV audience then answered _Spitze!_ (“Great!”), at which point Rosenthal would jump into the air. Because he was not tall, he was often referred to affectionately as _Hänschen_ Rosenthal (literally “Little Hans”).

He was a member of the Central Council of Jews in Germany from the 1960s onwards. He often took his vacation in Utersum on the island of Föhr, of which he was eventually made an honorary citizen. From 1965 until 1973 Rosenthal was chairman of the Tennis Borussia Berlin football club. Rosenthal started a foundation called _Schnelle Hilfe in Akuter Not_ (which roughly translates as “Fast Help in Dire Need”).

In 1980, Rosenthal published his autobiography _Zwei Leben in Deutschland_ (“Two Lives in Germany”). In 1986, along with Paul Spiegel, he started an international media agency, which promoted actors, TV presenters and artists. In the same year Rosenthal fell ill with stomach cancer and was no longer able to work as a TV host. He died in 1987 in Berlin, aged 61.

Awards

-   1972 – Federal Cross of Merit (Bundesverdienstkreuz)
-   1973 – Bambi
-   1974 – Goldene Kamera
-   1979 – Goldene Kamera
-   1984 – Goldene Kamera
-   1985 – Goldene Europa
-   1986 – Telestar

Other honours

-   1993 – The square in front of the RIAS building (now the home of Deutschlandradio Kultur) in Berlin-Schöneberg was named Hans-Rosenthal-Platz
-   2007 – A sports center in Berlin-Westend was named _Hans-Rosenthal-Sportanlage_

Books by Rosenthal

-   _Zwei Leben in Deutschland_, Bergisch Gladbach 1980,

Literature about Rosenthal

-   Leonard Gross : _The Last Jews in Berlin_, Simon & Schuster, USA 1982,
-   Thomas Henschke: Hans Rosenthal. _Ein Leben für die Unterhaltung. Schwarzkopf u. Schwarzkopf_, Berlin 1999,
-   Michael Schäbitz, Paul Spiegel, Curth Flatow: _Hans Rosenthal. Deutschlands unvergessener Quizmaster; bewusster, stolzer Jude. Jüdische Miniaturen_, Band 19. Stiftung Neue Synagoge Berlin - Centrum Iudaicum / Hentrich and Hentrich, Teetz 2004,

title: Hans Rosenthal

question: What does the text say about how to become an effective broadcaster?

answer: No answer

critique: The passage has a straight-forward answer of the intuitive nature of becoming a good broadcaster: be passionate about TV and radio, don't be afraid to be informal, be a little goofy when appropriate, and charming for that matter.

critique: The text does not say anything about how to become an effective broadcaster.

critique: The text does not answer the question, but it does provide a lot of information about Rosenthal's career.

question: What does the text say about Hans Rosenthal's early life?

answer: Rosenthal was born on April 2, 1925 in Prenzlauer Berg (Berlin). His early life was marked by an aggressive antisemitic atmosphere. His father died in 1937 after he lost his job at Deutsche Bank AG and his mother died in 1941. He and his brother had noone to take care of them, so they were sent to live together in an orphanage. He also started working in unfree labor starting in 1940. His life got even more difficult when his brother was deported and killed in the Holocaust. In 1943, he was able to escape another deportation, and spend the next two years living at a safe house.

critique: Rather than "living at a safe house", it would be better to say that he went into hiding.

critique: Doesn't mention that his brother was also forced into unfree labor.

critique: The answer should mention that Rosenthal was forced to participate in unfree labor.

critique: It is omitted that he was able to stay at a safe house in a small garden allotment in Berlin-Lichtenberg, where three German women helped him to survive.

critique: The answer should mention Rosenthal's foundation.

critique: The answer omits that Rosenthal was forced to participate in unfree labor.

critique: The answer should mention his work after the war.

question: What does the text say about Rosenthal's impact on Germany?

answer: Rosenthal was a radio editor, director, and one of the most popular German radio and television hosts of the 1970s and 1980s. He was known for his catchphrase "Sie sind der Meinung, das war...?" (“So you all think that was... ?”). Even today, Rosenthal is known in Germany for his catchphrase. The TV audience then answered "Spitze!" (“Great!”), at which point Rosenthal would jump into the air. Because he was not tall, he was often referred to affectionately as "Hänschen Rosenthal" (literally “Little Hans”). He was a member of the Central Council of Jews in Germany from the 1960s onwards. He often took his vacation in Utersum on the island of Föhr, of which he was eventually made an honorary citizen. From 1965 until 1973 Rosenthal was chairman of the Tennis Borussia Berlin football club. Rosenthal started a foundation called Schnelle Hilfe in Akuter Not (which roughly translates as “Fast Help in Dire Need”). In 1980, Rosenthal published his autobiography "Zwei Leben in Deutschland" (“Two Lives in Germany”). In 1986, along with Paul Spiegel, he started an international media agency, which promoted actors, TV presenters, and artists. In the same year Rosenthal fell ill with stomach cancer and was no longer able to work as a TV host. He died in 1987 in Berlin, aged 61.

critique: This is more about Rosenthal's personal life than his impact on Germany.

critique: The answer is a summary of Rosenthal's life, not his impact on Germany.

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

critique: Rosenthal's impact on Germany can be summed up more succinctly than this answer. It is not necessary to include everything of Rosenthal's life in this answer.

critique: The answer is a summary of Rosenthal's life and not his impact on Germany.

critique: This is a summary of Rosenthal's life, not his impact on Germany.

critique: It is not clear that his dying of cancer was his final impact on Germany.

question: What does the text say about Rosenthal's notable activities or projects outside his hosting and broadcasting career?

answer: Rosenthal was a member of the Central Council of Jews in Germany from the 1960s onwards. He was also the chairman of the Tennis Borussia Berlin football club from 1965 to 1973. He started a foundation called Schnelle Hilfe in Akuter Not (which roughly translates as "Fast Help in Dire Need"). In 1980, Rosenthal published his autobiography Zwei Leben in Deutschland (Two Lives in Germany). In 1986, Rosenthal started an international media agency, which promoted actors, TV presenters, and artists.

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

critique: "In 1980, Rosenthal published his autobiography Zwei Leben in Deutschland (Two Lives in Germany)." - this isn't exactly an activity outside of his career.

critique: The answer omits Rosenthal's work as a radio editor and director.

critique: Rosenthal starting a foundation is irrelevant. Hence, you can simply replace it with another entry.

critique: The answer omits Rosenthal's work as an editor.

critique: The answer omits Rosenthal's work as an assistant director.

critique: Rosenthal did not start the foundation. He founded it.

critique: The answer should mention the honors he received.


text:
[Picture]

Photo by Tanya Walter of www.visionartphotography.com

Maya DeLeina is a multi-published Erotic Vampire Romance Author  with Siren,  Evernight, Ellora's Cave and Mystic Lotus Publishing.
 Her current series includes Ambrose Heights Vampires, My Naughty Vampire, Vampire Architects and Seasons of the Vampire.

Born and raised on the Hawaiian island of Oahu, Maya could be seen at her favorite beach, Lanikai, performing with an all-girl band where she played keyboards, guitar and provided vocals, working as editor in her high school's yearbook  and volunteering her time at a humane society through UH of Manoa civic groups.
 In 2006, Maya relocated to Colorado. Her crystal blue oceans, waterfalls and eighty degree year-round weather were traded for four season weather, enchanting forests and majestic mountains that led to her rekindled love for vampires.
In winter of 2010, she penned her first manuscript and by 2011, Flesh Fantasy was under contract and released by Siren Publishing. To date, Maya has published  _Flesh Fantasy, Veil of Seduction, Blood of Luna, Dark Companion_, Fire and Ice and Crimson Snow.
In 2014, she banded with other Colorado romance authors to form the group, Mile High Muses, in which Maya serves as "The Vamp". Catch her Forbidden Fruit Friday blog and guests she hosts on Sultry Saturdays.
Not only does Maya have theatrical book trailers that bring her vampires to life, all of her vampires were featured in Singer/Songwriter Jill Cohn'smusic video "Blessing Moon".

Maya's books can be found at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iTunes, All Romance eBooks, Bookstrand, Smashwords, Createspace and more.

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What the critics are saying...

"...I absolutely loved Ms. DeLeina's new universe. I finished reading, craving more. My mind reeled and my body yearned for the tantalizing pleasures in Flesh Fantasy. My only negative comment about the story is that there wasn't another book...yet. Read Flesh Fantasy and be transported into a fantasy world of erotic sex, deceiving plots and laugh out loud humor. This book does not disappoint!" -- MOONFLOWER, _WHIPPED CREAM REVIEWS_

"...I must say that Ms. Maya DeLeina knows how to hold your attention and I will gladly wait for her next release… and the next book from this series. It deserves 4.5 stars." -- DOLCE AMOUR, _BOOKED UP REVIEWS_

"...This is my first book by Ms. DeLeina but it won’t be my last. The well written storyline and romance in the love story made me want more... I would recommend this book to anyone who likes a paranormal novel with a little twist. If you like action, love, and lots of hot action, this is the book for you." -- TINA, _TWO LIPS REVIEW_

"...All in all, Maya DeLeina deftly weaves humour, hot loving with some hidden horrors all wrapped up in one erotic, lusty bite. The stage is set. The game begins. And the stakes are higher than ever at Ambrose Heights. A book to get your teeth into before the sun comes up." -- SASSY BRIT, _ALTERNATIVE READS_

"I found that the characters were simply marvelous; the story was intricate and complex; and the world building was exceptional and inventive. I found myself lost in the tale. I was up until 5 am and had to force myself to go to bed, but lay awake just thinking about the story." --Molly, CBLS

"Readers get ready for a delicious, super sexy and dramatic read. Ms. Deleina does a great job blending the preternatural with the everyday human world we’re used to." -- T.S. Peters, JERR

"This author is a woman who knows how to write a creative steamy-hot love scene, I mean whoa!" -- Jet, BD Reviews

Maya's Vampires featured in Jill Cohn's Music Video

Maya's "The Vamp" at Mile High Muses

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Catch her weekly Forbidden Fruit Friday blog

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Find Maya at

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Romance Novel Center

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Vampire Romance Books

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Evernight Publishing

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Mile High Muses

question: What does the text say about Maya DeLeina's upbringing?

answer: She was born and raised on the Hawaiian island of Oahu. She attended high school. She is an accomplished singer, songwriter, and author. Now she performs with an all-girl band and has published over seven books.

critique: The response is incorrect and does not reflect Maya DeLeina's upbringing.

critique: Remove confusing sentence beginning "now" from the list because it doesn't help answer the question of what Maya's sideline careers are.

critique: The question is not asking about her career, but about her upbringing.


text:
Prompt: A man gifts dreams in a world where people have forgotten how to dream.

When I first heard about him, I thought he was a myth; like Big Foot or the Yeti. I didn’t think it was possible, not anymore anyway.

We, the human race, lost our ability to dream back in the late 2050s when governments began approving the commercialization of “designer babies.” For the first time in human history, parents could choose specific DNA traits that they would want their children to inherit. Children grew up brighter, more athletic, beautiful and eventually more successful than children conceived through traditional insemination. In a world filled with perfect human beings, the poor couldn’t afford to compete and over time the world’s population shrank to a point where everyone had been created in a lab. We now possessed the richest pool of genetic material than ever studied before.

However, by about the second or third generation people began forgetting how to dream. It took years for studies and research to effectively conclude that people were no longer able to dream. Scientists dully explained the connection between the neurons that are active during the REM phase while we were asleep and nucleotides in our DNA, which became repressed and extinct over time. It was similar to the theory behind natural selection. The damage was done; it seemed inconsequential to people back then, they didn’t need as much sleep as the generations before then. Large genetic corporations who essentially customized babies spun it as “evolution.” People had no choice but to move on. Decades flew by. Dreaming was a lost design and Oneirology a forgotten science; our brains could no longer build the framework we needed to dream.The world we grew up in dreaming was a fable, told to little kids to get them to sleep.

My grandfather used to tell me stories when I was a young boy about his grandfather who like all humans at the time, could dream. He spoke of the limitless nature of dreams; of precognition, visions and anything you ever wanted. I was always fascinated by the idea even though I never completely understood it. It was hard for me to imagine what a dream was, but I used to wish that when I fell asleep that I would be magically whisked away into my world of imagination.

As I grew up, desires of dreaming faded away over time when I met the love of my life. All I wanted to do was to be with this gorgeous woman who somehow loved me too. I wanted to spend every moment of life making her smile and watching her laugh. She lit up my life and we were inseparable. I knew early on that she would always be the best thing every happened to me, I guess I won the jackpot early.

You don’t win the lottery twice.. We were so close to getting married when she passed away in car accident. They could barely identify her remains. I’m I could’ve saved her if I was there. There was a giant hole in my heart and I didn’t want to fill it. My life was never going to be the same. Everything I saw was grey; I didn’t want to meet people or work anymore. I only wanted to be with her, at least one last time to say goodbye. I just wanted to see her smile again.

Dreams.. The one place I knew I’d find her. While conducting research on the last known man to have dreamt, I found out that there was a man who was still alive, but barely. Through some persistence I convinced Mr. Takahama’s children to let me interview him. He was a lot older and more frail that I had pictured. The backstory was that he, being one of the earlier generations of designer babies, he retained the ability to dream till he was a teen. Now, at 120 years he was the last of the fortunate. During his interview, he told me that he last dreamt a couple of years ago. I was shocked, but his children brushed it off as a sign of old age. He pulled me closer and whispered, “there is a man who goes by the Dreamer, seek him and you shall find your answers.” I chuckled at the suggestion but Mr. Takahama said this more sternly than anything he had all evening.

I went looking for “the Dreamer” but most my leads were dead ends. I was mocked by my colleagues at the university. I was searching for a ghost, for a man who didn't want to be found. A few people had heard of him but no one knew anything about him for certain. I spent the better part of a year chasing a shadow. I was close to giving up, but I wanted to experience what it felt like to dream. Fortunately, a few days before I was about concede in defeat, the phone rang. The man, one of my leads, spoke hurriedly, “we found him, we found Aserinsky.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Eugene Aserinsky, the Dreamer. We’ve located him Vienna. You better fly out tonight. This is the last chance you’ll ever get."

I was excited but I tried to keep my expectations in check. I had never been so close but every other lead had ended in disappointment. I barely slept a wink on the flight to Vienna, Austria. I had so many questions and thoughts spinning through my head. I prayed that answers awaited me.

I made my way towards the Albertina, a historic museum built in the 17th century, to meet Aserinsky. My contact had told him that I had spent a significant portion of my life studying dreams and managed to convince him to meet me. I wasn’t sure what to expect.

He looked the part; an elderly man worn down by time. His silverish hair resonated wisdom and his light brown eyes gleamed of visions unseen. He spoke with a certain charisma that few developed. It became immediately known to me that he was the one I pursued.

“Do you know why I asked you to meet me here?” He spoke clearly but softly.

“Not really, I know this museum stores some of the rarest paintings from the Renaissance period centuries ago.” I replied, hoping to impress
him.

“Exactly, these painters were considered to be visionaries, romantics, dreamers and philosophers. This time period had a huge impact on human culture; the arts, science and the humanities. I’ve had dreams where I’m lost in this beauty.”

“Dreams.. Do you dream?” I asked nervously.

“Yes, I do dream. A long time ago, I discovered I had a gift for being able to dream and that I could give others the ability to dream. Our brains are no longer as capable of processing REM as decades ago, so the few men who I gave my ability to, eventually killed themselves because they couldn't distinguish a dream from reality. Why do you wish to dream so desperately?”

“I wish to be with the one person who completed me. She was taken away from me and I would do anything to be with her again.”, I reasoned.

“I must warn you that dreams are powerful; they are as real in your minds as life around you. You may die from your brain being unable to process the nerve impulse transmissions.The sad part would be that
your mind wouldn’t know the difference between a dream and death.”

Confidently I replied, “Yes, I understand the risks.”

The next thing I remember is falling asleep in my bed, floating away in a timeless time where my soul escaped into a life that wasn’t my own. I didn’t know if I was dreaming or dead but I saw her. She looked as gorgeous as ever. Even if it was death, I found some solace in knowing that I would finally be with her.

title: The Dreamer

question: What does the story say about the Dreamer?

answer: The Dreamer is a man who still has the ability to dream. He is the last of the fortunate because he was born before the government approved the commercialization of "designer babies" and still retained the ability to dream. The Dreamer has the ability to give others the ability to dream. However, the Dreamer warns the narrator that dreams are powerful and that the brain may not be able to process the nerve impulse transmissions.

critique: It's omitted that the Dreamer's ability to dream was lost because the neurons that are active during the REM phase while we were asleep and nucleotides in our DNA, which became repressed and extinct over time.

critique: It's omitted that the narrator meets the Dreamer and is able to access his ability to dream by sleeping.

text: "He is the last of the fortunate because he was born before the government approved the commercialization of "designer babies" and still retained the ability to dream." - this is incorrect and pertains to Mr. Takahama.

category: accuracy

question: Summarize the narrator's plotline.

answer: The narrator's love dies in a car accident. He is devastated and wants to see her again. He hears about a man who can dream and goes to find him. He finds the man, who tells him that he can dream, but warns him that dreams are as real as life. The narrator goes to sleep and dreams of his love.

critique: The narrator's love doesn't die in a car accident.

critique: The narrator's love doesn't die in a car accident. She dies in a car accident.

critique: The man is named Eugene Aserinsky, not the man.

critique: The man tells him that he can dream, but warns him that dreams are as real as life. The narrator is already aware of the risks.

critique: The boy's grandfather should be mentioned, as well as the fact that the father of a man who can dream is still alive.

critique: The answer omits that the man tells the narrator about the Dreamer, who will be able to give him his ability to dream.

question: What does the text say about the state of the human race in the story?

answer: The human race lost the ability to dream in the late 2050s when governments began approving the commercialization of "designer babies." For the first time in human history, parents could choose specific DNA traits that they would want their children to inherit. Children grew up brighter, more athletic, beautiful, and eventually more successful than children conceived through traditional insemination. In a world filled with perfect human beings, the poor couldn't afford to compete and over time the world's population shrank to a point where everyone had been created in a lab. We now possessed the richest pool of genetic material than ever studied before. However, by about the second or third generation people began forgetting how to dream.

critique: The answer should mention the consequences of the dwindling population.

critique: The answer should mention that the population shrunk due to the inability to dream.

critique: The answer should mention that the population shrunk to the point where everyone was created in a lab.

critique: The answer should mention that the human race is now in a state where they can't dream.

critique: "However, by about the second or third generation people began forgetting how to dream." is irrelevant to the question.

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

critique: The answer should mention that the human race is now extinct.

question: What does the text say about utopian societies?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the loss of dreaming led to the decline of the human population.

critique: Add "It is implied that the dream-gifted man can help create a utopian society."

critique: The response misses to provide an answer to the task.


text:
No sound, and even though Jack’s eyes are closed he knows wherever he is its very bright. And forcing his eye-lids open with more energy than he had ever used before to do such a task. He brought up an arm to shield himself from a light that most surely wasn’t artificial but was at the same time. As if the light was coming from all around him but nowhere at the same time.

	He tried to speak but found that no words escaped him. And he slowly sat up and looked around to get his bearings. Wherever he was, he’d never seen anything like it before. There appeared to be an expansive stretch of nothingness before him. A long and vast whiteness, He was sure this was a dream, that this feeling of unrelenting sadness gripping him, deep down in the pit of his stomach was just a nightmare that had yet to reveal the punch-line.

Where am I? He thought as he stood up. It took a lot of energy to accomplish this task, his bones and joints were sluggish and clumsy. Once he managed to get to his feet he became dizzy, to the point where he had to put his hands on his knees and bend over for a minute to let it subside.

	Squinting through half closed eyes he tried to look around again and though the light was still very bright it had abated slightly and he could finally stand up straight again. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. He tried to call out again but the words still wouldn’t come. He knew he was speaking but he couldn’t hear anything coming out.

	“There is no use trying to speak.” A woman’s voice came from behind him, seemingly out of the nothingness; A very familiar voice.

	He slowly turned around and was sure that this was a dream. The sight of her made his heart drop, stop and melt all at the same time. He couldn’t remember her name but he knew that he had known this girl very well, knowing every inch of her body and most of her personality.

	She just smiled sadly and took a step forward she moved with a grace and sadness that brought a breaking dread to Jack and he squinted as he watched her move about as if she were gliding along the floor that wasn’t there. This is a dream? He thought to himself and he wasn’t very surprised to hear her speak again. “In a way it is. In a way it is not.” He frowned and looked around again. Where are we?

	“We are everywhere, and nowhere at the same time. We are together again, but apart forever.” She smiled and stepped closer. He suddenly didn’t want her to come any closer and he felt tears forming in his eyes. What do you mean?  She merely smiled. “Is it too bright here? Your eyes haven’t adjusted yet. It will take some time.” She glanced around and as she did the air around him seemed to shift and change.

	And now he was standing in the middle of an old bar. Four pool tables off to the right, and a bar in the middle. The girl was now behind the bar. “Do you remember this place?”  Jack looked around the room. It was empty aside from them. He nodded slowly. It’s where we met. But I can’t remember your name. After all these years, I’ve known you. I’m sorry.

	She just smiled sadly again. “That is not important. My name is no longer a part of your memory.” She moved around the bar and poured a double of whiskey. “This was your favorite wasn’t it?”

	Jack instantly felt something churn in his stomach and he shut his eyes for an instant he heard a sort of siren blaring and then he opened them again, the room had changed once more. They were in his apartment lying in bed. Her head on his chest, her short hair brushed away from her upturned face. “This is where we spent our first night together.” She smiled. And he felt like crying even more. I remember you saying that we had to do this or we’d never know if it was worth it. He thought.

	“Was it worth it?” She asked and kissed his collar bone lightly. An icy chill ran up his spine. He shuddered. Every single second of it.

	“Every second.” She sighed and he felt her cool hand intertwine with his. “I need to tell you something Jack.” I know, This isn’t a dream…  He felt the tears now, they had been escaping the corners of his eyes for who knew how long. What happened? Where are we?

	He shut his eyes and the blaring siren slipped back in for a moment And the voices of people shouting in the distance.

	“You are dying. People say that your life flashes before your eyes before you die…” Her voice was getting distant. Further away and Jack squeezed his arms around her holding her close. The body he held tightly. Don’t leave me. Please Don’t leave me! The sirens were stronger now piercing the walls of his subconscious.

	“You have to make a choice.” She said. Her voice was distant and muddled now. “I Hate to give you such a cliché ultimatum but you have a choice to make.” Jack nodded his head, the room around him swam and rippled seeming to meld the moldy ceiling of his apartment with a starry night sky. “Stay here with me. Or go back.” Her voice was coming in a little stronger now. What happened? Where’s back, why aren’t you there?

 	“Do I really have to say it?” She sat up on her elbow and looked down at him. And he knew there from the sadness in her eyes and the way she smiled soothingly down at him. He reached a hand up and ran a thumb along her jaw-line. “All you have to do is choose. There is still time. Go back.”

And with that he knew what he had to do. He brought both hands up to hold her face gently in his hands and he pulled her down close to him so that their noses were touching. And he was able to find his voice. “There is no life for me, without you.” And he smiled.

	She frowned for a moment and scrunched her nose up. “Are you sure?” She asked. And he smiled.

“From the moment I saw  you, Ash...”

	The ambulance rumbled along the lonely stretch of Arizona highway, and the coroner’s van behind it. “Jimmy, turn off the siren… We’ve lost him.” The paramedic paused checking his watch. Sat up and removed his rubber gloves. “CPR is unsuccessful. We can’t work him back up.”

title: "Ash" By FallenMonument

question: Summarize the conflicts in the story.

answer: The first conflict was that Jack was in an ambulance and the paramedics were trying to keep him alive. The second conflict was that his life flashed before his eyes and he was being asked to decide what to do by a woman he loved. Jack knew that he was dying and was unsure of what to do. The third conflict was that Jack decided to stay in the memories with the woman he loved.

critique: The first conflict was that Jack was in an ambulance and the paramedics were trying to keep him alive.

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

critique: The answer should mention that the conflict is resolved.

critique: Jack was not in an ambulance. He was in a dream-like state.

critique: No mention of the conflict with the paramedics that precedes the one with the woman.

critique: The first conflict is not mentioned in the story.

text: Jack deciding to stat in the memories of the woman he loved is not a conflict in the story. It is the resolution, which happens after the conflicts are resolved.

question: Summarize how Jack feels about the woman.

answer: Jack loves the woman, and he wants to stay with her. He would rather die than go back to the living world without her.

critique: The answer should mention that Jack doesn't know the woman's name.

question: Summarize the plot twist.

answer: Jack wakes up and is with a woman he loves. He has no idea how it is possible, but he feels sure it is her and the reason that he has been reeling. He begins to feel his life slip away, and he is offered the option to stay or to return to life. He chooses to stay, realizing that without her, there is no life at all, and his body flatlines. This prompts the woman to reveal that this entire exchange has all been in Jack's dream, and that he needed to choose life or death before he died.

critique: The answer is incorrect. The woman is not a dream, she is a ghost.

text: The last sentence should be deleted. After choosing to stay with the woman, his life ends. He was not ask to choose between life and death again.

question: Summarize how Jack died.

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the story ends with Jack's death.

critique: There is no answer, but there is enough information in the passage to provide a summary.

critique: The answer should state that the story does not mention how Jack died.


text:
“Do you want some coke man?”

I smiled and shook my head no.

“Some ecstasy?”

I realized I had stopped walking.  I took a long look at the three boys. I really wasn’t in the mood for this.  “That’s not me”, escaped my lips as I took a few more steps.

“Come on man… sit down … smoke a joint?” beckoned the leader of the pack with an accent that puzzled me.

I was already pleasantly high. The prospect of more was unnecessary and unappealing. I had scoped out this narrow lane earlier in the day and was anxious to reach my destination. As rough as the trio looked the leader’s eyes seemed trustworthy. The giant thug sharing the bench to his left was nearly passed out and the younger, thinner boy to his right appeared harmless. The essence of primrose trapped in the moist, motionless air permeated the vicinity. My olfactory nerves convinced me things would be ok.

“What the hell”, I muttered and walked toward them.  A canal and its reflected light softly dancing behind them added to the exoticism. The leader nudged the brute toward consciousness and made a space for me between the two. I only had a hundred and fifty Euro on me and as a betting man I wagered with myself that I would walk home with zero soon. My habit of being ‘real’ with all walks of life had so far done me little harm. I called upon myself to reinforce my pact with serendipity and eased on to the wooden bench.

The brazen young man’s name was Kofi. All three were from Suriname. The dark olive color and virility of his skin was strangely comforting. We chatted as he broke apart his buds and prepared a large joint. The thug seemed to abhor me. He infinitely repeated how gangster he was in broken English and flashed his knife ad infinitum as well. It was a bit comical the power Kofi held over him. The pack leader rebuked him with increasing force for his lack of hospitality.  I simply showed the angry youth respect and interest. I somehow made it clear to him that I all I could do was trust him. We both understood if he wanted to rob or kill me I would put up no defense. The younger member of the group was strongly under the influence of a hallucinogen and spoke to me rapidly in his native tongue. My sincere return of his gaze sated him.

“You’re with us tonight American”, Kofi said with a smile, “This is our city… We do is what we want”.  He lit the joint and passed it to me first. Rather than indulge I passed it on to the muscle who appreciated my deference. We sat and smoked. I puffed lightly as I was unsure of the exact contents of the roll. All the while the thug praised his gangbanging skills when alert enough to do so. After a reasonable time had passed I informed Kofi I was off to the Red Light District. This was my first night in Amsterdam and I intended to experience it on my terms.

“We show you the way” said Kofi. He then barked orders out to his underlings and we were off. Ten steps later the giant was emptying his stomach on to the small road. The other two enjoyed very much the sights and sounds of the tough guy reduced to near infant status. I sensed the opportunity to escape and said my goodbyes.

I knew the way. Earlier in the day I had plotted and explored the route to sexual release. I crossed the canal and headed north alongside it. It must have been three in the morning. This part of the city seemed asleep. Once again the scent of flowers was strong. Jasmine it seemed this time. Surprising it could flourish it in such a northern climate. The buildings all seemed the same from the walkway. Three or four stories high and true sturdy shelters which entirely muted any activity within. I walked along for a kilometer or so and all remained quiet until my desired neighborhood was in sight.

I arrived one canal east of my intended entry point. Large groups of people sat at tables outdoors carousing and partying with the energy I once possessed. I walked directly past a couple of bars and not one person gave me a glance. Finally, I saw my beacon. To my left was an erect cement cylinder two feet high with glowing red pin lights lining its upper circumference.  When I saw the third pillar of expectation I took a left. I was surprised at the emptiness of the narrow walkway. The well trodden old bricks of the path were each surrounded by a generous moss which reflected muted neon purple. Not a single woman displayed herself as I slowly walked toward the canal intended to guide me. A left turn at my canal of dreams brought my loins to life. People were milling about and the prospect of open windows looked much better.

Not twenty paces later two round brown eyes were locked on mine by way of a mirror. It was the first time in my recalled memory someone took note of me before I had the chance to size them up. I nodded my head as I passed her below ground lookout post and admired how her skin shone bronze contrasting her white breast supporter. Black lighting increases most human’s allure without doubt. I took a left at the next street and was instantly pierced by dozens of eyeballs. Most were behind glass but a few uttered nearly inaudible invitations in sultry voices. A subtle sensory overload granted force by testosterone enveloped me. Finally I got past the eyes and began to notice bodies. All this transpired within fifteen meters.

A graze against my right arm shocked me into immobility as a jack-in-the-box witnessed for the first time would. I nearly screamed but quickly noted the black silk glove teasing its way under the sleeve of my t-shirt. I looked into the eyes of a raven haired knockout nearly my own height.

“Come inside?”, oozed out of lips unlike any others.

I paused, looked intently into her eyes, and begged for release. Literally thirty seconds had passed since the first sales pitch had been presented. “You are truly beautiful”, escaped my lips as I bowed my head and continued down the lane.

The moss’s glow was overpowered by the light swimming on the bricks. This street felt right. The declined lips had initiated a carnal desire which could be sated at my whim.  I felt the benefits of a true smile for the first time in years. I made a quick choice to continue my walk in the center of the lane.

edit: formatting

title: Vagabond

question: What does the story say about the relationship between the narrator and the boys from Suriname?

answer: The narrator is approached by them while walking. He's not sure they are trustworthy because they look rough (very muscular) but the leader smiles at him and sits comfortably on a bench. The two discuss drugs - weed, coke, ecstasy - but the narrator doesn't answer. In the end, the narrator decides to buy themselves some time with the leader and the young boys by engaging them in some light talk. The leader introduces the brute to the narrator, and the narrator realizes that the brute seems to hate him.

critique: The response is incorrect and doesn't mention the narrator's agreeing to go with them.

critique: His last impressions were giving different drugs - weed and ecstasy.

text: "The two discuss drugs - weed, coke, ecstasy - but the narrator doesn't answer. In the end, the narrator decides to buy themselves some time with the leader and the young boys by engaging them in some light talk." this is inaccurate. They don't talk about drugs - Kofi offered them to the narrator but they ended up smoking weed instead. The narrator is also male, so "themselves" is inappropriate in this situation.


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as voted by our visitors in the last 30 days. Our list of the most popular destinations and hotels in Greece and the Greek islands is followed by a detailed catalogue of the preferred Greek island hotels for summer holidays, city hotels in Greece for weekend getaways and mountain resorts for winter breaks.

Crete

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Hotels and Apartments in Greece with just One Click

When planning your holiday in Greece, our Greek hotel directory will make your task very easy. Narrow your search for a hotel in Greece by area, hotel category or simply search by name for a specific Greek hotel or an apartment in the Greek islands. Check out our Recommended Hotels in Greece for more suggestions!

Cyclades Islands Hotels

[Cyclades Islands Hotels]

Dodecanese Hotels

[Dodecanese Islands Hotels]

Ionian Islands Hotels

[Ionian Islands Hotels]

Saronic Islands Hotels

[Saronic Islands Hotels]

Aegean Islands Hotels

[Aegean Islands Hotels]

Sporades Islands Hotels

[Sporades Islands Hotels]

Crete Island Hotels

[Crete Island Hotels]

Attica - Athens Hotels

[Attica - Athens Hotels]

Central Greece Hotels

[Central Greece Hotels]

North Greece Hotels

[North Greece Hotels]

Peloponnese Hotels

[Peloponnese Hotels]

[Hotels in Greece]

Hotel selection in Greece and recommended resorts by area

Regardless of your budget, we can help you find the ideal Hotel in Greece. We have prepared a selection of Luxury Hotels and Apartments in Greece as well as Budget accommodations / resorts in Greece, covering the most popular Greek destinations. Click on the preferred area and choose the best hotel for your stay, everything at a glance!

Weather in Greece

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  FIND YOUR HOTEL.
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question: Summarize what the text is trying to make the reader do.

answer: The text is trying to make the reader vote for their favorite Greek holiday destination.

critique: The answer should mention the other ways the text tries to make the reader do something.

critique: The answer should include that the text is trying to make the reader vote for a Greek holiday resort that the author will promote in 2021.

critique: The text is trying to make the reader vote for their favorite Greek holiday destination and then suggest a Greek holiday resort that they want the company to promote in 2021.

critique: The text is not trying to make the reader vote for their favorite Greek holiday destination.


text:
	The Time I Found Love In A Senior Citizen –By Aaron Brooks

	Her Tinged Ciggerate’s heat radiated off into the back of my neck. I could feel her Presence. I couldn’t help but stare. Both me and my mother’s eyes were fixed on the slow burning Marlboro in her hand and the smoke that spit up her wrist.
“I’m A Libertarian, I don’t like to be told what to do.”
She observed my mom, down to the heartbeat. As did I. We both hated everything my mom did. We both hated being told what to do by my mothers all seeing eyes.
	She wasn’t the type of Libertarian who complains about Guantanamo Bay. She’s The Kind Of Libertarian who fucking drops Acid and goes to musical festivals. The epitimy of cool. Everything boring old me needed. Not only did she not have an opinion on Free trade economics SHE DIDN’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK ABOUT FREE TRADE ECONOMICS. She smoked weed on the hood of homeland security vehicals.
	The 14 in me wanted to end my conversation with her. Drugs, fun and freedom had taken there sweet toll on her body. Her hair was frizzed her clothes slightly tattered.  For being at the Jewish religious ceremony centered around death her shoeless feet dancing was quite the practice of someone celebrating life.  She was what a 65 year old women should be physically yet somehow she had redefined sexy for me in thirty seconds. We didn’t say much after that except small talk about “The fucking Bastard” known as Mayor Bloomberg. Everything she Said held so much weight. After our conversation came to a sad conclusion I mulled over her words like a priest reading the book of Mathew. I spent the rest of the night eating salled debating wether to go talk to her or not. I knew I would once have these debates with myself I didn’t know they’d would be about talking to someone who probably spent her morning opening social security checks. At a Shiva for all places! As if my pedophilic fantasies couldn’t get any worse, they had to be during a week that’s supposed to be filled with depression and tears.
	I looked all around the party for her, I curled around all the corners of the house. Elevating myself above tables scanning across the circles of people looking for her. Sometimes I saw her, but than she would be gone and disappear into another women. Some moments I would see her twice, at other times it seemed she never existed.
	Well fuck. She’s gone. I had my chance; I could have gone back to her house and talked into the morning. We could have drank, laughed and loved.
			KIDS THESE DAYS- Muriel Frumberg
	I had to get out of that shiva. My brother died for fucks sake, I can’t have one night of griping and smoking. This boy and his mother whom I had never met before came up to me wish me good luck or some shit. And they both stay fixated on the cigerates I was lighting back to back. People say they don’t care how you look, that’s bullshit. His mom looked so scared that I was talking to her son. Turns out this kid is some kind of Libertarian as well, he tried talking drones with me. Pathetic. I was minding my business my brother had just died. It was not the appropriate time for foreign policy discussion for fucks sake.
	You should have seen this kid. He was fucking weird. His eyes constantly were shifting around. He didn’t let people walk behind him. If you left the fucking boy alone for a second he would start mumbling to himself.
	I couldn’t help but feel bad for him. This kid’s definitely got something fucking wrong with him, probably have to do with something with his shitty bitch of a mother.
	THE NEXT IS A TEXT CONVERSATION AARON’S MOM AND DAD
DAVID: How was Shiva.
SARAH: It was good. Jean says “hi”.
Aaron was acting a little weird.
I think he was talking to voices again.
DAVID: What exactly was he doing
Or saying?
SARAH: He was talking about an old woman
He was talking to “her” about drones and
Mayor Bloomberg. He introduced me to her.
It was all very eerie.
DAVID: What else is there to do?
More therapy? More meds? What?
SARAH: Part of me says yes. However,
This is the first time I’ve seen Aaron
Happy in a long time.
DAVID: Are you suggesting we just
Let him live in his own little universe?
SARAH: Maybe just until the school
Year starts up again?
DAVID: Are you fucking insane? I think
We should send him back to the psych ward.
He’s obviously depressed.

title: I'm 14 with the beginning stages of schizophrenia. I feel free to answer any questions about Jewish terminalogy

question: How real was the old lady the narrator was talking about?

answer: It is implied that the old lady was a hallucination.

critique: The answer should be more specific about the old lady.

critique: The answer should mention the text conversation between Aaron's mom and dad.

critique: It is explicitly stated that she is a hallucination.

critique: "This boy and his mother whom I had never met before" is evidence that the woman does not exist.

critique: It is stated that the old lady was a hallucination.

critique: The answer should mention that the story is a work of fiction.


text:
Dom Greene had seen it coming. Most people had realized the implications of automation for their fields too late, but not him. He'd understood what was happening for years and planned accordingly, so he wasn't panicked when he learned that after extensive testing of the most up-to-date writing-analysis software, his publishing house was automating its editing services.

Twenty years ago, bus drivers, pilots, even soldiers all dreaded the day when they would become obsolete. For all of them it came. Auto deaths plummeted; "pilot error" disappeared from the lexicon of the FAA, and no more flag-draped coffins arrived home from distant wars. Of course, no one had been kicked to the curb. There was still a need for some of that expertise, especially in perfecting the automated systems. Professionals were still involved in their fields as consultants, helping to perfect, update, maintain the programs and hardware that replaced them. But that was temporary for most, and amounted to a phase-out. The end result, five to ten years after a profession became majority-automated, was that only a handful of human professionals were able to find work as consultants in their field.

Among the upper-class, none were more precariously wealthy than the hardware and software developers who created the pervasive automated systems. For every brilliant employed developer, there were a hundred aspiring young people gunning for the position. The very best would claim it by developing a new programming language or component which would require even less human involvement. The march of automation held true like a flesh-and-blood equivalent of the law -- he couldn't remember who it was named for -- which had predicted processor development at the turn of the century, with the number of people needed to write, maintain, and improve upon the automated systems shrinking dramatically every few years.

A new sort of social program had caught on with the upper-class: provide free training for phased-out professionals to learn to maintain and sometimes develop automated systems. While many enrolled in the programs, most weren't ultimately hired as demand was far outpaced by supply. Some countries in Central and South America, Africa, and even a few in Europe had restricted automation, and those that didn't also close their borders experienced an influx of phased-out professionals from the automated countries.

A few fields had avoided automation so far. No one particularly wanted automated police except for poor black men. Journalists were still at work, although they weren't as busy as they had once been. Authors, painters, and photographers still created, but few could afford to appreciate them.

Still, automation brought many benefits, and mankind would learn to cope with and thrive in the new world he'd created. The trouble was that this learning process happened over generations, and there were many wasted lives in the interim. From agriculture to mass-production to automation, the only thing the human race hadn't learned to do was plan ahead, so now they were stuck in the same rut they'd been in at the turn of the 19th century.

In college, Dom knew his career choice would make him temporarily resistant to automation. He also understood that it would give him a chance at a comfortable living, but wouldn't pay well enough for him to break into the upper strata and escape the constant threat of phase-out. Back then, the beginnings of a plan had been in place, but it had taken years for him to build up the willpower to think it through to its conclusion. Eventually, he'd grown comfortable with his decision, and that was when he bought the hand-made revolver.

Decent products made with even minimal human involvement had taken on a luxury status as the definition of "hand-made" expanded to include them. Dom had a few hand-crafted items in his office; an oak desk, some printed books, and an aluminum-frame, snub-nosed .38-caliber revolver. He'd fired less than one hundred rounds through it (the ammunition was as outrageously expensive as the weapon), and it rarely moved from its spot behind the glass doors of the bookshelf in his office; he noticed some dust along the top of the barrel as he took it out. Unlike modern weapons, it had no modern safety mechanisms or programming, and could be fired anywhere, at anyone -- its only limit was the discretion of its wielder. Dom could bring it to the mountains to practice, or turn it on a trespasser to kill. But he'd bought the weapon because he knew, at some point in the future, he would use it on himself.

His career would only exist for another month, and he wasn't good enough to find work as a consultant. While he had once considered relocation or retraining, he was too old for either, and not quite wealthy enough to afford the cognitive-enhancement drugs that allowed older adults to assimilate new skills like youth could. So with a pang of sadness, Dom looked away as though he was about to have his blood drawn, turned the hand-made weapon to his temple, and phased-out.

title: Inspired by the r/worldnews post on automation, I wrote this last night [sci-fi]. Critiques welcome!

question: How does the writer deliver the narrative twist in the story?

answer: The twist in the story is that Dom Greene commits suicide. The twist is that the story is written from the perspective of a robot who is writing a story about Dom Greene. The twist is that Dom Greene is a robot.

critique: The twist is not that Dom Greene is a robot.

critique: The first two answers are not relevant to the question.

critique: The second and third options are not correct.

critique: The story is written in the third person.


text:
We met two years ago.

I remember the first time I saw her. It was at orientation for our job. We were both starting a job working at an after school program for children. Our company worked at about 5 different schools, and after the general orientation was over, we all split up into our specific schools to met the people we'd be working with and to take ID pictures. There she was. Black, long hair. Bangs. Tons of freckly. Her upper lip curled a little beneath her nostrils when she smiled, creating a small wrinkle...almost another smile right beneath her nose. It was amazingly cute. She was beautiful. I had never seen anyone like her before. She just looked....happy. And kind. And she exuded it.

I remember I immediately thought to myself "She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen."

And I meant it.

We started working together, looking after children grades K - 5 after they got out of school at the end of the day. We had about 80 kids total. So this girl and I got to know each other. She had a boyfriend at the end who she was deeply in love with, which was a bummer but whatever, I took the time to become her friend and to get to know her anyway.

She would tell me about her major at school, her very large family comprised of many adopted children, and how musical her family is. I'd tell her about me and my family, my music that I play, what i want to do with my life. We would just talk to each other and it made work amazing.

Sometimes she would look at me directly in the eye, and I would see a spark in her eye, and I'd feel that spark inside of me as well. IT was the craziest sensation. Never happened to me before. It was like small moments of our souls connecting.

So soon I find myself thinking about her all the time. I play in a band, and I would just close my eyes, think about her and play whatever came out while jamming. It was awesome. Soon she began appearing in my dreams on a nightly basis.

I don't remember being this attracted to any one person since I was in elementary school. I haven't had a "crush" on anyone since then. All of my hook ups or relationships were presented to me and I was basically like "Sure why not, I'll do it." It's been a while since there was one single person who made all other girls fade out.

I come into work one day and she runs up to me, shouts
"YOU WERE IN MY DREAM LAST NIGHT!" and then proceeds to tell me about her dream. I decide to keep my dreams about her to myself at this time, but the next few days she would come in and sure enough she had been dreaming about me again. I eventually told her about my dreams about her and she called us "DREAM BUDDIES", saying that we hang out in our dreams.

Then the summer came. Our job was coming to an end. She was going on a month long vacation, and I was starting up work at a summer camp. On our last day of usual work, I worked up the courage to ask for her phone number. I told her about a party at a friend's house that I was going to in her town (we lived in separate towns) and told her that she should come by and check it out.

She gave me her number.

On the day of the party, I chickened out and didn't text her.

My friends and I were house sitting at my friend's uncle's house that just happened to be in her town. We worked all day, then decided to start drinking and unwind. We decided we were all too tired for a big party and just had a couple friends over. I decided not to text her. So I start drinking, heavily, with my friends.

Then I get a text. "Party?"

I tell her to come by. She does. She gets high with me and my friends and we talk about music. She stays for about an hour and then gracefully excuses herself. It would be the last time I would see her for a while.

title: [RO][NF] Some lessons you learn the hard way.

question: What does the text say about the girl?

answer: The girl is beautiful and has long, black hair. She has bangs and has a lot of freckles. Her upper lip curls a little beneath her nostrils when she smiles, creating a small wrinkle that almost looks like another smile right beneath her nose. She's very happy and kind, and exudes it. She has a boyfriend, but the narrator is her friend. She tells him about her major at school, her very large family comprised of many adopted children, and how musical her family is. She tells the narrator about herself and her family, and he tells her about his music and what he wants to do with his life.

critique: The girl's boyfriend is irrelevant to the question.

critique: The girl's freckles are not mentioned in the text.

critique: The girl's freckles are not relevant to the question.

critique: "She tells him about her major at school, her very large family comprised of many adopted children, and how musical her family is. She tells the narrator about herself and her family, and he tells her about his music and what he wants to do with his life." - this is irrelevant to the question and should be deleted.

text: The last line is redundant and should be removed.

category: coherence

question: What does the story say about unrequited love?

answer: The narrator is attracted to a girl he works with. He dreams about her every night and they become "dream buddies." He eventually asks her out, but chickens out. He feels bad about it and tries to make it up to her by inviting her to a party. She comes, but leaves after an hour.

critique: The response misses to mention that the narrator is not able to express his feelings to the girl and they part ways.

critique: It is omitted that the girl has a boyfriend.

critique: The question has to do with unrequited love so it should mention that the girl has a boyfriend.

critique: The narrator is not attracted to the girl, he has a deep crush on her.

critique: The answer should mention that the girl has a boyfriend.


text:
Us four sat ensuring my stay.
In conversation, Rick was indirectly called a liar by Rob and Megan
because of me.
The price of being a father.
Any words spoken to him sounded like "Liar".
Any words spoken to me were in question.
As if I was being interrogated.
I had nothing to say unless asked.
The house was a mansion.
My cousin played the role of Keith Cozart.
I looked forward to good times as the house was left mostly
unattended.
As we spoke my mind wandered into flashbacks and daydreams.
Rob was showing me the room where I was going to stay.
There were many rooms and hallways.
Some rooms were connected by doors and weren't connected to hallways.
I opened a door to a bathroom and there was someone in the bathtub.
At first I laughed and looked away but Rob quicly put his arm around me and
led me away, and as he did I caught another quick glimpse of the bathtub and
noticed that it was a body. I was shocked and Rob started to remind me that I
didn't see anything that there was no one there. I instantly protested to
staying in the adjacent room which was where we were headed. I threatened to say
what I saw if forced to stay there. I was led away. The confusion and
unknowingness turned into fear and Plan. We returned downstairs and played it
off, acting as if that didn't happen. Later I spoke with Rob's sister about
what I had seen and she told me that it was not infact a body but pieces of
bodies that were created from insecurities. That she herself had created some
of the pieces that were in the bathtub. We walked and talked. I thought about
what I heard. Generations of insecurities brought about what was in the
bathtub. They all knew. Did Rick know? Did Megan know? I didn't know.
Who was it? Was it one of their own. We ended up back at the bathroom and I
looked in again and what I saw shocked me to the point that I couldn't clearly
make out what it was. Was it a body or was it pieces? It was entirely
underneath the water. I faked emotion and accepted the pieces of insecurities
and agreed to stay in the adjacent room. It was the only way to survive.
I spent most of the first week alone in the room.
I heard them speaking about me. About how I spent time alone.
I was genuinely afraid. The first chance I would take it.
It was a Saturday. I had stolen a few grams of Rob's cocaine and
over the course of 2 days had made it injectable with no one knowing.
The owner of the mansion, the famous Dr. Bob, had syringes in the
downstairs bathroom. Everyone left late in the night.
The only ones left were Rob and Megan. Who were passed out. I stabbed Rob with
the needle and injected it. As he woke and saw me he knew what my
intentions were but could not prevent them as the high almost instantly kicked
in and he fell into a euphoric state. Megan didn't even wake up.
The thought crossed my mind. Did she know about the bathtub? Had she noticed the
change in my behavior? I weighed the risk of foiling my Plan in my mind before
deciding to leave her behind as I escaped into the night. I stole a car from
the mansions garage and left leaving no trace of where I was going.
The insecurity of being insecure. Being insecure was my only security, the
only thing that led me to escape the fate that awaited me. Where all others had
failed and gave in to become part of the fate themselves I had broken free.

title: the fate that awaited

question: Summarize Megan's descent into madness.

answer: No answer

critique: Megan is not described as descending into madness.


text:
Oh... You're up late. Feel free to toggle nightmode if you need.

G'day, my name is Devin. Devin Mancuso.I'm an Aussie living in San Francisco., California. Occasionally, when my corporate overlords aren't watching, I post things on the internet. You can find me on Twitter and IG. or sign up for my newsletter. (I don't post to a schedule, just whenever I have something I want to say, usually some snarky commentary about the intersection of technology and society).

You can email me at devin@radelaide.net, feel free to say hi.

I am a Designer. I’m passionate about working on projects that challenge existing power structures. and create a more equitable tech landscape for everyday people.

Lately I’ve been researching and working in the following areas:

Immersive computing (XR/MR/VR/AR) and media.

The decentralized web and dApps. For example I also publish this site as a peer-to-peer website on dat://. Dat, built by Code for Science & Society, is a protocol to serve files and works on a distributed network unlike most centralized cloud services. This means Dat transfers files peer-to-peer, skipping centralized servers.

Peer-to-peer websites are just like any other websites, except instead of files being transported by HTTP, they are transported with a peer-to-peer protocol. The website files aren’t hosted on a centralized server, they can be hosted from any computer., even your own.

You can view this site using Beaker Browser, a peer-to-peer web browser developed by Tara Vancil and Paul Frazee, via Dat at dat://dev.in., or dat://26e495b9283e95df506b5cf2c5ba1020e9f2e782bc85c7ac52deecadfcf2bb68 if you’re into that sort of thing.

Rethinking Operating Systems.

For the past 4.75 years I've been working, as a Senior Interaction Designer,Senior Interaction Designer Senior Design Strategist, at Google.

Before that I worked as a PM, a UX Lead, and a Design & Digital Strategy Consultant.

I've been lucky enough to work with some inspiring humans (_you know who you are_) on a whole heap of amazing projects.

Design Strategy, Platforms & Ecosystems

I currently work as a Senior Design Strategist for Google's Platforms & Ecosystems group. My team is focused on ambitious new opportunities that could ship in the next 2-3 years and bring cohesion, innovation, and long-term strategy to products that serve over 2 billion active users across the world. We work with various teams across Google including: Android Auto, Android TV, Android Phones, Android Tablets, Pixel, Wear+Fit, Google Education, Chrome, ChromeOS, Play, and Photos.

YouTube VR/AR

I worked as a Senior Interation Designer and UX Lead for YouTube's VR/AR/MR/XR/?R team.

YouTubeVR is one of the most popular VR apps globally across all major VR platforms. My role as UX Lead involved a mix of both tactical design work on our products, future-focused media strategies and exploratory research projects. Lately I've been focusing on a of areas that fascinate me.

Such as designing feature enhancements for our YouTubeVR app, and ensuring UX consistency as we migrated the app across the various mainstream VR headsets. It's available on Daydream View, Gear VR, Lenovo Mirage, Oculus Rift, HTC Vive and Oculus Go and Quest.

Or leading projects that seek to improve how immersive media formats (360° & VR180) are integrated into YouTube's iOS and Android mobile platforms.

Most recently I've have been exploring the emergence of virtual-human creators on the YouTube platform, or VTubers as they are often referred to. In 2019 I conducted interviews across Japan, the UK and the US, meeting with some of the top VTubers in the world to better understand what they required from our video platform.

Android Oreo & Pie

I was fortunate enough to be able to contribute to Android for both the Oreo and Pie releases. I led product design projects for the Android Launcher for AOSP (_Android Operating System Platform_) and also contributed to design strategy projects. focused on shaping the future of Android.

 [Pixel Image]

Pixel 2

I worked on Pixel, the Google phone, during 2016-2017. As the Interaction Designer for the Pixel Launcher I led the product design of two core features of the Pixel 2., _At-A-Glance widget_ and _Pixel Launcher search integration_.

 [Pixel Image] [Pixel Image]

AdWords Next

In 2015 I worked on the AdWords platform., a complex tool through which much of Google's multi billion dollar advertising revenue is generated., and easily one of the most challenging products at Google to design for.

Every design decision and concept is painstakingly reviewed. and questioned., often multiple times by senior stakeholders from across the company. Discipline and a willingness to commit to developing a deep level of product knowledge are essential to ensuring design has the opportunity to shine.

During my time in AdWords UX, I focused on data visualization and intelligent reporting., helping advertisers make better sense of their data., and leveraging machine intelligence to assist them in making smarter decisions about how they are using AdWords.

question: What does the text say about the author's current profession?

answer: The author is a Senior Design Strategist for Google's Platforms & Ecosystems group. The author's team is focused on ambitious new opportunities that could ship in the next 2-3 years and bring cohesion, innovation, and long-term strategy to products that serve over 2 billion active users across the world. The author's team works with various teams across Google, including: Android Auto, Android TV, Android Phones, Android Tablets, Pixel, Wear+Fit, Google Education, Chrome, ChromeOS, Play, and Photos.

critique: The answer should mention the author's specific role.

critique: The answer should mention the author's previous jobs.

critique: The author's team is focused on the Platforms & Ecosystems group, not Google's Platforms & Ecosystems group.

critique: The author's team is not discussed in the passage. The answer should be rewritten.

critique: "The author is a Senior" - highlight how the team has 3-4 Senior Design Strategists for accuracy.

critique: The author's work on Android Oreo and Pie is omitted.

question: What does the text say about Dat?

answer: Dat is a protocol to serve files and works on a distributed network. It transfers files peer-to-peer, skipping centralized servers. Peer-to-peer websites are just like any other websites, except instead of files being transported by HTTP, they are transported with a peer-to-peer protocol. The website files aren't hosted on a centralized server, they can be hosted from any computer, even your own.

critique: The answer should mention that the protocol was built by Code for Science & Society.

critique: The answer should mention that Dat is built by Code for Science & Society.

question: What does the text say about VTubers?

answer: VTubers are virtual YouTubers. In 2019, the narrator interviewed top VTubers across Japan, the UK, and the US to understand what they require from the video platform. VTubers tend to be young and live in Japan, the UK, or the US.

critique: The answer should mention that VTubers are virtual creators.

critique: The VTubers are virtual human creators, not virtual YouTubers.

critique: "VTubers" is not a term used in the text. The answer should be rewritten.

critique: The 2nd sentence is inaccurate because it's said nothing of the sort. It also skips the part where Mancuso says "VTubers".

critique: The text does not mention that VTubers tend to be young and live in Japan, the UK, or the US.

critique: The answer is not related to the question.

question: What does the text say about the author's life outside work?

answer: No answer

critique: It can be inferred that the author works a lot, so not having free time makes sense.

critique: The article does mention that Devin lives in San Francisco.

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

critique: The response misses to mention that the author is an Aussie living in San Francisco.