text:
_'Edmund (or EDMOND) Meyrick_' (or MEYRICKE) (1636 – 24 April 1713) was a Welsh cleric and benefactor of Jesus College, Oxford, where scholarships are still awarded in his name. He is a member of the Meyrick family.

Life

Meyrick was born at Garthlwyd, Llandderfel (near Bala, Merionethshire) and christened in Llandderfel on 11 June 1636. He attended four schools, including one year at Ruthin School, before matriculating at Jesus College, Oxford in 1656. He was elected to a scholarship in 1658 and obtained his BA degree in 1659.[1] He was ordained both deacon and priest by Robert Skinner, Bishop of Oxford, on 30 August 1660 in the chapel of New College, Oxford.[2] In 1662, he was elected to a probationary Fellowship of the college, but married in 1663 and became ineligible for a full fellowship. He became vicar of Eynsham on 10 August 1663.[3] He was chaplain to Richard, Earl of Carbery — the Meyricks and the Carberys being related – and this connection led to Meyrick's appointment to a number of lucrative positions in West Wales.[4] Meyrick became vicar of Llangathen in 1665, vicar of Llanegwad and a Canon of St David's Cathedral in 1667, rector of Burton, Pembrokeshire in 1670, treasurer of St David's in 1690 and rector of Penboyr in 1713. He was also a canon of Christ College, Brecon and vicar of Carmarthen; he held many of these positions at the same time. He died in Carmarthen, where he was then living, on 24 April 1713, and was buried in St Peter's Church; a memorial to him was placed on the north wall of the chancel.[5]

Bequests

Meyrick's wife and only child had predeceased him, enabling a more generous disposition of his assets.[6] He had extensive property interests, in both North and South Wales. The family seat was in Ucheldre, Gwyddelwern, Merionethshire and Meyrick also owned several houses in Carmarthen.[7] In 1708, he set up a charity school in Carmarthen but for some reason directed in his will that the school and master should be moved to Bala, where it became the Bala Grammar School.[8] The will provided for an annual payment of £15 to the schoolmaster together with the use of the schoolhouse, and £15 per year for clothing for the students.[9]

His will, dated 25 March 1712, said: He left family property in Denbighshire and Merionethshire, as well as his Carmarthen property after expiration of some life interests, to the college to provide six scholarships of £10 and six exhibitions of £8. The scholarships and exhibitions were to be awarded to Jesus College students from North Wales, until they obtained their Master of Arts degree or were receiving more than £40 per year from a parish appointment. Any surplus was to be used to buy advowsons so that the College might present one of the scholars (or in default of a suitable scholar, a Meyrick exhibitioner or a North Wales fellow of the College) to a parish position.[10] Whilst the estate produced a surplus, only one living was purchased by the trustees, that of the rectory of Llandow in 1735. Further increases in the surplus led to an increase in payments to Bala School and to the scholars and exhibitioners, and to the purchase of other property in Cheltenham and Carmarthen.[11][12] This proved to be a profitable investment since, by 1840, the college had received more than £10,000 through the sale of trust land near Cheltenham for railway purposes. Payments to Bala School ended in 1862, when the annual payments were commuted for a lump-sum payment of £5,333.[13]

Meyrick scholarships and exhibitions are still awarded to students at Jesus College, based on academic merit. Students performing consistently at a first-class standard during the year in the opinion of their tutors may be awarded a Meyrick scholarship, with consistent performance at upper second to first-class standard potentially leading to the award of a Meyrick exhibition.[14] The restriction in Meyrick's bequest that the scholarships were for students from North Wales only was relaxed in 1857 to cover students from all of Wales and Monmouthshire.[15][16] The restrictions have been further relaxed and students who were not born in Wales are also now eligible for a Meyrick scholarship or exhibition if they are the child of a native of Wales, are able to speak Welsh or they were educated for the last three years of secondary school in Wales.[17]

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[13] Baker, p. 62

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[16] Hardy, p. 197

[17]

title: Edmund Meyrick

question: Describe Meyrick's relationship to Wales.

answer: He appears to have had strong ties to Wales. He attended schools there, was a clergyman there, and owned a house there.

critique: He is buried in Wales, which may be more indicative of the strength of the relationship to Wales.

critique: It is omitted that he was also a member of the Meyrick family.

critique: "He appears to have had strong ties to Wales" is not a very specific answer to the question. It would be better to rewrite the answer completely.

critique: Meyrick had extensive property interests in North and South Wales.

critique: He also held several positions in West Wales.

critique: The response misses to mention that he was also a benefactor of Jesus College, Oxford, where scholarships are still awarded in his name.

critique: It would help if it is stated that Meyrick was a clergyman based in West Wales.

critique: It should be pointed out that his most lucrative connections were in West Wales, not all of Wales

critique: Meyrick also received many lucrative positions in West Wales.

critique: He also seems to have had an extensive property portfolio in Wales.

critique: This is an accurate fact, but it does not show the extent of Meyrick's relationship to Wales.

critique: Meyrick was a clergyman in Wales, but the answer should mention that he was also a benefactor of Jesus College, Oxford.

critique: The response misses to mention that Meyrick was a Welsh cleric and benefactor of Jesus College, Oxford, where scholarships are still awarded in his name.

text: The answer should mention that as a benefactor of Jesus College Oxford, scholarships awarded in his name were specifically for Welsh students.

refinement: He appears to have had strong ties to Wales. He attended schools there, was a clergyman there, and owned a house there.

question: When did Meyrick live?

answer: 1636 to 1713

critique: The answer could be phrased as a complete sentence.

critique: The answer should give the dates in a proper format.

critique: He died in 1713, but this doesn't mean that he was born in 1636.

critique: The answer should be written in a full sentence.

critique: Include the month and year of Meyrick's death in the answer.

critique: It is omitted that he was born in 1636 and died in 1713.


split: train

text:
HAENG UNG (“H.U.”) LEE (July 20, 1936 – October 5, 2000) was the co-founder and first Grand Master of the American Taekwondo Association.

Career

H.U. Lee was born in Manchuria, China in 1936. After World War II, his family relocated to South Korea, where Lee began his martial arts training in 1953, and earned his first degree black belt in 1954.[1] In 1956, Lee entered the Korean army as a trainer for special troops. He spent this time as part of an intelligence unit on Baengnyoung Island.[2] After three years, he retired and opened a taekwondo school at Osan Air Force Base. There, he met Richard Reed, who would later be the sponsor to his emigration to the United States in 1962.[3] Lee moved to Omaha, Nebraska, where in 1969 he co-founded the American Taekwondo Association.[4] Omaha remained the organization's headquarters until Lee relocated it to Little Rock, Arkansas in 1977. H.U. Lee developed the discipline of Songham Taekwondo in 1983.[5] And in 1990, the ATA Master's Council awarded Lee the rank of 9th degree black belt and the title of “Grand Master.”

Awards

Haeng Ung Lee was an active participant in charity work, and the ATA provided funding towards numerous organizations such as the Muscular Dystrophy Association, the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure, Arkansas Children's Hospital, and Arkansas Special Olympics. In 1991, he established the H.U. Lee Scholarship Foundation to provide funding towards active college students.[6] H.U. Lee has additionally received several awards for his works and contributions, including, but not limited to, Key of the City Awards from Omaha, Nebraska; Corpus Christi, Texas; Little Rock, Arkansas; Evansville, Indiana; Tallahassee, Florida; and Panama City, Florida. He also received the Kaleidoscope Award in 1994 and the Crystal Award in 1996 from the Little Rock Convention and Visitor's Bureau. [7] Lee has also been inducted into the Arkansas Sports Hall of Fame.

Death

On October 5, 2000, Lee died of cancer.[8] He was buried in Forest Hills Memorial Park in Alexander, Arkansas.[9] About 3,000 people attended his funeral in Little Rock, Arkansas, and President Bill Clinton sent his condolences to Little Rock Mayor Jim Dailey.[10] Lee's brother Soon Ho was later promoted to 9th degree Grand Master. H.U. Lee's widow, Sun C. Lee, received her late husband's shares in the company and became the new chairman of the board of the ATA. H.U. Lee was posthumously promoted to 10th degree black belt, and awarded the title “Eternal Grand Master”. He is the first ever to attain this rank in the ATA. In 2007, some of Lee's heirs decided to give a tribute back to Lee's home in the United States, and arranged to have a traditional Korean gate built in Korea and shipped to Little Rock. This costed about $1.4 million, and the gate itself weighs about 8 tons.[11] This gate stands at the end of the Main Street Bridge in the heart of Little Rock, Arkansas, representing a symbol of both friendship and between South Korea and the United States, and as a tribute to martial arts. [12]

[1]

[2]  Specialty Colombian Coffee News|url=https://megustacoffee.com/specialty-coffee-online/taekwondo-pioneers-haeng-ung-lee/%7Caccess-date=2020-11-11%7Cwebsite=Me Gusta Colombian Coffee|language=en-US}}

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7] |url=https://www.huleefoundation.org/eternal-grand-master-haeng-ung-lee/%7Caccess-date=2020-10-14%7Clanguage=en-US}}

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

title: Haeng Ung Lee

question: Describe some the of the awards that Haeng Ung Lee received.

answer: Haeng Ung Lee received the Kaleidoscope Award and the Crystal Award.

critique: The answer should mention the Key of the City Awards.

critique: Lee also received Key of the City Awards from Omaha, Nebraska; Corpus Christi, Texas; Little Rock, Arkansas; Evansville, Indiana; Tallahassee, Florida; and Panama City, Florida. Add this information to the response.

critique: It is omitted that Lee also received the Key of the City Award from Omaha, Nebraska; Corpus Christi, Texas; Little Rock, Arkansas; Evansville, Indiana; Tallahassee, Florida; and Panama City, Florida.

critique: Lee also received the Key of the City Awards from Omaha, Nebraska; Corpus Christi, Texas; Little Rock, Arkansas; Evansville, Indiana; Tallahassee, Florida; and Panama City, Florida. He also received the Kaleidoscope Award and the Crystal Award.

question: How did Lee's brother, Soon Ho, memorialize him and his work?

answer: He was promoted to 9th degree Grand Master and was made chairman of the board of the ATA.

critique: The answer should mention that Soon Ho was also posthumously promoted to 10th degree black belt.

critique: The answer should mention that Soon Ho was the new chairman of the board of the ATA.

critique: It is omitted that Lee's brother was made chairman of the board of the ATA.

critique: Add that Soon Ho took Lee's shares of the company.

critique: This response is not relevant to the question.

critique: The answer should mention that Soon Ho received the shares in the company.

text: Soon Ho was not made chairman of the board of the ATA,  Sun C. Lee was.

category: accuracy

question: State some interesting facts about Haeng Ung Lee.

answer: Haeng Ung Lee was born in Manchuria, China in 1936. After World War II, his family relocated to South Korea, where Lee began his martial arts training in 1953, and earned his first degree black belt in 1954.

critique: The answer should mention his emigration to the US.


text:
The sub-zero wind slices through my jeans and gnaws at my aching fingers. My jacket isn’t lined for warmth, but it breaks the wind—a bit. I pass the grocery bag that I am carrying from one hand to the other, and can feel it tearing from its weight. I quickly shove my freezing left hand into my pocket to thaw out…until the threat of frost bite on my right hand inevitably forces it out again to take its miserable turn.

The bag is full of cans: creamed corn, beef broth, water chestnuts, Alphaghetti, a jar of pickles, and some tomato soup. “We’re running low,” the woman behind the desk grimaced apologetically when she passed the bag to me over the counter.  There was a jar of hot sauce in there too, but I tossed it out. What do I need hot sauce for? Will it warm my hands? What I need is a can opener.

I know He has a can opener, but I can’t go back there. I am never going back there.

It is a damn cold day in Civil City. Traffic is creeping along the snowy streets, but the salted sidewalks are virtually empty—with the exception of the odd Destitute lingering in a doorway that doesn’t belong to them. If you want to be warm in Civil City this time of year, you’ve got to get inside somewhere…but if you’re going to be inside some place, you’d better have a legitimate, productive purpose in that vicinity. The Regime does not look too kindly upon those of us who aren’t wearing a Work Badge.

There are public places that you can warm up in, but not everyone here counts as the “public.” Only Good Citizens are members of the public. Unless you’re a child, you need to be paying taxes to the Regime if you want to count. Only trouble is, for us Destitute, to pay taxes you need to have an income.

I’m on my way to go sit inside the Regime’s public hall. When it’s cold like this outside, the guards will usually let you get away with sitting inside, non-productively, for almost an hour—but you’ve got to be reading something.

Trouble is, when you’ve just sat down after aimlessly walking around Civil City for the past four and a half hours, it’s hard not to nod off. That’s when they get you, you know—when you stop walking, or when you fall asleep. It’s against the law to stand still in Civil City—they call it a Loitering Offence—unless you’re wearing a Work Badge. It’s against the law to fall asleep in public too. That isn’t being productive. You must be productive here.

The speakers outside of the Regime’s public hall interminably blast classical music. The Officers of the Regime believe that classical music epitomizes culture, and that the Destitute don’t like culture. Maybe I’m being presumptuous; perhaps they just don’t want us falling asleep on their doorstep. Regardless, I can assure you that it is not the soundtrack but the team of security guards behind the building’s glass exterior walls that keeps most of us Destitute folk at bay.

As I push the heavy door with my shoulder, I am overcome with relief—I am going to be warm. My relief is tempered by anxiety as I walk past Guard 1. She doesn’t move—but she follows me with her eyes. She can see that I do not wear a Work Badge. The Destitute are constantly under surveillance. In school they taught us to “Be wary the weakest link in the chain.” Civil City is very wary.

I collapse onto a bench at the back of the building, tucked behind a false wall so that no one has to see me, I mean, to look at me. No one here sees me.

A Good Citizen walks around the wall, and spots me. She pulls her child by the hand closer to her hip as they pass me. We make brief eye contact. “I don’t have any coins,” the child sadly whispers to me. Her mother glares, first at me, then at her child, then back at me. “Get a job,” she mutters. They keep walking.

To get a job in Civil City you need an official Residential Shelter Address. Of course, with no job, one cannot pay for shelter. Generously, the Regime offers Productivity Funding to help the Destitute secure shelter and employment. To receive a Productivity Funding shelter grant, you need only to provide proof that you have (1) entered a contract with a Good Citizen who is willing to rent a shelter unit to you and (2) have paid the last month’s rent deposit of no less than 350 soulbits. Of course, the Regime does not provide cash advances. Further, in Civil City, it is against the law to ask anyone for money. That is not how the market works. This is called a Pan-Handling Offence.

Without at least 350 soulbits, you are not getting anywhere in Civil City. That’s why I used to stay with Him.

Guard 1 is coming around the wall, “Miss, you cannot pan-handle here.” Confused, I explain, “I am not p-p-pan-handling, I’m j-j-just reading.” I am not scared of her; the stuttering is a side effect of my medication. Guard 1 rolls her eyes, and widens her stance. “That’s not what the lady with the kid reported,” the Guard stares at me, lips pursed, visibly irritated. This is not a fight that a Destitute can win. I stand up, and grab my bag. The cans finally tear through the bottom of the bag, falling onto the floor. The glass pickle jar smashes. Flustered, I spit out a frantic apology, and run out the exit. I leave the food behind.

An hour later, He opens the door for me.

title: [RF] A Destitute Regime

question: What is the position of the Destitute in this society?

answer: They are objects of suspicion or pity.

critique: The Destitute are not objects of suspicion or pity. They are objects of suspicion.

critique: The answer should mention the lack of rights.

critique: The Destitute are not objects of suspicion or pity. They are objects of surveillance.

critique: The answer should be more specific about what the Destitute are.

critique: "They are objects of suspicion or pity." - this is incorrect. The Destitute are considered suspicious because they are not productive members of society.

critique: "They are objects of suspicion or pity." -- they're not considered as important or worthy members. Needs to explain further based from the details written.

question: What is the genre of the story?

answer: It is an informational story.

critique: The story is not an informational story.

critique: This is the first investigative question item.

question: What social issue does this story comment on?

answer: Homelessness and alienation.

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

critique: The story is not about homelessness. The answer should say that the story is about poverty.

critique: The story is not really about homelessness and alienation, but rather about the social hierarchy in Civil City.

critique: The answer is too vague and does not really describe the social issue.

critique: The story does not entail homelessness. Definitely, not.

critique: The answer should mention the lack of money.

text: The answer should be more detailed. The story is a dystopian tale about how people deemed "non-productive" are alienated without recourse or any reasonable way to earn a place in civil society. They aren't even allowed shelter or food.

category: coherence

refinement: Homelessness and alienation.


text:
                                                Prologue
The world of Nexus was once a beautiful place; It was once full of Life. Where when it was day the moon shined brightly, Then night fell and the sun would brightly introduce itself. The grass was a nice and lush green, the sky was a bright blue color with pink fluffy clouds almost like cotton candy. In the sky where the birds who changed color to their surroundings to hide from prey. Trees were purple with different shades of yellow leaves. The flowers where bright colors and big, the honey bees who collected where even bigger. People and Animals alike where all nice and friendly to each other.

Then the Dark King and his seven warriors came from the shadows. Not only destroying the land but breaking into the castle over whelming the guards, killing the king and the queen but throwing the princess in the ocean to drown and die. Now the world of Nexus was vast waste land, the sun and the moon now in the same sky always together never apart, so there is no night and day. The grass is dead, the once beautiful Sky is now full of smog and dust with no cotton candy clouds. The color changing bird have become scavengers killing anything and anyone for food. The trees are dull and dead, the once lovely yellow leaves are falling off and disintegrating. What was once vibrant flowers are now small and not noticeable. The honeybee's are now zombies wanting to kill you. The people and Animals now fight and murder over the petty things that were once never important or to just fight and murder. Nexus, once known as the world that fixed problems was now the world which was a desolate desert where all hope is gone.

The hope was gone until now. The sun and the moon where home to the goddess of the sun and god of the moon. They were not allowed to interferer with the world they created but now it was far to worse. So they decided to help, without helping, The two combined their powers to create a warrior that will kill the king and save the land and bring it back to the lively place it once was. They sent the light down to Nexus hoping the warrior would be everything there land would need.

But, the goddess of the sun and the god of the moon, there powers where to different and the light split into two, going away from each other and landing in two different parts of the land of Nexus. Not only having one but now two warriors.

                                                   Chapter One
                                                  Raelynn's p.o.v.
I woke up a throbbing feel to my head, “god damnit...” I muttered. I sat up slightly my whole body in pain like I had fell from a tree. I finally got a chance to look at my surroundings. I was sitting in dirt with patches of dead grass. The trees looked dead and like they would fall any minute. Bones covered the ground now if they were animals or humans I can't say for sure.

Finally I got the strength to stand up. Once the dizzy spell was over I looked at the sky, it was grey and you really couldn't see anything, “This place is gross...” I whispered. I heard a roar and looked behind me as a lion ran towards me, no wait it was and octopus, no maybe a lion. No I am thinking it is both. Either way it was four times my size and it was coming to kill me.

“Branch!” I looked around frantically, “Raelynn needs a branch!” Finally my eyes caught a staff, I picked it up and stabbed the thing in the head with the sharp end. It screeched but went down. That’s when I finally got to take a good look at the staff I held. There was a glass bubble around the top, inside was a crystal that looked like a club from a suit of cards, and there was ribbon tied around the staff cascading down with mini crystals attached to the ends. I looked at the sharp end it also looked to be made of crystal and was the spade from the cards. But the staff itself was a dark black color. I started to walk my way through the dead trees I needed to find water my throat burned.

I kept walking for what seems like hours till I came across what looked like an over grown bush. I pushed it aside and finally found water, not that I would really trust anything around her but my throat was just going to die I was going to have to take what I could get and not complain. I took off my one fingerless glove and dipped my hands in and took a big gulp feeling the water tickle down my throat appreciating how cold it was.

Finally I got the chance to look at myself in the water, I was pretty pale, and I had short silver hair with black in it. I had blue eyes. My left cheek had a spade on it, my right a club. I looked down and took in my clothes. I was wearing a black and white Lolita type dress, with a Red ribbon around my waist and matching red combat boots. My left sock was white with black clubs and my right sock was black with white spades. With the pattern of my clothing it only comes to the conclusion that The staff I had found was mine to.

Just where did I come from?
Just who am I exactly?
What is the purpose I serve in this world?

“your new around here” A voice purred

I turned and looked at the voice it was a woman, she had long yellow hair

                               The end for now also thanks for reading :D

title: [FN] A short story my girlfriend is writing,What do you guy's think? feedback would be great

question: What is the primary conflict in the story?

answer: The princess is reported missing and the Dark King slaughters the king and queen. A hopeit is a remnant of the moon goddess and the sun god. They combine their powers to send a warrior to Nexus, but the warrior breaks into two and lands in different parts of the land.

critique: The highlighted text is irrelevant to the question.

critique: The response is missing the part where the two warriors are sent to Nexus.

critique: The response is missing the part about the two warriors.

critique: The answer is a summary of the story, not the primary conflict.

text:
-'The princess is reported missing...' This statement is inaccurate. The story doesn't mention that the princess was reported missing. This should be corrected.
-'A hopeit is a remnant of the moon goddess and the sun god' This doesn't make sense and should be rewritten.

category: other

category_text: Accuracy and coverage.

question: What does the story say about the solar and lunar cycles?

answer: The solar and lunar cycles are no more. The sun and the moon are now in the same sky, never apart. The sun and moon are the home of the goddess of the sun and god of the moon. The two combined their powers to create a warrior that will kill the king and save the land and bring it back to the lively place it once was. The light split into two, going away from each other and landing in two different parts of the land of Nexus.

critique: The answer is made up of a lot of information that is not relevant to the question.

critique: The passage only says the world has been ravaged

critique: The answer is irrelevant to the question.

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

critique: The response is a summary of the story and not an answer to the question.

critique: The response contains irrelevant information.

critique: The response contains a lot of irrelevant information.

text:
-'The solar and lunar cycles are no more.' The model made this up. It should be removed from the answer.
-'The light split into two, going away from each other and landing in two different parts of the land of Nexus.' This should be written more accurately.

category_text: Accuracy and coherence.


text:
His feverish yelling reverberated around me, bouncing mercilessly from dark surface to dark surface - A primal voice crying out again into the black accompanying his physical efforts.

My mind ached as my bloodied ears received the sound. This intolerable pain was increasing immeasurably by the floods of adrenaline that followed the icy jolt of anxiety ripping up through my spine. I cursed my claustrophobia; the room could not have been more than two meters wide, and just over that again in length. In addition to my tight bindings, the shuddering echoes of exhaustion and ragged laughter jumping out from all around me were like cold, violating hands pinching roughly at my clammy slack skin.

Most of my tension had left me now. Fatigue and a growing complacency with my situation had led me to be absurdly relaxed under the coming blows - or perhaps I had just started to feel numb with shock - perhaps my brain had just become too occupied with pain.

A sudden rush of air came from my right, gushing past my cheek. My head flew back and a muted yet moist 'thach' ricocheted off the walls. Strangely my head began to hurt before my face did. I started feeling a strong urge to vomit, as I used what always seemed to feel like the last few bare threads of my energy to pull my head forwards again. As I did, my eyes feel closed in sync, like a child's toy doll.

"I hope you feel that"

My eyes snapped open and my brain, which had been teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, was now utterly alert.

"I hope you fuckin' feel that"

It was the first time he'd spoken - I was so amazed and fearful that the moment might would be lost that I gurgled on my own blood in my excitement to try to engage him. Quickly I tried to clear my throat, but my swollen face and knotted muscles wouldn't comply, so I ended up gnashing and fizzing the blood against my teeth in my derangement.

Coagulated blood was forced through the small gaps in my teeth and spat from the slit I had left for a mouth; I heard loud heavy droplets hit the smooth floor in front of me as the blood mingled slobber crept down my chin.

Naturally when I first woke here and we started this, I cried and screamed and begged for a reason - or even a response - to the blow after blow. The questions burning in my mind as each skin on skin assault left a smoldering ember of hope in me that, maybe, I could feel even just a small crumb of humanity from my assailant. Some leverage.

I started choking - the thick blood in my throat started gushing into my lungs. In my haste I must have opened some internal wound. Every painful quake of my chest, as I desperately clambered for air, seemed to satisfy him.

"Fucking good."

I was seized with terror as I knew he was closing away again - I tried one last staggered attempt to speak with everything I had left. It tore from my larynx like it was wrapped in sandpaper;

"Why"

At this point I didn't even know if it was a question.

In the gloom I just made out his silhouette. He was standing at 90 degree angle facing away from me, I couldn't tell in what direction. My eyes were almost swollen shut so I could hardly ever decipher his proximity from me; his thickness was the most I could manage. In mid-breath, I felt an overwhelmingly powerful slam to my sternum - so powerful the chair was hurled backwards and I felt the metal legs beneath bend as my propelled weight hurled into them at such an angle. I thought they'd broken off as I tipped pathetically to the ground. Due to the confinement, my skull cracked loudly against the wall first, followed by the quiet slap of my body against the damp concrete of the floor.

The pressure in my head was then too much and was released as I convulsed to vomit, violently enough, as fortune had it, to force my solid jaw apart. Just as I started to pass out, I heard a satisfied grunt from the abyss.

---

**EDIT** : Anyone who's taken the time to read this, I'd really appreciate some feedback.

title: Begging Stockholm

question: What does the story say about why the narrator is scared and in pain?

answer: The narrator is scared and in pain because he is being beaten. His assailant beats him by smashing a baseball bat on his face, joints and ribs. At one point, the assailant breaks a chair and slams it on the narrator. In another instance, the assailant punches him in the chest, and this causes the narrator to choke. The assailant also hits the narrator in the face, which makes him choke on his own blood, and causes him to rip his mouth when his jaw is forced apart.

critique: The answer is a summary of the story, not an answer to the question.

critique: The assailant does not use a baseball bat.

critique: The narrator is not being beaten with a baseball bat.

critique: The narrator is not being beaten by a baseball bat.

critique: The assailant doesn't use a baseball bat.

critique: The assailant also hits the narrator in the face, which makes him choke on his own blood, and causes him to rip his mouth when his jaw is forced apart.

text:
-'At one point, the assailant breaks a chair and slams it on the narrator.' This is inaccurate. The story does not say the assailant breaks a chair on the narrator. This should be made accurate.

-The answer does not state that the assailant derives pleasure from seeing the narrator hurt, and the narrator has no idea why he is being beaten.

-'....and causes him to rip his mouth when his jaw is forced apart.' This should be rewritten because the story says the narrator's jaw was forced apart when he vomited.

category_text: All of the above.

question: What does the story say about why the narrator is beaten?

answer: The narrator probably knows why he is beaten because he easily recalls the times he was beaten and felt agony. Perhaps, the assailants don't know why they are beating the narrator, as that could possibly be the reason they go to so much trouble to keep the narrator in the dark regarding the motive behind his beating.

critique: The response includes multiple inaccurate and extraneous details that are not useful for the task.

critique: The response is incorrect. The narrator is beaten because the assailant wants to hurt him.

critique: The response is incoherent and doesn't answer the question.

critique: The answer is confusing and nonsensical.

critique: The answer is confusingly written. It should be clearer.

text: The answer should state that the story does not explicitly explain the reason behind why the narrator was beaten.

category: coverage


text:
[]

Slowly but surely a consensus is forming around some of Theresa May’s proposals for reform of corporate governance.

In executive remuneration this means a recognition of the need for simpler structures and an end to complex share schemes. In the matter of corporate relations with stakeholders, it means a concerted effort to beef up Section 172 of the Companies Act, which requires boards to take account of the interests of customers, suppliers and employees.

True, there is still some hard work ahead to put flesh on the bones of these ideas, but we are still much further behind with the third and critical priority of bringing unlisted companies more closely into the corporate governance net. At the IBE we believe this might be achieved by a review of what the government itself calls the “privilege” of limited liability.

READ MORE: Firms should embrace the PM's radical corporate governance reform proposals

Limited liability is a cornerstone of corporate finance because it protects shareholders from being responsible for a company’s debt. This enables them to invest with more confidence and thereby provide the capital that companies, small and large, need to grow and thrive. It would be quite wrong to drop the concept overnight, but it is surely sensible to ask the question of whether it is an inalienable right or instead a privilege that might in extreme circumstances be revoked.

The idea is relevant because it would apply equally to both listed and unlisted companies in a way that most of the current corporate governance framework does not. Getting to grips with privately held companies is important because, as the case of BHS reminds us, some of them are large with considerable social impact.Conversely many of our largest listed companies are not really “British” at all, but in practice multinationals which happen to be listed here even though they have relatively small impact on our society.

The loss of limited liability would be a dramatic prospect for any company since it would mess up its finances completely. Shareholders would rush for the exit and creditors would demand prompt repayment. So giving the government power to remove it is like giving it a nuclear weapon. The idea, however, is not that the government would use this weapon often or even at all. It is more that its mere existence would act as a deterrent to egregious behaviour just as was the case in the nuclear sphere during the Cold War.

READ MORE: Beware the unintended consequences of May’s flawed executive pay proposals

What we need in the first instance is a government-led conversation with the business community and other stakeholders about whether, and if so in what circumstances, limited liability should be withdrawn. Wilful flouting of the Companies Act might be a justification, but there would also need to be a remedy that companies could take to avoid such draconian punishment. Complete replacement of the board might be the answer.

For most companies which act within the law and behave responsibly, in particular smaller companies, life would not change much at all. Those hell-bent on cheating might recognise the danger and behave differently. It is worth remembering that the threatened loss of limited liability would produce repercussions in the credit markets which would serve as a stark warning to those normally inclined not to worry about reputation or a blip in their share price. Similarly companies at risk from a flawed culture might be more inclined to get their act together.

None of this can be settled overnight or in the immediate aftermath of the current Green Paper. The consultation that ends this week is likely to produce some ideas that can be implemented quickly. Change to the way limited liability is perceived would certainly require very careful discussion to forge a real consensus. That will take effort, but a government which takes a long-term view of the health of the economy and the corporate sector should not give up and move on as soon as it has engineered a few useful headlines.

question: What does the text say is a primary factor that might lead to the withdrawal of limited liability from stakeholders and businesses?

answer: The loss of limited liability would be a dramatic prospect for any company since it would mess up their finances completely. Shareholders would rush for the exit and creditors would demand prompt repayment. So giving the government power to remove it is like giving it a nuclear weapon. The idea, however, is not that the government would use this weapon often or even at all. It is more that its mere existence would act as a deterrent to egregious behavior just as was the case in the nuclear sphere during the Cold War.

critique: The idea of loss of limited liability isn't the only factor that would lead to the withdrawal of limited liability.

critique: This is not the primary factor that might lead to the withdrawal of limited liability from stakeholders and businesses.

critique: The answer is a summary of the text, not a direct answer to the question.

critique: It is omitted that the loss of limited liability would be a dramatic prospect for any company since it would mess up their finances completely. Shareholders would rush for the exit and creditors would demand prompt repayment. So giving the government power to remove it is like giving it a nuclear weapon. The idea, however, is not that the government would use this weapon often or even at all. It is more that its mere existence would act as a deterrent to egregious behaviour just as was the case in the nuclear sphere during the Cold War.

text: The answer is a copy-paste from the text.

question: What does the text say about how the withdrawal of limited liability would affect businesses and shareholders?

answer: The withdrawal of limited liability would be a dramatic prospect for any company since it would mess up its finances completely. Shareholders would rush for the exit and creditors would demand prompt repayment. So giving the government power to remove it is like giving it a nuclear weapon. The idea, however, is not that the government would use this weapon often or even at all. It is more that its mere existence would act as a deterrent to egregious behavior just as was the case in the nuclear sphere during the Cold War.

critique: The answer should mention the effects of withdrawing limited liability.

critique: "The withdrawal of limited liability would be a dramatic prospect for any company since it would mess up its finances completely." - this line might still need some work.

critique: The government's use of the nuclear weapon is irrelevant.

critique: The answer should mention that the loss of limited liability would produce repercussions in the credit markets.

critique: The answer should mention the effects on smaller companies.

critique: The answer does not directly answer the question.

critique: The answer should mention that the withdrawal of limited liability would produce repercussions in the credit markets.

text: The answer is verbatim from the text.


text:
Hey guys, first story I'm posting on here - Let me know what you think!

________________
Written: 4:45pm

Occurred: 12:40pm

I hear the doorbell ring and realize I've changed. The way I watch myself bound down the stairs tells me I don't understand what I feel as well as I thought. Part of this realization isn't surprising - recently I've come to grasp that only in reflection do I truly find myself.

We greet and it's not awkward, but I don't remember who to be, so I put on as best a casual, semi-joking tone as I'm able.

I still don't understand your disposition fully, but it's changed. That trademark reservation still overcomes the newer, incompletely disguised cheer that implies some sort of excitement my presence now seems to elicit.

We walk up the stairs, and I lose track of what I'd first like to ask, so generic pleasantries come first as we sit on my couch. The weekend-long text conversation was enjoyable, but leaves me blank as to what I'm specifically interested in talking about. The persona I've engaged you with tragically disallows any sort of emotional connection; but we've only got a few minutes anyway. Can I manage to display a shift in mentality? No, I'm not even conscious of the mistake I've already made.

That facebook message was enough for you to disregard the fact that my walls won't come down today; your response of "words cannot express my gratitude for what you've written here". Are you even conscious of it?
You look through my photos and I continue pushing the flirtatious vibes as if I'd met you last week. My roommate asks if we're ready, and as we head down the stairs behind him you ask: "ladies first?"

I treat it as a joke, as if you're implying I should go first. Now I realize it's just a subconscious plea: where's the gentleman I'm starting to understand?

You get in the back seat and as I sit next to you, you don't make an effort to move over too far; we're sitting close. I ask about the new pinky ring with a studded cross, we joke and you ignore a direct answer. Socialization is now required as my roommate's driving in the front. Cordial discussion of Thanksgiving break ensues.

We get to your apartment and your roommates join us. The car's full and we hold hands as we drive off. A few minutes later, we're briefly outcast from the discussion going on in the front of the car. Quiet flirtation between us, subtle enough to be unknown to other passengers, makes me conscious of something - my raw, physical attraction to you. Something I guess I didn't really come to terms with. You're not letting me in at all now, expertly avoiding allowing me to even make a guess at what you're thinking. Aside from what can't be denied - that we're flirting. Everything else is a mystery. Oh, you're good at this.

I fight to avoid the blatant, physical display of arousal any man is anatomically capable of.

We walk to the restaurant and you mention that facebook post your father wrote. I make light of it, identifying the obvious humor on the surface - the type of response you knew was a possibility and probably expected. But there's more to what he said of course; when will I be sensitive enough to let you try to communicate that?

We order food and I wait alone near the counter behind the condiment stand after filling my drink. You walk by to do the same, but after a minute alone I wonder where everyone is. I look over to see you and your roommates sitting there while the other two guys are standing nearby, unconcerned about engaging in the girl-talk.

We get our meals and head outside. You shoot me a fairly casual glance as we walk out the door, not quite directly at me in the sense that it demands a reaction, but acknowledging something more than my mere existence.

Throughout lunch you're distant. Despite the required group conversation, one-on-one discussions are still possible but you never explicitly try to engage me. Only in reflection do I deem this my fault.
Jokes, parking meter, holding hands, better vibes than lunch. We walk down the street. We both act a little differently around each other, a bit more connected on a level we haven't yet talked about.

After ordering Irish coffees, I make a few jokes our friends find hilarious. Your roommates find me funny as always, and even you laugh a little. We discuss the pictures we both took over the weekend, and you're willing to engage. You're enjoying it, but there's a sense of obligation. If I didn't bring it up, would you have?
You're cautious, it seems. I've never been through a bad relationship; you've been recently hurt. How much of your reservation relates to this?

We talk about the holidays. After finishing my drink and you offering yours, I'm moreso in the joking mood than I usually let myself indulge in anymore - I know I can be a dick. I make a joke in bad taste about thanksgiving, stemming from the fact that your parents never thoroughly celebrated Christmas. A sensitive topic.

The car ride back we hold hands, but you're engaging your roommate to the left. I crack a few jokes to be part of the various conversations in the car, all in good taste this time. It seems like you've given up on who I am today: our physical contact rightly identifying your acceptance of my entirety, but a psychological distance coming from your subconscious disapproval of my state of mind.

As your roommates get out of the car and I whisper for you to come back and hang out with me, you good-heartedly let me know you need to study. This is genuine in every respect: you know who I can be when you get me alone, but have an academic discipline that goes unquestioned. We leave, but the bad taste in my mouth only subsides as I finish this reflection.

title: The personality and the identity

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

answer: The narrator is conflicted because he is attracted to a girl he knows, but she is standoffish. He is trying to impress her, but she is not giving him the time of day.

critique: The narrator is not conflicted because he is attracted to a girl he knows. He is conflicted because he is attracted to a girl he doesn't know.

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

answer: It seems the narrator is on a date with a girl. The narrator is trying to impress her and be funny. Eventually, the narrator and the girl go to her apartment and their roommates join them.

critique: The answer should mention that the narrator is not sure if the girl likes him.

critique: The story does not mention anything about the narrator's date being a girl.

question: What is the story trying to emphasize?

answer: The story is trying to emphasize how the narrator's personality and identity are not the same thing. It is clear from the story that the narrator is trying to impress the woman with jokes, but that is not his personality. His personality is his state of mind and his identity is who he is as a person.

critique: The story does not say that the narrator is trying to impress the woman with jokes.

critique: The answer is wrong. It is not trying to emphasize that.


text:
Al’s Timer.

I can’t say I ever looked forward to visiting Al. I know not wanting to go was bad. I feel guilty. I could have been doing better things. Actually, I lie. Even with nothing to do, I’d still not want to go. I’ve never voiced this. I don’t think I ever will, to be honest. It’s a little thing that one should just bring to one’s grave. I’ve often wondered whether Al, or the other residents for that matter, had little things they dreaded. No. Too strong of a word. Disliked. No one would know. Al is too old to guilt trip.

Now that’s an odd paradox. A perky phenomenon of living. Old and young are both associated with innocence. Or is it ignorance? Either way, there’s a period in one’s life where one is culpable of guilt and, by a transitory property of some stupid force of justice, one’s actions. At least, I suppose that’s the kind of stuff Al would have pondered. I’ll have you know, though, that a period as such doesn’t just click in or out of being. I’ve been told it’s more progressive. One, after all, doesn’t just suddenly become old.

I, in fact, do remember the visits to Al’s vividly. His ward is definitely one of the better ones. The ward houses no more then 15 patients at a time with a ratio of 1 nurse for every 5 patients. Al said the numbers reminded him of his school boy days. I’ll tell you, the one thing I remember most about mine is the school trips. School trips were always rigorously scheduled and always too short and too few. Bastards.

There was these awful grey concrete steps that lead to the hospital’s door. I nearly shat myself whenever a lonesome patient would attempt the climb after a brief trip to the forecourts. What if they pulled a muscle? I remember Al once insisting to make the climb single handedly - no support and no rail. I counted each and every second to rest my mind. He reached the door in 223 seconds flat.

When I’d visit, we’d sit and talk in the lounge. The blue chair by the window was for me and the red chair by the palm tree was for him. On Al’s other side was a little wooden table. I’d hold my tea cup and rest the saucer on my lap. Al would place his cup and saucer right on the edge of that table so he wouldn’t have to stretch. Al left his lap free for his timer. Al has this obsession. We’d only have 15 minutes to talk. No more and no less. Once the timer clicked, Al would ask me to leave. He never wanted me to say too long because he didn’t want to take me away from my work.

I don’t work. I spend most days pondering. I write occasionally. I told Al often. In response, he would thrice shake his head, grunt a “no” and tell me that I had better things to be doing with my time then to spend it with “these old bastards”. This became a ritual. I tried to visit him 2 to 3 times a week and always 4 when it was especially cold. I did this every week for 3 years straight until my visits progressively petered. It's not like something just clicked one day and I stopped going.

I felt like I was in school again, anyway, and I really dislike that.

title: I wrote a short story today. Would be great if you could pick it apart and let me know if you understand what's going on! The story is called "Al's Timer". Thanks!

question: Summarize the narrator's visits with Al.

answer: The narrator visits Al every week for three years. They sit and talk in the lounge. Al has an obsession with his timer. He only allows the narrator 15 minutes to talk.

critique: "They sit and talk in the lounge." - the narrator and Al sit in the lounge, not just the narrator.

critique: It's omitted that Al insists on climbing the stairs to the hospital's door.

critique: It's omitted that Al insists on climbing the stairs by himself.

critique: The narrator's visits to Al petered after three years.

critique: Al's obsession with the timer is omitted.

critique: The response should include that Al is an old man in a nursing home.

critique: It is omitted that Al insists the narrator to leave once the timer has clicked.

critique: The answer should mention Al's insistence on climbing the stairs.

question: What does the story say about where Al lives?

answer: The narrator visits Al in his ward, which seems to be one of the better ones. Al's ward houses no more than 15 patients at a time with a ratio of 1 nurse for every 5 patients, which reminds Al of his school boy days. The ward has awful grey concrete stairs that lead to the hospital's door. A lonesome patient would attempt the climb and injure themselves.

critique: This sentence doesn't seem to pertain to information about the hospital. It would just confuse the reader and clutter the answer. This entire sentence should be removed.

critique: "The ward has awful grey concrete stairs that lead to the hospital's door. A lonesome patient would attempt the climb and injure themselves." - this is incorrect. The narrator was the one who nearly shat himself. The patient who attempted the climb injured themselves.

critique: The staircase is not mentioned to be awful.

critique: The ward's features are irrelevant to the question.

critique: The narrator is the one who has the obsession with the timer.

critique: The narrator's visits to Al are irrelevant to the question.

question: What does the story say about legacy?

answer: No answer

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

critique: The response misses to answer the question.

question: Summarize Al's death.

answer: Al had an obsession with his timer. He would time his visits from his healthcare provider(presumably a nurse) and make sure it didn't go over 15 minutes, which every week would petter. That left the author feeling like they were in school again, which they didn't like. As the years went on, it appears to have increased each time the narrator went to Al. Al passed away. He had his timer with him when he died.

critique: The last sentence is not relevant to the question.

critique: The response contains a lot of irrelevant information.

critique: It is not said when Al's timer made him.


text:
"How did I get into this mess?" I think to myself, my hands covered in mud, the swamp beneath me swallowing my tiny frame up to my elbows. "I once sang for the Master of Stoneshearth, sure, it was a modest keep. No huge castle, just a thrown-stone tower and a small plot of farmland, but it was a hot meal and a warm bed at night." I ponder as I crawl through the salt marsh.

"Lo, our mistress of the night, guide our daggers with your sight" the misappropriated chants of several voices echo through the marsh grass. "We shall feed your hunger with flame and sword"

"Perhaps I should head back to Gladius now..." I think to myself. "No, I can hear him now 'you heard some chanting so you ran back to change your trousers.' No I must get a better view, I must at least find them, count them, some information for him. It's my only shot at redemption in the eyes of men." My mind drifts back to Stoneshearth, back to my tiny chamber at the base of the tower. "Occasionally I would have the company of a tower guard, nothing like feeling the strong arms of a bowman wrapped around me. He would return to his wife before the sun rose, but he left his seed behind." I reminisce sorrowfully, as I crawl through thick mud that smells like salt and old death. A land where even my partial night-sight couldn't pierce the black.

"Begin we now our holy harvest, launch the night-fire onto fresh kindling" the voices chant in unison

"I must be getting closer" I shudder to think about what is going on ahead, "poor, sorry sot being burned in some dark rite, but perhaps I'll find a bit of coin at the site, these cultists hardly care for material possessions anyway"

"Shyyyyahhhh!" I hear a voice call out and the grass and fog fell away. I was on my hands and knees on bone dry earth. My hands were still submersed like the earth was still mud, but it was dry and hard, I pulled with all the strength a half-man can muster, but to no avail. I hear the footsteps coming as I look up with eyes full of tears. I've faced death a few times before, but never like this. Never so exposed... Never with no hope for escape. "I don't fear spirits and spooks!" I lie, yelling at the figures approaching me draped in black robes, flecked with red-gold thread.

"Our mistress has granted us a pygmy thief, my sisters" a raspy female voice from under the robe spat. "You say you don't fear ghosts, how about me" she said as she threw her hood back revealing a scaly face more lizard than human, her eyes burned like fire and the smile across her fanged grin shown red with blood."

"Do your worst, you nasty snake" I say with the little courage I could muster, I felt the dirt turn soft and muddy again as hands wrapped around my arms and legs. They lift me up and bind me with leather. I've slipped a knot or two, a learned skill in a thief's arsenal, but these were too strong, too tight.

"Set the altar" I heard a dark, yet more human voice from one of the figures, I can see the sparkle of a black-fyre stone at her neck.

I watch them throw up a crude driftwood cross and stay silent as they tie my tiny body to it. "Is this all" I yell, "I'll work these knots loose, eventually"

I watch them join hands in a circle before me, they all seem to not hear, an unintelligible chant begins as the walk in a circle. They seem to be focusing the words to the center of the circle, where a glimmer of light catches my eye, the same color as the black-fyre stone at the witch's neck.

"Fuck, someone help me!" I scream aloud, though I know my party is too far away, "Gladius, Barnaby, Evelyn!" I scream their names in vain. I watch a glimmer turn into a flame and a flame take the form of a dragon. The witches fell to the ground as it took shape, fell into a trance-like sleep as payment for summoning this foul creature. It stands as tall as a bear on hind legs, it's whole body blazing purple-red flames. "By the gods..." I cry out.

The creature, steps out of the ring of bodies and moves gracefully toward the crossed driftwood I was tethered to. I can see detail as it gets closer, it is the living embodiment of black-flame, the heat of which singes my hairs as it looms over me. It's eyes are a deep ageless jet-black, I can feel my soul sink into them as I begin to accept my fate.

"Klop, klop, klop" I hear the hoof-fall of horses.

"Frem!" Shouts a voice both angelic and familiar from out of the pitch-black darkness.

title: Into The Deep- Frem Part Two [FN]

question: What does the story say about why the narrator is separated from her friends?

answer: The narrator is separated from her party in some swamps in the night. She is separated somewhere in the swamp. She runs ahead to count the number of cultists chanting, but soon realizes she has ventured too far.

critique: The answer should mention that the narrator's friends are at a distance.

critique: There is no mention of why the narrator rounds up the cultists.

critique: It is pretty unclear what "separated too far" means.

critique: She's not running ahead to count the number of chanting followers, but to find them, count them and report to Gladus.

critique: The narrator is not separated from her party in some swamps in the night. She is separated somewhere in the swamp. She runs ahead to count the number of cultists chanting, but soon realizes she has ventured too far.

critique: The response misses to mention that the narrator is on a mission to find information on the cultists.

critique: The answer does not mention the narrator's struggle to escape the cultists.

critique: "The narrator is separated from her party in some swamps in the night. She is separated somewhere" the narrator did not venture into the swamps. They were separated before.

critique: The narrator learns they are in the salt marsh not the swamp.

critique: The narrator is separated from her friends when she runs ahead to count the number of cultists chanting, but she was unsuccessful and was caught by the witches.

critique: There is no evidence to suggest that the narrator is separated from her party in some swamps in the night.

critique: The narrator is separated from her party in some swamps in the night. She is separated somewhere in the swamp. She runs ahead to count the number of cultists chanting, but soon realizes she has ventured too far.

question: Summarize the narrator's thoughts about the predicament she finds herself in.

answer: The narrator is glad her party found her, now that there's a foul-looking creature standing above her ready to consume her soul. She makes an initial move to try to work herself out of the shackles without any luck. The monster fires the blue fire from its eyes, the narrator feels her spirit plummet into a deep abyss in front of her eyes. The horses finally catch a glimpse of her, when a knock is heard.

critique: "worried" - change in to "ashamed", as the narrator is ashamed because she didn't heed her party's warning.

critique: The narrator is not glad her party found her.

critique: Do not use the plural in response to the question about the narrator's thoughts.

critique: The narrator's party is not glad to find her.

critique: There is no evidence that the narrator feels like her spirit is plummeting into a deep abyss.

critique: The narrator doesn't enjoy being called a thief, who appears to be a bald-faced liar.

critique: It's omitted that the narrator is lost in a swamp.

critique: The narrator's thoughts aren't necessarily clear.

critique: The narrator's party has not found her, she is shackled and at the mercy of the witch and her coven.

critique: The narrator doesn't have time to work herself free

critique: It is omitted that the narrator tries to work herself out of the shackles without any luck.


text:
The CIARÁN TOBIN EXTRADITION CASE concerns requests for the extradition of Irish businessman Francis Ciarán Tobin from Ireland to Hungary. Tobin is the subject of a European Arrest Warrant issued by the Hungarian authorities after he was found guilty of causing serious bodily harm by negligent driving when his car went out of control killing two Hungarian children in the village of Leányfalu near Budapest in April 2000. He was tried in his absence after he failed to return from Ireland for his trial.

After joining the European Union in 2004, Hungary issued a European Arrest Warrant for Tobin's forcible surrender to Hungary to serve his prison sentence. The Irish Supreme Court has refused to extradite Tobin on two separate occasions.

Twelve years after the case, Irish Prime Minister Enda Kenny expressed regret but confirmed that the case is officially closed.[1]

In January 2014 Tobin started to serve his time in prison.

Facts

Ciarán Tobin is an Irish citizen. In 2000 he was working as a senior manager of Irish Life and Permanent Hungary, having been seconded there. On 9 April 2000, he was driving towards Budapest through the village of Leányfalu. His speed was established as at least in a zone. According to Tobin, he was in the process of changing lanes when his car became unresponsive, failed to straighten out into the rightmost lane and mounted the pavement.[2] On mounting the pavement the car caused the immediate deaths of two children, 2-year-old Petra Zoltai who was sitting in a pram, and her brother 5-year-old Márton Zoltai.[3][4]

Trial and departure from Hungary

In the immediate aftermath of the accident, Mr. Tobin was placed under formal investigation by the Hungarian police and was taken to a police station to be interviewed. Mr. Tobin was not acquainted with any Hungarian lawyers but knew a young Hungarian woman Káta Soós whose father Tibor Soós was a lawyer. In the interviews which followed Ms. Soós was asked by the police to act as an interpreter in the absence of anyone else present who could speak both English and Hungarian.

Mr. Tobin was subsequently charged with negligent driving causing serious bodily harm and in accordance with Hungarian law chose not to attend court but was represented throughout the criminal proceedings by his lawyers. When Tobin was first interviewed by the police they had asked him to present his passport which they retained. In the autumn of 2000 he requested the return of his passport so that he could visit Ireland for a wedding and to see his family. This request was granted but he was not asked to return his passport on his return on 9 October 2000. On 30 October 2000 Tobin returned to Ireland permanently, his period of secondment to Irish Life Hungary having come to an end.

Tobin's trial took place in Hungary on 7 May 2002 in Mr. Tobin's absence albeit in the presence of lawyers acting on Tobin's behalf. Statements made by Tobin after his arrest were ruled to be inadmissible on the basis that they had been translated by his lawyer's daughter. His trial took place under section 187 of the Hungarian criminal code which provides that:

He was convicted and sentenced to three years in prison. On appeal his sentence was amended to allow for the possibility of parole after 18 months.

Tobin 1

Meanwhile, Hungary joined the European Union on 1 May 2004, and transposed the European Arrest Warrant framework decision into their national law. Hungary requested the surrender of Mr. Tobin by issuing a European Arrest Warrant. However, a judge of the Irish High Court, Mr. Justice Peart, refused the surrender on the basis that Tobin had not “fled” Hungary as required by the Irish legislation which implemented the framework decision, since he left Hungary with the consent of the Hungarian authorities.[5][6] This decision was later upheld by the Irish Supreme Court.[7] The Irish authorities also refused the Hungarian request to make Mr. Tobin serve his time in an Irish prison, an option within the EAW framework decision but never implemented in Ireland

Hungary, on the other hand, strongly disagreed with this interpretation of the EAW law and the word “flee”.[8] Hungary argued that anyone not returning to serve his or her sentence is fleeing from justice. Hungary kept the warrant in effect as the Irish decision has no bearing for other EU members. Hungary also explored other legal options, including turning to various EU fora, to enforce its court's decision.

Tobin 2

In 2009, Ireland amended its domestic EAW legislation to bring it into line with the EAW framework decision by removing the requirement that, in conviction cases, a person the subject of an EAW had “fled” the issuing country.[9] An amendment which came into force on 29 August 2009. On 17 September 2010, Hungary issued a new European Arrest Warrant seeking Tobin's arrest and surrender. Tobin was arrested on 10 November 2009 and his surrender was ordered on 11 February 2011 by Mr. Justice Peart, the same High Court judge who had previously refused the surrender.

However, Mr. Tobin was again successful in gaining the leave of the High Court to appeal its decision. Notwithstanding this Ciaran Tobin voluntarily entered custody in Ireland on 9 November 2011 on the basis that any time spent in prison in Ireland will be deducted from any time in prison that he might ultimately spend in Hungary.[10]

Mr. Tobin won the appeal against surrender on 19 June 2012 when the Supreme Court over-ruled the High Court on a three to two majority.[11]

In prison

On 14 January 2014 Mr. Tobin voluntarily returned to Hungary to begin his prison sentence in a Hungarian jail. As a part of an agreement with the Hungarian Minister of Justice, Mr. Tibor Navracsics,[12][13] on 17 January Mr. Tobin flew back to Ireland to serve the remainder of his time there.[14] On 5 February 2014 Mr Tobin sent a letter to the family of the deceased children in which he expressed his regret and apologized. According to the lawyer of the family, the father sees it as a kind of closing of the case.[15]

[1] Index.hu

[2] _Minister for Justice, Equality and Law Reform v Tobin_ [2012] IESC 37, Judgement of Hardiman J., unnumbered paragraph beginning, “The circumstances of the accident giving rise to these proceedings, ...”.

[3]

[4]

[5] Ireland's EAW Act 2003

[6] [http://www.courts.ie/80256F2B00356A6B/0/A51EA174E57B4194802573560039323C?Open&Highlight=0,Tobin,~language_en~ High Court Judgement]

[7] [http://www.courts.ie/80256F2B00356A6B/0/A8355D8C734A781C802573FC00527B22?Open&Highlight=0,Tobin,~language_en~ Supreme Court Judgement]

[8] Hungarian Minister of Justice Tibor Draskovics letter to the European Commission

[9] by section 6 of the _Criminal Justice (Miscellaneous Provisions) Act 2009_

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14] http://www.independent.ie/irish-news/ciaran-tobin-begins-hungarian-prison-sentence-after-killing-two-children-in-crash-29915243.html

[15] http://hetivalasz.hu/vilag/az-apa-ezzel-lezartnak-tekinti-az-ugyet-72916

title: Ciarán Tobin extradition case

question: What was Mr. Tobin charged with?

answer: Mr. Tobin was charged with negligent driving causing serious bodily harm.

critique: The answer should mention that he was also charged with causing the deaths of two children.

question: How did Mr. Tobin pay for his crimes?

answer: He was sentenced to three years in prison in Hungary, and then was extradited to Ireland to serve a year in prison there.

critique: The answer should mention that he was sentenced to three years in prison in Hungary, and then was extradited to Ireland to serve a year in prison there.

critique: The answer should mention that he served two years in prison in Ireland.

text: The result of his sentencing is unclear in the text.

question: How would Mr. Tobin's children learn from their father's mistakes?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should be "That information can't be found."


text:
MILTON D. RUBIN (1914–1996) was an American systems engineer and inventor, who was president of the Society for General Systems Research in 1968.[1]

Biography

In 1914 Milton Rubin was born in Boston and attended Boston Latin School. He received his formal education at Harvard University in communications engineering and applied mathematics, and graduated from Harvard College with a bachelor of science degree in electrical engineering.[2][3] His son, Mark Jonathon Rubin, was born in 1947. His daughter, Lise Diane Rubin, was born in 1950.

Over the next 50 years, he worked for numerous engineering firms, where he served as manager of system engineering and consulting scientist. His career further included research into materials and components, and specialized in radar. In the 1940s he worked at the Raytheon Co. where he headed the Equipment Division. In 1954 he became consulting scientist, the highest professional level one can attain in the company.[4] Later in the 1950s Rubin became Research Director at GA Philbrick Researches Inc. in Boston. From the 1960s until the 1980s he worked at the Mitre Corporation in Bedford, Massachusetts.

Rubin was organizationally active in the Society for General Systems Research. For years he has been Secretary Treasurer and has been the Editor of the “General Systems Newsletter, quarterly”, and in 1968 he was president of the Society for General Systems Research. In 1981 he received the IEEE-USA Award by the IEEE.[5]

Milton D. Rubin of Newton died Saturday July 6, 1996 at Clark House in Westwood. He was survived by his wife, Tillie Rubin, daughter, Lise Diane Rubin, grandson, Joel Benjamin, and granddaughter, Eva Weinstein.

Work

General Systems

One of the main lines of thought in General Systems according to Rubin in 1966 [6] is the transfer of system concepts from one field to another. There has been fruitful application of such theoretical concepts from engineering to other fields such as biology.

In his 1966 paper “General Systems and Systems Engineering” Rubin attempted “to apply concepts from biology to the practice of systems engineering. The relation of systems engineering to other fields is discussed, utilizing an intellectual framework based on the concepts of speciation and competition between species. The internal social structure of the profession and of individual organizations is considered, using the concept of competition within a species. Examples are drawn from biology to illustrate the points at issue”.[7]

Publications

Rubin has written and edited several books and articles. A selection:

-   1968, _Positive Feedback; a General Systems Approach to Positive/negative Feedback and Mutual Causality_. Edited with J. H. Milsum. Oxford : Pergamon Press.
-   1970, _Man in Systems_ (ed.) New York: Gordon and Breach Science.

Articles

-   1954. “Renal Functions in the Course of the Nephrotic Syndrome in Children” with Erika Bruck, Anatol Rapoport, and I. Mitchell. In: _J Clin Invest._ 1954 Apr; 33 (4 Suppl):699–723.
-   1965, “Society for General Systems Research” . in: _Science_ 19 February 1965: 926-927.
-   1966, “General Systems and Systems Engineering”, in: _IEEE Transactions on Systems Science and Cybernetics_, Vol 2, Iss 1, Aug. 66 Pages:3-7.
-   1966, “Free fro all”. With Clifford G. Bigelow. In: _Management Science_. Vol 13, Issue 2.

[1] General Systems Bulletin Vol XXXII, 2003, retrieved 25 April 2008.

[2] “Milton D. Rubin, 82 Was systems engineer, inventor.” In: The Boston Globe, July 8th, 1996.

[3] J. H. Milsum (1968), _Positive Feedback; a General Systems Approach to Positive/negative Feedback and Mutual Causality_. Oxford : Pergamon Press. P.165.

[4] ProQuest Information and Learning Company (1954). “Control engineering: : Covering Control, Instrumentation, and Automation”. LexisNexis (Firm, Gale Group, EBSCO Publishing (Firm, H.W. Wilson Company. Page 172.

[5] IEEE-USA Award, retrieved 25 April 2008.

[6] Milton D. Rubin (1966), “General Systems and Systems Engineering”, in: _IEEE Transactions on Systems Science and Cybernetics_, Vol 2, Iss 1, Aug. 66 Pages:3-7.

[7]

title: Milton Rubin

question: What can be considered Milton Rubin's main contribution to the engineering world?

answer: One of the many thinks Milton Rubin worked on is the transfer of system concepts from one field to another. His main thinking seemed to be in transferring abstract theoretical concepts to practice in the engineering field. His transfer was said to have been fruitful. He also worked on developing better materials for engineering needs, specifically in radar and radar components.

critique: The article does not reference anything about transfer tool for engineers.

text: It is omitted that he applied concepts from biology to the practice of systems engineering.


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.

text: The last two sentences are irrelevant, as they explain peer-to-peer websites rather than explaining Dat.

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.


text:
It’s midnight and there’s something in the air that tells me that there are better ways.

There’s nothing wrong with large doses of Xanax and weed toppled with large quantities of alcohol.

But there are better ways.

Find God.

Sure, find God and find better avenues to avoid life.

Incidentally, those avenues are much better: God, government, and things like gluten-free diets. That’s what you want to shoot for if you want to be safe about staying alive.

I discourage drugs like I discourage things like joining book clubs and having a good sound investment in a company that may pay out in droves because of how well they can clean your teeth.

My point to the young people is avoid the drugs. Avoid the cigarettes and coffee and ugly fillers of bacon and hamburger. Think of life like a pure root that needs to be forested with clean bills of health and natural solutions that don’t seem too presumptuous: you do not want to seem ugly in your showmanship.

Get some exercise. Lift some weight and show the masses you are the boss of your body. Get real with yourself.

Or just twist in the wind with some good old fashion book reading and avoiding humans personally.

Hell, get a cabin in the mountains and forget about people altogether.

Make sense of sentences that no longer make sense.

Tell your boss that he or she is the grandest illusion of parenting that you have come across and then quit.

Just don’t go into a stupor.

Plan ahead. Think of the children. If you don’t plan on having children, think of the ones you see on TV. Think about what they will think about when you’re cats to the wind on ugly pharmaceuticals that turn all your rational thought into rhymes from a deranged children’s book.

Think about farming. Think about buying a bike. Think about composting. Think about things that will probably make your horrible life a little more breathable.

Think about things that will make God say “Eh, maybe.”

Because you are not going to impress the heavens; in fact you will probably annoy them.

Get real. Get real with God. God enjoys good honesty and if you are all full of weed and liquor, you should let him know and why you are cursing him this way to Topeka.

Because God lives in Topeka and he barely stomachs chemical abuse problems.

It’s like murder, rape, and then people with drug habits. Those are things God really gets mad about. Also, double parking.

Be warned.

Surprisingly, he has a place in his heart for fat people that ride scooters down the frozen food aisle looking for top quality carbo hits. God is mysterious.

The bottom line is God forgives.

Bum deaths all concluding in cancer. Ugly keyboards all used up in tribal dictations of exact performance. Things that cannot be seen but only shown. Slow red dawns that come cascading through the bottom line. Like bullets shot through paragraphs. Oh, quickly, these aftermaths. Trip a wire three times and you come up with zilich. Bottom dwellers come up like cancer and sink suffocating cancer into tumor'd lungs. We had some times, and they were fun. Twiced diseased. Fool me once, call me a fool, fool me twice and body parts...all over the room.

Enter the Dragon: bargains. Bargains. Please exit left. The bargains all over the place. Cheese at half cost. Bread and sundry items at prices we cannot keep. The owner of the store has been up in the office with a shotgun just waiting for the last the last bargain that will force him to kill himself.

Enter the Dragon: God in pixels. Just this item of information that poses as God and gives forgiveness and he's all over the ads on your internets. He is a false god.

False gods continue to plague the masses and sell cheap broadband.

Lick around the corner. There's a coroner. Something dead and sick sticks its tongue out in non-verbal rebellion.

And God waits.

Waits like a blimp.

Meanwhile,

While we mean well.

Something troubled out on the outskirts.

Termed employees pull up skirts.

Following bombs and diplomacy.

God looks down

In dormancy.

title: [hm] What God Wants

question: What is the main message that this story is trying to send?

answer: The main message is to avoid drugs and find better avenues to avoid life.

critique: The answer should mention that the author is trying to encourage the reader to find God.

question: Is the narrator trying to use the belief of God to his own advantage for his rebellious behavior?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer is incorrect. The narrator is not trying to use the belief of God to his own advantage for his rebellious behavior.


text:
Mason’s brush arched and swirled with the careful elegance of a conductor, the foxtail bristles leaving swaths of scarlet across the snow white canvas. He was careful not to make a single mistake, as he only had so much material to paint with. He bit to lower left corner of his lip, his right eye half shut in concentration, as he pushed himself to perfection. He had been practicing for this moment his entire life.

He had familiarized himself with the tool he was using, practicing with it at great lengths. He had sacrificed some of his physical and mental well-being to obtain the flawless technique he would be using today. He felt that his entire life had led to this moment… and perhaps it had.

He had gone so many days without eating over his years of practice that he was not diverted by the smells wafting up through the wooden boards of his room in the Brass Wolf Inn. Even though tonight was the village’s Spring Festivus he was still working undistracted. The odors that were once mouth-watering and intoxicating no longer pulled him away from his work. The earthy scents with a biting pinch from the spiced mead, the subtle call of the peppercorn venison, the sweetly suffocating weight of a bulb of honey-buttered onion, and the familiar memory that accompanied the yeasty allure of freshly baked and airy loaves of bread… none of these held power over him anymore.

This was quite a lot to say for a penniless man on a holiday where the last meal of the night was free. Every copper, every bit every talent he owned, earned, or inherited went into the Painter’s Guild at Ivanhill. Though he had learned so much more after he was expelled and sentenced to a trial, having been taught by the natural flow of the forest when he fled the great city with nothing but a bedroll, a foxtail brush and linen canvas (both stolen), and the clothes on his back.

He had crafted his own paints in the countryside by stealing flour from mills and mixing it with both cold and boiled water and introducing colored clay into the mixture until it was the consistency he needed to paint with. In larger cities he would spend any collected alms on linseed oil and chalk, powdering the latter and mixing the two until he had oil paint to aid in his work and education. Both of these paints he would practice with by painting with his coattail or fingers upon rocks and trees, learning how to use a single color and the pressure upon the strokes of his instruments to create a half-dozen different shades.

The things he painted were elaborate and detailed, having only dense jungle and active wildlife as subjects. He learned to paint both quickly and slowly, to take an image and capture it in the flash before it was gone or to notice small details and slowly work them into the boulders and oak trunks he worked on. With all of his schooling and practical experience, with his hardships and determination, Mason had become a fantastic artist.

Now here he was at the end of the long road he had been traveling. His stolen canvas held aloft by the window, the brush matted in crimson. His hands did not shake, his brow did not sweat, and he breathed as he should rather than holding his breath with each stroke. He exuded confidence, it poured from his posture and movements and began to flood the room as if it were water. Soon it would leak into the floorboard and drip on those below and they would come up to his room to see what force they were beholding.

That was what they did.

Just as Mason had finished the last stroke, he stepped backwards and smiled at the canvas. His work was finished. After all he had gone through he was finally free of the images trapped in his head, he had finally had given life to them. The lines and curves breathed in their first breath of completion upon the canvas as the door to Mason’s room burst open.

Mason was seized by his shoulders and throw to the floor as three men entered the room. One man pinned him down as the others examined the painting with horror. They screamed in his ears – large and powerful fists came down upon his face and broke his nose. Paint poured from his nostrils as the fists continued to come down, smashing his teeth into his mouth and down his throat. Mason gulped for air and swallowed a molar in the chaos.

He was hoisted to his feet and thrown against the back wall, his head slamming into the wood. He stared in shock and horror as flint and steel were brought in. The metal shriek of the tools spat sparks upon the canvas until it began to blaze. Mason watched his life’s work turn to smoke and heat and flames. He was not even given the courtesy of watching it die as it was thrown out of the window and into the streets below where it smoldered into ash away from its creator’s eyes.

Mason screamed and thrashed and wept as they dragged him away. He begged for answers as to why they would treat him and his work so cruelly, for all he had painted was a field of flowers, butterflies, and a beautiful woman standing among them. His art was nearly clichéd, merely done in a more professional manner than most men could achieve.

He was told he knew why as he was taken to the jail to be tried and executed. He was clubbed over the head and his world went dark. The last vision he had of the room in which his masterpiece was created was his palette lying on the floor and a woman kneeling over it, crying, as men tried to console her or drag her away…

title: [OC] "The Painter" - a quick 1,000 words as a writing exercise.

question: What does the story say about Mason's family?

answer: No answer

critique: This is not true. The story mentions that Mason had a mother and father and that he was sentenced to death for killing them.

question: What does the story say about Mason?

answer: Mason is a penniless man who is an artist. He has been practicing for this moment his entire life. He has sacrificed some of his physical and mental well-being to obtain the flawless technique he would be using today. He has gone so many days without eating over his years of practice that he is not diverted by the smells wafting up through the wooden boards of his room in the Brass Wolf Inn. He has crafted his own paints in the countryside by stealing flour from mills and mixing it with both cold and boiled water and introducing colored clay into the mixture until it was the consistency he needed to paint with. He learned to paint both quickly and slowly, to take an image and capture it in the flash before it was gone or to notice small details and slowly work them into the boulders and oak trunks he worked on.

critique: The answer omits that Mason was sentenced to a trial and was executed.

critique: This is irrelevant to the question and should be omitted.

critique: Replace "'as an artist' with 'as an artist, painter, and creator.'"

critique: The answer should mention that Mason is arrested and sentenced to death.

question: What drove the people to beat, arrest, and execute Mason?

answer: He was a painter who was driven to create art. He was also a thief who stole the materials he needed to paint. He was arrested for stealing and sentenced to trial.

critique: The response should be as a complete sentence to be grammatically accurate.

question: Why was Mason upset at the men who beat and dragged him away?

answer: He was upset because they destroyed his painting.

critique: It is omitted that Mason was upset because they did not tell him why they destroyed his painting.

critique: being upset because of the damage is too general. I added "professes love of his craft" here to make the answer more specific.

critique: It's omitted that Mason was upset because they destroyed his painting without telling him why.

critique: "He was upset because they destroyed his painting." - Mason was upset because the men destroyed his masterpiece and not because they destroyed his painting.

critique: He was upset because they destroyed his painting without telling him why.

critique: The answer should mention that Mason was upset because he didn't know why they destroyed his painting.

critique: The answer should include the fact that Mason was upset because he didn't know why they destroyed his painting.