Do like cooking? what do you cook?

The following days are a jumble of gunfire, digging, gobbled food, soldiers running in and out of the forest in small groups, distant explosions, stray shells, bandaged heads and unexpected lulls. On the very first day, before dawn, I am ordered into one of the newly dug trenches. I huddle there, squeezing my magic buttons and singing songs to the dog. When the fighting stops, the dog disappears, but a new companion takes his place. A strange little soldier crawls along the trench toward me. ‘Private Sasha!’ he cries. ‘I’ve been looking for you all day long!’ He’s old, like a grandfather, a dedushka. He has a black patch over one eye, a tape measure around his neck and a row of pins threaded into his sleeve. Hanging from his belt is the most enormous pair of scissors I have ever seen and I wonder if he uses them as a weapon. He doesn’t tell me his name, so in my head he becomes Dedushka. Dedushka squats, cups his hand to his ear, peers over the top of the trench and smiles. ‘It’s safe to be upright . . . for now.’ He helps me to my feet, dusts me off and commands me to stand as tall and straight as I can. Then he measures me. Everything from head to toe – even my toes! He writes numbers in a little notebook, strings his tape measure back around his neck, salutes and hurries away. It’s all very strange, and I wonder if Dedushka has been bumped on the head during the battle and is now a little bit muddled. I should have given him a hug before he left. I chase after him but stop when I’m hit by a shovelful of flying dirt. Sleepy Bear is digging a cave! ‘Are you going to hibernate?’ I ask. Sleepy Bear chuckles. ‘No, although that would be wonderful! I could do with a lo-o-o-ong sleep.’ He sighs and closes his eyes. He doesn’t open them again and I realise that he has gone to sleep. Standing up! I shake his arm, and he opens his eyes and keeps talking. ‘No, I’m not hibernating. I’m digging a little nook where I can sleep and eat. I’ll hang up my raincape as a door that can open and close so it feels just like a real home . . . except for the lice . . . and the bad smells . . . and the bombs that make the walls shake and crumble.’ He points further along the trench to where other soldiers are digging. ‘We’re all making little houses in the ground.’ ‘Like rabbits and moles,’ I say. Sleepy Bear chuckles. ‘Yes! And soldiers who need to hide from German bullets and bombs.’ He stops digging to roll a cigarette. ‘Should I be making a house?’ I ask. ‘I want to hide from German bullets and bombs, too.’ Sleepy Bear flops to the ground, lights his cigarette, closes his eyes and takes a deep puff. I wait for him to answer, but, instead, he begins to snore! I poke him in the side. He snorts and he murmurs, ‘I think someone has already built you a house, Sasha. Keep going along this beautiful village street and you are sure to find it.’ He falls asleep once more. I kiss his dusty cheek and whisper, ‘Thank you, Sleepy Bear.’ A little way along, I see Cook in a cloud of smoke. He has lit a fire, right here in the middle of the trench, and is stirring a cauldron full of kasha. He squats as he stirs. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask. ‘Cooking supper, of course!’ he cries. ‘But why are you doing it here?’ Cook points his spoon at the ground above the trenches. ‘Because if I do it up there, my pot will be filled with holes from German bullets and all of the kasha will leak out onto the ground. It’s bad enough that our supplies can’t get through German lines and there’s nothing to cook but buckwheat for kasha. But if we lost the kasha, too . . .’ ‘Hungry soldiers,’ I say. Cook nods. ‘And grumpy!’ ‘Like Boris!’ I gasp. ‘Even worse,’ warns Cook. I picture the kasha pot full of bullet holes. And then I realise that if the kasha pot were full of holes, then Cook would be, too. I wrap my arms around Cook’s neck and say, ‘I think this is a very good place for cooking our supper.’ I kiss his smoky cheek and run along. At the end of the trench, I find the biggest hole of all. It’s wide and deep and as busy as a beehive in a blossom tree. Above, a group of soldiers is rolling logs into place for a roof, while below, typewriters rattle and pencils scratch and papers flutter and voices crackle out of five different radios. Their words tangle together to tell a strange wartime fairy tale about German guns and a loving father called Stalin and a Red Army regiment that is lost in the deep, dark forest and a wicked beast called Hitler and a delivery of vegetables that was hit by a bomb and blown into a million tiny pieces too small even to make soup. In the middle of it all, wrestling with a rumpled map, his rifle still slung over his shoulder, is Major Scruff. ‘Major Scruff!’ I run and jump into his arms. ‘Is this our new home?’ ‘Yes, Sasha. I suppose it is.’ ‘Is it safe from German bullets and bombs?’ I ask. He stares at me. ‘Were you scared in the trenches today, Sasha?’ ‘No,’ I reply. ‘I had magic buttons and a dog and some songs to sing. Were you scared in the forest, Major Scruff?’ ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Poor Major Scruff!’ I press my hand against his cheek. The dark, rough stubble is grubby with grit and his eyelids are taking a long time to open after every blink. ‘You need a shave and a nap!’ I scold. He chuckles. ‘I am too tired to shave and too busy to nap.’ I scrunch my nose while I consider his problem. ‘I know!’ I cry. ‘You nap and I will shave your whiskers. That will be two jobs tumbled into one!’ And so that’s what we do. Major Scruff slumps into a chair and snoozes while I lather his face with soapy water and shave his whiskers. The soap suds travel from his face, up into his hair and down the front of his uniform, and I have to shave his jaw and chin three times because I keep missing bits, but I finally get it all done. I am just wiping his cheeks dry when the dog appears. He licks my hand, then stretches up and licks soap suds from Major Scruff’s ear. Major Scruff wakes with a start. He feels his newly shaved face and cries, ‘Wonderful, Sasha! I feel smooth, clean, rested and ready for action.’ He ruffles my hair. ‘We must do this again tomorrow. Although next time, you might wake me with a gentle shake of the shoulder instead of licking my ear.’

What are you cooking, Mom? I am cooking Italian food! I hope you like pasta. Yes, I love to eat pasta! How much pasta do you want to eat? I want one bowl of pasta. Is this enough? No, please add more! Do you want some cheese with your pasta? Yes, I want some cheese. Is this enough? Yes, it's enough. Thank you! The food tastes very good, Mom. Yes, it is delicious. Please pass the salad. Here you are. Thank you!

La Isla de Pascua This 64-square mile island off Chile’s west coast goes by many names. Its English name is Easter Island, marking the day in 1722 when it was discovered by a European. In Spanish, it is called Isla de Pascua. The Rapa Nui, its first inhabitants, called it “The Navel of the World.” Experts do not agree on the history of Easter Island. It is unclear where the first people came from or when they arrived. Many people believe they came from neighboring Polynesia around AD 300. This culture built 900 enormous stone statues for which the island is famous. The statues are known as moai. Most of the moai are made of volcanic tuff. Tuff is a soft rock made from the ash that is forced out during a volcanic eruption. It is easier to carve than hard stones like marble, but it is not ideal for carving small details. The moai are considered megaliths (large stones that form prehistoric monuments). They stand up to 33 feet high when on their ceremonial platform (the average height is about 13 feet), and they weigh up to 82 tons. They usually have a trunk (body), inset arms, and an exaggerated head with angular edges. The head of each moai takes up about one-third of the total figure. It all shows that the people who created them could engineer monumental structures. Many moai stand with their backs to the sea. They watch the island like protective markers. Some low-relief carvings of religious deities were added to the backs of the moai at a later date. Experts are still trying to understand how they were carved and moved, and what they might mean. Chile took control of the island in 1888. At that time, its population was less than 200. The government used it for grazing livestock. Today, the mystery of Easter Island makes it a popular tourist spot. Valparaíso Valparaíso is a colorful blend of old and new traditions in Chile. This port city is an interesting example of daily life in Chile. Before the Panama Canal was opened in 1914, all ships traveling east to west had to pass all the way around South America. Valparaíso was ideally positioned as a stopping point in the Southern Pacific. Valparaíso has a long history of playing host to a large array of cultures and ideas. The city was known around the world as a place that embraced learning and new ideas. Pablo Neruda had a home in Valparaíso in the 1920s. After the Panama Canal was completed, shipping traffic declined significantly. Valparaíso was forgotten and fell upon hard times. In the 1990s, the government of Chile made an effort to revitalize the colorful port. Today it is a UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) World Heritage site. True to its history of embracing learning, it is also home to four universities. Tourists can visit the first stock exchange in Latin America. Valparaíso also has Chile’s first public library. Visitors stroll through cobblestone streets in the historic district. Here they can also view the city’s iconic colorful buildings. At night, music and street performers liven the experience. Try It Yourself Two Spanish words comprise the name of this city. Val means valley. Paraiso means paradise. The name Valparaíso means Paradise Valley. Can you recognize descriptive Spanish words in other Spanish place names? Start with names of places around you. Las Comidas Tradicionales To Chileans, nothing says home like pastel de choclo, a type of casserole made of beef and corn. The body of the casserole is flavorful. It contains beef, onions, raisins, and roasted chicken. It is topped off with a layer of creamed corn and then baked. Baking it brings out the sweetness in the corn, adding a contrast to the savory meat. The preferred type of corn is called choclo. This variety is grown in rugged conditions in the Andes. The kernels are large and hearty compared to other varieties. Another favorite dish in Chile is a type of meat stew called cazuela. Originally a native dish, it is now known as comfort food in Chile. Pork, beef, lamb, or chicken still on the bone is boiled in a traditional clay pot. To that, corn, potatoes, and other local vegetables are added. It is seasoned with onion and garlic. Pablo Rogat/Shutterstock When Chileans think about dessert, manjar is the first ingredient on their minds. It is a caramel sauce made from cooking milk, sugar, and vanilla. It is found in many desserts. It is used as filling in cakes, pies, and cookies. It is refrigerated to make puddings and custards. People even use it to sweeten their coffee.

“On this night, we share a roof protecting us from fleets of inequity. Our unification promises a better tomorrow. Those larger than myself, sitting on their marble thrones, sipping blood from cups composed of human skin and singing songs of so-called virtue, grow weaker each moment. Their caravans are revolting. There is hope yet. There is progress! Though tonight may mark a countdown, it is still a celebration. Look at all we have done, not just for Trials but for Palatium Infra as a whole. In four years, when I’m no longer Sovereignty, the Spoiled Purity and his people will continue to strive. So drink! Smoke! Crush up those exotic plants and snort them! We will not falter, weaken, or wane. Our influence is expanding, and somebody new opens their eyes every day. Even the Silbys of Aculeus have reached alarming potentials despite their embittered minds. So long as you relish in tonight, dance, and pray to your “dead” Gods, our revolution shall rise beyond the bounds of class, and when I’m only a commoner, we shall rise again beyond our brainwashed adversaries! Cheers, my people. Cheers!” Followers raised their cups. Some clinked theirs together. Others stood still and screamed breathlessly in agreement. I smiled with courtesy, then stepped off my platform. My voice still rang across the cellar. Speeches before were grander. Those displays were supposed to be emptying, and yet this one left me bloated, swollen tight. I watched as they popped the corks of their bottles and chanted in the name of Purity. Maybe the quality of my words wasn’t what mattered to them anyway, so long as I screamed loud enough. There’s no merit in attacking your people, a voice corrected me. “That’s right,” I said aloud. “Knox, my-my Sovereign!” squealed a nearby devotee, jittering as he stuffed his face with catered pastries. He was one I’d never seen before or had failed to remember. “Look what I’ve found! It’s wine, and not the shoddy Infran kind, either. Earth-made with good fruit! I don’t know how anyone managed to get their hands on this. Maybe some space travel mischief.” He giggled and held up a small glass bottle. “How neat.” “I want you to have it, Sir.” I nodded my head. “Yes, of course. Thank you.” Backing off into the midst of rowdy disciples, I clutched the bottle. What a waste of grapes. It could have been jam instead. Earthly food had a superior taste, ripe with delicate intricacies and nostalgia, but Palatium Infra had mastered the art of alcohol. Why waste your time with a drunkenness so sad and sickening? The booze of trash. Not many more followers approached me. The barren peroration must have upset them. My hands itched to submerge into my suit pockets, and my legs stood suddenly numb, wobbling. Four more years until I’m nothing. But tonight, you are nothing. “Shut up,” I told myself. Tightly packed together in the corner of the dwelling sat the Sibyls. A mound of writhing fabric and tones of skin made up their unified silhouette. I snapped the strap of the nearest gown, balancing on my hands and knees, waving the bottle before them. In their almost rodent nature, narrow noses prodded my way. Their dresses wrinkled and fell to their ankles. Knees dropped, and eyes widened. Many grumbled at me like hungry she-beasts. Those newer ones with faded curtains for hair, sunken eyes, and dirtied nails looked, hid their face, then sobbed. I imagined them in a pack together, fighting wildly against the Spoiled Purity in their rat decorum–biting down with square teeth laced with rabies. “I’ve got you all something,” I said. “Go back off to your pedestal and yap some more. We don’t want it.” A woman rose from the pile and spat. “You don’t even know what it is yet. It's Earth hooch, or more likely a near-flawless replica. I figured you girls would also like a chance to enjoy yourselves tonight.” “Your playmates have been harassing us since the moment you hung the banners and opened the cellar door.” The youngest, with a striking cyan mop upon her head, uncoiled from the mass. What was she now? 20, 21? We celebrated a birthday recently, I thought as she spun around me. “I remember something about a promise. Multiple promises, actually. Are you trying to bribe us into just shutting up and taking it? Because if another sticky, 40-year-old, Earth-born virgin gropes my shoulder, I’m going to have an aneurysm!” the girl continued. “Why not an Infran follower? Do you like it when they touch you?” I returned her accusing tone. “I’m sorry, sweet prophets, that you feel I’ve neglected my duties. I’ll keep a better eye out. Remember, you can always just holler if somebody is bothering you. And Anwen, friend, if I’ve ever tried to bribe you with anything, it was certainly the hair dye. I mean, look at you! Such handsomeness!” I exclaimed. The other Siblys began to encircle her, uttering compliments or even announcements of their envy. Anwen disappeared in a wink with flushed cheeks back into the mound. “I’ll just leave this here.” Smiling, I set down the bottle. ** “141, 143. . .” I counted each step as I trekked the staircase. There was no doubt I lost track somewhere. The ledges kept spawning under my feet, infinitely multiplying until I wasn’t moving at all–swallowing me up in a whirlpool of stone. My tie still hung around my neck, and my blazer remained tied around my hips as a skirt. Streaks of red dribbled off from the cavity in my chest. It was a gorgeous marking, sensual to my fingertips as I traced its edges. Purity, oh, Purity. Purity and his wings of burnt skin. Purity and his many faces. Purity the spoiled. Purity the mutilated. The Silbys did not bother waiting for me. On bare feet, they stormed up the stairs to their room. A trail of red, though in paint unlike mine, streamed after them. None looked remotely near me as they squeaked and gossiped intangibly. I saved them, those Infran broads, enlightened them. As much as they liked to deny it, spit at me, and bask in the thought of their victimhood, in this home, they stood empowered. You’ve done well, my thoughts affirmed, though in the manner of an insincere commentator rather than a hype man. Teeth grace in tile violin goes laundry paper when. It dissolved into an intruding drivel. I rubbed my head and sniveled. “Do you need help, Knox?” called a Silby. Fattened by my coddling, her shadow fell upon me from the doorway steps ahead. I attempted counting again. There must’ve been at least another hundred between me and her. “I’m hallucinating some,” I said, breathing deeply to suppress a burp as I struggled to recall her name. Two syllables. Typically Latin, though sometimes English. Drops of slobber leaked from my mouth. “I’m hallucinating some, Tybal. Do you like your name, Tybal? I would have named you something better. Ty-Tyballinia. No, we’d have to eliminate the ‘ball’ aspect. It sounds too crude.” “One foot in front of the other,” she said. So I walked. Mess greeted me at the doorway. Dirtied culinary obscured the dark wooden countertops, and the sink lay running. I approached the kitchen table, sat, and set my face down upon its cool wooden surface. Assaulting my nose was the smell of neglected flowers, like soil mixed with the kind of sweet cough medicine that would have left me gagging as a child. Open windows whispered songs of the twilight hour through the vessels of busy trolleys and shooting guns. My mouth strained to vomit, but there was nothing in my stomach to regurgitate except the petals of Stulto’s bloom, which came out effortlessly in little sputters. Teetering, I stood up and brushed disgorged plant parts off the tabletop. “Love,” I said as I slogged up yet another staircase. “Are you awake?” She said she’d wait. Somebody’s gotten her. No, she always misses movie night. That sleepyhead, I assured myself. There was a stirring amidst the manor’s cloak of dusk. Portraits of myself, my wife, and my daughter turned to face me as the hallway lights flickered, escaping their quartz frames to penetrate my ears with nonsense. The taxidermied heads of Infran creatures bared their teeth. I stopped to stare at my favorite, an adabactor with daunting spiked tusks poking out from its forehead. Its nose remained black and sharp, and its eyes wide with malice. “Where is my Spes, Adaba-boy? Is she sleepy?” There’s someone in the house. The sounds of the stirring rose along with my blood pressure. Footsteps orbited around me, drawing near and far and then near again, little dancers in the dark. The carpet immersed me in its mass of purples and blues, leaving my skin stained indigo and my vision abstracted. I toiled to reach the master bedroom across the aisle as it stretched out to me with bright lights and celestial howling, like a dove struggling in a pool of oil. Never again with Stulto’s bloom. Never again on what was already a bad night. My hand brushed the doorknob, and the high abruptly faded into only a persistent hum-buzz twirling around my brain. The portraits returned to their typical depression–Spes posing with her ax, Ari’s school photo, and myself in the cap I wore when addressing the military with the Verbis emblem embroidered in its center. All lifeless shots. Who were they for when they captured not the subject’s essence but only some fragment of their identity? They used to feel personal, not advertisements of some supposed characters. Servants, babysitters, and likewise civilian guests, I reminded myself, mustn’t forget whose home they’re in. Yet my body moved independently, taking Ari’s from its hook and laying it backward against the wall to hide her distant grin and tamed posture. It was time for new pictures. Sweet ones, real ones; time was ticking. I approached my own when the stirring began again. Groans and squeals erupted from the vents as if someone had set a pen of pigs loose in my crawlspace. No, not the crawlspace, my bedroom door. I turned the ruby knob. Underneath a blanket wrestled my two squealing piglets, their skins melting together beneath the layer of duvet. Fishnet leggings and manicured nails outstretched and scraped at the sheet beneath them. One raised its head, a salmon-colored man with sweat running down his forehead. Through the crack in the door, we met eyes, his Infran Dr. Sesuss nose flaring its narrow nostrils. No mark of the Spoiled Purity existed carved onto his naked body. My chest felt tight. I stepped back. I was suffocating. Spes emerged from the linens, her hair flowing down her back and her dark skin glistening in front of the bedroom window. She giggled and held the man, the blanket falling and revealing inches of her body I had not seen in months. “Darling,” whispered the rosy-faced man, “look.” He was unfathomably ugly and grotesquely young, with beady, lifeless pupils that dilated when he faced me. The excess flesh on his face sagged while he bit down on his thin lips. My wife faced me, gasped, and strained to cover herself. Suddenly, I was a stranger. A small child who had walked into his parents having sex. I unfurled the door completely. “Get out of my house,” I said. The man stayed in place. “Get out of my house,” I repeated. “Knox,” Spes began. Tears ran down her round cheeks. “Shut up!” I turned to the man, picking up a marble trophy from on top of my dresser. “Get out of my house! I’ll kill you!” “Knox!” Spes sobbed. “God damn it! I hate you! You barely look at me. Every day, there’s less passion. God, God, God, I don’t want to fuck a dead man!” she screamed, “You get out! Get! Get!” My hands wrapped tighter around the statue. That pig of a man was attached to her at the side, his face equipped with a scowl that challenged mine. He thought I was weak; frail like a decaying dementia-ridden senior. I imagined his skull bashed in, his scowl gone, and the feist and confidence in his face beaten into numbness. A new portrait was in order of such brutality, him as a splintered slab of wood, rashed and beaten, a carcass licking my boot. The churning in my brain had come back. Every wall shook. Clock faces came to life and rang in alarm. Indescribable noises caressed my eardrum before breaking into sorrowful weeps. Was it my own? I stared at Spes in motionless frenzy, clenched my teeth, and screamed like a siren. Passionless. What a lie! An excuse, more like. One that erased all my ventures, reducing me to a nobody. But I was not a nobody. I thought of my sect, my campaigns, my endurance through the political brutality of my empty hive-mind world–even my collection of literature, maps, and artifacts. I thought of daring nights alone with Spes when we were young, ravaging each other, two sardonic eggheads suddenly overcome with desire. The veins in my neck throbbed as I gasped for air. It was all I had. I threw the figurine at the man’s head. Eye shut, I heard the thud. A million singing voices of victory flooded out of the cracks in the floorboard. Proving myself a man to the woman I loved in a display of fervent violence was passion. I strained my ears for his cries, though I did not look yet. There had to be a pause, a moment of relief, where I stood tall as a skyscraper and seemingly fought to stay contained in front of my wife and her wounded, quivering paramour. Frantic footsteps rushed off the bed and past my side. I turned and grappled against myself to seize my wife’s shoulder. “Spes!” My eyelids lifted. Escaping was the man with that same numb expression in which I had imagined him. “You’re insane,” he said. I swiveled back towards the bed. With her curly locks flowing over her breasts and her limbs bent at her sides, Spes sat limp pressed against the headboard, her forehead bludgeoned and the statue resting on her stomach. Lips pursed and sweet, my Renaissance beauty reclined there in the guise of a squashed bug. But she was not dead. The desk ornament I flung was only the size of my shoe. Spes, that dramatist, may have been slightly hurt but was far from dead. She only wanted me to think she was to observe me at my most distraught, like a leech feeding on misery. “Get up.” Staggering toward the bed, I said. “You wanted passion? I showed you passion. ‘Shoved it right into your head. Of course, we both know who that gesture was meant for. . .” I fumbled to find my wit. Cold skin met my hands as I stroked her face, unable to resist checking her pulse, even though she was not dead. “I love you, Spes,” I said. Rain pelted against a nearby window. “Spes, please. Please.” No vibration answered my plea. I lifted my hand, sitting next to her now. Tears did not come. There was not any blood on the trophy, but when I picked it up, it felt to be now only a cruel instrument. It depicted a younger me in white marble, with my glasses and collared shirt being the only things painted. Both were in pink. It was a favorable color. I scrambled from the bed to vomit pure digestive bile on the rug. My stomach heaved. I ran my nails along every piece of myself I saw, a dog chasing my tail. As I slammed myself against walls and convulsed, my own heart grew ever louder in my chest. “Dad? I heard–” Ari’s slippered feet hammered across the floor. “Mom? Mom?” I kept my eyes on the storm. Silence fell. “She-She isn’t—your—.” Gasps interrupted every syllable she spoke. “You’re a murderer. Bad. Like they said,” she breathed, “ You beat her!” The words became mush, alphabet soup. Ari ran back down the hall. “My-My mom is dead. . . .Yes. . . Manor of the Trials Sovereignty. . .Ari Sorkin. . . I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me,” she said, presumably over the phone. It was all too fast. I crawled onto the windowsill, opened the glass, and let myself plummet into the alley below. Gusts of wind howled. The lack of motion or sensation informed me I had passed and again lived. Another Palatium Infra, another strange planet in which the celestial endowed rotting men with the opportunity to inhabit. Was this it? Was it all just an impossible limbo of galactic traveling? My surroundings were overwhelmingly gray, an abyss of clouds. Perhaps I had now met the real coming world, and my family and old friends lived here, ready to rush to my sides, lift me up, and jump for joy. Spes would be there. She would be enraged, but at least she’d be there. You are a bad man. You are a bad man. My eyelashes fluttered. There was a tugging sensation in my leg. The fog was wavering along with my ascendance. “No,” I yearned, trying to grip the clouds and stick them in place. “Stay with me.” But the peace was fleeting. I felt the cement under me and the moist garments clinging to my figure. My leg burned. Carefully, I craned my neck, only to observe the promenade as my surroundings. The most underwhelming of filth and danger, individually Infran. Forever my coming world. What a fool I was, having forgotten my blessing. Those idiot Gods could not tell the difference between assassination and self-infliction; a faulty insurance plan. The urge to cry at last set over me, and so I sat and wailed hot salvia into my palm, shielding my mouth to muffle the noise. Thunder echoed my hushed howling. Raindrops turned to pebbles. Under the ambiance of the stormy night, I could have sworn I heard troops stomping, guns cocking, and the chanting of my name. They had all been waiting for this. Billboards came to life, and I could only sit and spectate as the scenery flashed red. I inhaled fear and sobriety through runny nostrils. “Trials Sovereign Vsevolod “Knox” Sorkin is currently at large for the suspected homicide of Spes Sorkin, breaking the first term of the Sovereignty Charter. We now instruct you to report any sightings of the Earth-born, caucasian, roughly 195 centimeters tall, brown-haired, and brown-eyed man to your local Guard post. One can identify the suspected convict specifically by an occult tattoo of Purity’s Coronet on his lower back. No attempted execution or elongated punishment will take place until our Guards conduct an autopsy proving his guilt, per Life’s 1238 commandment. We cannot be sure when or if the Gods will revoke his blessing. Remember, when Gods frown upon strife, opt for a peaceful life. We permit all grieving festivities until Cagidus 4th. Good year!” towering buildings sang out in broadcast, repeating that same convoluted message quicker the instant it ended. Sometimes, the announcer spoke in Latin for the Infran children, other times in Chinese, Hindi, or Spanish to cater to those of irrelevant tongues. You aren’t a bad man. You are a stupid boy. Puddles sloshed. Somebody was approaching. I didn’t dare waste any remaining energy avoiding the Guards and their prodding blades. How did that phrase go? You dug your grave. Now lie in it. And so I embraced the cement. “Knox?” said the Guard. No, her tone was too sincere, and no authority would proceed in such a manner. There wasn’t confirmation on whether or not I was armed, and it wasn’t as if she could shoot me first. She was a partygoer, having just left from the cellar’s backdoor. I shooed her away with my hand. She hovered, and I discerned her shadow hesitating over my body. A man could not rot in peace. “Come on, get up! They’re after you!” Hands reached around my torso, struggling to handle my weight as they urged me onto my feet. That leg, the burning one, my right, trembled and bent unnaturally upon impact with the ground. The partygoer slung my arm over her shoulder, balancing me. My eyes caught a glimpse of a cyan mop. “Anwen?” I rasped, “hu-who let you out?” Keys jangled in her hands–my keys. “I escaped,” she said casually, coercing me to walk beside her. “Quicken your pace. I just heard somebody on your front porch. ‘You see that compost bin down the alley? We’re gonna burrow right down into the depth of that. If they open it and uncover us, I’ll be on top, and I can hide you and act like I’m just a homeless amica trying to take a nap.” With a tightening grip, she led me like livestock to the stinking crate. “I don’t understand, Anwen,” I said. “They’re going to torture and kill you, stupid. You know they’ve been wanting to, and you just handed the opportunity to them!” “I understand that.” It was becoming increasingly challenging to hide the fragility emerging in my voice. “You said you were escaping. Why stop and help your captor?” “What else could I do? Leave you there?” Attempts to shove my wounded body inside its mass of discarded fruits and vegetables began. She yanked down upon my head and submerged me in the fertilizer sea. The evidence grows indisputable, I thought as I stared at the abruptly humane Infran girl, diving in after me, that I belong here. “Damn me to hell! I’ve killed her! My love is dead!” an uncontrollable cry leaped from my mouth. “Shut up! Soon you’ll be, too, if you don’t quiet down.” The actual noise of the Guards darted past us: disorientated marching, guns clanking against each other, cluttered belts rattling, the Latin squawking. One paused to open the bin’s lid, though only rummaged through the surface layer of peat before carrying on. “What are they talking about? I struggle with my Latin,” I whispered. “The search, mainly.” Aggression remained firey in Anwen’s clenched jaw. Though she sat on top of me, there was a monumental distance between our rain-soaked forms. I curled up into a ball, ducked my head between my knees, and dreamt of Spes, ignoring the stench of spoiled food rising from every crevice of my dwelling. The next coming world was due to adopt me again as I forced sleep. I prayed for a canyon of fluffy haze, where I waltzed with pale memories but found nothing but the petrifying stillness of my mind. Killed and ran. Violent as a Guard just to prove a point and watch it backfire. Why would any heaven want to welcome me? I clung to the picture of Spes in my head like it was the last ember of an extinguished flame. “Did you mean to kill her?” Anwen interrogated. “Someone like you would immutably believe yes.” “And who is someone like me? You can’t even treat me like a person for a moment, can you?” grating drama decorated her words. “You know my opinions. I have not seen much of your or your breed’s faces besides that of cruelty and ignorance.” I retorted. “I just saved you! Does that make me cruel and ignorant?” “It makes you an idiot, which is another word for somebody ignorant.” “And why am I an idiot?” She asked. “Because you helping me does no good. Thank you anyhow. Now, do yourself a favor and scram.” As she bent her leg in anticipation, preparing to strike me on the forehead, I sensed an invisible withdrawal widening the gap between us. “You never answered my question,” Anwen took me by the end of my tattered tie suddenly and started her game of shepherd and sheep over again, pulling me back up to the crate’s exit. It appeared as a shining light at the end of a maze of rubbish and mold. “No. Of course not. Spes was my everything,” I sniffled. “I knew it. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hit us, let alone murder your wife. The girls and I always figured you were sensitive.” My heart rate quickened. Today was one of humbling and misery–one to pray a hail spike would fall from the sky as sharp as a needle, pierce into my eyelid, and lobotomize me. I wished I could have merely died or hit my head hard enough not to have to deal with it all. No, I wished I was Anwen with her snarky, careless glow and lack of depth in her eyes. As we emerged from the compost bin together, I fantasized about strangling her until her face turned purple, her weakening spirit no longer categorizing me as “sensitive”, but the thought could only remind me of wielding that trophy and the microscopic traces of my wife’s tender skin tainting it, which turned my guts inside out. “That’s why I think you could use a little help,” Anwen said, “It seems like you can’t walk, either. Your leg is all twisted up.” She undid one of her trim pigtails and handed me the band. “Take off your tie and put up your hair. ‘Will make you less recognizable. Then swallow your pride and stick with me.”

What is the page mainly about? (Answer: C — Homes meet a basic need) A) House colors B) Old buildings C) Homes meet a basic need ✓ D) Travel What basic need do homes give? (Answer: B — Shelter) A) Food B) Shelter ✓ C) Clothes D) Money What does “basic need” mean here? (Answer: C — Something people must have to live) A) Something nice to have B) A school rule C) Something people must have to live ✓ D) A weekend plan Homes keep people ______ and ______. What are the two words from the page? (Answer: B — dry / safe) A) rich / tall B) dry / safe ✓ C) loud / fast D) clean / funny What else are homes for, according to the text? (Answer: B — Eating, sleeping, and being with family and friends) A) Shopping B) Eating, sleeping, and being with family and friends ✓ C) Driving D) Fighting What does the heading “Meeting our needs” tell you? (Answer: B — explains how homes fit the local climate) A) A joke is coming B) This part explains how homes fit the local climate ✓ C) It is a story D) It lists prices What does “climate” mean on this page? (Answer: C — the usual weather of a place) A) Yesterday’s forecast B) A big storm C) The usual weather of a place ✓ D) Room temperature Which roof is best for cold, snowy places? (Answer: D — Slanted) A) Flat B) Dome C) Glass D) Slanted ✓ Why is a slanted roof helpful in snowy places? (Answer: B — snow slides off more easily) A) It is cheaper B) Snow slides off more easily ✓ C) Birds like it D) It is quieter Why do many houses in hot places have many windows? (Answer: B — to let air move through and keep people cool) A) To block all light B) To let air move through and keep people cool ✓ C) To make walls heavy D) To reduce street noise Which detail best supports “climate changes home design”? (Answer: C — Hot → many windows; Snowy → slanted roofs) A) People like blue walls B) Kitchens are big C) Hot → many windows; Snowy → slanted roofs ✓ D) Cities are crowded What does the caption about a traditional Japanese house show? (Answer: C — People sit on mats on the floor to eat) A) People eat outdoors B) Families don’t eat together C) People sit on mats on the floor to eat ✓ D) People stand to eat Which sentence is LEAST connected to the main idea of the page? (Answer: D — Blue walls are relaxing) A) Homes protect people from weather B) Roofs can change with climate C) Windows help rooms stay cool D) Blue walls are relaxing ✓ Which text structure organizes the right paragraph? (Answer: C — Cause–effect) A) Timeline B) Problem–solution C) Cause–effect ✓ D) Description only What is the author’s purpose? (Answer: B — to explain how homes meet a human need) A) To sell houses B) To explain how homes meet a human need ✓ C) To tell a funny story D) To give building laws What can you guess about a flat roof in a snowy place? (Answer: B — snow can pile up and be unsafe) A) Best choice B) Snow can pile up and be unsafe ✓ C) Always cheaper D) Warmer in summer Which page feature helps you find ideas quickly? (Answer: C — Headings and photo captions) A) Rhyme B) Dialogue C) Headings and photo captions ✓ D) Footnotes Which sentence is the best summary of the page? (Answer: C — Homes give shelter; designs change with climate) A) Houses are beautiful in winter B) People prefer bright colors C) Homes give shelter; designs change with climate (slanted roofs, many windows) ✓ D) Windows are the most important part True/False or Short Answer (5) True/False: All homes have the same purpose, even if they look different. (Answer: True) True/False: In hot places, houses usually have fewer windows to keep heat in. (Answer: False — hot places → many windows for airflow/cooling) Short Answer (1–3 words): Homes provide shelter to keep people _____ and _____. (Answer: dry; safe) Short Answer (one example): Write one climate → design pair from the page. (Answer: cold/snowy → slanted roof OR hot → many windows) True/False: The photo shows people in Japan eating on mats on the floor. (Answer: True)

Continental Drift Theory. From the discussion of the rock cycle, it has been pointed out that through Earth's external and internal processes. Earth's surface is constantly changing. However, this idea of a changing environment did not conform with the belief of earlier scientists. Rather, they thought that the geographic positions of ocean basins and continents have been static since the beginning of time. It was around the 1500s when Leonardo da Vinci, upon his discovery of fossil seashells found at the high mountains of Italy, first thought of the idea that the areas where mountains are located may have been oceans in the past. Through time, other fossils of marine organisms found far above the current sea level further supported the idea that mountains were uplifted and weathering wore them down. At around the 1800s, most scientists have accepted the idea that Earth's crust is undergoing large vertical movements or uplifting. There was also evidence of possible horizontal movements, but the scientists then were not convinced about it. Alfred Wegener showed evidence of horizontal or lateral movement of the continents in his continental drift theory. According to him, the continents have drifted around the world and have once formed a giant landmass or supercontinent called Pangaea. To support his theory, Alfred Wegener presented a set of geographical, biological, and climatic evidence.Wegener's geographical evidence included the jigsaw puzzle fit of the current continents. He pointed out that the coastlines of South America and Africa seem to fit together. He also pointed the presence of mountain ranges having similar rock types and age but separated by vast oceans, like that of the folded rocks of the Caledonian mountains. The same folded rocks run through West Africa, North America, Newfoundland, Ireland, Wales, Scotland, Greenland, and Norway, all of which are now separated by the Atlantic Ocean. A geographical evidence on the similar rock types in West Africa, North America, Greenland, and Europe is found. The biological evidence came in the discovery of similar plant and animal fossils in different continents separated by oceans. The animal fossils of Mesosaurus and Lystrosaurus indicate that they were not capable of crossing the oceans to reach the other continents. If they were, the fossils should have been more widely distributed Africa, Australia, India, and South America were too large to be carried by wind. This indicates that the areas where the fossils were found were closely linked. It has also been found out that the plant only grew in areas with subpolar climate, which would indicate that the landmasses were located near the South Pole.Lastly, for his climatic evidence, Wegener discovered that a glacial period occurred during the late Paleozoic era in Southern Africa, South America, Australia, and India. The initial explanation for this event was global cooling, but it was rejected because large tropical swamps with so much vegetation were found at the same time in the Northern Hemisphere. This further supported the idea that the supercontinent was indeed near the South Pole, and the continents in Northern Hemisphere were once near the equator. The glacial period also left glacial striations, or the scratches glaciers make as they move across on the underlying bedrock, on the aforementioned continents. For such an event to happen, the continents would have to be connected. SCIENCE PIONEER. Alfred Wegener (1880-1930). Alfred Wegener was a German polar researcher, geophysicist, and meteorologist. He was known for his work on the continental drift theory. In his effort to defend his work, he went to the Greenland ice sheet where he died.Even with all the compelling evidence, the continental drift theory hardly convinced the scientific community at that time because Wegener was unable to identify a credible mechanism that drives the continental drift. He was unable to clearly explain how the continents moved and how the larger continents broke through the ocean floor. Eventually, critics of the continental drift began to accept the theory when new evidence supporting the theory was discovered. The new evidence led to a more encompassing theory the theory of plate tectonics. This theory provided a more convincing explanation as to how the continents moved. The evidence that paved the way for the theory of plate tectonics was the idea of wandering poles. Scientists began studying volcanic rocks to determine the location of the magnetic poles. When volcanic rocks crystallize, the minerals with magnetic properties align themselves parallel to Earth's magnetic field at the time the minerals were formed. This finding allowed scientists to determine the polarity of Earth's magnetic field and the magnetic inclination that showed the location of the poles. Upon studying the paleomagnetism of the rocks, geophysicists found out that rocks from various locations point to different magnetic north poles, suggesting that the poles have wandered. Since movement of magnetic poles is very unlikely, scientists have accepted the idea that the continents are indeed moving. And if the continents are moving, scientists thought that maybe the ocean basins are moving too. They also discovered that some rocks showed magnetic reversals, which led them to believe that the magnetic north pole now was not always the magnetic north pole. Seafloor Spreading. After World War II, exploration on the ocean floor became the focus of many geologic studies. It was only then that the ocean ridge system was discovered. A geologist in Princeton University named Harry Hess, along with other scientists, studied this ocean ridge system and hypothesized that the oceanic crust was moving away from the ridge. His hypothesis, known as seafloor spreading, showed that the ocean floor is split along the ridge where the magma rises to form the new ocean floor.Because of this, rocks located near the ridge are younger than those that are located magnetic polarity of Earth is also preserved in those rocks. Withe ridge scientists were able to see the magnetic reversals in the ocean floor, and they were able to make use of information to determine that the ocean floor is moving at a rate of about 10 cm per year. Plate Tectonics. Confirmation of the seafloor spreading hypothesis proved that continents are not moving above the ocean floor. Rather, it is the fragments of the lithosphere. The lithosphere is the rigid layer that is composed of the uppermost mantle and the crust that carry the continents and the ocean basins along. These fragments of the lithosphere are called plates. Underneath the lithosphere is a weaker region in the mantle known as asthenosphere that behaves like a fluid. Thus, the lithosphere floats above the asthenosphere, making it detached and free to move. This became the basis of the theory of plate tectonics. Now that it has been made clear that it is the plates which are moving, the question as to how they move remained. Sir Arthur Holmes proposed the driving force for this plate movement in 1919. He suggested that the movement in the mantle carries the plates along. It was previously discussed that Earth's interior is very hot due to the heat produced by radioactive decay. Convection takes place in the mantle, keeping the asthenosphere hot and weak. The convection currents produced in the asthenosphere are the ones carrying the lithospheric plates and making them move. However, convection currents are not enough. Mechanisms such as ridge push and slab pull aid the convection currents to slowly move the lithospheric plates. Ridge push occurs at mid ocean ridges which are higher in elevation than the surrounding trenches and abyssal plains. The new ocean floor from the ridge is hot and relatively thin. As it moves away from the ridge, it cools down and gets denser, heavier, and thicker. Below this cooling ocean floor is the asthenosphere, which is less dense. This area becomes a massive shear zone and the new ocean floor will effectively slide down the slope of the asthenosphere. When the plate collides with another plate with lesser density, the denser plate sinks and a subduction zone is formed. When the subducting plate sinks, it pulls on the rest of the plate behind it. These mechanisms explain the movement of the plates.Earth has seven major lithospheric plates that account for 94% of Earth's surface. These are the North American Plate, South American Plate, Pacific Plate, African Plate, Eurasian Plate, Indo-Australian Plate, and Antarctic Plate. These plates are constantly moving relative to the other plates. Thus, the interaction of plates occurs mostly along the boundaries. These movements are plotted using information from earthquakes and volcanic activities. There are three main types of plate boundaries: convergent, divergent, and transform boundaries Convergent boundaries are boundaries where two plates move towards each other A convergent boundary is also known as destructive margin since this is where the collision between two plates occhins. There are three types of convergence-oceanic oceanic, oceanic-continental, and continental-continental. Trenches are features of the ocean floor that are present in both oceanic-oceanic boundary and oceanic-continental boundary. Subduction occurs at the trenches, therefore, these are characterized as the deepest parts of Earth. A divergent boundary is the opposite of convergent boundary: two plates move away from each other. Divergent boundaries create new crust; thus, they are also known as constructive margins. The ocean ridge system is a divergent boundary where new ocean floor is produced as magma rises, pushing the older rocks aside.Transform boundary is also known as conservative plate margin since two plates just move past one another, neither creating nor destroying land. Earthquake epicenters are usually detected at transform boundaries because the rocks tend to break and not fold or sink, like in convergent boundaries. Evolution of the Ocean Basins. Both the movement of the plates and seafloor are responsible for the evolution of ocean basins. Along the divergent boundary where ocean ridge systems are found, magma is released and new ocean floor is created. Along convergent boundaries, the ocean floor is being destroyed. The evolution of the ocean basins started during the time when Pangaea was still present and was surrounded by the vast ocean or superocean known as Panthalassa, also called Paleo-Pacific or "old Pacific." Upon the initial break up of Pangaea into Laurasia and Gondwanaland, the Tethys Sea began to form. Then, the Eurasian and North about, forming the North Atlantic. The South Atlantic only started to form when the African Plate and South American Plate separated. The continued movement of the plates created the Himalayas at one side and separated the Pacific Ocean and Atlantic Ocean at the other side, which consequently formed the current ocean basins. Both the movement of the plates and seafloor are responsible for the evolution of ocean basins. Along the divergent boundary where ocean ridge systems are found, magma is released and new ocean floor is created. Along convergent boundaries, the ocean floor is being destroyed. The evolution of the ocean basins started during the time when Pangaea was still present and was surrounded by the vast ocean or superocean known as Panthalassa, also called Paleo-Pacific or "old Pacific." Upon the initial break up of Pangaea into Laurasia and Gondwanaland, the Tethys Sea began to form. Then, the Eurasian and North about, forming the North Atlantic. The South Atlantic only started to form when the African Plate and South American Plate separated. The continued movement of the plates created the Himalayas at one side and separated the Pacific Ocean and Atlantic Ocean at the other side, which consequently formed the current ocean basins.Continents do not immediately end at the point where the ocean meets the land. They may extend slightly into the oceans. The portion of the continent that is submerged is called continental margin. There are two types of continental margin: passive margin and active margin. A passive continental margin consists of a continental shelf, continental slope, and continental rise. It is not associated with plate boundaries; thus, there are very little tectonic activities. An active continental margin only has a continental shelf and a continental slope. It is associated with plate boundaries; thus, a main feature of this boundary is a trench. The different features of a continental margin are the following: 1. The continental shelf is the gently-sloping submerged portion of the continent. 2. The continental slope is the steep slope after the continental shelf. It is still part of the continent. 3. The continental rise is the gently-sloping area after the continental slope and before the ocean floor. 4. The trenches are the deepest parts of the ocean. These are narrow depressions caused by the subduction of the ocean floor along the convergent boundaries. 5. The mid-oceanic ridge is the mountain range system in the ocean. It is responsible for the production of new ocean floor. This is the region where new magma constantly emerges from. SCIENCE CAREER. A scientific illustrator uses art to inform and communicate complex details and concepts of science. He/She makes use of scientifically informed observations and research along with his/her technical art and aesthetic skills to make accurate representations. In Natural History, the scientific illustrators recreate how the extinct species look like by working with scientists and fossil records. Moreover, with the advances in technology, illustrators are now into 3D modelling, animation, and video making. Earth's History. All the processes that have been discussed require long periods of time to create a noticeable change on Earth's surface. You can just imagine how long it would take to create an oceanas vast as the Pacific Ocean if the ocean floor moves only at about 10 cm/year. It is then important to know the history of Earth to learn the complexities of its past and be able to use it to understand the present. Just like learning the history of a country that requires one to read a lot of books, learning the history of Earth involves studying a lot of rocks. Rocks, especially sedimentary rocks, contain a lot of information about Earth's past. It holds the key to most of the geologic processes that happened on Earth and the key to uncovering how life on Earth evolved. But these discoveries are worthless if there is no time perspective. Thus, one of the most important contributions of geologists to mankind is the geologic time scale, which holds a history that is exceedingly long.

Timmy: Hello, sir! What’s your job? Man: I am an actor. I like to be in movies and plays. Timmy: That’s very cool. What do you like to play? Man: I like to play a pirate. Timmy: What about a spaceman? Man: No, I don’t like to play a spaceman but I do like to play a clown. Timmy: I’m happy to hear it. We need a clown for our play. Man: OK, great! I will help you.

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