Sea creatures | Quizalize

Astonishing Animals Our planet is full of weird and wonderful creatures. Meet three of them – animals with surprising bodies, habits and abilities. The animal that can’t be true When in 1798 zoologists in Britain first saw the skin of an Australian platypus and a drawing of the animal, they were sure it was a hoax. A creature like that could not exist. Why not? First, it has fur, like cats or dogs, but also a flat bill like a duck, and a big thick tail like a beaver. Secondly, it lays eggs and looks after them like a bird, but when the young come out of the eggs, the mother feeds them with her milk. On top of everything, the platypus has a poisonous sting – like a snake! It cannot kill a human, but it’s very painful. Champion Runner You probably know the cheetah is the fastest runner among animals. It can run up to 100 kilometres per hour. But after some 200 metres, it needs to lie down and rest. The pronghorn, which lives in the prairies of North America, can run a few kilometres at ninety kilometres per hour, and fifteen kilometres at sixty-five kilometres per hour. Its whole body – heart, lungs, legs – is a perfect machine for long-distance running. But why? It doesn’t need to run this fast now, but 18,000 years ago there were cheetahs in America. The pronghorn probably evolved to escape them. This beautiful animal is not well-known in Europe, but in America it is a symbol of the prairie life. You can see it in the emblem of the province of Alberta, Canada. Aliens in the ocean An octopus has no fixed shape or colour. In danger, it will change both. It can become like its surroundings and difficult to see. Or it can look like a dangerous animal, such as a sea snake, and scare an attacker away. Octopuses are also intelligent. Their brains are large in proportion to their body size. They can use tools and solve problems: for example, open bottles to get food, or use clever strategies to escape from an aquarium. It seems they are unhappy in a zoo or lab. But they are so different from humans that it is difficult for us to understand their intelligence. In fact, it is a bit like meeting intelligent aliens.

Soils Southeast Asia, on balance, has a higher proportion of relatively fertile soils than most tropical regions, and soil erosion is less severe than elsewhere. Much of the region, however, is covered by tropical soils that generally are quite poor in nutrients. Often the profusion of plant life is more related to heat and moisture than to soil quality, even though these climatic conditions intensify both chemical weathering and the rate of bacterial action that usually improve soil fertility. Once the vegetation cover is removed, the supply of humus quickly disappears. In addition, the often heavy rainfall leaches the soils of their soluble nutrients, hastens erosion, and damages the soil texture. The leaching process in part results in laterites of reddish clay that contain hydroxides of iron and alumina. Laterite soils are common in parts of Myanmar, Thailand, and Vietnam and also occur in the islands of the Sunda Shelf, notably Borneo. The most fertile soils occur in regions of volcanic activity, where the ejecta is chemically alkaline or neutral. Such soils are found in parts of Sumatra and much of Java in Indonesia. The alluvial soils of the river valleys also are highly fertile and are intensively cultivated. Climate All of Southeast Asia falls within the warm, humid tropics, and its climate generally can be characterized as monsoonal (i.e., marked by wet and dry periods). Changing seasons are more associated with rainfall than with temperature variations. There is, however, a high degree of climatic complexity within the region. Temperatures Regional temperatures at or near sea level remain fairly constant throughout the year, although monthly averages tend to vary more with increasing latitude. Thus, with the exception of northern Vietnam, annual average temperatures are close to 80 °F (27 °C). Increasing elevation acts to decrease average temperatures, and such locations as the Cameron Highlands in peninsular Malaysia and Baguio in the Philippines have become popular tourist destinations in part because of their relatively cooler climates. Proximity to the sea also tends to moderate temperatures. Precipitation Much of Southeast Asia receives more than 60 inches (1,500 millimeters) of rainfall annually, and many areas commonly receive double and even triple that amount. The rainfall pattern is distinctly affected by two prevailing air currents: the northeast (or dry) monsoon and the southwest (or wet) monsoon. The northeast monsoon occurs roughly from November to March and brings relatively dry, cool air and little precipitation to the mainland. As the southwestward-flowing air passes over the warmer sea, it gradually warms and gathers moisture. Precipitation is especially heavy where the airstream is forced to rise over mountains or encounters a landmass. The east coast of peninsular Malaysia, the Philippines, and parts of eastern Indonesia receive the heaviest rains during this period. The southwest monsoon prevails from May to September, when the air current reverses and the dominant flow is to the northeast. The mainland receives the bulk of its rainfall during this period. Over much of the southern Malay Peninsula and insular Southeast Asia there is little or no prolonged dry season. This is especially marked in much of the equatorial region and along the east coast of the Philippines. While the dry and wet monsoons are important in explaining rainfall patterns, so too are such factors as relief, land and sea breezes, convectional overturning and cyclonic disturbances. These factors often are combined with monsoonal effects to produce highly variable rainfall patterns over relatively short distances. While many of the cyclonic disturbances produce only moderate rainfall, others mature into tropical storms—called cyclones in the Indian Ocean and typhoons in the Pacific—that bring heavy rains and destruction to the areas over which they pass. The Philippines are particularly affected by these storms. Plant life Tropical forests in Southeast Asia Tropical forests in Southeast Asia The seasonal nature and pattern of Southeast Asia’s rainfall, as well as the region’s physiography, have strongly affected the development of natural vegetation. The hot, humid climate and enormous variety of habitats have given rise to an abundance and diversity of vegetative forms unlike that in any other area of the world. Much of the natural vegetation has been modified by human action, although large areas of relatively untouched land still can be found. The vegetation can be grouped into two broad categories: the tropical-evergreen forests of the equatorial lowlands and the open type of tropical-deciduous, or “monsoon,” forests in areas of seasonal drought. The evergreen forests are characterized by multiple stories of vegetation, consisting of a variety of trees and plants. Although a large diversity of tree species is found in these forests, members of the Dipterocarpaceae family account for roughly half of the varieties. Deciduous forests are found in eastern Indonesia and those parts of the mainland where annual rainfall does not exceed 80 inches. Just as in the equatorial forest, a wide variety of species is normally the rule. Certain species, such as teak, have become highly valued commercially. Teak is found in parts of Indonesia, Myanmar, Thailand, and Laos. In addition to these two basic types of vegetation, other regional patterns reflect topography. Especially noteworthy are coastal and highland plant communities. Mangrove belts, of which there are more than 30 varieties, occur where silt is deposited in coastal areas. Upland forests dominated by maples, oaks, and magnolias are found especially on mainland mountain slopes. Human activity has been rapidly altering the stands of virgin forest in Southeast Asia. Most deforestation results from removal for fuelwood and clearing for agriculture and grazing. Although only a relatively small portion of the total land area has been permanently cleared for cultivation—e.g., in Java (Indonesia) and western Luzon (the Philippines)—in some areas shifting cultivation has brought about the replacement of virgin forest with secondary growth. In addition, nearly all countries have commercial logging industries; notable are those in Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, and Myanmar. A growing problem has been illegal logging. Thus, timber harvesting has come to contribute significantly to deforestation. Programs in social forestry and reforestation have yet to halt the rapid denuding of the landscape. Animal life Southeast Asia is situated where two major divisions of the world’s fauna meet. The region itself constitutes the eastern half of what is called the Oriental, or Indian, zoogeographic region (part of the much larger realm of Megagaea). Bordering along the south and east is the Australian zoogeographic region, and the eastern portion of insular Southeast Asia—Celebes (Sulawesi), the Moluccas, and the Lesser Sunda Islands—constitutes a transition zone between these two faunal regions. a classroom in Brazil More From Britannica education: Southeast Asia Southeast Asia is notable, therefore, for a considerable diversity of wildlife throughout the region. These differences are especially striking between the species of the eastern and western fringes as well as between those of the archipelagic south and the mainland north. The differences stem largely from the isolation, over varying lengths of geologic time, of species following their migration from the Asian continent. In addition, the tropical rain forests in many parts of the region, with their great diversity of vegetation, have made possible the development of complex communities of animals that fill specialized ecological niches. Especially numerous are arboreal and flying creatures. orangutans orangutansOrangutans (Pongo pygmaeus) in Sumatra, Indonesia. The distinction between the two faunal regions is best depicted by their mammal populations. In general, Australia is inhabited largely by marsupials (pouched mammals) and monotremes (egg-laying mammals), while Southeast Asia contains placental mammals and such hybrid species as the bandicoot of eastern Indonesia. Small mammals such as monkeys and shrews are the most numerous, while in many areas the larger mammals have been pushed into more remote areas and national preserves. Bears, gibbons, elephants, deer, civets, and pigs are found in both mainland and insular Southeast Asia, as are diminishing numbers of tigers. The Malayan tapir, a relative of the rhinoceros, is native to the Malay Peninsula and Sumatra, while the tarsier is found in the Philippines and parts of Indonesia. A number of rare endemic species are found in Indonesia and East (insular) Malaysia, including the Sumatran and Javan rhinoceros, the orangutan, the anoa (a dwarf buffalo), the babirusa (a wild swine), and the palm civet. As the pace of development accelerates and populations continue to expand in Southeast Asia, concern has increased regarding the impact of human activity on the region’s environment. A significant portion of Southeast Asia, however, has not changed greatly and remains an unaltered home to wildlife. The nations of the region, with only few exceptions, have become aware of the need to maintain forest cover not only to prevent soil erosion but to preserve the diversity of flora and fauna. Indonesia, for example, has created an extensive system of national parks and preserves for this purpose. Even so, such species as the Javan rhinoceros face extinction, with only a handful of the animals remaining in western Java

“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.”

Treasure Adventure On the map there is a picture. This is Ben's sea adventure. He looks again at the picture and he sees gold. Ben is sailing on his ship with pirates. They are sailing through the islands. He sees another pirate ship. He sees a flock of vultures. Oh no! Ben is getting closer to the island. He is getting closer to his treasure. Wait, what's that? A shark? He cannot figure out if it's a creature. Ben lands on the island. They are happy to see nature. Wait, what's that in the distance? It is treasure! A great mixture of gold and silver.

air mass a large area of air that has uniform temperature, humidity, and pressure. air pressure the force that a column of air applies on the air or a surface below it albedo the measure of the sun's reflectivity on Earth's different surfaces atmosphere the layers of gases surrounding Earth climate average weather conditions in a specific region over a long period of time coriolis effect the movement of wind or currents in a curved path due to Earth's rotation eddy Smaller, temporary loops of swirling water that can travel long distances before dispersing front a boundary between two air masses greenhouse gas a gas in the atmosphere that absorbs part Earth’s outgoing infrared radiation gyre a large circular system of ocean currents. humidity the amount of water vapor in the air hydrosphere system containing all the solid and liquid water on Earth jet stream Narrow bands of high speed wind high in the troposphere that move from west to east land breeze Winds that blow at night from land toward the sea. This is due to the fact that land has a low specific heat capacity and cools faster than water. This creates high pressure over the land at night and thus wind. local winds Winds that blow over short distances polar easterlies cold winds that blow from the east to the west near the North Pole and South Pole. prevailing wind distinct wind patterns caused by differences in pressure and the Coriolis effect sea breeze Winds that blow during the day from the sea toward land. This is due to water having a high specific heat capacity and it does not heat or cool quickly. High pressure then forms over the water during the day and blows toward the land. specific heat capacity The amount of heat that must be added to a substance to increase the tempurature by one degree Celsius storm surge water that has blown outward from the center of a tropical cyclone or hurricane and creates an abnormal rise in ocean waters on the coast surface current Currents near the surface of the ocean. Driven by wind, the Coriolis effect, and continental deflection trade winds Steady winds that flow from east to west between 30°N latitude and 30°S latitude along the equator tropical cyclone a rotating, organized system of clouds and thunderstorms that originates over tropical or subtropical waters typhoon a tropical cyclone occurring in the Pacific Ocean; especially in the region of the Philippines or the China Sea. weather the short-term atmospheric conditions in a given place and time westerlies steady winds that flow from west to east in the middle latitudes (30- 60 Degrees). These impact our weather in the US. wind shear A large shift in wind speed and

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