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SPAT Review #3
Quiz by Kathryn Barnett
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âWhat is a critical area?Â
The areas of the clean room where drug products are placed
Areas in the cleanroom that must be cleaned with isopropyl alcohol.
Bottom hood surface where products are admixed.
Sterile components of admixture equipment must not be touch-contaminated.
âIdentify the risk level of a drug solution from three ampules transferred into a sterile solution container prepared in an ISO 5 PEC in a buffer room.
Medium-risk level
Immediate Use risk level
High-risk level
Low-risk level
What is a critical area?Â
Identify the risk level of a drug solution from three ampules transferred into a sterile solution container prepared in an ISO 5 PEC in a buffer room.
Identify the risk level: Drug solution from one sterile vial drawn into a syringe for patient injection, prepared in an ISO 5 PEC in a buffer room.
Identify the risk level: Sterile drug prepared at a patient's bedside during a respiratory code.
Identify the risk level: Sterile ingredients are measured/mixed in an ISO 5 hood in a cleanroom with non-sterile devices before sterilization is performed.Â
How many milligrams of NaCl does a 1-liter bag of 1/4 NS contain?Â
You need to prepare a 20% viscous Lidocaine solution: how many grams of Lidocaine will need to be dissolved in 500 ml of water to make this solution?Â
What is the percentage strength of a solution containing Benadryl 50 grams in 473 ml of liquid?Â
How many grams of Mannitol will you need to prepare 1 liter of 20% solution?Â
What is the percentage strength of dopamine if 6 grams are dissolved qs ad (quantity sufficient to make) 500 ml.Â
To prepare 1 Liter of 5% hydrochloric acid, how many milliliters of hydrochloric acid are required?Â
Using this information and your answer to the previous question, To prepare 1 Liter of 5% hydrochloric acid, how many milliliters of sterile water would be added to the hydrochloric acid solution to operate the 1-liter solution?Â
What is the percentage strength of a 500 ml glass IV container containing 250 mg of Nitroglycerine?Â
What is the percentage strength of bacitracin sterile irrigation solution if you use 45 g of bacitracin to prepare a total volume of 1 liter?Â
What matches the following chemical formula FeSO4
What matches the chemical formula NaHCO3?Â
What answer below matches the chemical formula K3PO4
Which answer below matches the chemical formula MgSO4?Â
Convert 98.5 to Celsius
Convert -10 Celsius to Fahrenheit
How long will this infusion last for a 500 ml bag of D5NS infusing at 32 ml/hour?Â
For this question:Â How long will this infusion last for a 500 ml bag of D5NS infusing at 32 ml/hour? How many bags will need to be sent over a 24-hour period?Â
A patient is to receive Pitocin 40 units in D5W 500 ml over four hours. What is the rate in ml/hour?
Order: Clindamycin 900 mg IVPB q 8 hours x 7 days. Available 600 mg/2 ml vials. How many milliliters of Clindamycin will be needed for each IVPB?Â
SPAT Review #4SPAT Mock Exam Review Practice ExamSPAT Practice Exam #2Wer reitet so spĂ€t durch Nacht und Wind? Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind; Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm, Er fasst ihn sicher, er hĂ€lt ihn warm. Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht? â Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht? Den Erlenkönig mit Kronâ und Schweif? â Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif. â âDu liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir! Gar schöne Spiele spielâ ich mit dir; Manchâ bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand, Meine Mutter hat manch gĂŒlden Gewand.â â Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht, Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht? â Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind; In dĂŒrren BlĂ€ttern sĂ€uselt der Wind. â âWillst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn? Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön; Meine Töchter fĂŒhren den nĂ€chtlichen Reihn Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein.â â Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort Erlkönigs Töchter am dĂŒstern Ort? â Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich sehâ es genau: Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau. â âIch liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt; Und bist du nicht willig, so brauchâ ich Gewalt.â â Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faĂt er mich an! Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan! â Dem Vater grausetâs; er reitet geschwind, Er hĂ€lt in Armen das Ă€chzende Kind, Erreicht den Hof mit MĂŒhe und Not; In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.2017 D5 L7 Wie spĂ€t ist es?Sich beschweren ĂŒber + Akk
sauber
schmutzig
furchtbar
die BrĂŒcke,
die Mauer,
die Kneipe,
die Umfrage, sich setzen
sich erinnern an + akk
geschlossen
die Reise, n viaggio
die Tour (-en) / die Rundfahrt (-en) tour
europÀisch europeo/a, europee
der Rucksack, die RucksÀcke zaino
das Ziel
per Anhalter
Die Sonne scheint
das Klima
ausgeben
die Reinigung
der Bio-Garten orto biologico
das Bankkonto, -konten conto bancario
gewinnen, gewann, hat gewonnen vincere
der Gewinner, - vincitore
der Helfer l'aiutante
pĂŒnktlich puntuale
zu spÀt troppo tardi
Da bist du ja endlich! finalmente sei arrivato!
leider purtroppo
verschieben, verschob, hat verschoben spostare, rimandare
das GesprÀch conversazione
sich entschuldigen scusarsi
die Viertelstunde il quarto d'ora
vorschlagen (Ă€), schlug vor, hat vorgeschlagen proporre
Was schlÀgst du vor? Cosa proponi?
stattfinden, fand statt, hat stattgefunden
die Veranstaltung, -en evento, manifestazione
beruflich professionale
sehr geehrte(r) Herr / Frau Gent-ma Sig.ra (formale)
Mit freundlichen GrĂŒĂen cordiali saluti
die Projektleiterin, -nen project manager
halten, hÀlt, hielt, hat gehalten fermarsi, tenere
nennen, nannte, hat genannt nominare
das Sushi, die Sushis sushi
einschlafen (Ă€), schlief ein, ist eingeschlafen addormentarsi
der Liebesfilm film romantico
der Thriller thriller
die Komödie commedia
die Geschichte, n storia
das Open-Air-Kino cinema all'aperto
zuletzt infine
mehrmals piĂč volte
wÀhrend durante, mentre
die Sendung, -en trasmissione
romantisch romantico/a
komisch strano, comico
aufregend, spannend emozionante
fantasisch fantastico
witzig spiritoso
sich interessieren fĂŒr + A interessarsi a
sich informieren ĂŒber + A informarsi di
verschieden diverso, differente
der Jugendliche, -n il giovane
der Erwachsene, -n l'adulto
das GefĂŒhl sentimento
das Liebespaar la coppia
die Liebe l'amore
das GlĂŒck fortuna
die beiden entrambi
denken, dachte, hat gedacht (an+A) pensare
sich verlieben sich in + Akk )
Er hat sich in sie verliebt. innamorarsi
verliebt sein in + Akk
Ich bin in dich verliebt. essere innamorato/a di qualcuno
sich fĂŒhlen sentirsi
die Freundschaft l'amicizia
sich freuen rallegrarsi
streiten, stritt, hat gestritten litigare
sich Ă€rgern ĂŒber + A arrabbiarsi per
hassen odiare
weinen piangere
die Angst, die Ăngste paura
stark forte
schwach debole
erst einmal per adesso
prÀsentieren presentare
reich ricco
arm povero
das ist mir egal. E' lo steso / non fa niente
wahrscheinlich probabilmenteCreate a comprehension quiz for the following vocabulary; To be getting on in age: Growing older; advancing in years. Pet peeve: Something that annoys or bothers someone significantly. Pinhead: A small-minded or foolish person. Nit-pick: To find fault with small or trivial details. Whilst/while: During the time that; at the same time as. On a dig: Engaged in archaeological excavation. Mad vs crazy: "Mad" typically refers to anger or insanity, while "crazy" can denote insanity or extreme enthusiasm. Twitch: A sudden, quick movement or spasm. Dreamt/dreamed: Past tense forms of the verb "to dream." Eaves: The part of a roof that overhangs the walls. Burly man: A strong, muscular man. Sheâs a looker: A woman who is attractive or visually appealing. Breech birth: A birth in which the baby is delivered feet first instead of head first. Being too forward: Acting too boldly or presumptuously. Gooey: Soft and sticky, often used to describe certain textures or emotional situations. Spare tire: Excess fat around the waistline; a protruding belly. Twists and turns of fate: Unexpected changes or developments in life. Pompous: Self-important or arrogant. Play a prank on someone: To carry out a mischievous trick or joke on someone. Scamps: Mischievous or playful individuals, often used affectionately. To tend one's resignation: To formally submit one's resignation from a job. A sound judgment: A wise or rational decision. To set someone up with someone else: To arrange a meeting or date between two people. Loon: A colloquial term for a crazy or eccentric person. Duvet: A type of blanket filled with feathers, down, or synthetic fibers, used as a bed covering. Don't Meddle: Do not interfere or intervene. Croquet mallet: A hammer-like instrument used to strike croquet balls. Cut it out: Stop doing something annoying or inappropriate. Pop over: Visit briefly or unexpectedly. It was a riot: It was extremely funny or enjoyable. Spit Tspat spat: Sounds indicating a quick, spat-out expulsion of saliva. A hoot: Something that is amusing or enjoyable. Overhear: To unintentionally hear what others are saying without their knowledge. You're quite a package: You possess many appealing qualities or attributes. I'm quite a catch: I am an attractive or desirable partner. Limper: A person who walks with a limp. A hanky: A handkerchief, a small piece of cloth carried for personal hygiene or used as a fashion accessory. âOn 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 Iâm 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 âdeadâ Gods, our revolution shall rise beyond the bounds of class, and when Iâm only a commoner, we shall rise again beyond our brainwashed adversaries! Cheers, my people. Cheers!â 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 wasnât what mattered to them anyway, so long as I screamed loud enough. Thereâs no merit in attacking your people, a voice corrected me. âThatâs right,â I said aloud. âKnox, my-my Sovereign!â squealed a nearby devotee, jittering as he stuffed his face with catered pastries. He was one Iâd never seen before or had failed to remember. âLook what Iâve found! Itâs wine, and not the shoddy Infran kind, either. Earth-made with good fruit! I donât know how anyone managed to get their hands on this. Maybe some space travel mischief.â He giggled and held up a small glass bottle. âHow neat.â âI want you to have it, Sir.â I nodded my head. âYes, of course. Thank you.â 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 Iâm nothing. But tonight, you are nothing. âShut up,â 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 decorumâbiting down with square teeth laced with rabies. âIâve got you all something,â I said. âGo back off to your pedestal and yap some more. We donât want it.â A woman rose from the pile and spat. âYou donât 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.â âYour playmates have been harassing us since the moment you hung the banners and opened the cellar door.â 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. âI 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, Iâm going to have an aneurysm!â the girl continued. âWhy not an Infran follower? Do you like it when they touch you?â I returned her accusing tone. âIâm sorry, sweet prophets, that you feel Iâve neglected my duties. Iâll keep a better eye out. Remember, you can always just holler if somebody is bothering you. And Anwen, friend, if Iâve ever tried to bribe you with anything, it was certainly the hair dye. I mean, look at you! Such handsomeness!â 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. âIâll just leave this here.â Smiling, I set down the bottle. ** â141, 143. . .â 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 wasnât moving at allâswallowing 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. Youâve 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. âDo you need help, Knox?â called a Silby. Fattened by my coddling, her shadow fell upon me from the doorway steps ahead. I attempted counting again. There mustâve been at least another hundred between me and her. âIâm hallucinating some,â 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. âIâm hallucinating some, Tybal. Do you like your name, Tybal? I would have named you something better. Ty-Tyballinia. No, weâd have to eliminate the âballâ aspect. It sounds too crude.â âOne foot in front of the other,â 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 Stultoâs bloom, which came out effortlessly in little sputters. Teetering, I stood up and brushed disgorged plant parts off the tabletop. âLove,â I said as I slogged up yet another staircase. âAre you awake?â She said sheâd wait. Somebodyâs gotten her. No, she always misses movie night. That sleepyhead, I assured myself. There was a stirring amidst the manorâs 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. âWhere is my Spes, Adaba-boy? Is she sleepy?â Thereâs 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 Stultoâs 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 depressionâSpes posing with her ax, Ariâs 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 subjectâs 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, mustnât forget whose home theyâre in. Yet my body moved independently, taking Ariâs 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. âDarling,â whispered the rosy-faced man, âlook.â 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. âGet out of my house,â I said. The man stayed in place. âGet out of my house,â I repeated. âKnox,â Spes began. Tears ran down her round cheeks. âShut up!â I turned to the man, picking up a marble trophy from on top of my dresser. âGet out of my house! Iâll kill you!â âKnox!â Spes sobbed. âGod damn it! I hate you! You barely look at me. Every day, thereâs less passion. God, God, God, I donât want to fuck a dead man!â she screamed, âYou get out! Get! Get!â 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 worldâeven 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 manâs 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 wifeâs shoulder. âSpes!â My eyelids lifted. Escaping was the man with that same numb expression in which I had imagined him. âYouâre insane,â 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. âGet up.â Staggering toward the bed, I said. âYou wanted passion? I showed you passion. âShoved it right into your head. Of course, we both know who that gesture was meant for. . .â 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. âI love you, Spes,â I said. Rain pelted against a nearby window. âSpes, please. Please.â 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. âDad? I heardââ Ariâs slippered feet hammered across the floor. âMom? Mom?â I kept my eyes on the storm. Silence fell. âShe-She isnâtâyourâ.â Gasps interrupted every syllable she spoke. âYouâre a murderer. Bad. Like they said,â she breathed, â You beat her!â The words became mush, alphabet soup. Ari ran back down the hall. âMy-My mom is dead. . . .Yes. . . Manor of the Trials Sovereignty. . .Ari Sorkin. . . Iâm afraid heâs going to hurt me,â 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 sheâd 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. âNo,â I yearned, trying to grip the clouds and stick them in place. âStay with me.â 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. âTrials Sovereign Vsevolod âKnoxâ 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 Purityâs Coronet on his lower back. No attempted execution or elongated punishment will take place until our Guards conduct an autopsy proving his guilt, per Lifeâs 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!â 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 arenât a bad man. You are a stupid boy. Puddles sloshed. Somebody was approaching. I didnât 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. âKnox?â said the Guard. No, her tone was too sincere, and no authority would proceed in such a manner. There wasnât confirmation on whether or not I was armed, and it wasnât as if she could shoot me first. She was a partygoer, having just left from the cellarâs 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. âCome on, get up! Theyâre after you!â 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. âAnwen?â I rasped, âhu-who let you out?â Keys jangled in her handsâmy keys. âI escaped,â she said casually, coercing me to walk beside her. âQuicken your pace. I just heard somebody on your front porch. âYou see that compost bin down the alley? Weâre gonna burrow right down into the depth of that. If they open it and uncover us, Iâll be on top, and I can hide you and act like Iâm just a homeless amica trying to take a nap.â With a tightening grip, she led me like livestock to the stinking crate. âI donât understand, Anwen,â I said. âTheyâre going to torture and kill you, stupid. You know theyâve been wanting to, and you just handed the opportunity to them!â âI understand that.â It was becoming increasingly challenging to hide the fragility emerging in my voice. âYou said you were escaping. Why stop and help your captor?â âWhat else could I do? Leave you there?â 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. âDamn me to hell! Iâve killed her! My love is dead!â an uncontrollable cry leaped from my mouth. âShut up! Soon youâll be, too, if you donât quiet down.â 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 binâs lid, though only rummaged through the surface layer of peat before carrying on. âWhat are they talking about? I struggle with my Latin,â I whispered. âThe search, mainly.â Aggression remained firey in Anwenâs 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. âDid you mean to kill her?â Anwen interrogated. âSomeone like you would immutably believe yes.â âAnd who is someone like me? You canât even treat me like a person for a moment, can you?â grating drama decorated her words. âYou know my opinions. I have not seen much of your or your breedâs faces besides that of cruelty and ignorance.â I retorted. âI just saved you! Does that make me cruel and ignorant?â âIt makes you an idiot, which is another word for somebody ignorant.â âAnd why am I an idiot?â She asked. âBecause you helping me does no good. Thank you anyhow. Now, do yourself a favor and scram.â As she bent her leg in anticipation, preparing to strike me on the forehead, I sensed an invisible withdrawal widening the gap between us. âYou never answered my question,â 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 crateâs exit. It appeared as a shining light at the end of a maze of rubbish and mold. âNo. Of course not. Spes was my everything,â I sniffled. âI knew it. You couldnât even bring yourself to hit us, let alone murder your wife. The girls and I always figured you were sensitive.â My heart rate quickened. Today was one of humbling and miseryâone 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 âsensitiveâ, but the thought could only remind me of wielding that trophy and the microscopic traces of my wifeâs tender skin tainting it, which turned my guts inside out. âThatâs why I think you could use a little help,â Anwen said, âIt seems like you canât walk, either. Your leg is all twisted up.â She undid one of her trim pigtails and handed me the band. âTake off your tie and put up your hair. âWill make you less recognizable. Then swallow your pride and stick with me.â