The alphabet in french

Broken windows are covered. Floorboards are patched and doors screwed back on. The road that was ruined by German tanks is shovelled and raked smooth. Boot-shaped bruises turn yellow then fade and disappear. Flowers grow and spread across the ugly German footprints stomped into garden beds. The village looks pretty once more. School stops for the summer and everyone is put to work on the kolkhoz, the village farm. Women and big boys begin harvesting the barley crops in the outer fields. The biggest girls milk the cows, morning and night, and keep the barns clean. Old Nikolay mends ploughs, horse harnesses, pitchforks and scythes in his workshop. Anna Pushinka teaches Yelena and her friends how to get the honey from the beehives that are scattered through the orchards. I am in charge of collecting eggs. My friends Olga and Nina help. Olga and Nina are five, a year younger than me. They are twins and look exactly alike, except Nina’s nose is a little bit crooked from when she fell out of bed and squashed it sideways on the floor. The hens, ducks and geese wander free in the summer, so collecting eggs is like a treasure hunt and takes hours. Catching the hens for their daily hugs takes even longer, but I think it’s important because hugs make everyone happy and happy hens lay bigger eggs. Olga says I’m the best hen-hugger in all of Russia. Nina says I’ll be the best cow-hugger, too, when my arms grow longer. But good hugs have nothing to do with the size of your arms. It’s all to do with the size of your heart. When we are done with the hens, Olga, Nina and I can spend the rest of the day doing whatever we like. We climb the apricot trees, chase squirrels, lie in the meadow marvelling at how hot Ushanka’s black fur becomes in the sunshine, make daisy chains and race little boats of bark in the stream. I teach Olga and Nina the alphabet and we use charcoal to write our letters and our names all over the village – on doors and walls and the freshly cut ends of firewood. In between, I practise my knots. In case the German princemonsters return. I slip into Old Nikolay’s workshop and tie knots in the harnesses hanging on the walls. I wander into gardens where the washing is hung out to dry and tie knots in the laces on pants and smocks. I creep up behind Anna Pushinka and tie knots in her apron strings. I find baling twine in the hay shed and tie my own ankles together. I do such a good job of these last knots that I can’t get them undone. I have to jump all the way to Olga and Nina’s house and ask them to cut me free with their mama’s knife. At the end of each day, Ushanka and I run out into the distant barley fields to meet Mama. This is my favourite part of the day, because Mama always shouts, ‘Little Rabbit!’ and smothers my head with kisses. And as we walk home, we sing. Everyone – women, big boys and me. I love to sing. Almost as much as I love to be kissed by Mama. Sometimes one of the boys, Mikhail, has his balalaika with him. He takes the instrument out from beneath the sheaves of barley piled high on the wagon and plays music. We sing about forests and orchards and people who find their true love. As we walk home, arm in arm, my heart fills with happiness and my belly swells with pride that I am allowed to sing along with the big boys. And I can almost forget about the German prince-monsters and their lies about Russia and their big ugly boots. Almost. But today, when Mikhail reaches for his balalaika, I see other things hiding beneath the barley sheaves. Three of the mamas rush forward and cover them up, but it’s too late. I know they are there. I’ve already seen them. Rifles. Lots of rifles. Mikhail hugs his balalaika to his chest and blushes. ‘So play!’ cries Mama, her voice oddly loud and high. ‘Let’s play Sasha’s favourite song, “The Little Birch Tree”.’ So Mikhail plays and everyone sings about the lovely birch tree with its curly leaves and the branches that will be turned into silver flutes. They sing too quickly, too loudly, and as they sing and walk, they cast nervous sideways glances at me. ‘It’s alright,’ I say, when the song comes to an end. ‘I didn’t see the rifles.’ Mama nods and smiles, and I know it was the right thing to say. But I did see the rifles. And I think about Yelena wanting to get lots of guns and dynamite for the Partisans so they can shoot the Germans and blow them into thousands of tiny pieces, and Mama looking as though she agreed, and I know this is what the mamas and the big boys are doing. As well as harvesting, they are helping the Partisans. Three days later, I wake before dawn and I am all alone. Yelena is always here beside me when I wake. But not this morning. I climb down from our bed above the stove. Mama is filling a cloth sack with bread. She ties it closed with a piece of string and hands it to Yelena. ‘Stay out of sight,’ says Mama. ‘And don’t return until after dark.’ ‘Where’s she going?’ I ask. ‘Nowhere,’ snaps Mama. ‘Then why does she need all that bread?’ I ask. ‘There’s nothing left for us.’ Mama baked four loaves last night and she has stuffed them all into the sack. Yelena opens her mouth, but before she can speak, Mama shoves her out the door and sends her on the way to nowhere. Mama turns and stares at me, her blue, blue cornflower eyes wide with worry. ‘I know,’ I say, flopping down on the bench. ‘I didn’t see any bread.’ Mama sits beside me and takes my hand. ‘And . . .?’ she prods, obviously waiting for more. I puzzle for a while, then say, ‘And I don’t have a sister called Yelena.’ Mama laughs, softly and with a little bit of sadness around the edges. ‘Sweet Little Rabbit! You do have a sister called Yelena.’ ‘I do?’ I ask, now confused. ‘I haven’t seen the rifles or the bread, but I have seen Yelena?’ ‘Yes.’ Mama smiles and the magic makes me smile, too. And I am glad that Yelena is real because I love her very much. ‘Yelena is real,’ Mama explains, ‘but she does not carry sacks of bread into the forest for the Partisans.’ ‘Of course not!’ I shout, slapping my forehead. ‘Because there is no bread!’ Mama laughs loudly now, with not a hint of sadness. She hugs me, pressing me against her warm, loving heart, covering my head with kisses. ‘Clever Little Rabbit,’ she murmurs, and then, in barely a whisper, ‘Your papa would be so proud.’ When I wake the next morning, Yelena is sleeping beside me, her mouth open, her braided hair unravelling. Mama is serving kasha to a strange woman seated at our table. I crawl down from above the stove and slide along the bench beside her. I stare at her pants, her tunic, the rope she is using as a belt and her big boots. She’s dressed like a man! And there’s a rifle leaning against the wall near the door. ‘Hello,’ I say. ‘I’m Sasha.’ The woman doesn’t reply. She just shovels down her kasha. I line my four wooden bears along the table in front of her bowl and say, ‘These are my bears: Big Bear, Medium Bear, Little Bear and Even Littler Bear.’ ‘Hello, Sasha. Hello, bears.’ She smiles but she doesn’t tell me her name. ‘Why are you dressed like a man?’ I ask, tugging at the sleeve of her tunic. ‘Because men’s clothes make it easier to run and climb and crawl and shoot,’ she says. ‘You’re a Partisan!’ I gasp. ‘But she’s not real,’ says Mama, placing a bowl of kasha before me. ‘Is the kasha real?’ I ask. Mama laughs. ‘Yes, Little Rabbit.’ I’m glad the food is real, because I’m hungry. But I’m disappointed that the woman is not real. I was going to ask if I could use her rope-belt to tie her ankles together. For practice. But if she’s not real, then the rope and her ankles aren’t either. The woman finishes her kasha, hangs her rifle over her shoulder, kisses Mama on the cheek then slips out the door. I run to the window to watch her leave, but by the time I get there, she’s gone. Vanished. ‘Because she’s not real,’ I whisper. A week later, Mama and I are working in the garden. We sing as we weed between the flowers and pluck caterpillars from the vegetables. Anna Pushinka is picking strawberries in her garden and wanders over. ‘Taste these,’ she says, holding out the basket. Mama reaches in and takes out a fat strawberry and a tiny piece of folded paper. The strawberry goes into her mouth, the paper into her pocket. ‘What’s on the paper?’ I ask. ‘Paper?’ Anna Pushinka replies with a wave of her hand. ‘Goodness, Sasha! Who has money for paper? These are lean times. We must choose between paper for writing and noodles for our soup. And I always choose noodles.’ She chuckles and I know the paper is yet another thing that is not real. That night, Mama slips the paper to Yelena, but she drops it on the floor. I pick it up for her, and I see that there are tiny words and numbers written all over it. I wish I could read better. I’m desperate to know what it says. Or rather, what it doesn’t say, because it’s not real. Later, when Mama has tucked us into our bed above the stove and Ushanka has wrapped herself around the top of my head, I ask Yelena, ‘What’s on the paper?’ ‘What paper?’ says Yelena. ‘The paper that isn’t real,’ I reply. Yelena stares at me, nibbling her lip, then whispers, ‘A message for the Partisans. Stuff about where the Germans have their headquarters and when their trains are travelling and where they store their ammunition.’ ‘Why?’ ‘So the Partisans can blow them up.’ Yelena grabs my arm. ‘But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.’ ‘What’s a secret?’ I ask. ‘The message.’ ‘What message?’ I say, my eyes wide. Yelena laughs. ‘Good boy, Sasha.’ My belly swells with pride. I know how to play this game. ‘How are your knots coming along?’ asks Yelena. ‘Good! Yesterday, I crept into the dairy and tied knots in the apron strings of all the girls who were milking and only one of them noticed. Today, I tied Olga’s ankles together with Mama’s embroidery thread and just now, while you were taking a bath, I tied the sleeves of your blouse together in an enormous knot.’ Yelena rolls her eyes, then says, ‘I’ll see if I can find you some rope for practising.’ ‘Practising what?’ I ask. ‘Your knots,’ she says. ‘What knots?’ Yelena, my big sister who is twelve and always serious t

Generate all of these 25 questions Part A: Each correct answer is worth 5. 1. The regular pentagon shown has a side length of 2 cm. The perimeter of the pentagon is (A) 2 cm (B) 4 cm (C) 6 cm (D) 8 cm (E) 10 cm 2 cm 2. The faces of a cube are labelled with 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 dots. Three of the faces are shown. What is the total number of dots on the other three faces? (A) 6 (B) 8 (C) 10 (D) 12 (E) 15 3. The equation that best represents \a number increased by _ve equals 15" is (A) n 􀀀 5 = 15 (B) n _ 5 = 15 (C) n + 5 = 15 (D) n + 15 = 5 (E) n _ 5 = 15 4. The line graph shows the number of bobbleheads sold at a store each year. The sale of bobbleheads increased the most between (A) 2016 and 2017 (B) 2017 and 2018 (C) 2018 and 2019 (D) 2019 and 2020 (E) 2020 and 2021 Number of 2016 2017 2018 2019 2020 Year Sale of Bobbleheads 2021 Bobbleheads 20 40 60 80 5. Starting at 72, Aryana counts down by 11s: 72; 61; 50; : : : . What is the last number greater than 0 that Aryana will count? (A) 4 (B) 5 (C) 6 (D) 7 (E) 8 6. In the diagram, \ABC = 90_. The value of x is (A) 68 (B) 23 (C) 56 (D) 28 (E) 26 Day of the Week 44° x° A B C x° 7. Which of the following values is closest to zero? (A) 􀀀1 (B) 5 4 (C) 12 (D) 􀀀4 5 (E) 0:9 Grade 8 8. A jar contains 267 quarters. One quarter is worth $0.25. How many quarters must be added to the jar so that the total value of the quarters is $100.00? (A) 33 (B) 53 (C) 103 (D) 133 (E) 153 9. A package of 8 greeting cards comes with 10 envelopes. Kirra has 7 cards but no envelopes. What is the smallest number of packages that Kirra needs to buy to have more envelopes than cards? (A) 3 (B) 4 (C) 5 (D) 6 (E) 7 10. For the points in the diagram, which statement is true? (A) e > c (B) b < d (C) f > b (D) a < e (E) a > c y x (e, f ) (a, b) (c, d ) Part B: Each correct answer is worth 6. 11. The 26 letters of the English alphabet are listed in an in_nite, repeating loop: ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXY ZABC : : : What is the 258th letter in this sequence? (A) V (B) W (C) X (D) Y (E) Z 12. A public holiday is always celebrated on the third Wednesday of a certain month. In that month, the holiday cannot occur on which of the following days? (A) 16th (B) 22nd (C) 18th (D) 19th (E) 21st 13. A circular spinner is divided into three sections. An arrow is attached to the centre of the spinner. The arrow is spun once. The probability that the arrow stops on the largest section is 50%. The probability it stops on the next largest section is 1 in 3. The probability it stops on the smallest section is (A) 1 4 (B) 2 5 (C) 1 6 (D) 2 7 (E) 3 10 14. A positive number is divisible by both 3 and 4. The tens digit is greater than the ones digit. How many positive two-digit numbers have this property? (A) 4 (B) 5 (C) 6 (D) 7 (E) 8 15. A rectangular pool measures 20 m by 8 m. There is a 1 m wide walkway around the outside of the pool, as shown by the shaded region. The area of the walkway is (A) 56 m2 (B) 60 m2 (C) 29 m2 (D) 52 m2 (E) 50 m2 20 m 8 m 1 m Grade 8 16. The results of asking 50 students if they participate in music or sports are shown in the Venn diagram. What percentage of the 50 students do not participate in music and do not participate in sports? (A) 0% (B) 80% (C) 20% (D) 70% (E) 40% Music Sports 15 5 20 17. There are 2 3 as many golf balls in Bin F as in Bin G. If there are a total of 150 golf balls, how many fewer golf balls are in Bin F than in Bin G? (A) 15 (B) 30 (C) 50 (D) 60 (E) 90 18. In the sequence shown, Figure 1 is formed using 7 squares. Each _gure after Figure 1 has 5 more squares than the previous _gure. What _gure has 2022 squares? (A) Figure 400 (B) Figure 402 (C) Figure 404 (D) Figure 406 (E) Figure 408 Figure 1 Figure 2 Figure 3 19. Mateo's 300 km trip from Edmonton to Calgary passed through Red Deer. Mateo started in Edmonton at 7 a.m. and drove until stopping for a 40 minute break in Red Deer. Mateo arrived in Calgary at 11 a.m. Not including the break, what was his average speed for the trip? (A) 83 km/h (B) 94 km/h (C) 90 km/h (D) 95 km/h (E) 64 km/h 20. Equilateral triangle ABC has sides of length 4. The midpoint of BC is D, and the midpoint of AD is E. The value of EC2 is (A) 7 (B) 6 (C) 6:25 (D) 8 (E) 10 Part C: Each correct answer is worth 8. 21. The positive factors of 6 are 1, 2, 3, and 6. There are two perfect squares less than 100 that have exactly _ve positive factors. What is the sum of these two perfect squares? (A) 177 (B) 80 (C) 145 (D) 52 (E) 97 22. In the list p; q; r; s; t; u; v, each letter represents a positive integer. The sum of the values of each group of three consecutive letters in the list is 35. If q + u = 15, then p + q + r + s + t + u + v is (A) 85 (B) 70 (C) 80 (D) 90 (E) 75 Grade 8 23. The net shown is folded to form a cube. An ant walks from face to face on the cube, visiting each face exactly once. For example, ABCFED and ABCEFD are two possible orders of faces the ant visits. If the ant starts at A, how many possible orders are there? (A) 24 (B) 48 (C) 32 (D) 30 (E) 40 A D B C E F 24. The number 385 is an example of a three-digit number for which one of the digits is the sum of the other two digits. How many numbers between 100 and 999 have this property? (A) 144 (B) 126 (C) 108 (D) 234 (E) 64 25. Student A, Student B, and Student C have been hired to help scientists develop a new avour of juice. There are 4200 samples to test. Each sample either contains blueberry or does not. Each student is asked to taste each sample and report whether or not they think it contains blueberry. Student A reports correctly on exactly 90% of the samples containing blueberry and reports correctly on exactly 88% of the samples that do not contain blueberry. The results for all three students are shown below. Student A Student B Student C Percentage correct on samples 90% 98% (2m)% containing blueberry Percentage correct on samples 88% 86% (4m)% not containing blueberry Student B reports 315 more samples as containing blueberry than Student A. For some positive integers m, the total number of samples that the three students report as containing blueberry is equal to a multiple of 5 between 8000 and 9000. The sum of all such values of m is (A) 45 (B) 36 (C) 24 (D) 27 (E) 29

Alphabet (A-J)in the English

WHAT IS SCIENCE? - is a way in which answers related to NATURAL events are proposed. - a way in which people can learn and UNDERSTAND events in the NATURAL WORLD - based on OBSERVABLE EVENTS - a study of the NATURAL WORLD - a method of DISCOVERY and UNDERSTANDING by using a PROBLEM-SOLVING process called the?? - A systematic body of knowledge based on observation and experimentation. FOUR COMMON CHARACTERISTICS OF SCIENCE: 1. It focuses on the NATURAL WORLD. 2. Goes through experiment. 3. Relies on evidence. 4. Passes through the scientific community. WHAT IS TECHNOLOGY? Brian Arthur (2009) defined technology as: 1. a means to fulfill a human purpose 2. assemblage of practices and components 3. a collection of devices and engineering practices available to a culture. SOCIETY ST (Science Technology) would not exist without society. WHAT IS STS? Science and Technology and Society (STS) is the study of how society, politics and culture affect scientific research and technological innovation and how these, in turn affects society, politics and culture. EVENTS IN THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY THAT TRANSFORMED THE SOCIETY (IN THE WORLD) ANCIENT PERIOD 3500 BC. - 500 AD EUROPE - use of fire by Homo Erectus CA 750,000 - Stone Headed Spears CA 45,000 - Wooden bow and arrow CA 20,000 - The Minoans build palaces in Crete CA 2,000 THE AMERICAS - The Folsom people living on eastern side of the Rocky Mountain developed sophisticated tools CA 8,000. - Pottery is made in South America CA 6,000 - Olmec sculpture carves figurines and giant human heads. CA 1200 ASIA AND OCEANA - Earliest known clay pots are made in Japan CA 11,000. - Bronze is first made in Thailand CA 4000 - A lunar calendar is developed in China CA 2950 - Chinese doctors begin using acupuncture CA 2500 - The Hindu calendar of 360 days was introduced in India CA 1000 AFRICA AND MIDDLE EAST - Homo erectus uses stone tools CA 1000000 - CA 15000 in Africa, bone harpoons are used for fishing. - Clay tokens are used for record keeping in Mesopotamia CA 7500 - Mesopotamian mathematicians discover the Pythagorean Theorem MEDIEVAL PERIOD CA 500 -1500 - Dark ages because few written records and evidences remained - Scholastic tradition was established by Charlemagne - Vertical windmills, spectacles, mechanical clock, water mills, gothic style were invented - Johannes Gutenberg invented the printing press RENAISSANCE PERIOD 14TH – 17TH CENTURY - Rebirth of revival - Printing with movable type allowed Bible, secular books made in large amount - Nicolas Copernicus presented a heliocentric theory - Galileo Galilei invented telescope INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION 18TH CENTURY - Skilled workers were set aside because of the machines - Iron production, steam engine and textile flourished - Scottish James Watt improved steam engine Robert Fulton (steam boat) - The following were invented: Light bulb, telephone, first steam powered locomotive 19TH CENTURY - Age of machine and tools - Herman Helmholtz (law of conservation of energy) - James Clark Maxwell (light as electro-magnetic wave) - Henry Becquerel (radioactivity) - Marie and Pierre Curie (radium) - Hans Christian Oersted (electric current near the magnet) - Michael Faraday (magnet produces electricity) - Atomic Theory proposed by John Dalton - Electron discovered by JJ. Thomson - Telegraph developed by Samuel Morse 20TH CENTURY - Communication, transportation, military research were developed - Personal computer was created - Intel developed microprocessor - Apple was introduced by Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak - Internet was created (ARPANET) - Henry Ford's mass production of cars - Artificial Intelligence was invented SCIENCE, TECHNOLOGY AND SOCIETY (PHILIPPINE HISTORY) Stone Age - Archeological findings show that modern man from Asian mainland first came over land on across narrow channels to live in Batangas and Palawan about 48,000 B.C. - Subsequently they formed settlement in Sulu, Davao, Zamboanga, Samar, Negros, Batangas, Laguna, Rizal, Bulacan and Cagayan. Inventions - They made simple tools and weapons of stone flakes and later developed method of sawing and polishing stones around 40,000 B.C. - By around 3,000 B.C. they were producing adzes ornaments of seashells and pottery. Pottery flourished for the next 2,000 years until they imported Chinese porcelain. Soon they learned to produce copper, bronze, iron, and gold metal tools and ornaments. Iron Age - The Iron Age lasted from the third century B.C. to 11th century A.D. During this period Filipinos were engaged in extraction smelting and refining of iron from ores, until the importation of cast iron from Sarawak and later from China. INVENTIONS AND DISCOVERIES - They learn to weave cotton, make glass ornaments, and cultivate lowland rice and dike fields of terraced fields utilizing spring water in mountain regions. - They also learned to build boats for trading purposes. - Spanish chronicles noted refined plank built warships called caracoa suited for interisland trade raids 10TH CENTURY A.D. - Filipinos from the Butuan were trading with Champa (Vietnam) and those from Ma-I (Mindoro) with China as noted in Chinese records containing several references to the Philippines. These archaeological findings indicated that regular trade relations between the Philippines, China and Vietnam had been well established from the 10th century to the 15th century A.D. TRADING - The People of Ma-I and San-Hsu (Palawan) traded bee wax, cotton, pearls, coconut heart mats, tortoise shell and medicinal betel nuts, panie cloth for porcelain, leads fishnets sinker, colored glass beads, iron pots, iron needles and tin. SOME PRESPANISH FILIPINO SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY - Curative values of plants extract use as medicine - Alphabet (Alibata) - Counting Methods - Weights - Measuring system (isang gatang) - Calendar based on the periods of moon - Banaue Rice Terraces SPANISH REGIME  Religion the Catholic Church - The latter part of the 16th Century Development of schools: - Colegio de San Ildefonso-Cebu-1595 - Colegio de San Ignacio-Manila-1595 - Colegio De Nuestra Senora del Rosario-Manila 1597 - Colegio De San Jose-Manila-1601  Colegio De San Ildefonso De Cebu - In 1863 the colonial authorities issued a royal degree to reform the existing educational system. In 1871 the school of medicine and pharmacy were opened to UST, after 15 years it had granted the degree Of Licenciado En Medicina to 62 graduates.  Medicine - Development of hospitals San Juan Lazaro hospital the oldest in the far east was founded in 1578.  Roads and Bridges Among other Spanish contributions: - Arithmetic - Algebra - Geometry - Trigonometry - Physics - Hydrography - Meteorology - Navigation - Pilotage American Period and Post Commonwealth Era - BUREAU OF GOVERNMENT LABORATORIES (1901) - BUREAU OF SCIENCE (1905) - INSTITUTE OF SCIENCE (1946) RA 2067 OTHERWISE KNOWN AS THE “SCIENCE ACT OF 1958”. - This was enacted to integrate, coordinate, and intensify scientific and technological research and development and to foster invention including allocation of funds and other purposes. NATIONAL RESEARCH COUNCIL WAS ESTABLISHED ON DECEMBER 8, 1933. - Its Mandate (Nrcp) Promotes And Supports Fundamental Or Basic Research For The Continuing Total Improvement Of The Research Capability Of Individual Scientists Or Group Of Scientists; Provides Advice On Problems And Issues Of National Interest; Promotes Scientific And Technological Culture To All Sectors Of Society; And Fosters Linkages With Local And International Scientific Organizations For Enhanced Cooperation In The Development And Sharing Of Information NATIONAL RESEARCH COUNCIL WAS ESTABLISHED IN DECEMBER 8, 1933. - Its Mandate (NRCP) promotes and supports fundamental or basic research for the continuing total improvement of the research capability of individual scientists or group of scientists; provides advice on problems and issues of national interest; promotes scientific and technological culture to all sectors of society; and fosters linkages with local and international scientific organizations for enhanced cooperation in the development and sharing of information. It was during the American Period when Science was inclined towards: - Agriculture - Food Processing - Forestry - Medicine - Pharmacy - Nursing

“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.”

Short Quiz in English 2 Read the alphabets of English

Chapter 5: Cracking the Alphabetic Code

The alphabet

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