Anti Social Disorder Essay -- essays research papers fc

Anti-Social Personality Disorder In a world full of fears, perhaps the worst one a human being should have is that to be afraid of his fellow man. The human that should be most feared is the one that has Anti-Social Personality Disorder or in laymen's terms the psychopath. The psychopath is probably the most deviant mind that exists and treatment is not very successful because there is not a cure or drug to control it. The solution in my mind to control the problem of sociopaths is to let them live in colonies with each other. Through my research I will develop an understanding of this personality disorder and convince you the reader that my solution might be a viable solution. The sociopath is a combination of other mental illnesses that are incurred in childhood as a result of heredity, trauma and the lack of emotional development. The lack of moral or emotional development which gives a sociopath a lack of understanding for other people's feelings which enables them to be deceitful without feeling bad about whatever they do. The under developed emotional system as explained in the video "The World of Personality Disorders volume 5" says the sociopath is "emotionally retarded" . The sociopathic behavior problems that start as a child have links to heredity, a family with a pre-disposition to perform crimes, alcoholic parents that do crimes, irresponsible behavior that persists and parents that do not discipline. The child that will eventually be a sociopath exhibits certain feeling inside that they are inadequate, shamed and because of that they are teased and made fun of. The child characteristics of a future sociopath consist of being incapable of following the rules. The youngster will skip school, bully, steal, torment animals, run away from home and the child is likely to develop Attention Deficit \Hyperactivity Disorder or AD|HD. At an earlier age than their peer group the child will smoke drink, do drugs, and become sexually active. The diagnoses of Anti-Social Personality Disorder is not used for people under the age of 18. The Psychopath is defined in the dictionary as a person suffering from, especially a severe mental disorder with aggressive antisocial behavior which is a nice way of saying a really bad and mean person. There are many characteristics of a sociopath and each sociopath has thei... ... if they were caused to interact with fellow sociopaths it would keep them interested because it is not as easy to manipulate or con. The possibility of violence in my colony is great but the sociopaths would not mind because it is in their personality and it would serve us better if they killed or hurt each other rather than us. In closing the sociopath is so hard to deal with we should make strides to control their behavior in public. --- Bibliography BOOKS Wing, John Kenneth, Reasoning About Madness, Oxford Press, Oxford 1978 Milt, Harry ,Basic Handbook on Mental Ilness,Scribner, New York, 1974 Hales, Dianne, Caring for the Mind, Bantam Books, New York, 1995 ARTICLES Salama M.D., Aziz A., The Antisocial Personality, The Psychiatric Journal of the University of Ottawa, Ottawa, 1988 Malaney M. D. , Kathleen R., Patients with Antisocial Personality Disorder, Post Graduate Medicine, 1992 Unknown, unknown, Psychopathic Patients Pose Dilemma For Physicians and Society, CMAJ, 1995 Hare Ph.D., Robert,Predators, Psycology Today, Feb. 1994 Hill, Heather,Monsters In Our Midst,Homemaker's Magazine, Oct. 1995 VIDEO The World of Abnormal Psychology Personality Disorder

Internship with the Police Department Essay -- Internship Police Depar

Internship with the Police Department Throughout my one hundred and twenty-hour experience with the Gloversville Police Department, I learned many skills, values and the ways of this Police Department. Many of the calls and situations I went to often could relate to a certain theory that I learned in any of my law classes. I would recommend any student majoring in Criminal Justice to try to take an internship with a local law enforcement agency. I am currently signed up for the civil service test for Gloversville Police Department, If I do qualify for the Police I believe that this internship will give me a huge head start. Some experiences that I encountered were DWI'S, Assaults, Traffic Tickets, Domestic Disputes, and going into the bars for ABC checks. The best Dwi I saw was when we pulled over a twenty-nine year old Marine. The officer that I was with wanted to let him go but couldn't because of the condition of the offender. So we cuffed him and brought him to the station. While filling out the report for him we get a call about a kid who was struck at a bar by another man. We asked if he wanted to press charges and he replied with a yes. We went to his house and found out it was a twenty-five year-old who was majoring to be a lawyer. The officer I was with that night knew this kid and thought very low of him because of past incidents. Come to find out the twenty-nine year old we had in custody was the one that had assaulted him earlier in the bar. We told him to come down in the morning and sign to press charges. When we got back to the station the Officer I was with asked him why he didn?t hit hi m harder. It was way to make him laugh and relax. After that we all got talking and it actually did calm him down and I learned that even though someone committed a crime that it doesn?t necessarily mean that person is a bad person. When dealing with assaults I learned that no matter how much you agree with a person or want to believe a person that you cant take sides. To me this was one of the major lessons that I learned in this program. We were dispatched to a call at the Caboose for a fight. When we arrived I saw two younger males and an older male fighting. Immediately I thought that the two younger males were drinking and started a fight with this older man who was walking down the street. To my mistake we found out that the two men were helpi... ... that will hopefully improve my handwriting skills. Besides the writing I feel that most of my skills are good. If I become an Officer myself I believe that these would only improve. If I were to be grading myself on this internship program I would give myself a B. I believe that I would deserve an A but this paper itself is not the certain length required. Through the program I learned a lot of valuable information about police departments themselves and how they work because I was actually there. No teacher could have taught this to any students, its something that they would have to experience themselves and something that I highly recommend to any student who is serious about taking criminal justice. The internship program was one of my best experiences with college. I learned a lot of information dealing with the Police and how they work. I also learned that I want a career in this field. I want a job that is different everyday and I don?t know what?s going to happen day after day. Thank you for creating the opportunity for me to experience what it?s like in a Police Department. I greatly appreciate all the time and effort you put forward for me to do this internship.

Carrie Chapter Seven

‘Wait Just wait. Let me talk. You want me to ask Carrie White to the Spring Ball. Okay, I got that. But there's a couple of things I don't understand.' `Name them.' She leaned forward. ‘First, what good would it do? And second, what makes YOU think shed say yes if I asked her?' ‘Not say yes! Why – ‘ She floundered. ‘You're †¦ everybody likes you and-‘ ‘We both know Carrie's got no reason to care much for people that everybody likes.' ‘She'd go with you.' ‘Why?' Pressed, she looked defiant and proud at the same time. ‘I've seen the way she looks at you. She's got a crush. Like half the girls at Ewen.' He rolled his eyes. ‘Well, I'm just telling you,' Sue said defensively. ‘She won't be able to say no.' ‘Suppose I believe you,' he said. ‘What about the other thing?' ‘You mean what good will it do? Why it'll, bring her out of her shell, of course. Make her†¦' She trailed off ‘A part of things? Come on, Suze. You don't believe that bullshit.' ‘All right,' she said. ‘Maybe I don't. But maybe I still think I've got something to make up for.' ‘The shower room?' ‘A lot more than that. Maybe if that was all I could let it go, but the mean tricks have been going on ever since grammar school. I wasn't in on many of them, but I was on some. If I'd been in Chris's group, I bet I would have been in on even more. It seemed like. . oh, a big laugh. Girls can be cat-mean about that sort of thing, and boys don't really understand. The boys would tease Carrie for a little while and then forget, but the girls †¦ it went on and on and on and I can't even remember where it started any more. If I were Carrie, I couldn't even face showing myself to the world. I'd just find a big rock and hide under it.' ‘You were kids,' he said. ‘Kids don't know what they're doing. Kids don't even know their reactions really, actually, hurt other people. They have no, uh, empathy. Dig?' She found herself struggling to express the thought this called up in her, for it suddenly seemed basic, bulking over the shower-room incident the way sky bulks over mountains. ‘But hardly anybody ever finds out that their actions really, actually hurt other people! People don't get better, they just get smarter. When you get smarter you don't stop pulling the wings off flies you just think of better reasons for doing it. Lots of kids say they feel sorry for Carrie White-mostly girls, and that's a laugh-but I bet none of them understand what it's like to be Carrie White, every second of every day. And they don't really care.' ‘Do you?' ‘I don't know!' she cried. ‘But someone ought to try and be sorry in a way that counts †¦ in a way that means something.'. ‘All right. I'll ask her.' ‘You will?' The statement came out in a flat, surprised way. She had not thought he actually would. ‘Yea. But I think she'll say no. You've overestimated my box-office appeal. That popularity stuff is bullshit. You've got a bee in your bonnet about that.' ‘Thank you,' she said, and it sounded odd, as if she had thanked an Inquisitor for torture. ‘I love you,' he said. She looked at him, startled. It was the first time he had said it. From My Name is Susan Snell (p. 6): There are lots of people-mostly men-who aren't surprised that I asked Tommy to take Carrie to the Spring Ball. They are surprised that he did it, though, which shows you that the male mind expects very little in the way of altruism from its fellows. Tommy took her because he loved me and because it was what I wanted. How, asks the sceptic from the balcony, did you know he loved you? Because he told me so, mister. And if you'd known him, that would have been good enough for you, too †¦ He asked her on Thursday, after lunch, and found himself as nervous as a kid going to his first ice-cream party. She sat four rows over from him in Period Five study hall, and when it was over he cut across to her through the mass of rushing bodies. At the teacher's desk Mr Stephens, a tall man just beginning to run to fat, was folding papers abstractedly back into his ratty brown briefcase. ‘Carrie?' ‘Ohuh?' She looked up from her books with a startled wince, as if expecting a blow. The day was overcast and the bank of fluorescents embedded in the ceiling was not particularly kind to her pale complexion. But he saw for the first time (because it was the first time he had really looked) that she was far from repulsive. Her face was round rather than oval, and the eyes were so dark that they seemed to cast shadows beneath them, like bruises. Her hair was darkish blonde, slightly wiry, pulled back in a bun that was not becoming to her. The lips were full, almost lush, the teeth naturally white. Her body, for the most part, was indeterminate. A baggy sweater concealed her breasts except for token nubs. The skirt was colourful but awful all the same: It fell to a 1958 midshin hem in an odd and clumsy A-line. The calves were strong and rounded (the attempt to conceal these with heathery knee-socks was bizarre but unsuccessful) and handsome. She was looking up with an expression that was slightly fearful, slightly something else. He was quite sure he knew what the something else was. Sue had been right, and being right, he had just time to wonder if this was doing a kindness or making things even worse. ‘If you don't have a date for the Ball, would you want to go with me?' Now she blinked, and as she did so, a strange thing happened. The time it took to happen could have been no more than the doorway to a second, but afterwards he had no trouble recalling it, as one does with dreams or the sensation of deja vu. He felt a dizziness as if his mind was no longer controlling. his body – the miserable, out-of-control feeling he associated with drinking too much and then coming to the vomiting point. Then it was gone. ‘What? What?' She wasn't angry, at least. He had expected a brief gust of rage and then a sweeping retreat. But she wasn't angry; she seemed unable to cope with what he had said at all. They were alone in the study hall now, perfectly between the ebb of old students and the flow of new ones. ‘The Spring Ball,' he said, a little shaken. ‘It's next Friday and I know this is late notice but-? ‘I don't like to be tricked,' she said softly, and lowered her head. She hesitated for just a second, and then passed him by. She stopped and turned and he suddenly saw dignity in her, something so natural that he doubted if she was even aware of it. ‘Do You People think you can just go on tricking me forever? I know who you go around with.' ‘I don't go around with anyone I don't want to, Tommy said patiently. ‘I'm asking you because I want to ask you.' Ultimately, he knew this to be the truth. If Sue was making a gesture of atonement, she was doing it only at secondhand. The Period Six students were coming in now, and some of them were looking over curiously. Dale Ullman said something to a boy Tommy didn't know and both of them snickered. ‘Come on,' Tommy said. They walked out into the hall. They were halfway to Wing Four – his class was the other way – walking together but perhaps only by accident, when she said, almost too quietly to hear: ‘I'd love to. Love to.' He was perceptive enough to know it was not an acceptance, and again doubt assailed him. Still, it was started. ‘Do it, then. It will be all right. For both of us. We'll see to it.' ‘No,' she said, and in her sudden pensiveness she could have been mistaken for beautiful. ‘It will be a nightmare.' ‘I don't have tickets,' he said, as if he hadn't heard. ‘This is the last day they sell them.' ‘Hey, Tommy, you're going the wrong way!' Brent Gillian yelled. She stopped. ‘You're going to be late.' ‘Will you?' ‘Your class,' she said distraught. ‘Your class. The bell is going to ring.' ‘Will you?' ‘Yes,' she said with angry helplessness. ‘You knew I would.' She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘No,' he said. ‘But now I do. I'll pick you up at seventhirty.' ‘Fine,' she whispered. `Thank you.' She looked as if she might swoon. And then, more uncertain than ever, he touched her hand. From The Shadow Exploded (pp. 74-76): Probably no other aspect of the Carrie White affair had been so misunderstood, second-guessed, and shrouded in mystery as the part played by Thomas Everett Ross, Carrie's ill-starred escort to the Ewen High School Spring Ball. Morton Cratzchbarken, in an admittedly sensationalized address to The National Colloquium on Psychic Phenomena last year, said that the two most stunning events of the twentieth century have been the assassination of John F. Kennedy in 1963 and the destruction that came to Chamberlain, Maine, in May of 1979. Cratzchbarken points out that both events were driven home to the citizenry by mass media, and both events have almost shouted the frightening fact that, while something had ended, something else had been irrevocably set in motion, for good or ill. If the comparison can be made, then Thomas Ross played the part of Lee Harvey Oswald – trigger man in a catastrophe. The question that still remains is: Did he do so wittingly or unwittingly? Susan Snell, by her own admission, was to have been escorted by Ross to the annual event. She claims that she suggested Ross take Carrie to make up for her part in the shower-room incident. Those who oppose this story, most lately led by George Jerome of Harvard, claim that this is either a highly romantic distortion or an outright lie. Jerome argues with great force and eloquence that it is hardly typical of high-school-age adolescents to feel that they have to ‘atone' for anything – particularly for an offence against a peer who has been ostracized from existing cliques. ‘It would be uplifting if we could believe that adolescent human nature is capable of salvaging the pride and self image of the low bird in the pecking order with such a gesture,' Jerome has said in a recent issue of The Atlantic Monthly, ‘but we know better. The low bird is not picked tenderly out of the dust by its fellows; rather, it is despatched quickly and without mercy.' Jerome, of course, is absolutely right-about birds, at any rate – and his eloquence is undoubtedly responsible in large part for the advancement of the ‘practical joker' theory, which The White Commission approached but did not actually state. This theory hypothesizes that Ross and Christine Hargensen (see pp. 10-18) were at the centre of a loose conspiracy to get Carrie White to the Spring Ball, and, once there, complete her humiliation. Some theorists (mostly crime writers) also claim that Sue Snell was an active part of this conspiracy. This casts the mysterious Mr Ross in the worst possible light, that of a practical joker deliberately manoeuvring an unstable girl into an situation of extreme stress. The author doesn't believe that likely in fight of Mr Ross's character. This is a facet which has remained largely unexplored by his detractors, who have painted him as a rather dull clique-centred athlete; the phrase ‘dumb jock' expresses this view of Tommy Ross perfectly. It is true that Ross was an athlete of above-average ability. His best sport was baseball, and he was a member of the Ewen varsity squad from his Sophomore year. Dick O'Connell, general manager of the Boston Red Sox, has indicated that Ross would have been offered a fairly large bonus for signing a contract, had he lived. But Ross was also a straight-A student (hardly fitting the ‘dumb-jock' image), and his parents have both said that he had decided pro baseball would have to wait until he had finished college, where he planned to study for an English degree. His interests including writing poetry, and a poem written six months prior to his death was published in an established ‘little magazine' called Everleaf. This is available in Appendix V. His surviving classmates also give him high marks, and this is significant. There were only twelve survivors of what has become known in the popular press as Prom Night. Those who were not in attendance were largely the unpopular members of the Junior and Senior classes. If these ‘outs' remember Ross as a friendly, goodnatured fellow (many referred to him as ‘a hell of a good shit'), does not Professor Jerome's thesis suffer accordingly' Ross's school records – which cannot, according to state law, be photostated here – when taken with class mates' recollections and the comments of relatives, neighbours, and teachers, form a picture of an extraordinary young man. This is a fact that jells very badly with Professor Jerome's picture of a peer-worshipping, sly young tough. He apparently had a high enough tolerance to verbal abuse and enough independence from his peer group to ask Carrie in the first place. In fact, Thomas Ross appears to have been something of a rarity – a socially conscious young man. No case will be made here for his sainthood. There is none to be made. But intensive research has satisfied me that neither was he a human chicken in a public-school barnyard, joining mindlessly in the ruin of a weaker hen †¦ She lay (i am not afraid not afraid of her) on her bed with an arm thrown over her eyes. It was Saturday night. If she was to make the dress she had in mind, she would have to start tomorrow at the (i'm not afraid momma) latest. She had already bought the material at John's in Westover. The heavy, crumpled velvet richness of it frightened her. The price had also frightened her, and she had been intimidated by the size of the place, the chic ladies wandering here and here in their light spring dresses, examining bolts of cloth. There was an echoing strangeness in the atmosphere and it was worlds from the Chamberlain Woolworth's where she usually bought her material. She was intimidated but not stopped. Bemuse, if she wanted to, she could send them all screaming into the streets. Mannequins toppling over, light fixtures failing, bolts of cloth shooting through the air in unwinding shelters. Like Samson in the temple, she could rain destruction on their heads if she so desired. (i am not afraid) The package was now hidden on a dry shelf in the cellar, and she was going to bring it up. Tonight. She opened her eyes. Flex. The bureau rose into the air, trembled for a moment and then rose until it nearly touched the ceiling. She lowered it. Lifted it. Lowered it. Now the bed, complete with her weight. Up. Down. Up. Down. Just like an elevator. She was hardly tired at all. Well, a little. Not much. The ability, almost lost two weeks ago, was in full flower. It had progressed at a speed that was Well, almost terrifying. And now, seemingly unbidden – like the knowledge of menstruation – a score of memories had come, as if some mental dam had been knocked down so that strange waters could gush forth. They were cloudy, distorted little-girl memories, but very real for all that. Making the pictures dance on the walls; turning on the water faucets from across the room; Momma asking her (carrie shut the windows it's going to rain) to do something and windows suddenly banging down all over the house; giving Miss Macaferty four flat tyres all at once by unscrewing the valves in the tyres of her Volkswagen; the stones (!!!!! no no no no no !!!!!!) -but now there was no denying the memory, no more than there could be a denying of the monthly flow, and that memory was not cloudy, no, not that one; it was harsh and brilliant, like jagged strokes of lightning: the little girl (momma stop momma can't i can't breathe o my throat o momma i'm sorry i looked momma o my tongue blood in my mouth) the poor little girl (screaming: little slut o i know how it is with you i see what has to be done) the poor little girl lying half in the closet and half out of it, swing black stars dancing in front of everything, a sweet, faraway buzzing, swollen tongue lolling between her lips, throat circled with a bracelet of puffed, abraded flesh where Momma had throttled her and then Momma coming back, coming for her, Momma holding Daddy Ralph's long butcher knife (cut it out i have to cut out the evil the nastiness sins of the flesh o i know about that the eyes cut out your eyes) in her right hand, Momma's face twisted and working, drool on her thin, holding Daddy Ralph's Bible in her other hand (you'll never look at that naked wickedness again) and something flexed, not flex but FLEX, something huge and unformed and titanic, a wellspring of power that was not hers now and never would be again and then something fell on the roof and Momma screamed and dropped Daddy Ralph's Bible and that was good, and then more bumps and thumps and then the house began to throw its furnishings around and Momma dropped the knife and got on her knees and began to pray, holding up her hands and swaying on her knees while chairs whistled down the hall and the beds upstairs fell over and the dining room table tried to jam itself through a window and then momma's eyes growing huge and crazed, bulging, her finger pointing at the little girl (it's you it's you devilspawn witch imp of the devil it's you doing it) and then the stones and Momma had fainted as their roof cracked and thumped as if with the footfalls of God and then†¦ Then she had fainted herself. And after that there were no more memories. Momma did not speak of it. The butcher knife was back in its drawer. Momma dressed the huge black and blue bruises on her neck and Carrie thought she could remember asking Momma how she had gotten them and Momma tightening her lips and saying nothing. Little by little it was forgotten. The eye of memory opened only in dreams. The pictures no longer danced on the walls. The windows did not shut themselves. Carrie did not remember a time when things had been different. Not until now.

Succubus Dreams CHAPTER 23

I couldn't stay in my bedroom after that, not after seeing two angels die – one physically and one spiritually. I had to get out of there, out of the apartment. None of the others seemed to notice or care that I fled. With Nyx captured, there were bigger things to worry about in the universe than one distraught succubus. I'd been driving in the car for about ten minutes before I realized where I was going. Dante's. Vincent's talk about the evil charm suddenly seemed unimportant. What I needed right now was to talk to someone about what I'd seen. Seth wouldn't entirely understand, and besides, matters still weren't fixed between us. Discussing serious things with the vampires was hard for me sometimes. I was still mad at Hugh. I wouldn't bother Erik since he was still recovering. Dante was all I had left. He opened the door to his store after I banged on it for about five minutes. The messy hair and wrinkled clothing showed me that I'd woken him again. He looked annoyed, as usual, when I walked inside. â€Å"Didn't it work? I told you – † He took a closer look at me. â€Å"What happened?† I staggered to one of the chairs and collapsed into it, hands resting on the side of my forehead. I could have been a mirror of Yasmine. I opened my mouth to speak, to explain what had happened†¦but no words came out. He knelt beside me. â€Å"Succubus. You're freaking me out here. What happened?† I stared blankly at him for several seconds before finally focusing on his concerned face. â€Å"She fell.† â€Å"Huh? Nyx?† â€Å"No†¦Yasmine.† â€Å"Who?† My eyes went unfocused again as I remembered that black flame. The horrible sound. Blinking, I tried to shake it off and turn my attention to Dante. â€Å"She's an angel. Was an angel. Maybe she still is. I don't know. Fuck, I don't know. I don't know what she is.† He reached out and gripped my arms, shaking me slightly to get my attention again. â€Å"Look, you're losing me. I don't know how an angel falling ties into Nyx. If it ties into Nyx. You've gotta calm down and start from the beginning. Take a deep breath.† I did. â€Å"Now another.† I did. â€Å"Now talk.† I did. It was hard at first, and I had a few false starts. Finally, however, I was able to back up and explain the cast of angels to Dante. The story slowly spilled from my lips, and I told him all about what had happened: Nyx's capture, Joel's death, and Yasmine's fall. He kept his hands on my arms when I finished, and I later realized it was to steady me. I was shaking. Several quiet minutes passed as we sat there. He exhaled at last and shook his head. â€Å"Fuck, succubus. That's a lot for one night. Even for you.† He touched my chin with his hand and tilted my face up. â€Å"But you know angels fall. You know they still fall. All the time.† â€Å"But I've never seen it,† I whispered. â€Å"In all this time†¦ I've never known anyone who was an angel and then became a demon. All the demons I know†¦well, they've always been demons. I never saw them when they were angels.† â€Å"First time for everything.† I met his eyes. â€Å"But I liked her.† I expected some comment like, â€Å"Bad things happen to good people.† Instead, he just shook his head. â€Å"I'm sorry.† I swallowed back tears – I'd already cried enough tonight – and leaned forward, resting my head against his chest, just as I had the other night. He ran a hand down my hair and rocked me. â€Å"What hope is there?† I asked. â€Å"If even angels fall, what hope is there for the rest of us?† â€Å"There isn't,† he said. â€Å"We're on our own. And we have to make the choices we think are best for our own survival. If your angel friend had been thinking like that, she wouldn't have fallen.† â€Å"But that's the thing†¦angels don't think about themselves, right? They're selfless.† â€Å"Maybe,† he said doubtfully. â€Å"She let things get that far with the nephilim†¦that wasn't really selfless. Now they're both fucked, and we've got another member in the club.† â€Å"What club?† â€Å"The club. Our club. The one for people who make one mistake and are punished forever because of it.† He paused. â€Å"It's a pretty big club.† I gently pulled out of the embrace. â€Å"What did you do?† â€Å"Hmm?† â€Å"Your one mistake. Vincent found the charm†¦he said it was horrible. Black magic. He said you had to have done something really bad to make it.† Dante's eyes were sad as he regarded me. â€Å"You really want to know?† I nodded. â€Å"No. You don't. Right now, for the first time, you're talking to me like maybe I'm not the biggest asshole on earth. I tell you the truth†¦and you'll lose all respect for me.† â€Å"I won't. I'll respect you more.† He rolled his eyes. â€Å"People always say noble things in hypothetical situations. ‘I'd never cheat on my spouse.' ‘I'd return the million dollars that I found on the street.' It's bullshit.† â€Å"It's not,† I argued. â€Å"I respect the truth.† â€Å"But you won't like it. Why do you think I didn't kiss you that day outside Erik's? I joke about wanting to sleep with you – hell, I do want to sleep with you – but if we'd done it, you'd have felt how little energy I really have.† â€Å"I buy the low energy thing, but I still want to know the story behind it.† His eyes narrowed in frustration. â€Å"Look, succubus. I don't even think I could tell the story if I wanted to. It's too hard.† His comment about kissing suddenly inspired me. â€Å"Can you show me?† â€Å"What?† I moved toward him. â€Å"Kiss me. I can hardly get any energy from you, but if you open yourself to the memory, I should be able to feel pieces of it.† I hoped that was true, at least. While my lovers' thoughts and feelings came through to me during sex, it wasn't exactly a system we could control. I couldn't summon up specific things. Usually what I felt was whatever the guy was thinking about just then. More often than not, it was amazement or perhaps a guilty conscience over the lover he was cheating on. But maybe†¦maybe if Dante was specifically thinking of whatever he had done, it would come through. It was worth a shot. I leaned closer to him. He didn't move, so I went in all the way and kissed him. Initially, it was just a kiss – all physical. Gradually, I started to get a bit of his life force – but it was just like he'd said. His soul was too dark. The life energy that flowed into me was barely a trickle. It was only a few drops, like a leaking faucet. Then†¦once I'd assessed the energy, I felt something else. I felt his soul – felt why it was so black, so devoid of the shining life most humans had. That blackness began pouring into me, that sickening and oozing evil†¦and there, behind it, was despair and anger and hopelessness and frustration. It was nauseating. Blackness and blood. I wanted to pull away, but I had to see what he was hiding. The memory came through to me in disjointed images, but I was able to piece them together and form a narrative. I saw a sister. Older than him by ten years. She'd taken care of him throughout his childhood – both in a motherly way and as an instructor. She was a psychic too. She'd taught him how to harness his power, to tap the magic of the world that was unseen to most humans. She had been powerful, but he was even stronger. It hadn't been enough, though. He'd wanted more than to simply control his power – he'd wanted to enhance it. But as Hugh and Vincent had told me, few humans were born with the magnitude of power that he'd craved. So, he'd taken it. Ripped it out. From her. I saw his face when he killed her, felt his pain as the dagger touched her throat. She was half-mother and half-sister to him, but he stole her life anyway. And with that act, his power had grown by magnitudes – both because he'd gained hers and because of the spell involved. The blood of the innocent always brings power, and the black magic intertwined in this death brought it in spades. It had left him feeling like a god. And wishing he were dead. He'd damned himself. He still loved the power, still loved wielding it†¦but after killing his sister, he'd hated himself. He'd withdrawn from the world, trying to bury his memories in drugs and alcohol, only occasionally using his powers for small, nickel-and-dime con jobs. I broke the kiss, not wanting to see or feel anymore. If we went further, I'd probably see what he had to do to make the charm. It wouldn't be as bad as what he'd done to his sister, but I was through with all this. Wide-eyed, I scooted away from him on the floor. â€Å"She was Erik's lover,† I said softly. I'd had a brief glimpse of Tanya – that was her name – and Erik together. â€Å"She was the woman in the picture. That's why he hates you.† Dante nodded. â€Å"The three of us†¦we were going to do great things. We were all so fucking talented, you know?† He rested a hand on his head, eyes full of grief. â€Å"Unsurprisingly, Erik chose to end our friendship after this. He wanted to kill me†¦he should have. He really should have. But, well. He's not that kind of guy.† â€Å"No,† I agreed, voice cold. â€Å"He's not.† I stood up and backed away from Dante, who was still sitting on the floor. He looked up and realized what I was doing. The miserable face turned angry. â€Å"Leaving so soon?† â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"Well. Thanks for stopping by. And thanks for proving me right.† â€Å"About†¦?† He threw his hands in the air. â€Å"This. I told you you'd hate me.† â€Å"I don't – † I stopped. I did hate him. I couldn't help it, not after seeing how much he and his sister had loved each other. Not after realizing how much this must have hurt Erik. â€Å"Dante†¦what you did†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Was a mistake. One I would take back if I could. One mistake to damn me forever. Just like your angel friend. Just like you.† â€Å"No,† I said. â€Å"It's not the same. Yasmine fell because of love.† â€Å"She fell because of selfishness,† he argued. â€Å"But I won't challenge that point. Tell me about you. Did you fall because of love?† I didn't say anything. I'd fallen because of lust. I'd cheated on my husband because I was hurt and lonely and bored and†¦well, because I could. Dante regarded me sharply. â€Å"You see? I get it. You fucked up too. I understand you – you're not going to find too many people who do. I bet your boyfriend doesn't.† â€Å"He accepts me.† â€Å"But does he understand? Have you ever told him in painstaking detail what you did?† â€Å"No, but it doesn't matter.† Dante stood up and approached me. â€Å"It does matter! Being with him is a joke. It can't work. I'm not saying you have some great romantic future with me either, but at the very least, you should stick with people who know where you've come from.† â€Å"Right. Hanging out with you means I'd just drink and hate life.† â€Å"Your point?† â€Å"Seth makes me hope for better things. Makes me want to be better.† â€Å"But there's no point!† exclaimed Dante. â€Å"Why don't you get that? Things can't change for you. Even your own fucking palms say so.† â€Å"No†¦Nyx said†¦Nyx said the dream could come true. The man in the dream – â€Å" † – was her scamming you. You would have fallen for it, too, if your angel hadn't fallen first.† I clenched my teeth. â€Å"Her dreams are true. Seth and I – â€Å" † – are going to get married? Run off into the sunset? Have babies? Succubus! Wake up!† Dante was shouting, his face inches from mine. â€Å"It can't happen. Not for you. Maybe it can for him – but not with you. Every day you spend with him just ensures his life is going to be as empty and meaningless as yours.† â€Å"That's not true!† I screamed. â€Å"We're happy. We're going to be happy together, and I don't care if you don't believe me. I'm never going to see or speak to you again. I know why Erik hates you, and I hate you too.† I kicked the door open. â€Å"You deserve to burn in Hell.† I left him, but I still couldn't make myself go home. With nothing else to do, I simply found a twenty-four-hour diner and drank coffee, pointedly ignoring anyone who talked to me. I watched the sun come up over the Olympic Mountains and finally went to work when the bookstore opened. I helped out with the last-minute Christmas rush, doing mindless and mechanical tasks. We were closing early that day, and everyone was finishing up their shopping. It was hectic and crazy, but it gave my zombie-like body something to do. When we closed, it was nearly time for me to take Maddie to the airport. She needed a few more Christmas purchases herself and asked if I'd swing downtown with her. After witnessing the death of an angel, shopping seemed like the most trivial thing in the world. Still†¦I had nothing else to do, so I agreed. I probably would have agreed to anything. Downtown Seattle was decked out in its Christmas finery, with lights and wreaths strung along the shopping nexus that centered around Fourth Avenue. At four in the afternoon, it was already dark outside. Rain pounded down on the pavement, the kind of torrential downpour most people believed we had year-round. Really, it only rained in the winter, and that was usually a drizzly type. This heavy stuff was a rare event, as though perhaps the heavens mourned Joel's passing. Through a window, I watched the rain and pedestrians fighting with umbrellas while Maddie searched in Banana Republic for something for her sister. I'd half-heartedly looked for a present for Seth, but my motivation eventually faded, and anyway, there was no way to compete with the ring. I still wore it around my neck. It felt heavy today. Along with my grief over what had happened to Yasmine, I still kept thinking about Nyx. In particular, I kept thinking about what she'd said to me. The man in the dream. Who was the man in the dream? The question consumed me, as futile as it was. I kept repeating Dante's words, trying to tell myself it didn't matter – that the whole thing had been a hoax. But that dark silhouette still haunted my mind's eye, and some part of me believed that if I knew his identity, then maybe it could all be real. â€Å"Georgina?† I turned from the rainy street and saw Vincent standing in front of me. Beyond him, a preoccupied Maddie flipped through a rack of cardigans. I'd thought he looked grief-stricken in my apartment, but that was nothing compared to what I saw now. His face was pinched and pale. His eyes were glassy and red, but whether from crying or lack of sleep, I couldn't say. Probably both. He handed me my apartment key. â€Å"Just wanted to give this back.† I took it. â€Å"You didn't need to find me for that. You could have left it.† â€Å"Yeah.† He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground. â€Å"I guess I just†¦wanted to talk to someone.† â€Å"Have you, um, seen Yasmine?† He shook his head. â€Å"Nope. I don't know what happened to her. I mean, I know†¦she's off somewhere in Hell. Maybe they have orientation or something. I don't know. Whatever it is, it must be awful. And it's my fault.† â€Å"It's not,† I said automatically. â€Å"It was her choice.† â€Å"She did it for me, though.† â€Å"It doesn't matter why. The point is that she did it willingly. It isn't your place to question the decisions she makes.† As the words left my mouth, I had a total holy shit moment. I was saying exactly what everyone had been telling me about Seth. I was saying exactly what Seth himself had been telling me for so long. â€Å"I guess. I don't know.† He sighed. â€Å"It's so fucking stupid too. All these years, we've been so cautious to stay at arm's length, so she wouldn't fall. We were so good – holding back from what we wanted. And then, we get the same results from a stupid moment of confusion and passion. It just happened so fast, you know? I acted to protect her, she acted to protect me†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He trailed off and looked as though he might weep. I kind of felt like that myself. It's a pretty big club, Dante had said. â€Å"But†¦if she's already fallen†¦well. Maybe you guys can be together now.† Vincent shook his head and gave me a small smile that made him look sadder than when he hadn't been smiling. â€Å"I don't know. I don't even know if she'll meet with me now. Something tells me she won't want me to see her like that.† â€Å"And how do you feel?† â€Å"I love her unconditionally†¦or, well, at least†¦I loved Yasmine the angel unconditionally. She's not that woman anymore. I mean, she may hate what's happened†¦she may be miserable. But eventually, she'll settle in. They always do. And then she'll be one of them. She won't be the same Yasmine, and I don't know if I can love her or if she can love me. Part of what made her such a great person was that she resisted that temptation†¦and I think she felt the same about me.† I forgot Vincent for a moment as my attention turned inward, toward my own situation. Again, it was like Seth and me, I realized. The continual tension in our arrangement was a pain, yet the morals it was based on were part of what attracted us. He might have said he was okay with us not having sex, but I think some part of him loved me because of my continual refusal to give in to that. Likewise, I loved his stead-fastness – not only in abstaining from me but from other lovers as well. It was part of what had made the fight so shocking. I didn't expect him to be weak. And yet†¦even if we admired each other for our principles, was it worth it? And had that really been weakness on his part? Vincent and Yasmine had been together much longer than Seth and I had, torturing themselves in the same way. In the end, it had done them no good. Things had unfolded as they had. â€Å"Star-crossed love isn't as glamorous as it seems,† Vincent said, perhaps guessing my thoughts. â€Å"I never believed it was.† â€Å"Sometimes I think†¦well, maybe it would have been better if she and I had never been together at all. These years have been wonderful†¦but well, she'd still be the woman I loved if I'd never gotten involved.† I didn't know about that. Surely, brief moments of joy were worth the pain that might follow? Wasn't that why I was with Seth, despite knowing he'd eventually die? Maybe Seth had been right about taking chances. Life was short. Maybe you needed to seize what good you could. It was all so confusing, and all of a sudden, I wanted to talk to Seth about all of this – about living life and taking risks, about what made us love one another, and about what made our relationship worth fighting for. I didn't want to make the mistakes Yasmine and Vincent had. Seth and I needed to sit down with open minds and make this thing with us work. â€Å"What are you going to do now?† I asked Vincent. I didn't think now was the best time to argue relationship philosophy with him. He gestured vaguely behind him. â€Å"Leave town. Even being masked, I know they're looking for me. I need to hide out somewhere.† I nodded. I was sad to see him go, but I knew what the other angels and demons would do if they found him. So, I wished him well and shared a brief hug before he departed. As I watched him leave, I again pondered the cautionary tale he represented. Growing anxious, I hoped this airport trip would go quickly so that I could call Seth. Wandering to the other side of the store, I found Maddie paying for her purchases. â€Å"Who was that guy?† she asked me, handing over her credit card. â€Å"He was cute. Bedraggled†¦but cute.† â€Å"He's had a long day,† I told her. And a long eternity to go. â€Å"He's just a friend.† â€Å"Is he single?† I thought about it. â€Å"Yeah, I guess he is.† While I waited for her, I looked over at a nearby mirror. Maddie was still going strong with her new cute and stylish self. She'd gotten a haircut too, the layering of which made her face appear delicate and lovely. The slacks and sweater, though simple, looked sleek and elegant on her. By contrast, I looked kind of like the ugly stepsister. Oh, I still had the nice figure and pretty face born of shape-shifting, but I'd thrown on jeans and an old coat, not really concerned with high fashion today. I also hadn't bothered to shape-shift my hair. I'd simply brushed it into a high ponytail. Most telling of all was my face. I wore as much grief as Vincent. There was a hollowness to my eyes that startled me. It counteracted all the other beauty of my features. Glancing back at Maddie, I realized she was the hot one today. When we finally hit the road to the airport, traffic was as horrible as I'd expected. I-5 was at a standstill, and with my luck lately, there was probably an accident up ahead to compound the rush hour and holiday mess. Sighing, I settled back into my seat. â€Å"Okay,† I told Maddie, desperately needing distraction. â€Å"What's the report? What adventurous things have you done? I'm pretty sure you've more than met your quota.† â€Å"Well,† she began. â€Å"There's the new clothes, of course. You've seen a lot of them, and I own more lingerie than I ever have in my life. I was always kind of afraid of it, but there's so much cute stuff out there, you know?† â€Å"Yup. I sure do.† â€Å"I got a bunch of high heels too. I'm still kind of learning to walk in them, but I'm doing okay, I think.† She groaned and looked like the snarky feminist writer she was. â€Å"I feel like†¦well, like a girl.† I smiled and looked at the cars ahead of me. All the variables were in place for an accident, so I had to be careful. In this kind of stop and go, people tended to cease paying attention and fall into a lull. That was how cars got rear-ended. It was also an oddity that Seattle drivers had trouble driving in the rain. â€Å"You seemed fine in the heels to me. What else have you done? Other than shopping?† â€Å"I signed up for a judo class.† â€Å"You did not.† â€Å"I so did,† she said, laughing. â€Å"It was the craziest class I could think of. Besides, I can finally get back at Doug after all those years he used to pull my hair.† â€Å"Well-deserved,† I said. I moved over to the farthest lane, with the futile hope that it might move a fraction faster. â€Å"Anything else?† â€Å"Mmm†¦well. I started looking for my own place.† â€Å"That's a good idea.† â€Å"And checking out flights to some places I've always wanted to see.† â€Å"Another good idea.† â€Å"And I slept with Seth.† I nearly drove into the median. â€Å"What?† I said, jerking the wheel back to my own lane. Maddie had her hands stretched out protectively. â€Å"Did you say Seth?† â€Å"Yeah†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Seth Mortensen?† She sounded incredulous. â€Å"Of course. Who else?† It was one of those things that was so ludicrous, I couldn't even fully react. It was like saying, â€Å"Hey, did you notice the earth just exploded?† It wasn't real because all the rest of the data in your known world said it was impossible. My brain wasn't going to bother processing it yet. Wasted cells. â€Å"How†¦I mean, what†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I shook my head. â€Å"Explain.† I could see by her face that she was dying to. This was what had been bursting in her in my office yesterday. â€Å"Well, two nights ago, I ran back to the bookstore after closing because I'd left something. I saw Seth out in the parking lot. He'd been out somewhere and was coming back to get his car.† â€Å"Somewhere† was my apartment. That had been the night of the fight. â€Å"Anyway,† she continued. â€Å"He looked kind of down, and I remembered what you'd said about taking risks. Plus, he still owed me the date, right? So, I asked him out for a drink, and he said sure.† I tried not to drive into the median again. â€Å"He didn't drink, did he?† â€Å"No, not alcohol. But we stayed out really late, and we had a great time. You can't even imagine how great he is to talk to. He comes across as shy, but once you get to know him†¦Ã¢â‚¬  She sighed happily. â€Å"He thinks like I do too†¦wants to do all sorts of things, go places†¦Anyway, the place finally closed, and he asked if I wanted to go hang out at his place for a while.† I couldn't even look at her now. â€Å"Seth†¦asked you back to his place?† â€Å"Well, if we went back to mine, we'd have to hang out with Doug, and we just wanted to talk more. And we did†¦except, well, after a while†¦we stopped talking. And one thing kind of led to another.† She exhaled, like she still couldn't believe it herself. â€Å"I never do things like that. Not so soon. But, well, he's a nice guy, you know? And I wanted to do something adventurous†¦Ã¢â‚¬  No, no, no. This really wasn't happening. This was a dream. This was Nyx getting back at me for not helping her. She was sending me a nightmare, one I hoped I'd wake up from soon. I didn't realize how long I'd been quiet until Maddie hesitantly asked, â€Å"Georgina? You still with me? You don't think†¦you don't think I was too easy, do you?† There was fear in her voice, fear of my disappointment and disapproval. â€Å"Huh? No†¦no†¦of course not.† I took a deep breath. â€Å"So, um, it was good?† â€Å"Oh, yeah!† She gave a nervous giggle. â€Å"I can't believe I'm even talking about this. But, yeah, Seth's a great lover. He's really attentive.† â€Å"Yeah, I imagine he would be.† â€Å"God, I can't believe this happened.† That made two of us. â€Å"What's going to happen now? Was it†¦a fling?† After all, what else could it be? Seth was with me, right? I had no reason to be upset. I'd given him the go-ahead to get sex elsewhere. In fact†¦I had told him to that night. If he wanted to sleep with her, that was fine. But obviously, it meant nothing. It had to be a fling, right? Right? â€Å"I don't know,† she admitted. â€Å"I hope not. I really like him†¦and it was so great. I feel like we really connected†¦like the auction hadn't just been because he felt sorry for me. He said he would call and we'd go out again sometime.† Once more, she turned timid and unsure. â€Å"You don't think†¦you don't think he's the kind of guy who'd just say something like that and not mean it, do you?† She was the Maddie I'd known before, the one who looked up to me and wanted my guidance. The one who didn't trust men. I stared ahead and decided maybe the heavens were weeping for me now. After several moments, I finally said, â€Å"No, Maddie. If he says he wants to go out, he means it. That's the kind of guy he is.†

The Advance of Technology and Pollution

Here is a quote that I believe tells the entire story of mankind†s existence: â€Å"Man's long adventure with knowledge has, to a very marked degree, been a climb up the heat ladder†¦. Today the flames grow hotter in the furnaces†¦. The creature that crept furred through the glitter of blue glacial nights lives surrounded by the hiss of steam, the roar of engines, and the bubbling of vats†¦. And he is himself a flame — a great, roaring, wasteful furnace devouring irreplaceable substances of the earth.† –Loren Eiseley, anthropologist and essayist (1907-1977), Man the Firemaker As this quote from Loren Eisely suggests the relationship between the advancement of technology and the increase in pollution has gone hand in hand throughout the ages of mankind. Humans are very much responsible for their actions and have and will continue to feel the impact of the carelessness that they have shown toward mother earth. Studies of temperature records preserved deep in the underground rocks show that the Earth has been gradually warming over at least the last 500 years. These studies, done by scientists in the US and Canada, show that the trend of the increase in climate has increased on an increasing pace during the 20th century, which was the warmest of the past five centuries. Since 1500, the Earth†s temperature has increased by about one degree Celsius, with eighty percent of that increase during the last century. In the northern hemisphere, the five-century long change has been 1.1 degrees, with 0.6 occurring since 1900. There have been numerous extreme changes in the climate throughout the world that have had astonishing effects on the people, wildlife, and environment. Many of these events have led to people having to vastly change their lifestyle or have to move out the area due to the fact that living conditions are unsafe. In the summer of 1998, Dallas, Texas recorded a deadly heat wave. Heat claimed more than 100 lives in the region, as temperatures were over 100 degrees Fahrenheit for 15 straight days. Waimea Bay, Hawaii is has also seen its share of misfortune. Along with costal development, sea levels have risen contributing to considerable beach loss over the past 90 years. In October of 1998, Hurricane Mitch dumped between three and six feet of rain within 48 hours over most of Central America. Mitch killed more than 10,000 people in mudslides and floods, triggered a cholera epidemic, and virtually wiped out the economies of Honduras and Nicaragua. Several days after the horrendous hurricane in Central America, a large meeting in Buenos Aires met at the fourth Conference of the Parties to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change. Many at the conference pointed to Hurricane Mitch as an example of the catastrophes that will await our world if we do not act immediately to reduce the emissions of carbon dioxide and other so called greenhouse gasses. Various experts blame many different sources of technological change and events for this vast change in temperature throughout the world. The fact is, not just one major event or area is the sole cause of this. Fossil fuels, which release carbon dioxide when burned, are used to generate electricity, heat and light homes and workplaces, power factories and run cars. Experts suggest that unless we reduce population growth and use of fossil fuels, the level of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere will double by sometime in the middle of the next century. Starting in the mid-1700s, human activities began to alter the composition of the atmosphere. Vast supplies of charcoal, and later coal and oil, fed the growing fires of the Industrial Revolution. The carbon stored in these fuels was released to the air as carbon dioxide, which is a gas that traps heat in the atmosphere. Today, for every one of the more than 5.8 billion people on Earth, nearly six tons of carbon dioxide are spewed into the air annually. As a result of our activities, the atmospheric concentration of this heat-trapping gas has risen by more than 30 percent in the last 250 years. The future of Earth's climate will depend partly on the buildup of heat-trapping gases, primarily carbon dioxide, in the atmosphere. One of the major problems of global warming is that it exists as an environmental issue only because of science. People can†t directly sense global warming, the way they can see a clear-cut forest or inhale the urban smog in their lungs. This is an enormous issue to overcome if anything is going to be done. New information is now being presented to the public†s eye everyday, giving them new and more accurate facts on such issues. People are starting to become aware of the consequences of their actions. However, even though the facts are present, very little is being done. Only in the most affected areas are people trying to fix the problem. It seems like no one really cares about it, until it happens to them. To me this seems like it could be the largest feat for us as humans to overcome in the prevention of man-made global warming. What sort of astronomical disaster must happen to get us to pay attention to what we are doing in our lives? Is it going to take a major flood across the US that destroys numerous states? What about miles of coastline to be taken by rising sea levels? These are the issues that scare me the most. I truly believe that something must be done, and it must be done now. Another large area of pollution due to technological advancement is water pollution. This pollution takes place by three different types of activities: agricultural, municipal, and industrial. The worst part of this pollution is the fact the actual pollution is a form called non-point source pollution. This is where the source of the actual pollution may be hard to identify and it possibly doesn†t even affect the areas around the point, but possibly downstream or scattered over a wide area. Due to this it makes the pollution extremely hard to regulate. The advancement in agricultural activities of the US and other developed countries, such as new and stronger types insecticides, herbicides, pesticides, along with the large-scale cattle and hog lots provide large amounts run-off. This run-off contains a high content of fertilizers, animal wastes, and silt which go in to the surface waters. This results in an increase in the nutrients in the water called eutrophication. Eutrophication causes rapid growth in algae and bacteria in the water. This is tragic to the fish and other things because the algae use up all of the oxygen in the water and the fish suffocate. The run-off of the silt causes water to become very unattractive for recreation and also covers up fish spawning sites. Many theories and ideas have been developed in an effort to help control the major productive source of these agricultural activities. The success or failure of any agricultural non-point source pollution control project depends on the participation of the many landowners and farm operators. These producers must install or utilize land-based treatments, or best management practices (BMPs), that minimize the movement of agricultural pollutants such as sediments, nutrients, and pesticides to water resources. One of such is organic farming. Organic farming avoids the use of pesticides and fertilizers. Another is to avoid large concentrations of animals, which can reduce nutrient pollution, and their waste can be used as fertilizer for crops. Also, other certain cropping methods can reduce the erosion of sediment from the land. As our municipal wants and needs advance, more, and more municipal pollution occurs. The salt from snow removal activities increases the cost of purification. As we consume more, we also throw more away, as the increase in landfills needed throughout the country has been rapidly increasing. These landfills allow large amounts of chemicals to enter into the ground water, which in turn also increases the cost of purification. Inadequate sewer water treatment facilities lead to the possible outbreak of enteric diseases. The last source of water pollution is that of the industrial activities. As the times change, so do that of the modern industry. Companies are always trying to find ways to decrease their costs, in turn to increase their profit margins. Many times these costs are converted into the pollution of water. Industrial pollution of water comes in many different shapes and forms. The chemicals that industries use get into the water supply by various means. These chemicals increase the existence of numerous diseases and the cost of the purification of the water for drinking. One of the sources of water pollution one rarely thinks of, as pollution, is one called thermal pollution. Thermal pollution is from the warm water discharges that an industry emits into various bodies of water. This kills coldwater fish and also increases the costs of water treatment. Overall, there is much to be done in this world in an effort to help control the increased pollution by technological advancement. In my opinion, I believe that the answers to the prevention in pollution are ironically a part of our technological advancement. As we learn of what types of things are really making a significant impact on the environment, we will be able to develop steps to counter the effects of the harmful pollutants that we are causing.

Fool Chapter 10

TEN ALL YOUR DREAD PLEASURES The sky threatened a dismal dawn as we reached Castle Albany. The drawbridge was up. â€Å"Who goes there?† shouted the sentry. â€Å"‘Tis Lear's fool, Pocket, and his man at arms, Caius.† Caius is the name the witches gave Kent to use to bind his disguise. They'd cast a glamour on him: his beard and hair were now jet black, as if by nature, not soot, his face lean and weathered, only his eyes, as brown and gentle as a moo cow's, showed the real Kent. I advised him to pull down the wide brim of his hat should we encounter old acquaintances. â€Å"Where in bloody hell have you been?† asked the sentry. He signaled and the bridge ground down. â€Å"The old king's nearly torn the county apart looking for you. Accused our lady of tying a rock to you and casting you in the North Sea, he did.† â€Å"Seems a spot o' bother. I must have grown in her esteem. Just last night she was only going to hang me.† â€Å"Last night? You drunken sot, we've been looking for you for a month.† I looked at Kent and he at me, then we at the sentry. â€Å"A month?† â€Å"Bloody witches,† said Kent under his breath. â€Å"If you turn up we're to take you to our lady immediately,† said the sentry. â€Å"Oh, please do, gentle guard, your lady does so love seeing me at first light.† The sentry scratched his beard and seemed to be thinking. â€Å"Well spoken, fool. Perhaps you lot could do with some breakfast and a wash-up before I take you to my lady.† The drawbridge thumped into place. I led Kent across, and the sentry met us by the inner gate. â€Å"Beggin' your pardon, sir,† the sentry said, directing his speech to Kent. â€Å"You wouldn't mind waiting until eight bells to reveal the fool's return, would you?† â€Å"That when you're off watch, lad?† â€Å"Aye, sir. I'm not sure I want to be the bearer of the joyous news of the wayward fool's arrival. The king's knights have been raising rabble round the castle for a fortnight and I've heard our lady cursing the Black Fool as part of the cause.† â€Å"Blamed even in my absence?† said I. â€Å"I told you, Caius, she adores me.† Kent patted the sentry on the shoulder. â€Å"We'll escort ourselves, lad, and tell your lady we came through the gate with the merchants in the morning. Now, back to your post.† â€Å"Thank you, good sir. But for your rough clothes, I'd take you for a gentleman.† â€Å"But for my clothes, I'd be one,† said Kent, his grin a dazzle amid his newly-black beard. â€Å"Oh, for fuck's sake, would you two just have a gobble on each other's knob and be done with it,† said I. The two soldiers leapt back as if each was on fire. â€Å"Sorry, just having you on,† said I, as I breezed by them and into the castle. â€Å"You poofters are such a sensitive lot.† â€Å"I'm not a poofter,† said Kent as we approached Goneril's chambers. Midmorning. The time in between allowed us to eat, wash, do some writing, and ascertain that we had, indeed, been gone for over a month, despite it seeming only overnight to us. Perhaps that was the hags' payment? To extract a month from our lives in exchange for the spells, potions, and prognostication – it seemed a fair price, but bloody complicated to explain. Oswald sat at a scribe's desk outside the duchess's chambers. I laughed and wagged Jones under his nose. â€Å"Still guarding the door like a common footman, then, Oswald? Oh, the years have been good to you.† Oswald wore only a dagger at his belt, no sword, but his hand fell to it as he stood. Kent dropped his hand to his sword and shook his head gravely. Oswald sat back down on his stool. â€Å"I'll have you know that I'm both steward and chamberlain, as well as trusted adviser to the duchess.† â€Å"A veritable quiver of titles she's given you to sling. Tell me, do you still answer to toady and catch-fart, or are those titles only honorary now?† â€Å"All better than common fool,† Oswald spat. â€Å"True, I am a fool, and also true, I am common, but I am no common fool, catch-fart. I am the Black Fool, I have been sent for, and I shall be given entry to your lady's chambers, while you, fool, sit by the door. Announce me.† I believe Oswald growled then. A new trick he'd learned since the old days. He'd always tried to cast my title as an insult, and boiled that I took it as a tribute. Would he ever understand that he found favor with Goneril not because of his groveling or devotion, but because he was so easily humiliated? Good, I suppose, that he'd learned to growl, beaten down dog that he was. He stormed through the heavy door, then returned a minute later. He would not look me in the eye. â€Å"My lady will see you now,† he said. â€Å"But only you. This ruffian can wait in the kitchen.† â€Å"Wait here, ruffian,† said I to Kent. â€Å"And make some effort not to bugger poor Oswald here, no matter how he should beg for it.† â€Å"I'm not a poofter,† said Kent. â€Å"Not with this villain, you're not,† said I. â€Å"His bum is property of the princess.† â€Å"I'll see you hanged, fool,† said Oswald. â€Å"Aroused by the thought, are you, Oswald? No matter, you'll not have my ruffian. Adieu.† Then I was through the doors, and into Goneril's chambers. Goneril sat to the back of a great, round room. Her quarters were housed in a full tower of the castle. Three floors: this hall for meeting and business, another floor above it would have rooms for her ladies, her wardrobe, bathing and dressing, the top would be where she slept and played, if she still played. â€Å"Do you still play, pumpkin?† I asked. I danced a tight-stepped jig and bowed. Goneril waved her ladies away. â€Å"Pocket, I'll have you – â€Å" â€Å"Oh, I know, hanged at dawn, head on a pike, guts for garters, drawn and quartered, impaled, disemboweled, beaten, and made into bangers and mash – all your dread pleasures visited on me with glorious cruelty – all stipulated, lady – duly noted and taken as truth. Now, how may a humble fool serve before his hour of doom descends?† She twisted up her lip as if to snarl, then burst out laughing and quickly looked around to make sure that no one saw her. â€Å"I will, you know – you horrible, wicked little man.† â€Å"Wicked? Moi?† said I in perfect fucking French. â€Å"Tell no one,† she said. It had always been that way with Goneril. Her â€Å"tell no one,† however, applied only to me, not to her, I had found out. â€Å"Pocket,† she once said, brushing her red-gold hair near a window, where it caught the sun and seemed to shine as if from within. She was perhaps seventeen then, and had gotten in the habit of calling me to her chambers several times a week and questioning me mercilessly. â€Å"Pocket, I am to be married soon, and I am mystified by man bits. I've heard them described, but that's not helping.† â€Å"Ask your nurse. Isn't she supposed to teach you about such things?† â€Å"Auntie's a nun, and married to Jesus. A virgin.† â€Å"You don't say? She went to the wrong bloody convent, then.† â€Å"I need to talk to a man, but not a proper man. You are like one of those fellows that Saracens have look over their harems.† â€Å"A eunuch?† â€Å"See, you are worldly and know of things. I need to see your willie.† â€Å"Pardon? What? Why?† â€Å"Because I've never seen one, and I don't want to seem naà ¯ve on my wedding night when the depraved brute ravages me.† â€Å"How do you know he's a depraved brute?† â€Å"Auntie told me. All men are. Now, out with your willie, fool.† â€Å"Why my willie? There's willies aplenty you can look at. What about Oswald? He may even have one, or knows where you can get hold of one, I'll wager.† (Oswald was her footman then.) â€Å"I know, but this is my first, and yours will be small and not so frightening. It's like when I was learning to ride, and first father gave me a pony, but then, as I got older†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"All right, then, shut up. Here.† â€Å"Oh, would you look at that.† â€Å"What?† â€Å"That's it, then?† â€Å"Yes. What?† â€Å"Nothing really to be afraid of then, was there? I don't know what all the fuss is about. It's rather pitiful if you ask me.† â€Å"It is not.† â€Å"Are they all this small?† â€Å"Most are smaller, in fact.† â€Å"May I touch it?† â€Å"If you feel you must.† â€Å"Well, would you look at that.† â€Å"See, now you've angered it.† â€Å"Where in God's name have you been?† she said. â€Å"Father's been a madman looking for you. He and his captain have gone out on patrol every day and well into the evening, leaving the rest of his knights to wreak havoc on the castle. My lord has sent soldiers as far as Edinburgh asking after you. I should have you drowned for all the worry you've caused.† â€Å"You did miss me, didn't you?† I cradled the silk purse at my belt, wondering when best to spring the spell. And once she was bewitched, how exactly would I use the power? â€Å"He was supposed to be in Regan's care, but by the time he moves his bloody hundred knights all the way to Cornwall it will be my turn again. I can't abide the rabble in my palace.† â€Å"What does Lord Albany say?† â€Å"He says what I tell him to say. It's all intolerable.† â€Å"Gloucester,† said I, offering the very model of a non sequitur wrapped in an enigma. â€Å"Gloucester?† asked the duchess. â€Å"The king's good friend is there. It's mid-way between here and Cornwall, and the Earl of Gloucester daren't deny the request of the dukes of both Albany and Cornwall. You wouldn't be leaving the king without care, yet you wouldn't have him underfoot, either.† With the witches' warning about Drool in danger there, I was determined for all the drama to descend on Gloucester. I sat down on the floor near her feet, held Jones across my knees, and waited, both I and the puppet wearing jolly grins. â€Å"Gloucester†¦Ã¢â‚¬  said Goneril, letting a bit of a smile seep out. She really could be lovely when she forgot she was cruel. â€Å"Gloucester,† said Jones, â€Å"the dog's bollocks of western bloody Blighty.† â€Å"Do you think he'll agree to it? It's not how he laid out his legacy.† â€Å"He won't agree to Gloucester, but he'll agree to go to Regan's by way of Gloucester. The rest will be up to your sister.† Should I have felt myself a traitor? No, the old man brought this on himself. â€Å"But if he doesn't agree, and he has all these men?† She looked me in the eye now. â€Å"It's too much power in the hands of the feeble.† â€Å"And yet, he had all the power of the kingdom not two months ago.† â€Å"You've not seen him, Pocket. The legacy and banishment of Cordelia and Kent was just the beginning. Since you went away he's gotten worse. He searches for you, he hunts, he rails about his days as a soldier of Christ one minute, then calls to the gods of Nature the next. With a fighting force of that size – if he should feel that we've betrayed him – â€Å" â€Å"Take them,† said I. â€Å"What? I couldn't.† â€Å"You have seen my apprentice, Drool? He eats with his hands or with a spoon, we dare not let him have a knife or fork, lest the points imperil all.† â€Å"Don't be obtuse, Pocket. What of Father's knights?† â€Å"You pay them? Take them. For his own good. Lear with his train of knights is like a child running with a sword. Are you cruel to relieve him of deadly force, when he is neither strong enough, nor wise enough to wield it? Tell Lear he must dismiss fifty of his knights and their attendants and keep them here. Tell him they will be at his beck and call when he is in residence.† â€Å"Fifty? Just fifty?† â€Å"You must leave some for your sister. Send Oswald to Cornwall with your plan. Have Regan and Cornwall make haste to Gloucester so they are there upon Lear's arrival. Perhaps they can bring Gloucester into the fold. With Lear's knights dismissed, the two whitebeards can reminisce about their glory days and crawl together to the grave in peaceful nostalgia.† â€Å"Yes!† Goneril was becoming breathless now, excited. I'd seen it before. It wasn't always a good sign. â€Å"Quickly,† said I, â€Å"send Oswald to Regan while the sun is high.† â€Å"No!† Goneril sat forward quickly, her bosom nearly spilling out of her gown, which captured my attention more than her fingernails digging into my arm. â€Å"What?† said I, the bells of my coxcomb but a finger's breath from jingling her dcolletage.[30] â€Å"There is no peace for Lear in Gloucester. Haven't you heard? The earl's son Edgar is a traitor.† Had I heard? Had I heard? Of course, the bastard's plan was afoot. â€Å"Of course, lady, where do you think I've been?† â€Å"You've been all the way to Gloucester?† She was panting now. â€Å"Aye. And back. I've brought you something.† â€Å"A present?† She showed the delighted, wide grey-green eyes she'd had when she was a girl. â€Å"Perhaps I won't hang you, but punishment is due you, Pocket.† Then the lady grabbed me and pulled me across her lap, face-down. Jones rolled to the floor beside me. â€Å"Lady, perhaps – â€Å" Smack! â€Å"There, fool, I've hit it. Hit it. Hit it. Hit it. So give it. Give it. Give it.† A smack with every iamb.[31] â€Å"Bloody hell, you insane tart!† I squirmed. My ass burned with her handprint. Smack! â€Å"Oh good God!† said Goneril. â€Å"Yes!† She wiggled under me now. Smack! â€Å"Ouch! It's a letter! A letter,† said I. â€Å"I'll see your little bum as red as a rose!† Smack! I squirmed in her lap, turned, grabbed her bosoms and pulled myself upright until I was sitting in her lap. â€Å"Here.† I pulled the sealed parchment out of my jerkin and held it out. â€Å"Not yet!† said she, trying to roll me over and get back to smacking my bum. She honked my codpiece. â€Å"You honked my codpiece.† â€Å"Aye, give it up, fool.† She tried to get a hand under my codpiece. I reached into the silk purse and retrieved one of the puffballs as I tried to keep my manhood out of her grasp. I heard a door open. â€Å"Surrender the willie!† said the duchess. She had it then, there was nothing I could do. I squoze the puffball under her nose. â€Å"It's from Edmund of Gloucester,† said I. â€Å"Milady?† said Oswald, who was standing in the doorway. â€Å"Let us down, pumpkin,† said I. â€Å"The catch-fart needs his task set.† It all smacked of history. The game had progressed further that first day, when Oswald first interrupted us, all those years ago, but it had begun, as always, with one of Goneril's query sessions. â€Å"Pocket,† said she, â€Å"since you were raised in an abbey, I should think you know much about punishment.† â€Å"Aye, lady. I had my share, and it didn't end there. I still endure an inquisition almost daily in these very chambers.† â€Å"Gentle Pocket, surely you jest?† â€Å"That is part of the job, mum.† She stood then, and dismissed the ladies from her solar with a minor tantrum. When they were gone she said, â€Å"I've never been punished.† â€Å"Aye, lady, well, you're Christian, there's always time.† I'd left the Church with a curse after they walled up my anchoress and I was leaning heavily pagan at the time. â€Å"No one is allowed to strike me, so there's always been a girl to take my punishment for me. My spankings.† â€Å"Aye, mum, as it should be. Spare the royal withers and all.† â€Å"And I feel funny about it. Just last week I mentioned during mass that Regan might be a bit of a cunt, and my whipping girl was soundly spanked for it.† â€Å"Might as well have whipped her for your calling the sky blue, eh? A beating for talking truth, of course you felt funny about it.† â€Å"Not that kind of funny, Pocket. Funny like when you taught me about the little man in the boat.† It had been a verbal lesson only, shortly after she'd insisted I teach her about manly bits. But it had kept her amused, on and off, for a fortnight. â€Å"Oh, of course,† said I. â€Å"Funny.† â€Å"I need to be spanked,† said Goneril. â€Å"A constant, I'd agree, lady, but again we're declaring the sky blue, aren't we?† â€Å"I want to be spanked.† â€Å"Oh,† said I, eloquent and quick-witted rascal that I am. â€Å"That's different.† â€Å"By you,† said the Princess. â€Å"Fuckstockings,† I thus declared my doom. Well, by the time Oswald came into the room that first time, both the princess and I were as red-bottomed as Barbary monkeys, quite naked (except for my hat, which Goneril had donned) and administering rhythmically to each other's front sides. Oswald was somewhat less than discreet about it all. â€Å"Alarm! Alarm! My lady is ravaged by a fool! Alarm!† said Oswald, fleeing from the room, to raise the alarm through the castle. I caught up to Oswald as he entered the great hall, where Lear was sitting on his throne, Regan sitting at his feet to one side, doing needlepoint, Cordelia at the other, playing with a doll. â€Å"The fool has violated the princess!† Oswald announced. â€Å"Pocket!† said Cordelia, dropping her doll and running to my side, sporting a great, goofy grin. She was perhaps eight then. Oswald stepped in front of me. â€Å"I found the fool rutting the princess Goneril like a rapacious goat, sire.† â€Å"‘Tis not true, nuncle,† said I. â€Å"I was called to the lady's solar this morning only to jest her out of a morning funk, which can be smelt upon her breath if you have doubts.† At that point Goneril came running into the room, trying to arrange her skirts as she moved. She stopped beside me and curtsied before her father. She was breathless, barefoot, and one breast peeked Cyclopean out the bodice of her gown. I snatched my coxcomb off her head with a jingle and concealed it behind my back. â€Å"There, fresh as a flower,† said I. â€Å"Hello, sister,† said Cordelia. â€Å"Morning, lamb,† said Goneril, blindfolding the pink-eyed Cyclops with a quick tuck. Lear scratched his beard and glared at his eldest daughter. â€Å"What ho, daughter,† said he. â€Å"Hast thou shagged a fool?† â€Å"Methinks any wench who shags a man hath shagged a fool, Father.† â€Å"That was a distinct no,† said I. â€Å"What is shagged?† asked Cordelia. â€Å"I saw it,† said Oswald. â€Å"Shag a man and shag a fool, one is the same as another,† said Goneril. â€Å"But this morning I have your Fool shagged, righteous and rowdy. I bonked him until he cried out for gods and horses to pull me off.† What was this? Was she hoping for more punishment? â€Å"That is so,† said Oswald. â€Å"I heard the call.† â€Å"Shagged, shagged, shagged!† said Goneril. â€Å"Oh, what is this I feel? Tiny bastard fools stirring in my womb. I can hear their tiny bells.† â€Å"You lying tart,† said I. â€Å"A fool is no more born with bells than a princess with fangs, both must be earned.† Lear said, â€Å"If that were true, Pocket, I'd have a halberd run up your bum.† â€Å"You can't kill Pocket,† said Cordelia. â€Å"I'll need him to cheer me when I'm visited by the red curse, and a horrible melancholy comes over me,† said Cordelia. â€Å"What are you on about, child?† said I. â€Å"All women get it,† said Cordelia. â€Å"They must be punished for Eve's treachery in the garden of evil. Nurse says it makes you ever so miserable.† I patted the child's head. â€Å"For fuck's sake, sire, you've got to get the girls some teachers who aren't nuns.† â€Å"I should be punished!† said Goneril. â€Å"I've had my curse for simply months,† said Regan, not even bothering to look up from her needlepoint. â€Å"I find that if I go to the dungeon and have some prisoners tortured I feel better.† â€Å"No, I want my Pocket,† said Cordelia, starting to whine now. â€Å"You can't have him,† said Goneril. â€Å"He's to be punished, too. After what he's done.† Oswald bowed for no particular reason. â€Å"May I suggest his head on a pike on the London Bridge, sire, to discourage any more debauchery?† â€Å"Silence!† said Lear, standing. He came down the steps, walked past Oswald, who fell to his knees, and stood before me. He put his hand on Cordelia's head. The old king locked his hawk's gaze upon me. â€Å"She didn't speak for three years before you came,† he said. â€Å"Aye, sire,† said I, looking down. He turned to Goneril. â€Å"Go to your quarters. Have your nurse tend to your illusions. She will see that there is no issue from it.† â€Å"But, Father, the fool and I – â€Å" â€Å"Nonsense, you're a maid,† said Lear. â€Å"We have agreed to deliver you thus to the Duke of Albany and so it is true.† â€Å"Sire, the lady has been violated,† said Oswald, desperate now. â€Å"Guards! Take Oswald to the bailey and flog him twenty lashes for lying.† â€Å"But, sire!† Oswald squirmed as two guards seized his arms. â€Å"Twenty lashes to show my mercy! Another word of this, ever, and your head will decorate London Bridge.† We watched, stunned, as the guards dragged Oswald away, the unctuous footman weeping and red-faced from trying to hold his tongue. â€Å"May I go watch?† Goneril asked. â€Å"Go,† Lear said. â€Å"Then to your nurse.† Regan was on her feet now and had skipped to her father's side. She looked at him hopefully, up on her toes, clapping her hands lightly in anticipation. â€Å"Yes, go,† said the king. â€Å"But you may only watch.† Regan streamed out of the hall after her older sister, her raven hair flying behind her like a dark comet. â€Å"You're my fool, Pocket,† said Cordelia, taking my hand. â€Å"Come, help me. I'm teaching Dolly to speak French.† The little princess led me away. The old king watched us go without another word, one white eyebrow raised and his hawk eye burning under it like a distant frozen star.

Characters in ‘Two Kinds’ Essay

Both, Madame Loisel and the daughter from two kinds, find themselves in similar situations. The situations seem different but in reality they aren’t, as both of them are expected to do certain things, the only different is that the daughter from to kinds in forced to do thing and Madame Loisel just feel like she had to do or to have a certain thing. The difference in the expectations between the two characters, is made by making one character want a certain thing, and the other to be forces to do something. So in other words one of the characters is wants to have certain thing and feels like the society expects the character to have these things. And the other one is made or forces by on other person or character from the story to do certain things, and is expected of certain things. The daughter is the forces character this is because the mother makes her do what she doesn’t want to. Her mother tries to make he a wonder kid and to change the way the daughter is. The mother tries to make her daughter a wonder kid and the daughter starts to respond in a way that she just doesn’t care. Then in some time the daughter be really tiered of the testes that the mother is making her that and the fact that the mother is trying to change her. And so, she starts to take short cut, and with the only intention to stay the way sh e it, the stops listening to her mother, doesn’t pay intention at the piano lessens. On the other hand there is Madame Loisel, which is a character that just feels that it is her duty to be what the society expects of all women. She feels that she has to be in the high class, that she is worth a lot and that all because of her beauty should adore her. She also had an opinion that if she wants something she has to get it or it is the end of the world. In addition, her believe is that her just deserve, also for whom she is, expensive cloths, and expensive necklace. Both of the characters respond very similar to their pressures and expectation that they are faced in the story line. The daughter responds by not agreeing to her mother and by trying to do the opposite of what she is told to do and in addition, she doesn’t listen nor try her best at the test that her mother makes her face. and a bit similar, Madame Loisel responds to  the expectations of society in a way that she just wants something and if she doesn’t get it it’s the end of the world, as if she just is the centre of the world and that she deserves all. So in other words she believes that she is worthy of having the best of the best. Then furthermore, both of the characters change in the end of their own stories. Madame Loisel becomes more realistic about life and gets a true self-esteem for what she had actually achieved. And in addition she loses her opinion that everything that she gets or receives is granted. Then, the daughter listens to her mother in the end of the story and starts playing the piano. As a conclusion both of the characters result in the same position in other words both of the characters are dramatic characters. This is because their view and their characteristics change and became completely different in the end of the story. Madame Loisel changes in a way that she becomes more aver of life and stops taking everything for granted. The daughter also changes to the positive site as she in the end of the story starts playing the piano and in other words listens.