text:
Alexander Wales
The Dark Wizard Of Donkerk, Chapter 2: The Kidnapping
"We need money," said Omarr. After they'd put Henry to bed, they'd cracked a small cask of ale and drank from the large mugs. A fire crackled in the fireplace. Adrianna had come to like the two men, somewhat despite herself. They had taught her much. While their theft of Henry had soured her opinion, their subsequent adoption of him had warmed her back up. That had been five years ago. Now she acted as something of an aunt to the boy, stopping in from time to time to dote on him. For their part, Omarr and Hirrush seemed to be loving if unconventional parents.
"What do you do for money?" asked Adrianna. She grew most of her own food and took in coin from the people who came calling for her services. Disappointingly, much of it involved sex in one way or another, and Adrianna suspected that it was because the people were committing one taboo and didn't care whether they compounded that taboo with the taboo about dark magic. Her gran had a thick book devoted to virility, pregnancy, and contraception, which she was forced to consult often.
"You know that we're not conventionally moral people?" asked Omarr.
Adrianna looked up towards the ceiling, at where Henry lay sleeping in his room. He was a cute child, with rosy cheeks and curly blond hair. "I am aware," she replied.
"We were kidnappers," said Hirrush. Omarr shot him a look, but Hirrush continued. "It's the simple truth, no sense in coating it with sugar. We never harmed the children, and each one of them was returned safe and sound —"
"Wait a minute," said Adrianna. She pushed her ale away. "The duke's son? That was you?"
"Just so," said Omarr.
"As I was saying, we returned each of them safe and sound, and we made enormous piles of money doing it," said Hirrush. "Not even as much as we could have. We always made sure to only ask for as much as we knew they could give to us without sparing it real thought."
"You were kidnappers," said Adrianna. "And you need money. So you're going to kidnap again?" She felt slightly queasy, though partly that was because she was on her second mug of ale.
"We need to raise Henry right," said Omarr. "We have no skills, and we can't ply our one true trade. You've seen that the garden has expanded in recent years — look, it's not that we want to do this, but when you weigh the harm caused against the good done, you have to see that on balance we're in the right."
"Or at least neutral," said Hirrush.
"Harm against others," Adrianna replied. "Good for yourselves."
"Good for Henry," said Omarr. Hirrush nodded. "We live a small life. A quiet life. We don't need much, but we don't have much either. The cottage has a lean to it that's going to need fixing in the near future if we don't want to risk a collapse. Henry grows out of his clothes almost as fast as we have them sewn. If we want him to be something more than just a farmer's son … we're going to need resources. We've never lived a life of luxury. It's not about that. It's about providing him with the sort of boundless world a child should have."
Adrianna sighed. "You've already made up your minds," she said. She looked around the cottage. It was simple and sturdy, with the exception of the lean. Nothing in it spoke of men who squandered their money, save perhaps for the rows upon rows of books that filled one of the rooms. She had always thought of Omarr and Hirrush as scholars of dark magic rather than practitioners, and they'd done little to prove her wrong. "What about the child you're going to kidnap?"
"What about her?" asked Omarr.
"You have understandable gripes with the nobility," said Adrianna. "I can understand how you think the loss of money would be justified. If you've thought about the horror of having a children stolen, perhaps you can justify it by thinking that these nobles deserve it. And possibly you're even right. But what about the feelings of the child, who — and I mean no offense — who will have to live with being taken by the two of you?"
"She won't remember it," said Hirrush. "That much we can be sure of. We have magic to make sure of that."
"She," said Adrianna. "You've already been planning this. You've already picked out a target."
Omarr laid his meaty hands on the table. "The problem is, we need a confederate."
"Me?" asked Adrianna. "I'm not so motivated as either of you."
"Three weeks ago a man died because you didn't have a healthy calf," said Omarr. "Don't pretend that's a problem that money couldn't have solved. Don't pretend that it didn't affect you."
Adrianna felt like a bucket of ice water had just been splashed on her. The numbness reached to her core. "I'm not pretending," she replied.
"I'm only trying to say — look, having the money isn't about greed, it's about being able to rearrange the world to your liking. Gold paves many paths," said Omarr. "The king has more money than he can possibly use, and he spends it on frippery and lavish displays. In our hands, we could do good — not just good for Henry, but for the people around us."
Adrianna looked between the two of them. "King Aldric? Are you mad? Are you seriously saying that you intend to extract a ransom for the prince?"
"Not the prince," said Hirrush. "The princess."
"You'll be killed," said Adrianna. "Instantly. The oathkeepers, the royal mentalist, a thousand men and women with swords drawn and racing for you, and that's leaving aside the logistics of penetrating the walls of the castle and getting out with a child."
"And if you believed that we could do it?" asked Omarr. "No, don't answer. We'll tell you how we're going to do it. When we're done, you can think on it for a few days, mull things over, and then say whether you'll accept our request for help."
Adrianna listened.
Adrianna left.
Adrianna thought about the man who had died in her arms for lack of coin. She thought about every man, woman and child who wouldn't be able to pay the price that was demanded. She thought about the leak in her roof that wouldn't go away. She thought about the book on physiology that she hadn't had anywhere near the money to buy. She thought about Henry and the difference it would make for him. And she thought about the king, sitting in his throne room with a magical crown of gold, flanked by men in silver breastplates, and drinking his fine wines.
When she came back, Adrianna agreed to help.
Sofia was five years old.
The castle was her playground; she ran on bare feet down the hallways, beneath the arched doorways, around the seemingly endless number of people that worked for her father. She had three women to watch after her, but her father didn't seem to mind that she would dart off away from them at the first chance she got, except for the one time she'd left the castle entirely and he had screamed at them for what seemed like hours. She hadn't gone outside the castle before or since, but that didn't matter too much, since there always seemed to be some new corner to explore, and there were three courtyards to play in if she wanted to be outdoors.
Her favorite toy was a small tiger. A tiger was an animal that they didn't have in Donkerk. It had black and white stripes, and pointed ears, and flopped around by her side whenever she went running. Her father had shown her a picture of a tiger which had been drawn in a large book, and told her that it was just like a kitten the size of a horse, and that sounded wonderful. She had asked her father whether he'd be able to bring a real tiger into Donkerk from somewhere to the south, if just to visit, and her father had said he would try his best with a wink to one of his aides, which meant that he wasn't going to try at all.
In the afternoons, she would curl up in a ball near one of the windows and nap in the sunshine, taking her stuffed tiger with her. Whichever woman was watching her would procure a chair from some nearby room and bring it over to sit next to her, which Sofia didn't mind too terribly.
"You run too much," Rowan said one day. He was three years older and often in a bad mood.
"No I don't," replied Sofia. She had her tiger clutched closely to her.
"When I'm king, I'm going to make a decree about running," said Rowan. "I'm not going to allow it."
"Maybe I'll be king," said Sofia. "And then I'll make a law that says that people have to run around all the time."
"You can't be a king, you're a girl," said Rowan. "You would be a queen, like mom was. But you won't be a queen either, because I'm older than you."
Sofia asked her father about this and was told that this was mostly true, much to her consternation. Late that day she made an extra effort to dodge the woman who was looking after her and crawled off to some faraway part of the castle where there were extra beds for when people came to visit. The room she liked best there had a large bed with posts going up to the ceiling and lace hanging down. When the door opened up, she thought it would be the woman who'd been following her, but instead it was a large man with a thick black beard and meaty fingers.
"Who are you?" asked Sofia.
"No one," replied the man. "Can you come here for a moment?"
Sofia set her stuffed tiger down on the bed and came closer. The man was well-dressed and smelled like the wheat. When she was five feet from him, he reached for her and grabbed her around the waist like her father sometimes did when he wanted to set her on his shoulders. She didn't like the man grabbing her like that, but before she could tell him not to, he had pulled out a knife and cut off his finger. The world went black just after that, and all she could hear was her breathing, and the beating of her heart, and the huffing of the man as he carried her through blackness.
"Baking is a kind of alchemy," said Hirrush.
"Like potions," said Henry.
"Yes," said Hirrush. "Like potions. You take these simple ingredients like eggs, flour, and butter, and by mixing them in the right quantities and doing the right things with them, you can create something wonderful."
"Like cookies," said Henry.
"Yes," said Hirrush. Omarr and Adrianna sometimes talked to Henry in a higher voice, to let him know that they were talking to him and not to anyone else, but Hirrush never did that. He didn't make any effort to use simple words either. While it was hard to understand the big words, Hirrush always answered questions. "Now, your father and I don't trust alchemy, for the simple reason that alchemy so often doesn't work. Alchemy is the realm of hucksters. But baking at least tells us that it's possible to transmute one thing into another and make something more valuable than the sum of its parts. I believe that it's good instruction on being precise when following rules, and learning when the rules that have been set out for you might reasonably be broken. Though alchemy might not be all that it's cracked up to be, those lessons will serve you well when it comes time for you to practice true magic."
They followed the recipe together, though Hirrush did most of the things that required true delicacy. They had just added in a handful of raisins when an ethereal doorway opened and Omarr stepped out of the blackness. He had a girl of around Henry's age under one arm. It was one of the most impressive bits of magic that Henry had ever seen.
"You're back!" cried Henry, momentarily forgetting about the flour on his hands and wrapping Omarr in a hug. Omarr had been gone for four whole weeks. He hadn't said where he was going, though Henry had overheard enough to know that it was to the south.
"I'm back," said Omarr with a sigh that didn't sound too happy.
"Put me down!" cried the girl.
Omarr pulled away from Henry and set the girl carefully on the floor of the cottage. She had long red hair, pale skin, and wore a light green dress that hung down below her skinny ankles. Her face held a scowl that looked small to Henry; she was the first person his age he'd ever met.
"I'm bleeding," said Omarr with a steady voice.
"The cut was supposed to seal instantly," replied Hirrush. "The ritual didn't perform as expected?"
Omarr held up his left hand, where his pinky finger was completely missing. There was only a nub where it had been. Henry stared at it in fascination for a moment before returning his gaze to the redheaded girl his father had brought home. "Walking between realms went just fine," said Omarr. "It wasn't even as cold as they said, just blackness and forward movement until I got here." He rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, and showed a red circle that was trickling blood. "She bit me."
"You shouldn't have picked me up," said Sofia with her arms crossed. She looked around the cottage, and Henry watched her eyes darting from the dried herbs in the kitchen to the table and chairs, to the hearth, and back to his fathers. "Where is this?"
"You've been kidnapped," said Hirrush. He opened a drawer and pulled out some gauze. He eyed the princess carefully, then when she showed no sign of movement, he began to tend to Omarr's wound. "Where we are isn't important. What's important is that you behave. Don't do anything too foolish until your father has paid us for your safe return." Hirrush turned to Henry. "Keep up your work. And put on some water for tea."
Henry spared another glance at the girl, then did as he was told, though he paid more attention to what his fathers were saying than to forming the dough into balls.
"My father is the king," declared the girl. "He will have your heads."
"Is that true?" asked Henry from the counter. He was standing on a stool.
"It's true that her father is the king," replied Omarr. He dug around in a pocket with his left hand while Hirrush wrapped his other arm. Omarr finally found a coin and flicked it to Henry, who caught it with a flour-covered hand. The back of the coin had a man's head on it. He had a thick, bulbous nose and a rather serious demeanor, at least from what Henry could see on the coin. Henry idly wondered whether any kings ever smiled on their coins. "And it's true that the king might want to take our heads — your father and I, that is, you're not in any danger — but the plain fact of it is, we're cleverer than the king. We full well intend to get away with it."
"My father is clever," pouted Sofia.
"Your father is strong, powerful, rich, and by most accounts charismatic above and beyond the magic of the crown," said Hirrush. "Most people say he's kind, and I have little reason to doubt them. But being clever is something that he leaves to his sages."
Sofia looked unhappy, but said nothing. Her ferocity and pride faded in equal measure as the minutes passed.
"You can have a cookie when they're done," said Henry.
"And tea," added Hirrush. "We have no quarrel with you."
Sofia gave no response, but instead walked toward the front door. From his vantage point, Henry could see his fathers share a look, but they didn't move to stop her. She pushed the door open just a crack, glanced back at Hirrush and Omarr, and poked her head out.
"I could run away," she said, though it was nearly a question.
"You could," said Omarr. "But you're not in the castle anymore, and you don't know where it is you are. No one but us knows that you're a princess, Sofia. And if you stay here, you could be home in a handful of days. We have a bed made up for you already. We'll make sure that you're nice and warm at night. We even have some clothes for you to wear."
"You can run away later," said Henry, speaking loudly so that she could hear him from the kitchen. "It will be easy to get away when they're asleep and can't chase you." His fathers gave him a disapproving look, but Sofia nodded and closed the door.
The kettle began to whistle. Hirrush, having finished bandaging Omarr's arm, began to make tea. He took a small bottle from a high up shelf and added it to a cup full of hot water. Henry had never seen that herb used in tea before, but Hirrush gave him a look and he said nothing.
"The first cup for you," said Hirrush to Sofia. He placed the cup in front of her, then moved past her to take the stairs up to the second floor. Sofia sniffed the tea, took a sip, and then began drinking it down. Hirrush had added a lot of sugar to it. She had barely finished the cup when she slumped over in her chair. Omarr caught her before she could slide off and hit the ground.
"Is she okay?" asked Henry.
"She's fine," said Hirrush, who was coming back down the stairs with a pair of pillows. He put one beneath Sofia's head, and the other on the floor. When he laid down, he rested his head on top of it, close to Sofia's. "She'll wake up in an hour or so. I just hope I'm not too rusty."
"What's going on?" asked Henry as Hirrush closed his eyes.
"Your father's going to take a peek inside her mind," said Omarr. He walked into the kitchen and started making cookies with Henry, who had practically forgotten the task with everything that was going on. "One of the reasons that we're going to get away with this kidnapping is that your father and I have skills that nearly no one else in the whole kingdom shares."
"Inside her mind?" asked Henry. He scrunched up his face. "How does that work?"
It only took half a minute of meditation for Hirrush to step into his own mind. When he'd first begun the practice at the age of six, it had taken the instruction of a yogi, five hours of meditation, and the aid of a pinchwort tea, but the years of practice made it easy. The headaches would come later, when he had left the mental realm behind.
Hirrush's mindscape was a large temple atop an immense spar of gray rock. There were a few scraggly trees that grew from small toeholds and a great white roiling mass of clouds that surrounded the column of rock and obscured the ground. Hirrush sniffed to himself when he saw how the clouds were moving. Within a few seconds they had gone still again, back to being a thick white sheet that undulated in a wind that could barely be felt. Hirrush was more nervous about this than he'd let on to either Omarr or Henry; the clouds below often reflected his emotions. Stilling them would still his troubled mind, but only for a time.
He made a quick tour of the temple before attempting the breach. Everything was where he'd left it. The library still held a copy of every book he'd read. He glanced over the memory representations, which all seemed in order and unblemished. His defenses were solid, even though several years had passed since he'd shored them up; he took the time to do this now, securing his mindscape against any possible intruders. His mindscape had once been where he spent most of his time, making modifications to the land and feeling the effects ripple through his mind. It had been freeing, a journey of mental modifications which had made him feel right with the world. If he was ever troubled or anxious, he had only to dive into his own mind to set things right.
The headaches meant that those days were over.
Knowing that he couldn't put it off any longer, Hirrush walked up two flights of stairs to the viewing room on the top floor. Here he could feel the three other minds around him more keenly. Omarr's mind was familiar, open, and accessible. The young mind of Henry had a golden note like a ringing bell. The third could only be Sofia. When Hirrush pressed against her mind with his own, the barrier between them felt spongy, with much more resistance than a five-year-old should have had. It wasn't a good sign, but this course had been set from the moment the girl was taken through the spirit realm and brought to their house.
Hirrush moved through the barrier slowly, like moving through molasses, pushing against the mental matter that was abnormally thick. When he finally arrived inside her mindscape, it was with a sudden release, all the pressure gone at once. He popped into place on the lurching deck of a large ship at sea. There were undulating waves moving the ship and a thick downpour that obscured Hirrush's vision. He held his hands out to the side and pushed against the storm, causing the waves to calm themselves and the rain to let up, though not entirely. Changing another person's mindscape was difficult, an expenditure of his own mental energy, but there was no way that he'd be able to get anything done with the whole mindscape heaving about him.
The ship wasn't accurate. That was common enough among mindscapes, which didn't suffer from the same constraints as the physical world. His own temple was built in an architectural style that had never existed, and of course it raised questions about how anyone could have brought the materials up to build the temple, or how a living could be sustained so far from civilization. There were no animals, no edible plants, and not even any barrels to catch rain. Hirrush had contemplated making the changes required to have it be plausible, but that had been before the injury that left him with his headaches, and after that, idle mentalism had stopped.
The rigging of the ship consisted mostly of ropes that didn't go anywhere, that hung from the masts and came down onto the deck without real purpose. It would have driven a sailor mad, Hirrush was sure. There were other details that his time as a ship passenger told him were wrong, a lack of tar on the sides, a few places where the boards seemed too short or the grain went the wrong way. With the sea mostly still, the ship had stopped moving so violently. The visibility had become good enough that he could see a lighthouse in the distance — a curiosity, given that most mindscapes had a background that lacked real clarity or distinction. He was sure that the meat of the mind was internal to the ship, in what were no doubt cavernous rooms that you'd never see on a real ship. In the mental realm, there was no need for a room to be constrained by the geometry of the hull which contained it.
Two thick doors led the way down to the innards of the ship, and these opened before Hirrush could make a move towards them. A tall man in robes of bright purple stepped forward. He was completely bald, and his face wore a scowl. The face was familiar to Hirrush.
"What good did you think this would do, Ibrahim?" asked Hirrush. "She's five years old."
"Better a weak defense than no defense at all," said the royal mentalist. This was only a shade of the man, a fragment left behind from an excursion, but he was a threat all the same. "Still having headaches? I'm surprised you could even make a breach. Though I have to confess that I'm unsurprised that you would try to manipulate the mind of a child."
"No manipulation," said Hirrush with an even voice. He was steeling himself for the battle to come; he was more rusty than he had admitted to Omarr when they were making this plan. "I just need a baseline."
"You're not going to get it," said Ibrahim. He lunged forward, with a knife flickering into his hand from nowhere. Hirrush dodged the first two slashes, and took the third on his forearm, but it was a simple matter of thought to heal the wound. Ibrahim's fragment was powered by the brain of a child, a brain not yet developed enough to have any real force or direction behind it, even with whatever modifications the royal mentalist had made. Hirrush manifested a spear in his own hand and stabbed Ibrahim through the leg with a quick motion, which made a wound that didn't close up at all. Ibrahim favored his other leg, and the knife he was holding flickered into the shape of a shield.
"It must be nice to beat me for once," said Ibrahim. He spat to the side.
Hirrush made no comment. He simply grabbed the shield with one hand and shoved it to the side while stabbing forward with the spear. It struck Ibrahim's fragment straight through the chest. He popped like a soap bubble. Hirrush held still for a moment, waiting for a second attack, but it never came. It was a pathetic battle, fought with real weapons, but it had been the best he could muster. No doubt if they had taken prince Rowan it would have been more of a challenge. Hirrush's forearm looked fine, but still throbbed where the knife had sliced it.
Hirrush shook it off, and went exploring.
"But what's he doing in there?" asked Henry.
"He's just looking," said Omarr. "He says that minds are like books, but that book is constantly being written in, and revised, and pieces of it are torn out. We want there to be no trace of us in the princess's mind when we give her back, but that means that we need to know what it looked like before she spent time with us."
"You can remove memories?" asked Henry with raised eyebrows.
"Hirrush can," said Omarr. He opened the oven and peeked in at the cookies. "You need the baseline, and as he's described it there's a good deal of art to the removal itself. It's easy enough for people to know that they've missed something — it's not terribly stealthy. But yes, that's more or less it. The princess will be aware of missing time, but she won't know what it is that she missed."
"Will I be able to go into people's minds when I'm older?" asked Henry. "Like how I'll do dark magic when I'm older?"
"Ah," said Omarr. "Now that's a question." He glanced over at the two prone bodies. Hirrush laid with his lanky hair on the pillow, with his sharp elbows pressed into the floor. His face was tense. Beside him, Sofia had her mouth halfway open. The princess was drooling slightly. Her face was blank, with no sign of what was happening between the two of them. "Your father wants you to become a mentalist. But it can be dangerous, in ways that black magic isn't. And there's some question about whether you'd even be able to. Your father tried with me, but I never got farther than entering my mindscape. That itself is rare enough, though I had more of an advantage than most that try to follow that path. Hirrush thinks there are maybe a thousand people in all of Donkerk that can manage as much. Those that can cross the barrier between minds number in the tens. Maybe even less. But it's possible, with training, that you could do what Hirrush is doing now." Omarr pulled the cookies out from the stove. "There, perfectly done."
Omarr watched Henry closely. He and Hirrush often talked about the future that they wanted for the boy, but it wasn't clear what Henry himself would want. If he wanted to be a mentalist, Hirrush would try his best to train him in the art, though Hirrush had an enormous handicap in that regard. If Henry wanted to be a dark wizard, they would teach him everything they knew. They would try their best to steer him away from the bad paths. Too many dark wizards had met their end atop a pile of corpses, or corrupted by some new ritual they were sure was going to work, or cut down by the oathkeepers before they'd done much more than say the wrong things to the wrong people. But it seemed just as likely that Henry might grow up and want to become a baker, or a stonemason, or something completely unrelated to the lives of his fathers. Hirrush wanted to push Henry toward greatness, but Omarr would have been content to let the boy wander. He couldn't say that either path was truly wrong.
"When will they wake up?" asked Henry.
"They're not truly asleep," replied Omarr. "Your father's in a deep trance, and Sofia is … well, I wouldn't call it sleep."
"Will she be okay?" asked Henry.
"Perfectly fine," said Omarr. "Before you came along, your father and I had less cause to be good. This will be the fifth time we've done this, and each time the child was returned successfully."
Henry furrowed his brow. "You kidnapped the princess five times?"
Omarr almost laughed, but the subject was a bit too serious for that. "No, different children. Lesser nobility with far less at stake. It's dangerous work. But each time the child was returned, with only a blank gap where their memories of us should have been. And your father and I would be wealthy for a time, until we spent all the money we'd gotten."
Henry frowned. "But taking things that don't belong to you is bad," he said slowly. "Including people?"
"Yes," said Omarr with a nod. "But good and bad are a balancing act. Every time, your father and I decided that the good was greater than the bad. The king will be mad at us. It will hurt him that his daughter is gone, and he won't like parting with the money, but once that money is in our hands, we'll be able to raise you properly without having to expose ourselves to the outside world."
"Like when you brought that woman in?" asked Henry.
"That's it exactly," said Omarr.
Adrianna had come to their cottage several months ago, as she often did, though this time it was with a request; a woman was dying and Adrianna could do nothing to help her. They hadn't wanted to have a part in it, but eventually Omarr began to crack under Adrianna's pleading. On a chilly spring morning, the woman was brought to the cottage. It was the sort of exposure that the two dark wizards truly didn't want, but Hirrush had dug up a book called Wasting Diseases and the Culling of Major Animals which detailed a ritual that would require using the block of onyx that they kept in the small shed behind the house. The block had cost a dauphin's ransom and taken an enormous amount of effort to bring to the cottage in the first place. Because it was so heavy and unwieldy, there was nothing for it but to bring the woman into their inner circle. Omarr and Hirrush had argued about it, even though they were in agreement.
The ritual had required the sacrifice of two full-grown bulls, supplied by the woman's husband. Omarr and Hirrush had laid the woman down on the block of onyx, positioned a bull on either side of her, and then slit the throats of both the bulls in unison. The beasts had kicked and sprayed hot blood, but as the outer spirits watched, the ritual took hold, and a blackness ripped through both of them like lightning. The animals crumbled into piles of black ash; the woman walked away with fresh, new innards. They had let Henry watch the preparations, but not the ritual itself. And now their presence was known, at least to that woman and her husband. They had a strong incentive not to tell anyone, since they'd paid for an illegal act to be performed on the woman. It was still a risk.
Hirrush and Omarr had little in the way of practical skills. They would have plied a trade in dark magic, in the same way that Adrianna did, but people were more kind to witches than to wizards, especially a pair of wizards raising a small boy. Henry had changed things far more than they'd first expected he would. In the beginning they had treated him much like an animal, if truth be told. He needed to be fed and changed, and played with from time to time, but it was only slightly more work than when one of the goats had kids. Omarr wasn't sure whether they would have kept him if they'd realized the depth of the commitment they'd made — much like the ritual itself, it was something that they'd decided on in the abstract, with the consequences not apparent until the reality of the decision unfolded in front of them. The boy had shaped their lives. Omarr would have thought that his reaction would be regret, but instead he was vaguely pleased by what a central focus the boy had taken for himself.
Sofia yawned and sat up slowly, looking around with glassy eyes. "Cookies?" she asked.
Omarr watched Hirrush carefully. He was slow to come out of the trance, and clutched at his head, digging his fingers into his hair. "Ow. Ow, ow ow."
Omarr had prepared a different sort of tea, this one a mild sedative. He knelt down next to Hirrush and fed it to him slowly. Hirrush muttered another "Ow" and spilled a bit of the tea, but he drank most of it down. He laid back on the pillow, still clutching at his head. Henry had, of his own volition, put a half dozen of the cookies on a plate and brought it over to Sofia, who took one in each hand and ate them greedily. Hirrush would be out for the next few hours at the least, possibly even more, but if he'd gotten the baseline there was nothing much to worry about beyond the pain of the headache. Omarr turned his attention to the children.
Some hours later the four of them sat down to a dinner of roasted chicken, peas, and mashed potatoes. Sofia had been more relaxed for a time, following Hirrush's excursion into her mind and the calming of her emotions, but now some sullenness was appearing. Emotional manipulation was difficult and never lasted long before it needed to be reapplied. Hirrush picked at his food, trying to ignore the pounding in his head. He was sluggish and practically worthless; though the sun hadn't yet set, he was committed to going to bed just after he'd finished eating. Omarr could watch the children for at least that long. Hirrush had finished putting up the ward that would keep Sofia from escaping the property, but he had used the last of his father's bones some years earlier. He wasn't entirely certain that the substitution of bones stolen from a graveyard would hold so well. Thinking about it made his head hurt more. He took another sip of tea to help keep the pain down.
"No word from the capital, princess," said Omarr gently. "We'll have a response in due time though, and handle the negotiations. I'm sure he'll see reason."
"You should do what a king says," said Sofia with a pout. She prodded at her chicken. "Is there magic in this?"
"No," replied Omarr. "We don't use magic on something so frivolous as making chicken taste better."
"Could we?" asked Henry.
"If we acted on the chicken while it was still alive," said Omarr. "Then, maybe. But dark magic isn't for talking about at the table."
Henry ate quickly, something that he had learned from Omarr. He stopped after two quick mouthfuls of chicken and looked at Sofia. "Why should you do what the king says?" he asked her.
"Because he's the king," said Sofia.
"But why is he the king?" asked Henry, skipping entirely over the question of kingly authority, which seemed to Hirrush to be the obvious place to challenge her. He and Omarr would have to teach him better methods of argument.
"He's got a crown," said Sofia. She tentatively ate a small piece of chicken. It apparently met with her standards, as she began to eat the rest of the food in bits and pieces without complaint. If she had learned proper manners, she had apparently decided that they were on hiatus for the duration of her kidnapping — she was a messy eater.
"So if I take his crown I'd be a king?" asked Henry.
"It doesn't work like that," said Omarr. "The king of Donkerk wears the Boreal Crown. I've heard he has only to think it, and the crown will land atop his head. It's the most powerful magical item known to our kingdom, infused with the spirit of the land. The crown can't be taken from him, and someone who doesn't wear the crown wouldn't be accepted as king."
"Oh," said Henry. "So he made a dark pact?"
"No," said Sofia around a mouthful of food. "My father would never do that."
"Eight hundred years ago," Omarr began, "When Neth had broken and fallen, it was an untamed land, with just the outposts of the ancient empire. One of the officers left in Donkerk was the king's great-great-great-and-so-on-grandfather. The land of Donkerk had a spirit once, like the ocean has the elder spirit Kell, and the desert has Pothis. The king's ancestor treated with the elder spirit, and the kingdom was formed by the binding that they underwent."
"So it was a pact," said Henry.
"Was not," said Sofia, though it didn't seem like she knew whether to direct her glare at Henry or Omarr.
"Pacts are a fine line," said Hirrush. "If I sold a passing merchant one of our chickens, the two of us haven't made a pact, we've made a transaction. If I told you that I was going to give you a cookie, that wouldn't be a pact either, only a promise that I've made to you that I can freely break. For a true pact, you need some trust, and either that trust comes from neither party being able to break the pact, or from the pact holding firm for a long time. A pact needs consequences, or retribution, or something solid to make it real."
"So did the king make a pact or not?" asked Henry. His food was mostly forgotten.
"I'd have to handle the Boreal Crown to know for sure," said Omarr. "And there's a fat chance of that ever happening. Could be the spirit just likes having a king around and it's more of a convenience than pact. But the crown's sat atop the head of a member of the royal line for eight hundred years, through two invasions and a civil war, so I'd lean towards it being a powerful pact of some sort."
"Eat your peas," said Hirrush to both Sofia and Henry. "They're not just a garnish." It was the first thing he'd contributed to the conversation. His head throbbed afterward, like forcing the words out had pushed all the blood in his body into his head.
"So I can't be king?" asked Henry.
"Not of Donkerk, no," said Omarr. "You could call yourself a king, but everyone would look for the crown, and you wouldn't have it, so they'd know not to follow you. The crown makes its way down the bloodline of the king, and you're not his son."
"I might be," said Henry with a smile. He turned to Sofia. "I'm an orphan."
"What's that?" she asked.
"They don't know who my mother is, and I've got two fathers, but I was born with a different father," said Henry.
"My mother is dead," said Sofia with a nod. "She died when I was born."
"That doesn't excuse either of you from eating your peas," said Hirrush.
"I don't like peas," said Henry.
"I don't like peas either," said Sofia.
"No one likes peas," said Hirrush. His head hurt, and he tried to shake it off. "That's not the point of peas. They're like a black magic that makes you go big and strong, and you just ignore the fact that they taste terrible." Omarr stifled a cough. Hirrush looked towards Sofia, and though his head was swimming, he could see that he'd made a misstep by calling them magic.
"Think of it like a noble obligation," said Omarr.
"What's that?" asked Sofia.
"A noble obligation means riding out into battle to defend the commoners," said Omarr. "It means facing down malevolent spirits, and saving damsels in distress."
"That's boy stuff," said Sofia with a frown.
"Oh, there are plenty of women warriors," said Omarr. "Now please, kindly, eat your peas."
"How long are you going to be watching me?" asked Rowan.
"Until your sister is returned to the castle," said Ventor. It was the third time the prince had asked.
"Can you leave?" asked Rowan. The prince had a mop of brown hair that seemed badly in need of cutting to Ventor, who kept his own hair cropped close to his skull. The prince laid back on his bed, looking at the ceiling.
"No," replied Ventor. His eyes slowly scanned the room for the fifth time in the last ten minutes.
"I'd like to be alone," said Rowan.
"I'm afraid that what you would like is not of concern to me," said Ventor.
"By the power of your oath to the king, I command you to leave me alone," said Rowan. He was eight years old, and he didn't sound the least bit powerful.
"I gave my oath to the king," said Ventor evenly. "Not to you. I am sorry that you dislike it so, but I have my orders, and I cannot disobey them."
Rowan sat back on his bed and harrumphed. "When I'm king, will you follow my orders?"
"When you are king, I will take the Oath of Fealty anew and pledge my service to you," said Ventor.
"When I'm king, I'm going to make it so that you don't follow me around," said Rowan.
Ventor had no response to that so merely turned to look out the balcony. They still had no firm idea how the princess had been taken from the castle, though it was a certainty that magic of some sort was involved. The sages had gathered together in conference, but they had produced nothing more than wild speculation. The castle once had hiding holes and secret passageways, but those had been closed off a hundred years ago. An investigation had shown that they were still sealed. Everyone who worked in the castle had been interviewed, and a good number had gone before the royal mentalist for further interrogation, though that had yielded nothing of any value. A goodly number of oathkeepers had dispersed into the city, on the theory that the kidnapper couldn't have gotten far, but they hadn't turned up anything either. There had been guards stationed at every entrance and exit. Someone should have seen something, if not when the kidnapper entered the castle, then at least when he left with Sofia.
"I'm going to the library," said Rowan. He unfolded himself from the large bed he'd been laying on. "You can come with, if you'd like."
Ventor suppressed annoyance and followed the prince.
"Ventor?" asked Rowan as they walked down the halls. "What were you like when you were my age?"
"I would prefer not to discuss that," said Ventor.
"Because you would have to tell me the truth?" asked Rowan. He looked at Ventor with a gleam in his eye.
"No," replied Ventor. "I don't wish to discuss it because it was not a pleasant time in my life. I try not to dwell on troubling times."
Rowan frowned. "When I'm king, I'm going to make you tell me about it. So you should just tell me now."
"Why do you wish to know?" asked Ventor.
"You were an orphan, weren't you?" asked Rowan. "Like all the oathkeepers?" He kicked a small pebble down the hall, and watched it skitter across the flagstones.
"I was," said Ventor. "My father was sent off to fight in the Perrian War, and my mother died while he was abroad. But not all the oathkeepers come from such circumstances. Some are given by their families to the High Rectory, and some join later in life. Sometimes it comes after a failed apprenticeship, but often it happens simply because they feel a calling." He would have preferred to speak of less personal things.
"I could be an oathkeeper," said Rowan.
Ventor said nothing. There was some precedent for it, but the kings of Donkerk hadn't held oaths since the Juniper Rebellion. It would make the High Rectory nervous even if they heard that the young prince had been idly saying such things. His claim that he would use Ventor's oaths against him was somewhat more troubling on a personal level. He could only hope that the prince matured as he aged. Hopefully the kingship didn't pass on early.
The library was a large one, with books stacked in neatly ordered rows and two large ladders that ran along curved tracks all about the place. Every book was the same size, with similar binding. When a new book was added to the exhaustive collection, it was rebound to make it the same as the others, with only a few exceptions. All in all, it was a fortune in books and not a small one. The librarian was a short woman with graying hair and half-moon spectacles. She looked up at Rowan and Ventor with surprise as they entered, then quickly shelved the book she'd been reading.
"Prince Rowan, it is a pleasure to see you again," said the librarian. "What can I help you find this day?"
"I want to read about dark magic," said Rowan.
The librarian and glanced at Ventor, adjusted her dress, coughed into her hand, then said, "I'm afraid I can't help you."
Rowan gave an exasperated sigh. "I don't want to learn how to do dark magic, I want to know what it's capable of. I want to know whether it was used to take my sister." The librarian glanced at Ventor again, and Rowan turned to look his guardian up and down. "There's nothing illegal in just knowing what dark magic does, is there? There have to be books about it."
"It's not illegal to know," said Ventor. "But telling people what dark magic is capable of can often send them down the path of practicing dark magic. The king has decreed that we must be careful with who gains that knowledge."
"Oh," said Rowan with a frown. He turned back to the librarian. "So this library doesn't have any books on dark magic at all?"
"Why dark magic?" interjected Ventor. "There are so many varieties of magic in the world, the eloists, the elementalists, the denialists, the mentalists, the spirit callers — why focus on the one area that carries the risk of tainting you, if not in spirit, then in the public perception?"
Rowan turned back to Ventor. "You said that the knowledge is tightly guarded," he said. "So even the sages probably don't know as much about dark magic as they do about other kinds of magic. There's a royal mentalist who knows everything about mentalism, and we trade with the Isles enough that we know what the eloists can do, but the dark wizards are a blank spot. We don't have a sage of dark magic, do we?" Ventor shook his head. "I think it's probably more likely that my sister was taken by a dark wizard, because dark wizards are always evil."
Ventor thought on this. A big part of the problem was that he had no clear instruction in this regard. He had been commanded to protect the prince from harm, but it wasn't clear that what he was asking for would really lead to any measurable harm, especially as it came from the right place — wanting to save his sister. Yet dark wizards often started out with good intentions. The king had only put Ventor in charge of the prince's security, not his upbringing. When he'd started guarding the prince, he had assumed that he would simply stand in the corner without saying a word until the princess was found and the kidnappers brought to justice. Now he was being asked to make momentous decisions.
"We do have a few books about dark magic," said the librarian carefully after Ventor had been silent for a long moment. "Nothing that would teach you even the most basic ritual, but a few that chronicle the most famous dark wizards of the age and a few that describe the signs a dark wizard is practicing." She looked to Ventor, with her eyes pleading for guidance, but Ventor had none to give her. "Our oldest book on the subject is from the time of the Nethian Empire, before the founding of the kingdom. It gives an exhaustive detailing of the attributes of their monstrous warriors."
"Bring me all of them," said Rowan. "I'll read at the table."
The Dark Wizard Of Donkerk, Chapter 1: The Orphan
The Dark Wizard Of Donkerk, Chapter 3: The Drowned Witch
Chapter 1: The Orphan
Chapter 2: The Kidnapping
Chapter 3: The Drowned Witch
Chapter 4: The Separate Paths
Chapter 5: The Castle Spirit
Chapter 6: The Wayward Princess
Chapter 7: The Mentalists
Chapter 8: The Journey North
Chapter 9: The Fated Meeting
Chapter 10: The Dueling Deceptions
Chapter 11: The Twist in the Winds
Chapter 12: The Foresworn Citadel
Chapter 13: The Revelations
Chapter 14: The Dark Wizard of Donkerk
Chapter 15: The Crown in the Castle
Copyright © 2020 Alexander Wales
author@alexanderwales.com


text:
Grace Loetta Woodward
5 May 1890–26 December 1954 (Age 64)
Polk, Iowa, United States
The Life of Grace Loetta
When Grace Loetta Woodward was born on 5 May 1890, in Polk, Iowa, United States, her father, James Seymour Woodward, was 26 and her mother, Mary Randlet, was 23. She lived in Rural, Linn, Iowa, United States in 1935 and Indian Creek Township, Story, Iowa, United States in 1940. She died on 26 December 1954, at the age of 64, and was buried in Maxwell, Story, Iowa, United States.
Learn about Grace Loetta's homeland.
Put your face in a costume from Grace Loetta's homelands.
James Seymour Woodward
Mary Randlet
1896 · Plessy vs. Ferguson
A landmark decision of the U.S. Supreme Court upholding the constitutionality of racial segregation laws for public facilities if the segregated facilities were equal in quality. It's widely regarded as one of the worst decisions in U.S. Supreme Court history.
1907 · Not for profit elections
The first act prohibiting monetary contributions to political campaigns by major corporations.
Loetta
English:1. occupational name for a forester employed to look after the trees and game in a forest, Middle English woodward (from the Old English elements mentioned at 2). 2. perhaps also from an Old English personal name Wuduweard, composed of the elements wudu 'wood' + weard 'guardian', 'protector'.
Grace Woodward, "Iowa State Census, 1915"
Gracie Woodward in household of James Woodward, "Iowa State Census, 1895"
Grace L Woodward, "United States Census, 1940"

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
Try next time
Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019
Research Fellow/ Scientist
Open for all nationalities
City University of New York (CUNY)
Partial Funding, Tuition fee + Accommodations + travel costs + Meals
Details about Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019
Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019 is offered for Research Fellow/ Scientist degree in the field of Journalism. You can apply to this scholarship here. The deadline for the sending your application is 04 Jan 2019. This scholarship is provided by City University of New York (CUNY) and the value of this scholarship is Partial Funding, Tuition fee + Accommodations + travel costs + Meals . This scholarship is open for: Open for all nationalities.
Degree: Research Fellow/ Scientist
Provided by: City University of New York (CUNY)
Deadline: 04 Jan 2019
Scholarship value: Partial Funding, Tuition fee + Accommodations + travel costs + Meals
The Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY) located in the heart of Manhattan in New York City is offering Craig Newmark Resilience Journalism Fellowship for mid-career Journalist to conduct research on topics ranging from Hurricane recovery to natural resources management. The Resilience Journalism Fellowship provides journalists with the tools they need to answer these and other relevant subjects through a resilience lens.
Eligibility for Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019:
Open for candidates from any country and international candidates are especially encouraged to apply.
Must be a mid-career Journalist.
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Employed by news organization or work as a freelance journalist for full-time.
Must have ideas to change the landscape of journalism.
Value of Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019:
Work in the bustling city of New York.
Accommodations.
Travel costs for fieldwork.
Almost all meals.
Deadline for Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019:
The last date to apply for Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship is 4th January 2019.
Source : City University of New York (CUNY)
More about City University of New York (CUNY)
The City University of New York (CUNY) is the public university system of New York City, and the largest urban university in the United States. CUNY and the State University of New York (SUNY) are separate and independent university systems, although both are public institutions that receive funding from New York State. CUNY, however, is additionally funded by the City of New York.
Related Links of City University of New York (CUNY)
Do you know about City University of New York (CUNY)?
Explore City University of New York (CUNY) scholarships for International students
Check out City University of New York (CUNY) Internships
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Yes, you can secure an education loan to study abroad at City University of New York (CUNY). Education loans are of two types- Collateral and non collateral. Collateral includes either: Immovable property – a house or a flat or land (or) liquid security – an FD, or LIC or shares or bonds. Agricultural lands are not accepted by any bank for education loan.
When is the deadline of Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019 ?
The deadline of Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019 is 04 Jan 2019
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Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019 is offered to Research Fellow/ Scientist degree
For which field is Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019 offered for?
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Who can apply for Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019 ?
Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019 is open for: Open for all nationalities
Who is offering Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019 ?
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Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019 Covers Partial Funding, Tuition fee + Accommodations + travel costs + Meals
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Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at City University of New York (CUNY)'s Resilience Journalism Fellowship in US, 2019 can be taken at
What are the other scholarship for Journalism and Mass communication students 2020?
List of Journalism and Mass communication scholarships, 2020:
University of Canterbury - William Georgetti Scholarships in New Zealand, 2019
George J. Mitchell Peace Scholarship 2020
Bradman Scholarship for Undergraduates in Australia, 2020
Mid-Term Overseas Singapore Industry Scholarship (SgIS) 2020
London School of Economics - LSE Kadas Scholarship in UK, 2020
Non-EU Europe and Central Asia Postgraduate Excellence Award 2020
The Gipson Black Sea Scholarship 2020
Bonamy Dobree School of English PGR International Scholarship 2020
Global Scholar Award at Marquette University 2020
South Asia Postgraduate Excellence Award 2020
See more Journalism and Mass communication Scholarships
PhD fellow in Plant Biotechnology at University of Copenhagen 2020
Sir Emrys Jones Memorial Trust Scholarships 2020
IDEX Grenoble Alpes University - Master's Scholarships in France, 2020
Bishwa Bangla Scholarships at SOAS 2020
Gordon Watson Scholarship
#YouAreWelcomeHere scholarship 2020-21
BCSC Postdoctoral Fellowships in Israel, 2020
Japanese Association of University Women (JAUW) International Fellowships in Japan, 2020
Dinah and Jessica Nichols Scholarship 2020
University of Gottingen - Dorothea Schlözer Postdoctoral Program for female postdocs in Germany, 2020
Northwestern University - Presidential Fellowships 2020


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text:
Cybercrime Investigations
A comprehensive resource for everyone, in all sectors.
The Book and Resources
Speaking Training and Services
We are former cybercrime prosecutors who know this topic well and write in a clear, informative, practical, and entertaining manner. We wrote this book to encourage and empower people from all sectors and backgrounds to work on cybercrime investigations.
Our work involving cybercrime began when we served together as Assistant District Attorneys at the New York County District Attorney's Office (DANY), hired by the legendary Robert Morgenthau. We investigated and prosecuted a wide variety of criminal offenses, including cybercrime and identity theft. Antonia founded and led the Identity Theft Unit (since renamed the Cybercrime and Identity Theft Bureau), recruiting John as an early member. We gained considerable experience, including by working together on a groundbreaking cybercrime and virtual currency money laundering case of national and international scope -- which is a thread case discussed throughout the book. We learned a lot, including how better cybercrime investigation can make a difference.
Our time at the DA's office eventually came to end, but we have continued to serve the public and private sectors. Now we bring our knowledge and expertise to you though this book. This has been a tremendous labor of love, we got help from a variety of experts, and are excited to bring this information to you in a friendly and accessible manner.
John Bandler
Lawyer, consultant, author, speaker, teacher. Helping a broad array of organizations and individuals with today's risks. Former Manhattan ADA, investigated and prosecuted all manner of offenses, including cybercrime, identity theft, money laundering, and street crime. Former New York State Trooper.
Antonia Merzon
Lawyer, consultant, author, speaker. Former Manhattan ADA and Unit Chief. Founded and led the Identity Theft Unit (since renamed the Cybercrime and Identity Theft Bureau) which brought groundbreaking cases. Expert in best practices.
Read our "About the Authors" page from the book.
Find John Bandler on LinkedIn Find John at JohnBandler.com
Find Antonia Merzon on LinkedIn
John Bandler on LinkedIn
John at JohnBandler.com
Antonia Merzon on LinkedIn
Disclaimers and notices
Ordering resources on this site
Routledge & CRC Press
Copyright © 2020 John Bandler and Antonia Merzon and CybercrimeInvestigationsBook.com


text:
Radiohead tour
alternative, alternative rock, rock, indie, electronic
Radiohead Concerts Schedule Sep 2019
Radiohead, Daft Punk
Santa Monica, CA · Santa Monica Pier
About Radiohead
If you are up for some alternative rock music, then Radiohead is the perfect band for you. Armed with Tom Yorke's mild yet outstanding voice plus the group's light ambiance, it will surely touch your soul in no time.
Who is this band?
Radiohead was formed in 1985 in Oxforshire, England. It consist of vocalist and guitarist Thom Yorke, lead guitarist Jonny Greenwood, bassist Colin Greenwoodm, guitarist Ed O'Brienand drummer Phil Selway. Their 1992 debut single Creep became one of the most recognized songs in rock music though coming from an unsuccessful debut.
Rise to Rock Fame
Radiohead entered the music scene with their debut album Pablo Honey in 1993. It debuted on number 22 in the British charts and just stalled there. Follow up singles like Anyone Can Play guitar and Stop Whispering didn't make that much of a difference. Then in 1993, Radiohead started to gain listeners when their single Creep got played on Israeli radio frequently thanks to DJ Yoav Kutner and later in March, it conquered the country by storm, booking them a ticket to Tel Aviv, their first live gig overseas. After sometime, the KITS radio station in San Francisco added Creep in their playlist and soon became a heavy contender in MTV. It rose to the number 2 spot in the US modern rock chart, top 40 in the pop chart and eventually became number one in the UK Singles chart with the help of EMI.
In 1995, Radiohead recorded the song Lucky which appeared in their charity The Help Album. The band then produced their next album with the assistance of Nigel Godrich, a sound engineer who produced the Bends and made four recorded songs in 1996. They also toured with Alanis Morissette as her opening act and then later produced another album the next year entitled OK Computer followed by Kid A which received a Grammy award for best alternative rock album.
In 2002, they released another album with the help of Godrich entitled Hail to the thief which got them the best engineered album award. One year later they released a pay what you want album entitled In Rainbows which let listeners pay for the album in whatever price they saw it fit. And in 2009 they released the King of Limbs which moved away from traditional album format.
Radiohead reviews
Erin Verdin · 3 Apr
Chip Blocker Jerry Waller
Jose Luis Marin · 3 Apr
How can you call yourself Radiohead and not to sign Creep??? Big dissapointment
Phil W. Hudson · 3 Apr
http://bizj.us/1p4d94


Creations worshipped, Golden Calves, MACHINES!
Yours drowns our souls in repetitious newness.
Four Poems written for The Journal of Consciousness Studies (2000).
To burrow in his flesh and drink his (tasty?) blood.
Lacking, as it does, an awareness of seasons.
Are laughable and self-deceiving folly.
A knife-edge walk with death.
May lead us to disaster.
Such strange self-hatred, seeking power!
The alley it leads us is blind.
Two things that never sleep.
Is my unconscious conscious in my head?
One I'm not aware of (besides my dreams and its commands)?
Assesses what's best for us both.
Do I belong to it, or it to me?
That's a problem I may need to sleep on.
Built a pyre for mystery.
Here reduced, in cinders lie.
Yet still is mystery all we know.
Spirit, freedom and the soul.
And for our futures, breathe a prayer.
From all their nagging bites.
And to fleece of all they seek.
It's slopping off the platter.
You plunder, cheat and steal.
"But who will listen to me now?
In lands of private honey.
Their hearts are made of wood.
That make their children die.
May forge off through the grass.


text:
Home > Magazine > Around Town > CAMAGA Hosts Carnatic Samraat Music Competition in Atlanta
CAMAGA Hosts Carnatic Samraat Music Competition in Atlanta
Mahadev Desai
On the fine sunny morning of Saturday, September 19, 2015, The Hindu Temple of Atlanta's auditorium was filled with young participants, their parents and teachers anxiously waiting for 'Carnatic Samraat Music Competition' to begin.
Dr. Ram Sri Ram being felicitated by the Judges. From left: Sri Shashikiran; Dr. Ram Sriram; Sri Nagai Murali; Sri Thiruvarur Vaidyanathan. (Photo: Mahadev Desai)
The competition was hosted by Atlanta's premier Indian classical music organization, CAMAGA, in collaboration with Sri Shankara TV and Abhayam Creations of Chennai. The competition is intended to select the most proficient and talented Carnatic musician from young artistes across the globe. In addition to Atlanta, the competition will be held in other U.S. cities such as Chicago, Detroit, New York, Seattle, San Diego, and San Jose and in countries such as Singapore, Dubai, and Australia. The winners from each of the U.S. regional cities will compete on October 10th in Delaware to select the U.S. winner. Eventually, the global final will be held in India to award the title of "Carnatic Samraat."
The panel of judges at Atlanta competition comprised leading professional musicians Chitraveena Ravikiran, Violinist Sri Nagai N. Murali, Chitraveena Ganesh, and Mridangist Sri Thiruvarur Vaidyanathan.
The participants from Atlanta, numbering around 150, varied in age from five to 30 years. They were grouped into two categories––Bala Samraat and Yuva Samraat (juniors and seniors)––based upon their years of experience. Group participants, each group consisting of between eight and ten vocalists and instrumentalists, performed as a choir or a symphony. After each group's presentation, the rapt audience showed its appreciation with standing ovations.
The master of ceremonies for the event, Sri K. N. Shashikiran, an illustrious vocalist himself, conducted the entire competition flawlessly and with patience. He encouraged the young performers to do their best and gave excellent feedback to each participant.
>Dr. Ram Sriram, President of the sponsoring organization CAMAGA (Carnatic Music Association of Georgia) extended his gratitude to the volunteers who had worked tirelessly for three months to stage the competition. He stressed that such competitions are essential, not only to give young Indian-Americans a stage to perform but also to get them interested in our culture and heritage. Dr. Sriram exhorted parents and teachers to encourage their children to also attend concerts by leading professional musicians organized by CAMAGA several times during a year in order to understand the subtle nuances of performing.
Please note that the List of Winners is available at www.camaga.org. Those interested are requested to visit the website.


Hill Laboratories Chiropractic Automatic Flexion Table (AFT) with Optional Manual Drops.
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Used for Chiropractic Bio Physics, includes lateral and translation functions. Requires purchase of #F14 Dual-Drop Headpiece and #F15 Raised Headpiece. Not compatible with the standard Sliding Axial-Motion headpiece feature or with option F22.
A manual pnuematic flexion headpiece that can be combined with either a manual or air dual drop. (Includes lateral motion and axial motion). Not available with option #F21.
Equipped with an easy-lift cocking handle and crisp drop. Common to order with a thoracic drop.
Equipped with an easy-lift cocking handle and crisp drop.
Equipped with an easy-lifting cocking handle and crisp drop.
Equip your AFT with the Scoliosis Package and give your patients correct alignment while in the automatic flexion mode. Easily attach the side frames on both sides of the table and use the three belts to correct Scoliosis curvatures.
Additional foot pedal added to the foot-end of the table to control flexion start and stop.
Adding the timer option allows you to control the treatment time for each individual patient.


text:
How Do Punitive Damages Work in Georgia?
Home » The Howe.Law Injury & Accident Blog » How Do Punitive Damages Work in Georgia?
A few different types of damages can be awarded to a plaintiff after a successful trial. While most of these damages are meant to compensate the plaintiff, there are other cases where the defendant's conduct is so egregious that punitive damages might be awarded.
An award for punitive damages is rare in Georgia as they are intended to punish a defendant and detour similar future behavior. A skilled Georgia personal injury lawyer could be helpful when trying to determine if the reckless conduct of another person caused your injuries. However, Georgia law restricts the number of punitive damages you can receive in certain cases.
If you were injured in an accident and would like to learn whether punitive damages might be awarded in your case, our Georgia personal injury lawyers can help. Contact Howe Law at (844) 876-4357 for a free case review today.
Are Punitive Damages Available in Georgia?
Punitive damages are a type of compensation that a person can claim only in a personal injury lawsuit. Punitive damages are allowed in cases involving aggravating circumstances or the other party's conduct was especially appalling. O.C.G.A. § 51-12-5.1(b) provides several examples where a defendant's conduct would necessitate an award for punitive damages:
Willful misconduct
Wantonness
That entire want of care would raise the presumption of conscious indifference to consequences
This type of behavior goes far beyond negligence. Our Atlanta personal injury lawyers can help if you believe the wanton disregard of another person caused your injuries. Our Georgia personal injury lawyers
What is the Purpose of Punitive Damages in Georgia?
Punitive damages differ from the typical types of compensation usually awarded in a personal injury lawsuit. The common types of damages awarded are compensatory, meaning they are intended to compensate the victim for their injuries. This includes compensation for medical bills, lost wages, and non-economic damages, like pain and emotional suffering.
On the other hand, punitive damages are specifically intended to punish a defendant for conduct beyond simple negligence. Even though the victim will receive some compensation from the punitive damages award, they are not necessarily meant to repay the victim for the harm they suffered. Punitive damages have the public policy goal of not only punishing a defendant but also discouraging similar acts by other parties in the future. Our Biloxi personal injury lawyers can review the facts of your case to determine whether punitive damages might be awarded to punish the other party.
Common Types of Cases in Which Punitive Damages are Awarded in Georgia?
There are many types of cases in which punitive damages might be awarded. Because punitive damages are meant to send a message, they are common in high-profile cases involving large corporations and public figures. However, they are also awarded in more common cases where the defendant's conduct is clearly egregious. The following are common types of cases where punitive damages are likely to be awarded in Georgia:
Hit-and-run accidents
This list is not exhaustive. Virtually any personal injury case could include a claim for punitive damages if the accident was caused by a person's wanton and reckless behavior. Our Gulfport personal injury lawyers can fight for you if the facts of your case demand an award for punitive damages.
How to Recover Punitive Damages in a Georgia Personal Injury Lawsuit?
Punitive damages have different requirements when filing a lawsuit than compensatory damages. In most personal injury lawsuits, compensatory damages are generally claimed and proved later in a settlement negotiation or trial. However, under O.C.G.A. § 51-12-5.1(d)(1), an award of punitive damages must be specifically claimed in a complaint. This means that the reckless conduct that caused your injuries, and the real damages you suffered as a result, must be specifically identified in your lawsuit. If they are not claimed in your lawsuit, your claim for punitive damages is considered waived and cannot be raised later during the case. Our Georgia personal injury lawyers can help you ensure that the punitive damages in your case are identified, and your lawsuit filed correctly.
What is the Burden of Proof to Establish Punitive Damages in a Georgia Personal Injury Lawsuit?
There is a stricter burden of proof for a plaintiff to establish that the defendant's conduct was so appalling that punitive damages should be awarded. A plaintiff must prove by clear and convincing evidence that the defendant's conduct rose to the level to necessitate an award for punitive damages. This is a higher standard than typical damages in a negligence case, which only needs to be proved by a preponderance of the evidence, which means more likely than not. However, the clear and convincing evidence standard is not as high as the beyond a reasonable doubt standard, which is the standard used in criminal trials. Our Savannah personal injury lawyers can help explain how the burden of proof will impact your punitive damages claim.
Are Punitive Damages Capped in Georgia?
Unfortunately, punitive damages are capped in the state of Georgia. According to O.C.G.A. § 51-12-5.1(g), punitive damages are capped at $250,000. There are exceptions to the cap, however. Georgia law provides three specific exceptions where there is no damage cap:
Product liability cases
If the defendant acted with the specific intent to harm the plaintiff
If a defendant was under the influence of illegal drugs, inhalants, or alcohol
While there is no cap in these particular cases, there is still a caveat if punitive damages are awarded under O.C.G.A. § 51-12-5.1(e)(2), 75% of the punitive damages awarded in a case will go to the state of Georgia. The plaintiff will be awarded the remaining 25%, along with attorney's fees and litigation costs. Our Georgia personal injury lawyers can help determine if Georgia's punitive damages cap will apply to your case.
Our Georgia Personal Injury Lawyers Can Help
If you believe your injuries were caused by the outrageous conduct of another person and deserve punitive damages, our Warner Robins personal injury lawyers can help you hold them accountable. For a free case assessment, call Howe Law at (844) 876-4357.
How to Get a Police Report for a Car Accident in Atlanta
Car accidents can be incredibly harmful to Atlanta victims, resulting in expensive medical treatment and damaging lost wages. Because of that, victims need to ensure that they have the best chance at recovering compensatory damages and learn how to get a copy of the police report for their Atlanta car accident. In Atlanta, victims can […]
How to Get a Police Report for a Car Accident in Gulfport, MS
After sustaining injuries in a Gulfport, MS car accident, you'll likely need fast access to compensatory damages. In order to strengthen your claim against a negligent driver, it's crucial that you learn how to get a copy of a police report after a car accident. There are three ways in which Gulfport, MS car accident […]
How to Get a Police Report for a Car Accident in Knoxville, TN
When car accidents occur in Knoxville, TN, victims often require access to substantial compensatory damages to help them heal. In order to strengthen your case against a negligent driver, you should learn how to get a copy of a police report after a car accident. In Knoxville, TN, car accident victims can get a copy […]
How to Get a Police Report for a Car Accident in Nashville, TN
Car accidents in Nashville, TN can be incredibly damaging to victims, who often need access to compensatory damages. Because of that, victims should learn the best ways of obtaining a police report after a car accident in Nashville, TN. There are multiple ways Nashville, TN car accident victims can obtain a copy of their police […]


text:
Saipan Tribune: Author seeks entries for Marianas book (March 02, 2017)
A Northern Marianas College instructor is now accepting contributions for a book intended to provide a snapshot of life in the Marianas.
Funded by the Northern Marianas Humanities Council and supported by NMC, Ajani Burrell, an author and language and humanities instructor at NMC, encouraged members of the Saipan Rotary Club last Tuesday to help spread the word about the project, a book that compiles the perspective of numerous people living in the Marianas region.
That includes both the CNMI and Guam, Burrell said.
�The book is intended to provide a panoramic perspective of what life is like today in the CNMI [and Guam],� said Burrell.
Burrell said the book�s entries would focus on �what life is like today in the Marianas, what are the factors that are shaping life today, the customs and practices that are continuing and which customs and practices are fading.�
According to Burrell, the main goal of the project is to develop a book that will be accessible to the public as well as reading material for related subjects, from upper middle school classes to college students.
Topics include cultural resurgence and maintenance; food and fashion; family life and culture; current trends and community issues; language indications; multicultural populations; changing beliefs and perceptions; identity conflicts; trade and business; interisland movement; and colonization in governments.
Burrell is coordinating the project with Dr. Kimberly Bunts-Anderson, who is also an instructor at NMC, and will be making trips to Rota, Tinian, and Guam to meet people as well as pursue and investigate their different stories and cultural practices.
�The project is supposed to be a compendium of many different voices in the Marianas, so we are trying to speak to as many different groups of people as possible in hopes of getting submissions and perspectives from a wide array of people in the Marianas today,� said Burrell.
Burrell added that people of all ethnicities and origins are welcome to contribute, given that their written contribution is relevant.
That would include �people that are indigenous to the area, transplants, both U.S. citizens as well as other communities and groups that have a strong presence here in the Marianas. We are really hoping to give a sort of broad perspective through an examination of rather microscopic elements,� he said.
According to Burrell, video interviews may be submitted as well.
Deadline for submissions is before June or July, as a manuscript is set to be done by September. For more information, contact Burrell at [email protected] or go to the website at www.marianas.edu/culture.


How do a I turn off hello wallet or turn it off. I do not want this on my account. Plus I am considering closing out all my accounts with Key Bank. Service on my MasterCard was awful. Fraud charges three months in a row.
To cancel as a KeyBank user, hover your mouse over Hello (your name) in the top-right of HelloWallet and select Profile from the drop-down. The Unenroll button will be near the bottom off the page.
For assistance with your KeyBank accounts, please contact KeyBank customer service directly.


text:
Linden Ponds by Erickson Senior Living®
Health Services Assisted Care Cognitive Care Long-Term Nursing Care Rehabilitation Medical Center
Linden Ponds Community Walks in the "Walk to End Alzheimer's" Walk and Raises over $13,000
Hingham, MA - Over 100 people who live and work at Linden Ponds came together to walk in the "Walk to End Alzheimer's" walk in Plymouth and raised over $13,000.
Linden Ponds, part of the national network of communities developed and managed by Erickson Living, made a donation of $5000. Residents, staff, students and families raised over $8,000. Total, Linden Ponds made a contribution of more than $13,000 to the Alzheimer's Association.
"This is always a wonderful event and we are thrilled to be a part of it every year to help raise money for the Alzheimer's Association," said Harriette Tenaglia, Volunteer Program Coordinator, Linden Ponds and Linden Ponds Memory Walk Committee Chair. "It was a wonderful day."
*The Alzheimer's Association Walk to End Alzheimer's® is the nation's largest event to raise awareness and funds for Alzheimer's care, support and research. Held annually in more than 600 communities nationwide, this inspiring event calls on participants of all ages and abilities to reclaim the future for millions. Together, we can end Alzheimer's disease, the nation's sixth-leading cause of death.
About Linden Ponds: Linden Ponds is one of 16 continuing care retirement communities managed by Erickson Living. Linden Ponds is situated on a scenic 108-acre campus in Hingham, Massachusetts. The vibrant campus opened in October 2004, and is home to 1,200 people who are enjoying life to the fullest.
* http://act.alz.org/site/PageServer?pagename=walk_about
Logo for Linden Ponds Senior Living in Hingham, MA
300 Linden Ponds Way, Hingham, MA 02043


THOMASVILLE, N.C. (AP) — As a child and teenager, Reggie Bayse dreamed of having the time to play football, basketball, baseball and other sports with community leagues and in school.
But as the son of a Wesleyan Methodist minister, his time was needed more by his family working a job to help support the family than as an athlete. Now, at 81, Bayse indulges those dreams of being an athlete as a participant in the annual Lexington/Davidson County/Thomasville Senior Games and the N.C. Senior Games State Finals. He's not just participating, either. He is winning and he has the medals to prove it.
This September at the State Finals, he won two gold medals in the shot put and football throws, a silver medal in horseshoes and a bronze medal in the softball throw.
Bayse moved to Greensboro with his family during his high school years, and the basketball coach wanted him to play. But again, the needs of the family trumped his desire to play sports.
So years later when he and wife Helen, a Thomasville native, had three sons, he wanted to be sure they had the opportunity to play all the sports they wanted. All three, Reggie Jr., John and Mark, were top wrestlers at Thomasville High School. Each received the most valuable player award their senior year on the team.
What Bayse recalls most fondly from those years is working out with his sons. He would run three to four miles a day with them and do weight training.
He kept up that mind-set of staying fit throughout his life with regular exercise. Today, he works out three days a week at Triad Fitness in Thomasville.
Although he has suffered two heart attacks, he believes without the exercise in his life for so long, the outcome may have been fatal. His recovery periods were minimal with doctors amazed at how quickly he got on a treadmill and how long he could stay on after his heart attacks.
"It's a challenge for me," he said of the Senior Games.
Bayse said he would encourage all seniors in the county to take part in some way in the Senior Games. Even if you are not athletically inclined, there are performing arts and creative arts events in the Senior Games, too.
"This has really been fun going to Raleigh to compete," he said. "I really enjoy myself. I like going out with the group. We eat together and fellowship together. I support them and they support me. Rodney (Queen) is a great coordinator for the games.
Queen thinks just as highly of Bayse.


text:
Q: it gives me the error" can not read property from undefined" I write a script for google apps script to read from a list of emailsf from a googlesheet and send email to each one of them. but when I run the script it gives me the error:

TypeError: Cannot read property 'charAt' of undefined
capitalizeFirstLetter @ Code.gs:5

this is my script:
// It will only works on sheets with below schema:
// A      B          C          D         E         F           G
// ID   Email   First Name  Last Name   Status  Email Body  Email Subject

// DO NOT change any line of this code
// DO NOT change schema of your sheet or swap columns with each other (otherwise code may not work properly)
// Write your Email Body in "F2" cell and your Subject in "G2" cell
// To use rich text editor, use https://onlinehtmleditor.dev/ , then copy & paste ""HTML source code"" in "F2" cell

var EMAIL_SENT = 'SENT';
var EMAIL_ERROR = 'ERROR';

function capitalizeFirstLetter(string) {
    return string.charAt(0).toUpperCase() + string.slice(1);
}

function sendEmails() {
    var emailQuotaRemaining = MailApp.getRemainingDailyQuota() - 1; // leave 1 for being sure
    Logger.log("Number of emails you can send in this run:" + emailQuotaRemaining);
    var sheet = SpreadsheetApp.getActiveSheet();
    var message = sheet.getRange(2, 6).getValue();
    var subject = sheet.getRange(2, 7).getValue();
    var startRow = 2;
    var numRows = sheet.getLastRow() - 1; // Number of rows to process
    var dataRange = sheet.getRange(startRow, 1, numRows, 5);
    var data = dataRange.getValues();
    var sentCount = 0;
    for (var i = 0; i < data.length; ++i) {
        var row = data[i];
        var emailAddress = row[1];
        var firstName = row[2].toString().trim();
        var status = row[4];
        message = "
Dear " + capitalizeFirstLetter(firstName) + "
" + message;
        if (status !== EMAIL_SENT && MailApp.getRemainingDailyQuota() > 1) { // Prevents sending duplicates AND check for remaining daily quotes
            var isFailed = false;
            try {
                MailApp.sendEmail({
                    to: emailAddress,
                    subject: subject,
                    htmlBody: message
                });
            } catch (error) {
                Logger.log(error);
                isFailed = true;
            }
            if (isFailed) {
                sheet.getRange(startRow + i, 5).setValue(EMAIL_ERROR);
                Logger.log(`something went wrong for sending to: ${emailAddress}`);
            }
            else {
                sheet.getRange(startRow + i, 5).setValue(EMAIL_SENT);
                Logger.log(`successfully sent to: ${emailAddress}`);
                sentCount += 1;
            }

            // Make sure the cell is updated right away in case the script is interrupted
            SpreadsheetApp.flush();
        }
    }
    Logger.log(`${sentCount} emails has been sent successfully!`);
}

and this is the link to an an example of the googlesheet:
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1edVlVYuxMv_zs4zahYELL5SeT4ONW_r1RjXmXzaWLfg/edit?usp=sharing
I'm a newbie. any help would be appreciated.

A: Explanation:
Your code should be working fine (at least the part with the string).
The issue is that you are not executing the correct function.
By default google script executes the first function defined in the script and that is capitalizeFirstLetter. The latter can't work independently because it requires a value for the variable string and hence the undefined error you are getting.
Your goal is to execute sendEmails because this is the main function that feeds/uses capitalizeFirstLetter.
Solution:
Select sendEmails from the script editor to execute that function:

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


text:
64 Mostly About a Movie, but Politics, too, in a way…
A couple of weeks ago, I was flipping through the channels on my TV and ran across The American President, directed by Rob Reiner, written by Aaron Sorkin, and with a brilliant cast. Since I've liked that movie for a long time (released in 1995), I watched the last part of it, enjoying it thoroughly.
It did strike me that there were similarities between one of the current "presumptive nominees" and president Shepherd's political opponent, Bob Rumson, based on attitude expressed, rhetorical style, and a certain willingness to (apparently) make things up as he goes along, relying on questionable sources, etc., but I didn't think more about this until I heard someone on one of the political talk shows allude to the same idea.
This got me interested, so I found a copy of the screenplay on the Internet in order to read it. (I like having "hard copy" when I want to really look at something closely.) While studying the script, I made an interesting discovery. There was a scene in the screenplay between Andy and his daughter, Lucy, which didn't make it through the final edit, but which changes (in my opinion for the better) the entire thrust of "the speech," which is certainly one of the major high points of the entire film.
If you don't know this movie, take a look at it. I think it's worth a couple of hours just because it's a good movie, but take a look at the part of the screenplay I've quoted below and consider how much leaving out this scene changes it. I may be making too much of this edit. I think it was an incorrect choice, but I confess to wondering what others might think.
Anyway, enjoy the movie, the chemistry is (I think) great, the casting excellent, the script wonderful and, overall, it's just a "good" movie. If it makes you think about current politics a bit, I won't be surprised, but I think you'll enjoy it in any event.
This begins with the last bit of the final "pool playing" scene between Shepherd and A.J., his Chief of Staff and oldest friend.
SHEPHERD gets to the doorway...stops...turns around...
If Mary hadn't died...would we have
won three years ago?
Would we have won?
If we'd had to go through a character
debate three years ago, would we have
won?
I don't know. But I would've liked
that campaign. If my friend Andy
Shepherd had shown up, I would have
liked that campaign.
SHEPHERD looks away...nods absently...
(pause)
SHEPHERD exits, leaving A.J. alone as we
INT. WHITE HOUSE CORRIDOR - NIGHT
A series of shots showing SHEPHERD walking down the corridor
to the dish room, then walking down a long corridor which
contains a series of paintings of various presidents. Then
sitting alone in the Oval Office, lost in thought...
INT. RESIDENCE DINING ROOM - EARLY MORNING
SHEPHERD and LUCY are eating breakfast in silence, neither of
them very happy, each with their own problems. A nearby T.V.
MONITOR glows with the live coverage of ROBIN's morning press
briefing.
You're not hungry?
This is oatmeal.
We never have oatmeal.
It's good for you.
I'm from Wisconsin. I need food.
You're not from Wisconsin. I'm from
Wisconsin. You've lived in
Washington your whole life.
He glances toward the T.V. screen. ROBIN's standing up there
doing what she's been told: "No comment...No, this President
is not participating in character debates..." He mutes the
volume.
(continuing)
How are you doing in your
Constitutional debates?
We're done.
You're done?
We ratified it last week.
Oh...well...that's good. Why didn't
you tell me?
It's not a big deal, Dad.
Okay, I give up. I don't care why
you're not happy in social studies.
I care about why you're not talking
to me about why you're not happy in
social studies.
Dad, I'm perfectly--
You're not perfectly happy. You
don't think I know when something's
bothering you?
Damnit, Dad!
You know--
Talk to me.
Look--
LUCY winds herself up. It would appear she's about to burst.
She's about to say the hardest thing she's ever had to say in
her life--
--sometimes when you talk, you say
things I disagree with.
SHEPHERD is stunned and totally confused...
Almost every time I talk, I say
things you disagree with.
I mean politically.
Politically?
It just starts spilling out in a stream--
Yes. Okay. Yes. Sometimes, I mean,
I'm not sure. You know a lot more
than I do -- but still, I have these
feelings, and I don't think they're
wrong. Like, okay, for instance, I'm
not so sure it's all right to burn a
flag. I mean, it really bothers a lot
of people, and I don't know why you
think it's okay. I hear Senator
Rumson talk, and some of the things
he says sounds right to me, and I
think, "God, am I like Bob Rumson?!
I mean, Dad thinks he's a jerk. Dad
hates this guy!
Why am I agreeing with him" And then
I think, "Well, maybe I'm not really
like Bob Rumson, but maybe I'm not
like Dad either." But the point is
I'm the President's kid, and people
pay attention to what I say, and if
I say something different from what
you say, it'll be embarrassing for
you. So I can't just get up in social
studies class and say whatever I want.
SHEPHERD is silent...totally blown away...he had absolutely
no idea...
He stands up slowly and moves toward her...LUCY doesn't know
what's coming...
(quietly)
Stand up please.
LUCY gets up slowly...
She's never seen her father like this...
I want you to pay very close
attention to what happens now.
SHEPHERD knees down, cups her daughter's face in his hands,
and gently kisses her forehead. He pulls her to him and
holds her in a tight embrace...
In your lifetime, you will never
embarrass me. It could never happen.
You're not the President's daughter,
Lucy, you're mine.
And no one's gonna vote me out of
that job. You're my daughter, and
everything else is a distant second.
School is for you, Lucy. You say
what you want. The only thing you
have to do to make me happy is
come home at the end of the day.
LUCY squeezes her dad tight...they hold the embrace for a
long moment.
One more thing. I don't dislike
Senator Rumson because of his
political views. And even if you
voted for everything he would vote
for, that wouldn't make you like him.
There's a fundamental difference
between you and the Bob Rumsons of
The difference is that he says he
loves America. Saying you love
America is easy. What takes
character -- and this is what you
have--
SHEPHERD trails off, realizing he's about to quote Sydney...
What takes character is loving
Americans.
(beat)
And now it's as if SHEPHERD is waking himself up from the
longest trip of his life...
...he looks over at the T.V. monitor..."No comment"...
"No, I don't know how many other ways I can say it. The
White House isn't getting involved in..."
Luce, I gotta go.
Dad, is everything all right?
Everything's fine. I'm just a little
late for work.
He heads for the door, shouting out as he goes--
Somebody get my daughter some food!
The girl's from Wisconsin, for cryin'
out loud!
And he's gone as we...
INT. THE PRESS BRIEFING ROOM - EARLY MORNING
ROBIN is on her last drops of energy and patience.
REPORTER #4
Robin, will the President ever
respond to Senator Rumson's
question about being a member of
the American Civil Liberties Union?
But instead of hands going up, the PRESS CORPS suddenly
stands. ROBIN turns to see SHEPHERD stride in and step up to
the podium.
And we are off into the well-know speech which is the high point of this movie.
I think it's important to note that in the script I copied from IMSDb (which I have quoted here) there is what I believe to be a minor, but important, change in the speech as used in the movie. In the released movie, Shepherd says "…you're smarter than I am, because I didn't understand it until a few hours ago." As originally written, if the script I have is correct, the original line was "…you're smarter than I am, because I didn't understand it until a couple of minutes ago." (emphasis added).
I think this is important because it makes the change more about the (left out) scene with his daughter and less about just getting Sydney back, without, in my opinion, weakening the overall speech, which I think is very powerful and sums up a good deal of the point Sorkin was trying to make in the script. I think it also goes a long way towards explaining the reference to "…celebrate that in your classrooms,…" which I've never fully understood as a part of the discussion of free speech in this scene.
On the other hand, the scene which was cut does include a clear reference to an earlier scene, at Camp David, during which Sydney says "How do you have patience for people who claim they love America but clearly can't stand Americans?" in reference to something Bob Rumson has said, so it is made clear, I think, that while Sydney may have had some influence on Andy's thinking, but it's his daughter who truly precipitates "the speech" with her confusion about what's been going on in her life. I think that's important and changes how we should think about "the speech" a bit.
If you don't know this speech, I'd encourage you to look it up online, or, better, watch the whole movie. I think it discusses ideas of MUCH greater importance than the specific discussion of Shepherd's "crime bill," environmental proposals, or romantic life.
While I think I can understand that Rob Reiner (the director) may have felt he had good reason for leaving this scene with Lucy out of the movie, I think that, in the long run, it would have been a better movie with it left in.


text:
Melinda Gates Launches Global Crusade for Contraception
American philanthropist Melinda Gates wants to put family planning and contraception on the global agenda with a $4 billion war chest. Here's why this is a big deal
By Emily Rauhala July 11, 2012
Carl Court / WPA Pool / Getty Images
British Prime Minister David Cameron, center, Melinda Gates and British International Development Secretary Andrew Mitchell talk with activists during the London Summit on Family Planning on July 11, 2012
Melinda Gates' New Crusade: Investing Billions in Women's Health The Daily Beast
Contraceptive Use Averts 272,000 Maternal Deaths Worldwide Science Codex
Melinda Gates wants to put birth control back on the agenda. In May, the billionaire philanthropist announced she plans to make family planning her signature, promising billions of dollars to promote contraceptive use, particularly in poor nations. Today, at the London Summit on Family Planning, co-hosted by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation and the U.K., she put the plan into action, officially launching a $4 billion fundraising campaign. It is being billed as landmark show of support for an issue that has long languished on the margins of development policy. Here, quickly, are three things you should know:
(MORE: The World at 7 Billion)
1. This is big. And not just because of the money. Decades of research show, conclusively, that improving access to contraception is good for women, good for children, good for countries. Yet over the past 15 years, support for family-planning programs has plummeted. The redirection of development funds to HIV/AIDS programs explains some, but not all, of the drop. Coercive campaigns like China's one-child policy and forced sterilizations in India have fostered suspicion about state-backed population programs. Conservative religious groups, particularly in the U.S., have tried to link family planning to forced abortion. In 2002, President George W. Bush cut funding to the U.N. Population Fund completely, turning birth control into a bad word. The cause has yet to recover. Backing from Gates, a Catholic who is respected by conservatives and liberals alike, could turn this around.
2. This could save lives. A Johns Hopkins University study published this week in a leading medical journal, the Lancet, estimates that contraceptive use prevents 272,000 maternal deaths per year. And yet, according to U.N. research, an estimated 220 million women have an unmet need for modern family planning. The Gates Foundation hopes to address this gap. If it succeeds, lives will be saved.
3. This is only the beginning. Family planning is not a panacea. The London Summit and the Gates Foundation's pledge are positive steps, but it is important to remember that contraceptives alone are not enough. Women need condoms and pills, yes, but they also need to have the power to use them — or not use them — as they wish. They need decent medical care and access to safe abortions. Without this, all this, the battle won't be won.
Rauhala is an Associate Editor at TIME. Find her on Twitter at @emilyrauhala. You can also continue the discussion on TIME's Facebook page and on Twitter at @TIME