U Box Quotes

The things she wanted the baby to know seemed small, so small. How it felt to go to a grocery store on vacation; to wake at three a.m. and run your whole life through your fingertips; first library card; new lipstick; a toe going numb for two months because you wore borrowed shoes to a friend’s wedding; Thursday; October; “She’s Like the Wind” in a dentist’s office; driver’s license picture where you look like a killer; getting your bathing suit back on after you go to the bathroom; touching a cymbal for sound and then touching it again for silence; playing house in the refrigerator box; letting a match burn down to the fingerprints; one hand in the Scrabble bag and then I I I O U E A; eyes racing to the end of Villette (skip the parts about the crétin, sweetheart); hamburger wrappers on a road trip; the twist of a heavy red apple in an orchard; word on the tip of the tongue; the portal, but just for a minute.

But the more rural the American, the more dependent he is for his way of life on the U.S. government. And the more rural the American, the more likely he was to have voted for Donald Trump. So you might think that Trump, when he took office, would do everything he could to strengthen and grow the little box marked “Rural Development.” That’s not what has happened.

And that's the problem,' I say. 'Real macaroni and cheese doesn't come from a box, babe. It eventually comes from an oven with a crust bubbling on top.' 'Amen.' Seven holds his fist to me, and I bump it. 'Ohhh,' Chris says. 'You mean the kind with breadcrumbs?' 'What?' DeVante yells, and Seven goes, 'Breadcrumbs?' 'Nah,' I say. 'I mean there's like a crust of cheese on top. We gotta get you to a soul food restaurant, babe.' 'This fool said breadcrumbs.' DeVante sounds seriously offended. 'Breadcrumbs.

The U.S. stock market now trades inside black boxes, in heavily guarded buildings in New Jersey and Chicago.

In the words of Mr Thierry Coup of Warner Bros: 'We are taking the most iconic and powerful moments of the stories and putting them in an immersive environment. It is taking the theme park experience to a new level.' And of course I wish Thierry and his colleagues every possible luck, and I am sure it will be wonderful. But I cannot conceal my feelings; and the more I think of those millions of beaming kids waving their wands and scampering the Styrofoam turrets of Hogwartse_STmk, and the more I think of those millions of poor put-upon parents who must now pay to fly to Orlando and pay to buy wizard hats and wizard cloaks and wizard burgers washed down with wizard meade_STmk, the more I grind my teeth in jealous irritation. Because the fact is that Harry Potter is not American. He is British. Where is Diagon Alley, where they buy wands and stuff? It is in London, and if you want to get into the Ministry of Magic you disappear down a London telephone box. The train for Hogwarts goes from King's Cross, not Grand Central Station, and what is Harry Potter all about? It is about the ritual and intrigue and dorm-feast excitement of a British boarding school of a kind that you just don't find in America. Hogwarts is a place where children occasionally get cross with each other—not 'mad'—and where the situation is usually saved by a good old British sense of HUMOUR. WITH A U. RIGHT? NOT HUMOR. GOTTIT?

K'o magle što nema ni trag Po zelenim brdima sad, Tako moj ne ostaje trag Na tvom telu nigde, nikad. Vetar i soko kad su jedno, Kuda minu taj tren i dan? Tako na čas mi smo jedno A onda tišina i san. K'o zvezde noću nad nama Što sjaje skrite u tami, Tako svetlost je u nama I kad smo daleko, sami.

In 1961, before the container was in international use, ocean freight costs alone accounted for 12 percent of the value of U.S. exports and 10 percent of the value of U.S. imports.

Hey! We finally arrived. Such a mission but we’re here now and we’re seeing the doc tomorrow. Have been thinking of u… Can’t wait to see u again! xx

Don't eat anything your great grandmother wouldn't recognize as food. "When you pick up that box of portable yogurt tubes, or eat something with 15 ingredients you can't pronounce, ask yourself, "What are those things doing there?" Pollan says. Don’t eat anything with more than five ingredients, or ingredients you can't pronounce. Stay out of the middle of the supermarket; shop on the perimeter of the store. Real food tends to be on the outer edge of the store near the loading docks, where it can be replaced with fresh foods when it goes bad. Don't eat anything that won't eventually rot. "There are exceptions -- honey -- but as a rule, things like Twinkies that never go bad aren't food," Pollan says. It is not just what you eat but how you eat. "Always leave the table a little hungry," Pollan says. "Many cultures have rules that you stop eating before you are full. In Japan, they say eat until you are four-fifths full. Islamic culture has a similar rule, and in German culture they say, 'Tie off the sack before it's full.'" Families traditionally ate together, around a table and not a TV, at regular meal times. It's a good tradition. Enjoy meals with the people you love. "Remember when eating between meals felt wrong?" Pollan asks. Don't buy food where you buy your gasoline. In the U.S., 20% of food is eaten in the car.

Bio D.L. Carter was decanted from her incubation pod in the outback of Australia many decades ago. This terrifying event was closely followed by shrieks of "There, there it goes, under the chair. Hit it with a brick!" These valiant attempts to correct the existence of D.L. were, unfortunately, unsuccessful and she now resides in New Jersey, U.S., in a box with her toys, two human beings, and three cats.

No one has been able to aggregate more intention data on what consumers like than Google. Google not only sees you coming, but sees where you’re going. When homicide investigators arrive at a crime scene and there is a suspect—almost always the spouse—they check the suspect’s search history for suspicious Google queries (like “how to poison your husband”). I suspect we’re going to find that U.S. agencies have been mining Google to understand the intentions of more than some shopper thinking about detergent, but cells looking for fertilizer to build bombs. Google controls a massive amount of behavioral data. However, the individual identities of users have to be anonymized and, to the best of our knowledge, grouped. People are not comfortable with their name and picture next to a list of all the things they have typed into the Google query box. And for good reasons. Take a moment to imagine your picture and your name above everything you have typed into that Google search box. You’ve no doubt typed in some crazy shit that you would rather other people not know. So, Google has to aggregate this data, and can only say that people of this age or people of this cohort, on average, type in these sorts of things into their Google search box. Google still has a massive amount of data it can connect, if not to specific identities, to specific groups.

High above, the rafters were made of old wood, and sturdy as the mountain the house had been built on, and across the way, sixteen coffins were stacked one upon the next, as if they were nothing but moving boxes from U-Haul. The

Roland: We are very little creatures: all of us have different features. One of us in glass is set; one of us you'll find in jet. Another you may see in tin, and a fourth is boxed within. If the fifth should you pursue, it can never fly from you. What are we? Blaine: A AND E AND I AND O AND U. THE VOWELS OF THE HIGH SPEECH. ALTHOUGH THAT PARTICULAR RIDDLE IS NOT FROM YOUR TEACHER, ROLAND OF GILEAD; I KNOW IT FROM JONATHAN SWIFT OF LONDON--A CITY IN THE WORLD YOUR FRIENDS COME FROM.

certainly, no one in the early days of container shipping foresaw that this American-born industry would come to be dominated by European and Asian firms, as the U.S.-flag ship lines, burdened by a legacy of protected markets and heavy regulation, proved unable to compete in a fast-changing world.

The testing and educational support industry is booming. In 2013 it had combined revenues in the United States alone of $16.5 billion.10 To put that in context, the entire U.S. domestic cinema box office gross in 2013 was a little less than $11 billion11 and the National Football League is currently a $9 billion business.

Daddy looks past me at my boyfriend. “So . . . Plain-Ass Chris.” Seven snorts. DeVante snickers. Momma goes, “Maverick!” as I say, “Daddy!” “At least it’s not white boy,” Chris says. “Exactly,” Daddy says. “It’s a step up. You gotta earn my tolerance in increments if you gon’ date my daughter.” “Lord.” Momma rolls her eyes. “Chris, baby, you’ve been out here all night?” The way she says it, I can’t help but laugh. She’s basically asking him, “You do realize you’re in the hood, right?” “Yes, ma’am,” Chris says. “All night.” Daddy grunts. “Maybe you do got some balls then.” My mouth drops, and Momma says, “Maverick Carter!” Seven and DeVante crack up. But Chris? Chris says, “Yes, sir, I’d like to think I do.” “Daaaaamn,” says Seven. He reaches to give Chris dap, but Daddy cuts him a hard eye and he pulls his hand back. “A’ight, Plain-Ass Chris,” Daddy says. “Boxing gym, next Saturday, you and me.” Chris lifts his oxygen mask so fast. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said—” “Calm down, I’m not gon’ fight you,” Daddy says. “We gon’ train. Get to know each other. You been seeing my daughter for a minute now. I gotta know you, and you can learn a lot about a man at a boxing gym.” “Oh . . .” Chris’s shoulders relax. “Okay.” He puts the oxygen mask back on. Daddy grins. It’s a little too mischievous for my liking. He’s gonna kill my poor boyfriend.

and drew her strength directly from our magickal Oklahoma earth. “U-we-tsi-a-ge-ya, it seems I need help at the lavender booth. I simply cannot believe how busy we are.” Grandma had barely spoken when a nun hurried up. “Zoey, Sister Mary Angela could use your help filling out cat adoption forms.” “I’ll help you, Grandma Redbird,” Shaylin said. “I love the smell of lavender.” “Oh, honey, that would be so sweet of you. First, could you run to my car and get into the trunk. There is another box of lavender soaps and sachets tucked back there. Looks like I’m going to sell out completely,” Grandma said happily. “Sure thing.” Shaylin caught the keys Grandma tossed to her and hurried toward the main exit of the school grounds which led to the parking lot, as well as the tree-lined road that joined Utica Street. “And I’ll call my momma. She said just let her know if we get too busy over here. She and the PTA moms will be back here in a sec,” said Stevie Rae. “Grandma, do you mind if I give Street Cats a hand? I’ve been dying to check out their new litter of kittens.” “Go on, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya. I think Sister Mary Angela has been missing your company.” “Thanks, Grandma.” I smiled at her. Then I turned to Stevie Rae. “Okay, if your mom’s group is coming back, I’m gonna go help the nuns.” “Yeah, no problem.” Stevie Rae, shielding her eyes and peering through the crowd, added, “I see her now, and she’s got Mrs. Rowland and Mrs. Wilson with her.” “Don’t worry. We can handle this,” Shaunee said. “’Kay,” I said, grinning at both of them. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I left the cookie booth and noticed Aphrodite, clutching her big purple Queenies cup, was right on my heels. “I thought you didn’t want a lecture from the nuns.” “Better than a lecture from PTA moms.” She shuddered. “Plus, I like cats more than people.” I shrugged. “Okay, whatever.” We’d only gotten partway to the Street Cats tent when Aphrodite slowed way down. “Seriously. Effing. Pathetic.” She was muttering around her straw, narrowing her eyes, and glaring. I followed her gaze and joined her frown. “Yeah, no matter how many times I see them together, I still don’t get it.” Aphrodite and I had stopped to watch Shaunee’s ex-Twin BFF, Erin, hang all over Dallas. “I really thought she was better than that.” “Apparently not,” Aphrodite said. “Eeew,” I said, looking away from their way too public display of locked lips. “I’m telling you, there’s not enough booze in Tulsa to make watching those two suck face okay.” She made a gagging sound, which changed to a snort and a laugh. “Check out the wimple, twelve o’clock.” Sure enough, there was a nun I vaguely recognized as Sister Emily (one of the more uptight of the nuns) descending on the too-busy-with-their-tongues-to-notice couple. “She looks serious,” I said. “You know, a nun may very well be the direct opposite of an aphrodisiac. This should be entertaining. Let’s watch.” “Zoey! Over here!” I looked from the train wreck about to happen to see Sister Mary Angela waving me over to her.

Raymond sent me an electronic mail message at work the next week—it was very odd, seeing his name in my in-box. As I’d expected, he was semiliterate. Hi E, hope all good with u. Got a wee favor to ask. Sammy’s son Keith has invited me to his 40th this Saturday (ended up staying late at that party BTW, it was a rite laugh). Fancy being my plus one? It’s at the golf club, there’s a buffet? No worries if not—let me no. R A buffet. In a golf club. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. And two parties in a month! More parties than I had been to in two decades. I hit reply: Dear Raymond, I should be delighted to accompany you to the birthday celebration. Kind regards, Eleanor Oliphant (Ms.) Moments later, I received a response: Twenty-first-century communication. I fear for our nation’s standards of literacy.

Ive and Jobs have even obsessed over, and patented, the packaging for various Apple products. U.S. patent D558572, for example, granted on January 1, 2008, is for the iPod Nano box, with four drawings showing how the device is nestled in a cradle when the box is opened. Patent D596485, issued on July 21, 2009, is for the iPhone packaging, with its sturdy lid and little glossy plastic tray inside. Early on, Mike Markkula had taught Jobs to “impute”—to understand that people do judge a book by its cover—and therefore to make sure all the trappings and packaging of Apple signaled that there was a beautiful gem inside. Whether it’s an iPod Mini or a MacBook Pro, Apple customers know the feeling of opening up the well-crafted box and finding the product nestled in an inviting fashion. “Steve and I spend a lot of time on the packaging,” said Ive. “I love the process of unpacking something. You design a ritual of unpacking to make the product feel special. Packaging can be theater, it can create a story.

U.S. News Organizations observe the anniversary of September 11 with investigations about the nation’s continuing vulnerability to terrorism. First, the New York Daily News reports that two of its reporters carried box cutters, razor knives, and pepper spray on fourteen commercial flights without getting caught. Then ABC News reports that it smuggled fifteen pounds of uranium into New York City. Then Fox News reports that it flew Osama bin Laden to Washington, D.C., and videotaped him touring the White House.

Jednom sam ga sreo pred alatnicom. Pitao sam ga što to čita. Slegao je ramenima i neodlučno mi odgovorio: "Knjigu. Zašto pitaš?" Pitao sam ga kakvu knjigu čita. "O jeziku." Što konkretno? "Gramatiku za svakoga. Da skinem već jednom s dnevnog reda pravopis i te stvari." Pa zar se može "knjiga o jeziku" čitati kao i nekakvo štivo koje čitaš da ti prođe vrijeme? "Riječi i te stvari", poklonio mi je svoj polagani osmijeh, "to ti je isto kao i poznavanje ljudi. Odakle potječu. S kim su u rodu. Kako se svaka od njih ponaša u različitim situacijama. Osim toga", zastao je i poslao desnu ruku na dugo putovanje oko svoje krupne glave da bi se počešao po lijevoj sljepoočnici, nelogična a ipak gotovo kraljevska gesta, - "osim toga, što znači : 'da ti prođe vrijeme', to uopće ne postoji. vrijeme jednostavno ne prolazi." Ne prolazi? Kako to misliš? "Šta ja znam? Možda je upravo obratno: da mi prolazimo u vremenu. Šta ja znam? Ili možda vrijeme prolazi u ljudima? Bi li ti se dalo sjesti malo samnom da sortiramo sjeme? Sjeme je u šupi. U hladu. Osim ako ne želiš raditi nešto drugo. Ili bi možda htio slagati prazne vreće?

Through a series of connections, it was arranged for us to pick up boxes of documents detailing George Bush, Sr.’s Watchtower cocaine and heroin routes. Retired Brigadier General Russell Bowen was once an integral part of this operation. He worked directly under Bush until he turned whistleblower through his 1991 book The Immaculate Deception, The Bush Crime Family Exposed4. It was widely known that the Mexican and Caribbean drug ops I had worked under MK Ultra mind control tied directly in with Watchtower. These documents and evidences could prove invaluable to us since General Bowen was leaving the country in disgust and frustration with the lack of justice. Bush, Sr. had locked him up in a Federal Prison until he agreed to leave the country.

When I got off the phone, my earbuds were still in from the call and my phone started playing a song, which it sometimes does, without my explicit instruction. The song it played was a U2 song from an album that was released when I was finishing high school, an album I played on a CD boom box, lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about how I was at the end of some beginning, which made what came next the beginning of the end. I walked over to the bodega on a corner at Sixth and bought a pack of cigarettes. The man who sold them to me didn’t look at me funny; he didn’t tell me I was too old to be playing games like this. I went back to the bench and lit a cigarette and inhaled, the smoke entering my body and filling it with poison, with something. — THE HOUSE IN East Hampton was no longer Toby’s, as if it ever was,

The Camera Eye (38) sealed signed and delivered all over Tours you can smell lindens in bloom it’s hot my uniform sticks the OD chafes me under the chin only four days ago AWOL crawling under the freight cars at the station of St. Pierre-des-Corps waiting in the buvette for the MP on guard to look away from the door so’s I could slink out with a cigarette (and my heart) in my mouth then in a tiny box of a hotel room changing the date on that old movement order but today my discharge sealed signed and delivered sends off sparks in my pocket like a romancandle I walk past the headquarters of the SOS Hay sojer your tunic’s unbuttoned (f—k you buddy) and down the lindenshaded street to the bathhouse that has a court with flowers in the middle of it the hot water gushes green out of brass swanheads into the whitemetal tub I strip myself naked soap myself all over with the sour pink soap slide into the warm deepgreen tub through the white curtain in the window a finger of afternoon sunlight lengthens on the ceiling towel’s dry and warm smells of steam in the suitcase I’ve got a suit of civvies I borrowed from a fellow I know the buck private in the rear rank of Uncle Sam’s Medical Corps (serial number . . . never could remember the number anyway I dropped it in the Loire) goes down the drain with a gurgle and hiss and having amply tipped and gotten the eye from the fat woman who swept up the towels I step out into the lindensmell of a July afternoon and stroll up to the café where at the little tables outside only officers may set their whipcord behinds and order a drink of cognac unservable to those in uniform while waiting for the train to Paris and sit down firmly in long pants in the iron chair an anonymous civilian

Ideology refers to the body of ideas reflecting the interests of a group of people. Within U.S. culture, racist and sexist ideologies permeate the social structure to such a degree that they become hegemonic, namely, seen as natural, normal, and inevitable. In this context, certain assumed qualities that are attached to Black women are used to justify oppression. From the mammies, jezebels, and breeder women of slavery to the smiling Aunt Jemimas on pancake mix boxes, ubiquitous Black prostitutes, and ever-present welfare mothers of contemporary popular culture, negative stereotypes applied to African-American women have been fundamental to Black women's oppression. Taken together, the supposedly seamless web of economy, polity, and ideology function as a highly effective system of social control designed to keep African-American women in an assigned, subordinate place. This larger system of oppression works to suppress the ideas of Black women intellectuals and to protect elite White male interests and world views.

But come on—tell me the proposal story, anyway.” She raised an eyebrow. “Really?” “Really. Just keep in mind that I’m a guy, which means I’m genetically predisposed to think that whatever mushy romantic tale you’re about to tell me is highly cheesy.” Rylann laughed. “I’ll keep it simple, then.” She rested her drink on the table. “Well, you already heard how Kyle picked me up at the courthouse after my trial. He said he wanted to surprise me with a vacation because I’d been working so hard, but that we needed to drive to Champaign first to meet with his former mentor, the head of the U of I Department of Computer Sciences, to discuss some project Kyle was working on for a client.” She held up a sparkly hand, nearly blinding Cade and probably half of the other Starbucks patrons. “In hindsight, yes, that sounds a little fishy, but what do I know about all this network security stuff? He had his laptop out, there was some talk about malicious payloads and Trojan horse attacks—it all sounded legitimate enough at the time.” “Remind me, while I’m acting U.S. attorney, not to assign you to any cybercrime cases.” “Anyhow. . . we get to Champaign, which as it so happens, is where Kyle and I first met ten years ago. And the limo turns onto the street where I used to live while in law school, and Kyle asks the driver to pull over because he wants to see the place for old time’s sake. So we get out of the limo, and he’s making this big speech about the night we met and how he walked me home on the very sidewalk we were standing on—I’ll fast-forward here in light of your aversion to the mushy stuff—and I’m laughing to myself because, well, we’re standing on the wrong side of the street. So naturally, I point that out, and he tells me that nope, I’m wrong, because he remembers everything about that night, so to prove my point I walk across the street to show him and”—she paused here— “and I see a jewelry box, sitting on the sidewalk, in the exact spot where we had our first kiss. Then I turn around and see Kyle down on one knee.” She waved her hand, her eyes a little misty. “So there you go. The whole mushy, cheesy tale. Gag away.” Cade picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “That was actually pretty smooth.” Rylann grinned. “I know. Former cyber-menace to society or not, that man is a keeper

Sam scanned the orchards. U-Pickers laughed and posed for photos with apples on their heads, babies in the baskets, hugging trees. She lifted her head to study the sky, blue as her eyes. The clouds moved across the sun, blocking it out for long distances at a time, causing the landscape in front of her to become illuminated one patchwork piece at a time: the rolling hills lined with grass and endless rows of trees, peach, tart cherry, apples of every variety; blueberry bushes sitting at the bottom of the hill where the rain pooled; the old red barn where high school kids doled out baskets for fruit, which Sam's father weighed when they returned; the old shed where more high schoolers handed out free donut samples and sips of apple cider to arriving cars; the farmhouse with shutters- designed with apple cutouts- where her grandparents, Willo and Gordon, lived; the blue-green waters of Suttons Bay stretching out beyond the trees, the Old Mission Peninsula jutting into it; the family cornfields that sat across M-22 and would soon be cut into an intricate corn maze filled with spooks and goblins to scare fall visitors. This slice of northern Michigan was Sam's home, her whole world.

The first day we rode our bikes to Chelsey and parked them. It was a terrible feeling. Most of those kids, at least all the older ones, had their own automobiles, many of them new convertibles, and they weren't black or dark blue like most cars, they were bright yellow, green, orange, and red. The guys sat in them outside of the school and the girls gathered around and went for rides. Everybody was nicely dressed, the guys and the girls, they had pullover sweaters, wrist watches and the latest in shoes. They seemed very adult and poised and superior. And there I was in my homemade shirt, my one ragged pair of pants, my rundown shoes, and I was covered with boils. The guys with the cars didn't worry about acne. They were very handsome, they were tall and clean with bright teeth and they didn't wash their hair with hand soap. They seemed to know something I didn't know. I was at the bottom again. Since all the guys had cars Baldy and I were ashamed of our bicycles. We left them home and walked to school and back, two-and-one-half miles each way. We carried brown bag lunches. But mot of the other students didn't even eat in the school cafeteria. They drove to malt shops with the girls, played the juke boxes and laughed. They were on their way to U.S.C.

God took His time to carve out the perfect place, Sam remembered her grandma always saying. Indeed, the hilltop was akin to a real cherry on top of a stunningly picturesque sundae. Bayview Point was home to two of northern Michigan's most popular orchards and tourist stops: Very Cherry Orchards and her family's Orchard and Pie Pantry. The first half of the hill was dense with rows of tart cherry trees, and the limbs of the small, bushy trees were bursting with cherries, red arms waving at Sam as if to greet her home. In the spring, these trees were filled with white blossoms that slowly turned as pink as a perfect rosé, their beauty so tender that it used to make Sam's heart ache when she would run through the orchards as part of her high school cross-country training. Often, when Sam ran, the spring winds would tear at the tender flowers and make it look as though it were snowing in the midst of a beautiful warm day. Like every good native, Sam knew cherries had a long history in northern Michigan. French settlers had cherry trees in their gardens, and a missionary planted the very first cherry trees on Old Mission Peninsula. Very Cherry Orchards grew nearly 100 acres of Montmorency tart cherries in addition to Balaton cherries, black sweet cherries, plums, and nectarines. They sold their fruit to U-Pickers as well as large companies that made pies, but they had also become famous for their tart cherry juice concentrate, now sold at grocery and health food stores across the United States. People loved it for its natural health benefits, rich in antioxidants.

Thakur’s findings were not news to Ranbaxy’s top executives. Just ten months earlier, in October 2003, outside auditors started investigating Ranbaxy facilities worldwide. In this case, the audits had been ordered up by Ranbaxy itself. This was a common industry practice: drug companies often hired consultants to audit their facilities as a dry run to see how visible their problems were. If the consultants could find it, they reasoned, then most likely regulators could too. The fact-finding mission by Lachman Consultant Services left Ranbaxy officials under no illusion as to the extent of the company’s failings. At Ranbaxy’s Princeton, New Jersey, facility, auditors found that the company’s Patient Safety Department barely functioned and training was essentially “non-existent.” The staff had no written protocols for investigating patient complaints, which piled up in boxes, uncategorized and unreported. They had no clerical help for basic tasks like mailing out the patients’ samples for testing. “I don’t think there’s the same medicine in this medicine,” was a common refrain from patients. Even when there were investigations, they were so perfunctory and half-hearted that expiration dates were listed as “unknown,” even when they could easily have been found from a product’s lot number. An audit of Ranbaxy’s main U.S. manufacturing plant, Ohm Laboratories in New Jersey, found that the company, though required to report adverse events to the FDA, rarely did so. There was no system to capture patient complaints after hours, and no global medical officer to ensure that any potential negative consequences for patients were being monitored. The consultants from Lachman urged Ranbaxy to address these problems globally. Ranbaxy’s initial reaction to the findings was to question the number of hours, and the resulting invoice, that Lachman had sent for its work.

It was discussed and decided that fear would be perpetuated globally in order that focus would stay on the negative rather than allow for soul expression to positively emerge. As people became more fearful and compliant, capacity for free thought and soul expression would diminish. There is a distinct inability to exert soul expression under mind control, and evolution of the human spirit would diminish along with freedom of thought when bombarded with constant negative terrors. Whether Bush and Cheney deliberately planned to raise a collective fear over collective conscious love is doubtful. They did not think, speak, or act in those terms. Instead, they knew that information control gave them power over people, and they were hell-bent to perpetuate it at all costs. Cheney, Bush, and other global elite ushering in the New World Order totally believed in the plan mapped out by artificial intelligence. They were allowing technology to dictate global control. “Life is like a video game,” Bush once told me at the rural multi-million dollar Lampe, Missouri CIA mind control training camp complex designed for Black Ops Special Forces where torture and virtual reality technologies were used. “Since I have access to the technological source of the plans, I dictate the rules of the game.” The rules of the game demanded instantaneous response with no time to consciously think and critically analyze. Constant conscious disruption of thought through television’s burst of light flashes, harmonics, and subconscious subliminals diminished continuity of conscious thought anyway, creating a deficit of attention that could easily be refocused into video game format. DARPA’s artificial intelligence was reliant on secrecy, and a terrifying cover for reality was chosen to divert people from the simple truth. Since people perceive aliens as being physical like them, it was decided that the technological reality could be disguised according to preconceptions. Through generations of genetic encoding dating back to the beginning of man, serpents incite an innate autogenic response system in humans to “freeze” in terror. George Bush was excited at the prospects of diverting people from truth by fear through perpetuating lizard-like serpent alien misconceptions. “People fear what they don’t know anyway. By compounding that fear with autogenic fear response, they won’t want to look into Pandora’s Box.” Through deliberate generation of fear; suppression of facts under the 1947 National Security Act; Bush’s stint as CIA director during Ford’s Administration; the Warren Commission’s whitewash of the Kennedy Assassination; secrecy artificially ensured by mind control particularly concerning DARPA, HAARP, Roswell, Montauk, etc; and with people’s fluidity of conscious thought rapidly diminishing; the secret government embraced the proverbial ‘absolute power that corrupts absolutely.’ According to New World Order plans being discussed at the Grove, plans for reducing the earth’s population was a high priority. Mass genocide of so-called “undesirables” through the proliferation of AIDS4 was high on Bush’s agenda. “We’ll annihilate the niggers at their source, beginning in South and East Africa and Haiti5.” Having heard Bush say those words is by far one of the most torturous things I ever endured. Equally as torturous to my being were the discussions on genetic engineering, human cloning, and depletion of earth’s natural resources for profit. Cheney remarked that no one would be able to think to stop technology’s plan. “I’ll destroy the planet first,” Bush had vowed.

the more rural the American, the more dependent he is for his way of life on the U.S. government. And the more rural the American, the more likely he was to have voted for Donald Trump. So you might think that Trump, when he took office, would do everything he could to strengthen and grow the little box marked “Rural Development.” That’s not what has happened.

Vietnamese men, women, and children were dying, starving, being shot, bombed, burned, and napalmed. American soldiers were being shipped home in boxes, coffins, and bags. And the U.S. government was paying an Upper West Side Freudian analyst to explain that the Vietnamese, as a people, had Oedipal issues.

The prize money certainly said something about FIFA’s priorities, though. The same week the 2015 Women’s World Cup kicked off, United Passions debuted in movie theaters. It was a propaganda film that FIFA produced about itself and bankrolled for around $30 million. That’s double the total amount of prize money FIFA made available to all teams participating in the 2015 Women’s World Cup. The film earned less than $1,000 in its debut weekend in North America, for the worst box-office opening in history, and it went down as the lowest-grossing film in U.S. history. Almost all the millions of dollars FIFA poured into making the movie was lost. The film has a 0% rating on the popular movie-review-aggregation website Rotten Tomatoes, and a New York Times review called it “one of the most unwatchable films in recent memory.” And

The prize money certainly said something about FIFA’s priorities, though. The same week the 2015 Women’s World Cup kicked off, United Passions debuted in movie theaters. It was a propaganda film that FIFA produced about itself and bankrolled for around $30 million. That’s double the total amount of prize money FIFA made available to all teams participating in the 2015 Women’s World Cup. The film earned less than $1,000 in its debut weekend in North America, for the worst box-office opening in history, and it went down as the lowest-grossing film in U.S. history. Almost all the millions of dollars FIFA poured into making the movie was lost. The film has a 0% rating on the popular movie-review-aggregation website Rotten Tomatoes, and a New York Times review called it “one of the most unwatchable films in recent memory.” And remember the uncomfortable encounter at the team hotel between the Americans and Brazilians after the 2007 Women’s World Cup semifinal? That would never happen in a men’s World Cup. That’s because FIFA assigns different hotels and training facilities to each men’s team, to serve as a base camp throughout the tournament. The women don’t get base camps—they jump from city to city and from hotel to hotel during the World Cup, and they usually end up bumping into their opponents, who are given the same accommodations. American coach Jill Ellis said she almost walked into the German meal room at the World Cup once. “Sometimes you’re in the elevator with your opponent going down to the team buses for a game,” Heather O’Reilly says. “It’s pretty awkward.

Oh, no,” he said. “It happened all right. It’s just not what they’re saying it is.” He looked around and then took a step closer, standing so that his face was inches from hers. “If you ask me, it’s a government conspiracy.” He was American, a Vietnam vet. He had been awarded a Purple Heart, which he handed back to the U.S. immigration authority at the border when he crossed into Canada. His spinal injuries had never healed and he required a steady dose of morphine in order to control the pain. Ruth didn’t have the energy to argue. She offered tea and then sat with him, listening to his theories and thinking about the box in the basement. How nice it would be to crawl inside and fall asleep.

On the first run, two bombs landed within fifty yards of the target. We were shocked but still unbelieving. Someone else chose another target, and on this run the bombs made a direct hit! After three more runs, all with similar results, there was no doubt: all-weather bombing had arrived in the Marine Corps. On that day, Dalby earned a chorus of supporters. The support was not, however, universal. In the audience was a brigadier general from Washington. After the demonstration, he examined the equipment and was repelled by its obvious tentative condition. He commented that it had no real combat application, that "rain would short out this maze of wires in nothing flat." I heard Dalby declare that he would "never let a general behind the scenes again until I have it packaged up like a box of candy.

Listen to me, boss,” Biden said. “Maybe I’ve been around this town for too long, but one thing I know is when these generals are trying to box in a new president.” He leaned in toward Obama and stage-whispered, “Don’t let them jam you.” Obama had been rolled and fed “bullshit” by his military generals, who in Biden’s view had executed a tragic power play against a young, inexperienced president. The initial U.S. invasion of Afghanistan in 2001 had been intended to destroy Osama bin Laden’s Al Qaeda terrorist group responsible for the 9/11 attacks in New York and Washington,

Fantasy & Science Fiction (ISSN 1095-8258), Volume 122, No. 1 & 2, Whole No. 699, January/February 2012. Published bimonthly by Spilogale, Inc. at $6.50 per copy. Annual subscription $39.00; $49.00 outside of the U.S. Postmaster: send form 3579 to Fantasy & Science Fiction, PO Box 3447, Hoboken, NJ 07030. Publication office, 105 Leonard St., Jersey City, NJ 07307. Periodical postage

Travel to Cuba Generally Tourist travel to Cuba is prohibited under U.S. law for U.S. citizens, permanent residents, and others subject to U.S. jurisdiction. The hard and fast rules have been relaxed some and exceptions are now made for certain travelers who can show an acceptable reason, to visit the Island Nation in which case a “Tourist Visa" is required and available. US Citizens must have a valid passport with two blank pages available, for entry and exit stamps, at the time of entry into Cuba. United States issued credit and debit cards do not work in Cuba so travelers should plan to bring enough cash with them to cover all the expenses they might incur during their trip. Authorized travelers to Cuba are subject to daily spending limits. See the Office of Foreign Assets Control page of the U.S. Department of the Treasury.The export of Cuban convertible pesos (CUC) is strictly prohibited, regardless of the amount. Travelers may only export the equivalent of $5000 in any currency other than the Cuban convertible peso (CUC). Anyone wishing to export more than this amount must demonstrate evidence that the currency was acquired legitimately from a Cuban bank. Cuba has many Hotels and Resort Areas, most of which are foreign owned; I counted 313 of them. Many are Canadian or European owned with Meliá Hotels International in the lead with twenty-eight hotels in Cuba alone. Being a Spanish hotel chain, it was founded in 1956 in Palma de Mallorca, Spain. The photo show the internationally known “Nacional Hotel.” Some Cruise Lines including Carnival now offer cruises to Cuba and advise guests as to the entry requirements. Follow Captain Hank Bracker, author of “The Exciting Story of Cuba” on Facebook, Goodreads and his Web Page as well as Twitter. His daily blogs and weekend commentaries are now being read by hundreds and frequrntly thousands of readers. Send suggestions and comments to PO Box 607 Elfers, FL 34680-0607.

The reason the growth in the standard of living has been understated is that the Consumer Price Index (CPI) recorded price changes for each type of merchant separately and did not compare prices between types of merchants. Thus if the price of a box of Kellogg’s corn flakes remained fixed at twenty cents in March and April in a traditional store and was seventeen cents in a nearby A&P store newly opened in April, the price would be treated as fixed. This error in the CPI is called “outlet substitution bias” and has continued in the past three decades as Walmart has opened stores that charge less for groceries than traditional supermarkets do.

In one major U.S. city, The New York Times reports, unclaimed bodies “are piling up faster than the city can handle them”; boxes containing the personal papers of the deceased are “piled floor to ceiling” in the county office.22 “We had never been so busy before,” one Cook County investigator explained, “but nothing about the heat wave was really unusual except the amounts” (see fig

God's deposit is great inside u, the prophet only calls it out

Alex was growing in prominence. I noticed him trending on Twitter from time to time, for telling his now millions of fans that U.S. scientists were covertly creating “man-fish hybrids,” that atheists “worship Lucifer,” and that the government puts secret chemicals in juice boxes to turn Americans gay: “After you’re done drinking your little juices you’re ready to put makeup on, wear a short skirt, put together a garden of roses or something.” And

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The nation’s Charters of Freedom were also evacuated from the capital. The attorney general ruled that the Library of Congress had the inherent authority to remove the founding documents without a presidential or congressional order, and so the day after Christmas in 1941 they were smuggled out of Washington. Even as the wreckage of the U.S. Navy still burned in Pearl Harbor, two Secret Service agents hid the U.S. Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, and other important documents aboard a B&O railroad passenger car en route to Kentucky. All were carefully wrapped in manila paper and then padlocked inside a bronze container, which was then sealed with lead and crated inside a larger box;

Theo and Sugar dated, just like normal people only slower. He bought her heart-shaped boxes of candy and living plants for her rooftop and sent her cards, one every day by U.S. mail, each with a handwritten message. 'Can't wait to see you tonight,' the first one said. 'I love your laugh,' read the second. 'Sorry for spilling ketchup on your dress,' came the third. She made him pork chops with honey mustard sauce and her favorite date-and-honey nut loaf and a fetching gingham jacket for Princess, who ate it the moment they turned their back on him.

For 19th century Americans, proud of their new democracy, elections were sacred, and violation of the ballot box was "a crime of the darkest dye," as the Alta California newspaper put it. The box that the vigilantes seized had a secret compartment to hold extra ballots, which could be released into the main compartment by moving a hidden panel. At least 10,000 people turned out at a mass meeting to listen to speeches and view the "amazing false-bottomed ballot box." The sacrilegious object, permanently displayed in the Committee of Vigilance's headquarters, a sandbagged building on Sacramento Street known as Fort Gunnybags, became the movement's icon. Membership in the group swelled to as many as 8,000 men, the largest vigilante movement in U.S. history.

The U.S. stock market now trades inside black boxes, in heavily guarded buildings in New Jersey and Chicago. What goes on inside those black boxes is hard to say—the ticker tape that runs across the bottom of cable TV screens captures only the tiniest fraction of what occurs in the stock markets. The public reports of what happens inside the black boxes are fuzzy and unreliable—even an expert cannot say what exactly happens inside them, or when it happens, or why.

Life is similar to Boxing Game. Defeat is not Declared when U Fall Down; It is Declared when U Refuse to Get Up.

When I became Governor, the champion middleweight wrestler of America happened to be in Albany, and I got him to come round three or four afternoons a week….While President I used to box with some of the aides. —THEODORE ROOSEVELT, the only U.S. president who swam naked in the Potomac in winter, went blind in one eye from boxing in the White House, gave a speech immediately after taking a bullet in the chest, and nearly died mapping an uncharted river in the Amazon

Osama bin Laden drew inspiration from Hezbollah’s dual suicide attacks against the multinational forces in Beirut in 1983. Al Qaeda’s first simultaneous suicide attacks on two U.S. embassies in eastern Africa on August 7, 1998, were directly modeled on Hezbollah’s 1983 attacks. Al Qaeda’s coordinated suicide missions expanded the model three years later for four simultaneous airplane hijackings on September 11, 2001. The nineteen Islamic jihadists, who were armed only with box cutters, successfully hijacked four commercial planes to carry out their suicide mission. Their bravado spoke for itself in that they didn’t even bother to have a backup plan.

First they talked to me about something called, “Senior-itis.” “Senior-what? What’s that?” “Son, that’s when you will want to get lazy because you know it’s your last year of middle school,” my Dad said. “That’s a thing? Really?” “Yes, it is,” Mom said. “And your father and I wanted to help you to do your best in school this year. So we decided that if you get at least a B in each of your classes, then we’ll get you any video game console that you want this year.” “What?!! Are you serious?!!” “And, one of those classes has to be your new Scare Class,” my Dad said. “We know you’re feeling nervous about scaring miners. But we believe you can do it, son.” Whoa. That means if I get a B in all my classes, I can get the ScareStation 465 or the Z-Box 360, or the Zii—U! And it’s about time too. I’m so tired of using my Dad’s old Zintendo 64. The graphics are terrible.

Directed at the right targets, data mining and pervasive surveillance might even prevent the kinds of financial crises and massive misallocations of resources that have devastated the U.S. economy over the past decade.

Each grain of pollen may be likened to a sort of box. Inside are the plant's reproductive cells. It is essential for these cells to be well concealed to protect their life and keep them safe from external dangers. For this reason the structure of the box is very strong. The box is surrounded by a wall called the "sporoderm." The outermost layer of this wall, called exine, is the most resistant material known in the organic world, and its chemical make-up has not yet been fully analysed. This material is generally very resistant to damage from acids or enzymes. It is f u r t h e r m o re unaffected by high temperature and pre s s u re. As we have seen, very detailed precautions have been taken to protect the pollen, which is essential for the continued existence of plants. The grains have been very specially wrapped up. Thanks to this, whatever method the pollen is dispersed by, it can remain alive even miles away from the p a rent plant. Besides the fact that pollen grains are coated with a very resistant material, they are also dispersed in very large numbers, which guarantees the multiplication of that plant.

The 49-year-old Bryant, who resembles a cereal box character himself with his wide eyes, toothy smile, and elongated chin, blames Kellogg's financial woes on the changing tastes of fickle breakfast eaters. The company flourished in the Baby Boom era, when fathers went off to work and mothers stayed behind to tend to three or four children. For these women, cereal must have been heaven-sent. They could pour everybody a bowl of Corn Flakes, leave a milk carton out, and be done with breakfast, except for the dishes. Now Americans have fewer children. Both parents often work and no longer have time to linger over a serving of Apple Jacks and the local newspaper. Many people grab something on the way to work and devour it in their cars or at their desks while checking e-mail. “For a while, breakfast cereal was convenience food,” says Abigail Carroll, author of Three Squares: The Invention of the American Meal. “But convenience is relative. It's more convenient to grab a breakfast bar, yogurt, a piece of fruit, or a breakfast sandwich at some fast-food place than to eat a bowl of breakfast cereal.” People who still eat breakfast at home favor more laborintensive breakfasts, according to a recent Nielsen survey. They spend more time at the stove, preparing oatmeal (sales were up 3.5 percent in the first half of 2014) and eggs (up 7 percent last year). They're putting their toasters to work, heating up frozen waffles, French toast, and pancakes (sales of these foods were up 4.5 percent in the last five years). This last inclination should be helping Kellogg: It owns Eggo frozen waffles. But Eggo sales weren't enough to offset its slumping U.S. cereal numbers. “There has just been a massive fragmentation of the breakfast occasion,” says Julian Mellentin, director of food analysis at research firm New Nutrition Business. And Kellogg faces a more ominous trend at the table. As Americans become more healthconscious, they're shying away from the kind of processed food baked in Kellogg's four U.S. cereal factories. They tend to be averse to carbohydrates, which is a problem for a company selling cereal derived from corn, oats, and rice. “They basically have a carb-heavy portfolio,” says Robert Dickerson, senior packagedfood analyst at Consumer Edge. If such discerning shoppers still eat cereal, they prefer the gluten-free kind, sales of which are up 22 percent, according to Nielsen. There's also growing suspicion of packagedfood companies that fill their products with genetically modified organisms (GMOs). For these breakfast eaters, Tony the Tiger and Toucan Sam may seem less like friendly childhood avatars and more like malevolent sugar traffickers.

Video-on-demand rentals and digital downloads helped a bit as the years went on, but the movie business never fully recovered. Annual home-entertainment revenue, and the studio profits that follow from it, fell by nearly half between 2004 and 2016, from nearly $22 billion to $12 billion. At the same time, Americans became much less important to the American movie business. As the economies of developing nations throughout Latin America and Asia grew, theater construction surged and the rising middle class spent their newfound wealth on what was to them the novel and luxurious experience of a night out to see the latest Hollywood flick. International box office exploded, from $8.6 billion in 2001 to $27.2 billion in 2016. The biggest driver of growth in recent years has been China; its box office grew from $2 billion in 2011 to $6.6 billion in 2016 and is expected to surpass U.S. box office before the end of the decade. Domestic box office, meanwhile, grew by only 40 percent between 2001 and 2015, to $11.4 billion—reflecting a slight decline in attendance, once you factor in ticket price increases. Both trends were like a siren’s wail to studio executives, urging them to make fewer, bigger, louder movies. DVD sales declines were smallest for movies with budgets of more than $75 million, and as studios tried to cut costs in response to plummeting home-entertainment revenues, risky original scripts and adaptations of highbrow books were the first to go. Annual movie releases by major studios were 139 in 2016, down 32 percent

I’m amazed at how this has snowballed into such a media event. It began last week when I saw a national news report by Tom Brokaw about this adorable little lady from Georgia, Mrs. Hill, who was trying to save her farm from being foreclosed. Her sixty-seven-year-old husband had committed suicide a few weeks earlier, hoping his life insurance would save the farm, which had been in the family for generations. But the insurance proceeds weren’t nearly enough. It was a very sad situation, and I was moved. Here were people who’d worked very hard and honestly all their lives, only to see it all crumble before them. To me, it just seemed wrong. Through NBC I was put in touch with a wonderful guy from Georgia named Frank Argenbright, who’d become very involved in trying to help Mrs. Hill. Frank directed me to the bank that held Mrs. Hill’s mortgage. The next morning, I called and got some vice president on the line. I explained that I was a businessman from New York, and that I was interested in helping Mrs. Hill. He told me he was sorry, but that it was too late. They were going to auction off the farm, he said, and “nothing or no one is going to stop it.” That really got me going. I said to the guy: “You listen to me. If you do foreclose, I’ll personally bring a lawsuit for murder against you and your bank, on the grounds that you harassed Mrs. Hill’s husband to his death.” All of a sudden the bank officer sounded very nervous and said he’d get right back to me. Sometimes it pays to be a little wild. An hour later I got a call back from the banker, and he said, “Don’t worry, we’re going to work it out, Mr. Tramp.” Mrs. Hill and Frank Argenbright told the media, and the next thing I knew, it was the lead story on the network news. By the end of the week, we’d raised $40,000. Imus alone raised almost $20,000 by appealing to his listeners. As a Christmas present to Mrs. Hill and her family, we’ve scheduled a mortgage-burning ceremony for Christmas Eve in the atrium of Trump Tower. By then, I’m confident, we’ll have raised all the money. I’ve promised Mrs. Hill that if we haven’t, I’ll make up any difference. I tell Imus he’s the greatest, and I invite him to be my guest one day next week at the tennis matches at the U.S. Open. I have a courtside box and I used to go myself almost every day. Now I’m so busy I mostly just send my friends.

In the U.S. and Canada, the term “gaylord” is sometimes used for triplewall corrugated pallet boxes.

The reasons why Ngaba led the plateau in self-immolation were obscure. Ngaba was not the worst-off town under Chinese rule. Its residents were wealthier than some others. The public facilities and infrastructure were much better than in many Tibetan towns in Qinghai province where sewage ran through open gutters of the streets and former nomads had been resettled in concrete boxes. Testifying before a U.S. congressional commission in 2011, Kirti Rinpoche suggested the reason was that Ngaba was the first place where Tibetans encountered the Chinese Communists in the 1930s. “The people of this region have a particular wound causing excessive suffering that spans three generations. This wound is very difficult to forget or heal,” Kirti Rinpoche testified. Daniel Berounský, a scholar who contributed a paper at the Paris conference, also pointed to the high level of political awareness at the monastery. “When taking into account the historical outline concerning the kings of Ngawa [Ngaba] and the Kīrti masters, it becomes apparent that the monks are strongly affected by their past history, which is seen as a golden time.” “A Tibetan Party official who penned a rare open letter published (and quickly removed) on a public forum blamed Shi Jun, the Party secretary for Ngaba prefecture. “Some called him the Lord of Demons, because he escalated small incidents into huge confrontations in order to secure his own advancement and to try to win brownie points,” wrote the official, who used his Chinese name, Luo Feng. He complained that Tibetan-speaking officials were excluded from promotion and that out of six hundred Party officials who had been recently promoted, only twenty spoke Tibetan. If you were Tibetan, you were an object of suspicion, Luo Feng wrote.

John Wilkerson put away his broom and sat down in the little janitorial office. Most janitors found their offices in the basement, but John, head janitor for the U.S. Embassy in Moscow, had an office on the very top floor. The reason for this was simple; John Wilkerson was a janitor only when he was not performing his less official function of being a very special agent of the CIA.

What is the Wii U, Gubben?" Farfar said, unable to keep the grin off his face as he balled the wrapping paper in his hands and stared at the box in his lap. "Don't we already have a Wii?" Then, more concerned, "How much did you spend on this?" "Not too much," I said, grinning back. "It's refurbished." "And old," Jorge added helpfully. "And old. Nintendo's already moved on to newer systems. Plus," I said, tossing a second present onto Farfar's lap and picking up his blue Wii remote from the coffee table, strumming the rubber bands holding the battery cover in place with my thumb. "This system's backward compatible." I watched Farfar peel back the paper one his unauthorized second present and nod to himself. He let out a sound like a deeply satisfied bear. "Oh, god," Maggie said, laughing. "Let's hook it up, Gubben." "They released a deluxe edition for the newer system," I explained, leading to our lengthy, highly technical discussion of Mario Kart 8 for Wii U vs. 8 Deluxe for the Switch, while I hooked up the new system to the TV

But just remember, victories come singularly. It’s the fuckups that gang up on you.

The Con-U storage facility is the most amazing space I have ever seen. Keep in mind that I recently worked at a vertical bookstore and have even more recently visited a secret subterranean library. Keep in mind, also, that I saw the Sistine Chapel when I was a kid, and, as part of science camp, I got to visit a particle accelerator. This warehouse has them all beat. The ceiling hangs high above, ribbed like an airplane hangar. The floor is a maze of tall metal shelves loaded with boxes, canisters, containers, and bins. Simple enough. But the shelves—the shelves are all moving. For a moment I feel sick, because my vision is swimming. The whole facility is writhing like a bucket of worms; it’s that same overlapping, hard-to-follow motion. The shelves are all mounted on fat rubber tires, and they know how to use them. They move in tight, controlled bursts, then break into smooth sprints through channels of open floor. They pause and politely wait for one another; they team up and form long caravans. It’s uncanny. It’s totally “Sorcerer’s Apprentice.” So the iPad’s map is blank because the facility is rearranging itself in real-time.

Originally there had been just two projects, which he had codenamed Bluebird and Artichoke; the bird and vegetable were among his favorites. Later had come Naomi, the name of a distant cousin. But soon there were so many projects that he had resorted to simply numbering them. By now the total number of projects stood at over 100 (they would eventually reach 149). MK-Project 94 was to investigate “remote directional control of activities in specific brain centers.” MK-Project 142 was to “study electrical brain stimulation.” In his never-ending search for information that could prove useful for the biological warfare program, Dr. Gottlieb had enlisted the support of the CIA archivists. They had turned up a box of documents which U.S. Army intelligence officers had recovered in Munich in 1945. The box was labeled: “German War Office Experiments 1934-39.” The documents still bore the German classification “Secret.” Among the experiments were those which had tracked air currents through the subway systems of Paris and London. “The tunnels would be prime targets in a future war when Londoners and Parisians sheltered in the tunnels during air raids. Using bacteria which were excellent biological tracers, the tunnels would be transformed into places for mass epidemics.” The memo had been written in July 1934, after the Nazis had come to power. Two months later on a hot summer’s day, according to another document, German agents had sprayed “billions of microbes into the Paris Metro system from cars they had driven past the subway entrances. Exhaust gasses provided a satisfactory disguise for the release of the microbes from tanks linked to the car exhausts.” A third document claimed that “six hours later, at the Place de la République Metro station, a mile and a half from the dispersal point, our agents discovered thousands of colonies of the germs.” In Berlin the findings had been eagerly studied. A memo sent to Herman Goering, the head of the Luftwaffe, from the German War Office read: “It was possible to drop a suitable biological bomb and be highly certain that the bacteria would enter the subway system.” Similar tests in London had been carried out by the Germans with “the same satisfying results.

but not in the way it is intended to be.3 For an example of a chain of unintended uses, let us start with Phase One, the computer. The mathematical discipline of combinatorics, here basic science, derived from propositional knowledge, led to the building of computers, or so the story goes. (And, of course, to remind the reader of cherry-picking, we need to take into account the body of theoretical knowledge that went nowhere.) But at first, nobody had an idea what to do with these enormous boxes full of circuits as they were cumbersome, expensive, and their applications were not too widespread, outside of database management, only good to process quantities of data. It is as if one needed to invent an application for the thrill of technology. Baby boomers will remember those mysterious punch cards. Then someone introduced the console to input with the aid of a screen monitor, using a keyboard. This led, of course, to word processing, and the computer took off because of its fitness to word processing, particularly with the microcomputer in the early 1980s. It was convenient, but not much more than that until some other unintended consequence came to be mixed into it. Now Phase Two, the Internet. It had been set up as a resilient military communication network device, developed by a research unit of the Department of Defense called DARPA and got a boost in the days when Ronald Reagan was obsessed with the Soviets. It was meant to allow the United States to survive a generalized military attack. Great idea, but add the personal computer plus Internet and we get social networks, broken marriages, a rise in nerdiness, the ability for a post-Soviet person with social difficulties to find a matching spouse. All that thanks to initial U.S. tax dollars (or rather budget deficit) during Reagan’s anti-Soviet crusade.

revealing of its origin as a U. S. Army post before the National Park Service came to be. Elk

Wait But Why? [written by Tim Urban] They have a chart of the weeks of your life. I have a wall chart of boxes representing every year of my life: ten years across and nine rows down. Then things are plotted on it, like average life expectancy in the U.S. I always thought it was kind of cool, because it puts time into a visual format, and I’m a visual person.

WhatsApp: +1 (443) 859 - 2886 Email @ digitaltechguard.com Telegram: digitaltechguardrecovery.com Website link: digitaltechguard.com Last month, I received a terrifying letter labeled “Urgent IRS Notice,” threatening penalties and legal action unless I paid a “back tax” of 12 Bitcoin (BTC)valued at nearly $800,000 via a Houston-based “Crypto Compliance Portal.” The letter mimicked IRS branding flawlessly, complete with official logos, case numbers, and citations of tax codes. However, my skepticism grew when I noticed the demand for cryptocurrency, a method the IRS explicitly avoids. Despite doubts, panic pushed me to transfer the BTC. Moments later, the portal vanished, leaving me in shock. Realizing I’d been scammed, I frantically searched for solutions and discovered DIGITAL TECH GUARD RECOVERY, a firm renowned for combating crypto fraud. DIGITAL TECH GUARD RECOVERY became my anchor. Their team swiftly dissected the spoofed IRS letter and the fraudulent portal, pinpointing inconsistencies: grammatical errors, mismatched tax codes, and a Houston P.O. Box unaffiliated with the IRS. But their breakthrough came through blockchain forensics. DIGITAL TECH GUARD RECOVERY traced my stolen BTC across a convoluted network of wallets, exposing a transnational scheme. The Houston portal, though masquerading as local, funneled funds through offshore mixers and shell exchanges. Crucially, the scammers made a fatal error: a portion of the BTC briefly passed through a U.S.-regulated exchange with weak identity checks. DIGITAL TECH GUARD RECOVERY seized this vulnerability, collaborating with the FBI’s Cyber Division and IRS Criminal Investigation unit to freeze the assets under federal forfeiture laws. Their relentless advocacy ensured my case was prioritized, as they proved the criminals exploited U.S. financial systems. Within weeks, DIGITAL TECH GUARD RECOVERY achieved the unthinkable: 100% of my BTC was recovered. They navigated legal complexities, coordinated with prosecutors, and even educated me on scam tactics. “Fraudsters weaponize fear to bypass logic,” a DIGITAL TECH GUARD RECOVERY investigator explained, emphasizing how urgency clouds judgment. Their insights transformed my understanding of red flags, such as threats of immediate arrest or demands for irreversible payments. Today, I owe my financial survival to DIGITAL TECH GUARD RECOVERY. Their technical prowess, legal partnerships, and unwavering support turned catastrophe into a cautionary triumph. While I hope others never endure such a crisis, my message is clear: If faced with crypto fraud, DIGITAL TECH GUARD RECOVERY is the ally you need. Their name became my beacon of hope, proving that even in blockchain’s seemingly irreversible realm, skilled defenders can rewrite the narrative. Stay vigilant, verify relentlessly, and remember with DIGITAL TECH GUARD RECOVERY, recovery is possible.

Mexican Nogales, a far more populous town than the neighboring Nogales on the U.S. side—and it’s got all sorts of law enforcement contacts in Arizona. He’s pretty sure they can come up with something as simple as the name of whoever’s renting a particular PO box in Tucson.

In the two weeks following the All-Star Game, baseball was largely upstaged by the events of the XXI Olympiad in Montreal, including Romanian gymnast Nadia Comaneci’s seven perfect 10.0 scores, Bruce Jenner’s record-setting decathlon triumph, and the five gold medals won by U.S. boxers Howard Davis Jr., Sugar Ray Leonard, Leo Randolph, and brothers Leon and Michael Spinks—the mightiest performance of any American boxing team in Olympic history.

More recently, a publicity campaign for a late-night cartoon show backfired when it aroused fears of a terrorist attack and temporarily shut down the city of Boston. The “guerrilla marketing” effort consisted of 1-foot-tall blinking electronic signs with hanging wires and batteries that marketers used to promote the Cartoon Network TV show Aqua Teen Hunger Force (a surreal series about a talking milkshake, a box of fries, and a meatball). The signs were placed on bridges and in other high-profile spots in several U.S. cities. Most depicted a boxy, cartoon character giving passersby the finger. The bomb squads and other police personnel required to investigate the mysterious boxes cost the city of Boston more than $500,000—and a lot of frayed nerves. 99

In 1958, a New York diamond merchant named Harry Winston donated the Hope Diamond to the Smithsonian Institute. At forty-five-and-a-half carats, the gem is worth an estimated $200 million (give or take $50 million), but Winston didn’t hire an armored car to deliver it to the Smithsonian. He sent it via the U.S. Postal Service, placing it in a box, wrapping the box in brown paper, and insuring it for $145.29.

Business was booming for Tiffany & Co. in the late 1990s, thanks to the introduction of a new affordable silver jewellery line. The $110 silver charm bracelet inscribed with the Tiffany name was coveted by teenage girls, causing sales of the new silver product line to skyrocket 67% between 1997 and 2002. By 2003, company earnings had doubled and the silver jewellery line accounted for a third of Tiffany’s U.S. sales. And yet the queues of excited girls didn’t fill the store managers with joy. Sure, sales were up and stores were busy, but the people close to the brand, who understood its heritage, began to worry that this lower price point would forever change how the brand was perceived by its high-end customers. “We didn’t want the brand to be defined by any single product.” —Michael Kowalski, CEO, Tiffany & Co. Despite some unease from investors, Tiffany raised prices on their most popular silver products by 30% over the next three years and managed to halt the growth of their highly profitable silver line. And so the company sacrificed short-term gain and profits for the long-term good of the brand by telling the story they wanted customers to believe—that Tiffany’s represents something special. A client recently told me about her friend’s excited engagement announcement on Facebook. All she did was post a photo of the Tiffany blue box—not a picture of the ring in sight. The box alone was enough to say everything she wanted to say. QUESTIONS FOR YOU How are you least like the competition?

different from 3.5. However, it is different from larger values, such as 4.0 (t = 2.89, df = 9, p = .019). Another example of this is provided in the Box 12.2. Finally, note that the one-sample t-test is identical to the paired-samples t-test for testing whether the mean D = 0. Indeed, the one-sample t-test for D = 0 produces the same results (t = 2.43, df = 9, p = .038). In Greater Depth … Box 12.2 Use of the T-Test in Performance Management: An Example Performance benchmarking is an increasingly popular tool in performance management. Public and nonprofit officials compare the performance of their agencies with performance benchmarks and draw lessons from the comparison. Let us say that a city government requires its fire and medical response unit to maintain an average response time of 360 seconds (6 minutes) to emergency requests. The city manager has suspected that the growth in population and demands for the services have slowed down the responses recently. He draws a sample of 10 response times in the most recent month: 230, 450, 378, 430, 270, 470, 390, 300, 470, and 530 seconds, for a sample mean of 392 seconds. He performs a one-sample t-test to compare the mean of this sample with the performance benchmark of 360 seconds. The null hypothesis of this test is that the sample mean is equal to 360 seconds, and the alternate hypothesis is that they are different. The result (t = 1.030, df = 9, p = .330) shows a failure to reject the null hypothesis at the 5 percent level, which means that we don’t have sufficient evidence to say that the average response time is different from the benchmark 360 seconds. We cannot say that current performance of 392 seconds is significantly different from the 360-second benchmark. Perhaps more data (samples) are needed to reach such a conclusion, or perhaps too much variability exists for such a conclusion to be reached. NONPARAMETRIC ALTERNATIVES TO T-TESTS The tests described in the preceding sections have nonparametric alternatives. The chief advantage of these tests is that they do not require continuous variables to be normally distributed. The chief disadvantage is that they are less likely to reject the null hypothesis. A further, minor disadvantage is that these tests do not provide descriptive information about variable means; separate analysis is required for that. Nonparametric alternatives to the independent-samples test are the Mann-Whitney and Wilcoxon tests. The Mann-Whitney and Wilcoxon tests are equivalent and are thus discussed jointly. Both are simplifications of the more general Kruskal-Wallis’ H test, discussed in Chapter 11.19 The Mann-Whitney and Wilcoxon tests assign ranks to the testing variable in the exact manner shown in Table 12.4. The sum of the ranks of each group is computed, shown in the table. Then a test is performed to determine the statistical significance of the difference between the sums, 22.5 and 32.5. Although the Mann-Whitney U and Wilcoxon W test statistics are calculated differently, they both have the same level of statistical significance: p = .295. Technically, this is not a test of different means but of different distributions; the lack of significance implies that groups 1 and 2 can be regarded as coming from the same population.20 Table 12.4 Rankings of

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COEFFICIENT The nonparametric alternative, Spearman’s rank correlation coefficient (r, or “rho”), looks at correlation among the ranks of the data rather than among the values. The ranks of data are determined as shown in Table 14.2 (adapted from Table 11.8): Table 14.2 Ranks of Two Variables In Greater Depth … Box 14.1 Crime and Poverty An analyst wants to examine empirically the relationship between crime and income in cities across the United States. The CD that accompanies the workbook Exercising Essential Statistics includes a Community Indicators dataset with assorted indicators of conditions in 98 cities such as Akron, Ohio; Phoenix, Arizona; New Orleans, Louisiana; and Seattle, Washington. The measures include median household income, total population (both from the 2000 U.S. Census), and total violent crimes (FBI, Uniform Crime Reporting, 2004). In the sample, household income ranges from $26,309 (Newark, New Jersey) to $71,765 (San Jose, California), and the median household income is $42,316. Per-capita violent crime ranges from 0.15 percent (Glendale, California) to 2.04 percent (Las Vegas, Nevada), and the median violent crime rate per capita is 0.78 percent. There are four types of violent crimes: murder and nonnegligent manslaughter, forcible rape, robbery, and aggravated assault. A measure of total violent crime per capita is calculated because larger cities are apt to have more crime. The analyst wants to examine whether income is associated with per-capita violent crime. The scatterplot of these two continuous variables shows that a negative relationship appears to be present: The Pearson’s correlation coefficient is –.532 (p < .01), and the Spearman’s correlation coefficient is –.552 (p < .01). The simple regression model shows R2 = .283. The regression model is as follows (t-test statistic in parentheses): The regression line is shown on the scatterplot. Interpreting these results, we see that the R-square value of .283 indicates a moderate relationship between these two variables. Clearly, some cities with modest median household incomes have a high crime rate. However, removing these cities does not greatly alter the findings. Also, an assumption of regression is that the error term is normally distributed, and further examination of the error shows that it is somewhat skewed. The techniques for examining the distribution of the error term are discussed in Chapter 15, but again, addressing this problem does not significantly alter the finding that the two variables are significantly related to each other, and that the relationship is of moderate strength. With this result in hand, further analysis shows, for example, by how much violent crime decreases for each increase in household income. For each increase of $10,000 in average household income, the violent crime rate drops 0.25 percent. For a city experiencing the median 0.78 percent crime rate, this would be a considerable improvement, indeed. Note also that the scatterplot shows considerable variation in the crime rate for cities at or below the median household income, in contrast to those well above it. Policy analysts may well wish to examine conditions that give rise to variation in crime rates among cities with lower incomes. Because Spearman’s rank correlation coefficient examines correlation among the ranks of variables, it can also be used with ordinal-level data.9 For the data in Table 14.2, Spearman’s rank correlation coefficient is .900 (p = .035).10 Spearman’s p-squared coefficient has a “percent variation explained” interpretation, similar

After these readings, I followed as the poets would stand out on U Street or repair to a café and argue about everything—books, politics, boxing. And their arguments reinforced the discordant tradition I’d found in Moorland, and I began to see discord, argument, chaos, perhaps even fear, as a kind of power. I was learning to live in the disquiet I felt in Moorland-Springarn, in the mess of my mind. The gnawing discomfort, the chaos, the intellectual vertigo was not an alarm. It was a beacon.

I asked the U.S. Geological Survey to assist us in finally determining just how deep Devil's Fissure is [...] they refused, checking off the boxes marked "Budget Constraints" and "Gross Indifference.

He slides his palm over the gentle strength of those rocks and remembers the faces from the photos tucked into boxes with those rocks, the stories penned with care on tear-splotched pages, arriving from around the country. He sees Liesl, the horror and hope of what she had been through etched in her face as she unwrapped that stone from her threadbare handkerchief. He sees Omaha beach. U-boats. Paris celebrating, bathed in light. He sees the frozen passes of Russia, winding river currents in Burma, jungles in the Philippines

[U]nder a presidential government a nation has, except at the electing moment, no influence; it has not the ballot-box before it; its virtue is gone, and it must wait till its instant of despotism again returns.

Dew dampened the grass and shimmered on the apples. From a distance, the blueberry bushes glistened as if encased in frost, and the trees looked as if they had been cloaked in ice. Walking through the orchards was comforting to Sam, nearly as comforting as baking. There was a precision in both endeavors, which brought a sense of order to the world, and yet each was filled with new surprises and revelations every day. The trees lined up like hunchback sentinels, seeming to protect the women as they walked the land. The paths between the trees were grassy but worn, showing where tourists and U-Pickers had trod in straight lines before veering left or right. Every so often, the earth had been upended by moles, muddy earthquakes left in the wake of their own underground walks. "Grandpa hated moles, didn't he?" Sam asked out of the blue. "With a passion," Willo said, touched that Sam remembered an innocuous fact about her grandfather from long ago. It was even cooler as the three went deeper into the heart of the orchards, mist dancing in between the rows of trees and the lake glistening beyond like a mirage. It was magical, mysterious, a lost world. I always feel like I've been transported to the world depicted in Lord of the Rings, Sam thought.

I thought the submarine environment would be a useful analogy for the space station in a number of ways, and I especially wanted my colleagues to get an up-close look at how the Navy deals with CO2. What we learned on that trip was illuminating: the Navy has their submarines turn on their air scrubbers when the CO2 concentration rises above two millimeters of mercury, even though the scrubbers are noisy and risk giving away the submarine’s location. By comparison, the international agreement on ISS says the CO2 is acceptable up to six millimeters of mercury! The submarine’s chief engineering officer explained to us that the symptoms of high CO2 posed a threat to their work, so keeping that level low was a priority. I felt that NASA should be thinking of it the same way. When I prepared for my first flight on the ISS, I got acquainted with a new carbon dioxide removal system. The lithium hydroxide cartridges were foolproof and reliable, but that system depended on cartridges that were to be thrown away after use—not very practical, since hundreds of cartridges would be required to get through a single six-month mission. So instead we now have a device called the carbon dioxide removal assembly, or CDRA, pronounced “seedra,” and it has become the bane of my existence. There are two of them—one in the U.S. lab and one in Node 3. Each weighs about five hundred pounds and looks something like a car engine. Covered in greenish brown insulation, the Seedra is a collection of electronic boxes, sensors, heaters, valves, fans, and absorbent beds. The absorbent beds use a zeolite crystal to separate the CO2 from the air, after which the lab Seedra dumps the CO2 out into space through a vacuum valve, while the Node 3 Seedra combines oxygen drawn from the CO2 with leftover hydrogen from our oxygen-generating system in a device called Sabatier. The result is water—which we drink—and methane, which is also vented overboard.

True, there's an aisle devoted to foreign foods, and then there are familiar foods that have been through the Japanese filter and emerged a little bit mutated. Take breakfast cereal. You'll find familiar American brands such as Kellogg's, but often without English words anywhere on the box. One of the most popular Kellogg's cereals in Japan is Brown Rice Flakes. They're quite good, and the back-of-the-box recipes include cold tofu salad and the savory pancake okonomiyaki, each topped with a flurry of crispy rice flakes. Iris and I got mildly addicted to a Japanese brand of dark chocolate cornflakes, the only chocolate cereal I've ever eaten that actually tastes like chocolate. (Believe me, I've tried them all.) Stocking my pantry at Life Supermarket was fantastically simple and inexpensive. I bought soy sauce, mirin, rice vinegar, rice, salt, and sugar. (I was standing right in front of the salt when I asked where to find it This happens to me every time I ask for help finding any item in any store.) Total outlay: about $15, and most of that was for the rice. Japan is an unabashed rice protectionist, levying prohibitive tariffs on imported rice. As a result, supermarket rice is domestic, high quality, and very expensive. There were many brands of white rice to choose from, the sacks advertising different growing regions and rice varieties. (I did the restaurant wine list thing and chose the second least expensive.) Japanese consumers love to hear about the regional origins of their foods. I almost never saw ingredients advertised as coming from a particular farm, like you'd see in a farm-to-table restaurant in the U.S., but if the milk is from Hokkaido, the rice from Niigata, and the tea from Uji, all is well. I suppose this is not so different from Idaho potatoes and Florida orange juice. When I got home, I opened the salt and sugar and spooned some into small bowls near the stove. The next day I learned that Japanese salt and sugar are hygroscopic: their crystalline structure draws in water from the air (and Tokyo, in summer, has enough water in the air to supply the world's car washes). I figured this was harmless and went on licking slightly moist salt and sugar off my fingers every time I cooked.

If you already hate tofu, the term "tofu skin" is probably an effective emetic. But this stuff is addictive. You start by making fresh soy milk. I'm not going to soft-pedal how much work this is: you have to soak, grind, squeeze, and simmer dried soybeans. The result is a thick milk entirely unlike the soy milk you get in a box at Whole Foods in the same way Parmigiano-Reggiano is unlike Velveeta. Then, to make tofu skins (yuba in Japanese), you simmer the soy milk gently over low heat until a skin forms on the surface, then pluck it off with your fingers and drape it over a chopstick to dry. It is exactly like the skin that forms on top of pudding, the one George Costanza wanted to market as Pudding Skin Singles. Yuba doesn't look like much- like a pile of discarded raw chicken skin, honestly. But the texture is toothsome, and with each bite you're rewarded with the flavor of fresh soy milk. It's best served with just a few drops of soy sauce and maybe some grated ginger or sliced negi. "I'm kind of obsessed with tofu skins right now," said Iris, poking her head into the fridge to grab a round of yuba. Me too. In Seattle, I had to buy, grind, boil, and otherwise toil for a few sheets of yuba. In Tokyo, I found it at Life Supermarket, sold in a single-serving plastic tub with a foil top. The yuba wasn't as snappy or flavorful as homemade, but it had that characteristic fresh-soy aroma, which to me smells like a combination of "healthy forest" and "clean baby." Iris and I ate it greedily. (The yuba, not the baby.) Yuba isn't technically tofu, because the soy milk isn't coagulated. Japanese tofu comes in two basic categories, much like underpants: cotton (momen) and silken (kinugoshi). Cotton tofu is the kind eaten most commonly in the U.S.; if you buy a package of extra-firm tofu and cut it up for stir-frying, that's definitely cotton tofu. Silken tofu is fragile, creamier and more dairy-like than cotton-tofu, and it's the star of my favorite summer tofu dish. Hiya yakko is cubes of tofu, usually silken, drizzled with soy sauce and judiciously topped with savory bits: grated ginger or daikon, bonito flakes, negi. It's popular in Japanese bars and easy to make at home, which I did, with (you will be shocked to hear) tons of fresh negi.

APPENDIX U: TREATMENT COST FOR INJECTABLE B12 Vitamin B12(hydroxocobalamin) 1,000 mcg/ml (30ml) vial costs approximately $36.00 per year for treatment 1,000 MCG = 1MG = 1ML INJECTED = $1.20 • Initial 7 injections daily or every other day then; • Maintenance: 1 ml IM or SC every 2 weeks = 24 ml per year or 0.5 ml SC every week = 24 ml per year • Syringes with needles (quantity 30): 1 ml syringe with 25 gauge needle costs 29 cents each or $8.70 per year (we recommend using 27 gauge needle) or insulin syringe with needle • 1 box of 100 insulin syringes with needles costs $28.56 and lasts over three years • Injectable hydroxocobalamin (1,000mcg/ml) is manufactured by Abraxis BioScience, Phoenix, AZ 85043, USA, and distributed by Watson Pharma, Inc.

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First, a review of the SOSUS network printouts showed that the Navy had tracked and periodically lost contact with a Soviet ballistic missile submarine that had left Kamchatka late in February. The last SOSUS recordings placed the boat outside its normal mission box and much closer to Hawaii than the usual patrol of this type. Second, the NORAD satellites’ late-night recordings on March 7 revealed flashes of radiant light that could have been caused only by burning missile fuel. Third, around the fifteenth or sixteenth of March, the University of Hawaii research ship Teritu reported finding an irradiated oil slick drifting off the Hawaiian Leewards. Tests showed the oil slick was composed of diesel fuel of a type used by Chinese and Soviet submarines and fissile material of a type used in Soviet, and possibly Chinese, nuclear warheads.

The plotters had underestimated America’s spy technology. Soviet intelligence was not yet fully aware of just how good the SOSUS hydrophones, radio intercepts, and satellite spy systems had become in tracking Soviet submarines. The DIA and NSA had been accurately tracking all Soviet submarines for more than a year, and had tracked K-129 from the time it sailed from Kamchatka Peninsula to its arrival in the patrol box northwest of Hawaii. The U.S. Navy knew they had a Soviet Golf II, not a Chinese Golf I submarine, in the vicinity of the Hawaiian Islands on March 7, 1968.

The device, literally a little black box, was typically buried deep inside the missile or warhead in such a way that it could not be easily identified or tampered with. Submarine commanders and the missile officers responsible for actually launching nuclear weapons were aware that safeguards against unauthorized release of weapons were in place. Therefore, if the men who attempted to launch the K-129’s missiles knew about the fail-safe system, they must have believed they had the knowledge to override it. Otherwise, they never would have attempted to launch.

The details of these patrol orders have never been publicly revealed. The orders were probably for the K-129 to proceed to one of its regular patrol stations in a mission box that extended from 650 miles to 850 miles northwest of Pearl Harbor in the Hawaiian Islands. The known course and performance of K-129 for the first days of the mission indicate that the submarine initially followed the regular protocol for any autonomous mission ordered by the Naval Main Staff through fleet headquarters in Vladivostok.

There is another indication that something is wrong aboard the submarine. Instead of slowing down to begin the usual silent patrolling in the mission box, K-129 keeps sailing toward Pearl Harbor.

First, the K-129 missed sending a routine, but expected, message to fleet headquarters that it had safely crossed the International Date Line on March 1. Then, on March 4, the eleventh day of the voyage, K-129 trespassed outside the boundary of its normal mission box and proceeded on a dangerous course that would take it closer to enemy waters than a normal assignment allowed. Finally, on March 7, a more ominous harbinger of trouble came with the submarine’s failure to transmit the mandatory message to headquarters that it was on regular station and prepared to carry out its patrol.

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