A detailed account of the Black Tuesday events Essay Example for Free

A detailed account of the Black Tuesday events Essay Question: 1 Black Tuesday refers to a day in Bahamian history, April 27, 1965. The then-Opposition Leader and former Prime Minister of the Bahamas Sir Lynden Pindling threw the Speakers Mace out of the House of Assembly window in protest against the unfair gerrymandering of constituency boundaries by the then ruling United Bahamian Party (UBP) government. Thursday the 16th day of April, 1965, around 3 o’clock in the afternoon, the draft order providing for the new constituency boundaries under section 63 of the 1964 constitution was in session in the house of assembly. In the chair was Dr. Raymond .W. Sawyer, the Deputy Speaker; on the floor was Sir Milo Butler, the member for the Western District. Sir Milo Butler shouted out in range at The Chairman â€Å"This Constituency Commission had done wicked things in cutting up New Providence and the Out Islands in a damnable way in order to give themselves the Minority Government a distinct advantage in the next General Elections† Sir Milo continued talking without ending. See more: Old Age Problem essay Only a little bit of grain of sand was in the quarter hour glass, the Chairman turned to Sir Milo and said, â€Å"I am very sorry but the member’s time has run out†, â€Å"Sir Milo replied â€Å"It’s very kind of you to remind me, but I intend to talk on. I ain’t going to let any grain of sand stop me from talking. Don’t throw sand in my mouth just yet I ain’t dead yet†. The Deputy Speaker noticed that Sir Milo Butler reached further than he should, suspended the proceedings and reported this incident to the Speaker, The Hon. Robert (Bobby) Symonette. The Speaker, having been informed, turned to Sir Milo Butler and asked him to be seated. The people’s champion misunderstood the language of parliament. â€Å"I am not addressing my chair. I am addressing this House,† he replied. Due to his disobedience Milo Butler was named under rule 37, It was then motion seconded to Hon. Geoffrey A.D Johnston and it was passed. The Spea ker turned, to Milo and asked him to please withdraw. He acted out and didn’t want to withdraw. He continuously pound his right fist on the table, scattered papers and said, â€Å"If I leave Mr. Speaker you are going to have to take me out†. That was his last refusal. It took four police-sergeants to physically remove Sir Milo from The House of Assembly. Shortly after that, A.D. Hanna spoke over his time limit and he also refused to stop speaking and was carried out by two police men, But Mr. A.D. Hanna wanted equal rights; he wanted four police men to carry him out as well  therefore two more carried him out. Tuesday, 27 of April a week later the House of Assembly met again which was the reply to the April 16th meeting. In the Speaker’s elevated chair was the Honorable Robert .H. Symonette and on his right was his father, the Premier, Sir Roland .T. Symonette. On the Speaker’s left was the Leader of the Opposition, Sir Lynden .O. Pindling and members of the P.L.P further down. The P.L.P wasn’t so different from Sir. Milo Butler, they opened windows when the room was air-conditioned; they stamped their feet’s and beat on tables ranted and rave in one gesture against the draft constituency order. Sir Lynden Pindling lifted the ancient mace from the Speaker’s desk and said â€Å"This mace is the symbol of authority, and the authority for the islands belongs to the people, and the people are outside of this House and so this mace belongs outside too.† Sir Pindling threw the mace through the window while Sir Milo butler threw the two quarter hour glasses out of the same window. The P.L.P all stormed out of The House of Assembly, where they were welcomed by a crowed of their followers on Bay Street. It brought a halt for an hour or so, however after the mace was replace. The U.B.P’s had power laboured long and hard and finally passed the Draft Constituency Order into Law nevertheless the official opposition’s absence.

The Woman Who Watches Over The World English Literature Essay

The Woman Who Watches Over The World English Literature Essay Linda Hogan is a Chickasaw meaning she belongs to a group of Native Americans who migrated in to east of Mississippi river, Oklahoma. She is a poet and a novelist writer and has contributed much in this field. In her book, The Woman Who Watches over the World: a Native Memoir, she brings about different themes some of which are associated with her difficult past and those of her people painful history. She assumes the position of a Clay Woman named The woman who watches over the world, and uses her to view the worlds problem and that of her tribe in that perspective. The title is derived from a sculpture figure made of clay which she bought and which became broken on the way to being delivered to her. It is from the figure that she realizes the comparison to human beings life which gets hurt; just as it is with her personal life. From the many fragments in this anecdote, we can piece them together to see the whole history and current status of the Native Americans have undergone. History, survival and healing are the major themes in this book. The book is a journey from childhood to adulthood and the various problems one encounters. Healing is supposed to be understood from the power derived from words and also the natural healing. The history of physical and emotional suffering she inherited from her people contributes to the way she reacts in life. The Natives Americans are presented with their many problems and are reflected on Hogans hard and painful life. The Native Americans or the American Indians had a traumatizing history. They were deeply religious and most of their beliefs were connected with nature. Land, water and animals became to them a symbol of gods gift to mankind. This made it possible for them to practice collective ownership especially of land. Their relocation from their land in 1837 was met with caution since they had to pay allegiance to the USA government. Despite their effort to keep their ancestral land they nevertheless got evicted and trading posts established in their land. The tribal leaders were forced to sell the land and move away to Indian territories. In the new Oklahoma area, where they finally got relocated, the adaptation was not easy bearing in mind that they had to struggle to get food. By the turn of 19th century, the United States government foresaw the dissolution of the Natives tribal government and a division of their land. Missionaries were established which were taxed with the job of educating the Indians in the American way. Ironically, such an education proved worthless because the girls returned to their world afterwards. Poverty and lack of important physical amenities was the order of the day. The Chickasaws had endured such a life for many decades and it is this life that Hogan addresses. She wants to stress the important aspect of healing from the past so that the people can move forward. Hogan was born in German and grew up under her father who was a sergeant in the American army and a neurotic mother. Her earlier life saw her move to many places and eventually ended up in Oklahoma. Hogan relationship with her mother was depressing and mostly neglectful in nature. She never experienced love and this fact left her to seek it from other sources. Although, her mother did her duties like any other mother, Hogan asserts that she could not love. The rest of her life is spent in pursuit of love so as to heal her wounds she experienced when young. As a young child, she was susceptible to diseases and infection common to young children. In addition, clinical depression and poor mental health would lead her to alcoholism in later life to an extent of committing suicide. These physical and mental ailments caused her much trauma and she was to live with it in to adulthood. Her mother rarely provided details about her childhood life but remained silent perhaps in line with her ancestors to bury the painful past. To heal from this trauma she was to adopt two daughters and who had similarly undergone a difficult life as her own, in order to connect with that experience. At only the age of 12 years, she became involved romantically to a man twice her age and they stayed as married. They would later part with Robert and she in turn move from Germany to the USA. This episode hurts her so much that she reminisces it as having been a child but responsible for an adult. Hogan yearned to heal from the trauma she faced of being in school yet married at a young age. The gap she felt would later lead to her adopting two daughters in order to fill the love void she dearly missed. Both daughters, Jeannette and Marie, also had their own share of hard life, but Hogan felt that love could heal almost anything in this world. Despite her trying to live with the adopted daughters, it proved very difficult for them to heal completely to an extent where Marie denied her own children. We observe that Hogan tried to heal from her loveless childhood by playing motherhood to these two adopted daughters. The silence she experienced about her past could now be replaced by a history of her daughters which she knows. Luckily enough, they have a terrible past just like her own and it helps to connect with her lost past. Both daughters are then a reflection of a past and a future for the Natives especially Jeannette who heals to become a purposeful mother. Hogan on the other hand contracted a horrible disease called fibromyalgia. The disease caused her much trouble leaving her weak and unable to sleep. The desire to sleep and dream about emotional healing was too affected. She sought a physical healing which initially became elusive and later even though medicine helped, she never became what she was originally. This was the time she lost faith in medicine world when she reckoned that money was being used in search of a cure yet none came her way. Waiting and hoping was all that was left for her. Through medicine which is extracted from nature in terms of plants and naturally occurring substances dug from the earth, she later in life received her treatment from physical ailments. A horse named Mystery became to her a close companion. Hogan was able to draw parallel in the horses life and hers. Mystery dies in the process of giving birth that was characterized by pain. She likens this pain to her experiences in life and the yearning to heal from it. Another relationship with a horse, the Big Red Horse, also leads to fate as she falls while trying to ride. She suffered numerous injuries leading her to experience short term memory loss. Hogan attempts self healing by indulging in a number of hobbies. She embarks on horse breeding, because in it she finds joy and contentment but it becomes tragic to her. Both of these two occurrences fueled the pain in her life in as much as the desire to heal was multiplied. Hogan was addicted to alcohol when she was young. The addiction came about as she experimented to find a solution to her troubles. In the search for her self, she ends up drinking in order to forget her woes and sleep. The pain and confusion she felt would so many times lead to drinking so as to drown them. History and the ability to remember the past is a disease. Our ancestors underwent much trouble which after we learn it becomes a burden too hard to bear. It is under such an illusion that Hogan just like many Native Americans sought drink to escape the memories from the past and present. As she says falling was the answer to a broken heart, as a reference to the attitude she had towards alcohol. She eventually conquers drinking once she became an adult albeit this leaves a scar in her life. It is by extending love to other humans and animals where she finds a healing. Under all the above traumas, she stood hard to see the healing take place. Hogan just like her ancestors found solace in nature and the environment. Of her doctors she says, à ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦they became earth, water, light, and air. They were animals, plants, and kindred spirits. It was not healing I found or a life free from pain, but a kind of love and kinship with a similarly broken world. The sickness and suffering she felt can also be identified with the Native Americans fight for their survival. Such thoughts also reflect nature which if left alone tends to heal by itself. To be what she is, Hogan had to get changed by pain and events and diseases and she did it with courage and honesty which are vital values in the world today. Personal survival depends on history and by examining hardships undergone so as to find power to refresh ones spirit. Nature also plays a role in this healing by providing elements that can be used to cure a disease for example. Hogan is able to overcome and find strength over the many obstacles that stood her way in the course of self-actualization. An interesting parallel is drawn in relation to different natural elements like woman to land and bird to water. Love is the connecting element since each needs the existence of the other in order to survive. In conclusion, Hogan lays down the many problems faced by people not only in America but in every part of the world. Each people and nation has a history that was faced by problems such as land and identity. Some have even become extinct if their war to survive got worse. In all these stories, it is important to learn from their duel and get insight which in turn should be applied in our day to day lives. Problems are inevitable and it is the way we appreciate and deal with them that counts. Healing as a process should be core in life, whether personally or as a society. If people look for solutions they will always find a way to overcome their pain.

Characterization in The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea and Won

Characterization in The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea and Wonderful Fool      Ã‚  Ã‚   The literary technique of characterization is often used to create and delineate a human character in a work of literature. When forming a character, writers can use many different methods of characterization. However, there is one method of characterization that speaks volumes about the character and requires no more than a single word - the character's personal name. In many cases, a personal name describes the character by associating him with a certain type of people or with a well known historical figure. Therefore, since the reader learns the character's name first, a personal name is a primary method of characterization; it creates an image in the reader's mind that corresponds with the name of the character. Once this image has been created, all subsequent actions and beliefs of the character are somehow in accordance with this image; otherwise, the character does not seem logical and the reader is not be able to relate to the work. In the novels The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea, by Yukio Mishima, and Wonderful Fool, by Shusako Endo, each author gives one of his characters a personal name that guides the character's actions and beliefs.    Noboru, the name assigned to a 13 year old child in Mishima's novel The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea means little boy in Japanese (Honda). By naming this major character Noboru, Mishima has characterized him as nothing more than a little boy. Consequently, Noboru's actions and beliefs are typical of the actions and beliefs of a small child.    Noboru's actions are the first to show the effects of his name. When Noboru discovers a peephol... ... be translated from Japanese to English. Due to cultural barriers, those who read the translated versions of the novels fail to see the importance of names like Noboru and Tomoe, and the impact that these names have on the rest of the work. Consequently, some of the literary value of the novels is lost in the translation. By using personal names as primary sources of characterization, Endo and Mishima offer a concluding suggestion that, whenever possible, it is best to read works of literature in the language in which they were originally written.    WORKS CITED †¢ Endo, Shusako. Wonderful Fool. Trans. Francis Mathy. Chester Springs: Peter Owen Publishers, 1995. †¢ Honda, Yoriko. Telephone Interview. 23 January 1997. †¢ Mishima, Yukio. The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea. Trans. John Nathan. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1965.   

All People are Equal Within the World of Work Essay -- Papers

All People are Equal Within the World of Work I do not agree with the statement at all, allthough in a right normal world of work, it should be true. Many people often judge people by thier appearence, or past experience. It could be anything, discriminating someone is easilly done. And its often simple things like hair styles or piercings, disability or gender than can stop you from working where you want to. With nearly all jobs these days; you'll have to fill out an application form, which can be a nightmare to many people. But no just for things like trying to remember their old school grades or when they left school, its often because they have something they feel will jeapordise thier employment chances. Criminal records is a good one. In companies or bussiness' these days, they will ask if you have a spent or unspent conviction. Spent means that its been a certain while since your conviction, unspent being the opposite. Some places feel that if you havent 'spent' your conviction, (meaning you havent 'changed'...

Essay on Internet Privacy - Carnivore, and the Power Of FBI Surveillanc

Carnivore: The Power Of FBI Surveillance      Ã‚  Ã‚   Abstract:   This paper provides an analysis of the privacy issues associated with governmental Internet surveillance, with a focus on the recently disclosed FBI tool known as Carnivore. It concludes that, while some system of surveillance is necessary, more mechanisms to prevent abuse of privacy must exist.    Communication surveillance has been a controversial issue in the US since the 1920's, when the Supreme Court deemed unwarranted wiretaps legitimate in the case of Olmstead v United States. Since telephone wires ran over public grounds, and the property of Olmstead was not physically violated, the wiretap was upheld as lawful. However, the Supreme Court overturned this ruling in 1967 in the landmark case of Katz v United States. On the basis of the fourth amendment, the court established that individuals have the right to privacy of communication, and that wiretapping is unconstitutional unless it is authorized by a search warrant. [Bowyer, 142-143] Since then, the right to communication privacy has become accepted as an integral facet of the American deontological code of ethics. The FBI has made an at least perfunctory effort to respect the public's demand for Internet privacy with its new Internet surveillance system, Carnivore. However, the current implementation of Carnivore unne cessarily jeopardizes the privacy of innocent individuals.    There is considerable utilitarian value in extending privacy rights to the Internet. The fear that communication is being monitored by a third party inevitably leads to inefficiency, because individuals feel a need to find loopholes in the surveillance. For instance, if the public does not feel comfortable with communica... ... best way to establish this balance of power is by requiring the FBI to have the ISP's perform the searches themselves.          Works Cited Kevin W. Bowyer. "Ethics And Computing". IEEE Press, New York. 2001. (142-143).    Patrick Ross. News.com. http://news.cnet.com/news/0-1005-200-2713029.html September 2000    Patrick Riley. Fox News. http://www.foxnews.com/national/071100/carnivore.sml July 11th, 2000    Donald M. Kerr. FBI. http://www.fbi.gov/pressrm/congress/congress00/kerr090600.htm September 6th, 2000    IITRI. http://www.usdoj.gov/jmd/publications/carnivore_draft_1.pdf November 17th, 2000.    Thomas C. Greene. The Register   http://www.theregister.co.uk/content/6/15591.html December 19th, 2000    Chris Oakes. Wired News. http://www.wired.com/news/politics/0,1283,37470,00.html July 12th, 2000

Digital Fortress Chapter 94-99

Chapter 94 Midge Milken stood fuming at the water cooler near the entrance to the conference room. What the hell is Fontaine doing? She crumpled her paper cup and threw it forcefully into the trash can. There's something happening in Crypto! I can feel it! Midge knew there was only one way to prove herself right. She'd go check out Crypto herself-track down Jabba if need be. She spun on her heel and headed for the door. Brinkerhoff appeared out of nowhere, blocking her way. â€Å"Where are you headed?† â€Å"Home!† Midge lied. Brinkerhoff refused to let her pass. Midge glared. â€Å"Fontaine told you not to let me out, didn't he?† Brinkerhoff looked away. â€Å"Chad, I'm telling you, there's something happening in Crypto-something big. I don't know why Fontaine's playing dumb, but TRANSLTR's in trouble. Something is not right down there tonight!† â€Å"Midge,† he soothed, walking past her toward the curtained conference room windows, â€Å"let's let the director handle it.† Midge's gaze sharpened. â€Å"Do you have any idea what happens to TRANSLTR if the cooling system fails?† Brinkerhoff shrugged and approached the window. â€Å"Power's probably back on-line by now anyway.† He pulled apart the curtains and looked. â€Å"Still dark?† Midge asked. But Brinkerhoff did not reply. He was spellbound. The scene below in the Crypto dome was unimaginable. The entire glass cupola was filled with spinning lights, flashing strobes, and swirling steam. Brinkerhoff stood transfixed, teetering light-headed against the glass. Then, in a frenzy of panic, he raced out. â€Å"Director! Director!† Chapter 95 The blood of Christ†¦ the cup of salvation†¦ People gathered around the slumped body in the pew. Overhead, the frankincense swung its peaceful arcs. Hulohot wheeled wildly in the center aisle and scanned the church. He's got to be here! He spun back toward the altar. Thirty rows ahead, holy communion was proceeding uninterrupted. Padre Gustaphes Herrera, the head chalice bearer, glanced curiously at the quiet commotion in one of the center pews; he was not concerned. Sometimes some of the older folks were overcome by the holy spirit and passed out. A little air usually did the trick. Meanwhile, Hulohot was searching frantically. Becker was nowhere in sight. A hundred or so people were kneeling at the long altar receiving communion. Hulohot wondered if Becker was one of them. He scanned their backs. He was prepared to shoot from fifty yards away and make a dash for it. El cuerpo de Jesus, el pan del cielo. The young priest serving Becker communion gave him a disapproving stare. He could understand the stranger's eagerness to receive communion, but it was no excuse to cut inline. Becker bowed his head and chewed the wafer as best he could. He sensed something was happening behind him, some sort of disturbance. He thought of the man from whom he'd bought the jacket and hoped he had listened to his warning and not taken Becker's in exchange. He started to turn and look, but he feared the wire-rim glasses would be staring back. He crouched in hopes his black jacket was covering the back of his khaki pants. It was not. The chalice was coming quickly from his right. People were already swallowing their wine, crossing themselves, and standing to leave. Slow down! Becker was in no hurry to leave the altar. But with two thousand people waiting for communion and only eight priests serving, it was considered bad form to linger over a sip of wine. The chalice was just to the right of Becker when Hulohot spotted the mismatched khaki pants. â€Å"Estas ya muerto,† he hissed softly. â€Å"You're already dead.† Hulohot moved up the center aisle. The time for subtlety had passed. Two shots in the back, and he would grab the ring and run. The biggest taxi stand in Seville was half a block away on Mateus Gago. He reached for his weapon. Adios, Senor Becker†¦ La sangre de Cristo, la copa de la salvacion. The thick scent of red wine filled Becker's nostrils as Padre Herrera lowered the hand-polished, silver chalice. Little early for drinking, Becker thought as he leaned forward. But as the silver goblet dropped past eye level, there was a blur of movement. A figure, coming fast, his shape warped in the reflection of the cup. Becker saw a flash of metal, a weapon being drawn. Instantly, unconsciously, like a runner from a starting block at the sound of a gun, Becker was vaulting forward. The priest fell back in horror as the chalice sailed through the air, and red wine rained down on white marble. Priests and altar boys went scattering as Becker dove over the communion rail. A silencer coughed out a single shot. Becker landed hard, and the shot exploded in the marble floor beside him. An instant later he was tumbling down three granite stairs into the valle, a narrow passageway through which the clergy entered, allowing them to rise onto the altar as if by divine grace. At the bottom of the steps, he stumbled and dove. Becker felt himself sliding out of control across the slick polished stone. A dagger of pain shot though his gut as he landed on his side. A moment later he was stumbling through a curtained entryway and down a set of wooden stairs. Pain. Becker was running, through a dressing room. It was dark. There were screams from the altar. Loud footsteps in pursuit. Becker burst through a set of double doors and stumbled into some sort of study. It was dark, furnished with rich Orientals and polished mahogany. On the far wall was a life-size crucifix. Becker staggered to a stop. Dead end. He was at the tip of the cross. He could hear Hulohot closing fast. Becker stared at the crucifix and cursed his bad luck. â€Å"Goddamn it!† he screamed. There was the sudden sound of breaking glass to Becker's left. He wheeled. A man in red robes gasped and turned to eye Becker in horror. Like a cat caught with a canary, the holy man wiped his mouth and tried to hide the broken bottle of holy communion wine at his feet. â€Å"Salida!† Becker demanded. â€Å"Salida!† Let me out! Cardinal Guerra reacted on instinct. A demon had entered his sacred chambers screaming for deliverance from the house of God. Guerra would grant him that wish-immediately. The demon had entered at a most inopportune moment. Pale, the cardinal pointed to a curtain on the wall to his left. Hidden behind the curtain was a door. He'd installed it three years ago. It led directly to the courtyard outside. The cardinal had grown tired of exiting the church through the front door like a common sinner. Chapter 96 Susan was wet and shivering, huddled on the Node 3 couch. Strathmore draped his suit coat over her shoulders. Hale's body lay a few yards away. The sirens blared. Like ice thawing on a frozen pond, TRANSLTR's hull let out a sharp crack. â€Å"I'm going down to kill power,† Strathmore said, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. â€Å"I'll be right back.† Susan stared absently after the commander as he dashed across the Crypto floor. He was no longer the catatonic man she'd seen ten minutes before. Commander Trevor Strathmore was back-logical, controlled, doing whatever was necessary to get the job done. The final words of Hale's suicide note ran through her mind like a train out of control: Above all, I'm truly sorry about David Becker. Forgive me, I was blinded by ambition. Susan Fletcher's nightmare had just been confirmed. David was in danger†¦ or worse. Maybe it was already too late. I'm truly sorry about David Becker. She stared at the note. Hale hadn't even signed it-he'd just typed his name at the bottom: Greg Hale. He'd poured out his guts, pressed print, and then shot himself-just like that. Hale had sworn he'd never go back to prison; he'd kept his vow-he'd chosen death instead. â€Å"David†¦Ã¢â‚¬  She sobbed. David! At that moment, ten feet below the Crypto floor, Commander Strathmore stepped off the ladder onto the first landing. It had been a day of fiascoes. What had started out as a patriotic mission had swerved wildly out of control. The commander had been forced to make impossible decisions, commit horrific acts-acts he'd never imagined himself capable of. It was a solution! It was the only damn solution! There was duty to think of: country and honor. Strathmore knew there was still time. He could shut down TRANSLTR. He could use the ring to save the country's most valuable databank. Yes, he thought, there was still time. Strathmore looked out over the disaster around him. The overhead sprinklers were on. TRANSLTR was groaning. The sirens blared. The spinning lights looked like helicopters closing in through dense fog. With every step, all he could see was Greg Hale-the young cryptographer gazing up, his eyes pleading, and then, the shot. Hale's death was for country†¦ for honor. The NSA could not afford another scandal. Strathmore needed a scapegoat. Besides, Greg Hale was a disaster waiting to happen. Strathmore's thoughts were jarred free by the sound of his cellular. It was barely audible over the sirens and hissing fumes. He snatched it off his belt without breaking stride. â€Å"Speak.† â€Å"Where's my pass-key?† a familiar voice demanded. â€Å"Who is this?† Strathmore yelled over the din. â€Å"It's Numataka!† the angry voice bellowed back. â€Å"You promised me a pass-key!† Strathmore kept moving. â€Å"I want Digital Fortress!† Numataka hissed. â€Å"There is no Digital Fortress!† Strathmore shot back. â€Å"What?† â€Å"There is no unbreakable algorithm!† â€Å"Of course there is! I've seen it on the Internet! My people have been trying to unlock it for days!† â€Å"It's an encrypted virus, you fool-and you're damn lucky you can't open it!† â€Å"But-â€Å" â€Å"The deal is off!† Strathmore yelled. â€Å"I'm not North Dakota. There is no North Dakota! Forget I ever mentioned it!† He clamped the cellular shut, turned off the ringer, and rammed it back on his belt. There would be no more interruptions. Twelve thousand miles away, Tokugen Numataka stood stunned at his plate-glass window. His Umami cigar hung limply in his mouth. The deal of his lifetime had just disintegrated before his eyes. Strathmore kept descending. The deal is off. Numatech Corp. would never get the unbreakable algorithm†¦ and the NSA would never get its back door. Strathmore's dream had been a long time in the planning-he'd chosen Numatech carefully. Numatech was wealthy, a likely winner of the pass-key auction. No one would think twice if it ended up with the key. Conveniently there was no company less likely to be suspected of consorting with the U.S. government. Tokugen Numataka was old-world Japan-death before dishonor. He hated Americans. He hated their food, he hated their customs, and most of all, he hated their grip on the world's software market. Strathmore's vision had been bold-a world encryption standard with a back door for the NSA. He'd longed to share his dream with Susan, to carry it out with her by his side, but he knew he could not. Even though Ensei Tankado's death would save thousands of lives in the future, Susan would never have agreed; she was a pacifist. I'm a pacifist too, thought Strathmore, I just don't have the luxury of acting like one. There had never been any doubt in the commander's mind who would kill Tankado. Tankado was in Spain-and Spain meant Hulohot. The forty-two-year-old Portuguese mercenary was one of the commander's favorite pros. He'd been working for the NSA for years. Born and raised in Lisbon, Hulohot had done work for the NSA all over Europe. Never once had his kills been traced back to Fort Meade. The only catch was that Hulohot was deaf; telephone communication was impossible. Recently Strathmore had arranged for Hulohot to receive the NSA's newest toy, the Monocle computer. Strathmore bought himself a SkyPager and programmed it to the same frequency. From that moment on, his communication with Hulohot was not only instantaneous but also entirely untraceable. The first message Strathmore had sent Hulohot left little room for misunderstanding. They had already discussed it. Kill Ensei Tankado. Obtain pass-key. Strathmore never asked how Hulohot worked his magic, but somehow he had done it again. Ensei Tankado was dead, and the authorities were convinced it was a heart attack. A textbook kill-except for one thing. Hulohot had misjudged the location. Apparently Tankado dying in a public place was a necessary part of the illusion. But unexpectedly, the public had appeared too soon. Hulohot was forced into hiding before he could search the body for the pass-key. When the dust settled, Tankado's body was in the hands of Seville's coroner. Strathmore was furious. Hulohot had blown a mission for the first time ever-and he'd picked an inauspicious time to do it. Getting Tankado's pass-key was critical, but Strathmore knew that sending a deaf assassin into the Seville morgue was a suicide mission. He had pondered his other options. A second scheme began to materialize. Strathmore suddenly saw a chance to win on two fronts-a chance to realize two dreams instead of just one. At six-thirty that morning, he had called David Becker. Chapter 97 Fontaine burst into the conference room at a full sprint. Brinkerhoff and Midge were close at his heels. â€Å"Look!† Midge choked, motioning frantically to the window. Fontaine looked out the window at the strobes in the Crypto dome. His eyes went wide. This was definitely not part of the plan. Brinkerhoff sputtered. â€Å"It's a goddamn disco down there!† Fontaine stared out, trying to make sense of it. In the few years TRANSLTR had been operational, it had never done this. It's overheating, he thought. He wondered why the hell Strathmore hadn't shut it down. It took Fontaine only an instant to make up his mind. He snatched an interoffice phone off the conference table and punched the extension for Crypto. The receiver began beeping as if the extension were out of order. Fontaine slammed down the receiver. â€Å"Damn it!† He immediately picked up again and dialed Strathmore's private cellular line. This time the line began to ring. Six rings went by. Brinkerhoff and Midge watched as Fontaine paced the length of his phone cable like a tiger on a chain. After a full minute, Fontaine was crimson with rage. He slammed down the receiver again. â€Å"Unbelievable!† he bellowed. â€Å"Crypto's about to blow, and Strathmore won't answer his goddamn phone!† Chapter 98 Hulohot burst out of Cardinal Guerra's chambers into the blinding morning sun. He shielded his eyes and cursed. He was standing outside the cathedral in a small patio, bordered by a high stone wall, the west face of the Giralda tower, and two wrought-iron fences. The gate was open. Outside the gate was the square. It was empty. The walls of Santa Cruz were in the distance. There was no way Becker could have made it so far so quickly. Hulohot turned and scanned the patio. He's in here. He must be! The patio, Jardin de los Naranjos, was famous in Seville for its twenty blossoming orange trees. The trees were renowned in Seville as the birthplace of English marmalade. An eighteenth-century English trader had purchased three dozen bushels of oranges from the Seville church and taken them back to London only to find the fruit inedibly bitter. He tried to make jam from the rinds and ended up having to add pounds of sugar just to make it palatable. Orange marmalade had been born. Hulohot moved forward through the grove, gun leveled. The trees were old, and the foliage had moved high on their trunks. Their lowest branches were unreachable, and the thin bases provided no cover. Hulohot quickly saw the patio was empty. He looked straight up. The Giralda. The entrance to the Giralda's spiral staircase was cordoned off by a rope and small wooden sign. The rope hung motionless. Hulohot's eyes climbed the 419-foot tower and immediately knew it was a ridiculous thought. There was no way Becker would have been that stupid. The single staircase wound straight up to a square stone cubicle. There were narrow slits in the wall for viewing, but there was no way out. David Becker climbed the last of the steep stairs and staggered breathless into a tiny stone cubicle. There were high walls all around him and narrow slits in the perimeter. No exit. Fate had done Becker no favors this morning. As he'd dashed from the cathedral into the open courtyard, his jacket had caught on the door. The fabric had stopped him mid stride and swung him hard left before tearing. Becker was suddenly stumbling off balance into the blinding sun. When he'd looked up, he was heading straight for a staircase. He'd jumped over the rope and dashed up. By the time he realized where it led, it was too late. Now he stood in the confined cell and caught his breath. His side burned. Narrow slats of morning sun streamed through the openings in the wall. He looked out. The man in the wire-rim glasses was far below, his back to Becker, staring out at the plaza. Becker shifted his body in front of the crack for a better view. Cross the plaza, he willed him. The shadow of the Giralda lay across the square like a giant felled sequoia. Hulohot stared the length of it. At the far end, three slits of light cut through the tower's viewing apertures and fell in crisp rectangles on the cobblestone below. One of those rectangles had just been blotted out by the shadow of a man. Without so much as a glance toward the top of the tower, Hulohot spun and dashed toward the Giralda stairs. Chapter 99 Fontaine pounded his fist into his hand. He paced the conference room and stared out at the spinning Crypto lights. â€Å"Abort! Goddamn it! Abort!† Midge appeared in the doorway waving a fresh readout. â€Å"Director! Strathmore can't abort!† â€Å"What!† Brinkerhoff and Fontaine gasped in unison. â€Å"He tried, sir!† Midge held up the report. â€Å"Four times already! TRANSLTR's locked in some sort of endless loop.† Fontaine spun and stared back out the window. â€Å"Jesus Christ!† The conference room phone rang sharply. The director threw up his arms. â€Å"It's got to be Strathmore! About goddamn time!† Brinkerhoff scooped up the phone. â€Å"Director's office.† Fontaine held out his hand for the receiver. Brinkerhoff looked uneasy and turned to Midge. â€Å"It's Jabba. He wants you.† The director swung his gaze over to Midge, who was already crossing the room. She activated the speaker phone. â€Å"Go ahead, Jabba.† Jabba's metallic voice boomed into the room. â€Å"Midge, I'm in the main databank. We're showing some strange stuff down here. I was wondering if-â€Å" â€Å"Dammit, Jabba!† Midge came unglued. â€Å"That's what I've been trying to tell you!† â€Å"It could be nothing,† Jabba hedged, â€Å"but-â€Å" â€Å"Stop saying that! It's not nothing! Whatever's going on down there, take it seriously, very seriously. My data isn't fried-never has been, never will.† She started to hang up and then added, â€Å"Oh, and Jabba? Just so there aren't any surprises†¦ Strathmore bypassed Gauntlet.†

Living alone abroad Essay

Living in a foreign country can be an experience both exhilarating and daunting. A t the same time, it would be new challenge and memorable days, these will not be ordinary days. People who live away from their countries usually face some effect, and this essay aims to mention the three most common effects of living in a foreign country that can change people’s personal lives. One of the consequences of living abroad, is the difficult time one has to undergo by being far from his family and hometown. Living away from your family sometimes makes you feel homesick. Especially, when you face up some issues which you are unable to resolve and you have nobody to support you . That would make you realize how valuable your family is. The second main effect is acquiring the culture and traditions of foreign societies. Living abroad would allow you to wander in values and habits which are totally different of yours. Thus, it will be an opportunity to develop your opinion about the new societies and different opinions that will make you be able to achieve the truth knowledge.. The third and perhaps most important effect is personal development and learning a new language. Living away from home ,makes you more confident and independent . You have to do everything and solve your problem by yourself. you have to be responsible of organizing your life and achieving your goals. In addition, you have to be able to learn a new language to communicate with people in the foreign country. Living far from family could be sometimes difficult in your life, but on the other hand it would lead you to get new knowledge, such as how to accept cultures and traditions of other societies.