Space rock on way, but don't panic yet

From theage.com.au
by Daniel Dasey

SCIENTISTS have identified an asteroid that has a faint chance of ploughing into the Earth, leaving a two-kilometre-wide crater and wiping out life for 6000 square kilometres.

The asteroid measures 130 metres across and is travelling at 70,000 km/h. It would cause huge devastation if it hit the planet.

Called 2007 VK184, the space rock is 90 million kilometres from Earth and could hit in 2048. It has earned a rare hazard rating of "one" on the Torino scale, the international barometer of space object impact risk.

But while asteroid experts last week warned of the tremendous damage such a collision would cause, they were hopeful the risk of impact would diminish as more was discovered about VK184's path.

"The chances are that the probability (of an impact) will come back down to close to zero," said astronomer Gordon Garradd, who has identified numerous asteroids and works at the Siding Springs telescope in Coonabarabran, 450 kilometres north-west of Sydney.

He said VK184 had been observed for only 35 days and, given its distance from Earth and the long time until a possible impact, more readings were necessary to determine if a collision was a possibility.

NASA's Near Earth Object Program website says VK184 is travelling at 19 kilometres a second. It has a 1-in-3030 chance of hitting the planet in 2048.

The object's Torino scale rating of one (out of a possible 10) signifies it has a tiny chance of collision with Earth and that there is no cause for public concern. Every other known object that will approach Earth this century has a zero rating.

If the object struck Earth it would be up to three times worse than the asteroid that hit Russia in 1908.

'Test tube universe' hints at unifying theory

By Roger Highfield, Science Editor

A "universe in a test tube" that could be used to assess theories of everything has been created by physicists.

Time is running out - literally, say scientists" Are we missing a dimension of time? Are dark forces at work in space? The test tube, the size of a little finger, has been cooled to a fraction of a degree above the lowest possible temperature, absolute zero, which is just over 273 degrees below the freezing point of water. Inside the tube an isotope of helium (called helium three) forms a "superfluid", an ordered liquid where all the atoms are in the same state according to the theory that rules the subatomic domain, called quantum theory. What is remarkable is that atoms in the liquid, at temperatures within a thousandth of a degree of absolute zero, form structures that, according to the team at Lancaster University, are similar those seen in the cosmos. "In effect, we have made a universe in a test tube," says Richard Haley, who did the work with Prof George Pickett and other members of the "Ultra-low Temperature Group." The Holy Grail of physics is to establish an overarching explanation to unite all the particles and forces of the cosmos. But one of the complaints commonly levelled at a leading contender for a "theory of everything", called string theory, is that it is impossible to test. But now, according to the study in the journal Nature Physics, it may be possible using the universe in a test tube. "It was a serendipitous discovery," says Haley. The equations used to describe this superfluid turn up in many other branches of physics. "For instance, the internal structure of the superfluid mirrors very closely the structure of space-time itself, the 'background' of the universe in which we live," says Haley. "Consequently the superfluid can be used to simulate particle and cosmic phenomena; black holes, cosmic strings and the Big Bang for instance. "This is great for testing theories, since the equations describing helium-3 are well-established enough to say that it is the most complex system for which we already have the 'Theory of Everything'," Haley continues. "If the analogous experiments don't work in helium-3, then it's probably time to go back to the drawing board (or computer) with your latest pet theory." Since the pioneering work of Albert Einstein, the quest for a theory of everything has depended on combining theories of the very small (quantum theory) and the very large (relativity). One of the strangest features of such theories is that they require the universe to have more than three spatial dimensions to unify our picture of all forces and all matter. One promising candidate is supersymmetric string theory, in which ripples on strings are interpreted as particles. But, to their surprise, physicists found five superstring theories. Now the Lancaster experiments provide new insights into the phenomena predicted by these theories. For the past three decades it has been known that strings are one member of a bigger class of objects called branes, which exist in higher dimensional space, that could be extended in more than one dimension - from strings of one dimension, to membranes of two dimensions, to those of p dimensions, dubbed p-branes. Moreover string theories and p-branes are facets of one underlying 11-dimensional M theory, which suggests that we live in a brane world: a four-dimensional surface, or brane, in a higher dimensional mixture of space and time. People and most particles move in the brane, while the higher dimensions provide a framework to unify all forces, from gravity to those that act between atomic particles. While experiments have begun to highlight cracks in the current best theory, called "the standard model", there is evidence that M theory's extra hidden dimensions could be revealed next year when a Geneva atom smasher - the £4.4 billion Large Hadron Collider - begins experiments. But the Lancaster team offers another route to address this impasse. One idea is that a collision between a brane and an antibrane could have triggered the Big Bang itself. This can now be simulated in superfluid helium within the little test tube.

Percival Chapter Five

Dr. Stevenson just finished scrubbing the shampoo into his hair when he heard the phone ring. He stepped out and tried to locate the phone that was ringing Beethoven’s seventh symphony. He hoped it wasn’t the hospital but if it was they would have tried his pager on the bathroom sink first. Dripping water all over the tiled floor, he dug into his jean pockets, and flipped the phone open.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi, Philip. This is Percival.”

“Oh, hey, what’s up?”

“I was wondering if we could meet today? Maybe after work?”

“Sure. Is everything alright?”

“Yea. I’m fine. I just need to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

“I’d like to talk face to face. “

“Alright. I’m not working the late shift, so let’s meet at the hospital around ten.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

By the time the conversation ended and he got back in, the shower had turned cold. He ducked his head quickly under the water and then toweled himself off.
The conversation on the phone troubled him. Percival wouldn’t call unless something big was bothering him. He was always a little too protective over Percival and considered him like a son. That first time they had met was as clear as it just happened.

He had begun his internship at a small orphanage for sick and dieing children and one day a small three-yea-old boy comes scampering in through his office door.

“What’s your name, little fellow?” Philip said as the child climbed into a chair.

“Percival,” replied the child. He looked back at the nurse who followed him in. “Am I gonna get a shot? I hate shots.”

“I’m just going to take some blood,” he said to the young boy and the nurse left. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Well, it ain’t true,” Percival said. He crossed his arms and his eyebrows scrunched together.

“They say that you’re a miracle.” He pulled out a packaged needle and latex gloves from a closed. “They also say you’re pretty smart.”

“If that’s true then why am I living here? And why do you wear gloves around me? It’s because I’m sick. That’s what this place is for, dieing kids.”

“Let’s see if we can’t make you better then,” he said and slid the needle into Percival’s arm. The young boy’s face winced as he filled the needle with blood.

“I hate needles.”

“Almost done,” he said. “There done.”

Percival hopped off the chair and pulled down the sleeve to his shirt.. On Wednesdays, a special courier from Kermises came by to pick up his samples.

“Can I go?”

“Yes. You can go.”

That memory brought back nostalgia from the orphanage days. Those times were so calm and relaxing compared to his job at the hospital which is so demanding, constantly having to be everywhere at once that it seems he doesn’t have enough hours in the day to do everything. Those days at the orphanage were special. He felt like he was making a difference, changing the world.

Dr. Stevenson paraded around the bedroom of his condominium, looking for a clean uniform for his up-coming shift and stopped in front of his small television on his dresser displaying Channel Three’s weatherman, as the man pointed at a moving jet stream.

“It’s going to be a great day today. Forget your coat because the low pressure system is…..”

He suddenly remembered that he had a bag of old clothes he had meant to give to Percival. He always gave him things he didn’t use anymore and it made him feel good to help him out. A few coats and shirts were stuffed inside a black garbage bag in his closet, so he took the bag and tossed it down the stairs and into the foyer.

Those orphanage days weren’t always a tie of the shoe, there were times when he would lose a child, those hit him more than when he loses a patient now. His guidance came from the senior doctor of Scottsdale, Mr. Othertin, a giant of a man with the softest of hearts. He treated each dieing child with an uncanny ability of becoming a child himself. The most downtrodden child became entranced by the act put on by him. They would sit on the examination table in their gown and Dr. Othertin would stick his head deep within the cupboards.

“Let’s see. Hmm. I know I put my glasses in here,” he’d say and he’d rattle the medicine bottles inside. “I need my glasses. I can’t operate without them. My eyes aren’t the same without them.”

Then he’d twirl around and look at the child with black framed glasses with the eyeballs that bobbed out. The child screamed and jumped. He’d remove the glasses and a huge smile would wash the anxiety from the child.

Susie Atkins, the cutest three-year-old that you could imagine, was the root of his departure from the orphanage. She became orphaned because her family had snuck over the Mexican border to work and she was born a few months after. The doctors discovered that she had cancer. Her parents asked for help but couldn’t prove that they were legal residents. They were moments away from deportation when they dropped Susie off at Scottsdale with a typed letter that explained that she’d have the best chance of surviving here.

Everyday Susie would play blocks near the main doors and when Philip came in, she would be the first to run up and greet him. She lived for three years after she arrived but the cancer killed her.

Dr. Othertin, being the intuitive man, noticed right away that Philip had slipped into depression over Susie’s death, and when they were both alone in Dr. Othertin’s office, he sat him down.

“I’ve been working here for thirty-six years now, and I’ve seen too many deaths. I can remember my first one, Daniel Brasko, a cute kid, bright as hell, came here from the orphanage down in Brassletown when they found out that he had a tumor in his brain. He spent three months here but it overcame him to fast and he died in my arms up at Memorial Hospital. You never really get over the first one, nor the tenth, but soon it starts to normalize. You grow numb.”

“It just seems useless. We’re fighting a losing cause,” he said.

“These kids lack hope and hope is the most powerful remedy. I’ve seen things that I can’t explain here. There was a child named Samantha…Gerber…no it was Garber. Yes, Samantha Garber. She stayed here from eighty-two to eighty-three and when she came to me she looked like she only had a few days to live, so we transferred her to Memorial. The nurses and I would go over there and fill her room with balloons and buy a birthday cake everyday, and sing happy birthday to her. The doctors there were amazed at the remission of the cancer. After a month in the hospital, the cancer was almost gone. When she left Scotsdale, she said that the reason she was alive today was because when she was in the hospital, she didn’t want to miss her birthday party.”

Dr. Othertin’s advice helped him through that trying time which all doctors have to deal with. He was right though, you never get over it, you just become numb to it.

Pervival Watkins provided the biggest contribution to where Philip was today. He gave hope to everyone at Scotsdale. The nurses took to him as if he was one of their own, and he was. Some of the nurses had their own families but they spent most of their time at Scotsdale, and with that time they built a strong relationship with everyone.

Percival instilled the motivation that drove Philip and when Percival turned fifteen, Philip received an offer from The Memorial Hospital that he couldn’t refuse and took the job. He knew that leaving Scotsdale would devastate Percival, and it did the same to him.

Philips slapped the mayonnaise on the top slice of bread of his ham sandwich, smoothing the slices together. He needed to get something in him before he had to go. He bit off a chunk, opened the fridge and took out the half gallon of milk, popped the cap off, and drank from the container.

He finished off the sandwich. And after fetching a fresh uniform from the hamper next to the basement stairs, he went to his bedroom and put it on. The news blared in the background, but he ignored it as he buttoned up his shirt and hurried out the door.

As he shut his door and turned the knob, to be certain it was locked, he saw his neighbor, Bernard, a retired dentist, on his hands and knees with half his body deep inside a bush nearest his front door. Bernard, at the sound of the door shutting, backed out and looked up at him, through misty goggles.

“Have you heard the mice again last night. I think they’re coming in through the laundry duct.” He’d been going on about mice for over two months now but Philip hadn’t heard or seen a single mouse.

“I still haven’t heard them,” Philip said.

“You did set up those traps that I gave you? If you don’t use those traps, then it’s useless.” A month ago, Bernard knocked on his door and gave him a box of twenty mouse traps, the decapitating ones. He never set them up, because he thought Bernard was a little crazy.

“Oh yes. I set them up all over the house. Don’t you worry. I’ve got to go to work now,” he said, waving to him and Bernard crawled back under the bush.

The reason why he bought this particular condominium was that it was only a few minutes away from The Memorial Hospital and Philip wouldn’t need to feel rushed getting to work. He hated the long hours of the job, working between ten to eighteen hours a day. When he was done with his shift, he felt extremely tired and mentally drained. He wanted to do things that would calm him down that usually found him at home reading a book, he’d get through a book in about a week. He tried his hand at painting but was terrible at it, but he always thought of himself as a non-practicing artist. And in fact, when he was going to college during his first semester, he was thinking about becoming an art major. He hated the idea of college, a civil servant machine that would pop in a free spirited teenager and pop out a cop, or a teacher and if you stayed in the machine long enough out plopped a microbiologist. But his adolescent bubble of resistance vaporized and he went into medical school and popped out a doctor.

Even before he got into his red Honda Civic, Philip focused on the three patients he would deal with today, Mrs. Patty Reynolds who has a brain tumor, Mr. Snyder a long time smoker dieing from lung cancer and Debbie Tenorson who also is diagnosed with lung cancer. The test results should come in today and he had to go over to the mail room and get the results. He prayed for good news, he liked to see them smile and hated having to find the nicest words to downplay the bad news. That was the hardest part of his job, Mr. So-And-So, you’re tumor has remitted itself and now we are going to use, then he’d place in a long technical term for an operation. Let them know that I‘m in control of the situation.

He turned the car on and pulled out of the driveway, knowing full well that he had no control over anything, including his own life.

Pulling into the entrance of the Memorial Hospital, he parked around back where the doctors had their own spots. Philip’s was the third row back, two rows behind the elite parking spots designated with name plates.

Upon entering the hospital, he headed toward the mailroom, where his test results would be. The mailroom was a gathering place for most of the doctors starting their shifts. They’d mill around in groups in the large room, idly chatting with each other about their patients. Dozens of young enthusiastic people in well pressed suits sold handed out brochures of new medicines they were lobbying.

They had stuck his mailbox in the far back of the room, so he had to pass everyone to get there. Halfway there s hand squeezed his shoulder and he turned to see who it was.

“Here is a promising young man,” said Mr. Crawford, the president of the hospital. “He practically lives here.”

The four men Mr. Crawford talked to were typical pharmaceutical employees, dressed in fancy suits and wielding a seven million dollar smile.

“This is Mr. Stevenson. He works in our Cancer division. And he is a very close friend to our own Mr. Watkins,” Mr. Crawford continued.

“Now this is a pleasant surprise. We’ve heard so much about Percival but we haven’t gotten to know you,” said one of the men. “The name’s Bill Ashland. You can call me Bill.” They shook hands.

“Glad to meet you to,” he replied, looking the three men over.

“We’re from Newsburg Corporation. We’re introducing a new drug, that should be passed this month by the FDA. Have you heard about it Dr. Stevenson? It’s called Luthramiatine.”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Of course we’re naming it Luthratine, it’s losing the mia, and it’s going to be called, The Cute Blue Pill,” said the man standing to the right of Bill.

“So how’s Percival doing? Is he still working for Kermises?”

“He’s fine. Nothing new. He still goes to Kermises.”

“Well, if you see Percival, you give him this,” said the third gentleman. He held out a business card and Philip took it, stuffing it into his large light blue doctors coat. “Kermises, has their heads up their own asses.” They all laughed, including Mr. Crawford, which surprised Philip, since he had seen some Kermises employees talking to him just the other day.

“Their drug, Oxicocotin, is being recalled. Did you hear that? It shrinks the brain,” said Bill. “They’re going to get sued so bad, that they’ll file for chapter eleven soon.”

“I did hear something about that but I didn’t know Kermises made the drug, wasn’t it Fresco,” said Philip. They just had a press conference on the news this Tuesday.

“Fresco is a subdivision of Kermises. They were gobbled by Kermises in ninety-two,” said Bill.
“I was meaning to introduce them to Percival, but he doesn’t work today,” said Mr. Crawford. “He has a shift tomorrow. I’m sure that he would be happy to talk with you guys though. Don’t you think, Stevenson?”

“I don’t know. I’m just his doctor,” he replied. He felt bad for Percival. He didn’t like these companies. “I’ll see him in two weeks for a check up. If there is anything you wanted to tell him, I’ll do it then. I do have to go. I’ve got an appointment to get to. Nice to meet you.”

He turned and headed back into the hallway and towards for the elevators. Getting off on the third floor he went to the receptionist’s desk. His office was just down the hall but as he passed by the first office, a female’s voice called out to him, “Philip, are you going to sign those papers I put on your desk?”

He stopped and backpedaled, and ducked his head into Trish’s office. She was a bright pretty woman in her mid-forties. They had a flirtatious relationship and even went out on a few dates. Nothing came from it and they wanted to remain friends, since they work so closely.

“I haven’t even looked at them yet but I promise I’ll get it done today.”

“Alright, but make sure you have them on my desk by seven. I‘m leaving then.”

He wanted to ask her what she had to do at seven but held back. It was weird, when they were together he didn’t feel they had any chemistry but during their current hands off status, he had eruptions of jealousy whenever she talked about other men around him. He was attracted to her, and he adored her green eyes, plush lips and fit built. They never did anything beyond kissing, not that Philip hadn’t pursued. She had shut that door before it had opened. That wasn’t the reason they stopped dating, on the contrary, the challenge to him was the most intriguing thing about her.

They came to that conclusion while having dinner one night, that since they both worked together, that they wouldn’t pursue the relationship. How could he meet anyone if he followed that rule? He spent most of his time at work and wasn’t the type of person that could approach an attractive woman and start up a conversation.

The papers he needed to look at dealt with the new machines coming into the laboratories. Philip had to sit through three boring lectures on the new technology. He just needed to sign on the line that he knew what the machines are for and that he knew the new safety procedures for them.

“They’ll be at your desk within the hour. So what are you up to tonight?” Right after he said it, he wanted the words back. Not that she didn’t know already that he was interested in her, practically the whole floor knew.

“I’ve got a business dinner to go to. Why?” she said with a coy smile.

“No reason really. Well, I got to go and check out some lab work. I’ll see you in an hour or so.” He ducked back into the hall, with his face blushing.

Outside his office door a plastic holder which held his incoming mail was stuffed with three large yellow envelopes. He scooped them up under his arm and opened the door. His small office barely fit his large desk, a filing cabinet that rose to his waist and a bookshelf filled with all the medical books he had accumulated. Everything was kept tidy, which was his habit. He didn’t mind being messy as long as it wasn’t seen by others. His desk held the only clutter but that was impossible to keep clean with the constant ebb of paperwork. He spotted Trish’s papers. A single window in the office was his only view out and it wasn’t a very pleasant view, overlooking the parking lot, but it was nice to have the sun shine in, so he pulled the blinds up.

Taking a seat, he began to read the memos on his desk, getting them done before his appointments. He skipped lines, just wanting to sign the them. He stroked his name on the designated. He then took out the lab results from his mailbox, holding the x-ray in the sunlight.

It revealed a block smudge, the cancer, growing instead of reseeding, which was the worst circumstance he could have received. He ripped open the second one and pulled out several blood test results with more bad news. He hesitated opening the last result and with a deep breath tore it open, looking at the tests results, wishing for good news only to be disappointed.

He had one hour before his first appointment, so he snatched the memo and went back to Trish’s office. She wasn’t there, so he placed it in her mailbox next to her door, wanting desperately to go home.

Getting Back On The Horse

I've been getting back to my novels again and put together a combat piece. Its a work in progress.



A cool breeze blew and cooled Akilion’s skin. Even in the Northern Mountains, the glaring sun baked him through his armor. He wiped at his forehead with a rag and batted his large grey gelding, edging him behind his fellow cavalry. The clinking of metal and stretching of leather drowned out all other sound. Each wore full plate mail with small wooden shields attached to their right arm and medium sized lances propped upwards. They were positioned along a ridgeline, keeping the larger footmen army to their right flank.

He put his rag away and fished out the sharpening stone from his saddlebags, sliding it across his bronze dagger he held across his lap. He had found it during a battle. Tripping over a dieing man, he had lost his sword. Laying there defenseless, he saw the sword that would soon take his life. The hulking Grandorian cocked the sword back and came at him with all his strength. Splashing in the mud, his right hand came upon the dagger’s hilt. With instinct, he swung the blade in a powerful arch and the Grandorian’s detached sword hand whacked him the chest, blood spraying his face.

The thing was worth coppers but it had saved his life numerous times and its worth was invaluable. Once sharpened and oiled, he slid it back into its sheath tied to his belt. His other blade, a long sword, was strapped to his back.

His commander, Jotel lifted his fist and the company halted. Everyone stiffened and eyed the area suspiciously. Only small brush and an occasional pine dotted the rocky incline. A whisper came down the line. The retreating Grandorian raiding party had just come around the bend of the road below them. Akilion whispered the command for the soldiers behind him.

Tightening his grip on the reins, he waited for the officer to give the signal. Men began to murmur prayers and he said his silently. The slow churning of wagon’s wheels echoed below and Akilion eased his sword in and out of scabbard.

The officer raised his hands and they surged forward with a ferocious battle cry. He roared by Jotel and began the steep decent. Akilion focused on the backside of the horse in front of him as a cloud of dust enveloped them. He could just make out the wagons coming around the bend of the road. Leaning forward for stability, he felt the sudden jar of even ground. Cries rose from the lead wagon and the swishing of arrows buzzed around him. Akilion put his wooden shield above his head, shielding his open slit of his helmet and settled his lance into place. With no visibility, he waited for the clash of steel. In an instant, he dodged a downed horse and aimed his lance at the nearest twelve foot shadow. The Gardenian deflected his lance with a massive stone broadsword. Akilion’s hand went numb from the collision and the lance fell from his hand. Digging in his spurs, he slid the sword from his back and moved out of striking distance, keeping his momentum.

Another giant human loomed near a wagon wheel and swung its sword, knocking the soldier Akilion was following from his saddle. Akilion swung at the enemy’s back but not before it drove its sword through the soldier’s breastplate. Spurring his horse, he coughed out a cloud of dust and wiped his dry eyes. Out from behind a wagon, a war hammer arched toward his head but Akilion had just enough time to move his sword to smack the shaft. The blow knocked his sword from his hands and the hammer struck his shoulder. He felt the armor cave in and began to fall from his saddle. Pulling with all his might on the reins, he gathered his balance but his steed came to an abrupt stop. The Gardenian saw his chance to finish him off and charged. Akilion’s hand shot for his dagger, the two foot curved blade slid from its sheath and he slammed it into the oncoming goliath’s bicep. It reared back in pain, the dagger still in its arm, and ripped it out. It picked up the war hammer that he dropped and gave a guttural yell. He had just raised it above his head before a lance caught it in the chest, carrying it twenty feet. It came to a stop at a wagon’s wheel. Taking a deep breath, he spurred his horse on, pulling out his last weapon, a dagger attached to his saddle and flailed at anything that moved.

He neared another ominous shadow at full gallop, and swung at it. He hit flesh and held on until the blade slipped free. As he blurred past, he felt a heavy thwack against his side. Looking down, an arrow shaft jutted from his abdomen. Shielding his face, he picked up speed and followed his companions through the entanglement of wagons. He pulled next to a fellow soldier, a young man whose back was riddled with arrows. He gave a nod to the young soldier, who nodded back and they broke free from melee and continued up the opposite hill. When they reached the crest, they turned around and waited for the rest of Calvary to reach the top. It took several minutes for the dust to settle and the battlefield to be seen. Bodies littered the wagons, some moaning with injuries. Akilion took the lull to check his side. Gripping the end closest to his body, he snapped off the shaft. A tendril of blood slithered down his silver armor and dripped to the ground.

Jotel, who brought up the rear, ordered several fresh recruits to go down and secure the area. The fifteen chosen men scampered down. Once halfway, a Gardenian popped out of the back of the wagon, firing a cross bolt into the first soldier. He dropped from his horse with a thud. The rest charged. Another Gardenian, playing dead, jumped up and the two giants aimed their crossbows and fired again, dropping two more. But once the charge over took them, it was over. They gave the all clear signal, the rest of the cavalry made their way down.

Lifting a lance from the chest of a moaning Gardenian, Akilion edged his steed around a large wagon, its payload covered by a tarp, to where he had dropped his copper dagger and retrieved it. He cut one of the ropes tying the canvas down and peeked inside. It held a jumble of metal objects, helmets, oil lamps, silverware and mugs. Next to the skittish horse pulling the wagon, he noticed a Gardenian, armless, face down in the dirt, and a sword underneath its massive body. Dismounting, Akilion yanked the sword from beneath the corpse. It had looked small near the Gardenian but fit nicely in his hand. It had excellent balance and he noticed the fine intricate design inlaid on the blade. He untied the scabbard from the Gardenian and tied it to his belt, slipping the blade in with a click.

Remounting, he joined the rest of the men in a the middle of the wagons. The new soldiers went to work clearing the dead. A Brotherhood member, in light purple, was helping several soldiers with wounds and Akilion dismounted and started detaching his armor. Removing the arrow head was painful and he nearly broke the block of wood the robed man had put in his mouth. Once the stitching was done and a solvent applied, he put his armor back on.

Staverent, a tall burly veteran soldier, came up to him, leaning on a silver long sword with a golden hilt shaped like a cat’s head. “You lucky beast,” he said, eyeing Akilion’s wound. “That’s a week off.”

Akilion barked a laugh and tightened the last latch to his breastplate. “This wound’s going to take at least two.”

Staverent riffled through his saddlebag, and pulled out a silver flask. After a long swig, he tossed it to Akilion. The thick liquor gave a refreshing burn as it worked his way down his throat. Its warmth felt good against the chill.

As the bodies began to pile up, Akilion was surprised to see some Careichens among the dead. They resided more to the deep wooded areas to the East. Their pale taught skin looked ominous on their lanky but normal size. Their auger eyes seemed to stare at you no matter where you stood. The soldiers disrobed them and piled their clothing in heaps. Their robes, made from the fibers of plants, were the best camouflage in the world. A huge pile of arrow shafts and bows had their own pile near the clothing.

Several loud blasts from a horn echoed through the valley. The beating of drums followed by the stomping of a hundred footmen thundered around the bend. Every soldier stopped what they were doing and watched as the flagmen and drummer boys came into view in front of the legion. The line stopped before they reached the wagons and Jotel, upon his mount, flanked by his bodyguard, waited for the general to emerge.

The general, clad in deep purple armor, rode to the front . Jotel saluted, fist to head and handed the general a rolled parchment. The general nodded, took it and said something to one of his lieutenants, a lanky fellow in polished chain mail. The man turned and barked a command to the footmen and they dispersed around the valley.

“Looks like we’re going to be moving on,” said Staverent, tucking his flask back into his saddle bag. “I hate camping with footmen. I’d like to move on before making camp.”

Akilion nodded in agreement. “To bad I’ll be heading back with the injured. Time to spend some of that pay.”

His friend smiled and pulled out a bundle from his bag, tossing it to Akilion. “Send this off when you get to town.”

Akilion looked down at a bundle of letters twined together. “No problem. Take care and I’ll bring you a sack of good tobacco when I get back.”

“Don’t take to long,” he said and rode around the pile of dead.

The Brotherhood were already placing the seriously injured onto the wagons and Akilion gathered his belongings and prepared for the long journey south.

The Christmas Clash

An hour after delivering presents, Santa touched down on the icy roof of a house and reached behind his sled to lift out several large presents. Waddling over to the chimney, he tossed them into the abyss. He reached for more and noticed Rudolf nosing a large inflatable Frosty.

“Rudolf get your nose out of there and give me some light,” he said, holding his list in air.

“We got trouble,” said Blitzen, just as Santa swung a leg over the edge.

“What is it?” yelled Santa. He looked at the roof across the street. There sat a sled with several antelopes attached to it. A man wearing a black and yellow suit tossed several presents down the chimney. “It can’t be.”

The stranger looked at him, his dark skin and shirt were hard to see making his bright yellow pants stand out, creating an image of a pair of floating pants.

“Kwanzaa Clause,” sputtered Donder. “We can take ‘em.”

Santa dashed for his list, checking it twice. The Gilmore’s were off his list. He scrolled down. The Kannetts and Flanagans were missing. Kwanzaa Clause waved, flashing his bright smile and got onto his sled and took off.

“I’ve just about had it with this guy,” said Santa, hopping into his sled and chasing after him.

Kwanzaa Claus turned around, noticing Santa creeping up. He gave the reins a stiff tug and the antelopes picked up speed.

“Come on, you lazy deer,” yelled Santa.

“Hey old man, lay off the reins. You’re killing my neck,” yelped Cupid. “Why do I have to be tied in the back?”

“They’re pulling away,” shouted Santa.

“Drop some weight,” exclaimed Prancer.

Santa emptied his bag over the edge of the sled and they started to gain on them. Soon they were side by side and Kwanzaa Clause wore an antagonistic grin. Santa veered into his lane. Kwanzaa Clause grasped the reins slamming into the side of the sled. Santa gathered up momentum and swung again slamming the sleds together. This time Kwanzaa Clause fell over, holding on by the reins. The antelopes veered to the right sharply and they crashed into a snow bank.

As they passed overhead, Kwanzaa Clause shook his fist at him. Santa held his belly and gave a jolly laugh. "Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas."

CIA agent alleged to have met Bin Laden in July

French report claims terrorist leader stayed in Dubai hospital

Anthony Sampson
Thursday November 1, 2001
The Guardian

Two months before September 11 Osama bin Laden flew to Dubai for 10 days for treatment at the American hospital, where he was visited by the local CIA agent, according to the French newspaper Le Figaro.

The disclosures are known to come from French intelligence which is keen to reveal the ambiguous role of the CIA, and to restrain Washington from extending the war to Iraq and elsewhere.

Bin Laden is reported to have arrived in Dubai on July 4 from Quetta in Pakistan with his own personal doctor, nurse and four bodyguards, to be treated in the urology department. While there he was visited by several members of his family and Saudi personalities, and the CIA.

The CIA chief was seen in the lift, on his way to see Bin Laden, and later, it is alleged, boasted to friends about his contact. He was recalled to Washington soon afterwards.

Intelligence sources say that another CIA agent was also present; and that Bin Laden was also visited by Prince Turki al Faisal, then head of Saudi intelligence, who had long had links with the Taliban, and Bin Laden. Soon afterwards Turki resigned, and more recently he has publicly attacked him in an open letter: "You are a rotten seed, like the son of Noah".

The American hospital in Dubai emphatically denied that Bin Laden was a patient there.

Washington last night also denied the story.

Private planes owned by rich princes in the Gulf fly frequently between Quetta and the Emirates, often on luxurious "hunting trips" in territories sympathetic to Bin Laden. Other sources confirm that these hunting trips have provided opportunities for Saudi contacts with the Taliban and terrorists, since they first began in 1994.

Bin Laden has often been reported to be in poor health. Some accounts claim that he is suffering from Hepatitis C, and can expect to live for only two more years.

According to Le Figaro, last year he ordered a mobile dialysis machine to be delivered to his base at Kandahar in Afghanistan.

Whether the allegations about the Dubai meeting are confirmed or not, the wider leaks from the French secret service throw a worrying light on the rivalries and lack of coordination between intelligence agencies, both within the US and between western allies.

A familiar complaint of French intelligence is that collaboration with the Americans has been essentially one-way, with them happy to receive information while giving little in return.

Intelligence deputy to America: Rethink privacy

WASHINGTON (AP) -- As Congress debates new rules for government eavesdropping, a top intelligence official says it is time that people in the United States change their definition of privacy.

Privacy no longer can mean anonymity, says Donald Kerr, the principal deputy director of national intelligence. Instead, it should mean that government and businesses properly safeguard people's private communications and financial information.

Kerr's comments come as Congress is taking a second look at the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act.

Lawmakers hastily changed the 1978 law last summer to allow the government to eavesdrop inside the United States without court permission, so long as one end of the conversation was reasonably believed to be located outside the U.S.

The original law required a court order for any surveillance conducted on U.S. soil in order to protect Americans' privacy. The White House argued that the law was obstructing intelligence gathering because, as technology has changed, a growing amount of foreign communications passes through U.S.-based channels.

The most contentious issue in the new legislation is whether to shield telecommunications companies from civil lawsuits for allegedly giving the government access to people's private e-mails and phone calls without a FISA court order between 2001 and 2007.

Some lawmakers, including members of the Senate Judiciary Committee, appear reluctant to grant immunity. Suits might be the only way to determine how far the government has burrowed into people's privacy without court permission.

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• Bush: Surveillance bill must not hamper fight against terrorism

The committee is expected to decide this week whether its version of the bill will protect telecommunications companies. About 40 wiretapping suits are pending.

The central witness in a California lawsuit against AT&T says the government is vacuuming up billions of e-mails and phone calls as they pass through an AT&T switching station in San Francisco, California.

Mark Klein, a retired AT&T technician, helped connect a device in 2003 that he says diverted and copied onto a government supercomputer every call, e-mail, and Internet site access on AT&T lines.

The Electronic Frontier Foundation, which filed the class-action suit, claims there are as many as 20 such sites in the U.S.

The White House has promised to veto any bill that does not grant immunity from suits such as this one.

Congressional leaders hope to finish the bill by Thanksgiving. It would replace the FISA update enacted in August that privacy groups and civil libertarians say allows the government to read Americans' e-mails and listen to their phone calls without court oversight.

Kerr said at an October intelligence conference in San Antonio, Texas, that he finds it odd that some would be concerned that the government may be listening in when people are "perfectly willing for a green-card holder at an [Internet service provider] who may or may have not have been an illegal entrant to the United States to handle their data."

He noted that government employees face up to five years in prison and $100,000 in fines if convicted of misusing private information.

Millions of people in this country -- particularly young people -- already have surrendered anonymity to social networking sites such as MySpace and Facebook, and to Internet commerce. These sites reveal to the public, government and corporations what was once closely guarded information, like personal statistics and credit card numbers.

"Those two generations younger than we are have a very different idea of what is essential privacy, what they would wish to protect about their lives and affairs. And so, it's not for us to inflict one size fits all," said Kerr, 68. "Protecting anonymity isn't a fight that can be won. Anyone that's typed in their name on Google understands that."

"Our job now is to engage in a productive debate, which focuses on privacy as a component of appropriate levels of security and public safety," Kerr said. "I think all of us have to really take stock of what we already are willing to give up, in terms of anonymity, but [also] what safeguards we want in place to be sure that giving that doesn't empty our bank account or do something equally bad elsewhere."

Kurt Opsahl, a senior staff lawyer with the Electronic Frontier Foundation, an advocacy group that defends online free speech, privacy and intellectual property rights, said Kerr's argument ignores both privacy laws and American history.

"Anonymity has been important since the Federalist Papers were written under pseudonyms," Opsahl said. "The government has tremendous power: the police power, the ability to arrest, to detain, to take away rights. Tying together that someone has spoken out on an issue with their identity is a far more dangerous thing if it is the government that is trying to tie it together."

Opsahl also said Kerr ignores the distinction between sacrificing protection from an intrusive government and voluntarily disclosing information in exchange for a service.

"There is something fundamentally different from the government having information about you than private parties," he said. "We shouldn't have to give people the choice between taking advantage of modern communication tools and sacrificing their privacy."

"It's just another 'trust us, we're the government,"' he said.

Malaria moves in behind the loggers

Deforestation and climate change are returning the mosquito-borne disease to parts of Peru after 40 years

Map: Where malaria occurs in South America (pdf)

Andrés Schipani in Mazán and John Vidal
Tuesday October 30, 2007
The Guardian

The afternoon is hot and sticky on the banks of the Napo river, an arm of the Amazon, but Claudio, a logger, is shivering in his creaky wooden bed.

"I feel bad, very bad, pain all over my body, fever, high fever, shudders," he says. "I have malaria; this is the 17th time so far. I don't know what to do any more."

The mosquito-borne illness has returned to the many villages only accessible by boat in the Peruvian Amazon, inflicting on the inhabitants days of fever, permanent anaemia and - in the worst cases - death.

Article continues

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In Peru, malaria was almost eradicated 40 years ago, but this year 64,000 cases have been registered in the country, half in the Amazon region. It is thought there are many more unregistered cases deep within the massive and humid rainforest, where health authorities find it almost impossible to gain access.

"Malaria is present. There have been 32,000 cases this year in this area alone - that says malaria is very much present," said Hugo Rodríguez, a doctor at the Andean Health Organisation, which is fighting malaria in border areas of Peru, Ecuador, Colombia and Venezuela.

His organisation distributes mosquito nets to some villagers, spreading the message through the area that the illness is dangerous and - where they can identify the cases - helping in post-infection treatment.

"Now we are not talking about eradicating malaria any more, as that is impossible and unsustainable; we are doing our best to try and control it," he added.

Climate change and deforestation are behind the return of malaria in the Peruvian Amazon.

Off-season rain is altering the pattern of mosquito development, leaving puddles containing the lethal larvae in areas where malaria had been nonexistent.

"The actual malaria problem of the Peruvian Amazon is caused by constant climate changes," said biologist Carlos Pacheco, head of the mosquito control unit in Iquitos, the regional capital south of Mazán.

And deforestation is having a similar effect, forcing the mosquito to move to new areas and spreading the disease to places where people are not aware of the disease, where villagers lack the means to get hold of mosquito nets and preventive medicines, and where health authorities have no presence.

"Every time we fight the mosquito, we feel we are fighting against a much more evolved and adaptable one, one that can easily migrate to areas that were clean of malaria before and that are very hard to access," said Mr Pacheco.

Two scientific reports last year linked malaria with deforestation. Peruvian researchers found that frontier areas cleared of trees for logging, settlements, roads, farming or mining were far more likely to harbour malaria-carrying mosquitoes.

In one Peruvian study, researchers said the biting rate of mosquitoes in deforested areas was nearly 300 times greater than in virgin forests. Increases in human population density had no impact on biting rates.

The insects lay their eggs and thrive in open, sunlit pools of water. Roadbuilders dig channels and culverts which become blocked, silt washes off farmland blocking streams, and opencast mines and new settlements create ideal breeding grounds.

Anyone who catches malaria in the Amazon region has few opportunities for treatment. Even in the most densely populated areas, there are few health centres.

Loggers are the mosquitoes' main victim.

"The districts with the higher logging activity are the critical ones, making the disease there to be almost impossible to control," said Dr Rodríguez.

"It is very hard to access the areas where the clearing of the rainforest occurs and these people are not conscious of the risks and once infected - and sometimes because of the illegality of this activity - loggers are very reluctant to get treated by health authorities."

Alongside the Amazon river and its many tributaries, poverty-stricken loggers like Claudio move deep into the rainforest, in areas where malaria is prevalent, without taking any precautions and for meagre wages.

Pointing at his neighbour's one-year-old son who is recovering from the disease, Arquímedes of the village of Manacamiri near Iquitos said: "Here most people suffer from this disease, from malaria.

"There are no other diseases like this, no other problems like this here ... We have now become the malaria zone."

Behind him, the bank of the low Nanay river seems nothing more than a mud puddle with mosquitoes buzzing around.

"Children, elderly, how many deaths we already had," said Arquímedes.

"At the beginning we had no idea what it was, and it was malaria ... there is not a single day without a malaria patient."

Mukasey Won’t Say Waterboarding Is Torture But in 1947 the U.S. Called It a War Crime, Sentenced Enemy Officer to 15 Years Hard Labor

Posted by Jon Ponder | Oct. 29, 2007, 12:30 pm

Immoral Relativism: George Bush’s nomination of Michael Mukasey for U.S. attorney general — once thought to be smooth sailing — is experiencing a bit of turbulence. The problem is, Mukasey can’t bring himself to say whether or not waterboarding is torture:

During his confirmation hearings earlier this month, Mukasey said he believes torture violates the Constitution, but he refused to be pinned down on whether he believes specific interrogation techniques, such as waterboarding, are constitutional.

“I don’t know what’s involved in the techniques. If waterboarding is torture, torture is not constitutional,” he said.

But after World War II, the United States government was quite clear about the fact that waterboarding was torture, at least when it was done to U.S. citizens:

[In] 1947, the United States charged a Japanese officer, Yukio Asano, with war crimes for carrying out another form of waterboarding on a U.S. civilian. The subject was strapped on a stretcher that was tilted so that his feet were in the air and head near the floor, and small amounts of water were poured over his face, leaving him gasping for air until he agreed to talk.

“Asano was sentenced to 15 years of hard labor,” Sen. Edward M. Kennedy (D-Mass.) told his colleagues last Thursday during the debate on military commissions legislation. “We punished people with 15 years of hard labor when waterboarding was used against Americans in World War II,” he sai

Mukasey’s non-answer has raised doubts among Democrats, and even some Republicans, on the Senate Judiciary Committee:

[The] Democrats on the committee signed a joint letter to Mukasey, making sure that he knew what’s involved, and demanded an answer to the question as to whether waterboarding is torture.

Then two days later, the doubts grew louder. Two key Democrats, Senate Judiciary Committee Chairman Patrick Leahy (D-VT ) and Sen. Dick Durbin (D-IL) both said publicly that their votes depended on Mukasey’s answer to the waterboarding question.

Then it was Sen. John McCain (R-AZ) who saw an opening after Rudy Giuliani refused to call waterboarding torture (”It depends on who does it.”). Most certainly it’s torture, McCain said. When pressed, he stopped short of saying that he would oppose Mukasey’s nomination if he didn’t say the same, but he added to the chorus of those who professed to be interested in what Mukasey’s answer to follow-up questions will be.

Yesterday, Sen. Lindsay Graham (R-SC) said that if Mukasey “does not believe that waterboarding is illegal, then that would really put doubts in my own mind.”

Rep. Arlen Specter (R-PA) has also thrown in his lot of doubts and concerns.

Of course, if the past is a guide, Mukasey will easily win nomination, and nearly all these senators who have expressed concern will vote for him.

Waterboarding has become an isssue because the Bush White House signed off on it as an interrogation technique — and thus moved the United States into the company of pariah states that permit torture — after the 9/11 attacks.

Pervical Chapter Four

Percival watched as Clarrisa closed the door and listened to her high-heels clip-clop down the steps. He ruffled his hands through his hair, and paced on the linoleum floor of the kitchen, thinking to himself that he should have said something, anything, like ‘I love you’, but did he love her? How could he tell? All he knew was that he liked spending time with her. She made him feel good, and he wanted her. Was it lust or could it be just that it was some form of forbidden fruit. What he needed was to find a nice girl with AIDS and settle down. He felt wrapped in Saran Wrap because he couldn’t get physically intimate.

He could still feel the heat from her lips. It wasn’t like he had never touched her, but he couldn’t put a finger on why letting someone enter the inside of a body was so important. He had fought the impulse for so long but the welling of sex overwhelmed his senses and he couldn’t think straight.

He laid on the bed and stared at the fake wood wall and tried to calm down. In the middle of one of the wooden panes were two distinct eyes, formed from two large round knots in the wood, and they looked ominously at him. The eyes pierced him.

“Alright. I love her,” he told the eyes. So be it, he was in love.

He needed to make reservations for Saturday, so he slid a few quarters off the nightstand and headed to the main office where several payphones were. The young receptionist sat behind her desk, gossiping on the phone as he entered. She chomped on her gum with the phone nestled on her shoulder and she stared blankly at a game show on a small black and white television.

Four payphones lined the right side wall. He put his change into one of them, which was titled, For a Good Time Call Sarah at 555-6784. He had an itching to call the number but instead uncrumpled a ripped corner of the phonebook, where he had written the number to the restaurant.

“Hello. My name is Larry, may I help you?” answered the man on the other end.

“Hi, my name is Percival Watkins and I would like to place a reservation for two for this Saturday,” he said.

“We have an open spot at seven.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“I will need your telephone number, sir.”

“555-2901,” he said and gave him the number to the main office. “Just ask for the Penthouse.”

“Oh, thank you very much, and we’ll be happy to see you.”

“Thank you.” He hung the phone up. The receptionist looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He turned and was almost near the door when she called out.

“You the person renting out #?”

“Yea that’s me.”

“Well you had got a phone call about an hour ago but I couldn’t get you. It’s from a…” She looked down at a sheet of paper. “a Philip.” She picked up a small note and handed it to him.
“He didn’t say if it was important, so I wasn’t to persistent.”
“Thanks,” he said and left.

It was to late to get in touch with Philip now, he would be in the middle of his shift, so he would have to get in touch with him when he got home from the hospital. He was glad that Philip had called because he needed to talk to him about Clarrisa. What he needed right now was some sound advice that he could trust. Since he didn’t have to work at the hospital today, the rest of the day was free for him to play around with.

Once inside his room, he headed straight for the toilet, leaving the door wide open and scoured a pile of old magazines near the plunger beside the toilet. Nothing there was worth reading, so he held his pants up with one arm and waddled to his book bag near his bed, where he had a magazine, which he had grabbed from the hospital waiting room. When he sat back down on the commode, he flipped through what appeared to be a liberal news magazine called The Ritchous Defactos. He scanned through the table of contents when he came across: Pharmaceutical Company Tests New Drug On African Children page forty three .

On that page a huge black and white photograph of a dieing African child that wore a Pepsi tee-shirt and mud encrusted shorts, clutching a rag doll, and he sat with a look of helplessness on his face. The scene behind him was of a back alley, where garbage piled high in numerous trashcans and on top of one of the cans was the South African flag. He began to read the article, which talked about several large pharmaceutical companies that used experimental drugs on the children there. Over eighty percent of the children developed malformities or died because of it and the companies weren’t taking responsibility. When they named Keiser, anger welled inside him, he was affiliated with them and possibly helped produce some of those hideous drugs. It was more important then ever to talk to Philip.

Continent-size toxic stew of plastic trash fouling swath of Pacific Ocean

Justin Berton, Chronicle Staff Writer

Friday, October 19, 2007

At the start of the Academy Award-winning movie "American Beauty," a character videotapes a plastic grocery bag as it drifts into the air, an event he casts as a symbol of life's unpredictable currents, and declares the romantic moment as a "most beautiful thing."

To the eyes of an oceanographer, the image is pure catastrophe.

In reality, the rogue bag would float into a sewer, follow the storm drain to the ocean, then make its way to the so-called Great Pacific Garbage Patch - a heap of debris floating in the Pacific that's twice the size of Texas, according to marine biologists.

The enormous stew of trash - which consists of 80 percent plastics and weighs some 3.5 million tons, say oceanographers - floats where few people ever travel, in a no-man's land between San Francisco and Hawaii.

Marcus Eriksen, director of research and education at the Algalita Marine Research Foundation in Long Beach, said his group has been monitoring the Garbage Patch for 10 years.

"With the winds blowing in and the currents in the gyre going circular, it's the perfect environment for trapping," Eriksen said. "There's nothing we can do about it now, except do no more harm."

The patch has been growing, along with ocean debris worldwide, tenfold every decade since the 1950s, said Chris Parry, public education program manager with the California Coastal Commission in San Francisco.

Ocean current patterns may keep the flotsam stashed in a part of the world few will ever see, but the majority of its content is generated onshore, according to a report from Greenpeace last year titled "Plastic Debris in the World's Oceans."

The report found that 80 percent of the oceans' litter originated on land. While ships drop the occasional load of shoes or hockey gloves into the waters (sometimes on purpose and illegally), the vast majority of sea garbage begins its journey as onshore trash.

That's what makes a potentially toxic swamp like the Garbage Patch entirely preventable, Parry said.

"At this point, cleaning it up isn't an option," Parry said. "It's just going to get bigger as our reliance on plastics continues. ... The long-term solution is to stop producing as much plastic products at home and change our consumption habits."

Parry said using canvas bags to cart groceries instead of using plastic bags is a good first step; buying foods that aren't wrapped in plastics is another.

After the San Francisco Board of Supervisors banned the use of plastic grocery bags earlier this year with the problem of ocean debris in mind, a slew of state bills were written to limit bag production, said Sarah Christie, a legislative director with the California Coastal Commission.

But many of the bills failed after meeting strong opposition from plastics industry lobbyists, she said.

Meanwhile, the stew in the ocean continues to grow.

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch is particularly dangerous for birds and marine life, said Warner Chabot, vice president of the Ocean Conservancy, an environmental group.

Sea turtles mistake clear plastic bags for jellyfish. Birds swoop down and swallow indigestible shards of plastic. The petroleum-based plastics take decades to break down, and as long as they float on the ocean's surface, they can appear as feeding grounds.

"These animals die because the plastic eventually fills their stomachs," Chabot said. "It doesn't pass, and they literally starve to death."

The Greenpeace report found that at least 267 marine species had suffered from some kind of ingestion or entanglement with marine debris.

Chabot said if environmentalists wanted to remove the ocean dump site, it would take a massive international effort that would cost billions.

But that is unlikely, he added, because no one country is likely to step forward and claim the issue as its own responsibility.

Instead, cleaning up the Great Pacific Garbage Patch is left to the landlubbers.

"What we can do is ban plastic fast food packaging," Chabot said, "or require the substitution of biodegradable materials, increase recycling programs and improve enforcement of litter laws.

"Otherwise, this ever-growing floating continent of trash will be with us for the foreseeable future."

Monkey attack kills Delhi leader

by BBC News

The deputy mayor of the Indian capital Delhi has died a day after being attacked by a horde of wild monkeys.

SS Bajwa suffered serious head injuries when he fell from the first-floor terrace of his home on Saturday morning trying to fight off the monkeys.

The city has long struggled to counter its plague of monkeys, which invade government complexes and temples, snatch food and scare passers-by.

The High Court ordered the city to find an answer to the problem last year.

Solution elusive

One approach has been to train bands of larger, more ferocious langur monkeys to go after the smaller groups of Rhesus macaques.

The city has also employed monkey catchers to round them up so they can be moved to forests.

But the problem has persisted.

Culling is seen as unacceptable to devout Hindus, who revere the monkeys as a manifestation of the monkey god Hanuman, and often feed them bananas and peanuts.

Urban development around the city has also been blamed for destroying the monkeys' natural habitat.

Mr Bajwa, a member of the opposition Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), is survived by his wife and a son, according to the Press Trust of India news agency.

Top 10 Most Unusual College Degrees

By ScholarPoint Connect

We talk to a lot college students here at ScholarPoint and have seen a very wide range of different college majors. We’re often blown away by some of the weird degrees we hear about. Here’s a list of some of the more unusual ones that we’ve come across.

1. Master Ranching – Showing up to college wearing spurs and riding a horse probably isn’t the best idea, unless you go to Texas A&M-Kingsville’s Institute for Ranch Management. The university is offering the first ever master degree program for ranchers. What was once a profession passed on from generation to generation is now getting sophisticated enough that it may actually require an MBA. Go figure. Graduates can expect salaries in the $50,000-$75,000 range.

2. Astrobiology – ET phone home. The University of Glamorgan in the UK offers a degree in Astrobiology, which is the search for life beyond earth. So if hunting for alien life is your thing consider a career in Astrobiology.

3. Retail Floristry – I bet you never thought working at your local flower shop required a college degree. Well, it probably doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean you can’t major in Retail Floristry anyway. Career opportunities are a step above working the cash register and include wholesaling, special event designing, and display gardening. This program is offered through Mississippi State University and graduates can expect a 90% job placement rate.

4. Professional Nanny – Sullivan University in Louisville Kentucky offers a professional nanny program, which prepares graduates to work in private residences, day care centers, children’s hospitals, and country clubs. This is a perfect career for those girls who grew up babysitting all the neighborhood kids that now want to make more than $2 per hour.

5. Sports Ministry – Graduates from this program are prepared for positions in non-profit organizations seeking to use sports as an avenue for teaching religion. This program is offered through Campbellsville University in Campbellsville Kentucky.

6. Adventure Recreation – Do you like snowboarding, scuba diving, ice climbing, or whitewater rafting? If you answered yes, perhaps you should consider doing what you love for a job and start by making it your college major. Green Mountain College in Vermont is offering major and minor programs in Adventure Recreation, which aims to place graduates in a variety of outdoor recreation careers such as those listed above.

7. Golf & Sports Turf Management – Just because you were never good at football doesn’t mean you can’t make it your job. Only you’ll be repairing the grass they tear apart every week. The course curriculum offered by Mississippi Sate University will prepare you for a career as a golf superintendent or a sports turf manager at city, school, and professional sports arenas. Graduates in this field also enjoy a 90% job placement rate.

8. Comedy: Writing and Performance – Here’s a degree program that actually requires “ a great sense of humor” as an admission requirement. Humber College in Canada offers this program to help naturally talented students hone their craft and learn the commercial side of the business. Students learn stand-up, improv, scriptwriting, and sketch comedy.

9. Organic Agriculture – Organic foods make up more than 2.5% of all food and drink sales nationwide and have been increasing by 20% per year since 1990. This makes organic farming an attractive career opportunity. This is the first organic agriculture major in the nation and is offered through Washington State University.

10. Fishing Sciences and Management – This masters program is offered by Colorado State University and focuses on fish populations for recreational and commercial fishing purposes to ensure adequate conservation and utilization. If nothing else the courses on fish psychology should at the very least help you catch more fish.

'Second Earth' found, 20 light years away

• Ian Sample, science correspondent

Scientists have discovered a warm and rocky "second Earth" circling a star, a find they believe dramatically boosts the prospects that we are not alone.The planet is the most Earth-like ever spotted and is thought to have perfect conditions for water, an essential ingredient for life. Researchers detected the planet orbiting one of Earth's nearest stars, a cool red dwarf called Gliese 581, 20 light years away in the constellation of Libra.

Measurements of the planet's celestial path suggest it is 1½ times the size of our home planet, and orbits close to its sun, with a year of just 13 days. The planet's orbit brings it 14 times closer to its star than Earth is to the sun. But Gliese 581 burns at only 3,000C, half the temperature of our own sun, making conditions on the planet comfortable for life, with average ground temperatures estimated at 0 to 40C. Researchers claim the planet is likely to have an atmosphere. The discovery follows a three-year search for habitable planets by the European Southern Observatory at La Silla in Chile.

"We wouldn't be surprised if there is life on this planet," said Stephane Udry, an astronomer on the project at the Geneva Observatory in Switzerland.

Two years ago, the same team discovered a giant Neptune-sized planet orbiting Gliese 581. A closer look revealed the latest planetary discovery, along with a third, larger planet that orbits the star every 84 days. The planets have been named after their star, with the most earthlike called Gliese 581c. The team spotted the planet by searching the "habitable zone".

Percival Chapter Three

Clarrisa paid no attention to the hungry eyes of men sitting in front of her, clutching their one dollar bills. Cigarette smoke swirled into the ceiling fans as she danced to a rap song blaring through the loudspeakers at the Playas Gentlemen’s Club. Her buzz from the hard liquor had kicked in a half hour ago but she still pivoted gracefully on her high heals. She worked her way around the stage, placing their dollars in her garter. When the song stopped she moved to one of the three brass poles on stage.

The pounding bass of the next song reverberated the dark club and vibrated the pole in her arms. She threw her legs around the pole and flipped upside down. The faces of the men looked more interesting while upside down and in this position she could look into their eyes. They shined with lust, carnal. She removed her bra while upside down and threw it behind her, the men clapped. Slipping to the earth, she let her hands touch the ground and her feet came touched the stage.

Once again she made her rounds. A man folded a dollar in his ear, another folded his in the shape of a teepee, and a man in his late fifties waved his in the air. The song ended and she snatched her outfit and headed backstage.

“Give it up for Candi Cane,” shouted Freaky-Nick from behind a glass window.

Clarrisa emerged backstage in the dressing room with five other strippers working the lunch shift, Rosie, Penelope, Sam, Katie, and Hilda from Sweden. Katie, a short brunette and a small round face, waited behind the curtain to make her way on stage before introductions.

“Next on the stage is Blossom. Give it up for Blossom,” shouted Freaky-Nick.

“Nice spin,” said Katie and she rushed onstage.

Clarrisa stepped down into the changing room where the girls were chatting and drinking. No one went on stage sober, maybe some of the new girls, it’s one of the first things a stripper learns. Sam, the oldest one there and Clarrisa’s roommate, waved as she leaned against the empty seat next to her.

“I’m going to head out for awhile, Sam. I’ll be back at five for my next shift.”

“You’re going to see that guy again aren’t you? What’s his name?” asked Sam, as she tapped a rolled dollar bill against her chin.

“Percival. And yes, I’m going over.”

Sam smiled, turned around and faced the mirror. Clarrisa picked up her duffle bag which contained her clothes, spilled the contents on the floor and riffled through it, picking out a pair a blue jeans and a Mighty Ducks tee-shirt. As she put her leg through a pants pocket, the door on the opposite side of the dressing room opened and Santiago lumbered in with two men trailing him. Santiago wore his favorate fur coat, while his companions looked like they came out of Foot Locker, wearing bright basketball jerseys and baggy jeans where the crotch came down to their knees.

“Hey, ladies,” said Santiago. “I want you to meet Cash Roll and D-Dub. These cats are the newest artist signed to my Gratuatuous label.”

“What’s up,” said D-dub, the one to his right, as he puffed on a joint. The kid couldn’t be older then eighteen.

“We’re having a party this weekend at my house. You are all going. The girls from Utopia too, so no complaining.” Santiago turned to Clarissa as she pulled her tee-shirt over her head. “Where are you going?”

“I’m hungry. I’ll be back for the nightshift.”

He moved to her, put his hand under her chin and tilted her head up towards his.

“Alright sugar, but don’t you be late.”

Santiago opened the door and left the way he came in and Cash looked over at Hilda pointed and said, “I’ll see you later.”

As soon as they left, Clarrisa stuffed all her clothes back into the bag and waved goodbye to Sam. All she could think about was leaving and didn’t look back as she hurried out the door and over to the bus stop

While she sat on the bench, Percival popped into her head. He’s a nice kid but they’re kidding themselves about their relationship, though it felt good to have someone take care of you. He saw past all her idiocyncracies and to the person underneath all the shit, where a little girl resides that never had a chance to grow up.

The bus squeeled to a stop and she climbed the stairs, finding an empty seat in the back. For years now she couldn’t sleep because of horrible nightmares but they have subsisted since meeting Percival. The only time she slept soundly before him was when she shot up. It was a liberating feeling.

The bus bounced down the busy streets until her stop. She dodged the other passengers, minding not to step on anyone’s feet as she got off. Once outside, she hiked the mile to the motel. The sun blazed down and not a cloud mired the sky. Being cooped up in that lousy bar all day made her body crave the outside.

She remembered when she was young and her mom moved from the city to the suburb that she got to explore the woods in the enormous backyard. Clarrisa wandered for hours until hearing her mother yell for her, then she would run back. The concrete walls of the buildings surrounding her felt like an enclosed room with the sky as the only window.

The motel popped into view around the bend of the road. When there, she climbed the stairs. Percival kept his door unlocked for her, so she entered.

“Percival,” she called but no reply came. She threw her pocket book onto the floor and went over to the fridge to see if one of the several takeout containers were still good. She gave one a sniff before finding a clean fork and chomped down on some raviolis.

Percival mentioned to her the other day that he had to go to his other job, something to do with helping out in a science lab but he should’ve been home by now. She turned on the television and watched her soup opera.

Her favorite character, Herzel loyde, had become entangled in an illicit love affair with a man that was in love with another. Her lover had just died but she just found out that she is pregnant with his child. She didn’t know why this made her think about Percival and their own relationship; they hadn’t kissed yet. When she finished eating, she tossed the container in the overflowing garbage can.

The door sprang open and Clarrisa jumped. Percival rushed in with a bright smile on his face. He carried a large shopping bag, but when he saw her, he hid the bag behind his back.

“I got you a gift but I don’t want you to see it yet, so turn around.”

She got excited and turned around. She loved gifts. Her fondest memories of her childhood were of Christmas morning.

“What is it?” She bounced with excitement.

He took out the dress and hid it under a pile of dirty clothes and placed a pair of jeans inside the bag.

“I don’t want you to sneak a look at it so I’m putting it under the sink. When he passed her, she looked over her shoulder trying to catch a glimpse at the contents inside, but his shoulders shielded the bag, as he bent to put it under the sink. He got up and kissed her on the cheek.

“You’ve got to tell me what it is?” she begged.

“Only if you promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“That you will go to dinner with me this Saturday.”

“Of course. Now tell me what it is?”

“It’s an outfit for you to wear.”

“Really. Can I look at it?” She moved to the sink without his answer. When he didn’t answer, she opened the cabinet and pulled out the bag. Her heart sank as she pulled out a dirty pair of jeans with one leg inside out. “What is this?”

He didn’t want to disappoint her but he also wanted to see her try it on for the first time on Saturday.

“I’m going to give it to you on Saturday. So you’re going to have to wait, but I promise that you’re going to love it.”

She smiled and kissed him on the lips. Never in a million years did she think she would find love. He had a way of making her feel special.

“Oh shit. What time is it?” she asked and realized that she had to be at the club for the next shift.

He looked at his watch and said, “Three forty-five. Why?”

“I’ve got to work tonight. I’ll be here around three.” She felt bad leaving as soon as he got home but she didn’t want to piss off Santiago. She grabbed her purse and kissed Percival again on the lips.

“Bye. I love you.” She felt relieved to say it but was scared how he would take it but it just came out.

“Bye. I…’ll see you at three then.”

As she closed the door, she hoped she didn’t push it too far that he was going to run. During the walk to the bus stop, she thought about if he was going to break up with her. Maybe he wouldn’t be there when she got back. She would walk into an empty motel room with a simple note that said: Not ready for this. Have a nice life.

The bus’s brakes squealed to a stop and she waited for everyone else to get on first before she got on. She dreaded going back to her job. Maybe she could get a job as a waitress, something more respectable. She’d been doing this for three years now, and was considered a veteran. But she knew that another job wouldn’t pay her the same and she got her heroine cheap from Santiago. If she left she’d have to pay for it at normal price and wouldn’t be able to pay her rent. She felt trapped. She tried to quit once, but she relapsed a week later. She pleaded her roommate to take her to a rehab but Sam wouldn’t.

The bus came to a stop near the strip joint and she followed several men out the door. A few of the women eyed her as she got off. It was almost five and she hurried inside, she didn’t want to piss Santiago off.

She entered the back door and D-Dub leaned against the hallway and looked at the closed office door, which meant Santiago was inside doing business. He bobbed his head and acknowledged her, and she scooted around him and hurried into the changing room. There were twice as many women here then earlier in the day. The constant chatter of women sounded like a flock of swarming geese. Clarrisa went over to her duffle bag and started getting changed. The concoction of thumping of rap music and twenty screaming drunk strippers filled the room. Bottles of alcohol passed from hand to hand and when a bottle of Jack Daniels reached her, she took a big gulp and felt the comforting burn in her chest.

“Clarrisa, you’re starting out at the bar, then working the side stage,” said Sam, as she handed her a rolled dollar bill.

“Alright, you’re working the same shift as me?” she said and bent down to look at the mirror.

“As always. I’ll meet you out at the bar.”

Clarrisa was ready to go, as she slid her feet into her high heels. Sam followed her to the bar. Their job was to talk to the men, try to turn them on and get them to have a lap dance. She’d sit at the bar and talk to some old construction worker, who just got out of work, coax him to buy her a drink and then talk to him. It was interesting to listen to how they talked, coming up with huge tales to impress her like how much money they had or that they knew the next big thing that’s going to make them a millionaire. Then there’s the locals, who knew all the strippers by name. Old Harry Zubanks, who gets so drunk that he’d pass out during a lap dance. Then there’s the rowdy Terry Schapel, who would pick fights with other patrons who he thought were hitting on his stripper for the night. There’s also the upstanding Leon Dubieruck, who always came dressed in his lawyers outfit. He’d sit around, sip on his hard liquor and spend his money on only one stripper for the night.

They were as comfortable here as if they were at there own homes. A wave of the hand and there usual drink got placed right in front of them. Sam walked over to two men playing pool and grabbed the pole away from the man standing there waiting for his turn. When his companion missed his shot, she bent over, wiggling her butt in the air and took the shot for him.

Clarrisa was now in her Candi persona. She leaned close to Leon’s ear and whispered, “Can I bum a cigarette from you, love?”

“Why sure, sweet cakes,” he said, and knocked the pack against his palm and a single cigarette popped out. “Here you go, my dear.”

“Why, thank you.” She placed it between her lips and bent down to light it with a match he just lit. Giving the pool stick back. “How long have you been here?”

He swiveled his barstool around and faced her. “Since four. I closed shop early tonight. Can I get you something?”

She squeezed between him and another gentleman that stared somberly into his draft beer. He looked like a truck driver to her. As she rubbed up against him, he turned around, glancing at her body rather than into her eyes. She was used to that, especially since she had on such a revealing outfit. But he turned back towards his beer.

“I’ll have a long island iced tea,” she said to Hilda, who ran the bar tonight. Leon slid a twenty across the bar.

She puffed on her cigarette and leaned over the bar, trying to catch the attention of the truck driver, but he didn’t pay her any mind and continued to look downcast into his now empty glass. She noticed that he twisted his wedding ring around, not taking it off, but rotated it.

“Why don’t I take your mind off your wife for awhile?” she said to the man. He looked taken aback.

“Is it that clear?”

“Yes. You look like a someone shot your dog. Why don’t I take you into the V.I.P. room? Maybe that will cheer you up.”

“I don’t think so,” he said and leaned closer to her and put his hand out. “My names Chris.”

“Candi. Well than, maybe you can watch me when I’m on stage?” she said and shook his hand.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Santiago enter from the side door, followed by an entourage of eight men. One of the men was Santiago’s drug dealer. He wore a purple suit and twirled a white cane. Several of Santiago’s bodyguards loomed around him and eyed the crowd. They herded into the V.I.P. section, and Erckel, a scrawny boy, used by Santiago as an errand boy, ran up to the bar and ordered four bottles of crystal. His real name’s Eric but Santiago named him Erckel because it fit the kid’s dorky demeanor.

Hilda produced the four bottles from a special refrigerated lockbox underneath the bar. The kid bear hugged the bottles and slalomed through the crowd and back into the V.I.P. room.

Clarrisa watched Erckel so much that she didn’t even see D-dub behind her, until he tapped her on the shoulder. She twirled around with her drink in hand.
“You were here earlier? What’s your name?”

“Candi,” She said and sipped on her drink through the straw.

“Yea that’s right. Well your coming with me,” he said and tossed a hundred dollar bill and let it bounce off of her breasts and drift to the ground. “That should make you mine for an hour.”

“Where to sweetheart?” She picked up the bill.

He took her hand and led her into the V.I.P. room. Black lights filled the room with a purple glow. The walls were lined with leather sofas, built right onto the walls, and mirrors filled every space other then the door on the other side of the room that led into what the strippers called the black hole, where what happens in that room doesn’t leave that room. Several women gyrated their bodies over patrons sitting on the sofas.

They walked across the room and knocked on the door to the black hole. One of the large bodyguards opened the door and let them in. The black hole was just as big as the V.I.P room but had a big screen television, lounge area, a large pool table and a personal stage for private strippers. Santiago sat on a recliner and yelled at the basketball players on television. D-dub led her to a plush couch and pulled out a huge roll of twenties held together by a blue rubber band. Clarrisa started dancing to the music being pumped in through huge speakers in all four corners.

Yale scientists make 2 giant steps in advancement of quantum computing

Over the past several years, the research team of Professors Robert Schoelkopf in applied physics and Steven Girvin in physics has explored the use of solid-state devices resembling microchips as the basic building blocks in the design of a quantum computer. Now, for the first time, they report that superconducting qubits, or artificial atoms, have been able to communicate information not only to their nearest neighbor, but also to a distant qubit on the chip.

This research now moves quantum computing from “having information” to “communicating information.” In the past information had only been transferred directly from qubit to qubit in a superconducting system. Schoelkopf and Girvin’s team has engineered a superconducting communication ‘bus’ to store and transfer information between distant quantum bits, or qubits, on a chip. This work, according to Schoelkopf, is the first step to making the fundamentals of quantum computing useful.

The first breakthrough reported is the ability to produce on demand — and control — single, discrete microwave photons as the carriers of encoded quantum information. While microwave energy is used in cell phones and ovens, their sources do not produce just one photon. This new system creates a certainty of producing individual photons.

“It is not very difficult to generate signals with one photon on average, but, it is quite difficult to generate exactly one photon each time. To encode quantum information on photons, you want there to be exactly one,” according to postdoctoral associates Andrew Houck and David Schuster who are lead co-authors on the first paper.

“We are reporting the first such source for producing discrete microwave photons, and the first source to generate and guide photons entirely within an electrical circuit,” said Schoelkopf.

In order to successfully perform these experiments, the researchers had to control electrical signals corresponding to one single photon. In comparison, a cell phone emits about 1023 (100,000,000,000,000,000,000,000) photons per second. Further, the extremely low energy of microwave photons mandates the use of highly sensitive detectors and experiment temperatures just above absolute zero.

“In this work we demonstrate only the first half of quantum communication on a chip — quantum information efficiently transferred from a stationary quantum bit to a photon or ‘flying qubit,’” says Schoelkopf. “However, for on-chip quantum communication to become a reality, we need to be able to transfer information from the photon back to a qubit.”

This is exactly what the researchers go on to report in the second breakthrough. Postdoctoral associate Johannes Majer and graduate student Jerry Chow, lead co-authors of the second paper, added a second qubit and used the photon to transfer a quantum state from one qubit to another. This was possible because the microwave photon could be guided on wires — similarly to the way fiber optics can guide visible light — and carried directly to the target qubit. “A novel feature of this experiment is that the photon used is only virtual,” said Majer and Chow, “winking into existence for only the briefest instant before disappearing.”

To allow the crucial communication between the many elements of a conventional computer, engineers wire them all together to form a data “bus,” which is a key element of any computing scheme. Together the new Yale research constitutes the first demonstration of a “quantum bus” for a solid-state electronic system. This approach can in principle be extended to multiple qubits, and to connecting the parts of a future, more complex quantum computer.

However, Schoelkopf likened the current stage of development of quantum computing to conventional computing in the 1950’s, when individual transistors were first being built. Standard computer microprocessors are now made up of a billion transistors, but first it took decades for physicists and engineers to develop integrated circuits with transistors that could be mass produced.

Parallel universes exist

Parallel universes really do exist, according to a mathematical discovery by Oxford scientists described by one expert as "one of the most important developments in the history of science".

The parallel universe theory, first proposed in 1950 by the US physicist Hugh Everett, helps explain mysteries of quantum mechanics that have baffled scientists for decades, it is claimed.

In Everett's "many worlds" universe, every time a new physical possibility is explored, the universe splits. Given a number of possible alternative outcomes, each one is played out - in its own universe.

A motorist who has a near miss, for instance, might feel relieved at his lucky escape. But in a parallel universe, another version of the same driver will have been killed. Yet another universe will see the motorist recover after treatment in hospital. The number of alternative scenarios is endless.

It is a bizarre idea which has been dismissed as fanciful by many experts. But the new research from Oxford shows that it offers a mathematical answer to quantum conundrums that cannot be dismissed lightly - and suggests that Dr Everett, who was a Phd student at Princeton University when he came up with the theory, was on the right track.

Commenting in New Scientist magazine, Dr Andy Albrecht, a physicist at the University of California at Davis, said: "This work will go down as one of the most important developments in the history of science."

According to quantum mechanics, nothing at the subatomic scale can really be said to exist until it is observed. Until then, particles occupy nebulous "superposition" states, in which they can have simultaneous "up" and "down" spins, or appear to be in different places at the same time.

Observation appears to "nail down" a particular state of reality, in the same way as a spinning coin can only be said to be in a "heads" or "tails" state once it is caught.

According to quantum mechanics, unobserved particles are described by "wave functions" representing a set of multiple "probable" states. When an observer makes a measurement, the particle then settles down into one of these multiple options.

The Oxford team, led by Dr David Deutsch, showed mathematically that the bush-like branching structure created by the universe splitting into parallel versions of itself can explain the probabilistic nature of quantum outcomes.
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