Intuition and Decision-Making Essay Example for Free

Intuition and Decision-Making Essay This paper basically talks about intuition and leadership and takes into account the intuitive decision making that the leaders take into account while making decisions where adequate knowledge is not available or where there are time constraints. There are a lot of arguments regarding this intuitive decision making by leaders where some people argue that it should not be like that as they may turn out to be wrong and others hold to the fact that at times intuitions lead to the right decision as leaders have this ability to analyze all the available information and make the decision on it along with using their past experience and expertise. The paper will first start by defining what actually intuition is and what makes leaders to promote or prevent decision making using intuitions. Then the paper will take a leaders point of view regarding decision making and how they bring in account all the available information to come up with a decision. In the end, the report will compare decisions made on intuitions with the decisions made upon logical reasoning in order to give a better knowledge to the readers regarding the two concepts and terminologies. Defining Intuition Starting with the report, we all know what decision making is, however, it will be helpful for us to know what exactly intuitions are on which leaders tend to make their decisions on. Intuitions are basically the ability of a person to actually judge or perceive an appropriate outcome without using reasoning and adequate information for that. The word is actually derived from a Latin word that means to â€Å"look inside† and that is exactly what we are talking about in this report. While using intuitions, leaders are able to look into the matters, problems or situations without even making an effort to gather or probe into the matter or its complexities (Aqor, 1986). With intuition, leaders actually tend to break into the thickness of the surface reality through their gutt-feeling, a feeling from inside that may be based on their past experience, a fear based interpretation or the actual leadership quality in their personality. What promotes or prevent leaders from using intuitions Moving on, as we have realized that intuitions are feelings, emotions or responses that are based on your own abilities, thus, it is not always true that they are right, they can also be wrong. A leader may be good in doing so in a lot number of instances but still, he is not sure whether his next intuitive decision will actually lead to the same positive results. Every important matter has its own requirements to mitigate risks and probing into complexities, thus for that purpose leaders do need appropriate information in order to come up with their decisions. However, many leaders fear this because of the fact that there personal bias in shape of their previous good or bad experience to a similar problem can actually influence their decision to a great extent. This personal bias or personal judgment that we are talking about is basically based on personal abilities or past experiences and has very less to do with analyzing the current information that is available (Williams, 2001). Thus, leaders do fear with their intuitive decision making that it can actually make them make a wrong decision. On the other hand, there are instances, where leaders have to take charge of the matter and make decisions on just a small amount of information or at times no information. These are situations where there time and resource constraints and decisions have to be taken. There, the best thing a leader can do to save time and resources in gathering all the relevant information and risk factors is to use intuitive decision making approach. A leader is a qualified team member who is chosen because of his ability to look at things with a broader and a next level thought process, thus team members also tend to conform with their this ability and promote them to take such decision. An example of such decisions can be taken as sales predictions after a natural calamity or a sudden fall in the stock market. Although, the demand would fall due to these circumstances, but it might be the other way round for a leader who is looking at the matter with a different approach using his intuitive decision making ability. Role of decision-making to a leader’s position Moreover, a leader is the person who is actually held responsible for all the actions of his team. His team basically conforms to his decisions and relies on his orders and directions because they also accept him as more capable in decision making and his abilities to solve problems and handle situations. Thus, with all this responsibility, a leader has to make sure that his decisions are correct and the best interest of the project and the team he is looking after. Any false decision can cost him and his team a failure of project. When we talk in management terms, we see that one thing that is always argued is the fact that decisions made upon inadequate information are mostly wrong. However, when we look into the practical world of leaders, can we say that leaders always have the right amount of information at the right time and at the right place? Obviously not is the answer to this question because of the fact that if all information would have been made available to the team, then there was no need of a leader to make decisions. In that case just a checker or manager would have done the job of a leader (Aqor, 1986). But, when we look at the decision making role of a leader, he has to make a large number of decisions everyday for which he might not have all the information and which won’t allow him much time to think upon them otherwise he will have to compromise all other important things that he and his team has to complete. A leader, as we have already discussed is chosen because of his special abilities, and this intuitive decision making skills is a part of them. Although on the surface we might say that while intuitively making decisions, a leader does not takes into account all the information, but he is actually thinking with a different angle and approach using his abilities that other team members cannot(Bealer,1998). Difference between decisions made with logical reasoning and decisions made with intuition In the last part of this report we will now discuss the difference between logical decision making and intuitive decision making. Logical decision making involves a high level of reasoning and data that is analyzed in order to come up with a decision. this approach is mostly advocated by most of the critics because of the fact that through this type of decision making, a leader tends to take into account and mitigate a large number of threats and risks which he might not through intuitive decision making. However, this type of a decision making approach may require more time and resources to come up with the decision (Williams, 2001). Also these decisions are mostly based on the theoretical knowledge and proven facts. For example, as we have seen in a number of stock markets that when people with logical reasoning were un-holding their stocks with losses, there were some others as well who were actually earning by using their intuitive knowledge. On the other hand, as we have discussed above that while making intuitive decisions, a leader might not take much time to make those decisions as they are usually made in circumstances where there are time constraints. Moreover, a leader uses his abilities to reconcile his past experiences and trends to come up with the decision rather than core number, figures and theoretical knowledge only.  Another major difference between the two is that both the types of decisions can actually go in the opposite directions as well as we have already discussed above in the stock market example(Giannini Rhodes,1978). Conclusion Thus, the report will conclude the discussion with an argument that no one can actually say whether intuitive decision making is good or bad. It all depends on the situation. Yes, it is true that when there is adequate time and resources, the leader should also take into account the other approaches as well but in constraints of time, a leader may take these decisions depending on his abilities. Also we cannot also say which one of the two types of decision making is good or bad for the project because it again depends on the situation that the organization is in. however, as we know that intuitive decision making involves personal bias of leaders as well and may also reflect their personality traits such as risk taker or risk averse, it is recommended that whenever possible, a leader should take into account the logical reasoning approach and compare it with his intuitive perspective before taking any decision as it might make him realize a number of risks that he may have ignored in the first thought.

Music in Casablanca Analysis

Music in Casablanca Analysis Casablanca is one of the classic love stories in American movie history. There are many ingredients are combined to make the successful film. One of main contributions that is the music of Casablanca and it should not be underrated. Max Steiner, one of the great Hollywood composers, drew upon the leitmotif and achieved many subtle effects of mood-painting and psychological commentary in his score. In this essay, one of scenes of Casablanca that will be discussed is about the conversation of Rick and Ilsa in Ricks bar after the Paris flashback from Ilsas entry. Timothy E. Scheurer mentioned in The Music of Casablanca that Max molded the theme to the situation, changing keys, augmenting the melody, altering its rhythms, and modifying its harmonic structure at points to emphasize its dramatic qualities. In his hands, it became a symbol of fulfilment, a melody expressing the happiness that comes with love. The music, As Time Goes By, originally wrote by Herman Hupfield, which has reorganized in the scene by Max. People may inevitably think of it when they remember the film. He transformed As Times Goes By to a number of contrasting variations. Audience may focus more on the actions or conversations of the characters and they may be attracted from others effect from the film. Also, they may say there was music but they did not notice about it and in fact that Max composed cues in numerous indication of instrumentation. They are given a certain feeling or emotion of the scene from what the producers are trying to express it such as music. The scene is about at the end of recalling Ricks memories in Paris; he is sitting at a cafà © table in the foreground and knocking over his glass of bourbon. Next, camera pans to the right and repositions him on the left and suddenly, the door is opened in the far distance in the middle of the screen. There is no music before Ilsa comes in which may indicate that both Rick and viewers are waiting for someone. The silence enhances the sinking feeling. In here, Max may attempt to give a break to audiences and leads them to get ready for this scene from the other. Until the door is opened, the music is begun and is played the Casablanca chord 2; the sinking chromatic scale (Marks, M. p. 167, 177), which give a sinking feeling to audience at the first point after the Paris flashback. It seems there are something will happen and it happens, Ilsa comes to see Rick and Rick seems waiting for so long. Martin Marks said that the chord in the first measure is marked for woodwinds, vibraphone, harp, piano, celesta, and horns; above the chord Steiner has written that it should be orchestrated like Reel 5, Part 4 (the mentioned scene in this essay). In other words, the whole music in this scene is played by these instruments or maybe more than these such as strings. However, the music is subdued which gives the effect on audiences is subliminal. Also, audiences when watch the whole scene, they can reach the counterpoint to the dialogues with the music. Max has even re-used the Casablanca chord 2 in Reel 9, Part 2, which the scene is Ilsas second return to Rick. The manipulation of the music is similar to Reel 4, Part 7, which the scene Ilsa first see Rick. In order to maintain the unity of the whole story, Max fragmented the music and put it into different scene to bring out different motion. Back to the scene, Ilsa appears wearing a white coat and scarf and she comes to Rick as he expected but she heightens his resentful feeling by telling him that she would not have came if she had known he was in Casablanca. Then, Ilsa tries to speak to him but he is sarcastic and refuses to listen to her explanations. With tears in her eyes, Ilsa attempts to explain her past history. Its about a girl who had just come to Paris from her home in Oslo. At the house of some friends she met a man about whom shed heard her whole life, a very great and courageous man. He opened up for her a whole beautiful world full of knowledge and thoughts and ideals. Everything she knew or even became was because of him. And she looked up to him and worshipped him which a feeling she suppose was love. Audiences may learn or guess that Ilsas admiration for Victor Laszlo is the source of her love for him. Ilsa is forced to face the fact that she has other loyalties and attachments that she should not aband on. Her life seems to lack independent action and it makes her separation from Rick appear more tragic than Ricks separation from her. For Rick, he hopes Ilsa is telling him the man who is Rick himself but ironically, he is forced to recognize the nature of the divided loyalties that Ilsa has to face and she choose to be with Laszlo. Obviously, Ilsa cares for Victor and is torn between the two men. She thought that she would never see him again. Audiences may appreciate the position in which Ilsa finds herself. Rick denigrates Ilsa to the level of a promiscuous. Ilsa thought that Rick would listen to her but he did not. The music is played with some heavy bass instruments, meanwhile, he continuous with his bitter dialogue, Tell me, who was it you left me for? Was it Laszlo or were there others in between? Or arent you the kind that tells? After that, Ilsa is with a tear running down her cheek and leaves Rick without further word. The sinking chord is playing again when Ilsa leaves Rick. Audiences are given a sympathy feeling for Ilsa that she should not be treated in this way because of her loyalty. On the other hand, they understand why Rick is being so cynical that he could not hold his love. When their conversation started, Max made the music in slow tempo and maintained in a quite high pitch. Marks showed that the Ricks bitter dialogue is with the variation 6 of As Times Goes By, Doom. Then, it is Ilsas turn to speak and tell her story and the instruments such as string and harp are stood out to present its feminine, which accompanies by what Ilsa is wearing (Virgin Mary wrap and mothers-like wearing) and the photographic effect on her which gives a blurring effect and spotlights are on her made her eyes are sparkling to made her so feminine. It seems Ilsa is still beautiful and attractive to Rick. When Ilsa is telling about her story, the background music also contains Laszlo Marseille and it may indicate that Ilsas life has already been with Victor and she cannot abandon Victor. It is hard for audiences to hear the music because Max has subdued it and audiences may recognize it unconsciously. As Times Goes By and Marseille is blended together may indicate a tale of two men vying for the same womans love in a love triangle. At the end of this scene, the music is again orchestrated as same as the beginning of it. It shows a clear entrance and exit of the scene with well organized music that audiences would know when the other scene is begun. To aspect of religious, the subconscious of Ilsas identity is shown to audiences and Rick as an angel of motherhood as a transfiguration. When Rick speaks again, music is played in low pitch and audience may hear the bass to perceive the identity of masculine, heroism. Audiences may learn that why Rick becomes a cynical man who is assumed a powerful man in Casablanca. When he is reminiscing the time in Paris, in which he was a more optimistic, more romantic and less cynical man. The flashback scene is an important cue to show why Rick is being so mean to Ilsa in this scene. The music is reinforced Ricks emotion inner his heart when he see Ilsa again. And now, audience know that Rick is drunk at this time, not thinking clearly and they know nothing about what Ilsa experienced. Audiences may tend to stay impartial until more of the story is revealed. The flashback has brought us to a point where we know enough about Rick to at least understand his motivations and viewers are better abl e to pass a judgment on him. In this scene, it seems that it is the time to show the truth why their relationship is unfulfilled. The music enhanced their feelings, sadness, anger and regretfulness to audiences. Scheurer said in The Music of Casablanca that we never hear the song played all the way through in one sitting in the film. As Rich and Ilsas love is fated to be never completely fulfilled, so the song presents itself to the viewers is fragments and is never complete. At the end of the scene, Max manipulated the music deliberately to be fragmentary at the beginning when Ilsa comes in and at the end when Ilsa ultimately left Rick again. The music is also used to be a connective to the past in which that sense of fulfilment was at hand but hand slipped away again. For its songs history, As Times Goes By is first published in 1931. It was perfectly applied to the film because of its evocation of the past. The melody in minor harmonic can deliver a message of a sense of bittersweet and nostalgia longing. Furthermore, in 1943, based on trends in popular music and theatre, during this time, the song with some nostalgia is certainly received warmly by movie audience. The song is worked musically and lyrically which speak of love eternal. Rick and Ilsas romance had made their own in the post with the song. Graphic score is also drawn in order to analysis its music effects the mood of the narrative. The whole sequence lasts for about 3 minutes. I have heard several times of the music with and without watching it. It gives a big difference. When I heard the music with watching it, I would focus more on what Rick and Ilsa are talking about. The volume of music is turned down when the conversations is started. The conversation is clearly to be heard the explanation of their relationship between Rick and Ilsa. However, sometimes, there are some strings and harps are played in high pitch. The most recognizable sound is played at the beginning and at the end of the sequence. When I hear the music without watching, it seems more music is coming out, for example, As Time Goes By is played by string and Marseille also can be heard. Music is constructed to convey the characters emotion perfectly. To conclude, according to Scheurer, It is to Steiners credit that, despite having so much of the score dictated by diegetic music (As Time Goes By and The Marseillaise especially), he was able to craft a score that has his indelible stamp. He took the source music and wove it into the leitmotif structure very effectively, and in the process, he transformed the songs. They seem larger, greater, and better pieces of music than we might think they are. This happens, no doubt, because the themes work in conjunction with other superb filmic elements (acting, directing, lighting, etc.). I agree with its statement that although music is an important element in producing a film, but it is not least to construct or make up a theme with other vital elements such as star power of Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergnan, colourful characters, remarkable acting performances, effective direction, skilled cinematographary and a good score. However, Max Steiner approached to catch as many cinematic detai ls as he can; not only in this discussed scene, but also to keep the music moving forward in the whole film. As Martin Marks said, Max shows a keen understanding of the narratives overall and musics ability to enhance it.

NIC: The Unsung Hero :: essays research papers fc

NIC: The Unsung Hero The Network Interface Card, or NIC for short, is the most important peripheral when it comes to operating on a network. Many people think the most important item in a network is the cabling, or maybe the network software, or even the computer or server being used. While each of these items is important they are worthless without a Network Interface Card, for successful network operation. The NIC has taken most of the legwork out of the way we do business. No more does Bob, in the Production Department, have to save a file on a floppy disk just to hand carry it two floors up to Sue, in the Accounting Department. The NIC makes it possible to send the file across the network, saving precious production time, so Bob can work on other matters. The importance of the NIC can be described in terms of what it is, what types there are, and system compatibility. So, what is a NIC? Simply put it is the physical interface between the computer and the network cable. The NIC performs many vital functions that are transparent to the user, in order to send and receive data. 1) It prepares data to be sent over the network by converting the computer, parallel data into serial data. 2) It advertises its address to the rest of the network, to distinguish itself from other cards on the network. 3) It carries on an electronic dialog with the receiving NIC about such things as the maximum size of the data to be sent, the time intervals between data chunks, and how much data each card can hold before it overflows, to name a few (Microsoft 76). All NICs operate pretty much the same way, but it is important to know about the different types of NICs. NICs come in two basic varieties: those designated for servers and those designated for desktops (Harvey 104). The application of the network being used will dictate what type of NIC to use. Server NICs generally come with onboard processors and memory. For a heavily trafficked server, multiple port cards allow for additional connections to a server, saving expansion slot space (Harvey 105). The desktop NIC is more of a bare bones type of card. It does not require an onboard processor and memory, unless it is for a user that moves a lot of data (i.

The Diver :: essays research papers

â€Å"The Diver† Robert Currie’s â€Å"The Diver†, on the surface, recounts a diver’s descent and ascent into a river as onlookers eagerly anticipate his fate. Beneath the surface, this poem is actually very spiritual. The diver’s descent into the water, and his arising from the water, can be compared to the crucifixion of Jesus. Through the masterful use of imagery and Biblical comparisons, Currie depicts the message that rebirth and hope can captivate and revitalize our spirits. An essential key to the theme of â€Å"The Diver† is through the subtle yet prevailing use of Biblical references. From the very beginning of Currie’s poem, a simile is used when describing the â€Å"bridge like a Roman fort†. This helps to set the tone that something important is about to happen and also provides a Biblical base to the structure of the poem. Lines four to six describe the man’s journey up towards the bridge. This journey can be compared to Jesus’ struggle towards the top of the hill where he was crucified. Perhaps this man was also carrying a â€Å"load on his shoulders†, so to speak. The poem becomes even more Biblical as â€Å"others bet upon his chance†, much like Jesus’ own fate. As the diver prepares for the inevitable, his situation has Biblical meaning. â€Å"At the summit of the span he rose/ his arms outstretched/ flung a cross against the sun†Ã¢â‚¬â„¢, are perhaps three of the most powerful lin es in the poem. These lines are followed by much anticipation from the crowd below. The dive symbolizes the end of something, which is also supported when â€Å"The river circling away/ grew silent as held breath/ still as death†. These lines make is seem as though everything, and everyone, even the river, are â€Å"holding their breath† in anticipation of the outcome of the dive. Then, starting at line twenty-one, the rebirth begins, as, â€Å"from unknown depths/ his head broke the water/ shook out a crown of sunlit spray. There is a strong Biblical presence in the comparisons used in this poem, which help to support the theme of hope and rebirth, while providing powerful imagery. A vital element of Currie’s â€Å"The Diver† is the strong presence of imagery, which helps to sustain the theme of captivating hope. The image of â€Å"the solitary figure† provokes a strong sense of despair, followed by his painful struggle â€Å"up the arch†. The images give the impression that the events are unfolding in a captivating slow-motion means.

Dioxin and The Times Beach Evacuation :: Nature Place Essays

Dioxin and The Times Beach Evacuation The Jingle Bells of 1982 did not bring in a merry Christmas for the residents of Times Beach, Missouri, a small town of some 1400 people. During the annual town Christmas dinner the residents finally received the news that they had hoped would never come. The residents of Times Beach were to be relocated and the town were to be bought out by the federal government. This was the first time such a thing was done since the founding of the nation. The buyout of Times Beach and some 50 other sites in Missouri by the government beginning in 1983 was prompted by the largest civilian exposure to dioxin in the United States. Dioxin is a member of the family of organic compounds known as aromatics. Dioxin is the shorthand that refers to a family of polychlorinated dibezodioxins or PCDDs. Their general structure is that of two chlorinated benzene rings joined by two oxygens, hence dioxin. Dioxin is not made intentionally but are usually formed as by-products in many large scale chemical processes such as paper pulp bleaching with chlorine and most significantly, the manufacture of chlorophenol chemicals. This last process is significant not only because it brought dioxin the current notoriety but it also is a chemical process used to make products that were used and are still been used in many applications. These applications include pesticide, herbicide, defoliating agent such as Agent Orange, cleaning agent and electrical insulation. Consequently, human exposure to dioxin is not a recent phenomenon and the dangers of dioxin are not unknown. Only in recent years, especially after the Vietnam War, has the media concentrated on the dangers and impact of dioxin. The physical effect of exposure to dioxin was first seen in skin diseases developed by chemical plant workers in 1895. The exposure to dioxin results in a type of skin disease like acne called "chloroacne," since its cause was initially and incorrectly linked to chlorine gas. In 1957, in Germany, Dr. Karl Schulz of the University of Hamburg identified chloroacne in several workers from a Boehringer chemical plant. The disease in its mildest form resembles teen-age acne but differs in that the blackheads and cyst cluster in two locations: appearing in a crescent shape outside of and under the eyes and ears. In more pronounced cases, pus-containing spots erupt and spread across the rest of the face, neck, shoulder and down to the rest of the body.

Empire of the Sun: Nationalities Essay

Empire of the sun is a rites of passage novel about James Ballard’s life in Shanghai during the Japanese invasion in the 1940’s. It describes James’ life from how he changes from a posh and upper-class expatriate to becoming a lonely Shanghai roamer, and his time at Lunghua camp at which his views of the four main nations in the book (England, Japan, China and America) change completely. Ballard presents the English at the beginning of the novel as a superpower, posh and rich. We know this because Yang their chauffer drives a green Packard, which is a expensive and flash car and they have lots of servants who, in James’ (Jamie to his family and close friends) imagination are just pieces of furniture, and gardeners who mind their own business passively â€Å"stabbing at the grass†. Despite the English being in their ivory tower and thinking themselves of a higher class than the helpless Chinese, they still are concerned about the Japanese moving closer and closer to Shanghai. Before Dr Lockwood’s party Jamie’s â€Å"father knelt by the radiogram in his pirate costume† listening to the regular war update. While Shanghai is on the brink of being overrun and captured by the Japanese the English still manage to fit in a few glasses of â€Å"whiskey and soda† and a fancy dress party, but even at the party the main focus for most people is listening to the war update on Dr Lockwoods â€Å"short-wave radio†. Eventually the Japanese take control of Shanghai and Jamie is separated from his parents. In the heart of Shanghai, all alone, Jamie meets two American sailors, Frank and Basie. They rename him Jim, â€Å"A new name for a new life†. Jim needs food and is willing to do anything in order to stay alive. The only way he can stay alive is to stick around with Frank and Basie. As the story goes on Jim has less and less respect for the English because they do not seem to prioritise the right things for instance they would â€Å"prefer to suffer from chronic dysentery rather than make the effort of boiling the water† because they are used to having things done for them by servants. Also the English had theatrical groups rather than helping the ill and dying people in the hospital. These are just some of the reasons that Jim lost respect for the English over the course of his imprisonment at Lunghua and eventually moving to the American quarters, where they did things properly and were prepared to do what it takes to stay alive. The helpless and passive Chinese do nothing to help themselves in the book, being this passive with no personal drive or momentum to get out and oppose the people who put them in such bad positions; to build a life that is worthwhile living for creates the effect that they live just to die. We are invited to paint this morbid picture in our mind when he describes that the â€Å"Chinese knew from birth, that they were all as good as dead anyway, and that it was self-deluding to believe otherwise†. When the Chinese deal with the superpowers they let them do what they want and don’t even bat an eyelid at them. This just re-iterates how easily they get controlled and overpowered by other nations and important therefore rich individuals. When the Japanese soldiers killed the rickshaw coolie he does not put up a fight he just lay the4re and let the soldiers kill him. â€Å"The coolie knelt on the ground†¦among the grains of rice†¦as the blood ran from his back and formed a pool around his knees†. The Chinese just accepted they are inferior to the Japanese and English so don’t bother to put up a fight or retaliate. But everybody knows that â€Å"one day China will punish the rest of the world, and take a frightening revenge.† Ballard invites us to believe that the Japanese patiently wait for their chance to attack which in Jims mind scares him more than the thought of being killed or tortured by them. There is an eerie sense towards the Japanese which Jim doesn’t like, because they kill for no reason for instance when the Chinese coolie is stabbed and left o die on the floor. Jim has great respect for the Japanese pilots and their planes. He names every Japanese plane that flies over his head. When the war starts the turn the wrong way for the Japanese they take their anger out on the prisoners by reducing the amount of potatoes for the prisoners to eat. â€Å"As the war moved through its closing year the Japanese had become unsettled and dangerous†. But despite all this Jim still wants to join the Japanese Air Force rather than the RAF, â€Å"I’m going to join the Japanese Air Force.† He wants to do this because his only impression of the British is that they are pathetic and cannot care for themselves without servants whereas the Japanese show might and power, of course all eleven year old boys take the side of the most powerful, which entices him towards their side. Even when the war is over he still has respect for the Japanese. The Americans are Jim’s lifeline. When he is picked up by Basie and Frank he is willing to do whatever it takes to stay alive and find his parents, despite knowing that they want to get rid of him, but when Jim is in Lunghua camp he is told to stick around with Basie by Dr Ransome because he is a survivor. â€Å"It’s a good thing that you’re friends with Basie. He’s a survivor†¦wars exist for people like Basie†. This shows that Basie can handle and even thrive from the bad situations which Jim respected him for. Jim finds out that after spending a few weeks in the camp the English have completely different mind sets to survive to survive than the Americans, we know this because Ballard informs us that the English sit around all day drinking cholera infested water while the Americans, even those with malaria, take life as it comes and do what it takes to stay alive. In Steven Spielberg’s film â€Å"Empire of the Sun† Jim sneaks out of the perimeter o the camp to place two pheasant traps and puts his life on the line, just to earn the right to live in the American dormitory thus shows that he has ultimate respect for them, so much so that he becomes â€Å"obsessed by everything American†. Even when they â€Å"gamble with his life† he just accepts it as â€Å"American humour of a most special kind†. By the end of the text Jim’s favourite nation (has most respect for) is most defiantly the Americans, especially after the American air raid on Lunghua airfield, where he sees the Mustangs and B-29s, one of the pilots from a Mustang waves at him as he salutes him. In conclusion Jim loses all respect for the English people, whom which he previously had a lot for, due to his experiences at Lunghua camp. The Chinese were never considered as proper people in his mind because all throughout the novel they are minorities in society and passive towards all other nations, letting them roam free in their country. Jim has the utmost respect for the Japanese in the beginning whereas by the end he still admires them but not as much due to harsh things being enforced on him, and his fellow prison mates, in Lunghua camp. He also admired the Japanese kamikaze pilots who were prepared to give up their lives even though they knew the war was lost. Jim is unsure about the Americans at first when he meets Frank and Basie but grows to love them and their pleasant but entertaining company. He would not be the same person at the end of the war if he had never met Basie. Personally, this quote sums up Jim’s opinion of the nationalities: â€Å"All in all, Jim felt, he Americans were the best company, not as strange and challenging as the Japanese, but far superior to the morose and complicated British.†

The Twilight Saga 3: Eclipse Chapter 10. SCENT

IT WAS ALL VERY CHILDISH. WHY ON EARTH SHOULD EDward have to leave for Jacob to come over? Weren't we past this kind of immaturity? â€Å"It's not that I feel any personal antagonism toward him, Bella, it's just easier for both of us,† Edward told me at the door. â€Å"I won't be far away. You'll be safe.† â€Å"I'm not worried about that.† He smiled, and then a sly look came into his eye. He pulled me close, burying his face in my hair. I could feel his cool breath saturate the strands as he exhaled; it raised goose bumps on my neck. â€Å"I'll be right back,† he said, and then he laughed aloud as if I'd just told a good joke. â€Å"What's so funny?† But Edward just grinned and loped off toward the trees without answering. Grumbling to myself, I went to clean up the kitchen. Before I even had the sink full of water, the doorbell rang. It was hard to get used to how much faster Jacob was without his car. How everyone seemed to be so much faster than me. . . . â€Å"Come in, Jake!† I shouted. I was concentrating on piling the dishes into the bubbly water, and I'd forgotten that Jacob moved like a ghost these days. So it made me jump when his voice was suddenly there behind me. â€Å"Should you really leave your door unlocked like that? Oh, sorry.† I'd slopped myself with the dishwater when he'd startled me. â€Å"I'm not worried about anyone who would be deterred by a locked door,† I said while I wiped the front of my shirt with a dishtowel. â€Å"Good point,† he agreed. I turned to look at him, eyeing him critically. â€Å"Is it really so impossible to wear clothes, Jacob?† I asked. Once again, Jacob was bare-chested, wearing nothing but a pair of old cut-off jeans. Secretly, I wondered if he was just so proud of his new muscles that he couldn't stand to cover them up. I had to admit, they were impressive – but I'd never thought of him as vain. â€Å"I mean, I know you don't get cold anymore, but still.† He ran a hand through his wet hair; it was falling in his eyes. â€Å"It's just easier,† he explained. â€Å"What's easier?† He smiled condescendingly. â€Å"It's enough of a pain to carry the shorts around with me, let alone a complete outfit. What do I look like, a pack mule?† I frowned. â€Å"What are you talking about, Jacob?† His expression was superior, like I was missing something obvious. â€Å"My clothes don't just pop in and out of existence when I change – I have to carry them with me while I run. Pardon me for keeping my burden light.† I changed color. â€Å"I guess I didn't think about that,† I muttered. He laughed and pointed to a black leather cord, thin as a strand of yarn, that was wound three times below his left calf like an anklet. I hadn't noticed before that his feet were bare, too. â€Å"That's more than just a fashion statement – it sucks to carry jeans in your mouth.† I didn't know what to say to that. He grinned. â€Å"Does my being half-naked bother you?† â€Å"No.† Jacob laughed again, and I turned my back on him to focus on the dishes. I hoped he realized my blush was left over from embarrassment at my own stupidity, and had nothing to do with his question. â€Å"Well, I suppose I should get to work.† He sighed. â€Å"I wouldn't want to give him an excuse to say I'm slacking on my side.† â€Å"Jacob, it's not your job -â€Å" He raised a hand to cut me off. â€Å"I'm working on a volunteer basis here. Now, where is the intruder's scent the worst?† â€Å"My bedroom, I think.† His eyes narrowed. He didn't like that any more than Edward had. â€Å"I'll just be a minute.† I methodically scrubbed the plate I was holding. The only sound was the brush's plastic bristles scraping round and round on the ceramic. I listened for something from above, a creak of the floorboard, the click of a door. There was nothing. I realized I'd been cleaning the same plate far longer than necessary, and I tried to pay attention to what I was doing. â€Å"Whew!† Jacob said, inches behind me, scaring me again. â€Å"Yeesh, Jake, cut that out!† â€Å"Sorry. Here -† Jacob took the towel and mopped up my new spill. â€Å"I'll make it up to you. You wash, I'll rinse and dry.† â€Å"Fine.† I gave him the plate. â€Å"Well, the scent was easy enough to catch. By the way, your room reeks.† â€Å"I'll buy some air freshener.† He laughed. I washed and he dried in companionable silence for a few minutes. â€Å"Can I ask you something?† I handed him another plate. â€Å"That depends on what you want to know.† â€Å"I'm not trying to be a jerk or anything – I'm honestly curious,† Jacob assured me. â€Å"Fine. Go ahead.† He paused for half a second. â€Å"What's it like – having a vampire for a boyfriend?† I rolled my eyes. â€Å"It's the best.† â€Å"I'm serious. The idea doesn't bother you – it never creeps you out?† â€Å"Never.† He was silent as he reached for the bowl in my hands. I peeked up at his face – he was frowning, his lower lip jutting out. â€Å"Anything else?† I asked. He wrinkled his nose again. â€Å"Well . . . I was wondering . . . do you . . . y'know, kiss him?† I laughed. â€Å"Yes.† He shuddered. â€Å"Ugh.† â€Å"To each her own,† I murmured. â€Å"You don't worry about the fangs?† I smacked his arm, splashing him with dishwater. â€Å"Shut up, Jacob! You know he doesn't have fangs!† â€Å"Close enough,† he muttered. I gritted my teeth and scrubbed a boning knife with more force than necessary. â€Å"Can I ask another one?† he asked softly when I passed the knife to him. â€Å"Just curious, again.† â€Å"Fine,† I snapped. He turned the knife over and over in his hands under the stream of water. When he spoke, it was only a whisper. â€Å"You said a few weeks. . . . When, exactly . . . ?† He couldn't finish. â€Å"Graduation,† I whispered back, watching his face warily. Would this set him off again? â€Å"So soon,† he breathed, his eyes closing. It didn't sound like a question. It sounded like a lament. The muscles in his arms tightened and his shoulders were stiff. â€Å"OW!† he shouted; it had gotten so still in the room that I jumped a foot in the air at his outburst. His right hand had curled into a tense fist around the blade of the knife – he unclenched his hand and the knife clattered onto the counter. Across his palm was a long, deep gash. The blood streamed down his fingers and dripped on the floor. â€Å"Damn it! Ouch!† he complained. My head spun and my stomach rolled. I clung to the countertop with one hand, took a deep breath through my mouth, and forced myself to get a grip so that I could take care of him. â€Å"Oh, no, Jacob! Oh, crap! Here, wrap this around it!† I shoved the dish towel at him, reaching for his hand. He shrugged away from me. â€Å"It's nothing, Bella, don't worry about it.† The room started to shimmer a little around the edges. I took another deep breath. â€Å"Don't worry?! You sliced your hand open!† He ignored the dish towel I pushed at him. He put his hand under the faucet and let the water wash over the wound. The water ran red. My head whirled. â€Å"Bella,† he said. I looked away from the wound, up to his face. He was frowning, but his expression was calm. â€Å"What?† â€Å"You look like you're going to pass out, and you're biting your lip off. Stop it. Relax. Breathe. I'm fine.† I inhaled through my mouth and removed my teeth from my lower lip. â€Å"Don't be brave.† He rolled his eyes. â€Å"Let's go. I'll drive you to the ER.† I was pretty sure I would be okay to drive. The walls were holding steady now, at least. â€Å"Not necessary.† Jake turned off the water and took the towel from my hand. He twisted it loosely around his palm. â€Å"Wait,† I protested. â€Å"Let me look at it.† I clutched the counter more firmly, to hold myself upright if the wound made me woozy again. â€Å"Do you have a medical degree that you never told me about?† â€Å"Just give me the chance to decide whether or not I'm going to throw a fit over taking you to the hospital.† He made a face of mock horror. â€Å"Please, not a fit!† â€Å"If you don't let me see your hand, a fit is guaranteed.† He inhaled deeply, and then let out a gusty sigh. â€Å"Fine.† He unwound the towel and, when I reached out to take the cloth, he laid his hand in mine. It took me a few seconds. I even flipped his hand over, though I was sure he'd cut his palm. I turned his hand back up, finally realizing that the angry pink, puckered line was all that was left of his wound. â€Å"But . . . you were bleeding . . . so much.† He pulled his hand back, his eyes steady and somber on mine. â€Å"I heal fast.† â€Å"I'll say,† I mouthed. I'd seen the long gash clearly, seen the blood that flowed into the sink. The rust-and-salt smell of it had almost pulled me under. It should have needed stitches. It should have taken days to scab over and then weeks to fade into the shiny pink scar that marked his skin now. He screwed his mouth up into half a smile and thumped his fist once against his chest. â€Å"Werewolf, remember?† His eyes held mine for an immeasurable moment. â€Å"Right,† I finally said. He laughed at my expression. â€Å"I told you this. You saw Paul's scar.† I shook my head to clear it. â€Å"It's a little different, seeing the action sequence firsthand.† I kneeled down and dug the bleach out of the cabinet under the sink. Then I poured some on a dusting rag and started scrubbing the floor. The burning scent of the bleach cleared the last of the dizziness from my head. â€Å"Let me clean up,† Jacob said. â€Å"I got this. Throw that towel in the wash, will you?† When I was sure the floor smelled of nothing but bleach, I got up and rinsed the right side of the sink with bleach, too. Then I went to the laundry closet beside the pantry, and poured a cupful into the washing machine before starting it. Jacob watched me with a disapproving look on his face. â€Å"Do you have obsessive-compulsive disorder?† he asked when I was done. Huh. Maybe. But at least I had a good excuse this time. â€Å"We're a bit sensitive to blood around here. I'm sure you can understand that.† â€Å"Oh.† He wrinkled his nose again. â€Å"Why not make it as easy as possible for him? What he's doing is hard enough.† â€Å"Sure, sure. Why not?† I pulled the plug, and let the dirty water drain from the sink. â€Å"Can I ask you something, Bella?† I sighed. â€Å"What's it like – having a werewolf for a best friend?† The question caught me off guard. I laughed out loud. â€Å"Does it creep you out?† he pressed before I could answer. â€Å"No. When the werewolf is being nice,† I qualified, â€Å"it's the best.† He grinned widely, his teeth bright against his russet skin. â€Å"Thanks, Bella,† he said, and then he grabbed my hand and wrenched me into one of his bone-crushing hugs. Before I had time to react, he dropped his arms and stepped away. â€Å"Ugh,† he said, his nose wrinkling. â€Å"Your hair stinks worse than your room.† â€Å"Sorry,† I muttered. I suddenly understood what Edward had been laughing about earlier, after breathing on me. â€Å"One of the many hazards of socializing with vampires,† Jacob said, shrugging. â€Å"It makes you smell bad. A minor hazard, comparatively.† I glared at him. â€Å"I only smell bad to you, Jake.† He grinned. â€Å"See you around, Bells.† â€Å"Are you leaving?† â€Å"He's waiting for me to go. I can hear him outside.† â€Å"Oh.† â€Å"I'll go out the back,† he said, and then he paused. â€Å"Hold up a sec – hey, do you think you can come to La Push tonight? We're having a bonfire party. Emily will be there, and you could meet Kim . . . And I know Quil wants to see you, too. He's pretty peeved that you found out before he did.† I grinned at that. I could just imagine how that would have irked Quil – Jacob's little human gal pal down with the werewolves while he was still clueless. And then I sighed. â€Å"Yeah, Jake, I don't know about that. See, it's a little tense right now. . . .† â€Å"C'mon, you think somebody's going to get past all – all six of us?† There was a strange pause as he stuttered over the end of his question. I wondered if he had trouble saying the word werewolf aloud, the way I often had difficulty with vampire. His big dark eyes were full of unashamed pleading. â€Å"I'll ask,† I said doubtfully. He made a noise in the back of his throat. â€Å"Is he your warden, now, too? You know, I saw this story on the news last week about controlling, abusive teenage relationships and -â€Å" â€Å"Okay!† I cut him off, and then shoved his arm. â€Å"Time for the werewolf to get out!† He grinned. â€Å"Bye, Bells. Be sure you ask permission.† He ducked out the back door before I could find something to throw at him. I growled incoherently at the empty room. Seconds after he was gone, Edward walked slowly into the kitchen, raindrops glistening like diamonds set into the bronze of his hair. His eyes were wary. â€Å"Did you two get into a fight?† he asked. â€Å"Edward!† I sang, throwing myself at him. â€Å"Hi, there.† He laughed and wrapped his arms around me. â€Å"Are you trying to distract me? It's working.† â€Å"No, I didn't fight with Jacob. Much. Why?† â€Å"I was just wondering why you stabbed him. Not that I object.† With his chin, he gestured to the knife on the counter. â€Å"Dang! I thought I got everything.† I pulled away from him and ran to put the knife in the sink before I doused it with bleach. â€Å"I didn't stab him,† I explained as I worked. â€Å"He forgot he had a knife in his hand.† Edward chuckled. â€Å"That's not nearly as fun as the way I imagined it.† â€Å"Be nice.† He took a big envelope from his jacket pocket and tossed it on the counter. â€Å"I got your mail.† â€Å"Anything good?† â€Å"I think so.† My eyes narrowed suspiciously at his tone. I went to investigate. He'd folded the legal-sized envelope in half. I smoothed it open, surprised at the weight of the expensive paper, and read the return address. â€Å"Dartmouth? Is this a joke?† â€Å"I'm sure it's an acceptance. It looks exactly like mine.† â€Å"Good grief, Edward – what did you do?† â€Å"I sent in your application, that's all.† â€Å"I may not be Dartmouth material, but I'm not stupid enough to believe that.† â€Å"Dartmouth seems to think that you're Dartmouth material.† I took a deep breath and counted slowly to ten. â€Å"That's very generous of them,† I finally said. â€Å"However, accepted or not, there is still the minor matter of tuition. I can't afford it, and I'm not letting you throw away enough money to buy yourself another sports car just so that I can pretend to go to Dartmouth next year.† â€Å"I don't need another sports car. And you don't have to pretend anything,† he murmured. â€Å"One year of college wouldn't kill you. Maybe you'd even like it. Just think about it, Bella. Imagine how excited Charlie and Rene would be. . . .† His velvet voice painted the picture in my head before I could block it. Of course Charlie would explode with pride – no one in the town of Forks would be able to escape the fallout from his excitement. And Rene would be hysterical with joy at my triumph – though she'd swear she wasn't at all surprised. . . . I tried to shake the image out of my head. â€Å"Edward. I'm worried about living through graduation, let alone this summer or next fall.† His arms wrapped around me again. â€Å"No one is going to hurt you. You have all the time in the world.† I sighed. â€Å"I'm mailing the contents of my bank account to Alaska tomorrow. It's all the alibi I need. It's far enough away that Charlie won't expect a visit until Christmas at the earliest. And I'm sure I'll think of some excuse by then. You know,† I teased halfheartedly, â€Å"this whole secrecy and deception thing is kind of a pain.† Edward's expression hardened. â€Å"It gets easier. After a few decades, everyone you know is dead. Problem solved.† I flinched. â€Å"Sorry, that was harsh.† I stared down at the big white envelope, not seeing it. â€Å"But still true.† â€Å"If I get this resolved, whatever it is we're dealing with, will you please consider waiting?† â€Å"Nope.† â€Å"Always so stubborn.† â€Å"Yep.† The washing machine thumped and stuttered to a halt. â€Å"Stupid piece of junk,† I muttered as I pulled away from him. I moved the one small towel that had unbalanced the otherwise empty machine, and started it again. â€Å"This reminds me,† I said. â€Å"Could you ask Alice what she did with my stuff when she cleaned my room? I can't find it anywhere.† He looked at me with confused eyes. â€Å"Alice cleaned your room?† â€Å"Yeah, I guess that's what she was doing. When she came to get my pajamas and pillow and stuff to hold me hostage.† I glowered at him briefly. â€Å"She picked up everything that was lying around, my shirts, my socks, and I don't know where she put them.† Edward continued to look confused for one short moment, and then, abruptly, he was rigid. â€Å"When did you notice your things were missing?† â€Å"When I got back from the fake slumber party. Why?† â€Å"I don't think Alice took anything. Not your clothes, or your pillow. The things that were taken, these were things you'd worn . . . and touched . . . and slept on?† â€Å"Yes. What is it, Edward?† His expression was strained. â€Å"Things with your scent.† â€Å"Oh!† We stared into each others eyes for a long moment. â€Å"My visitor,† I muttered. â€Å"He was gathering traces . . . evidence. To prove that he'd found you?† â€Å"Why?† I whispered. â€Å"I don't know. But, Bella, I swear I will find out. I will.† â€Å"I know you will,† I said, laying my head against his chest. Leaning there, I felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the number. â€Å"Just the person I need to talk to,† he murmured, and then he flipped it open. â€Å"Carlisle, I -† He broke off and listened, his face taut with concentration for a few minutes. â€Å"I'll check it out. Listen . . .† He explained about my missing things, but from the side I was hearing, it sounded like Carlisle had no insights for us. â€Å"Maybe I'll go . . . ,† Edward said, trailing off as his eyes drifted toward me. â€Å"Maybe not. Don't let Emmett go alone, you know how he gets. At least ask Alice keep an eye on things. We'll figure this out later.† He snapped the phone shut. â€Å"Where's the paper?† he asked me. â€Å"Um, I'm not sure. Why?† â€Å"I need to see something. Did Charlie already throw it out?† â€Å"Maybe. . . .† Edward disappeared. He was back in half a second, new diamonds in his hair, a wet newspaper in his hands. He spread it out on the table, his eyes scanning quickly across the headlines. He leaned in, intent on something he was reading, one finger tracing passages that interested him most. â€Å"Carlisle's right . . . yes . . . very sloppy. Young and crazed? Or a death wish?† he muttered to himself. I went to peek over his shoulder. The headline of the Seattle Times read: â€Å"Murder Epidemic Continues – Police Have No New Leads.† It was almost the same story Charlie had been complaining about a few weeks ago – the big-city violence that was pushing Seattle up the national murder hot-spot list. It wasn't exactly the same story, though. The numbers were a lot higher. â€Å"It's getting worse,† I murmured. He frowned. â€Å"Altogether out of control. This can't be the work of just one newborn vampire. What's going on? It's as if they've never heard of the Volturi. Which is possible, I guess. No one has explained the rules to them . . . so who is creating them, then?† â€Å"The Volturi?† I repeated, shuddering. â€Å"This is exactly the kind of thing they routinely wipe out – immortals who threaten to expose us. They just cleaned up a mess like this a few years ago in Atlanta, and it hadn't gotten nearly this bad. They will intervene soon, very soon, unless we can find some way to calm the situation. I'd really rather they didn't come to Seattle just now. As long as they're this close . . . they might decide to check on you.† I shuddered again. â€Å"What can we do?† â€Å"We need to know more before we can decide that. Perhaps if we can talk to these young ones, explain the rules, it can be resolved peacefully.† He frowned, like he didn't think the chances of that were good. â€Å"We'll wait until Alice has an idea of what's going on. . . . We don't want to step in until it's absolutely necessary. After all, it's not our responsibility. But it's good we have Jasper,† he added, almost to himself. â€Å"If we are dealing with newborns, he'll be helpful.† â€Å"Jasper? Why?† Edward smiled darkly. â€Å"Jasper is sort of an expert on young vampires.† â€Å"What do you mean, an expert?† â€Å"You'll have to ask him – the story is involved.† â€Å"What a mess,† I mumbled. â€Å"It does feel that way, doesn't it? Like it's coming at us from all sides these days.† He sighed. â€Å"Do you ever think that your life might be easier if you weren't in love with me?† â€Å"Maybe. It wouldn't be much of a life, though.† â€Å"For me,† he amended quietly. â€Å"And now, I suppose,† he continued with a wry smile, â€Å"you have something you want to ask me?† I stared at him blankly. â€Å"I do?† â€Å"Or maybe not.† He grinned. â€Å"I was rather under the impression that you'd promised to ask my permission to go to some kind of werewolf soire tonight.† â€Å"Eavesdropping again?† He grinned. â€Å"Just a bit, at the very end.† â€Å"Well, I wasn't going to ask you anyway. I figured you had enough to stress about.† He put his hand under my chin, and held my face so that he could read my eyes. â€Å"Would you like to go?† â€Å"It's no big thing. Don't worry about it.† â€Å"You don't have to ask my permission, Bella. I'm not your father – thank heaven for that. Perhaps you should ask Charlie, though.† â€Å"But you know Charlie will say yes.† â€Å"I do have a bit more insight into his probable answer than most people would, it's true.† I just stared at him, trying to understand what he wanted, and trying to put out of my mind the yearning I felt to go to La Push so that I wouldn't be swayed by my own wishes. It was stupid to want to go hang out with a bunch of big idiot wolf-boys right now when there was so much that was frightening and unexplained going on. Of course, that was exactly why I wanted to go. I wanted to escape the death threats, for just a few hours . . . to be the less-mature, more-reckless Bella who could laugh it off with Jacob, if only briefly. But that didn't matter. â€Å"Bella,† Edward said. â€Å"I told you that I was going to be reasonable and trust your judgment. I meant that. If you trust the werewolves, then I'm not going to worry about them.† â€Å"Wow,† I said, as I had last night. â€Å"And Jacob's right – about one thing, anyway – a pack of werewolves ought to be enough to protect even you for one evening.† â€Å"Are you sure?† â€Å"Of course. Only . . .† I braced myself. â€Å"I hope you won't mind taking a few precautions? Allowing me to drive you to the boundary line, for one. And then taking a cell phone, so that I'll know when to pick you up?† â€Å"That sounds . . . very reasonable.† â€Å"Excellent.† He smiled at me, and I could see no trace of apprehension in his jewel-like eyes. To no one's surprise, Charlie had no problem at all with me going to La Push for a bonfire. Jacob crowed with undisguised exultation when I called to give him the news, and he seemed eager enough to embrace Edward's safety measures. He promised to meet us at the line between territories at six. I had decided, after a short internal debate, that I would not sell my motorcycle. I would take it back to La Push where it belonged and, when I no longer needed it anymore . . . well, then, I would insist that Jacob profit from his work somehow. He could sell it or give it to a friend. It didn't matter to me. Tonight seemed like a good opportunity to return the bike to Jacob's garage. As gloomy as I was feeling about things lately, every day seemed like a possible last chance. I didn't have time to procrastinate any task, no matter how minor. Edward only nodded when I explained what I wanted, but I thought I saw a flicker of consternation in his eyes, and I knew he was no happier about the idea of me on a motorcycle than Charlie was. I followed him back to his house, to the garage where I'd left the bike. It wasn't until I pulled the truck in and got out that I realized the consternation might not be entirely about my safety this time. Next to my little antique motorcycle, overshadowing it, was another vehicle. To call this other vehicle a motorcycle hardly seemed fair, since it didn't seem to belong to the same family as my suddenly shabby- looking bike. It was big and sleek and silver and – even totally motionless – it looked fast. â€Å"What is that?† â€Å"Nothing,† Edward murmured. â€Å"It doesn't look like nothing.† Edward's expression was casual; he seemed determined to blow it off. â€Å"Well, I didn't know if you were going to forgive your friend, or he you, and I wondered if you would still want to ride your bike anyway. It sounded like it was something that you enjoyed. I thought I could go with you, if you wished.† He shrugged. I stared at the beautiful machine. Beside it, my bike looked like a broken tricycle. I felt a sudden wave of sadness when I realized that this was not a bad analogy for the way I probably looked next to Edward. â€Å"I wouldn't be able to keep up with you,† I whispered. Edward put his hand under my chin and pulled my face around so that he could see it straight on. With one finger, he tried to push the corner of my mouth up. â€Å"I'd keep pace with you, Bella.† â€Å"That wouldn't be much fun for you.† â€Å"Of course it would, if we were together.† I bit my lip and imagined it for a moment. â€Å"Edward, if you thought I was going too fast or losing control of the bike or something, what would you do?† He hesitated, obviously trying to find the right answer. I knew the truth: he'd find some way to save me before I crashed. Then he smiled. It looked effortless, except for the tiny defensive tightening of his eyes. â€Å"This is something you do with Jacob. I see that now.† â€Å"It's just that, well, I don't slow him down so much, you know. I could try, I guess. . . .† I eyed the silver motorcycle doubtfully. â€Å"Don't worry about it,† Edward said, and then he laughed lightly. â€Å"I saw Jasper admiring it. Perhaps it's time he discovered a new way to travel. After all, Alice has her Porsche now.† â€Å"Edward, I -â€Å" He interrupted me with a quick kiss. â€Å"I said not to worry. But would you do something for me?† â€Å"Whatever you need,† I promised quickly. He dropped my face and leaned over the far side of the big motorcycle, retrieving something he had stashed there. He came back with one object that was black and shapeless, and another that was red and easily identifiable. â€Å"Please?† he asked, flashing the crooked smile that always destroyed my resistance. I took the red helmet, weighing it in my hands. â€Å"I'll look stupid.† â€Å"No, you'll look smart. Smart enough not to get yourself hurt.† He threw the black thing, whatever it was, over his arm and then took my face in his hands. â€Å"There are things between my hands right now that I can't live without. You could take care of them.† â€Å"Okay, fine. What's that other thing?† I asked suspiciously. He laughed and shook out some kind of padded jacket. â€Å"It's a riding jacket. I hear road rash is quite uncomfortable, not that I would know myself.† He held it out for me. With a deep sigh, I flipped my hair back and stuffed the helmet on my head. Then I shoved my arms through the sleeves of the jacket. He zipped me in, a smile playing around the corners of his lips, and took a step back. I felt bulky. â€Å"Be honest, how hideous do I look?† He took another step back and pursed his lips. â€Å"That bad, huh?† I muttered. â€Å"No, no, Bella. Actually . . .† he seemed to be struggling for the right word. â€Å"You look . . . sexy.† I laughed out loud. â€Å"Right.† â€Å"Very sexy, really.† â€Å"You are just saying that so that I'll wear it,† I said. â€Å"But that's okay. You're right, it's smarter.† He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest. â€Å"You're silly. I suppose that's part of your charm. Though, I'll admit it, this helmet does have its drawbacks.† And then he pulled the helmet off so that he could kiss me. As Edward drove me toward La Push a little while later, I realized that this unprecedented situation felt oddly familiar. It took me a moment of thought to pinpoint the source of the dj vu. â€Å"You know what this reminds me of?† I asked. â€Å"It's just like when I was a kid and Rene would pass me off to Charlie for the summer. I feel like a seven-year-old.† Edward laughed. I didn't mention it out loud, but the biggest difference between the two circumstances was that Rene and Charlie had been on better terms. About halfway to La Push, we rounded the corner and found Jacob leaning against the side of the red Volkswagen he'd built for himself out of scraps. Jacob's carefully neutral expression dissolved into a smile when I waved from the front seat. Edward parked the Volvo thirty yards away. â€Å"Call me whenever you're ready to come home,† he said. â€Å"And I'll be here.† â€Å"I won't be out late,† I promised. Edward pulled the bike and my new gear out of the trunk of his car – I'd been quite impressed that it had all fit. But it wasn't so hard to manage when you were strong enough to juggle full-sized vans, let alone small motorcycles. Jacob watched, making no move to approach, his smile gone and his dark eyes indecipherable. I tucked the helmet under my arm and threw the jacket across the seat. â€Å"Do you have it all?† Edward asked. â€Å"No problem,† I assured him. He sighed and leaned toward me. I turned my face up for a goodbye peck, but Edward took me by surprise, fastening his arms tightly around me and kissing me with as much enthusiasm as he had in the garage – before long, I was gasping for air. Edward laughed quietly at something, and then let me go. â€Å"Goodbye,† he said. â€Å"I really do like the jacket.† As I turned away from him, I thought I saw a flash of something in his eyes that I wasn't supposed to see. I couldn't tell for sure what it was exactly. Worry, maybe. For a second I thought it was panic. But I was probably just making something out of nothing, as usual. I could feel his eyes on my back as I pushed my bike toward the invisible vampire-werewolf treaty line to meet Jacob. â€Å"What's all that?† Jacob called to me, his voice wary, scrutinizing the motorcycle with an enigmatic expression. â€Å"I thought I should put this back where it belongs,† I told him. He pondered that for one short second, and then his wide smile stretched across his face. I knew the exact point that I was in werewolf territory because Jacob shoved away from his car and loped quickly over to me, closing the distance in three long strides. He took the bike from me, balanced it on the kickstand, and grabbed me up in another vice-tight hug. I heard the Volvo's engine growl, and I struggled to get free. â€Å"Cut it out, Jake!† I gasped breathlessly. He laughed and set me down. I turned to wave goodbye, but the silver car was already disappearing around the curve in the road. â€Å"Nice,† I commented, allowing some acid to leak into my voice. His eyes widened in false innocence. â€Å"What?† â€Å"He's being pretty dang pleasant about this; you don't need to push your luck.† He laughed again, louder than before – he found what I'd said very funny indeed. I tried to see the joke as he walked around the Rabbit to hold my door open for me. â€Å"Bella,† he finally said – still chuckling – as he shut the door behind me, â€Å"you can't push what you don't have.†