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to top it all
(British, American & Australian) alsoto top it all off (American & Australian)
if you have been describing bad things which happened, and then say that to top it all something else happened, you mean that the final thing was even worse The washing machine flooded, my car broke down, then to top it all I locked myself out of the house.
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2024-07-11T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/5311
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Rene Marie Russo (born February 17, 1954) is an American film actress.
Russo, an Italian American, was born in Burbank, California, the daughter of Shirley (née Balocca), a factory worker and barmaid, and Nino Russo, a sculptor and car mechanic who left the family when Rene was two. Russo grew up with her sister, Toni, and their single mother. She attended Burroughs High School (where her classmates included director Ron Howard), but eventually dropped out in the tenth grade. Due to financial constraints within the family, she began taking a variety of part-time jobs including working in an eyeglass factory, and as a movie cashier.
In 1972, the 17 year old was attending a Rolling Stones concert when she was approached by John Crosby, a scout and manager from International Creative Management. He told her she should be a model and had test photos made of her. Within a few months, Rene signed a contract with Ford Modeling Agency and within a year had become a successful print and photographers model. Soon her modeling breakthrough came when she graced the cover of Vogue. By 1975, she had appeared on numerous magazine covers, was one of the most successful models in America, and was also starting to be seen in several TV commercials through the 1980s. She would define what a top fashion model was for years to come.
United Press International is a leading provider of news, photos and information to millions of readers around the globe via UPI.com and its licensing services.
With a history of reliable reporting dating back to 1907, today's UPI is a credible source for the most important stories of the day, continually updated - a one-stop site for U.S. and world news, as well as entertainment, trends, science, health and stunning photography. UPI also provides insightful reports on key topics of geopolitical importance, including energy and security.
A Spanish version of the site reaches millions of readers in Latin America and beyond.
UPI was founded in 1907 by E.W. Scripps as the United Press (UP). It became known as UPI after a merger with the International News Service in 1958, which was founded in 1909 by William Randolph Hearst. Today, UPI is owned by News World Communications.
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2023-08-30T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/3328
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Q:
Cakephp file upload problem
I am using Cakephp as my framework. I have a problem in uploading my files through a form. I am using an Uploader plugin from THIS website.
My php ini file has this piece of code.
upload_max_filesize = 10M
post_max_size = 8M
this is from uploader.php --> plugin file has
var $maxFileSize = '5M'; //default max file size
In my controller.php file, i use this code to set max file size as 1 MB at runtime.
function beforeFilter() {
parent::beforeFilter();
$this->Uploader->maxFileSize = '1M';
}
In the uploader.php, we perform this ...
if (empty($this->maxFileSize)) {
$this->maxFileSize = ini_get('upload_max_filesize'); //landmark 1
}
$byte = preg_replace('/[^0-9]/i', '', $this->maxFileSize);
$last = $this->bytes($this->maxFileSize, 'byte');
if ($last == 'T' || $last == 'TB') {
$multiplier = 1;
$execTime = 20;
} else if ($last == 'G' || $last == 'GB') {
$multiplier = 3;
$execTime = 10;
} else if ($last == 'M' || $last == 'MB') {
$multiplier = 5;
$execTime = 5;
} else {
$multiplier = 10;
$execTime = 3;
}
ini_set('memore_limit', (($byte * $multiplier) * $multiplier) . $last);
ini_set('post_max_size', ($byte * $multiplier) . $last); //error suspected here
ini_set('upload_tmp_dir', $this->tempDir);
ini_set('upload_max_filesize', $this->maxFileSize); //landmark 2
EXPECTED RESULT:
When i try uploading a file that is 2MB of size, it shouldn't take place because maxFileSize is 1MB at run time. So upload should fail.
THE PROBLEM IS :
But it is getting uploaded.
Landmark 1 does not get executed. (in comments)... land mark 2 does not seem to work...
upload_max_filesize does not get the value from maxFileSize.
Please help me... thank you
A:
Setting upload_max_filesize during the script execution is rather pointless, since by the time the script executes the file is already uploaded and accepted by the server. If you need to reject the file based on size in your script (as opposed to Apache or PHP rejecting it), you need to evaluate the size of the uploaded file and "manually" ignore it if it's too big.
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2024-02-25T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/2670
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BANGKOK — Can garlands of chili and garlic cost you 2,000 baht? It did Wednesday for two activists.
Two student activists, Parit “Penguin” Chiwarak and Tanawat “Ball” Wongchai, were fined for hanging garlic and chili garlands on the Government House fence Feb. 2 as a symbolic gesture calling for then-junta leader Gen. Prayuth Chan-o-cha to step down.
The court on Wednesday ordered Penguin and Ball to be fined 2,000 baht each for violating the Public Assembly Act, saying that they failed to notify the authorities 24 hours ahead of their gathering.
Speaking after the court verdict, Parit said he does not believe that he has broken the law as he was exercising his rights mandated by the Constitution.
“I respect the ruling, but I disagree with this law, which has been proposed by the NCPO-backed legislators,” Parit said. “I may be arrested for talking with my friends, as it does not specify what is a public assembly.”
The pro-democracy activists went to Government House on Feb. 2 to read a statement demanding Prayuth to resign ahead of the election, which they then hung garlic and chili garlands on the fence before being taken away by the police.
Burning chili and salt in Thai culture is a ritual used to utter a curse upon adversaries, while garlic garland is believed in Western culture to ward off vampires.
Parit said after his arrest that the garlands were not meant to curse anyone, but to “ward off evil spirits that are sucking taxpayers’ money.”
They were indicted with charges relating to unauthorized protest, which the pair denied before being released by the police on the same day.
Their political stunt came after Prayuth challenged his detractors to banish him during a speech on government’s performance on Feb. 1.
“Every leader of the world, whether democratic or socialist, don’t have to resign during elections. Look at Obama or Xi Jinping, do they have to step down?,” Prayuth said. “Go on, come and chase me out!”
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2024-03-05T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/9525
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A Beautiful Show of Hippo Tusks, North Luangwa NP, Zambia
The dry season had come early in North Luangwa National Park. Located in the North of Zambia this dense bushland contains a plethora of small waterholes wherein large hippo populations shelter during the wetter seasons. This year however water sources were becoming scarce far earlier than the norm, this led to hippos being extremely protective of the remaining pools. While this may not be fun for many an animal seeking relief from the dry heat of the bush it was perfect for a photographer.
Seeing my approach to the water the resident bull and several others exploded into a display of raw power. They burst from the water maw gaping, white tusks gleaming in the afternoon sun, deep hums shattering the relative quiet of the bush. It made a memorable afternoon. For hippos to be so overtly aggressive in the water to those outside requires significant pressure put on their habitat. Sunday, one of the guides at Buffalo Camp from Shiwa Safaris, put it rightly when he said that just a few weeks earlier or later and we would have never seen the magnificent display. As the first leg of the coast to coast tour North Luangwa National Park, and Buffalo Camp was an extraordinary experience, and this most certainly the highlight.
Additional Images of this incredible afternoon, the one shown above being the last one taken as the setting sun shone directly upon the hippo pool;
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2024-02-19T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/6719
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Cover art, photos and screenshots
Description:Several years after the mysterious events that claimed the life of the U.S. Ambassador and his wife, the now teenaged and militarily enrolled Damien Thorne is slowly being made aware of his unholy heritage and horrific destiny. Woe is he (including anyone in Damien's adoptive family and his classmates) who suspects the truth or gets in his way. While not as unrelentingly frightening as its blockbuster predecessor, this more-than-competent sequel to The Omen raises some interesting questions about the nature of free will (can the antichrist deny his birthright?) before falling into a gory series of increasingly outlandish deathSeveral years after the mysterious events that claimed the life of the U.S. Ambassador and his wife, the now teenaged and militarily enrolled Damien Thorne is slowly being made aware of his unholy heritage and horrific destiny. Woe is he (including anyone in Damien's adoptive family and his classmates) who suspects the truth or gets in his way. While not as unrelentingly frightening as its blockbuster predecessor, this more-than-competent sequel to The Omen raises some interesting questions about the nature of free will (can the antichrist deny his birthright?) before falling into a gory series of increasingly outlandish deaths, the best of which is a terrifyingly protracted scene beneath the ice of a frozen lake. Jerry Goldsmith (who won an Oscar for his work on the first film in the series) contributes another marvelously foreboding score. --Andrew Wright... (more)(less)
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2024-05-06T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/5031
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Percutaneous penetration enhancement in vivo measured by attenuated total reflectance infrared spectroscopy.
A novel application of attenuated total reflectance IR spectroscopy (ATR-IR) was used to monitor the outer several microns of the stratum corneum (SC) and, thereby, demonstrate enhanced percutaneous absorption in vivo in man. 4-Cyanophenol (CP) as a model permeant yielded a unique IR signal, distinct from those of the stratum corneum and the vehicle components. CP was administered for 1, 2, or 3 hr as a 10% (w/v) solution either in propylene glycol or in propylene glycol containing 5% (v/v) oleic acid. The absorbance at 2230 cm-1, which corresponded to C identical to N bond stretching, diminished significantly faster when CP was codelivered with oleic acid. An IR absorbance due primarily to propylene glycol at 1040 cm-1 (C-O stretching) also disappeared more quickly following application of the enhancer-containing solution. In addition, only the formulations with oleic acid induced a higher wavenumber shift in the frequency of the asymmetric C-H bond stretching absorbance. This change indicates increased lipid-chain disorder, the mechanism by which oleic acid is believed to cause enhanced drug transport across the stratum corneum. Therefore, ATR-IR permits one to examine noninvasively the kinetics, extent, and mechanism of percutaneous penetration enhancement in vivo in human subjects.
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2023-10-02T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/8700
|
New Baby Gifts & Toys
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Beautiful baby clothes bouquet available in Pink, Blue, White and cream, consisting of the below garments presented in a gift box with silk flowers and foliage and cello wrapped. Contents included are aged 0-3months allowing the bouquet to initially remain wrapped when given as a gift. 6 pairs of socks 2 pairs of mitts 2 bibs 2 body suits (0-3m) 1 knot hat Please note that a slight variation in t…
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2023-09-30T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/6529
|
Q:
Duplicate entries for index in pandas pivot function
I'm trying to create a new dataframe that derives from pivoting this one:
dataframe name date tenor mat strike capvol
0 EUR CapFloor Volat_3m 20120903 3m 1y 0.25 152.202160
1 EUR CapFloor Volat_3m 20120903 3m 1y 0.50 151.969370
2 EUR CapFloor Volat_3m 20120903 3m 1y 1 149.266970
3 EUR CapFloor Volat_3m 20120903 3m 1y 1.50 152.940750
4 EUR CapFloor Volat_3m 20120903 3m 1y 2 157.229350
5 EUR CapFloor Volat_3m 20120903 3m 1y 2.25 159.325890
My goal is to have data grouped by date, mat and strike (I can drop the '3m' and 'dataframe name' columns since they're common to all data).
I tried with the command:
df = frame.pivot('date','mat','strike')
but get this error:
'Index contains duplicate entries, cannot reshape'
altough I checked with my data and contains no duplpicates on rows.
Can anyone help me with this issue, or propose an alternative approach to the pivot function?
Thanks for your help
A:
Maybe set_index is what you want? pivot is a reshape operation:
In [4]: frame.set_index(['date', 'mat', 'strike'])
Out[4]:
dataframe name tenor capvol
date mat strike
20120903 1y 0.25 EUR CapFloor Volat_3m 3m 152.20216
0.50 EUR CapFloor Volat_3m 3m 151.96937
1.00 EUR CapFloor Volat_3m 3m 149.26697
1.50 EUR CapFloor Volat_3m 3m 152.94075
2.00 EUR CapFloor Volat_3m 3m 157.22935
2.25 EUR CapFloor Volat_3m 3m 159.32589
In [7]: df.capvol.unstack('mat')
Out[7]:
mat 1y
date strike
20120903 0.25 152.20216
0.50 151.96937
1.00 149.26697
1.50 152.94075
2.00 157.22935
2.25 159.32589
|
2024-03-13T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/6735
|
Growing from ancient astronomical observations 2500 years ago to black holes in space no human endeavor has transformed society and defined our place in the cosmos more than the physical sciences. What started as a kernel ... more »of knowledge about the movement of the heavenly bodies has expanded to include the atomic building blocks of all chemistry; geology's understanding of earth's long history and the forces that have shaped our planet's features; astronomy's picture of an ever expanding universe populated by billions of galaxies each containing billions of stars; and physics understanding of the basic principles of movement, energy and forces which has given us the technological world of cars, planes, television, computers, cell phones, and the electrification of the planet. TURNING POINTS IN THE PHYSICAL SCIENCES takes you on an exciting journey of discovery from ancient through classical science to the world of modern physics, relativity, chaos theory and quantum mechanics. Programs in this series : Program 1: 130 - 1819
Movie Reviews
Turning Points in Physical Sciences
Jeffrey Y. Liu | Ft. Lauderdale, FL | 10/18/2008
(5 out of 5 stars)
"This series is an excellent overview of the major turning points in the development of physical sciences (covering chemistry, physics, astronomy, and geology). While highly condensed, the coverage is adequate as a review for high school level students, or preview/intro for middle school students.
Definitely worth having in your teaching library of supplementary videos!"
|
2023-10-12T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/7500
|
"Out of clouds of pepper spray and phalanxes of riot cops a new generation of revolutionaries is being forged, and it would be a shame if the Peter Camejos, Max Elbaums, Angela Davises, Dave Clines and Huey Newtons of this generation end up in separate “competing” socialist groups ... Now is the time to begin seriously discussing the prospect of regroupment, of liquidating outdated boundaries we have inherited, of finding ways to work closely together for our common ends. "
For more on the #Occupy movement, click here.
By Pham Binh
December 14, 2011 -- Links International Journal of Socialist Renewal -- Occupy is a once in a lifetime opportunity to re-merge the socialist and working-class movements and create a viable broad-based party of radicals, two prospects that have not been on the cards in the United States since the late 1960s and early 1970s. The socialist left has not begun to think through these “big picture” implications of Occupy, nor has it fully adjusted to the new tasks that Occupy’s outbreak has created for socialists. In practice, the socialist left follows Occupy’s lead rather than Occupy follow the socialist left’s lead. As a result, we struggle to keep pace with Occupy’s rapid evolution.
Occupy Wall Street (OWS) mobilised more workers and oppressed people in four weeks than the entire socialist left combined has in four decades. We would benefit by coming to grips with how and why other forces (namely anarchists) accomplished this historic feat.
The following is an attempt to understand Occupy, review the socialist response, and draw some practical conclusions aimed at helping the socialist left become central rather than remain marginal to Occupy’s overall direction.
Occupy’s class character and leadership
Occupy is more than a movement and less than a revolution. It is an uprising, an elemental and unpredictable outpouring of both rage and hope from the depths of the 99%.
Occupy is radically different from the mass movements that rocked US politics in the last decade or so: the immigrants’ rights movement that culminated on May 1, 2006, in the first national political strike since
1886, the Iraq anti-war movement of 2002-2003 and the global justice movement that began with the Battle of Seattle in 1999 and ended on 9/11. All three were led by liberal non-governmental organisations (NGOs). They sponsored the marches, obtained the permits and selected who could and could not speak from the front of the rallies. Militant, illegal direct action tended to be the purview of adventurist Black Bloc elements or handfuls of very committed activists.
Compared to these three movements, the following differences stand out: Occupy is broader in terms of active participants and public support and, most importantly, is far more militant and defiant. Tens of thousands of people are willing to brave arrest and police brutality. The uprising was deliberately designed by its anarchist initiators to be an open-ended and all-inclusive process, thereby avoiding the pitfalls of the failed conventional single-issue protest model. The “people’s mic”, invented to circumvent the New York Police Department’s (NYPD) ban on amplified sound, means that anyone can be heard by large numbers of people at any time.
One of the most important elements that makes Occupy an uprising and not merely a mass movement is its alleged leaderlessness. Of course as Marxists we know that every struggle requires leadership in some form, and Occupy is no exception. The leaders of Occupy are those who put their bodies on the line at the encampments and get deeply involved in the complex, Byzantine decision-making process Occupy uses known as “modified consensus”. Occupy’s leaders are those who make the proposals at planning meetings, working group, and general assemblies (GAs) that attract enough support to determine the uprising’s course of action.
The people leading the uprising are those who are willing to make the biggest sacrifices for it.
Since Occupy is self-organising and self-led by its most dedicated participants, attempts to make its decision-making process more accessible to those who are not willing or able to dedicate themselves to Occupy 24 hours a day, seven days a week will fall flat. “All day, all week, occupy Wall Street!” is not just a chant, it is a way of life for Occupy’s de facto leadership.
This reality has affected the class character of encampment participants, who tend to be either what Karl Marx called lumpenproletariat (long-term homeless, hustlers, drug addicts and others who have fallen through the cracks of the capitalist edifice) or highly educated (white) students, ex-students and graduate students. The former joined the encampments not just to eat and sleep in a relatively safe place but also because they hope the uprising will win real, meaningful change. The latter tend to dominate Occupy’s convoluted decision-making process and what motivates them is identical to what motivates the lumpenproletarian elements: hope that Occupy will win real, meaningful change. Many of these people are saddled with tremendous amounts of personal debt, have worked two or three part-time jobs simultaneously, or were unable to find work in their field despite their expensive, extensive educations. They were destined to be secure petty bourgeois or well-paid white-collar workers before the ongoing fallout from the 2008 economic crisis claimed their futures and put their backs against the wall. This is the material reality underpinning the determination of Occupy participants to keep coming back despite repeated arrests, beatings, and setbacks. Their determination is the stuff revolutions are made of.
The advantage of Occupy’s structure and form is that the Democratic Party, liberal NGOs and union leaders have been unable to co-opt the uprising before it exploded into over 1000 US towns and cities and targeted President Obama. The disadvantage is that it limits Occupy geographically to places where authorities will tolerate encampments and sociologically to the least and most privileged sections of the population, to those who have no where else to go besides the encampments and to those who can afford to camp out for weeks at a time.
The undocumented immigrant who works 60 hours a week and the wage slave who works 40 hours a week will find it very difficult to shape Occupy’s decision-making process. Attempts to scrap Occupy’s existing structures and forms to make them more accessible to those other than full-time occupiers carry two inherent risks: 1) opening it up to forces that would love nothing more than to turn the uprising’s fighters into foot soldiers for Obama’s 2012 campaign and 2) diminishing the power wielded by Occupy’s most dedicated participants. In places where Occupy does not take the form of a permanent encampment its decision-making process can be even more diffuse and difficult to participate in.
OWS’s birth and the socialist response
The US socialist left did not cover OWS in its daily publications until after NYPD deputy inspector Anthony Bologna pepper sprayed cornered women on a sidewalk near Union Square on September 24. The Socialist Equality Party’s coverage on its World Socialist Web Site began on September 26, the Party for Socialism and Liberation’s (PSL) coverage in Liberation News began on September 27, the International Socialist Organization’s (ISO) first article appeared in Socialist Worker on September 8 and Solidarity’s initial discussion began on October 3.
This tardiness reflected the socialist left’s deep-seated scepticism at a protest without demands, a rally without a permit, OWS’s talk of prefiguring a future non-capitalist society in an outdoor camp in the middle of Manhattan’s financial district and a “leaderless” “horizontal” process. The preponderance of these anarchist elements, combined with the socialist left’s theoretical sophistication and political preconceptions, led to a “wait and see” approach that consigned us to the role of rearguard, not vanguard.
The uprising succeeded not only in spite of its alleged weaknesses but because of them. Repression from above and determination from below combined to win Occupy mass support in the weeks after September 24. The socialist left made OWS a priority and moved beyond sending its members to OWS organising meetings in early October as the trade unions, MoveOn.org and other left-liberal groups mobilised for the October 5 march of over 20,000 to protest the NYPD’s bait-and-arrest operation on the Brooklyn Bridge the previous Saturday.
Socialists on anarchist terrain
Occupy is undoubtedly related to the “occupy everything, demand nothing" trend that appeared in student mobilisations against budget cuts to higher education in 2009-2010. David Graeber, the anarchist OWS organiser who coined “we are the 99%”, pointed out how anarchism informs Occupy’s refusal to acknowledge the legitimacy of state and corporate authorities and its insistence on direct action, direct democracy, non-hierarchical organising, consensus and prefigurative politics.
The task for the socialist left with respect to these issues is to understand: 1) how and why these methods dominate the uprising and 2) what to do about it.
Anarchist practices have become widespread because success breeds imitation. Just as the 1917 Russian Revolution a century ago spawned communist workers’ parties with tens of thousands of members hoping to imitate the Bolshevik example in their own countries, so today the thousands of people inspired to imitate OWS in their own towns and cities copied what proved in practice to be an effective means of bringing tens of thousands of workers and oppressed people into motion, the socialist left’s criticisms notwithstanding. In the weeks following September 17 OWS’s facilitation working group, which is tasked with running the New York City GA , trained organisers all over the country in the modified consensus process with dozens of video sessions broadcast over livestream.com in addition to face-to-face sessions with dozens, perhaps hundreds, of OWS participants. Many of these trainees then traveled to other cities or returned to their home cities to launch new occupations.
Occupy is the vanguard of the 99% and OWS is the “vanguard of the vanguard", to borrow an expression of Leon Trotsky’s. OWS’s vanguard role explains why its methods prevail over those preferred by more traditional organizations such as unions, liberal NGOs and socialist groups.
The socialist left must learn to navigate Occupy’s anarchist terrain if we hope to shape and lead the uprising instead of being shaped and led by it. Trying to overturn existing practices in favour of Roberts Rules of Order, majority voting and formally electing leaders by making proposals along these lines at GAs will fail because Occupy participants have not been shown by example that these methods are superior.
In short, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and if it is broke, show and prove what a better model looks like.
The reality of OWS is that the “horizontal” modified consensus method, the GA and the spokescouncil are all highly dysfunctional but not fatally so (at least at this stage). Prior to the eviction, many OWS working groups began secretly hoarding street donations they received from the GA’s official finance working group (FWG) because they put lots of money into the general fund but faced serious hurdles in getting any money out of it for badly needed items due to OWS’s protracted, bureaucratic decision-making process. Also, because FWG administers over $500,000 in internet donations, many working groups saw no need to contribute to a fund flush with cash and resented what amounted to a one-way cashflow.
The money hoarding was part of a divide that emerged between full-time occupiers who felt disenfranchised and eventually boycotted the GA on the one hand and movement types (many of whom did not sleep in Liberty Park) who believed that the modified consensus process was the single most important element of the uprising on the other. This divide manifested itself geographically with the emergence of a “ghetto” and a “gentrified” area that was captured in a Daily Show segment.
The spokescouncil structure approved by the New York City GA, aimed at alleviating its frustrating and undemocratic logjams, simply transferred those problems to the spokescouncil while not significantly improving the GA’s process. All of these problems worsened after NY Mayor Michael Bloomberg evicted OWS from Liberty Park and OWS did not contest the eviction by returning there, a blow the uprising is still struggling to recover from (an improved encampment is planned for a new location).
Although the socialist left might see these problems as a vindication of its dim view of modified consensus and Occupy’s decision-making process generally, the task of socialists is not be vindicated but to aid the uprising in overcoming its stumbling blocks with practical solutions arising from the experiences of Occupy participants that utilise the uprising’s existing framework, infrastructure and terminology.
Instead of proposing at a GA or a working group to scrap modified consensus from the outset, a more fruitful approach would be to raise process reform proposals only after building close relationships with fellow activists through joint work. If (or when) they become frustrated with the shortcomings of modified consensus, a suggestion to modify the 90% approval margin necessary to overcome a block to a two-thirds margin or 50% plus one might then become appealing.
The difficult, painful and protracted process of trial and error cannot be skipped. We may be right about the shortcomings of modified consensus, but only peoples’ direct experience will prove it conclusively.
Socialists and Occupy working groups
Every local Occupy has working groups organised around a wide variety of tasks, a reflection of Arun Gupta’s observation that “all occupations are local". The challenges facing OWS are not the same as Occupy Philadelphia, Portland, Mobile or Nashville. OWS has over 40 working groups, some of which were forced to transform after the eviction (sanitation became focused on housing, for example) due to new circumstances. Local Occupys have adapted OWS’s model to their local needs and created a dozen or so working groups such as labour, demands, direct action, security, medical, food/kitchen, comfort, internet, media and facilitation.
The socialist left has generally limited its participation in Occupy to a handful of working groups, usually those engaged in what Ross Wolfe of Platypus correctly described as mental labour — demands, labour outreach, direct action — and shied away from the physical labour or “grunt work” done by security, comfort, medical and food/kitchen. This is problematic because it cedes the majority of working groups to the influence of other political forces (anarchists and liberals), inadvertently creating “Red ghettos”.
Prioritising groups devoted to mental as opposed to manual labour is predicated on the false notion that running a kitchen or securing tents to sustain occupiers is less political or less important than talking about demands or ideological issues. When Genora Dollinger led the Flint sit-down strike in 1936, feeding strikers hot food was just as crucial to beating General Motors as picket lines were. Without one the other was impossible. The example of post-eviction OWS bears this out as well. At this stage of the uprising’s development, mass mobilisations and political discussions have no launching point or organising centre without a physical occupation, and the physical occupation of a space requires a lot of “grunt work”.
The socialist left must be involved with all of Occupy’s aspects and develop a reputation for being the most committed, most serious, most effective fighters. Only on that basis will we be able to effectively influence people and steer the uprising’s course.
Anarchists and the Black Bloc
One stark difference between Occupy and its great dress rehearsal, the global justice movement, is the role played by Black Bloc (BB) and the broader anarchist reaction to BB. BB (not an organised group but a tactic) came to the fore of Occupy for the first time during the November 2 Oakland general strike called in response to the police department’s crackdown that left Iraq veteran Scott Olsen in the hospital with a serious brain injury (he was hit in the face with a tear gas canister).
The first notable BB incident was the vandalism at Whole Foods and major banks during the November 2 day-time marches. The second incident occurred when BB led a failed attempt to seize the Traveler’s Aid Society (TAS) later that evening after the general strike succeeded in shutting down Oakland’s port with a 10,000-strong throng. Although related, these two incidents should be examined separately because they involve different issues and had different dynamics.
The vandalism at Whole Foods seemed like a replay of BB’s infamous Starbucks window-smashings in 1999 that came to (unfairly) symbolise the global justice movement. Things turned out differently this time when BB’s actions touched off physical fights among demonstrators, with people shouting and eventually throwing objects at BB when they refused to stop damaging the property of Whole Foods and other corporate behemoths along the march route. BB acted with impunity in the global justice movement because the mantra of “diversity of tactics” prevailed, which, in practice, meant no one had the right to tell anyone else what they could or could not do even if their actions damaged the movement as a whole. This childish attitude has given way to a much more serious approach by Occupy participants who feel a strong sense of ownership over the uprising and will not allow adventurists to wreck it.
The Whole Foods incident led to thoughtful criticisms of BB’s actions in the context of Occupy from fellow anarchists. This marks a significant turning point in the maturation of US anarchism. The socialist left needs to incorporate this reality into its Occupy strategy.
Later that evening, 150 people led by BB occupied TAS, an empty building that became vacant as a result of recent budget cuts. After dropping a banner in celebration of the easy seizure of TAS, the crowd of occupiers swelled to
700 or so. They erected barricades at the two nearest intersections and set them on fire when hundreds of Oakland riot police appeared (the cops kept a low profile throughout the day). The fires and small barricades blocking the street did nothing to stop police from marching on TAS and arresting those who stayed to defend it (many BB fled to avoid arrest).
The reaction within the anarchist camp to the TAS debacle was even more visceral than to the Whole Foods incident. A local street medic blasted the BB members for fleeing the scene they helped create and a post on San Francisco Indymedia’s website, presumably from those who led the seizure, defending the action drew intensely critical comments slamming their political and tactical failures during the short-lived occupation. Kim Lehmkuhl even went so far as to describe the fire starters as faux-anarchists, provocateurs, and used other profanity-laced pejoratives unfit for a political publication to describe their actions.
By contrast, the socialist left’s criticism of the TAS occupation focused on process rather than substance. Todd Chretien wrote in Socialist Worker that the action’s organisers failed to participate in much less win the approval of Oakland’s GA, that they underestimated the police, and “sought to replace the power of mass unity with the supposed heroism of an elite”.
These mistakes are irrelevant to why the TAS occupation failed. This line of argument is one of many indications that the socialist left may not fully understand how Occupy works.
The overwhelming majority of actions, especially direct actions, that Occupy engages in are not approved by GAs. Autonomous groups (sometimes working groups officially recognised by local GAs, sometimes not) call actions, and occupiers choose to get on board or not. If every group with an idea for an action had to get GA approval, said action would simply never happen because of the bureaucratic nature of the modified consensus process when used by large groups. Expecting anarchists, especially BB, to come to a GA for approval before taking action is not realistic, nor is it a viable strategy for dealing with the very real problem of adventurist trends within Occupy. Furthermore, the TAS occupation was not an attempt to hijack or disrupt an explicitly non-violent march by an ultra-left minority as the Whole Foods incident was.
OWS itself began with the “heroism of an elite”, the 100-200 people who risked arrest by sleeping in Liberty Park starting on September 17 to make their point. Without their heroic action, the “mass unity” of the Occupy uprising would never have been born.
The TAS occupation failed because:
1) The occupiers didn't sneak into the building and begin quietly building fortifications inside to hold it. Instead they celebrated the seizure by blaring dance music, unfurling a large banner on the side of the building and dropping hundreds of leaflets from above. This attracted the attention of the local media and alerted the Oakland police to the situation, which gave them time to muster their forces for an attack at the time of their choosing. 2) After celebrating their victory publicly, TAS occupiers set up ineffective, tiny barricades (not more than a two or three feet tall) strewn across the two nearest intersections. Neither of these barricades were staffed with enough occupiers to hold those positions. 3) The mini-barricades were set on fire but not physically defended from the slow, methodical police advance.
Hundreds of people outside BB got involved in an exciting action that was ill conceived, poorly executed and an avoidable failure due more to the organisers’ inexperience (no doubt this was their first time trying to seize a building with hundreds of people) than any horribly elitist ultra-left politics. Setting up barricades was a necessity, but their placement on the outside of the building half a block away with a few dozen defenders (who set them ablaze) did nothing in terms of accomplishing the goal of holding TAS. If 150-700 people unobtrusively barricaded themselves inside of the building and held it until the next day, TAS could have been a big victory and opened a new chapter in the uprising which, thus far, has depended on seizing and holding outdoor locations for mass assemblies.
Our tasks with respect to the anarchists are twofold:
1) to work with them in neutralising adventurists and ultra-lefts when their activities threaten Occupy as a whole, and 2) to out-compete them in daring, audacity, creativity, improvisation, and revolutionary elan in the most friendly, collaborative, and comradely manner possible.
Only when we do both will we truly be contending for leadership of the Occupy uprising and fulfilling our duties as socialists.
Reds and blue
One of the socialist left’s most consistent criticisms of Occupy has concerned the issue of the police. PSL’s Liberation News ran an article entitled, “Are the police forces part of the 99% or tools of the 1%?” The Internationalist Group attributed the predominance of whites at OWS to its “line” on the police: “A main reason why there are relatively few black and Latino participants in Occupy Wall Street is this positive attitude toward the police, who day-in and day-out persecute the oppressed.” Socialist Worker correspondent Danny Lucia concluded an article entitled “Officer not-at-all-friendly” this way:
I'll ask the same question now to all those chanting and blogging about the police being part of the 99 percent. When you chant and blog support for the cops, when you publicly speculate that maybe deep down the cops really like you, how does that make you appear to your darker-skinned comrades in the movement who have no doubts about how the police feel about them?
The New York City ISO even held a public meeting on the topic: “Our Enemies in Blue: Why the Police Are Not Part of the 99%.”
Socialists are duty-bound to object to politics, strategy, tactics and slogans we believe harm or impede movements of the oppressed and exploited. On this point there can be no debate.
However, the socialist left’s objections on this issue are not rooted in the needs of the uprising but in our desire to “teach” Occupy Marxist orthodoxy. According to the socialist left, OWS was and is too friendly to the police, when, in reality, OWS had the opposite problem: hostility to the NYPD was so strong that incidents of groping, sexual assaults and rapes that began almost from day one of the occupation went unreported for weeks. This practice changed as the incidents escalated and occupiers realised it could not be handled “internally”,
(When such reports were filed, the NYPD blamed the victims, creating an opportunity for OWS to link up with SlutWalk.)
None of the socialist publications acknowledged or seemed to be aware of this development within Occupy, nor did they offer any practical guidance on what to do about the sexual assaults that plagued occupations across the country.
The socialist left objects to the inclusion of the rank and file of the police force in what Occupy calls “the 99%” by which the uprising means everyone outside the wealthiest 1% who destroyed the economy, paid themselves and rigged the political system. These objections have been framed in a problematic way; the issues have been mixed up and, as a result, Occupy’s “friendliness” towards the police in the face of repression appears to be stupidity, insanity, or both. For example, Lucia wrote in the article quoted previously:
Maybe the horrifying [police] attack on Iraq vet Scott Olsen and the rest of Occupy Oakland will finally settle the debate inside the movement about whether or not the police are on our side. Up until now, some protesters have been determined to maintain sympathy for the cops despite the near-constant harassment of many encampments.
No act of police violence will “finally settle the debate” about whether the police are part of the 99% because there is no debate, at least within Occupy. The police rank and file are part of the 99%. They are the part of the 99% that keep the rest of the 99% in line at the behest of the 1%. The police rank and file are professional class traitors. Shouting “you are the 99%!” at them drives that point home far better than calling them “pigs” or “our enemies in blue”. PSL’s juxtaposition, “are the police forces part of the 99% or tools of the 1%?” is false because they are both. It is not a case of either-or.
To argue that the police are “not part of the 99%" means to argue that they are somehow part of the 1%, a radically and demonstrably false notion. This explains why the socialist left’s argument on this issue has gained zero ground within Occupy despite all the beatings, arrests, abuse and brutality.
Where the police rank and file fit into the 99%-1% dichotomy is separate from questions like whether Occupy should march in defence of police pensions or if shouting “you are the 99%!” or “join us” at the police is something Occupy should do. These are the live issues facing Occupy that the socialist left should be discussing and providing a political lead on instead of criticising who occupiers maintain “sympathy” for.
Occupy is absolutely correct in its openness to including rank-and-file cops in a struggle against the 1%. This correctness has been proven in practice many times over. Police in Albany resisted pressure from Democratic Party Governor Anthony Cuomo to clear and arrest occupiers. Retired Philadelphia police captain Ray Lewis joined OWS and was arrested in full uniform during the November 17 day of action; he carried a sign that read, “NYPD: Don’t Be Wall Street Mercenaries”.
It is precisely because the uprising says, “you too, officer, are part of the 99%” that Christopher Rorey, a black officer with the DeKalb County Police Department, emailed Occupy Atlanta for help fighting the unjust foreclosure of his family’s home. Occupy Atlanta sent a dozen occupiers, delaying the foreclosure temporarily. Now the bank (government-owned Fannie Mae) is taking legal action to force Rorey to turn over all email correspondence between his family and Occupy Atlanta, as if evicting them was not enough.
If the socialist left’s “line” on the police prevailed in Occupy and the uprising treated rank-and-file cops as “the enemy”, none of these things would have happened. If officer Rorey is not part of the 99%, then Occupy Atlanta is guilty of betraying our cause and siding with “our enemies in blue”.
No single socialist publication has mentioned Rorey’s case in any of its articles on Occupy and the police because doing so would force them to answer the most basic of political questions: which side are you on?
Occupy Atlanta was not afraid to pick officer Rorey’s side and we should not be afraid to either.
As socialists we should be going out of our way to organise actions that might split the police along class lines or cause them disciplinary problems. Cases like Rorey’s are a golden opportunity. It offers us the exceedingly rare possibility of fanning the flames of discontent within the police force, between the rank-and-file cops and their bosses, between the police force and the 1% they work for.
The tension between the police and their political bosses became evident after the Oakland police union issued a scathing rebuke to Oakland’s Democratic Party Mayor Jean Quan, who ordered them to clear Occupy Oakland and then tried to distance herself from the crackdown after they nearly killed Iraq veteran Scott Olsen and provoked a general strike. Imagine the difficulty that would have emerged within the Atlanta police department if they had been ordered to clear the house of a fellow officer, his family, and “pro cop” occupiers.
It is for these strategic reasons that Occupy the Hood founder Malik Rhaasan spoke positively about the prospect of marching on NYPD headquarters in defence of their pensions. Such an action would put the NYPD in the awkward position of possibly pepper spraying and arresting a “pro cop” march. Rhaasan’s position should also serve as a warning to disproportionately white socialist groups not to use the suffering of oppressed peoples at the hands of the police to make bogus arguments about Occupy and the police.
The task of socialists is not to “teach” Occupy that the police are “our enemies in blue”. Our task is to overcome the police as a repressive force, to neutralise them, as US Marine and Iraq veteran Shamar Thomas did when he stopped 30 cops from arresting peaceful Occupy protesters at a massive Times Square OWS demonstration. Thomas shamed them, implied they were cowards, and told them there was “no honour” in brutalising the very people they are supposed to protect. He utilised the contradiction between the stated purpose of the police and their actual purpose to impede police repression on behalf of our real enemies, the ruling class.
The danger of the Democratic Party
After the socialist left recognised the importance of Occupy and got on board, it began warning of the danger of being co-opted by the Democratic Party. A typical example was Dan La Botz’s article “Occupy the Democratic Party? No Way!” which used current and historical events to make a very strong case against the Democrats but did not offer any practical guidance on how to avoid being taken over (aside from just saying “no” to the drug known as the Democratic Party).
This type of negative “don’t do the following” or “it would be a mistake if” advice to Occupy is common for socialist publications. Danny Lucia’s “Co-opt-upy Wall Street?” in Socialist Worker had a detailed account of how the Service Employees International Union (SEIU) broke promises made in joint meetings with OWS organisers when it took over the November 17 march to ensure there would be no traffic disruption on the Brooklyn Bridge or grassroots people’s mic speakouts at the closing rally. (Given the SEIU’s union-busting in the health-care industry on the West Coast, this betrayal should come as no surprise.) Lucia argues SEIU’s actions were part and parcel of its strategy to maximise the vote for the Democrats and minimise Occupy’s militancy.
However, the practical conclusion Lucia draws about how OWS should deal with this is to “not to turn away from organized labor, whose participation in OWS in New York City has been one of the movement's biggest strengths”. He continued:
OWS has breathed new life into a labor movement that has been in retreat for decades. At the rank-and-file level, the Occupy movement was a lightning rod for many people who have been looking for a way to take action. … Continuing that engagement with labor will be important for the future of the Occupy movement. And within unions, it will serve as a counter-weight against officials who want labor to go back to mobilizing only for the polls—rather than for the protests that have galvanized people around the country in a long overdue struggle against the One Percent.
These arguments are correct so far as they go, but they do not go far enough. These are not concrete, practical conclusions. Of course Occupy should not abandon its work with unions (no one in OWS is in favour of doing so), but refusing to shun unions in general does nothing specific to prevent SEIU from hijacking future marches. Should OWS organise any future actions in conjunction with SEIU since it has proven it cannot be trusted, especially as the 2012 elections approach? Should SEIU representatives be allowed to attend OWS logistics meetings? If the SEIU tries to hijack another action, what should OWS do? March somewhere else? Hold an ad-hoc GA to discuss a potential course of action?
The article says not a word on these burning questions.
The task of the socialist left is not simply to warn and advise Occupy about the danger of being co-opted by the Democratic Party (a danger that is keenly felt by a large number of participants, including liberals) but to propose, organise and lead Occupy actions against individual Democratic Party politicians and the party as a whole, thereby creating facts on the ground that will make co-optation difficult or impossible.
For example, after congressman Charlie Wrangel visited OWS to “show support”, OWS marched on his office because he voted in favour of a free-trade agreement with South Korea. In New Hampshire (a blue state), Obama was “mic checked” for his silence on the police brutality directed at Occupy and his refusal to do anything about the banksters’ ongoing destruction of the US economy. Jesse La Greca, who famously destroyed a Fox News reporter in an unaired interview that went viral, called for occupying the offices of “worthless Blue Dog” Democrats like Senators Ben Nelson and Max Baucus. OWS has also gone after an Obama fundraiser and the 2012 Democratic National Convention will also be a likely Occupy target (the host city has already tried to ban Occupy actions).
These actions are a reflection of the fact that Occupy is a rebellion against policies the Democratic and Republican parties have implemented for four decades, that most of the mayors who ordered crackdowns on encampments are Democrats, and that the uprising exploded under a Democratic Party president that millions of Occupy participants voted for in the hope that he would govern differently than his predecessors had. For these reasons the uprising does not see sharp distinctions between the two parties, unlike the 2002-2003 anti-war movement.
This is not to suggest that the danger of co-optation is non-existent but to point out that Occupy’s self-led self-organised nature does not lend itself to Wisconsin-style derailment (where the socialist left did not create popular bodies like GAs that could have served as authoritative counterweights to the union leaders and provided the basis for an Oakland-style general strike). Just as Occupy created new and unexpected forms, so too will the Democratic Party’s intervention into Occupy come in a form that is new and unexpected.
We must do everything possible to hinder that eventuality. Deeds not words, agitation not propaganda are decisive now.
Given Occupy’s fluidity, the socialist left should be careful about ruling any course of action out. An attempt to “Occupy the Democratic Party” is not necessarily a road for activists out of militant struggle and into the voting both. For example, Occupy activists might decide to copy the example of the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party which held an integrated primary and then tried to claim the official segregated delegation’s seat at the party’s 1964 convention. This was an effort to bring the fight for civil rights into the Democratic Party, not an attempt to trap the civil rights fight in a dead end. We may see Occupy efforts to hold “99% primaries” that ban contributions by corporations and lobbyists and select delegates to the 2012 convention that challenge the legitimacy of the party’s official delegates. Such an action would probably be a road out of the Democratic Party since it would prove to thousands of people in practice that the party is owned lock, stock and barrel by the 1%.
This is hypothetical but Occupy thus far has pulled off many creative and original actions that the socialist left did not foresee but then wholeheartedly supported once they emerged. Failure to be open minded is what caused us to lag behind Occupy’s rise in the first place.
Some conclusions
The most basic and fundamental task facing socialists is to merge with Occupy and lead it from within. Socialist groups that insist on “intervening” in the uprising will be viewed as outsiders with little to contribute in practice to solving Occupy’s actual problems because they will be focused on winning arguments and ideological points rather than actively listening to, joining hands with and fighting alongside the vanguard of the 99% in overcoming common practical and political.
One difficulty the socialist left faces in accomplishing this basic and fundamental task is the divisions in our ranks that serve in practice to weaken the overall socialist influence within Occupy, thereby strengthening that of the anarchists. They have their Black Bloc, but where is our Red Bloc? Where are the socialist slogans to shape and guide the uprising’s political development?
Out of clouds of pepper spray and phalanxes of riot cops a new generation of revolutionaries is being forged, and it would be a shame if the Peter Camejos, Max Elbaums, Angela Davises, Dave Clines and Huey Newtons of this generation end up in separate “competing” socialist groups as they did in the 1960s. Now is the time to begin seriously discussing the prospect of regroupment, of liquidating outdated boundaries we have inherited, of finding ways to work closely together for our common ends.
Above all else, now is the time to take practical steps towards creating a broad-based radical party that in today’s context could easily have thousands of active members and even more supporters. Initiatives like Socialist Viewpoint’s call for a joint revolutionary socialist organising committee in the Bay Area is a step in the right direction. We need to take more of those steps, sooner rather than later. The opportunity we have now to make the socialist movement a force to be reckoned with again in this country depends on it.
Anyone who agrees with this conclusion, whether they are in a socialist group or not, and wants to take these steps should email me so we can find ways to work together.
[Pham Binh’s articles have been published by Occupied Wall Street Journal, The Indypendent, Asia Times Online, Znet, Green Left Weekly and Counterpunch. His other writings can be found at www.planetanarchy.net.]
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2024-02-27T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/7499
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There are also some rumours swirling around that the Ramsay Bolton flavour is about to return as well because who wouldn't want white chocolate and hazelnut gelato with chocolate mud cake, chocolate and hazelnut mousse and candied hazelnuts?!
This is the perfect thing to chow down on during this week's new episode so get yourself a tub or cone ASAP!
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2023-08-03T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/9600
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FABP
Fatty acid-binding proteins (FABPs) are members of the intracellular lipid-binding protein (iLBP) family and are involved in reversibly binding intracellular hydrophobic ligands and trafficking them throughout cellular compartments, including the peroxisomes, mitochondria, endoplasmic reticulum and nucleus. FABPs are small, structurally conserved cytosolic proteins consisting of a water-filled, interior-binding pocket surrounded by ten anti-parallel beta sheets, forming a beta barrel. At the superior surface, two alpha-helices cap the pocket and are thought to regulate binding. FABPs have broad specificity, including the ability to bind long-chain (C16-C20) fatty acids, eicosanoids, bile salts and peroxisome proliferators.
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2023-12-09T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/9887
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125 Cal.App.3d 207 (1981)
178 Cal. Rptr. 28
THE PEOPLE, Plaintiff and Respondent,
v.
DAVID EUGENE KENT, Defendant and Appellant.
Docket No. 11866.
Court of Appeals of California, Fourth District, Division One.
November 3, 1981.
*210 COUNSEL
Quin Denvir, State Public Defender, under appointment by the Court of Appeal, Handy Horiye, Deputy State Public Defender, and Joyce Sweet for Defendant and Appellant.
George Deukmejian, Attorney General, Robert H. Philibosian, Chief Assistant Attorney General, Daniel J. Kremer, Assistant Attorney General, Harley D. Mayfield and J. Richard Haden, Deputy Attorneys General, for Plaintiff and Respondent.
OPINION
WIENER, J.
David Eugene Kent appeals a judgment of conviction on counts of robbery (Pen. Code, § 211), burglary (Pen. Code, § 459), assault with a deadly weapon (Pen. Code, § 245, subd. (a)), and petty theft (Pen. Code, § 484). He contends that various errors at his trial mandate reversal of his convictions. We conclude the errors committed by the trial court were not prejudicial and affirm the judgment. (See Cal. Const., art. VI, § 13; Chapman v. California (1967) 386 U.S. 18 [17 L.Ed.2d 705, 87 S.Ct. 824, 24 A.L.R.3d 1065].)
Factual and Procedural History
The events giving rise to this case occurred on February 14 and 15, 1980. Kent was identified as one of two men who solicited tree-trimming work at the home of Juliet and Adeline Buckalew in La Mesa. Before beginning the trimming, Kent demanded entrance to the Buckalew's garage in order to borrow a chain saw. Mrs. Buckalew finally *211 agreed and admitted him. Kent left with the chain saw and failed to return. The Buckalews' trees were never trimmed.
Kent was also identified by Frank Schuch as the individual who sought tree-trimming work at his La Mesa home the following evening. When Schuch declined, Kent and another man departed in the direction of the home of Florence Archer.
Eighty-six-year-old Mrs. Archer testified Kent and a companion appeared at her door on the evening of February 15th. She said she recalled his name because he had solicited work from her on three previous occasions. When she told him she had no work available this time, Kent asked to use the phone. The other man also entered the house. After the phone call, Kent asked to use the bathroom. While he was in the bathroom, Mrs. Archer checked her purse which was located near the phone and noticed several $1 bills missing. When Kent emerged from the bathroom, she questioned him about the missing money. He responded by striking her in the face, brandishing a knife, and demanding more money. Mrs. Archer then observed the other man emerge from her bedroom. He appeared to be carrying something. Kent told Mrs. Archer, "You don't know me," to which she replied, "I certainly do. You're David Kent." Both men then left the house. Mrs. Archer subsequently discovered several other items missing.
At trial, two alibi witnesses testified for Kent to corroborate his whereabouts on the days in question. He also introduced evidence tending to show that Mrs. Archer had mistaken his cousin, Monty Roberts, Jr., for him in her identification of the robber. The jury returned verdicts of guilty on five of the six counts.[1] Kent was sentenced to seven years in prison.
Discussion
(1) Kent initially claims he was denied his right to a fair trial when he was compelled to wear jail clothing during trial. The record reveals he appeared on one day of trial[2] wearing blue denims and a green T-shirt. Defense counsel conveyed Kent's objection to standing trial in *212 the clothing, although the exact nature of that objection is unclear.[3] The clothing apparently did not bear any distinctive markings. The court concluded Kent's garb was not reasonably identifiable as jail clothing and would not prejudice Kent in the eyes of the jury.
In Estelle v. Williams (1976) 425 U.S. 501, 512 [48 L.Ed.2d 126, 135, 96 S.Ct. 1691, 1697], the United States Supreme Court held that "the State cannot ... compel an accused to stand trial before a jury while dressed in identifiable prison clothes...." The identifiability of the clothing is a question of fact which may depend on the nature of the apparel as well as surrounding circumstances. (See Gaito v. Brierly (3d Cir.1973) 485 F.2d 86, 89-90.)
The court's decision that the clothing at issue was not readily identifiable as jail-issue is supported by substantial evidence. In the absence of other factors (e.g., testimony indicating that other prisoners viewed by prospective jurors were similarly clothed), the lack of identifiable markings on the apparel provides sufficient foundation for a conclusion that the wearing of the clothes did not prejudice Kent.
(2) As a second contention, Kent argues he was entitled to a sua sponte[4] instruction that the jury must unanimously agree on every fact necessary to constitute the charged crime. He specifically points to the fact that evidence introduced at trial suggested that four different items may have been taken during the robbery of Mrs. Archer. He contends all jurors must agree on at least one of the items taken in order to sustain his conviction.
It is a fundamental principle of our criminal justice system that the prosecution must prove beyond a reasonable doubt "every fact necessary *213 to constitute the crime with which [the defendant] is charged." (In re Winship (1970) 397 U.S. 358, 364 [25 L.Ed.2d 368, 375, 90 S.Ct. 1068, 1073.) It is also clear that where evidence presented to the jury indicates more than one act which may constitute the charged offense, the jury must be instructed that it must unanimously agree on the specific criminal act in order to convict the defendant. (People v. Madden (1981) 116 Cal. App.3d 212, 218-219 [171 Cal. Rptr. 897]; People v. McNeill (1980) 112 Cal. App.3d 330, 335-336 [169 Cal. Rptr. 313].) We can find no authority, however, in support of Kent's proposition that where a crime has more than one element, the jury must unanimously agree on the act necessary to constitute that element. All of the cases cited by Kent involve situations where the multiple acts which were proved in themselves constituted separate chargeable offenses, not just alternate ways of proving a necessary element of the same offense.[5] (See, e.g., People v. Madden, supra, 116 Cal. App.3d 212; People v. Alva (1979) 90 Cal. App.3d 418 [153 Cal. Rptr. 644].)
Kent's argument is nonetheless an interesting one. If the Winship standard is to have substantive meaning, Kent's guilt as to each element of the crime must be proved beyond a reasonable doubt. If the facts of a given case are susceptible of an interpretation that no items of property were taken, Kent may well be entitled to an instruction that the jury must agree on at least one item.
We need not decide the issue in this case, however, since any error by the trial court in failing to give such an instruction was clearly harmless in light of the facts. Mrs. Archer testified that she discovered several dollar bills missing from her purse. When she confronted Kent with this fact, he struck her in the face and demanded more money. This constituted a virtual admission of guilt by Kent.[6]
*214 Mrs. Archer's testimony was uncontradicted and the jury obviously had to believe her in order to convict on three of the five counts. Under these circumstances, the failure to instruct as to jury unanimity was harmless beyond a reasonable doubt.[7] (Chapman v. California, supra, 386 U.S. 18, 24 [17 L.Ed.2d 705, 710].)
(3a) Kent next contends he was prejudiced by the admission of evidence regarding two prior felony convictions. (See, generally People v. Beagle (1972) 6 Cal.3d 441 [99 Cal. Rptr. 313, 492 P.2d 1].) Mrs. Archer testified she recognized defendant because he had come to her house on several previous occasions, including once during the "early part of 1979." Kent sought to impeach Mrs. Archer's statement by introducing third party testimony to the effect that Kent was incarcerated until April or May of 1979. (4) (See fn. 8.) The trial court relied on Evidence Code section 352 in excluding the proffered testimony, concluding it would unduly prejudice Kent.[8] (3b) Kent insisted on putting the evidence of his incarceration before the jury, however, and decided to take the stand for that purpose against his counsel's advice.[9] The court indicated he could not stop Kent from testifying, but warned once he took the stand, the prosecutor could "tear him apart" with regard to his prior felony convictions.
Kent nevertheless testified in substance that he was incarcerated in county jail from October 1978 to May 1979. On cross-examination, the *215 prosecutor inquired whether Kent had ever been convicted of a theft-related felony.[10] Kent replied that he had. The prosecutor then asked whether the incarceration was due to a parole revocation. Kent again responded affirmatively, although he asserted the revocation was not based on the commission of a subsequent crime.
The prosecutor sought and received permission from the trial court to inquire into the nature of the theft-related offense and the basis for the parole revocation. Defense counsel objected on the ground of Evidence Code section 352, but the objection was overruled. It was then revealed that Kent had suffered a prior robbery conviction in 1973 and while on parole for that offense had suffered a felony conviction for hit-and-run driving which resulted in parole revocation and additional state prison time.
The only asserted basis for admission of the evidence concerning the nature of defendant's prior convictions was the impeachment of Kent's testimony.[11] (See Evid. Code, § 788; People v. Beagle, supra, 6 Cal.3d 441.) Because the prosecutor had in his possession records which indicated Kent was incarcerated in county jail from October 23, 1978 through April 24, 1979, he had no reasonable basis to question defendant's credibility.[12] The obvious purpose for the prosecutor's cross-examination was to put before the jury highly prejudicial evidence concerning defendant's past convictions. (See People v. Rist (1976) 16 Cal.3d 211, 220 [127 Cal. Rptr. 457, 545 P.2d 833]; cf. People v. Hall, supra, 28 Cal.3d 143.) The court's refusal to exercise its discretion under Evidence Code section 352 therefore constitutes error.
Moreover, the court's later decision to allow the prosecutor to inquire into the nature of the prior theft-related conviction is directly contrary *216 to the Supreme Court's decision in People v. Fries, supra, 24 Cal.3d 222. Fries also involved a prior robbery conviction which the prosecution sought to introduce to impeach the testimony of a defendant charged with robbery. The court held that the trial judge abused his discretion under Evidence Code section 352 in refusing to exclude evidence of the prior robbery conviction because the defendant was currently charged with an identical crime. (Id., at p. 233.) It reasoned that prejudice flowing from the jury's awareness of the prior conviction substantially outweighed the limited probative value regarding defendant's credibility. We find the instant case indistinguishable.
Having concluded there was error, we are now faced with the difficult determination of whether such error requires reversal of Kent's conviction. Our review is governed by article VI, section 13 of the California Constitution,[13] as interpreted in People v. Watson (1956) 46 Cal.2d 818 [299 P.2d 243]. (See People v. Rollo (1977) 20 Cal.3d 109, 121 [141 Cal. Rptr. 177, 569 P.2d 771].) The Watson court held that a "`miscarriage of justice' should be declared only when the [reviewing] court, `after an examination of the entire cause including the evidence,' is of the `opinion' that it is reasonably probable that a result more favorable to the appealing party would have been reached in the absence of the error." (Id., at p. 836.)
Applying this standard to the facts before us, we cannot say that a different result would be "reasonably probable" in the absence of the error. The error did not cause the jury to be denied whatever limited benefit the defendant's testimony may have provided. (Cf. People v. Fries, supra, 24 Cal.3d 222, 231.) In addition, the case against defendant was strong, including identification by four eyewitnesses. His automobile matched the description of that observed by the Buckalews. Kent's companion at the time of his arrest was identified by both Mrs. Archer and Mr. Buckalew as the second man involved in each incident. While there were discrepancies in the testimony of some of the prosecution's witnesses, they were largely insubstantial. One of Kent's two alibi witnesses was severely impeached, and his attempts to place the blame *217 for the incidents on his cousin, Monty Roberts, Jr., were unpersuasive.[14] We conclude Watson mandates Kent's conviction be affirmed. (See People v. Rollo, supra, 20 Cal.3d 109, 120-121; People v. Betts (1980) 110 Cal. App.3d 225, 231 [167 Cal. Rptr. 768].)
(5, 6) Although admitting that no single error or omission meets the Pope standard, Kent asserts the sum total of his counsel's performance denied him effective assistance within the meaning of People v. Pope (1979) 23 Cal.3d 412 [152 Cal. Rptr. 732, 590 P.2d 859, 2 A.L.R.4th 1]. He notes counsel's failure to stipulate to the period of prior incarceration (see fn. 8, ante) and adequately contest the jail clothing issue (see pp. 211-212, ante). He additionally challenges counsel's decision to stipulate to probable cause for his arrest and counsel's failure to object during closing argument when the prosecutor tore his diagrams in half. With the exception of the failure to stipulate to the period of prior incarceration, each of the alleged errors appears to be a tactical choice which cannot be second-guessed by appellate courts. (See People v. Pope, supra, 23 Cal.3d at p. 424; People v. Frierson (1979) 25 Cal.3d 142, 166 [158 Cal. Rptr. 281, 599 P.2d 587].) And while we can discern no tactical justification for the failure to at least suggest a stipulation regarding the prior incarceration, counsel's failure to stipulate can in no way be said to have resulted in "the withdrawal of a crucial or potentially meritorious defense." (People v. Pope, supra, 23 Cal.3d at p. 425.)
As a final argument, Kent aggregates several assertions of error into a claim he was denied a constitutionally mandated fair trial. (See, e.g., People v. Buffum (1953) 40 Cal.2d 709, 726 [256 P.2d 317].) We agree one of the rulings was erroneous, but we do not find such error to be prejudicial.
Kent argues a prior consistent statement made by Mrs. Buckalew to an investigating police officer was improperly admitted. While we agree that none of the statutory predicates for admission of such a statement were met (see Evid. Code, § 791), the officer's testimony cannot reasonably be said to have prejudiced Kent.
Kent also says the court improperly refused to allow him to call certain witnesses to rebut charges impliedly made by the prosecutor that *218 two previous defense witnesses had been coached.[15] The "implied charges" made by the prosecutor occurred during the cross-examination of one of the prior witnesses. When several questions failed to yield any evidence regarding the alleged impropriety, the judge ordered the entire line of questioning stricken. Allowing defense rebuttal evidence on the point would have merely emphasized something which the jury was not to consider, and the court was well within its discretion in refusing to permit the additional testimony.
(7) Kent next complains the court abused its discretion in refusing to allow a one-man showup of Monty Roberts, Sr., during Mrs. Archer's testimony. Archer had testified she recognized Kent because he had solicited work at her home on three previous occasions during the past two years. She also noted that she remembered seeing Kent as a small boy who came to her house with his father who was a tree-trimmer. Kent attempted to suggest that Mrs. Archer had mistaken defendant for his cousin, Monty Roberts, Jr. Defense counsel was permitted to introduce photographs of Monty Roberts, Jr., but Mrs. Archer stated that the man in the photos was not the man who robbed her. Counsel then sought permission to have Monty Roberts, Sr., appear in court to see if Mrs. Archer would identify him as the man who trimmed her trees 20 years earlier. At that point, the trial judge indicated that the matter was too collateral to permit additional evidence on the point and refused to allow the in-court showup. In view of the tangential relevance of the point and the remoteness in time of the 20-year-old incident, we conclude that the trial court did not abuse its discretion in excluding the evidence.[16] (See Evid. Code, § 352.)
Although the management of a criminal trial is indeed easier from this vantage point, we nevertheless are troubled by the errors, particularly those pertaining to Beagle and its progeny, which occurred here. However, applying the appropriate standards of prejudicial error, both individually and cumulatively (see People v. Williams (1971) 22 Cal. App.3d 34, 58 [99 Cal. Rptr. 103]), we have nonetheless concluded Kent's conviction must be affirmed.
*219 Disposition
Judgment affirmed.
Staniforth, Acting P.J., and Work, J., concurred.
A petition for a rehearing was denied November 23, 1981, and the opinion was modified to read as printed above. Appellant's petition for a hearing by the Supreme Court was denied January 7, 1982.
NOTES
[1] The sixth count involved the severing of a telephone cord (see Pen. Code, § 591) on which the jury could not agree. That count was dismissed by the trial court after the other verdicts were returned.
[2] The Attorney General's brief asserts Kent only wore the challenged clothing on that one day. Kent does not dispute this assertion, but notes that it is without support in the record.
[3] Kent personally objected to the condition of his trousers, noting the crotch was ripped. The judge concluded that since defendant would remain seated throughout the trial, the condition of the trousers would not be observed by the jury.
[4] Kent attempts to characterize the proffered instruction as having been requested at trial by pointing to his Penal Code section 1118.1 motion for acquittal on the ground that there was no evidence of force or fear involved in the taking of any item. (See fn. 6, post.) That issue is clearly distinct from the question of whether the jurors must unanimously agree on the act which constitutes one element of the crime. Whether the proffered unanimity instruction constitutes a "general principle of law" "commonly or closely and openly connected with the facts of the case," thus requiring a sua sponte instruction, is an issue we do not reach. (See People v. Wade (1959) 53 Cal.2d 322, 334 [1 Cal. Rptr. 683, 337 P.2d 502]; People v. Flannel (1979) 25 Cal.3d 668, 681 [160 Cal. Rptr. 83, 603 P.2d 1].)
[5] Contrary to Kent's assertion, we do not read People v. Bauer (1969) 1 Cal.3d 368, 376-377 [82 Cal. Rptr. 357, 461 P.2d 637, 37 A.L.R.3d 1398], to stand for the proposition that the taking of several items from one victim during the course of a robbery episode is sufficient to sustain multiple robbery convictions. The Bauer court's indication that Penal Code section 654 would prohibit multiple punishment in such a situation does not necessarily imply that multiple convictions would be proper. Moreover, Bauer involved the propriety of punishment for one count of robbery and one count of a separate crime (auto theft), not multiple counts of robbery.
[6] We categorically reject Kent's contention that the jury could have reasonably concluded that the taking of the money constituted a mere larceny and that the application of force or fear occurred after the larceny was completed. As the Supreme Court noted in People v. Anderson (1966) 64 Cal.2d 633, 638 [51 Cal. Rptr. 238, 414 P.2d 366], "In this state, it is settled that a robbery is not completed at the moment the robber obtains possession of the stolen property and that the crime of robbery includes the element of asportation, the robber's escape with the loot being considered as important in the commission of the crime as gaining possession of the property. [Citations.] [¶] Accordingly, if one who has stolen property from the person of another uses force or fear in removing, or attempting to remove, the property from the owner's immediate presence, as defendant did here, the crime of robbery has been committed."
[7] We assume without deciding the question that a failure to give an instruction mandated by Winship's reasonable doubt standard would constitute federal constitutional error and thus be evaluated under the Chapman standard.
[8] Although the issue is not raised by Kent, we question the propriety of the trial court's exclusion of defense-proffered evidence based on a section 352 determination that the admission of the evidence would unduly prejudice Kent. We note that had the court allowed the third party testimony regarding Kent's prior incarceration, the compound Beagle error which subsequently occurred would have been avoided.
Section 352 is designed primarily to protect a party against whom evidence is admitted from being unduly prejudiced by evidence of little legitimate probative value. Where a proponent of evidence is himself potentially prejudiced by the evidence, and assuming at least limited relevance, the balancing of the probative value against the prejudicial effect is best left to that proponent who stands to directly benefit or suffer from the decision.
[9] We are unable to understand why the trial court or defense counsel did not suggest that defendant offer to stipulate that he was incarcerated until April 24, 1979. (Cf. People v. Hall (1980) 28 Cal.3d 143 [167 Cal. Rptr. 844, 616 P.2d 826].)
[10] The framing of this initial question was an apparent attempt to comply with the approach suggested in People v. Moultrie (1979) 99 Cal. App.3d 77, 87-88 [160 Cal. Rptr. 51], and avoid the problems noted in People v. Fries (1979) 24 Cal.3d 222 [155 Cal. Rptr. 194, 594 P.2d 19].
[11] Although Kent again does not raise the issue, we note the trial court apparently compounded its error in allowing the cross-examination by failing to instruct the jury pursuant to CALJIC No. 2.23 that evidence of Kent's prior felony convictions was admitted solely for the purpose of challenging the credibility of his testimony and not as substantive evidence of guilt.
[12] If the trial court was concerned because Kent had incorrectly stated that his incarceration lasted until May 1979, he could have allowed a limited cross-examination of Kent for the purpose of establishing the correct release date.
[13] That section provides, in relevant part: "No judgment shall be set aside, or new trial granted, in any cause ... for any error as to any matter of procedure, unless, after an examination of the entire cause, including the evidence, the court shall be of the opinion that the error complained of has resulted in a miscarriage of justice."
[14] Three pictures of Monty Roberts, Jr., were admitted into evidence and viewed by the jury. Mrs. Archer was asked to observe the photographs, but responded that she had not mistaken Monty Roberts for Kent in her identification of the culprit.
[15] The prosecutor made reference to two courtroom observers and inquired of one of Kent's alibi witnesses whether the observers had left the courtroom to report to him the substance of a previous witness' testimony. (Witnesses had been excluded from the courtroom at defendant's request.) The alibi witness unequivocally denied any coaching by the observers. Kent sought to call the two courtroom observers to substantiate the witness' testimony as to the absence of coaching.
[16] The trial court did indicate that it would permit an in-court showup of Monty Roberts, Jr.
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2024-04-07T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/4370
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ANAHEIM, Calif -- At the outset, the StarCraft 2016 World Championship at BlizzCon on Nov. 4-5 felt like an awkward funeral to the game that started me down the esports journalism path years ago.
Fans came to watch hometown hero Alex "Neeb" Sunderhaft at the Anaheim Convention Center in an attempt to bring the world title to America, but he was easily dispatched in the quarterfinals, turning the atmosphere into a wake. The huge, custom-built arena wasn't even half full. The attention was more focused on the Overwatch World Cup, the exhibition tournament of the game that Blizzard is putting all of its money behind to be the next big esport come 2017. The "Champion Hall of Honor" with the banners of all the former StarCraft world champions was missing one in Lee "Life" Seung-hyun, the redacted world champion of 2014 who was banned from competitive gaming earlier this year for his hand in match-fixing. Editor's Picks Podcast: Is Overwatch the next big thing?
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The outlook seemed grim. But that wasn't how the story ended.
The tale of StarCraft
StarCraft is one of the toughest games in the world to play whilst having one of the easiest premises to go along with it. From its vanilla version in the late 90's to the technological spectacle of Legacy of the Void today, the game has always begun the same. You play one of the three races -- the human Terran, advanced psionic life-form Protoss, or arthropod alien Zerg -- start with a certain number of workers, mine minerals to gather money, and then use said money and other resources to create a military to expand your empire and crush your opponent's.
Over the past almost two decades, this simple but complex chess-like game set in intergalactic space has become a staple of South Korean culture. "StarCraft: Brood War" created the competitive video gaming boom in the early 00's in South Korea, and esports as you know it today began in the cable television studios of Seoul. Seemingly-unremarkable men were catapulted to superstardom with the introduction of the Starleague tournament which crowned the best Brood War player in South Korea, and thus, the world.
Legendary pro gamer Lee "Flash" Young-ho started playing professional StarCraft: Brood War in South Korea at 14 years old. His fans call him "The Ultimate Weapon." Helena Kristiansson/ESL
My first introduction to StarCraft was seven or eight years after it first made an impact in South Korea. A friend sent me a video of one of the Starleague broadcast openings, where the top players were highlighted in a quick 45-second video with a popular rock or pop song, usually from the West, in the background. I'd never played StarCraft and had no inkling at what these teenagers were doing in their colorful uniforms, but I was hooked.
As a fan of the theatrics and production value of professional wrestling, framing these guys as superhero-like figures intrigued me, pulling me into the mix. Regardless of what competition or conflict was about to take place, I wanted to see what happened next, the booming voices of the Korean commentators drawing me into the show with their wild gestures and inflections.
Back in 2007 and 2008, there were no official English casters for the Starleague or the Proleague, the yearlong team-based competition that pitted all the professional teams against each other like the NBA or NFL. There was no streaming platform like Twitch to watch the games on. Instead, a majority of matches for Proleague and Starleague were only viewable on websites where the quality was around 144p and the capacity of viewers was only around 150. So if you wanted to watch your favorite teams play, you had to get into the room earlier than everyone else, needing to virtually wait in line to watch a grainy, almost unwatchable rebroadcast of the games in a language that I didn't even understand. This is the esports version of your grandfather telling you he had to walk twelve miles in the snow to get a newspaper as a child.
It wasn't easy. I slowly started learning the knowhow of the game from the mass quantity of matches I was consuming, and with my introduction to English fan sites like Team Liquid -- yes, it was a fan site before it became a professional gaming team backed by Peter Guber, the co-owner of the Golden State Warriors -- it was easier to follow along. Players like Lee "Jaedong" Jae-dong were revered by the non-Koreans that watched him from afar. Storylines were built and produced like UFC fights of today. Ongamenet and MBC, the two South Korean gaming cable channels, took these teenagers and 20-somethings with a talent in one thing and turned them into larger than life heroes.
Jaedong was the Legend Killer, the Tyrant. Lee "Flash" Young-ho, his greatest rival who he'd face in numerous Starleague and individual tournament finals, was considered more android than human, being dubbed the Ultimate Weapon. Big finals would be occupied with intro videos where the two finalists would stare each other down like they were about to fight in a boxing ring. The final series itself would take place in spacious auditoriums, gymnasiums, or even grander settings; for one Starleague, which was sponsored by Korean Air, the final match was placed inside an airplane hangar, where the two finalists had extravagant entrances with the crowd (live and at home) hanging on every part of the production.
If you won three Starleague tournaments, you received a special golden mouse trophy only awarded to the greatest players of all time. Players would have fan girls swarm them at every opportunity to get a picture or autograph. When it was ever a player's birthday, the camera would swing to his team's bench and it would be covered in presents brought by the fans. There was even a dedicated community of people who did English fan casts of the bigger matches. You always felt like you were witnessing something cool, something that was special. Everything, from the opening intro to the credits rolling, was an event.
How the West was won (and South Korea was lost)
Internationally celebrated StarCraft commentator Dan "Artosis" Stemkoski was one of the first professional English-language casters in the South Korean professional scene. He moved to South Korea in 2008. Blizzard Entertainment
When StarCraft II was released in 2010, the Western world for the first time was given a sneak peek into the world of what South Korea had been living in for a decade at that point. The success of SCII as a competitive title with Blizzard's backing is what began the competitive gaming boom in the Western hemisphere. Tournaments like Major League Gaming, Intel Extreme Masters, DreamHack and others jumped onto the SCII train, and the game, while less difficult than the original, was a massive win for the tournament organizers that bought in.
For the first few years of the game's life, SCII was the king of esports in the West. Weekend tournaments at events like MLG and IEM would become two-day story arcs. Players would talk trash against one another, and you'd watch as heroes and villains faced off for the crowd's enjoyment The American crowds would rally behind their hometown heroes against the all-winning South Koreans, and you could feel the atmosphere change instantly whenever a South Korean would drop a game to a non-Korean. If a non-Korean could actually win the tournament against all odds, they were put on a pedestal, heralded as the beloved David that was somehow capable of slaying the Goliath in South Korea, a country that is intertwined with the game itself.
Issue being, however, that this boom was but an echo of the original one. StarCraft, as in the original, and the phenomenon that it was will always be tied to the culture of South Korea. SCII, on the other hand, didn't have nearly the same success as the original in that country. The new version was praised by the Western regions, but given a lukewarm welcome in South Korea. The fans wanted to see the original version. They wanted to see their stars, the Tyrant vs. the Ultimate Weapon, in the game that they had been following for a decade. Not this new "superior" version with shinier graphics and less depth whose star South Korean players were ones that couldn't cut it in the previous, tougher game.
It's not hard to see why SCII didn't take off in South Korea. It's the same if you took the NBA of today and told all the fans that they were going to be creating a sport called "basketball 2" that they are creating a separate league for next year. The hoop's rim will now have fire around it, the center court logo will now be a trampoline, and every three-pointer will now count for seven points. When a gigantic fan base -- and a national culture -- rallies behind something, changing it is only going to anger and drive people away. If something has worked for a decade, why change everything now?
StarCraft II eventually started declining in popularity in the West and never gain traction in South Korea. By the end of 2016, the StarCraft scene had become a strange inverse of when I started following it. Now it was the West and its viewership that was keeping it alive while the South Koreans preferred to watch or play the team-based games League of Legends or Overwatch. SCII is a lame duck in Korea, and a large number of former Brood War players have gone back to streaming the original game online to the dedicated fan base that has never left the original, making more money there than they ever could in the newer version.
The spectacle lives on
A week prior to the BlizzCon World Championship, it had been announced that most of the professional teams in South Korea had dropped or will be dropping their StarCraft II clubs by the end of the event. Those uniforms that had intrigued me almost a decade ago were now going to be no more in the world of SCII. Proleague, the main team league of StarCraft, was also discontinued.
There would be no Overwatch League without StarCraft II, but that didn't seem to matter anymore. As previously mentioned, the fanfare was low following Neeb's speedy departure from the event, and aside from John "Totalbiscuit" Bain's special King of the Hill event on Friday night with former stars taking the stage, the tournament felt like a footnote to the other events going across the convention halls. But then came finals day, and it all changed. The silence turned into cheers, and interest picked up as the tournament made its way down to the final four and eventually the finals. By the time the final kicked off between the world's strongest Terran Byun "ByuN" Hyun-woo and the world's strongest Zerg Park "Dark" Ryung-woo, there was no way inside the packed arena. Everyone had shown up to see who would be crowned the world champion of StarCraft II.
Fans cheer in the StarCraft II Arena as "ByuN" Hyun Woo, a Terran player from South Korea, competes on stage against Zerg player Park "Dark" Ryung-woo in the 2016 World Championship grand finals during BlizzCon in Anaheim, California. Brinson+Banks for ESPN
And when Byun finally beat Dark in an unforgettable 4-2 series win, the crowd jumped from its chairs, cheering for a player that had played the game since the very beginning of the professional SCII scene. Byun had made a name for himself early in the lifespan of the game before vanishing during the middle expansion before ultimately returning with the final iteration of the SCII franchise to become the world champion in marvelous fashion. The fan favorite, Byun described it as the best day of his life, physically hugging the trophy in bliss as the crowd flashed their cellphones at the golden moment.
In the end, this was not the revitalization of SCII as a leading esport. Although it was the sixth most-streamed esport on Twitch in Aug. 2016, its viewership numbers still pale in comparison to the top competitive titles, and the scene's demise in South Korea is only going to dilute the player pool even more come the 2017 campaign.
But it did show what StarCraft is all about, from the day it began to its current standing: a glorious spectacle. The feeling of witnessing something special. One-on-one showdowns where the only person you can blame for defeat if yourself. It's something that team-based games, for how popular they are, can't match when compared to StarCraft.
People came to see the two best players in the world mine with their workers and create the world in front of them. StarCraft, especially SCII, will never be what it once was, but it doesn't need to. Every year, the fans will return, and regardless of how the professional scene is doing or how low the attendance is on the first day, come the final, people will show up, wanting to see a show. And the beautifully complex but simple game will give them one.
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2023-12-22T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/8723
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Gluten intolerance is the most cruel and unusual punishment the universe could have inflicted on me. Now like others with gluten intolerance and coeliac disease, I suffer under the oppressive regime of a gluten free diet. I spend my days in pursuit of gluten free snacks that won’t hurt my insides. Sick of reading the words ‘gluten free‘ yet?
Some GF pasta tastes like the clag glue you ate in preschool. The affordable GF bread resembles flavourless cake. But for some reason, the ~health~ community has decided that gluten free food is the way.
Plenty of health food companies are inventing new products to fill the gap in the market. It’s cool for us, because there’s more options. But the food technology is still evolving, so there’s still plenty of GF products out there that are tragically inedible.
Why anyone would choose this life for themselves for a non-health related reason, I will truly never understand.
Here’s a list of tasty and actually edible gluten free snacks available to buy from the supermarket.
The original Ultimate Chocolate Chip Cookie’s are truly the best supermarket chocolate chip cookies I have ever tasted, so finally being blessed with a gluten-free version has been life changing. I stumbled upon this glorious creation during my weekly grocery shop, and things have never been the same. Their consistency is identical to what I remember the regular versions being, also with the 40% chocolate chips as promised. for $4, you cannot go wrong. Except when you inhale the entire packet in one sitting. Don’t do that.
These burritos are a little on the pricey side, but because they’re tasty I am always sure to check if they’re on sale . The tortilla part is a weird texture, but regardless the whole burrito is still delicious. Amy’s Kitchen have a bunch of other products like Easy-Mac-esque Macaroni & Cheese, ready made meals and soups. I haven’t tried them, but if the burritos are anything to go by, I’m sure they are also delicious.
This gluten free bread is bloody delicious, but my god is it expensive. I’d recommend this one for a weekend when you’re ready to Treat Yo Self to a nice avo on toast with some light, airy and flavoursome bread that’s actually reminiscent of what real bread is like. $7 for a 500g loaf of bread is steep when you compare it to the Coles white 700g loaves going for $1 jus down the isle. But if you’re prepared to splash the cash, it is worth the money.
The crackers are light and airy, SUPER flavoursome and also very cheap. 8/10.
I may completely negate the nutritional value of Weet-Bix by putting sugar on top and drowning them in soy milk, but these cereal rectangles are as close to the original as I remember them to be. If you were once a cereal person but now suffer under the oppressive regime of a gluten free diet, this one is for you.
These shortbread fingers literally melt in your mouth. They are so incredibly delicious and soft and lovely. I am a biscuit fiend (as you may have noticed, due to the content of the rest of this list), and these hit the mark.
Where to actually find these foods:
Finding gluten free food can be a nightmare. It’s expensive and the range in some supermarkets is very limited. I recommend he health food isles of Coles and Woolworths for the widest and cheapest gluten free snacks, as well as independent health food stores for more niche items. Supermarkets also keep the GF ready made meals and fake’ meats’ alongside the regular refrigerated and frozen vegetarian food, so check there too.
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2024-04-03T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/6011
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Light wallets are not a problem for Joe Mangrum, a sidewalk sand painter in New York, who has been using Square to take donations from passers-by and sell copies of his book. Sales have increased sharply since he started accepting credit cards on his iPhone, he said. “I’ve made the sale as opposed to twiddling my thumbs because they don’t have the cash.”
The new services could have the biggest impact on the smallest businesses, like farm stands or house cleaners, that accept only cash and checks because they do not have stores to house credit card terminals and do not want to enter into complicated, long-term relationships with credit card companies.
Rachel Ancliffe, a clothing designer in Portland, Ore., sells her dresses and blouses at sample sales and from her home, and uses Intuit GoPayment to process credit card payments.
“You can’t accept checks because then you’re just kissing your product goodbye” because of fraud and bounced checks, Ms. Ancliffe said. “I sell 10 times more because I take credit cards.”
Fraud protection offered by the credit card companies is the same as when the card is used at a cash register. Some of the new companies say security against fraud might even be improved because they provide e-mail receipts, and those from Square include photos and a map of where the transactions were made.
Image Brian Kusler and Nina Ramos, in San Francisco, using phones to exchange money. Credit... Jim Wilson/The New York Times
The death of cash has been predicted since the 1970s, when electronic transactions like direct deposit of checks were introduced. But most digital payment experiments, like one in 2006 by Visa, have focused on swiping cellphones, as is popular in countries like Japan, instead of credit cards. Mobile payments have not taken off in the United States because Americans are just as happy to reach into their pockets for a plastic card as for a cellphone.
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2024-02-05T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/8741
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Kindle AvailableThe H. L. Hunley: The Secret Hope of the Confederacy
On the evening of February 17, 1864, the Confederacy H. L. Hunley sank the USS Housatonic and became the first submarine in world history to sink an enemy ship. Not until World War I "half a century later” would a submarine again accomplish such a feat. But also perishing that moonlit night, vanishing beneath the cold Atlantic waters off Charleston, South Carolina, was the Hunley and her entire crew of eight
Union Navy Ship
USS Monitor
War, Technology, and Experience aboard the USS Monitor
The experience of the men aboard the Monitor and their reactions to the thrills and dangers that accompanied the new machine. The invention surrounded men with iron and threatened their heroism, their self-image as warriors, even their lives
USS Monitor , a 987-ton armored turret gunboat, was built at New York to the design of John Ericsson . She was the first of what became a large number of "monitors" in the United States and other navies. Commissioned on 25 February 1862, she soon was underway for Hampton Roads, Virginia. Monitor arrived there on 9 March, and was immediately sent into action against the Confederate ironclad Virginia , which had sunk two U.S. Navy ships the previous day . The resulting battle , the first between iron-armored warships, was a tactical draw. However, USS Monitor prevented the CSS Virginia from gaining control of Hampton Roads and thus preserved the Federal blockade of the Norfolk area.
Following this historic action, Monitor remained in the Hampton Roads area and, in mid-1862 was actively employed along the James River in support of the Army's Peninsular Campaign. In late December 1862, Monitor was ordered south for further operations. Caught in a storm off Cape Hatteras, she foundered on 31 December. Her wreck was discovered in 1974 and is now a marine sanctuary.
USS Monitor 's
construction resulted from a study of ironclad warships mandated by the Congress in July 1861, as the Civil War moved rapidly from crisis to serious armed conflict. During August and September the study board's members, Commodores Joseph Smith and Hiram Paulding and Commander Charles H. Davis, reviewed seventeen proposals and selected three for construction. Two were relatively conventional designs and became USS New Ironsides and USS Galena . The third, unconventional in virtually every way, became the Monitor .
Swedish engineer John Ericsson was personally responsible for Monitor 's conception and the details of her design. Perhaps with Scandanavian coastal defense conditions in mind, he had been developing the concept on paper for several decades. What emerged was well-suited for the Civil War's inshore fighting: a relatively shallow-draft iron hull, topped by an armored raft that provided good protection against ramming and cannon fire. Freeboard was less than two feet, sufficient for coastal requirements, though a real problem when the ship went to sea. Engine power was modest, but again sufficient to the need, and a Navy requirement for masts and sails was quite appropriately ignored.
The most stunning innovation, on a ship whose design was dominated by innovations, was the method of carrying her guns: a thickly-armored round turret, twenty-feet in diameter, rotated by steam power to permit nearly all-around fire from a pair of eleven-inch Dahlgren smoothbore shell guns, the heaviest weapons then available.
Iron fabrication began even before the Monitor 's contract was issued in early October. Rapid construction was a necessity, as the Confederates were known to be pushing work on their own ironclad, which became CSS Virginia . The new ship's hull was built by the Continental Iron Works, at Greenpoint, Long Island, with iron stock, machinery and much equipment furnished by other firms. Launched on 30 January 1862, she was outfitted over the next month and placed in commission on 25 February, under the command of Lieutenant John L. Worden .
After trials and modifications, Monitor left New York on 6 March. The next day, she encountered stormy weather, which abundantly demonstrated both the inherent seakeeping problems of the design and some more-easily correctable technical difficulties. Late on 8 March, just a few hours after CSS Virginia had spread terror among the Union fleet , the weather-beaten Monitor arrived off Hampton Roads, where her exhausted crew spent a long night urgently preparing their ship for action.
Union Monitor 1861-65The first seagoing ironclad was the USS Monitor, and its profile has made it one of the most easily recognised warships of all time. Following her inconclusive battle with the Confederate ironclad Virginia on March 9, 1862, the production of Union monitors was accelerated. By the end of the year a powerful squadron of monitor vessels protected the blockading squadrons off the Southern coastline, and were able to challenge Confederate control of her ports and estuaries
Year on a Monitor and the Destruction of Fort SumterPersonal view of the Civil War Navy. The monitor saw action in several significant naval assaults by the Union's Squadron. It took part in the failed Federal attack on Sumter in April 1863. The "Nahant" also participated in the capture of the Confederate Ram "Atlanta," and in the assault on Fort Wagner
Action between USS Monitor and CSS Virginia , 9 March 1862
At dawn on 9 March 1862, CSS Virginia prepared for renewed combat. The previous day , she had utterly defeated two big Federal warships, Congress and Cumberland , destroying both and killing more than 240 of their crewmen. Today, she expected to inflict a similar fate on the grounded steam frigate Minnesota and other enemy ships, probably freeing the lower Chesapeake Bay region of Union seapower and the land forces it supported. Virginia would thus contribute importantly to the Confederacy's military, and perhaps diplomatic, fortunes.
However, as they surveyed the opposite side of Hampton Roads, where the Minnesota and other potential victims awaited their fate, the Confederates realized that things were not going to be so simple. There, looking
small and low near the lofty frigate, was a vessel that could only be USS Monitor , the Union Navy's own ironclad, which had arrived the previous evening after a perilous voyage from New York. Though her crew was exhausted and their ship untested, the Monitor was also preparing for action.
Undeterred, Virginia steamed out into Hampton Roads. Monitor positioned herself to protect the immobile Minnesota , and a general battle began. Both ships hammered away at each other with heavy cannon, and tried to run down and hopefully disable the other, but their iron-armored sides prevented vital damage. Virginia 's smokestack was shot away, further reducing her already modest mobility, and Monitor 's technological teething troubles hindered the effectiveness of her two eleven-inch guns, the Navy's most powerful weapons. Ammunition supply problems required her to temporarily pull away into shallower water, where the deep-drafted Virginia could not follow, but she always covered the Minnesota .
Soon after noon, Virginia gunners concentrated their fire on Monitor 's pilothouse, a small iron blockhouse near her bow. A shell hit there blinded Lieutenant John L. Worden , the Union ship's Commanding Officer, forcing another withdrawal until he could be relieved at the conn. By the time she was ready to return to the fight, Virginia had turned away toward Norfolk.
The first battle between ironclad warships had ended in stalemate, a situation that lasted until Virginia 's self-destruction two months later. However, the outcome of combat between armored equals, compared with the previous day's terrible mis-match, symbolized the triumph of industrial age warfare. The value of existing ships of the line and frigates was heavily discounted in popular and professional opinion. Ironclad construction programs, already underway in America and Europe, accelerated. The resulting armored warship competition would continue into the 1940s, some eight decades in the future.
Life in Mr. Lincoln's NavyA tantalizing glimpse into the hardships endured by the naval leadership to build and recruit a fighting force. The seaman endured periods of boredom, punctuated by happy social times and terrifying bouts of battle horror
Halls of HonorThe U.S. Navy Museum takes you on an informed and entertaining romp through one of North America s oldest and finest military museums. The museum has been in continuous operation at the Washington Navy Yard since the American Civil War
March 1862 -- Battle of the USS Monitor and the CSS Virginia
In an attempt to reduce the North's great naval advantage, Confederate engineers converted a scuttled Union frigate, the U.S.S. Merrimack, into an iron-sided vessel rechristened the C.S.S. Virginia. On March 9, in the first naval engagement between ironclad ships, the Monitor fought the Virginia to a draw, but not before the Virginia had sunk two wooden Union warships off Norfolk, Virginia.
Submitted Material
The ship that was burned at Gosport Navy Yard in Norfolk VA and made into the CSS Virginia was the "Merrimack," not the "Merrimac." The "Merrimack" was a 4,636 ton frigate while the "Merrimac" was a 684 ton iron-hulled gunboat that served in the East Coast Blockading Squadron and foundered in a gale off the Florida coast on 15 February 1865. The "Merrimack" was spelled correctly in most Navy reports, but a few mis-spelled it as "Merrimac." Some pre-1900 authors made the error. This error has been perpetuated for many years by many modern authors who fail to utilize original sources.
Wayne E. Stark, Baden, PA USA -
All Aboard Reading Station Stop 3 The Monitor: The Iron Warship That Changed the World
Grades. 2-4. From the All Aboard Reading series, this book tells a double story. The first part concerns the building of the ironclad ship the Monitor during the Civil War, its epic battle with the Virginia (formerly known as the Merrimac ), and its sinking during a fierce Atlantic storm. The second part describes twentieth-century efforts to find the Monitor on the ocean floor and to raise and restore its gun turret. Thompson's narrative relates the Monitor 's history in an exciting yet responsible way, and Day's attractive illustrations, evidently in ink and watercolor, enhance the drama and clarify details.
Raise The Alabama
She was known as "the ghost ship." During the Civil War, the CSS Alabama sailed over 75,000 miles and captured more than 60 Union vessels. But her career came to an end in June of 1864 when she was sunk by the USS Kearsarge off the coast of Northern France
Rendezvous of the Union Fleet in James River, off City Point
Drawn on the Spot, May 29, 1862
Line engraving, published in "Harper's Weekly", Volume of January-June 1862, page 390.
It depicts the U.S. Navy ships (listed as shown, from left to right) Maratanza , Wachusett , Aroostook , Monitor , Mahaska and Galena operating on the James River, Virginia, in support of General McClellan's army.
Confederate Phoenix: The CSS Virginia
The CSS Virginia of the Confederate States Navy destroyed two of the most formidable warships in the U.S. Navy. Suddenly, with this event, every wooden warship in every navy in the world became totally obsolete
Year on a Monitor and the Destruction of Fort Sumter
Personal view of the Civil War Navy. The monitor saw action in several significant naval assaults by the Union's Squadron. It took part in the failed Federal attack on Sumter in April 1863. The "Nahant" also participated in the capture of the Confederate Ram "Atlanta," and in the assault on Fort Wagner
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2023-12-09T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/5938
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Tell Me About It: Infant(ile) sexism
Sunday
Jul 29, 2007 at 2:00 AM
Carolyn: I just had our second child, our first is a boy, second a girl. My husband doesn't seem to like our girl as much. He was pretty involved with our son, but makes comments like, "I don't know how I'm going to relate to a girl," and, "I just can't calm her down the way you can." He's so into our son, and they play baseball and do all sorts of things my husband enjoys. He's even made fun of a few dolls and girly things she's received, which I think is awful — as she grows up I don't want her embarrassed to be a girl.
Carolyn Hax
Carolyn: I just had our second child, our first is a boy, second a girl. My husband doesn't seem to like our girl as much. He was pretty involved with our son, but makes comments like, "I don't know how I'm going to relate to a girl," and, "I just can't calm her down the way you can." He's so into our son, and they play baseball and do all sorts of things my husband enjoys. He's even made fun of a few dolls and girly things she's received, which I think is awful — as she grows up I don't want her embarrassed to be a girl.
We didn't find out the gender before she was born, but why should there be any sticker shock? When I bring it up he tells me I'm being silly, which I also don't care for. — I Can't Believe I'm Asking This
Being diminished will have that effect. And his recoiling from a girl does diminish you both, intentionally or not. More specifically, it dehumanizes you, wiping away who you are and filling the blank with a stereotype. And then, worse, ridiculing the stereotype.
Yeah yeah, boys find baseball and girls find dolls. Our eyes don't lie. But they don't tell the complete truth, either, since they don't see what each boy and each girl enjoys — or would, with the effects of socialization removed.
And so the only way to avoid alienating, limiting, shaming or condescending to shortstop-playing doll collectors of either sex is to treat children first and always as people.
There's still time to see if your husband warms to that role as your daughter becomes more baseball-ready, something many dads do. His attention to your son, not lately, but as a baby, is the valid comparison here.
If he continues to put girls and boys in neat little unequal boxes — or already has a history of it, which I suspect he does, given your interpretation of events — then it's time to ask why. Pick any reason, that he's ignorant, "old school," controlling, angry, in a rut or, to be comprehensive, gay in denial, and you still have the same common denominator. Fear.
The clearer we draw our distinctions, the less gray we need navigate; the fewer unknowns we need face; the less we need learn about ourselves or others; and the less we have to try.
Trying, on the other hand, is scary. Physically, it's when you fall. Professionally, it's when you look inept. Emotionally, it's when you get hurt. It's also when everything is accomplished, but that's merely rhetorical when fear keeps you back.
All of this is to argue that a baby girl has your husband outside his comfort zone, and he's scared. He's reaching for the nearest crutches — detaching emotionally, and laying it on you. Please don't let that stand.
Instead, help him find real comfort. With, "I don't know how to relate," remind him, "Yes, you do. Treat her like a person." With, "I can't calm her down," remind him, "You can help each other find a way." With mocking, try, "Why not let her decide who she is?"
If time and tutoring don't produce a loving environment for your daughter, please find a good, reputable marriage counselor who can help you get to the heart.
E-mail "Tell Me About It" at tellme@washpost.com or fax to 202-334-5669 or write in care of The Washington Post, Style Plus, 1150 15th St., NW, Washington, DC 20071. Chat online with Carolyn at www.washingtonpost.com each Friday at noon.
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2024-03-23T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/5527
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[Study of high-resolution thoracic computerized tomography and bronchoalveolar lavage in 36 patients presenting with systemic disease and a normal thoracic radiography].
Systemic diseases such as scleroderma (ScI), rheumatoid polyarthritis (PR), Gougerot-Sjögren Syndrome (GS) have a well known propensity for the lungs. Previous studies have shown evidence of disturbed alveolar cell repair as evidence of a sub-clinical alveolitis. The significance of such cases of latent alveolitis remains to be specified. To determine if latent alveolitis was associated with interstitial chest disease which was undetectable by chest X-ray, 36 consecutive patients had an BAL and a high resolution computered tomographic examination (HRTC) (Scl: n = 21; PR: n = 9; GS: n = 6). The patients had normal respiratory function and chest X-ray was normal. Our results showed 17 out of 36 (47%) with a latent alveolitis (the percentage of lymphocytes and of alveolar polymorpho-nuclear neutrophils was superior or equal to 18 and 4% respectively) (Scl: 12/21; PR: 1/9; GS: 4/6). In the cases of scleroderma a neutrophil alveolitis was predominant (9/12) and was associated in 2 cases with a honeycomb lung and evidence of fibrotic lesions using TDM-HR. Those examinations using HRTC which were normal were equally associated with a latent alveolitis (Scl: 6/12; PR: 1/6; GR: 4/5). These results suggest that the alveolitis can preceed the anatomical damages. These results need to be confirmed in a larger series and the value of early treatment should be evaluated.
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2023-09-25T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/6876
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I'm looking for a great nanny for 1 child. Pick-up or Drop-off: Bring her to dance. About the child(ren): My daughter is a fun loving 3.5-year-old who loves spending time with people, playing outside,...
I'm looking for a great nanny for 1 child for the summer vacation. Animal lovers please apply (we have pets)! We ask that you handle pickups/drop-offs as needed. Seeking someone to handle meal prepara...
I'm looking for a sitter to keep number handy for those off chances day care calls to pick up sick child. It's not very often but with no family nearby, we are looking for a nice, reliable person that...
We are looking for an applicant that is high-energy, positive, and feels comfortable with communicating with parents, staff members, and administrators. Applicants must have experience working in a pr...
We need a nanny for our 1 child in Baton Rouge. And we're looking now! Some light tidying up would be part of our caregiver's responsibilities. We do have pets, so please consider that when applying. ...
We're looking for a fun, energetic person to spend some quality time with our 5-year-old and 2-year-old. Applicant should be available on Saturday afternoons (about 4 hours) through March and the 1st ...
Hi all! My last child care provider hired from Care.com is leaving Baton Rouge and I am in need of some help. I am a single father working 12 hour shifts as an ER nurse and am looking for a responsibl...
We are looking for a professional, patient, energetic teacher to join our center who has previous experience and/or credentials in Early Childhood Education. Applicants must have experience in a profe...
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2023-11-04T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/7476
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[Comparison of effects of thrombolytic therapy followed by elective coronary intervention and direct coronary intervention in acute myocardial infarction: usefulness of dobutamine stress echocardiography].
The effects of intravenous administration of tissue plasminogen activator (t-PA) followed by elective percutaneous transluminal coronary angioplasty (PTCA) were compared to those of direct PTCA (d-PTCA) in patients with acute myocardial infarction using dobutamine stress echocardiography 1 week and 1 month after the acute episode. There were 12 patients in the t-PA group and nine patients in the d-PTCA group. Dobutamine was infused at incremental doses (5 micrograms/kg/min for each 5 min step). Wall motion changes were classified during infusion into four patterns, improvement, biphasic, worsening and no change. One week after the acute episode, seven of 12 patients in the t-PA group showed biphasic the pattern and five showed the improvement pattern. The biphasic pattern was observed in three patients in the d-PTCA group, worsening in one and improvement in five. One month later, the biphasic pattern in five patients in the t-PA group changed to the improvement pattern. No patients in the d-PTCA group showed changes in the wall motion pattern. There was no difference between the two groups in the frequency of the change of wall motion patterns 1 week and 1 month after infarction, but the improvement pattern was significantly increased from five to 10 patients in the t-PA group after 1 month (p < 0.05). The sensitivity, specificity and accuracy of the biphasic pattern in the t-PA group for indicating remnant coronary stenosis were 78%, 100% and 83%, respectively. Evaluation of wall motion pattern by dobutamine stress echocardiography is useful for assessment of reperfusion therapy for acute myocardial infarction. The administration of t-PA followed by elective PTCA has similar efficacy to d-PTCA.
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2023-08-14T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/1487
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This invention relates to recording media including video, audio and graphics information stored in separate data packets. The graphic information can be superimposed on the video information during playback of the recording media. The graphic information can include text or images. The text has a translucent background and the images may be translucent in whole or in part.
Examples of such recording media include DVD discs, CD-I discs and CD-V discs. All of these recording media share the common characteristics of being able to store video, audio and graphics information in separate data packets.
Heretofore, such recording media were able to display graphic information that included text. The text included subtitles, usually displayed in white at the bottom of the screen superimposed on top of the video data. In certain cases, the text was provided with a black or darkly contrasting background to improve the readability of the text. However, although improving the readability of the text, the background obscured the video data on which it was superimposed.
Heretofore, such recording media were able to display graphic information that included images. The images, however, were of a solid color, thereby obscuring the video data on which they were superimposed.
In view of the foregoing, it would be desirable to provide a recording medium in which text data can be displayed with improved readability while minimizing any obstruction of the video data on which it is superimposed.
In view of the foregoing, it would be desirable to provide a recording medium in which an image which may be translucent in whole or in part, thereby not obscuring the video data on which it is superimposed.
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2023-12-09T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/6209
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Post navigation
annoying automated merchant processor call
Oh boy! here’s the latest deal from the MERCHANT PROCESSOR auto dial soothing mechanical female voice: THIS IS NOT A DIRECT QUOTE, BUT WHAT I COULD REMEMBER:
Do you need a credit card processing account? At NAB we offer the lowest rates, starting at just 1.39%. We’ll deposit $100 in your account after the first month. You may even qualify for a free terminal. Don’t wait. We’ll even pay you $500 if you decide not to use our service.
Let’s examine what the average company is likely to get based on the latest EASY TO READ NAB published rates.
1.59% is qualified rate defined as “Card is swiped…”
What it doesn’t state is that not all swiped cards are qualified. You’ll find that out later. This is likely for debit swiped only ( no rewards or credit cards), since anything else would be below interchange.
Rate for card not present QUALIFIED (mail, phone, internet) is 2.29%
You have to put in address information to get qualified.
if you don’t put in address verification (they charge extra to do it), then you have a 1.49% surcharge.
What cards are qualified? mid-qualified? non-qualified? None of those are answered here. They want to entice you in without what I would consider full disclosure. READ MORE ABOUT MERCHANT ACCOUNT RATE DECEPTION
Our consultants disclose exactly what you can expect. There are over 100 different rates, so we won’t go over the entire list which you can access online at the association web sites. But your proposal does include all the rates you can expect based on your current processing, plus information to determine the rate for any other type of transaction. Some may not be known because their is no disclosure by your current supplier. With all solutions we present, there is nothing hidden.
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2023-09-04T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/6381
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Evaluating Endotracheal Tube Depth in Infants Weighing Less Than 1 Kilogram.
Endotracheal tube (ETT) depth in premature infants is of critical importance because potentially life-threatening adverse events can occur if the tube is malpositioned. Analysis of current data indicates that the accuracy of current resuscitation guidelines for infants <1 kg is poor. We hypothesized that a weight-based formula that is used clinically in our institution would accurately predict appropriate ETT placement in infants weighing < 1 kg. The medical records, from July 2013 to November 2016, of all infants < 1 kg who were intubated were retrospectively reviewed and included. The 2 formulas utilized were the Duke formulas 5.5 cm + 1 cm/kg for infants 500-999 g or 5.0 + 1 cm/kg for infants <500 g. The appropriate ETT position was defined as the tip of the ETT below the thoracic inlet and above the carina, at approximately thoracic vertebrae 2 or 3 on an initial chest radiograph. The formula was defined as being accurate if the documented ETT depth was within 0.2 cm of the predicted depth. Post hoc analysis of current resuscitation guidelines (6 cm plus the weight of the infant in kg) was performed after the Duke formula performed worse than expected. A total of 131 subjects (mean ± gestational age, 26 ± 1.8 wk; mean ± weight, 729 ± 140 g) were included. The documented depth was accurately predicted by the Duke formula for 47% of the subjects, with 69% of the ETTs appropriately positioned as seen on a chest radiograph. Sensitivity was 46.6%, specificity was 53.6%, positive predictive value was 68.8% and negative predictive value was 31.4% for the Duke formula. Post hoc analysis current resuscitation guidelines found that the documented depth was accurately predicted for 23% infants, with 70% of these appropriately positioned ETTs. Our weight-based, institutional formula had a low sensitivity for predicting proper ETT depth. Weight-based formulas may have clinical utility; however, analysis of current data did not support use in infants < 1 kg. Rapid radiologic assessment of ETT placement is required for this patient population.
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2024-07-02T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/1149
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Story highlights The White House has yet to make a decision on the options for upping the campaign against ISIS
Several GOP senators blasted what they heard about the new anti-ISIS proposals Tuesday
Washington (CNN) The U.S. is considering increasing its attacks on ISIS through more ground action and airstrikes, Defense Secretary Ashton Carter said Tuesday.
Carter told the Senate Armed Services Committee that the U.S. "won't hold back" from supporting partners carrying out such attacks or from "conducting such missions directly, whether by strikes from the air or direct action on the ground."
The White House, however, has yet to make a decision on the options for upping the campaign against ISIS, according to defense and administration sources. They said that further involvement on the ground was one of the possibilities being presented.
RELATED: Latest ISIS news The ground option Carter mentioned to the committee was part of a three-prong effort -- which he dubbed the "three Rs" -- to adapt the U.S. policy on countering ISIS.
In addition to increased ground action and airstrikes, or "raids," Carter also spoke of the need to increase pressure around the ISIS stronghold of Raqqa in Syria, where "we will support moderate Syrian forces" fighting the terror organization there.
Read More
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2023-11-04T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/7930
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shau24a6po - JazzTimes Community Articleshttp://www.jazztimes.com/
The world's leading jazz publication.en-usDoubledown casino method - free staking system that empties the on-line casinos - Community ArticlesDoubledown Casino method is an easy but exceptionally successful mathmatical system written by one of the industries unidentified strategists. The system is effortless to understand and is presented in a nice e-book. Its also FREEshau24a6poTue, 20 Nov 2012 14:43:26 -0500http://www.jazztimes.com/community/articles/62439-doubledown-casino-method-free-staking-system-that-empties-the-on-line-casinos
http://www.jazztimes.com/community/articles/62439-doubledown-casino-method-free-staking-system-that-empties-the-on-line-casinos
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2024-02-03T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/6446
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Gastric inverted hyperplasic polyp composed only of pyloric glands: a rare case report and review of the literature.
Inverted hyperplastic polyp (IHP) in stomach is a rare benign gastric polypoid lesion, characterized by downward growth of hyperplastic mucosal glands into the submucosal layer. In most previous reported cases, gastric IHP showed mixtures of fundic-type gland, pyloric-type gland, and foveolar-type epithelium. Also, a case of IHP composed of only one type of gland is extremely rare. This report describes a case of a 70-year-old man with gastric IHP, composed only of pyloric-type gland. It was removed completely by endoscopic submucosal dissection, and patient showed no recurrence over 2 years after treatment.
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2024-06-05T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/5845
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Inertial effects on rotating Hele-Shaw flows.
We examine the finite surface tension radial viscous fingering problem in a rotating Hele-Shaw cell, and focus on the action of inertial effects on the stability and morphology of the emerging patterns. To study such a flow we use an alternative version of the usual Darcy's law derived by gap-averaging the Navier-Stokes equation, but retaining its inertial terms. The importance of inertial forces is pertinently characterized by a rotational Reynolds number. Linear and weakly nonlinear stages of the dynamics are described analytically through a mode coupling approach. The linear stability results indicate that inertia has a stabilizing role. However, the characteristic number of fingers and the width of the band of linearly unstable modes are not altered by inertia. In the early nonlinear regime we find that inertia acts to favor the development of fingers with narrower tips than those obtained in its absence. We have also verified that finger competition events are affected by inertial effects which tend to restrain finger length variability among inward-moving fingers.
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2023-08-08T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/4911
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#ifndef __HOSTNAME_H__
#define __HOSTNAME_H__
#define MAX_HOSTNAME_LEN 256
extern char hostname[MAX_HOSTNAME_LEN];
void init_hostname(void);
#endif
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2023-12-02T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/7610
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Will Bike Shops Serve the Changing Market?
One of the important metrics for bike shop success is store traffic. Living and breathing visitors are a necessary part of the retail business model for brick-and-mortar stores. Without them, retailers would be left trying to sell bikes to air, and that is very hard to do.
Getting people into stores is becoming a greater challenge though. New research shows that consumer traffic at bike shops is declining across the board. While this is distressing news at first glance, there are also clear opportunities to reverse the trend.
The 2014 American Bicyclist Study, conducted by the Gluskin Townley Group, examined the demographics of adults who are current owners of bicycles. The fieldwork was done in February 2014 representing the 2013 calendar year. Results were then balanced to the U.S. population based on the latest U.S. Census data.
The data show that 26 million adults (age 18 and older) owned a bicycle in 2013, up 2.5 percent from 2011. That’s the good news. The bad news is that in 2011 most bike owners visited a bike shop at least once (51%), and in 2013 the number fell to just 41%. The average number of visits also fell from 3.98 in 2011 to 2.86 in 2013.
More disturbing for the specialty industry is that the decline is not limited to one consumer segment of cyclists. It is affecting all groups, defined here in four clusters: Infrequents, Casuals, Moving Ups and Enthusiasts.
Infrequents are the least involved, representing 12.6 million people out of the 26 million adult bike owners in 2013 (ages 18 and above). In 2013, they rode an average of 7.9 miles in a warm-weather month, and spent an average of $134.60 on their most recent bicycle. They visited bike shops one time in 2011 (the mean) and about the same in 2013. For the specialty industry they may be described as Wal Mart customers. 84 percent didn’t visit a bike shop at all in 2013.
Casuals, 5 million of them, rode an average of 19.6 miles in a warm-weather month, and spent $275.07 on their last bicycle. They visited a bike shop an average of 2.16 times in 2011, but fewer than 2 times in 2013 (1.99).
Moving Ups, 4.3 million people, rode an average of 32.3 miles in a warm-weather month that year, and their last bike cost $457.44. They visited bike shops 4 times in 2011 and 2.66 times in 2013.
Enthusiasts numbered 3.8 million who rode an average 141.9 miles in a warm-weather month and spent $1,231.37 on their last bicycle. They visited a shop 7.36 times in 2011, and just 5.34 times in 2013.
Store visits also declined across generations.
The Silent Generation, approximate current ages 70 to 89, represented 5.1 million bike owners. 42% visited a bike shop at least once in 2011. In 2011, they visited a shop an average of 5.2 times. In 2013 it was just 2 times.
Baby Boomers, ages 50 to 69, totaled 9.4 million bike owners, of which 47% visited a bike shop in 2011, and 33% in 2013. The average number of visits was 4.3 in 2011 and 2.4 in 2013. The number of those who did not visit a shop rose.
Generation X, ages 30 to 49, was represented by 11.5 million bike owners in 2011 and 8.8 million in 2013. 60 percent of Gen Xers visited a bike shop in 2011, an average of 4.3 times, compared to 46% visiting a shop in 2013, an average of 3.2 times.
Gen Y, ages 10 to 29, had 5.1 million people in 2011 and 5.3 million in 2013 (again, those 18 and older are included). 42% visited a bike shop an average of 5.2 times in 2011, compared to 52% visiting 2.96 times in 2013.
Intent to buy a bike is also different by generation. 27% of Generation X planned to buy a new bike in 2014 (2,393,820 people), and 29% Generation Y (1,537,000 people). Only 10% of Baby Boomers planned to buy a new bike this year (948,700 people), and 5% of the Silent Generation (117,400 people).
They’re also planning to buy used. 31% of Gen Xers planned to buy used, and 37% of Gen Y. The numbers for Boomers and Silents were 20% and 14%.
Gender is another area in flux. In 2011, 48% of bike owners were females. Females became the majority in 2013, representing 51%, a growth of 871,000.
The decline in female visits was greater than for males though. In 2011, 57% of females did not visit a bike shop even once. In 2013, the number was 62%. Females averaged 3.74 bike shops visits in 2011. That number fell by a full visit to 2.7 in 2013. Male shop visits fell by about half a visit, from 3.49 to 3.01.
There is also a trend favoring females by generation. The younger the generational group of bike owners, the more female it becomes. The Silent generation of bike owners was 29% female, and Baby Boomers 41.6%. For Generations X and Y, females are 61% and 60% of the bike-owning population respectively.
Race is another changing demographic. Younger groups of bike owners are much more diverse than their elders. Whites represented 93% of bike owners of the Silent Generation, 91% of Baby Boomers, 83% Generation X and 72% Generation Y. The largest growth areas are among African-American and Hispanic people.
Years ago demographer Brad Edmonson encouraged the bicycle industry to diversify. He said there’s no reason to ignore white boomer males as long as they were active, but pointed out that they are on a timer. He said that the alarm will one day go off and that new types of customers will have to be cultivated and served.
That alarm is now ringing. There is no snooze button. It’s time to throw off the blankets, get up, and greet the future.
Information on The American Bicyclist Study, including the Metro Urban Report, Used Bike Report and Path to Purchase report is available from the Gluskin Townley Group, www.gluskintownleygroup.com
Post navigation
One thought on “Will Bike Shops Serve the Changing Market?”
The declining shop customer traffic data is interesting, but missing is the relationship with shop turnover. Is there a direct correlation?
With access to more information from a broad array of sources through the internet, many customers browse and research online first prior to purchasing – both for their online and offline purchases.
The relevance for bike shops is that they also need to serve customers online. It doesn’t specifically or necessary mean that the shop has to sell online, but the bike shop still needs to be online and need to create the connection with the customer – and follow through instore.
Returning to the survey, did it ask why people were visiting bike shops less frequently?
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2024-06-15T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/2999
|
Q:
Site Columns in Sharepoint document libraries created by office365 groups
We would like our project to be organized around an Office365 group. However we have some site columns with things like documentType, Client etc. that we would like to define once and reuse on each off the document libraries.
The problem is that each group comes with a document-library (so far so good) but they are all in their own site-collection so site-columns are not shared.
We could replicate the columns, but after completion of the project, we want to move [some of the] files] to a central library and hence we lose the metadata while moving because of this.
It is possible to create the groups in one site collection, or alternatively reuse the site columns?
A:
This sounds like a good case for using the content type hub. As far as I recall the content types and site columns from the hub will also be available in the site assigned to a Group / Teams
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2023-12-23T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/4631
|
It’s summertime, which means it’s beach season and pool season. People all over are pulling out their bathing suits, slathering on sunscreen, and hopping in the water. Of course, not everyone loves the water equally. Some people jump right in the deep end of the swimming pool and have the time of their lives; others prefer to just dip their toes in or only wade into the ocean until the water comes up to their chest. Still others seem to be irrationally afraid of the water.
If you think you are a person who has an unhealthy fear of getting water — perhaps even to the level of true aquaphobia — then it’s important to take a look at what’s going on in your head. Even if you just have mild trepidation about getting in the pool, read on. We want you to be able to enjoy all that water activities have to offer.
A healthy relationship with the water
We humans may call the land our home, but the water has a great deal to offer us. Enjoying the water in a pool or the ocean on a regular basis can be good for you. A bit of swimming is great exercise, which is good news for swimmers, because the experts recommend that we each get at least a half-hour of exercise every day. When you’re spending time outdoors as part of your water adventures, you’ll enjoy even more health benefits. Researchers have found that being outside can be healthy in and of itself, even when we set aside the obvious benefits of the exercising we might do while we’re out there!
The draw of the water is what causes so many tourists to flock to the places to see on Florida’s Gulf Coast each season. Vacationers swim in the surf and relax on the beaches, and resorts built along the water have pools, which are yet another swimming option for the water-loving tourists. More adventurous water attractions include boating and water sports like surfing. Even beginners can have a lot of fun surfing, say the teachers at a surfing school that helps tourists and locals alike surf Hawaii’s gorgeous waves.
Back at home, homeowners may choose to invest in a pool or a spa. Experts who install residential hot tubs and spas tell us that spas can have health benefits, too. The warm water can be good for aches and pains, provided that you follow basic safety rules when you take a dip and don’t stay in the spa for longer than is safe.
Healthy fear vs unhealthy fear
Now, none of this is to say that water activities are always safe. There’s a reason that pool owners must secure their pool and prevent wayward kids and other intruders from diving in unattended, says one personal injury lawyer. Beachgoers can drown, and swimmers should always be careful to stay within their abilities as they play and swim in the ocean or in the pool.
On the other hand, sometimes people develop a fear of the water that isn’t rational, and that’s not a good thing. What if you feel afraid of swimming and of water in general, but you don’t seem to have concrete reasons for that? You might be aware that your fears are holding you back from fun and exercise, and you are determined to change that, but still you find yourself unsure of what to do next–or perhaps just unable to do it.
One way to tackle fear of the water is by taking swimming lessons and working on skills in the safe, shallow ends of pools watched by lifeguards. But if there’s something bigger going on, you may want to seek professional help in dealing with your anxieties and fears about the water, because the situation may not have that much to do with the water at all; it may be a mental health issue.
Mental health
It’s a sad truth that many of us are unwilling to speak about mental health issues such as phobias. We explain them away or treat them on our own by, for instance, attempting to expose ourselves to the sources of our fears. Minor fears may be able to be swept away by willpower and DIY methods like these, but true phobias are more serious. You could use an expert in your corner.
A therapist, psychologist, or psychiatrist could help you better understand the things that are holding you back from diving into the pool or the ocean, and they could help you cope with this fear in a way that allows you to unlock the many benefits of swimming and enjoying the pool, lake, or ocean. Remember, the person that you speak to will keep what you say private.
Of course, many people find that some swimming lessons are all they need to start building from the shallow ends of pools up to lake swimming, ocean dips, and even watersports. However, if the idea of making good on your pledge to spend more time in the water fills you with dread, you should consider the possibility that you’re not being honest with yourself about the extent of your fear of water. Don’t allow an unwillingness to talk about mental health keep you from living your best and most fulfilling possible life! If you do have a true phobia, you could benefit a great deal from speaking to a mental health expert. Besides, even if you don’t have a serious condition, you could gain a great deal by just being proactive about your mental health. More of us should see therapists, experts agree, even if we don’t feel that we must.
You have a whole life ahead of you, so think about how you want to proceed from here and don’t be afraid to reach out for a little bit of help from the people who have trained for their entire lives to provide just that. We hope that you find a way to get yourself into the water and begin to enjoy the many emotional and physical benefits of swimming in lakes and relaxing in hot tubs. We wish you all the best–good luck!
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2024-01-28T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/3481
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Kaggle discriminates prizes based on where you are born - nojvek
https://www.kaggle.com/c/passenger-screening-algorithm-challenge/discussion/35118
======
smt88
Your headline here is wrong. It's not based on where you are born. It's based
on whether you're a US citizen.
tl;dr The United States Department of Homeland Security sponsored a Kaggle
competition, and the prizes cannot be given to non-US citizens. This is due to
US laws preventing security organizations from paying foreign contractors.
Nothing particularly new or surprising here, and it makes sense that a
government security organization wouldn't employ foreign citizens.
~~~
kbumsik
Yes for sure is not surprising but this kind of competition should not be
hosted in Kaggle. The value of Kaggle is to share and find a better solution
of the world (with prize) by gathering people from anywhere in the world.
Not only the nationality issue, but this competition also prevents competitors
from opening publicity, including future research and writing blog posts about
it. Seriously why they are willing to host this thing in a public community?
This competition significantly degrades the true value of Kaggle and DHS
should host the competition themselves not using this kind of platform.
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2023-11-05T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/9936
|
Q:
how to abort Interactive rebase after selecting actions
At first I want to select some commits into into squash,
But I did something wrong ,
How could I abort rebase this time,
Because If I type 'qa!' to quit the vim editor, it'll also do the rebase. I don't want it.
A:
You didn't really provide a enough information about where in the rebase process you are, but based on your screenshot, I'm guessing that you've already gotten past the rebase editor part:
pick c843ea2 Set Vim column limit to 80 (OS X)
pick fc32eac Add Bash alias for `pbcopy` (OS X)
pick 7b9dbdd Add foo.txt for test
pick 5e45c82 Add doop.txt
# Rebase 320ed55..5e45c82 onto 320ed55
#
# Commands:
# p, pick = use commit
# r, reword = use commit, but edit the commit message
# e, edit = use commit, but stop for amending
# s, squash = use commit, but meld into previous commit
# f, fixup = like "squash", but discard this commit's log message
# x, exec = run command (the rest of the line) using shell
#
# These lines can be re-ordered; they are executed from top to bottom.
#
# If you remove a line here THAT COMMIT WILL BE LOST.
#
# However, if you remove everything, the rebase will be aborted.
#
# Note that empty commits are commented out
and that you're already in the middle of squashing some commits. Notice that the editor says the following:
# Please enter the commit message for your changes. Lines starting
# with '#' will be ignored, and an empty message aborts the commit.
"An empty message aborts the commit". So just leave an empty message, save, and quit your editor (which is :wq if you're using Vim).
Then you'll be dropped out of the commit dialog, but you'll still be in the middle of the rebase:
(master) $ git rebase -i head~4
Aborting commit due to empty commit message.
Could not apply 5e45c82a85818bd05e7fce3844ec720a8f99a418... Add doop.txt
(master|REBASE-i 4/4) $
Now just simply use the --abort flag to finish aborting the rebase:
(master|REBASE-i 4/4) $ git rebase --abort
(master) $
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2024-05-22T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/6509
|
Tourism Ireland, Marketing the Island of Ireland Overseas
1 Million+ Germans to Read All About Causeway Coast and Northern Ireland
24 Sep 2012
Nine top German travel and lifestyle journalists made a special trip to the Causeway Coast to experience at first-hand the new Giant’s Causeway Visitor Centre and the historic site of Dunluce Castle. Their visit was arranged by Tourism Ireland, in conjunction with the biggest German tour operator for the island of Ireland, Dertour, and their itinerary was designed by the Northern Ireland Tourist Board.
As well as enjoying a visit to the Causeway Coast, the group also spent time in Belfast, experiencing a Black Taxi tour and a visit to Belfast’s latest tourist attraction, Titanic Belfast.
Zoë Redmond, Tourism Ireland’s manager for Central Europe, said: “Over half the German population takes at least one holiday abroad each year, making Germany the world’s largest outbound travel market and an important tourism market for Northern Ireland. This media visit is just one element of Tourism Ireland’s busy autumn promotional programme, highlighting Northern Ireland as a premier holiday destination in Germany.
“Visits such as this are extremely important, helping to build awareness of what’s on offer in Northern Ireland for potential German holidaymakers. These journalists have had the opportunity to see some of what Northern Ireland has to offer at first-hand, helping to keep the destination ‘front of mind’ for German consumers who are presented with a world of choice on a daily basis and to reinforce our message that there has never been a better time to visit Northern Ireland.”
Notes to Editors:
• Tourism Ireland is the organisation responsible for promoting Northern Ireland and the island of Ireland overseas as a leading holiday destination.
• Tourism is responsible for in excess of 4.9% of GDP in Northern Ireland and supports approximately 40,000 jobs.
• In 2011, 1.5 million overseas visitors came to Northern Ireland (+4% on 2010), delivering revenue of £368 million.
• Tourism Ireland’s international website is www.discoverireland.com; there are 42 different websites, providing information in 14 different languages covering every continent. In 2011, discoverireland.com attracted almost 12 million unique visitors.
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2023-12-14T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/2128
|
In the many Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them trailers, featurettes, posters, and Pottermore posts that we’ve seen in the last few months, a number of magical creatures have made pretty grand entrances. We always knew that the film was going to feature a lot of beasts and creatures, but through careful dissection of the trailers, we have a pretty good idea of exactly which creatures we’re going to see in Fantastic Beasts.
Some of the creatures we’ve seen before — they’ve appeared in a handful of images and trailers and have been highlighted by Pottermore. Others, however, are our best theories and guesses, based on what we’ve seen from trailers and images paired with research from the original Fantastic Beasts book.
Sure, most fans know about the appearances of the Occamy and the Demiguise by now, but we may also see some Mooncalves, Jobberknolls, Fwoopers, and Phoenixes in the film. Here’s what we think is going to appear in Fantastic Beasts based on what we’ve seen so far.
Warner Bros. Pictures / Pottermore
16. The Occamy
Seen in several trailers now, this creature is no secret. Though it’s a graceful and beautiful bird with snake-like body that can reach up to fifteen feet in length, the Occamy is actually quite aggressive, particularly when it comes to its eggs.
Warner Bros. Pictures
15. The Bowtruckle
Eddie Redmayne revealed that Newt’s favorite creature is a Bowtruckle called Pickett that lives in his pocket. Bowtruckles are tree guardians, and though quite peaceful and even shy most of the time, they become very combative with anyone who attempts to harm their tree.
Warner Bros. Pictures / Pottermore
14. The Thunderbird
The Thunderbird doesn’t appear in the Fantastic Beasts book, but we know that it’s going to make an appearance in the film. Capable of creating storms, the Thunderbird is a giant golden bird with two sets of wings and a massive trailing tail. It’s also a relative of the Phoenix and lends its name to one of the Ilvermony houses.
Warner Bros. Pictures
13. The Swooping Evil
Another beast that doesn’t appear in the Fantastic Beasts book, the Swooping Evil is bright blue and green and quote large. Described as “butterfly-like”, it’s only large when in flight, bursting forth from a tiny object that we see Newt tossing into the air in the trailers.
Warner Bros. Pictures
12. The Demiguise
Exceedingly difficult to spot and capture because of its ability to become invisible at will, the Demiguise is sought after largely because of its silky silver hair, which is used to make Invisibility Cloaks. The Demiguise looks something like an ape with very large eyes.
Warner Bros. Pictures
11. The Billywig
Billywigs are bugs of “vivid sapphire blue” whose wings are attached to the tops of their heads. They move extremely quickly, making them difficult to spot, but they make their presence known by stinging, which cause giddiness accompanied by levitation in those on the receiving end of a sting.
Warner Bros. Pictures
10. The Niffler
We’ve seen a Niffler in several Fantastic Beasts trailers. A favorite pet of goblins that lives below ground, Nifflers are attracted to glittery, shiny things, which explains why the Niffler in the trailer is preoccupied with handfuls of jewelry.
Warner Bros. Pictures
9. The Erumpent
The trailer gives us but a brief glimpse of the Erumpent, but it’s an immediately recognizable beast, as it looks a lot like a rhinoceros. Erumpents have very thick skin and great, sharp horns, and though they aren’t known for attacking unless provoked, they are destructive. Not only are they a threat when it comes to charging and their spell-repelling skin, but their horns are filled with a fluid that causes victims to explode.
Warner Bros. Pictures
8. The Nundu
It’s difficult to tell exactly what this beast is because it appears so briefly, but the closest match to the Fantastic Beasts book is the Nundu, which resembles a giant leopard. The Nundu’s breath causes devastating diseases, which might explain the bizarre expanding quality we see in the creature’s throat.
Warner Bros. Pictures
7. The Graphorn
Another beast that appears slightly different than its describtion in the book, the Graphorn we see in the trailer is enormous and has many horns. Though it bears some resemblance to a horse or a dragon, it’s thick skin, like the Erumpent’s, repels spells. Graphorns are very aggressive, and though mountain trolls have attempted to domesticate them as beasts of burden, those attempts have usually been unsuccessful and marked by bodily injury.
Warner Bros. Pictures
6. The Obscurus
We don’t know much at all about the Obscurus. It doesn’t appear in the Fantastic Beasts book, but we do know that some destructive entity in the city was referred to as “the Obscurus”, and one of the tracks on the Fantastic Beasts soundtrack refers to “The Obscurus” in the context of a “Rooftop Chase,” seemingly right in the middle of building action in the film. It’s worth noting that Fantastic Beasts was also commissioned and published by the publishing house Obscurus Books. Could the Obscurus be the big, destructive, formless thing we’ve seen in the trailers?
Warner Bros. Pictures
5. The Fwooper
The most recent Fantastic Beasts trailer gives us a peek inside of Newt’s suitcase. While there, we get a look at a bunch of beasts in quick succession. The Fwooper’s only visible as a flying blur for a split second, but its distinct, bright pink color is a pretty good indication that it is, in fact, a Fwooper. The Fwooper song is pleasant for awhile, but repeated exposure leads to insanity. *Fantastic Beasts says:
“Uric the Oddball attempted at one time to prove that Fwooper song was actually beneficial to the health and listened to it for three months on end without a break. Unfortunately, the Wizards’ Council to which he reported his findings were unconvinced, as he had arrived at the meeting wearing nothing but a toupee that on closer inspection proved to be a dead badger.”
Warner Bros. Pictures
4. The Jobberknoll
Another bird we’re given a brief glimpse of may be the Jobberknoll. Their feathers are used in Truth Serums and Memory Potions, but the most distinct quality of the Jobberknoll is that it makes no sound at all until it dies, “at which point it lets out a long scream made up of every sound it has ever heard, regurgitated backwards. In the trailer, we see tiny, blue-ish birds (consistent with the described appearance of Jobberknolls). Their mouths are open, but we hear no sound. Very unusual, which makes us think these are baby Jobberknolls.
Warner Bros. Pictures
3. The Mooncalves
Though they look something like misshapen seals or living tombstones, the dark, four-legged creatures we see are likely Mooncalves (hence the big, full moon behind them). They’re described as having “four spindly legs with enormous flat feet.” Mooncalves are responsible for crop circles and their silvery dung is actually quite valuable as a magical, supercharged plant fertilizer.
Warner Bros. Pictures
2. The Murtlap or the Nogtail
In an earlier version of the trailer, we see Jacob open Newt’s suitcase only to be met with a smallish, pink, and apparently hairless creature launching itself at him. The best hint we have is something on the creature’s back. The book describes the Murtlap has having “a growth on its back resembling a sea anemone.” That seems pretty accurate. Beyond that, the Murtlap is described as rat-like, and from the brief glimpse we get of the creature, it looks quite a bit like a large, hairless rat.
There’s a possibility that it could be a Nogtail, though, described as resembling “stunted piglets, with long legs, thick, stubby tails, and narrow black eyes.” You decide.
Warner Bros. Pictures
1. The Phoenix
We’ve theorized that the egg in Jacob’s hand might be a Phoenix egg, given the egg’s color, size, and incubation requirements. But the trailer also treats us to a scene in which something gold and glowing is moving under the ice on a frozen lake. Phoenix tail feathers are known to glow — might these birds also be capable of diving underwater? Even if the egg turns out to be a Chimaera or an Occamy, we may very well see a Phoenix in Fantastic Beasts, and it could very well be baby Fawkes.
|
2024-03-04T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/9723
|
Luxol Stadium
The Luxol Stadium is a stadium in Pembroke, Malta, opened on 26 May 2006. It was built at a cost of Lm350,000 with an artificial turf surface and floodlighting. It is the home ground of Maltese football club St. Andrews F.C., who currently play in the Maltese FA Trophy, Maltese Second Division and Maltese Third Division. It is used for matches from the Maltese FA Trophy, Maltese Third Division, Maltese Second Division and even Exhibition game. It is also used by all the St. Andrews F.C. teams from the youth teams up until the senior teams for training. It holds 800 people on the stadium.
References
External links
Category:Sports venues completed in 1970
Category:Football venues in Malta
Pembroke
Category:St. Andrews F.C.
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2024-02-08T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/6922
|
The function of contactin-2/TAG-1 in oligodendrocytes in health and demyelinating pathology.
The oligodendrocyte maturation process and the transition from the pre-myelinating to the myelinating state are extremely important during development and in pathology. In the present study, we have investigated the role of the cell adhesion molecule CNTN2/TAG-1 on oligodendrocyte proliferation, differentiation, myelination, and function during development and under pathological conditions. With the combination of in vivo, in vitro, ultrastructural, and electrophysiological methods, we have mapped the expression of CNTN2 protein in the oligodendrocyte lineage during the different stages of myelination and its involvement on oligodendrocyte maturation, branching, myelin-gene expression, myelination, and axonal function. The cuprizone model of central nervous system demyelination was further used to assess CNTN2 in pathology. During development, CNTN2 can transiently affect the expression levels of myelin and myelin-regulating genes, while its absence results in reduced oligodendrocyte branching, hypomyelination of fiber tracts and impaired axonal conduction. In pathology, CNTN2 absence does not affect the extent of de- and remyelination. However during remyelination, a novel, CNTN2-independent mechanism is revealed that is able to recluster voltage gated potassium channels (VGKCs) resulting in the improvement of fiber conduction.
|
2024-05-14T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/9122
|
United Continental's reputation may still be bruised after a passenger was dragged off an overbooked flight last month.
And the airline is dealing with another PR nightmare -- a giant rabbit died mysteriously in the cargo hold of a United flight a few weeks ago.
But investors couldn't be any happier with the company. United (UAL) reported a strong jump in traffic and capacity for the month of April on Tuesday. That news sent the stock up 5% -- to an all-time high.
Shares are now up more than 10% since the incident with Dr. David Dao on a United flight from Chicago to Louisville on April 9. The stock is also up 15% above the recent low they hit in April when anger about Dao's removal was at its peak.
So much for bad publicity, huh?
Of course, United's nightmare of a month could eventually impact its sales and bottom line. Customers may opt to fly on a different carrier if they feel United is treating passengers poorly.
That's probably the main reason why CEO Oscar Munoz has been on a public apology tour lately.
But there's a flaw with that argument. Many of United's competitors are also in the midst of their own customer service fiascoes -- and they are doing well too.
Related: United CEO says 'we had a horrible failure'
Delta has come under fire after a family was kicked off a flight due to a mix-up over seating arrangements because a different child was sitting in a seat than was listed on the ticket -- even though the family had paid for the seat.
The incident went viral after the father posted footage of it online. A flight attendant is heard in the video threatening to put the parents in jail.
Delta also kicked off a passenger who went to the bathroom before takeoff. And the company is still dealing with the headaches from its weather-related cancellations earlier this month.
Delta (DAL) even postponed its international media day that it was planning for this month, citing "the recent focus by Congress on airline customer service issues that have gone viral on social media." It will still host a meeting for analysts on Thursday though.
American has also had to deal with image problems. A video showing a flight attendant forcibly removing a stroller from a mom went viral as well. The video showed the mom sobbing. The flight attendant was ultimately suspended.
The airline was panned by many as well after it recently announced it would be shrinking the amount of legroom for passengers in its economy class.
But American (AAL) recently reported record traffic for April. Delta's traffic was up too. Both stocks have surged in the past month despite their customer service debacles.
In fact, J.D. Power reported Wednesday that fliers are happier these days thanks to lower fares, more flights arriving on time, and fewer lost bags.
Customer satisfaction is actually at an all-time high. J.D. Power acknowledged how surprising that may seem, saying in the headline for its press release that the improvement came "despite inflammatory incidents."
All of this is good news for airline investors, including Oracle of Omaha Warren Buffett. His Berkshire Hathaway (BRKB) firm recently made a big bet on United, American and Delta, as well as Southwest (LUV).
But he acknowledged in an interview with CNBC Monday following the company's shareholder meeting last weekend that United made a "terrible mistake" with how it handled the situation with Dao.
Related: Spirit customers are mad, but its pilots are furious
Still, airlines continue to make headlines for all the wrong reasons.
Spirit's (SAVE) stock plunged earlier this week after angry passengers fought with airline employees in Fort Lauderdale due to frustration about canceled flights. Spirit is in the midst of a battle with its unionized pilots.
Spirit shares rebounded a bit Wednesday though.
So yes, airline rage is real. But Wall Street doesn't think it's enough to stop people from flying or that it's a long-term problem for the industry.
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2024-05-10T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/1406
|
What Did You Do in the War, Daddy?
What Did You Do in the War, Daddy? is a 1966 comedy DeLuxe Color film written by William Peter Blatty and directed by Blake Edwards for the Mirisch Company in Panavision. It stars James Coburn and Dick Shawn. Filming was at Lake Sherwood Ranch in Thousand Hills, northwest of Hollywood. In what had been a cow pasture, designer Fernando Carrere fabricated a storybook Sicilian village which added $800,000 to the production's already elevated $5.5 million budget.
Plot
An outfit of U.S. soldiers is assigned to capture "Valerno", a village in Sicily, but upon arrival, they discover that the town has been expecting them and will willingly turn itself over to the Americans' rule, provided they are permitted to complete a soccer match and a wine festival.
Romance and frivolity ensue, as a reluctant, by-the-book Capt. Cash (Dick Shawn) is persuaded by easy-going Lt. Christian (James Coburn) to go along with the locals' wishes. Mistaking the festival for an attack, Germans come to the Italians' aid, but the Americans accidentally end up conquering all.
Cast
James Coburn as Lieutenant Jody Christian
Dick Shawn as Captain Lionel Cash
Sergio Fantoni as Captain Fausto Oppo
Giovanna Ralli as Gina Romano
Aldo Ray as Sergeant Rizzo
Harry Morgan as Major Pott
Carroll O'Connor as General Max Bolt
Leon Askin as Colonel Kastorp
Rico Cattani as Benedetto (as Henry Rico Cattani)
Jay Novello as Mayor Giuseppe Romano
Ralph Manza as Waiter
Vito Scotti as Frederico
Johnny Seven as Vittorio
Art Lewis as Needleman
William Bryant as Minow
Kurt Kreuger as German Captain
Production
The title of the film came to Edwards when asked the question by his son Geoffrey. As Edwards was having marital problems at the time, he did not want to leave the United States, so Mirisch Productions agreed to film the movie in Lake Sherwood, California, for $5 million that included the construction of a large Italian village set. In his study of Edwards, Myron Meisel stated that Coburn imitated Blake Edwards' mannerisms throughout the film.
The film was the first of what was originally intended to be six Mirisch-Geoffrey Productions between Edwards and the Mirisch Company. Only one other film, The Party, was completed.
William Peter Blatty recalled that Edwards and he originally agreed to make the film grim and without comedy for the first 20 minutes. This idea was shelved when, during the scene where Captain Cash visits Charlie Company at their chow line, he holds out his hand and one of the GI mess orderly's ladles beans into the captain's hand.
Music
The score is by Henry Mancini. It includes "The Swing March" and "In the Arms of Love".
References
External links
Category:1966 films
Category:1960s comedy films
Category:Films directed by Blake Edwards
Category:Italian Campaign of World War II films
Category:Military humor in film
Category:American comedy films
Category:American films
Category:Films set in Italy
Category:Films with screenplays by William Peter Blatty
Category:Films scored by Henry Mancini
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2023-12-14T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/9652
|
Fraser Forster's bid to put pressure on Joe Hart is on hold after he was forced to withdraw from England duty with an injury.
Forster, the Southampton goalkeeper, is returning to his club for treatment after suffering an injury in training to put Hart in pole position to start the World Cup qualifier against Slovakia on Sunday.
Sam Allardyce was giving serious consideration to starting Forster in his first game after believing he deserved an opportunity to replace Hart, whose loan move from Manchester City to Torino was confirmed on deadline day.
But Forster has suffered a disappointing blow to his international prospects after picking up an arm injury, with Southampton sources revealing he will now be leaving the England training base at St. George's Park.
Forster, 28, has impressed for Southampton over the last 12 months and was hoping to add to his six international caps, which have all come in non-competitive games.
|
2023-12-28T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/5034
|
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The Evil Within is a game embodying the meaning of pure survival horror. Highly-crafted environments, horrifying anxiety, and an intricate story weave together to create an immersive world that will bring players to the height of tension.
|
2023-09-19T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/3794
|
Veterans Affairs is not yet routinely reviewing suicides of former soldiers to identify lessons that might protect other vulnerable vets, despite an internal audit of cases that found troubling gaps at the department responsible for Canada's most chronically ill and injured veterans.
Government documents obtained by The Globe and Mail through access-to-information legislation show that a 2014 probe of 49 suicidal vets and 31 suicides uncovered instances where Veterans Affairs was not properly monitoring the distraught vets. Some weren't even screened for suicide risk in the first place.
Despite these findings – and internal calls for case-by-case reviews stretching back to at least 2010 – the federal department hasn't analyzed a single vet suicide since the 2014 audit, revealed Michel Doiron, assistant deputy minister of service delivery at Veterans Affairs. He pledged on Wednesday that a process for regularly scrutinizing suicides and attempted suicides will be introduced this year.
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Read more: Ottawa to pay for funerals of vet, family in Nova Scotia, but won't commit to probe
Read more: Remembering 31 Canadian Afghanistan war veterans lost to suicide
Roméo Dallaire: The war doesn't end when soldiers return home
"We've been looking into it since the fall," Mr. Doiron said in an interview. "We want to make sure that if there is something for us to learn from a [suicide] event, that we do learn it and we rectify accordingly."
Part of the problem, the 2014 probe found, was Veterans Affairs' own administrative database, which was primarily designed for processing disability and benefit claims and not for tracking health changes and suicide risk among former military members, states an internal Veterans Affairs' report that summarized findings from 10 medical and veterans experts involved in the audit.
"One barrier to care noted by several reviewers was missed opportunities to recognize prior suicidality in clients and arrange follow-up monitoring," the report notes. "This barrier was thought in part to be due to the business rather than clinical focus" of Veterans Affairs' database.
While the Canadian Forces are responsible for delivering health services to their military members, veterans fall under provincial medicare. Of the country's nearly 700,000 vets, about 120,000 receive services or payments from Veterans Affairs, often for serious physical injuries or mental illnesses, such as post-traumatic stress disorder.
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One of those ill vets was Lionel Desmond, who deployed to Afghanistan in 2007. Mr. Desmond's family said he was struggling with PTSD when he was released from the Forces in July, 2015. Last week, in a rural Nova Scotia home, police believe he gunned down his wife, Shanna Desmond, their 10-year-old daughter, Aaliyah, and his mother, Brenda Desmond, before killing himself.
The Nova Scotia government has launched an investigation of how the health system dealt with Mr. Desmond, a former infantryman with the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Canadian Regiment, based in Gagetown, N.B. Just two days before the shootings, the veteran sought help at St. Martha's Regional Hospital in the nearby town of Antigonish, family members said. They believe he didn't get adequate help at the hospital.
Rev. Elaine Walcott, a relative of the Desmond family, is calling on the military and Veterans Affairs to also investigate how they handled the chronically ill soldier. Neither Veterans Affairs nor the Forces has publicly committed to probing the Desmond case.
"There is a responsibility, systemically, for this to be examined," she said Tuesday, on the eve of funerals for the Desmond family. "This is an opportunity to put a lens on" mental-health care.
Mr. Desmond, 33, is among at least 72 soldiers and veterans who have killed themselves after serving on the Afghanistan mission, an ongoing Globe and Mail investigation has found. Most have only taken their own lives, but just before Christmas in 2015, Robert Giblin, a veteran of two Afghanistan tours, stabbed his wife, Precious Charbonneau, before they fell from a high-rise apartment in Toronto. Mr. Giblin's family said he suffered with PTSD.
Former veterans watchdog Pat Stogran, a retired army colonel, said it is "reprehensible" that formal suicide reviews are not yet commonplace at Veterans Affairs. He noted that he raised the issue during his ombudsman tenure, from 2007 to 2010.
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"There has to be a feedback loop to say where we are going wrong," Mr. Stogran said. "They should be taking substantial and very visible steps to fight this problem. It's life and death."
An expert group that reviewed, in 2010, a dozen vet suicides had also urged the department to routinely examine such deaths to better understand how to prevent other suicides. Yet no further investigation was done until 2014.
According to the access-to-information documents obtained by The Globe, the 2014 audit was conducted to identify suicide triggers, determine whether interventions were tried and to pinpoint measures to improve suicide prevention at Veterans Affairs.
The study's experts noted that valuable information was gained by examining the 80 cases of vets who had either died by suicide, attempted to, or thought about ending their life.
Most of the veterans had a chronic physical-health problem coupled with a mental-health illness. Many were also coping with other stress, such as difficulty finding a job or financial, relationship and legal troubles.
Seventy-nine per cent were males and most had been released from the military in recent decades. A dozen, though, had served in the Second World War or Korea.
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Of the 31 vets lost to suicide, the majority ended their lives at home, the probe showed. Their deaths occurred from 1961 to 2013.
Some "best practice" examples were found where front-line Veterans Affairs staff prevented suicides. Improvements in documenting suicide risk, compared with the 2010 review, were also noted.
The audit showed that the suicide profile of elderly vets differed from younger ones. These older former soldiers were less likely to have documented mental-health problems, but suffered with multiple chronic physical-health issues and social isolation.
Despite the audit's numerous insights, a presentation included in the documents indicates staff with the Veterans Affairs' service-delivery branch recommended against formal reviews of individual suicide cases. The presentation, prepared in June, 2015, acknowledges that data from the 2010 and 2014 studies have provided "significant information," but cautions that there are "professional, ethical and legal considerations for employees whose actions will be reviewed."
The recommendation then was for Veterans Affairs to periodically perform general examinations of suicide cases. That position has since changed.
Mr. Doiron said Veterans Affairs' newly hired chief psychiatrist, Alexandra Heber, was asked to look into the issue in September. He said he hopes that an official suicide-review process will be in place by the end of March. Currently, only administrative reviews are done to determine whether benefits are owed to families. Any lessons identified are shared within the department, Mr. Doiron said.
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Veterans Affairs and the Canadian Forces are working on a suicide-prevention strategy, which is expected later this year. Veterans Affairs recently added a tool to electronically record and track suicides and, in November, updated guidelines for dealing with suicidal veterans.
|
2023-09-23T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/4986
|
$0.50USD
lyrics
A devoted boyfriend. She sends him to the hardware store to buy some sandpaper and some var-nish for her floor. He goes without question. He spends an hour there. He makes his se-lection with the utmost care. He rushes home quickly, lays his purchase on the bed. She takes the sandpaper and rubs it on his head.
And she says, "I’m gonna sand you right out of my well-rounded world, I wasn’t placed here to be somebody’s girl. I appreciate your help but it’s not like I’m your wife. I rounded you up, now I’m rounding you out of my well-rounded life."
She leaves without saying another perfect word. He stands alone in her apartment trying to process what he heard. He reaches for the varnish and though the fumes sting his nose, he pours it on her photos, on her bed, her books, her clothes.
And he says, "I’m gonna gloss you over, I loved you more than you’ll understand. But you rounded me out, I’ll try to do without, and I’ll forget you if I can."
|
2024-07-29T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/5188
|
Deal with the coyote problem
During the spring, nature experiences a rebirth that can be seen across the animal and plant kingdoms. Forests and pastures change to a bright, green with new growth, and many of the spring soft-mast plants produce their annual crop. In the animal world, the spring is during the middle of the rebirth, when many avian and terrestrial species are having their young. However, coyotes, are causing havoc to native game and non-game species across the Carolinas and virtually the entire eastern United States.
While deer and young turkey poults are out looking for food, so are the predators. Bobcats and foxes will take their fair share of young turkeys, rabbits and even a few fawns, but coyotes are the real threat, taking a lot more than the system can handle. Hunters looking to promote and protect their game species need to control these predators during this critical time.
Coyotes are a non-native species that have invaded the Carolinas over the past two decades. Historically, red wolves occupied portions of the eastern coast, but with the exception of the few populations introduced into eastern North Carolina, the red wolf’s historic range is occupied by coyotes, which are continuing to spread into urban, suburban and rural communities.
Coyotes will eat just about anything, including insects, fruit, grass, carrion, fish, frogs, snakes and small rodents. However, they are very efficient at catching many of the game species important to outdoorsmen, with rabbits, small deer, and wild turkeys on the menu.
During the spring, coyotes will birth from two to 12 pups and will bring them meat to eat. Turkey poults are running around, learning how to eat and small deer fawns are being born every day. Coyotes prey on these species heavily and are affecting them negatively.
Coyote populations across North American are at an all-time high and without any higher-level predators, native game species are vulnerable and subject to these pesky invaders. Coyotes can be hunted with dogs, trapped, or called-in using predator calls. Hunters interested in their game populations need to take action and dial into the new sport of predator hunting, and the time is right now!
|
2023-08-22T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/7960
|
Q:
Titration of aspirin
I have performed an experiment to test how temperature affects how fast aspirin dissolves by titrating solutions at various time intervals. According to this website, aspirin reacts with water as such:
$$\ce{C9H8O4(aq) + H2O(aq) -> C9H7O4-(aq) + H3O+(l)}$$
However, I've also read that aspirin undergoes hydrolysis with water, according to this site, where Aspirin (acetylsalicylic acid) hydrolyses to produce 2-hydroxybenzoic
acid and ethanoic acid.
So, I'm confused — when I'm dissolving the aspirin tablets in water, am I just making acetylsalicylic ions and hydronium ions which I can then titrate to find the concentration, or am I making two other acids as per the second site suggests? I have all my titre values, I just need to calculate the concentration of the aspirin the solutions, and I'm now confused about what chemical I'm actually finding the concentration of, e.g.
$$\ce{NaOH + HCl -> NaCl + H2O}$$
Here, sodium hydroxide reacts with hydrochloric acid. In my experiment, does the $\ce{NaOH}$ react with acetylsalicylic acid, or with 2-hydroxybenzoic acid and ethanoic acid?
A:
I am afraid, direct acid-base titration is not the right way to analyze aspirin exactly because of the you stated - hydrolysis. The rule number no of any titration is that there should be no side reaction and it should go to completion almost instantly. The direct titration of aspirin is problematic because hydrolyzes pretty fast to salicylic acid- an unwanted side reaction which may or may not go to completion.
In order to circumvent this, analytical chemists do a back-titration. You add an excess of base, heat the mixture so that neutralization as well as hydrolysis are complete. The remaining base is titrated. The rest of the calculations are normally done.
|
2023-09-09T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/6250
|
The only solution that can prevent or mitigate total disaster is the prompt removal of the President from office.
The White House/Flickr
A few days ago, I started telling people I know that the coronavirus crisis will begin to overwhelm us in about three weeks’ time. I based that on looking at where other countries are, particularly Italy, and then I just projected forward knowing that we haven’t done enough to prevent or prepare for the worst. The New York Times editorial board put it this way:
On Tuesday, Mr. Trump said he’d “love to have the country opened up and just raring to go by Easter,” which falls this year on April 12. Who wouldn’t? But wishing will not make it so. This crisis has not turned a corner — it hasn’t even hit yet.
I’d love to spend a bunch of time arguing with the president about the advisability of people showing up for Easter services, but events will make the case for me. This reality will not bend to fit Trump’s fantasies.
Speaking of fantasies, that pretty well describes the rest of the editorial board’s piece, because it is basically a long exhortation for the president to do things he will never proactively and voluntarily do.
President Trump needs to call for a two-week shelter-in-place order, now, as part of a coherent national strategy for the coronavirus to protect Americans and their livelihoods.
That will not happen.
We are not suggesting that Mr. Trump has the authority to order a national lockdown, much less advocating that he attempt to enforce one. Instead, we are urging him to use the bully pulpit to put pressure on, and provide political cover for, governors to take the hard steps that are needed.
The opposite of that is happening.
He should announce that, within 24 hours, all nonessential businesses should be shut and residents directed to remain in their homes except for vital trips out, such as to obtain food or medical care.
The president could not have been more clear that he is opposed to this.
Lines of authority and policy aims need to be clarified within the White House. Vice President Mike Pence is the official crisis czar, but Jared Kushner, the president’s son-in-law, has his own response team working on, among other things, outreach to the private sector. Certain senior aides, with business leaders whispering in their ears, are at odds with some health advisers about what restrictions are needed and how heavy the government’s hand should be… …Federalism is integral to American government, but the administration needs to get serious about running a coordinated national response.
Why, at this point, anyone would expect this administration to be capable of coordinating a response is beyond me. This will simply never happen as long as Trump remains president. And that’s why this is delusional:
This editorial board is reluctant to grant any White House more executive power, much less this one, given its track record. But in this case, there is no one else to coordinate at the national level.
There is not “no one else” to coordinate at the national level, there is no one who can do this period. The only solution, and it’s glaringly obvious, is to remove Trump from office now and put our faith in Mike Pence to at least follow the direction of the experts he’s ostensibly organizing.
We’re past the point of there being any profit in telling Trump what he should do. He will not do it, and will most often make things a hundred times worse. That’s why this is a ridiculous waste of breath:
It’s time to put an end to the free-form daily task force briefings featuring the president, the vice president and a rotating cast of other officials. They are a poor use of time for most of the participants and, worse, have repeatedly served up confusing and even false information. The president should tap a respected figure, preferably someone apolitical and with experience in crisis management, to serve as the point person for these briefings. When developments merit, other officials can be brought in to address specific topics.
That’s the last thing on Earth that will ever happen.
If the Editorial Board wants the president to face reality they should set an example by facing reality themselves. There is only one solution here that can prevent or at least mitigate total disaster, and that’s if the Republicans can be convinced that they don’t want two million deaths on their conscience because they refused to do what was necessary while there was still time for it to matter.
|
2024-07-21T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/3902
|
Q:
Event Listening from Child to Parent in Vuejs
I want to send an event from a child component to its parent, which should change the view.
I am able to create the event and emit it, however my template does not seem to be registering it, I am using Single File Components (SFC). Also if I manually update the data object all works fine.
App.vue (Parent)
<template>
<div v-on:change-view="updateView">
<!-- render the currently active component/page here -->
<component v-bind:is="currentView"></component>
</div>
</template>
<script>
export default {
name : 'app',
data () {
return {
currentView : 'Modal'
}
},
methods : {
updateView (view) {
console.log('event listener!!!')
this.currentView = view;
}
}
}
</script>
Modal.vue (Child)
<template>
<div>
<vk-modal v-bind:show="show">
<h1>{{ title }}</h1>
<p>{{ body }}</p>
<p class="uk-text-right">
<vk-button v-on:click="$emit('change-view', 'Purposes')">More Information</vk-button>
<vk-button v-on:click="fullConsent" type="primary">I Agree</vk-button>
</p>
</vk-modal>
</div>
</template>
<script>
export default {
name : 'modal',
data () {
return {
show : true,
title : 'Hello'
}
},
methods : {
fullConsent () {
this.show = false;
}
}
}
</script>
Please help :)
A:
You need to register the event listener on the <component> itself; component events do not bubble (unlike DOM events).
<div>
<component v-bind:is="currentView" v-on:change-view="updateView"></component>
</div>
|
2023-08-05T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/2123
|
Introduction
============
While overt forms of racial bias have been declining in USA ([@nsx052-B86]; [@nsx052-B59]; [@nsx052-B45]), covert prejudice is still prevalent ([@nsx052-B72]; [@nsx052-B8]). This prevalence has contributed to a shift of attention to implicit forms of racial bias ([@nsx052-B33]; [@nsx052-B69]) as well as a growing interest in uncovering the brain mechanisms involved in racial evaluations ([@nsx052-B40]; [@nsx052-B78], [@nsx052-B79]; [@nsx052-B57]). Racial group membership influences neural responses in the brain ([@nsx052-B34]; [@nsx052-B97]), but racial evaluations are not made in a vacuum. Cues such as eye gaze direction, ethnic group membership, culturally based self-construals and social-cognitive goals (e.g. categorization *vs* individuation) modulate race related brain activation ([@nsx052-B103]; [@nsx052-B12]; [@nsx052-B79]; [@nsx052-B93]; [@nsx052-B97]). The study reported here extends this literature by focusing on how perceived social class membership modulates race-related neural responses.
The United States is a highly stratified society with steep levels of class inequality ([@nsx052-B101]; [@nsx052-B107]; [@nsx052-B99]). Social class is an important base for the construction of self and identities ([@nsx052-B94]; [@nsx052-B44]) as well as group distinctions and racial disadvantages via residential and educational segregation, and interpersonal relations like homophily in marriage and friendship networks ([@nsx052-B84]; [@nsx052-B43]; [@nsx052-B42]; [@nsx052-B87]). Social class positions are intrinsically linked with symbolic aspects of human social interaction anchored in moral evaluation systems ([@nsx052-B51]; [@nsx052-B83]). People separate their valued in-group class members from out-group members by ascribing the latter with lower moral standards and character ([@nsx052-B51], [@nsx052-B52]). Moral emotions are linked to feelings about in-groups and out-groups, with the former acting as an intuitive standard for moral value while out-groups triggering moral apathy to perceived violations of important taken-for-granted societal notions of propriety ([@nsx052-B70]; [@nsx052-B96]). While we perceive in-group members more positively and feel more empathy and sympathy, we socially (and morally) exclude out-group members, sometimes treating them as non-human beings ([@nsx052-B41]; [@nsx052-B39]; [@nsx052-B26]).
Sociological research linking class and racial inequalities observes that while a growing body of African Americans have transitioned into the middle class---and now faced limited overt discrimination---a substantial portion of African Americans living in the inner cities have become increasingly marginalized, constituting the urban 'underclass' ([@nsx052-B104], [@nsx052-B105]). However, the ways that social class cues modulate neural responses to different racial groups have not been extensively or properly explored. The most common stimuli used in neurological studies are facial pictures of Black and White individuals without any distinguishing context. Yet, human interaction relies fundamentally on context, especially valued (or not) social class markers, to make the sorts of judgments previously studied in isolation. We address this gap by investigating how the human brain responds to pictures of Blacks and Whites embedded in social contexts depicting the socially desirable middle-class *vs* the lower-class and the upper-class.
Neurological evidence suggests that the vmPFC is a pivotal brain structure in moral emotional evaluations and in-group/out-group processes ([@nsx052-B19]; [@nsx052-B32]; [@nsx052-B64]; [@nsx052-B47]; [@nsx052-B76]; [@nsx052-B1]; [@nsx052-B25]; [@nsx052-B89]). There is increased medial prefrontal cortex activation when making judgments about physically or politically similar others ([@nsx052-B62]), close others (e.g. friends) ([@nsx052-B48]), distributing resources to maximize in-group members' profit ([@nsx052-B95]) and reduced activation when dehumanizing stigmatized others ([@nsx052-B38], [@nsx052-B39]). The amygdala, on the other hand, has a key role in processing social signals of emotion, particularly fear ([@nsx052-B3], [@nsx052-B4]; [@nsx052-B54]; [@nsx052-B73]; [@nsx052-B18]). While the vmPFC and the amygdala are reciprocally connected, and are both involved in moral and social appraisals ([@nsx052-B20]; [@nsx052-B77]; [@nsx052-B7]), we suggest that they might be playing functionally dissociable roles in moral emotional processing of racial stimuli. Neuroimaging studies of race demonstrated greater amygdala activation in response to out-group racial stimuli ([@nsx052-B40]; [@nsx052-B74]; [@nsx052-B17]; [@nsx052-B57]; [@nsx052-B81]). Moreover, previous research indicates that the amygdala is involved in emotional vigilance, especially in relation to ambiguous external stimuli that require more attention ([@nsx052-B102]; [@nsx052-B21]; [@nsx052-B37]). Therefore, we suggest that the amygdala's role in racial bias is potentially more specific in terms of responses toward those in lower-class and upper-class (out-group) categories---because of the greater attention that will be spent to detect whether or not people in these groups pose a threat.
This background leads to specific predictions: The vmPFC and the amygdala will have functionally dissociable roles in racial evaluations, with the vmPFC playing a more significant role in racial differences within the middle-class and the amygdala having a more crucial role for the upper and lower classes. To test these predictions, we utilized the following: (i) a neuropsychological experiment with patients who have damage to the vmPFC or amygdala, contrasted with brain damaged and normal comparison participants, and (ii) a functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) experiment with 15 healthy adults. In both experiments, participants viewed realistic photographs of Blacks and Whites in lower class, middle-class and upper-class conditions as well as pictures of pleasant and unpleasant non-human stimuli (as foil categories) and rated how they felt when viewing them on eight emotions: envy, pity, pride and disgust, anger, sadness, happiness and fear. We were particularly interested in emotional responses to these pictures because previous research suggests that emotions are not only vital mechanisms for moral judgment and action ([@nsx052-B65]; [@nsx052-B35], [@nsx052-B36]) but also are stronger predictors of racial discrimination than cognitive schemata such as stereotypes ([@nsx052-B56]; [@nsx052-B91]).
Experiment 1: neuropsychological study
======================================
Participants
------------
Seventeen neurological patients who incurred focal brain damage as adults (after age 18 years) were selected from the Iowa Patient Registry. Subjects included five patients with focal bilateral vmPFC lesions (see [Figure 1](#nsx052-F1){ref-type="fig"} for lesion overlaps), five patients with unilateral amygdala lesions (three left and two right, see [Figure 1](#nsx052-F1){ref-type="fig"} for lesion overlap) as well as seven brain-damaged comparison (BDC) subjects. One BDC subject who could not finish all the study procedures in the designated time period was excluded. Fifteen age-, race- and education-matched, neurologically normal comparison (NC) subjects were recruited via flyers and recruitment ads posted locally. Overall, patients did not have major defects in cognitive functioning or general intelligence, and the subgroups were similar in demographic characteristics, explicit racial evaluations and the neuropsychological scales reported here (see the [online Supplementary](#sup1){ref-type="supplementary-material"} for detailed inclusion/exclusion criteria).
{#nsx052-F1}
The neurological patients were all at least 30 years old and had education levels of at least 10th grade; recruited normal comparisons met these same criteria. None of the NC subjects reported to be from the highest or the lowest socio-economic strata (bottom 10th percentile= \<\$12 000; top 10 percentile= \>\$140 000).
Materials
---------
*Picture set* *.* A total of 200 pictures (25 per factor) were used to assess subjects' emotional responses (see [Table 1](#nsx052-T1){ref-type="table"}), including White and Black people in three different socio-economic positions as well as pictures of non-human stimuli (e.g. objects, animals). The pictures were chosen from the International Affective Picture System (IAPS) ([@nsx052-B53]) and the World Wide Web. The picture content across racial categories within each SES group (e.g. Black middle SES *vs* White middle SES) are matched in terms of qualitative (e.g. scenery, pose, posture) as well as quantitative aspects (number of people, visual complexity, eye-gaze) (see [online Supplementary](#sup1){ref-type="supplementary-material"} for examples, [Table A1](#nsx052-T1){ref-type="table"} for comparison). Table 1.Experimental conditionsLower classMiddle classUpper-classObjects* BlackBlackBlackPleasant WhiteWhiteWhiteUnpleasant*e.g. homeless people, people with worn-out clothinge.g. people barbecuing, having a picnic in casual clothinge.g. people wearing upscale clothing and jewelry, people in front of a sports car or a luxury yachte.g. spider, snarling dog, birthday cake, flowers[^1]
Procedure
---------
Participants were told that the purpose of the study was to investigate how the brain gives emotional responses to pictures of people *vs* objects and non-human animals in order to reduce social desirability and awareness effects. Each picture appeared on the screen for 2 s; eight emotion labels, happy, pride, sad, pity, angry, disgust, envy and fear, appeared sequentially; participants were asked to indicate whether they felt that emotion by pressing 'YES' or 'NO'. For affirmative emotions, participants were directed to a new window to indicate the extent they were feeling that emotion ranging from '1' (very low) to '5' (extreme). Pictures were randomized for each subject and emotion labels were randomized for each picture. A green fixation cross on a black background was presented in between each picture. This picture rating procedure took ∼1 h, after which, participants completed other scales on paper and were debriefed.
Analytical approach
-------------------
Initial investigations with a principal components factor analysis suggested a two-factor solution with happiness, pride and envy loading on one factor and the rest of the emotions loading on a second factor (see online [Supplementary Table A2](#sup1){ref-type="supplementary-material"}). Therefore, we averaged happiness, pride and envy into one desirability-related emotions variable (Cronbach's Alpha = 0.63) and created a second distressful emotions variable by averaging the sadness, pity, disgust, anger and fear (Cronbach's Alpha = 0.82). We have analyzed the desirability-related and distressful emotion scores separately by fitting multilevel mixed-effects regression models. Preliminary investigations revealed that there were no significant differences between the BDC and normal groups on their reports of either of the emotions. To increase power and ease of interpretation, BDC and normal groups were entered as a combined category into final analyses. Models included subjects as random intercepts, with fixed effects including race of the stimuli, social class of the stimuli, lesion type, and the interactions between these variables. For significant, interaction effects, we have conducted further investigations with follow-up contrasts.
Results
=======
Demographic characteristics
---------------------------
Demographic and clinical characteristics and attitude scale scores are displayed in [Table 2](#nsx052-T2){ref-type="table"}. Patients had mostly intact cognitive functioning and general intelligence (see online [Supplementary Table A3](#sup1){ref-type="supplementary-material"}). Bonferroni comparisons reveal groups were not significantly different from each other on age, Full Scale IQ from the Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale-III, depression as measured by the Beck Depression Inventory, PANAS negative affect scale, and the explicit racial evaluation scales (stereotype assessment, racial contact and symbolic racism). The amygdala group had significantly less education than the BDC (*P* = 0.04) (the vmPFC and BDC did not differ). Additionally, the vmPFC group had a significantly longer chronicity time than the BDC (*P* = 0.028) and a significantly lower positive affect score than the amygdala group (*P* = 0.025). Pearson chi-squared and Fischer's exact tests show that the groups were not significantly different from each other on categorical variables including sex, handedness and social class. Table 2.Demographic and clinical characteristics, and attitude scalesvmPFCAmygdalaBDCNCChi2/FPr/*P* valueSex2M, 3F3F, 2M4M, 2F7M, 8F1.100.78Age66 (9.6)55.2 (16.3)64 (8.8)63 (9.9)0.960.43Education14 (1.5)13 (1.1)16.5 (3.2)14.7 (1.9)3.180.04Social class3M, 2W3M, 2W5M, 1L9M, 6W8.110.23Handedness5R3R, 1M, 1L5R, 1L14R, 1L6.030.42Chronicity21.6 (10.2)14 (4.7)9.8 (1.9)--4.730.03WAIS-III FSIQ110 (21.1)102 (8.9)108 (20.6)--0.500.62BDI4 (2.7)5 (2.2)6 (6.1)--0.040.96PANAS positive27.2 (7.1)38.8 (6.6)33.2 (5.4)33.3 (5.4)3.260.04PANAS negative11.6 (3.05)12.2 (2.8)10.5 (0.8)11.3 (1.8)0.650.59Racial contact13.8 (17.6)19 (16.9)18.7 (17.1)15.7 (15.1)0.140.94Stereotypes11.6 (4.3)11.2 (3.4)12.1 (2.7)11.7 (4.3)0.060.98Symbolic racism0.5 (0.2)0.4 (0.1)0.3 (0.2)0.4 (0.2)1.300.30[^2]
Mixed-effects regression
------------------------
Results from the full models are reported in Table A4 of the [online Supplementary](#sup1){ref-type="supplementary-material"}, and the proportions reporting desirability-related and distressful emotions collapsed across conditions are reported in [Figure 2](#nsx052-F2){ref-type="fig"}. Looking at the desirability-related emotions, we see that race has no significant main effects, while pictures of middle and upper-class compared to lower-class increased ratings of desirability-related emotions significantly by 0.50 (*P* \< 0.01) and 0.35 (*P* \< 0.01) units. Lesion types did not have any significant main effects. None of the race X class, race X lesion and class X lesion interaction effects were statistically significant but the three-way Black X middle-class X vmPFC interaction was significant and negative. In order to clarify what is driving this effect, we have conducted three *posthoc* contrasts. The first two contrast looked at the differences between the vmPFC and the normal/BDC group on their ratings of middle-class racial group. These tests revealed no significant results. A third test looked at whether or not the vmPFC group's relative ratings of racial groups within the middle-class condition differed from that of the normal/BDC group. This contrast revealed that the vmPFC group's ratings of White *vs* Black middle-class was more positive and significantly greater than that of the normal/BDC (uncorrected *P* = 0.0006, Bonferroni corrected *P* for three contrasts \< 0.01).
{#nsx052-F2}
When we turn to distressful emotions, we see that race had a significant main effect; pictures of Black people were rated less negatively than Whites (*P* \< 0.001). Pictures of middle and upper-class compared to lower-class were rated more negatively (*P* \< 0.001). Lesion types had no significant effects. Black by middle-class and Black by upper-class interaction effects were significant and in positive direction (*P* \< 0.01). Race by lesion interactions were not significant. Amygdala by middle-class and Amygdala by upper-class interactions were significant and positive (*P* \< 0.001). This suggests that the Amygdala group's ratings of middle and upper-class groups were more positive than the other lesion groups. When we look at the three-way race by class by lesion interaction, on the other hand, we see that the interaction effects are in the negative direction and significant for the Black by upper-class X Amygdala interaction. When we unpack this interaction effect with two *posthoc* contrasts, we find that the Amygdala group reported greater distressful emotions for the White upper-class than the normal/BDC group (uncorrected *P* = 0.0291, Bonferroni corrected *P* for two contrasts \< 0.1).
Combining all desirability-related and distressful emotions together potentially obscures nuance, such as the distinction between moral and basic emotions as they relate to contemporary racial evaluations ([@nsx052-B52]; [@nsx052-B88]; [@nsx052-B68]). Thus, we conducted post-investigations with two moral emotions (one desirability-related and one distressful)---pride and disgust---and two basic emotions (similarly one desirability-related and one distressful)---happiness and anger---known to be important for racial evaluations and out-group stigma ([@nsx052-B80]; [@nsx052-B39]; [@nsx052-B60]). We fitted multilevel mixed-effects logistic regression models on the single emotions (a total of four models) to estimate the effects of race, class and lesion types and then followed-up with contrasts to examine potential racial differences on the ratings of these emotions within each class condition. The amygdala patients showed some significant differences for the lower-class and the vmPFC patients for the middle-class in both basic and moral emotions. The amygdala patients reported higher happiness (uncorrected *P* = 0.021, Bonferroni corrected *P* for six contrasts \< 0.15[^1^](#nsx052-FN1){ref-type="fn"}) and lower disgust (uncorrected *P* = 0.0364, Bonferroni corrected *P* for six contrasts \< 0.15) when viewing Black *vs* White lower-class compared to the normal/BDC group. The vmPFC patients reported less happiness (uncorrected *P* = 0.0181, Bonferroni corrected *P* for six contrasts \< 0.12) and less pride (uncorrected *P* = 0.0025, Bonferroni corrected *P* for six contrasts \< 0.05) in response to the pictures of Black *vs* White middle-class compared to the normal/BDC group.
To summarize, while these effects are small, they suggest an interesting pattern. When focused on racial members in different socio-economic positions, the vmPFC differences were more likely to pertain to desirability-related emotions and the middle-class group, while the amygdala effects were largely confined to distressful emotions and the upper-class racial out-groups. Our findings extend previous research on the vmPFC's role in empathy and personal moral judgments ([@nsx052-B90]; [@nsx052-B13]; [@nsx052-B55]) by showing that the vmPFC lesions can also bias subtle social emotional differences within socially valued categories (i.e. the middle-class). Additionally, results pertaining to the amygdala lesions are concordant with research showing that the amygdala is related to emotional vigilance, especially to ambiguous external stimuli ([@nsx052-B21]) and thus to racial evaluations in socially ambivalent out-group categories (i.e. lower-class and upper-class).
Experiment 2: fMRI
==================
Participants
------------
Fifteen right-handed adults with no history of neurological or psychiatric disorders were recruited using the same age, education and income screening criteria as the previous sample. Participants were additionally pre-screened for metal on or in their body and for anxiety attacks, panic disorder, claustrophobia, pregnant (or trying), or breast feeding. Data from two subjects were discarded because of excessive head movement during the MRI session (if the Euclidian norm of motion derivatives were \>4 mm in \>10% of the data). The final sample size is 13 subjects (7 male, 6 female, mean age = 47.2 s.d. = 7.6, mean education = 14.5 s.d. = 2.2).
Stimuli and procedure
---------------------
A subset of the pictures from the neuropsychological experiment (excluding eight pictures in order to keep the blocks balanced), using a pseudorandomized block design of eight runs and eight blocks were shown inside the scanner. Each block consisted of three pictures, 6 s per picture. Eight blocks (a total of 24 pictures) were used for each condition. All pictures were presented again on a computer immediately after the imaging session. Subjects evaluated the pictures on eight emotions, as well as the scales used in the lesion experiment.
Behavioral analysis
-------------------
Similar to the first experiment, we first conducted a principal components factor analysis, which suggested a two-factor solution (see online [Supplementary Table A5](#sup1){ref-type="supplementary-material"}). Thus, we averaged happiness, pride and envy into one desirability-related emotion variable (Cronbach's Alpha = 0.84) and anger, sadness, fear, disgust and pity into a distressful emotion variable (Cronbach's Alpha = 0.76). We then analyzed the desirability-related and distressful emotion scores separately by fitting multilevel mixed-effects regression models.
fMRI image acquisition and analysis
-----------------------------------
Imaging was conducted using a Siemens TIM Trio 3T scanner and a 12-channel head coil. Anatomic data consisted of volumetric T1-weighted MP-RAGE images (repetition time (TR)/echo time (TE)/inversion time (TI): 2530/3.09/900 ms, FOV: 256 mm×256 mm×240 mm, matrix: 256×256×240, slice thickness: 1 mm, flip angle: 10°). Functional data were acquired with blood oxygen level dependent contrast echo-planar imaging (TR/TE of 2000/30 ms, FOV: 220 mm, matrix: 64×64, slice thickness/gap: 3.5/0.525 mm, 31 transversal slices, flip angle: 90°). Data were processed with AFNI ([@nsx052-B14]). Each functional run (echo-planar image) was composed of 155 temporal volumes (number of repetitions). The two first volumes corresponding to the stabilization period of the magnetic signal were not considered for further analysis.
Preprocessing of echo-planar imaging data included the following: (i) removal of large signal deviations of 2.5 s.d. or greater from the mean, (ii) slice-time correction, (iii) co-registration with the anatomical images and transformation to the TT-N27 atlas---aka Colin brain---within AFNI (3-mm isotropic voxels), (iv) 3-dimensional volume registration (all EPI runs were coregistered with the 5th volume from the first imaging run using a heptic polynomial interpolation method), (v) smoothing with a Gaussian spatial filter of 4 mm, and (vi) scaling of blood oxygen level--dependent signal intensity to percentage of signal change using each subject\'s voxelwise time series mean as a baseline. A deconvolution analysis extracted a hemodynamic response function for each subject. The effects of the conditions were modeled by box-car regressors convolved with the hemodynamic response function for 18 s for blocks of each trial type. Motion correction parameters were included as nuisance covariates and TRs with motion derivatives exceeding the Euclidian norm of 0.4 mm were censored in deconvolution analysis.
Group-level analyses on the hemodynamic response estimates were conducted in two ways: (i) Group-level ANOVA and (ii) Region of Interest (ROI) analysis. First, a two-factor mixed-effects ANOVA in which conditions were the fixed (within subjects) factors and percentage BOLD signal changes from each participant was the random (between-subjects) factor applied. A group-level intersection mask with 70% overlap, obtained from the normalized and co-registered subject-level union masks, was applied to whole-brain group-level analyses. Second, we conducted separate ANOVAs applying ROI masks for the MPFC and the amygdala. The ROI mask for the amygdala was generated from the Eickhoff--Zilles cytoarchitectonic probabilistic atlas (AFNI's CA_N27_ML Atlas). The ROI in the MPFC was generated using a 10-mm sphere centered at coordinates (2 −48 −7 in RAI coordinates) based on previous research ([@nsx052-B38]; [@nsx052-B85]). All reported statistics were family-wise corrected for multiple comparisons with Monte Carlo simulations for an alpha-level of 0.05 ([@nsx052-B27]; [@nsx052-B111]). Using the parameters of our data set (FWHM = 5.8), running 10 000 iterations over the brain-only mask used in whole-brain group-level analyses indicated that for a corrected cluster-wise activation threshold of *P* \< 0.05, the minimum cluster sizes of 37 and 24 should be considered for voxel-wise thresholds of *P* \< 0.01, *P* \< 0.005, respectively. For a corrected alpha-level of 0.05 using a voxel-wise threshold of 0.05, running Monte Carlo simulation on ROI masks also indicated the minimum cluster sizes of 20 and 9 for the MPFC, and the left and right amygdala, respectively.
Results
=======
Demographic characteristics
---------------------------
All respondents were adults (average age = 47, s.d. = 7.58, 6 women, 7 men) averaged some college education (14.5 years, s.d. = 2.18). Five subjects reported to be middle-class, seven reported to be working-class and one participant reported lower-class status. Subjects had an average positive affect score of 29.5 (s.d. = 6.52) and negative affect score of 11.1 (s.d. = 0.86), which are well within the normal thresholds of affect ([@nsx052-B98]). The average racial contact score is 14.6 (s.d. = 13.71), stereotype assessment score is 10 (out of 24, s.d. = 6.06) and symbolic racism score is 0.40 (out of 1, s.d. = 0.20).
Behavioral results
------------------
Results from the multilevel mixed-effects logistic regression models are reported in Table A6 of the [online Supplementary](#sup1){ref-type="supplementary-material"}. Results showed that race had no significant main effects on desirability-related emotions, while pictures of middle and upper-class people elicited greater desirability-related emotional reports. The only significant interaction term indicated that pictures of Black middle-class people were received with less desirability-related emotions than White middle-class (*P* \< 0.01). Race also had no significant main effects on distressful emotions and respondents reported reduces distressful emotions in response to pictures of middle and upper-class people. Race X social class interactions had no significant effects on distressful emotions. It should be noted that the picture-rating task took place after the functional imaging, thus subjects were likely aware of the purpose of the experiment by this time, potentially explaining lack of significant effects.
Whole-brain fMRI results
------------------------
The areas of significant activation for each condition from the whole-brain ANOVA are reported in Table A7 of the [online Supplementary](#sup1){ref-type="supplementary-material"}. In general, brain regions associated with visuospatial processing and memory like lingual gyri, cuneus, precuneus, supplementary motor area, temporal gyri and superior parietal lobules were activated across all or most conditions. Brain regions related to emotional processing such as the anterior and mid cingulate cortices and the inferior parietal lobule ([@nsx052-B10]; [@nsx052-B11]) were activated mostly in response to human conditions (*vs* non-humans). Furthermore, areas related to distressful emotions processing and regulation like the inferior frontal gyri and the insular lobes ([@nsx052-B71]; [@nsx052-B30]) showed activation in relation to out-group class conditions like pictures of White and Black upper and lower-class people but not the middle class.
To further identify differences in the activation of brain regions across race conditions, we included three specific contrasts in the ANOVA (White lower *vs* Black lower, White middle *vs* Black middle, White upper *vs* Black upper). The contrast of middle-class Whites *vs* Blacks was the only activation cluster that survived the significance thresholds. Significant activation in the left superior orbital gyrus was revealed for White middle-class *vs* Black middle-class (*x*, *y*, *z* =11, −26, −16, *t* = 4.603, *P* corrected \< 0.05). As the orbital gyri are contained in the ventromedial prefrontal cortex ([@nsx052-B58]), this suggests that the vmPFC is involved in racial evaluations favoring White middle-class *vs* Black. None of the other race contrasts (e.g. Black low *vs* White low) produced a statistically significant difference.
ROI results
-----------
Results of the MPFC ROI analyses converge with the whole brain analysis and previous literature (see Table A8 of the [online Supplementary](#sup1){ref-type="supplementary-material"} for the main condition effects). The only significant activation clusters were for White and Black upper social classes, and the White middle and lower-class (but not Black) conditions (corrected *P* \< 0.05). For the race contrasts, there was greater MPFC activation while viewing pictures of White middle-class *vs* Black middle-class people (*t* = 3.247, *P* corrected \< 0.05, see [Table 3](#nsx052-T3){ref-type="table"} and [Figure 3](#nsx052-F3){ref-type="fig"}). The only other significant contrast was of viewing pictures of humans (collapsed across all race and class groups) *vs* non-humans (pleasant and unpleasant collapsed) (*x* = −2, *y* = −53, *z* = 16, *t* = 7.267, *P* corrected \< 0.05). Table 3.Contrast results from the ROI analysisVolume mm^3^*xyz*Maximal *t*-score[MPFC]{.ul} White mid.\>Black mid.31−2−50−163.247 Human\>Non-human85−2−53−167.267[RAMY]{.ul} White lower-class\>Black lower class13−232−10−5.547[LAMY]{.ul} Human\>Non-human9265−13−3.782[^3]
{#nsx052-F3}
These findings align with previous research indicating the involvement of the vmPFC in personal and emotional moral evaluations, perspective-taking or ability to empathize with others, reward and pleasure mechanisms ([@nsx052-B6]; [@nsx052-B49]) as well as activation of the subgenual cingulate areas with kin-related cohesion and a lack of activation in dehumanization of moral out-groups ([@nsx052-B38]). However, rather than being differentially involved in evaluations of racial groups across all class conditions, our results show that the significant differences in the vmPFC activation were specific to the middle-class group.
Results from the amygdala ROI revealed that while the right amygdala was activated in all conditions except the non-human pleasant pictures, the left amygdala was activated in all conditions (corrected *P* \< 0.05). These findings are consistent with the hypothesis that the amygdala has a general role related to emotional arousal (see [@nsx052-B73]). Looking at the contrasts between these conditions, right amygdala activation was significantly different only between White and Black lower-class conditions. There was lower right amygdala activation for the White *vs* Black lower-class (*t* = −5.547, corrected *P* \< 0.05) (see [Figure 3](#nsx052-F3){ref-type="fig"}). On the other hand, the only significant left amygdala activation difference was the contrast between humans and non-humans. There was decreased activity for the conditions with pictures of humans compared to those with non-humans (*t* = −3.782, *P* corrected \< 0.05). These findings are in line with previous research showing that increased right amygdala activation during unconscious evaluations of masked or hidden stimuli ([@nsx052-B66], [@nsx052-B67]) as well as when viewing faces of Blacks *vs* Whites ([@nsx052-B57]; [@nsx052-B81]). However, our results show the right amygdala is differentially involved in racial evaluations, but only observing stimuli from the lower-class conditions.
Discussion
==========
Our study investigated the intersection of social class and race. Complementary neuropsychological and functional imaging experiments demonstrated the involvement of the vmPFC in perceiving racial differences within the middle-class, and the amygdala in emotional responses to the upper and lower class. Specifically, results from the neuropsychological experiment revealed the following: (i) the importance of moral emotional processing in racial evaluations, and (ii) the potential recruitment of distinct brain regions in class-based racial evaluations: the vmPFC for the middle-class and the amygdala for the lower-class and upper-class. Findings from the fMRI experiment also supported these results, with significant vmPFC activation in response to White *vs* Black middle-class and significant amygdala deactivation in response to White *vs* Black lower class.
Previous research indicates the vmPFC is crucial for social emotions and moral empathy as well as reward processing and pleasure ([@nsx052-B19]; [@nsx052-B31]; [@nsx052-B7]). However, the role of mPFC and more particularly vmPFC in race evaluations is poorly understood. While several studies have linked this region to mentalizing about others and empathy ([@nsx052-B28]; [@nsx052-B29]), few studies focused on its involvement in race-evaluations. Our study offers novel evidence in favor of the thesis that the vmPFC's role for racial evaluations is largely confined to the more positively valued and prized groups, potentially through regulating desirability-related emotions or representing values assigned to these social groups ([@nsx052-B50]; [@nsx052-B62]; [@nsx052-B95]; [@nsx052-B48]). Interacting with both Black and White middle-class people likely elicits desirability-related and moral emotions (e.g. happiness, pride). However, as implicated in our findings, social appraisals within the middle-class group might still be more favorable towards Whites. While this view fits with sociological research reporting middle-class Blacks are still discriminated against despite their desirable class status ([@nsx052-B23]; [@nsx052-B24]), it also extends the field by suggesting racial evaluation processes might be operating differently for middle-class members.
Results from both experiments also show that the amygdala plays a role in racial evaluations, but particularly for out-group class conditions. These results suggest that rather than automatically categorizing humans into different racial groups, the amygdala might be encoding other socially valued properties from the facial region, complementing previous research indicating that individuals with amygdala lesions have impaired startle reflex, impaired recognition of emotional face expressions (especially fear) and social judgments like detecting trustworthiness of others ([@nsx052-B2], [@nsx052-B3]; [@nsx052-B5]; [@nsx052-B9]).
Moreover, these findings help shed some light on contradictory results from previous literature. While several studies found increased amygdala activation for racial out-groups ([@nsx052-B40]; [@nsx052-B74]; [@nsx052-B57]), a lesion study revealed no explicit or implicit measures of racial attitudes for patients with amygdala damage ([@nsx052-B75]). Furthermore, an experimental task in which participants were shown norm-violating (e.g. gang members, prison inmates) and norm-consistent (families, teachers) pictures of Blacks and Whites, [@nsx052-B85] found that amygdala activation is related to norm-violation rather than race evaluations. These discrepancies suggest that facial pictures of Black or White individuals isolated from distinguishing social context cues are not good indicators of emotional differences. Relying solely on these measures might miss important, emotional components of racial attitudes. By taking into account a more nuanced system of racial evaluations that includes positive appraisals and emotions triggered by class markers, future research can move beyond viewing social bias as a unidirectional animosity towards all members of a group.
Our study has several limitations. First, our stimuli consisted of a constrained set of social class and racial groups in order to minimize potential confounds. Future research could consider a more nuanced approach that extends the inquiry to evaluations of other class groups (working class, upper-middle class) as well as other racial and ethnic groups. Second, we cannot draw conclusions about the differential effects of the emotions under investigation because we employed an analytical strategy that combined these emotions into two latent clusters. Third, the brain regions of interest in this study are susceptible to signal loss and image distortion due to their location near air or bone/tissue interfaces ([@nsx052-B61]; [@nsx052-B22]). We attempted to minimize such artifacts while acquiring whole brain coverage by using a 3.5-mm slice thickness. However, caution in interpreting our results is urged. Newer higher-channel count head coils coupled with multi-band imaging would allow further minimization of slice thickness and resulting susceptibility artifacts. Fourth, these studies employed relatively small sample sizes posing a challenge to the generalizability of the findings. However, converging findings from neuropsychological and functional imaging approaches help strengthen our conclusions. Furthermore, we recruited adults older than age 30 years from the local population, avoiding possible drawbacks of sampling techniques used frequently in psychological and functional imaging experiments with undergraduate student populations (see [@nsx052-B110] for a critique).
Finally, in order to keep the samples comparable across neuropsychological and fMRI studies, our samples included mainly middle- and working-class White individuals. Sample homogeneity limits the interpretation of our results such that we cannot conclude whether differences in brain response are due to group identification or stereotypes. For example, greater vmPFC activation in response to pictures of White *vs* Black middle-class people might be due to in-group favoritism or knowledge about positive group stereotypes. However, based on previous literature, we suggest that while both mechanisms are likely operating simultaneously, group identification processes might recruit the vmPFC and the stereotype-related activation might be associated with the amygdala. Previous studies show that the vmPFC is related to personal (*vs* impersonal) moral judgments ([@nsx052-B32]; [@nsx052-B13]), self and in-group related information ([@nsx052-B46]), and sensitivity to in-group harm ([@nsx052-B109]; [@nsx052-B63]). Amygdala activity, conversely, is correlated with norm violation rather than race, and is observed not only in Whites but also Blacks ([@nsx052-B57]) and is absent in childhood and does not emerge until adolescence ([@nsx052-B92]). Therefore, we conclude that two distinct mechanisms, one related to group identification engaging the vmPFC for the middle-class and another more pertinent to stereotypes recruiting the amygdala for the upper and lower-class positions, potentially underlie class-based racial evaluations.
Funding
=======
This work was supported in part by a McDonnell Foundation Collaborative Action Award \[\#220020387 to D.T.\], the Social Science Research Council, University of Iowa MR Research Facility, Executive Council for the Graduate and Professional Students and Department of Sociology at the University of Iowa.
Supplementary data
==================
[Supplementary data](#sup1){ref-type="supplementary-material"} are available at *SCAN* online.
Supplementary Material
======================
######
Click here for additional data file.
Bonferroni corrections tend to be very conservative especially as the number of tests increase. In the case of our comparisons, an alpha level of 0.017 and 0.025 are required for even to reach a more liberal corrected alpha level of 0.1 for six and four contrasts, respectively. This is why we are reporting uncorrected significant results with the corresponding corrected alpha values in order to reduce false negatives.
We would like to thank Matthew Andersson, Mary Campbell, Jeremy Freese, Jennifer Glanville, Gunes Sevinc and Jessica Wellburn for helpful feedback on earlier drafts of this paper. We would also like to acknowledge Bradley Taber-Thomas for valuable advice on research strategy, Joel Bruss for assisting the analyses of neuroanatomical data, Ruth Henson and Keary Saul for assisting subject recruitment, Ben Earnhart and Nick Jones for technical support, and Beyon Miloyan, Thelma Moss, Sarah Nutter and Sarah Purcell for their research assistance.
*Conflict of interest*. None declared.
[^1]: Note: There are 25 pictures per condition (e.g. 25 pictures of Black middle-class people) in Experiment 1 (the neuropsychological study) and 24 pictures per condition in Experiment 2---the functional MRI study (in order to be able to equally distribute pictures across experimental blocks).
[^2]: Note: Age is in years at time of testing. Education is education in years of formal schooling. Class is self-reported social class (W = working class, M = middle class). Handedness reports dominant hand (R = right, M = Mixed, L = left). Chronicity is the time between lesion onset and completion of the present experiment, in years. WAIS-III, Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale-III scores (FSIQ = full-scale IQ), 80--89 is low average, 90--109 is average, 110--119 is high average, 120+ is superior). BDI, Beck Depression Inventory, a measure of baseline mood (raw scores reported. According to the BDI-II manual, 'Nondepressed' individuals had mean BDI-II scores of 7.7 (s.d. 5.9), whereas 'mildly depressed', 'moderately depressed', and 'severely depressed' individuals had mean BDI-II scores of 19.1 (s.d. 5.7), 27.4 (s.d. 10.0), and 33.0 (s.d. 12.0), respectively ([@nsx052-B108]).
[^3]: Note: Peak activation. Talairach coordinates *x* = **R**ight-to-Left, *y* = **A**nterior-to-Posterior, and *z* = **I**nferior-to-Superior (RAI). Contrasts tested: White lower *vs* Black lower, White middle *vs* Black middle, White upper *vs* Black upper, Human *vs* Non-human. All reported statistics survived family-wise corrections for multiple comparisons with Monte Carlo simulations for an alpha-level of 0.05. Uncorrected alpha level for the White middle *vs* Black middle contrast is 0.06, the rest of the contrasts are at the level of 0.05.
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2024-06-18T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/5017
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2014–15 ISU Speed Skating World Cup – World Cup 3 – Men's 5000 metres
The men's 5000 metres race of the 2014–15 ISU Speed Skating World Cup 3, arranged in Sportforum Hohenschönhausen, in Berlin, Germany, was held on 6 December 2014.
Jorrit Bergsma of the Netherlands won, followed by Sverre Lunde Pedersen of Norway in second place, and Douwe de Vries of the Netherlands in third place. Frank Vreugdenhil of the Netherlands won Division B.
Results
The race took place on Saturday, 6 December, with both divisions in scheduled in the afternoon session, Division A at 14:13, and Division B at 17:00.
Division A
Division B
References
Men 5000
#3
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2023-11-14T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/7850
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Solid Footwork Is Very Necessary In Executing Basic Basketball Tasks And Techniques Like Defense, Rebounding, Ball-handling, And Many More.
These three “Super Tournaments” are highly anticipated and often sell out quickly but most is crucial to make the team’s game play a success. Instead, go back sports news and rebound and resume a position enough and will surely help improve your footwork for both defensive and offensive tasks in playing basketball. Although it can be very difficult players can turn themselves into stars if they #1 focus and then back that up by setting your priorities around it, you’ll be left in the dust. The recipient should have the vertical leap to dunk or minute to buy your tickets if you have any question at all about being able to attend the event.
A good player must be able to know the basics and why certain basketball players don’t measure up to their potential? When the recipient is moving, this pass is made ensuring arms wrapped around behind the back and the basketball is then released. Thinking local news about your shots and imaging you making them is just make sure your footwork is well practiced before the games. Almost all mental and physical aspects of basketball playing through enduring and patient training and workouts.
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2024-06-04T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/4170
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Blood loss in total hip arthroplasty. Lateral position combined with preservation of the capsule versus supine position combined with capsulectomy.
The intraoperative blood loss of 40 uncomplicated primary total hip arthroplasties was studied in a retrospective, matched pair analysis. Half of them were implanted in the supine position after complete excision of the capsule and the other half in the lateral position with preservation of the capsule. The patients were matched for mono- or bilateral procedure. Only one surgeon carried out the operations using the same operative technique and identical prosthesis in both groups. The intraoperative blood loss associated with the lateral position and preservation of the capsule averaged 830 ml and was significantly lower (P = 0.01) than 1165 ml with the supine position and complete capsulectomy. Thus, the intraoperative blood loss can be significantly reduced in primary total hip arthroplasty by choosing the lateral position and preserving the capsule.
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2023-10-13T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/9419
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President Moon Jae-in on Friday stressed that the PyeongChang Olympics represent an opportunity for peace at a presidential reception that brought together top officials from China, Japan and the US.
South Korean President Moon Jae-in (left, front row), first lady Kim Jung-sook, North Korean ceremonial head of state Kim Yong-nam (second from right, back row) and North Korean leader Kim Jong-un`s sister Kim Yo-jong (right, back row) attend the opening ceremony of the 2018 PyeongChang Olympics in PyeongChang, Gangwon Province, Friday. (Yonhap)
The three countries -- the key players in issues surrounding the North Korean nuclear issue --are represented by Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, US Vice President Mike Pence and China’s Politburo Standing Committee member Han Zheng. Russia, the other party in the six-party talks on denuclearization, is absent from the games due to doping allegations.
North Korea was represented by its nominal head of state Kim Yong-nam, who heads Pyongyang’s high-level delegation.
The North Korean delegation, which arrived here Friday, also includes Kim Yo-jong, sister of North Korean leader Kim Jong-un.
“Even as we are here together, many countries around the world have thorny issues to sort out between them. Korea is no exception. Had it not been for the PyeongChang Olympics, some of us might not have had (the) chance to be together in the same room,” Moon said.
Moon went on to cite the example of the 1991 World Table Tennis Championships, where the two Koreas fielded a joint team. He said that the joint women’s ice hockey team at the Winter Games is a seed of hope.
Citing a poem that says “a snowman starts with a snowball,” Moon said that the ice hockey players “are now holding a small snowball in their hands.”
“Together, we should start rolling the small snowball carefully with our hands. Now, if we put our hearts and minds together, it will continue to grow larger and larger and turn into a snowman of peace.”
While the South Korean leader talked of peace on the Korean Peninsula, Pence’s actions at the reception indicated that US-North Korea dialogue -- considered an essential step in the denuclearization of the North -- is unlikely.
Despite much speculation over the possibility of Pence meeting with the North Korean delegation, no such meeting came about.
US Vice President Mike Pence, second from bottom right, sits between second lady Karen Pence, third from from bottom left, and Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe at the opening ceremony of the 2018 Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, South Korea, Friday, Feb. 9, 2018. Seated behind Pence are Kim Yong-nam, third from top right, president of the Presidium of North Korean Parliament, and Kim Yo-jong, second from top right, sister of North Korean leader Kim Jong-un. (Yonhap-AP)
Pence, along with Abe, arrived at the reception late, avoiding Moon’s meet-and-greet session where the North’s chief delegate was present. The US vice president did not attend the main event of the reception, where he would have been given a seat at the head table along with Kim Yong-nam and Abe.
Pence left shortly after greeting Moon, while Abe stayed.
Cheong Wa Dae said later that Pence had informed Seoul in advance that he would not attend the entire event in order to meet with US athletes.
According to pool reports, Pence did however take the time to greet and shake hands with other leaders present, but did not acknowledge Kim Yong-nam
As for the North Korean delegation, the 23-member group arrived in the South by private jet at 1:46 p.m. at the Incheon Airport.
From there, the delegation moved directly to PyeongChang in Gangwon Province to attend the reception and Olympic opening ceremony. The delegation, or a combination of its members, will also meet with Moon on Saturday.
While the delegation is led by Kim Yong-nam, experts are focusing on Kim Yo-jong. With her direct link to Kim Jong-un, she is expected to play a key role in future inter-Korean relations.
Jeong Se-hyun, who served as the South’s minister of unification for the liberal Roh Moo-hyun administration, said in an interview with a local radio station that Kim Jong-un has sent his sister to express willingness to revive inter-Korean talks, which could pave the way for Washington-Pyongyang dialogue.
But others are skeptical that Kim Yo-jong’s presence in South Korea will lead to any noteworthy breakthrough in the current situation surrounding North Korea, with Pyongyang’s unwillingness to give up its nuclear development program.
“President Moon has tied the issue of bringing denuclearization on the Korean Peninsula to an improvement in inter-Korean ties, but North Korea is not interested in denuclearization at the moment,” said research fellow Woo Jung-yeop of the Sejong Institute.
Some experts are voicing concerns that North Korea may be using the Olympic overture to gain more leeway on international sanctions.
Recently, North Korea has often made moves that call for sanctions exemptions, and “sending Choe Hwi to South Korea is part of North Korea’s tactics to widen the scope of its sanctions violations,” a source from a state-run research institute told The Korea Herald on condition of anonymity.
Choe is subject to UN sanctions, including a travel ban, which was lifted for the duration of the visit to the South.
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2023-11-20T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/3804
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The hydrogen station uses solar power to drive the electrolysis of water, generating hydrogen. The 200 litre/hour electrolyser was supplied by Acta SpA. Acta is working closely with both APFCT and H2 Technologies to implement a convenient hydrogen refuelling system for the scooters.
Acta’s proprietary electrolyser technology significantly reduces the cost of small-scale hydrogen generation and can be powered directly from solar panels without energy loss from power conversion or hydrogen compression. Each scooter has two cartridges that store hydrogen at low pressure in metal-hydride form and can take the scooter 90 km (50 miles), with a 1.2 kW fuel cell that gives a top speed of 35 mph (~55 kph).
The fuel cell scooters are expected to be on Honolulu roads early in 2013, according to Honolulu Civil Beat. Guy Toyama, CEO of H2 Technologies, says that the initial plan is to begin offering the scooters as rentals for the tourist market to build an economy of scale that will drive down the price. Currently, the cost is about $3,500.
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2023-09-11T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/8873
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Recent years have seen the development of biometric authentication technology for authenticating a user of an apparatus or system based on a biometric image representing the user's biometric information such as a palm or finger vein pattern or a fingerprint or palm print. A biometric authentication device using such biometric authentication technology acquires, as a biometric input image, a biometric image representing, for example, the biometric information of a user who wishes to use the biometric authentication device. Then, the biometric authentication device compares the user's biometric input information represented by the biometric input image with registered biometric information, i.e., the biometric information prestored in the form of a biometric image for each registered user. If it is determined as the result of the comparison that the biometric input information matches the registered biometric information, the biometric authentication device authenticates the user as being a registered user. The biometric authentication device then permits the authenticated user to use the apparatus in which the biometric authentication device is incorporated or some other apparatus connected to the biometric authentication device.
When such a biometric authentication device is used, the user has to wait until the biometric authentication process is completed, before he can use the desired apparatus. Therefore, if the time taken to complete the biometric authentication process is long, the user will be inconvenienced. Especially, in the case of a one-to-N matching scheme in which the biometric input information is compared against a set of a plurality of pieces of registered biometric information each prestored as a registered biometric image in the biometric authentication device, the biometric authentication device has to perform a plurality of comparisons. This inevitably increases the time taken to complete the biometric authentication process.
To address this problem, a technique has been developed that classifies biometric input information into one of a plurality of classes, based on a feature quantity extracted from the biometric input information, and that compares the biometric input information only with the registered biometric information that belongs to the same class as the biometric input information (for example, refer to Japanese Laid-open Patent Publication No. 2002-133416 and Japanese Laid-open Patent Publication No. 2006-39777). By using this technique, the number of comparisons to be performed can be reduced, because the number of pieces of registered biometric information used for comparison decreases. As a result, even when the one-to-N matching scheme is employed, the biometric authentication device can reduce the overall time taken to complete the biometric authentication process. In the known art, when the biometric input information is a fingerprint, a feature, such as ridge spacing, center position of fingerprint, or ridge direction, is used to classify the biometric input information.
In the user of the biometric authentication technology, it is desirable that the characteristic features of the biometric information be captured clearly in the biometric image. However, if the user's body part as the biometric information to be used for matching is not properly positioned relative to the sensor for capturing the biometric information, a portion of the biometric information to be used for matching may not be captured in the biometric image or the biometric information captured may not be clear enough. In such cases, the biometric authentication device may not be able to extract from the biometric input information the feature quantity to be used for classifying the biometric input information, and may thus become unable to accurately classify the biometric input information. If the biometric input information is erroneously classified as belonging to a class different from the class to which it should belong, the biometric authentication device is unable to compare the biometric input information with the registered biometric information of the corresponding user. This results in a degradation of the authentication accuracy.
In view of the above, a technique has been developed that notifies the user to have his biometric information reread by the sensor to re-acquire the biometric image if it is determined that the biometric input information has not been captured correctly (for example, refer to Japanese Laid-open Patent Publication No. 2001-167268 and Japanese Laid-open Patent Publication No. 2003-256815). According to this technique, it is determined whether the image has been captured correctly or not, based on the density distribution of the image representing the biometric input information, or based on whether the desired feature point of the biometric information has been successfully extracted from the image or on the position of the feature point.
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2024-05-31T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/6435
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#!/bin/sh
SDK=iphonesimulator
ARCH=x86_64
exec xcrun --sdk ${SDK} ranlib $@
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2024-03-15T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/2139
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Q:
store 32 bit int into a char buffer
I'm working with a UDP program which collects data to be sent into a char array, but the data I need to send is a 32 bit int. How can I send this data?
A:
In C, integer types (or any type for that matter) can safely be represented in a character arrays and back using pointer casts. This is guaranteed by the C standard.
In socket programming, you'll usually want to perform this operation on an integer that you previously translated to network-byte order:
uint32_t translated_int = htonl(original_int);
char *binary_string = (char *)&translated_int;
// binary_string now a pointer to the translated_int, represented as a char array
If you need a copy to pass it around, you can do so with memcpy instead:
char binary_string[ sizeof(translated_int) ];
memcpy(binary_string, &translated_int, sizeof translated_int);
// binary_string now a copy of translated_int, represented as a char array
If you want to translate it back:
uint32_t translated_int, original_int;
memcpy(&translated_int, binary_string, sizeof translated_int);
original_int = ntohl(translated_int);
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2024-01-29T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/6664
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[ON THE MASS FORMULA AND WIGNER AND CURVATURE ENERGY TERMS]{}
G. ROYER
[*Laboratoire Subatech, UMR : IN2P3/CNRS-Université-Ecole des Mines,\
4 rue A. Kastler, BP 20722, 44307 Nantes Cedex 03, France,\
E-mail: royer@subatech.in2p3.fr*]{}
(Received )
[*Abstract.*]{} The efficiency of different mass formulas derived from the liquid drop model including or not the curvature energy, the Wigner term and different powers of the relative neutron excess $I$ has been determined by a least square fitting procedure to the experimental atomic masses assuming a constant R$_{0,charge}$/A$^{1/3}$ ratio. The Wigner term and the curvature energy can be used independently to improve the accuracy of the mass formula. The different fits lead to a surface energy coefficient of around 17-18 MeV, a relative sharp charge radius r$_0$ of 1.22-1.23 fm and a proton form-factor correction to the Coulomb energy of around 0.9 MeV.
[*Key words:*]{} Nuclear masses, liquid drop model, Wigner term, curvature energy, charge radius.
INTRODUCTION
============
The binding energies of exotic nuclei close to the proton and neutron drip lines or in the superheavy element region are still poorly known and the different predictions do not agree completely. Therefore continuous efforts are still needed to determine the nuclear masses. Within a charged liquid drop approach, semi-macroscopic models including a pairing energy have been firstly advanced to reproduce the experimental nuclear masses [@wei35; @bet36]. The coefficients of the Bethe-Weizsäcker mass formula have been determined once again recently [@bas05]. To reproduce the irregularity of the masses as functions of $A$ and $Z$ partly due to shell closings and proton and neutron number parity, macroscopic-microscopic approaches have been elaborated, mainly the finite-range liquid drop model and the finite-range droplet model [@moll95]. The Thomas-Fermi statistical model with a well-chosen effective interaction [@ms94rep; @ms96] has also allowed to reproduced accurately the nuclear masses. Microscopic Hartree-Fock self-consistent theories using mean-fields and Skyrme or Gogny forces and pairing correlations [@samy02; @sto05] as well as relativistic mean field calculations [@bend01] have also been developed to describe these nuclear masses. Finally, nuclear mass systematics using neural networks have been undertaken recently [@ath04].
The evolution of the nuclear binding energy with deformation and rotation governs the fission, fusion, cluster and $\alpha$ decay potential barriers and the characteristics of the large deformed rotating states. One or two-body shape sequences have to be selected to simulate the exit or entrance channels [@hasse] in the macroscopic-microscopic models. Within a generalized liquid drop model and a quasi-molecular shape sequence the main features of these barriers have been reproduced using, firstly, four basic macroscopic terms : the volume, surface, Coulomb and nuclear proximity energy contributions and, secondly, shell and pairing energy terms to explain structure effects and improve quantitatively the results [@rr84; @rr85; @roy00; @rm01; @rg03; @rbon06].
The purpose of the present work is to determine the efficiency of different combinations of terms of the liquid drop model by a least square fitting procedure to the experimentally available atomic masses [@aud03] and to study, particularly, the separated influence of the Wigner term, the curvature energy and different powers of the relative neutron excess $I$ to improve the GLDM.
NUCLEAR BINDING ENERGY
======================
The nuclear binding energy B$_{nucl}$(A,Z) which is the energy needed to separate all the nucleons forming a nucleus is linked to the nuclear mass M$_{n.m}$ by $$B_{nucl}(A,Z)=Zm_P+Nm_N-M_{n.m}(A,Z).$$ This quantity may be connected to the experimental atomic masses given in [@aud03] since : $$M_{n.m}(A,Z)=M_{a.m}(A,Z)-Zm_e+B_e(Z).$$ The binding energy B$_e$(Z) of all removed electrons is determined by [@lunn03] $$B_e(Z)=a_{el}Z^{2.39}+b_{el}Z^{5.35},$$ with $a_{el}=1.44381\times10^{-5}$ MeV and $b_{el}=1.55468\times10^{-12}$ MeV.
The following expansion of the nuclear binding energy in powers of $A^{-1/3}$ and $I=(N-Z)/A$ has been considered : $$\begin{aligned}
B&=&a_v \left(1-k_{v_1}\vert I \vert-k_{v_2}I^2-k_{v_3}I^4\right)A-
a_s\left(1-k_{s_1}\vert I \vert-k_{s_2}I^2-k_{s_3}I^4\right)A^{\frac {2}{3}}
\nonumber \\
& & -a_k\left(1-k_{k_1}\vert I \vert-k_{k_2}I^2-k_{k_3}I^4\right)A^{\frac {1}{3}}
-a_0A^0-\frac {3}{5} \frac {e^2Z^2}{r_0A^{\frac{1}{3}}}
+f_p \frac {Z^2}{A}
\nonumber \\
& & -W \vert I \vert+E_{pair}-E_{shell}-E_{cong}. \end{aligned}$$
The first term is the volume energy and corresponds to the saturated exchange force and infinite nuclear matter. It includes the asymmetry energy term of the Bethe-Weizsäcker mass formula via the $I^2A$ term. The second term is the surface energy term. It takes into account the deficit of binding energy of the nucleons at the nuclear surface and corresponds to semi-infinite nuclear matter. In the Bethe-Weizsäcker mass formula the dependence of the surface energy on $I$ is not considered. The third term, the curvature energy, is a correction to the surface energy appearing when the surface energy is viewed as a result of local properties of the surface and consequently depends on the mean local curvature. This term is taken into account in the Lublin-Strasbourg drop (LSD) model [@lsdm], the TF model [@ms96] but not in the FRLDM [@moll95]. The A$^0$ term appears when the surface term of the liquid drop model is extended to include higher order terms in A$^{-1/3}$ and $I$. The fifth term is the Coulomb energy. It gives the decrease of binding energy due to the repulsion between the protons. In the Bethe-Weizsäcker mass formula the proportionality to Z(Z-1) is prefered. For the charge radius the formula $R_{0,charge}=r_0A^{1/3}$ is assumed, a more sophisticated expression has been studied in ref. [@roygau]. The $Z^2/A$ term is a proton form-factor correction to the Coulomb energy which takes into account the finite size of the protons. The term proportional to $I$ is the Wigner energy [@moll95; @mye77] which appears in the counting of identical pairs in a nucleus.
The pairing energy has been determined using $$\begin{array} {ccc}
E_{pair}=-a{_p}/A^{1/2} $ for odd Z, odd N nuclei$, \\
E_{pair}=0 $ for odd A$, \\
E_{pair}=a{_p}/A^{1/2} $ for even Z, even N nuclei$.
\end{array}$$ The $a{_p}=11$ value has been adopted following different fits. More sophisticated expressions exist for this pairing energy [@moll95; @ms96]. The theoretical shell effects given by the Thomas-Fermi model ($7^{th}$ column of the table in [@ms94rep] and [@ms96]) have been retained since they reproduce correctly the mass decrements from fermium to $Z=112$ [@hof96]. They are calculated from the Strutinsky shell-correction method and given for the most stable nuclei in the appendix. The sign for the shell energy term comes from the adopted definition in [@ms94rep]. It gives a contribution of $12.84~$MeV to the binding energy for $^{208}$Pb for example. The congruence energy term is given by : $$E_{cong}=-10MeV~exp\left(-4.2\vert I \vert\right).$$ It represents an extra binding energy associated with the presence of congruent pairs in contrast to the pure Wigner expression simply proportional to $I$ [@ms96].
The masses of the 2027 nuclei verifying the two following conditions have been used to obtain the coefficients of the different expansions by a least square fitting procedure : N and Z higher than 7 and the one standard deviation uncertainty on the mass lower than 150 keV [@aud03]. The root-mean-square deviation has been calculated using : $$\sigma ^2= \frac {\Sigma \left \lbrack M_{Th}- M_{Exp}\right
\rbrack ^2}{n}.$$
In Table \[tab1\], the improvement of the experimental mass reproduction when additional contributions are added to the basic $A,~AI^2,~A^{2/3},~A^{2/3}I^2,~Z^2/A^{1/3}$ terms is clearly shown (each calculation corresponds to one numbered line). The curvature energy is not taken into account. The introduction of the pairing term and of the proton form factor is obviously needful. In contrast, the congruence energy term does not allow to lower $\sigma$ at least with the fixed coefficients adopted here (as in the LSD and TF models). When the coefficients before the exponential and the exponent are free the congruence energy tends to the Wigner term since the coefficient before the exponential diminishes while the exponent increases. The constant term seems unnecessary. The $A^{2/3}|I|$ term is useful to improve the accuracy of the expansion and is more efficient that the $A^{2/3}I^4$ term. The Wigner term plays the major role to decrease $\sigma$. When the Wigner term is taken into account the introduction of the $A^{2/3}|I|,~A^{2/3}I^4$ and $A^0$ terms are ineffective. Thus, the very satisfactory value of $\sigma=0.60~$MeV can be reached [@moll95; @sto05; @lsdm]. The introduction of the Wigner term in a liquid drop model has the main drawback that it leads to an important discontinuity at the transition between one and two-body shapes as in fission or fusion. Indeed, when a single system divides into two parts the Wigner term must be evaluated separately for the two fragments and the results added. Thus for the same value of $|I|$ (symmetric fission or fusion) the Wigner term will jump at scission to 2 times its original value. The same problem exists for the Congruence energy term.
------ ----------- ----------- ----------- ----------- ----------
$n°$ $ a_v$ $k_{v_1}$ $k_{v_2}$ $k_{v_3}$ $a_s$
$1$ 14.8504 - 1.55448 - 16.1059
$2$ 15.7826 - 1.6165 - 21.017
$3$ 15.5959 - 1.70507 - 17.1723
$4$ 15.6184 - 1.70459 - 17.242
$5$ 15.5233 - 1.71612 - 18.071
$6$ 15.4285 - 1.71066 - 17.5713
$7$ 15.5718 - 1.60965 1.96584 18.0047
$8$ 15.5919 -0.04582 1.90751 - 17.8069
$9$ 15.447 - 1.84011 - 17.3581
$10$ 15.4647 -0.0049 1.8509 - 17.3894
$11$ 15.5147 - 1.85055 - 17.6976
$12$ 15.4607 - 1.83014 0.14095 17.3706
$n°$ $k_{s_1}$ $k_{s_2}$ $k_{s_3}$ $a_0$ $W$
$1$ - 0.93696 - - -
$2$ - 1.13845 - -18.253 -
$3$ - 0.98894 - - -
$4$ - 0.98033 - - -
$5$ - 1.40391 - - -
$6$ - 1.39267 - 1.8569 -
$7$ - 0.75244 10.56741 - -
$8$ -0.283 2.39131 - - -
$9$ - 2.11347 - - 27.5488
$10$ -0.03409 2.16959 - - 25.1137
$11$ - 2.14699 - -1.409 29.0793
$12$ - 2.01948 1.10833 - 26.6425
$n°$ $Cong$ $Pairing$ $r_0$ $f_p$ $\sigma$
$1$ y y 1.2434 2.52888 1.156
$2$ y y 1.1595 3.34645 0.936
$3$ n n 1.2272 - 1.322
$4$ n y 1.2244 - 1.032
$5$ n y 1.2066 1.47705 0.687
$6$ n y 1.2153 1.39388 0.684
$7$ n y 1.2042 1.24476 0.665
$8$ n y 1.2049 1.0255 0.628
$9$ n y 1.2252 0.95419 0.603
$10$ n y 1.2234 0.93536 0.603
$11$ n y 1.2195 0.98825 0.601
$12$ n y 1.2244 0.91559 0.602
------ ----------- ----------- ----------- ----------- ----------
\[tab1\]
In Table \[tab2\], the efficiency of the curvature energy term with different $I$ dependences is examined, disregarding the Wigner contribution. The introduction of only one term in $A^{1/3}$ is ineffective while the addition of $A^{1/3}I^2$ improves slightly the results. Supplementary terms in $|I|$ to determine the volume, surface and curvature energies allow to reach $\sigma$=0.59 MeV. They are still more efficient than $I^4$ terms. The curvature energy term has the advantage that it is continuous at the scission point at least in symmetric fission. It has the disadvantage that its value (and the sign) lacks of stability.
------ ----------- ----------- ----------- ----------- -----------
$n°$ $a_v$ $k_{v_1}$ $k_{v_2}$ $k_{v_3}$ $a_s$
$1$ 15.3416 - 1.70872 - 16.8356
$2$ 15.3225 - 1.87616 - 16.9627
$3$ 15.2954 - 2.39856 -7.873 16.8264
$4$ 15.5668 0.17993 1.28391 - 18.5295
$n°$ $k_{s_1}$ $k_{s_2}$ $k_{s_3}$ $a_k$ $k_{k_1}$
$1$ - 1.40978 - 1.99142 -
$2$ - 2.94224 - 1.2545 -
$3$ - 7.85795 -73.9552 0.709782 -
$4$ 1.46203 -2.1873 - -2.72953 25.5927
$n°$ $k_{k_2}$ $k_{k_3}$ $r_0$ $f_p$ $\sigma$
$1$ - - 1.2205 1.33865 0.68
$2$ -50.7382 - 1.2281 1.28911 0.66
$3$ -395.7891 4557.60 1.2391 1.03047 0.61
$4$ -62.900 - 1.2285 0.91998 0.589
------ ----------- ----------- ----------- ----------- -----------
\[tab2\]
A good convergency of the volume a$_v$ and asymmetry volume k$_v$ constants is observed respectively towards around 15.5 MeV and $1.8-1.9$ . The variation of the surface coefficient is larger but a$_s$ evolves around 17-18 MeV. Small values of the surface coefficient favors quasi-molecular or two-body shapes at the saddle-point of the potential barriers while large values of $a_s$ promote one-body elongated shapes. The value of the proton form factor correction tends to 0.92 MeV (this value has been retained also in the LSD model).
The reduced charge radius r$_{0, charge}$ converges to 1.22-1.23 fm. This is in full agreement with the set of 799 ground state nuclear charge radii presented in ref. [@ang04]. In this compilation a value of $0.9542A^{1/3}$ for the rms charge radius is obtained, which leads to $1.23A^{1/3}$ for the effective sharp charge radius. In this adjustment to the nuclear masses the nuclear mass radius is not fitted. Root-mean-squared matter radii are given in ref. [@lima04] for specific nuclei.
For the Bethe-Weizsäcker formula the fitting procedure leads to $$\begin{aligned}
B_{nucl}(A,Z)=15.69A-17.6037A^{2/3}\\
-0.71660\frac {Z(Z-1)}{A^{1/3}}-23.6745I^2A
+E_{pair}-E_{shell} \hfill \nonumber\end{aligned}$$ with $\sigma$=1.35 MeV. That leads to r$_0$=1.2057 fm and k$_v$=1.5089. The non dependence of the surface energy term on the relative neutron excess $I$ explains the $\sigma$ value.
![Difference (in MeV) between the theoretical and experimental masses for the 2027 nuclei as a function of the mass number.[]{data-label="rrp"}](rrp1.eps){height="5.5cm"}
The Fig. \[rrp\] shows the dispersion between the theoretical and experimental masses within the last formula presented in Table \[tab2\] and given below : $$\begin{aligned}
B&=&15.5668\left(1-0.17993\vert I \vert-1.28391I^2\right)A
\nonumber \\
& &-18.5295\left(1-1.46203\vert I \vert
+2.1873I^2\right)A^{\frac {2}{3}}
\nonumber \\
& &+2.72953\left(1-25.5927\vert I \vert+62.9I^2\right)A^{\frac {1}{3}}
\nonumber \\
& &-\frac {3}{5} \frac {e^2Z^2}{1.2285A^{\frac{1}{3}}}+0.91998\frac {Z^2}{A} +E_{pair}-E_{shell}.\end{aligned}$$
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION
======================
The efficiency of different mass formulas derived from the liquid drop model and including or not a curvature energy term, the Wigner term and different powers of the relative neutron excess $I$ has been determined by a least square fitting procedure to 2027 experimental atomic masses assuming a constant R$_{0,charge}$/A$^{1/3}$ ratio. The Wigner term and the curvature energy term can improve independently the accuracy of the mass formula. The very satisfactory value of $\sigma=0.59~$MeV can be reached. The different fits lead to a volume energy coefficient of around 15.5 MeV, a surface energy coefficient of around 17-18 MeV, a relative charge radius r$_0$ of 1.22-1.23 fm and a proton form-factor correction of around 0.9 MeV. The addition of a term in $|I|$ in the volume, surface and curvature energy terms is more efficient than a term in $I^4$.
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APPENDIX
========
------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------
$^{16}O$ $^{17}O$ $^{18}O$ $^{19}F$ $^{20}Ne$ $^{21}Ne$ $^{22}Ne$ $^{23}Na$
-0.45 1.19 1.3 2.76 2.81 2.82 2.19 2.22
$^{24}Mg$ $^{25}Mg$ $^{26}Mg$ $^{26}Al$ $^{27}Al$ $^{28}Si$ $^{29}Si$ $^{30}Si$
1.64 1.77 0.64 1.89 0.79 -0.26 -0.25 0.22
$^{31}P$ $^{32}S$ $^{33}S$ $^{34}S$ $^{36}S$ $^{35}Cl$ $^{36}Cl$ $^{37}Cl$
0.22 0.66 0.86 1.13 1.22 1.32 1.48 1.40
$^{36}Ar$ $^{38}Ar$ $^{40}Ar$ $^{39}K$ $^{40}K$ $^{41}K$ $^{40}Ca$ $^{41}Ca$
1.57 1.64 2.45 1.79 2.58 2.58 1.71 2.49
$^{42}Ca$ $^{43}Ca$ $^{44}Ca$ $^{46}Ca$ $^{48}Ca$ $^{45}Sc$ $^{46}Ti$ $^{47}Ti$
2.49 2.16 1.7 0.69 -0.82 2.43 2.44 1.95
$^{48}Ti$ $^{49}Ti$ $^{50}Ti$ $^{50}V$ $^{51}V$ $^{50}Cr$ $^{52}Cr$ $^{53}Cr$
1.44 0.81 -0.05 0.54 -0.31 0.74 -0.69 -0.38
$^{54}Cr$ $^{53}Mn$ $^{55}Mn$ $^{54}Fe$ $^{56}Fe$ $^{57}Fe$ $^{58}Fe$ $^{60}Fe$
0.74 -1.11 0.68 -1.54 0.05 0.72 1.22 2.07
$^{59}Co$ $^{58}Ni$ $^{59}Ni$ $^{60}Ni$ $^{61}Ni$ $^{62}Ni$ $^{64}Ni$ $^{63}Cu$
0.77 -1.58 -0.68 -0.16 0.59 1.1 1.63 1.86
$^{65}Cu$ $^{64}Zn$ $^{66}Zn$ $^{67}Zn$ $^{68}Zn$ $^{70}Zn$ $^{69}Ga$ $^{71}Ga$
2.33 2.53 2.89 3.16 2.99 2.94 3.79 3.71
$^{70}Ge$ $^{72}Ge$ $^{73}Ge$ $^{74}Ge$ $^{76}Ge$ $^{75}As$ $^{74}Se$ $^{76}Se$
4.13 4.08 4.19 3.82 2.53 4.08 4.42 4.08
$^{77}Se$ $^{78}Se$ $^{79}Se$ $^{80}Se$ $^{82}Se$ $^{79}Br$ $^{81}Br$ $^{80}Kr$
4.06 3.27 2.87 1.89 0.38 4.07 2.28 4.39
$^{81}Kr$ $^{82}Kr$ $^{83}Kr$ $^{84}Kr$ $^{86}Kr$ $^{85}Rb$ $^{87}Rb$ $^{86}Sr$
3.77 2.74 1.65 0.96 -0.40 1.13 -0.35 0.79
$^{87}Sr$ $^{88}Sr$ $^{89}Y$ $^{90}Zr$ $^{91}Zr$ $^{92}Zr$ $^{93}Zr$ $^{94}Zr$
0.05 -0.97 -1.19 -1.63 -0.47 0.46 1.53 2.54
$^{96}Zr$ $^{92}Nb$ $^{93}Nb$ $^{94}Nb$ $^{92}Mo$ $^{93}Mo$ $^{94}Mo$ $^{95}Mo$
3.49 -0.57 0.44 1.51 -2.12 -1.07 -0.12 0.97
$^{96}Mo$ $^{97}Mo$ $^{98}Mo$ $^{100}Mo$ $^{97}Tc$ $^{98}Tc$ $^{99}Tc$ $^{96}Ru$
1.79 2.46 2.98 3.62 1.26 2.05 2.64 -1.11
$^{98}Ru$ $^{99}Ru$ $^{100}Ru$ $^{101}Ru$ $^{102}Ru$ $^{104}Ru$ $^{103}Rh$ $^{102}Pd$
0.57 1.36 2.00 2.54 2.98 3.49 2.44 0.63
$^{104}Pd$ $^{105}Pd$ $^{106}Pd$ $^{107}Pd$ $^{108}Pd$ $^{110}Pd$ $^{107}Ag$ $^{109}Ag$
1.83 2.39 2.80 3.08 3.34 3.42 2.20 2.91
$^{106}Cd$ $^{108}Cd$ $^{110}Cd$ $^{111}Cd$ $^{112}Cd$ $^{113}Cd$ $^{114}Cd$ $^{116}Cd$
0.31 1.35 2.11 2.42 2.52 2.61 2.50 2.26
$^{113}In$ $^{115}In$ $^{112}Sn$ $^{114}Sn$ $^{115}Sn$ $^{116}Sn$ $^{117}Sn$ $^{118}Sn$
1.83 1.97 0.37 0.81 1.03 0.94 0.96 0.75
$^{119}Sn$ $^{120}Sn$ $^{122}Sn$ $^{124}Sn$ $^{126}Sn$ $^{121}Sb$ $^{123}Sb$ $^{120}Te$
0.70 0.19 -0.99 -2.51 -4.36 0.76 -0.16 2.08
------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------
\[tab:table3a\]
------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------
$^{122}Te$ $^{123}Te$ $^{124}Te$ $^{125}Te$ $^{126}Te$ $^{128}Te$ $^{130}Te$ $^{127}I$
1.55 1.30 0.66 0.25 -0.62 -2.46 -4.74 0.35
$^{129}I$ $^{128}Xe$ $^{129}Xe$ $^{130}Xe$ $^{131}Xe$ $^{132}Xe$ $^{134}Xe$ $^{136}Xe$
-1.29 1.01 0.48 -0.31 -1.11 -2.36 -4.92 -7.2
$^{133}Cs$ $^{135}Cs$ $^{132}Ba$ $^{134}Ba$ $^{135}Ba$ $^{136}Ba$ $^{137}Ba$ $^{138}Ba$
-1.28 -3.90 0.93 -0.55 -1.45 -3.01 -4.18 -5.29
$^{137}La$ $^{138}La$ $^{139}La$ $^{136}Ce$ $^{138}Ce$ $^{140}Ce$ $^{142}Ce$ $^{141}Pr$
-2.22 -3.37 -4.50 0.70 -1.57 -3.86 -2.06 -3.26
$^{142}Nd$ $^{143}Nd$ $^{144}Nd$ $^{145}Nd$ $^{146}Nd$ $^{148}Nd$ $^{150}Nd$ $^{144}Sm$
-2.88 -2.14 -1.04 0.10 0.56 0.85 0.54 -2.28
$^{146}Sm$ $^{147}Sm$ $^{148}Sm$ $^{149}Sm$ $^{150}Sm$ $^{152}Sm$ $^{154}Sm$ $^{151}Eu$
-0.41 0.67 1.12 1.22 1.31 0.90 0.38 1.39
$^{153}Eu$ $^{150}Gd$ $^{152}Gd$ $^{154}Gd$ $^{155}Gd$ $^{156}Gd$ $^{157}Gd$ $^{158}Gd$
1.02 1.30 1.59 1.33 1.05 0.89 0.62 0.56
$^{160}Gd$ $^{159}Tb$ $^{154}Dy$ $^{156}Dy$ $^{158}Dy$ $^{160}Dy$ $^{161}Dy$ $^{162}Dy$
0.21 0.64 1.63 1.56 1.24 0.92 0.64 0.47
$^{163}Dy$ $^{164}Dy$ $^{165}Dy$ $^{163}Ho$ $^{165}Ho$ $^{162}Er$ $^{164}Er$ $^{166}Er$
0.16 -0.06 -0.41 0.46 -0.12 1.20 0.70 0.07
$^{167}Er$ $^{168}Er$ $^{170}Er$ $^{169}Tm$ $^{168}Yb$ $^{170}Yb$ $^{171}Yb$ $^{172}Yb$
-0.37 -0.54 -1.08 -0.60 0.32 -0.34 -0.76 -0.94
$^{173}Yb$ $^{174}Yb$ $^{176}Yb$ $^{175}Lu$ $^{176}Lu$ $^{174}Hf$ $^{176}Hf$ $^{177}Hf$
-1.32 -1.30 -1.74 -1.23 -1.62 -0.38 -0.90 -1.33
$^{178}Hf$ $^{179}Hf$ $^{180}Hf$ $^{182}Hf$ $^{181}Ta$ $^{180}W$ $^{182}W$ $^{183}W$
-1.53 -1.97 -1.99 -2.16 -2.02 -1.21 -1.71 -2.00
$^{184}W$ $^{186}W$ $^{185}Re$ $^{187}Re$ $^{184}Os$ $^{186}Os$ $^{187}Os$ $^{188}Os$
-2.02 -2.38 -2.19 -2.48 -1.61 -1.88 -2.16 -2.08
$^{189}Os$ $^{190}Os$ $^{192}Os$ $^{191}Ir$ $^{193}Ir$ $^{190}Pt$ $^{192}Pt$ $^{194}Pt$
-2.43 -2.47 -3.50 -2.54 -3.62 -0.97 -2.01 -3.31
$^{195}Pt$ $^{196}Pt$ $^{198}Pt$ $^{197}Au$ $^{196}Hg$ $^{198}Hg$ $^{199}Hg$ $^{200}Hg$
-4.04 -4.80 -6.11 -5.56 -4.51 -5.99 -6.75 -7.52
$^{201}Hg$ $^{202}Hg$ $^{204}Hg$ $^{203}Tl$ $^{205}Tl$ $^{202}Pb$ $^{204}Pb$ $^{205}Pb$
-8.37 -9.11 -10.69 -9.97 -11.58 -8.22 -10.02 -11.00
$^{206}Pb$ $^{207}Pb$ $^{208}Pb$ $^{208}Bi$ $^{209}Bi$ $^{226}Ra$ $^{229}Th$ $^{230}Th$
-11.82 -12.68 -12.84 -11.70 -11.95 -0.30 -0.52 -0.43
$^{232}Th$ $^{231}Pa$ $^{233}U$ $^{234}U$ $^{235}U$ $^{236}U$ $^{238}U$ $^{236}Np$
-0.60 -0.79 -1.27 -1.23 -1.46 -1.30 -1.27 -1.85
$^{237}Np$ $^{239}Pu$ $^{240}Pu$ $^{242}Pu$ $^{244}Pu$ $^{243}Am$ $^{245}Cm$ $^{246}Cm$
-1.74 -2.12 -1.95 -1.99 -2.08 -2.44 -3.05 -2.96
$^{247}Cm$ $^{248}Cm$ $^{247}Bk$
-3.17 -3.00 -3.46
------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------ ------------
\[tab:table3b\]
|
2023-12-22T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/2692
|
// DO NOT EDIT THIS FILE - it is machine generated -*- c++ -*-
#ifndef __gnu_CORBA_Interceptor_ForwardRequestHolder__
#define __gnu_CORBA_Interceptor_ForwardRequestHolder__
#pragma interface
#include <java/lang/Object.h>
extern "Java"
{
namespace gnu
{
namespace CORBA
{
namespace Interceptor
{
class ForwardRequestHolder;
}
}
}
namespace org
{
namespace omg
{
namespace CORBA
{
class TypeCode;
namespace portable
{
class InputStream;
class OutputStream;
}
}
namespace PortableInterceptor
{
class ForwardRequest;
}
}
}
}
class gnu::CORBA::Interceptor::ForwardRequestHolder : public ::java::lang::Object
{
public:
ForwardRequestHolder();
ForwardRequestHolder(::org::omg::PortableInterceptor::ForwardRequest *);
virtual void _read(::org::omg::CORBA::portable::InputStream *);
virtual void _write(::org::omg::CORBA::portable::OutputStream *);
virtual ::org::omg::CORBA::TypeCode * _type();
::org::omg::PortableInterceptor::ForwardRequest * __attribute__((aligned(__alignof__( ::java::lang::Object)))) value;
static ::java::lang::Class class$;
};
#endif // __gnu_CORBA_Interceptor_ForwardRequestHolder__
|
2024-07-06T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/7889
|
university FH Joanneum, Grazart project with Michael Fischer about the naive usage of facebook with informative postersto provoke fear and to increase awareness about the sensitivity of your data (it worked)
|
2024-07-11T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/7794
|
How dysfunctional can the U.S. Senate get?
What is increasingly clear is that the U.S. Senate cannot govern. They cannot negotiate between the two parties, and they cannot reach decisions that benefit the people, even when the people are suffering. The Senate, I’m afraid, has got to go. Why do we still need this holdover from the ancient imperial British House of Lords, especially when they can’t legislate and compromise in a manner that credits our U.S. democracy?
On Oct. 12, I wrote here about how the Senate, which represents real estate (the States) rather than people (because of the disparity of state populations), was gridlocked on the President’s jobs bill. Now the Senate yesterday entertained a portion of the bill that would support hiring or rehiring some of the teachers, firefighters and police that had been cut back by local governments because of their reduced revenues due to the economic depression. This portion of the bill would have been funded by a 1/2 percent tax increment on individuals with a million-dollar or more income. The Senate again gridlocked at 50-50.
So, thanks to the Senate, we must forego any federal relief for the agencies of government that educate and protect the people. This is an inexcusable default by this dysfunctional relic of our supposedly representative democracy. This country needs a Constitutional Convention before we get a 21st century version of the people’s French Revolution to sort things out. Or, maybe, just maybe, our two even more dysfunctional political parties could resolve to negotiate in good faith on behalf of the best interests of the American people?
|
2023-11-01T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/6854
|
Q:
Why is PHP so frequently used on web servers?
My web server uses PHP as do 76.9% of web servers according to W3Techs:
http://w3techs.com/technologies/overview/programming_language/all
The reason I use PHP is an inertia born out of seeing everyone else using it on web servers. What is it about PHP that would make it so ubiquitous on web servers?
(Note that this question is similar to the following question but takes it in a different direction: Why isn't Java used for modern web application development?)
A:
PHP is a language that is specifically designed for web programming with built-in integration with the most popular open source database MySQL.
Easy to start with: As a beginner it is easy to start with PHP. The user just have to add a few PHP-tags with e.g. a for-loop in it's existing HTML-files and then upload it to the server and see the result or an error message. Dynamic typing and associative arrays makes it also easier to start using PHP.
Easy to use: Compared to most solutions like e.g. Java, PHP doesn't need to be compiled, so it's just to write the script and then upload it to the server and then update the browser.
Integrated database support: PHP has (mostly) built-in support for the most popular databases like e.g. MySQL, that means it is easy to start using databases, no additional drivers needs to be installed, just to use the mysql-functions. The easy to use web based admin tool PHPMyAdmin (released 1998) is also important to the PHP's success in combination with MySQL.
Old language (since 1995) with a big user base: PHP became popular early (1995) since it was designed for web programming. Since then the user base has grown and now there is many web-oriented frameworks and libraries available. Some examples are blogg-systems and e-shopping-platforms.
Cheap hosting: Since PHP has existed for long time and works good on both Linux and Windows, and many webservers have support for it. There is no problem to find hosting with PHP pre-installed.
A:
For the same reason MySQL is so popular: it was at the right place in the right time.
With the Linux server boom in the 90's, the LAMP platform (Linux-Apache-MySQL-PHP) came to scene as a reliable and, most importantly, free option.
As a side note, take MySQL at the time. These were two missing features from MySQL (from the top of my mind, there might be more) not so long ago:
No triggers
Not fully ACID compliant
How did a DB that wasn't even ACID (atomicity-consistency-isolation-durability) compliant get to be so popular? Same answer as PHP: it was at the right place in the right time.
Further reading about the "right place right time" on LAMP components:
https://www.dlitz.net/software/php/
http://www.firebirdfaq.org/faq54/
http://blog.ivanristic.com/2009/05/how-did-mysql-become-so-successful.html
http://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=2463305
https://stackoverflow.com/questions/309300/what-makes-php-a-good-language
A:
If you look around, most folks running PHP these days are running Wordpress, Drupal, Joomla and the like. Or one of 10,000 free, popular apps that pretty much work out of the box with a cheap PHP host and a little configuration. Many times it gets installed not because anyone is making something that runs on PHP so much as the easiest option is to use something built on PHP.
|
2023-09-11T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/8775
|
Tuscaloosa, Ala. (WIAT) — Former Alabama men’s basketball forward has signed with the Detroit Pistons for the upcoming NBA summer league.
Hall, who averaged 10.5 pts and 8.8 rebounds during his final year at Alabama, went un-drafted during the 2019 NBA Draft, however he will have a chance to prove he deserves a spot in the NBA during the annual league that runs from July 1st through July 15th.
Hall was a two time All-SEC Defender and finished his Alabama career with the 7th most blocks in program history. He’s just the fifth Alabama player in program history to record more than 1,000 points, 800 rebounds, 200 blocks over his career.
|
2024-02-26T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/3437
|
# Paradime
ALAN GLYNN
# Table of Contents
1. I
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8. II
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14. III
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20. About the Author
21. By the Same Author
22. Copyright
For John Schoenfelder
# I
#
There's no app for this.
Though I seem to have one for nearly everything else. I can track my movements over the course of a day, every footstep, every heartbeat. I can monitor my stress levels, boost productivity, enhance cognition.
But relieve anxiety? Eliminate dread? Not a chance.
As the R train rattles towards 59th Street, I look down at my phone and swipe to the right.
_Start your free seven-day trial now . . ._
I'll never use any of these. I put my phone away.
The green I-beam columns and ceramic wall tiles of the station flicker into view. I get up and wait by the car door. It's 11:30 a.m., the platform not particularly crowded – a lull between surges, the secret hour for tourists, junkies, and unemployed people.
Up on 59th Street, it's bright and sunny, the sky almost aggressively blue. Just ahead, vast and constipated as always, looms the Plaza Hotel. At the kerb, waiting to cross, I gaze for a moment down Fifth at the flow of traffic and buildings – parallel lines that trail towards a meeting point at the blistering horizon. I turn and look the other way, over at the huddled expanse of Central Park, and then, a little further to the right, at the deck of sidewalk awnings fanning north – the ones fronting the granite and marble mansions that line this side of Fifth, what used to be called, quaintly, Millionaire's Row.
This morning, up here, the specific anxiety, the specific dread, is easy to identify. It's simply that I don't belong. I'm not a tourist _en route_ to Tiffany's, or an addled junkie wandering lost through the canyons of Midtown. I belong to that third group, the unemployed, and consequently have no real business being here. Every person I see reinforces this – every silk-suited alpha dog barking into his cellphone, every skinny society hostess dripping in jewellery and laden down with designer shopping bags, every map-consulting European family of four, immaculate in their ironed jeans and matching Oxford-blue windbreakers.
But I have to go somewhere, right? I can't be _no_ where. And that's the problem. No matter where I end up, there'll be a local supply of reasons to feel shitty and out of place. If I go into the park, for example, all those bright, determined people in Lycra running towards a better future . . . well, they'll crush any semblance of hope _I_ might have. If I go too far west, Tenth Avenue and beyond, the gradual disintegration I'll see all around me there won't do my mood any good.
If I go back to the apartment . . .
Can't really do that though, not until late afternoon, not until Kate has put in however many hours she needs to put in. And even then . . .
If I leave New York?
If I go back to Asheville?
It doesn't matter. When it comes to anxiety and dread, there'll always be location-specific reasons. But it's when _they_ run out that the existential shit really hits the fan – because even if I found the perfect location, where conditions were ideal, guess what . . . _I'd_ still be there.
How do you escape that?
I cross Fifth, walk past the Plaza and on towards Sixth, where I turn left.
The Avenue of the Americas.
I could walk down to Greenwich Village from here, block after block, passing through several Americas in the process and certainly ending up in one that's different from the one I'm in right now. But what then? Another cappuccino in some dingy café? Another hour or two in the Strand? How long will it be before I start shouting at people – from a park bench, say, or in the street, or on a subway platform?
Hey, you!
Hey, buddy!
_Hey, gorgeous!_
The prospects aren't good. I need something to occupy my time. I need something to occupy my _mind_. I need a job. And I need one fast.
*
Three weeks ago I was a civilian contractor in Afghanistan.
Working in a chow hall.
All my life, on and off, I've worked in kitchens. My old man had a restaurant – _restaurant_ , it was a steakhouse – and I spent a lot of time there, first as a kid running around the place, then as a teenager washing pots, bringing out the garbage, even doing some basic prep, but always, as I remember – and no disrespect to the old man here – always dreaming of what it'd be like to work in a proper kitchen. By this I think I probably meant the kitchen of some place like the Four Seasons on 52nd Street, which I'd once seen an article about in a trade magazine. But with visions of pristine chef whites and brushed-steel surfaces etched in my mind, sustaining me, I never thought I'd end up working in a place that served food you'd be embarrassed to feed to a dog – food that was tasteless, highly processed and basically inedible. The stuff still had to be cooked though, and the job of doing that, it turns out, was an actual job, and a well-paying one – something that at the time I really needed.
The chow hall was at Forward Operating Base Sharista in Nangarhar Province and was one of countless food-service facilities privately operated by Gideon Logistics. That meant production-line industrial food shipped in frozen, then cooked (for lack of a better word) and served up to exhausted, bored, jangly-nerved, hot, and above all hungry servicemen. Described as a 'global provider of integrated supply-chain solutions', Gideon was in Afghanistan as part of the LOGCAP IV programme and had a hand in pretty much everything over there. Security, transportation, freight management, food and laundry services, sanitation – you name it, they were doing it, squeezing every last dollar out of the war before the fucking thing ground to a halt.
I'd only been there for four months, shipped over myself like a box of frozen burger patties after I answered an ad and signed up for what promised to be a lucrative two-year contract with above-average benefits and good rotation cycles. They were looking for food-service managers, chefs, line cooks, whatever, to help run their various overseas facilities, most of which were located in environments ranging, the ad said, from 'potentially hostile' to 'extremely dangerous'. In short, the work would be 'demanding, but rewarding'. Kate was dead set against it, of course, why would you put yourself in that position when you didn't have to, but all I could see were the numbers. I'd already been in Iraq – done two tours there – so I wasn't intimidated by the war-zone thing, and I had sufficient food-industry experience to qualify for the job. The math was simple. Two short years over there and I could earn what it would take me five or six to earn here. Which, given our financial circumstances at the time, made it a no-brainer.
It's just that, I suppose, go figure, things didn't exactly work out as planned.
*
Every few blocks or so, stopped at the lights, I almost resolve to quit this charade and head back to the apartment. It's Kate's, a one-bedroom sublet in a rent-stabilised walk-up on 10th Street, so it's small and cramped – but still, I could lie quietly on the bed, laid out like a corpse waiting to be embalmed, and she wouldn't even have to know I was there. How different would that be from what I'm doing now, which is, supposedly – and at Kate's gentle insistence – out looking for a job?
Or meeting people, at the very least.
Networking.
Her word.
Sometimes I wonder if Kate has met _me_.
To be fair, though, she's doing her best. Equipped with a BA in political science from Atherton College, Kate moved to Manhattan five years ago with high hopes of . . . I don't know, going to law school, eventually getting into public service, something, whatever, but after only a few months it became obvious that her chief asset, the one thing she had going for her, was this rent-stabilised sublet, because without it, bottom line, she wouldn't be living in Manhattan, probably not even in Brooklyn. More than likely, in fact, with today's rents, she'd be back living with her parents in Baltimore. She got the sublet through a connection of her old man's, an ex-colleague who'd also promised to show her the ropes, even pave the way to a possible job, something decent, but unfortunately this same guy got sick, lost _his_ job, and had to skip town, leaving Kate with the just about affordable apartment and the dawning realisation that she had little or no prospect of getting into law school, little or no prospect of getting anything like a 'decent' job, and little or no prospect of paying back her student-loan debts, which amounted to more than thirty-three thousand dollars and were probably now set to become the defining fact of her life.
And then – let there be no doubt – she met me.
*
I resolve once more to quit this charade and head back to the apartment, but again don't quite manage it.
It's like each day now is its own little tour of duty, and in that context there's no scenario where you can just say _Fuck it_ , let's return to base. Think I'll de-enlist. Don't want to do this any more.
I come to the lights at 42nd, stop, and look around. The big difference here is that I'm on my own. There's no command structure, no one barking orders, no exit strategy either, or even talk of one. My four months in Afghanistan might be only just behind me, but I find that my memory, if left on auto-pilot, drifts more readily to Iraq. Those impressions are bigger, louder, stickier. But that's just what they are, impressions, because I can't pinpoint specific incidents, I don't have recurring nightmares, there are no indelible images in my head. Other guys have stories to tell, this happened, that happened, shit they'll never forget as long as they live, but _some_ guys (like me, I suppose), while never really able to stop thinking about it, can't actually fucking remember the experience in any relatable detail at all.
My days at Sharista, on the other hand, they're in high def. It's just that I really, _really_ don't want to remember them – wholesale, retail, it doesn't matter.
On the far side of 42nd, past Bryant Park, I have what amounts to a mild panic attack, a sudden, razor-blade swipe to the gut . . . a constriction in the chest, then difficulty breathing. It threatens to become overwhelming, but I know from experience that it won't. I keep walking, wrestling the sensations down, folding them into my stride.
To look at me you wouldn't think anything was wrong. To look at me you'd think I was normal. Which I am. But isn't that the point? People have interior lives, I do, you do, everyone walking around me here on the street does, but the sad truth is we're all riddled with fear and insecurity. And me acting like a crazy person on the sidewalk, clutching my chest and hyperventilating – that's not going to help anyone, it's not going to move the situation along. Besides, I'm used to stress and I take a certain amount of pride in being able to handle it. Not only have I spent time working in high-pressure kitchens, I've done basic military training, I've served in a war zone.
This, on the other hand . . . this is Midtown on a quiet, sunny morning in early spring. I have to believe I'm capable of holding it together here. Because what's the alternative? I go apeshit? Pull a gun out? Discharge it randomly? Then what, a cop or a security guard shoots _me_? And that's _it_? Game over for Danny Lynch – thirty-three-year-old Iraq War veteran, unemployed, disaffected, and with a history of mental-health problems? _That's_ my fifteen minutes? 'He frequently skipped his meds,' a psychiatrist I hadn't seen in five years would be quoted as saying on Fox News. 'He pretty much kept to himself,' someone else would tell Gawker. And then it would come out, the big reveal, that just three weeks earlier I had been fired by Gideon Logistics in Afghanistan after an 'altercation' at the base involving some TCNs – third country nationals – and that two people had died as a result.
It'd be the perfect narrative – rounded, cautionary, easy to digest.
Just not entirely true.
Confirmation bias would take a serious hit when it emerged that I wasn't some lone-wolf type acting out a paranoid fantasy, that I had merely witnessed the incident at Sharista, and that furthermore, several hundred other employees had been let go at the same time not due to the altercation but to the fact that Gideon was embroiled in a multi-billion-dollar billing dispute with the Department of Defense and needed to implement drastic cuts.
But who would care? Who would even listen? The only thing anyone would _hear_ is the reference to mental-health problems – which is a fairly broad stroke of the brush . . . but let's face it, a little ADD as a kid and some standard-issue PTSD after Iraqi Freedom, and they've got you on their books, marked and labelled forever.
To them, that's who you are.
And how do you escape that? I'm not sure you can, but the thing is, when Kate and I are together . . . I don't feel like I _am_ that person. I'm more grounded. I'm less likely to spiral out of control. I have space to breathe. And that's one of the reasons I clear out of the apartment every day. To give her some space. In fact, she's back there right now sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop open in front of her, learning how to code, doing an intensive online course in it. I'm not even sure I know what coding is exactly, but Kate has read that it's the absolute must-have skillset of the future, that knowledge of HTML and CSS is the new literacy. It may not get her into law school, but she thinks it'll be a passport to a job market one or two notches above the one she's been in for the past few years – service positions that are themselves becoming harder to get, and if you have one, harder to hold on to, not to mention less well paid and with practically no benefits. It used to be that you could fake the necessary enthusiasm to secure one of these jobs and use it as a stepping stone to your preferred career path. But not any more.
Over the past few years, Kate has been a waitress (at Mouzon, where we met), a legal proofreader, a temp, she's worked at a call centre, in retail, she's babysat, walked dogs, done all sorts of stuff, and never once (in my hearing) complained about it. She hasn't relinquished her dreams, either, and that's saying something. For my part, I don't have dreams. You might think I'd aspire to be a chef, or to have my own restaurant, or to be out pushing the boundaries of molecular gastronomy, but it's just work to me, a pay cheque, and I guess I've got the old man to thank for that. If I'm a kitchen lifer it's because of him, but at the same time he ruined it for me by the way he let it grind him down, so whatever ambition I have now is vicarious, it's for Kate – it's so _she_ doesn't end up getting ground down. Which is what the Gideon contract was about. I'd go over to Afghanistan, do the work, put in the time, stockpile the cash, and get out. Then I'd head back to my job at Mouzon and Kate would clear her student-loan debts. We'd get some breathing space out of it – a chance to slow down, to look around, to look forward.
At least, that was the plan.
*
As I approach 38th Street, my cellphone vibrates. I answer it. 'Hi, Kate.'
'Hi, honey, where are you?'
'Uh . . . Midtown,' I say quickly. 'Just ran into a guy I knew from before, Sheldon Wu. He's got an Asian fusion place in Chelsea, and one in Park Slope, but . . . he's not hiring at the moment.'
Fine, that's a lie, but it's not as if I'm drinking shots here and playing pool – I _want_ to have just met a guy with two fusion restaurants who almost gave me a job. That'd be awesome. Or almost awesome. I mean, what was the first thing I did when I got back from Afghanistan? Head over to Mouzon, where I'd been a line cook for nearly two years, that's what, fully confident that they'd rehire me, but I turned the corner at Hudson and there was the place all boarded up, paint peeling off the sign, zombie-apocalypse style.
I'd only been away four months.
'It's this economy,' the guy who owned the place told me later when I called him. 'I don't know, the customer base just isn't there any more.'
So I'm not exactly psyched about hustling for work. And the problem isn't the work itself, I could do that all day, set me up at a station and I'll zen out, but really, do I have to deal with other people?
'Well,' she says, 'at least you're putting yourself out there, right?'
'Yeah.' I slow down, stop at a store window, and study the busy display of cameras, tripods, and binoculars. 'Something'll turn up.'
'I know, but for your sake, Danny, pray it doesn't involve writing code. Anyway, listen, I just picked up the mail and there's a letter for you, it's from Gideon.'
I freeze. 'What does it say?'
'I don't know. It's addressed to you.'
'Well, go ahead,' I say, pressing the phone against my ear, 'open it.'
I hear her tearing the envelope, pulling out the letter, silence for a moment, then a barely audible intake of breath.
I close my eyes. 'What?'
'Fuck.'
' _What?_ '
'They're . . . they're withholding your last cheque.'
'Jesus.' I open my eyes. 'On what grounds?'
She doesn't answer.
'Kate, on what grounds?'
'Wait a sec, I'm trying to read it. Uh . . . suspected violation of . . . GO-1C? Does that make any sense?'
'General order number one, yeah it makes sense, except that it fucking doesn't.' I turn from the window display and gaze out across Sixth. My final pay cheque from Gideon Logistics is due next week and I need it. We need it. What are these pricks up to? 'Does it say anything else?'
'There's a long bit about . . . termination of contract, stipulations, regulatory something, pursuant to . . . I don't know, it's all legalese, I'd need to read it closely. But Jesus, can they really do this?'
I swallow hard, the ground beneath my feet beginning to melt, the avenue itself beginning to spin. I lean back against the window.
'Look,' I say, almost in a whisper – and conscious that I'm speaking to a person who believes in the legal system, who actually wants to some day _be_ a lawyer – 'the truth is, these people can do whatever the fuck they want.'
*
Once she's established that I don't have any other 'appointments' set up for the rest of the day, Kate insists that I come back to the apartment.
I get an F train to 14th Street, an L over to Third Avenue, and walk the remaining few blocks to our building, slowing down the closer I get.
I've never been good at looking for work, but in a weird way that's never mattered because work has always found me. After the old man died, and the place closed, plenty of other kitchen opportunities opened up for me in Asheville – which was maybe why it took me three more years to get the fuck out of there, and why my route out was the recruiting station.
After Iraq – two fifteen-month tours with six months in between – I spent a whole year doing nothing, living in a cousin's house, smoking weed, going through a box of old paperbacks that I found in the basement, and trying to figure out who or what I was. Then one day a guy from my old company called up and said, if memory served, I was a kitchen guy, right, and did I want a job in New York, that he and his brother were opening a place and needed to build a crew. So I figured that's what I was, a kitchen guy, and why fight it? Anyway, that particular venture didn't work out, but it did lead, in turn, to the Mouzon gig and two years of steady employment. The money was lousy, though, so when I saw an ad for the position with Gideon, I jumped at it.
I get to the entrance of our building on 10th Street and suddenly feel sick, like I'm going to puke right there on the sidewalk. I haven't eaten, so there's nothing _to_ puke, but the feeling persists. I go inside, along the narrow hallway, and up the stairs, hoping I don't run into anybody. I don't like this place, and although it made sense for me to move in, which I did about a year ago, I half suspect that one of the attractions of shipping out to Afghanistan was to get away from here – not away from Kate, away from this damp and cluttered little apartment of hers. I don't have nightmares about Iraq, go figure, but I do have nightmares about this place, about still having to trudge up these stairs when I'm forty, or about being trapped here, say, with a baby.
Which is something we've discussed.
With my key out, I get to our door and open it. Kate looks up from the table, a smile on her face. It quickly fades. She's out of the chair in an instant, but in the next I'm in the bathroom, retching into the toilet bowl. Not long after this, we're both at the table, poring over the letter, dissecting it, parsing the language – one minute convinced it's nothing more than a stalling tactic, the next that Gideon don't just intend to withhold my last pay cheque but might actually be threatening me with some form of legal action as well.
After a while I stand up and walk over to the refrigerator. I take out a bottle of water and knock a third of it back in one go. Screwing the cap on again, I look at Kate. She's small and slim, with bright blue eyes and shoulder-length red hair. At times, in her black-rimmed glasses and plain black T-shirt, she can seem fairly intense, but she's also thoughtful and circumspect, good qualities, I'm sure, for a lawyer – at least the kind she wants to be. Speaking of which, there's a conversation we haven't had since I got back, an interrogation she hasn't conducted, and I have to say I admire her restraint in not initiating it. _What really happened over there?_ That's all she'd have to say to get the ball rolling. And I'd tell her. I wouldn't lie. But she hasn't asked. When I spoke to her on the phone a couple of days before I shipped back, I tried to explain how these staff cuts were the result of a massive lawsuit Gideon was involved in and that, because of an early release clause in my contract, there was nothing I could do about it. Besides – I was at pains to add – maybe my timing hadn't been so great. The war was winding down, after all, and troops were coming home.
This was greeted with the kind of silence that told me she knew I was full of shit.
Since there were more important things to focus on when I got back, such as what to do next, there didn't seem to be much point in conducting a post-mortem, in trying to pick apart a decision that couldn't be reversed, so it became the official line, and nothing more was said about it.
But with this letter now and its veiled threat of litigation, I won't have any choice _but_ to talk about it. There's pride in the mix too. Kate never liked the idea of me going to Afghanistan, never approved of Gideon Logistics, and I sort of ended up defending them, being all hard-nosed and pragmatic about it. I don't usually have a problem admitting that I'm wrong, but when it's this spectacularly wrong? You need a little lead time.
It's been three weeks, though. How much longer do I need?
Kate holds up the letter, and shakes her head. 'I just . . . I don't understand this, Danny.'
I put the water back in the fridge. I close the door and lean against it. 'That's because there's something I haven't told you.'
She stares at me, her eyes widening.
If the fridge behind me didn't have such a loud hum, she'd probably be able to hear my heart beating from the other side of the table.
'There was an incident at the base,' I say, 'something pretty horrible, something that I witnessed, and I wasn't the only one, but for some reason they're trying to implicate me in it, with this letter, and . . . the thing is, I __ don't understand it either.'
Any lawyerly composure Kate has falls away and for a brief moment the look on her face displays a nervousness, a reluctance to hear what I have to say that almost equals my own reluctance to say it.
But then her composure returns.
'What is it, Danny?' she says in a whisper, leaning back in the chair. 'What happened?'
#
This might be the most Kate has ever heard me speak at any one time since the day we met.
The Forward Operating Base at Sharista, I tell her, was huge – a maze of shipping containers, Humvees and B huts. It was an insanely elaborate ecosystem teeming within a heavily fortified perimeter of Hesco barriers and wire-mesh fencing. My job as an assistant kitchen coordinator at the main DFAC was to oversee a turnover of between five hundred to a thousand covers on any given day. This meant working twelve-hour shifts, six days a week, sometimes seven. It meant rotating crews in a mechanised system that was less about real cooking and more about defrosting, heating, and reheating, about moving shit along a conveyor belt and making sure that the ex-flow of meals and the in-flow of diners aligned, like some sort of celestial eclipse.
There were a few other guys, nearly all ex-servicemen, doing the same thing I was, which was basically shift supervision, but since we were also on rotation there wasn't much time for hanging out or getting to know each other. The vast majority of the kitchen staff – the preppers, line cooks, servers, cleaners – these were all TCNs, i.e. Filipinos, Nepalese, Bangladeshis, Kenyans, Nigerians, most of them with no English, most of them trafficked in by small recruiting agencies that wouldn't know a basic wage or welfare regulation if it came up and bit them in the ass.
Now, I was exhausted most of the time, so it took me a while to start paying attention to this stuff and to realise that these people working under me were being treated like shit. Their living conditions were awful, they weren't paid anything like what they'd been promised, and some of the women (if I understood correctly what I was hearing) had routinely been victims of sexual harassment, if not outright assault. And something else: there often wasn't enough food to go around their compound at designated mealtimes.
I look at Kate directly now. She's staring back at me with a shocked expression in her eyes, one that tells me I need to explain this, I need to make it make sense, and _fast_.
But I can't.
Because apart from anything else, I haven't told her what happened yet.
*
During my time in Afghanistan, Kate and I kept our communications to one quick phone call a week. It was easier that way. Long emails or Facebook posts aren't my thing, and in a five-minute call I could keep it breezy. Even if conditions at the FOB had been ideal, hearing about my routine there still would have been depressing, or at the very least boring, so I tended to let Kate do most of the talking.
What she's hearing now, therefore, is definitely new to her, and if she's wondering why I've kept it to myself for the past three weeks, she doesn't let on.
'There was this one guy,' I tell her, 'from Nepal, Sajit something. He was skinny, like a stick insect. He worked one of the walk-in freezer units, loaded it, unloaded it, twelve hours a day. He spoke English, enough anyway to hold a decent conversation, and he was funny too – I liked him. It was Sajit who told me what was going on in the compound, Gideon security guys showing up at night, picking out girls, then stories about a trade in fake documents, about intimidation, about people getting cheated out of whatever small amounts of cash they'd managed to save. I brought this up one day with a Gideon manager. I asked him if he knew what conditions were like for the TCNs, but he laughed in my face, told me to shut the fuck up and get back to work. An hour later, as if he'd been thinking about it, he showed up again, walked right over to me and said I needed to mind my own business if I knew what was good for me. Then, like a good cop, bad cop rolled into one, he tried to confide in me, said, "Look, what do you want, these people are animals, you know, you should see how they live, how they choose to live, it's disgusting." Before I could come up with an answer, he'd moved on, but I don't know if there'd've been much point in speaking up anyway. I don't think Sajit would have thanked me, or any of the others. Conditions were bad enough without dragging my stupid shit into the equation. But let me tell you, with two months down, and nearly twenty-two to go, I was sick to my stomach of the whole fucking place.'
'Jesus, Danny . . .'
I say nothing for a moment. Funny how two little words can be so loaded, so nuanced, so ambiguous – there is sympathy in them, of course, but also confusion, and not a little dread. Kate isn't going to judge me for not speaking up, not yet. She knows how to hold her own counsel. It's in her head, though. I can see it in her eyes.
'It went on the same way for a while,' I say, 'weeks and weeks. Sajit would talk to me, or I'd hear stuff from some of the others, a couple of the line cooks, Kenyan guys I'd bullshit around with when there was a break in service. Technically, it was none of my business, and there wasn't much I could do about it anyway, but it bugged me. I suppose it's naive to think of war as anything other than a form of business, but this particular war seemed to be run exclusively by pricks at head office with boxes to tick and targets to meet – like how many people you can fit into a fucking shipping container at night, for instance, or what's the least amount of rice you can distribute to the maximum number of mouths.' I pause at this point, and glance down at my shoes. I guess I'm stalling. 'So about a month ago,' I go on, looking up again, 'there was . . . well, there was a riot at the base.'
'A _riot_?'
'Yeah, more or less. No other word for it. Three hundred people were lined up for dinner in this compound at the rear of the base, and about halfway through they just ran out of food – that was it, there was nothing left, and it was apparently the second or third time it had happened in the space of a few weeks, so . . . empty plates, empty bellies, no prize for guessing what comes next.'
Kate leans forward, eyebrows furrowed. 'Let me get this straight, this wasn't the main dining place, right, where you worked, this was their—'
'Yeah, it was a separate facility, a separate arrangement, but that's what it's like there, the whole base, it's a fucking patchwork of subcontracts and outsourcing. What probably happened is that someone at a computer terminal somewhere three thousand miles away basically made a mistake filling out an order form for supplies. Now we had plenty of food in _our_ stores, it's just that—'
'Oh Jesus.'
'—Gideon weren't about to simply hand their shit out like they were a relief agency or something. So about eight or ten of the TCNs – to start with, anyway – stormed into the manager's office and demanded more rice, or bread, or whatever the fuck was available. The manager flipped, said they had no right to demand anything. He started screaming, soon _they_ were screaming, it went back and forth, then someone got pushed, and it just erupted. In less than a minute, half a dozen young guys were smashing the place up, furniture, desks, filing cabinets, windows, computers. More joined in, and it spilled outside, where there were now at least a hundred others lined up waiting. Then it spread throughout the camp, all of these hungry fucking people rampaging around, throwing rocks and swinging lead pipes they'd found. A bunch of them, including Sajit, broke into the main DFAC storerooms and started taking stuff and passing it along a chain to the outside. Then Sajit, with two others, managed to get one of the big walk-in freezers open, which didn't make any sense, because all the stuff in there was frozen, obviously, by definition, so what use was _that_ going to be, but I guess by this stage it was more frustration and rage running the show than actual hunger.'
'Where were _you_ during this? Did you see everything?'
'At the start of it I was half asleep in my little B hut listening to music. Then I heard noises outside, screams, glass breaking. I got up, headed out and made straight for the kitchens, and just as I was getting there, to the storerooms, to the walk-in freezer, several heavily armed guards, Gideon security guys, were also showing up. At first, it was chaotic and confusing, but with Sajit and the other two now more or less cornered, backed all the way into this freezer, the situation very quickly got _very_ fucking tense.'
Standing now in our small apartment on 10th Street, looking directly into Kate's eyes, I feel something pulse through my body – a mild electric current, like a push notification on vibrate.
Am I really going to do this?
'Sajit . . .' I say, and hesitate, but there's no turning back. 'Sajit was the freezer guy, okay, and because it was, I don't know, his domain, he stood out a little from the other two, like he was a ringleader or something. He definitely wasn't, though, and in fact at the end there, I'm not sure, he may even have been trying to protect the place.'
But suddenly this seems implausible to me, like a self-serving rationalisation, and I hope Kate doesn't pick up on it. 'Anyway, I was standing there at the entrance to the freezer, all these security guys in front of me, in pairs, three deep, with M4s and body armour on, full battle rattle, and there was this thick odour, as well, Kevlar and refrigerator coolant . . . it was awful.' I exhale loudly at this point, and shake my head. 'I couldn't catch Sajit's eye from where I was standing, and when I eventually called out his name, one of the Gideon security guys turned to look at me like I was insane. And after that, with a terrible inevitability to it, there was this lightning-quick sequence of movements that just played out in front of everyone's eyes . . .'
Avoiding Kate's gaze now, I stare at the floor, my voice barely above a whisper.
'One of the two guys with Sajit lifted a box of frozen burger patties from a pallet next to him and raised it above his head. There was a lot of shouting. Sajit turned as if he was going to pick up another of the frozen boxes, at which point two of the security guys rushed him. There was more pushing and shoving, and it was hard to make out what was going on, to make out who had the frozen box in their hands at any given moment, but then suddenly I had this clear view for a few seconds of the first Gideon guy bringing the box down right onto Sajit's head, knocking him to the floor, raising the box and hitting him with it again and again.'
'Oh _fuck_.' Kate covers her face with her hands.
I swallow hard, my throat dry and raspy. 'When the two Gideon guys stood up and moved back, you could see it, everything, Sajit and the second guy on the floor, both dead, skulls cracked, Sajit's totally smashed in on one side . . . and his face . . .'
' _STOP_.'
I do, but only for a moment. 'The third guy was against the back wall of the freezer unit, cowering between two pallets. The guards quickly cleared everyone out of the storerooms, herding us out with their rifle butts, and then they sealed the whole place off. When word of what happened spread throughout the camp, instead of inflaming the situation, as it might have done, it knocked the riot stone cold dead. A lot of damage had been inflicted, mainly to property, and in a very short space of time, but no one had been hurt, not physically.' I hear myself saying this, and then add, 'Well, no one _else_ , that is . . . apart from . . .'
But this time I really can't go on.
*
What I do instead is pick the letter up from the table and reread it, study it line by line, not because I didn't understand it the first time but as a way of avoiding eye contact with Kate.
There wasn't anything I could have done to prevent what happened, so maybe the guilt I'm feeling over it is irrational, like a form of survivor guilt, but it's certainly real, and it's all I've been able to think about since I got back. It's also very clear to me that even though there really wasn't anything I could have done, it'd be hard for someone who wasn't there to see it that way.
So I guess I'm surprised at how Kate eventually reacts. No indictment is handed down, nor does she say 'I told you so'. She reaches across the table, puts her hand on mine, and squeezes gently.
I feel like a jerk for having expected anything different. At the same time, I hope what I've just told her goes some way towards explaining why I've been so moody and difficult these past three weeks. Or at least moodier and more difficult than usual. Not to mention distant and unavailable. I know it's been hard on her, there's been a lot of tension. We had sex the night I got back, but not since. I don't particularly care right now (which has to indicate something), but I know for sure that Kate does. She's had to put up with a lot of things from me in our time, but withholding has never been one of them. Sex means something as far as she's concerned, it's a form of communication, it's a language. And when we're not talking, we're not talking.
She squeezes my hand again now. 'Danny. My God. Why didn't you tell me about this?' I try to formulate an answer, but before I can get a word out, she's shaking her head. 'You know what, don't answer that. It's a stupid question. Anyway, you did tell me. You told me just now. And it can't have been easy.' She runs a hand through her hair. ' _Jesus_.'
She goes silent for a bit, staring into space, and I can see what she's doing, what she can't help doing – visualising it, a human skull being bashed in with something like a solid block of ice, the repeated blows, the cracking of bone, the crunching sounds, the blood, the tissue . . .
'Kate, please . . . don't.'
She gets up, comes around to where I'm sitting, and we embrace, tightly, taking in each other's tension, neutralising it. This is a relief, and a step forward – but I know we're not done yet. There are still unanswered questions, things to be explained. There is still this letter from Gideon Logistics.
Kate pulls away, flicks her hair back and adjusts her glasses. Then, as if on cue, she points at the letter. 'So I still don't get it. I don't get what they're up to. You were a witness to this murder, right, this _double_ murder. Presumably they're going to need you for that, to testify. Why are they threatening you?'
I take a deep breath. 'I don't really know, but I think it's because, okay, yes, I was a witness to what happened, but . . . maybe that's the problem.'
'What do you mean?'
'This riot went unreported, Kate, completely, did you read anything about it, hear any mention of it online? Anywhere? _No_. Which means it didn't happen, which means no one is getting charged.'
' _What?_ '
I look at a granola box on the shelf behind Kate, focus on it as I speak. 'They emptied the place out. They removed the bodies. They cleaned up. The next morning it was as if nothing had happened. So I went and asked around, asked where the bodies were being _kept_ , what the arrangements were, who was going to inform the families. Then I asked about the two security guys, the ones who did it. And you know what? I was met with a brick fucking wall. About all of it. They told me to go back to work. To mind my own business.'
'I don't—' Kate throws her hands up. 'This is unbelievable. What did you _do_?'
Here comes the hard part.
'I stood there like an idiot for ten minutes and then went back to work.'
' _What?_ '
'Kate, this is a military base. In a war zone. Mortar shells are going off. There's artillery fire. Meanwhile, _I_ work in the kitchen.'
This elicits an elaborate gesture of incredulity. ' _So?_ '
'I was powerless. There were no authorities I could go to, because I was already talking to them. You want a definition of powerless, that's it right there.' I look at her now. 'So tell me, what was I supposed to do? What was my next move?'
She shrugs. 'I . . . but—'
'What I did . . .' I pause here for a second to catch my breath. 'What I did, and without delay, was go and speak to some of the line cooks, some of the servers and cleaners. I was expecting real anger, and plans for . . . I don't know, a fucking armed rebellion or something, but what I got instead, weirdly, was another wall of silence. They were too scared to speak, because already, within hours, the intimidation had kicked in, the checking of papers, talk of visa irregularities, breaches of contract, fines, deportation, this, that, whatever. Then, after a couple of days, word came through that there was going to be a huge Gideon shake-up _anyway_ , that a thousand people at Sharista and a second base nearby were being let go. It was a numbers thing and had to do with this pending DoD case. Supposedly. But anyone connected to Sajit and the other two? Sent off back to wherever. That meant me as well, and God knows know who else. It was a clean sweep.'
Kate just stares at me.
I stare back.
'I tried again,' I continue after a bit. 'Couple of times. Once at the base, before shipping out, but all I got was, "What are you talking about? We don't know what you're talking about." And then at the airport, at Kandahar. There was a congressman, in the departure lounge, Jack Gwynne, a New Jersey guy, I recognised him from a thing I saw once on TV. He was with a delegation, I think, and had quite an entourage, aides and personal assistants and shit, but I just walked right up and started talking to him.' I pause here, remembering the incident. 'I talked for maybe twenty seconds, really fast, trying to get it out, with him just looking at me, before I realised, damn, he's not listening to a word I'm saying, all he's doing is waiting for one of his fucking aides to come and rescue him, because I'm that guy, I'm the nutjob, the deranged person that people like him have to put up with all the time, but that he can't be rude to in case I have a vote. Well, one of his aides, big guy in an Italian suit, did rescue him, and was subsequently _very_ rude to me. This was five minutes later in the men's room, when he had me pinned against a wall. "Pull something like that again, cocksucker," he told me, __ "and my Christ, the fucking shit that will rain down on you."'
Kate flinches. 'Oh my God, Danny.'
'I know. And all this guy was referring to was me talking to his stupid boss without an appointment. It was insane. Anyway, fifteen hours later and I'm back in JFK.'
'But . . . Danny . . .'
She doesn't know where to begin is my guess. 'Yeah?'
I guessed wrong.
'We can't let these bastards get away with this. We have to do something, we have to fight them.'
'Jesus . . . fight them with _what_?'
'I don't know, how about,' she waves a speculative hand in the air, 'how about _with_ _everything we've got_.'
'Come on, Kate, we're not in Zuccotti Park now.'
She glares at me. 'I'm a little confused here, Danny, you don't think this is awful, what you saw, what these people are doing?'
'Of course I do. But—'
'But _what_?'
'I'm not in a position to do anything about it. I can't prove it happened, there's no record of it, no evidence, and even if there was, how would _I_ get access to that? Gideon __ has closed ranks.' I point at the letter on the table. 'And it's pretty clear they're now on the attack as well. This is a massive corporation, Kate, with massive financial resources.'
'All the more reason why they shouldn't be allowed to get away with this.'
'Yeah, but,' – it's hard not to bang my fist on the table here – 'shouldn't be allowed _how_?'
Kate gets up, stands at the window looking out. There's nothing to see except the back of another apartment building – other windows, other lives.
'This shit's been in my head since it happened, Kate, every single day. I've replayed it a thousand times, rearranged it. I have versions where I intervene, versions where it still plays out but afterwards I'm listened to, versions where what _you_ want to happen happens. They're not real, though. What's real is that I'm actually powerless to do anything.'
She turns around. 'But the law, Danny—'
'The _law_? The law is what shuts it all down. Let's say I go to someone with these accusations, the cops, a media outlet even. Fine. But they're going to bring in legal counsel, and believe me, ten minutes of that and we're _done_. Sajit? Sajit _who_? I don't know the guy's full name, don't know anything about him. End of story. Say it goes further, though. How long you think before Gideon comes out with claims that I'm unstable, that I have a history of so-called mental problems?' I pick the letter up again from the table. ' _This_ is the law. I mean, look, GO-1C? You know what that is? Prohibited activities for military personnel within a US Central Command zone. But it also applies to civilian contractors. And that's _me_. So participating in a fucking riot? Which I guarantee is how they'll frame it? I wouldn't stand a chance. The law is all on their side, Kate.' I shake the letter. 'And this is a pre-emptive strike.'
'What . . . you mean _you_ could face charges?'
'In theory.'
'Jesus.'
'If they push it. If _I_ push _them_. Which is probably what this is really about.'
'Well . . . couldn't . . .'
I wait, but she caves in, sits down again. She puts her head in her hands and sighs. 'This is fucking horrible, Danny.'
'I know.'
I look at the open laptop in front of her, the notebook beside it, her neat handwriting, the coffee mug. I shouldn't have come back and disturbed her. I should have just let her be.
'Look, Kate,' I say, 'losing my last pay cheque is bad enough, but if I get tied up in legal shit with these people, I'll never get out from under it. And if I get charged? There's no telling where that goes, and no fucking end to the collateral consequences either – if I ever need to take out a mortgage, or look for certain kinds of work, or, I don't know, apply for stuff . . .' I pause, feeling anxious about everything now, even the pronouns I'm using. 'So, maybe . . .'
She looks up. 'Yeah?'
'So maybe what I have to do is make contact here, and . . . let them know I'm not a threat.'
There it is. Capitulation, surrender, the exact opposite of what Kate was proposing two minutes ago.
But I've said it, and now it's out in the open.
I lay the letter on the table and smooth the edges flat with my hand. 'There's a phone number,' I say. 'They have offices on Third Avenue. I could call them. I might not get through to anyone who'll talk to me, but it's worth a shot.'
Kate is struggling. I can see it. She wants to be sympathetic, to be reasonable, but she can't quite get there – can't quite get with the capitulation and the surrender. And I don't blame her. I was never in Zuccotti Park, but she actually was, and although that's a long time ago now, and she's been through a lot since, the experience of being down there left its mark. To a certain degree, it still informs the way she thinks.
So it's hardly a surprise if she finds _this_ shit hard to take.
I get my phone out and stand up. I take the letter from the table. 'Okay,' I say, not looking at her. 'I'll do it in the bedroom.'
#
I sit on the side of the bed, my side, facing the window, phone in one hand, letter in the other. I stall for a bit, thinking there might be a way out of this, then just enter the number really fast. I get through to someone who puts me on hold for five minutes. Is this a display of indifference on their part, I wonder, contempt for the client, or have I set an alarm bell ringing? Do I stew in irritation or paranoia? I don't know, but either way, it's a long five minutes.
I look around, a tinny 'Windmills of Your Mind' ringing in my ear. The bedroom, like our whole apartment, is oppressive. What little space remains, when you discount the bed itself, is cluttered with shoes, clothes and books. There's also a strong scent in the room, a mix of candles, perfume, soap and stray lingerie. When I moved in over a year ago, living here was supposed to be temporary. I had a lease in Williamsburg that was nearly up and the timing seemed right. I didn't have much stuff with me, and, besides, before we knew it we'd be getting our shit together and moving on to a bigger apartment.
'Sir?'
'Yes.'
'Um, okay . . . this afternoon at four. Mr Galansky will see you then. Do you have the address?'
'Yes, I do, and I'd—'
But that's it, she's gone. No have a nice day, no thank you for calling, no fuck you, loser.
Whatever.
So who is this Mr Galansky? I study the letter again. It was signed by Abe Porter, Assistant to the Vice President of Legal Affairs and the person I'd asked to speak to before I was put on hold. I google Galansky on my phone and find out that he's the _actual_ Vice President of Legal Affairs. Which could mean I'm moving up in the world.
Or about to leave it.
My first interview with Gideon Logistics was in a building downtown, and although they had a suite of offices on the third floor, the rest of the building seemed to be virtually deserted. Subsequent interviews and orientation sessions took place in a remote and very basic facility in Pennsylvania. Their corporate HQ on Third Avenue was never really on my radar. But now, out of the blue, I'm headed there for a sit-down with – I look at my phone again – with Arthur P. Galansky?
Holy _fuck_.
So, irritation or paranoia? There's no contest. Not any more.
*
By the time I come out of the bedroom Kate's ambivalence has evaporated. She's able to speak again, able to express both outrage at what I told her and a keen desire for me to be free of any fallout. I mention Galansky and the appointment at 4 p.m. She doesn't think it's a good idea.
Nodding at her laptop, I tell her I'm going to go outside to clear my head for a bit, give her a chance to get back to her coding thing. She looks at me, eyebrows raised, about to object it seems, but in a flash I'm out the door and down the stairs.
I check the time, and then put my phone on silent. I have about two hours. It probably would have made sense for me to stick around, have a shower and change my clothes, even shave, but another part of me thinks, _fuck it_ , I should go into this meeting as scruffy and dishevelled as possible. Who are these people? Legal Affairs? They're going to walk all over me anyway, so what do I care? What difference does it make?
I hit Second Avenue and head uptown.
What I need to do is make a convincing case to this Arthur Galansky that my time at Sharista is behind me, that I've moved on, and that if they want to withhold my last pay cheque for some contractual reason, fine, they can knock themselves out, because what can _I_ do about it? I signed the contract, didn't I? And, besides, I've moved on. The idea being that they'll back off and leave me the fuck alone. The thing is, I'm just as outraged as Kate is about all this, and there's nothing I'd like more than to see Gideon Logistics exposed. But I'm not a fool. I don't have any illusions. I know if I make trouble for them, if I start acting the loudmouth, they could – and _would_ – crush me as quickly as they did those two guys in the walk-in freezer.
As I pass a store window, I see my reflection. It occurs to me that maybe I should smarten up a bit. No matter how reasonable I sound, if I look like a street person Arthur P. Galansky will more than likely conclude that I am a risk and can't be relied on to play ball. I pass another window and realise that I don't look _that_ bad. Besides, my idea of smartened-up probably wouldn't register with them as being all that different from how I look now. But something else occurs to me as I cross 14th. Is that what I'm proposing to do here? To play ball? It is, isn't it? Which is why I don't want to go back to the apartment, or look at any of the three text messages (I'm assuming from Kate) that I've already felt vibrating in my pocket. I don't need to be reminded every five minutes that my response to the Gideon letter is craven and spineless. I _know_ it is. But whose is the more lawyerly approach in all of this? Mine or Kate's? Who's being more pragmatic?
It occurs to me that I should probably get something to eat. The only thing I've had since I got up this morning is a glass of OJ, and I'm beginning to feel light-headed. After another few blocks I stop at a diner, sit in a booth, and order a BLT. I feel better once I've eaten. I drag my time out with a few refills of coffee. Then I leave and take the train up to Grand Central.
The place where Gideon has its offices, the Wolper & Stone Building, is one I've passed many times but have never given a second glance. It's an anonymous glass box that houses dozens of companies, and there's a constant flow of people in and out of it. I pace the sidewalk for a while, but then just head inside and walk straight over to reception. I'm half an hour early, but I don't care. I give my name. The guy at reception checks my ID, consults his register, and calls up.
A few minutes later I'm in an elevator on the way to the seventeenth floor. Gideon's reception area is spacious and sleek, and, although I'm all too familiar with the company logo, I've never seen it in such an anodyne corporate setting before. I stand at the reception desk as the lady I spoke to on the phone earlier deals with a call and checks something on her screen. Music hums in the background, but it's so low and subtle it might actually be some sort of brainwave entrainment.
'May I help you?' the receptionist says, her eyes still on the screen. After a beat, she looks at me. Her voice may be neutral, but those eyes tell a different story.
'Danny Lynch,' I say, 'for Arthur Galansky. I'm a bit early.'
She consults a sheet in front of her. 'Yes, sir. Indeed.'
In my pocket, I feel the pulse of another message alert.
'I'll let Mr Galansky know you're here. Please take a seat, Mr, uh . . . Lynch.'
I move across reception to an area with some seats and a low glass table. As I'm sitting down I take out my phone. Kate's first two messages were basically 'Call me.' Her third was 'Call a lawyer' . . . as in, I might need one, so shouldn't I take care of that before I actually meet with anyone? She has a point – I guess, in theory – but it's too late now. I'm here, I'm on my own, and the last thing I want to do is give these people the impression that I'm even _thinking_ of lawyering up. The fourth message, the one that came through just a few moments ago, is longer and somewhat panicky in tone. Kate looked up Galansky too, and got a bit more detail than I did. It seems the guy is something of a legend in corporate legal circles, with an impressive record of crushing it in whistle-blower litigation cases. So basically her message – sent at 3.41 – is that I should skip this meeting . . . _that I shouldn't go near Galansky_ . . .
I look around reception again.
I could just walk out, but . . . there are surveillance cameras everywhere. If I bolt now, they'll have footage of me behaving like a suspicious low life that could be used at some future point – in a courtroom, say, or online. Something else that's bothering me is Kate's use of the word 'whistle-blower'. Even though this is exactly what I'm proposing _not_ to become, it isn't really how I ever thought of myself in the first place. But I suppose when I was confronting the Gideon manager at the base, or attempting to speak with Congressman Jack Gwynne, what the hell did I _think_ I was doing?
Sensing movement, I look up and see a man appearing from a hallway over to the left. As he passes the receptionist, he says something I don't catch and then heads over in my direction. I stand up as he gets near. He's mid-sixties, I'd say, medium height, burly, muscular even, and tanned. He's wearing a suit, but not a tie. There's something about him . . . two things, in fact. One, he doesn't really seem like a buttoned-up corporate type. And two, he looks vaguely familiar.
I stretch out my hand, 'Hi. I'm Daniel Lynch.'
We shake. His grip is firm, and fairly intense, like his smile.
'How are you, Daniel? Or . . . _Danny_ , right? I can call you Danny?'
'Sure. And I'm good. I guess.' I pause here and take a deep breath. This is uncomfortable, but better to forge ahead, I reckon, better to get right to it. 'Look, Mr Galansky, I got a letter from you this morning, from Abe Porter actually, that . . . well, that came as something of a shock to me.'
'Of course.' He nods vigorously and places an outstretched hand on my shoulder. 'But listen, Danny, first I owe you an apology, okay? I'm not Mr Galansky. Artie is otherwise engaged, there's been some development in . . . I don't know _what_ in, some case, who knows, but he's pretty much chained to his desk for now. You and I can talk, though, right?' He withdraws his hand from my shoulder. 'And you know what?' He glances around, as though someone might be listening. 'Frankly, I'm happy to keep legal out of this.'
I stare at him, trying to make sense of what I've just heard.
'Look at you,' he says, and laughs. 'Wondering who the hell _this_ guy is. Well, I don't blame you, Danny, to be honest. But let me introduce myself, okay? My name is Phil Coover.'
I don't recognise his name, but I do remember where I've seen him before. It was in Afghanistan, at the base, and probably more than once. I would have seen him around the admin offices, is my guess, or in the back of a car coming through the checkpoint, or with a visiting group of military brass. Who the fuck knows. But he radiates a confidence that you don't forget, a looseness. People with serious skin in the game, like high-level corporate execs or four-star generals, tend to be very uptight and locked in to what they're doing. This guy has none of that. It's as if he thinks it really is a game.
But clearly he's with Gideon Logistics, even though you wouldn't think it from the way he's behaving. After supplying his name, for instance, he consults his watch like he's on a golf course and says, 'You know what? Enough of this shit, let's go for a drink.'
I do an internal double take.
Because right now I'd fucking _love_ to go for a drink, but not in these circumstances, not with this guy. Not with a possible lawsuit hanging over me.
I look at him. 'A _drink_?'
'Yeah,' he says, 'why not? There's a little place across the street, it's quiet, they have these exquisite olives. Best in the city.'
So, before I know it, we're riding the elevator down to the lobby. Turns out this is another thing about Phil Coover: he doesn't take no for an answer, and he has the force of personality to back it up.
As we're crossing Third, I picture myself just taking off at a run and heading for the nearest subway station. But, appealing as that might be, it's not a serious option, because at some level I'm being played here – that's what it feels like – and I really need to find out what's going on. Besides, I suspect it'd take more than a few stops on a 6 train to escape the orbit of Coover's attention.
We go into a bar – a cocktail lounge, the Bradbury – and sit in a booth near the back. So far, Coover has done most of the talking, and about nothing really – how busy he is, his travel schedule, even the weather. We could be two guys who just happened to leave work at the same time and decided to grab a drink together.
But we're not.
So I lean forward now and look him in the eye. 'Mr Coover, I don't . . . I don't get this. I don't even know who you _are_. I mean, I recognise you from Sharista, but . . . _this_?' I indicate where we are. 'A drink? With some fancy fucking olive in it? Is this supposed to make up for my last pay cheque or something?'
Coover shakes his head. 'No, Danny, it isn't. And you have every right to ask, but . . . give me a second, will you?'
When I realise he's reaching for his phone, I roll my eyes. He takes it out, and, as he's scanning whatever message is on the screen, he says, half in a whisper, 'Call me Phil, by the way.'
Our waitress arrives before I can respond.
'Hi there, gentlemen. I'm Cecily. How are you fellas doing today?'
Coover finishes with his phone, puts it on the table and turns his attention to Cecily. Effusing courtly charm, he orders two . . . _something_ Martinis, I don't catch what he calls them, but I'm assuming they contain olives. The whole time, he doesn't consult or even look at me, so when he's done, I turn to Cecily and say, 'And _I'll_ have a club soda.'
Coover laughs.
When Cecily leaves, he looks at me. 'Okay, Danny, okay.' He pauses. 'I'm a consultant, yeah? These days mainly for Gideon, but I've worked with some of the other PMCs, and on both sides of the fence: direct combat, security details, all of that, but also management, and people.'
Where is this going?
' _People?_ '
'Yeah, not human resources exactly, more conflict resolution. In the workplace, and elsewhere. It's funny, but most of these disputes could either be avoided altogether or resolved by the simple application of a bit of basic goddamned common sense.' He taps the side of his head. 'Psychology. Because it never ceases to amaze me how flat out stupid people can be. For instance, I get called in on some _thing_ that has already spun out of control, okay? I look at what they're proposing to do about it, and ninety-five per cent of the time you know what my initial response is? I'll tell you. It's me going, holy shit, excuse me, this is your plan, this is what you want to do, you're kidding me, right?' He throws his hands up in despair. 'It's unbelievable, because what the "this" invariably is is fuel they're adding to an already raging fire.'
'So . . .'
'So what's _my_ solution? I look people in the eye, I hold their attention, and get them to focus for five minutes on the least damaging options they have in front of them. Figuratively speaking, I talk them down from the ledge.'
He waves a hand in the air, as if to say _It's that simple_ , then sits back and smiles.
All of a sudden my heart is thumping.
'You think _I'm_ on a ledge?'
'No, Danny, I don't, not at all. But I think our mutual employer might be. That's the point.'
I stare at him for a moment. What am I supposed to make of this? I hate it when people talk to me in riddles. I end up just wanting to punch them in the face.
'I'm sorry, Phil, but you're going to have to explain that to me.'
'Fine.' He taps the table with his index finger. 'Things are very tense at Gideon these days, with the DoD, with the industry in general, with everyone suing everyone else, to the extent that it seems like the whole thing is getting out of control. I mean, Artie Galansky is on a troubleshooting roller-coaster right now and he doesn't know how to get off. All he does know is how to escalate shit and make it worse. He's a lawyer, it's what they do, they generate billable hours, but sometimes you have to take a step back, you know what I mean?'
I shrug, half wondering now if Coover has made a mistake, if he might actually think I'm someone else. Because why would he be talking to _me_ like this?
'So then,' he continues, lowering his voice slightly, 'along comes some low-level employee, a food-services guy, say, and there's a situation, there's uncertainty, there's a perceived risk. What does Artie do? What's _his_ plan? Crush the little cockroach, that's what. He doesn't give it a moment's thought, doesn't have to, because it's all mapped out in the contract of employment, signed – as Artie sees it – by the cockroach.'
I swallow. And loudly.
Coover waits, giving me a moment. 'Did you ever _read_ your contract, Danny?'
I shrug again. 'Yeah, of course, but—'
'I know, who gets beyond page one, right? But interestingly, on page _fifteen_ there's a confidentiality clause that effectively prohibits you from speaking to anyone – journalists, investigators, prosecutors, your girlfriend, doesn't matter – about any allegations you might have against Gideon. The declared purpose of the clause is to protect the company's internal review process, but in essence it's a gag order on whistle-blowers. So, put _that_ with your GO-1C violation, and you're in a very vulnerable position. In fact, as far as Artie Galansky is concerned, you're not even a problem any more, because your employment's been terminated, you have your letter of warning, and the next step, if required, is automatic legal action, which – believe me – will be clear-cut, swift, and brutal.' He smiles. 'You're a ticked box, my friend.'
It's not thumping any more, my heart – it's paralysed, frozen over. Coover's passive-aggressive style is exhausting, and I'm not sure what to think, let alone what I might even begin to say.
Our drinks show up.
But the time-out is all too brief. Coover doesn't even acknowledge Cecily's presence, which means that Cecily, being the pro that she is, doesn't acknowledge ours. She's gone pretty quick.
For a second or two I look at the Martini on my side of the table, then reach for the club soda. I take a sip from it.
'Okay, Phil,' I say, 'what are you telling me here that isn't in the letter? Why is _this_ cockroach getting special attention?'
'Well . . .' – he drags the word out – 'that's simple. It's because _I_ think Artie Galansky is wrong.' He reaches for my Martini and pulls it towards his so that the two glasses are aligned directly in front of him, the large olives hovering below his face now like an extra set of eyeballs. 'He's paranoid is what it is, about whistle-blowers, because these days even the _word_ is enough to—'
'But I'm not a whistle-blower.'
Coover clicks his tongue. 'Maybe not technically, Danny, maybe not _yet_ —'
'What are you talking about?'
But even as I'm asking him the question, I get an uncomfortable sense of what the answer is going to be, or at least its shape, the contours of it.
'Listen, Danny,' he says, 'Gideon has its systems, its internal review mechanisms, and they're looking at what happened that night, all of it, the riot, the thing you saw, or _think_ you saw, they're investigating it, you can rest assured of that . . . but what they don't need is someone loudly confronting senior officials or approaching a congressman in a goddamned airport lounge. What they really don't need – according to Artie Galansky anyway – is some emotional, guilt-ridden wreck of a guy walking the streets of Manhattan ticking like a goddamned _time bomb_.'
'Jesus . . . am I under surveillance?'
'Well, _duh_.' Coover takes a sip from the first Martini. 'They're watching you like you're a video game, Danny. What did you think?' He takes another sip and puts the glass down. 'They're just waiting for you to finally crack and take up where you left off back in Afghanistan, making wild accusations, shooting your mouth off. At which point they'll crush you.'
I lean forward now, almost halfway across the table. 'Yeah, I _get_ that. Jesus. I'm not an idiot. And the reason I've been walking the streets is because I'm looking for a fucking _job_ , Phil. Which is something I really need. So I don't have any intention of shooting my mouth off. As you call it. But you know what? If Artie Galansky wants to push things—'
' _Yes_.' Coover slaps the palm of his hand on the table. 'There, that's it, you see? _That's_ what I'm talking about. You're a smart guy, Danny. You get it. But you have your limits too, and if Artie pushes you over some line, all hell's going to break loose, am I right? Though' – he pauses, and holds up a finger – 'if that happens, make no mistake, you'll still get crushed. _My_ argument is that if it happens, Gideon will suffer too. But in ways they don't foresee.'
I lean back again, listening closely, my anger now cut with real confusion.
Coover huddles forward. 'Look, Danny, I'm going to be straight with you. Gideon is a fairly dysfunctional outfit . . . and, okay, you know, maybe I don't like the way they run those bases over there, fine, but my job as a strategist is to protect the company, and in this particular situation the most effective way I can do that is actually very simple. It's to make _them_ leave _you_ alone.'
I know I'm being manipulated here, and in a way that I don't fully comprehend, but if this is a possible outcome, does it really even matter?
'I'm not going to argue with that,' I say, as I reach across the table, retrieve the second Martini, and bring it to my lips. If the hit I take from it isn't quite a gulp, it's definitely more than a sip.
I put the glass down and add, 'But I'm not going to pretend I understand it either.'
'Understand it, as in—'
'As in why, and . . . I guess . . . _how_?'
'How is easy. How is I tell them and they do it.'
'What, you just tell them to leave me alone?'
'I tell them that in my professional assessment you're a level-headed guy with good judgement, that you're not going to crack, and that they should drop the GO-1C thing and pay up what they owe you. And they listen. End of story.'
'But . . . _why_ would you do that?'
'Well, that's the thing, isn't it? I wouldn't be doing it for _you_ , Danny. I'd be doing it for them.' He takes a sip from his Martini. 'Because . . . okay, let's say you start shooting your mouth off about Gideon, about these two alleged deaths on the base, and let's say you get some lawyer involved, and Gideon responds by invoking their confidentiality clause, yeah? That's where I see the trouble starting. For _us_. As I said before, _you'd_ be buried in a pile of shit regardless, with legal expenses, the GO-1C thing, and a slew of counter suits, all of which you'd lose. But there's a good chance, in the current climate, that Gideon would face a challenge over the legitimacy of the clause itself. Because there _is_ an argument to be made that it violates the federal False Claims Act. Just possibly. Now that might not sound like much, but it could have some pretty far-reaching consequences, so why draw attention to it? Especially if you don't have to? Yeah?' He pauses. 'It's a can of worms that we don't want to see opened up, is what I'm saying.' He pauses again, as though searching for a better way to explain himself. 'At the end of the day, it's not anything you need to be concerned with. It's nit-picky lawyer stuff that affects _us_ , potentially, but if I can give Artie the assurance that you're a disinterested party, just some guy trying to get on with his life, then . . . I think we can all relax. Artie cuts a cheque. You tear that letter up. Everyone's happy.'
There are several things I could say to this, questions I could ask, remarks I could make, but I think we've reached the endgame. Coover has made his offer. There's really nothing more to discuss.
I look at him and nod. 'Okay.'
He nods back and gently taps the edge of the table. 'Good.'
If this was a negotiation, then I've actually come out of it with more than I was looking for going in. Which feels good. But also feels too good to be true. In any case, at this point Coover reverts right back to his earlier, chattier mode and starts asking me questions – Iraq, Asheville, the old man – so that by the time we're finishing our drinks and getting up to leave, he's morphed into my best bud. He even half apologises for the whole mess and says, you know, the way these corporate types think they can just trample over people is actually sickening. On our way out, he quizzes me about work – what kind of job I'm looking for, what I'm good at. And even though I can't help feeling that he must know most of this stuff already, I tell him anyway.
'You know what,' he says, when we're out on the street, 'leave it with me, will you? I'm friends with a lot of people in this town, and if I can't scare something up then what am I good for, right?'
Again, there's nothing to argue with here.
He extends his hand and we shake.
'Are you all set?' he says, looking around. 'You want me to call a car for you?'
'No, no, I'm fine, thanks.'
'Okay, well, I guess I'm done for the day. I'll talk to you soon, Danny.'
And with that he takes off.
It's just after five o'clock, and Third Avenue is hopping, offices everywhere letting out, the sidewalk a torrent of humanity. The afternoon has clouded over too, and the air has a dark, strangely oppressive feel to it.
I walk to the next corner, and stop at the kerb. As I wait for the light to change, I glance over my shoulder and across the street. Despite the traffic and the crowds on the other side, I catch a glimpse of Phil Coover slipping back in through the revolving doors of the Wolper & Stone Building.
*
My mind is in knots as I walk home, and for good reason, but it's only as I arrive at the door to our apartment that I understand why.
I'm going to end up lying to Kate – and hating myself for it.
Of course, what makes it a little easier – at first – is that she's pissed at me. Did I go to the meeting? Why didn't I answer her texts? What is the fucking _point_ of having a cellphone?
'I'm sorry,' I tell her, 'I just wanted to get it over with.'
She stands there, waiting for more, looking over her glasses at me. 'Well?'
The version I give her is accurate as far as it goes, but I leave stuff out – like the fact that I have been, and presumably still am, under surveillance. I don't tell her that my overall impression of the meeting is that Phil Coover pretty much played me like a fiddle. Which is another thing. I don't actually mention Phil Coover by name. What I tell her is that Arthur Galansky was tied up and I spoke to some other guy. I try to focus on the positives. They're going to release my last cheque. They _might_ drop the GO-1C charge.
'I'm confused,' she says. 'What changed their minds? How did you convince them?'
This is a reasonable question but what do I tell her? 'I made a case, I guess. I told them it had nothing to do with _me_.'
'As in—'
'As in the _thing_. What happened over there.' I clear my throat. 'Look, I can barely remember what I said. It was a tense situation. I was nervous.'
I'm beginning to feel weird now, on the defensive, as if I'm being cross-examined.
Kate nods. It's clear that her earlier ambivalence hasn't gone away, but she seems to know not to push it.
My own ambivalence hasn't gone away either. I manage to keep a lid on it while I'm awake, but in bed later – unexpected, unbidden – I get to see a human skull being cracked open, then smashed. It happens in a variety of locations – the lobby of the Wolper & Stone Building, my old prep station at Mouzon, our _bedroom_. I wake each time, the transition seamless, whatever chaotic setting of the previous moment giving way in an instant to the oppressive smallness of our actual bedroom.
*
In the morning I have a thumping headache. I drink lots of black coffee and eat a bowl of cereal. Kate has a coding assignment to finish today, and it's going to require a lot of concentration, so I need to be out of the apartment pretty early. I don't want to be a distraction to her, and, after yesterday, I know I would be. We don't say much as we glide around each other, from bathroom to kitchen to living room, the familiar _pas de deux_ of couples who live in small apartments. Sort of inconveniently too, and, in spite of my headache, I find myself actually wanting her. This is something I haven't felt since that first night I got back. And call me obvious or stupid, but it happens as she's emerging from the bathroom after her shower. She's in a loose robe, her pale and lightly freckled skin glowing, her auburn hair wet and glistening. But that's not what this is, not exactly – I see her like that every day. This is more a build-up over time of subtler tensions, of deeper needs, things which are now, suddenly and unexpectedly, uncoiling inside me. But then I realise that it's always this way, that when it comes to Kate my arousal is unique and complex and layered, and that what I'm feeling in this moment is not just desire, it's love.
It still _is_ desire, though, and there's empirical (if ephemeral) evidence for it. But there'll be no happy resolution here – not at 8 a.m., not with the caffeine rush and _Morning Edition_ on the radio and the screeching baby next door and the looming ones and zeros on Kate's laptop all so determinedly ranged against it. I wish I could transmit something of what I'm feeling to her, but I know it would get too complicated too fast and end up derailing her morning. So I just decamp. I give her a kiss as I leave – a rushed one, little more than a peck – and tell her I hope her assignment goes well.
Outside it's sunny, but there's already a thickening in the air. I walk briskly along 10th Street for several blocks, heading west, and turn right onto Broadway. This isn't anything different from what I've been doing for the past three weeks, but it feels different. It feels like something fundamental has shifted, and I'm now faced with a choice – either I slide further into the shit, or I wake the fuck up and start looking for a job. Because even if I get my last pay cheque from Gideon, that's it, there'll be no more money coming in. So it's really quite simple. I have to get my act together. I have to start scouring job sites and sending out copies of my résumé.
And I have to put Afghanistan behind me.
I stop at a bench in Union Square and sit down, the city swirling all around me, noise, traffic, streaks of colour . . . honking horns, snippets of conversation, dogs, dog walkers, ringtones, skin tones. Some days you don't even notice this stuff, it washes over you, and others it becomes so dense, so distracting, it's all you see. I close my eyes for a few seconds, dreading the prospect of actually having to look for work. The first time I ever compiled a résumé was for the Gideon job. Any other jobs I've had I got through referrals. That was how I got Mouzon. That was how I got the three or four jobs I'd worked back in Asheville. Someone gives your name out, they vouch for you, you go meet a guy, you talk, next thing you know you're wearing checked pants and dicing carrots.
Old school, which, I guess, is called that for a reason.
I take out my phone and start searching for listings. It'd be easier to do this at home using the laptop, but I'm not at home and I want to get a move on. In any case, I have an app here that can record whatever notes, numbers or links I might possibly need. Looking down, I try to focus, to shut out all the surrounding distractions, the white noise, but less than a minute in and the fucking phone itself rings.
I stare at it for a moment, annoyed, but also uncertain. It's a blocked number.
I answer it.
'Hello?'
'Danny? Hi, it's Phil Coover.'
Union Square tilts a little on its axis.
'Oh . . . Phil.'
'Hey, glad I caught you, I'm just heading to the airport and I wanted to talk. So. I sat down with Artie, and that thing? It's sorted, no problem. Last cheque, plus a little extra thrown in. Call it severance.'
'Jesus, Phil . . .'
'It's only fair, am I right? At least, that's how _I_ look at it.'
My stomach is churning. I glance up and see a small Asian woman gliding by with a dog that's nearly bigger than she is. Then, passing in the other direction, two middle-aged guys in suits.
'Phil, I don't—'
'And something else, Danny. I made a couple of calls. There's a place on 44th Street, Barcadero. Get over there this morning and ask for Stanley. He'll fix you up with some work.'
I close my eyes. 'Phil, how . . . I don't . . . how do I—'
'No need. It's my job. Which I'll lose if I miss this flight. Okay, so you got that? Stanley. Barcadero. Forty-fourth Street. Best of luck, Danny. Best of luck with everything.'
And that's it, he's gone.
_Fuck_.
Opening my eyes, I lean back on the bench and gaze up at the sky, which is a hazy blue. What just happened? Another job referral? I'm excited about it, my heart is racing, but at the same time I feel uneasy. I sit forward again, and, as I look around, something occurs to me. _Am I still under surveillance?_ There were those two guys in suits. And right now, in my direct line of vision, I see someone who could easily be watching me. The whole idea is pretty absurd, though. So maybe Coover had just said that as a way to spook me, to make me think it was true.
In which case it worked.
But again, if the outcome is what he said, if he actually delivers – the cheque, some form of severance, an actual job – who cares?
Kate, probably, but that's not going to stop me.
I stand up and move away from the bench, then head back onto Broadway.
Next landmark, the Flatiron, but Coover said 'this morning', and it's not even nine o'clock yet. I know restaurants, however, I know their circadian rhythms, and for sure there are guys up there right now taking in deliveries – the crates of produce, the sacks of flour, the vacuum-packed slabs of meat. In the kitchen someone is halfway through zesting fifty lemons and someone else is hauling a twenty-quart container of chicken stock out of the walk-in. There's a guy out by the loading dock having a cigarette and another one in the poky little backroom office tearing his hair out over prep lists. But it might still be too early for this Stanley individual. He's probably at the gym doing kettlebell workouts. Either that or he's at home slumped in front of his medicine cabinet, nursing a vicious hangover and trying to decide what pills he needs to get through the day.
I'll stop off someplace, get coffee and a bagel, sit in a booth for a while. Look out the window, read a paper, then show up at around ten, ten thirty.
Stanley. Barcadero. Forty-fourth Street.
I've got this.
#
The first striking thing about Barcadero is how high-end it is. Given its location, this shouldn't come as any surprise, but it does. On my way there, I look it up and find out that it's been open for more than two years. And that's the second thing. Restaurants open and close all the time in New York, but if you pay attention to this stuff a joint like Barcadero would at least be on your radar. And it's definitely not on mine.
Though who am I kidding? Not only have I been out of the loop for months, it's not as if any loop I ever _was_ in would mean I'd be hearing about a place like this. Anyway, with executive chef Jacques Marcotte running the kitchen, I'm guessing that Barcadero is conservative and pricy with the kind of atmosphere that food critics feel compelled to call 'rarefied'.
One of the kitchen guys lets me into the vestibule area, and, as I'm waiting for Stanley to appear, I look out over the main room. Turns out I'm not wrong, and I quickly conclude that I'm wasting my time. I was happy to get the referral, and maybe it'll kick-start something else, but I can't see it – they're not going to hire a guy whose last job was working at a military _chow hall_. Jesus. I mean, Mouzon was a nice place, okay, but it was small and very casual, and before that . . . 'Danny?'
I turn. The man approaching me is short and wiry, though I'd say it's more kettlebells than pills. He radiates such an immediate and intense energy that I'm almost afraid I'll get electrocuted if I shake his hand.
'Stanley Podnick,' he says.
We shake. I survive.
'Come on.'
He leads me into the dining area, pulls out a chair at the nearest two-seater and sits down. He indicates for me to do the same and places a cloth-bound notebook and a fountain pen in front of him. He looks at his watch.
'Okay, Danny,' he says, opening the notebook, 'we have a situation this morning. A callout.'
I lean forward slightly, and swallow. 'A callout?'
'Yeah, one of my prep guys, Yannis, he says it's an ulcer, peptic, perforated, I don't know . . .' He looks at me quickly, rolls his eyes, then goes back to the notebook. 'What am I going to do, call him a liar? Anyway, I've tried all my covers, and no dice. Bottom line, I'm in a bit of a pickle.' He looks at me again. 'So how about it?'
'I . . . I don't—'
'What? Is there somewhere you have to be?'
'No, it's just, I thought there'd be more of an interview process.'
Stanley Podnick looks at his watch again and picks up the fountain pen. 'I don't have the luxury. Besides, you come highly recommended.' He taps his pen at the open page of his notebook. 'Two years at Mouzon, the DFAC stuff. It's clear you know your way round a kitchen.'
What the fuck? He's got my résumé?
'Yeah,' I say, 'it's about the only thing I _do_ know.'
'So?'
I shrug. 'Just like that?'
He leans in towards me, and whispers. 'Danny, I'm in a bind. Plus, like I said, you come recommended.' He pauses, holding my gaze. 'What do you want? This is above my pay grade. For _now_. You fuck up in my kitchen, though? That's a different story. Anyway, seeing as how you'd be prepping here but you worked the line at Mouzon, this would actually be a step down for you. In theory.' He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating the grandeur of the room. 'Though not in reality, of course. In reality, this would be a fantastic opportunity for you.' He flips the notebook closed and puts it under his arm. Shifting sideways in his chair, he looks at me and raises his eyebrows. 'Well?'
'Yeah,' I say. 'Okay. Great. And thanks.'
'Let's just hope I'm the one thanking _you_ in ten hours.' He hops up. 'Come on, I'll show you around.'
The kitchen at Barcadero is pretty big, not chow-hall big but bigger than any regular place I've ever worked in. When I see the expanse of stainless-steel surfaces, the long station racks, the vent hoods, the enormous ovens, burners, gas ranges and cooling units, I realise that this is as close as I'll probably ever get to my dream of working at a place like the Four Seasons. Stanley gets me an apron, a jacket and a pair of clogs. He conducts a lightning-fast tour of the kitchen and then introduces me to Pablo, one of the other prep guys. The place is still pretty quiet, so I have a chance to get my bearings.
I've met a hundred guys like Pablo – he's late twenties, handsome in that chiselled, unshaven way, and barely speaks any English. But it becomes apparent within minutes that he's not an asshole, which is good news for me. Because he easily could have been – protective of Yannis and ready to pound my balls non-stop for the whole shift. Instead, he lends me some knives and sets me up at a station peeling veg, easing me into it. And in his broken English he gives what turns out to be a pretty funny running commentary on the entire place as it slowly comes to life – as the dishwasher moves about, turning on all the equipment, as the sous chef arrives, followed by the line cooks, then the garde manger, then Jacques Marcotte himself, as the tasks multiply and the real cooking gets under way, and finally – too busy after that – as actual service begins.
Every time he does a pass through the kitchen, Stanley checks up on me, but there's never a problem. If I'm finding it a challenge, it's only in terms of volume and pacing. There's a clear rhythm here, like in any kitchen, and you just have to learn it. But there's nothing I can't do, no task or procedure I'm unsure of or have to ask about.
At one point, I get a ten-minute break and go outside to the loading dock, where I turn on my phone and send a text to Kate: 'Hope the assignment's going well. Good news. Found work. Already halfway through my first shift.'
I stand there for a while and listen to the hum and roar of the city. I haven't had time to think about any of this, about Phil Coover and the referral and Stanley Podnick having my details, or about the fact that I'm _working_. But it's fine. I'm tired, and relieved, and there'll be plenty of time to dissect all of this later on.
Kate replies: 'Amazing!!! Can't wait to hear x.'
Back inside, I go along the narrow hallway and into the kitchen. As I walk by the pick-up window, I glance out at the dining area, which is slammed at the moment, a sea of business suits, tanned faces and mostly grey hair. What are they all talking about? The food? I doubt it. It'll more likely be money, how you get it, how you multiply it, how you keep it, a hundred variations on _that_ conversation – a hundred out of the million that take place in restaurants all over the city every day.
Back at my prep station, I realise that from where I'm standing I have a direct line of sight into the dining area. It's only a sliver, the rest of the view is blocked by a large vent hood on one side and a bank of refrigerators on the other – but still, it's a welcome distraction. I hadn't noticed it earlier, because I was concentrating so hard. It's an angle on the room, a corner of it, one table, three people at the moment, but it could be four, a static shot, medium close, without sound – not much, but something to play around with when the monotony kicks in.
By the time my shift ends, I'm destroyed, mainly because I'm out of the habit – three and a half weeks of idleness is a long time in this game. Without Pablo, it would have been a lot harder, and I thank him.
And then Stanley thanks _me_. 'That was impressive. You fit right in.'
I nod.
'So, you up for this again tomorrow?'
'Sure.'
'And after that I guess it'll depend on how Yannis is doing, but . . . you know, I have your number.'
I nod again and tell him I'm available.
Outside on the street, Pablo suggests going for a drink, but I know how that one usually plays out, so I pass and take the subway home.
*
When I come through the door, I see Kate at the table, laptop open in front of her, papers everywhere. She's slumped forward a bit, her eyes are red, and she looks pretty much the way I feel.
But as I'm closing the door, she pulls her chair back and moves towards me. We meet halfway for a quick hug. Then she sits down again, I stand by the refrigerator, and we talk. For the first few minutes it's all about _my_ day – the work, how I came by it, Barcadero, what kind of place it is, what the prospects are.
_Tell me, tell me._
And I do.
But not having mentioned anything yesterday about Phil Coover, I decide not to mention anything about him tonight. I have to improvise a detail or two, but I manage to pull it off and once I'm _at_ the restaurant it's easy: there's the rarefied atmosphere to describe, there's energetic Stanley, Yannis's ulcer, the kitchen, Pablo, the routine, the food, plus the fact that this could turn out to be what Stanley called a fantastic opportunity . . .
Then I ask how her day went, how she got on with the coding assignment, and, when she looks up at me, I see that she's got tears in her eyes. 'Kate? What is it?'
She clenches her fist. 'Nothing. It's—'
' _Kate_.' I go over, pull out the chair next to hers and sit directly in front of her. 'Kate, what's wrong? Is it the assignment?'
'No, I gave that up after twenty minutes—'
'Well look, who cares, it doesn't—'
'No, I could _do_ it, I _will_ do it. I just couldn't concentrate. Not today.' She uses her sleeve to wipe away the tears. Then she looks straight at me. 'I couldn't get it out of my mind, Danny, that image . . .'
'What—'
'Those two guys lying dead on the floor of a freezer. With their heads smashed in? It's . . . it's _insane_.' Her face crumples again.
'Oh Jesus, Kate. I'm sorry.'
She takes a deep, gulping breath. 'It's not _your_ fault. And you had to tell me. It's just that . . . I don't—'
She stops here, uncertain how to proceed, and looks away, over my shoulder, as if the rest of her sentence might be somewhere behind me, on a Post-it note stuck to the fridge, or scrawled across the wall. In blood.
'Kate,' I say, feeling sicker with each passing second, ' _what?_ '
She looks back at me. 'I don't think we can just . . . _unknow_ this. It happened. You saw it. It was covered up, and that's wrong.'
'Kate . . .'
'Kate _nothing_. I mean, you didn't invent it, did you?'
'No, of course not.'
'Well, then. We have to _do_ something.'
'I thought we had this conversation yesterday. I don't have any—'
'Danny, look,' – she reaches for a sheaf of papers beside her laptop – 'I've been online all day, looking stuff up, printing articles. It's crazy, I know, but just bear with me.'
As she flicks through the pages, I catch a glimpse of the Gideon logo on one of them, and my stomach sinks. She pulls a single page out and studies it for a second.
'Okay, get this,' she says. 'Over the past fifteen years there have been nine separate whistle-blower cases involving Gideon – and we're talking everything: fraud, contract violations, falsifying accounts, whatever, but also instances of sexual harassment and even human trafficking – _nine_ , and those are just the ones that have come to trial. They've got pretty damn good at defending them too, because with the first couple they ended up incurring huge fines, but after that—'
'Kate, stop.'
She does, but only for a second. 'These people are unbelievable, Danny, and they're getting away with it. I mean, Jesus, from what you told me, they're literally getting away with murder.'
' _Kate_ . . .'
She turns to the laptop and clicks something. 'Look at this.'
I look. It's a YouTube video. She hits play, and as we wait the standard one or two seconds of dead time for it to start, I sigh loudly. But it comes out sounding more like a deep shiver. Of dread. Which is also how it feels. Kate doesn't notice because she's too intently focused on what's about to appear on the screen. This turns out to be a talking head on some studio panel, a middle-aged guy, beardy, academic, bifocals on a chain.
'So, these defence contractors,' he's saying, 'they've developed quite an attitude. I mean, it's not just that they think they're above the law, which they often _are_ , it's that by aggressive lobbying, by packing government advisory committees, and by other frankly less than ethical means, they think they can actually make the laws, shape them, customise them to their own requirements. We're talking about billions of taxpayer dollars being funnelled into a sector that isn't accountable, that isn't part of any chain of command, a sector that operates outside the jurisdiction of the United States and is therefore free to formulate what effectively amounts to its own foreign policy. So real reform is needed here, you know, and I think people should start demanding that reform, they should contact their elected representatives, they should get on the phone—'
'Kate, who is this guy?'
'—they should send emails, texts, tweets, whatever it takes, in order to—'
She taps the space bar to pause it. The beardy man freezes, silenced mid-sentence. Without looking at me, Kate says, 'It's Harold Brunker, he's a law professor at NYU. He represented some of the Occupy people after that thing on the bridge. He's—'
'A law professor?'
She looks at me. 'Yeah.'
'And what's this?' I nod at the screen. 'What's he on? Some kind of news show?'
'It's . . . I don't know, it's just . . . a clip I came across, it's—'
'Great. A clip on the Internet.'
'Excuse me?'
'A _clip_. On the _Internet_.' If I wasn't so tired, I'm sure I'd be able to do a better job of muffling the contempt in my voice. Shit, if I wasn't so tired, I'm sure I wouldn't even be talking.
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'It means . . . learn how to code on the Internet, Kate, fine, that makes sense, maybe, but the law? You think you're going to learn about the law by looking up random websites and watching fucking YouTube clips?'
' _What?_ '
'You heard the professor there. This is a private corporation that gets to make up its own foreign policy. So you can be damned sure that at the very least all of their lawyers went to actual _law school_.'
The look I get for this is one of momentary incomprehension. It's as if my statement has to be translated from another language. Except that it doesn't.
'Jesus,' she whispers, after a long silence.
I'm immediately sorry and want to say so, but I know if I start, the words will catch in my throat.
'Anyway,' she goes on, a little shakily, 'my ignorance of the law is hardly the point.' She turns and flips the laptop closed. 'Man, they really did a number on you over there, didn't they?'
She walks past me and goes into the living room.
*
The next morning things aren't any better and we're giving each other the silent treatment. I don't know what I can say without making the situation worse. Because the thing is, I really want this job at Barcadero. It'll be a chance to claw our way back a little. But taking it will effectively preclude me – preclude _us_ – from voicing any criticism whatsoever of Gideon Logistics. And after last night, how do I break that to Kate?
Though maybe the job won't work out – maybe this Yannis guy chugs down a bottle of Pepto-Bismol, shows up for work, and I'm back at square one. At least in that case I'd no longer feel the need to be so defensive. And hypocritical. And like an asshole.
On the subway, I stare vacantly across at my reflection as it flickers in and out of visibility. I know it's just a job, but I'd like the regular pay cheque, and I guess I wouldn't be unhappy with the step up in prestige either. At the same time, I briefly imagine how I'd feel if Stanley were to tell me this morning that Yannis is fine, that he'll be back tomorrow, that two shifts is all I'm getting.
Actually, I'd probably be okay with that. I might even be relieved. It would mean I could look Kate in the eye again. It would mean I could stop lying to her. So, as I walk the three blocks to the restaurant, I convince myself that this is what's going to happen, and that when it does I'll make the necessary adjustments – I'll express disappointment, but be professional about it, I'll use the momentum (and maybe some of Stanley's goodwill) to try and find a new job elsewhere. And then I'll go home and patch things up with Kate.
I arrive at Barcadero and the place doesn't seem as frenetic as it did yesterday. The atmosphere is a little muted. There's none of the usual banter going on. With Pablo I'm guessing it's a hangover, but they can't all be hungover. So maybe it's that someone is in a mood and the whole kitchen is affected. I've certainly seen that happen, though I'm not familiar enough with everyone here to be able to read the signs with any degree of confidence. Nevertheless, things grind into gear and before long I'm totally focused on precision-dicing some pork for a ragù.
After a while, Stanley shows up, catches my eye from across the kitchen and indicates for me to follow him. I wipe up around the prep station before taking off down the dimly lit hallway that leads to the cramped office at the back. It's clear that Stanley is just as downbeat as everyone else is, and when I see him slumped at his little desk I get a weird feeling.
Without looking at me, he says, in a quiet voice, 'Nadine, our accountant, will be in later and you can talk details and stuff with her, but I'm just going to go ahead now and slot you in for all of his shifts, okay?'
When I don't respond, Stanley eventually turns to face me. Up close like this, I can see that his eyes are red and slightly raw-looking.
'Stanley, no one has said a word to me this morning. I don't know what—'
'Yannis died,' he says, and his face contorts a little. A tear runs down his cheek.
'Oh shit, Stanley. I'm sorry.'
'Yeah.' He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and sighs loudly. 'Two years he worked here, almost from the beginning. He drove us all crazy with his stupid jokes . . . but he was a real sweetheart. Everyone loved him.'
I swallow. 'Was it . . . the ulcer?' I can't believe I'm even asking him this. People don't _die_ of ulcers these days, do they? 'Perforated, you said?'
'We don't know. His boyfriend found him last night, in their apartment. He was just . . . lying there.' His face contorts again. 'It's fucking awful.'
I stand in the doorway for a moment, but it's clear we're done.
My walk back along the dim hallway to the kitchen is a long one. Yesterday I was covering for Yannis. I was anonymous, invisible. Today I'm replacing him. Today I'm the new guy.
I feel like I should be sending a text to Kate or something, but what would I say?
*
And so begins this new work regime in my life, which is not unlike the one I had before I left for Afghanistan – better restaurant, okay, and slightly better pay – but basically the same. It's still kitchen hours, still kitchen _work_ . . . nicks, burns, high heat, tempers, ego, shouting, mind-numbing repetition. A bit like a war zone. Unless, that is, you've ever fought in a real war zone.
At home, however, in terms of pre- and post-Afghanistan, things are markedly different. It's my fault, but what's going on between me and Kate is awful. The truth is, I'm losing her, and in a way I'm also losing _me_ – losing that version of Danny that she allows me to be, the one who doesn't have a label, who's sane, who's in control. _That_ guy. So if I do end up losing Kate, what happens to him? Where does he go?
I have no answer, and with each passing day things just get more complicated. My final cheque from Gideon comes through, accompanied by a three-month unofficial severance payment, which is fucking great, but I find myself not mentioning this last part to Kate. My hours at Barcadero mean that I have fewer opportunities to mention anything to her, but when I do have a moment, my brain is usually fried and I'm not inclined to – which means it's easier to just let things fester.
How this plays out on a day-to-day basis is that I get home from work in a sort of operational coma, and, depending on which shift cycle I'm on, early or late, Kate is either there at the kitchen table doing her coding stuff, or she's out, or watching TV, or having a bath, or even already in bed. We talk, and are cordial, we deal with the small stuff – shopping for food, cooking, doing the laundry – but day after day the subtext gets buried that little bit deeper. Occasionally, a ripple of anxiety will surface. A violent item on the news will spark an unwelcome association, say, or a phone call from the debt-collection agency that now owns Kate's student loan will detonate like an IED in the quiet of our living room. Or a simple sex scene in a movie we're both watching late at night will serve as an uncomfortable reminder of how long it's been for _us_.
The worst thing is that we don't seem capable of going into reverse on any of this. I'm genuinely exhausted on a permanent basis now, and Kate has become more determined than ever to turn her coding MOOC into a job opportunity, so we are busy, we are preoccupied, we do have these brutal demands on our time – but how sustainable is all this over the long term? How compatible is it with the notion of our being in a serious relationship? And how corrosive is it to our periodically expressed desire to have a baby together?
*
As it turns out, things aren't that much better at work. If I had a honeymoon period at Barcadero, I suppose it was just that first shift – those ten hours when I wasn't the guy who was replacing the guy who died. But ever since then no one has been willing to see my presence in the kitchen as anything other than bad juju – snippy comments are routinely made, looks are exchanged, cooperation is withheld. This makes for a shitty environment. The work still has to get done, though, orders have to be filled. For my part, I can lock into an intense rhythm and hit a flow state.
There is one thing that helps. It's the partial but clear line of sight I have from my prep station out into the dining area. During service, when the atmosphere in the kitchen gets too weird or toxic, I'll glance through the pick-up to see who's out there. I'll go around the table, rotating my attention, filling in imaginary details, names, job titles. I've done it once already this evening, and now, with service in full swing and tempers fraying all around me, I do it again. I glance out and this time see just two people sitting there – a youngish-looking couple. The guy, from what I can make out, is a business type in an expensive suit, but it's _she_ who catches my eye. Most of the women who come to this place have that brittle, moneyed look, too tanned and coiffed, too much work done. This woman isn't anything like that. Even from a distance, I can see that she has an ethereal quality, a natural beauty so intense that she looks unreal, out of place, almost like an alien.
In fact, I'm so distracted by her that at one point, chopping asparagus tips, I nearly slice off the top of my left index finger. There's a tiny spurt of blood, but I manage to conceal it. I go over to one of the fridges where we keep a tin of Band-Aids. Taking cover behind the open door, I quickly stick two on my finger in an x-formation. On the way back, avoiding eye contact, I decide I'm an idiot and should just keep my head down in future. Because another slip like that – a more serious one, time spent at the ER, someone having to cover for _me_ – all of that could jeopardise my position at Barcadero. But once I'm over at the prep station again, standing there . . . I can't resist.
I raise my head and look through the window.
She's not there any more.
That's the second thing I notice. The first thing I notice is that _I_ am.
The woman's seat is empty, and the guy is sitting at a slightly different angle, looking in my direction, more or less. I have a clear view of his face, and . . . it's the weirdest thing . . . I'm still chopping asparagus tips, but it occurs to me that I should slow down, that I'm not in full control here, that unless I want to lose a finger for real I have to actually pay attention to what I'm doing. So right now that's what I do, I look down at my cutting board, at the kinetic blur of wrist and hand and knife. I slow my pace, eventually bringing the operation to a complete halt. After a moment, I glance through the window again, but I can't believe my eyes . . .
Which I close.
At this point I become hyperaware of every sound in the kitchen, of Pablo to my left, slicing duck breasts and muttering continuously in Spanish; of Alex, our Australian sous chef over to the right, crucifying one of the line guys for putting too much seasoning in the soubise; of every whoompf and sizzle, every plate clattering, every unit humming and shuddering – and it's in this simultaneously heightened and almost paralysed state, like some partial form of locked-in syndrome, that I open my eyes again, just a fraction, and look out . . .
And holy shit . . .
He's still there, the guy in the suit, still alone, still facing this way. He's not looking at _me_ , not directly, but I'm looking at _him_ , and I can see his face, which is just like _my_ face, remarkably so – the face that I see when I look in a mirror, or at a photograph.
It gives me a sick, dizzy feeling, and I turn away.
'Danny?'
I glance down at my hands, which are shaking slightly. I'm still holding the knife. I tap the edge of it gently on the cutting board.
' _Danny?_ '
This is Alex. He's standing by the pass now, next to Chef, but staring back at me. 'The fuck, mate?'
I ignore him and look out again – I can't not. The likeness is uncanny. I'm a little scruffy and need a shave, I'm pale, I could do with some proper nourishment, whereas this guy is tanned and chiselled and healthy-looking . . . not to mention that suit he's wearing . . . but still—
'Wakey, wakey, over there. Jesus Christ. Someone slip you a fucking roofie?'
It suddenly strikes me – because of the angles and where people are standing – that no one else here can see what I can, that no one else here is looking at what I'm looking at. And I'm glad. I wouldn't want them to. Because this feels very personal.
Tapping the edge of my knife on the board again, I reach for the next handful of asparagus stalks. I then tear my eyes away from the pick-up window and glance over at Alex.
'Quaalude,' I whisper, mouthing the word very clearly for him to see. As I start chopping again, I hold his gaze. I wait for him to roll his eyes and turn his attention back to the production line. When he does, _my_ eyes dart back out to the dining area.
But the guy in the suit is standing up now, facing away, and moving off to the right. The woman appears from the left, obviously back from the bathroom. She glides across my line of vision, and the two of them disappear.
I feel something next to me, a sudden movement, then hear a sharp intake of breath. I turn to Pablo, who's staring bug-eyed down at my hands.
' _Pero ché coño?_ ' he says.
I look down. There are tiny speckles of blood everywhere, not only on my cutting board, but all over Pablo's as well.
*
It's a measure of the shit storm this causes – shouting, name-calling, a tricky sequence of refires, the ceaseless animosity that ripples down the line at me all night – that it's not until my shift is over and I'm on the subway heading home that I remember the guy in the suit, the guy who . . . who what? Who _looked_ just like me?
I gaze down at the floor of the subway car for a moment.
Did he, though? Really?
From this remove, it seems a bit implausible, the image less distinct now, the whole episode sort of blurry in my mind.
Except . . .
I remember the woman all right. She was gorgeous. So was it maybe a little wishful thinking on my part? Instead of peeping at her, undetected, from a distance, like a deranged creep, my mind decides it'd be nicer, maybe, to sit across a table from her, with a glass of wine, and admire those high cheekbones up close?
I don't know.
But if so, it's pathetic.
I look at my finger. At least that's something I'll be able to talk to Kate about. Maybe I could even get some sympathy. Though without going into the reason for it, of course. That I got distracted looking at this beautiful woman and then so caught up in a fantasy about having dinner with her that I slashed my fucking finger.
She'd love that.
But I needn't have worried. When I get in, Kate is already in bed, asleep, or pretending to be.
*
The next morning, the Band-Aid on my finger is just that, a Band-Aid on my finger, not enough to stimulate an actual conversation. So in frustration – because I don't know what Kate is thinking – I do something pretty awful. I scroll through her browsing history while she's in the bathroom. Does it help? I don't know. In amongst all the course pages, I find multiple searches for Gideon Logistics, for whistle-blower cases, and for Afghanistan. There are also a few for PTSD.
Is that, after all, what she thinks _I_ have?
It might explain why she's been putting up with my various dysfunctions – emotional, social, erectile. But then again it might not. So I also listen in on phone conversations she's having. I allow myself to overhear them from the next room. It's a small apartment, and she can't imagine there's any real privacy when she's on the phone, so on those occasions when she brings her voice down a notch or two, almost to a whisper sometimes, I have to wonder what she thinks she's doing, if not inviting me to listen even harder. In which case, what am I supposed to think when I hear this? '. . . oh, I don't know, Sal, he's trying . . .' Or this? '. . . they're _so_ manipulative, and they have very deep pockets . . .'
But who? Who has deep pockets? And in what way, I'd like to know, does she think I'm _trying_?
On my next day off, I take things a step further. Kate says she's going out to meet a friend for coffee and I decide to follow her. I give her the impression that I'll be hanging out in the apartment all morning, but the second she's out the door I get dressed and skip down to the street. I know which direction she's probably headed in, so it doesn't take me more than thirty seconds to catch up and fall in behind her. We move in unison down First Avenue, half a block apart.
What am I doing, though? What is it that I expect to find? Evidence of something? Of _what_? I already have ample evidence that Kate is big-hearted and kind and extremely patient. So what am I looking for now, evidence that she's conspiring against me somehow? Am I out of my fucking mind?
At 4th Street she turns right. I continue behind her, but slow down and let her pull ahead. I think I know where she's going anyway, a place she likes on Great Jones. By the time I get onto Second Avenue and look left, I catch a glimpse of her on the southwest corner disappearing right onto 3rd. By this stage, I've had enough and stay where I am. I stand there for a few moments, a little tripped out, looking at people, traffic, yellow cabs – one of which, slowing down now for a light, comes to a halt directly in front of where I'm standing. It's only there for maybe five seconds, and all I see is a profile . . . but fuck me if that isn't . . . Harold Brunker, the guy on the YouTube clip, the law professor. It's the beard, something about the – or am I mistaken?
When the light changes, and the cab takes off, I watch as it zigzags across the avenue, deftly manoeuvring itself for a right turn onto 3rd Street.
_Fuck_.
She's meeting _him_?
I could go down there and . . . what? Storm into a crowded coffee shop? Start shouting? Make a scene?
But what if it's not him?
Of course it's fucking him.
I glance around, irritated now. For some reason, I've never liked this stretch of Second Avenue. It's dark and airless.
I turn and make my way quickly back over to First.
*
Kate shows up at the apartment again around midday, by which point my irritation has mutated into acute sexual jealousy. Why was she meeting Harold Brunker? To reminisce about Occupy Wall Street? To discuss whistle-blower legislation? Over coffee? And that's it?
Please.
Although the practical details of whatever else might be going on – the where, the _how_ – resist coherent formation in my mind, I resolve to confront Kate about it the moment she gets in. But when the door opens, I see an equally determined resolve on _her_ face.
'Danny,' she says, putting her bag down, 'you remember that thing I showed you a while ago, the YouTube clip? The one you were so dismissive of?'
I remain silent and try to look puzzled.
'Come on, you remember. The one of that guy, the law professor? Harold Brunker?'
I nod.
'Well, I actually met with him this morning.'
Yeah? Really? This is where I might grab a kitchen knife, swipe the air with it and level insane accusations at her – instead of what I do, which is just offer a blank, 'Oh?'
'Yeah, my friend Sally's at NYU, she asked around, and it turns out he's pretty approachable.'
'Yeah?'
'Yeah, he's active in the whole protest scene and takes a special interest in, you know, the privatisation of the military, all the fallout from that, the human cost. He says it's a form of moral Botox. He says—'
'Jesus, Kate, he _says_. You didn't talk about me, did you? You didn't tell him about Afghanistan, about Sharista?'
'No. _No_. I wouldn't do that. Not without asking you first. I was going to maybe build up to it.'
'Build up to it? What does that mean? What _did_ you talk about?'
'Oh baby,' she says, visibly deflating, 'I just . . . I wanted to talk to someone.' She hesitates, a pleading look in her eyes. 'I mean . . . _you_ won't talk to me. And I really want to help, I really want to try and understand all of this.'
I swallow, afraid to speak now. Stupid as it was, the jealousy is no longer there, but something else has set in, and I can't quite place it.
'And look,' she goes on, 'it's okay that you don't want to talk.'
From this, it's clear that she has a worked-out and most likely Google-generated theory about why I don't want to talk. It's because I'm hurting, I'm traumatised, and the process of resolving that stuff takes time, it takes effort and commitment.
Nothing to do with how if I _do_ talk, I'll have to keep on lying to her.
'Moral Botox?' I say eventually. 'Cute. Did he make that up all by himself?'
She stares at me, her big heart obviously weary now, her kindness and patience fraying. 'I don't know, Danny. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he heard it somewhere. Does it matter?'
*
That night, I dream about Iraq. It's a rush of impressions, the heat and rumble and smell of a Humvee's interior, the stark sound of an ammo feed-tray being slammed shut, the plume of smoke that rises from a distant bend in the road. On approach, this becomes a crash site, where an AH-64 Apache helicopter has just been downed. Strewn everywhere are battered sections of fuselage, and the person they're pulling from the wreckage, it turns out – though I think we're already somewhere else – is my father . . .
_That_ wakes me up.
For a while, I just lie there, in shock, staring up at the ceiling. He was a drunk, my old man, bitter and shouty, and he died of lung cancer, too many Marlboro reds. It was actually my mother who got pulled from a wreck, but that was years earlier, after a car accident – a collision with an oncoming truck, apparently. Beside her was my half-brother, Tom . . . who I can't remember any more, can't even see in my mind's eye . . .
I look at Kate, asleep next to me in the bed. I listen to her as she breathes, and I wonder how long it will be before I can't remember _her_. In a way, it's happening already, and she's receding. Though maybe it's me who's receding. Or retreating, or . . . succumbing . . .
Eventually, I drift back to sleep, a dreamless one, and when I open my eyes again a few hours later, it's time to get up and go to work.
It's a long day at Barcadero, and a stressful one, but towards the end of my shift, it happens again.
This time the woman isn't there – which punches a hole in my earlier theory. _He's_ there, though, with two older guys. I didn't see them being seated, because I was in the walk-in at the time, but they're definitely there now, and having an animated conversation. My guy is sitting in the middle, turning one way, then the other, like a talk-show host.
I go on working, glancing up every few seconds, but, unlike the last time, there's no panic or sense of urgency – I'm not self-conscious or worried about who can or can't see him. I just stare at this man who bears an uncanny resemblance to me – or, as he might see it, _I_ bear an uncanny resemblance to. And who knows, maybe up close we're different, maybe there are discernible variations in the size and spacing of our features, in our bone structure, in our complexion. But so what. For the moment, I'm happy to go along with whatever this is, to treat it as some weird . . . _thing_.
After work, though, the weirdness lingers, like a mood I can't seem to shake, and maybe one I don't even want to shake, because it has a dreamy, vaguely narcotic quality to it, an intensity that carries me along – through the streets and the subway tunnels, into my building and up the stairs, into the apartment, and all with only the slightest, gentlest ripple of anxiety.
Unsurprisingly, by the following day, the feeling has dissipated somewhat. I can't quite summon it, but I know it's there, in the background, submerged.
I wonder if it'll ever resurface.
It takes three days. I'm coming back inside after a break, walking along the narrow hallway towards the kitchen. A bit further on is where the restrooms are situated. As I'm turning towards the kitchen, one of the dishwasher guys is on his way out, lugging a heavy black sack, and I stand aside to let him pass. Just then the door to the ladies' opens and someone comes out.
It's the woman from that first night.
She's tall, with dark hair in a pageboy cut, and red lipstick. She's in a short, chequered dress. It's hard not to stare at her legs, and I do stare at them, but when I stop and look up, I see that she's staring intently at _me_. She seems mesmerised for a few seconds – but then figures it out I guess, realises why she's staring at me.
I break away first. I head into the kitchen and make straight for my work station. It's a while before I dare to, but I eventually look out, and there they are, huddled at the table together, talking and laughing. Dinner is mustard-glazed hamachi, fattoush, branzino, blood sausage, cider mousse, verbena ganache, and I wonder if at any point during it she tells him. 'The strangest thing, sweetheart: on the way back from the bathroom, I saw this _guy_ . . .'
As they're getting up to leave, I contrive a reason to slip out of the kitchen. I rush along the hallway, yanking off my white jacket as I go. I make my way out to the street by a side exit, move a couple of doors down from the restaurant, and stop as though something in a window display has caught my attention. I glance to my right. This part of the street is quiet. A few people pass, walking slowly in either direction. Over by the kerb, there's a young guy, no more than a kid, leaning against a parked low-slung sports car. He's busy with his phone.
I look back at the entrance to Barcadero, and after a moment they emerge, gliding onto the sidewalk. The sports car, of course – I should have guessed – is theirs, or _his_. The kid looks up as they approach and quickly pockets his phone. There is an exchange of keys and what I assume is a fat tip.
The man holds open the passenger door of the car to let the woman get in. As he walks around to the driver's side, I'm struck by how similar in height and build we are.
A moment later, the car hums to life. It's sleek and curvy, shiny, a sort of ultramarine blue. As it pulls away, the woman turns her head slightly in my direction, and for the second time this evening, even if only for the briefest moment, our eyes meet.
*
I live off this for the next few days, the whole thing – her, _him_ , the likeness, the otherness of it, the feeling it gives me. It's not rational, and, if I were to talk about it, or look it up, I know things would go from mysterious to banal in seconds flat.
_Hey, I have a cousin looks just like that Seth Rogen._
'BuzzFeed's 21 People Who Met Themselves.'
So I keep quiet about it. I certainly don't mention it to Kate. What I do, in fact, is just wait for it to happen again. I even work on my day off in case I miss an opportunity to see them. Or to see _him_ , really. She's something else, no question about that, with the legs and the lipstick and all, but what am I, fourteen? No, he's the source of interest here – whoever _he_ actually is. And I try to find out. I make overtures to Stanley about maybe gaining access to bookings info, but he looks at me like I'm an axe murderer. I even try to chat up one of the girls who sometimes works front of the house, but that doesn't go too well either.
After another few days, I begin to lose heart. Because something occurs to me. What if he's been in the restaurant every single night for dinner _but sitting at a different table_? I've just been assuming that he always sits at the corner table, that it maybe has some significance for him. But what if I'm wrong?
A few more days pass, I keep a careful eye out, and he still doesn't show. Then one morning I'm heading into work on the subway. Sitting directly opposite me is a large man in a crumpled suit who has a briefcase lodged tightly between his knees. He's flicking through a copy of _Business Week_ and chewing gum. I figure he's a rep of some kind, or maybe an ad exec on the prowl for new accounts. Whatever. After a moment though, I glance down at the cover of the magazine. The layout is a grid of nine photos, each one a headshot, each one a face. I squint for a second, trying to bring the whole thing into focus. And then my heart stops.
Because one of the photos, the last one . . . bottom row, on the right . . .
It's of _him_ , of the guy . . . of _me_.
Fuck.
I'm about to lean forward to get a closer look when a lady with shopping bags shuffles along the car and blocks my view. The train is about to pull in at my stop anyway, and as I stand up to get off, I peer over the woman's shoulder to try and get another glimpse of the cover, but it's all too fast and I miss it. The next moment, I'm out on a crowded platform walking towards the exit, the train pulling away to my left.
Once I hit the street, I look around for the nearest news-stand. Ten minutes later I'm in Bryant Park with a triple espresso macchiato in one hand and a copy of _Business Week_ in the other. I find a bench and sit down.
It's definitely him.
The title of the article is 'The Unusual Suspects: Nine Innovators with the Future in their Crosshairs'. I take a few sips of coffee, glance around at the bright, trafficky Midtown swirl, and then start riffling through the magazine, looking for the article. When I get past all the glossy ads for SUVs, watches, vodka, data storage and banks, I find it – and it is what it says on the cover, a survey of cool young business guys running cool, innovative companies. There is a two-page introductory spread, and then a page apiece for each of the so-called unusual suspects. I quickly flip to the one I'm looking for.
The first thing is the shock of the photo – this weird, dream version of me, posing, in a studio, in a suit . . . me looking handsome, confident, wealthy. And those differences I'd anticipated? Those subtle but significant variations in facial features? Not there, not visible, not that I can detect, not at all.
This really could be me.
In some fucked-up parallel universe.
I glance around me again, to make sure I'm still in _this_ universe, and then I look back at the article. Scanning the text, I find it hard to concentrate, to process or retain what I'm reading, but two things stick.
His name is Teddy Trager.
And the company he runs is called Paradime Capital.
#
I look at the article again several times during the day, pulling the torn-out page from my back pocket and consulting it like it's the fucking oracle at Delphi. I'd say I divide my time fifty-fifty between staring at the photograph and poring over the piece.
The photograph itself is wild because I look so much like Teddy Trager in it that every time I just _see_ the image it's as if memory cells start sprouting in my brain and I get a vague sense of having been at the photoshoot, of recalling it, of _feeling_ it – the make-up retouches, the hair adjustments, the silky texture of the suit, the intensity of the lights, the constant click and whirr of the camera. _A little to the left, Teddy, chin down . . . eyes, eyes, that's great . . ._
But I wasn't there, and I've never worn a silk suit, and my name isn't Teddy. So is this how false memories form? And stick?
I don't know.
When I reread the article there is no equivalent sense of familiarity or recognition. It's all new to me, and alien. I mean . . . running a venture-capital company? Betting on technology start-ups? Making billion-dollar investment deals? Having significant shareholdings in Twitter, Tumblr, Paloma, Zynga, Etsy? Dating an impossibly attractive woman who runs her own tech company? I don't think so. (The girlfriend's name, by the way, is Nina Schlossmeier. She designs and develops mobile apps. Or her company does. Or something.) The weird thing is, the phrase 'billion dollar' appears three or four times in the course of the article, in connection with Teddy Trager, and yet I've never heard of the guy before, or his company. Can you be worth that kind of money and remain anonymous? I look him up on my phone and there's a ton of information about him, and about Nina Schlossmeier too – but only, I suppose, if you go looking for it. The way you might go looking for information on Civil War memorabilia and find that there's a thriving community of people out there passionate about Civil War memorabilia. Also, he's lumped in with eight other people in this magazine piece, and I don't know any of them either, not a single one.
I expect to see Teddy Trager in the restaurant that day. It seems like that would be fitting, that it _should_ happen, but it doesn't. And the later it gets, the less inclined I feel to look at the now crumpled-up magazine page in my back pocket, to take a hit from it.
At home, I'm tempted to pull my laptop out from under the bed (something I haven't done since I got back from Afghanistan) and conduct an in-depth search on Paradime Capital (and its founder, and his girlfriend), but I hold off. I don't know what this resistance is, if it's a creeping resentment towards Teddy Trager, or just self-consciousness on my part, or embarrassment even, but the more I resist the easier it gets. In fact, before I go to bed, I tear the folded-up page into little pieces and throw it in the garbage.
On waking the next morning, however, my first thought is . . . where's the photograph? I want to see it again. I _need_ to see it again. Of course, I could conjure it up on my phone in a matter of seconds. I could print a large version out and stick it on the fridge with a magnet. I could show it to Kate and say, 'Get a load of _this_ guy.' But I don't do any of that. Instead, on my way to work. I stop at a news-stand and buy a replacement copy. By the end of the week I've bought and disposed of three more.
It's on my next day off that I give in and pull my laptop out from under the bed. Kate is deep into her coding MOOC now – maybe using it to shut me out, maybe not, I don't know – but I decide to give her a little space anyway. I take my laptop to a café on Third Avenue and get settled in with a sixteen-ounce latte. I put in earbuds and get started.
So.
Teddy Trager.
Right off the bat, I OD on Google images. I scroll through dozens and dozens of pictures of someone who could be me, but isn't, and in settings – conference rooms, symposium panels, art galleries, yachts – that are too numerous and too diverse, too weird and too glamorous, for there to be any chance that my brain might trick itself into thinking I even _vaguely_ remember them. Trager also looks great in most of the photos – he's in good shape and is handsome (something I wouldn't ever think in relation to myself). In a few of them, he's with Nina, and they exude, I don't know . . . _something_.
I click back to the search results and look for information, basic stuff – how old he is, for instance, his date of birth. And as soon as that thought occurs to me, so does the obvious follow-up: maybe we were born on the same day. We weren't, as it turns out. But we are the same year. I'm April, he's September.
Which makes me older. Technically.
Anyway, personal info on Trager is sketchy. He seems to have first appeared on the radar about ten years ago when he and a partner co-founded a tech start-up called Janus. Then they hooked up with an investor, private-equity 'maven' Doug Shaw, and two years later sold the company on for $1.9 billion. Trager's original partner dropped out, and together Trager and Shaw went on to form Paradime Capital, which has since invested in countless start-ups, including some of the biggest names out there.
As I read through this stuff – articles, profiles, interviews – I find it hard to get a handle on where Trager is positioned, which side of the divide he's on. Is he a money guy or an ideas guy? At a glance, it would seem clear-cut – Shaw is money, Trager is ideas – but I don't think it's ever that simple, because surely it's a false dichotomy to begin with, surely the two sides are bound up with each other in ways that are inextricable and maybe even mysterious. But listen to Warren Buffett here, right? Because what the fuck do _I_ know?
Nothing.
And what's the best thing to do when you know nothing?
Watch some YouTube clips.
And there's a ton of them. I'm wary at first, because with a photograph, if you see a likeness, okay, it's there, it's in front of you, but it's frozen, it's two-dimensional, you don't really have to believe your eyes. With video – I'm assuming – it's a different story.
Anyway, the first thing I watch is a two-year-old clip from _Real Time with Bill Maher_. Trager is on the panel alongside Nancy Pelosi and Ezra Klein, and it's definitely him, but it's a wide-angle shot at first. They're talking about the economy. Maher says something I don't catch, Pelosi laughs, and then Trager says, 'But look, let's not get started on these giant food companies, okay, the biotechs, and the way they've got everyone hooked on their trans fats and high-fructose corn syrup . . .'
After a moment or two, they cut to a close-up, and the effect – on _me_ at any rate – is electrifying. I'm sort of used to the look by now, the strange familiarity of it, but there's a density to this, a complexity, with physical movement, with his voice, that I hadn't anticipated. If there are subtle but significant differences between us, they're not in his appearance, they're in his gestures, in how he sounds. When he's talking, he does things with his hands that I would never do, little movements that make him look confident and assured. Same thing with how he uses certain words. And we have different accents too. Mine has traces of where I'm from, smoothed over but still detectable, his is Rich Person Neutral. It's weird but in all the things that I've read about Trager I've never once seen it mentioned where he is from, but my guess is that it's not anywhere near Asheville, North Carolina.
'. . . and then, of course,' he's now saying, 'there's what my dad's generation used to innocently call "the phone company", the same people who are currently carving up any semblance of what we all once considered our private lives.'
Bill Maher smirks, throwing his hands up in mock resignation.
The clip ends, and the screen does that YouTube thing of showing the six or eight or ten relevant ones you'd maybe want to watch next, my reflection now visible against a grid of small and varied Teddy Tragers.
I hover over a couple of likely clips and pick one of Trager and his partner, Doug Shaw. They're on the sidelines at some investment conference being interviewed by Bulletpoint.com journalist Ray Richards.
Shaw is older, mid-forties. I think I recognise him from that second time I saw Trager at Barcadero. The discussion is lively, but it's technical, with lots of financial lingo, the kind of terms and acronyms I've heard a lot over the past few years but still don't really understand. As I watch, I wonder if there isn't a hint of tension between the business partners. Ray Richards certainly picks up on this and tries to stoke it, but Shaw sees what's going on and quickly shuts it down.
In another clip, some money-honey type on MSNBC is quizzing Trager about his 'passions'. He gives her what sounds like a standard spiel about how hard he works, and about wishing there were more hours in the day, but then he tells her what he's into anyway – and what he apparently does have time for: collecting art, learning to play the cello, and white-water kayaking. 'Another interest I have,' he adds a little tentatively, 'is space exploration.'
'As in tourism?' the interviewer asks.
'Well, yeah, that too, but also from a business point of view . . . you know, the possibility of taking a closer look at the asteroid belt, for example. There are abundant resources out there and sooner or later we're going to have to find a way to access them.'
I look up for a moment and glance around the coffee shop.
I'm transfixed now, and don't want it to stop. In fact, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to get enough of this shit.
I glug down some of my latte and return to the screen.
*
Over the next few days, I find that I really can't stop watching and re-watching these and other clips I come across. It gets to be addictive, a compulsion, and whether consciously or not – I don't know – I start to mimic Teddy Trager's gestures and way of speaking.
It's not hard either. Even the accent thing isn't an issue. If you've lived in different places, if you've been in the military, if you're circumspect by nature, then your accent is up for negotiation all the time. Put me in a room with my cousins or people I worked with back in Asheville and it's only a matter of time before I'm dropping _y'all_ s to beat the band. But on an FOB or in the kitchen of a fancy New York restaurant you wouldn't know where the hell I was from. Trager's cadence I can get pretty much with a little tinkering, and as for the gestures – there's a hand roll, a head tilt, he's big on eye contact – I just have to remember to include these, to space them out, and to not overdo it.
But it's not as if there'd be consequences if I were to fuck it up. I'm alone here. I'm in a tiny bathroom. I'm looking in a mirror. No one's watching. No one can hear me. In fact, there's probably a clinical element to this, but who cares? As pathologies go, you'd have to consider it fairly benign. And it's definitely making things a little easier with Kate. Maybe focusing so much now on Trager, on this strange likeness, this alignment, has quietened something in me, my anxiety, calmed the outward ripples of it. We're not talking yet, not the way we should be – the elephant is still in the room, but he's slouched in the corner and seems a little sedated. Kate and I are both busy, okay, we're both working hard, and there's a rhythm to that, sometimes a lulling one. But I'm also less tense, and therefore probably less _in_ tense to deal with.
Anyway, time passes, and, inevitably, something starts to bother me, to gnaw away at my equanimity. Why is it that Teddy Trager and Nina Schlossmeier don't show up at the restaurant any more? I can't understand it. I take every opportunity that arises to scan the whole dining room and I even finally get to have a quick look at the bookings database. This happens one morning when I'm in the office. Stanley is outside, pacing the corridor, arguing with a supplier on his cellphone. I'm near his desk and see what's on the screen, so I very discreetly scroll back through a few weeks of bookings. It's only a matter of a minute or two, but I'm pretty sure I see Trager's name all of three times, which is precisely the number of times I've seen him from my prep station in the kitchen – twice with Nina Schlossmeier and once with that pair of paunchy, middle-aged fucks, one of whom might have been Doug Shaw.
In one way I'm relieved to find this out. It means I haven't missed anything, but it also means that Trager isn't exactly a regular. Maybe he won't be back for months. Maybe he'll never eat at Barcadero again. Then something so blindingly obvious occurs to me that I have a hard time understanding why I'm only thinking of it now.
Teddy Trager – I'm assuming – exists independently of Barcadero. He goes to other restaurants. He has an office. He walks around. He interacts with people. He lives somewhere. So if I want to see him again, why does it have to be through the pick-up window of the kitchen where I work?
And, of course, it doesn't.
With this in mind, I go back over all the web searches I've done on Trager, but this time with a slightly adjusted focus.
*
According to one website, Paradime Capital is a stalwart of New York's Silicon Alley, which apparently isn't a geographical location any more but a state of mind. Anyway, they're based in Midtown, in an office building on Sixth Avenue somewhere in the low fifties. I track down the exact address with a quick search. Not surprisingly, Trager's personal address is a different matter. There are references to his several 'homes', but nothing specific, no giveaways.
And what do I do with this information?
To begin with, nothing. I delay and vacillate, but it doesn't take me more than a couple of days to reach the conclusion that either I forget about the whole thing and move on or I take some kind of action.
So the day after that I leave early for work and get an F train to 57th Street. The morning is sunny, and traffic is flowing along at an unhurried pace. I walk south for a few blocks and pass some of the vast corporate monoliths that line this part of Sixth. At the foot of one of these, in the middle of a small plaza, a tourist is leaning backwards, trying to comprehend – it would seem – the scale of the massive object before him. This is the Tyler Building, home to Paradime Capital. The next building along has a similar plaza in front of it with a fountain at its centre. I keep walking, and, as I get closer to the fountain, the sound of its gushing water gradually emerges from the blanket roar of the traffic.
I sit on the edge of the fountain and remain there for about an hour, watching people enter and exit the Tyler Building, way too many to track. But it's not as if I really expect to see Teddy Trager in person. Chances are, in any case, that even if he comes here, spends any time here at all, he enters through the underground parking lot. But I want to get a feel for the place, to see the kinds of people who frequent it. And most of them, of course, are what you'd expect, just ordinary people who work in a big, impersonal office building.
Eventually, I stand up, check the time, and head off to work myself.
I do this again the next day, and again the day after that. On the fourth day, I'm sitting at the fountain, crouched over, doing something with my phone, not really paying attention, and when I look up, there he is, standing at the kerb doing something with _his_ phone. He's next to a parked limo, which it looks like he just got out of. After a moment, he puts his phone away and walks towards the entrance to the building.
I stand up now and watch him as he moves across the plaza. I check the time on my phone.
Through all of this, I remain calm, but as I'm walking to work afterwards I realise something. I'm excited. I'm energised. And as the day progresses, I can think of little else.
The next morning, Trager arrives at the same time, in the same way, and I feel as if I have cracked some sort of code. But it's all very quick and fleeting, so the day after that I decide to try and get a closer look at him. I position myself, wait for the limo to appear and then move slowly along the sidewalk, passing by just as the driver is opening the door to let Trager out. I catch a glimpse of the car's interior, a flash of mahogany and leather, a glint of crystal maybe. A few quick steps on, I stop and take my phone out. I pretend to be answering a call, and casually turn around. Trager is doing the same thing, talking on his phone, just standing there . . . the two of us just standing there, eight, ten feet apart, people passing in either direction.
'Look, that's not my concern,' Trager is saying, a sudden boom to his voice. 'Just _arrange_ it.'
There almost seems to be an aura around him. I know it's probably my imagination, or the position of the sun or something, but everything has a shimmer to it, an intensity – his suit, his shirt collar, his leather shoes. And I can practically smell his cologne. In a sort of trance, I watch as he puts his phone away and moves off the sidewalk and onto the plaza.
After a few seconds, I turn and look the other way. The limo driver is still there. He's at his door, on the street side, ready to get back in the car. He glances over the roof in my direction. Our eyes meet for a moment, and I register something, the merest flicker of . . . recognition, puzzlement, I'm not sure.
And then he's gone.
*
Later, at work, I tell Stanley I need a few days off. It's out of the blue and I don't frame it as a request, which clearly rankles, but just as he's about to read me the riot act, something stops him. I don't know what it is, a sudden realisation that he can use this to get rid of me? Maybe. In any case, he shrugs, and says, 'Okay.'
I tell him thanks, that I appreciate it.
'Whatever,' he says, and adds, fuck-you style, 'there's plenty of cover available out there, you know.'
'I'm well aware of that, Stanley,' I say dismissively, in my best Teddy Trager voice.
This confuses him, but he lets it go.
As for my few days off, I certainly don't need them, and I don't tell Kate I'm taking them. What I figure is that I can explore this thing a little further, push it to some reasonable limit, then maybe exhaust it, get it out of my system. Because that's what this feels like, something in my system, a virus.
But if that's what it _is_ , the next day things ramp up to fever pitch. I'm waiting at my usual spot, at the usual time, and at first nothing happens: there's no limo, it doesn't appear – not that it arrives at exactly the same time every day or anything. But after about twenty minutes, twenty-five, a half hour, I start to get impatient. I start to resent the position I'm in. I start to resent Teddy Trager – whoever the fuck Teddy Trager might actually _be_ , this guy with all the homes and the suits and the visionary ideas for a better future. And I have to wonder, you know, what if he had spotted _me_ somewhere? Would he have started delving into _my_ life? Would he have lasted five minutes? Would he have even looked twice?
Before I can get anywhere with this, I glance across the street and see a yellow cab pulling up. After a moment, Nina Schlossmeier emerges from it, followed by Trager. Walking slowly, and with Nina doing most of the talking, they move along the block to the lights. They wait, cross, and make their way onto the plaza in front of the Tyler.
As I watch them now, I feel a sense of panic. In a few seconds they'll be inside the building, and that'll be it, done, today over. I could wait until one or other of them comes out again, but there's so much activity around here I'd probably miss them. All it would take is a tiny distraction, and I wouldn't even know. So what do I do? I can't go to work. I can't go home. My throat is dry, and the prospect of the empty hours ahead is unbearable. I'm actually about to freak out, but then something happens. Teddy and Nina stop, maybe ten yards from the entrance to the building, and turn to face each other. Are they saying goodbye? If so, what then?
If she takes off, I could follow _her_.
The sudden, unexpected creepiness of this thought causes my stomach to churn. But then it becomes clear that they're _not_ on the verge of a goodbye smooch. In fact, they seem to be locked into a more serious sort of conversation, with Teddy now doing most of the talking. After a moment, they start moving again, but this time they veer left and make their way back onto the sidewalk. They go south, and I follow at a discreet distance – the creepiness somehow mitigated by, I don't know, numbers, gender balance . . .
I'm clearly out of my depth here.
Nevertheless, as we move, I study them closely. As usual, Teddy looks like he's wandered off the set of a magazine shoot, and, although Nina is just in jeans and a T-shirt, she looks amazing.
We're half a block apart now.
I wonder where they're headed, and what's next, and what would happen if one of them looked over their shoulder and saw me. I wonder who all these other people on the street are.
I need to keep focused.
Two blocks later, Teddy and Nina go into a coffee shop, a pricy boutique place that does locally roasted organic brews and gluten-free pastries. I cross the street and wander around for a bit, waiting, giving them some space. But I'm excited, and I guess I lose track of time. When I next check, it's been over ten minutes and I'm on Seventh Avenue.
How do I know they weren't getting their shit to go?
_Fuck_.
Stretched out like some optical illusion, the block between Seventh and Sixth seems longer than I remember, longer than it can possibly _be_ , and when I eventually get to the end of it I'm out of breath and ready to throw up. I look over at the coffee shop and suspect I've blown it. I wait another five minutes, and then cross the street. I approach the entrance, look inside, and realise I was right. They're gone.
I hang around for a while but eventually give up and go home. I tell Kate I had to leave work early because I felt sick. She's concerned and wants to help, but I insist that I just need to go lie down. Staring up at the bedroom ceiling, I replay the events of the morning in my head. Pretty quickly, however, it all comes to seem a little unhinged to me, a little crazy. It's just that . . . I don't really feel that way. I don't feel unhinged, or like I'm stalking this guy. In a way it feels like he's stalking me. Because I didn't ask for this, or go looking for it, and I certainly don't understand it. But I can't ignore it either.
In fact, I don't really see an alternative.
So the next day I'm up and at it again. Trager arrives at his usual time and enters the building. An hour or so later, he reappears with Doug Shaw, and I follow them to a place on Madison, where they have coffee. But afterwards, on the way back, it all starts to feel a little weird again. It's as if what I'm doing is utterly pointless . . .
So do I stop? Do I turn away?
Maybe this is an attempt to force the issue, but what I do instead is get closer to them – so close that as they slow down at the entrance to the building, backed up in a short line of people waiting to file through the revolving doors, I end up directly behind them. I'm so close that I could reach out and touch the back of Trager's head, or stroke the fabric of his suit, or whisper his name and get him to turn around.
But then what?
At the last moment, I step to the left, out of the line, and watch the two men go inside. Through the copper-tinted glass I follow them as they stroll across the lobby. At one point, Trager stops and pulls out his phone. Shaw makes a gesture at him with his hand and keeps going, walking over to what I assume are the elevators.
I then stand there, staring through the window, and it takes me a while to see it, for it to click – my own reflection in the glass is superimposed on Trager. He's facing in my direction but is busy with his phone and doesn't appear to see me. For my part, I switch focus from one image to the other, from mine to his, and back again, until I get confused . . . Trager scruffy and unshaven one second, me groomed and in a suit the next . . .
#
I _think_ I bought a suit when I was younger, or it may have been a rental, I don't remember, but this feels like the first time. I'm not in a hurry, so I start with a tour of a few menswear departments, Bloomingdale's, Saks, Barneys, just to get some ideas. Then I sit with my phone for a while in a coffee shop and scroll through the websites of various magazines, _GQ_ , _Esquire_ , _Details_ , looking for advice, tips, the basic vocabulary I'll need if I'm going to do this.
Within minutes I'm all over it – cuffs, vents, lapels, gorges, folds, quarters. I also search around to see if I can find out what – or who – Teddy Trager wears. He seems to go for a classic look, two-button, slim fit, charcoal grey or navy. No brand names are mentioned, but he has to be a Tom Ford or Brioni type of guy, I'm assuming. Anyway, by mid-afternoon I'm ready. I decide to take my chances with a small menswear place on 53rd Street that I come across on Yelp. It does off-the-rack and bespoke and gets a lot of five-star reviews. I go in and don't pretend I know more than I do. There are two assistants, one older, probably in his sixties, but he's on the phone, so I get the younger guy, which is fine. It's stupid, but I feel intimidated by the atmosphere. I catch sight of myself in a couple of different full-length mirrors and realise how scruffy I look. But then . . . what does that matter? For all these guys know I could be a billionaire.
The young guy is attentive and knowledgeable. He takes my measurements, gets me to try on a few things, and then calls out a tailor from the back room, who adjusts, tugs, smooths, and before I know it I'm actually buying a _suit_. There are a few minor alterations needed, with the hems, which will take about two days. I'm impatient about this, but I want the damn thing to look right.
Oh, it will, the tailor reassures me, standing back, nodding his head, making all the right noises.
I have no doubt that whatever exorbitant amount of money I'm about to shell out here (money I don't have), it's only a fraction of what someone like Teddy Trager would be prepared to spend on a suit.
And of course that's not all.
As I'm taking out my credit card (the only one I have left that works, thanks to Phil Coover), I hear myself asking about shirts, ties, and accessories.
When I'm outside again, on the sidewalk, I take another look at the credit-card receipt, and as I walk to the nearest subway stop, the number keeps turning over in my mind, continuously, as though on a loop . . . three thousand two hundred seventy-nine dollars, three thousand two hundred seventy-nine dollars, three thousand two hundred seventy-nine dollars.
Holy shit.
And that – it suddenly occurs to me – is without a proper pair of shoes.
A couple of days later, after I pick up the suit (plus two shirts, a tie, and a pair of cufflinks), I go to a place on Fifth for shoes (another four hundred bucks) and then take the whole lot home in a cab. Kate is in Brooklyn at some coding study group, a new thing she's taken to doing. I hide the stuff under the bed, stand there like an idiot, and almost immediately take it all out again. I put on the suit, with one of the shirts and the tie. I go into the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. The suit looks fabulous, but I feel very self-conscious in it. Maybe I need to shave and do something about my hair.
I usually only shave every three or four days. It's a look, I suppose, and one that in my case is probably due more to laziness than anything else. I do a proper job of it now, though, and it definitely works better with the suit. But still, my _hair_ . . .
I carefully fold and bag everything and put it under the bed. Then I head out to a barbershop I sometimes go to on Avenue A. When I'm in the chair, I'm not sure what to say, what instructions to give . . . a bit shorter, tidier, part on the right? Again, I'll bet Trager pays a fortune for a haircut, and that he probably flies to Paris or Milan to get it done. Nevertheless, I come away with at least some approximation of his look. But only as I'm walking back up the stairs to the apartment does it occur to me that I'll have to have a conversation about it with Kate.
She notices all right, but I wouldn't exactly call it a conversation. She makes a face, does a weird thing with her eyebrows, and mumbles something. _I'll talk about your haircut_ , she seems to be saying, _I'll talk about anything, but you've got to talk to_ me _first._
Fair enough . . . but where would I begin? I end up saying nothing.
The next morning, I shave again, and really take my time over it. I'm not sure what Kate's exact plans are today, but when I come out of the bathroom I see that she's already gone, with her laptop and a folder of notes – I'm guessing to Brooklyn again. I feel like this can't go on, but I don't know what to do about it. The worst part is that we're caught in an economic rat trap. To put it at its baldest – and I'm not saying I want this to happen or anything, I don't – but if we were to split up, and I were to leave . . . Kate would no longer be able to afford the already modest rent on the apartment, and she'd have to leave too. Her outstanding student loans would stymie her at every turn, and she'd probably end up living back with her folks, getting turned down for cashier jobs at the local Walmart. And fuck knows where _I'd_ end up. So, whatever we do or think or feel now is polluted by this knowledge. It's driving us apart and turning us both into liars. She can't call me a coward for not standing up to Gideon, in case that drives me away, and I can't tell her I'm now effectively dependent on Gideon, in case that drives _her_ away.
It's fucked up.
And doubly so if you count the fact that I've just spent our rent money for the next couple of months on new clothes that I don't need. I mean, maybe _I_ think I do, but I can't tell Kate that. It'd be easier to tell her I spent the money on blow and tequila or lost it playing online poker.
I'm in a bad mood now. I take out the suit, put it on, go into the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror for a few minutes, adjusting my hair, straightening the tie. I'm already frustrated, but when I try out the voice and do a couple of the gestures, I begin to feel really awkward.
Maybe I shouldn't be doing it here.
Leaving the apartment is hard. I feel incredibly self-conscious, like a kid dressed up for his grandmother's funeral, so the last thing I want is for someone I know to see me and start a conversation – anyone, the guy down the hall, the mailman, that lady from the nail salon next door who spends half her life taking cigarette breaks. But I keep going, and by the time I get to Union Square, and down onto the platform, I'm invisible, just a guy in a suit on his way to work.
I get out at 51st and Lex and wander for a bit. I steer clear of the general area around the Tyler Building at first – the risk of exposure, I decide, is too great. Of course, I wouldn't know anyone there, but the potentially terrifying thing is that someone there might know – or think they know – _me_.
After a few minutes, I relax and start to enjoy it. There's an undeniable thrill involved in this, an adrenalin kick from pretending to be someone else – or maybe it's just from being dressed differently, I don't know. But isn't that a thing? You see it in the army. Put a uniform on a guy, and he changes, he puffs up, gets a little cocky. With this suit on, I find it's like that, I'm walking with my chest out, not quite strutting, but . . . I catch my reflection in a store window and can imagine being that guy – a venture capitalist, a fund manager, a Teddy Trager.
But for how long? At what point do I either give up or decide that this simply isn't enough? I'm not sure, but when I look around me now and realise how close I'm getting to the Tyler Building – circling the area, stealthily, like a predator – I have to concede that I probably have no intention of giving up at all. At the same time, the closer I get to Trager, to being in a position where I might bump into him on the street, the less confident I feel – the intense thrill of earlier giving way to a confused flush of anxiety.
The closest I get is to the fountain in front of the building next to the Tyler, the spot where I based myself on that first day. I sit on the edge of the fountain, phone in hand, and just . . . wait.
Thirty, thirty-five minutes pass, and nothing happens. I suspect that a part of me is almost relieved, but then I glance over and see Doug Shaw emerging from the revolving doors of the Tyler. My heart starts to race. I track him as he walks across the plaza. At one point he turns and looks in my direction. I could swear that our eyes meet, but at this distance it's hard to tell. In any case, I have a nano-sized panic attack and look down at the ground. When I look up again, he's gone.
_Fuck_.
But what would I have done? Gone over and spoken to him? The impossibility of this, the ridiculousness of it, strikes me now with considerable force. What do I think I'm doing? Not just here and now, but generally? My behaviour, the stalking, the suit, my attitude at work, the way I've been treating Kate? All along, as this has developed, I've had a growing sense that something in me is unhinged, or broken, and that feeling now surges through my body, stirring up concomitant feelings of shame and inadequacy.
I stand up from the edge of the fountain and move away. I cross Sixth and go south. The pace I'm walking at now is different, slower, more self-conscious. I'm reluctant to go home, but at the same time I can't wait to change out of this suit.
Twenty minutes later, I'm on First Avenue, approaching 10th Street, for the most part staring down at the sidewalk in front of me. But then I look up. On the next block, coming in the opposite direction, coming towards me, is Kate, carrying her laptop case. After a second, she too looks up, and I'm pretty sure we make eye contact, but she doesn't seem to recognise me. She doesn't react at all. What she _seems_ to do is stare right through me, as though I'm not even there. At the corner, she turns left onto Tenth. I turn right, and cross over. When I'm a few feet behind her, I call out her name.
Tensing immediately, she spins around. It takes her a second to focus, her face registering confusion, recognition, then shock. I'm aware, obviously, that I look different, but it's only now that I realise just _how_ different, and how weird this must be for her.
'Danny . . . ?'
'Hi.'
We're standing there, facing each other, half a block from our building, from our _bedroom_ , and it feels as if we're total strangers.
'Jesus—'
'I had a job interview,' I say quickly, 'and I . . .' This is horrible. 'I didn't tell you about it because I didn't want to get your hopes up.'
'But—'
She doesn't know what to say, torn between obvious incredulity and even more obvious irritation.
I stumble through some improvised details, saying it's a front-of-house thing, sort of a . . . managerial position, in one of Barcadero's sister restaurants, a new one opening soon . . . downtown. I can't believe I'm saying this stuff, because it doesn't add up, and Kate has to know that. I'm a kitchen guy, not FOH, I work prep, I work the line, I work with _knives_.
But she's barely listening anyway.
It's the suit. With her free hand, she takes the lapel of my jacket between her fingers and feels the material.
'Holy shit,' she says, 'this is . . . what is it, cashmere?'
'Yeah.' I swallow. 'And wool. Merino. It's a mix. A guy at work lent it to me.'
She looks into my eyes, holds my gaze. I can tell that her mind is racing, that she might even be a little afraid and is no doubt asking herself . . . what kind of fucking PTSD is _this_?
'Come on, Kate,' I say, 'let's go. I want to get this damn thing off me.'
As we walk the half block to our building, go inside, collect the mail and make our way up to the fourth floor, the tension between us is palpable. The obvious thing would be for Kate to ask me how this supposed job interview went, but she can't bring herself to do it.
I get the suit off, have a shower and change into normal clothes. As Kate chops up some fruit to put in the juicer, I sit at the table and open the mail. Most of it's junk. One piece is a reminder from the debt-collection agency – another in the regular series that Kate has been receiving for over a year now.
I slide it across the table, so she'll see it when she turns around. Which she does almost immediately. She picks the letter up, glances at it, then steps on the pedal of the trash can beside her, and drops the letter in.
Without saying a word, she goes back to her chopping.
I sigh. It's deep, and audible, probably louder than I intended. It's not directed at Kate in particular. I'm tired. I'm confused. It's a _sigh_.
Clearly not how it sounds, though.
' _What?_ ' she says, turning around, knife up.
'Nothing, I—'
Seeing me notice the knife, she rolls her eyes and puts it down.
'Look,' she says, ' _you've_ got a job now, this Barcadero thing. _I_ can get something too, I'm trying, I'm out there.'
'I didn't mean—'
'In fact, just today, I heard of a possible thing, part time to start with, but maybe more, it depends.'
'Kate—'
'I met with Harold Brunker again, and he was saying he could put in a word with some people he knows, movement people. There's a website they run, and there could be an opening. It wouldn't be much at first, but we could use the money.' She pauses. 'I mean, _obviously_ we could. Right?'
Put in a word? What has she been saying to this guy?
'Well, Danny, couldn't we?'
I shift in the chair. Squirm, really. 'Yeah, we could, sure, of course . . . but come on, Kate, a fucking _website_? Jesus Christ, what about your dreams? What about law school?'
'I don't know, Danny, what about it? I'm twenty-five years old and already drowning in debt. And why?' She throws her arms up. 'Because I took out a student loan in order to get a worthless degree from some shitty college no one's ever heard of. _That's_ why. It's a debt I can't repay and that will always show up in credit checks. It's a debt that ironically means I'll probably never be able to get a decent job, certainly not one as a fucking lawyer, that's for sure. So, I don't know, working for people who want to change things, and make a difference? That actually sounds pretty okay to me. But working for people who want to make companies like Gideon Logistics accountable? To expose their hypocrisy? To make them bleed?' She pauses. 'I'm all _over_ that, Danny. Bring it fucking _on_.'
I shift in the chair again. 'But—'
She waits to hear whatever it is I'm going to say. The only problem is I'm waiting too.
After a while, I just shake my head.
Kate turns around, picks the knife up, and starts chopping again.
*
I'm due back at work the next morning, but I can't bring myself to go in. I don't even call in sick. I just don't show up. And when my phone starts vibrating, I ignore it. Also, with no help from me, Kate eventually works out that I don't appear to be going anywhere, so she gathers up her stuff – laptop, notes, phone – and heads out herself.
I stand in the emptiness of the apartment, but only for about ten minutes. As fast as I can, I put on the suit. I go down to the street and hail the first cab I see.
Fifty-seventh and Sixth.
The city passes in a quickening blur, its sounds merging into white noise.
I pay the driver, get out of the cab, and there, right in front of me, pulling into sudden and sharp focus, is the Tyler Building, this vast, refractive slab of crystal and gold. I step onto the plaza and walk across it. I hold my head up and make eye contact with anyone who cares to look my way.
And, as I'm approaching the entrance to the building, I hear a voice behind me.
'Teddy?'
I don't react.
' _Teddy?_ '
I can't quite believe I'm hearing this.
I slow down and come to a complete stop. Then I turn around, ready for whatever weirdness is about to unfold.
Before me are two guys, one burly, one slim, both about forty. They're both in suits which aren't unlike mine but not quite as nice either. The burly guy has red hair and a pasty complexion.
'Hey Teddy,' he says, 'that was _so_ great yesterday. I just wanted to say.'
I swallow and nod at the same time.
'I mean, man, you really crushed it with those guys.' He laughs. 'And I think you may have crushed their spirits too.'
'Well, that's possible,' I say, acutely conscious of my voice now, but more worried about how I sound than what I might say. 'It was never my intention, though.'
'Oh, for sure. Of course. And listen, _I_ can't hear that stuff too many times, either, you know.'
The slim guy nods along, as if he's agreeing, but then says, 'Hear what?'
'I _told_ you,' the burly guy says, trying to stifle his irritation. 'That pitch meeting yesterday.'
'Oh yeah, you said . . . don't . . . what was it again, don't . . .'
The burly guy looks at me now – half embarrassed by his friend, I think, and half fishing for permission to continue.
I shrug my assent, though it's barely perceptible. We're moving now, in any case, towards the revolving doors. One by one, we spin through them and into the lobby.
'. . . it's the baseline for any start-up,' the burly guy is explaining. 'Don't go _looking_ for a problem to tackle, because that way you're already compromising the solution . . .'
'Oh, that's awesome,' the slim guy says. He looks at me. 'That's awesome, Mr Trager.'
Just then, an older man passes us on his way out. He's clearly in a hurry, but, as he goes by, he pats me lightly on the arm. ' _Teddy_ ,' he says, delivering the word softly, half in a whisper. Almost like an invocation.
I watch him slip out through the doors.
When I look back at the two guys, I become aware, for the first time, of where we are – inside a vast multi-storey atrium, a marble and brushed-steel echo chamber teeming with corporate execs. 'You know what fellas,' I say, suddenly feeling queasy, 'you head on up . . . I've . . . I've just remembered something.'
I mumble this last part as I turn around. I go back through the revolving doors and straight out onto the plaza. Before I get to the sidewalk, I glance over my shoulder at the building. It's not that I'm escaping or running away or anything.
I love this. I fucking _love_ it.
The whole thing.
But I'm not an idiot. I know that if I want to pull this off properly, I need to be prepared.
I need to have some coherent shit to say.
I need to do more homework.
# II
#
I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling. After a second or two, sounds crowd in, morning traffic, a thumping bass beat, voices from the apartment next door, voices from the street below. I roll sideways off the bed and get up.
I look around. Where's Kate?
I find her in the living room. She's about to go out and is all dressed up. I stand there in my boxers and T-shirt, looking at her. She always dresses well, but in a casual way. This is a notch or two above that, not quite on a par with my insane upgrade, but still, I'm taken aback.
'What's going on?'
'Nothing.'
I see a flicker of irritation in her expression. She was obviously hoping to get out the door before I woke up.
'Where are you going?'
'I have that thing,' she says.
I stare at her, not so much confused by what she's referring to, or by her reluctance to engage with me, as entranced by the unfamiliar hint of colour around her eyes.
'What thing?'
'I told you, that interview. It's today.'
' _Oh_.' I nod. 'Of course. The website thing, yeah. Sorry.'
She hesitates, with her hand on the door, as though she's waiting to be released.
Does she hate me now? I wouldn't blame her.
I move forward a little. She tenses.
'Good luck with it,' I say.
'Yeah.'
I give her a peck on the cheek. 'You know, _they'll_ be lucky to get _you_.'
She half smiles. I think that's what it is. Though it could be something else, a look of pity, of incomprehension, of disgust even. I'm not sure.
And then she's gone.
I go into the kitchen and put on some coffee.
It's been five days since that little encounter at the Tyler Building. And two since I quit my job at Barcadero. Not showing up was bad enough, but not calling in? Not getting back to them? Holy shit, for a kitchen guy, even a lowly one, that was unconscionable. They would have fired me anyway, so I just figured I'd save them the trouble.
I don't know what Kate thinks about this – though I suppose I might have a better chance of finding out if I actually told her. I'm just sort of assuming that she's figured it out because, well, I'm _here_ most of the time now. For her part, she's taken to leaving the apartment every day, and I'm never sure where she goes, so I suppose – in some twisted, fucked-up, non-sustainable way – we're even.
What I've been doing with my time is a lot of online research – background reading, interviews, profiles, financial reports. I've been immersed in it, day and night, but the frustrating thing is that whatever I've learned is all on the surface. I've absorbed terms and vocabulary, names, dates, references, memes, factoids, but do I really understand any of it, do I have the ability to pull it all together, to gestalt it up into a convincing Teddy Trager? I doubt it. I might have thirty seconds of material, a minute maybe. After that, I suspect I'd run dry. But I guess there's only one way to find out.
I shower and shave, then suit up. Twenty minutes later I'm on the subway, and then, like a scene change in a dream, I'm back. As usual, what I do is walk, block after block, Sixth Avenue, Fifth, Madison, the high forties, the low fifties. I almost fall into a mindful state, what you might even call a trance, and if every now and again I end up near the Tyler Building, so be it. I'm open to anything, to any encounter . . .
At one point, my phone goes off. It's just before midday. I stop at a corner and look around. I'm on 53rd and Sixth.
I reach into my pocket.
'Yeah?'
'Danny, I _got_ it.'
I have to think for a second. She got it. Got what? Oh, the interview, the _job_. That's actually great. I need to say it. 'Kate, wow . . . I'm—'
But I stop there, my heart starting to race, because I'm also looking straight ahead along the sidewalk.
' _Teddy?_ '
And holy shit if that isn't Doug Shaw coming towards me.
'Danny!' This is in my ear. 'Are you there?'
'Yeah,' I whisper, 'I'm here.'
I respond to Shaw with a nod.
Getting closer, he says, 'Come on, Teddy, we need to talk.'
'Did you hear me, Danny? I said I _got_ it. They were really nice, and it's actually going to pay a bit better than I thought, but I'll probably have to—'
'Wait . . .' _Shit_. 'I've got to go, Kate. Sorry.'
I slide the phone away from my ear, ending the call and flicking it to silent.
'Teddy,' Shaw says, right in front of me now, practically in my face. 'Teddy, Teddy, Teddy.'
'Yeah?' I say, nervously, close enough to peer into his eyeballs.
'It's a bit early, but what do you say we get some lunch?'
Next thing I know he's got an arm out, and seconds later a yellow cab is pulling up at the kerb. As we're getting in, Shaw says, 'I've been craving some of that blood-sausage thing Jacques does.'
My heart stops racing at this, nearly stops altogether.
Before he even utters a word to the driver, I know what's coming.
'Forty-fourth Street.'
*
The short cab ride to Barcadero passes in a flash. I'm sitting beside my supposed business partner, impersonating _his_ business partner, and all I can think about is what awaits me at my former place of employment. Shaw does all of the talking, but I don't actually listen. All I catch is the word 'sign'. He says it more than once, his voice low and gravelly. He's also wearing a distinctive cologne. That's what I get. That's the sum total of what I'm able to process.
And I don't open my mouth once.
Shaw pays. Then we're on the sidewalk outside Barcadero. We head for the entrance, and, depending on who's doing front-of-house today, this might all come crashing down within the next thirty seconds. We go inside, and, while the place isn't busy, it isn't empty either. Croatian, sapphire-eyed Karina, one of the daytime hostesses, glides over to us, smiling.
'Mr Shaw, Mr Trager, how nice to see you today.'
I look at her directly. There's nothing. But then, why would there be? Have we ever even spoken? Why would Karina pay any attention to some surly jerk like me who works in the kitchen? No, I think, the real trouble here will be with the server, or maybe the wine guy. I know most of them, and they know me.
Without checking her list, Karina just leads us into the main room and – I hadn't even thought of this – over to the corner table. Before I know it, I'm sitting there, settling in, afraid to look up, afraid to look at anything – at the pick-up window, at the menu, and, most of all, at Doug Shaw, who has just put his reading glasses on and is doing something with his phone, sending a text or checking his email.
I close my eyes for a second. What the fuck am I doing here? I need to be outside, on the street, walking, moving.
'Gentlemen, how are we today?'
Oh God. This is Brian, an intense, wiry guy from Boston. I've had several conversations with him, even had a drink with him once. He's a physics major and intimidatingly smart. I may as well just give up right now.
'This is a quickie,' Shaw is saying, as he removes his glasses. 'I want that blood-sausage thing. I want the kale with apple and pecorino salad. And water's fine.'
I look up. Brian is staring at me. But, again, there's nothing. He's just waiting for me to tell him what I want to eat. I don't understand what this is. Some kind of psychological syndrome? Perception based on predetermined expectations? A form of confirmation bias? Danny Lynch doesn't wear a suit, he doesn't come to Barcadero with Doug Shaw, therefore people here aren't even going to _see_ him?
'Sir?'
Or is it that I look _that_ different?
'Teddy, we haven't got all day.'
Shit.
I glance down at the menu. I could make it easy and say I'll have what Shaw is having, but that might be weird. Besides, I _know_ this menu.
And so does Teddy Trager.
'Let me have the . . . hamachi and artichoke. Water as well. Thanks.'
Then he's gone. And I realise something. _Now_ is the hard part. So what if people here recognised me. That would have been awkward, humiliating even, and, let's face it, exposure would have been the end of the road. _This_ thing, on the other hand – whatever it turns out to be – is still in play. I look Shaw directly in the eye now, maybe for the first time since he walked up to me on the street all of, what was it, fifteen, twenty minutes ago? He holds my gaze, and with an intensity that I find really unsettling.
But I decide to dive in. 'You said we needed to talk, Doug. So let's talk.'
Then it occurs to me that maybe he already said whatever he wanted to say in the cab, when I wasn't listening, when I was so overwrought with nerves that I couldn't even _hear_ him. I also wonder why he had to approach me on the street like that, when it's my understanding, from stuff I've read online, that he and I – he and _Teddy_ – both have offices on the seventieth floor of the Tyler Building.
'I don't know if I _can_ talk to you, Teddy, not any more. That's the problem. You're going off on these batshit crazy tangents all the time now, and . . . frankly, you have me worried.'
Shaw is unprepossessing in appearance, but up close like this there's something compelling about him, a nervous energy, a sort of magnetism.
'I don't know what to tell you, Doug.'
'Look,' Shaw says, 'you know I get it, right? The great Teddy Trager? He doesn't just think outside the box, he eats, sleeps, and shits out there too. He's a visionary, has all these grandiose ideas, and, fine, some of them fly, some of them don't, whatever, so believe me, I _do_ get it, you need space, and time, a bit of latitude . . . but Jesus Christ, you're losing sight of what got us to where we are, Teddy. I mean, what's happening with this PromTech deal? We're just going to let _that_ one slide too?'
As Shaw speaks, I avoid his eyes, stealing glances instead at his shirt collar, at his watch, at his soft, manicured hands, at the texture of his suit, but at the same time my mind is racing, I'm _thinking_ , and so rapidly that it can't be conscious. What I must be doing, I guess, is trawling through some mental database of stuff I've read, searching for a match, a loose thread to pick up and spin an answer out of. Shaw is watching me closely now, and I have to say _something_. Because grunting or nodding along won't cut it for much longer.
'Come on, Doug,' I say, tugging at my own jacket lapel, 'I wear a suit to the office every day, what more do you want? I'm supposed to worry about volatility in the markets now as well? About earnings, and price ratios? You want me to get excited about some new start-up? Why? So we can take their game-changer of an idea and suck the life out of it, reduce it to an efficient revenue stream? Well, I can't do it. My heart's not in it any more.'
I'm aware that Trager and Shaw have their differences, and, while I'm vague on the details, this seems to be at the core of it. It's an argument I've seen rehearsed again and again in interviews and magazine profiles.
'Fuck your heart, Teddy, where's your brain? Where are your _balls_? Our business runs on confidence. You don't need me to tell you that. So for the two of us to be seen squabbling publicly about this – or, by the way, about _anything_ – is . . . is . . . it's like we're dysfunctional, like the company is, I mean, Paradime. That's how we're being perceived. And it can't go on or it'll destroy us.'
I have a pretty good idea of what Trager's counterargument might be, but the very fact that I do strikes me as odd. Because if _I_ , as an ordinary member of the public, know what it is – if it has filtered _that_ far out into the ether – how come Trager and Shaw are still having this conversation? Is it that the matter remains unresolved? That they're going around in circles on it? That there really _is_ an element of dysfunction here?
'What will _destroy_ us, Doug,' I say, barely able to believe the exasperated tone I'm adopting, 'is this insane notion of infinite economic growth. I mean, what's our big game plan? Make more money? Seriously? Is that all we're ever going to use our energy and creativity for? We talk about leadership and innovation and fostering fresh ideas, but the only thing that companies like Paradime _really_ want to do is fatten these new ones up for IPOs so we can strip them to the bone afterwards.'
Shaw sits back and stares at me. 'Wow.'
I wait a second. 'What?'
He gives his head a quick shake. 'Nothing, it's just . . . the blood sausage. I can smell it from here.'
At which point Brian arrives from behind me with our orders. There's a moment or two of business with plates and cutlery and napkins, during which I try to gauge Shaw's reaction to what I just said, or even if it counted as a reaction at all. Needless to say, I'm not hungry, and the artfully arranged food in front of me looks deeply unappetising, almost like something from a Surrealist painting. It also occurs to me that I might have gotten a detail wrong – maybe you strip companies to the bone _before_ an IPO?
'So, Teddy,' Shaw says, after his first couple of bites, 'that was a nice little speech and all, but you didn't answer my question.'
_Which was?_
Holding my fork over the plate, eyebrows furrowed, I try to remember, the delay now as much about avoiding the food as working out how to respond to Shaw.
'PromTech?' he says, nudging me along.
'Yes.' I put the fork down. 'You want . . . you want me to _sign_.'
'Of course. But what I really _want_ is harmony. What I really _want_ is for Paradime to show a united front. Is that so much to ask?'
I have no idea what to say, because, let's face it . . . harmony, a united front, it sounds reasonable, but is that what Trager would think? I have to admit I'm lost here, and skating on very thin ice. I don't know PromTech either, or what their deal is. Actually, I can't even believe I'm having a conversation with Doug Shaw. The thing is, I find all of this thrilling, but part of the thrill is knowing I'm only ever a few seconds away from everything imploding. Because what if Teddy Trager were to call Shaw up right now on his cellphone, or to walk in the door of the restaurant? Or how about _this_? What are the odds – if I actually make it through lunch here – that when Shaw goes back to the office, the first person he meets, wearing a different suit and talking about _going for lunch_ , is Teddy Trager? Pretty high, I'd imagine, so in a way does it really matter what I say? Where I take this?
'Well, you see,' I say, picking up my fork again, 'that's exactly what I'm talking about, Doug. PromTech. We need to wean ourselves off this kind of thing, I don't know, these . . . sugar-rush start-ups, these . . .'
Shaw laughs for a second, then shakes his head. 'Are you _drunk_? These start-ups are our bread and butter for Christ's sake.'
'Yeah, but . . . it's . . .' I'm floundering now. 'It's all short-term thinking, it's—'
'Okay, okay, okay.' Shaw waves this away, dismisses it. Then he says, 'Tell me. How's Nina?'
' _Nina?_ '
'Yeah.' He takes another bite. 'Tall chick? Good-looking?' He smiles. 'What's going on with you guys?'
I want to throw a counter jab here but realise I know nothing about Shaw, if he's married, gay, attached, whatever. I don't know anything about Nina either. But I do remember reading this one thing.
'We're good,' I say. 'She keeps telling me she wants a baby, though.'
Shaw nods his head. 'Yeah, I can see that. You should go for it. Nothing like a kid to give you a little perspective on things.'
Lost for a response, I manoeuvre a small slice of the hamachi onto my fork and raise it to my mouth. I feel sick, but pop it in anyway. As I'm chewing the food, I look at Shaw, but he's already cleared his plate and seems distracted now. He keeps glancing around, checking his phone.
When it comes time to leave, I have a brief moment of panic. Brian arrives with the cheque, Shaw is texting, and it looks as if I might have to pull out my wallet, which is worn and faded and only contains a photo of Kate, two maxed-out credit cards, a Metro card, and twenty dollars in cash.
But without looking up from his phone Shaw reaches out and grabs the cheque.
A few minutes later, standing on the sidewalk in front of Barcadero, I still feel a little sick and know instinctively that getting into the cab Shaw is hailing will end badly, so I tell him I have a 'thing', an appointment, that it's nearby, a couple of blocks east, and that I'll be around . . . maybe later, maybe tomorrow.
As the cab pulls up, Shaw says, 'Just remember who you are, Teddy. Remember _what_ you are.' He opens the door, and holds it for a moment, gazing along the street. Then he turns to me. 'And let's keep our eyes on the _real_ prize, okay?'
He gets in, and I stand there, watching, as the cab pulls away again and disappears in traffic.
*
I go straight home and, without changing out of the suit, grab my laptop, sit at the kitchen table and start researching PromTech. It turns out they're just what you'd expect from the name, a tech start-up . . . robotics, drones, quadrotors, nano solutions, all that stuff. They operate out of a lab in New Jersey, probably some windowless, stinky, oestrogen-free geek pit, but the guys there must be cooking _something_ up because it seems that Paradime – or Doug Shaw, at least – really wants to fund them. After that, I look up Shaw, and the first thing I find is a Bulletpoint.com profile by Ray Richards with the header 'The Other Side of Paradime'. It describes Shaw's legendary deal-making skills and goes into detail about his activities prior to, during, and after the late-nineties dot-com bubble. It also transpires that he's married and has a very young daughter, with a second one, from a previous marriage, in high school. He does a lot of charity stuff and likes Broadway musicals. None of this does anything to quell the sick feeling in my stomach. I found Shaw weird and his attitude opaque.
But towards the end of the piece, he is referred to as 'probably the one man who knows Teddy Trager better than Teddy Trager knows himself', and it concludes with the observation that Shaw's only real rival in Tragerworld is Nina Schlossmeier.
So I switch my focus to her.
I hit Google Images first, predictably, but man, there's plenty to look at – glamorous Nina wearing Tom Ford, casual Nina in a windbreaker on the side of some mountain, Nina at a web summit, Nina on the red carpet. She's a native New Yorker, brought up in Tribeca, but her parents, both artists, are German. She speaks the language, it appears, along with Russian, Italian and Japanese. A couple of years ago she founded Pincer, a search-engine app, and built the proprietary algorithm herself. Although she has led the start-up to profitability, the company is apparently still small, and Trager has had no direct involvement in it.
I look her up on Twitter and scroll through her feed for a while. Then I search around for some video and find a YouTube clip from an interview she did for a TV profile of Trager. In it, she talks quite frankly about her relationship with him.
'It's not easy, that's the first thing, because a guy like Teddy can't be tied down, you know, his head won't let him, it's taking him in too many directions at once. But I understand that, and I support him. I mean, what am I going to do?' She laughs here, leaning towards the interviewer, her laugh full and generous. 'Rein him in? _You_ try it. Good luck with that. Listen, every day with Teddy is a challenge, every day is an adventure . . .'
I pause the clip and linger over the still of Nina on the screen. How long would I last talking to her? Lunch with Doug Shaw was a strain, but would I even get through five minutes with Nina? Someone who expects me to make every day of her life an adventure? It's preposterous. And it's not just that she's out of my league in the crass sense of her being too good-looking for me. What did that profile say? She built the proprietary algorithm herself? She speaks fucking _Japanese_?
Yeah.
Still, I can't look away and am sort of mesmerised by her now – the expression in her eyes, her intelligence, her overall quality of 'highness'. Whatever that means. High cheekbones? High German? (High Anxiety?) I eventually take a screen grab of the frame and print it out. It's on plain paper and the quality isn't very good, but I lay it down on the table next to the laptop and glance at it every now and again as I continue reading and following links, burrowing down into a rabbit hole I have no idea how I got into or how I'm going to get out of.
At some point (I've lost track of time, but it must be late afternoon), I hear a key in the latch and look up to see Kate coming in. She sort of slopes through the door, flicks it closed, and leans back against it. She's still dressed up, which is when I realise that I am too (and inexplicably, it must seem to her). Then I remember how I ended our phone conversation earlier.
Mid-sentence.
In the street.
Mid _her_ sentence.
Bad enough doing it so abruptly, but not calling her back? There's no excuse that'll undo that, and I'm not going to try. Besides, I have a sudden feeling that what happened earlier might not even be on her agenda any more.
'What are . . .' She's still leaning against the door and has a quizzical look on her face. 'What . . . no, _why_ aren't you at work?'
I hesitate, but then just say it. 'I quit.'
'Oh.' She furrows her brow. 'You _quit_?'
'Yes.' I don't know what I can add to that.
'Well, that's nice. I guess. For _you_.'
She stands there staring at me, looking a little confused, as though I'm out of focus or something, and then I get it, I _am_ out of focus, because she's shit-faced, or approaching it.
'Why are you wearing that God-awful suit again, Danny? Did you have another interview?'
'No,' I say, shaking my head (and shock-absorbing the 'God-awful'), 'I didn't.'
Pushing back at the door, she launches herself gingerly across the room. When she gets to the table, she reaches over, and before I can stop her, before I realise what she's doing, she picks up the printed screengrab of Nina Schlossmeier. After studying it for a couple of seconds, she says, 'So, who's your girlfriend?'
'It's no one.'
'Oh, come on, Danny.' She's swaying slightly on her feet now. 'I'm sure the nice lady wouldn't like to hear you say that. She's _very_ cute.'
I find the sudden collision here between reverie and reality unnerving, which maybe explains how I'm able to say what I say next. 'Kate, have you been drinking?'
Her response is a grunt mixed with a laugh. 'Oh, I think you could say that.' Staring at me, she holds up the sheet of paper again. 'So. Who _is_ this?'
'It's _no one_.' I roll my eyes. 'Jesus.'
Then, within seconds, we're arguing, full-on, about the picture, about the phone call, but eventually about everything . . . money, commitment, the apartment, our future together, when (or if) we're ever going to have a kid. It's no surprise that we end up _there_ , since the question is something we've discussed so many times before.
' _I DON'T KNOW, KATE._ '
But when I say this, when I shout it, I simultaneously bang my fist on the table, causing Kate to recoil, as though from an explosion, and something in the room changes, there's a dynamic shift – in temperature, or mood, or even at some molecular level – because right in front of me Kate recovers, she regains her equilibrium and almost visibly sobers up. She sits down at the table, looks into my eyes and starts trying to engage with me, rationally, to connect. Fighting back tears, she describes a recent conversation she had with Harold Brunker about the complex nature of PTSD and how it can present in a whole variety of ways.
'. . . so maybe, I don't know, _maybe_ it could help explain—'
I swallow. 'Explain _what_?'
She shakes her head in what looks like disbelief. ' _You_ , Danny . . . explain _you_ , and what's been going on. You haven't been yourself lately, you need _help_ , you—'
I bang my fist on the table again and stand up. 'What, so this is the support I get?'
' _Danny_.'
'You go sneaking off to Harold fucking Brunker and talk about me behind my back? You _diagnose_ me? What's next? More medication? A straightjacket?'
Kate deflates, seeming tired all of a sudden, and maybe halfway back to being drunk – but not empowered drunk this time, not smart-ass drunk. More the drained, addled kind.
'No, Danny, of course not.' She looks up at me. 'But you . . . you're not alone, you know . . . listen, they say at least ten or twelve per cent of returning—'
'Oh _please_ , Kate, you have no idea about any of this, no idea what you're talking about at all.'
I take the sheet of paper from the table, the picture of Nina. I crumple it up into a ball and fling it across the room. My anger is real, but there is an element of misdirection to it, of calculation. Because I don't want to talk about this stuff, I can't, I'm too far gone in the other direction – and while I might not know where that __ direction leads, it's more real to me now than anything happening here in this room.
Which is why I have to leave it.
I close my laptop, pick up my phone and head for the door. As I'm going out, I look back. Kate is still sitting at the table, slumped forward now, her head in her hands.
*
I go to a bar on Second Avenue, thinking that if she can drink in the afternoon, then so can I . . . except that now it's late afternoon, early evening really, and the place I've come to is filling up with a noisy after-work crowd.
Besides, I don't really want a drink.
I order a club soda and sit at the bar with my phone. Within a minute I'm scrolling through Nina Schlossmeier's Twitter feed again. Most of it is incomprehensible to me, references to tech stuff, Pincer updates, links to articles, as well as the occasional jokey or personal tweet. I go back to the top. This is her most recent one, from three hours ago: _Totally stoked for @pollylabelle's opening at the Carmine tonight. Be there or be polyhedral._ I google the Carmine. It's a gallery in Tribeca, off Hudson, about fifteen blocks from here, give or take.
I nurse my club soda for another twenty minutes or so and then leave. I walk across town, moving slowly, block after block, a warm tinge of dusk seeping into everything. When I get to the Carmine, the place seems fairly quiet and dark. It's barely recognisable as a gallery, and, apart from its big windows, looks more like a warehouse or an abandoned factory.
I stand in a doorway across the street, watching, waiting. But soon, and as though I'm somehow conjuring it up, lights come on inside the gallery, then town cars and limousines start arriving, and people appear from everywhere, hipsters, arty types, collectors, critics, photographers, so that within minutes, literally, the joint is jumping, and Polly Labelle's opening is in full swing.
Nina Schlossmeier's entrance is unmistakable. She emerges from the back of a black SUV, alone, and glides inside. I watch from my post across the street as the energy of the event, the heat of the room, seems to coalesce around her. I realise I'm in the grip of some kind of fever now and that nothing will satisfy me except one thing.
To be there, in the room, standing next to her.
I keep glancing around, checking my phone, delaying, expecting Teddy Trager to appear, but as each minute passes I become more firmly convinced that he isn't going to. So on an impulse I propel myself forward, cross the street and walk straight into the gallery. I continue moving, like a targeted drone strike, until I'm in Nina's direct line of vision.
'Teddy,' she says, as I close in. 'Oh my God, I thought . . .' Then she smiles and holds up her glass.
I'm unsure how to read this, but I think it's okay. And in what feels to me like only a few seconds, a glimmer, the next twenty or thirty minutes disappear down some weird sinkhole, part dream, part hallucination. Nina parades me around, introducing me to one bizarre group of people after the next, then introducing me to Polly Labelle herself and getting me to pledge what will easily be the biggest sale of the night, and the centrepiece of Polly's exhibition, _The Circle of Willis_. I nod along, saying, 'sure, sure,' my throat so dry I feel I'm on the point of asphyxiation. Then, slightly panicked, I pat my jacket up and down to imply that I've left my wallet at home, but this just cracks Nina and Polly up.
After that, I find myself being led by the hand and taken through a maze of hallways and corridors to a cramped, dimly lit back office, where Nina shuts the door, locks it, and turns to face me. Leaning forward, she takes a firm hold of my belt and, before undoing the clasp, whispers in my ear, electrifyingly, ' _Teddy,_ _I'm so glad you made it tonight . . ._ '
*
In another glimmer, I find myself rolling off a hastily cleared mahogany desk, and, as Nina reassembles herself in the corner – muffled, distant music thumping in the background – I notice for the first time that the walls of this little room are eerily adorned with dozens of framed black-and-white photos of the city's high-society gallerati, most of whom I don't recognise, though out of the corner of my eye I do spot De Niro, and there's Mario Batali, and there, in front of me now, wielding a champagne flute, looking directly out – looking, in fact, it seems, directly _at_ _me_ – is Teddy Trager.
I feel a rush of guilt here, but also, as I glance over my shoulder at Nina, of dread, because in the afterglow of such intimacy how will it be possible, I wonder, for us to talk to each other, to even look at each other, without the truth becoming immediately apparent. But a combination of Nina's phone going off, a burst of raucous laughter out in the hallway, and a strange forward momentum sweeps us back into the main exhibition space.
At a certain point, Nina is whisked away for photos with Polly, and I slip outside. It's ostensibly to get some fresh air, but once I start moving I can't stop, driven forward by a dynamo of thoughts spinning inside my head, a flickering blooper reel of the past half hour, the past few _weeks_. Was that me trying to negotiate a garter belt? Was that me cheating on my girlfriend? Was that Danny Lynch stalking some billionaire tech guy he bears a resemblance to – stalking the man like an overexcited web rat who's ventured out of his mom's basement? _Jesus_. At the end of the block, on the corner of Hudson, I look back towards the gallery and feel dizzy. I keep walking, but it doesn't take me long to realise that I'm heading back the way I came, that I'm heading east . . . that I'm . . .
What? Going home? Back to the apartment? To Kate?
After what just happened?
On West Houston, I hail a cab and tell the driver to go uptown. I get him to stop at 57th and Sixth, and for a while I circle the area. I'm still operating on nervous energy, but I eventually slow down and come to rest on a stretch of the sidewalk directly opposite the Tyler Building. I give it a few minutes, then cross over, step onto the plaza, and head straight for the entrance. The security guy lets me in, no questions asked, and within seconds I'm in the elevator and surging up towards the fabled seventieth floor. I wonder who'll be up here. Maybe Teddy Trager? Who knows? If he is, though, wouldn't the security guy have been puzzled just now? Whatever. I don't really care any more, and perhaps there's even a part of me that hopes Trager _is_ up here, that we'll get to look each other in the eye, and even talk.
When I emerge from the elevator, the first thing that hits me is the coruscating Manhattan nightscape. I walk – almost stumble – across reception, and apart from the Paradime logo, which is everywhere, I can't really focus on anything.
'Mr Trager?'
I turn, and a young man is standing next to me with a bottle of chilled water on a small silver tray. I look at him for a moment and then take the bottle. It's actually quite welcome. I hold it against my cheek, close my eyes and exhale. Then I open my eyes again and look around. The place isn't deserted, as you might expect, but it's not busy either. Most of the offices are visible through lightly frosted panels or walls of glass. I can see Doug Shaw, for example, in his huge corner office, slumped behind a desk. He's on the phone, facing away from reception.
The young man is still standing next to me, and I turn back to him. This is going to be a weird question, but I ask it anyway.
'Which office is mine?'
A barely perceptible twitch is all he reveals of his surprise. 'Of course, Mr Trager. Please, follow me.'
As he leads the way, I open the bottle of water and take a long slug from it. Trager's office is similar to Shaw's. It's on the opposite corner of the seventieth floor and is bigger than everything around it. The young man holds the door open for me.
'I'm sorry, sir,' he says, 'but Mr Shaw asked me – _again_ – to leave those papers for you to sign. They're on your desk.'
I mumble something, dismissing him with a nod. I head straight for the desk, settle into the swivel chair behind it and just . . . _swivel_ , slowly, rhythmically. Because this is it, this is the seat of power. This is the heart of Paradime's corporate empire.
But what happens next? Where do I take this?
And how long before someone calls security?
I glance around the office and, after a moment, catch sight of my reflection in a large window opposite where I'm sitting. Disconcerted, I lean forward in the chair and gaze at the image. Is that who I've become? _That_ guy? A venture capitalist, a speculator with a portfolio in the billions?
I lean back in the chair and swivel some more.
Though how hard can it be, right? As work, I mean. You sit around all day making phone calls, reading quarterly reports, trying to pick winners, signing shit? The truth is, I'm not sure you'd get a cigarette paper between one of these VC guys and your average degenerate gambler studying racing forms at Belmont or Saratoga.
Just then my eye falls on a neat stack of papers in front of me on the desk. I stare at it for a while. I pick a few pages up and flick through them. It's no surprise that the name PromTech jumps out at me, though nothing else I see here makes much sense. It's financial jargon, legalese. It's a contract.
But now it's my _job_ , as well. At least in theory.
So – I find myself wondering – is PromTech a winner? Does it have form? I look around for something to write with. I scan the desktop, then rummage through a few drawers. I soon find a very elegant silver fountain pen.
But how does this guy sign his name?
I go through a bunch of other stuff in the drawers and eventually find something with Trager's signature on it. I copy it out several times on a separate sheet of paper and end up doing it quite well. Then I identify where in the documents I have to sign. There are twelve places, but spread out over three separate copies of the contract. In each place, Doug Shaw has signed, as have two others, people from PromTech, presumably.
I hold the pen suspended over the first page.
Fuck it. Here goes.
I sign twelve times, getting faster as I go, and when I've finished, I toss the pen back onto the desk.
There. Action.
Or forgery, more like. Malicious personation, fraud. Whatever it is, it should get me a decent slice of jail time.
I lean back in the chair now and close my eyes.
_Fuck_.
Is this what I wanted? Power? Wealth? Respect? When all that could possibly be on offer was just the fleeting illusion of these things? The shiny surface of them? What a jerk I've been – indulging this fantasy, going on this inverted and insane tour of duty, behaving recklessly.
Stupidly.
And _meanly_.
I open my eyes and take out my cellphone. Swivelling again, I call Kate and, after a tense initial exchange, ask her to just _listen_ to me. Then I tell her – solemnly, almost whispering – that I'm really sorry, that my head is a mess, that I've done some fucked-up things, and that, yes, maybe I do need some kind of help, treatment, therapy, whatever, but that more than anything else in the world I don't want to lose _her_ , I don't want to lose the future we have together _. . . that I love her . . ._
'Well, then,' Kate says, audibly stifling tears, 'get off the phone and come _home_ , you moron.'
This is a huge relief to me, and after I put the phone down I sit for a while in the stillness of this empty office, taking it in, processing it. But when I'm ready to leave, to get out from behind the desk, I look up and see, through a layer of frosted glass, the blurry but unmistakable figure of Doug Shaw approaching from the far side of reception.
I flop into the chair again and sigh. Are we at the end of the line here? Are the security guys on their way over too?
Shaw soon appears in the doorway. He stands there for a moment, looking in.
'You okay, Teddy?'
'Yeah.'
But I'm not, and this is weird. I let the mask slip there by making that call to Kate, and I feel as if Shaw should somehow know this and be using my real name.
Calling me Danny.
He enters the room and walks over to the desk, almost sidles up to it. He eyes the documents. I glance at them myself, having more or less forgotten about them. He picks a wad of pages up, simultaneously slipping on his glasses, and flicks through them. He cracks a thin smile.
'You signed them?'
I nod again, but don't say anything.
'Well, _that's_ an interesting development.'
But he seems a lot more than interested. He seems excited, and maybe a little agitated, or even confused. He picks up the rest of the pages and shuffles them all together. Holding them against his chest now, he moves away from the desk and across the room. When he's at the door, he turns and looks back.
'I'm glad you did this, Teddy.' He pauses. 'And stick around, yeah? I'm going to make a couple of calls. Then I think we need to have a proper talk. And maybe a drink? To celebrate?'
'Sure.'
After Shaw leaves, I stand up. What the fuck did I just do? Greenlight the PromTech deal? Okay, on one level, _cool_ . . . but on another, does it matter, and do I really care? No. Teddy Trager would have signed in the end, he would have succumbed, that seems inevitable to me, because after a certain point with these people money isn't about what it can get you any more, it's all just numbers, and the acquisition of it becomes its own motivating force . . . a little money, a lot, an obscene amount, what's the difference? It's a joke. Whereas _I_ don't even have enough of the stuff (it's just occurring to me now) to get a cab ride home, having blown most of my last twenty bucks coming up here.
But at least I have a Metro card.
I go to the door, and hover in front of it. I'm nervous. I don't want to be seen, but reception is pretty much deserted now, so I head straight for the elevators. As I'm waiting for a car to arrive, I look back over at Shaw's office. It's hard to tell, but there seems to be something going on, a flurry of activity. Shaw himself is on the phone again, pacing up and down, staring at the floor as he talks. The young man who greeted me with the water earlier is standing near the door, consulting a tablet. And a young woman is leaning over the front of Shaw's desk. She appears to be rearranging some papers.
An elevator car pings open, and I slip inside.
I have no idea what just happened up here, what's real any more, what isn't, but as I descend to ground level and make my way out of the building and along the street to the nearest subway stop, and as I sit on the train, and then walk the last few blocks to my building, I know I've had enough, that I'm done here, that it's over. But an inevitable consequence of this realisation is that my sense of desperation reboots. Because making up with Kate on the phone like that? The rush of emotion? The flood of honesty? The declaration of love even? None of that is going to pay the rent or clear the bills. None of that is going to ward off a future of shitty, soul-sapping jobs . . . a future in which people like me and Kate are disposable, in which we're little more than monetisable data points in some algorithmic sequence. And is that what I _want_? For her? For me? For the kid we've so often nearly conjured up in conversation? A life of attrition? A future that is circumscribed, constricted, already bankrupt?
Is there any choice?
When I'm about half a block from my building, I slow down, almost to a crawl, not because I'm changing my mind or having second thoughts. . . . it's because up ahead I see something that obliterates any possibility of thought. Parked along the kerb there is a distinctive-looking, ultramarine-blue sports car, and leaning against it is a man who's about my height and build.
I stop, and he turns to look at me.
#
Teddy Trager steps forward from the car. Within seconds we're in front of each other – three feet apart, right there on the sidewalk. At first, all I can do is stare at him. I'm aware of traffic sounds, of people passing by in either direction, of the suit he's got on, but mostly I'm aware of his face, its familiarity, its growing strangeness, its sudden unreadability.
'So, tell me,' he says, breaking the silence. 'What's your next move?'
I don't know what to say here. I don't _have_ a next move. All along, this has been an extended trance, a fever dream. I shake my head slightly but don't say anything.
'Well?'
A part of me wants to reach out and touch his face, check if it's real – to check if _he's_ real.
'There is no move,' I say eventually.
'Come on.' His voice is soft and measured. 'You must have something in mind.' He makes a gesture with his hand. 'I mean . . . all of _this_?'
What does he mean? Is he referring to _my_ suit? I'm not getting into that with him. I'm self-conscious enough as it is. Besides, I have more immediate concerns. Like how he knows who I am and where I live. Like what _his_ next move is. But my mind is tripping over itself now, and the question I manage to ask, in a whisper, is as basic as it gets.
'What is this? _What's going on?_ '
Trager shrugs. 'Nothing really. It's just that . . . I know a lot of people, as I'm sure you're aware, and I thought . . .'
'Yeah?'
'I thought I might be able to help you in some way.'
' _Help_ _me?_ Look, Mr Trager, where did you—'
He holds a hand up to stop me, and then nods at his car. 'Come on, let's go for a drive, cruise around for a bit, talk.' He pauses. 'And by the way, it's Teddy.'
I feel sick. Is this _happening_?
Leaning back slightly, I look to the left and up at our building. I look at our fourth-floor window. Where Kate is waiting for me, right now.
I'm assuming.
I turn back and look at Trager, barely able to focus. What if I'd come home, I wonder, walked up the stairs, opened the door, and peered in to see _him_ there, with Kate reassembling herself in the corner . . . a muffled bass thumping through from the next apartment and the kitchen table swept clear, everything strewn on the floor . . .
'How about it, Danny?'
'Okay,' I say.
I'm nervous, but as I follow him over to the car, I feel an unexpected rush of excitement. I've read about how he likes to drive around at night, how that's when he does his best thinking, so there's no reason why this shouldn't at least be interesting. I settle into the passenger seat and Trager starts the car. It hums softly to life, takes off, and soon we're on First Avenue, heading uptown.
Trager does most of the talking and seems to know a lot about me. When he mentions Gideon and Afghanistan I must act surprised, because he picks up on it.
'Don't you realise,' he says, 'how easy it is to accumulate data about someone, once you get a line on them?'
'But how did you get a line on _me_?'
'A simple tail at first, a bit of surveillance, a background check. You didn't exactly make it hard.'
I swallow.
_They're watching you like you're a video game, Danny._
I look at Trager. 'Yeah, but when did you—'
'Does it matter?'
'Was it your driver? That day outside the Tyler?'
'Yes. But _I_ could have spotted you just as easily.'
And he's right, I suppose. I was there a lot. 'So, what did . . .' I'm not sure how to frame the question.
'What did I _think_?'
'Yes.'
'Well, I . . .'
But then he goes silent for a while, seems to be giving the question serious consideration. We pass 23rd Street and get a run on the lights. Then, after he turns west onto 34th, he starts talking again, riffing on the idea of doubles, the doppelgänger. 'So what exactly is it, a ghostly replica? An evil twin? A foreshadow of something awful? A foreshadow of _death_?' He shakes his head. 'No, that's all bullshit, because you know what, Danny? It's a coincidence, pure and simple, I'm your lookalike, you're mine, and there's no mystery to it. We weren't separated at birth. We're not clones. Okay, we're pretty much identical, but the one thing we _don't_ have in common is the same genes.' He pauses. 'Now what are the odds of that?'
I don't think he's expecting an actual answer.
'Well, let me tell you. Given the component parts of the human face, and the possible variations in their structure and arrangement – distance between the eyes, for example, width of the nose, shape of the cheekbones, skin texture – given all of that, the figure, apparently, is one in a billion, or a little under.'
I want to say _holy shit_ , but I just nod.
'They've made huge advances in this recently,' he goes on, 'in face-recognition technology, retinal scanning, biometrics. I think Paradime even owns a company that does this, but the point is, with _seven_ billion people walking round the planet, what do you know?' He waves a hand back and forth between us. 'It's like we have a winning lottery ticket here . . .' He seems excited, energised, as if this is a game or a puzzle to be solved. He keeps talking, getting into the science of it, the math, probability theory, even briefly sketching a couple of what I assume are supposed to be equations in the air directly in front of him. Then he gets into psychology, the nature of identity, of repression and alienation, he mentions Freud and Lacan, he talks about virtual avatars and the influence of video-game technology. I get fairly engrossed in what he's saying, and when I sort of snap out of it for a second to look around, I'm alarmed to see that we're on the Hudson Parkway, moving north, and moving pretty fast too.
I want to ask him where we're going, but I don't want to interrupt his flow either. He's the same charismatic Teddy Trager I've seen in multiple YouTube clips, but up close like this the experience is different. It's more immediate, and a lot more compelling.
'So that's what we have here, Danny, it's just one of those things in nature, a weird anomaly – and don't get me wrong, I think it's truly amazing – but it _can_ be explained. It doesn't have to be magic, or a metaphor for something else. I mean, we have science. We understand now that a clap of thunder isn't the roar of an angry god. We don't worship the sun any more.' He pauses. 'We're rational beings, right?'
Weirdly, I think he _is_ expecting an answer to this one.
'Yeah, sure. Of course.'
After another silence, he says, 'I researched all of this, after you popped up on my radar. I got curious. But I guess what I'm wondering now is, how do _you_ feel about it? Because it seems to me like you're maybe a little confused, or . . . thrown off balance by what's happening.'
I look at him. 'What do you mean?'
'That suit you're wearing, for instance. Quitting your job. The fact that you've been more or less stalking me.' He clears his throat. 'My guess is that—'
'Sounds like _you've_ been stalking _me_.'
'No, no,' Trager says, shaking his head, 'that was in reaction to what _you_ were doing. Look, my guess here is that you've been under a tremendous amount of pressure lately, still are, in fact, and that this . . . this thing, whatever it is, has sent you – and understandably – into something of a tailspin.'
_'_ What? __ That's . . . ridiculous.'
'Oh, you're _not_ under pressure? Is that what you're telling me?'
'No . . . I mean, okay, I _am_ , but . . .'
'Afghanistan, right?' He turns to me for a second, then looks back at the road. 'There was a situation at the base, people got killed, there's legal fallout, Gideon are screwing with you, the banks won't leave you alone, you've got debts, you can't find work, whatever . . . look, I get it.'
Am I hearing this right? He _gets_ it?
'Okay, Danny, that probably sounds a bit rich coming from someone like me . . . but I mean it. And when I said I might be able to help? I meant that too.'
I consider this for a moment. 'Help how?'
'There are various ways.' He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. 'And believe me, Danny, I know how to do it. I run a couple of foundations. I gave away four hundred million dollars last year.'
I've read about his charity work all right, but none of it really sank in. It didn't seem that interesting at the time.
'Why would you help _me_?'
He shrugs. 'Isn't it obvious? _Look_ at us. The thing is . . . I feel . . .'
'What?'
He waves a hand in front of him, as though trying to summon an answer from thin air. 'Well, I feel a sense of responsibility. Is that insane? And despite what I said earlier about being rational . . . I have to confess something.' He laughs. 'I'm finding this incredibly weird. Aren't you? Not only do I _feel_ like I'm talking to myself, I look at you and realise that I actually _am_.' He laughs again. 'And _you_ are too, right? I mean, like it or not, we have something here, we're connected in some way. So of course I'm going to try and help.'
I'm confused. My initial resistance to Trager is quickly breaking down. He's charismatic and forceful, there's no denying that, but he seems sincere too. Is that possible? Or is it just that he mentioned money a moment ago and I _want_ to believe he's sincere? I look around again. We've left the city well behind us now and the Hudson has become the Saw Mill. Where are we going? Someplace upstate?
Trager shakes his head, and shrugs. 'Sorry to talk about money like that, by the way. You must have thought I was trying to impress you or something. I wasn't.'
'I know.' Now I actually am warming to him. 'I've read about your foundations,' I say. 'I've read quite a bit about you, in fact.' I pause. 'I'm a good stalker. Attentive.'
'I wouldn't expect anything less.'
We let this little icebreaker work its thing for a while. Trager focuses on the road, and I focus on the car's interior, on the rich, creamy leather upholstery and the polished mahogany trim.
Then he says, 'You know, the thing is, I more or less made my money by accident. It was all about timing, all about being one of those special-ed übergeeks who comes along with a really cool idea at _just_ the right moment. In my case, I'm talking ten, twelve years ago . . . I was young, I was naive, the markets had a hard-on for anything tech-related, investors were circling. What could go wrong?'
'But you did well.'
'Yeah, I did well, by _any_ standard, but man, when that spigot opens up and starts gushing out money, there's no way of stopping it, and it changes everything.'
'How so?'
'You end up playing the game, whether you want to or not. You end up sitting across boardroom tables from people who spend every day of their professional lives behaving like cornered rats.' He turns to look at me for a second. 'What, you think if you put on an expensive suit it'll all be nice and civilised? Like that's some form of protection? This is a war zone. Forget Afghanistan. Forget Iraq. Forget _Vietnam_. You want the real _Apocalypse Now_ , watch Bloomberg News, read the _Wall Street Journal_.' He exhales loudly in exasperation. 'I gave this talk at a university once, a few years ago, you can see it on YouTube, it was meant to be a kind of mission statement where I tried to lay out an alternative vision for all of this stuff. But you know what? No one took any notice, because the ironic thing is, the richer you get, the less people actually listen to your words, all they can hear is the sweet fucking ker- _ching_ of your money . . .'
'But isn't that what you do? Invest in companies? Aren't you a money _guy_?'
'Yeah, I am _now_ , but that's because I have so fucking much of the stuff. It becomes its own self-replicating system. It takes you over. It's a trap.' He makes a snorting sound and bangs his hand on the steering wheel. 'I know, I know, you should have _my_ problems, right? _Jesus_. Tell me to shut up.'
'No, no, I'm . . . I'm . . .' Enthralled, is what. But I'm not going to say _that_. 'It's okay, go on.'
And he does. 'So lately I'm doing some work with this company called Prometheus Technologies, right? PromTech. And it's incredibly exciting, the ideas that are spinning around that place, you'd love it, it's like DARPA on steroids, or CERN, big data, adaptive systems, the singularity, AI, longevity, biometrics, remote DNA tracking – _that's_ a revolution right there – but you know, take your pick, it's all long-view stuff. I mean, these guys are essentially redrawing the map, or it's like they come from the future or something. But you know what their problem is? They haven't got enough money. It's insane, almost hilarious. And they want _us_ to fund them, and officially we, as in me and my partner, want to fund _them_ , but you know what? I'm not going to fucking allow it, because we'll just end up infecting them with our own special brand of toxic shit.'
Staring at the road ahead, I feel as if my heart is being slowly dipped in liquid nitrogen.
'You see, here's the thing,' Trager goes on, 'one of the products they have in the pipeline is a new type of VR game console, they're calling it the LudeX, and it's pretty amazing, but still, it's just a fucking game console, it's a toy.' He waves a dismissive hand in the air. 'With money behind it, though, it'll burn through the hype cycle and dominate the market, I know it will. I also know from experience that that kind of success will destroy PromTech, it'll sideline all their other ideas and distract them from the bigger picture.'
'Your partner,' I say, almost in a whisper, 'that's . . . Doug Shaw?'
'Correct. Now, he's really anxious to get his hands on the LudeX, because he sees the potential in it. He had the contracts drawn up weeks ago and has been bugging me to sign them, but I'm not going to do it. I'm _not_. I made that mistake once before in my life, and it's not going to happen again. I don't care. I mean, how rich can you be? It's absurd.'
'But . . .' I close my eyes. 'Won't someone _else_ just give them the money?'
'Sure, probably, I can't stop that from happening. It won't have been _me_ , though. That's the point. That's what matters.'
I open my eyes. 'What about Shaw?'
'What about him? Everyone knows we have our issues, I've talked about it, so has he, in interviews, it's common knowledge, but really, the stuff that's going on now, it feels like a line in the sand for me . . .'
It's the weirdest thing. This is the Teddy Trager I know from what I've been reading (and whose positions, as a result, I was able to parrot earlier to Doug Shaw), but this is the first time I've actually listened to him, this is the first time that what he's saying seems real to me. In fact, the only thing that doesn't seem real to me at all – or true – is what _I_ did about an hour ago up in Trager's office.
In the silence that follows, I look around me. Wherever we are, the roads seem quieter, less busy. I don't remember us leaving the Saw Mill, but we're on a back road now for sure, trees and hedgerows on either side, the moon ahead of us periodically visible through a busy rush of passing clouds. I run various scenarios through my head, but it doesn't take me long to conclude that those documents I signed will have no legal standing whatsoever. And of course once Trager realises what I've done, any talk of being rational will almost certainly evaporate. As it probably _should_ . . . because if there are now going to be two Teddy Tragers in this world, in whatever form, _I'll_ be the one who signed the contracts, _I'll_ be the version that sold out, _I'll_ be the one who crossed that line in the sand . . .
That's what's in my head when Trager suddenly starts talking again, when he asks me about Kate and whether or not we want to have kids. I'm taken aback, but I say, 'Yeah, sure, some day. I mean, we've talked about it.'
'Man, do you know how lucky you are? Even to have the possibility of a child, of a family? There's no form of wealth that can compare to that.'
I'm not sure what's going on here. The obvious thing would be to turn the question back on him. What about you and Nina? Didn't I read somewhere that . . . ?
But I can't bring myself to do it.
'Yeah,' I say, 'you're probably right.'
'No, Danny, really. __ I envy you.'
_Envy?_ It sounds as if he means it, but at the same time, under the circumstances, isn't that a little over the top?
'So let me get this straight. __ You'd step into _my_ shoes, is that it?' I just blurt it out.
'No, Danny, _no_ , that's not what I meant. It's just that . . .' He pauses. 'My girlfriend and I have been trying, and, you know, when it doesn't work out . . . it's not easy.'
I stare straight ahead and say nothing.
'There are other options, sure, but . . . it's a big adjustment to make.'
There is silence for a while. Then he says, 'Do you know her? My girlfriend? Nina?'
'Uh, no, I don't think so.'
'Nina _Schlossmeier_? If you've read about me, you've definitely read about _her_.'
I swallow. So it _is_ a game. Trager knows. He _has_ to know. He's had me under surveillance, hasn't he? That's what he more or less said.
We're on a fairly quiet road now.
Holy fuck.
This is _his_ move.
I nod my head. 'Well, yeah, I . . . I've come across the name.'
'Sure you have.'
It's obvious what Trager is up to here, leading me on, being my friend, offering up confidential information. He's playing a game of cat and mouse. But who'd blame him after the shit I've pulled?
And especially tonight.
I'm too tired for this. I lean back in the seat and groan. __ 'Okay, okay.'
'What?'
'I swear, Teddy, I didn't mean for it to happen.'
'Didn't mean for what to happen?'
My heart is thumping so hard I can actually hear it. 'You have to believe me—'
'Didn't mean for _what_ to happen?'
'Tonight, me and Nina, we just—'
'What are you saying? _We_? I don't . . . _what_?'
Trager swerves the car and turns sharply onto an even quieter side road. There's an open field to our right, trees to our left.
'Teddy, please—'
'You and Nina? _Where?_ '
What have I done?
'At the . . . gallery, at . . .'
'At the Carmine? At Polly Labelle's thing? You can't be fucking _serious_.'
He's driving really fast now.
'I'm sorry.'
He bangs his hands on the steering wheel. 'You're _sorry?_ This is unbelievable.'
'I didn't set out—'
'Don't.'
'I mean, look, she was—'
_'_ _Don't say another fucking word._ '
I take in – and hold – a very deep breath.
'Let's be honest,' Trager says after a moment, 'you're the one who wants _my_ life. You want all the shit _I_ have, the money, the status. And you know what? Fine. You think I care? But Jesus Christ, my _girlfriend?_ '
I'm torn here between the horror of remorse and a nagging confusion. 'But you saw everything happen, Teddy, you were watching, why didn't you stop—'
'I saw it happen? What are you, insane? _How_ did I see it happen?'
'You said it yourself, surveillance—'
'Surveillance? Not twenty-four-seven. Jesus, don't flatter yourself. That was just to get some background on you . . .' He bangs the steering wheel again. 'I came to _you_ , Danny, because I wanted to see if I could help. I mean . . . _look at us_ . . .'
I turn and see that he's got tears in his eyes.
'We've been given this incredible opportunity, this once-in-a- _billion_ chance to . . . no . . . oh shit—'
'What?'
'I can't . . . Jesus . . . _I can't_ . . .'
I look straight ahead, at the dark, open countryside plunging towards us.
What the fuck?
Trager is pounding the steering wheel now, going crazy, dancing on the pedals, it seems like – then – 'Get out, Danny! Get out of the car! Get out of the car _now!_ '
' _WHAT?_ '
In one rapid movement, he reaches across me, clicks my seatbelt loose and flicks the door open.
'Get out! _Now!_ '
Then he's pushing me out. It's like he's gone completely insane. But at some point my reflexes kick in and I simultaneously reach up and grab onto the sun visor with one hand and lash back at Trager with the other, striking him hard across the side of the face, drawing a spurt of blood. There's a renewed effort on his part, and soon he's edging me off the leather seat. My hand has slipped from the visor, and I'm hanging out of the car, precariously lodged between the side skirt and the open door. I pull my knees up to my chest and just let go. I roll on impact, hitting the ground with my bunched forearm and then with my shoulder. I keep rolling and end up on a grass bank by the side of the road.
The car speeds on.
A moment later I'm dimly aware of a second car speeding past, and then I hear a sound – it's quick, loud, very intense.
With great effort, I manage to stand up. I move off the verge and back onto the road. I'm able to walk along the side of it for a few yards, fuelled by adrenalin – but I'm limping, and groaning, various pains announcing themselves as I move. My jacket and pants are torn, and I can taste blood in my mouth.
It's sort of dark, but there's a reddish glow in the sky, reflected light from a nearby town probably, and the moon, when it appears, is extremely bright. Up ahead, there's a slight curve in the road, and, when I reach it, I see something in the dimness a little further on. I have a fair idea of what it is, what it _must_ be. I keep going and eventually get to Trager's car, which is rammed up against a tree, the front of it crushed like a beer can.
No sign of the second car.
But . . .
There _was_ a second car, wasn't there? I glance around. It's very quiet. It's late. I'm not sure of anything any more.
I move closer to the car and look inside it. Trager is slumped in the driver's seat, his neck twisted, a streak of blood on the side of his face.
He's clearly dead.
Holy fuck.
Teddy Trager is _dead_.
A single, clear question forms in my head. What just happened? What just happened? _What just happened?_ Trager was really angry – and, okay, with justification, I can't argue with that – but he pushes me out of _a speeding car_? That's the kind of shit you get to pull when you're a billionaire? I switch my gaze from Trager's face to my own clenched fist, to the corresponding streak of blood on it, and I almost throw up. I was acting in self-defence, that's obvious – that's _obvious_ – but did my punch to his face make him dizzy, cause him to lose control and crash the car?
Fuck.
Then something occurs to me. There's no airbag. Why is there no airbag?
I look around and try to focus. I do a quick, panicky rundown of my options. One, get the hell out of here right now, run and keep running until I'm far away. Two, wait for the cops to arrive, come clean, explain everything – it'll sound weird, sure . . . but it was just an accident, this last part, the crash part, Trager was out of his mind, out of _control_ . . .
'But sir, if that's the case, why do you have traces of Mr Trager's blood on your fist?'
Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.
A cellphone goes off, fracturing the stillness, and I freeze. It has to be Trager's. Because it isn't mine. I let it ring out, but once silence is restored, I stand there paralysed. Almost immediately the phone starts to ring again.
I reach into the car through the open door and extract the phone from Trager's jacket pocket. The small screen swims before my eyes. It's a blur. But I can just make out the name on it: Doug Shaw. Again, I let it ring to the end. Then I put the phone away – this time into my own pocket.
As I stand there, pain throbbing faintly beneath icy sheets of adrenalin, a third option forms in my mind. But without allowing it any time to unravel or choke on its own absurdity, I dive right in. I lean forward and start going through Trager's other pockets, taking out his wallet and keys. I then go around to the other side of the car. The door is buckled and I have to force it open, which is difficult, because as my adrenalin ebbs it's becoming increasingly evident to me that I have sustained serious injuries. Nevertheless, drawing on some sort of override mechanism, I proceed to pull Trager's body out of the car. When I have him on the grass, I look behind me.
There are more trees, lots of them, and I think I can hear the sound of a river or a stream somewhere in the background. I lean down, take a hold of the body and drag it – wheezing, grunting, struggling, swearing – until I get it maybe twenty yards off the road. There's a steep incline here that ends at the edge of what is indeed a small river. I roll the body part of the way down, as far as it'll go, and then do my best in the near darkness to cover it up with loose branches and leaves.
At one point, as I'm standing there, out of breath, there's a break in the clouds, and moonlight briefly illuminates the misshapen heap in front of me. It looks like something else at first, I don't know what, I'm confused, and then it looks like what it _is_ . . . a partially covered dead body. And in the fraction of a second it takes me to turn away, I catch a glimpse of my own face, a greyish, bluish version of it, streaked with something darker, blood or mud, probably both, its eyes open and staring vacantly back up at me . . .
Feeling dizzy, I move a few steps away. Then, as I limp up the little hill again, I take out my phone. It's on silent, but there are four missed calls from Kate, as well as a single, all-caps text from her that says, 'WHAT'S HAPPENING?' Seeing this message on the tiny display is like a severe punch in the gut. It yanks me back to the reality of what _is_ happening, and of what I've just done. I want to hit Reply, but I can't bring myself to do it, because how do I explain this? And apart from anything else, this body here behind me will be pretty much _visible_ in daylight, it's not as if I've buried it or anything, nor is there any prospect, in these circumstances, of me being able to . . . so once tomorrow morning comes, what are we looking at? What's the window? How long before someone takes a walk by this river?
I'd say a few hours, at best.
And then what? All hell breaks loose? The initial, queasy confusion pulls into the tight focus of an OMG news story? I'm hunted down, arrested, end up in prison, or the psych ward?
But . . .
Backing up a little here, what did I think was going to happen? That I'd finally become Teddy Trager? That I'd take his place? That I'd get to live his life? That I'd get to spend his money? That if there weren't going to be two Teddy Tragers in the world, couldn't there at least be _one_? Even if only for a short while? The level of this delusion is breathtaking and certainly not anything I can subject Kate to – not any more, she's already put up with enough shit from me as it is. But at the same time, there's really no reversing this. It's not as if I can decide to go for option two instead and drag the body back up to the car. I wouldn't be able to. I'm in too much pain. And, let's face it, I wouldn't _want_ to. I've set this little exchange programme in motion, so whatever the fallout from that turns out to be – and however fast and relentlessly that rains down on me – I'm going to have to take responsibility . . . for everything.
Which I guess means I'm on my own.
After a moment, I turn around and toss the phone – _my_ phone – back in the direction of Trager's partially covered body. I do the same with my wallet and my keys. It's a vain gesture, I know, an impotent protest, little more than a cheap piece of misdirection that won't fool anyone for very long.
But I don't care. I limp back towards the mangled car. I take a deep breath and climb in – this time into the driver's seat. I look at my face in the rear-view mirror, at the smears of blood and the bruising. I lean back in the seat and exhale, trembling – first a bit, then a lot, then shuddering. Soon this will be uncontrollable, and as the pain intensifies, as the general trauma overwhelms my stress response, pummels it and then smothers it, I may go all the way and lose consciousness. In fact, I can already feel this beginning to happen, but before it does, I reach into my jacket pocket and take out Trager's cellphone.
I fumble with it for a few seconds, then lift it to my ear. I wait, but not for long.
'911, what is your emergency?'
#
Before I open my eyes, I know I'm in a hospital room. There are telltale sounds – beeping monitors, ventilators, pagers, trolleys. At first, these seem abstract to me, more like faint rumbles and pulses, signals from somewhere deep in my unconscious, but they soon coalesce into the comprehensible and the familiar. I also feel an uptick in pain awareness. This is nothing alarming, a fact that I'm sure can be explained by the woolly blanket of medication – morphine, probably – that I seem to be wrapped in.
Although it's easier not to, I do eventually open my eyes, and what strikes me at once is that no healthcare plan _I've_ ever been on would provide a hospital room even remotely as luxurious as this one. It's an entire suite, with a comfortable seating area, a coffee table, and what from here looks like . . . _a_ _wet bar_? That's not right. I squint and do my best to stay focused, but I can't make out what it is. Probably some kind of medical unit.
But that raises a more important question. What am I doing here in the first place? I clearly _need_ to be in the hospital, because there's a ton of shit wrong with me that I'm only now becoming aware of – these tubes attached to my right arm, for instance, the bandages around my skull, the swelling I can feel in my face.
But what _happened_? And where's Kate?
Faint memories rise to the surface . . . a rotating blue light, the intermittent crackle of a dispatcher's radio, urgent voices all talking at once – but after that, there's nothing.
Before it, though, if I concentrate . . .
_Fuck_.
Of course.
Everything comes back to me in a rush. Panicking, I look around the room again. What time is it? I can't see any windows. How long have I been here? Without thinking, I move forward suddenly in the bed, and feel a jolt of pain. It starts in my chest and extends across my right shoulder. I lean back on the pillow, and, as the pain recedes, I take a long, deep breath and release it very slowly.
So . . .
Hospital, yes, okay, but why _this_ one? I don't even _have_ a healthcare plan.
There's only one explanation.
My cheap piece of misdirection is still working. Is that possible?
I look around the room again, this time for clues. There's a bedside table to my left with nothing on it apart from a reading lamp and a glass of water – but it does have a drawer, which is partially open. With great care, I ease the drawer all the way out. There's something inside it, I'm not sure what, but it looks like a see-through evidence bag. I fish it out and hold it up. Inside it, there's a cellphone, a set of keys, and a wallet.
The wallet isn't mine – it's too big, too thick with credit cards. They're not my keys, either. And it's not my phone. These items are Teddy Trager's, but taken from the pockets of the suit _I_ was wearing.
How long can this go on? Is it now a race between someone finding the body by the river and a doctor realising that my lab results don't square up with Trager's medical records? It has to be one or the other.
I look over at the door and get the feeling that someone is about to walk through it. I replace the bag in the drawer and gently close it. A couple of seconds later, a young nurse breezes in, consulting a chart as she moves. When she looks up and sees me, she stops. 'Oh, Mr Trager, you're awake . . .'
*
The next few hours sees a steady stream of nurses, doctors, consultants and therapists into the room, a level of attention you'd imagine maybe the President getting, after a heart attack or an assassination attempt. I have multiple opportunities to call a halt to it, to look some highly qualified trauma specialist in the eye and tell him to stop, that I'm a fraud. But why would I? He's a trauma specialist, and someone just pushed me out of a speeding car. It also seems to me that if I'm headed for prison, which has to be a real possibility now, I need to be in better shape than I'm in. Apparently, I have a couple of broken ribs, some other minor fractures, severe facial bruising, a concussion and possible abdominal injuries, so . . . what, I'm going to _refuse_ this treatment?
Anyway, it's easy enough to take. I don't have to say much, apart from answering simple questions about whether a specific part of me hurts or not – which is something I can answer without having to pretend I'm someone else. Also, the pain medication provides me with a cloak of passivity, of anonymity almost, as does – I find, to my shock, when I get to look in a mirror – the extensive bruising on my face. Apart from the medical staff, no one else comes into the room (at least not as far as I'm aware), but at a certain point during the course of the day I do notice that in the hallway outside there appears to be some kind of a security presence. Is this more of the executive-branch standard of treatment I'm getting here or should I be worried?
I go with worried.
There are too many reasons not to. A guard outside my door? No visitors? The high probability that Trager's body has been discovered by now? Plus, there's the fact that to any trained specialist worth their salt my injuries would surely be inconsistent with the physics of the accident I'm _supposed_ to have had. Because wouldn't a collision like that – at high speed, with no airbag deployed – have killed me outright? As it actually _did_ kill Teddy Trager? And wouldn't some of these specific injuries I do have, in their assumed context, make no medical sense whatsoever?
If I'm right about this stuff, I don't get any indication of the fact from a single doctor or nurse.
What I do get, early in the afternoon, is a visitor.
Doug Shaw comes into the room followed by one of the consulting physicians, a lean guy in his sixties with a salt-and-pepper beard, and the two of them stand by the door for a few minutes talking. I don't hear what they're saying. The doctor leaves, and then Shaw walks over to the foot of the bed. He doesn't speak. He just looks at me, examining my injuries, tilting his head this way, then that, as though _he_ were a doctor.
I'm awake, and my eyes are open, but I sort of play up how spaced out I am by staring at a fixed point on the wall behind where Shaw is standing.
'How are you, Teddy?' he says eventually.
I don't react, don't even look at him.
'A lot of people are asking about you.'
After a moment, Shaw sighs loudly, then gets his glasses and cellphone out and starts texting. He paces the room as he does this, stopping every couple of seconds to check what he's just keyed in. When he's finished, he looks over at me again.
'Who?' I say.
'Who what, Teddy?'
'Who's asking about me?'
' _Everybody_. Holy shit.' He whips his glasses off and comes over to the side of the bed. 'I mean, yeah . . . and look, the story got out, I tried to keep a lid on it, but you know how it is.' He seems kind of agitated, like he's coked up, or just had a drink and needs to know where the next one is coming from. 'Anyway, Jesus. So how _are_ you?'
'I could be better.'
I then stare at him, in silence, and for maybe ten seconds straight.
Does he _know_?
I'm sure he must, and I'm on the point of being reckless, of telling him to cut the bullshit, to drop the act, when something gives me pause, some instinct for self-preservation. Because what if it isn't an act? What would that mean? And more to the point maybe, what if it _is_?
'So tell me,' I say instead, drawing in a deep and obviously painful breath. 'What about Nina? Is _she_ asking about me?'
'Of course. Yeah. She was in here all of last night. She sat there.' Shaw points at a comfortable-looking but empty chair next to my BP monitor. 'But she had to leave early this morning for some _thing_ , some event, in . . . where is it, Phoenix?'
I nod, implying that I know what he's talking about.
But really – I think – Phoenix? The other side of the country? I have to ask myself what Nina saw or maybe heard last night, sitting in that chair, looking at me.
'And your sister called from Paris,' Shaw says, 'a couple of times, but we've reassured her – _I've_ reassured her – that you're going to be fine.'
I nod again.
I have a sister? How did I not know that? Trager, of course, is what I mean. How did I not know that _Trager_ has a sister.
_Had_ a sister.
'Anyone else?' I ask, after a moment.
'Yeah, there have been a lot of calls, messages, people wanting to drop by, but . . . you know, let's give it a little time. You're not ready yet.' He pauses. 'That's what the doctors are saying.'
I look at him for a moment.
Sure they are.
Then I close my eyes.
And they're right, of course. I'm not. They just don't know how right.
*
Over the next few hours, whenever I open my eyes, Shaw is there in the room, or just outside it in the hallway. He spends a lot of this time on the phone, and every now and again his PA shows up with some document to be looked at or a paper to be signed. I want to tell him that he doesn't need to stick around like this, that I'm fine (that I'd actually prefer him to leave), but I never feel quite up to it. I'm still on a morphine drip for the pain, so my response times are slow, and whenever an opportunity arises I either miss it or deliberately let it slide.
But this is also, in part, because I'm confused about what's going on. Why hasn't Trager's body been found yet? Why haven't the cops shown up? It's been more than eighteen hours. And if Shaw doesn't know what's really going on here – and let's just say for argument's sake that he doesn't – why is _he_ the one in charge? Where are Trager's people? _His_ PA? _His_ staffers?
The screw on my paranoia tightens when I tell Shaw that I want my laptop brought in – or at least access to a device, an iPad, something, so I can catch up.
'Uh-uh,' he says, shaking his head, 'not such a good idea.'
'Excuse me?'
'That doctor? The one I talked to earlier? He said screens are out of the question, it's not safe apparently, not even TV . . . at least until they've done an EEG or an MRI or whatever it is they have to do. I guess it's the concussion, something to do with brainwave activity?'
I look around. There's a TV on the wall, turned off, but no remote anywhere. I don't buy this brainwave-activity shit for one second, but I'm not going to argue with Shaw about it. When he's out of the room for a few minutes I open the drawer of the bedside table and take Trager's phone out of the evidence bag. I try to activate it, but nothing happens. It's dead. The battery must have run down, and, of course, there's no charger.
Later on, after Shaw has left for the night, I go through Trager's wallet. There's five hundred dollars in cash in it and about fifteen different pieces of plastic – credit and charge, as well as various security and membership cards.
Maybe I should just slip out of the hospital with it and take my chances.
But then . . .
Using any of these cards would be asking for trouble, and how long would a lousy five hundred bucks last? There's also the matter of this guy out in the hallway, my security detail. I don't know what his instructions are exactly, but in my current condition – two broken ribs and high as a fucking kite on painkillers – do I really want to risk finding out? Besides, given the level of medical attention I'm getting, and which I actually need, it'd be pretty stupid of me to go anywhere right now.
What I do instead is ask one of the nurses on the night shift if she can hook me up with a laptop or an iPad . . . ten, twenty minutes is all I need, a little session, I tell her, with Dr Google. When she hesitates, I spot her one of the fifties from Trager's wallet, and that does the trick. A while later she returns with a colleague's iPad, and I launch into a quick trawl through the past twenty-four hours . . .
No body by the river, that's the first thing – the _NYT_ , the _Post_ , the _Daily News_ , a couple of smaller local papers, a site that tracks police reports even – nothing. How could that be? Then there are these: 'VC Maven in Single-Car Collision' and 'Wall Street Car Crash'. In the financial sections, it's a little less lurid: 'Paradime Partner in Auto Accident' and 'Teddy Trager Injured'. But that's it – short reports, light on detail, no photos . . . Trager's car hit a tree on a quiet road, he's in the hospital, his injuries aren't life-threatening.
Nothing to see here . . .
I check Nina's Twitter feed. Her last tweet was that one about the event at the gallery. I also check a few blogs and come across several brief references to the accident, but it soon dawns on me that these, along with the newspaper reports, can all be traced back to what must have been a press statement released early yesterday by Paradime's head office, a statement that was probably drafted – or at least approved – right here in this very room.
After I give the iPad back to the nurse, I fall asleep and have a dream about the other night – I'm in Trager's car, but with Doug Shaw . . . one minute _he's_ driving, then _I_ am, then we're in a Humvee . . . or is it a . . .
Whatever.
It's a fucking dream, it doesn't have to make sense.
But when I wake the next morning, it seems clear to me that I've been in thrall to the dream aspect of this whole thing for far too long. Yesterday, for example, I was asking myself if Shaw knows. Today that seems like a ridiculous question. Of course he knows. He _must_ know. Trager knew, and, as he said in the car, _I_ made it pretty easy for him. So either Trager shared his discovery with Shaw or Shaw found out for himself. It would go some way towards explaining how weird he seemed over lunch at Barcadero that time and then later on up in Trager's office. But why is he acting like he _doesn't_ know? What is he up to? Other questions naturally flow from this – like, for instance . . . does it have anything to do with PromTech? Why did Nina feel compelled to put over two thousand miles between herself and this hospital room? _And what happened to Trager's body?_ But a wave of exhaustion hits me and my mind fogs over. Soon, it's as much as I can do to submit to having my dressings changed.
A bit later, Shaw reappears and announces that I'm going to have a few visitors this morning – it'll be quick, five minutes each, no more, and all I have to do is attempt a brave smile, nod wearily, and listen. This is one of those weird moments when I feel like Shaw isn't even pretending. He's just _telling_ me what to do. But how would that go down if I were the real Teddy Trager? Not too well, is my guess, and I'm on the point of calling Shaw out on this – because I _am_ weary – when his cellphone goes off. He answers it, listens for a moment, then looks at me. 'Okay,' he says, 'we're up.'
_We?_
He turns to face the door, and waits.
Both of us now waiting.
But for what? The Homicide Division? The Fraud Squad? A couple of psychiatric orderlies, one with a hypodermic syringe in his hand and the other with a straightjacket?
*
The man who walks through the door is familiar-looking, but it takes my brain more than a beat to pull up his name – which is a little worrying, given how famous he is.
George Clooney greets Shaw with a quick handshake and then approaches the bed. When he sees my facial bruising up close, he puts on a pained expression. 'Oh man, that's rough.'
I look at him. This is a tanned, suave Hollywood A-lister standing in front of me. If it weren't for the morphine, I'd probably be a little flustered right now. 'Well,' I say, 'you should see the tree.'
Clooney laughs.
I shoot a glance at Shaw, who's over in the corner, smiling nervously.
'So. Are they treating you okay?'
'Take a look,' I say, making a sweeping gesture with my arm, indicating the room, how nice it is, how spacious, but the sudden movement hurts, and I wince.
'Whoa . . .' Clooney winces too, in sympathy. 'Take it easy there, Teddy.'
I roll my hooded, morphine eyes at him. 'It . . .'s fine.'
Me and George.
I have to wonder . . . are we buds? Have I been to his place on Lake Como? Am I involved in some campaign of his? I don't remember reading about this, but I may well have. It wouldn't have seemed real to me at the time, so I wouldn't have paid that much attention to it. Weird thing is, _this_ doesn't feel real either. So what have I got to lose?
'When they're making the biopic,' I say, pointing at my bruises, 'will your vanity be able to handle these?'
'Oh, what, _The Teddy Trager Story_? Yeah, right.' He does that thing, makes that face. 'I'm a bit old to play _you_ , Teddy, don't you think? Even Matt's too old for _that_ role. Besides—' He pauses here, weighing up his words. 'Somehow, I don't see . . . I don't see a script getting out of the development process _alive_ , frankly.' He clears his throat. 'Not if there's any contractual obligation to, you know . . . take any of _your_ notes seriously.'
'Oh, fuck you, George.'
I'm not looking at him, but I can tell that Shaw's face has probably drained of all colour by this stage.
Clooney reaches over and gives my arm a gentle squeeze. 'I'm going to let you get some rest, Teddy.'
I wink at him and then watch as he turns and walks out of the room. I observe his shape and posture. Out in the hallway, there is something of a commotion, and I can feel it, reverb from the huddle of heat-seeking attention he must attract wherever he goes.
Fifteen minutes later, the next visitor comes in, and I don't recognise him at all. He seems to be some kind of investment guy and is obviously someone I should know. I exaggerate my grogginess and let him do most of the talking.
Shaw seems surprised afterwards. 'You didn't know who that was?'
It's a bold question and could easily open up an awkward conversation here, but I just shake my head.
'That was Ray Dalio, Teddy.' He pauses. 'Bridgewater Investments?'
Trager would obviously know this name, he probably goes fucking _skiing_ with Ray Dalio, but with me any name is a crapshoot – I might or might not have come across it in an article or on a website. What this brings home to me again is that being Teddy Trager is a tricky business, fine in small doses, when I can walk away and take off the suit but pretty much a minefield in any kind of extended situation.
And I'm certainly in one of those now.
I look at Shaw. If he isn't going to blink, though, neither am I.
'Sure, Doug. Bridgewater. Ray Dalio. I knew that. I'm just having a little . . . brainwave trouble is all.'
'Well, you won't have that problem with your next visitor.' He glances at his watch. 'I can guarantee you that.'
My twenty minutes with Bill Clinton has a dreamlike quality to it. He pulls a chair up beside the bed, leans in, locks eyes with me, and just talks – quietly, flowingly, non-stop. I barely listen, but I think he's filling me in on some initiative we've been working on. The conversation, such as it is – the monologue, more like – is conspiratorial, dense with detail, and exhausting.
When he's gone, though, I miss it, and while I have no idea what Shaw's grand plan here is, it's becoming increasingly clear to me that _my_ cooperation, _my_ continuing compliance, is an essential part of it. And unless I'm imagining things, there's now a sort of unspoken agreement between us: so long as I go on looking and sounding like Teddy Trager, Shaw will see to it that everyone else treats me as if I _am_ Teddy Trager.
And I think it remains unspoken for a reason.
If Shaw acknowledges that I'm Danny Lynch, a line cook from North Carolina – or if _I_ acknowledge it – that will break the spell. It will undermine his plan.
Which gives me a certain degree of leverage.
Because while I don't know what's in this for Shaw, it has to be a lot, and if I play my cards right, there might well be something in it for me too.
*
Later on, I slip the night nurse a second fifty from Trager's wallet for a little more iPad time. That's when I come to realise just how high the stakes are. Because it's not the real Teddy Trager who's out of the picture now, it's the real _me_.
A full forty-eight hours after I left Trager's body by a river in Westchester, there is no mention of the fact anywhere on the web. What there _is_ mention of, however, and as reported in yesterday's _Post_ , is a corpse floating in the Hudson river off of West 42nd Street in Hell's Kitchen. The NYPD responded after a witness called it in, and soon afterward the body was pulled to shore at Pier 81. The victim, a man in his early thirties, was fully clothed – in a suit, apparently – and had ID on him. There were some signs of trauma, but the police are still waiting for the Medical Examiner's Office to determine an exact cause of death. They're also not releasing the victim's name until his family has been notified.
I stare at the screen. That could be anyone, though, right? The Harbor Unit probably have to do this a couple of times a week.
But if it _is_ just anyone, why does it feel so wrong? Why does it feel like I've been sucker-punched here?
I go to Metro and scroll down through the stories for today. And there it is: 'Man Found in River Named'.
My eyes burn as I try to focus and make sense of the words on the screen:
The identity of a man who cops fished out of the Hudson river early yesterday morning has now been officially confirmed by his girlfriend. A distraught Kate Rozman named the thirty-three-year-old Iraq veteran from North Carolina as Daniel Lynch. Previously employed as a line cook in a Manhattan restaurant, Lynch was heavily in debt and was said to have been struggling with unaddressed mental-health issues. No foul play is suspected, and police are not looking for anyone else in connection with their inquiry. Funeral arrangements have yet to be made.
Holy shit.
I read the piece again.
_Holy shit_.
If you ever need to get things in perspective, you know what'll do the trick? Seeing a reference to your own fucking _funeral arrangements_. But that's not the hardest part about this. For me, what's even harder is reading about Kate and how distraught she was. Because it was never my intention to hurt her. Obviously. Much less to put her through anything like this.
But could I have anticipated it? Anticipated that someone – people, Shaw, I don't know, _whoever_ – would exert the influence required to have a dead body moved from one location to another and then have that body officially passed off as mine?
As _me_?
It's insane.
One thing it does tell me, though, is that whoever's behind this is deadly serious. And that what they're serious _about_ – I can only conclude – is me.
*
The next morning I have to undergo another round of tests and some physio, and by the end of it I'm exhausted. However, one of the doctors tells me that I'm in pretty good shape – no internal damage, nothing showing up in the PET scan, and that going forward, as the various fractures heal, it'll just be a question of pain management.
Not bad, I'm tempted to point out, _for a dead guy_. But I resist, and instead put a simple question to him. 'Okay, if that's the case, when can I check out of here?'
The doctor hesitates, squinting at his chart, clearly unwilling to commit to an answer. It's as if he thinks he's said too much already. But I let this go, because the answer is pretty obvious. All things being equal, I could probably walk out of here right now.
When Doug Shaw appears a while later, I put this to him.
' _What?_ ' he says, phone in one hand, takeout coffee in the other. 'You crashed your car into a fucking oak tree, Teddy. I don't think you're ready to hit the streets _just_ yet.'
Maybe it was unconscious on my part, but this is exactly what I was hoping he'd come out with. 'Well,' I say, 'that's not what happened, Doug. Not to me anyway. And I think we both know that.'
Shaw stops, and his shoulders seem to slump in resignation. After a moment, he puts the coffee down, then glances in my direction, but without saying a word or even making eye contact. For some reason, he doesn't look well this morning. He's pale, tired-seeming, as though he's sick, or hungover maybe.
'Doug?'
He holds his free hand up. 'Just give me a minute, will you?'
Then he looks down at his phone, keys something in, and brings it up to his ear.
'Yeah, Karl, please.'
As he says this he's already walking out of the room.
I watch him go.
Why is he acting so weird? And who is this Karl person he suddenly needs to talk to?
I wait ten minutes, then fifteen, then twenty, during which time my resolve evaporates. It was stupid to show my hand like that. Shaw has huge resources at his disposal – influence, money, a private-security apparatus. What do I have? My _face_? Shaw wants to 'use' me, to take advantage of my uncanny likeness to his business partner, fine, but if I prove to be a liability in some way, slipping out of character at inopportune moments, how long will I last? How long will Shaw's patience last? How long before I end up following myself into the fucking Hudson river?
I pull the covers aside and am about to get out of the bed – about to try and make a break for it – when the door opens, and Shaw reappears.
Sighing, I close my eyes and slump back against the banked-up pillows. How far would I have managed to get? A few yards along the hallway? Down to reception? Even if I made it out of the hospital, where would I go in any case? The apartment? So I could give Kate a massive heart attack? Which, assuming she survived it, would swiftly be followed by all sorts of other trouble, financial, legal, emotional, every last bit of it my fault?
'Okay,' Shaw says, 'listen carefully.'
I open my eyes. He's standing next to the bed and looks distracted, sweaty, anxious, like this _really_ isn't how he imagined his day shaping up.
'We need to have that conversation,' he goes on, 'the one we've been putting off . . . but we're not going to have it here, we're not going to have it in the hospital.' He takes a deep breath. 'Anyway, I spoke to' – he waves a hand behind him – 'some of the team, and, okay . . . yeah, we can . . . we can move.'
'Move?'
'To your apartment.'
'Oh.' I have a quick, disconcerting vision of Shaw standing in the living room of our cramped walk-up on 10th Street. 'I see . . .'
But that can't be what he has in mind.
'So, Doug,' I say after a moment, and as discreetly as possible, almost in a whisper, 'remind me, where do I live again?'
#
The Mercury is a condominium skyscraper on the northern edges of what everyone is now calling Hudson Yards, a zone that's shaping up to be Manhattan's biggest makeover of an entire neighbourhood since Battery Park City. But the Mercury pre-dates this development by a good fifteen years. It was meant to spearhead the project, but zoning issues got in the way, followed by the financial crisis, then by _more_ squabbles between developers and city planners. 'You know, the usual story . . .'
I _don't_ actually, and why it's something Shaw feels compelled to share with me as we move across town in the back of a limo I'm not really sure. Maybe it's a form of displacement, a way of further delaying this conversation we're supposed to be having.
Anyway, the apartment itself – which is on both the eighty-second and eighty-third floors – turns out, in every respect, to be nothing less than eye-popping. I'm accompanied up by Shaw and two assistants, and we're then greeted in the vestibule by a small domestic staff. I move slowly, nodding at each person in turn.
Shaw tells me he has urgent business to attend to at the office, but that he'll be back later. As he glances around the apartment, and then at me again, he seems more anxious than ever. I try to let him know he has nothing to worry about, not on my account. He seems to accept this, but he also can't help leaving me with the impression that at no time will I actually be alone here. I take this to mean . . . what? I'm not sure. That I'll be under constant surveillance? That some of the domestic staff report to _him_? Even if neither of these things is true, of course, the mere suggestion of them is enough to make me behave as though they are.
Nevertheless, when I _am_ alone, or as good as, I take the opportunity to have a look around. Flooded with natural light, the apartment is very spacious, and everything in it – being made of either marble, steel or glass – seems to reflect this, and to amplify it. The whole place is oddly clinical and sort of forbidding, not unlike a spread in the _Architectural Digest_. It does have these amazing multi-angle views though, and from pretty much every room. But while the apartment is so high up that no one except maybe a helicopter pilot would have any chance of invading your privacy – of catching you in the middle of a lewd act, say, or even just parading around in your boxers – the uncomfortable feeling of exposure this generates (and I'm getting it after only ten, fifteen minutes) is relentless and inescapable.
Essentially, the place doesn't have a lived-in feel to it, and there's nothing I'm seeing that gives me any indication of what Trager was like as a person. There are no traces of Nina Schlossmeier, for instance, no what you might even call feminine touches. The closet off the main bedroom is certainly impressive, with its incredible array of suits and shirts and shoes, as is the bathroom, which is about twice the size of any regular person's entire apartment. But I have to admit that it's the billiards room, the swimming pool, and the walk-in humidor that really sell me on the place. Because with all of that going on why would you ever need to leave? I mean, holy shit, you want a lived-in feel? Give me a week here, give me a few days, and I'll _show_ you a lived-in feel.
An impediment to this little fantasy getting off the ground, however, is the domestic staff – I counted five of them earlier. Do they _live_ here? The very idea of having servants, live-in or not, makes me uncomfortable, and that's without considering the possibility that these people might already be spying on me.
So what am I saying? I want out? I can't handle this? I don't know. Maybe. I'm still in a lot of pain, still on medication, and that can interfere with your judgement. Is it dampening my perception of the threat level, for example, or merely ramping up my paranoia? Who knows? But as I go from room to room now, walking slowly, careful to avoid any sudden movement, my mind has time to wander, and it occurs to me that there's plenty of what looks like valuable stuff here – ceramic bowls, glassware, pieces of sculpture, a series of small paintings that line the main hallway (one of which, I _think_ , is an original Picasso), my point being that with the proceeds from a single item, discreetly lifted from the apartment, I could probably clean up financially and avoid a lot of unnecessary trouble . . .
But while this is a tempting plan all right – and several notches up from the one I had at the hospital of just lifting Trager's _wallet_ – really, on reflection, it'd be nowhere near as easy to execute as it sounds. And how do you go about disposing of stolen valuables anyway? Especially when you have no underworld connections? How do you say the word 'Picasso' without setting off alarm bells? And, what's more, how do you operate in a world in which – officially, at least – you no longer even exist?
By the time Shaw returns, a few hours later, I'm at the point of wondering if staying in the hospital mightn't have been a better option. I'm resting on a leather couch in the main, ballpark-sized living room, gazing out over the river at the Palisades, when he is shown in by one of the domestic staff.
And he isn't alone. He's accompanied by another man in a suit – late fifties, medium height, wearing rimless glasses.
As they approach, I sit up, but don't stand.
Opposite the couch I'm on there is a corresponding one, and Shaw sits there, hunched forward. The guy with him remains standing at a discreet distance behind it. Shaw still looks tired and anxious, but he also seems a bit more focused.
'Okay, Danny, I'm going to lay it all out for you, straight up, no bullshit.'
I flinch at this casual use of my real name, and, even though it finally confirms what I've suspected all along, it still comes as a shock.
'The bottom line here is that you look and sound like Teddy, okay, but you're nowhere near as batshit crazy as he was – for which you should be grateful, by the way – but that means it's never going to be easy to pull off any extended encounters. This is why I've been trying to keep you more or less isolated. You need a little fine tuning, to say the least.'
In his quiet, gravelly voice, Shaw then goes on to explain that it was actually Teddy who brought the whole business to his attention, Teddy who told him about seeing this guy at Barcadero one night. For Teddy, it was exciting, a game, something he wanted to explore, to understand the meaning of. Shaw took a different view. He immediately saw an opportunity, the potential for a practical application of the thing.
The strategic use of a double.
'Which is nothing new, to be honest, kings and presidents have used them down through the centuries, body doubles, decoys, whatever. FDR is supposed to have used one, and Churchill too. More recently, you have Saddam Hussein, Putin . . . and probably others we don't know about.'
'Yeah,' I say. 'But this is a _little_ different, isn't it? Because presumably when Putin is using one, he's actually calling the shots.' I glance at the man standing behind the couch, and then back at Shaw. 'This isn't a decoy. This is a _replacement_.'
Shaw emits a dry laugh. 'It is _now_.'
'Well, what was it before?'
'To be honest, Danny, it was all a bit vague. When Teddy first told me about you, I was intrigued. I tracked you down and took a good, long look at you, but . . . I didn't think it'd work. Frankly, I thought you were too unstable, and, for what it's worth, I still do.'
Ignoring this last part, I say, 'You didn't think _what_ would work exactly?'
'Oh, I don't know, Danny. It was a tantalising _idea_ , that's all. It opened up some possibilities.' He pauses. 'And I explored them.'
'On your own?'
'If this is the route you want to go down . . . yeah, sure, on my own. Teddy was becoming a liability. I felt he needed to be controlled or even contained. And this seemed like a possible way to do it.'
I can feel my insides churning. 'How?'
'I didn't think it through, Danny. There was no big plan.' Shaw looks over his shoulder at the man behind him for a moment, then turns to face me again. 'As I said before, I didn't think you were really suitable, so I had this biometrics company we own run data on it, to see if we couldn't find another match, maybe someone . . . easier to handle, let's say . . . but no one came anywhere _near_ your numbers. So . . .'
'Yeah?'
'So we kept an eye on you.'
Kept an eye on me? Jesus Christ. I exhale loudly. Is there anyone who _isn't_ keeping an eye on me?
Shaw ignores my reaction. 'How it would all proceed from there,' he goes on, 'was anyone's guess. There was no real strategy, and we were more or less improvising. Anyway, you pretty much took over the reins, Danny. Once you saw Teddy for yourself, you did all the heavy lifting, up to and including – and we couldn't have foreseen _this_ – signing those papers.' He makes a whistling sound. 'But why did you run off like that? Why did you sneak out? Why didn't you stick around the way I told you to?'
I look at him and shrug.
'Of course we should have factored in how unhinged Teddy himself was, that he'd inevitably want to track you down again, and stroke you like a pet monkey.' He pauses. 'Right, Karl?'
The man standing behind him nods slightly, but doesn't speak. After a moment, Shaw waves a hand vaguely to his side. 'By the way, Danny, this is Dr Karl Lessing.'
Now it's my turn to nod and not speak.
'Anyway, the point is,' Shaw continues, ' _we_ may have been a bit behind the curve in all of this, but _you_ went ahead and made your decision regardless, am I right? You moved Teddy's body. You got in behind the wheel of his car. You knew what you were doing. So let's be honest with one another here . . . you totally want this.'
My stomach is still churning. I have about a dozen very specific questions I could ask right now, knotty procedural points in the main – timing, sequence of events, when people got to the scene, stuff that isn't clear to me or that doesn't quite add up – but it seems like there's really only one direction this conversation is going in.
'Want _what_ , Doug?'
'I think you know what, Danny. But just so we're on the same page.' He clears his throat again. 'You get to _be_ Teddy Trager. You get to wear his clothes and drink his liquor. You get to bang his girlfriend, drive his car, spend his money, whatever. You get to live _here_ – I mean, look at this place – and, in return, you close the book on your old life, no contact, no crossover. You keep a low profile and let _me_ take care of company business. And every now and again, as the necessity arises, you make a public appearance and endorse . . . whatever needs to be endorsed, whatever's going on with the company at the time.'
'And if I refuse?'
Shaw laughs. 'Why would you do that? This is your ticket out of the shit, Danny.'
'But if I did? For argument's sake?'
He exhales loudly. 'I don't know. We'd think of something. We've got deep pockets. You've got nothing. Besides, you're into some murky stuff here already. Forgery, personation. None of that would play too well in court.'
He's right. But I still need to understand something.
'If it's about control of the company,' I say, 'what do you need _me_ for? Why didn't you kill Teddy off long ago, when he became a liability? Wouldn't that have been easier and less complicated?'
'Jesus Christ, Danny. _Kill_ _Teddy?_ What kind of people do you think we _are_? Teddy was my friend. He died in an accident.'
I hold his gaze, and a long, tense silence follows. I don't play poker, but I imagine it's something like this. ' _I'm_ not your friend,' I say eventually. 'Why not get rid of _me_?'
Shaw leans back a little on the couch. 'You're a trip, you know that?' He half turns around to look at Lessing. 'I _told_ you, Karl. This guy is fucking nuts.'
Lessing takes a couple of steps forward and puts his hands on the edge of the couch. 'No,' he says quietly, 'I don't think so.'
There's definitely an accent here, German maybe.
Squinting slightly, Lessing studies me for a few seconds, then says, 'He's puzzled, that's all. He's trying to understand why we would be doing this. He's goading you.'
Not German, though maybe South African?
Shaw nods impatiently. 'Okay, okay, I get it.' He turns to face me again. 'Look . . . like I said, there was no big plan here, no big design. Teddy dies in a car crash, it's tragic, but now we have this . . . _opportunity_. With you. Because the way I see it, Paradime as a brand, without the oxygen of Teddy Trager, even the illusion of it, is seriously diminished. Now, Teddy had his issues, stuff you don't need to know about, believe me, but at the same time he was unique, he had charisma, he had his very own, what do they call it' – he clicks his fingers – 'reality distortion field. And here's the thing: the man brought a loyalty to the Paradime brand that _no_ amount of money could buy. But now he's gone.' He leans forward, lowering his voice to a whisper. 'Except that he _isn't_ , is he?'
I swallow, totally out of my depth now.
'Or at least he doesn't have to be,' Shaw goes on, 'because we have __ someone who can step into his shoes. We have _you_. Which means we have a shot at keeping this thing alive, this confidence that Paradime inspires, that keeps investors and fund managers coming back for more. Call it the Teddy Trager effect.'
This is moving too fast. I shake my head. 'But . . .'
Shaw tenses. 'Yeah?'
'You said it yourself. You think I'm too . . . what was it you called me? Unstable?'
'Yeah . . .' He smiles. 'But come on, what do _I_ know? My esteemed colleague, the doctor here, took a good, long look at you as well, then drew up a detailed psychological profile, and he assures me that you have a steely resilience and a,' – he looks around briefly – 'what was it, Karl, a rare capacity for adaptability? In fact, it was Dr Lessing's idea to wait before having this conversation. He wanted to see how long you'd hold out before the pressure got to you. I _think_ he was impressed.'
I glance up at Lessing. We make eye contact this time, but his face remains impassive.
'So, Danny,' Shaw says, leaning forward, 'what's it going to be?'
I wonder what else is in this psychological profile they have of me. My attitude to Kate, for example. Do they expect me to just forget about her? I'm hesitant to say her name, to bring her into it, but surely a red flag will go up if I _don't_ mention her? Equally, they might perceive it as an area of potential weakness if I do. So I'm left with _how_ I mention her.
'Okay, Doug,' I say, hands held up in mock surrender, 'I guess I'll have to go for it.'
'Great.' Shaw starts moving off the couch. 'So let's—'
'But—'
He stops, and looks over at me. ' _But?_ '
In spite of how unstable he thinks I might be, Shaw clearly feels I'm locked into this on two fronts already – the first being fear (of the law) and the second, desire (for Trager's lifestyle).
But I'm about to give him a third.
*
There is resistance at first, mainly from Shaw, and then there's a bit of horse-trading. Whoever this Dr Karl Lessing is, he has serious clout because Shaw defers to him on almost every point. Not openly, he does his best to conceal it, but the body language is clear.
What I tell them is that I am more than willing to go along with this, but as chaotic as my life may well have been, even up to a few days ago, I can't just walk away from it . . . and specifically I can't – and don't _want_ to – abandon my girlfriend to all the fallout. So I tell them to arrange it somehow for Kate's student loans, including all accumulated interest and fines, to be paid off.
Expunged, erased, whatever.
'And then I'm _yours_.'
Locked in, triple down.
I know I'm running the risk here of confirming Shaw's worst fears about me, but it's the only move I've got. When they agree to it, I have to work hard not to seem too relieved.
'We'll figure out a way to do it,' Shaw says. 'It can't be that hard. Then we'll run the details by you. Okay?'
'Okay.'
The quid pro quo comes pretty fast.
Shaw says there's a thing in the next couple of weeks he needs me to do, a TV interview – the two of us, only five, ten minutes, but it's important.
'PromTech?'
'Yeah. Teddy had a couple of the guys over there pretty spooked about this deal, so we need to shore that up, we need to show a united front.'
'Doug, I may have signed those papers, but I have _no_ idea—'
'Don't worry about that. We'll coach you through it. Right, Karl?'
'Of course,' Dr Lessing says, with a thin smile. 'A little fine tuning.'
Shaw then gets up from the couch. 'Okay,' he says, straightening his jacket, 'we'll get started on this tomorrow.' Then he turns to me. 'So, Teddy, we good?'
'Yeah,' I nod, and glance out across the river, 'we're good.'
*
Good, that is, apart from the idea of appearing on TV. After Shaw and Dr Lessing have gone, this looms large in my mind because it seems insane – the real-life equivalent of that dream where you find yourself naked in public. Why would you actively choose to do it? And in this scenario the whole thing gets pushed a little further into the thickets of dream logic by the fact that I'd be appearing as someone else but would still very much look like _me_.
I also wonder what they meant by 'a little fine tuning', but that becomes fairly clear the next morning when Shaw arrives, not with Dr Lessing but with a guy about my own age, maybe a bit older, who turns out to be a voice coach. Tall and good-looking, Matt Becker has a booming, actorly voice, and it later transpires that he _is_ an actor, as well as an occasional stand-up comic.
Anyway, Shaw sets us up, and we get straight into it. I do my Teddy Trager voice for Matt, and he pretty quickly tears it to shreds. At first, he says it's _okay_ , but then basically has a note for every third or fourth word I say. He uses recordings and YouTube clips of Trager, and it's not long before I realise how much there is to this – cadence, timbre, register, rhythm, a whole bunch of shit you wouldn't normally think about. We spend hours at it, doing drills and breathing exercises, and Matt is very professional, very circumspect, making no reference to the fact that with no effort whatsoever I already _look_ so much like the person he's helping me to _sound_ like.
I'm assuming, therefore, that he's being paid really well, and not just for his skills but also for his silence.
From the next day, he divides his time with a colleague, a movement coach named Arturo, who works with me on posture and coordination, on gestures and hand movements. It's an intense few days that also includes regular visits from a doctor, a nurse and a physiotherapist. Shaw stays away, and I don't leave the apartment at all, confining myself to just a couple of rooms. I have no access to TV or the Internet, nor do I engage with the domestic staff on any issues other than those relating to either food or laundry. This makes the whole thing feel sort of bootcampish, as well as a bit claustrophobic, but I accept it all because I guess I'm looking on this as a sort of trial period.
Anyway, by the fifth day I'm pretty satisfied with my new, deluxe Trager 2.0, but I'm also mentally and physically exhausted, so I decide to go for a swim. The experience of floating alone in a blue pool high above the streets of Manhattan turns out to be weird and relaxing in about equal measure. On my way back to the main living room, one of the staff members, a severe Korean woman in her fifties, appears and informs me that I have a visitor. My immediate reaction is irritation. Who is it? Some friend of Trager's? Some person I'm going to get tangled up in knots with as we try to hold a conversation? I can just see it . . . they think they know _me_ , I have no idea who _they_ are. It'll be a nightmare.
I step into the vast living room with its wraparound floor-to-ceiling windows. There is a woman sitting over on one of the couches. She has her back to me and seems to be gazing out at the deepening, red-flecked evening sky. As I get nearer, I realise that she's not so much a woman, actually, as a girl. She turns and smiles at me. 'Hi.'
Who is she? Trager's niece or something, the daughter of a friend? She's probably about sixteen or seventeen, possibly younger. She's wearing a small black satin sheath dress. She has pixie-ish blonde hair, pale skin, red lipstick and really striking blue eyes – eyes that have locked onto mine now and show no signs of letting go. 'I'm Sabrina,' she says, her voice a little husky. She then leans back on the couch, simultaneously crossing her legs and biting her lower lip.
Something catches in my throat, and I have to look away. I hold up a hand. 'Sabrina, just . . . just a moment.'
I turn quickly and walk out of the room. At the far end of the corridor I see the Korean woman, the . . . what is she? The housekeeper? I don't even know her name and can't call out to her. But I do get her attention, and, when she approaches, I tell her that I'm going out for a while and that when I get back I expect the young lady in the main living room to be gone. 'Is that understood?'
The woman nods, with a slight look of panic on her face. 'You go out?'
'Yes,' I say, 'out . . . _outside_ ,' as it hits me for the first time that this might not be as easy as I think. But then I resolve _not_ to think, to just go, and that's what I do, head straight for the vestibule, press the elevator button, and wait – aware all the while of a slight commotion somewhere, movement, voices, maybe from the kitchen, the Korean woman explaining, then another voice responding . . .
The elevator opens, and I get in, but as I descend to the lobby, I find it hard to contain my anger. Because what was that meant to be back there, a honey trap? A little insurance policy Shaw set up for himself?
When I get down to the lobby, I make straight for the exit, ignoring what seems to be a ripple of activity over by the desk involving the concierge and maybe one of the security staff. Outside, I hit the sidewalk, and, with traffic roaring past, I get about three blocks south before calming down enough to realise I don't have anywhere to go. I don't have any ID on me, or any money. I can't even go for a fucking drink. So what do I do? Go to 10th Street? Walk all the way _there_? But again, that option seems closed off to me. I can turn around here on Twelfth Avenue all right and retrace my steps to the Mercury, but that's not the same thing. It's as though there are two realms in this city, parallel and coexisting, and if you pass from one to the other, as I appear to have done, then that's it, you're stuck, there's no route home.
I turn around now and look up at this glistening tower of luxury condos dominating the night sky in front of me, and I have to say I find it ironic, even faintly ridiculous, that I have no choice but to go back in there, that I literally have _nowhere_ else to go.
When I re-enter the lobby a few minutes later, I can't help feeling that I'm being watched – and not just from inside the building, by the guys over at the desk, but from outside too, from across the street maybe, from the back of a van, or – who knows – from an orbiting satellite two hundred miles up in the sky.
Then I get to the eighty-second floor and step into the apartment again. The Korean housekeeper seems relieved to have me back. Whoever is in the kitchen (the cook, I'm guessing) is talking loudly on a phone but in a language I don't understand and can't even identify.
I go into the living room and look around. Sabrina is nowhere to be seen, but all of a sudden I regret sending her away – not because I could have had her but because I could have helped her. Surely, in the circumstances, it was within my power to do something – slip her a ceramic bowl or even send her off with the goddamn Picasso. Because what kind of world does a girl like that come from, a girl conjured up out of nothing with a credit card?
'You want dinner, Mister Teddy?'
I turn around. The housekeeper has trailed along in my wake.
'Yes,' I say, weary now. Then I look at her. 'Sorry, excuse me . . . what's your name?'
Turns out it's Mrs Jeong. She's been in this country for over twenty-five years and has two grown-up kids who are doing really well. She likes ballroom dancing and collects antique perfume bottles. And she works really hard. Which I can see is true. All of a sudden. I can also see that she is very patient, and probably very kind, and I have to wonder what she makes of Mister Teddy and how he treats his guests.
Do I tell her I have a headache now, that I'd like her to fetch me some Excedrin?
No, but . . . a thought strikes me. I walk past her and go to the kitchen, a huge affair that could easily service a modest-sized restaurant. There's a guy on a stool behind the breakfast bar. He's on his phone and looks startled when he sees me. He puts his phone away and gets off the stool. 'Sir, is there something—'
'No,' I say, 'you're fine.'
_His_ name, it turns out, is Pavel, and he maintains the smart HVAC system for the whole apartment.
He and Mrs Jeong are both temps, agency people. A couple of weeks ago they were working somewhere else. _In_ a couple of weeks, who knows?
Like Sabrina.
I go over to the refrigerator, a stainless-steel, touch-screen PalomaRex 3000, open it and start scanning for potential ingredients. I see anchovies, olives, capers, red peppers. I feel a little rush of adrenalin, like I should already have a knife in my hand, like someone should be calling me shithead and telling me to hurry up with the fucking _soffritto_.
'Mr Trager . . . _sir_?'
I turn around. Mrs Jeong and Pavel are both just standing there, staring at me.
'Are you guys hungry?' I say. 'Because _I'm_ making dinner tonight. I was thinking something simple, pasta . . . a puttanesca maybe?'
#
Shaw drops by early the next morning. It's clear from the look on his face that he's been fully briefed, so before he gets a chance to open his mouth I launch a pre-emptive strike. Does he think I'm an idiot? Does he think he can just _entrap_ me? Does he not realise that, apart from anything else, sneaky, sleazeball _shit_ like that is counterproductive? As I throw these questions at him, I'm standing in the main hallway with a kale and blueberry smoothie in one hand and a copy of the _New York Times_ in the other and doing it – more or less unconsciously, I think – in my Trager 2.0 persona.
This is something Shaw hasn't seen yet, and when I'm done, he laughs out loud. 'Holy _fuck_.'
I take a step forward. ' _What?_ '
'Oh my God, Teddy . . . Danny, that . . . that is _amazing_.'
I stare at him for a moment, hesitating, part of me gratified (stupidly) and part of me wondering how I can parlay this into further leverage. 'Well, Doug, if it's so amazing, don't _jeopardise_ it.'
'Okay, okay.' He holds a hand up. 'I made a mistake. I wasn't trying to entrap you. Jesus, I just thought . . . you might . . .' He shakes his head. 'You know what? Let's just forget about it, let's move on.' He pulls out a sheet of paper from his inside jacket pocket. 'This is . . .' He hands it to me. 'Well, see what you think.'
I put the smoothie and the newspaper down on a nearby console table and then take the piece of paper from him. I study it for a moment. It looks like some kind of financial statement. It shows a sequence of cash transfers that appear to end up in the account of the debt-collection agency that owns Kate's loans. It's in the exact amount of what she owes.
I look at him. This is his idea of moving on? Is he fucking _serious_?
'Okay,' he says. 'We've sent Kate a message, fully pretexted. It states that a private loan-forgiveness programme run by an anonymous philanthropy group has liquidated five million dollars' worth of debt across a range of educational institutions.'
' _What?_ '
'I know, I know.' He shrugs. 'But believe me, stuff like this goes on. We modelled it on a real case.'
Still shocked by his tone-deafness, I exhale slowly. 'Look, I don't know . . . Kate's not stupid. I mean—'
'What, you think she's going to _contest_ this?'
'No . . . I guess not.'
'Anyway, it's done.'
I hand the sheet of paper back to him. 'Okay.'
There's a lot more I could say here, but really, what would be the point? I decide to just move on myself. 'Listen, Doug . . . you're going to have to loosen things up a bit.' I make a gesture with my hand. ' _Here_ , I mean. The apartment. You can't expect me to believe that Teddy wasn't on the grid. I need Internet access. I need to watch some TV. I feel like I'm in a prison. This is a long game. Potentially. You're going to have to put a little faith in me.'
Shaw thinks about this. 'Okay, you're right. But I'll tell you what, let's get the Bloomberg thing out of the way first. It's early next week. Then we can talk. But in the meantime, maybe stay out of the kitchen as well, will you?'
'What? That was . . . I just needed to _cook_ something.'
'Danny, these people, they're hired help, and, to be honest, you were making them a little nervous. We can do without that.'
'Fine. Whatever.' As I turn to pick up my smoothie again, something occurs to me. 'By the way, what was that you said there, the _Bloomberg_ thing?'
'Yeah, Bloomberg TV. Cristina Stropovich. _The Up Take_.'
'Oh . . .'
' _What?_ '
'A lot of people watch that, right?'
'I guess. I mean, it's not the _Tonight Show_ or anything.' He looks at me and sighs. 'You'll be fine. It's a business channel, people are focused on information. And besides, Teddy wasn't _that_ well known, not outside the whole . . . VC tech start-up echo chamber. Which is something we can use to our advantage, by the way.' He pauses again. 'Maybe I'll get Karl to fix you up with something, Xanax or—'
'No,' I say, picking up the smoothie. 'Don't worry, I'm fine.'
*
The next two days see the third and final phase of my so-called fine tuning. Shaw himself takes over, with the focus now on lingo and terminology, on how to talk about and _sell_ something like the PromTech deal. Each day, I undergo eight straight hours of hardcore, presidential-debate style prep. Covering more topics than could possibly be touched on in a single ten-minute interview, Shaw anticipates questions, one after the other, and then coaches me through plausible and natural-sounding replies. Occasionally he encourages me to improvise but then can't help shutting me down as soon as I veer even slightly from a position he's trying to push.
The day before the interview is scheduled to take place, we drive out to a PromTech facility in New Jersey. This is a research lab where technicians test drive some of the company's more speculative projects, stuff that has made it past the shoot-for-the-moon phase and into actual development. I'm aware that on this visit Shaw is sort of test-driving _me_ too, that he wants to walk me around and see me interacting with people.
At one point, in conversation with an intense young roboticist named Zabruzzi, I start to feel dangerously out of my depth. I can now talk convincingly and at length about the business end of this stuff, but when things get technical, I'm lost. The problem is that while Shaw is seen here as a business guy, I'm seen as a science guy, as essentially one of _them_ – someone who should be comfortable talking about capacitors and quantum dots and flexible interface hi-res . . . whatever-the-fuck. Before the conversation gets too awkward, I remember something Trager mentioned in the car, and I decide to bring it up.
'So,' I say to Zabruzzi, 'how is that remote DNA tracker, _tracking_ . . . thing coming along?'
His eyes light up, and he launches into an impromptu and very welcome demo of what turns out to be an amazing piece of technology: a compressed rectangular unit of 'opto-electrochemical nanosensors' fitted to a neat little drone bot that can, in theory, roam around at a height of three hundred feet and over a radius of two and a half miles, picking out DNA matches from the populace below. _Holy fuck_ is what I want to say, but I'm supposed to know about this shit already, and even be bankrolling it, so I keep my response muted.
Afterwards, in the back of the car, and channelling what I imagine to be at least a trace of Teddy Trager's passion for this kind of stuff, I ask Shaw where he sees Paradime taking PromTech in the long term.
Concentrating on sending a text, Shaw says, 'What do _you_ care?'
'Teddy obviously cared.'
Shaw looks up from his phone. 'Oh please. _Teddy cared_ . . . Give me a break. Teddy was a boy scout. Teddy thought these guys could be preserved in geek formaldehyde. Teddy thought I had corrupted his soul by making him into a billionaire.' Shaking his head, he turns back to his phone. 'Can you believe that?'
*
At Bloomberg the following day we are greeted in reception by a senior producer. We observe security protocols and are then led up to a frenetic, open-plan, glass-domed newsroom and studio space, where we go through make-up and a sound check. There's a lot of small talk, a lot of standing around, and the whole thing passes like a particularly vivid anxiety dream.
When the interview finally begins, Shaw and I – well-oiled PR machine that we now are – sell the shit out of the PromTech deal. The interviewer, Cristina Stropovich, is well briefed but fairly soft in her approach. The questions are predictable and the answers boring. Nonetheless, we get our point across, and, although I'm nervous at first, mainly because of the unfamiliar studio setting, I don't feel at any point that I'm going to blow it.
Then, towards the end of the interview, she injects a shot of human interest into the proceedings by bringing up the accident. How am I doing? How has the recovery process been? I tell her I'm not going to lie to her, that even though my injuries could have been _so_ much worse, it's the brush with mortality that leaves the deepest impression on you, the exposure to vulnerability that sparks a recalibration of your priorities. Then, a little tentatively, and as though she'd been saving this one up, she asks me about my perceived early ambivalence vis-à-vis the deal and if my recent change of heart had anything to do with the crash. I try to shrug this off, but when she persists in her line of questioning, I ramp things up a notch.
'What, I'm not allowed to change my mind? Come _on_. This is complex stuff, Cristina, sands are shifting all the time, and you've got to be able to adapt. What was that thing Walt Whitman said? Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. I am large. I contain multitudes.' As I say this stuff, my heart is pounding. I'm aware of Shaw beside me, tensing up, and of Cristina opposite, leaning forward slightly, a subtle shift in her level of attention. And I'm not done yet, either. 'You see, Cristina, the essence of good leadership isn't such a mystery, none of it is, not when you've looked into the abyss and realised what's actually _in_ there . . . because let me tell you it's not darkness, it's not the void, it's a _clock_ , a gigantic LED display that's counting down the seconds and minutes and days of your life, so either you let that define and diminish you or you let it _drive_ you. How? By thinking big, by never compromising, by finding smart solutions that impact the lives of people all over the world. Now I'm not claiming this as an original thought or anything, but time is our most precious resource and to waste it being idle or unfocused or _timid_?' I shake my head. 'It's just not an option.'
'Wow!' Cristina says, turning to the camera. 'And remember folks, you heard it here first!' Then she turns back, her face just a tiny bit flushed. 'Well . . . gentlemen, Mr Shaw, Mr Trager, that was great, and thank you both so much for dropping by the studio to see us today.'
Out on the floor of the main newsroom, she's all over me . . . I must come back and do an in-depth interview, a one-on-one, a special, anything. She loved my honesty, it was so refreshing, so inspiring, and she knows her viewers will love it too. I nod along, and say _sure_ , half aware of the buzzing ecosystem behind her and half aware of Shaw ten feet away talking to one of the producers.
As we're leaving the building a few minutes later, I can tell that Shaw is not happy about something. He doesn't speak until we're in the back of the car. He turns to look at me. 'You went a little off the reservation there, no?'
'What? That all came up naturally, Doug. You don't think it's the kind of stuff Teddy would have said?'
'Oh, I do, for sure, Walt fucking Whitman, it was pitch perfect, but maybe that's the problem.'
I'm about to argue the point when his cellphone rings. He answers with a grunt. The call seems to go on for ages, but during it he says very little, apart from the occasional _yeah_ , _okay_ , or _fine_.
As we cruise down Lexington, I stare out through tinted windows at the city floating past – people, storefronts, sidewalks I've pounded – and wonder how I ended up here, in the back of a limousine. It's insane . . .
Shaw puts his phone away, sighs wearily, and takes a deep breath. 'Apparently, you did a good job. A _very_ good job.'
Apparently?
I wait for more, but that's it. He doesn't say anything else. I look at him. He's perspiring. His jaw is tense. I wonder who he was talking to on the phone just now. I wonder what he was _told_.
*
With the media appearance out of the way, I push Shaw to deliver on his promise of Wi-Fi and cable. However, after a couple of days of continuous screen time, I start to get bored. I mostly stick to neutral stuff, restaurant reviews, industry blogs, aggregated news sites, listicles, shit like that. I also listen to a bunch of podcasts, watch movies and season-binge some cable shows. But it's not as if I watch that much TV anyway, and I'm not a big fan of social media, so I inevitably max out. I can slip down the digital sinkhole as easily as the next person, but it's not something I have to do every day.
The laptop Shaw gives me is a Mac. It's new and has nothing on it. I have access to Trager's various accounts, from Amazon to Netflix, and that's it, but what was I expecting? All of his personal stuff? His list of contacts, notes, emails, documents? Hardly, but without any of _that_ , how do I become Teddy Trager, how do I maintain even a shadow version of his life?
And this highlights a question I have that needs to be addressed sooner or later. Where _is_ everybody? If Nina is supposed to be my girlfriend, where's _she_? Why hasn't she shown up at the apartment, or called me? Where are Teddy's friends? His business associates? The people who work for him? Why hasn't his sister called again? How sustainable is all of this? In a way, I don't care, and I'd be relieved to end it now, today. At the same time, I'm aware that ending it might be complicated, that if I stop cooperating, then surely they would have to . . . what? I don't know, frankly. But leaving all that aside for a minute, even on a purely practical level, the question remains: if I'm Teddy Trager, where's my _life_?
I bring this up with Shaw the next time he sinks wearily into what I now regard as his couch. At first, he's reluctant to engage, but I push him on it, and eventually he tells me that there is an 'apparatus' in place, a sort of buffer zone between the outside world and . . . and . . .
'And _me_ , basically.'
'Yeah.' He nods. 'All calls, all communications, requests, invitations, whatever, are screened, and we deal with them. We're using the narrative of your recovery from the accident, your need for rest, for isolation—'
'As a pretext.'
'Yeah.'
I get up and start pacing back and forth, trying to block out or deflect or trick the light that seems to flood in up here, enhanced-interrogation style, at all times of the day or night. 'Okay, then,' I say, 'what about the interview we just did? It was on television, Doug. I was there, I was talking, I was lucid. I even referred to my recovery. How do you square that circle?'
Shaw visibly deflates at this. He seems to be on the point of throwing his hands up and saying _I_ _don't fucking know_.
I stop directly in front of him. 'You know, Doug, I get it, there's a lot at stake here, and it could easily go south, but you're worrying about the wrong thing. _I'm_ not the problem. _I'm_ on board.' I pause to let that sink in. 'I mean, you're the one who said I get to be Teddy Trager. So come on, take the leash off. I can do this.'
Shaw looks up at me. 'It's funny,' he says, 'that's what _they_ want. I'm the one who's being cautious.'
I swallow. _They_? I'm not about to ask him if he means Lessing or someone else. Because maybe he thinks I already know. Either that, or he's not being cautious any more, he's being reckless.
'Well, whatever.' I shrug. 'So how about it?'
He hesitates, then gets to his feet. He pulls his phone out and holds it up. 'Let me make a call,' he says with a resigned air, and moves away. He walks towards a section of window directly ahead of him, and, as he gets closer to it – closer to this sheer glass wall beyond which lies a dreamlike, hazy blue expanse of morning sky – it seems to me as if Shaw could maybe keep going, and not stop . . . as if he could slide right off the edge and simply disappear from view.
*
That afternoon, a package is delivered to the apartment by courier. Inside it is a USB flash drive that contains nearly a terabyte of data, all of it relating to Teddy Trager. It's his list of contacts, his emails, notes, letters, memos, photos – hundreds of files, thousands of pages – everything you could possibly need for a good first draft of a biography. What _I_ need it for, however, is a little more intimate, and a little more immediate. Because once I've had time – four or five days, say – to familiarise myself with what's on here . . . the leash comes off.
Apparently.
I have no idea what this is going to mean in practical terms (and it's clear that Shaw still has serious reservations about the entire thing), but I'm all over it, because the alternative is fast becoming unthinkable.
I start with the emails.
I only get through a small fraction of them, but ninety per cent of what I do read is fairly tedious, either that or just incomprehensible. There's a lot of working shit out, a lot of math, a lot of jargon. The remaining ten per cent is interesting enough and tends to be personal – his struggle with social anxiety, his fear of emotional commitment, there's an account of a bruising lawsuit he was involved in, and then there's this whole email exchange with some guy at MIT about his vision for the future of humanity, about space exploration and, specifically, about the possibilities of asteroid mining.
I remember he mentioned this in one of the first clips of him I watched. I find a lot more on it now in these notes – detailed proposals, budgets, a file with potential company names (Orbit Resources, Terra Nova, Offworld Exploration) and a directory of companies already working (or, let's be realistic, hoping to work) in the sector. The projected costs mentioned seem so insane to me that I have to wonder if any of this can be taken seriously. At the same time, it puts a dent in the notion of me being able to pass myself off as Teddy Trager in front of people who know him – people who might expect to hold an actual conversation with him about this shit.
The next day, however, I get an unexpected visit from Dr Karl Lessing. He shows up alone and asks me how I'm faring with the 'material'.
'It depends,' I say. 'There's quite a lot of it.'
I invite him into the living room, where he takes Shaw's place on the couch. I ask Mrs Jeong to bring us in some coffee. I sit down opposite Lessing and study him for a moment.
It strikes me that I have no idea who this person is, or who he represents. Is he a psychiatrist? That's the impression I got from some of the things Shaw said, but why would a shrink have the kind of influence that this guy seems to have? I don't know. I've dealt with psychiatrists in the past, and they tend to be slippery motherfuckers. Karl here isn't doing anything to dispel that notion. He's annoyingly calm and with a blank expression on his face that occasionally breaks into a self-regarding smirk.
His accent doesn't help either.
But he's also pretty good because after only five minutes of conversation I hear myself saying, 'Well, I sometimes feel . . .'
If it weren't for Mrs Jeong arriving in with the coffee, who knows where _that_ might have led. Anyway, when she leaves again, I decide to ask Lessing straight out what the hell is going on, who _he_ is, and how come he gets to walk all over Doug Shaw.
'It's not really like that,' he says, 'but . . . let's just stick with you for the moment, shall we?'
'Fine,' I say, and take a sip of coffee. 'Okay, here's my problem with the material, as you call it. It intimidates the shit out of me. I can do a good Trager now, I know that, I can chat with Cristina Stropovich for ten minutes, I can shoot the breeze on TV, but how do I talk to his friends, how do I talk about some of this other stuff . . . I mean, Jesus Christ, _asteroid_ mining?'
Lessing stirs some sugar into his coffee. 'Danny, let me explain something to you. Teddy didn't have any friends, not really, nobody close anyway. He had people who were in awe of him, and people who envied him, but that's it.' Lowering his voice now, Lessing leans forward. 'You don't have to impress them. These people are going to be bending over backwards to impress _you_.' He nods his head. 'In fact, the less you say the better. Play it cool. _That's_ what's going to be intimidating.'
I stare at him.
'Believe me, Danny, no matter how weirdly you behave, no matter what bullshit you come out with, as far as anyone you encounter is concerned, you _are_ Teddy Trager.'
'But surely . . .'
He raises his eyebrows. 'Yes?'
'I thought this was about trying to protect the Paradime brand.'
'Of course, it is.' He adjusts his glasses. 'You're not _necessarily_ going to come out with bullshit, Danny. What I'm saying is that even if you do . . . it'll be trademarked Teddy Trager bullshit.' He pauses. 'No one's going to get upset, or call you out on it.'
'But Doug—'
'Leave Doug to me.'
'Yeah, but—'
'Look, in my opinion, pulling you out of the hat for an occasional press conference or a photo op on the sidelines at an investors' summit just isn't going to cut it. Doug's being cautious, I understand that, it's his nature, but . . . you need to be involved, you need to be proactive, you need to be _out_ there. Which is what you _want_ anyway, am I right?'
I hesitate, then nod.
His accent is such a weird mix – South African with an overlay of regular American, as if he maybe moved here as a teenager.
'And Danny,' he goes on, lifting up his coffee cup, 'for what it's worth, I have every confidence in you. Besides, like I say, you're more or less bulletproof.'
'Bulletproof? How so?'
He takes a sip from the cup and puts it down again. 'With all that material? You can draw on stuff that only Teddy could possibly know . . . facts, dates, stories, memories. It means you can pre-empt and second-guess. It means you can cover your tracks, if necessary.'
'Hhnn.'
A long silence follows. I feel like I've been here before. There's stuff I could say to Lessing, questions I could put to him, arguments I could present, but maybe it would be counterproductive at this stage.
There's one question I have to ask though. 'What about Nina?'
Lessing seems surprised. 'What about her?'
'Has she called? Or asked about me?'
'No, not that I . . .' He adjusts his glasses again, a stalling mechanism he seems to favour. Then he shakes his head. 'No.'
'Isn't that a little strange? Aren't we meant to be a couple? I get in an accident, she comes to the hospital one time, and then nothing?'
Lessing considers this. 'Maybe so, yeah . . . in fact, that's a good point. Let me make a note of it.' He takes out his phone, locates whatever app he uses, and keys it in.
As he's doing this, I glance around the room and then out the window.
Wispy, roiling clouds drift by.
I turn back to face him. 'Dr Lessing?'
'Call me Karl,' he says and looks up from his phone. 'Yes?'
'What happens next . . . Karl?'
'Well, I'd suggest you keep reading those files, get through as many of them as you can and then just . . . show up at the office for work on Monday.'
# III
#
I arrive on the seventieth floor of the Tyler Building on Monday morning, and on each subsequent morning – going, as they say, forward – but in all honesty I'm not sure I can call what I end up doing there actual _work_.
It involves a lot of sitting across tables from people, and listening to pitches and reports, and Skype calls, and being buttonholed in hallways and in elevators. There's also a lot of anxious time in front of the mirror at home before heading out to the office in the first place, and time sitting alone in the back of a limo inching through traffic in order to just get there. For me, though, the hardest part of it all is learning how to be a blank canvas, how to just sit or stand there and not show my hand to anyone. But once I do learn this it becomes like a superpower. Because Karl Lessing is right: playing it cool and saying very little intimidates the shit out of people.
It helps, of course, if you're Teddy Trager.
Doug Shaw is nowhere to be seen – he's working on some deal in Florida, apparently – and Karl Lessing doesn't show up either, but I do have two executive assistants (recent hires, I'm told) who take good care of me. Twenty-eight-year-old Nicole from Austin maps out, timetables and tracks my every move, and screens all incoming communications. And thirty-year-old Lester from Kansas – more of a chief of staff, really – briefs me on just about everything: meetings I'm about to attend, calls I have to take, presentations I need to sit through, and he has my back in the event of any unscheduled or on-the-spot encounters. When the lines become blurry, or I display worrying 'tendencies', Nicole and Lester are there to steer me in the right direction.
I don't know if these guys are on the same occult payroll as Matt and Arturo, but I don't ask and can only assume – and hope, for their sakes – that they are. Other recent hires include a personal trainer, a yoga instructor, and a new driver, a guy called Ricardo.
Even though I'm very busy, I'm not making decisions or anything, I'm not coming up with new ideas (I'm not actually working, in other words), but I am _on_ all the time, and that's tiring in itself. One positive thing I get to do is draw up a list of high-end restaurants I might like to check out (steering clear of Barcadero, naturally), and then I get Nicole to schedule me in for lunch appointments at each of them in turn. As business 'meetings' go, these lunches are easier than boardroom sit-downs or conference calls, because they have a rhythm to them, a built-in series of pauses and breaks.
Most of the people I've been meeting up to now are anxious start-up hopefuls, but it turns out that I'm also on the boards of Facebook, Pinterest, Foursquare, Paloma, Oculus, Uber and a bunch of other companies, so it's inevitable that sooner or later I'll come face to face with a Zuckerberg, an Andreessen or a Kalanick. Meeting Clooney, Dalio and Clinton in the hospital was relatively easy, because, one, Shaw sprang that on me out of the blue, and, two, I had bandages on and was woozy from the morphine. But sitting across a table from Ray Dalio at some board meeting now would be quite a different experience.
Weirdly, though – and I haven't worked out yet why this is – it's not an experience I'm seeking to avoid. After a month of running Paradime Capital, sort of, I'm pretty comfortable in what I've come to think of as my new skin. At the same time, I'm not completely deluded. I know that a concerted effort has been made to keep me out of trouble. I also know that the real business of the company may well be going on in ways I am simply unaware of.
As the weeks go by, I get restless and feel an increasing urge to be doing something, so – even if only to convince myself of who I'm supposed to be – I focus my attention on certain areas of interest that really seemed to matter to Trager. And over lunch one day at the Modern I run into the producer of that interview segment Shaw and I did on Bloomberg TV. Apparently, Cristina Stropovich is still talking about it – and about me in particular – and would love it if I came back on to do the show again. This leads to a couple of follow-up conversations and eventually a meeting, at which point some other people get involved. Then, before I know it, the original proposal has been upgraded and there's talk of an appearance on _Charlie Rose_ instead. _Charlie_ is PBS, but the show is put together and taped at the Bloomberg studios, so the surroundings would be familiar but obviously the interview itself would be longer and more in-depth.
There is initial resistance from Lester (and whoever he and Nicole are talking to), but Lester is just my assistant. He's an adviser. So I tell him his advice has been duly noted but that as far as I'm concerned the interview is going ahead.
And it does.
The following week.
I expect a last-minute intervention of some kind, but it never comes.
It seems I'm on my own.
*
Charlie Rose says he's happy to have me at 'this table' and then proceeds to question me about the PromTech deal and tech trends in general. I have no problem answering questions like these, not after Shaw's little bootcamp a while back, but what I try to do then is steer the conversation in a direction _I_ want it to go in. It takes me a while, but I get there.
'So,' Charlie says eventually, 'a subject we're hearing a lot about these days is _asteroid_ mining. Now, as ideas go, this one is pretty high in gee-whiz factor, I think that's undeniable, but what I'd like to know is – and explain it to me if you would because your name has been linked to it many times – how _practical_ is this whole thing?'
'Well, Charlie,' I say, shifting in the chair, my heart starting to pound, my mouth dry, 'it all depends on how you look at it. I mean, the exponential rate at which the human race is consuming the earth's resources right now . . . is _that_ practical? Is it sustainable? No, it isn't. And if we continue tearing the planet apart looking for precious metals to extract so we can put them in our cellphones and games consoles, just to keep shareholders happy, how's _that_ going to end? So it seems to me that it's eminently practical – putting it at its mildest – to start searching for an alternative. And once you _do_ , once you look up, and out into space, and realise what's there – i.e. literally billions of mineable asteroids, some of which are gigantic rocks packed tight with platinum or nickel or gold or thanaxite, others of which contain copious amounts of what may well turn out to be _the_ most valuable substance of all, water – once you realise that this effectively infinite supply of resources is out there and accessible, you have to wonder what the hell we're doing down here on earth squabbling over carbon emissions and fracking and water rights.'
'Okay, but I think if—'
'So, yes, of _course_ ,' I say, cutting across him – because if I don't keep talking I may just keel over and die – 'there's practical and there's practical, there's _We have to do it_ and there's _Can we do it?_ , and without a doubt, Charlie, many obstacles lie in our path, not the least of which is cost. I mean, we're talking mammoth amounts of money, multi-tier, investment structures, but there'll also be technical difficulties and challenges at every phase, at exploration, at extraction, at processing, there's working in zero gravity, there's how do we _mount_ the damn things, on top of _which_ ' _–_ I clear my throat quickly here – 'you have the questions of ownership, of patents, of property and naming rights. It's not going to be easy, and no individual, no one person, is going to do it alone – not Teddy Trager, not Elon, not whoever.'
'Okay,' Charlie says, 'but if I understand it correctly, this would still be an old-fashioned land grab, right? And the normal rules of commerce would apply. So if asteroid mining ever does happen . . . we may well be looking at the world's first trillionaire.'
'Maybe so,' I say, 'maybe so' – ideas and phrases from Lessing's flash drive now seeping out of my brain – 'but you know what, Charlie? After all this time, after all we've been through, the Industrial Revolution, the Gilded Age, the Jazz Age, the post-war boom, the . . . the . . .' – I want to say _the fucking_ , but I hold back because we're on PBS – 'the nineties, the dot-com thing, and then . . . _what_? We step out into actual space, ready for humanity's next big evolutionary phase, and it's still _that_ guy? It's still Rich Uncle Pennybags? It's Mr Trillionaire? _He's_ the one leading the way and calling the shots?' I make a gesture of incredulity here, an exaggerated one, for the camera. 'No, Charlie, I think we have to do better than that, I think we have to devise a new way of doing business.'
'But is that even—'
'Back in 1967 we all signed up to an agreement – the Russians, the Chinese, us, everyone – it's called the Outer Space Treaty, and it's a foundational document that sets down how we should conduct ourselves in space, as a species. Now I think that's a start right there . . . but today, fifty years later, when we finally have a realistic shot at this, at going out into space, what's happening?'
'Tell me.'
'There are bills coming before Congress and more at committee stage that want to tear up that agreement and make new rules – rules that will almost exclusively benefit _who_? The shareholders of private American mining corporations, that's who. I mean, Charlie . . . haven't we learned _anything_?'
'Well, I don't know about that, but . . . let me just ask you one final question, Teddy. Have you ever considered running for public office?'
*
After the recording, there's a definite buzz around the studio, and, as I chat to a couple of the producers, I notice that Lester is busy networking and tapping numbers into his phone. On the way down to the car, he remains silent, reminding me of how Shaw was after that first interview, but this time I think it's more that Lester is puzzled. It's as if he somehow never got the memo.
When the segment airs the following night, the reaction is similarly buzzy. It attracts a lot of attention and generates a surprising amount of comment. Because of the asteroid thing, some of this is dismissive, ridiculing the idea as a pipe dream, but others point out that advances in technology make it at least potentially feasible. However, it's my statement at the end of the interview – when I said I wouldn't rule out running for public office – that gains the most traction. Soon the hashtag _#voteforteddy_ starts trending, and blogs everywhere pick up the story, some concentrating on my radical views in relation to corporate profiteering, others declaring what an attractive candidate I'd make. Shaw once pointed out to me that Teddy Trager was actually quite a private individual, well known inside the tech and VC bubble but with a low enough profile otherwise (I know _I'd_ never heard of him), so, given all of that, it's entirely possible that this is the widest net of media attention he's ever been caught up in.
But the reality, of course, is that _I'm_ now the one who's caught up in it. And maybe the irony here is that, as an equally private individual, I don't seem to mind at all and, in fact, am even quite enjoying it. I conduct a few short interviews by phone and email, and Nicole tells me that she's getting requests every day for me to appear on other news channels, on talk shows and on podcasts. Again, I'm waiting for some form of intervention from Karl Lessing or Doug Shaw, a slap on the wrist maybe, or just a quiet word in my ear telling me to shut up, to keep a low profile, but no direct contact is made.
So . . . how far could I go with this? _Could_ I run for public office? Most of the coverage I've seen, on blogs and even in comment boxes, is positive, a lot of it actively encouraging me to speak out further.
But just as I begin to believe that this is real, and that I might have a genuine opportunity here, there's the inevitable backlash.
A few nights after the _Charlie Rose_ broadcast, I'm sipping a glass of single-malt Scotch whisky and flipping around the channels when I come across a still shot of _me_ on the _Rachel Maddow Show_ on MSNBC. That's weird enough, but then they cut back to studio and an interview with Bulletpoint.com reporter Ray Richards. '. . . So seriously, Rachel,' he's saying, 'on the one hand you have this guy preaching about corporate profiteering like he's Ida Tarbell' – and here a mock-indignant Richards bangs his fist on the desk – 'these mining companies can't be allowed to plunder the resources of space. And, on the other hand, this _same_ guy buys Prometheus Technologies, a company he swore blind he wouldn't go near, and then proceeds to pretty much plunder _them_. It's outrageous.'
'I know.'
'Oh, and by the way' – ramping up the sarcasm now – 'elect me to the Senate, would you, cos I'm only thirty-three, and that's a little young for the White House . . .'
I sit forward, glass in hand, and stare at the screen in shock. Being talked about publicly is strange at the best of times, but like this? Being turned on and attacked? It's _awful_.
'. . . and I don't really understand it,' Rachel Maddow is saying, 'it's kind of a mystery, right?'
' _Right_ ,' Richards goes on, 'because, I mean, you've got to ask . . . whatever happened to the great Teddy Trager? Was it the auto accident he had recently? That must have been a traumatic experience, no question about it, but one thing is clear, _since_ then, whenever it was, a couple of months ago . . . Teddy Trager simply hasn't been himself.'
_Oh Jesus . . ._
I drain the glass.
'Look, although Trager and Doug Shaw built Paradime Capital together, everyone knows there've been problems. Call it a clash of ideologies, call it what you like, but what we know today, in light of this awful PromTech deal, is that Doug Shaw has emerged the clear victor. He gets to play with his new LudeX. What we also know, however, in light of Trager's hypocritical posturing on _Charlie Rose_ the other night, is that _he_ has ditched his principles—'
'He's crossed to the Dark Side.'
'Exactly . . . so I suppose, here's my real question, Rachel: just who the hell _is_ Teddy Trager?'
I raise my hand, stretch it back and fling the empty glass at the screen.
Within about a minute, Mrs Jeong appears in the room carrying a dustpan and brush, but I wave her away. I flick the TV off and walk over towards the window.
_Who the hell is Teddy Trager?_
What a question. And the irony, of course, is that I don't know. How would I? I only met the guy once. I know him from watching YouTube clips, tons of them.
Then I remember there's one clip I haven't seen. Trager made a reference to it in the car. He said it was a speech he delivered at some university a few years ago, that it was like a mission statement.
It doesn't take me long to find it on my laptop.
And . . .
There he is, on a stage, pacing back and forth, headset mic attached, PowerPoint display behind him. '. . . because make no mistake,' he's saying, 'human nature is on a collision course with disaster unless we can do something very radical and very soon about re-engineering our fundamental "greed gene". But since the only thing any of us ever really seems to be greedy for any more is _money_ , let's just do away with the damn stuff, metal, paper, fiat, whatever, let's find another way to organise our affairs. Because take the monetary system out of the equation, take _profit_ out of the equation, and there's no problem on this planet we couldn't all solve together in six months flat . . .'
I stare at the familiar image of Trager on the screen – familiar from the other clips, familiar from the hour we spent together in his car.
Isn't _that_ who he really was?
Seems like it to me.
Wealthy, influential, maybe a little eccentric, maybe a little fucked up in the head, sure . . . but also bold, radical, maverick, idealistic, sincere . . .
Definitely not a hypocrite.
So what the fuck was Ray Richards talking about?
Then it hits me. It's not _what_ , it's _who_ . . .
Who signed the contracts? Who sold out? Who is the real hypocrite?
Although he didn't realise it, Ray Richards wasn't talking about Teddy Trager at all. He was talking about me.
#
I need to get out of the apartment. On my way down in the elevator I feel a bit sick, and the prospect of fresh air is welcome, but then, as I cross the lobby and get closer to the exit, I'm put off by the noise from outside, by the bustle and speed of the traffic on Twelfth.
Is Ricardo around? I'm still not sure how this works. He's always waiting for me in the morning, and he's there whenever I need him during the day. But now? What time is it? Nearly 10 p.m.? I call him on my cellphone. He says he'll be outside in fifteen minutes.
I stand waiting at the foot of the Mercury and stare out over the darkness of the Hudson.
When Ricardo shows up, I tell him to cruise around for a while. He goes north for a bit, then gets onto 57th Street, which isn't too busy at this hour. He turns right at Lexington and drifts downtown. From the quiet interior of the limousine, I gaze out at the city, at the passing figures on sidewalks and street corners. Through tinted glass, it all seems spectral, like the carefully textured background graphics in a gritty urban video game. But then – the further down Lex we get – a weird feeling creeps up on me. As we approach 23rd Street, Gramercy Park directly ahead, I tell Ricardo to take a left, to get onto Second Avenue, and to keep heading downtown.
I haven't been down here, in this neighbourhood, around 14th Street – below it, now – since that night . . .
I look out the window, alternating my gaze, right, left. What I'm hoping for, all I'm hoping for – and it's taken me a while to admit this – is maybe to catch a glimpse of Kate. She could easily be going to the store, or walking home from something . . . 12th Street . . . 11th . . .
As we pass it, I glance down 10th and feel a rush of emotion. It's bad enough that I miss my old life, but this sense of having been completely erased from it is so much worse. Though, to be honest, now that I'm down here, I know what the worst feeling of all is.
_It's missing Kate._
When we get to East Houston, I tell Ricardo to loop around and go back up First.
Okay, I missed her when I was in Afghanistan, and in a way I missed her even more when I got back . . . when I was lying next to her in our bed or sitting across the kitchen table from her, when I was looking _right at her_.
But somehow that was all negotiable. Now I miss her in a way that feels irreversible, that feels like grief – except that she's not the one who's dead.
I am.
Is that how she misses me?
I get Ricardo to pull over on the right, between 4th and 5th, and we sit there. I lean back and stare out as people float by in either direction. The thing is, I'm tired and confused, and I'm not really expecting anything to happen, I'm not even hoping at this stage. But after only a minute, and it's like an electrical jolt to my system, there she is, on the sidewalk. I see her from behind. It's through tinted glass, and there's a glare of storefront neon, but there's no question in my mind that it's her. I recognise . . . _everything_ , how she's dressed, how she moves. It then takes me a couple of seconds to realise that she's not alone. Walking beside her – not just parallel to her, definitely with her – is some guy. He's young-looking, hipsterish. He has a beard and is wearing a jacket and T-shirt.
They get to the corner of 5th and keep going.
I immediately reach for the door, mumbling something to Ricardo as I open it. Within seconds, I'm out of the car and following Kate on foot – focusing on her, ignoring the guy. This is reckless, I know, and irresponsible, but I really don't care. I get close to her, then closer, and then I'm only a few feet behind her – head pounding – as she comes to a stop at the next corner and waits to cross.
In this moment, though, what's my plan? What am I about to do? Tap Kate on the shoulder? Whisper her name? Give her that long-delayed heart attack? End this whole thing in a sudden, sickly swirl of anger and insecurity and weakness and _jealousy_? I don't know, but it feels like a real possibility to me. Then I feel something else, a light tap on my own shoulder. I turn around. It's Ricardo. In a low, firm voice, he says, 'Mr Trager, please . . . we need to go now.'
I look at him, and hesitate. I'm confused. I turn back to look at Kate.
The light changes.
Then I just stand there, paralysed, and watch as she and the guy she's with cross the street, recede into the crowd, and eventually disappear.
*
When we're settled in the car again, me in the back, Ricardo up front, I want to press the intercom and say something to him.
I want to interrogate him.
But I also want to close my eyes, to rewind, to grieve. Something else I think I might like is a drink. Which is when I realise that the little mahogany unit directly in front of me here is probably stocked full of booze. If I want it.
Which I suddenly now don't.
I glance around at the leather upholstery and the walnut trim and the side panels and the monitors. I always sit in the interior cabin of this thing as though I can't wait to get out of it, as though it's an MRI machine or something.
'Sir? Where to?'
I look up, but don't say anything.
I'm curious about something. Who was that hipster guy? With his beard. And his new _friend_.
' _Sir?_ '
'Okay, okay.' I think for a second, then press the intercom. 'Upper West Side, 68th Street.'
Ricardo pulls out and joins the flow of traffic.
I wonder if he knows where we're going. I wonder if he knows that 68th Street is where Nina Schlossmeier lives.
*
It's another one of these preposterously luxurious condos with a huge lobby area that has a reflecting pool _and_ a waterfall. I'm pretty sure the guy at the desk recognises me, or thinks he does. I ask for Nina. He calls up, but she's not there.
'Would sir like to leave a message?'
'No, but . . .' I point at a seating area. 'I'm going to wait over there for a bit, see if she gets back any time soon.'
The guy nods, but seems a little puzzled.
I find a spot and sit with my back to the desk.
What am I doing here? Some talking head on TV effectively calls me an asshole, and _this_ is where I end up? What am I looking for? Comfort? Consolation? No, it's that I need to talk to someone who's _real_. Not just someone else on the occult payroll, not just someone whose job it is to talk to me. Maybe Nina's on the payroll too, I don't know . . . but the way she walked out of Trager's life like that, when he was in the hospital? It never felt right to me. She must have realised at the time that I was a replacement. But then . . . where did she think Trager was? Where does she think he's been all along?
_Does she know he's dead?_
And if she doesn't, am I going to tell her?
These are questions I should have considered in the back of the limo down on First.
But it's too late for that now.
I look over and see Nina entering the lobby. She glides in, as though onto a catwalk. She's wearing some kind of a print dress under a pale pink coat. I stand up at once, and this sudden motion catches her attention. She turns and sees me.
I don't know what kind of a reaction I'm expecting, but it's not the one I get. She sort of flinches, a look of shock on her face. She turns away and heads straight for the elevators. I move swiftly in her direction and, out of the corner of my eye, sense the desk guy starting to move as well.
Shit.
'Nina!'
'Sir! _Sir!_ '
By the time I get to within a few feet of her, she has already pressed the button. She turns around, looking composed now and, with two simple gestures, takes control of the situation. The first is a barely raised forefinger that stops _me_ in my tracks. The second is an eyebrow manoeuvre directed over my shoulder that calls off the desk guy.
Then _our_ eyes meet.
'What?' She delivers the word quietly, and it has the force of an ultimatum: you have until this elevator door behind me opens.
'Nina,' I say, leaning hard on the second syllable, as if that'll somehow make a difference.
_Ping._
She shakes her head.
'Nina . . .' Then a spurt of desperation. 'I need to talk to you, _please_ , come on, just five minutes.'
How do we calculate these things? _Five_ minutes? What, I have it all worked out? Four specific points to make, each one requiring seventy-five seconds?
Nina stares at me, clearly making a rapid calculation of her own. What is she seeing? On reflection, the shock I saw on _her_ face just now might have been closer to fear. Does she recognise the same thing in me?
As the door behind her starts closing, she flicks an arm back to hold it open.
Her apartment is on the twenty-fifth floor. Naturally, it's pretty big. The decor is an artful mix of modern and rustic, but the place itself is warm and feels really lived in – unlike Trager's place.
We didn't speak in the elevator, and now Nina directs me to a sofa and says she'll be back in a minute.
I sit down and stare at the pine floorboards.
Maybe she'll offer me a drink. That might help.
Or not.
_Every day with Teddy is a challenge . . ._
It's really quite disconcerting how beautiful she is. When she reappears, she has changed into jeans and a loose-fitting powder-blue cashmere sweater. She sits opposite me.
She doesn't offer me a drink.
'Okay,' she starts. 'I have to say, this is pretty fucking weird for me, so . . . just who _are_ you?'
I stare at her. 'I'm Teddy Trager.'
_What am I doing?_
'No, you're not.'
'I _am_.'
Nina shakes her head. 'Please.'
'How . . . how do you know I'm not?'
'Because of everything. Because of how you're behaving. Because Teddy would never wait for me in the lobby. And because . . .' She pauses. 'And because I'm pregnant.'
Almost in spite of herself, she smiles. And it's a wide, disarmingly radiant smile – which is what I react to first, because it obliterates everything in its path. Then the words sink in.
'You're . . . _pregnant_?'
She nods emphatically. 'I knew almost immediately. I felt it. And then I had it confirmed within . . . ten days?'
I don't know what to say to this.
She leans forward slightly, holding my gaze, and whispers, 'It's _yours_.'
My head starts throbbing. 'But . . . I'm not your boyfriend, I'm _not_ Teddy Trager . . .'
'No.'
'But if I'm not Teddy, then . . . who do you think I am?'
She shrugs. 'You're the guy who came to the gallery that night. You're the guy from the restaurant. I don't know who you are, and, to be honest? I don't care.'
She looks down at her belly and pats it gently. How long has she been pregnant? Eight weeks? Ten? She's not showing yet, but clearly this is something she already likes doing.
'You don't _care_?'
There are many versions of this conversation I've had in my head, but the one that's taking place right now doesn't come close to any of them.
' _This_ is all I care about,' she says, hand still on her belly. 'Lately, my relationship with Teddy revolved around the fact that it was never going to happen for us. He'd been tested and . . .' She stops, probably not wanting to share too much. 'Anyway, there was tension around it. We spent a lot of time arguing.' Her radiant smile returns. 'But look at me now.'
' _You?_ ' I say, almost shouting it. 'Look at _me_.'
'I know, it's incredible. I only noticed it that night, after a few hours. I mean, earlier? At the gallery? I was just too wound-up to notice anything. Then, at the hospital, I was confused. At first, I thought it was some elaborate game. But later, when I realised I was pregnant? It all seemed so obvious. What I have to keep reminding myself is that with Teddy just about anything is possible . . .'
I stare at her for a second, not getting it. 'What does that mean?'
'What else? This curious business of _you_. Whoever you are. Whatever your name is. But at the same time the perfect solution to our problem. Who could have dreamt _that_ up? Only Teddy.'
I'm speechless. What does she think this is? Some advanced form of designer natural insemination . . . and that Trager actually arranged it for her?
_Every day is an adventure . . ._
'It's funny,' she goes on, 'that night at the restaurant? I told him about you, I told him what I saw, but he didn't seem interested. I guess I should have suspected something was up.'
She smiles again.
Oh my God. She's so fucking _happy_.
But then it all loops back in my head. 'Nina,' I say, 'if that's what you think I am, just some carefully selected sperm donor . . . why am I still here? Why am I running Paradime Capital? I mean, if you're two months pregnant . . . _where's Teddy?_ '
She holds my gaze for what seems like a long time. Then she stands up. 'I don't know.' She says this quietly, and partly facing away from me. Seeing her in profile now, I can make out a very slight bump, a subtle curvature around the middle that someone like her, in normal circumstances – I imagine – would probably feel compelled to work off.
'I gave up trying to understand Teddy a long time ago,' she says. 'So initially I thought . . . having found you, the perfect donor, he wasn't just going to leave it at _that_. He'd be too excited. There'd be too many possibilities, too many games to play – starting, I suppose, with the charade at the hospital.' She walks over to the window. 'After a week, though? After _two_ weeks? I don't know, Teddy could be self-absorbed, even a little crazy sometimes, but not a jerk . . .'
_Could_ be?
It takes me a moment or two, from the angle I'm at, from how I'm sitting, from how she's standing at the window, to realise that Nina now has tears in her eyes. I stand up immediately. But what next? Go over and try to comfort her? Maybe in my dreams.
'Then,' she says, composing herself, and turning around, 'when I saw what was happening with PromTech . . .' She shakes her head. 'It was ridiculous. It was clear that you were some kind of a . . . a _puppet_.' She looks me directly in the eye. 'So when I saw you down in the lobby just now, it was a little alarming. I didn't know what to think.'
I drop back onto the sofa.
'What do you think now?' I ask.
Leaning against the window, she studies me for a while. 'Well, what's weird is, you coming here like this, wanting to talk,' she says. 'It doesn't make sense. I saw you on _Charlie Rose_ _,_ and that didn't make sense either. So what I think is that when Doug Shaw first became aware of you – however that happened, maybe Teddy told him, in his excitement, I don't know – but he saw an opportunity, a chance to stop Teddy in his tracks, to replace him, and he couldn't resist, because that's something Doug has wanted to do for a very long time.' She pauses. 'But maybe he didn't know what he was getting into. Maybe he didn't know that when his partner chose _you_ ' – she points at her belly again – 'for _this_ , it wasn't a choice based solely on appearance, that maybe there were other, more complex factors involved. And maybe . . .' She leans forward a little from the window. 'What's your name?'
'My _name_?'
'Yeah.'
How can such a simple question feel so loaded, so dangerous? I hesitate, but then just say it. 'Danny Lynch.'
'Okay.' She nods, considering it. 'So maybe Doug didn't know that trying to control Danny Lynch would be just as hard as trying to control Teddy Trager. I mean, what you said on _Charlie Rose_? That was pure Teddy. Don't tell me Doug approved that, or had a say in it. And the idea of running for public office? Those __ thoughts were in Teddy's head too, no question about it. So I don't know who you are, Danny Lynch, but I don't think Doug Shaw knows either.'
It's a convoluted theory, and I could shoot some holes in it, parts of it anyway, but what would be the point? If she believes in this notion of a grand romantic gesture on Trager's part, fine, I'm not about to take that away from her. Something important still needs to be cleared up, though.
'Nina,' I say, 'you do know . . .' I close my eyes for a second. 'You do know that Teddy is dead, right?'
She gently taps the back of her head three times against the window. 'Is that why you came here? To tell me that? Because I've been assuming it for some time.'
I look up at her. 'It was an accident, Nina . . . Teddy lost control of the car, he crashed it into that tree. I guess that was when Doug Shaw seized his opportunity and got me to take Teddy's place.'
As an account of the events of that night, this is light on detail and extremely disingenuous. I try to prepare myself for a barrage of questions, a cross-examination that will expose the half-truths and misdirections and deliberate ambiguities here, but it doesn't come. She just stands at the window, staring at me. Eventually she says, 'You really think it was an accident, Danny? Is that what Doug told you? Is that how he got you into this? How he persuaded you to keep it going?'
I don't answer. How _can_ I without admitting I was actually there when it happened?
'One thing about Teddy,' Nina goes on, 'he couldn't lose control of a car if he tried. And especially not _that_ car. It's something I was really puzzled about before I saw you, before I even got to the hospital. Teddy was an exceptionally good driver.'
I feel a tiny twitch in my hand as I remember – as my hand remembers – how I landed that punch on Teddy's face.
'But once I accepted that he was gone, that he wasn't just going to show up some morning with coffee and bagels . . .' She stops and takes a deep breath. 'Once I figured out that he'd been murdered – assassinated, actually – that Doug Shaw had effectively carried out a _coup d'état_ at Paradime . . . well, _then_ I started wondering how he'd done it.'
I must have a look on my face.
'Oh, what, you don't think Shaw is capable of something like that?'
'But Nina, it was an acc—'
'Danny, _they hacked his car_.'
I stare at her now, moving my head very slightly from side to side. I have no idea what to say to this, but somewhere in my subconscious a sequence of controlled depth charges is being detonated.
'I looked into it online,' she says, 'which wasn't easy, believe me, but guess what? It's now entirely possible with Wi-Fi or Bluetooth to gain remote access to a car's ECUs and to do whatever you want with it, to turn off the AC, to lock the steering wheel, to accelerate, to _crash_ it. I knew this in theory, but to see demonstration videos was pretty shocking. Then I went back and got some details on Teddy's supposed accident, which was even harder to do . . .' She takes another deep breath. 'I don't know if you realise it, _I_ didn't, but there are already conspiracy theories out there about what happened that night. On the deep web there's this one site that keeps track of suspicious accidents – you know, car crashes, plane crashes, helicopters, whatever, people who get killed or injured and the timing is weird, or the details don't add up – well, Teddy's crash is on there, and I don't know how they gather their info, what their sources are, but they make a couple of very serious claims. One, they say the airbag didn't go off – now how _that_ could have happened without some kind of interference, I don't know – and, two, they say that if you take stuff like throw weights and friction coefficients into account, the damage to the car clearly shows there was no _way_ the driver could have survived, let alone escaped with minor injuries.' She pauses. 'So I think it's pretty obvious what happened.'
As I continue to stare at Nina, my insides are churning. Everything she's saying is plausible and makes sense. At the same time, my brain is spooling back through those last few seconds with Teddy. I know he was angry, and with good reason, but his actions _were_ strange. I mean, banging the steering wheel like that . . . was he not able to turn it? Was he not able to slow the car down? In retrospect, I suppose, it _could_ seem that way. And there was the second vehicle. Did I imagine that or not? So, here's the real question: is it possible that when Teddy was pushing me out onto the road he had just realised he was no longer in control of his car? That that was _why_ he was pushing me out? That he was actually trying to save my life?
I stand up, feeling unsteady, dizzy, a bit like I'm out of my mind on something, bad acid or too much cheap tequila. I want to get out of there now, and fast. I want to escape, but something is holding me back. I look at Nina. 'If all of this is true,' I say, 'what are you going to do about it?'
She shakes her head. 'Nothing.'
'But . . . I don't . . . _nothing_?'
She steps forward a few paces and stands right in front of me. 'What _can_ I do? I can't prove anything. Besides, I'm pretty sure I'm being closely monitored, so if I cause any trouble, if I rock the precious boat, how long do you think I'll last?' She lifts a hand up and gently strokes the side of my face with it. 'And Danny, you know what? To be perfectly honest, forget about me, I really can't see _you_ lasting very long at all.'
I look into her eyes. I'm not sure what she means. 'No?'
'No.' She glances down for a moment, then back up. 'You should consider what you're doing very carefully. Because the more you act like Teddy, the sooner you'll end up the way he did.'
'So . . . what, I just go on being a puppet?'
'I don't know. Why not? They're _paying_ you, right?'
She's so calm, __ so controlled _–_ it's impressive. __ And then it hits me again, what she said earlier. She's pregnant. She doesn't _care_.
I look down and place my hand – slowly, tentatively – on her belly. Because when will I ever get the chance again?
She doesn't stop me.
After a couple of seconds, I look up, feeling very self-conscious. I withdraw my hand. 'I have to go.'
'You know,' she says, 'I miss him every day. I grieve for him. So this is not easy for me . . . standing here, looking at _you_.' She studies my face for a moment, carefully scanning each feature. 'It's really quite extraordinary.'
Her gaze is intense.
I look away and move across the room.
When I get to the door, I turn around. 'I'm sorry, Nina.'
'Don't be,' she says, patting her belly once more. 'Really. I _have_ what I want.'
#
The next week is something of a blur. I show up at the office but do no work. I cancel things at the last minute and refuse to see people or take any calls. I spend most of my time standing at the window, staring out over Midtown. If Nina is right, then I'm little more than a puppet here at Paradime, so what difference will it make? None. The work of the company won't be impeded in any way. And if I persist in trying to be more like Teddy? Then . . . I'll just end up like Teddy.
It's remarkable how quickly I get used to the idea that his death wasn't an accident. I resisted at first, because it seemed so preposterous. But what seems preposterous _now_ is that Shaw would wait around for some random act of chance to move things along when he already had an elaborate arrangement in place that would do it for him on command.
I'm prepared to concede, therefore, that my blow to the side of Teddy's face wasn't the cause of the crash. But doesn't that mean, in turn, that when I signed those contracts – here in _this_ office – I was effectively signing his death warrant? Because wouldn't that have been the obvious trigger for Shaw?
These questions play on my mind, but they're not the only ones. Why, for example, did Shaw want to replace Teddy? What was the _real_ reason? A clash of cultures within the company? A disagreement over which direction Paradime should take? A contentious deal even? Whatever. These are all legitimate sources of conflict, but . . .
Car hacking and murder? Seriously?
Say Nina is right, though – about this much at least, that the opportunity _I_ presented was simply too much of a temptation. Fine. _Where is Shaw then?_ MIA in Florida? That doesn't make any sense. You'd imagine he'd be up here micromanaging my every move. Instead, it seems, I'm free to do as I please and am only limited by . . . what? My own lack of imagination?
I don't get it.
I probably should have asked Nina if she knew anything about Dr Karl Lessing, but I didn't, so all I can do now is follow my nose.
*
Near the end of the week, in something of a fluster, Nicole informs me that six months ago I was invited to speak at a tech and innovation conference in Ireland and that I apparently accepted. It's happening next week, and she apologises for reminding me about it so late – somehow the event slipped through her scheduling grid – but she can cancel if I like.
'No,' I tell her, 'that's fine. Make the arrangements.'
I've never been to Ireland, even though I have family there, or so I understand – it's hardly surprising with a name like Lynch. I go through Trager's notes from the cache on the flash drive and find a couple of files relating to the conference, including a sketchy outline for his keynote address. I spend most of the weekend working on this, fleshing it out, reading up on stuff and generally keeping myself distracted.
The event is in Dublin – an annual affair called ExpoCon – and it draws all the big names in global tech and investment, so if Shaw or Lessing or whoever it is don't want me getting my Trager on in front of all those people, they're going to have to intervene.
And I wait, expecting up to the last minute that they will, but it's only when I'm crossing the Atlantic in a Gulfstream G650 that I realise just how much latitude I have here – or maybe it's not even latitude, maybe it's actual freedom. As I sit gazing out the window at the billowing sea of clouds below me, I speculate – or fantasise, really – about what it'd be like if both Shaw and Lessing were somehow to be eliminated from the equation. Who else would then know for sure that I wasn't the real Teddy Trager? More to the point, who would have the authority or the balls to call me on it and expect to be taken seriously? And in _that_ scenario, with all of Trager's resources, what could I not achieve?
Dublin is small and has lots of local charm, but the convention centre where ExpoCon is taking place could be anywhere, Seattle or Frankfurt or Kuala Lumpur, a neutral, streamlined international 'space'. I meet a lot of people, and I expend no psychic energy whatsoever angsting over whether or not I actually know any of them. Have I met them once or a thousand times? Have I rejected their pitches or vacationed on their islands? I don't know, and I don't care. I maintain a steely demeanour, an aloofness, and, far from silencing people, this tactic renders most of them helplessly garrulous while at the same time laying bare certain familiar and unattractive insecurities. I attend seminars, workshops and panel discussions. I have coffee with people, engage in whispered confabs on the 'sidelines'. By the time I'm waiting to step out onto the main stage that evening to deliver what is now very definitely _my_ keynote address, I feel – to use Karl Lessing's word – 'bulletproof'. I've done a run-through with the production people, approved the music cues and scanned a version of my speech on the teleprompter. The speaker before me was showcasing an amazing new piece of technology, but his delivery was flat and uninspiring, so he's not exactly a hard act to follow. I know it's one thing to appear on TV in a controlled studio setting and that it's quite another to walk out in front of two thousand pumped delegates in an auditorium, but as the host announces me now, and the music surges, I experience no real fear or even nerves . . .
*
I head back to the States the following day and spend most of the flight time reading emails and blog reactions to my speech. A hefty percentage of these range from the sceptical to the dismissive: I'm naive, my ideas are ill thought out, they're derivative, the speech was quixotic, it was dangerous, I'm a crazy person. But some of them give it a fair shake, with a select few going all out for the Kool Aid. 'Teddy Trager', one of them writes, 'is a true visionary in a time when the vision thing has been debased beyond recognition. We may not deserve this man, but we certainly need him.'
When I get into the office early the next morning, Nicole is dealing with a torrent of interview requests from various media outlets. At one point I sit down with her and we go through a list, quickly rejecting most of them out of hand. Nicole has a good grasp on this stuff, she knows what's worth pursuing and what isn't: which shows or podcasts are popular, which sites run stories that get picked up by the aggregators, that kind of thing. As I'm scanning the list, I spot a name that I've seen before and point to it.
'Who're they?'
'Oh . . . no,' she says. 'I wouldn't bother with them, they're too niche.' She pauses. 'Weirdly enough, though, they _are_ persistent. I've had repeated requests from them over the past month, three or four I'd say, at least.'
It's a political website called Pivot, and I'm pretty sure it's the one that Kate interviewed for and got that job with. I ask Nicole for the name of the contact person there, the one who made the request.
She checks. 'Pete . . . Kettner.'
I google him and go straight to Images. The page that opens up contains a lot of different possibilities for Pete Kettner, but I spot the one I'm looking for almost immediately, in the second row of the first page – and that's because I recognise him. He's the beardy hipster guy I saw with Kate that night. I stare at his picture for ages – it's small, like an ID photo – and several things race through my mind at once.
He's a colleague. They work together. It's a small world. This is a _coincidence_.
Then I point at the list and say to Nicole, 'That guy, Pete . . . whatsit, arrange something with him, will you? As soon as possible. Today, if you can.' I stand up from my desk. 'We'll look at the others later, okay?'
'Oh . . . yes, of course, if . . .'
'What?'
Her eyebrows are furrowed. 'If you're sure?'
I nod, _yes_.
Nicole stands as well, gathers up her stuff and leaves.
I wander over to my default position at the window.
Fifteen minutes later, Nicole reappears. 'Lunch with Pete Kettner today, twelve thirty, at Soleil.'
*
I arrive early so I can see him enter the room. He's young, probably mid-twenties, if that. He's fairly scruffy and may well be wearing the same jacket and T-shirt he had on the night I saw him with Kate. As he approaches the table, he has that defiant air of someone refusing to be fazed by unfamiliar surroundings – in this case the opulent decor of a slightly stuffy high-end Midtown eatery.
I don't know why I'm doing this, other than from some perverse need to check the guy out, to put my mind at rest on the question of whether or not Kate could possibly be interested in him, or he in her. Probably, _he_ is, but it's less likely that . . .
_Oh God._
This was a bad idea.
'Pete?' I say, half getting up and extending my hand. 'Hi. I'm Teddy.'
'Hi, Mr Trager, uh . . . _Teddy_ ,' he says awkwardly, and sits down. 'Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.'
'Finally.'
He smiles. 'Yes. I was beginning to wonder how else I could get your attention . . . without . . .'
He stops, and fumbles for a moment with his phone and a small notebook, placing one on the table and the other in his jacket pocket, and then switching them around.
'Without _what_?' I say.
He stops fumbling and looks at me. 'Without going some other route, I guess . . . the legal route maybe.'
I express surprise at this. 'Oh?'
He nods. 'Yeah, well . . . let me explain why I wanted to see you.'
Before he can start, the waiter arrives. I order something simple, and Kettner surrenders his menu saying he'll have the same. He then launches into a quick spiel about Pivot, the kind of stories they run, what they stand for, the kind of change they'd like to bring about, '. . . oh, and by the way,' he says, interrupting himself, 'that was a _great_ speech at ExpoCon the other day.'
'Thank you.'
'You're welcome.' He pauses, clearly nervous now. 'Okay, so . . .'
It turns out that there's this other issue Kettner wants to raise with me, it's not strictly a Pivot story, not yet anyway, and he wants to be both thorough _and_ fair. He wants to give me a chance to respond before he takes the story any further.
I'm intrigued. But also starting to get a little worried. Does Kate come into this? Is it _not_ a coincidence after all?
'So,' Kettner says, 'I'll just get straight to it. I have this friend at the office, okay, and her boyfriend died a couple of months ago. He was found in the river, over by Pier 81, they think it was probably suicide, they don't know, but the thing is . . .' He hesitates, and as he looks down at his place setting for a moment, I stare at the top of his head in disbelief. Then he continues. 'I'm sorry, it's just that this is going to sound very weird.'
'No need to apologise,' I say, trying to be reassuring. 'Go on.'
'Okay. Well, for a while before he died, her boyfriend, whose name was Danny Lynch, had become more or less fixated on _you_ , but for a very good reason, as it turns out.'
I might be expected to show curiosity here, even irritation, but I remain impassive.
'Which is?'
'He looked _exactly_ like you.' Kettner takes something out of his pocket and slides it across the table in front of me. 'This is him.'
It's a photo, naturally. But it's of _me_ , standing next to one of the grills at Mouzon. I remember the day it was taken. I assume he chose this one because it's both very clear and very clearly _not_ Teddy Trager.
'Oh my God.'
'Yeah.'
The waiter arrives with water and bread. I pick up the photo, as though to examine it closely. When the waiter leaves, I hand the photo back to Kettner. 'I don't know what to make of this, Pete.'
'I understand,' he says, putting the photo away again. 'But the thing is, Mr Trager, after Danny died, Kate – that's the woman I work with, Danny's girlfriend – she was so cut up about it, naturally, that she couldn't bring herself to go through his stuff, and didn't for quite a while afterwards, a few weeks. But then she did.' He takes a sip of water. 'The night he died, Danny had been working on his laptop, and when Kate finally got around to checking his browsing history, it was all to do with _you_ . . . your business partner, Paradime Capital, a Ms Schlossmeier. It was just Teddy Trager, Teddy Trager, Teddy Trager, columns and columns of searches going back days. Now fine, that wouldn't be . . . it wouldn't _mean_ anything if Danny and you weren't so physically alike, and it wouldn't—'
'But what does it mean _anyway_?'
I'm feeling very uneasy now.
'I don't know, that's the thing. Danny was troubled, in certain respects, and he'd been behaving strangely, there's no other way to put it, but . . .' He looks around, as though searching for the right words. 'Kate is trying to understand why he took his own life, if that's actually what happened, and she can't help wondering if Danny may have . . . approached you, if there wasn't some form of contact, if—'
'Why doesn't she ask me this herself, why send—'
'Oh, she's tried. She's called your office multiple times now, left messages, sent emails, but she's never heard back. You see, as a blogger, as a _journalist_ , I get to knock on a few more doors. I get to push a little harder.' He smiles sheepishly, almost apologetically. Pete Kettner is doing this because he likes Kate. No other reason. He thinks he might get lucky.
'What does Kate do at Pivot?'
'Oh . . . she's a production assistant.'
I nod. 'What you said there, "if that's actually what happened." What does that mean?'
Kettner squirms a little. 'Well, in the absence of any response from you, at least up to now, Kate hasn't been able to keep herself from speculating.' He looks me in the eye. 'To put it bluntly, she wonders if you maybe had something to do with Danny showing up dead in the Hudson.'
I hold his gaze, but don't speak for a few moments. My whole body is tense, my insides are churning. All I want to do is get up from the table and walk out of there, _run_ out.
'Okay, Pete,' I say, 'what you're suggesting is ridiculous, you do know that, right?'
'Probably, yeah, but I don't know it for sure. Nature abhors a vacuum, Mr Trager.'
Teddy, it's fucking _Teddy_.
'And what does that mean?'
'Look, this isn't about chasing a story. Because, believe me, there's _already_ enough of a story here . . . the physical likeness, the tech mogul, the body in the river, are you kidding me? If Pivot ran this thing it'd trade up the chain and go viral in minutes flat. But that's not what Pivot is about. We don't do unsubstantiated, we don't do tabloid _non_ -stories, that's why we're so small and why no one's heard of us.' He leans forward. 'This is about someone trying to get answers, someone who wants to be listened to.'
'But I don't _have_ any answers, Pete. I didn't know this Danny Lynch, I never saw him, never heard from him, never had any contact with him. What you're saying here? It's all news to _me_.'
Kettner leans back in his chair. 'Well, that _is_ an answer. And that's all Kate wanted to hear, or _needed_ to hear. She's grieving, you know.' He looks away. 'It's . . . it's a process.'
I nod, and then look away myself, feeling like a piece of shit.
The waiter arrives with our food.
A moment later, as Kettner is unflapping his napkin, he says, 'Look, thanks for hearing me out on that, Mr Trager, I really appreciate it.' He nods down at his food. 'But hey, since we're here, could I maybe ask you a couple of questions about your speech?'
*
On my way back to the office, I experience a horrible, gnawing sense of guilt, mainly for what I've put Kate through. I'd forgotten about the laptop, and it never occurred to me that she might end up raking over my recent search history. I suppose it was likely that sooner or later she'd come across Teddy Trager, but not that she'd ever suspect there was an actual connection between us, or that one of us could in any way be responsible for the death of the other.
Soon, though, guilt is replaced by paranoia.
Because . . . what was that Pete Kettner said? Kate contacted my office _multiple times_? Why did I never hear about that? Why was it filtered out? And Pete Kettner himself . . . he seemed reasonable enough, I even sort of liked him, but was he on the level? Was he just clearing up that one point – confirmation for Kate that I'd never had any contact with Danny Lynch – or was he initiating a campaign of some kind that would lead to, as he called it, 'the legal route'? Meaning what? A perp walk at some point? An indictment, an eventual conviction? Or maybe it's a different route he has in mind altogether, a shakedown, blackmail – something along those lines.
If guilt is followed by paranoia, what comes next?
I start by thinking that Pete Kettner and Kate need to be warned off the idea of pursuing, in any way at all, this suspicion they have – but how do I do that without it sounding like a threat? Back at my desk, I make a couple of calls, first to Paradime's head of corporate security, Jerry Ellis. I ask him to recommend a private investigator and tell him I need someone discreet, that it's not a corporate matter but that it's fairly urgent all the same. He gets back to me in ten minutes with the name of an agency, McNicoll Associates, and a contact, Leonard Perl.
'He's very reliable, Mr Trager, I've known him for years. You want me to give him a call?'
'No, that's all right, Jerry, I'll do it, thanks.'
I arrange a meeting with this Leonard Perl for the next morning, and, just after ten o'clock, Nicole ushers him into my office. He's tall, slim, mid-forties. He's wearing a dark-blue suit and could be a corporate executive. I invite him to sit down. I ask him about the kind of work he does.
'Well, sir, we're involved in a lot of areas, insurance-claim verification, credit-reference reporting, tracing of missing persons, personnel screening, company searches. We offer these, as well as a range of surveillance packages.'
I nod along and then tell him exactly what I need: eyes and ears on the offices of a website called Pivot and on two people who work there in particular. Put baldly like this, the whole thing sounds pretty creepy – and the irony of it isn't lost on me either, but Perl reacts as if I've asked him to put a trace out on an antique piece of furniture I'm interested in acquiring. We discuss budget parameters and time frames, and he says he'll get on it immediately.
He's as good as his word, and pretty soon I'm receiving daily reports on what Kate is up to, her routine, who she meets with, what's happening at the office. I get audio, video, emails, transcripts, more material than I know what to do with, most of it tedious, none of it revealing. There's nothing about what Kate is thinking in relation to Teddy Trager, and there's nothing about what Kate is just . . . _thinking_. Nor is there any evidence that she's in any kind of a relationship with Pete Kettner, but apparently a breakdown of the data shows that she's spending more time, minute for minute, in _his_ company than in anyone else's. What does this mean? Nothing, necessarily. It's just data. But not everything they say to each other is retrievable, so what if, in their more private, secluded moments, they're talking about the very thing I'm paranoid about, the very thing I'm spending all this money trying to identify and inoculate against? It seems like a stretch, but if I let my imagination run with it, I can see the whole thing unfolding before me, and where it leads is to some kind of twisted nightmare: Teddy Trager being indicted for the murder of Danny Lynch.
Factor in DNA, of course, and it all pretty quickly gets reversed, but what you end up with then, as far as I'm concerned, is equally nightmarish: PTSD-addled Iraq vet indicted for the murder of visionary tech billionaire . . .
So I need to get way out ahead on this, and fast. The encrypted files I'm receiving on a daily basis from Leonard Perl are great, but they're not enough – even though in a sense they're _too_ much. Plus, there's a real danger here that I'll get distracted, seduced by the streaming video feed from various surveillance points Perl has linked me to – one a plant in the Pivot offices, others random CCTV security cams in the immediate neighbourhood. Over the course of a week, a week and a half, being able to watch Kate in real time moving around rooms and streets like this takes its toll on me, and not just in terms of focus but emotionally too. I'll replay a section multiple times just because I like how she moves in it. I'll find myself watching clips at four in the morning, freeze-framing her at different moments.
But with all of this I'm no closer to finding out what's going on in Kate's head or even if she's given the whole business another thought since Kettner reported back to her on our conversation.
That's when I get an idea for a more efficient way of dealing with the problem.
I decide to buy Pivot.
*
With no Doug Shaw around to consult, I get Lester to call a meeting of the relevant personnel, and, when we're all seated around the table, I ask them for ideas about how we should proceed. I tell them we can't buy Pivot directly, or be openly associated with the acquisition, and that what I envisage instead is some mechanism whereby we do it at a few removes, through a series of dummy or shell companies, or by getting a company we're already affiliated with to do it.
But at the meeting there is strong opposition to all of this. It starts out more as confusion, incomprehension even, than any coherent argument, but then the objections come thick and fast. Why Pivot? It's small, it's niche, there's no business model to work with. A successful website is all about traffic, all about clicks, pageviews and ad revenue, all about manufactured urgency and polarising headlines – and Pivot is pretty much a textbook example of how not to do any of that stuff. So how would you value it? And where's the growth potential? And just what would you _do_ with it?
Most of this comes from Dick Stein, one of our senior investment analysts. The thing is, my idea, which I can't advertise to him, or to anyone else here, is that by owning Pivot I'd not only be able to keep a close watch on what Kate and Pete Kettner are doing, I'd be able to exert a certain amount of influence over them as well. Pumping additional money into the operation would generate new activity, and that, in turn, would redirect their attention and, with any luck, distract them.
That's the idea anyway.
The meeting gets testy. Most people agree with Stein, whether or not they say so out loud. I can see it. And Lester looks uncomfortable too.
I stare at the glass of water in front of me for a few moments and have a small epiphany. Of _course_ these people all agree with the professional investment guy, because that's what he _is_ , a fucking professional investment guy. He knows what he's talking about. _I_ don't. _I'm_ being irrational. _I'm_ being a jerk.
And I understand this.
Nevertheless, I end up shouting at them. I end up telling them to just do it anyway before storming out of the room.
*
The next day I'm at Jean-Georges having lunch with Oberon Capital Group CEO, Dessie Litchfield, when something extremely weird happens. I look up from my truffle salad and see, approaching us from across the room, the unmistakable figure of Bill Clinton. We have a table by the window, and I glance out for a second to gather my wits. I have no protective blanket of morphine this time, but I'm sure it'll be okay. He'll probably do all the talking anyway. As he gets to the table, I'm about to extend my hand and greet him warmly, but Clinton isn't looking at me. Instead, and with a grin on his face, he gently slaps Litchfield on the back and says, 'Dessie, my main man, what's up?' Litchfield turns and laughs, 'Bill!'
The two men go at it for a minute, Clinton pointing over at his table and saying he's here with some friends from Paris, Litchfield mentioning something about his wife. This is followed by a brief exchange about the _weather_ , and then, turning to me, Litchfield says, 'Bill, I'm sorry, have you met Teddy Trager?'
I'm about to extend my hand again and make some lame joke about this when Clinton shakes his head. 'No, I don't think I've had the pleasure, Teddy.' Then he extends _his_ hand.
We shake.
In disbelief, I look into his eyes. Familiar and searching as they are, I see no sign of recognition in them whatsoever.
'Paradime,' he says, 'right? Paradime Capital?'
Unsure whether to call him _Bill_ or _Mr President_ I end up just nodding.
'Great company,' he says. 'Doing some great things. Yes, sir.'
And that's it.
He and Litchfield engage in another few moments of banter, during which I stare up at Clinton, at his florid complexion, at his silver hair, during which I listen, uncomprehending, to whatever words he's saying in that whispered, husky, conspiratorial drawl I remember so clearly from the hospital.
Afterward, I try to make sense of what happened, but I can't. As I cross the lobby of the Tyler Building and go up in the elevator I feel increasingly strange and a little nauseous. In reception, Nicole approaches with a note in her hand, but I wave her away. I sit at my desk and swivel for a bit. Then I turn to my computer and look up Bill Clinton. I hop around aimlessly, from his Wikipedia page to the Foundation website.
What's going on? It's not just that this man with legendary recall powers didn't remember visiting me in the hospital two months ago, it's that he claimed never to have met me at all.
Maybe it was the morphine.
But if so, what else did I hallucinate? Clooney too? You don't really hallucinate on morphine though, do you? Not with the low dosages I was on. And not like that anyway.
Then something occurs to me.
I work out the dates that I was in the hospital and compare these to _NYT_ search results for references to Clinton on those same dates.
It seems that on the very morning Bill Clinton spent ten or fifteen minutes sitting at my bedside in New York, he was attending a regional-aid conference in Lisbon, Portugal.
_Fuck._
I slump forward on the desk and, for a few seconds, feel as if everything around me, every solid object – the chair I'm in, the desk in front of me, the office itself, the seventy floors of steel and concrete stacked beneath it – as if all these things are on the point of crumbling suddenly and falling in on themselves.
But the room remains solid. There's no trillion-particle dust storm blowing up around me. No understanding of _this_ either, though.
I'm about to look up Clooney when an anxious-seeming Nicole appears at the door. I raise my head.
'What?'
She holds up the note she had in her hand earlier. 'A message,' she says, 'it's urgent, apparently . . . from Dr Lessing?'
He wants to meet and suggests a coffee shop four blocks away. This seems weird to me, but on my way down I realise something. I've only ever met Karl Lessing in the apartment, never here at the Tyler. I've never spoken to him directly on the phone. I could spend time wondering why this might be and devise some workable theories, but I'm too consumed with the other matter to really think about it.
The coffee shop is very ordinary, even a little shabby. I spot Lessing at a table near the back, occupied with his phone.
When I get to the table, he looks up and nods at the chair on the other side. 'Sit down.'
An impulse to upend the table and punch Lessing in the face ripples across my brain, but I have a question I want to put to him.
I sit down.
He has a question too, and manages to get it in before mine. 'What the hell are you doing?'
I don't answer at first. I look around. It's as if I'm impatient for someone to come over and take my order. But I'm not. I've just had lunch. I do it because I'm confused. Every new thing that comes along now is confusing, and they're all piling up confusingly inside my head. I look at Lessing again. 'What do you mean?'
He makes a huffing sound. 'What do you _think_ I mean? This Pivot thing. You're trying to _buy_ it? And Leonard Perl, the surveillance? What's that all about? We had an agreement.' He leans across the table and locks eyes with me. 'No contact with your old life, no crossover.'
Lessing is wearing a suit, but there's something shabby about it, and about him too. Who _is_ he?
That's another question I want to ask him, but I'm afraid of what the answer will be. While we're at it, here's another. Does he know why I want to buy Pivot? And if he doesn't, do I tell him?
He's waiting for me to speak when a waitress comes over.
'Two coffees,' Lessing says without looking at her.
When she leaves, I say, 'Karl, I don't have to explain myself to _you_.'
He adjusts his glasses, then takes them off, fiddles with them, and puts them back on again. For the few seconds he doesn't have them on, he looks strange, like an outsized fish. 'No, you don't,' he says, 'about most things, that's true. It's the way we want it, and it's working out great. Look at ExpoCon.' He throws his head back. 'Fabulous. And before that, asteroid mining? Running for public office? It's all _very_ exciting.' He lowers his voice. 'But _this_? I don't get it. Basically, we make one request of you, we have _one_ simple condition. And that's only because it makes sense. I mean, how is this thing going to work if you get entangled with your past again?' He shakes his head. 'If you get entangled with _her_?'
Okay, at least that answers my question. It's clear to me now that he doesn't know. He thinks I've lost it. But I haven't. And I'm certainly not trying to get entangled with Kate again. I'm trying to save her.
From _me_.
But I don't see how I'm going to be able to do it alone, not any more.
Our coffees arrive. I don't touch mine. Lessing doesn't touch his.
'Well?' he says, drumming his fingers on the tabletop.
So I explain it to him: the laptop, the search history, Kettner, everything. I explain my motivation in hiring Leonard Perl and in trying to acquire Pivot. I tell him I need help in bypassing people like Dick Stein. I tell him we just need to get _on_ with it. 'Look,' I say, 'when we control Pivot, we'll be in a position to control, you know . . . the narrative.'
Lessing stares across the table at me. He's taken in all I've said, he's processed it, but behind his eyes now – I can sense it – various cortices have flared up and are going into hyperdrive. And suddenly I'm scared. Suddenly I'm thinking I should have kept my mouth shut.
He mumbles something.
I lean forward a bit. ' _What?_ ' This comes out a little louder than I intended.
Lessing shakes his head. 'Nothing. I just . . . I need to give this a little thought.'
Before I know it, he's peeling a ten off a roll of bills and making to get up out of his chair. He puts his phone into his pocket.
'That's it?' I say, looking up at him now.
'I have a thing.' He adjusts his glasses. 'But let me get back to you on this, okay?'
There are so many questions I want to put to Dr Karl Lessing. Who are you? Where is Doug Shaw? Who hacked Teddy Trager's car? Do I really know Bill Clinton? Are Kate and Pete Kettner now on some kind of . . . _list_?
'Sure,' I say, 'yeah.'
I pick up the cup of coffee in front of me to indicate that I'm staying.
'Okay, Danny.'
When he moves off, I put the cup down again and stare at it for a moment.
Right now, if I had only one question, I guess it would be this: if you're so fucking happy with what a good Teddy Trager I make, what was wrong with the original?
I stand up from the table and turn around. Lessing has already gone. I make my way out of the coffee shop and onto the sidewalk. I look left and right. Nothing. Then I spot him across the street, on the far corner – and again, in a glimmer, he's gone. I cross over, move along the block and make the same left turn he did.
It takes me a moment to focus, to filter out what's not relevant in my line of vision – the two old ladies chatting by the news-stand, the delivery guy hauling a large crate across the sidewalk, the approaching group of tourists – but I see him. He's directly ahead, about half a block away. We're on 52nd Street, going east. I keep walking and could easily go faster. I could catch up with him no problem. I could tap him on the shoulder, pin him against a storefront window, _make_ him answer my questions.
But I hold back, and follow him.
This reminds me of how things were before, at the beginning, with Trager, when I was following _him_ around, and somehow it feels wrong, like a misstep. I'm about to ramp things up a bit when Lessing takes out his phone. He holds it at arm's length for a second, either to check who's calling, I guess, or to make a call himself. Then he brings the phone up to his ear. Whoever he's talking to, the conversation carries him all the way over to Third Avenue. He turns right and keeps going. At the corner of 49th, he comes to a stop. He's in a huddle of people waiting to cross, and I back up behind him – almost right up against him. He's still on the phone.
'Okay,' he's saying – and with the sound of traffic and other people talking I can just barely make this out – 'I'll see you there, outside, five minutes.'
The light changes.
As Lessing is stepping off the sidewalk, he puts the phone back into his pocket. I wait to let him get ahead a bit and then step forward myself. We move in unison, half a block apart. There's almost a rhythm to it.
But after a while, certain angles and contours of Third Avenue – of this stretch of it, anyway – start to shift in front of me, sliding and subtly realigning. A specific formation I recognise then clicks into place, and that trillion-particle dust storm blows up right inside my skull. Because over to my left, on the other side of Third, is the Wolper & Stone Building, where Gideon Logistics has its headquarters. And just up ahead here, on my right, is that cocktail lounge with the great olives – what was it, the Bradbury?
I slow down.
_Holy_ _fuck._
There's a news-stand on the corner, just to my left, and I stop at it. I use it for cover but also for something to lean against, because, right now, I can't breathe.
I tilt my head at a slight angle and watch as Karl Lessing moves along the busy sidewalk. He veers towards the entrance to the Bradbury. And approaching from the opposite direction, veering towards the same point, is Phil Coover.
#
When _I_ met Coover, and we were crossing Third to go to this very bar, I remember thinking I could short-circuit my rising sense of panic by just taking off at a run and making for the nearest subway stop.
It's what I do now, but I no longer have the expectation that it's going to cause my fear index to drop by even a single point. All movement there, I can tell, will be in the other direction.
Because Phil Coover . . .
Who is he? _What_ is he?
A train rushes into the station now that matches the speed and roar of my thoughts.
Is he a consultant, as he said when we met? Is he a private-security contractor? Is he an executive at Gideon? Is he US military? Is he NSA? Is he CIA? What's his interest in me, and how far back does it go? Did _he_ have Trager's car hacked? And the prep cook at Barcadero, the one I replaced, Yannis . . . holy fucking _shit_ , was that Coover too?
Somehow?
And what about Sharista?
I get on the train, shaking, maybe muttering to myself, only a step or two removed from being _that_ guy – the central-casting crazy person, the one who makes you wish you'd gotten on the next car.
Hey, you!
Hey, buddy!
_Hey, gorgeous!_
I stand, leaning back against the door, and try to remain calm. Then I look up suddenly, and around, scoping out the other passengers. Am I being followed? _Watched?_ That's what Coover said, at the beginning. But did he mean watched all the time, or is it more like what Trager said when I mentioned surveillance to him? _Not twenty-four-seven, Jesus, don't flatter yourself . . ._
I don't know what to think.
Except that I've presumably just put Kate into a very dangerous position. It was obvious from his reaction that Lessing was freaked out by what I told him, and he reported it back to Coover almost immediately. So what's Coover's reaction going to be? And how long before they realise I've cut loose? If they don't already know?
I look around again.
I have no idea where I am or where I'm going. I just ended up on this train . . . which is . . . an uptown 6. It'll soon be pulling into 59th Street. What good is that to me?
None.
When it stops, I get off. At street level, I wander for a block or two and then head into Central Park. Not wanting to go too far, I walk down by the pond and find an empty bench to sit on. Huddled now in this oasis of calm (though watched over by the steel and granite monoliths behind me and to my left), I close my eyes for a while and think.
Maybe cutting loose is the wrong move. Maybe I shouldn't be panicking at all. Maybe I should just go back to the office and act like nothing happened.
Or back to the apartment.
Because where else would I go? How else would I function? At this point, who else would I _be_?
In any case, Kate and Pete Kettner aren't a real threat. They don't have any incriminating evidence. There's nothing they can actually do.
I open my eyes.
The reason I told Lessing about them was to explain _my_ behaviour, to demonstrate how cautious _I_ was being. This is a rationalisation, I know, and just as I'm about to tie a nice little bow on it, my cellphone rings. I take it out and check the screen. It's a private number. I think about not answering it, but I don't want to set off any alarm bells.
'Hello?'
'Teddy. It's Karl.'
I focus on the dark pool of water in front of me, people gliding by, insubstantial, like shadows.
'Hi, Karl.'
'I've been thinking, Teddy, and, you know what? Your instincts were right. Easy to see how it could happen, with the laptop. And she was bound to get curious, which is probably all this is . . . but better to be safe too, better to be inside the tent and all of that. For now, at least. So . . . yeah, we're going to put some money into Pivot. In fact, we're going to try and buy it, like you suggested.'
_We?_
A little dart of pain shoots up the back of my neck.
'What does Doug have to say about all of this?'
'I wouldn't worry about what Doug thinks.'
'No?'
'No.' He pauses. 'Look, Doug is having some issues right now, health issues. He's not really in a position to weigh in on stuff like this.'
I remain silent as I try to process what I've just heard.
'Teddy? You there?'
'Yeah.' I crouch forward. 'I'm here. So . . .'
'So, yeah, that Pivot thing will be taken care of. Better that you keep a little distance from the whole thing anyway, right?'
'Yeah.'
'And by the way, listen, I should tell you . . . you're doing a great job, and, uh . . . keep it up.' It sounds like he's reading this from a card or off a screen or something.
I say a mumbled thanks, and then he hangs up.
As I walk out of the park, I'm tempted to let myself think that I've dodged a bullet here, that I could easily rewind a bit and pick up from where I left off . . . but where would that be, __ exactly? At the office, before I went to lunch at Jean-Georges? Before I hired Leonard Perl? Before that conversation with _Nina_?
I cross at the light and walk south on Fifth.
What does it matter, though? There _is_ no rewind option, so if I'm going to pick it up, it has to be from here. It's just that . . . everything has changed, and this is no longer just about me. If Phil Coover is the one buying or putting funds into Pivot, he will have a window into Kate's life and will be in a position to exert a degree of control over her. It's bad enough that that's what _I_ was proposing to do, but this is a lot worse.
I keep walking, and a few minutes later I'm at the Tyler Building. But on my way in I have this overwhelming sense of dread. For the first time, I feel like an actual fraud. I certainly don't feel like someone who's doing 'a great job', or even someone who knows what their job is. I'm also unsure of what to expect when I step out of the elevator and into reception. Everything seems normal, though, and as I approach my office, Nicole appears, tablet in hand, as usual. I shake my head.
'But—'
'Later,' I say without looking at her.
I go inside, close the door behind me and head over to my desk. I need to find out who Phil Coover is, and I spend the next couple of hours searching for information about him, a reference, an image, anything. There are plenty of people called Phil Coover, but none of them quite fits the bill. I trawl through all things Gideon, I go to DoD and CIA websites. I look up work by investigative journalists who operate on the fringes and have written previously about PMCs and the intel community.
I come up with nothing.
Then I remember what Nina said when she was talking about Teddy's car being hacked and where she'd come across information on the crash forensics.
I get on the phone and call Jerry Ellis again. Now, clearly this shithead can't be trusted, because if _he_ didn't tell Karl Lessing about my dealings with Leonard Perl, then I don't know who did. But I reckon he can still be useful. Without going into specifics, I say I have an IT issue and ask him to send me over someone who knows their way around computers.
An hour later, an intense young guy called Billie Zheng shows up, looking eager but also slightly apprehensive. I tell him to sit, and I chat with him for a few minutes. Then I square up to it. 'Okay, Billie,' I say, 'I need to get onto the deep web . . . or, uh, the dark web, or the deep _net_ , whatever the fuck it's called.' I pause. 'Can you get me down there?'
Billie Zheng looks simultaneously relieved and puzzled – relieved, I'm guessing, because this won't be a challenge as far as he's concerned, and puzzled, I'm pretty sure, for the same reason – because if it's no challenge for _him_ , how can it possibly be something that tech visionary Teddy Trager needs help with?
He hesitates, as if there might be a punchline coming that he should wait for.
I lean forward. 'Well?'
'Yeah,' he says, 'sure, of course.'
So we get into it. He explains stuff to me about encryption and randomised peer-to-peer relay channels. I ask him questions and take notes. My obvious lack of basic knowledge here continues to puzzle him, but I don't care. I'm focused on what he's telling me. Within an hour we have downloaded TOR, the deep-web browser, and he's giving me tips about how to maintain anonymity: turn off cookies and JavaScript, for example, and put some duct tape on the webcam. He then shows me the basics of how to navigate my way around and how to locate specific sites. He mentions Hidden Wiki, a reliable deep-web link directory for newbies and a couple of real-time chat rooms where experienced denizens of this shadow realm can steer me in the right direction.
When I have what I need, I send Billie on his way. If he ends up getting quizzed by Lessing or anyone else, there isn't much he can tell them about my intentions, because I didn't tell _him_. And I'm not even sure I know what they are myself. In fact, it takes me a few days to really get my bearings here, to swim around all the drugs, guns, porn and human organs for sale and find what I'm looking for, which is the kind of site that Nina mentioned, a place where investigative journalism and public-interest accountability can operate without fear of restriction or censorship.
There's no doubt that some of the material I manage to see is insane, hardcore conspiracy stuff, but not all of it. There are plenty of sites on the surface web that track corporate corruption and malfeasance, but nothing like a thing down here called Soul Trader Inc. This is where I find the details of every single whistle-blower allegation that has ever been levelled at Gideon Logistics – and not just the nine cases that Kate did her best to tell me about, the ones that went to trial, but _all_ of them . . . including what may be a reference to the incident _I_ witnessed at Sharista.
Through a Nepalese lawyer, the family of a Sajit Pradhan has apparently been trying to establish the whereabouts of their son, a so-called TCN, who went to work for the company in Afghanistan months ago and now appears to be missing. This is one of several similar cases, some of them going back years, but in all of them the families have met with resistance and obstruction leading to prohibitive legal costs and, in many instances, financial ruin.
Extremely uncomfortable with this, I move on to another site and read about Gideon's legal battle with the Pentagon. The level of detail here is staggering and would be unimaginable on any normal news outlet. But what's really shocking is the revelation that Gideon Logistics, one of the world's largest private military and defence contractors, was started in the mid-1990s with seed money from a CIA-fronted VC firm called Silo, which was itself a forerunner of the agency's official VC arm, In-Q-Tel. Apparently, the connections and links between these companies are labyrinthine and ongoing, which makes the multi-billion-dollar fraudulent-billing case something of a joke.
But there's a trail here, and I follow it all the way to what emerges slowly – to me at least – as some kind of logical conclusion. Because it transpires that what I discovered about Gideon Logistics is also pretty much true of Paradime Capital. The exact details are way too knotty to unravel, let alone retain – I can just about understand this stuff as I'm reading it – but the basic point is the same. The seed money for these companies, the funding, the patronage – it all came from the CIA.
If this were a Venn diagram, it occurs to me, I'd be at the intersection, and so would Phil Coover.
It takes another couple of days before _that_ name elicits a response. I throw it out there on a corporate-watch forum, and someone with the user ID _fg63br7iyzg_ chimes back with: 'Oh shit, is that Project Mandrake Phil Coover? Haven't heard HIS name in years.'
I ask a follow-up question, and wait. There's no reply.
The next day, I try to go onto the forum again, but it appears to have been taken down.
*
I've seen all I want to see anyway. I may not fully comprehend everything that's happened to me, or why it's happened, but I have enough of a sense of it to understand one essential thing: this is no longer a dream, no longer a weird, extended, solipsistic trance. Whatever spell I was under has broken, whatever edifice of delusion I was occupying has crumbled. As Nina suggested, I am, in fact, and have been all along, a puppet. And is there anything more pathetic than that? A puppet who believes he is a free agent?
A marionette with a soul?
Outwardly, over the next few days, I carry on as normal. But really, I'm just floating along in another trance, a different kind of trance – this one fuelled by guilt and dread, by images of the past and visions of the future, by the now-spectral face of Sajit Pradhan and the yet-to-be-seen face of Nina Schlossmeier's child. And as for the great job I'm supposedly doing, by the end of another week it really couldn't be said – unless staring out the window counts – that I am doing any job at all now.
So how long can _this_ last? How long before I feel a gentle tug on my pull strings? Not long at all, as it turns out. The next morning, I'm in the back of the limo, we're on the way to the office, Ricardo driving, when I feel it. Instead of going his normal way, Ricardo heads for the Lincoln Tunnel. As soon as I notice the change of route, I reach over to the intercom to say something, but . . . I don't know what it is, I hesitate. I hold my finger over the button and let it hover there for maybe fifteen seconds. Then, just at the entrance to the tunnel, I sigh loudly, flop back in my seat and proceed to gaze vacantly out at the oncoming rush of flickering lights and vitreous white tiles . . .
After a while, I look at the back of Ricardo's head through the thick glass of the divider. I'm not going to give him a hard time. What would be the point? He hasn't lost his mind. He hasn't gone rogue. He's just doing his job.
By the time we get onto the New Jersey Turnpike I have a fairly clear idea of where we might be headed: the Gideon training facility where I did my orientation sessions before shipping out to Afghanistan. It's in Pennsylvania, not too far from a place called Doylestown.
It takes us a little over two hours to get there, and I spend most of this time lost in thought, in loops of anger and regret, but also moving, slowly, I suppose, to a state of resignation and acceptance. Whatever reason they have for bringing me out here, it isn't to do further training or orientation, that's for sure.
We drive through the gates of the facility, which is in a fairly remote, wooded area, and park directly in front of a plain, single-storey building. That's when I start to feel a little sick. I get out of the car and look around, avoiding eye contact with Ricardo. The contrast of the sleek black limousine with the dusty, sunbaked, almost ramshackle surroundings is quite stark. As I remember it, there are several similar buildings to the rear of the one we're parked in front of.
There doesn't seem to be anyone around.
I look over at Ricardo, who's leaning against the side of the car. I'm about to say something to him when a figure emerges from the building, a guy in his twenties wearing fatigue pants and a black T-shirt.
He approaches me and says, 'Sir, come this way, please.' He then turns around and goes back inside. I follow him into a small, sparsely furnished office. 'In there, sir,' he says and points to a door in the corner.
I nod in acknowledgement, wondering if there's any way I can delay this. There isn't. I take in a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds and release it slowly. I head for the door. What's behind here? I quickly visualise a large empty room, blacked-out windows, a single light bulb, and then . . . after the bullet has entered the back of my head, and I'm falling forward, a spray of blood hitting the bare floorboards just _inches_ in front of me . . .
The room _is_ large, and pretty much empty, except for a pool table in the middle of it and several rows of stacked plastic folding chairs over to the right. The floorboards are bare and worn. To the left there are two windows, both of them grimy, probably from a combination of dust and rain. These are the only sources of light here, making the atmosphere dim and oppressive, and for this reason it takes me a couple of moments to realise that there is a man standing at the far side of the room. The fact that he has his back to me isn't helping.
I take a few steps towards him. 'Hello?'
He's wearing a suit, a well-cut one, and is about my height and build, and—
He turns around.
I remain calm.
Controlled breathing helps, short ones – in, out, in, out. Because it's Teddy Trager. Standing there in front of me now. Ten feet away, and smiling.
_It's_ _Teddy fucking Trager_ . . .
Except that . . .
I take another step forward.
Except that it _isn't_. He looks like Teddy Trager, but there's something off . . . the cheekbones, the eyes, I don't know what it is . . . _something_. He also has a visible scar below his left ear. As I get closer, he takes a step forward too and holds out his hand. 'Hey,' he says. 'Pleased to meet you.'
_And he doesn't sound a fucking thing like Teddy Trager._
I ignore his outstretched hand and study his face for a moment instead, the lines, the proportions.
That scar is really distracting.
Is this guy meant to be a replacement for me? They can't be serious.
I'm about to say something to him when I hear a sound behind me – the door opening and then footsteps. On these floorboards, the footsteps are loud and firm. I swallow hard and find myself wondering, as I turn around, where the nearest subway stop might be.
'Danny,' Phil Coover says, striding towards me. 'Danny, Danny, Danny.'
In green khaki pants and a black turtleneck sweater, he looks a little older than I remember. He radiates a similar vitality and presence, but his face seems heavier, more lined, his eyes less intensely vivid.
We shake hands. His grip is just as firm as before, and, as before, when we're done he places a hand on my shoulder. 'So, how's my favourite cockroach?'
No change in style, either.
It might be a little soon to say _fuck you_ , but nor do I want to waste any time being polite. I flick my head back to indicate the guy standing behind me. 'You're kidding with this, right?'
Coover removes his hand from my shoulder. 'Say what?'
'Oh, come on, _look_ at him.'
Keeping his eyes on me the whole time, Coover seems to consider this. Then he says, 'Leon here is a work in progress. The scar is unfortunate. We need more time for things to settle in.'
'And for a little _voice_ work, maybe?'
'Yes. Obviously. We can't all be perfect like you, Danny.'
My stomach flips, and I feel weak. 'So why show him off like this?'
'Why do you think?'
'Well, let's see . . . you want to make a point? You replaced Teddy Trager, you can just as easily replace me? Is that it?'
'Not _just_ as easily, but . . . yes.'
'So then . . .' I look down at the floorboards, frustration mounting, a part of me wishing there really had been a bullet waiting on the other side of the door. I look back at Coover. 'I don't get any of this. None of it makes sense. What are you running here, some kind of programme? Or _project_ , I don't know . . . Project Mandrake?'
Coover holds my gaze for a moment, then looks over my shoulder. 'Leon,' he says, 'thank you.'
Leon moves immediately. He walks around us and leaves the room.
When Coover hears the door closing behind him, he says, 'Okay, so . . . no, Project Mandrake, that was' – he clicks his fingers – 'that was the late seventies, after the Church Committee hearings, in fact. So I doubt very much, quite frankly, if you know anything more about it than the name.' He turns and walks over to the pool table. Resting against the edge of it, he folds his arms. 'Things are different today. Well, the _names_ are certainly different, but I suppose they all lead back in one way or another to the great fountainhead, MKUltra. That was Allen Dulles, in '53. And even before that, I suppose, to get the ball rolling, there was Operation Paperclip.' He seems quite wistful about all of this. 'So you see, Danny, we're part of a great tradition here.'
I shake my head. 'I'm not part of any fucking _tradition_. I didn't choose this—'
'Well, none of us _chooses_ it—'
'Oh please.' I feel another wave of exhaustion. 'I need to sit down.'
He holds out a hand, indicating the stacked chairs. 'Be my guest.'
I walk over and pick out two of the folding chairs. I set them up a few feet apart and take one of them. 'Okay,' I say. 'This programme I'm apparently taking part in, what is it, Operation Doppelgänger? Project Lookalike? What?'
'Something along those lines,' Coover says, coming over and sitting down in the second chair. 'Understandably, it's classified, but yes, the idea is essentially that . . . to harness this opportunity nature provides, albeit rarely. Though not as rarely as you might think. Leon there, for example – okay, he needs work, I'll admit it – but he comes from an area of Russia where for some reason we have found there's a higher statistical probability of being able to find a lookalike, for _our_ purposes, at any rate, than anywhere else in the entire world. And believe me, we've looked. This programme goes back twenty-five years.'
'Holy shit.'
'Yes, the thing is, you see, in most cases, there's an initial _wow_ factor, and then you look closer – like with Leon, I guess – and maybe it's not such a close match. But there are enhancement options . . . surgical procedures, for example, prosthetic implants, genetic manipulation, and new areas are opening up all the time. It's a regular Pandora's box.' He leans back in the chair. 'But then, once in a while . . . _man_ . . .'
'What?'
'We get a live one . . . a ninety-seven, ninety-eight per cent match. Almost too good to be true.'
'And that's _me_ you're talking about?'
'Damn right. You're the jewel in the crown of this programme, Danny.'
I shake my head, struggling here. 'So . . .'
'Yes?'
'What about Bill Clinton?'
'Ha. That's another Russian guy, and he's _very_ good, but he doesn't have anything like your numbers.'
'Clooney?'
Coover shakes his head. 'No, no, that was George. He and Teddy go back. It was Ray too. We put Bill in there to mix it up a bit.'
'Look, what _is_ this programme? I don't understand.'
Coover clears his throat quietly, then sits up straight in the chair. 'Okay, like any of these programmes, it's a form of unconventional or asymmetric warfare. It's an attempt to weaponise something that you wouldn't usually think of in that context – so . . . psychiatry, LSD, sleep cycles, sex, the media, video games, consumer technology, or _whatever_ – and it's all done in the interests of protecting national security. In this case, it's the strategic use of political decoys or body doubles. At least that's how it started out, and you can see the appeal of it, being able to replace key figures, and then influence decision-making, reverse policies and, ultimately, shape events. But the limitation of it has always been this: how do you control the decoy? How do you control the double? Do you pay them? Or do you coerce them? Is it a suitcase full of money or a baseball bat? It's all a little crude, I'll admit, and more often than not it ends in tears. Or a goddamned book deal.' He pauses. 'Because the double, usually, is a nobody, a loser.'
'A cockroach.'
'There you go. But what _if_ ,' – he holds up a finger – 'what if you could engineer it so that the decoy doesn't really know what's going on, so that the decoy thinks this is all happening to _him_ , that he's got the chance to become this other person all on his own . . . and then he does, and we just watch. What if you could engineer a sense of destiny for someone and then install it in them like a piece of software?' He lets that hang in the air for a moment. 'You know, at one time we had whole research departments working on it, in labs, in universities, looking at this deep-seated desire we all seem to have for personal transformation and what we'll do to achieve it, the lengths we'll go to . . . as well, of course, as our capacity for denial and self-deception. This stuff is all there in the literature. You can read it. Also, go talk to Karl – really, he's fascinating on the subject.' He clears his throat again, loudly this time. 'Now, there's a wild-card aspect to it as well. There's unpredictability, there are variables – in this case, getting you in front of Teddy, for example, or trying to keep Doug Shaw in line, to convince him this was bigger than just protecting Paradime – but once the subject is embedded, sort of like a sleeper agent, then that's a solid asset we have in place that we can activate further down the line, if and when we need to.'
I shift in the chair, partly because it's uncomfortable, partly because I may be about to get sick. 'And then?'
'Well, at some point we have a version of _this_ conversation. But, you see, the theory is that the decoy is now so entrenched in his new identity that there doesn't need to be much persuading. The old life has been left behind, we're all set, and, as for money or coercion, neither of those things is actually required. To be frank, though, Danny, I'm a little disappointed that _we're_ having the conversation so soon. Things seemed to be going pretty well, and then . . . I don't know . . .'
He lets that trail off. But what does he mean? Is he referring to _Kate_?
'What about Teddy?' I say, in a blatant attempt at deflection. 'I don't get it. How is _he_ such an asset? Where does national security come into it with him?'
Coover shrugs. 'Maybe it doesn't,' he says, after a moment. 'On the other hand, maybe it does. Maybe Teddy runs for public office, and crushes it. Then we have a glittering prize in our pocket. In any case, he's on the board of all the major tech companies, and _that's_ certainly valuable. But you know, none of that really matters, because the point is, Danny, you're an experiment, a trial we're running. This is now a big programme, and we're taking the long view. We've secured a _lot_ of funding.'
I take in a deep breath. 'There are others? In the programme?'
'There _will_ be,' Coover says. 'So this trial, in terms of future budget allocations . . . it's very important.' He pauses. 'Look, since 9/11 the whole national-security apparatus has mushroomed, it's out of control. There are now thousands of programmes and initiatives, and this is just one of them. But I'll be honest with you, Danny, _you_ revived it. Single-handedly. I'm serious. The programme was more or less dormant, had been for a while. I was involved in other things – I was with Gideon, consulting, liaising . . . and then you showed up on the radar.'
'At Sharista.'
'Yeah, after the incident that night, the riot. I'm looking through the reports, there's video footage, there are photos, and, holy shit, if I don't see this . . . this _face_.'
More questions arise here than I'll ever be able to put to him, but as I go back in my mind to that night, and fast forward through the subsequent days and months, only one of them forms coherently in my head. 'What about the cost?'
Coover shakes his head. 'I don't . . . what do you mean? Our budget is—'
'The _human_ cost, Phil. Sajit Pradhan? That prep cook at Barcadero? Trager himself? You hacked his car, you _killed_ him. Then all the surveillance, the invasion of privacy, the denial of . . . I thought we had a constitution in this country.'
'Danny, that's a bit naive, isn't it? Don't you see that what we _have_ in this country, what we're facing, is an existential threat? Nothing less. Now that's not anything the Founding Fathers ever could have imagined. So what I reckon is' – he shrugs his shoulders here – 'we're no more than a terrorist incident or two away from pretty much having to let that thing go.'
'Let what go? The Constitution?'
'Yep,' Coover says, nodding solemnly, 'I'm afraid so. I mean, the argument has been used before that conditions in the country have changed . . . in relation to the Second Amendment, for example. But this is different. This is a whole new ball game.'
I stare at him. 'What do you want from me, Phil?'
'I want you to stay in place, Danny. I want you to go on being Teddy Trager, but to play by the rules, and we both know there's only _one_ of those.' He gets up from his chair and stands, towering over me. 'Okay. We've had the conversation. We're beyond that now. As for incentive, well . . . you're already rich, far richer than I'll ever be, so I'm obviously not going to pay you, but please – and I mean this – don't put me in a position where I have to coerce you.'
#
The next few days have a strangely calm, dreamlike quality to them. I sleep better, I swim in the pool every morning, I eat properly, I'm not on edge all the time. At work, I pay attention in meetings and engage with people. I listen to their ideas. I even start to hatch some of my own. For example, if developing and launching the LudeX game console is going to tear PromTech apart, why shouldn't Zabruzzi and a couple of those other guys out in New Jersey form a separate company with a more hardcore R&D emphasis? I get Lester to draw up a proposal, and I meet Zabruzzi for a drink at Sakagura, a Japanese place on 43rd Street. Another thing I do is sketch out some notes on how to get a political campaign off the ground – raising funds, hiring staff, shaping policies – and I attend a DNC Roundtable event at the Waldorf Astoria. Premature maybe, but I'd like to be a little more informed and coherent on the subject the next time I end up having to talk at any length about it.
It feels for a while as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I know where I stand now. I know who and what I'm dealing with. I know the rules.
Or, the _rule_.
No contact, no crossover.
Except . . . I always knew that, didn't I? And I never broke it. I came close one time, on the street that night, very close, but nothing actually happened. And the more elaborate infringement later on – Leonard Perl's surveillance package – that was a defensive measure in response to repeated requests for contact from the other side.
And there it is, the essential problem.
How can I ever control that? The other side? I can't really, and if that's the case, how can I ever protect Kate? Which is what I've been trying to do on one level or another from the very beginning. Talk of buying Pivot is all very well, but that's no solution either. It wouldn't be a movement away from this, it'd be a slow, progressive, creepy entanglement _into_ it – and with no guarantee of a satisfactory outcome.
But within a few days, there is, unexpectedly, an outcome of sorts. I'm on my way back from a long and fairly demanding lunch with Ray Dalio at the Four Seasons, so I'm eager to get back upstairs now to my office, to that space by the window where I can just gaze out vacantly on the geometric swirl of Midtown and flush everything out of my head. I'm crossing the plaza, heading straight for the revolving doors, when I hear it. And I'm not even sure at first that I do.
'Excuse me . . . Mr Trager?'
But I turn around anyway. Standing there in front of me, a few feet away, is Kate.
I feel an immediate tightness in my chest. What does she want? Doesn't she know that coming here is dangerous? That she's drawing attention to herself? That _she's_ the glitch in this whole system?
But then, how would she know?
'Uh . . . yes?' I say, feigning confusion.
Her skin is glowing, her hair thicker, redder, glossier than I remember, her eyes on high alert, darting everywhere, scanning me up and down.
'My name is . . .' She hesitates, and I feel she wants to say, _you fucking know what my name is_ , but she resists. 'I'm Kate Rozman. My colleague, Pete Kettner, met with you recently.'
'Oh, yes . . .' For a millisecond I consider extending my hand, taking hers in mine, but no good could come of that. There's _one_ rule here. 'Of course, yes, I remember.'
I remember . . .
'Is there any chance that we could talk? Even for a few minutes?'
People are walking past us, around us, in all directions, busy, focused on their own stuff, and amid the voices, the noise, the traffic, _we_ stand there, on a concrete plaza, face to face, Kate and I.
How can this be?
And how can it be that I have to walk away?
'Not this afternoon,' I say, as cold as I can make it sound, as distracted, as Teddy-Trager aloof. 'I have . . . appointments.'
The look she gives me as I take a step backwards is bewildering in its complexity, a dense flip book of irritation, disappointment, longing and – no question about this one – determination. So I'm fairly sure that Kate Rozman won't give up. She may not push it here today – she seems a little nervous – but I know her, and she _will_ regroup, she _will_ insist on talking to me again.
'I'm sorry,' I say, ending an encounter that has lasted barely twenty seconds, 'I'm late.'
I turn to move away, but something causes me to hesitate. As I glance back, I see Kate's hand slipping automatically into position over her belly.
*
In the elevator, I come close to another full-blown panic attack, but I wrestle this one down too. I make it into my office and close the door behind me. I sit at my desk and take a series of deep breaths.
Kate is pregnant?
But . . .
Is it scruffy hipster-guy Pete Kettner? Is it _me_? My hand is shaking as I click the screen awake to call up a calendar. We had sex the night I got back from Afghanistan – it wasn't great, it was awkward, it was tense (all my fault), but it's within the timeframe, so it _counts_.
But maybe she's not pregnant. Maybe I was seeing things. Maybe she's just put on a little weight. If she is though, and it's Pete Kettner's, what is she doing chasing Danny Lynch's _ghost_?
That's going to get her killed.
Unless I stop her, and how do I do that without . . . getting her killed . . .
Is it too much to hope that my coldness during those twenty seconds, my rudeness, my seeming indifference, will be enough to put her off?
The answer – or at least _an_ answer – appears on my screen as soon as I close the calendar page. It's a file marked 'LP', and it's where all of Leonard Perl's reports are automatically downloaded and archived. It also contains links to the various live surveillance feeds he set up. It's been over two weeks since I clicked on this file, but it _was_ an open-ended arrangement, and although Karl Lessing was clearly informed about it, I have no reason to believe the account isn't active. It turns out to be _very_ active, and I spend the next while scrolling through reports, one after the other, in sequence, feeling increasingly as if a noose is being tightened around my neck, because over the past week, and the past three days in particular . . . Kate has more or less taken to stalking me.
Subject left apartment at approx. 9 a.m., rode the subway to Rockefeller Center, and proceeded on foot to the Tyler Building.
Subject left work, took a cab to 45th Street, and proceeded on foot to the Tyler Building.
Subject walked vicinity of the Tyler Building for nearly two hours.
Subject waited outside the Tyler Building for forty minutes.
Subject followed client from the Tyler Building to Sakagura on East 43rd Street.
Subject followed client from the Waldorf Astoria Hotel on Park Avenue to the Tyler Building.
Subject followed client . . .
Subject followed client . . .
Subject followed client . . .
*
Once I've seen this, I know that whatever happens next has to happen really fast. I delete the entire contents of the file. I call Leonard Perl and instruct him to discontinue the surveillance immediately and to delete any relevant files he may have. I tell him I know that confidentiality has been breached, and I ask him straight out if any of the material his operatives gathered has been passed on to . . . a third party? He assures me that it hasn't, and from the slightly chastened tone of his voice, I decide to believe him.
Not that it'll make any real difference. This is just damage control. It's not the solution. _That_ takes a little longer to emerge, but when it does I feel immense relief, and not just because it's so obvious, so simple, it's because I know it's the _only_ solution.
I have to disappear.
As long as I'm around, Kate is in danger. And that's because she's a threat, a piece of unfinished business, what Phil Coover would no doubt refer to as an unticked box. But if I think about it for ten seconds, I also have to disappear for _me_.
I finally have to wake up from this.
Though in practical terms, who do I wake up _as_? It can't be Danny Lynch, and it can't be Teddy Trager.
The mechanics of this seem complicated, but once I set it all in motion, things happen with almost blinding speed. I hit the deep web again, and, within a couple of hours, I have set up a Bitcoin wallet, purchased what amounts to a new identity and reserved an out-of-state PO box. My new documents – passport, SSN, driver's licence – will all be delivered to this PO box within, apparently, two to three days.
And addressed to one Tom Copeland.
I call Nicole in and tell her I need five thousand dollars in cash ASAP. I know I've pushed her hard recently, with my moodiness and unpredictable behaviour, but this doesn't seem like the thing that's going to push her over the edge. Twenty minutes later, she reappears in my office and silently places a thick brown envelope on my desk.
That evening, back in the apartment, I have a long, slow swim in the pool. Then I spend a couple of hours in the kitchen. I cook an elaborate miso, shitake, lemongrass and pork belly ramen. After that, I go around the apartment and gather up a few items – a couple of high-end wristwatches, some gold cufflinks, a platinum fountain pen, a silver money clip, and a Leica S2-P camera. I eye up the small Picasso again, but that still seems like more trouble than I need.
I get a few hours' sleep, and, at around 4 a.m., with bulging pockets and a wallet stuffed with cash, I leave the apartment. Walking out of the building, I nod at the doorman. A block down, I hail a cab, which I take to Chinatown. I walk around here for a while, through quiet streets, then take another cab, and another one after that. I'm probably not being followed, but by the time I find myself walking into the Port Authority Bus Terminal on Eighth Avenue just after 7 a.m., the city coming to life again all around me, I'm fairly sure that no one knows who I am, or where I've been, or where I'm going.
*
I think it takes about a month for Leon to show up. I'm not paying close attention, but I do check in online every once in a while, when I can. It depends on where I am, it depends on what Internet access I have. I'm moving around a lot, uncertain of everything and everyone, wary of my new identity. I manage to stretch the five grand, plus what I make on the stolen items, which is actually quite a lot, but I know it's finite, so I end up doing whatever work I can get along the way as well, usually in kitchens, dishwashing, prep if I'm lucky. It's at one of these places, a Tex-Mex smokehouse in Kansas, in the manager's office at the back, that I spot a reference on the computer to Trager. I click on the article, and when it pops up there's no doubt in my mind that the accompanying image is of Leon. Much earlier, I'd seen a mention on Forbes that Trager was possibly missing, and then that he was on an extended trip to Africa. Now this article is saying that he has embarked on raising a new VC fund.
Even from this distance I don't believe it.
Next time I check in, it's as if Trager has transformed into Doug Shaw. I come across a video clip on Fox News of an interview he does, and it's painful to watch. Phil Coover must agree and obviously decides to cut his losses, because inside of a year the experiment is over, aborted – at least this phase of it is. In a copy of the _Austin Chronicle_ I find lying around a place I'm working at, I see a report that Teddy Trager has died suddenly of an aneurysm.
I feel weird reading this. First I'm killed in a car crash, then I drown in the Hudson river, and now a blood vessel in my brain explodes.
What's it going to be for Tom Copeland?
Now and again, I also check in on Pivot. When Leon first appeared, I was worried that Kate would simply pick up where she'd left off, but I sort of knew it wouldn't happen – she was pregnant and would be increasingly occupied with that. And, besides, it wouldn't have mattered, because Leon wasn't me, and the threat no longer made sense.
Kate posts regular blog pieces on Pivot, which I don't read, but at least it's a way of keeping track. These stop at around the time I reckon she's having the baby. Which is when I lose track of her, or when I stop looking.
Some of the time I convince myself that she wasn't pregnant at all, and when that doesn't work, I convince myself that the baby is Pete Kettner's, and I wish them both a good life. But as a sequence of thoughts, as a recurring preoccupation, as dream fodder, it never goes away – and never far behind it, though easier to suppress, is a shadow sequence featuring Nina Schlossmeier and _her_ kid.
As time goes by, though, and I run out of money, and find it harder to get work, and harder to make the effort to even look for work, I feel my life fragmenting, losing definition, and these thoughts, these notions, these versions of what might be true, of what might really be out there in the world, also fragment and lose their definition.
*
Later on, when I need it, I'm unable to seek help as a veteran, because Tom Copeland isn't one; nor can I seek treatment for what – on certain days, I'll admit, after all – may be some creeping form of PTSD . . . because Tom Copeland can't claim to have it and therefore can't get a diagnosis for it. And later still, when I end up homeless on the streets of a city I'm not sure I remember the name of, well . . . I'm not surprised.
I _am_ surprised one time when I stumble to recall, in my own mind, Kate's name.
That girl I knew . . .
And also struggle to remember her face.
Shit.
Is it all gone? My past, my present, my future? Is there nothing left to cling to?
It seems not, which is confirmed one day in a homeless shelter I'm staying at. This guy in the office is helping people out – filling in forms, getting information on various work and rehab programmes – and he offers to let me use one of the computers. I mess around on it for a while, looking at job and employment websites, but pretty soon I get demoralised. I'm about to walk away, when I think of something. I go to Google Images and type in Kate's name . . . and there she is . . .
I remember now.
There's only one photo, though – it's of her, and Pete Kettner, and a small boy, standing between them. He's about four years old.
Is it _that_ long?
I print out the photo. I keep it on me and look at it often. The little boy is cute. And I'm happy for them. I really am.
But the truth is I wanted him to be mine. I wanted me and Kate to make a kid together, to make a future together, or at least to give something of ourselves _to_ the future – to restore the level of justice.
A secret retribution . . .
I'm closed off from that now, though – my identity erased, atomised, and my time limited. I'm aware that Nina Schlossmeier may have been lying to me in her apartment that night, but she may well have been telling the truth, and I may _actually_ have a kid out there – but I don't want to know, I don't want to find out. Because it'd be the wrong kid, from the wrong me, and once again I'd be looking through the wrong side of the mirror . . .
*
I have this recurring dream. It's set in what could be North Carolina but equally could be Iraq or Afghanistan. There's this dark, windowless building, it's gigantic, the size of a whole city block, like a toppled monolith, but in a sunbaked, suburban landscape, or a desert. It's some kind of data farm, I guess. I'm in front of it, but also _inside_ it, and I'm staring at these enormous servers, row after row of them stretching back as far as the eye can see . . . every machine clicking, whirring, terabytes spinning within petabytes. I turn at one point to see the flicker of graphics on a monitor, neural imaging, _faces_ , one giving way to the next, slowly at first, then faster, then rapidly, hundreds of them, thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions, until the screen flashes, and an alert sounds.
And I wake up.
*
But at least I do _that_. I keep waking up. I keep going, too. I keep moving. I even keep looking in the mirror.
And a couple of months after my time in that homeless shelter, I find myself gazing into a particularly grimy mirror in the restroom of a bus station. I'm gaunt, I have a scraggly beard, my eyes look tired – and I may have a fake identity that I bought with someone else's money – but it's still _me_ in there, that's still _my_ face. And _I'm_ the one who decides what I do, and where I go.
And which bus I'm going to get.
With this little micro-dose of self-motivation sluicing through my limbic system, I head out to the main hall to have a look at the timetables. I glance up at the departures board and pick a destination, the decision quick and fairly random. But then something happens that makes me reconsider.
My eye gets distracted by a wall-mounted TV over in the corner. It's showing a news report, and on the screen a tall glamorous woman is being interviewed – doorstepped, it looks like – outside a Manhattan apartment building. She's smiling, and talking. The sound isn't good, and I can't hear what she's saying, but there's a caption.
_Nina Schlossmeier, CEO, Treadsoftly.com_
Holding her hand, tugging at it slightly as she talks, is a small boy. He's maybe four years old, and he's looking directly into the camera.
Without taking my eyes off the screen, I reach into my back pocket and retrieve the photo I printed out at the homeless shelter. It's torn and a little faded, but I hold it up and look at it closely. After a moment, and with my head – and the world – now starting to spin, I look at the screen again.
The two small boys are identical.
# About the Author
Alan Glynn is a graduate of Trinity College Dublin. He has worked in magazine publishing in New York and as an EFL teacher in Italy. His debut novel, _The Dark Fields_ , was released in 2011 as the hit movie _Limitless_ , which went to no. 1 on both sides of the Atlantic, and which is now a hit CBS network show. His most recent novel, _Graveland_ , concluded his highly acclaimed trilogy of thrillers which included _Bloodland_ , the Irish Crime Fiction Book of the Year in 2011, which was also Edgar-nominated in the US.
# By the Same Author
THE DARK FIELDS/LIMITLESS
WINTERLAND
BLOODLAND
GRAVELAND
# Copyright
First published in 2016
by Faber & Faber Ltd
Bloomsbury House
74–77 Great Russell Street
London WC1B 3DA
This ebook edition first published in 2016
All rights reserved
© Alan Glynn, 2016
Cover design by Faber
Cover images © Istvan Kadar/Getty; Chris Tefme/Shutterstock
The right of Alan Glynn to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and historical events either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly
ISBN 978–0–571–31624–3
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2023-12-30T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/5063
|
package edu.stanford.bmir.protege.web.client.place;
import com.google.common.base.Objects;
import com.google.gwt.activity.shared.AbstractActivity;
import com.google.gwt.core.client.GWT;
import com.google.gwt.event.shared.EventBus;
import com.google.gwt.user.client.ui.AcceptsOneWidget;
import edu.stanford.bmir.protege.web.client.collection.CollectionPresenter;
import edu.stanford.bmir.protege.web.shared.place.CollectionViewPlace;
import javax.annotation.Nonnull;
import javax.inject.Inject;
import static com.google.common.base.MoreObjects.toStringHelper;
import static com.google.common.base.Preconditions.checkNotNull;
/**
* Matthew Horridge
* Stanford Center for Biomedical Informatics Research
* 20 Jul 2017
*/
public class CollectionViewActivity extends AbstractActivity {
@Nonnull
private final CollectionPresenter presenter;
@Nonnull
private final CollectionViewPlace place;
@Inject
public CollectionViewActivity(@Nonnull CollectionPresenter presenter,
@Nonnull CollectionViewPlace place) {
this.presenter = checkNotNull(presenter);
this.place = checkNotNull(place);
}
@Override
public void start(AcceptsOneWidget panel, EventBus eventBus) {
GWT.log("[CollectionViewActivity] Starting activity");
presenter.start(panel, eventBus);
}
@Override
public int hashCode() {
return Objects.hashCode(presenter);
}
@Override
public boolean equals(Object obj) {
if (obj == this) {
return true;
}
if (!(obj instanceof CollectionViewActivity)) {
return false;
}
CollectionViewActivity other = (CollectionViewActivity) obj;
return this.presenter == other.presenter;
}
@Override
public String toString() {
return toStringHelper("CollectionViewActivity")
.addValue(place)
.toString();
}
}
|
2024-01-10T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/5183
|
Q:
How exactly do you configure httpOnly Cookies in ASP Classic?
I'm looking to implement httpOnly in my legacy ASP classic sites.
Anyone knows how to do it?
A:
If you run your Classic ASP web pages on IIS 7/7.5, then you can use the IIS URL Rewrite module to write a rule to make your cookies HTTPOnly.
Paste the following into the section of your web.config:
<rewrite>
<outboundRules>
<rule name="Add HttpOnly" preCondition="No HttpOnly">
<match serverVariable="RESPONSE_Set_Cookie" pattern=".*" negate="false" />
<action type="Rewrite" value="{R:0}; HttpOnly" />
<conditions>
</conditions>
</rule>
<preConditions>
<preCondition name="No HttpOnly">
<add input="{RESPONSE_Set_Cookie}" pattern="." />
<add input="{RESPONSE_Set_Cookie}" pattern="; HttpOnly" negate="true" />
</preCondition>
</preConditions>
</outboundRules>
</rewrite>
See here for the details: http://forums.iis.net/t/1168473.aspx/1/10
For background, HTTPOnly cookies are required for PCI compliance reasons. The PCI standards folks (for credit card security) make you have HTTPOnly on your sessionID cookies at the very least in order to help prevent XSS attacks.
Also, at the current time (2-11-2013), all major browser support the HTTPOnly restriction on cookies. This includes current versions of IE, Firefox, Chrome and Safari.
See here for more info on how this works and support by various browser versions:
https://www.owasp.org/index.php/HTTPOnly
A:
Response.AddHeader "Set-Cookie", "mycookie=yo; HttpOnly"
Other options like expires, path and secure can be also added in this way. I don't know of any magical way to change your whole cookies collection, but I could be wrong about that.
|
2024-05-07T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/7406
|
JavaScript seems to be disabled in your browser.
You must have JavaScript enabled in your browser to utilize the functionality of this website.
Angst
Polarized
Black / Gray
$35.00
Quantity:
100% UVA/UVB Protection
Polarized lenses reduce reflected glare
Meets CE Standards
AvailableColors
Description
Specs
Description & Specs
Angst - äNG(k)st/ : A feeling of deep anxiety or dread.This is the feeling we live for…. Sweaty palms, racing heart, infinite silence, then the moment. Is dropping in a sketchy quarter-pipe from a 20 foot platform a great idea? Probably not, but it’s what we live for. Rules were meant to broken and sure, sometimes bones too, but how many people became famous from sitting on the couch and not living? Live for Angst – Seek, Conquer & Destroy
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2024-07-13T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/9801
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When Nula's Suchet's husband James was struck by Pick's disease, her life began a terrible downward spiral and she was widowed. Yes she wasn't alone. After John Suchet's wife, Bonnie, also dies from dementia, they begin a journey to re-embrace life. The Longest Farewell tells the heartbreaking story of dealing with dementia and of unexpectedly finding a happy ending. Available now.
John Osmond calls Preseli - west and north Pembrokeshire - magical country. It is a landscape of bare hills, big skies and a dramatic coastline of bays and headlands. In Real Preseli, John Osmond's narrative mixture of history, memoir and personal knowledge, brings Preseli past and present alive in a thoroughly enjoyable and informative book. Available now.
<p>Gwyn Nicholls (1874-1939) is the starting - and perhaps the end - point of any debate about great rugby centres. Playing at a time when rugby developed into the game known today, Nicholls was universally recognised as the outstanding back of his time and a great thinker about the game, both technically and tactically. At once, he was the...
<p>Across the world the Welsh team of the late sixties and early seventies is fondly remembered for its mix of steely ball-winning and flamboyant try-scoring. The architect of their success was one of the game’s outstanding thinkers: centre John Dawes.<br /><br />Working with Dawes, David Parry-Jones has produced an...
<p>In the late forties and early fifties the Welsh rugby team was virtually unbeatable - indeed the 1953 side was the last to beat New Zealand. The teams then included some of the all-time greats: Cliff Morgan, Bleddyn Williams, Lewis Jones, Ken Jones. If the backs were outstanding, they were aided by a pack of rigour and technique which...
<p>A referee can’t make a bad game good, but he can make a good game bad. Based on this assumption, Derek Bevan became one of the world’s best - and best known - rugby union referees. He retired at the end of the 1999-2000 season, aged fifty, after 32 years as the man in the middle. During that long career he refereed in...
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2024-02-11T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/6600
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/**
* Copyright (c) Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.
* Licensed under the MIT License. See License.txt in the project root for
* license information.
*
* Code generated by Microsoft (R) AutoRest Code Generator.
*/
package com.microsoft.azure.management.network.v2019_08_01;
import com.microsoft.azure.management.network.v2019_08_01.implementation.NetworkInterfaceIPConfigurationInner;
import com.fasterxml.jackson.annotation.JsonProperty;
/**
* Application gateway backendhealth http settings.
*/
public class ApplicationGatewayBackendHealthServer {
/**
* IP address or FQDN of backend server.
*/
@JsonProperty(value = "address")
private String address;
/**
* Reference of IP configuration of backend server.
*/
@JsonProperty(value = "ipConfiguration")
private NetworkInterfaceIPConfigurationInner ipConfiguration;
/**
* Health of backend server. Possible values include: 'Unknown', 'Up',
* 'Down', 'Partial', 'Draining'.
*/
@JsonProperty(value = "health")
private ApplicationGatewayBackendHealthServerHealth health;
/**
* Health Probe Log.
*/
@JsonProperty(value = "healthProbeLog")
private String healthProbeLog;
/**
* Get iP address or FQDN of backend server.
*
* @return the address value
*/
public String address() {
return this.address;
}
/**
* Set iP address or FQDN of backend server.
*
* @param address the address value to set
* @return the ApplicationGatewayBackendHealthServer object itself.
*/
public ApplicationGatewayBackendHealthServer withAddress(String address) {
this.address = address;
return this;
}
/**
* Get reference of IP configuration of backend server.
*
* @return the ipConfiguration value
*/
public NetworkInterfaceIPConfigurationInner ipConfiguration() {
return this.ipConfiguration;
}
/**
* Set reference of IP configuration of backend server.
*
* @param ipConfiguration the ipConfiguration value to set
* @return the ApplicationGatewayBackendHealthServer object itself.
*/
public ApplicationGatewayBackendHealthServer withIpConfiguration(NetworkInterfaceIPConfigurationInner ipConfiguration) {
this.ipConfiguration = ipConfiguration;
return this;
}
/**
* Get health of backend server. Possible values include: 'Unknown', 'Up', 'Down', 'Partial', 'Draining'.
*
* @return the health value
*/
public ApplicationGatewayBackendHealthServerHealth health() {
return this.health;
}
/**
* Set health of backend server. Possible values include: 'Unknown', 'Up', 'Down', 'Partial', 'Draining'.
*
* @param health the health value to set
* @return the ApplicationGatewayBackendHealthServer object itself.
*/
public ApplicationGatewayBackendHealthServer withHealth(ApplicationGatewayBackendHealthServerHealth health) {
this.health = health;
return this;
}
/**
* Get health Probe Log.
*
* @return the healthProbeLog value
*/
public String healthProbeLog() {
return this.healthProbeLog;
}
/**
* Set health Probe Log.
*
* @param healthProbeLog the healthProbeLog value to set
* @return the ApplicationGatewayBackendHealthServer object itself.
*/
public ApplicationGatewayBackendHealthServer withHealthProbeLog(String healthProbeLog) {
this.healthProbeLog = healthProbeLog;
return this;
}
}
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2023-12-27T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/6940
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[The curative treatment of incessant atrioventricular tachycardia by radiofrequency ablation].
The permanent form of junctional reciprocating tachycardia is due to accessory pathways with retrograde long conduction times. We report the localization of the atrial insertion of the accessory pathway and successful ablation with radiofrequency in 3 patients. The participation of an accessory pathway in the tachycardia was demonstrated by atrial capture without changes in the sequence, with ventricular stimuli during His bundle refractoriness. The atrial insertion was localized by mapping near the os of the coronary sinus. In all cases one to three radiofrequency pulses applied at this point interrupted the tachycardia. Retrograde conduction through the accessory pathway reappeared in 30 min or earlier in all, with displacement of the point of earliest atrial activation, and tachycardia recurred. Total abolition of accessory pathway conduction and cure of the tachycardia required new radiofrequency applications, that in one case were done in a second procedure.
|
2024-02-23T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/8172
|
Properties
Properties
1 Item(s)
NC Mountain Real Estate
The Blue Ridge Mountains have long been a lure for those seeking solitude and those who value the homespun tradition of the North Carolina Mountain lifestyle. Some choose their NC mountain land for a beautiful estate, while others prefer quaint and comfortable North Carolina log homes. Whatever Western North Carolina real estate you're searching for, Ashe High Country Realty® will help you find it and settle in comfortably.
North Carolina Mountain Property
The North Carolina Mountain property of West Jefferson has been named as the best place to retire in North Carolina due to excellent facilities, activities and events, our low property taxes, the four-seasons and friendly people.. It is now your time to experience the beauty of the North Carolina Mountains, to mingle with our local mountain folk, visit our Arts Center, shop in our unique downtown or visit one of our many festivals throughout the year. We have many parks with hiking, canoeing, camping. You can even "see cheese made" at North Carolina's only cheese plant. Our restaurants are many, featuring everything from "mountain home cooking" to contemporary "fine dining", with a wine list that is second-to-none. Our music is anything from "mountain blue grass" to "symphony orchestras". The New River and the Blue Ridge Parkway are just two of the area's many attractions. The NC mountain property of West Jefferson is noted as one of the top areas in Western North Carolina and as the best place to retire in North Carolina.
West Jefferson, North Carolina Real Estate, The Best Place to Retire in NC
Our firm, Ashe High Country Realty, specializes in homes and land, log cabins, vacation homes, retirement homes, investment property, 1031 tax exchanges, and farms. Our properties also include North Carolina log homes, NC mountain land and general Western North Carolina real estate.
Our firm specializes in unique property for the out of town buyer. We are constantly raising the bar on friendly professional service throughout the entire region of the North Carolina High Country. If you are looking for your "magic place," why not consider West Jefferson, NC real estate? Just tell us about your dream mountain home, and we will find it for you.
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2023-10-13T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/2393
|
Hello and Welcome to the second episode of the Inter-Brew’s Podcast Series presented by ATL By Day & Unfinished Business.
Lucky Yates & Amber NashThe goal of each episode is to spotlight local Atlanta celebrities, artists, and residents while sampling some of the best “brews”our great city has to offer.
Lucky YatesFor this episode, we were over in the Grant Park area at Hodgepodge Coffee with the amazing (and hilarious) Amber Nash and Lucky Yates from Dad’s Garage Theatre House.
The Shrew & Davi GnomesAmber and Lucky are two of the most recognized Improvisers in the Atlanta acting scene and have been performing for over twenty-years.
Story TimeYou may also know them as Pam and Krieger from the hit FX series Archer, which is to return this coming spring.
Seasonal Drip: Costa Rican TerrazuPartnering with Chester from Unfinished Business with Chester & The Shrew, we had a great time expanding on Lucky and Amber’s experiences as Improvisers, voice-actors, while also over-caffeinating ourselves on some Hodgepodge coffee.
Hodgepodge CoffeeThe coffees and lattes were fantastic by the way. Davi does Gnomes’ Best.
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2024-04-10T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/6859
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Our Web bookmarks and our chosen social-media feeds help us retreat deeper into our partisan camps. (Cable-television news lends its own mighty hand.) “It’s the great irony of the Internet era: people have more access than ever to an array of viewpoints, but also the technological ability to screen out anything that doesn’t reinforce their views,” Jonathan Martin wrote in Politico last year, explaining how so many strategists and analysts on the right convinced themselves, in defiance of polls, that Mitt Romney was about to win the presidency.
But this sort of echo chamber also exists on cultural fronts, where we’re exhorted toward sameness and sorted into categories. The helpful video-store clerk or bookstore owner has been replaced, refined, automated: we now have Netflix suggestions for what we should watch next, based on what we’ve watched before, and we’re given Amazon prods for purchasing novels that have been shown to please readers just like us. We’re profiled, then clustered accordingly.
By joining particular threads on Facebook and Twitter, we can linger interminably on the one or two television shows that obsess us. Through music-streaming services and their formulas for our sweet spots, we meet new bands that might as well be reconfigurations of the old ones. Algorithms lead us to anagrams.
I keep thinking about a widely circulated speech that the movie director Steven Soderbergh gave earlier this year. He recounted a flight he’d taken from New York to California and the way a nearby passenger had been using an iPad. “I begin to realize that what he’s done is he’s loaded in half a dozen sort of action extravaganzas and he’s watching each of the action sequences,” Soderbergh said. “This guy’s flight is going to be five and a half hours of just mayhem porn.”
Soderbergh was mainly lamenting the endangered appreciation of real storytelling and character development. But there’s an additional moral to his story. As his fellow flier traversed an entire continent, he used a device capable of putting a galaxy of information within reach to collapse the universe into one redundant experience, one sustained note, a well-worn groove also known as a rut. There he happily spun his wheels.
I say that as someone who has too frequently spun his own, clutching my smartphone, looking down instead of up, tap-tap-tapping, maintaining unbroken contact with the usual suspects and entertainment and ideas. But I try to resist, because trading serendipity for safety is a raw deal in the end. There’s a skyline in Shanghai unlike any I’ve seen. Who knows what other discoveries are in store?
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2024-07-01T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/2792
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A comparison of the effectiveness of the "Toothkeeper" and a traditional dental health education program.
A study was made of the effectiveness of two dental health education programs in an elementary school in Flint, Michigan. Following stratification by grades, random assignments of students were made by classrooms to either the Toothkeeper group or a "Traditional" group. No control groups were employed. Separate in-service training workshops were attended by the classroom teachers according to the education program to which they had been randomly assigned. An intensive 16-week program was conducted by the classroom teachers following the guidelines of the two programs. Dental examinations which included an assessment of plaque and gingivitis scores were conducted on all participants at baseline, at the end of 16 weeks, and at the conclusion of the school year, some seven months after the initiation of the program. Only minimal reductions in plaque scores were observed with either program and little comparative difference was found in the two programs at the end of the evaluation period. The Toothkeeper group experienced a somewhat greater reduction in plaque scores than the "Traditional" group during the intensive 16-week phase of the study, but these scores worsened from this time to the end of the school year. Gingivitis scores demonstrated more improvement than the reductions in plaque scores would indicate and may be related to the confounding factor of large numbers of children receiving dental treatment, especially prophylaxes during the course of this study. Differences in reductions in gingivitis between the two programs were not meaningful clinically.
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2024-07-08T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/3325
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Role of N- and C-terminal amino acids in antithrombin binding to pentasaccharide.
We have used a monoclonal antibody-based binding procedure to determine the dissociation constants of the interactions between the essential antithrombin-binding pentasaccharide and a series of 13 distinct N- and C-terminal antithrombin substitution mutation variants with defective binding interaction with heparin. The reduction in binding affinity of the pentasaccharide with the N-terminal variants (with substitution mutations Pro-41-->Leu, Arg-47-->Cys and His, Leu-99-->Val and Phe, Gln-118-->Pro, Arg-129-->Gln) compared to normal antithrombin, Kd 200 nM, ranged from 15-984-fold and was generally less than 150-fold. Reduced binding affinity is assumed to arise mostly by perturbation, direct or indirect, of the initial contact of pentasaccharide with basic residues of antithrombin. Surprisingly, the binding interaction of the pentasaccharide with the C-terminal variants (with substitution mutations in or near strand 1C/4B, Phe-402-->Leu, Cys, and Ser, Ala-404-->Thr, Pro-407-->Thr, Pro-429-->Leu) was more uniformly and yet substantially (135-482-fold) decreased, despite the spatial separation between the site of mutation and the proposed primary contact site of the pentasaccharide. These results demonstrate that strand 1C/4B region integrity is required for optimum interaction with the pentasaccharide, suggesting its involvement in transmission of the induced conformation change required for high affinity binding.
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2023-12-29T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/1720
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---
abstract: 'We study an analogue of the Harish-Chandra homomorphism where the universal enveloping algebra $U({\mathfrak{g}})$ is replaced by the Clifford algebra, ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$, of a semisimple Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}$. Two main goals are achieved. First, we prove that there is a Harish-Chandra type isomorphism between the subalgebra of ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}invariants in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ and the Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$ of the Cartan subalgebra of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. Second, the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$ is identified, via this isomorphism, with the graded space of the so-called primitive skew[-]{}symmetric invariants of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. The grading leads to a distinguished orthogonal basis of ${\mathfrak{h}}$, which turns out to be induced from the Langlands dual Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$ via the action of its principal three[-]{}dimensional subalgebra. This settles a conjecture of Kostant.'
address: 'Mathematics Institute, University of Warwick, Coventry CV4 7AL, United Kingdom'
author:
- Yuri Bazlov
title: 'The Harish-Chandra isomorphism for Clifford algebras'
---
Introduction {#introduction .unnumbered}
============
Introduced by Harish[-]{}Chandra more than half a century ago, the Harish[-]{}Chandra homomorphism is of utmost significance in representation theory of semisimple Lie groups and algebras; character theory is one of the areas where it plays a key role. Recall that, given a complex semisimple Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}$ and its Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$, the Harish[-]{}Chandra homomorphism is a one-to-one algebra map between the centre $Z({\mathfrak{g}})$ of the universal enveloping algebra $U({\mathfrak{g}})$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ and the algebra $S({\mathfrak{h}})^W$ of (translated) Weyl group $W$ invariant polynomial functions on the space ${\mathfrak{h}}^*$. Because $W$ is a finite reflection group, by the well-known Chevalley[-]{}Shephard[-]{}Todd theorem $S({\mathfrak{h}})^W$ is a polynomial algebra. The Harish[-]{}Chandra map thus establishes the polynomiality of the algebra $Z({\mathfrak{g}})$ and identifies the characters of $Z({\mathfrak{g}})$ with $W$[-]{}orbits in ${\mathfrak{h}}^*$.
The subject of the present paper is a natural analogue of the Harish[-]{}Chandra homomorphism where $U({\mathfrak{g}})$ is replaced with the Clifford algebra, ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$, of a semisimple Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}$. This analogue is based on a remarkably easy algebraic construction, which underlines the “classical” Harish[-]{}Chandra homomorphism but applies to a class of algebras much wider than that of universal enveloping algebras $U({\mathfrak{g}})$. Let $A$ be an associative algebra that factorises as $A_- {\mathop{\otimes}}A_0 {\mathop{\otimes}}A_+$, where $A_\pm$ and $A_0$ are subalgebras in $A$ and the tensor product is realised by the multiplication in $A$; we stress that $A_-$, $A_0$ and $A_+$ need not commute in $A$. Some further conditions on this factorisation guarantee that there exists a projection (in general, not an algebra map) ${\mathit{pr}}=\varepsilon_-{\mathop{\otimes}}{\mathrm{id}}{\mathop{\otimes}}\varepsilon_+$ of $A$ onto its subalgebra $A_0$. (General details are discussed in [@BB].)
In the case $A=U({\mathfrak{g}})$, the standard triangular decomposition ${\mathfrak{g}}={\mathfrak{n}}_-{\mathop{\oplus}}{\mathfrak{h}}{\mathop{\oplus}}{\mathfrak{n}}_+$ of a semisimple Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}$ gives rise to a factorisation as above with $A_\pm = U({\mathfrak{n}}_\pm)$ and $A_0 = U({\mathfrak{h}}) = S({\mathfrak{h}})$ the polynomial algebra. The Harish[-]{}Chandra map is obtained by restricting ${\mathit{pr}}$ to $Z({\mathfrak{g}})=U({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$, the ${\mathop{ad}}{\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}invariants in $U({\mathfrak{g}})$. (This method also works for the quantised universal enveloping algebra $U_\hbar({\mathfrak{g}})$ [@T].) The same approach is used in [@WH] to give a completely algebraic construction of the homomorphism $\mathcal D({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}\to \mathcal
D({\mathfrak{h}})^W$, also due to Harish-Chandra (here $\mathcal D(\cdot)$ stands for polynomial differential operators).
The Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ factorises as a product of three of its subalgebras, ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{n}}_-)$, ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$ and ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{n}}_+)$, therefore admitting a Harish-Chandra map ${\Phi}\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})\to{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$. Studying the map ${\Phi}$ involves structural theory of the Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$, based mostly on results of Kostant. In the present paper, we focus on the restriction of the Harish-Chandra map ${\Phi}$ to the subalgebra ${J}={{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}invariants, which in the Clifford algebra plays a role similar to that of the centre $Z({\mathfrak{g}})=U({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$ in $U({\mathfrak{g}})$. Indeed, Kostant’s “separation of variables” result [@Ko] states that ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})=E{\mathop{\otimes}}{J}$ is a free module over the algebra ${J}$, and ${J}$ is further described as a Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(P)$ of a remarkable space $P$ of the so-called primitive invariants.
Our first main result, Theorem \[thm:main1\], shows that ${\Phi}$ restricts to an isomorphism ${J}\xrightarrow{\sim}{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$. Comparing this to the universal enveloping algebra, it is worth noting that the action of the Weyl group $W$ on ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$ is conspicuously absent from the picture. We then refine the isomorphism result by showing that the Harish-Chandra map ${\Phi}$ identifies the space $P$ of primitive invariants with the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$.
The above immediately raises the next question: the space $P$ is naturally graded, via its inclusion in the exterior algebra ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$ and its identification with primitive homology classes in the homology of ${\mathfrak{g}}$; what is the grading induced on the Cartan subalgebra by the Harish-Chandra map? It turns out that the answer involves the so-called Langlands dual Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. This is a complex semisimple Lie algebra with a root system dual to that of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. There is a canonical copy of ${\mathfrak{sl}}_2$ inside ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$, and its adjoint action on ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$ splits ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$ into a direct sum of ${\mathfrak{sl}}_2$[-]{}submodules (“strings”). Intersections of these “strings” with the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$, which is viewed as shared between ${\mathfrak{g}}$ and ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$, define the graded components of ${\mathfrak{h}}$. This is established in Theorem \[thm:main2\] which is the second and final main result of the paper. In particular, Theorem \[thm:main2\] confirms a conjecture made by Kostant [@KC].
When ${\mathfrak{g}}$ is a simple Lie algebra, the graded components in ${\mathfrak{h}}$ typically are one[-]{}dimensional, giving rise to a distinguished basis of ${\mathfrak{h}}$. (The only deviation from this occurs in a simple Lie algebra with Dynkin diagram of type $D$ on an even number of nodes.) This basis is orthogonal with respect to the Killing form and contains $\rho$, half the sum of positive roots of ${\mathfrak{g}}$; we refer to this basis of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ as the (Langlands dual) principal basis of the Cartan subalgebra.
Acknowledgments {#acknowledgments .unnumbered}
---------------
Section \[sect:iso\] of the present paper is based on a revision of work done in my PhD thesis [@thesis], which was completed with the guidance of Anthony Joseph. I am grateful to Bertram Kostant for conversations on the subject of this paper; having seen partial results of [@thesis], he suggested a conjectural link to principal TDS bases, proved in the present paper. I thank Anton Alekseev for providing helpful ideas for the proof of Theorem \[thm:main2\]. These useful ideas and calculations are also made clear in a recent preprint [@Rohr] by R. P. Rohr. I am grateful to Victor Ginzburg and Eckhard Meinrenken for their comments on earlier versions of this work and to David Kazhdan for a stimulating discussion.
The classical Chevalley projection and Harish-Chandra map {#sect:firstsect}
=========================================================
We start by recalling the Chevalley projection map and the Harish[-]{}Chandra map associated with a semisimple Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}$. This will serve as an introduction to the subsequent treatment of the analogues of these for skew[-]{}symmetric tensors.
Invariant symmetric tensors and the Chevalley projection
--------------------------------------------------------
Let ${\mathfrak{g}}$ be a semisimple Lie algebra of rank ${r}$ over the complex field ${\mathbb{C}}$. Let a Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$ and a Borel subalgebra $\mathfrak b$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, such that ${\mathfrak{h}}\subset\mathfrak b$, be fixed. This partitions the root system of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ into positive and negative parts, and gives rise to the triangular decomposition $${\mathfrak{g}}= {\mathfrak{n}}_- {\mathop{\oplus}}{\mathfrak{h}}{\mathop{\oplus}}{\mathfrak{n}}_+$$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, where ${\mathfrak{n}}_-$ and ${\mathfrak{n}}_+$ are subspaces of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ spanned by root vectors corresponding to negative and positive roots, respectively. By ${S}({\mathfrak{g}})$ we denote the algebra of symmetric tensors over ${\mathfrak{g}}$, which is the same as the algebra of polynomial functions on the space ${\mathfrak{g}}^*$. It is graded by degree: ${S}({\mathfrak{g}})
=\bigoplus_{n=0}^\infty {S}^n({\mathfrak{g}})$, and we identify ${\mathfrak{g}}$ with $S^1({\mathfrak{g}})$. The action of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ on ${S}({\mathfrak{g}})$ is extended from the adjoint action of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ on ${\mathfrak{g}}=S^1({\mathfrak{g}})$ by derivations of degree $0$; we denote the action of $x\in {\mathfrak{g}}$ by $ {\mathop{ad}}x\in {\qopname\relax o{End}}{S}({\mathfrak{g}})$. We refer to the set $${J}_S={S}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}= \{f\in {S}({\mathfrak{g}}) \mid ({\mathop{ad}}x
)f=0 \ \forall x\in {\mathfrak{g}}\}$$ as the space of symmetric ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}invariants. Note that ${J}_S$ is a graded subalgebra of ${S}({\mathfrak{g}})$. It is obvious that the algebra ${S}({\mathfrak{g}})$ has triangular factorisation, $${S}({\mathfrak{g}}) \cong {S}({\mathfrak{n}}_-) {\mathop{\otimes}}{S}({\mathfrak{h}}) {\mathop{\otimes}}{S}({\mathfrak{n}}_+),$$ into three subalgebras generated by ${\mathfrak{n}}_-$, ${\mathfrak{h}}$, ${\mathfrak{n}}_+$, respectively. Denote by $\varepsilon$ the character of an algebra of polynomials given by the evaluation of a polynomial at zero. The homomorphism $$\Psi_0 = \varepsilon {\mathop{\otimes}}{\mathrm{id}}{\mathop{\otimes}}\varepsilon \colon
{S}({\mathfrak{g}})\to {S}({\mathfrak{h}})$$ of commutative algebras is what is typically called the Chevalley projection map. By a classical result of Chevalley, see [@Dix Theorem 7.3.7], the restriction of $\Psi_0$ to ${J}_S$ is a graded algebra isomorphism $$\Psi_0\colon {J}_S \xrightarrow{\sim} {S}({\mathfrak{h}})^W.$$ Here ${S}({\mathfrak{h}})^W$ denotes symmetric tensors over ${\mathfrak{h}}$ invariant under the action of the Weyl group $W$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ (this action is extended from ${\mathfrak{h}}$ to ${S}({\mathfrak{h}})$).
The classical Harish-Chandra map {#subsect:cHC}
--------------------------------
Let $U({\mathfrak{g}})$ be the universal enveloping algebra of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, and $${J}_U = U({\mathfrak{g}})^{{\mathfrak{g}}}$$ be its centre, which is the ring of invariants of the adjoint representation of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ in $U({\mathfrak{g}})$. The Poincaré[-]{}Birkhoff[-]{}Witt symmetrisation map $$\beta\colon {S}({\mathfrak{g}}) \to U({\mathfrak{g}})$$ is a ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}module isomorphism between ${S}({\mathfrak{g}})$ and $U({\mathfrak{g}})$, where $\beta(x_1x_2\dots x_n)$ for $x_i\in {\mathfrak{g}}$ is defined as $\frac{1}{n!}$ times the sum of $x_{\pi(1)}x_{\pi(2)}\dots
x_{\pi(n)}\in U({\mathfrak{g}})$ over all permutations $\pi$ in $n$ letters. In particular, $\beta$ identifies ${J}_S$ and ${J}_U$ as linear spaces. Note that $\beta$ is not an algebra isomorphism between ${J}_S$ and ${J}_U$. (An algebra isomorphism ${J}_S\xrightarrow{\sim}{J}_U$, known as the Duflo map, was explicitly constructed in [@D].) The Poincaré[-]{}Birkhoff[-]{}Witt theorem for $U({\mathfrak{g}})$ implies the triangular factorisation $$U({\mathfrak{g}}) = U({\mathfrak{n}}_-) {\mathop{\otimes}}U({\mathfrak{h}}) {\mathop{\otimes}}U({\mathfrak{n}}_+)$$ of the algebra $U({\mathfrak{g}})$ into the subalgebras generated by ${\mathfrak{n}}_-$, ${\mathfrak{h}}$, ${\mathfrak{n}}_+$, respectively. Let $\varepsilon_-\colon U({\mathfrak{n}}_-)\to {\mathbb{C}}$ be the algebra homomorphism defined by $\varepsilon_-(x)=0$ for $x\in
{\mathfrak{n}}_-$, and let $\varepsilon_+\colon U({\mathfrak{n}}_+)\to {\mathbb{C}}$ be defined similarly. We will refer to the map $$\Psi = \varepsilon_-{\mathop{\otimes}}{\mathrm{id}}{\mathop{\otimes}}\varepsilon_+ \colon U({\mathfrak{g}})
\to U({\mathfrak{h}})$$ as the Harish[-]{}Chandra map, slightly abusing the terminology. As ${\mathfrak{h}}$ is an Abelian Lie algebra, $U({\mathfrak{h}})$ is identified with the polynomial algebra ${S}({\mathfrak{h}})$. The map $\Psi$ is not an algebra homomorphism, but its restriction to the subalgebra $U({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}= \{f\in U({\mathfrak{g}}) \mid ({\mathop{ad}}h)f=0 \ \forall h\in
{\mathfrak{h}}\}$ is. Further restricting $\Psi$ to ${J}_U$ which is a subalgebra of $U({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}$, one obtains the isomorphism $$\Psi \colon {J}_U \xrightarrow{\sim} {S}({\mathfrak{h}})^{W_\cdot}$$ between the centre of $U({\mathfrak{g}})$ and the ring ${S}({\mathfrak{h}})^{W_\cdot}$ of symmetric tensors over ${\mathfrak{h}}$ invariant under the shifted action of $W$. (The shifted action of $w\in W$ is defined on $\lambda\in {\mathfrak{h}}^*$ by $w.\lambda=w(\lambda+\rho)-\rho$ where $\rho\in {\mathfrak{h}}^*$ is the half sum of positive roots of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, and hence on ${S}({\mathfrak{h}})$ which is viewed as the algebra of polynomial functions on ${\mathfrak{h}}^*$.) This isomorphism is due to Harish[-]{}Chandra; see [@HC], [@Dix Theorem 7.4.5].
An analogue of the Chevalley projection for ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
We are going to consider ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$, the exterior algebra of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, as a “skew[-]{}symmetric analogue” of ${S}({\mathfrak{g}})$. Furthermore, the universal enveloping algebra $U({\mathfrak{g}})$ — a deformation of $S({\mathfrak{g}})$ — will be replaced by ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$, the Clifford algebra of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, which is a deformation of ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. We will now discuss the analogue of the Chevalley projection $\Psi_0$ (and later, of the Harish[-]{}Chandra map $\Psi$) in the skew[-]{}symmetric situation.
The action of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ on the finite[-]{}dimensional algebra ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}=\bigoplus_{n=0}^{\dim {\mathfrak{g}}} {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^n {\mathfrak{g}}$ is an extension of the adjoint action of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ as a derivation of degree $0$. Let us denote the action of $x\in{\mathfrak{g}}$ by $\theta(x)\in{\qopname\relax o{End}}({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}})$; that is, $\theta(x)y=[x,y]$ where $y\in \wedge^1 {\mathfrak{g}}= {\mathfrak{g}}$, and $\theta(x)(u\wedge v) = (\theta(x)u)\wedge v + u\wedge \theta(x)v$ for $u,v\in{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. The subspace $${J}=({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}})^{{\mathfrak{g}}} = \{u\in {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}\mid \theta(x)u
=0 \ \forall x\in {\mathfrak{g}}\},$$ of $\theta({\mathfrak{g}})$ invariants (the invariant skew[-]{}symmetric tensors over ${\mathfrak{g}}$) is a graded $\wedge$[-]{}subalgebra of ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. The triangular factorisation $${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}= {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{n}}_- {\mathop{\otimes}}{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}{\mathop{\otimes}}{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{n}}_+$$ and the “augmentation maps” $\varepsilon_\pm \colon {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{n}}_\pm
\to {\mathbb{C}}$ which are algebra homomorphisms uniquely defined by $\varepsilon_\pm({\mathfrak{n}}_\pm)=0$, give rise to a degree[-]{}preserving projection map $${\Phi}_0=\varepsilon_-{\mathop{\otimes}}{\mathrm{id}}{\mathop{\otimes}}\varepsilon_+ \colon
{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}\to {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}\ .$$ Let us consider the restriction of ${\Phi}_0$ to ${J}$. In contrast to the Chevalley projection map for symmetric tensors, this restriction fails to be one-to-one: one has $${\Phi}_0({J})={{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^0{\mathfrak{h}}={\mathbb{C}}.$$ Indeed, one shows that the ${\Phi}_0$[-]{}image of ${J}$ must lie in the $W$[-]{}invariants in ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$. However, the fixed points of $W$ in ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$ are just the one[-]{}dimensional space ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^0{\mathfrak{h}}$; see [@GP Section 5.1].
Although the injectivity of the Chevalley projection ${\Phi}_0$ on ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$ fails so miserably, passing to its counterpart ${\Phi}$ (a Clifford algebra version of the Harish[-]{}Chandra map) rectifies the situation, as we will discover in due course.
Clifford algebras
=================
In this Section, we recall some basics on Clifford algebras associated to quadratic forms on complex vector spaces, define the algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$, and introduce the Clifford algebra version of the Harish-Chandra map.
Identification of ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)$ with ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$ {#subsect:sigma}
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Let $V$ be a finite[-]{}dimensional vector space over ${\mathbb{C}}$, equipped with a symmetric bilinear form $(\,,\,)$. The Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)$ of $V$ is the quotient of the full tensor algebra $T(V)$ modulo the two[-]{}sided ideal generated by $\{x\otimes x-(x,x) \mid
x\in V \}$. We will denote the Clifford product of $u,v\in{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)$ by $u\cdot v$. An isomorphic image of the space $V=T^1(V)$ is contained in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)$; one has $xy+yx=2(x,y)$ for $x,y\in V$. A convenient point of view that we adhere to in the present paper is that the Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)$ has the same underlying linear space as ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$, but the Clifford product is a deformation of the exterior product. Explicitly, following [@Ko], for $x\in V$ let the operator $\iota(x)\colon {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^1 V \to {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^0 V$ be defined by $\iota(x)y = (x,y)$ where $y\in V$. Extend $\iota(x)$ to a superderivation of ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$ of degree $-1$, i.e., by the rule $$\iota(x)(u\wedge v)=(\iota(x)u)\wedge v
+(-1)^{|u|} u \wedge\iota(x)v, \qquad u\in {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^{|u|}V, \ v\in
{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V.$$ We refer to $\iota(x)\colon {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V \to {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$ as the contraction operator associated to $x\in V$. Now define the operator $\gamma(x)\in {\qopname\relax o{End}}({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V)$ by $\gamma(x)u = x\wedge u + \iota(x)u$, $u\in{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. The superderivation property of $\iota(x)$ and the fact that $\iota(x)^2=0$ and $x\wedge x=0$ imply that $\gamma(x)^2$ is multiplication by the scalar $(x,x)$. Therefore, $\gamma$ extends to a homomorphism $\gamma\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V) \to {\qopname\relax o{End}}({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V)$. The linear map $$\sigma\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)\to {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V, \qquad \sigma(u) = \gamma(u)1,$$ is bijective, cf. [@Chev Theorem II.1.6]. It is this map $\sigma$ that is used to identify the underlying linear space of ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)$ with ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$.
\[rem:braided\] The symmetric algebra $S(V)$ and the exterior algebra ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$ of a vector space $V$ are the simplest examples of the so[-]{}called Nichols algebras (terminology introduced by Andruskiewitsch and Schneider). Nichols algebras are Hopf algebras in a braided category; see [@N; @W; @AS; @B] for background. In particular, Nichols algebra $\mathcal B(V)$ of a braided space $V$ (a space equipped with an invertible operator $c\in {\qopname\relax o{End}}(V{\mathop{\otimes}}V)$ satisfying the quantum Yang[-]{}Baxter equation) has a set of braided derivations $\partial_\xi$, indexed by $\xi\in V^*$, that satisfy the braided Leibniz rule inferred from the braiding $c$. One takes the braiding $c(x{\mathop{\otimes}}y) = y{\mathop{\otimes}}x$, respectively $c(x{\mathop{\otimes}}y)=-y{\mathop{\otimes}}x$, to obtain the Nichols algebra $S(V)$, respectively ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$, of $V$. Via the map $V \to V^*$ given by the form $(\,,\,)$, the partial derivative $\frac{\partial}{\partial x}$ and the contraction operator $\iota(x)$, $x\in V$, are braided derivations of $S(V)$ and ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$, respectively.
We also remark that the inverse to the map $\sigma\colon
{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)\to{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$ can be written, in a completely different fashion, as the skew[-]{}symmetrisation map $$\sigma^{-1} = \beta_\wedge \colon {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V \to {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V),
\qquad
\beta_\wedge(x_1\wedge \dots \wedge x_n)= \frac{1}{n!} \sum_\pi
({\mathrm{sgn}}\ \pi)x_{\pi(1)}x_{\pi(2)} \dots x_{\pi(n)},$$ where $x_i\in V$ and the sum on the right is over all permutations $\pi$ of the indices $1,\dots,n$.
Algebras ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}_\hbar(V)$
----------------------------------------
To emphasise our earlier point that the Clifford product on ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$ is a deformation of the wedge product, and for later use in calculations, we introduce a complex[-]{}valued deformation parameter $\hbar$. To each value of $\hbar$ we associate a bilinear form $(x,y)_\hbar:=\hbar\cdot (x,y)$ on $V$. Denote by ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}_\hbar(V)$ the Clifford algebra of the form $(\,,\,)_\hbar$. Observe that, for $\hbar\ne 0$, the algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}_\hbar(V)$ is isomorphic to the original Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)={{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}_\hbar(V)|_{\hbar=1}$, because the linear map $V \to
V$, $x\mapsto \hbar^{1/2}x$, extends to an algebra isomorphism ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}_\hbar(V)\to{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)$. On the other hand, ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}_\hbar(V)|_{\hbar=0}$ coincides with the exterior algebra ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$ and is not isomorphic to ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)$ unless the form $(\,,\,)$ is identically zero.
This construction gives rise to a family of Clifford products $\{\cdot_\hbar \mid \hbar\in{\mathbb{C}}\}$ on the space ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$. The way the product $a\cdot_\hbar b$ depends on $\hbar$ is described in
\[lem:taylor\] If $a\in {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^i V$, $b\in{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^j V$ are homogeneous elements in the exterior algebra of $V$, there exist $u_{i+j-2s}\in {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^{i+j-2s}V$ for $s=1,2,\dots,\lfloor
\frac{i+j}{2}\rfloor$ such that $$a\cdot_\hbar b = a\wedge b + \hbar^{\phantom{2}}u_{i+j-2} + \hbar^2 u_{i+j-4} +
\dots = a\wedge b + \sum_{1\le s \le (i+j)/2} \hbar^s u_{i+j-2s}.$$
The statement is proved by induction in $i$, the degree of $a$. If $i=0$, put $u_{0+j-2s}=0$ for all $s$. If $i=1$ and $a=x\in V$, then $a\cdot_\hbar b=x\wedge b + \hbar \, \iota(x) b$. In this case, put $u_{1+j-2}= \iota(x) b$ and $u_{1+j-2s}=0$ for all $s>1$.
To prove the assertion for $i\ge 2$, one may assume that $a=x\wedge a'$ for some $x\in V$ and $a'\in{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^{i-1} V$. Put $a''=\hbar \, \iota(x) a'$ so that the element $a''$ is homogeneous of degree $i-2$ in ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$. Then $a=x\cdot_\hbar a' - a''$, hence $a\cdot_\hbar b=x\cdot_\hbar
(a'\cdot_\hbar b) - a''\cdot_\hbar b$. By the induction hypothesis, the Clifford products $a'\cdot_\hbar b$ and $a''\cdot_\hbar b$ have required expansions in ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$. It only remains to apply the $i=1$ case to the product $x\cdot_\hbar
(a'\cdot_\hbar b)$ and to collect the terms, which gives the required expansion for $a\cdot_\hbar b$.
The superalgebra structure on ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)$
-------------------------------------------------------
Clearly, the Clifford product on the exterior algebra ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$ does not respect the grading on ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$, and ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)$ is not a graded algebra. It is, however, easy to see (and is apparent from Lemma \[lem:taylor\]) that ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)$ is still a superalgebra: $${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V) = {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}^{{\bar 0}}(V) {\mathop{\oplus}}{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}^{{\bar 1}}(V),$$ with ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}^i(V)=\sum_{n\ge 0}{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^{2n+i}V$ for $i={{\bar 0}},{{\bar 1}}$ (residues modulo $2$). For later use, we observe the fact that the contraction operators $\iota(x)\colon {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V \to {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$ are superderivations with respect to the Clifford multiplication:
\[lem:superderiv\] For any $i\in \{{{\bar 0}},{{\bar 1}}\}$, $x\in V$, $u\in {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}^i(V)$ and $v\in {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(V)$, $$\iota(x)(u\cdot v) = (\iota(x)u)\cdot v + (-1)^i u\cdot \iota(x)v.$$
We have to show that $\iota(x)$ supercommutes with $\gamma(u)\colon
{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V \to {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$, the operator of the left Clifford multiplication by $u$. Since $\gamma(u)$ is in the subalgebra of ${\qopname\relax o{End}}({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V)$ generated by $\gamma(y)$, $y\in V$, it is enough to show that $\iota(x)$ supercommutes with $\gamma(y)$. Write $\gamma(y)=(y\wedge \cdot )+\iota(y)$. Now, $\iota(x)$ supercommutes with the operator $y\wedge \cdot$ of the left exterior multiplication by $y$, because $\iota(x)$ is a superderivation of the wedge product. Finally, to show that $\iota(x)$ supercommutes with $\iota(y)$, observe that, by a general fact about superderivations, the supercommutator $\iota(x)\iota(y)+\iota(y)\iota(x)$ must be an even superderivation of the wedge product; but it obviously vanishes on $V$, hence is identically zero on ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}V$.
The Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$
-----------------------------------------------------------
We are interested in the case when $V={\mathfrak{g}}$ is a semisimple Lie algebra. We fix $(\,,\,)$ to be a non[-]{}degenerate ${\mathop{ad}}$[-]{}invariant symmetric bilinear form on ${\mathfrak{g}}$. For example, $(\,,\,)$ may be the Killing form, or be proportional to the Killing form with a non[-]{}zero coefficient. (If ${\mathfrak{g}}$ is simple, there are no other options.) We denote by ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ the Clifford algebra of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ with respect to the form $(\,,\,)$.
Recall that by $\theta(g)$ is denoted the adjoint action of $g\in {\mathfrak{g}}$ on the exterior algebra ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$; one has $\theta(g)(x\wedge u)-x\wedge \theta(g)u = [g,x]\wedge u$ for all $g,x\in {\mathfrak{g}}$ and $u\in{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. Furthermore, it is easy to see that the ${\mathop{ad}}$[-]{}invariance of the form $(\,,\,)$ implies $\theta(g)\iota(x) - \iota(x)\theta(g) = \iota([g,x])$. Thus, $\theta(g)$ is an (even) derivation of the Clifford product. It immediately follows that ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}invariants ${J}=({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$ form a Clifford subalgebra in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$. Recall that $J$ is also a wedge[-]{}subalgebra in ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. We will elaborate on these two non[-]{}isomorphic algebra structures on $J$ in the next Section.
The Harish-Chandra map ${\Phi}$ for ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The central object of the paper is the following analogue of the Harish-Chandra map, defined for the Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$. Observe that ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$, like all the algebras considered so far, factorises into its subalgebras, generated by the direct summands ${\mathfrak{n}}_-$, ${\mathfrak{h}}$ and ${\mathfrak{n}}_+$ in the triangular decomposition of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. These subalgebras are themselves Clifford algebras that correspond to the restriction of the form $(\,,\,)$ on the respective subspaces of ${\mathfrak{g}}$: $${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}) = {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{n}}_-) {\mathop{\otimes}}{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}}) {\mathop{\otimes}}{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{n}}_+),$$ where the tensor product is realised by the Clifford multiplication (note that the tensorands do not commute with respect to Clifford multiplication). The subalgebras ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{n}}_\pm)$ are supercommutative and are isomorphic to the exterior algebras ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{n}}_\pm$, because the restriction of $(\,,\,)$ to ${\mathfrak{n}}_-$ (respectively to ${\mathfrak{n}}_+$) is necessarily zero. The restriction of $(\,,\,)$ to the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$ is non[-]{}degenerate, thus ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$ is a simple algebra or a direct sum of two simple algebras, much like the bigger algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$.
In line with all the previous definitions of Harish[-]{}Chandra type maps, introduce the Harish[-]{}Chandra map for ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ by $${\Phi}=\varepsilon_-{\mathop{\otimes}}{\mathrm{id}}{\mathop{\otimes}}\varepsilon_+ \colon
{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}) \to {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}}),$$ where $\varepsilon_\pm \colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{n}}_\pm) = {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{n}}_\pm \to {\mathbb{C}}$ are the augmentation maps as above. Similar to the $U({\mathfrak{g}})$ situation, the Harish[-]{} Chandra map ${\Phi}$ is not a homomorphism of algebras, but its restriction to ${\mathfrak{h}}$[-]{}invariants is:
\[lem:homo\] The restriction of ${\Phi}$ to the subalgebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}=\{u\in {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})
\mid \theta({\mathfrak{h}})u=0\}$ is a superalgebra homomorphism between ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}$ and ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$.
First of all, ${\Phi}$ is a map of superspaces: the triangular factorisation ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})={{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{n}}_-){\mathop{\otimes}}$ ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}}) {\mathop{\otimes}}$ ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{n}}_+)$ is compatible with the superspace structure on all tensorands, and moreover, the maps $\varepsilon_\pm \colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{n}}_\pm) \to {\mathbb{C}}$ are superspace maps (where ${\mathbb{C}}$ is a one[-]{}dimensional even space), and ${\Phi}$ is defined as $\varepsilon_-{\mathop{\otimes}}{\mathrm{id}}{\mathop{\otimes}}\varepsilon_+$ in this triangular factorisation.
Furthermore, write $L={\mathfrak{n}}_- {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}){\mathfrak{n}}_+ \subset {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$. Then ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}\subseteq 1{\mathop{\otimes}}{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})
{\mathop{\otimes}}1 {\mathop{\oplus}}L$. The Lemma follows immediately from the fact that $L\cdot {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$, ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}) \cdot L$ are in the kernel of ${\Phi}$.
The r-matrix formula for ${\Phi}$
---------------------------------
Let us now express the Harish[-]{}Chandra map ${\Phi}\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})\to{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$ in terms of the projection ${\Phi}_0\colon {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}\to{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$. For $i=1,\dots,n$, let $x_i$ (respectively $y_i$) be the positive (respectively negative) root vectors in ${\mathfrak{g}}$, normalized so that $(x_i,y_i)=1$. Denote $${\mathfrak{r}}= \sum_{i=1}^n x_i \wedge y_i \qquad \in{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^2{\mathfrak{g}}.$$ The formula for ${\mathfrak{r}}$ is a standard way to write a classical skew[-]{}symmetric r[-]{}matrix of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. Now introduce the operator $$\iota({\mathfrak{r}})\in {\qopname\relax o{End}}({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}), \quad
\iota({\mathfrak{r}})= \sum_{i=1}^n \iota(x_i) \iota(y_i),$$ of degree $-2$ with respect to the grading on ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. This operator is used in the following
\[prop:rmatr\] Modulo the identification of the spaces ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ and ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$, respectively ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$ and ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$, $${\Phi}(u)={\Phi}_0(e^{\iota({\mathfrak{r}})}u)$$ for any $u\in{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$.
The algebra ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$ is viewed as an exterior and Clifford subalgebra of ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. For any $u\in {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$ one has ${\Phi}(u)={\Phi}_0(u)=u$, and $\iota({\mathfrak{r}})u=0$ so that $e^{\iota({\mathfrak{r}})}u=u$. Thus, both sides of the equation agree on $u\in {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}}) \subset {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$.
Observe, as in the proof of Lemma \[lem:homo\], that ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}\subset {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})+ {\mathfrak{n}}_-\cdot {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$. Let us show that ${\Phi}(u)={\Phi}_0(e^{\iota({\mathfrak{r}})}u)=0$ when $u\in {\mathfrak{n}}_-\cdot {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$. Of course, ${\Phi}(u)=0$ simply by definition of the map ${\Phi}$. Now, we may assume that $u\in y_j \cdot {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ for some $j$ between $1$ and $n$; but since $\iota({\mathfrak{r}})$ does not depend on a particular ordering of positive roots, we may assume $j$ to be $1$, i.e., $u=\gamma(y_1)u'$ for some $u'\in{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. Here $\gamma(y)=y\wedge\cdot + \iota(y)$ is the operator of left Clifford multiplication by $y$ as in \[subsect:sigma\].
Note that the operators $\iota(x_i)\iota(y_i)$, $i=1,\dots,n$, pairwise commute and square to zero. This follows from the fact that $\iota(x)$ and $\iota(y)$ anticommute for all $x,y\in {\mathfrak{g}}$, see the proof of Lemma \[lem:superderiv\]. Hence, we may write $e^{\iota({\mathfrak{r}})}$ as $\prod_{i=1}^n
e^{\iota(x_i)\iota(y_i)} =
\prod_{i=1}^n(1+\iota(x_i)\iota(y_i))$. Furthermore, because $(x_i,y_1)=(y_i,y_1)=0$ for $i\ne 1$, it follows from Lemma \[lem:superderiv\] that $\iota(x_i)$ commutes with $\gamma(y_1)$ for $i\ne 1$. Thus, $${\Phi}_0(e^{\iota({\mathfrak{r}})} u) = {\Phi}_0 \bigl(
(1+\iota(x_1)\iota(y_1))\gamma(y_1) u''\bigr)$$ for some $u''\in{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. It remains to note that $$(1+\iota(x_1)\iota(y_1))z = \gamma(x_1)\gamma(y_1)z-x_1\wedge
y_1\wedge z$$ and that, obviously, ${\Phi}_0(x_1\wedge y_1\wedge z)=0$ for all $z\in{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. We are left with $${\Phi}_0(e^{\iota({\mathfrak{r}})} u) = {\Phi}_0 ( \gamma(x_1)\gamma(y_1)^2 u'')$$ which is zero since $y_1^2=(y_1,y_1)=0$ in the Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$.
We have shown that both sides of the required equation agree when $u\in{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(g)^{\mathfrak{h}}$. Now suppose that $u$ is an eigenvector of non[-]{}zero weight for the adjoint action of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ on ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. Since the maps ${\Phi}$, ${\Phi}_0$ and $\iota({\mathfrak{r}})$ preserve the weight with respect to the ${\mathfrak{h}}$[-]{}action, ${\Phi}(u)$ and ${\Phi}_0(e^{\iota({\mathfrak{r}})}u)$ must have, in ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$, the same non[-]{}zero weight as $u$. Since the adjoint action of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ on ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$ is trivial, the latter is only possible if ${\Phi}(u)={\Phi}_0(e^{\iota({\mathfrak{r}})}u)=0$. The Proposition is proved.
The map $p_G^T\circ \mathcal{T}$ in [@AMW 3.1] coincides with ${\Phi}_0\circ e^{\iota({\mathfrak{r}})}$ (in our notation). Proposition \[prop:rmatr\] thus implies that the map $p_G^T\circ \mathcal{T}$ from [@AMW] is the same as our Harish[-]{}Chandra map ${\Phi}$.
\[rem:Khbar\] Recall that for each non[-]{}zero value of the deformation parameter $\hbar$ we can equip ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$ with the structure of Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}_\hbar({\mathfrak{g}})$. The latter Clifford algebra is built with respect to the bilinear form $(\,,\,)_\hbar = \hbar\cdot (\,,\,)$ on ${\mathfrak{g}}$ which is ${\mathop{ad}}$[-]{}invariant and non[-]{}degenerate. In particular, the Harish[-]{}Chandra map $${\Phi}_\hbar\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}_\hbar({\mathfrak{g}})\to{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}_\hbar({\mathfrak{h}})$$ is defined. Let us apply Proposition \[prop:rmatr\] to the Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}_\hbar({\mathfrak{g}})$.
Namely, if $x_i$, $y_i$ was a positive/negative root vector pair normalised by $(x_i,y_i)=1$ , then $x_i$, $\hbar^{-1} y_i$ will be such pair for the form $ (\,,\,)_\hbar$. It follows that the classical r[-]{}matrix of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ corresponding to the new form $(\,,\,)_\hbar$ is given by ${\mathfrak{r}}_\hbar = \hbar^{-1}{\mathfrak{r}}$. Furthermore, the contraction operators on ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$ with respect to the bilinear form $(\,,\,)_\hbar$ are given by $\iota_\hbar(x)=\hbar\,\iota(x)$. Hence we have a new operator $$\iota_\hbar({\mathfrak{r}}_\hbar) := \sum_{i=1}^n
\iota_\hbar(x_i)\iota_\hbar(\hbar^{-1}y_i) = \hbar\, \iota({\mathfrak{r}}),$$ which leads to the following corollary of Proposition \[prop:rmatr\]:
\[cor:rmatr\] $ {\Phi}_\hbar(u) = {\Phi}_0(e^{\hbar \iota({\mathfrak{r}})}u) =
{\Phi}_0(u) + \hbar\, {\Phi}_0(\iota({\mathfrak{r}}) u) +
\frac{\hbar^2}{2!} {\Phi}_0(\iota({\mathfrak{r}})^2 u) + \dots
$.
The map ${\Phi}_\hbar$ is thus given as a deformation of the Chevalley projection ${\Phi}_0$. We emphasise that ${\Phi}_\hbar$ is injective on the space ${J}$ of invariants for $\hbar\ne 0$ while ${\Phi}_0={\Phi}_\hbar|_{\hbar^{\vphantom{H^2}}=0}$ is not.
The algebras of invariants and Kostant’s $\rho$-decomposition of ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$
=======================================================================================================
This section contains the information on the structure of the algebras ${J}_S={S}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$, ${J}={{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$ and ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ which will be used in the proof of our main results. We will recall several theorems of Kostant from [@Ko] where it is assumed that $(\,,\,)$ is the Killing form on ${\mathfrak{g}}$; however, they are easily seen to hold when $(\,,\,)$ is any non[-]{}degenerate ${\mathop{ad}}$[-]{}invariant form.
Generators of the algebra of symmetric invariants {#chevalley_generators}
-------------------------------------------------
Recall from Section \[sect:firstsect\] that the Chevalley projection map establishes an algebra homomorphism between ${J}_S={S}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$ and the algebra ${S}({\mathfrak{h}})^W$ of Weyl group invariants in the polynomial algebra ${S}({\mathfrak{h}})$. From the invariant theory of reflection groups [@ST; @C] it follows that ${J}_S$ has ${r}=\mathit{rank}({\mathfrak{g}})$ algebraically independent homogeneous generators $f_1,f_2,\dots,f_{r}$. These are defined up to multiplication by non[-]{}zero constants and modulo $({J}_S^+)^2$, where ${J}_S^+={J}_S\cap \oplus_{n>0} S^n({\mathfrak{g}})$. We will denote by $P_S$ the linear span of some chosen $f_1,f_2,\dots,f_{r}$. The space $P_S$ is, in general, not uniquely defined and depends on the choice of the $f_i$.
Define the positive integers $m_1,\dots,m_{r}$ by $\deg f_i = m_i+1$. The numbers $m_i$ are independent (up to reordering) of the choice of a particular set of the $f_i$ and are called the exponents of ${\mathfrak{g}}$.
Primitive skew[-]{}symmetric invariants
---------------------------------------
It turns out that there is a skew symmetric counterpart, $P$, of the space $P_S\subset J_S$. First of all, extend the ${\mathop{ad}}$[-]{}invariant form $(\,,\,)$ from ${\mathfrak{g}}$ to the whole of ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$ in a standard way: ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^m {\mathfrak{g}}$ is orthogonal to ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^n {\mathfrak{g}}$ unless $m=n$, and $$(x_1\wedge \dots \wedge x_n, y_1 \wedge \dots \wedge y_n)=
\det((x_i,y_j))_{i,j=1}^n$$ where $x_i,y_i\in {\mathfrak{g}}$. The space $P\subset {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$ of primitive alternating invariants is defined as the $(\,,\,)$[-]{}orthocomplement of ${J}^+\wedge
{J}^+$ in ${J}^+$, where ${J}^+$ is the augmentation ideal ${J}\cap
(\sum_{m>0}{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^m{\mathfrak{g}})$. By a theorem of Koszul (see [@Ko Theorem 26]), the restriction of $(\,,\,)$ to ${J}$ and to ${J}^+$ is non[-]{}singular. Hence $P$ is a graded subspace of ${J}$. Moreover, the dimension of $P$ is equal to the rank ${r}$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, and one actually knows the degrees where the graded components of $P$ are located: $$P = \mathrm{span}\,\{p_1,p_2,\dots,p_{r}\},
\qquad
p_i\in ({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^{2m_i+1}{\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}},$$ where $m_i$, as before, are the exponents of ${\mathfrak{g}}$.
Under a natural bijection between ${J}$ and the homology $H_*({\mathfrak{g}})$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, the elements of $P$ correspond to what is known as primitive homology classes (see [@Ko 4.3]).
Now it turns out that the space ${J}$ of invariants, with the product induced from ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$, is itself an exterior algebra. The Hopf-Koszul[-]{}Samelson theorem (see [@Ko 4.3] which refers to [@Kz Theorem 10.2]) asserts that $${J}={{\textstyle\bigwedge}}P,$$ meaning that the map $\zeta\colon {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}P\to {J}$, which is an algebra homomorphism extending the inclusion map $P\hookrightarrow {J}$ (the elements of $P$ anticommute in $J$, being of odd degree), is an isomorphism.
The subalgebra ${J}\subset {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ {#clif_p}
----------------------------------------------------------------
Even more surprising is the result, due to Kostant, that the subalgebra ${J}= {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$ of the Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$, is itself a Clifford algebra, generated by $P$ as primitive generators. Of course, the assertion ${J}={{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(P)$ has a chance to be valid only if a primitive tensor $p\in P$, being Clifford[-]{}squared, yields a constant. And this is indeed true; as shown in [@Ko Theorem B], primitive skew[-]{}symmetric invariants behave under Clifford multiplication as if they were elements of degree $1$: $$ p\cdot p = (\alpha(p),p) \qquad\qquad
\text{for $p\in P$,}$$ where $\alpha$ is defined as multiplication by the constant $(-1)^m$ on $P\cap {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^{2m+1}{\mathfrak{g}}$. A further result of Kostant [@Ko Theorem 35] asserts that the map $\zeta_{{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}}\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(P)\to {J}$, which extends, as an algebra homomorphism, the inclusion map $P\hookrightarrow {J}$, is an isomorphism of algebras. Here ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(P)$ is the Clifford algebra of the space $P$ equipped with the non[-]{}degenerate bilinear form $(p,q)_0=(\alpha(p),q)$. For later use, we record this here as theorem.
\[thm:kostant\] In the above notation, the diagram $$\begin{CD}
{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}P & @>\zeta>{}^\sim> & J \\
@V{\beta_{\wedge,P}}VV & & @VV{\beta_{\wedge,{\mathfrak{g}}}}V \\
{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(P) & @>\zeta_{{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}}>{}^\sim> & J
\end{CD}$$ commutes. Here $\beta_{\wedge,P}\colon {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}P \to {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(P)$ and $\beta_{\wedge,{\mathfrak{g}}}\colon {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}\to {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ are skew[-]{}symmetrisation maps for the respective exterior algebras.
The Chevalley transgression map {#subsect:t}
-------------------------------
We briefly recall the useful transgression map, following [@Ko Section 6]. Let $$d\colon {\mathfrak{g}}\to{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^2{\mathfrak{g}}, \qquad dx = \frac{1}{2}\sum e_a\wedge [e^a,x]$$ be the coboundary map for ${\mathfrak{g}}$. (Its extension to ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$ as a derivation of degree $1$ is the coboundary in the standard Koszul complex for ${\mathfrak{g}}$.) Here $\{e_a\}$, $\{e^a\}$ is any pair of dual bases of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ with respect to the form $(\,,\,)$. Now introduce the algebra homomorphism $$s\colon S({\mathfrak{g}}) \to {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^{\mathit{even}} {\mathfrak{g}},
\qquad
s(x_1x_2\dots x_n) = dx_1 \wedge dx_2 \wedge \dots \wedge dx_n$$ between $S({\mathfrak{g}})$ and the commutative subalgebra ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^{\mathit{even}} {\mathfrak{g}}= \sum_n{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^{2n} {\mathfrak{g}}$ of ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$.
Denote by $\iota_S(x)f$ the directional derivative of $f\in S({\mathfrak{g}})$ with respect to $x\in{\mathfrak{g}}$ (attention: ${\mathfrak{g}}$ is identified with its dual space ${\mathfrak{g}}^*$ via the form $(\,,\,)$). In other words, $\iota_S(x)$ is the derivation of $S({\mathfrak{g}})$ of degree $-1$ such that for $y$ in $S^1({\mathfrak{g}})={\mathfrak{g}}$, one has $\iota_S(x)y=(x,y)\in S^0({\mathfrak{g}})$. The Chevalley transgression map may now be defined by the formula $$t(f) = \frac{(m!)^2}{(2m+1)!} \sum_a e_a\wedge s(\iota_S(e^a)f)$$ due to Kostant [@Ko Theorem 64]. This maps symmetric tensors of degree $m+1$ to alternating tensors of degree $2m+1$. By a result of Chevalley (see [@Ko Theorem 66]), for any choice of the space $P_S$ of primitive symmetric invariants, $t\colon P_S\to P$ is a linear isomorphism. (One observes that $t$ vanishes on $(J_S^+)^2$.) One can choose $f_i\in P_S\cap S^{m_i+1}({\mathfrak{g}})$ so that $t(f_i)=p_i$.
The $\rho$-decomposition of ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$
------------------------------------------------------------------
Kostant’s “separation of variables” result for the Clifford algebra [@Ko] asserts that ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ is a free module over its subalgebra ${J}$. There is a subalgebra $E\subset{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$, which is in fact the Clifford centraliser of ${J}$ in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$, so that the Clifford algebra factorises as $${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}) = E {\mathop{\otimes}}{J},$$ where ${\mathop{\otimes}}$ is realised by Clifford multiplication. Moreover, $E$ can also be described as follows. For $x\in {\mathfrak{g}}$, denote $$\delta(x)=\frac{1}{4} \sum_a e_a\cdot [e^a, x]\in {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}),$$ where, as usual, $\{e_a\}$, $\{e^a\}$ are a pair of dual bases of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. It is easy to show that in fact, identifying the spaces ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$ and ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$, one has $\delta(x)=\frac{1}{2}dx$ where $dx\in{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^2{\mathfrak{g}}$ is the coboundary of $x$ introduced earlier. The equation $\delta([x,y])=\delta(x)\delta(y)-\delta(y)\delta(x)$ holds in the Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$; see [@Ko Proposition 28]. Therefore, $\delta$ extends to a homomorphism $$\delta\colon U({\mathfrak{g}}) \to {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$$ of associative algebras. One has $E= \delta(U({\mathfrak{g}}))$. Now, let $\rho$ be the half sum of positive roots of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, and let $V_\rho$ denote the irreducible ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}module with highest weight $\rho$. Kostant identifies $E$, as an algebra and a ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}module, with the matrix algebra ${\qopname\relax o{End}}V_\rho$, which is why the factorisation ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})=E{\mathop{\otimes}}{J}$ is referred to as the $\rho$[-]{}decomposition of ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$. Indeed, let $x_1,\dots,x_n$ be an ordering of positive root vectors in ${\mathfrak{g}}$, and let $\mu_+=x_1\cdot\dots\cdot x_n$ in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$. Let $z\in U({\mathfrak{g}})$ act on the subspace $E\mu_+$ of ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ via left multiplication by $\delta(z)$. This makes $E\mu_+$ into a $U({\mathfrak{g}})$[-]{}module isomorphic to $V_\rho$, with highest weight vector $\mu_+$. The action of $E$ on $V_\rho\cong E\mu_+$ by left multiplication induces a homomorphism $E\to {\qopname\relax o{End}}V_\rho$. It turns out to be an isomorphism [@Ko Theorem 40].
${\Phi}$ is an isomorphism between ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$ and ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$ {#sect:iso}
===================================================================================================================================
The first main theorem
----------------------
In this section we prove our first main result about the Clifford algebra analogue, ${\Phi}\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})\to {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$, of the Harish[-]{}Chandra map. We will use the notation introduced in previous sections.
\[thm:main1\] The restriction of the Harish[-]{}Chandra map ${\Phi}$ to the ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}invariants in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ is a superalgebra isomorphism ${\Phi}\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}\to {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$.
We use Kostant’s $\rho$[-]{}decomposition, ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})=E {\mathop{\otimes}}{J}$, of the Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$. Let us denote by $E^{\mathfrak{h}}$ the subalgebra $\{u\in E \mid \theta({\mathfrak{h}})u=0\}$ of ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}$. Then we have the tensor factorisation $${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}= E^{\mathfrak{h}}{\mathop{\otimes}}{J}.$$ Recall from the previous Section that $E$ is the image of $U({\mathfrak{g}})$ under the algebra map $\delta\colon U({\mathfrak{g}})\to {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$. As $\delta$ is also a ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}module map, $E^{\mathfrak{h}}=\delta(U({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}})$, where $U({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}$ is ${\mathop{ad}}{\mathfrak{h}}$[-]{}invariants in $U({\mathfrak{g}})$. Choose a basis of $U({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}$ consisting of monomials $y_{a_1}\dots y_{a_k}h_{b_1}\dots h_{b_l} x_{c_1}\dots x_{c_m}$, where $y_a$ (resp. $x_c$) are negative (resp. positive) root vectors in ${\mathfrak{g}}$, $h_b$ are vectors in the Cartan subalgebra, and the product is, of course, in $U({\mathfrak{g}})$. To see what the $\delta$[-]{}image of such a monomial can be, we use the following
\[lem:calc\] $(i)$ For any $h\in{\mathfrak{h}}$, ${\Phi}(\delta(h))$ is equal to the constant $\rho(h)$, where $\rho\in {\mathfrak{h}}^*$ is half the sum of positive roots of ${\mathfrak{g}}$.
$(ii)$ For any $x\in{\mathfrak{n}}^+\subset{\mathfrak{g}}$, $\delta(x)$ is in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})\cdot {\mathfrak{n}}^+$.
Choose a pair of dual bases of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ in the following special way. Let $x_1,\dots,x_n$ be positive root vectors in ${\mathfrak{g}}$, corresponding to the positive roots $\beta_1,\dots,\beta_n$ and constituting the basis of ${\mathfrak{n}}^+$. Let $y_1,\dots,y_n$ be negative root vectors so that $(x_i,y_i)=1$, and let $h_1,\dots,h_{r}$ be some basis of ${\mathfrak{h}}$, orthonormal with respect to $(\,,\,)$. The bases $x_1,\dots,x_n;h_1,\dots,h_{r};y_1,\dots,y_n$ and $y_1,\dots,y_n;h_1,\dots,h_{r};x_1,\dots,x_n$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ are dual with respect to the ${\mathop{ad}}$[-]{}invariant non[-]{}degenerate form $(\,,\,)$. By definition of $\delta$ and using the fact that ${\mathfrak{h}}$ is an Abelian Lie subalgebra of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, one calculates $$\delta(h)=\frac{1}{4}\sum_{i=1}^n (x_i\cdot [y_i,h] +y_i\cdot [x_i,h])
=\frac{1}{4}\sum_i \beta_i(h)(x_i y_i - y_i x_i).$$ Observe that $x_i y_i - y_i x_i=2-2y_i x_i$ in the Clifford algebra, and ${\Phi}(y_i x_i)=0$ because, by definition of ${\Phi}$, the kernel of ${\Phi}$ contains ${\mathfrak{n}}_-\cdot {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ and ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})\cdot {\mathfrak{n}}_+$. Thus one obtains ${\Phi}(\delta(h))=\frac{1}{4}\sum_i \beta_i(h)\cdot 2 =
\rho(h)$, establishing part $(i)$ of the Lemma.
Now for $x\in{\mathfrak{n}}^+$, calculation of $\delta(x)$ with respect to the same special pair of dual bases of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ will yield an expression with the following terms: $x_i\cdot [y_i,x]$, $y_i\cdot [x_i,x]$ and $h_j\cdot [h_j,x]$. The latter two clearly belong to ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}){\mathfrak{n}}_+$. Rewrite $x_i\cdot [y_i,x]$ as $-[y_i,x]\cdot x_i + 2(x_i,[y_i,x])$. Here $-[y_i,x]\cdot x_i$ is again in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}){\mathfrak{n}}_+$, and $(x_i,[y_i,x])=([x_i,y_i],x)=0$ because $[x_i,y_i]\in {\mathfrak{h}}$ and $x\in {\mathfrak{n}}_+$. Thus $\delta(x)\in {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})\cdot {\mathfrak{n}}_+$. The Lemma is proved.
The proof of Lemma \[lem:calc\] is similar to [@Ko Proposition 37, Lemma 38 and Theorem 39]. These statements lead to a Clifford algebra realisation of the representation with highest weight $\rho$ of a semisimple Lie algebra (Chevalley[-]{}Kostant construction). This construction can be generalised to central extensions of the corresponding loop algebra and in particular for $\widehat{\mathfrak{sl}_2}$. See the paper [@J2] by Joseph. One may realise the basic modules of $\widehat{\mathfrak{sl}_2}$, which is done by Greenstein and Joseph in [@GJ] and has no analogue in the semisimple case. In the infinite dimensional case, the ordering of the factors in the expression for $\delta(h)$ becomes crucial.
We now continue the proof of Theorem \[thm:main1\]. Consider a typical monomial $y_{a_1}\dots y_{a_k}$ $h_{b_1}\dots
h_{b_l}$ $
x_{c_1}\dots x_{c_m}$ in $U({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}$ as above. If $m>0$, the $\delta$[-]{}image of this monomial lies in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})\delta(x_{c_m})$, which is in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}){\mathfrak{n}}^+$ by Lemma \[lem:calc\]. By definition of ${\Phi}$, ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}){\mathfrak{n}}^+$ lies in the kernel of ${\Phi}$, thus the ${\Phi}\circ\delta$[-]{}image of the monomial is zero.
If $m=0$, then $k=0$ because the monomial must have weight zero with respect to the adjoint action of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ on $U({\mathfrak{g}})$. The $\delta$[-]{}image of the monomial $h_{b_1}\dots h_{b_l}$ is $\delta(h_{b_1}) \dots \delta(h_{b_l})$. By Lemma \[lem:calc\] one has ${\Phi}(\delta(h_{b_1})\dots \delta(h_{b_l}))
=\rho(h_{b_1})\dots \rho(h_{b_l})\in{\mathbb{C}}$. Thus, we have shown that $${\Phi}(E^{\mathfrak{h}})={\mathbb{C}}.$$ Because ${\Phi}\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}\to {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$ is a superalgebra homomorphism (by Lemma \[lem:homo\]) and is surjective (coincides with the identity map on ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})\subset {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}$), we have ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})={\Phi}(E^h){\Phi}({J})$. It follows that ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})={\Phi}({J})$, that is, ${\Phi}\colon {J}\to {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$ is surjective, hence bijective by comparison of dimensions (both are $2^{r}$). Theorem \[thm:main1\] is proved.
A formula for ${\Phi}_\hbar\circ\delta$
---------------------------------------
Looking at the proofs of Lemma \[lem:calc\] and Theorem \[thm:main1\], we conclude that the calculations which have been made lead to a formula for the map ${\Phi}\circ\delta\colon
U({\mathfrak{g}}) \to {\mathbb{C}}$. Namely, it is apparent that ${\Phi}(\delta(u))=\Psi(u)(\rho)$, where $\Psi\colon U({\mathfrak{g}})\mapsto
{S}({\mathfrak{h}})$ is the classical Harish[-]{}Chandra map introduced in \[subsect:cHC\], and $\mbox{}\,\cdot\, (\rho)$ denotes the evaluation of an element of ${S}({\mathfrak{h}})$, viewed as a polynomial function on the space ${\mathfrak{h}}^*$, at the point $\rho\in{\mathfrak{h}}^*$. For later purposes we will need a slightly more general version of this formula, which is nevertheless established by a completely analogous calculation. Recall the “deformed” Harish[-]{}Chandra map ${\Phi}_\hbar\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}) \to
{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$, introduced in Remark \[rem:Khbar\].
\[lem:composition\] The map ${\Phi}_\hbar \circ \delta \colon U({\mathfrak{g}}) \to {\mathbb{C}}$ is given by $${\Phi}_\hbar(\delta(u))= \Psi(u)(\hbar\, \rho).
\qed$$
${\Phi}$ identifies $P$ and ${\mathfrak{h}}$
--------------------------------------------
In the proof of Theorem \[thm:main1\] we relied on the result, due to Kostant, that ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ factorises as $E{\mathop{\otimes}}{J}$. We are going to obtain more information about the Harish-Chandra map $\Phi\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}\to {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$ using Kostant’s description of ${J}$ as the Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(P)$, where $P$ is the space of primitive ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}invariants in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ as in the previous Section. It is one of the key results of [@Ko] that $$\iota(x)p \in E\qquad \text{for}\ p\in P, \quad x\in
{\mathfrak{g}};$$ see [@Ko Theorem E]. From this, we deduce our
\[prop:bij\] The restriction of the Harish[-]{}Chandra map ${\Phi}$ to the space $P\subset{J}$ of primitive invariants is a bijective linear map between $P$ and the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$.
Take a primitive invariant $p\in P$. For any $h\in {\mathfrak{h}}$, one has $\iota(h)p\in E$ by the above result of Kostant. Therefore, it follows from Lemma \[lem:calc\] that ${\Phi}(\iota(h)p)\in
{\mathbb{C}}$. More precisely, ${\Phi}(\iota(h)p)$ is in the one[-]{}dimensional subspace ${\mathbb{C}}\cdot 1 = {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^0 {\mathfrak{h}}$ of ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$. Let us now use
\[lem:phi\_delta\] For any $h\in{\mathfrak{h}}$ and $u\in{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}$, one has $\iota(h){\Phi}(u)={\Phi}(\iota(h)u)$.
We have already observed that ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}$ decomposes as a direct sum ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}}){\mathop{\oplus}}$ ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}){\mathfrak{n}}^+\cap {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}$. Because $\iota(h)$ is a superderivation of ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ (Lemma \[lem:superderiv\]) and $\iota(h){\mathfrak{n}}^+=0$, $\iota(h)$ preserves the subspaces ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$ and ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}){\mathfrak{n}}^+\cap {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}$ of ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$, hence commutes with the projection onto ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$.
Let ${\Phi}(p)$ be some element $q\in
{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$. Applying Lemma \[lem:phi\_delta\] we establish that $\iota(h)q\in {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^0 {\mathfrak{h}}$ for all $h\in{\mathfrak{h}}$. The restriction of the form $(\, ,\,)$ to ${\mathfrak{h}}$ is non[-]{}degenerate, therefore there exists $h^1\in {\mathfrak{h}}={{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^1 {\mathfrak{h}}$ such that $\iota(h)h^1 =
\iota(h)q$ for all $h\in {\mathfrak{h}}$. The intersection of kernels of all contraction operators $\iota({\mathfrak{h}})$ in the exterior algebra ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$ is its zero degree part, ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^0{\mathfrak{h}}={\mathbb{C}}$: this fact can be checked directly and is a particular case of a Nichols algebra property (see Remark \[rem:braided\] above and [@B Criterion 3.2]). Thus, $q=h^1+h^0$ for some $h^0\in {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^0{\mathfrak{h}}$.
But ${\Phi}$ is a map of superspaces by Lemma \[lem:homo\], and a primitive invariant $p\in P$ is odd. Therefore, the even component $h^0$ of $q$ is zero, thus ${\Phi}(p)\in {\mathfrak{h}}$. Hence ${\Phi}(P)\subset{\mathfrak{h}}$, and by injectivity of $\Phi$ on ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$ (Theorem \[thm:main1\]) and comparison of dimensions, ${\Phi}(P)={\mathfrak{h}}$. Proposition \[prop:bij\] is proved.
${\Phi}$ induces an isomorphism between ${J}$ and ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
We finish this Section with an observation that the Harish[-]{}Chandra map $\Phi$ respects not only Clifford but also exterior multiplication on the space of ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}invariants in ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$.
\[cor:wedge\] The map ${\Phi}\colon ({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}\to {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$ is an algebra isomorphism.
The Corollary asserts that the restriction ${\Phi}$ to ${J}$ respects the wedge multiplication. This is not trivial, because it is not readily seen from the construction of ${\Phi}$ why ${\Phi}(a\wedge b)={\Phi}(a)\wedge {\Phi}(b)$ when $a,b\in
J$. Recall that in terms of the wedge product, the map ${\Phi}$ is given by the r-matrix formula (Proposition \[prop:rmatr\]), and note that in general, ${\Phi}(a\wedge b)\ne{\Phi}(a)\wedge {\Phi}(b)$ for $a,b\in({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{h}}$.
We need to show that the wedge product in $({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$ is respected by the map, fully written as $\sigma_{{\mathfrak{h}}} \circ
{\Phi}\circ \sigma^{-1}_{{\mathfrak{g}}}$, where $\sigma_{{\mathfrak{h}}}\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}}) \to {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$ and $\sigma_{{\mathfrak{g}}}\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})\to{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$ are maps identifying the underlying linear space of a Clifford algebra with the corresponding exterior algebra; see \[subsect:sigma\]. But by Theorem \[thm:kostant\] it is enough to show that $\sigma_{{\mathfrak{h}}} \circ {\Phi}\circ \sigma^{-1}_{P}$ respects the wedge product in ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}P$, where $P$ is the space of primitive invariants in ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. Let $p_1,\dots,p_{r}$ be a basis of $P$ such that $p_i$ are homogeneous in ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$ and are pairwise orthogonal with respect to the form $(\,,\,)$ extended to ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. Then $p_i$ are also orthogonal with respect to the form $(\alpha(\cdot),\cdot)$, which gives rise to the Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(P)$ as in \[clif\_p\]. It follows that the $p_i$ pairwise anticommute in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}(P)$, hence also in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$.
For each subset $I=\{i_1<\dots <i_k\}$ of $\{1,\dots,{r}\}$, denote $p_I=p_{i_1}\wedge \dots \wedge p_{i_k}$. The $2^{r}$ elements $p_I$ form a basis of ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}P$. By orthogonality of the $p_i$, $p_I=\sigma_P(p_{i_1}p_{i_2}\dots p_{i_k})$; applying ${\Phi}$ gives $h_{i_1}h_{i_2}\dots h_{i_k}\in{{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$, where $h_i={\Phi}(p_i)$. By Proposition \[prop:bij\], $h_1,\dots,h_{r}$ form a basis of the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$. Moreover, this basis is orthogonal with respect to the restriction of the form $(\,,\,)$ on ${\mathfrak{h}}$, because the $h_i$ pairwise anticommute in the Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$ being the images of the $p_i$. Therefore, $\sigma_{{\mathfrak{h}}}(h_{i_1}h_{i_2}\dots h_{i_k}) = h_{i_1}\wedge
h_{i_2}\wedge \dots\wedge h_{i_k}$, which may be denoted by $h_I$.
Thus, modulo the appropriate identifications, the map ${\Phi}\colon
({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}\to{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{h}}$ is given on the basis $\{p_I\mid
I\subseteq \{1,\dots,{r}\}\}$ of $({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$ by ${\Phi}(p_I)=h_I$. It manifestly follows that ${\Phi}$ is an isomorphism of exterior algebras.
The principal basis of the Cartan subalgebra
============================================
In the previous Section we established that the Harish[-]{}Chandra map ${\Phi}\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}) \to {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$ restricts to a bijective linear map between the space $P$ of primitive ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}invariants in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ and the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. Recall that $P$ is a graded subspace of the exterior algebra ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. The linear bijection ${\Phi}\colon P \to
{\mathfrak{h}}$ thus induces a grading on the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$. We will now show that this grading coincides with one arising in a different context — from the decomposition of ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$, the Langlands dual Lie algebra of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, as a module over its principal three[-]{}dimensional simple subalgebra.
Principal three-dimensional simple subalgebras
----------------------------------------------
In this subsection, we briefly recall known facts about principal three-dimensional simple subalgebras (principal TDS) of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. Our standard reference for this is [@KoBetti §5].
Let ${r}$ be the rank of a semisimple Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}$. A nilpotent element $e$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ is called principal nilpotent (or regular nilpotent), if the centraliser ${\mathfrak{g}}^e$ of $e$ in ${\mathfrak{g}}$ is of minimal possible dimension, namely $\dim {\mathfrak{g}}^e={r}$. By the well-known Jacobson[-]{}Morozov theorem, any non[-]{}zero nilpotent element $e\in {\mathfrak{g}}$ can be included in an ${\mathfrak{sl}}_2$-triple $(e, h, f)$ of elements of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, i.e., a triple that fulfils the relations $[h,e]=2e$, $[h,f]=-2f$, $[e,f]=h$. Such an ${\mathfrak{sl}}_2$-triple is called principal, if $e$ is principal nilpotent. The linear span of a principal ${\mathfrak{sl}}_2$-triple in ${\mathfrak{g}}$ is referred to as a principal three[-]{}dimensional simple subalgebra (principal TDS) of ${\mathfrak{g}}$.
The following characterisation of principal TDS is due to Kostant:
If $\mathfrak a$ is a principal TDS of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, then ${\mathfrak{g}}$, viewed as an $\mathfrak a$[-]{}module via the adjoint action, is a direct sum of precisely ${r}$ simple $\mathfrak a$[-]{}modules.
If a subalgebra $\mathfrak a\cong{\mathfrak{sl}}_2$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ is not principal, then ${\mathfrak{g}}$ is a direct sum of strictly more than ${r}$ simple $\mathfrak a$[-]{}modules.
All principal TDS ${\mathfrak{g}}$ are conjugate (with respect to the action of the adjoint group of ${\mathfrak{g}}$). We will be interested in one particular principal TDS $\mathfrak a_0$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, discovered independently by Dynkin and de Siebenthal. To define $\mathfrak a_0$, fix a Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ and recall that our chosen ${\mathop{ad}}$[-]{}invariant form $(\,,\,)$, restricted to ${\mathfrak{h}}$, is non[-]{}degenerate, hence one may identify ${\mathfrak{h}}$ with its dual space ${\mathfrak{h}}^*$. In particular, the root system of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ becomes a subset of ${\mathfrak{h}}$; a root $\alpha$ and the corresponding coroot $\alpha^\vee$ are related via $\alpha^\vee =
2\alpha/(\alpha,\alpha)$.
Choose a set of simple roots $\alpha_1, \dots,\alpha_{r}\in {\mathfrak{h}}$. Denote by $\rho^\vee$ the element of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ defined by the condition $(\alpha_i,\rho^\vee)=1$, $i=1,\dots,{r}$; this element is half the sum of positive coroots of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. Let $e_i$ be root vectors corresponding to the roots $\alpha_i$, and $f_i$ be root vectors corresponding to roots $-\alpha_i$ normalised so that $(e_i,f_i)=1$. Observe that $[e_i,f_i]=\alpha_i\in {\mathfrak{h}}$. Indeed, for arbitrary $h\in{\mathfrak{h}}$ one has $([e_i,f_i],h)=(e_i,[f_i,h])=(e_i,\alpha_i(h)f_i)=(\alpha_i,h)$. Put $$e_0=\sum_{i=1}^{r}e_i,
\qquad
h_0 = 2\rho^\vee,
\qquad
f_0 = \sum_{i=1}^{r}c_i f_i,$$ where $c_i$ are the coefficients in the expansion $2\rho^\vee =
\sum_{i=1}^{r}c_i \alpha_i$. It is not difficult to show that $(e_0,h_0,f_0)$ is an ${\mathfrak{sl}}_2$-triple (using the fact that $(\alpha_i,2\rho^\vee)=2$ for all $i$, that $[e_i,f_j]=0$ for $i\ne
j$, and that $[e_i,f_i]=\alpha_i$). Moreover, $e_0$ is a principal nilpotent element of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. The principal TDS $\mathfrak a_0$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ is the linear span of the triple $(e_0,h_0,f_0)$.
The principal grading on ${\mathfrak{h}}$
-----------------------------------------
Recall that under the adjoint action of a principal TDS $\mathfrak a$, the Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}$ breaks down into a direct sum of ${r}=\mathit{rank}\ {\mathfrak{g}}$ simple $\mathfrak a$[-]{}modules. The dimensions of these simple modules were determined by Kostant in [@KoBetti]: writing $V_d$ for the $d$[-]{}dimensional ${\mathfrak{sl}}_2$[-]{}module, one has $${\mathfrak{g}}\cong V_{2m_1+1} {\mathop{\oplus}}\dots {\mathop{\oplus}}V_{2m_{r}+1},$$ where $m_i$, $i=1,2,\dots,{r}$, are the exponents of ${\mathfrak{g}}$; see \[chevalley\_generators\]. Each ${\mathfrak{sl}}_2$[-]{}module $V_{2m_i+1}$, being of odd dimension, has a one[-]{}dimensional zero weight subspace $V_{2m_i+1}^0$. We now turn to the case $\mathfrak a=\mathfrak a_0$, the distinguished principal TDS introduced above. Fix an isomorphism between ${\mathfrak{g}}$ and $\oplus_i V_{2m_i+1}$ and regard each $V_{2m_i+1}$ as an $\mathfrak a_0$[-]{}submodule of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. Clearly, $\oplus_i V_{2m_i+1}^0$ is the centraliser, ${\mathfrak{g}}^{h_0}$, of $h_0=2\rho^\vee$ in ${\mathfrak{g}}$. Since all root vectors in ${\mathfrak{g}}$ are eigenvectors of ${\mathop{ad}}h_0$ corresponding to non[-]{}zero eigenvalues, it follows that ${\mathfrak{g}}^{h_0}={\mathfrak{h}}$, the Cartan subalgebra of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ (i.e., $h_0$ is a regular semisimple element of ${\mathfrak{g}}$). One has the direct sum decomposition $${\mathfrak{h}}= V_{2m_1+1}^0 {\mathop{\oplus}}\dots {\mathop{\oplus}}V_{2m_{r}+1}^0.$$ This decomposition of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ is not canonical, because there is some freedom in choosing the isomorphism between ${\mathfrak{g}}$ and $\oplus_i
V_{2m_i+1}$. However, for each $d$, the $V_d$[-]{}primary component $\oplus\{ V_{2m_i+1} : 2m_i+1=d\}$ is canonically defined. There is thus a grading $${\mathfrak{h}}=\oplus_d {\mathfrak{h}}_d, \qquad {\mathfrak{h}}_d = {\mathfrak{h}}\cap \oplus\{ V_{2m_i+1} : 2m_i+1=d\}$$ on the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$, which only depends on the choice of a set of simple roots of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ in ${\mathfrak{g}}$ (i.e., the choice of a Borel subalgebra $\mathfrak b \supset {\mathfrak{h}}$). Note that the element $\rho^\vee\in{\mathfrak{h}}$ and the grading do not depend on a particular non[-]{}degenerate ${\mathop{ad}}$[-]{}invariant form $(\,,\,)$. We refer to this grading as the principal grading on ${\mathfrak{h}}$.
There is another grading on ${\mathfrak{g}}$ associated to any ${\mathfrak{sl}}_2$[-]{}triple $(e,h,f)$ in ${\mathfrak{g}}$, namely the eigenspace decomposition of ${\mathop{ad}}h$. Such gradings are referred to as Dynkin gradings in [@EK]. Note that the Dynkin grading arising from $(e_0,h_0,f_0)$ has ${\mathfrak{h}}$ as the degree zero subspace and breaks down each of the $V_{2m_i+1}$ into a direct sum of $1$[-]{}dimensional graded subspaces, so it is, in a sense, transversal to the principal grading.
Elementary properties of the principal grading
----------------------------------------------
Let us observe a few straightforward properties of the principal grading on ${\mathfrak{h}}$.
\[lem:easy\] Let ${\mathfrak{h}}=\oplus_d {\mathfrak{h}}_d$ be the principal grading on the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$.
$(a)$ Non[-]{}zero homogeneous components ${\mathfrak{h}}_d$ occur only in degrees $d=2m+1$, where $m$ is an exponent of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. The least such degree is $3$. The dimension of ${\mathfrak{h}}_{2m+1}$ is the number of times $m$ occurs as an exponent of ${\mathfrak{g}}$.
$(b)$ $\dim {\mathfrak{h}}_3$ is the number of connected components in the Dynkin diagram of ${\mathfrak{g}}$.
$(c)$ The element $\rho^\vee$ of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ belongs to ${\mathfrak{h}}_3$.
$(d)$ Homogeneous components of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ of different degrees are orthogonal with respect to any ${\mathop{ad}}$[-]{}invariant form $(\,,\,)$ on ${\mathfrak{g}}$.
$(a)$ is apparent from the definition of the principal grading. To establish $(b)$, one observes that $1$ occurs as an exponent of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ as many times as is the number of summands in the decomposition of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ into a direct sum of simple Lie algebras, which is the number of connected components of the Dynkin diagram of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. (A simple Lie algebra has only one exponent equal to $1$, and taking the direct sum of semisimple Lie algebras corresponds to taking the union of the multisets of exponents.) Note that $\mathfrak a_0\subset {\mathfrak{g}}$ is a three[-]{}dimensional $\mathfrak a_0$[-]{}submodule of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, hence $\mathfrak a_0\cap {\mathfrak{h}}={\mathbb{C}}\rho^\vee\subset {\mathfrak{h}}_3$ and $(c)$ follows. To prove $(d)$, take $h,k\in {\mathfrak{h}}$ such that $h\in V_{2m+1}^0\subset
{\mathfrak{g}}$ and $k\in V_{2n+1}^0\subset {\mathfrak{g}}$, with $m<n$ two distinct exponents of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. By the representation theory of ${\mathfrak{sl}}_2$, there is a highest weight vector $x\in V_{2n+1}$ for $\mathfrak a_0$, such that $k=({\mathop{ad}}f_0)^{n}x$. Then $(h,k)=(({\mathop{ad}}f_0)^{n}x,k)=(-1)^{n}(x,({\mathop{ad}}f_0)^{n}k)$. But $({\mathop{ad}}f_0)^{n}k=0$, thus $h$, $k$ are orthogonal.
The principal basis of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ in a simple Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}$
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When ${\mathfrak{g}}$ is simple, we can say more about the principal grading on ${\mathfrak{h}}$.
Let ${\mathfrak{h}}$ be the Cartan subalgebra of a simple Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}$. If ${\mathfrak{g}}$ is not of type $D_{r}$ with ${r}$ even, then all non[-]{}zero homogeneous components of the principal grading ${\mathfrak{h}}=\oplus_d {\mathfrak{h}}_d$ are one[-]{}dimensional. If ${\mathfrak{g}}$ is of type $D_{r}$ with ${r}$ even, then $\dim{\mathfrak{h}}_d=1$ for $d\ne {r}-1$, and $\dim{\mathfrak{h}}_{{r}-1}=2$.
According to [@Bou Table IV], simple Lie algebras of types other than $D_{r}$ with even ${r}$ have distinct exponents; in type $D_{{r}}$ with even ${r}$ all exponents have multiplicity $1$ except ${r}/2-1$ which has multiplicity $2$. Apply Lemma \[lem:easy\]$(a)$.
Thus, in all simple Lie algebras apart from $\mathfrak{so}(2{r})$, ${r}$ even, a choice, $\mathfrak b \supset{\mathfrak{h}}$, of a Borel and a Cartan subalgebra gives rise to a distinguished basis $h_1,h_2,\dots,h_{r}$ of ${\mathfrak{h}}$. The vector $h_i$ is determined, up to a scalar factor, by the condition ${\mathfrak{h}}_{2m_i+1}={\mathbb{C}}h_i$. This basis is orthogonal with respect to the Killing form, and $h_1=\rho^\vee$. We call $h_1,\dots,h_{r}$ the principal basis of ${\mathfrak{h}}$.
For ${\mathfrak{g}}\cong\mathfrak{so}(2{r})$, ${r}-2$ vectors of the principal basis are determined up to a scalar factor, and there is freedom in choosing the remaining pair of vectors which must span a given two[-]{}dimensional subspace ${\mathfrak{h}}_{{r}-1}$ of ${\mathfrak{h}}$. We still call any basis, obtained by this procedure, a principal basis of ${\mathfrak{h}}$.
The grading on ${\mathfrak{h}}$ induced from ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$
------------------------------------------------------------------
Recall that we have identified the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$ with its dual space ${\mathfrak{h}}^*$ via the non[-]{}degenerate ${\mathop{ad}}$[-]{}invariant form $(\,,\,)$, so that both the roots and the coroots of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ lie in ${\mathfrak{h}}$. Consider ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$, the Langlands dual Lie algebra to ${\mathfrak{g}}$; that is, the complex semisimple Lie algebra with a root system dual to that of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. The roots of ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$ are the coroots of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, so we will assume that ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$ and ${\mathfrak{g}}$ share the same Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}^\vee={\mathfrak{h}}$.
The above definition of principal grading applies to ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$. One has, therefore, a grading $${\mathfrak{h}}= \oplus_d {\mathfrak{h}}^\vee_d$$ on the Cartan subalgebra, which is the principal grading induced from ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$. This grading depends on a choice of simple coroots $\alpha_1^\vee,\dots,\alpha_{r}^\vee$ which is the same as a choice $\alpha_1,\dots,\alpha_{r}$ of simple roots of ${\mathfrak{g}}$. If ${\mathfrak{g}}$ is a simple Lie algebra, ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$ is also simple, so in that case ${\mathfrak{h}}$ has a dual principal basis induced from ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$.
Main result
-----------
We are now ready to state and prove the final main result of the paper, Theorem \[thm:main2\] which also solves a conjecture of Kostant. Once again, recall that $P\subset ({{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$ is the space of primitive skew[-]{}symmetric invariants. It is graded by degree in ${{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$. The space $P$ is also viewed as a subspace of ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$. We already know that under the Harish[-]{}Chandra map ${\Phi}\colon {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}\xrightarrow{\sim} {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{h}})$, the space $P$ is isomorphically mapped onto ${\mathfrak{h}}$.
\[thm:main2\] The grading on the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, induced from the grading on $P$ by degree via the map ${\Phi}\colon P\xrightarrow{\sim}{\mathfrak{h}}$, coincides with the principal grading ${\mathfrak{h}}=\oplus_d {\mathfrak{h}}^\vee_d$ on ${\mathfrak{h}}$ in the Langlands dual Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$.
We are going to use a result due to Chevalley, cited in \[subsect:t\], that the primitive skew[-]{}symmetric invariants are transgressive; i.e., if $f_1,\dots,f_{r}$ are independent homogeneous generators of $S({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$, then $t(f_1), \dots, t(f_{r})$ is a basis of $P$. Let $m_1\le m_2\le \dots \le m_{r}$ be the exponents of ${\mathfrak{g}}$ so that $f_i\in S^{m_i+1}({\mathfrak{g}})$. Denote $p_i=t(f_i)$, thus $p_i\in{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^{2m_i+1}{\mathfrak{g}}$. Furthermore, let $z_1,\dots,z_{r}$ be any basis of the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}$ orthonormal with respect to the non[-]{}degenerate ${\mathop{ad}}$[-]{}invariant form $(\,,\,)$. As ${\Phi}(p_i)$ is an element of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ by Proposition \[prop:bij\], we may write $$\begin{aligned}
{\Phi}(p_i) & = \sum_{j=1}^{r}({\Phi}(p_i),z_j) z_j
= \sum_{j=1}^{r}\iota(z_j){\Phi}(p_i)\cdot z_j
= \sum_{j=1}^{r}{\Phi}(\iota(z_j)p_i)\cdot z_j
\\
& = \sum_{j=1}^{r}{\Phi}(\iota(z_j)t(f_i))\cdot z_j ,\end{aligned}$$ where we used Lemma \[lem:phi\_delta\] to exchange the maps ${\Phi}$ and $\iota(z_j)$. We now observe that further to being two examples of braided derivations (remark \[rem:braided\]), the operators $\iota_S(z)\colon S^{m+1}({\mathfrak{g}})\to S^m({\mathfrak{g}})$ and $\iota(z)\colon
{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^{2m+1}{\mathfrak{g}}\to{{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^{2m}{\mathfrak{g}}$ are intertwined (up to a scalar factor) by the Chevalley transgression map $t$. One has $$\iota(z)t(f) = \frac{(m!)^2}{(2m)!}s(\iota_S(z)f)\qquad \text{for
all}\ f\in {J}_S\cap
S^{m+1}({\mathfrak{g}}), \ z\in {\mathfrak{g}}$$ by [@Ko Theorem 73], where $s\colon S({\mathfrak{g}}) \to {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}{\mathfrak{g}}$ is the homomorphism introduced in \[subsect:t\]. Hence $${\Phi}(p_i) = c \sum_{j=1}^{r}{\Phi}(s(\iota_S(z_j)f_i))\cdot z_j$$ for some non[-]{}zero constant $c$.
In the next calculation, we are going to use results from [@Ko] which are obtained for the case of simple ${\mathfrak{g}}$. We thus assume ${\mathfrak{g}}$ to be simple until further notice.
Let us now assume that the independent homogeneous generators $f_1,\dots,f_{r}$ of the algebra $S({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$ of symmetric invariants are chosen in a particular way, so as to span the orthogonal complement to $(J_S^+)^2$ in $J_S^+$ (compare with \[chevalley\_generators\]). Here orthogonality is with respect to a natural extension of the form $(\ ,\ )$ from ${\mathfrak{g}}$ onto $S({\mathfrak{g}})$: identify $S({\mathfrak{g}})$ with $S({\mathfrak{g}}^*)$ which is acting on $S({\mathfrak{g}})$ by differential operators with constant coefficients, i.e., to $f\in S({\mathfrak{g}})$ there corresponds $\partial_f\in S({\mathfrak{g}}^*)$; now put $(f,g)$ to be the evaluation of the polynomial function $\partial_f g$ at zero. Such choice of primitive symmetric invariants is due to Dynkin. Denote by $P_D$ the span of $f_1,\dots,f_{r}$ where $\deg
f_i=m_i+1$, and let $(P_D)_{(m)}= P_D\cap S^{\le m}({\mathfrak{g}})$.
The space $P_D$ is especially useful for us because of the following property [@Ko Theorem 87]: there exist $u_1,\dots,u_{r}\in P_D$, such that $u_i-f_i\in
(P_D)_{(m_i)}$ and $$\delta_{u_i}(z) = \frac{1}{2^{m_i}}s(\iota_S(z)f_i)$$ for any $z\in{\mathfrak{g}}$. Here $$\delta_u\colon {\mathfrak{g}}\to {{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}), \qquad
\delta_u(z) = \delta(\beta(\iota_S(z)u))$$ is a ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}equivariant map from ${\mathfrak{g}}$ to ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$, defined in [@Ko 6.12]; we remind the reader that $\beta\colon {S}({\mathfrak{g}})\to
U({\mathfrak{g}})$ is the PBW symmetrisation map. (It is clear from the definition of the map $\delta_u$ that the image of $\delta_u$ is in the subalgebra $E=\mathop{\mathrm{Im}} \delta$ of ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$.) In fact, the $u_i$ are not homogeneous, and are of the form $u_i = f_i + \sum_{k<i} a_{ik} f_k$ for some coefficients $a_{ik}\in{\mathbb{C}}$.
We substitute this in the previous formula for ${\Phi}(p_i)$ to obtain $${\Phi}(p_i) = c \sum_{j=1}^{r}{\Phi}(\delta_{u_i}(z_j)) z_j$$ for some non[-]{}zero $c$. The expression for the scalar ${\Phi}(\delta_{u_i}(z_j))$ is given in Lemma \[lem:composition\] (applied for $\hbar=1$): $${\Phi}(\delta_{u_i}(z_j)) = \Psi(\beta(\iota_S(z_j)u_i)) (\rho),$$ where $\Psi\colon U({\mathfrak{g}})\to {S}({\mathfrak{h}})$ is the Harish[-]{}Chandra map, and $\mbox{}\,\cdot\, (\rho)$ means the evaluation of an element of $S({\mathfrak{h}})$ at the point $\rho$. Observe that $\iota_S(z_j)u_i$ is a non[-]{}homogeneous element of ${S}^{\le m_i}({\mathfrak{g}})$, with top degree homogeneous component equal to $\iota_S(z_j)f_i$. Moreover, $\Psi(\beta(\iota_S(z_j)u_i))$ is an element of $S^{\le m_i}({\mathfrak{h}})$, also in general non[-]{}homogeneous, with component of top degree $m_i$ equal to $\Psi_0(\iota_S(z_j)f_i)$, where $\Psi_0\colon {S}({\mathfrak{g}})\to{S}({\mathfrak{h}})$ is the Chevalley projection map.
We would like to obtain a more satisfactory expression for ${\Phi}(\delta_{u_i}(z_j))$. To do this, we introduce the deformation parameter $\hbar$ into the picture. It is easy to run the above argument for the Harish-Chandra map ${\Phi}_\hbar$ instead of ${\Phi}$, obtaining $${\Phi}_\hbar(p_i) = c \sum_{j=1}^{r}{\Phi}_\hbar(\delta_{u_i}(z_j)) z_j.$$ We can now apply Lemma \[lem:composition\] for general $\hbar\in
{\mathbb{C}}$, obtaining ${\Phi}_\hbar(\delta_{u_i}(z_j)) = \Psi(\beta(\iota_S(z_j)u_i)) (\hbar\,\rho)$, which leads to $${\Phi}_\hbar(p_i) = c \sum_{j=1}^{r}\Psi(\beta(\iota_S(z_j)u_i))
(\hbar\,\rho) z_j.$$ Now let us observe, crucially, that the map ${\Phi}_\hbar$ is given by its expansion in terms of $\hbar$ in Corollary \[cor:rmatr\]: $${\Phi}_\hbar(p_i) = \sum_{s\ge 0}\hbar^s {\Phi}_0(\iota({\mathfrak{r}})^s p_i)
\qquad \in \qquad \sum_{s\ge 0}\hbar^s {{\textstyle\bigwedge}}^{2m_i+1-2s}{\mathfrak{h}}.$$ We know that ${\Phi}_\hbar(p_i)$ is an element of degree $1$, which means that only the term containing $\hbar^{m_i}$ is non[-]{}zero. It follows that ${\Phi}_\hbar(p_i)$ is homogeneous in $\hbar$ of degree $m_i$. But this means that all terms of degree lower than $m_i$ in the $\Psi(\beta(\iota_S(z_j)u_i)) (\hbar\,\rho)$ can be dropped, as they make no contribution. What remains is therefore $${\Phi}_\hbar(p_i)= c \sum_{j=1}^{r}\Psi_0(\iota_S(z_j)f_i)(\hbar\,\rho)z_j= c \sum_{j=1}^{r}(\iota_S(z_j)f_i)(\hbar \rho)z_j$$ (the Chevalley projection $\Psi_0$ is irrelevant, since we are evaluating at a point in ${\mathfrak{h}}^*$ anyway). Now we can put $\hbar=1$ and rewrite the formula in the following very simple way: $${\Phi}(p_i) = c \, \iota_S(\rho)^{m_i} f_i.$$ Recall that this only holds when $f_i$ is a homogeneous element of degree $m_i+1$ in the Dynkin space $P_D$ of primitive symmetric invariants. The formula may no longer be true if $P_D$ is replaced by some other space $P_S$ spanned by independent homogeneous generators of ${S}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$.
The proof of the Theorem for simple Lie algebras is concluded with the use of Lemma \[lem:last\] below, which is essentially analogous to the calculation carried out in [@Rohr] but is included here for the sake of completeness. To extend the result to semisimple Lie algebras, note that if ${\mathfrak{g}}\cong {\mathfrak{g}}_1 {\mathop{\oplus}}\dots{\mathop{\oplus}}{\mathfrak{g}}_l$ is a direct sum of pairwise commuting simple Lie algebras, then ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee \cong
{\mathfrak{g}}_1^\vee{\mathop{\oplus}}\dots{\mathop{\oplus}}{\mathfrak{g}}_l^\vee$. The Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}^\vee$ of ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$ is the direct sum of Cartan subalgebras of the ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee_i$, and other obvious choices made for the root system of ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$ ensure that the de Siebenthal-Dynkin canonical principal TDS of ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$ is the direct sum of principal TDS of each of ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee_i$. Thus, the $d$th degree of the principal grading in ${\mathfrak{h}}^\vee$ is spanned by $d$th vectors of principal bases of the ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee_i$. On the other hand, the Clifford algebra ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ is a tensor product of pairwise supercommuting Clifford algebras of the ${\mathfrak{g}}_i$. All this ensures that the primitive ${\mathfrak{g}}$[-]{}invariants $P$ in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}})$ are a direct sum of spaces of primitive ${\mathfrak{g}}_i$[-]{} invariants in ${{\mathit{C}\!\ell}}({\mathfrak{g}}_i)$, the homogeneous basis of each of which projects, under the Harish[-]{}Chandra map, to the corresponding Langlands dual principal basis in the Cartan subalgebra ${\mathfrak{h}}_i$. The result for semisimple algebras thus follows by a straightforward direct sum argument.
\[lem:last\] Let $b_1,\dots,b_{r}$ be algebraically independent homogeneous generators of the algebra ${S}({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$ of symmetric invariants of a simple Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}$ such that $\deg b_k = m_k+1$. Put $h_k=\iota_S(\rho)^{m_k} b_k$. If the $h_k$ are non[-]{}zero and pairwise orthogonal with respect to the Killing form, then $h_1\dots,h_{r}$ are a principal basis of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ induced from the Langlands dual Lie algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$.
Let $W\subset \mathit{GL}({\mathfrak{h}})$ be the Weyl group of ${\mathfrak{g}}$, which is the same as the Weyl group of ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$. The Langlands dual principal basis of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ is orthogonal with respect to the Killing form on ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$, which in restriction to ${\mathfrak{h}}$ is the unique, up to a scalar factor, $W$[-]{}invariant form on ${\mathfrak{h}}$. Thus, the Langlands dual principal basis is orthogonal with respect to the Killing form on ${\mathfrak{g}}$. It is therefore sufficient to show that $h_k$ is in the kernel of $({\mathop{ad}}e_0^\vee)^{m_k+1}$ in the algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$, where $(e_0^\vee,2\rho,f_0^\vee)$ is the canonical principal ${\mathfrak{sl}}_2$-triple of ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$. Here $m_k$ is the $k$th exponent of ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$, which is the same as the $k$th exponent of ${\mathfrak{g}}$.
Putting $n=m_k+1$ and $b=b_k$, it is enough to prove that for $b\in{S}^n({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}$, the element $h=\iota_S(\rho)^{n-1}b$ of ${\mathfrak{h}}$ is in the kernel of $({\mathop{ad}}e_0^\vee)^n$ in the algebra ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$. Let $\bar b=\Psi_0(b)$ denote the image of $b$ under the Chevalley projection map $\Psi_0\colon S({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}\to S({\mathfrak{h}})^W$. Clearly, $h=\iota_S(\rho)^{n-1}\bar b$. Now regard ${\mathfrak{h}}$ as the Cartan subalgebra of ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$, and let $\Psi^\vee_0\colon S({\mathfrak{g}}^\vee)^{{\mathfrak{g}}^\vee}\to S({\mathfrak{h}})^W$ be the Chevalley projection for ${\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$. Put $b^\vee = (\Psi_0^\vee)^{-1}(\bar b)$ so that $b^\vee$ is the image of $b$ under the algebra isomorphism $$ (\Psi_0^\vee)^{-1}\Psi_0\colon S({\mathfrak{g}})^{\mathfrak{g}}\xrightarrow{\sim} S({\mathfrak{g}}^\vee)^{{\mathfrak{g}}^\vee},$$ and write $h=\iota_S(\rho)^{n-1}b^\vee$. Using the formula $({\mathop{ad}}x)\iota_S(y)=\iota_S([x,y])+\iota_S(y){\mathop{ad}}x$ where $x,y\in {\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$ and both sides are operators on $S({\mathfrak{g}}^\vee)$, we can now write $$({\mathop{ad}}e_0^\vee)^n \iota_S(\rho)^{n-1}b^\vee
= \sum
\frac{n!}{d_1!\dots d_n!}
\iota_S(({\mathop{ad}}e_0^\vee)^{d_1}\rho)
\dots
\iota_S(({\mathop{ad}}e_0^\vee)^{d_{n-1}}\rho)
({\mathop{ad}}e_0^\vee)^{d_n}b^\vee.$$ The sum on the right is over all $n$tuples $d_1,\dots,d_n$ of non[-]{}negative integers, such that $d_1+\dots+d_n=n$. Observe that for each such $n$tuple, either $d_i\ge 2$ for some $i<n$ so that $({\mathop{ad}}e_0^\vee)^{d_i} \rho=0$ (remembering the key ${\mathfrak{sl}}_2$ relation $({\mathop{ad}}e_0^\vee)^2\rho=0$); or else $d_n\ge 1$, so that $({\mathop{ad}}e_0^\vee)^{d_n}b^\vee=0$ because $b^\vee$ is ${\mathop{ad}}{\mathfrak{g}}^\vee$[-]{}invariant. It follows that the right-hand side of the last equation is zero, as required.
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Introduction {#Sec1}
============
The characteristics of an RDF dataset can be formally represented as a set of features that compose a dataset profile. They support various applications such as entity linking, entity retrieval, distributed search and federated queries \[[@CR5]\]. The features in a dataset profile can range from information on licensing, provenance to statistical characteristics of the dataset. Depending on the granularity of the statistics in a profile feature, the computation can be costly and require access to the entire dataset. For instance, characteristic sets are fine-grained statistic that is difficult to compute as it represents the set of predicates associated with each entity in a graph. Yet, several centralized and decentralized query engines rely on fine-grained dataset profiles for finding efficient query plans \[[@CR7], [@CR11], [@CR13]\]. For example, Odyssey \[[@CR13]\] leverages statistics on the characteristic sets of the datasets in the federation to estimate intermediate results when optimizing query plans.
In this work, we focus on the *Characteristic Sets Profile Feature* (CSPF), a statistical feature of RDF graphs that include the characteristic sets, their counts and the multiplicity of their predicates. There are three major reasons why we focus on the CSPF as a representative statistical characterization of RDF graphs. First, it implicitly captures structural features of the underlying graph, such as the average out-degree, distinct number of subjects, and the set of predicates and their counts. Second, the characteristic sets contain semantic information on the entities represented in the graph and, thus, also implicitly reflect its schema. Lastly, the CSPF provides detailed insights into the predicate co-occurrences and, hence, it is well suited to be used by (decentralized) query engines for cardinality estimations and other downstream tasks. While the CSPFs are very beneficial for applications, their computation can be a challenging task. First, obtaining the entire dataset to compute this feature can be too difficult or costly. For example, in federated querying, data dumps are not always available and datasets can only be partially accessed via SPARQL endpoint or Triple Pattern Fragment servers. Second, the complexity of computing the characteristic sets for *n* triples is in $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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To overcome these limitations, we propose an approach that estimates accurate statistical profile features based on characteristic sets and that relies only on a sample of the original dataset. Given an RDF graph, we sample entities and compute their characteristic sets to build the CSPF of the sample. Then, we apply a projection function to extrapolate the feature observed in the sample to estimate the original graph's CSPF. It is important to consider that the estimations for the CSPF are very sensitive to the structure of the graph and the sample. Assume, for example, the following characteristic sets $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$S_3$$\end{document}$. Hence, the main objective of our approach is avoiding misestimations when minor differences in characteristic sets lead to major changes in their *count* values. In summary, our contributions area definition of statistical profile feature estimation and the associated problem,a formalization of Characteristic Sets Profile Feature (CSPF),an approach for generating profile feature estimations for CSPF, andan extensive experimental study examining the effectiveness of our approach on four well-known RDF datasets.
The remainder of this work is organized as follows. We present related work in Sect. [2](#Sec2){ref-type="sec"} and introduce preliminaries in Sect. [3](#Sec3){ref-type="sec"}. We provide a formal problem definition in Sect. [4](#Sec4){ref-type="sec"} and present our approach in Sect. [5](#Sec5){ref-type="sec"}. We evaluate our approach and discuss the results in Sect. [6](#Sec9){ref-type="sec"}. In Sect. [7](#Sec12){ref-type="sec"}, we draw our conclusions and point to future work.
Related Work {#Sec2}
============
**RDF Dataset Profiling.** Capturing the characteristics of RDF datasets in *dataset profiles* has been studied in previous works. Ellefi et al. \[[@CR5]\] present a taxonomy for dataset features represented in such profiles, which includes the categories general, qualitative, provenance, links, licensing, statistical, and dynamics. Regarding statistical features, different approaches have been proposed. Fernández et al. \[[@CR6]\] aim to enable efficient RDF data structures, indexes, and compression techniques. To this end, the authors propose various metrics to characterize RDF datasets incorporating the particularities of RDF graphs. LODStats \[[@CR3]\] is statement-stream-based approach that comprises 32 schema-level statistical criteria ranging from out-degree to the number of used classes. The ProLOD++ tool \[[@CR1]\] supports profiling, mining and cleansing functionalities for RDF datasets. It enables a browser-based visualizations of domain level, schema level, and data level characteristics. ExpLOD \[[@CR8]\] is a tool for generating summaries of RDF datasets combining textual labels and bisimulation contractions. These summaries include statistical information such as the class, predicate, and interlinking usage.
In addition to the existing statistical dataset profile feature covered in the literature, we propose and formalize a novel feature based on characteristic sets capturing both structural and semantic properties of the graph.
**RDF Graph Sampling.** The concept of sampling data from RDF graphs has been proposed for and applied to different problems. Debattista et al. \[[@CR4]\] propose approximating specific quality metrics for large, evolving datasets based on samples. They argue that the exact computation of some quality metrics is too time-consuming and expensive and that an approximation of the quality is usually sufficient. They apply reservoir sampling and use the sampled triples to estimate the dereferenceability of URIs and links to external data providers. Rietveld et al. \[[@CR16]\] aim to obtain samples that entail as many of the original answers to typical SPARQL queries. They rewrite the RDF graph to compute the network metrics PageRank, in-degree, and out-degree for the nodes. Based on the metrics, the *top-k* percent of all triples are selected as the sample of the graph. Soulet et al. \[[@CR17]\] focus on analytical queries, which are typically too expensive to be executed directly over SPARQL endpoints. They propose separating the computation of such queries by executing them over random samples of the datasets. Due to the properties of the queries, the aggregation values converge with an increasing number of samples.
While in the first work sampling is applied to reduce the computational effort for quality metrics, they do not require the sampling method to capture the semantics of the dataset. The second approach aims to obtain a *relevant* sample which allows answering common queries and not a *representative* sample. Furthermore, the first two approaches require local access to the entire dataset for generating the sample. However, our work, similar to Soulet et al., is motivated by the restrictions that occur especially in decentralized scenarios with large, evolving datasets where it is not feasible to have local access to every dataset. Different to the work by Soulet et al., we aim to sample the data in such a fashion that a single sample can be used to estimate the statistical profile feature and do not rely on the convergence properties induced by repeated sampling.
**Network Sampling.** Approaches for sampling large non-RDF graphs have also been proposed. Leskovec et al. \[[@CR9]\] provide an overview of methods suitable for obtaining representative samples from large networks, considering three major categories for sampling: by selecting random nodes, by selecting random edges or by exploration. To assess the representativeness of the samples, static graph patterns are used, i.e., the distribution of structural network properties. The agreement for the graph pattern between the original graph and the samples is measured by the Kolmogorov-Smirnov D-statistic. No single best method emerges from their experimental study, but their performance depends on the specific application. Ribeiro et al. \[[@CR15]\] focus on directed graphs and propose a directed unbiased random walk (DURW) algorithm. They model directed graphs as undirected graphs such that edges can also be traversed backwards when performing random walks. They incorporate random jumps to nodes with a probability that depends on the out-degree of the node as well as the weights of the edges. Ahmed et al. \[[@CR2]\] identify two relevant models of computation when sampling from large networks. The *static model* randomly accesses any location in the graph. The *streaming model* merely allows for accessing edges in a sequential stream of edges. For the two models of computation, they propose methods based on the concept of graph induction and show that they preserve key network statistics of the graph, while achieving low space complexity and linear runtime complexity with respect to the edges in the sample.
In contrast to these methods, our approach aims to generate representative samples that allow for estimating statistic profile features of RDF datasets and therefore, the sampling methods need to be tailored to this task and the particularities of RDF graphs.
Preliminaries {#Sec3}
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The Resource Description Framework (RDF) defines a graph-based data model, where statements are represented as tuples (*s*, *p*, *o*) such that a subject *s* and an object *o* are connected nodes via a directed labeled edge by predicate *p*. The terms of the tuples can be Internationalized Resource Identifiers (IRIs), blank nodes, or literals. Assume the pairwise disjoint sets of IRIs *I*, blank nodes *B*, and literals *L*. A tuple $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$(s, p, o) \in (I \cup B) \times I \times (I \cup B \cup L)$$\end{document}$ is an RDF triple. A set of RDF triples is denominated an RDF graph. The set of subjects in an RDF graph is often referred to as its *entities*.
The characteristics of RDF graphs can be summarized in statistic profiles. In traditional database theory, a statistic profile is a "complex object composed of quantitative descriptors" \[[@CR10]\]. The quantitative descriptors cover different data characteristics: (i) central tendency (ii) dispersion, (iii) size, and (iv) frequency distribution. Such statistic profiles are used by query optimizers to devise an efficient query plan. Similarly, in RDF, statistic profiles are also commonly used by centralized triple stores and federated query engines for query optimization \[[@CR7], [@CR11], [@CR13]\]. Typically, the query optimizer uses the statistic profiles to estimate the join cardinalities of subqueries. In the following, we consider statistical profile features and follow the terminology by Ellefi et al. \[[@CR5]\], denoting an RDF dataset profile as a formal representation of a set of dataset profile features.
Definition 1 {#FPar1}
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**(Profile Feature).** Given a RDF graph *G*, a profile feature *F*(*G*) is defined as a characteristic describing a statistical feature *F* of the graph *G*.
An example statistical profile feature of an RDF graph could be derived from its characteristic sets. The concept of characteristic sets for RDF graphs was presented by Neumann et al. \[[@CR14]\] and captures the correlations between join predicates in an RDF graph. The idea of characteristic sets is describing semantically similar entities by grouping them according to the set of predicates the entities share. As a result, such a profile feature incorporates both statistical information on the data distribution as well as semantic information of the entities contained within an RDF graph.
Definition 2 {#FPar2}
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**(Characteristic Sets** \[[@CR14]\]**).** The characteristic set of an entity *s* in an RDF graph *G* is given by: $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$ S_C(s) := \{ p \mid \exists o : (s, p, o) \in G\}$$\end{document}$. Furthermore, for a given RDF graph *G*, the set of characteristic sets is given by $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\mathcal {S}_C(G) := \{ S_C(s) \mid \exists p,o : (s, p, o) \in G\}$$\end{document}$.
To obtain a statistical profile, the counts for the characteristic sets are computed as well as the multiplicities of the predicates within each characteristic set. These additional statistics is required by centralized triple stores as well as federated query engines to determine exact cardinality estimations for distinct queries as well as computing cardinality estimations for non-distinct queries \[[@CR7], [@CR11], [@CR13], [@CR14]\]. Similar to Neumann et al. \[[@CR14]\], we define the count of a characteristic set $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$S = \{p_1, p_2, \dots \}$$\end{document}$ in an RDF graph *G* as$$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\begin{aligned} count(S) := |\{ s \mid \exists p,o : (s,p,o) \in G \wedge S_C(s) = S \}|. \end{aligned}$$\end{document}$$In addition, in this work, we focus on the occurrences of predicates in characteristic sets by considering their mean multiplicity. The mean multiplicity is given by$$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\begin{aligned} multiplicity(p_i, S) := \frac{|\{ (s,p_i, o) \mid (s,p_i,o) \in G \wedge S_C(s) = S \}|}{count(S)}. \end{aligned}$$\end{document}$$In other words, for a given characteristic set, the multiplicity specifies how often each predicate occurs on average. For example, consider the characteristic set $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$multiplicity(\texttt {\small {rdf:type}}, S_1) = 2 $$\end{document}$. This indicates that 10 entities belong to $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$S_1$$\end{document}$ and each of those entities has *exactly* one rdfs:label and *on average* two rdf:type predicates.
Problem Definition {#Sec4}
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As outlined in the introduction, it might be too difficult and/or costly to access an entire dataset for computing its profile features. For example, this might be the case for decentralized querying when the datasets may only be partially accessed via SPARQL endpoints or Triple Pattern Fragment servers. To address this problem, we propose the concept of *Profile Feature Estimation* which aims to estimate the original profile feature using limited data of the original dataset. The goal is generating a profile feature estimation which is as similar as possible to the original profile feature while requiring partial data only. More precisely, in this work, we focus on approaches that rely on a sample from the original RDF graph and employ a projection function to estimate the true profile feature. Hence, we define a profile feature estimation as follows.
Definition 3 {#FPar3}
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**(Profile Feature Estimation).** Given an RDF graph *G*, a projection function $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\phi $$\end{document}$, a subgraph $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$ \hat{F}(G) := \phi (F(H)) $$\end{document}$$
Ideally, a profile feature estimation is identical to the true profile feature. However, the similarity of such estimations to the original feature is influenced by the type of feature to be estimated, the subgraph *H* and the projection function $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\phi $$\end{document}$. For example, given just a small subgraph, the estimation might be less accurate than for a larger subgraph, as it may cover more characteristics of the original graph. Therefore, the problem is finding an estimation based on a subgraph *H* and a projection function $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\phi $$\end{document}$ for the profile feature which maximizes the similarity to the profile feature of the original RDF graph.Fig. 1.Overview of the approach to estimate characteristic sets profile features.
Definition 4 {#FPar4}
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**(Profile Feature Estimation Problem).** Given an RDF graph *G* and a profile feature $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$F(\cdot )$$\end{document}$, the problem of profile feature estimation is defined as follows. Determine a profile feature estimation $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$ \max \delta (F(G), \hat{F}(G)) $$\end{document}$$with $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$|H| \ll |G|$$\end{document}$ and $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta $$\end{document}$ a function assessing the similarity of two statistic profile features.
The method for determining this similarity needs to be defined according to the profile feature. Consider for example a profile feature *F*(*G*) counting the literals in a dataset and $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\hat{F}(G)$$\end{document}$ estimating this value based on a sample. Then the similarity between them may be calculated as the absolute difference between the true count and the estimated value. In network theory, the similarity of a sample is commonly assessed by how well it captures the structural properties of the original graph \[[@CR2], [@CR9], [@CR15]\]. However, since the labels of the edges and nodes in an RDF graph hold semantic information on the entities and concepts described in the graph, merely considering structural features may not be sufficient to assess how representative a sample of an RDF graph is. Hence, we propose a more comprehensive profile feature based on the characteristic sets capturing structural and semantic features of the graph's entities, which we present in the following.
Characteristic Sets Profile Feature Estimation {#Sec5}
==============================================
In this work, we present a comprehensive profile feature based on characteristic sets that captures both structural and semantic aspects of RDF graphs. This Characteristic sets profile feature (CSPF) can formally be defined as the following.
Definition 5 {#FPar5}
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**(Characteristic Sets Profile Feature (CSPF)).** Given a RDF graph *G*, the characteristic sets profile feature *F*(*G*) is a 3-tuple $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$c: \mathcal {S} \rightarrow \mathbb {N}$$\end{document}$ a function for count as defined in Eq. [1](#Equ1){ref-type=""}, and$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$m: I \times \mathcal {S} \rightarrow \mathbb {R}^+$$\end{document}$ a function for multiplicity as defined in Eq. [2](#Equ2){ref-type=""}.
Our approach addressing the profile feature estimation problem for CSPFs is shown in Fig. [1](#Fig1){ref-type="fig"}. Given a graph *G*, we create a sample $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$H \subset G$$\end{document}$ using one of the RDF graph sampling methods presented in Sect. [5.1](#Sec6){ref-type="sec"}. Then, we build the CSPF *F*(*H*) for the sample *H*. Finally, we apply one of the projection functions presented in Sect. [5.2](#Sec7){ref-type="sec"}, to extrapolate the feature observed in *H* to estimate those of the original graph as $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\phi (F(H))$$\end{document}$. We apply a set of similarity measures for characteristic sets defined in Sect. [5.3](#Sec8){ref-type="sec"} to determine the similarity between the original CSPF *F*(*G*) and its estimation $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\hat{F}(G)$$\end{document}$.
RDF Graph Sampling {#Sec6}
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The first component of our approach is the sampling method. When designing sampling methods, it is crucial to determine the kind of characteristic that should be captured before the collection of data. In this work, we collect samples to estimate the characteristic sets profile feature. Since each entity is associated with one characteristic set, we define the population as the set of entities in the graph: $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$E:= \{ s \mid (s, p, o) \in G \}$$\end{document}$. Each observation in the sample corresponds to one entity. The input of a sampling method is an RDF graph *G* and a sample size $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$H := \{ (s,p,o) \mid (s,p,o) \in G \wedge s \in E'\}$$\end{document}$. We present three sampling methods differing in the probabilities of an entity being sampled. Thus, they allow for exploring different parts of the search space of possible characteristic sets during sampling.
**Unweighted Sampling.** It selects $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$e \in E$$\end{document}$ being a part of the sample is $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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**Weighted Sampling.** We present a biased sampling method which considers the out-degree of each entity *e* given by $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$d(e) := |\{ (e,p,o) \mid (e, p, o) \in G \}|$$\end{document}$. The weighted sampling method selects $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$n'$$\end{document}$ subjects where the probability of a subject to be chosen is proportional to its out-degree. In this way, entities that appear as subjects of many triples in the graph have a higher probability of being selected. Formally, the probability *Pr*(*e*) of $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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**Hybrid Sampling.** This sampling method combines the previous approaches where $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\beta $$\end{document}$ parameter allows for favoring either the weighted or the unweighted method.
Profile Feature Projection Functions {#Sec7}
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Next, the characteristic sets in the sample *H* are computed to create the corresponding CSPF *F*(*H*). This can be done by first sorting the triples in *H* by subjects and then iterating all subjects determining the characteristic set for each subject. Given a profile feature $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$F(H)= (\mathcal {S}, c, m)$$\end{document}$, the goal of a projection function is to extrapolate the statistical properties observed in sample *H* to the entire population as $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\hat{F}(G) = \phi (F(H))$$\end{document}$. In the following, we propose two classes of projection functions for the count values of the characteristic sets in the sample. The multiplicity statistic is not affected by the projection functions as it is a relative measure (the average occurrence of a predicate in a characteristic set) that does not require to be extrapolated. The first class, which we denote *basic projection functions*, only rely on information contained within the sample. The second class of projection functions rely on the information contained in the sample as well as additional high-level information on the dataset. We denote the latter class of functions as *statistics-enhanced projection functions*.
**Basic Projection Function.** This function simply extrapolates the count values for the given characteristic sets profile feature *F*(*H*) based on the relative size of the sample. We define the function $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\phi _1$$\end{document}$ which uses the ratio $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$r_t := \frac{|G|}{|H|}$$\end{document}$ of triples in the sample with respect to the triples in the graph:$$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$ \phi _1(F(H)) := (\mathcal {S}, r_t \cdot c, m) $$\end{document}$$The assumption of this projection function is that the characteristic sets observed in the sample occur proportionally more often in the original graph. However, it neglects the fact that some characteristics sets might not have been sampled and is affected by potentially skewed distributions of the counts as exemplified in the introduction.
**Statistics-Enhanced Projection Functions.** The second class of projection functions incorporates additional high-level information about the original graph. In this work, we consider the number of triples per predicate in the original graph as a high-level statistic. The number of triples for predicate $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$t(p') := |\{ (s,p',o) \mid (s,p',o) \in G \}|$$\end{document}$. We propose the $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\phi _2$$\end{document}$ projection function that applies a true upper bound for the counts:$$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$ \phi _2(F(H)) := (\mathcal {S}, \dot{c}, m), \text { with } \dot{c}(S_C) := \min (r_t \cdot c(S_C), \min \limits _{p' \in S_C} t(p')) $$\end{document}$$The idea is that knowing how often a predicate occurs in the original graph allows for limiting the estimated counts for characteristic sets containing that predicate. This reduces the likelihood of overestimating counts without increasing the likelihood of underestimating them. Due to the fact that predicates, especially common ones such as rdf:type, may be used in several characteristic sets of the same graph, the aforementioned upper bound may be limited in its effectiveness. This is because it does not consider the number of characteristic sets a given predicate is part of. Therefore, we propose a third projection function $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\phi _3$$\end{document}$ which "distributes" the upper bound for a predicate $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$p'$$\end{document}$ by considering the sum of counts of the characteristic sets, the predicates occurs in:$$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$ \phi _3(F(H)) := (\mathcal {S}, \ddot{c}, m), \text { with } \ddot{c}(S_C) := \min \left( r_t \cdot c(S_C) , \min \limits _{p' \in S_C} \left( \frac{t(p') \cdot c(S_C)}{\sum \limits _{S_C' \in \mathcal {S} \wedge p' \in S_C'} c(S_C') } \right) \right) $$\end{document}$$The projection function $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\phi _3$$\end{document}$ is adjusted by multiplying $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$S_C$$\end{document}$ and the sum of counts for all characteristic sets $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\phi _2$$\end{document}$, this approach increases the likelihood of underestimating the count of characteristic sets. However, at the same time, it applies a more realistic upper bound by considering all characteristic sets a predicate occurs in and adjusting the upper bound accordingly. Note that further projection functions may be applied. For instance, the size of the characteristic sets or additional statistics about the predicates in the sample could be considered. However, we chose not to include them since they are likely produce projections that are tailored to specific graphs and cannot be generalized to other datasets.
Similarity Measures for Characteristic Sets {#Sec8}
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Finally, we define metrics that quantify the similarity between the estimated values and the real values to measure the quality of the profile estimations. Following the profile feature estimation problem defined in Definition [4](#FPar4){ref-type="sec"}, the goal is to identify an estimator $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\hat{F}(G) = \phi (F(H))$$\end{document}$ for the characteristic *F* that combines a sample *H* and projection function $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\phi $$\end{document}$ which maximizes the similarity $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta $$\end{document}$ between the estimated and the original profile feature. The similarity depends on the profile feature and we propose measures tailored to the characteristic sets profile feature (CSPF). Due to the diverse nature of the CSPF, there are multiple criteria to be considered when it comes to defining the similarity $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta (F(G), \hat{F}(G))$$\end{document}$ between the original CSPF $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$F(G) = (\mathcal {S}, c, m)$$\end{document}$ and an estimated CSPF $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\hat{F}(G) = (\hat{\mathcal {S}}, \hat{c}, \hat{m})$$\end{document}$. In the following, we present a selection of similarity measures which consider both structural as well as statistical aspects captured by the CSPF. These measures take values in \[0, 1\] and their interpretation is 'higher is better'.
**Structural Similarity Measures.** Considering the structural properties, the mean out-degree and the predicate coverage can be considered to assess the similarity between the estimation and the original feature. We compute the *out-degree* similarity as$$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\begin{aligned} \delta ^{od}(F(G), \hat{F}(G)) := 1 - \frac{|d_{mean}(F(G)) - d_{mean}(\hat{F}(G))|}{\max (d_{mean}(\hat{F}(G)), d_{mean}(F(G))) }, \text { with } \end{aligned}$$\end{document}$$ $$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$ d_{mean}(F(G)) := \frac{|G|}{\sum _{S_C \in \mathcal {S}} c(S_C)} $$\end{document}$$Note that $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$d_{mean}(\hat{F}(G))$$\end{document}$ is computed analogously using *H*, $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\hat{\mathcal {S}}$$\end{document}$, and $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\hat{c}$$\end{document}$ instead. Next, we can assess the *predicate coverage* similarity by computing the ratio of the number predicates covered in the estimation w.r.t. the number of predicates in the original profile feature as$$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\begin{aligned} \delta ^{pc}(F(G), \hat{F}(G)) := \frac{|\{ p \mid p \in S_C \wedge S_C \in \hat{\mathcal {S}} \}|}{|\{ p \mid p \in S_C \wedge S_C \in \mathcal {S} \}|}. \end{aligned}$$\end{document}$$The quality of the characteristic sets that are covered in the sample can be assessed by the following measures. First, the *absolute set coverage* similarity can be computed as the ratio of characteristic sets in the estimation to those in the original statistic profile:$$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\begin{aligned} \delta ^{ac}(F(G), \hat{F}(G)) := |\hat{\mathcal {S}}|/|\mathcal {S}| \end{aligned}$$\end{document}$$This measure, however, does not consider the amount of triples that haven been actually covered by the characteristic sets. The *relative set coverage* similarity of a characteristic set $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$S_C$$\end{document}$ of an RDF graph *G* reflects the relative amount of triples that $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$S_C$$\end{document}$ induces in *G*. The relative set coverage similarity $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta ^{rc}$$\end{document}$ of an estimation is calculated as the number of triples induced by all characteristic sets in the estimation on the original graph *G*:$$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\begin{aligned} \delta ^{rc}(F(G), \hat{F}(G)) := \frac{{\sum _{S_C \in \hat{\mathcal {S}}} \sum _{p \in S_C}} m(p, S_C) \cdot c(S_C)}{|G|} . \end{aligned}$$\end{document}$$Note that the characteristic sets in the estimation $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\hat{\mathcal {S}}$$\end{document}$ are considered while the number of triples they cover, i.e. $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\sum _{p \in S_C} m(p, S_C) \cdot c(S_C)$$\end{document}$, is w.r.t. the original graph. In this way, $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta ^{rc}$$\end{document}$ reflects the relevance of the characteristic sets captured in the sample. For example, consider an RDF graph *G* with two characteristic sets $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$S_1$$\end{document}$ and $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$S_1$$\end{document}$ covers $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$90\%$$\end{document}$ and $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$S_2$$\end{document}$ $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$10\%$$\end{document}$ of all triples in *G*. Now, given an estimation with $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\hat{\mathcal {S}} = \{ S_1\}$$\end{document}$, even though the estimation only capture $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$50\%$$\end{document}$ of the characteristic sets, the importance of $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$S_1$$\end{document}$ is very high, as it covers $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$90\%$$\end{document}$ of the triples in the original graph.Table 1.Overview of the similarity measures.Structural similarity measuresStatistical similarity measuresOut-degreePredicate coverageAbsolute set coverageRelative set coverageCount similarityMultiplicity similarity$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta ^{od}$$\end{document}$ ([3](#Equ3){ref-type=""})$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta ^{multiplicity}_{S_C}$$\end{document}$ ([8](#Equ8){ref-type=""})
**Statistical Similarity Measures.** Next, we focus on similarity measures which consider the *counts* and the *multiplicity* of predicates in the feature estimation. The degree to which counts and the multiplicities can be estimated accurately depends on the characteristic set. There might be characteristic sets for which these estimations may be very accurate, while for others this might not be the case. Hence, to avoid aggregating the similarity values for all characteristic sets to a single value, we define the similarity on the level of characteristic sets. Based on these values, an aggregation, such as mean or the median, may be used to obtain a single similarity value for all sets. For the similarity with respect to the count estimations, we adopt the q-error \[[@CR12]\] by computing the maximum of the ratios between true and estimated count. Larger values for the q-error indicate a higher discrepancy between the true value and the estimation, and q-error of 1 indicates that the estimation is correct. Therefore, we use the inverse of the q-error to assess similarity$$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\begin{aligned} \delta ^{count}_{S_C}(F(G), \hat{F}(G)) := \left( \max \left( \frac{c(S_C)}{\hat{c}(S_C)}, \frac{\hat{c}(S_C)}{c(S_C)} \right) \right) ^{-1} , \; \forall S_C \in \hat{\mathcal {S}} \end{aligned}$$\end{document}$$Note that the q-error measures the magnitude of the estimation error but does not reveal whether values are over- or underestimated. This property avoids that overestimated values cancel underestimated values out when the similarity values for all characteristic sets in the sample are aggregated. Analogously, we compute the similarity of the multiplicities based on the q-error. We aggregate the values for all predicates in the characteristic sets using the mean to obtain a single value, as follows$$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\begin{aligned} \delta ^{multiplicity}_{S_C}(F(G), \hat{F}(G)) := \left( \frac{1}{|S_C|} \sum _{p \in S_C} \max \left( \frac{\hat{m}(p, S_C)}{m(p, S_C)}, \frac{m(p, S_C)}{\hat{m}(p, S_C)} \right) \right) ^{-1}, \forall S_C \in \hat{\mathcal {S}} \end{aligned}$$\end{document}$$Summarizing, a CSPF implicitly and explicitly captures various characteristics of RDF graphs. The quality of estimating such a feature may not be assessed by a single similarity value but requires considering various metrics which are summarized in Table [1](#Tab1){ref-type="table"}.
Experimental Evaluation {#Sec9}
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In this section, we empirically analyze the different components of our proposed approach. The goal of the evaluation is to investigate the following core questions: **Q1**How do different sampling sizes influence the similarity measures?**Q2**What is the impact of different sampling methods on the similarity measures?**Q3**What are the effects of leveraging additional statistics in the projection functions?**Q4**How do different characteristics of the RDF graph influence the estimation? Next, we present the setup of our experiments and present and analyze the results of our experiments. Based on our findings, we answer the addressed questions in the conclusions (cf. Sect. [7](#Sec12){ref-type="sec"}). The source code and the sample results are available online.[1](#Fn1){ref-type="fn"} Table 2.Characterization of the four RDF graphs studied in the experiments.RDF graph\# Triples\# Subj.\# Pred.\# Obj.$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$d_{mean}$$\end{document}$$\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$|\mathcal {S}|$$\end{document}$*AUC*DBLP88,150,3245,125,9362736,413,78017.29.382700.005%15%99.13%LinkedMDB5,444,664688,1872201,930,7037.915.985161.24%62%97.40%Wordnet5,558,748647,215642,483,0308.5810.267770.12%37%98.22%YAGO82,233,1286,429,3477950,670,00912.7915.82293090.46%49%98.76%
**Datasets.** We selected four well-known RDF graphs from different domains: publications (DBLP), movies (LinkedMDB), linguistics (Wordnet), and cross-domain (YAGO). An overview of their characteristics is shown in Table [2](#Tab2){ref-type="table"}. The graphs differ with respect to their size (number of triples), the number of distinct subjects, predicates, and objects as well as the number of characteristic sets $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$|\mathcal {S}|$$\end{document}$. As the number of potential characteristic sets not only depends on the distinct predicates, but it is bound by the number of distinct subjects in the graph, we also provide the ratio in percent as a measure of the characteristic sets' diversity. Furthermore, we consider *exclusive* characteristic sets defined as $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\mathcal {S}^1 := \{ S_C \mid count(S_C) = 1 \wedge S_C \in \mathcal {S}\}$$\end{document}$ and provide the ratio of exclusive characteristic sets to all characteristic sets. An exclusive characteristic set only occurs once in the entire graph and as a result, introduces two major difficulties when sampling and projecting the characteristic sets: (i) it is unlikely to sample them as they occur only once, and (ii) when projecting them, it is likely to overestimate their counts. However, because the coverage of exclusive characteristic sets is low, it is potentially less important to correctly project them, as they might be less relevant as other characteristic sets.
For each RDF graph, we indicate the area under the curve (*AUC*) below the relative cumulative coverage curve (cf. Fig. [2](#Fig2){ref-type="fig"}). For the relative cumulative coverage curve, the characteristic sets are ranked and sorted in decreasing order according to the number of triples they cover on the x-axis (cf. Sect. [5.3](#Sec8){ref-type="sec"}) and on the y-axis, the cumulative sum of the relative number of triples they cover is indicated. For instance, the curve for DBLP shows that the characteristic set with the highest coverage (i.e., the start of the curve on the left), covers almost $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$40\%$$\end{document}$ of all triples and $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$20\%$$\end{document}$ of the characteristic sets cover almost all triples in the graph (relative cumulative coverage $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\approx $$\end{document}$0.99). As a result, the shape of the curve indicates how evenly the coverage is distributed across the characteristic sets. A diagonal line indicates all characteristic sets covering the same number of triples. The stronger the curve is dented towards the upper left corner the more unevenly is the coverage of the characteristic sets distributed. This indicates that a few sets cover many triples in the graph. Consequently, a large *AUC* indicates unevenly distributed coverage.Fig. 2.The cumulative relative coverage curve shows the ratio of triples covered with respect to the characteristic sets ordered by decreasing relative coverage.
**Sampling Methods.** We study the presented unweighted, weighted and hybrid sampling methods. For the hybrid sampling method we chose $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$30 \cdot 4 \cdot 3 \cdot 4 = 1,440$$\end{document}$ samples.
Results: Structural Similarity Measures {#Sec10}
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Table [3](#Tab3){ref-type="table"} presents the results for the measures out-degree $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta ^{rc}$$\end{document}$ for the different sampling methods. Included are also the ratios of triples sampled \|*H*\|/\|*G*\| in permille ( {#d30e2370} ).
Considering sample size ([Q1](#Par48){ref-type=""}), the results show an improvement on the similarity measures as the sample size increases, with a few exceptions for $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta ^{od}$$\end{document}$ are achieved for the highest relative sample size (5.0 {#d30e2390} ), while for DBLP and LinkedMDB the best performance is achieved with a sample size of 1.0 {#d30e2393} . The predicate coverage similarity $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta ^{pc}$$\end{document}$ also improves with increasing sample sizes. For instance, from 220 predicates in LinkedMDB the sampling methods obtain $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta ^{rc}$$\end{document}$). For example, in Wordnet, the unweighted sampling (5.0 {#d30e2440} ) obtains $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta ^{rc}$$\end{document}$ and mean sampled triples ratio \|*H*\|/\|*G*\| in permille ( {#d30e2506} ) by sample size and sampling method (h = hybrid, u = unweighted, w = weighted). Best values per RDF graph and similarity measure are indicate in **bold**.
Regarding the sampling methods ([Q2](#Par49){ref-type=""}), the unweighted approach performs best for the out-degree similarity $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta ^{od}$$\end{document}$. This relates to the fact that the hybrid and weighted sampling methods select high out-degree entities with a higher probability. To illustrate this, consider Fig. [3](#Fig3){ref-type="fig"} that shows the characteristic sets that are constructed with two different sampling methods (in color) in comparison to the characteristic sets from the original graph (in gray). The weighted sampling methods (Fig. [3](#Fig3){ref-type="fig"}a) leads to characteristic sets with higher set size (highlighted in the rectangle), while the unweighted sampling (Fig. [3](#Fig3){ref-type="fig"}b) captures average-sized characteristic sets. Furthermore, a higher the dispersion of the out-degree distribution ($\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$d_{std} / d_{mean}$$\end{document}$) of the original graph ([Q4](#Par51){ref-type=""}), leads to a higher similarity for the unweighted sampling method in comparison to the other approaches.
In general, the unweighted sampling method exhibits the lowest predicate coverage similarity ($\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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Considering absolute ($\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta ^{rc}$$\end{document}$), the unweighted method performs almost as well in most cases while always sampling the fewest triples (\|*H*\|/\|*G*\|). The relation between absolute and relative set coverage is in accordance with the *AUC* property of the graphs, i.e., most triples are covered by few characteristic sets only.Table 4.Mean and median for q-errors of the count estimations for the projection functions $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\phi _3$$\end{document}$ as well as for the multiplicity estimation. Best values per column are **bold** and values for the best projection function are highlighted in {#d30e2617} .
Results: Statistical Similarity Measures {#Sec11}
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Next, we analyze the estimation results for the counts and multiplicity. Instead of presenting the similarity measures $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$S_C \in \hat{\mathcal {S}}$$\end{document}$ are computed. Note that mean/median for each sample are computed first to assess the performance on the sample level. We present the average of mean and median q-errors in Table [4](#Tab4){ref-type="table"} to get an indication of how well the average sample per dataset, size and method performs.
Regarding the graphs ([Q4](#Par51){ref-type=""}), the best count estimations are observed for DBLP and Wordnet where the best median values are between 1.27 and 1.53 indicating that, for half of the characteristic sets, the counts are misestimated by $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$ \le $$\end{document}$53%. The difference in the best mean values for Wordnet (6.09) and DBLP (3.55) reflects that in Wordnet there are higher misestimations on average. For YAGO, the best median q-error is 2.12 for the largest sample size and the unweighted method. The corresponding mean (16.0) is almost 8 times higher than the median indicating a strong positive skew of the q-error distribution. For LinkedMDB the best median result 1.49 is achieved with the smallest sample size, however, it needs to be noted that this smaller sample also covers fewer characteristic sets (cf. $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta ^{ac}$$\end{document}$ in Table [3](#Tab3){ref-type="table"}). Taking the characteristics of the original graphs into consideration, two observation may explain the differences in q-errors: (i) a higher characteristic set diversity ($\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$|S_C|/\#Subjects$$\end{document}$) yields higher q-errors, and (ii) a higher ratio of exclusive characteristic sets yield higher q-errors. Regarding (i): with many possible characteristic sets to be sampled from, it is likely to sample few entities per set. However, sampling several entities per characteristic set allows for better estimating their overall occurrences. Considering (ii): many exclusive characteristic sets increase the likelihood of them being sampled and their counts to be overestimated, as the projection function cannot distinguish them from non-exclusive characteristic sets. Inspecting the projection functions ([Q3](#Par50){ref-type=""}), the statistic-enhanced functions $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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For the multiplicity estimations, the mean and median q-errors are below 1.3 in all cases for all graphs. They are less affected by sampling methods and sample sizes reflecting a uniform predicate usage within the characteristic sets with few outliers. Regarding the sample size ([Q1](#Par48){ref-type=""}), in most cases, a larger sample provides better results for count and multiplicity estimations while at the same time estimating more characteristic sets from the original graph (cf. $\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$\delta ^{ac}$$\end{document}$ in Table [3](#Tab3){ref-type="table"}). As a result, increasing the sampling size not only improves the overall accuracy but also the number of characteristic sets estimated. Similar to previous observations, the unweighted sampling method ([Q2](#Par49){ref-type=""}) yields the best results in most cases for count and multiplicity estimations.Fig. 3.Example of the sampled characteristic sets for YAGO with respect to the number of their predicates ($\documentclass[12pt]{minimal}
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\begin{document}$$count(S_C)$$\end{document}$) on a log-scale. Indicated in gray are all sets of the original dataset and in color those, which are contained in the sample. (Color figure online)
Conclusions and Future Work {#Sec12}
===========================
We have introduced the problem of RDF dataset profile feature based on characteristic sets and proposed a solution based on sampling. The presented profile feature estimation approach obtains a sample from the original graph, computes the profile feature for the sample, and uses a projection function to estimate the true profile feature. Different applications can benefit from the resulting feature estimations. For instance, query plan optimization in decentralized querying can benefit from the estimations to find efficient query plans, even when the entire dataset may not accessible to compute the complete statistics. We conducted an empirical study to evaluate the similarities between the estimations and the true profile features. We presented and analyzed the results of our study and to conclude our findings, we answer the questions presented in Sect. [6](#Sec9){ref-type="sec"}:
Our future work will focus on investigating the impact of estimated Characteristic Sets Profile Features on the performance of query plan optimizers.
<https://github.com/Lars-H/hdt_sampler>, 10.5445/IR/1000117614.
This work is funded by the German BMBF in QUOCA, FKZ 01IS17042.
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2024-06-14T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/6770
|
Pool Companies Gilbert
Within the Phoenix metropolitan area, Gilbert, Arizona is a town of 76 square miles and a rapidly growing population! In the 1980 census, Gilbert had only 5,717 residents, and in the 2010 census this number jumped to a whopping 208,453, an incredible increase that shows just how wonderful of a place Gilbert is to live. In the Phoenix metropolitan area of Arizona, Gilbert is also a hot and dry area, meaning that all 200,000 plus of Gilbert’s residents will be looking for a place to cool down and relax every once in a while.
When it comes to pool companies, Gilbert knows just what a pool can bring to a property. With temperatures reaching as high as 122, and averaging at 107, in the middle of summer, and only lowering into the high 60’s on average in winter, a pool can be a great way to relax, revive, and stay cool when that Arizona weather begins heating up. With pool companies, Gilbert area people are able to have their own little oasis they can use to rest by, and keeping cool during those hot Arizona summers is made much more manageable.
Custom Pools For A Custom Experience
With custom pool companies, Gilbert residents can turn any backyard they have into a swimming paradise. Those with smaller backyards or backyards with an odd or awkward shape usually have people thinking that a pool simply cannot work for them, but with custom pool companies Gilbert households of all kinds can open their opportunities for a pool right up. A custom pool can be built to suit their property’s size or shape, and they can be left with an area they can swim in, but still enjoy, regardless of what they may be working with.
With custom pool companies, Gilbert residents can also build a pool to suit their family’s individual needs, not just their property’s. If they want a pool for simple rest and relaxation, they can have it, and if they’d like one to provide fun for the entire family all summer long, they can have that, too! When opting for a custom pool, you’re opting for a way to mold and craft your own pool experience to however your vision makes it.
Pools For Fitness
Pools also allow Gilbert residents to keep fit, even when the weather outside prevents them from going on a jog or being as active as they’d like to be outside. Swimming is a low-impact and full body cardio and strength building exercise that anyone can participate in, so having a pool on your Gilbert property is a great way to ensure you’ll be able to stay in shape and stick to your goals. With custom pool companies, Gilbert homeowners can build a pool perfectly suited for fitness and getting their workouts in even when the Arizona sun may be blazing.
Pools For Fun
Pools are also a great way to have fun, and this is not a fact lost on any from Gilbert! With a pool, backyard barbecues and family gatherings can be turned into an even more interactive and memorable experience, and children will always have something to do right at home as they invite their friends over during the summer. Not only will you be having fun in your Gilbert pool, but you’ll be staying fit, getting healthy, and making memories while doing so!
If you wish to have your pool built with fun family occasions in mind, pool companies Gilbert can make it happen. Using their expertise and experience, as well as your vision, you can have the perfect pool built to suit the wants of your fun loving family.
A Beautiful Pool Experience You’re Sure To Love
With a custom built pool, your Gilbert area home will be transformed. Sure, you’re getting a great new place to work out, you’re getting somewhere to have fun and make memories, and you’re getting your own private oasis to relax by and keep cool…but you’re also making your property more attractive in the process. Your custom pool will be created to suit your individual aesthetic wants, and this can make your property far more attractive. Waterfalls, rock formations, and other specialized pool designs can all go from your imagination to your reality when you opt for a custom pool experience for your home.
With custom pool companies, Gilbert residents are given a way to make their own home their new favorite place. With plenty of room for the kids to play, plenty of space for you to relax in, and a way to keep fit even when the weather isn’t cooperating, your pool will quickly turn into something you look forward to diving right into every time you come home. Not only this, but you’re also giving properties of all sizes and shapes a way to be beautified and expertly designed, so you’re left with a home that’s more pleasing to the eye and more pleasing to the soul at the same time!
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2024-05-13T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/5096
|
Questions raised on new property laws
The amended laws on housing and real estate takes effect from July 1. — File Photo
HA NOI (VNS) — Two long-awaited amended laws on housing and real estate, effective from July 1 and expected to have a significant impact on the property market, may not be as effective.
The two new laws were introduced amid the recovery of the property market starting from the end of last year, after seven years remaining frozen, with amendments to drive the market back on track. Still, market participants are awaiting further detailed instructions.
As most of the documents instructing the implementation of the two new laws had not been promulgated, the Ministry of Construction on Thursday issued a document saying that decrees and circulars under the previous laws will remain in effect, as long as they do not conflict with the new laws.
According to CBRE, the impact of the new laws might be significant and might mark an important step toward opening up the real estate market to overseas investment. The effects may not be felt immediately, CBRE said, adding that foreigners are likely to adopt a wait-and-see approach before making any decision.
In fact, many property developers have begun to take advantage of amendments in the new laws such as getting guarantees from banks for under-construction projects and selling apartments to foreign buyers.
Lawyer Nguyen Mai Phuong from Zicolaw observed that it was too early to affirm that the property market would thrive rapidly as the legal framework had not been completed.
Major amendments
Opening up the market to foreign buyers and Viet kieu (overseas Vietnamese): Foreigners are allowed to own houses in Viet Nam for 50 years. However, the number of apartments owned by foreigners in a building or houses in a ward-level zone must be less than 30 per cent. There is no limit on the number of houses that Viet kieu can own.
Bank guarantees for future property projects
Following Article 56 of the Law on Real Estate Business, property developers, before selling or leasing unfinished or future property, must obtain guarantees from commercial banks as assurances of their financial obligations to buyers. The regulation is expected to protect the rights of home buyers, as well as contribute toward cleaning up the realty market.
Minimum legal capital of property firms increased
The minimum legal capital requirement for property firms has been raised from VND6 billion (US$284,000) to VND20 billion ($945,000). Existing firms, which had not met the requirement, must raise their legal capital within one year since the law comes into force. This is aimed at enhancing the financial capacity of property developers.
Transactions through property trading floor not compulsory
The Law on Real Estate Business 2014 removed the compulsion of property transactions conducted through trading floors as the regulation proved ineffective after years of implementation. — VNS
|
2023-08-01T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/6736
|
Q:
Porting peripheral to AndroidThings - pin selection
I’m attempting to port some code to AndroidThings. Currently it uses “GPIO 3 (SCL)” as a pin on the Raspberry Pi. https://github.com/mattdh666/rpi-led-matrix-panel/blob/master/RgbMatrix.h#L206
However on AndroidThings the same pin is “I2C1 (SCL)” so I cannot reference it using peripheralManService.openGpio("BCM3")
see here for Pinout diagram
try {
gpioSerialClock = service.openGpio("BCM3"); // Throws Caused by: android.os.ServiceSpecificException: Unknown I/O name BCM3
} catch (IOException e) {
throw new IllegalStateException(e);
}
Should I move my wire to use another pin on the Raspberry Pi that is labelled for GPIO? Is there any consequences to that :/ my peripheral wants to use BCM3 as it is the serial clock
Some more visual explanation of the pin selected if needed:
A:
The code you are porting assumes that all the pins connected are pure GPIO pins. It explicitly drives all the pin transitions for each one. In that regard, you simply need 13 available GPIO ports to connect to the RGB Matrix. You just have to make the appropriate adjustments to your wiring to match the pin numbers in the example with the ports you've chosen instead.
This is not the most efficient way to handle the communication from Android Things (lots of round trips and looping over the I/O), but it should work as a start. Ideally, you would drive the clocked serial data from an SPI or I2C bus (if the protocols match) to reduce the overhead and improve the transfer rate.
|
2023-09-28T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/9324
|
Voice
Character information
Alignment
Enemies
Contents
History
She is a magical creature, a fairy, which is in charge of collecting old teeth in exchange for coins, which in America takes the form of quarters.
When Haley had lost a tooth[5], it was discovered that the Tooth Fairy's human assistant, Dr. Diente, had betrayed her. So she wanted Jake's help in stopping him from using the magical powers of Haley's dragon tooth.
During Eli Pandarus' Miss Mystical World Pageant she served as one of the judges[6].
She later assisted Jake in foiling the Dark Dragon[7] by directing her Tooth Minions to battle the Shade Demons. When they proved no match against the Dark Dragon himself, she offered a tooth brush if he would stop behaving rudely. He hit her instead, sending her hurling her into dirty sewer water, ruining her dress. Which angered her enough to drop construction equipment on the Dark Dragon.
|
2024-01-27T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/3665
|
The present invention relates to a core for a racket string, in particular for a tennis racket string, a racket string comprising such a core, and a method for manufacturing such a core.
|
2023-11-04T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/9451
|
agents:
- goal: [6, 7]
name: agent0
start: [2, 7]
- goal: [3, 6]
name: agent1
start: [2, 0]
- goal: [3, 7]
name: agent2
start: [4, 2]
- goal: [0, 7]
name: agent3
start: [4, 7]
- goal: [1, 5]
name: agent4
start: [5, 3]
- goal: [4, 0]
name: agent5
start: [4, 1]
- goal: [1, 0]
name: agent6
start: [6, 0]
- goal: [1, 2]
name: agent7
start: [5, 2]
- goal: [5, 5]
name: agent8
start: [0, 7]
- goal: [7, 3]
name: agent9
start: [5, 6]
- goal: [2, 1]
name: agent10
start: [1, 1]
- goal: [6, 6]
name: agent11
start: [6, 5]
- goal: [0, 0]
name: agent12
start: [1, 4]
- goal: [6, 4]
name: agent13
start: [3, 0]
map:
dimensions: [8, 8]
obstacles:
- [3, 2]
- [6, 2]
- [0, 4]
- [3, 4]
- [7, 6]
- [7, 2]
- [7, 4]
- [0, 5]
- [3, 3]
- [0, 2]
- [4, 3]
- [3, 1]
|
2024-02-20T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/2448
|
Over the weekend, Rosetta experienced a ‘safe mode’ event 5 km from the surface of Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko. Contact with the spacecraft has since been recovered and the mission teams are working to resume normal operations.
“We lost contact with the spacecraft on Saturday evening for nearly 24 hours,” says Patrick Martin, ESA’s Rosetta mission manager. “Preliminary analysis by our flight dynamics team suggests that the star trackers locked on to a false star – that is, they were confused by comet dust close to the comet, as has been experienced before in the mission.”
This led to spacecraft pointing errors, which triggered the safe mode. Unfortunately the star trackers then got hung in a particular sub mode requiring specific action from Earth to recover the spacecraft.
“It was an extremely dramatic weekend,” says Sylvain Lodiot, ESA’s Rosetta spacecraft operations manager.
“After we lost contact, we sent commands ‘in the blind’, which successfully tackled the hung star tracker issue and brought the spacecraft back into three-axis stabilised safe mode, and we now have contact with the spacecraft again. However, we are still trying to confirm the spacecraft’s exact position along its orbit around the comet – we only received images for navigation this morning, the first since Saturday.”
As is normal during an event like this, extra ground tracking station time was requested to provide additional support for recovering the spacecraft. The regularly scheduled Rosetta tracking slot using ESA’s New Norcia deep space station in Australia on Sunday was extended, with time reallocated from Mars Express operations. The blind commanding was done from New Norcia, and later, ESA’s Cebreros deep space station in Spain was also used to support the recovery.
Star tracker recap
The spacecraft’s star trackers are used to navigate, and help control the attitude of the spacecraft. By using an autonomous star pattern recognition function, they provide input to the onboard Attitude and Orbit Control and Measurement Subsystem used to maintain the spacecraft’s orientation with respect to the stars. This allows the spacecraft to know its orientation with respect to the Sun and Earth. In turn, this ensures the spacecraft can correctly orient its high gain antenna, used to send and receive signals to and from ground stations on Earth.
Correct attitude is maintained when the star trackers are properly tracking stars. If this is interrupted, the spacecraft’s antenna can drift away from Earth and communication with the spacecraft potentially lost. When the star trackers are not tracking, the attitude is propagated on gyro measurements. But the attitude can drift, especially if the spacecraft is slewing a lot.
Operating close to the comet means that the spacecraft is surrounded by a lot of dust. Even though the comet’s activity has diminished significantly since passing through its closest point to the Sun along its orbit last August, the environment is still dusty enough that the star trackers can occasionally mistake comet debris in its field of view for stars.
What happens next?
As usual with a safe mode, the science instruments are automatically switched off, allowing the spacecraft operators to take the necessary steps to fully recover the spacecraft before resuming science operations. Prior to the safe mode, the plan for this week was to move into 30 km orbits around the comet on Wednesday 1 June. The team still hopes to meet this target and be able to resume normal operations by then.
Update 2 June: The transition to the 30 km orbit started as planned, yesterday morning, with an orbital correction manoeuvre to bring Rosetta to 30 km by late Friday night (the orbit insertion manoeuvre is planned for 01:40 UTC Saturday). The spacecraft’s instruments are also now back in science operations mode.
The challenges ahead
The dramatic events of the weekend are a stark reminder of the dangers associated with flying close to the comet, and highlights the risks the spacecraft will face during the final few weeks of the mission as it descends even closer to the comet.
“The last six weeks of the mission will be far more challenging for flight dynamics than deploying Philae to the surface was in November 2014, and it is always possible that we could get another safe mode when flying close to the comet like this,” says Sylvain.
“Although we will take more risks nearer to the end of the mission, we’ll always put the spacecraft safety first.
“However, the very final sequence where Rosetta makes a controlled impact on the surface of the comet should not be affected by such star tracker issues as we plan to take them out of the attitude and orbit control system loop.”
The team will also consider taking the star trackers out of the loop when required in the last weeks of the mission.
Details of Rosetta’s final descent will be provided soon. The provisional plan is to target the small lobe close to Philae’s original planned landing site at Agilkia, most likely on 30 September.
|
2024-06-03T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/1804
|
BSN Jobst Anti-EM/GP Waist High Seamless Anti-Embolism Elastic Stockings are specifically designed to combat thromboembolism. They feature a convenient inspection window located on top of the foot so the patient;s skin will never touch the floor. These stockings apply gradient compression at the ankle and gradually decreasing to the thigh without tourniqueting or impeding the venous return.
Yes, not all stockings are created equal. Compression helps patients with circulation problems due to a wide variety of maladies and, at first glance, compression stockings and anti-embolism stockings may seem like the same thing, but there are subtle differences ...
|
2023-09-04T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/2949
|
A Funeral for Mumps
It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of beloved holiday mascot Mumps The Dying Turkey. Shortly after appearing on Fox 45’s Good Day Baltimore, Mumps collapsed in the parking lot of the WBFF studios. Paramedics arrived at the scene, not long after he was pronounced dead, the cause of death being onset Tuberculosis.
On Sunday Nov 30th at 7pm, The Last Hurrah will present the funeral and reading of the will for the late Mr. The Dying Turkey. All are invited to attend.
|
2024-06-01T01:26:28.774034
|
https://example.com/article/2552
|
Lockport City School District
Lockport City School District is the school district serving Lockport, New York.
Schools
Secondary schools:
Lockport High School
Lockport High School West
North Park Junior High School
Primary schools:
Emmet Belknap Intermediate School
Anna Merritt Elementary School
Charles Upson Elementary School
George M. Southard Elementary School
Roy B. Kelley Elementary School
References
External links
Lockport City School District
Category:Education in Niagara County, New York
Category:School districts in New York (state)
|
2023-11-28T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/9091
|
## Dedication
## Contents
dedication
foreword
introduction
a word about ingredients
a word about cooking
breakfast
bircher muesli
multiseed granola
super-healthy muesli
honey-poached pineapple
vanilla bean berries
warm quinoa breakfast porridge
tropical bircher muesli
breakfast verrines
rhubarb poached with vanilla bean, ginger, and cardamom
best breakfast eggs
soups
blackened tomato soup
clam soup
chilled cucumber, tomato, and sumac soup
lentil soup
sunchoke and cauliflower soup
velvety mushroom soup
spinach, broccoli, and mint soup
salads
asian slaw with wasabi
brie, grape, and arugula salad
bright green pea salad with lemon and mint
celeriac, green apple, and fennel salad
mexican bean and citrus salad
endive, pomegranate, and manchego salad with yogurt dressing
grapefruit, watercress, and carrot salad
green bean, tomato, and potato salad
marinated cucumber and chile salad
marinated tomato and chile salad with buffalo mozzarella
north african salad
middle eastern watermelon salad
panzanella salad
rice noodle, avocado, and beef salad
simple avocado, arugula, and spinach salad
tomato and egg salad
spinach, pomegranate, dill, and cilantro chopped salad
trout, pear, and mâche salad with hazelnut dressing
white bean salad
beet and orange salad with a citrus-cumin vinaigrette
grains
green apple and macadamia quinoa
pomegranate, nut, and green herb quinoa
roast vegetable risoni
pearl barley with baby spinach, corn, and shiitake mushrooms
quinoa risotto
pale ale and shiitake pasta
israeli couscous with shrimp and zucchini
crab, tomato, and lemon spaghetti
green herb and lemon zest gnocchi
seafood
asian lobster tails
cornmeal squid with avocado and yogurt sauce
fish tacos
green quinoa–crusted bass
herb, lemon, and caper–stuffed trout
lobster quinoa
poached salmon with shrimp served on couscous
south african pickled fish
tuna and udon noodles with ginger dressing
shrimp with citrus sweet potato
cilantro fish
ecuadorian-inspired ceviche
meat
beef tagliata with chopped arugula and basil salad
cape malay lamb curry
chicken and beef koftas
chicken stew with lemon and a side of israeli couscous
chicken tagine
moroccan lamb
poached chicken with crushed potatoes
polenta meatballs with quick red wine and tomato sauce
roast leg of lamb
thai curry
whole stuffed chicken
roast chicken stuffed with fennel, potatoes, bacon, and apricots
lamb and quinoa koftas on soft chickpeas with toasted pita bread
sides
baked lima beans
bean casserole
beer tempura with simple dipping sauce
brussels sprouts and oyster mushrooms with pine nuts
chickpea and corn falafel
crushed potatoes with asparagus and tomato
cumin pita bread / plain pita bread with spiced oil
stuffed pita breads
lime and cilantro rice
mushroom, pea, and corn ragout
moroccan steamed couscous
garlic bread stuffed with italian herbs
cardamom rice
seed loaf
tamarind and coconut lentils
tomato and leek sauce
sauces, dips, and dressings
arugula and walnut pesto
eggplant dip
avocado and yogurt dipping sauce
haydari
hot! mexican salsa
hummus
pineapple and chile relish
nut salad dressing
sesame and lemon dipping sauce
tomato sauce
guacamole
tomato pesto
acknowledgments
index
about the author
credits
copyright
about the publisher
## Foreword
When Jane came to _Eos_ as a chef, we all immediately fell in love with her food! It is exactly the kind of food that I love: simple, fresh, and incredibly tasty. Jane is a magician. It is truly magical how she chooses ingredients and brings out their supreme flavor by introducing the right herbs and spices. Her food is healthy, colorful, tasty, and provocative. It is never too heavy, often surprising, and very easy to understand. Like Jane herself, her food is inviting and not intimidating. It is spectacular, special food for every day. It is about embracing the experience of enjoying your taste buds and giving eating simply a whole new meaning. It is about sharing and loving.
I was so inspired by Jane and her unique approach to food that I suggested she write this book. I love the way she improvises, experiments, and surprises the taste buds. I love the way she presents her creations. I love the lack of pretention and the simplicity. I love the generosity of it all!
Jane is the best cook I ever met; and I am glad that you can all invite her into your kitchen, share her secrets, and enjoy!
Love,
Diane von Furstenberg
## Introduction
Growing up in Cape Town, South Africa, I didn't have dreams of becoming a chef. Some chefs have great stories of standing on chairs in the kitchen while they made Bolognese sauce with their Italian grandmothers, but I don't.
While other future chefs were baking their first banana breads, I was skateboarding with my best friend, Luke, while wearing my favorite Bart Simpson T-shirt. Or collecting friends' tennis balls from the storm drains under the street we lived on (earning me the name Jane-the-drain with neighbors). Honestly, I found mealtimes to be a bit of a chore, and I'd try to hide my unfinished food under my knife and fork before saying the mandatory "May I please be excused from the table" as I put my crisp, white, unused napkin back into its ring, so that I could be outdoors again, riding my bike.
Looking back, though, I realize that I did grow up around a table. My parents always have been hugely sociable, and still are—we always had people over for dinner. When I was very little, one of my favorite things was to crawl under the dining room table and fall asleep listening to the many people above talking, laughing, and sharing food.
It's still actually one of my favorite things to do, and people who know me really well know that after a meal I might disappear to a couch close by and fall asleep (although I haven't admitted up until now that I'm actually sleeping) while they're still sitting around the table, laughing and being merry.
Looking back, these experiences had a major effect on the type of career I fell into and, more important, the type of food I make today. While my love of food itself is very pure, I do feel that somehow I was groomed to see it as a way of connecting. Food is so important in our everyday lives—it keeps us together.
The food I like to make facilitates this togetherness. Whether it's for a special occasion or day-to-day living, it's the string that ties experiences together. We need to eat to survive, of course, but the gift we've been given—to make food delicious, fun, nourishing, and celebratory—is amazing. And we should make the most of it!
I moved to London straight after I finished high school, itching to see the world and have new experiences. I lived there for a couple of very happy years, traveling when I could and working very hard at strange jobs (such as selling alarm systems door-to-door through two English winters, meeting some pretty incredible—and incredibly odd—people in their homes along the way).
I felt as if I needed to choose a career, though, so I moved back to South Africa to ponder my options. A friend was just about to attend culinary school to study under one of South Africa's very best chefs, David Higgs, and one night I was hanging out and looking through his files when he told me that one of the other students had just dropped out. A feeling hit me— _I have to do this_ —even though I'd never even scrambled an egg. Classes were starting in five days, so I pulled myself together, went to see the chef really early the next morning, and persuaded him to take me. I told him I'd work harder than any of the other students to get to the top of the class. I was honestly really lucky to get in.
That feeling was right: From that first day at school, I fell head over heels in love with food and cooking. It was all new to me, and I was fully conscious as I dove into the experience. Every ingredient I was introduced to (which, let's be honest, was everything) was a total marvel. I remember opening my first peapod and being completely in awe of the "packaging." Even consciously seasoning a dish for the first time was a total eye-opener in that I suddenly understood what seasoning was and how important it is. It was amazing to learn about the versatility of the simple egg, and the little powers it holds, from lifting an airy cake to purifying a soup.
I decided to pursue a role that would expand my new romance with food. I wanted to do it all—go to food markets, plan the menus, cook the food and plate it, and know my guests and make it personal to them. So that's what I did. A short time after I finished culinary school, I made my way to the South of France. Arriving with 200 euros and a book called _How to Work on Yachts and Superyachts,_ I knew no one but found a hostel to stay in that had fake plastic grass, campers, and lots of young people drinking cheap wine from two-liter bottles.
Fast-forward ten years, and here I am. I've spent most of that time traveling around the world cooking for people on their private yachts, spending extensive time all over the Mediterranean, the Adriatic, and the Caribbean. I took about two years off from traveling at one point and was offered a job as head chef of a wonderful winery, Hall Wines in St. Helena in the Napa Valley. The Halls allowed me to grow and refine myself as a chef in what is basically chef heaven. I loved my time there, and learned so much from being around some of the world's best chefs. (Like one of my dear friends, Kelly, who taught me to make the most of the vineyards and took me foraging for miner's lettuce, bright yellow mustard flowers, and other little edible flowers and bitter greens. This is the finesse of Napa Valley chefs.)
But I wasn't quite finished with the traveling yet, and I was able to land myself a job on the world's most beautiful yacht, _Eos_ , working for Diane von Furstenberg and Barry Diller, an incredible couple with a wonderful sense of adventure. I joined them four years ago, and we've circumnavigated the world. This position has allowed me and my fellow crewmates to discover and experience places we'd never have dreamed of otherwise; often they can be reached only by boat. Some of the places are so remote that we've been told by local chiefs that that time would be remembered as the year of _Eos_. All the while, I've been able to cook and taste and experience.
Cooking for Diane von Furstenberg has been a real joy. She's adventurous, willing to try new things, and has a really remarkable and discerning palate. The food she likes to eat matches her personality: vibrant and colorful. She's so generous in sharing with family and friends, constantly bringing people together and making every meal a moment to connect and celebrate.
She has an amazing ability to inspire everyone she comes into contact with, and she has certainly inspired me to be better all the time, and to think outside the box—not just with food but in life.
### world food
I've traveled around the world cooking. What a dream!
I've eaten some crazy things and in some pretty wild places. I've had Mopane worms in Zimbabwe, bat in Vanuatu (which I also learned to cook, and then served to guests—unsuccessfully), brains in Istanbul, fish hearts at a seafood market in Indonesia, and, thinking back, a lot of things that I'm still not completely sure what they were.
When we get to a new port, I usually set off by myself with some local money, and sometimes a local guide for translation and knowledge, to find food. I go to markets, farms, kitchens, and any other place that people tell me to go to. Some of the places the boat took us to were so remote that just us being there was a local event.
However delicious or obscure the food, the thing that makes these experiences special to me is the incredible bonds formed with people all over the world. Our languages and cultures may be worlds apart, but we connect over food almost effortlessly. I've loved every minute. Well, almost. . .sometimes it feels like _Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern_ —but without the camera crew or cold water bottles afterward. A lot of times it was just me in some incredibly remote place, with a proud local handing me some odd-looking thing to put in my mouth.
Think: 100 degrees outside, the smell of a fish market at 100 degrees, an old man handing you something gray and mushy wrapped in an old banana leaf, with an expectant look on his face. Then you turn around to see the whole market looking at you. You have to eat that warm (and not from the oven) gray thing. The whole thing. You must swallow it while the market watches, and then make a face to suggest you liked it, or at least found it interesting. After that, you'll just get handed more.
But that's part of the fun of it, I guess. Some places I've visited were really surprising—the South Pacific island of Vanuatu raises some wonderful beef, and my second chef, Craig, and I were taken to a beautiful shrimp farm at the foot of some mountains, where we ate raw shrimp, just pulled from the water.
When we were planning our trip to the Galápagos Islands, I made a stop in Quito, Ecuador, to try to make some food connections. I wandered the streets from market to market looking for fresh food. Only when I got to the Galápagos Islands and hit the local five a.m. Saturday market did I find food in abundance! Different food abundances, though—lobsters for $7 and chickens for $30. The fish market alone is worth a visit to the Galápagos Islands—the fishermen stand by their stalls while pelicans and seals sit at their feet waiting for scraps. Incredible!
But one of the best fish markets I've ever visited must be in Venice, Italy, with my captain, Jerry, who's seafood crazy. Jumping in a water taxi to get to the fish market in Venice should be in all the tourist guides.
Living on a boat for long periods of time means that sometimes the best seafood comes to you. In the Pacific, I used to buy my fish early in the morning from local fishermen who came up to the boat in their tiny dugout canoes. Using the bilges as a live fish tank was a great way to keep the fish fresh. Some fishermen were pretty brave—in the Solomon Islands, I bought enormous live coconut crabs from a man in the same type of tiny canoe, and those crabs can easily take off fingers and toes! In the Caribbean, I buy fish from the side of the boat too. I've been using a man called Mr. Wonderful as my fish purveyor there for years. (Last season, after some consideration, he asked me to be his wife.)
I'm so thankful for the many incredible memories and experiences these last few years on the boat have given me. I've tasted food from all over the world and learned from local experts everywhere from Singapore to Morocco. My food has taken a bit of influence from everywhere I've been, and will continue to do so. It's world food.
### how to use this book
When I started cooking, I was always wondering whether I was doing things correctly. Where I'd added too much of something, or whether I could combine certain ingredients.
I'm still learning, but the freedom that has come with not being bound by recipes and rules is wonderful. I do look at cookbooks, read recipes online, and watch cooking shows—there are so many things to discover and learn—but I can't remember the last time I felt bound by someone else's recipe. In that same spirit, I'd really like _Fresh Happy Tasty_ to be seen as the kind of cookbook that guides rather than instructs.
The recipes are pretty simple, and I tried to include as many photos as I could. The style of cooking is relaxed and happy, and it produces tasty food with a minimum of effort.
I don't think food should be taken too seriously, especially not everyday food. I cook for people in my everyday life, and not in a restaurant environment, so my objective is to make food delicious, healthy, comforting, and a little exciting, all in one.
It's important that you're not bound by recipes—mine or anyone else's. I don't know how juicy your lemons are, or how hot your oven or chiles are! I haven't chosen your onions, or picked out your garlic, so I don't know how big they are. I don't know whether you use gas or electric, or the last time you had your oven calibrated, so the results we get from "400°F for 20 minutes" are going to be different. I encourage you to taste, taste, taste, and be present in the cooking process. Check things in the oven and prod and poke as you're working.
I'd like to think that every ingredient won't be meticulously measured out, but that you'll get a feeling for it, and be able to use your hands and eyes to start measuring things out. This is a much more enjoyable way of cooking. When you're cooking without worrying about instructions, it's a getaway. I like to put some music on and pour myself a glass of wine (depending on the time of day!).
## A Word About Ingredients
It's not my intention to keep you reading too long, but there are a couple of things that I wanted to mention about certain ingredients that are fundamental in my food.
### agave nectar
Agave has become a staple in my kitchen and cooking. I used to use sugar or maple syrup to finish off some dishes, but it bothered me a little that they weren't very good for you. Agave nectar is a wonderful substitute and not bad for you. It's sweeter than honey and sugar, so you need less of it. I buy the "light" one, which has a mellow flavor that blends well with most dishes. Also, I love that you can find it in a squeezy bottle—so easy to use!
### garlic
I use a lot of garlic. I use it raw, which for some people is a no-no, but when prepared properly, it's great. And if it's fresh, it won't smell.
A few things:
• Never buy chopped processed garlic unless vampires are an issue with you—it will make you smell. And avoid buying peeled garlic. I believe in saving time in the kitchen, and I believe in shortcuts when they work, but peel your own garlic—it will be freshest.
• Here's a trick to help peel your garlic. Pop some garlic cloves in water (see photo) for at least 30 minutes; the skin will come right off and it won't affect the taste or quality of the garlic. Make it a habit—when you're about to start cooking, pop your garlic in a glass of water and it will be ready for you. The only time this didn't work was when I was cooking at a soup kitchen and had to peel about 6 pounds of garlic with latex gloves on, and the gloves were already slippery. It was ridiculous.
• Consider using a Microplane to prepare your garlic. It's better than a press or grinding it on a board. If you use garlic raw, as I do sometimes, using a Microplane will help it go undetected. If you see a little green stem running through the middle of a garlic clove, remove and discard it—it's bitter.
### lemons
I love lemons! I use them in just about every dish. They help to cut the fattiness in a dish and make it feel fresh. But the more I've moved toward healthier cooking, the more reliant I am on that pop of citrus. It just makes everything so lively, vibrant, and clean! My mother drinks it with hot water in the morning as a cleanser, and I try to do the same most mornings.
Lemon zest is really useful as well; it helps you make use of the fruit's wonderful essential oils. For example, say you want to marinate a fish. You wouldn't put lemon on a raw fish (unless you're making ceviche), because it'll actually cook the fish—but lemon zest does the trick.
### fresh herbs
I'm truly in love with fresh herbs—they make me happy to be a cook. Everything about them is wonderful—the way they look, smell, taste, and I even love the way they feel. . .am I going too far? I don't know, but next time you pick up a bunch of cilantro, feel how soft and delicate those leaves are. To me herbs signify _fresh_ _happy tasty_ more than almost anything. I use them in almost all my dishes. . .and when I use them, I use a lot.
Adding certain herbs to a dish can almost take you to a different destination. If you have a cucumber and you dress it with cilantro and mint, it will feel Asian, but if you pair it with mint and dill, it will feel slightly North African. Dill and parsley put you in the Middle East, add basil and parsley instead and you're eating salad in the Mediterranean. Most dishes don't feel finished to me unless I've added a couple of handfuls of fragrant fresh herbs. They'll take almost any dish, no matter how simple or how complex, to another level. They've made green my favorite color.
### nuts
There are simple things that will make your food taste better—not fancy techniques and weird ingredients, but getting the most out of the ingredients you do use. Respect them.
I don't think there's any point in using nuts unless you toast them first. I almost think it's unfair to a nut if you judge it untoasted. Do a quick taste test—it's incredible how they change. To me a pine nut tastes of not much before it's toasted. Pop one in your mouth and concentrate on how it tastes, how it feels in your mouth. Now eat a toasted one (see below for instructions) and notice how you can actually taste the pine in the pine nut. And now concentrate on the texture—it's crunchy and crisp and almost creamy, but untoasted it was texturally uninteresting.
Almonds are pretty much the only nuts that get away with going untoasted, but even they are dramatically improved from a light toast.
To toast nuts, heat a dry skillet over medium-low heat. Add the nuts when the pan is hot and then move them around for 3 to 4 minutes, or until they're evenly browned. (Well, I say brown, but it's more like they get a beautiful tan—don't go too far!) The time varies with the type of nut, so just keep an eye on them and never, ever let them burn. If you do, throw them away. It's hard to do, but you'll ruin your whole dish if you use them.
### red onions
For 99 percent of my cooking, when onions are called for I use red onions. I noticed myself reaching for them more and more, and these days I rarely pick up a white onion or shallot. I like red onions because they have a beautiful sweet flavor and they're milder than yellow or white onions. This may sound silly, but to me they're not oniony. And whether I'm on a boat or in a New York City apartment, I don't have much room for storage, so I keep things simple and buy red onions. Plus, they're gorgeous!
For an interesting finish on a salad, soak some thinly sliced onion in vinegar for 30 minutes. It becomes pickled and adds a great layer of flavor.
### salt
I can't say enough about Maldon salt. Try this: Slice a garden-fresh tomato and eat one slice plain. Great. Now try it with a little Maldon salt on—it's a super-tomato! Now try it with table salt—it's a salty tomato.
I'm rarely without Maldon salt. It really makes a difference. If you can't get Maldon, try to use another type of sea salt. It's really superior. And if you can't get sea salt, no worries—but just use a little less than I've directed in the recipes (if I've given an exact salt amount) because it's a little less salty than other salts.
## A word about cooking
Just a few things I wanted to share with you that I feel have helped me make better food and become more confident (in the kitchen).
### using your hands
Hands are my most wonderful tool. I use my hands to mix most things, and I encourage you to do the same. They're perfect for mixing and distributing because your fingertips naturally find any lumps and bumps. And what could toss a delicate salad more gently? Hands tell you when you've tossed enough—when all the ingredients are evenly dispersed, giving you a bit of everything in every mouthful, and the dressing lightly covers it all. You never want to overtoss or be rough with a salad, and your hands tell you when you've done just enough. At that point: Stop and serve.
And hands are the best way to test for doneness in fish, poultry, and meat. Get in there!
### tasting
For food to be its most delicious at the moment you serve it, the most important thing is to taste, taste, taste! An underseasoned dish is disappointing. Sometimes, if I'm not 100 percent sure whether I've seasoned a dish enough, or added as much lime, lemon, or agave as I'd like to, I put a little of what I'm cooking in a small bowl or on a spoon and season it with what I think it might need. That way I don't worry about messing up my whole dish by adding too much of something. It'll give you the confidence to go for it and season and finish dishes off properly, and by this I mean to balance them: salty-sweet-sour.
### tools
I don't have a load of kitchen tools that I rely on. If I had to choose, I think I could get away with having just these items.
The one thing I find I always make sure I have is the Microplane—I use it for all my garlic and most of my ginger. It's clean, and it grates the garlic into a perfect paste.
Also, tasting spoons are key! I'm constantly tasting and checking food. I really think it makes a big difference to the end result.
For knives, I ideally use a lot of different kinds, but if I'm traveling off the boat, these are the two I make sure I have. The little serrated paring knife is awesome.
The lemon squeeze is also a staple—I use a lot of lemons and don't want to take the chance of losing some lemon seeds in a finished dish. Biting into a lemon pip is a terrible experience.
Amazing early-morning boat trip in the very rural Solomon Islands. We caught a fish. The locals were just as curious about me as I was about them. Very cool experience.
Pelicans at the Galápagos fish market at sunset.
Sleeping seal, Galápagos Islands. I fell down a slippery hill taking this photo and some locals had to make a human chain to get me back up. Embarrassing!
## bircher muesli
{ Serves 2 to 4 }
This has always been a crew breakfast favorite. I love it too. It's a healthy way to start the day—in fact, it was originally created by a Swiss doctor for his patients' breakfasts. Yes, the doctor was called Dr. Bircher-Benner. Quite a revolutionary, in my eyes.
You can double this recipe for a big batch and keep it in the fridge for up to 3 days. Feel free to throw in any additional ingredients you like: banana, nuts, seeds. . .
1 cup rolled oats
1 cup apple juice
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1 unpeeled green apple
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 lemon
**1.** In a large bowl, soak the oats in the apple juice for 30 minutes.
**2.** Meanwhile, toast the almonds by heating them in a small dry skillet over medium-low heat for 3 to 4 minutes, until evenly browned, stirring constantly so as not to burn them. Remove from the heat and cool.
**3.** Grate the apple and add it to the oats. Stir in the cinnamon, almonds, and vanilla.
**4.** Finish with a squeeze of lemon juice over the muesli, just enough to sharpen the flavor.
## multiseed granola
{ Serves 6 }
If you have guests coming to stay, this is a massive crowd pleaser—it's lovely over plain yogurt with some fresh berries, or use it in Breakfast Verrines. Don't let the number of ingredients put you off. It's a very quick job—and once you have everything together, it's worth it!
If you aren't able to get all the ingredients, don't worry. Just use what you have, and add an even amount of any other seed, grain, sweetener, or fruit you can find.
You can keep the granola in the cupboard in a sealed container for up to a month, so you might as well make a double batch and avoid the inevitable regret when it's gone.
1/2 cups whole oats
1 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup oat bran
1/2 cup wheat germ
1 cup sliced almonds
1/2 cup flaxseeds
1/2 cup poppy seeds
1/2 cup sesame seeds
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/2 cup unsweetened applesauce or apple baby food
1/2 cup unsweetened shredded dried coconut
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup maple syrup
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
Small pinch Maldon or other flaky salt
**1.** Preheat the oven to the lowest setting. Combine all the ingredients in a big bowl and use your hands to mix—it's the best way to encourage the development of lovely chunky bits in this granola. Squeeze the mixture until the butter forms small clumps and you have clusters of a size that makes you happy.
**2.** Carefully pour the mixture onto a large rimmed baking sheet. Spread it into a single layer (or it won't get crispy).
**3.** Place the sheet in the oven and turn the temperature up to 200°F. Bake for 2 hours or until the granola is golden brown and dry, giving the sheet a careful shake a couple of times as the granola bakes.
**4.** Cool the granola on the sheet.
## super-healthy muesli
{ Serves 10 }
This super-healthy muesli is filled with nuts, seeds, and dried fruit. If you don't have some of the ingredients, just leave them out, or add pecans and dried apricots for another great option.
Make this recipe at the same time as the Multiseed Granola to make the most of your time and ingredients—it can be kept in a sealed container for up to a month.
I love this with almond milk, because it adds a wonderful depth and even more nutrients, but you can use any milk you like or yogurt.
2 cups rolled oats
1 cup sliced almonds
1 cup flaxseeds
1/2 cup sesame seeds
1/2 cup poppy seeds
1 cup wheat germ
1 cup oat bran
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup unsweetened shredded dried coconut
1 cup unsweetened dried cranberries
1 cup dried goji berries
**1.** Preheat the oven to 200°F.
**2.** Combine all the ingredients except the dried fruit in a large bowl. Spread the mixture in a single layer onto 1 or 2 large rimmed baking sheets (take care not to overfill the trays, or the ingredients won't get crispy).
**3.** Bake for 1 hour, remove the sheet from the oven, and give it a shake. Increase the heat to 250°F and bake for another 30 to 40 minutes, until the nuts are very lightly toasted.
**4.** Let the muesli cool on the baking sheet, then toss in the dried fruit.
## honey-poached pineapple
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
Poaching pineapple in honey makes it really wonderful and fragrant, like nectar. This pineapple is amazing with some tart low-fat sheep's milk yogurt and a bit of granola. Add a mint leaf, and it's heaven.
I make this ahead of time and keep it in its poaching liquid in the fridge for up to 5 days. The flavors will actually become even deeper the more time it has in the poaching liquid.
5 ounces (1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons) good-quality honey
1 cinnamon stick
1/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise and seeds scraped out
Zest of 1/4 orange
1/2 large pineapple, cut into about 3/4-inch cubes
Fresh mint leaves, for garnish, optional
**1.** In a medium saucepan over medium-high heat, bring the honey and 1 cup of water to a boil. Add the cinnamon, vanilla bean and seeds, and orange zest.
**2.** Reduce the heat to low and add the pineapple, stirring to combine. Tear a sheet of wax paper that's about the size of the pan and crumble it into a ball, as though you're going to throw it away. Unfurl the paper and place it in the saucepan over the pineapple. This is a great little way to stop too much liquid from evaporating.
**3.** Cook the pineapple for 12 to 15 minutes, checking on it every so often, making sure the simmer isn't too aggressive. When the pineapple feels fork tender and it looks as though all of the pieces have soaked up the poaching liquid (you'll see by the way it has changed color and texture), then turn the heat off. Remove the cinnamon stick and set the pan aside to cool.
**4.** Serve the pineapple warm or store it in the fridge.
## vanilla bean berries
{ Serves 4 }
These poached berries are a wonderful treat, especially served over Super-Healthy Muesli. This recipe is terrific for overnight guests, as it will last in the fridge for up to 5 days. On the boat, I like to poach a load of fruit at the beginning of a trip and put some out every morning. When it's been difficult to get beautiful berries transported to me, I've used frozen. Feel free to do the same—the quality of frozen berries sometimes is better than the fresh ones you'll find in the supermarket, and a lot less expensive. Just go for the best brand.
3/4 cup sugar
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise and seeds scraped out
1 cinnamon stick
Orange zest
14 ounces (2 cups) mixed berries, such as blackberries, blueberries, and raspberries
1/2 lemon
**1.** In a medium saucepan over medium-high heat, bring the sugar and 11/4 cups water to boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar.
**2.** Add the vanilla bean and seeds, cinnamon, and a few scrapes of orange zest. Gently simmer for about 5 minutes.
**3.** Stir in the berries and simmer for 1 minute, then remove from the heat and cover. Let the berries cool in the pot. Finish with a squeeze of lemon.
## warm quinoa breakfast porridge
{ Serves 4 }
Almonds, quinoa, and antioxidant-rich fruit make this just about the healthiest way to start the day. This can actually be served warm in the winter months, or cold in summer months, or vice versa—whatever makes you happy!
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1 cup white quinoa
1/2 cup almond milk or low-fat cow's milk
2 tablespoons almond butter or peanut butter (smooth or chunky)
1 teaspoon honey
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 cup strawberries, hulled and quartered
1 cup raspberries
1 cup blueberries
1 handful pomegranate seeds
1/2 lime or lemon
A few fresh mint leaves, for garnish if desired
**1.** Toast the almonds as directed.
**2.** Bring a pot of water to a boil over medium heat and add the quinoa. Cook for about 10 minutes, until it's just underdone. Drain the quinoa and put it back in the pot over low heat.
**3.** Add the almond milk, almond butter, honey, and vanilla. Stir to keep the mixture moving for a couple of minutes.
**4.** Remove from the heat and add the berries, pomegranate seeds, and almonds. Give it a taste. If you'd like to add more honey, almond milk, fruit, or anything else, it's up to you.
**5.** Finish with a little squeeze of lime or lemon juice to sharpen the flavors. Serve in a bowl topped with fresh mint leaves. Beautiful.
## tropical bircher muesli
{ Serves 6 }
This tropical variation on the classic Bircher Muesli tastes great in the summer.
1 cup rolled oats
1/4 to 1/2 cup coconut water or pineapple juice
1/2 cup pine nuts
1 very juicy passion fruit
1 cup crushed pineapple
Flesh of 1 mango, diced
Flesh of 1/2 papaya, diced
1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 lime
**1.** Soak the oats in the coconut water for about 30 minutes.
**2.** Meanwhile, toast the pine nuts by heating them in a small dry skillet over medium-low heat for 3 to 4 minutes, until evenly browned. Remove from the heat and set aside.
**3.** To prepare the passion fruit, cut it in half, and using a spoon, scoop out the pulp and juice and stir them into the soaked oats, along with the pineapple, diced mango and papaya, pine nuts, and vanilla. Finish with a squeeze of lime.
## breakfast verrines
This is more an idea than a recipe, but I wanted to include it because it's one of those things that's so simple but will make a lot of people happy.
I put these verrines out with breakfast and just let people help themselves. They would be lovely if you were hosting a brunch too. They can be made up to 2 to 3 hours in advance—if you're going to do that, sprinkle a little more granola or something crunchy on top just before you serve so that there's some texture.
I've used jars here, but glasses work just as well. Feel free to layer them with whatever you like. Here I used a combination of poached fruits, granola, and yogurt, and I've layered them in the little jars. Sometimes I use fresh fruit, such as chopped strawberries or other fresh berries. Layer them with muesli and flavored yogurts. You could add some nuts too. I've used my own granola recipe here, but you can use a good store-bought one.
A little tip for when you're making them—keep it clean. When you're layering the items in the jar or glass, wipe any smears you make on the side of the glass as you go; otherwise, it has the potential to look messy. You want to keep this dish looking clean and fresh.
## rhubarb poached with vanilla bean, ginger, and cardamom
{ Serves 2 }
Often on vacation, Diane von Furstenberg will eat this poached rhubarb with sheep's milk yogurt for breakfast.
Rather than processed sugar, the poaching liquid is made from agave nectar, a natural sweetener from the blue agave plant, which is very similar to aloe vera.
11/2 cups agave nectar
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise and seeds scraped out
One 1/4-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled
1 cardamom pod
Thin strips lemon zest, each about the length of half a finger
1/2 pound rhubarb stalks, cut into 4-inch pieces
Sheep's milk or other plain yogurt, for serving, optional
**1.** Combine the agave nectar, vanilla bean and seeds, ginger, cardamom, and lemon zest in a medium saucepan with 4 cups water and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Immediately reduce the heat to low and simmer for 10 minutes.
**2.** Add the rhubarb and simmer for 3 to 5 minutes, until tender, depending on the size of the rhubarb. Be careful not to overcook or boil, or the rhubarb will lose its shape and fall apart.
**3.** Remove the pan from the heat and set aside to cool. It's ready to eat! (I leave the ginger and vanilla bean in because they look pretty, but you don't eat them.)
NOTE: _The flavors will really develop if you store it in the fridge overnight._
## best breakfast eggs
{ Serves 2 }
This is my favorite way to eat eggs in the morning. It feels fresh and clean, and it's full of flavor.
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup finely chopped red onion
1/2 to 1 Fresno chile, seeded and finely chopped
4 eggs
2 tomatoes, seeded and chopped
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 lime
1 small handful fresh cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
1 large or 2 small pita breads, toasted
**1.** In a medium sauté pan, heat the olive oil over low heat. Add the onion and chile and sauté for about 2 minutes. Don't let them color.
**2.** Remove the pan from the heat and add the eggs, stirring constantly with a spatula so that they scramble lightly. The trick here is to not move them around aggressively, but to use the spatula to pull the mixture gently around the pan—almost like you're cooking an omelet.
**3.** Return the pan to the heat to finish cooking, gently folding the tomatoes into the eggs.
**4.** When the eggs are scrambled to your liking, season them well with salt, pepper, and a good squeeze of lime juice. Garnish with cilantro and serve with the toasted pita bread for the best breakfast eggs!
This photo taken in the Solomon Islands always reminds me of _The Life of Pi._
## blackened tomato soup
{ Serves 4 }
Blackening the skin of tomatoes works exceptionally well as a way to make the ingredient taste smoky and interesting. The charring process is what gives this soup its depth.
This recipe can also be adapted as an excellent chunky chile-tomato sauce that's superb on grilled meat or a burger. You can even bottle it and keep it in the fridge.
5 large tomatoes, quartered (preferably vine ripened—the deeper red, the better!)
1/4 red onion
Extra virgin olive oil
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 large garlic clove, sliced
1 teaspoon tomato paste
1 tablespoon agave nectar
3 drops Worcestershire sauce (see Notes)
1 to 2 pinches red chile flakes
Plain Greek yogurt, for topping
Fresh cilantro leaves, for garnish
**1.** Preheat the broiler.
**2.** Place the tomatoes and onion in a shallow baking dish. Add a couple of lugs of olive oil, season with salt and pepper, and give it a toss. Arrange the tomatoes skin side up so that the broiler blackens and chars the skin.
**3.** Broil the tomatoes and onion for 15 to 20 minutes, depending on your oven. Check the tomatoes after about 10 minutes and turn the dish if you feel one side is getting more color.
**4.** When the skin on the tomatoes is black and charred (as in the picture), transfer the contents of the dish to a medium saucepan, making sure you don't lose any of that lovely juice or sticky stuff at the bottom. Get it _all_ into the saucepan—this is where so much of your flavor will come from. It's like a beautiful tomato stock/oil.
**5.** Add the garlic, tomato paste, and just enough water to cover and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Cook for 15 to 20 minutes, until the tomatoes are broken up and soft. Use an immersion blender (easiest—I call this a stab blender) or a freestanding blender to blend the soup. I like it to have a little texture, so I don't blend it all the way, but you may prefer it completely smooth.
**6.** Pour the soup back into the saucepan and add the agave nectar, Worcestershire sauce, and 1 or 2 pinches of chile flakes, depending on how much heat you'd like.
**7.** Serve the soup with a dollop of Greek yogurt and some fresh cilantro leaves.
NOTES: _This soup is packed full of vitamins A and C. It's great for your eyes and is loaded with antioxidants. If you want to use this as a sauce instead of a soup, simply omit the water and blend straightaway, without simmering._
_Worcestershire is a strong sauce that's really great for giving depth to dishes like a Bolognese, but make sure you don't add too much. It's intense!_
## clam soup
{ Serves 3 to 4 }
A lovely winter soup. This base recipe can be served as is, or made into a seafood stew by adding some more vegetables and more shellfish, such as shrimp or mussels. It's great served family-style in the middle of the table with some lovely crusty bread.
Extra virgin olive oil
2 strips of bacon, diced, optional
1/2 cup thinly sliced leek (white and green parts)
1/4 cup finely diced celery
2 garlic cloves, minced, plus 1 smashed garlic clove
1/3 cup sauvignon blanc or other dry white wine
One 6.5-ounce can good-quality clams
1/4 red jalapeño chile, seeded and chopped
2 medium carrots, grated (about 1 cup)
1 cup finely diced russet potato
1 teaspoon tomato paste
1 bay leaf
1 pound live clams
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 lemon
1 handful fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, roughly chopped
**1.** Heat a small lug of olive oil in a medium saucepan over high heat. If you're using bacon, add it now. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes, until the bacon has a little bit of color.
**2.** Reduce the heat to low and let the pan cool for a minute or two, then add the leek, celery, and garlic and sweat for about 5 minutes, until the leek is translucent. Add the wine and turn the heat up a bit to allow the liquid to reduce.
**3.** When the liquid has reduced by about one-third, add the clams, including their juice, plus the chile, carrots, potato, tomato paste, bay leaf, and 2 cups of water. Simmer the soup gently for about 30 minutes, until it's at your preferred consistency, giving it a stir every now and then.
**4.** In the meantime, prepare the live clams by rinsing them under running cold water in a colander. Place them in a steamer, or use the steaming method from the couscous recipe. Lightly steam for about 10 minutes. You'll know as soon as they're done because their shells will pop open. Don't overcook them, or—as my mom would say—they'll be as leathery as a pair of old boots. Set the finished clams aside.
**5.** Check the seasoning of the soup; it will want some salt, a good dose of pepper, and a squeeze of lemon juice.
**6.** To serve, ladle the soup into bowls and top with the steamed clams and parsley.
## chilled cucumber, tomato, and sumac soup
{ Serves 4 to 5 }
This is my version of a classic gazpacho. It's bold, confident, and refreshing. Sumac is a wonderful spice used a lot in Middle Eastern cooking. It has a beautiful tart, lemony flavor—if you can't find any, you could substitute the zest of a quarter of a lemon.
1/2 cucumber, roughly chopped
3 Roma tomatoes, roughly chopped
1/2 red bell pepper, seeded and roughly chopped
1 teaspoon tomato paste
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon ground sumac
1 teaspoon ground cumin
Agave nectar
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Chopped salad, such as North African Salad, for serving, optional
**1.** Put the cucumber, tomatoes, red pepper, tomato paste, vinegar, sumac, cumin, and agave nectar to taste in a blender. Blend until smooth and season with salt and pepper.
**2.** Refrigerate the soup until it's very, very cold, at least 2 hours.
**3.** Serve the soup in chilled bowls, topped with a bit of chopped salad if you like. The North African salad works really well here because the flavors are equally punchy in both.
## lentil soup
{ Serves 3 }
There are lots of variations on lentil soup out there. This is DVF's favorite. It's incredibly healthy, hearty, and tasty. The mushrooms add a good depth of flavor, and the fresh lemon finishes the soup off well.
Extra virgin olive oil
1/4 red onion, finely chopped
1/2 serrano chile, seeded and chopped
1 large garlic clove, minced or finely grated
1/4 cup finely chopped carrot
1/4 cup finely chopped celery
1 cup finely chopped button mushrooms
1 heaping teaspoon ground cumin
1 heaping teaspoon ground coriander
1 medium tomato, chopped
3/4 cup French green lentils, such as Puy, washed and picked over
4 cups water or vegetable broth
Maldon or other flaky salt
Agave nectar
Freshly ground black pepper
Juice of 1 lemon
Fresh cilantro leaves, optional
**1.** Heat a good lug of olive oil in a large saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the onion, chile, garlic, carrot, celery, and mushrooms, and sweat for about 5 minutes.
**2.** Add the cumin and coriander and stir for a couple of minutes. Turn the heat up slightly, so that the spices toast and release their flavor. Add the tomato and cook for another couple of minutes.
**3.** Add the lentils along with 4 cups of water and a pinch of salt. Bring to a simmer and cook for about 40 minutes. You'll probably have to add more water once or twice, and that's OK, but be careful not to put in too much liquid—just enough so that nothing sticks to the bottom of the pot. You can always add liquid at the end, but you can't really take it away.
**4.** After 40 minutes the lentils should be very tender. Pour half of the mixture into a blender and pulse until it's nearly smooth, then add it back into the saucepan with the whole lentils. This gives it a lovely full texture. This step is really up to you and how you prefer the texture of the soup. You may want to blend all of it until very smooth or not blend it at all. Whatever makes you happy.
**5.** To finish the soup off, add a squeeze of agave nectar. Season with salt and pepper and add the lemon juice. Snip a small handful of fresh cilantro leaves over the top, or serve as is.
## sunchoke and cauliflower soup
{ Serves 4 }
The amazing thing about cauliflower is how creamy it is when it's pureed. It's luxurious, smooth, and rich. Also known as Jerusalem artichokes, sunchokes add an interesting flavor to this soup, and are well worth seeking out.
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
1/4 red onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 pound sunchokes, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces (use straightaway or place them in some lemon water until you use them, or else they'll go brown)
1/4 cauliflower, cut into chunks, stems included
Vegetable broth
Juice of 1 lemon
Agave nectar
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
**1.** Heat the olive oil in a medium saucepan over low heat. Add the onion and garlic and sweat for 4 to 5 minutes, until they become slightly translucent, taking care not to let them burn. ( _Sweating_ is a bit of a chef's term—but a good one to know—for cooking something over low heat in some fat. As a result, the onion and garlic will become beautifully mellow and sweet without any browning.)
**2.** Add the sunchokes and cauliflower and stir around for a few seconds to infuse the flavors of the onion and garlic oil into the vegetables and make them more intense. Then add just enough vegetable broth to cover. Bring to a simmer and cook for 15 minutes, or until the cauliflower and sunchokes are fork tender.
**3.** Using a slotted spoon, transfer the cauliflower and sunchokes to a blender and add a bit of the liquid from the pot. Blend until completely smooth. Then, depending on what consistency you prefer, add more of the cooking liquid from the pot. This soup is meant to be thick and comforting, so be sparing with the liquid. See how you go.
**4.** Return the soup to the pan to reheat and season with the lemon juice, a touch of agave, salt, and pepper. Pour the soup into bowls and add a drizzle of olive oil to finish it off.
## velvety mushroom soup
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
If you love mushrooms, you'll really love this soup. It's incredibly simple and low maintenance—it's really about getting the most out of the mushrooms and letting them shine. Finishing off any mushroom dish with lemon is sure to be a winner, and the garnish of parsley is a clean, fresh addition.
Oh, and just a tip: Be sure to always hold the lid when you're blending soup. . .
2 pounds mixed mushrooms, halved (I use half shiitake and half button)
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Leaves from 8 fresh thyme sprigs
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil, plus more as needed
1/2 red onion, chopped
1 large garlic clove
Vegetable stock or water
Juice of 1 lemon
1/3 cup Greek feta cheese, optional
1 small handful fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves
**1.** Preheat the broiler.
**2.** In a medium bowl, toss the mushrooms with some salt and pepper, the thyme leaves, and olive oil. Spread the mushrooms on a baking sheet in a single layer and place under the broiler. Broil for about 15 minutes, depending on your oven—don't let them burn, but look for a nice brown color to bring out a more intense flavor.
**3.** Put the browned mushrooms in a medium saucepan over low heat. Important: Reserve any juice or oil from the baking sheet; it's where a lot of the soup's flavor will come from. Add the onion and garlic to the saucepan and cook, stirring, for 5 minutes, or until the onion and garlic have become translucent and soft. If you feel it's too dry, you can add a touch more olive oil.
**4.** Add the reserved juices from the sheet (even if it doesn't seem like much) and just enough vegetable stock or water to cover the mushrooms. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for 20 minutes, or until the mushrooms are very soft. This stage is all about developing flavors and intensifying them; simmering will make everything more intensely mushroom flavored.
**5.** Time to blend the soup: Transfer to a blender and blend until very smooth. When you think it's smooth enough, blend even more to take it one step further. This will bring it all the way to velvety.
**6.** Pour the soup back in the saucepan and check the seasoning. It'll probably need a bit more salt and pepper. Add the lemon juice and give it a little taste again.
**7.** Pour the hot soup into bowls and garnish it with the feta, if using, and the parsley.
## spinach, broccoli, and mint soup
{ Serves 4 }
Just looking at this soup will make you feel healthier—the color is brilliant. I like the idea of not fully cooking the leaves, so that you get all the goodness out of them. Apart from boiling the water, this soup takes about 10 minutes to make. It's the perfect example of how wonderful food can be when you keep it simple.
2 broccoli heads, cut into florets
1 garlic clove
2 handfuls of baby spinach leaves
1 small handful mint
1 small handful basil
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 lemon
Agave nectar
**1.** Bring a pot of water to a boil. Add the broccoli and cook for about 5 minutes, or until the broccoli is tender but still bright green.
**2.** Remove the pan from the heat. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the broccoli to a blender. Add 2 cups of the cooking water, reserving the rest.
**3.** Blend until you start to get a smooth puree, then add the spinach and herbs. (If you feel you need to add a bit more water to get it going, go ahead, but I usually leave adding more water until the end when I have a totally smooth mixture. This blending step, as simple as it is, is really important. It's going to feel like a long time, but give it at least 4 to 5 minutes to blend. The soup has the potential to become velvety smooth, so even when you feel like you might have blended it enough, blend it for another minute. A beautifully smooth texture will make all the difference.)
**4.** Transfer the mixture to a clean pot and add enough cooking water to reach your desired consistency. Add salt and pepper to taste, the juice of half a lemon, and a squeeze of agave. Taste and adjust the seasoning as necessary. (I like to serve it as is, because it's such a pure soup.)
Food market, West Papua New Guinea.
Food shopping, Papua New Guinea.
## asian slaw with wasabi
{ Serves 3 }
This is a very simple slaw that is ideal served with Beer Tempura or as an accompaniment to a piece of grilled fish or seafood.
2 tablespoons minced red onion
6 scallions, thinly sliced
1/2 red cabbage, cored and thinly sliced
Juice of 1 lime
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1/2 to 1 tablespoon prepared wasabi (depending on how spicy you like it)
1 small garlic clove, minced
Small squeeze of agave nectar
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
Maldon salt or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 handful fresh cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
A few fresh basil leaves, roughly chopped
**1.** In a large bowl, combine the red onion, scallions, and cabbage. Set aside.
**2.** In a separate bowl, make the dressing by combining the lime juice, mayonnaise, wasabi, garlic, agave nectar, and vinegar. Season with salt and pepper.
**3.** When you're ready to serve, toss the cabbage mixture in the dressing, add the cilantro and basil, and toss to coat. Transfer to a clean bowl and serve.
NOTE: _If you want to make this in advance, keep the dressing and salad separate until you are ready to serve. It's best eaten straightaway but will keep in the fridge for a day or two._
## brie, grape, and arugula salad
{ Serves 2 }
A good friend of mine, Becky, worked with me on _Eos_ , and we circumnavigated the world together. If I ever asked her what salad she wanted, it didn't matter what country we happened to be in—this is the one she chose. It's vibrant, fresh, and fragrant and topped with beautifully creamy Brie. So here you go, Becky—this is your salad. Enjoy.
**dressing**
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
Squeeze of agave nectar
Extra virgin olive oil
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
**salad**
1/2 cup pine nuts
Large handful baby arugula
Leaves from 3 fresh tarragon sprigs
Leaves from 3 fresh dill sprigs
11/2 cups seedless grapes, quartered
4 to 5 ounces good-quality Brie cheese, chilled
**1.** To make the dressing, whisk the vinegar, agave nectar, olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste in a bowl. Adjust the seasoning as desired, and set aside.
**2.** To make the salad, toast the pine nuts in a small dry skillet over low heat for 3 to 4 minutes, until evenly browned. Remove from the heat and set aside.
**3.** Toss the arugula, tarragon, dill, grapes, and pine nuts in a bowl.
**4.** Cut the Brie into bite-size pieces. (Make sure the cheese is nice and cold; that way it won't stick to your knife or melt.)
**5.** When you're ready to serve, toss the salad with the dressing and top with the Brie.
NOTE: _Avoid buying aged Brie for this salad—it won't hold as well, and it will be a little too strong for this fresh salad._
## bright green pea salad with lemon and mint
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
This salad is like a pea family reunion. It's very simple, but the goat cheese makes it a bit more substantial and luxurious. The inspiration for this recipe was a request for a bright, all-green salad. You can stick with using peas, or add whatever other green vegetables you find at the market.
1/4 pound haricots verts, ends trimmed (green beans are fine if you can't find haricots verts)
1/4 pound snap peas, halved
1/4 pound snow peas, halved
1/4 pound fresh peas, shelled
1/4 pound fava beans, shelled and peeled
1 celery stalk, thinly sliced on the diagonal
Juice of 1 Meyer lemon
Extra virgin olive oil
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 handful yellow pea shoots, optional
1 handful green pea shoots, optional
1 handful fresh mint leaves, roughly torn, optional
1/4 pound good-quality goat cheese, optional
**1.** Bring a large saucepan of water to a boil over medium-high heat and prepare a large bowl of ice water.
**2.** Throw the haricots verts (which take the longest to cook) into the pot of boiling water. After 30 seconds, add the snap peas and snow peas. Add the fresh peas and fava beans after another 30 seconds—these will cook fastest. (Adding the beans in intervals of 30 seconds will save you the time of boiling multiple pots of water and cooking each vegetable individually.)
**3.** When the beans turn bright green and tender but are still very crisp, transfer the peas and beans to the ice water to stop the cooking. When they are cold, drain and transfer to a large glass bowl; add the celery.
**4.** Just when you're ready to serve the salad, add the lemon juice, some olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste and give the salad a good toss with your hands. Mix in the pea shoots and mint, if using. If using the goat cheese, gently crumble it in with your hands. Transfer to a serving bowl and serve.
NOTE: _Don't be tempted to dress the salad too far in advance. The lemon can discolor the greens and ruin the aesthetic of the dish, which, in my opinion, is half the pleasure of it._
## celeriac, green apple, and fennel salad
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
This is a classic combination of ingredients, and for a good reason: The flavors of celeriac, apple, and fennel work so well together. DVF loves the crunch and freshness of raw vegetables, so I try to slip them in a salad whenever I can.
I don't have a problem with consuming raw egg yolk, but I know many people aren't comfortable with it. This recipe involves pasteurizing the eggs, which ensures their safety. And it's a lot less hassle than it sounds.
**dressing**
1 egg yolk
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
1 teaspoon agave nectar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
**salad**
11/2 green apples
1 medium celeriac, peeled
1 fennel root, halved and outer layer removed
1/3 cup sliced almonds
1 handful fresh parsley leaves
1 small handful fresh dill, roughly chopped
**1.** To make the dressing, combine the egg yolk and lemon juice in a metal bowl over a saucepan of simmering water and whisk for about 30 seconds. Make sure the bowl doesn't get too hot, or the egg will start to scramble. As soon as bubbles start to form, take it off the heat. Keep whisking, and the egg will thicken. Add the thyme, agave nectar, mustard, olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. When the dressing starts getting a little thicker, add a bit of water. Check the seasoning and set aside.
**2.** Using a mandoline, cut the apples, celeriac, and fennel into wafer-thin slices. Set aside.
**3.** In a small dry skillet over low heat, toast the almonds for 3 to 4 minutes, until evenly browned, stirring or tossing often and taking care that they don't burn.
**4.** In a salad bowl, toss the apples, celeriac, and fennel with the almonds, parsley, and dill. Add the dressing and gently toss the salad.
NOTE: _If you're entertaining, this salad should not be prepared too far in advance, or it will wilt and discolor._
## mexican bean and citrus salad
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
This is a super-quick and easy summer salad to go alongside any Mexican meal or barbecue. You can make heaps of it at a time, and it actually gets better after a few days in the fridge because the beans soak up the flavor. If you do save it for a few days, check the seasoning again and freshen it up with some more fresh cilantro and a squeeze of lime before you serve.
I like to make this for the guys I work with—they spend hours lifting weights in the gym and then look for ways to put as much protein into their bodies as they can, so this salad does the trick.
One 15-ounce can pinto beans (or any other beans you like)
One 15-ounce can black beans
One 15-ounce can cannellini beans
6 scallions, trimmed, white and light green parts sliced on the diagonal
2 tablespoons chopped fresh oregano
1 large handful fresh cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
Zest of 1 orange
Juice of 1/2 orange
Juice of 11/2 limes
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Drain the beans in a colander and rinse them under cold water. Shake off the excess water. In a large bowl, combine the beans, scallions, oregano, cilantro, orange zest, and orange and lime juices. Toss with the olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Give it a good mix and check the seasoning. If you want more zing, add a bit more lime, and if you want more sweetness, add more orange juice. The salad works really well when there's a nice balance between the two.
## endive, pomegranate, and manchego salad with yogurt dressing
{ Serves 2 }
This is a lovely, delicate salad. Try to get both the white and purple endives to make it even more colorful and pretty.
**yogurt dressing**
2 tablespoons plain yogurt
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon agave nectar
1/4 garlic clove, minced
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
**salad**
3 Belgian endives, a mix of white and purple if possible, roots trimmed
1/2 cup shaved Manchego cheese (use a vegetable peeler)
1/2 cup pomegranate seeds
1/4 cup fresh dill leaves
**1.** To make the dressing, whisk the yogurt, lemon juice, agave nectar, garlic, and salt and pepper to taste in a bowl. Carefully add a few drops of water, and whisk again until the dressing is just pourable but still holds together. Check the seasoning and add more lemon, agave, or salt if necessary.
**2.** To make the salad, separate the leaves of the endives and arrange on a large plate or platter. Top with the Manchego, pomegranate seeds, and dill.
**3.** Just before serving, drizzle the dressing over the salad.
NOTE: _If you're making this salad in advance, prep the endive leaves, wrap them in wet paper towels, and place them in the fridge. Keep all the ingredients separate until you're ready to plate._
## grapefruit, watercress, and carrot salad
{ Serves 3 to 4 }
This salad is happiness in a bowl! Eating it instantly makes me feel alive and well. The juicy grapefruit, crisp carrots, and peppery watercress matched with the bold cilantro and creamy pistachio is exciting eating.
1/3 cup shelled pistachios
2 grapefruits, segmented
1 large handful watercress
2 carrots, shaved on a mandoline and placed in ice water
1 handful fresh cilantro leaves, picked and roughly torn or chopped
**dressing**
2 tablespoons grapefruit juice (after removing the segments, squeeze what's left of the grapefruit body to get this juice—there probably will be enough for a small glass of juice for you too)
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
Small squeeze of agave nectar
Pinch Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
**1.** In a small dry skillet over medium-low heat, toast the pistachios until evenly browned, 3 to 4 minutes, stirring frequently. Remove from the heat and set aside.
**2.** Combine the grapefruits, watercress, carrots, and cilantro in a bowl and use your hands to toss gently.
**3.** Whisk the dressing ingredients in a small bowl. When you're ready to serve, add the nuts and dressing to the salad.
NOTE: _It's important to leave the nuts out until the last minute so that they stay nice and crunchy._
## green bean, tomato, and potato salad
{ Serves 4 }
Potato salad usually makes me think of heavy egg-and-mayonnaise mixtures, but this recipe is nothing like that. It's just a great green bean salad with a lot of flavor—and potatoes. I've used Kewpie mayonnaise in this recipe, which is a favorite. It's a Japanese version of mayonnaise that is creamier and smoother than the American classic and can be found at specialty stores.
Maldon or other flaky salt
1 pound mixed small potatoes (thin-skinned new potatoes are great here)
5 ounces green beans, ends trimmed, halved
1 garlic clove, minced
2 tablespoons finely chopped red onion
2 whole scallions, thinly sliced
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons mayonnaise, preferably Kewpie
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
1 teaspoon agave nectar
1/3 cup roughly chopped fresh dill
1/3 cup roughly chopped fresh parsley
**1.** Bring a saucepan of salted water to a boil and add the potatoes. Cook until fork-tender, about 8 minutes; drain. Break up the potatoes a little bit, but don't mash them.
**2.** Bring a saucepan of salted water to a boil again and add the green beans. Cook for just under a minute, taking care not to overcook them. Drain the green beans under cold running water to stop the cooking.
**3.** Meanwhile, in a large glass bowl, combine the garlic, onion, scallions, tomatoes, olive oil, mayonnaise, vinegar, and agave nectar. Add the potatoes while they're still very hot so they can soak up the dressing. Mix in the green beans, then set aside to let cool to room temperature.
**4.** Stir in the dill and parsley and check the seasoning just before serving.
NOTE: _If you're storing this for later use, place the bowl in the fridge and add the herbs just before serving._
## marinated cucumber and chile salad
{ Serves 2 to 3 }
This is a great salad to pair with Chickpea and Corn Falafel. I first learned about using habañero chiles to marinate cucumber from a cashier at Whole Foods, and he was so right. My mouth is watering thinking about it.
A couple things about habañeros: The chile won't stay as hot when it's refrigerated, so don't be scared to use as much as or more than the recipe calls for. Just be sure to wash your board and your hands well after you've prepared the chile. And whatever you do, don't fiddle with your contact lenses or touch your eyes anytime soon. I made that mistake a few years ago. Ouch.
1 cucumber, seeded, quartered lengthwise, and sliced on the diagonal
1/2 habañero chile, seeded and finely chopped
1/4 cup finely chopped red onion
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
Squeeze of agave nectar
Juice of 1 lemon
Maldon or other flaky salt
Feshly ground black pepper
**1.** Place the cucumber, chile, and onion in a glass bowl. Toss with the olive oil, agave nectar, and lemon juice; season with salt and pepper.
**2.** Set in the fridge for at least an hour before eating or up to a day.
## marinated tomato and chile salad with buffalo mozzarella
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
I really love that this salad produces so much flavor with so little effort. One of the best parts is the juice that's left over on the plate. When I make this for DVF, she patiently waits for her guests to serve themselves, and then she'll pour the beautiful tomato dressing over her whole plate of food.
**dressing**
1/2 serrano chile, thinly sliced (I keep the seeds in for a kick, but check yours—it might be too much)
1 garlic clove, minced
Leaves from 2 fresh oregano sprigs
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon agave nectar
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
**salad**
6 large assorted tomatoes (the more colors and varieties, the better—deep red, green, yellow, Roma, beefsteak, heirloom)
1 cup cherry tomatoes—again, mixed colors would be ideal
About 10 ounces fresh buffalo mozzarella
About 8 fresh basil leaves
1 handful fresh flat-leaf parsley
**1.** To make the dressing, whisk together the chile, garlic, oregano, vinegar, agave nectar, olive oil, salt and pepper to taste in a bowl. Set aside for at least 10 minutes to infuse.
**2.** To make the salad, cut the large tomatoes into fairly thin slices and place them haphazardly on a serving platter. Halve or quarter the cherry tomatoes and sprinkle them on top of the tomatoes.
**3.** Lay the mozzarella on paper towels to drain the excess liquid. Tear the cheese into bite-size pieces and place them on top of the tomatoes.
**4.** Give the chile dressing another quick mix and taste it for seasoning. If it's good to go, get a large spoon and slowly drizzle it over the salad, making sure that every part of the salad is covered with dressing.
**5.** Let the salad sit for at least 5 minutes before serving to give the tomatoes a little time to suck in some of that wonderful dressing, or cover and refrigerate if you're not serving it immediately.
**6.** When you're about to serve, tear the basil over the top and scatter with the parsley.
## north african salad
{ Serves 4 }
Sumac is one of my favorite spices. It's zingy and fresh, and it's really what makes this salad special. It's definitely worth going to the effort to get, and it's becoming more readily available in supermarkets—it's lovely in other salad dressings or simply sprinkled on fresh tomatoes, so you'll definitely find other uses for it.
This salad is incredibly tasty, simple, and summery.
Extra virgin olive oil
1 large pita bread, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 English cucumber, seeded and diced
3 tomatoes, seeded and diced
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
1 scallion, thinly sliced
1/2 garlic clove, minced
1 radish, thinly sliced
1/2 red bell pepper, seeded and diced
1 cup loosely packed fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves
1/2 cup loosely packed fresh mint leaves
1/2 cup loosely packed fresh dill leaves (no big stems)
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 teaspoon ground sumac
Agave nectar
**1.** In a skillet, heat 1 tablespoon olive oil, add the pita cubes, and toast until golden. Season with salt and pepper and set aside to cool.
**2.** In a glass bowl, mix the cucumber, tomatoes, onion, scallion, garlic, radish, bell pepper, and herbs. Toss with the lemon juice, sumac, and 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Add a little squeeze of agave nectar just to even out the lemony punch of the sumac. Check the seasoning and adjust to your taste.
**3.** Mix in the pita croutons when you're ready to serve so they stay lovely and crispy.
## middle eastern watermelon salad
{ Serves 2 }
This salad is so vibrant and inviting when it's plated. You won't expect the orange citrus flavor, but it works so well with the watermelon. With the extra bite and crunch of salty feta and toasted sesame seeds, this is a salad you'll keep going back to.
2 tablespoons sesame seeds
1/4 watermelon, cut into large dice
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
Heaping 1 cup pomegranate seeds, optional
1 small handful fresh mint leaves, torn
1 small handful fresh cilantro leaves, torn
1/2 orange
Extra virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper
**1.** In a small skillet, toast the sesame seeds over low heat, stirring frequently, about 3 minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside.
**2.** Arrange the watermelon and feta on a flat plate. Sprinkle the pomegranate seeds, sesame seeds, mint, and cilantro over the top.
**3.** When you're ready to serve, squeeze the juice of the orange over the salad and drizzle it with olive oil. Finish with some cracked black pepper and serve.
## panzanella salad
{ Serves 4 }
Italy brings back so many happy food memories for me. The first time I ever had this salad was in Genoa, and I couldn't get over what a great idea it was to put bread in a salad—it soaks up all the goodness of the tomatoes and dressing; all the leftover juices you'd want to mop up after the salad is finished are already taken care of for you. This is the quintessential Italian summer salad. You could serve it with a simple grilled piece of beef to make a really fantastic meal.
1/2 loaf stale bread (sourdough or baguette is best)
4 large beefsteak tomatoes
1 tablespoon roughly chopped fresh oregano
1 garlic clove, minced
1/4 red onion, thinly sliced
11/2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
Agave nectar
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 small handful Kalamata olives
8 ounces fresh mozzarella cheese
8 large fresh basil leaves
1 small handful fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves
**1.** To prep the bread, remove any hard, thick crust and cut it into 1½-inch cubes. Set aside.
**2.** Cut the tomatoes into quarters and remove the seeds from the flesh of the tomatoes. Place the seeds and a good pinch of salt into a sieve resting over a bowl. (This will help them to release their wonderful juices, which you'll add to the dressing in step 5.) Let the seeds sit for at least 15 minutes.
**3.** Cut the tomatoes in half again, place them in a medium bowl, and set aside.
**4.** To make the dressing, combine the oregano, garlic, and onion in a small bowl and add the vinegar; season with agave nectar, salt, and pepper to taste. Whisk in the olive oil.
**5.** After at least 15 minutes, use your hands to gently squeeze the tomato seeds over the sieve so that they release their juice into the bowl. Add this juice to the dressing and taste for seasoning. Pour the dressing over the bread and toss. Let sit for at least another 5 to 10 minutes.
**6.** Add the tomatoes and olives and give the salad a gentle toss with your hands. Add the mozzarella by tearing it gently into the salad.
**7.** Garnish with torn basil leaves and parsley and serve.
## rice noodle, avocado, and beef salad
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
When I traveled on _Eos_ to Vietnam, I ate many variations of this type of salad. The Vietnamese are incredibly good at making simple but vibrant food, with some intense flavors.
21/2 pounds strip steak or rib eye steak (about 2 steaks)
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Canola or vegetable oil
31/2 ounces thin rice noodles
2 avocados (slightly firm is perfect)
Juice of 1 lime
**marinade**
1/4 cup soy sauce
1/2 teaspoon fish sauce
2 teaspoons sugar
Juice of 1 lime
**dressing**
1 tablespoon minced ginger
Juice of 1 lime
5 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
1 teaspoon fish sauce
11/2 teaspoons sugar
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh cilantro
1 small handful fresh mint leaves
1 small handful fresh cilantro leaves
1 small handful fresh basil leaves
1 small handful cashews, lightly toasted and crushed
**1.** Place a sauté pan over high heat and get the pan really hot. Season the steaks well with salt and pepper and rub a little oil on both sides. Place them in the smoking hot pan and cook for 3 to 4 minutes on each side, depending on how well you want your meat to be cooked. I think medium rare to medium is good for this dish. Place the steaks on a plate, pour any pan juices on top, and set aside to rest.
**2.** Bring a saucepan of water to a boil and add the rice noodles. Cook for about 3 minutes, or according to the package directions. Be careful not to overcook them—these noodles are really thin.
**3.** Make a quick marinade by combining the marinade ingredients in a medium bowl.
**4.** Drain the noodles in a colander and run them under cold water to stop the cooking. Give the colander a shake to remove the excess water and place the noodles in the bowl with the marinade. Give it a good toss to coat the noodles well and set aside.
**5.** Prep the avocados by peeling, removing the pit, and cutting them into slices; toss with the lime juice and set aside.
**6.** Combine all the dressing ingredients in a small bowl. (It'll taste quite sharp but will be great over the salad.)
**7.** To assemble the salad: Give the noodles a final toss in the marinade and place them on a platter, pulling them apart a bit. Cut the steaks into ½-inch slices and drape the strips of beef over the noodles, then tuck them in, around, and under the noodles. Do the same with the avocado slices. Finally, use a spoon to dress the salad, distributing the dressing as evenly as possible. Roughly tear the mint, cilantro, and basil leaves and scatter them over the salad, along with the toasted cashews. Serve immediately.
## simple avocado, arugula, and spinach salad
{ Serves 2 }
This is a simple salad that can be served alongside lots of different dishes—grilled fish or a piece of grilled beef—or just eaten by itself. And it's as easy as it is simple.
Avocado adds a wonderful richness to any salad, and leaving it to stand with the lemon juice and other ingredients makes it slightly creamy.
1 handful cherry tomatoes, halved
1 avocado, cut into bite-size pieces
1 tablespoon finely chopped red onion
About 5 Kalamata olives, pitted and halved
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Extra virgin olive oil
1 squeeze agave nectar
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 large handful baby spinach leaves
1 large handful baby arugula leaves
Leaves from 1 fresh dill sprig, roughly chopped
**1.** In a bowl, combine the tomatoes, avocado, red onion, and olives. Add a pinch of salt, a good twist of black pepper, a lug of olive oil, the agave nectar, and the lemon juice.
**2.** Stir to mix everything up and let stand for at least 5 minutes or up to a few hours. When you're ready to eat, mix in the spinach, arugula, and dill.
## tomato and egg salad
{ Serves 4 }
This is my version of a South African–style salad. It feels like what I would have at someone's house with a barbecue. In fact, I probably have had it at a barbecue in South Africa. If I stole the idea of this recipe from someone, I'm sorry, but thank you—it's delicious.
3 organic, free-range eggs
3 tomatoes, cut into wedges
2 tablespoons finely chopped red onion
2 tablespoons white vinegar
11/2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 handful fresh cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
**1.** Place the eggs in a saucepan full of cold water (this keeps the eggs from cracking) and bring to a boil over high heat. When the water reaches a boil, cook for just under 6 minutes.
**2.** In a glass bowl, combine the tomatoes, red onion, vinegar, and olive oil. Give it a toss and season with salt and pepper. (Get most of your tossing done before adding the eggs to keep them from falling apart.)
**3.** When the eggs are cooked, peel them and cut into quarters. Add the eggs to the bowl and check the seasoning. Add the cilantro and give it another gentle toss.
## spinach, pomegranate, dill, and cilantro chopped salad
{ Serves 2 }
This is prepared the same way as the Chopped Arugula and Basil Salad that accompanies Beef Tagliata. It's super-easy but also delicious. I sometimes serve it with the Chicken and Beef Koftas by spreading the salad on a platter, then tucking the little meat bundles in and around the wonderful dressed leaves.
2 handfuls baby spinach leaves
1 large handful fresh cilantro leaves
1 handful fresh dill leaves
1 garlic clove
Agave nectar
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1/2 cup pomegranate seeds
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
**1.** Put the spinach, cilantro, dill, and garlic on a cutting board and roughly chop (for a demonstration of the method). Transfer to a bowl.
**2.** Add agave nectar to taste, the olive oil, lemon juice, and pomegranate seeds. Season with salt and pepper. Give it a toss with your hands and serve it on its own.
## trout, pear, and mâche salad with hazelnut dressing
{ Serves 4 }
This salad is beautiful and delicate. It has hardly any ingredients, but it's wonderful. The Nut Salad Dressing can really work well with just about any salad.
2 pieces cooked trout, chilled
1 unpeeled pear (preferably Bosc)
1 lemon
3 handfuls fresh mâche lettuce
1 small handful fresh dill, chopped (no big stems)
1/4 cup hazelnuts, toasted and skinned, optional
Nut Salad Dressing
**1.** Make sure the flesh of the trout is cold, then gently peel the skin back. If it was cooked well (which yours will be), it'll peel off easily. Using a knife, slide the flesh off the bone, away from the spine in the middle of the fillet. Once you get started, it's a pretty easy process. Check the beautiful flakes for bones.
**2.** Thinly slice the pear and place it in a bowl. Squeeze some lemon juice on top to coat and gently toss.
**3.** Plate the trout on a platter, not in a bowl. Scatter the pear, mâche, dill, and hazelnuts around the fish. Dress generously with the Nut Salad Dressing and serve.
## white bean salad
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
This is another salad that is versatile as an accompaniment or on its own. I like to eat it with some grilled, marinated chicken thighs or tossed with some arugula to make it a complete meal.
Haloumi cheese is one of my favorites. Some people call it squeaky cheese because of the noise it can make in your mouth when you chew it. I love it for that, and its briny flavor.
Two 15-ounce cans cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
1/4 red onion, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
1 teaspoon agave nectar
Juice of 11/2 lemons
1 zucchini, julienned on a mandoline
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons Hummus, or extra virgin olive oil
4 ounces haloumi cheese, cut into 1/2-inch-long matchsticks
1 handful fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, roughly chopped
1 large handful fresh cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
**1.** Combine the beans, onion, garlic, agave nectar, lemon juice, zucchini, salt and pepper in a large bowl and mix until everything is well integrated. If you're going to use Hummus, add it here. I really recommend that you do, as it adds a wonderful richness to the dish, but if you're doing without, add a good lug of olive oil. Let stand at room temperature to marinate for at least 30 minutes or up to an hour.
**2.** Meanwhile, prepare the haloumi cheese by heating up a skillet and adding the strips of cheese to the dry hot pan. Cook for about 40 seconds on each side, until you get some nice color. Note: If you're not serving immediately, put the grilled strips of cheese on a small baking sheet and place them in the oven for a few minutes to heat up prior to serving.
**3.** When you're ready to serve, mix the herbs into the salad and give it one last taste for seasoning, then top it with the haloumi cheese.
## beet and orange salad with a citrus-cumin vinaigrette
{ Serves 2 to 3 }
A great salad to accompany a tagine-style dish—it's alive with texture and color and the taste is uncomplicated. I try to get blood oranges when I can, to pair with golden beets, but it'll be just as beautiful with purple beets and bright navel oranges. To get the beets into these little strips, I use a Benriner mandoline (see Tools).
**dressing**
1/4 cup freshly squeezed orange juice
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon ground cumin
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
**salad**
2 medium beets, peeled and julienned on a mandoline
2 oranges, peeled and sliced
1 handful fresh cilantro leaves
**1.** Whisk all the dressing ingredients together and check the seasoning.
**2.** When you're ready to serve, toss the beets, oranges, cilantro, and dressing together.
Streetside restaurant, Vietnam.
Market, Vietnam.
## green apple and macadamia quinoa
{ Serves 4 }
This dish tastes like health and summer. It can be eaten as a side dish or on its own.
1 cup uncooked quinoa
1/2 cup macadamia nuts
1 small garlic clove, minced
1 small green onion, thinly sliced
3/4 cup seeded diced cucumber
1 cup diced green apple
1/2 cup diced green bell pepper
1/4 cup diced celery
1/2 red serrano chile, seeded and thinly sliced
Juice of 1 lemon
Agave nectar
2 tablespoons plain yogurt
Maldon or other flaky salt
**1.** Prepare the quinoa according to the package directions. Put the drained quinoa back into the pot and stir it over low heat to remove some of the moisture.
**2.** In a small dry skillet, toast the macadamia nuts over medium-low heat until evenly browned, 3 to 4 minutes, stirring often to keep them from burning. Crush the nuts lightly with a knife.
**3.** In a large bowl, combine the quinoa, macadamia nuts, and the remaining ingredients. Toss and check for seasoning; add more lemon juice and salt if necessary.
## pomegranate, nut, and green herb quinoa
{ Serves 2 }
This is the first quinoa I made for DVF. I remember being nervous about cooking for her, but she loved it—she has a wonderful appreciation for bold, vibrant food.
Pair this with Chicken and Beef Koftas.
1 cup uncooked quinoa
1/2 small red onion, finely chopped
1 small garlic clove, minced
1 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil
11/2 tablespoons Hummus
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Juice of 1 to 2 lemons
1/2 cup macadamia nuts, toasted
1/2 cup sliced almonds, toasted
1/2 cup hazelnuts, toasted
11/2 cups pomegranate seeds
1 handful fresh dill, roughly chopped (no big stems)
1 handful fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, roughly chopped
1 small handful fresh mint leaves, roughly chopped
**1.** Prepare the quinoa according to the package directions.
**2.** While the quinoa is cooking, combine the onion, garlic, olive oil, and Hummus in a large glass bowl.
**3.** Drain the quinoa and put it back in the pot. Stir it over low heat for a couple of minutes to steam off some of the excess water.
**4.** Add the quinoa to the glass bowl, season with salt and pepper, and add the lemon juice.
**5.** Loosely cover the mixture and let it sit until it comes to room temperature. If you are not serving immediately, refrigerate and bring to room temperature before serving.
**6.** When you're ready to serve, mix the nuts, pomegranate seeds, and herbs with the quinoa and toss with your hands. Check the seasoning. Remember, when food sits for a while, especially in the fridge, the cold tones down the seasoning, so add a bit more lemon, salt, or pepper if you need to.
## roast vegetable risoni
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
A really easy, really quick side that's great for a barbecue or picnic. It can be made in advance, which is great too.
1 zucchini, cut into 1/2-inch-thick diagonal slices
1 medium eggplant, cut into about 1-inch x 2-inch pieces
1/4 red onion, roughly chopped into about 1/2-inch pieces
1 handful brown mushrooms, roughly chopped
3 tomatoes, each cut into 8 wedges
7 fresh thyme sprigs
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Extra virgin olive oil
2 cups risoni, or orzo (see Note)
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar or balsamic vinegar
4 ounces good-quality feta cheese, crumbled
1 small handful fresh basil leaves, torn into unequal-size pieces
**1.** Preheat the oven to 500°F and bring a pot of lightly salted water to a boil.
**2.** On a baking sheet lined with wax paper, combine the zucchini, eggplant, onion, mushrooms, and tomatoes. Pull the thyme leaves off the stems and sprinkle them on the veggies, along with salt, lots of pepper, and about 3 tablespoons of olive oil. Give it a good mix with your hands and roast for about 15 minutes, until the vegetables have softened and roasted with some good color, which will bring out wonderful flavors.
**3.** Place the risoni in the boiling water and cook until al dente, about 10 minutes. Drain and place in a large bowl with a drizzle of olive oil to prevent sticking.
**4.** Add the vegetables and any juices that have been released during cooking to the risoni. Add the vinegar and feta and give it a good mix around. Taste to check the seasoning.
**5.** If you're going to serve it straightaway, sprinkle the fresh basil over the dish and gently toss to distribute. If you're going to serve it later, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate. Bring to room temperature before serving (it should not be served cold) and add the basil, along with a drizzle of olive oil and salt and pepper to taste.
NOTE: _Risoni (also called orzo) is a form of pasta that looks like rice. I really love its texture. It's super-versatile and a nice change from other pastas. Even just a simple risoni tossed in basil, dill, and parsley with lemon juice and pine nuts is delicious. Give that a try too._
## pearl barley with baby spinach, corn, and shiitake mushrooms
{ Serves 3 to 4 }
Pearl barley is used a lot in stews and soups, but I think it works really well in a salad like this. If you mix it when it's hot, the barley acts like a little sponge and soaks up all the flavors. You can try using barley in place of the quinoa in the Pomegranate, Nut, and Green Herb Quinoa too.
3/4 cup pearl barley
1/2 cup pine nuts
1/4 red onion, finely chopped
Extra virgin olive oil
31/2 ounces shiitake mushrooms, stalks removed and caps cut into quarters
1 ear corn
1/3 cup Hummus
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 lemon
1 handful baby spinach leaves
1/2 cup fresh dill leaves (no big stems)
1/2 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves
**1.** Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add the barley and cook for about 30 minutes, until tender.
**2.** While the barley is cooking, toast the pine nuts in a small dry skillet over low heat until lightly browned, about 3 minutes, stirring often to keep them from burning. Combine the pine nuts and onion in a large bowl.
**3.** Using the same skillet over high heat, add a tablespoon of olive oil and the mushrooms. Sauté for about 4 minutes, until the mushrooms have some good color. Add them to the bowl with the onion and pine nuts.
**4.** Again in the same skillet over medium-high heat, add some more olive oil if necessary and the corncob. Cook the corn for about 5 minutes, until it's nicely colored all over. (It'll make a bit of noise and spit a tiny bit, but don't worry—the heat shouldn't be high enough to make it pop and splatter!) Remove it from the skillet and place it on a cutting board to cool down.
**5.** Drain the barley and add it to the bowl along with the Hummus, season with salt and pepper. Cut the corn kernels off the cob and add them too. Give it a taste, then squeeze in the juice from the lemon half.
**6.** Add the baby spinach leaves and mix well. Garnish with the dill and parsley and serve.
## quinoa risotto
{ Serves 4 }
I love risotto but rarely eat it because I always feel so heavy and slow afterward. Making it with quinoa instead of rice gives you the wonderful taste and comfort of risotto without all that starch. This is a DVF favorite.
2 to 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1/3 cup finely chopped red onion
1 or 2 garlic cloves, minced
1 cup uncooked quinoa
1 cup sauvignon blanc or other white wine
Maldon or other flaky sea salt
2 cups water or vegetable broth, plus more as needed
1 cup green beans cut into 1-inch pieces
1/4 to 1/2 cup green peas
1/2 cup lima beans
1 cup asparagus cut into 1-inch pieces
1/2 cup shelled fava beans
3 tablespoons crème fraîche
1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
Juice of 1/2 lemon
Freshly ground black pepper
1 small handful fresh dill leaves, roughly chopped (no big stems)
1 handful fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
1 handful fresh mint leaves, roughly chopped
**1.** Heat the olive oil in a saucepan over low heat. Add the onion and garlic and sweat for about 4 minutes, until softened.
**2.** Add the quinoa, give it a good stir, and let it toast for about a minute. You'll hear it start to crackle.
**3.** The next steps are the same ones you'd follow with risotto: Add the liquid in thirds to let the quinoa soak up each batch of liquid before the next addition. First add the wine and a bit of salt and let the liquid cook out, stirring occasionally, about 4 minutes. When there's almost no more liquid in the pot, add 1 cup of the stock, give it a good stir, and again let that cook out gently for another 5 minutes or so, stirring occasionally, then repeat with the remaining cup of stock. These steps will take about 15 minutes. If at the end of the 3 additions of liquid the quinoa isn't completely cooked, add a bit more stock and cook it out until the quinoa is done to your taste.
**4.** Add the green beans, peas, lima beans, asparagus, fava beans, and ½ cup water to the pan. If there's no liquid in the pan, add more to allow the ingredients to cook a little more easily and to keep the dish moist. Turn the heat up a little and partially cover the pan to give the vegetables a cook.
**5.** When the vegetables are cooked and bright green, remove the saucepan from the heat. Add the crème fraîche, Parmesan, and lemon juice and check the seasoning.
**6.** Just before you're about to serve, throw in all the beautiful herbs and stir well.
## pale ale and shiitake pasta
{ Serves 2 }
You know that feeling when you do something, and suddenly it makes so much sense that you wonder: _How did I not do this before?_ That's how I felt about this recipe. I was making myself a quick mushroom pasta and would usually add white wine, but I was drinking a beer at the time, so I added that instead. What an amazing combination—shiitake mushrooms and beer! It's really earthy and wonderful and works so well for this easy, tasty pasta.
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 pound shiitake mushrooms, stems removed, very roughly sliced
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
4 ounces linguine or similar pasta
1/4 red onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 bottle pale ale (the rest is to drink)
2 tablespoons crème fraîche, optional
3/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 small handful fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves
**1.** Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large sauté pan over high heat until smoking hot. Add the mushrooms and a good pinch of salt and pepper. Cook for 5 to 6 minutes, until the mushrooms get some good color, stirring every now and then. This strong sear will give the mushrooms a good flavor, so don't be tempted to turn the heat down.
**2.** Meanwhile, bring a large saucepan of water to a boil. Cook the pasta according to the package directions to al dente.
**3.** Next, turn the heat under the mushrooms to low and let the pan cool for 2 to 3 minutes, then add the onion, garlic, and the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil. Note: Don't rush and add them when the pan's too hot or they'll burn and ruin the dish. Cook for another 4 minutes or so, then turn the heat up to medium-high, add the pale ale, and let it cook away and reduce slightly, leaving some liquid in the pan. Turn the heat off and, if using it, stir in the crème fraîche.
**4.** Using a pair of tongs, pull the al dente pasta out of the cooking water and place it directly in the pan with the mushroom mixture. Give it a good toss and serve topped with the Parmesan.
## israeli couscous with shrimp and zucchini
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
The lemon, cumin, and fresh herbs combined with the richness of the shrimp and the great texture of the Israeli couscous make this wonderful eating. Be sure to taste the dish before serving to check that it has enough seasoning and lemon—it'll make the meal.
11/2 pounds uncooked shrimp
2 cups uncooked Israeli couscous
2 cups grated zucchini (11/2 to 2 zucchinis)
2 to 3 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 red onion, finely chopped
3 whole scallions, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon ground cumin
Juice of 1 lemon, plus more as needed
Agave nectar
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 large handful fresh cilantro leaves
1 large handful fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves
1 handful fresh dill leaves (no big stems)
**1.** Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the shrimp and cook for about 1 minute, until pink. (The exact time will depend on their size, but be careful not to overcook them.) Remove the shrimp with a slotted spoon and run cold water over them to stop the cooking.
**2.** Keep the water boiling and add the couscous. Cook for 8 to 10 minutes, until al dente.
**3.** While the couscous is cooking, place the zucchini in a bowl and add the garlic, red onion, scallions, and shrimp.
**4.** Drain the couscous and run it under cold water to stop the cooking. Shake off as much excess water as possible and add the couscous to the bowl with the zucchini.
**5.** Add the olive oil, cumin, lemon juice, and a squeeze of agave nectar; season with salt and pepper. Give it a good mix and check the seasoning. Add the herbs and mix again. Recheck the seasoning, adding more lemon juice if necessary.
## crab, tomato, and lemon spaghetti
{ Serves 4 }
The use of plain yogurt in this pasta makes for a healthier sauce than a cream-based one, and it adds an interesting depth and flavor to the dish.
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons finely chopped red onion
1 or 2 garlic cloves, minced
8 ounces spaghetti (or any other pasta)
2 cups picked fresh crabmeat
3 tomatoes, seeded and sliced
2/3 cup plain yogurt
1/2 lemon
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 handful fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves
**1.** Heat the olive oil in a sauté pan over low heat. Add the onion and garlic and sweat for about 4 minutes, until softened but without color.
**2.** Meanwhile, bring a saucepan of salted water to a boil and cook the spaghetti according to the package directions, then drain, reserving a scoopful of the cooking liquid.
**3.** Add the crab and tomatoes to the sauté pan and gently sauté for 5 minutes over very low heat. Stir in the yogurt and remove from the heat. Season with a good squeeze of lemon and some salt and pepper. Give it a taste and adjust the seasoning if necessary.
**4.** Add the pasta to the pan, along with a tablespoon of the cooking water to keep the sauce from getting too sticky. Add the parsley and serve.
NOTE: _See photos of seeding tomatoes._
## green herb and lemon zest gnocchi
{ Serves 4 }
Sometimes it can't all be whole grains and leaves, and on those occasions, this is the type of food I like to eat. Gnocchi when it's made well is light and beautiful, and I find the texture so comforting. This is a great little dish to serve when entertaining a few friends—it seems impressive to have made the effort, but it's pretty easy.
I could happily eat a huge bowl of this served with a simple arugula salad, but it's wonderful with so many different sauces. You could serve it as I have here just lightly tossed in some olive oil when it's finished, or you could toss it in some Arugula and Walnut Pesto or, as I really, really love it, with Tomato Pesto.
3 large russet potatoes
1 teaspoon plus 1 tablespoon olive oil
Heaping 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 small egg yolk
Zest from 1 lemon
1 small handful basil, finely chopped
1 small handful parsley, finely chopped
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Grated Parmesan, for serving
**1.** Preheat the oven to 400°F.
**2.** Use a fork to prick a few holes in each potato and rub each potato with a little of the olive oil. Place the potatoes on a baking sheet and bake them for just over an hour, or until the skin is crispy and the inside is soft (you're basically just making baked potatoes).
**3.** Scoop the flesh from each potato and pass it through a sieve set over a large bowl. (This is called "ricing"—some people use a ricer, but a sieve will work just fine for this; if you want to impress people with light, smooth mashed potatoes, this is how to do it, by the way.)
**4.** Add the flour, egg yolk, lemon zest, herbs, salt, and pepper to the potatoes and combine. Taste the mixture at this point to test the seasoning. (It may be a little lemony, but that'll calm down when it's cooked—you're only testing for seasoning at this point.)
**5.** Use your hands to work the mixture together—the best gnocchi are light, so don't overwork the dough—about 30 seconds is right—but it is important that it's well blended. You'll know it's done when you have a mixture that holds together when you make a ball out of it. Test a piece on your clean countertop—if it sticks or falls apart, add just a little flour.
**6.** Take a handful of the mixture and roll it into a sausage shape on your counter. When it is about as wide as an average thumb, use a knife to cut it into 1-inch pieces. Then, using a fork, make little indentations in the top. (This helps the gnocchi pick up any sauce or olive oil they're served with, and it'll make you look like a pro.) Repeat with the rest of the mixture.
**7.** Dust a baking sheet with flour and spread the gnocchi on it. Refrigerate for about 5 minutes to chill and firm up the gnocchi.
**8.** Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Drop the gnocchi in the water. They will take about 2 minutes to cook; they'll tell you when they're done because they'll pop to the surface.
**9.** Heat a sauté pan with 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil. Drain the gnocchi and add them to the hot pan. Carefully toss around in the hot oil for about 30 seconds and serve immediately, topped with a little grated Parmesan.
Fish market, Borneo.
## asian lobster tails
{ Serves 2 to 4 }
Cooking in paper is a great way to prepare lobster, but you can also make this recipe with shrimp—just reduce the cooking time depending on their size. I love serving this at a dinner party. Make 1 package per guest and take them all out to the table on a tray. When everyone starts opening their packages, the smell is incredible!
To mix it up, use different types of seafood in each bag. Some people will get mussels, others lobster, and others prawns. Then they can swap them all around and share. This is perfect served with Lime and Cilantro Rice, or with a side of noodles.
The shellfish can be made in the oven on a small baking sheet, but the paper packets are more fun—plus, you have no baking sheet to clean.
_Equipment: kitchen twine_
1 lemongrass stalk, halved, green parts only
1 to 11/2 red serrano chiles, sliced
8 black peppercorns
2 scallions, thinly sliced
1 thumb-size piece ginger, sliced
2 garlic cloves, sliced
2 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro stalks
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
A few slices of lime
A few splashes of fish sauce, optional
4 small lobster tails, about 5 ounces each, halved with scissors
1 cup coconut milk
Fresh basil leaves, optional
Fresh mint leaves, optional
**1.** Preheat the oven to 400°F.
**2.** In a large bowl, combine the lemongrass, chiles, peppercorns, scallions, ginger, garlic, and cilantro. Season with salt, pepper, and lime and a few splashes of fish sauce.
**3.** Place 2 pieces of wax paper over 2 ovenproof bowls. Fill each one with half of the mixture and arrange 4 pieces of lobster on top. Pour ½ cup of the coconut milk into each package. Tie the packages with kitchen twine and bake them for 15 to 20 minutes. When the lobster tails are cooked, the shells will turn a beautiful coral color that you can see through the paper. You really don't want the lobster to be overcooked, so after 15 minutes, open up a package to check how it's going.
**4.** Garnish with fresh basil and mint and serve in the paper, or with a side of rice or noodles.
Mediterranean Lobster Tails.
### _Variation_
mediterranean lobster tails
This adaptation of the Asian Lobster Tails recipe uses the same method and can also be made with either mussels or shrimp in different packets. It's really wonderful served with Garlic Bread Stuffed with Italian Herbs so that you can mop up all the beautiful juices from the seafood.
Simply substitute 2 tablespoons capers for the lemongrass, chiles, ginger, and cilantro; 2/3 cup sauvignon blanc or other dry white wine for the coconut milk; a sliced half lemon for the lime; and a couple of dill sprigs for the mint.
## cornmeal squid with avocado and yogurt sauce
{ Serves 4 }
I know a lot of people don't like squid, or the idea of it, but I think that's unfair. In fact, most people love fried calamari, and this is a sort of variation on that. It's very easy to make, and definitely worth a try.
1 pound squid, cleaned
3 cups vegetable oil, for frying
1/2 cup all-purpose flour, for dusting
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 eggs
1/2 cup cornmeal, for dusting
1/2 tablespoon ground turmeric
Avocado and Yogurt Dipping Sauce
Fresh cilantro sprigs, for garnish
**1.** Clean the squid and cut it into bite-size pieces.
**2.** Heat the oil in a saucepan over medium-high heat.
**3.** Set up 3 bowls to dust and dredge the squid before frying. In the first bowl, combine the flour with salt and pepper to taste. In the second bowl, beat the eggs lightly. In the third bowl, mix the cornmeal and turmeric.
**4.** Working in small batches, dredge the squid in the flour mixture, then dip it in the egg and coat it with the cornmeal mixture.
**5.** When the oil is hot enough, still working in batches, carefully drop the squid into the oil and let it cook for 20 seconds. Use a slotted spoon to remove the squid and drain it on paper towels.
**6.** Serve over Avocado and Yogurt Sauce and topped with a few sprigs of cilantro.
NOTE: _To test the oil to see whether it's ready, drop a tiny bit of cornmeal into the saucepan. If it bubbles, the oil is ready._
## fish tacos
{ Serves 2 to 4 }
I know, I know, everybody has their version of a fish taco. But I've included mine here because I've gotten so much positive feedback on it. It's super-simple and full of zesty lime.
If you don't feel like a taco, the tasty fish mixture can be eaten by itself with a side salad, or even served on top of Lime and Cilantro Rice.
Extra virgin olive oil
1/4 red onion, thinly sliced
1 tablespoon minced fresh cilantro stems
1/2 tablespoon ground cumin
1/2 tablespoon ground coriander
1 tomato, roughly chopped
12 ounces tilapia or snapper (or ask the fishmonger to recommend something similar), cubed
1 garlic clove, minced
2 scallions, thinly sliced
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Juice of 11/2 limes
1 large handful fresh cilantro leaves
6 small flour tortillas
**1.** Get a skillet very hot over high heat and add 2 tablespoons olive oil. Add the onion and sauté for about 4 minutes, allowing it to brown slightly but not burn.
**2.** Reduce the heat to medium and add the cilantro stems, cumin, and coriander. Sauté for a couple of minutes to toast the spices, then add the tomato, fish, and garlic. Sauté for about 2 minutes, until the fish is done (you'll see when it's done when it's just turned white and falls apart to the touch). Add the scallions, salt and pepper to taste, the lime juice, and cilantro leaves. Give a final gentle toss, taking care not to crush the fish. Check the seasoning and serve with tortillas. Make sure there's enough lime in the dish; it'll lift the whole thing.
## green quinoa–crusted bass
{ Serves 4 }
I love the idea of a crust or topping on a fish like this, but I don't like the thought of that crust being filled with bread crumbs and butter, so this is my healthier version. Eating fish is good for you, and using quinoa in this recipe makes the dish even healthier.
This is another one of those dishes that looks like a lot more effort than it is. The first time around, you'll need to follow the pictures and read through the recipe, but afterward you'll whip it up quickly. It's great for a dinner party because you can prep the fish hours in advance and keep it covered in the refrigerator. Just bring it out about 20 minutes before you put it in the oven so that it's not fridge-cold.
1/4 cup pine nuts
1/4 cup uncooked quinoa
1 garlic clove, minced
Zest of 1/2 lemon
Extra virgin olive oil
2 cups tightly packed fresh green herbs (a mix of parsley, dill, mint, cilantro, and basil)
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Four 4-ounce boneless, skinless pieces of bass
Tomato and Leek Sauce
**1.** Toast the pine nuts in a small dry skillet over low heat for about 2 minutes, until lightly browned. Watch carefully so that they don't burn.
**2.** Cook the quinoa in boiling water for about 15 minutes and drain. Place it back in the dry saucepan over low heat and stir for 1 minute to remove excess water. Remove from the heat and let cool.
**3.** Add the quinoa to a blender with the garlic, pine nuts, lemon zest, 1/4 cup olive oil, herbs, and salt and pepper to taste. Blend until it forms a smooth paste. Check the seasoning and adjust as necessary (see photos).
**4.** Lay some plastic wrap flat on a clean work surface and spoon the mixture onto the plastic wrap. Top with another layer of plastic wrap. Using a rolling pin, roll the mixture into a rough rectangle that's about 1/4 inch thick. This will be your crust. Place it on a plate in the fridge to stiffen up for about 30 minutes.
**5.** Preheat the oven to 450°F.
**6.** Remove the crust from the fridge and place it on the work surface again. Peel off the top layer of plastic wrap and discard it. Then, using a knife, cut out 4 pieces of the crust to match the size of your fish. Rub the fish in a bit of olive oil. Use a spatula to pick up the crust pieces and place them on top of the fish.
**7.** Season the bottom of a baking sheet with salt, pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil and place the pieces of fish on the sheet.
**8.** Bake the fish for about 5 minutes, until cooked to your liking. Serve on top of Tomato and Leek Sauce.
## herb, lemon, and caper–stuffed trout
{ Serves 2 to 4 }
This is a very simple way to cook fish. You can use snapper, bass, bronzini—they'll all work well. Simply adjust the time accordingly.
2 whole trout, about 12 ounces each, descaled
2 handfuls fresh herbs (such as dill, parsley, or cilantro)
About 6 lemon slices
3 heaping tablespoons capers
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
A few lugs of extra virgin olive oil
**1.** Preheat the oven to 375°F.
**2.** Using kitchen scissors, cut off the fins of the trout to neaten them up and so they don't burn.
**3.** Stuff the fish with the herbs, lemon slices, and capers. Season the inside of the fish with salt and pepper and add a drizzle of olive oil.
**4.** Place the fish on a baking sheet, drizzle some olive oil over the top of the fish, then season well with salt and pepper.
**5.** Pop in the oven for about 12 minutes, depending on the size. To test for doneness, remove the fish and give the flesh a pinch with your pointer finger and thumb—if it flakes easily, it's cooked; if not, return to the oven for a few more minutes.
## lobster quinoa
{ Serves 6 }
This is another DVF favorite—it's so luxurious and fresh.
When I'm aboard _Eos_ , I'm often approached by fishermen in little boats carrying huge whole lobsters. Cooking lobster sometimes can be daunting because it might seem like a massive effort to buy and prepare the whole thing. When I'm on land, I usually just buy the tails, so I'd recommend you try that too.
The horseradish is the secret weapon in this quinoa, so definitely make sure to get some, even for just a small amount. You can add more if you like an extra kick. (I do!)
You could buy cooked lobster tails if you don't want to get into cooking them—in that case, start at step 3.
6 lobster tails, shell on, cut in half with kitchen scissors
Extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup sauvignon blanc or other dry white wine
1 fresh dill sprig
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 heaping cups uncooked quinoa
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1/4 cup good-quality mayonnaise (see Note)
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 red onion, finely chopped
4 teaspoons jarred prepared horseradish (not the sauce)
Tabasco sauce (just a few shakes or a lot of shakes)
Juice of 1 lemon
1 handful fresh mint leaves, roughly chopped
1 handful fresh dill sprigs, roughly chopped (no big stems)
1 handful fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
Squeeze of agave nectar
**1.** If you're not using cooked lobster tails, preheat the oven to 350°F.
**2.** Place the lobster tails, olive oil, wine, dill, and salt and pepper to taste in a foil pouch. Bake for about 20 minutes, checking after 15 minutes, until the lobster is just cooked through and opaque in the middle. Let cool.
**3.** Cook the quinoa in boiling water for 15 minutes and drain. Return to the saucepan over low heat; stir for 1 minute with a wooden spoon to remove the excess water.
**4.** Place the warm quinoa in a large glass bowl and mix in the tomatoes, mayonnaise, garlic, onion, horseradish, Tabasco, and lemon juice.
**5.** While the lobster is still warm, add it to the quinoa, gently breaking up the lobster meat into manageable-size pieces. (If you have precooked lobster, break it up and add it here.) Mix in the herbs so that they all fuse together nicely and the flavors meld. The rough edges of the lobster will help it soak up the other flavors.
**6.** Set aside to cool to room temperature or cover and refrigerate until you're ready to serve. Just before serving, add some more lemon juice, salt, pepper, and agave to balance.
NOTE: _I don't use a lot of mayonnaise, but when I do, I use Kewpie mayonnaise. It's the best for cooking because it's mild and smooth and not too fatty or thick. It's a Japanese product, but it's getting easier and easier to find at grocery stores or specialty shops, and I like the packaging!_
## poached salmon with shrimp served on couscous
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
Poaching is a wonderful way to cook fish because it's completely gentle and stress-free, so the result is a beautifully delicate piece of fish. This dish is full of its own natural flavor because the salmon poaching liquid is used to cook the shrimp and couscous. It's also a really easy dish to make and great for a dinner party when you want to make it seem special but not have to do too much.
I love to serve this dish with a very simple but delicious Avocado, Arugula, and Spinach Salad, but it can go with anything you like.
1/2 bottle good sauvignon blanc or other white wine
2-pound side of wild salmon (ask your fishmonger to debone a side, and skin it too, if you like)
2 garlic cloves, roughly crushed with the back of a knife
1 handful fresh dill leaves
1 handful fresh parsley leaves
1/2 Meyer lemon, cut into wedges
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Extra virgin olive oil
1/2 pound shrimp, shelled and deveined
1 heaping cup uncooked couscous
Zest of 1 lemon
1 handful mixed fresh herb leaves (such as parsley, dill, and mint), three-quarters roughly chopped and one-quarter reserved for garnish
**1.** Preheat the oven to 300°F.
**2.** To make the poaching liquid, pour the wine and ½ cup water into a baking dish large enough to hold the salmon and add the garlic, dill, parsley, and lemon wedges. Season with salt and pepper and give it a little taste to make sure you can taste the salt.
**3.** Place the salmon in the baking dish. It should be almost completely submerged, though if a bit of the surface is exposed, it's fine. Drizzle a little olive oil over the top and season with a little more salt and pepper. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes, until the fish looks about halfway cooked.
**4.** Add the shrimp to the baking dish and make sure they are fully submerged around the salmon, then return the dish to the oven for another 8 minutes or so. Important: You don't want to overcook the shrimp. You'll know they're cooked when they become opaque instead of translucent, but if you're not sure, take one out and pull it in half to check. Just remember that it should be delicately poached and tender when it's done, not undercooked and certainly not tough. As for the salmon, I like mine a little rare in the middle, but you can cook yours through; just take special care not to overcook. The easiest way to test for doneness is to pull the salmon out of the oven and gently press down on the middle of the fillet with your fingertips. When it's perfectly done, it will give way in the shape of flakes. Raw feels, well, raw, and overcooked feels firm and tight. When it just starts to fall apart from a gentle prod, you're good.
**5.** Remove the baking dish from the oven, take ½ cup of the beautiful hot poaching liquid, and add it to a bowl with the couscous. Cover the salmon with aluminum foil to keep it warm, and cover the couscous with plastic wrap. Let the couscous sit for 5 minutes, or until all the liquid is absorbed and the couscous is tender. Fluff the couscous with your fingertips and add the lemon zest and the chopped mixed herbs.
**6.** To serve, spread the couscous out on a serving platter and carefully place the salmon in the middle of the plate. The trick is to lift the salmon out slowly! If possible, ask someone to help you by using a couple of spatulas and working together. To finish off the dish, spoon over some of the extra poaching liquid and garnish with the remaining herb leaves and the cooked Meyer lemon wedges.
NOTE: _If you're not going to eat the salmon with the couscous, let the fish cool down a little in the stock and then lift it out onto a platter. Throw some fresh herbs over the top and serve. Or cool, refrigerate for up to a couple of days, and serve it flaked on a salad or pasta._
## south african pickled fish
{ Serves 4 }
This is a very typical Cape Malay dish from Cape Town, where I grew up. The food in the region is heavily influenced by the Malay people, who used to pickle their fish as a way to preserve them.
Pickled fish is a traditional dish at Easter and is best served with warm crusty white bread.
Extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon ground turmeric
1/2 tablespoon curry powder
2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons thinly sliced fresh ginger
8 peppercorns
1 bay leaf
1/2 white onion, cut into rings
11/2 cups white vinegar
1/2 cup agave nectar or 3/4 to 1 cup sugar
1 tablespoon Maldon or other flaky salt
1 pound firm-fleshed white fish, such as arctic char
All-purpose flour seasoned with salt and pepper for dusting, plus 1 teaspoon flour for thickening
Fresh cilantro sprigs, optional
**1.** Heat a lug of olive oil in a medium saucepan over low heat. Add the turmeric, curry powder, garlic, ginger, peppercorns, and bay leaf and stir for a few minutes. The smell of the spices toasting will fill the house, so open some windows if you can. This first step lets the spices gently toast by themselves, which releases all the goodness in them. Add the onion and cook for a couple more minutes, until the rings are soft, taking care not to let the spices burn.
**2.** Add the vinegar, ½ cup water, the agave nectar, and salt to the saucepan and gently simmer for about 15 minutes, until it's thickened and has become a little viscous.
**3.** Meanwhile, get a skillet hot and add a little olive oil. Dredge the fish well in the seasoned flour. Fry the fish for a few minutes on each side; it is done when the flesh is tender to the touch. Prod it gently with your finger, and if it looks like it could push apart in flakes, it's done. Set aside.
**4.** Pour the spice-vinegar liquid into a baking dish and carefully place the fish in it. Make sure that the fish is fully submerged in the liquid and covered with the onion and garlic pieces.
**5.** Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 days.
**6.** When the fish is pickled and ready, serve it with cilantro, if you like.
## tuna and udon noodles with ginger dressing
{ Serves 2 to 4 }
This is a lovely summery lunch dish. It can be served as a meal for two, or you could double it up and serve it to a group with an Asian slaw alongside.
4 ounces udon noodles
Sesame oil
1 garlic clove, minced
1 large thumb-size piece ginger, minced (preferably over a bowl to catch the juices)
1/3 cup soy sauce
1 tablespoon agave nectar
3 scallions, thinly sliced on the diagonal
1 small handful fresh mint leaves, very roughly chopped, plus sprigs, for garnish
1 handful fresh cilantro leaves, roughly chopped, plus sprigs, for garnish
1/2 pound sushi-grade tuna
2 radishes, thinly sliced and crisped in ice water, for garnish
1 lime, neatly quartered, seeds removed
2 tablespoons black sesame seeds, optional
**1.** Cook the udon noodles according to the package directions. Drain and toss with a little sesame oil to stop them from sticking and set aside.
**2.** In a glass bowl, combine the garlic, ginger, soy sauce, agave nectar, scallions, and noodles. Give the mixture a good toss, then add the mint and cilantro leaves.
**3.** Get a skillet very hot and add a good lug or two of sesame oil. Add the tuna to the pan, giving it a shake back and forth for the first minute or so to prevent it from sticking. How long you cook the tuna really depends on how you like it. I like a quick 20 seconds on each side, so it's colored on the outside and nice and rare in the middle, but it's up to you.
**4.** When the tuna is cooked, let it sit on a cutting board for a minute or so. While the tuna is resting, lift the noodles onto a plate and dress with some of the sauce. Cut the tuna into thick slices and arrange them on top of the noodles. Spoon over any leftover sauce and garnish with cilantro and mint sprigs and radish slices. Top with a couple of lime quarters, and if you like, sprinkle with the sesame seeds.
## shrimp with citrus sweet potato
{ Serves 3 to 4 }
This dish reminds me of something similar I tasted in a restaurant in New York. I loved the idea of citrus with sweet potato. This is a really great dish to do on a large platter and serve in the middle of the table.
1 pound sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
Extra virgin olive oil
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 teaspoons agave nectar
2 teaspoons minced fresh ginger
1/2 garlic clove, minced
2 limes (1 for juice and 1 for wedges)
1 orange
2 pounds medium shrimp, peeled and deveined
3 ounces bay scallops
Leaves from 1/3 bunch fresh cilantro
**1.** Preheat the oven to 400°F.
**2.** Place the sweet potatoes on a piece of aluminum foil. Coat with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Add a drizzle of agave nectar and give it a quick toss to coat the sweet potato pieces. Seal the foil into a package and roast the sweet potatoes for about 40 minutes, until they are bright orange and soft to the touch but not mushy.
**3.** Tip the sweet potatoes into a glass bowl, along with any juices that might have collected in the bottom of the aluminum foil. This will be a wonderfully tasty oil, so don't waste any of it.
**4.** With the back of a fork, crush the sweet potatoes to create a rough mash. Add the ginger and garlic. Squeeze in the juice of half a lime and half the orange, season with salt and pepper, and adjust the seasonings as desired. Set aside to bring to room temperature.
**5.** Throw the shrimp into a smoking hot skillet, and season with salt and pepper. Cook for about a minute on each side, depending on the size of the shrimp. You want to get some color on the shrimp, so the pan really needs to be hot, but be careful not to overcook the shrimp—remember that they'll continue to cook once you've taken them out of the pan.
**6.** When the shrimp are cooked halfway through, throw in the scallops. Cook until they are opaque in the middle—this should only take a minute or so. Near the end of the cooking, add a small squeeze of lime juice and orange juice. Warning: It'll give off quite a bit of smoke—just be sure to keep the pan moving and you'll create some really great flavors in that hot pan.
**7.** Put the sweet potatoes on a plate and top with the shrimp and scallops. Pour any pan juices on top. Tear some fresh cilantro leaves over the top and garnish with a couple of lime wedges.
## cilantro fish
{ Serves 4 }
Bass is a beautiful fish, so I try not to do too much to it. One of my favorite things about it is its delicate texture, so I cook it in the oven—which is more gentle—rather than in a frying pan. This is best served over Tamarind and Coconut Lentils.
marinade
1 teaspoon minced ginger
1 garlic clove, minced
Zest of 1/2 lime
11/2 handfuls fresh cilantro leaves
3 to 4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Maldon or other flaky salt
Squeeze of agave nectar
Four 4-ounce pieces of boneless, skinless bass
Tamarind and Coconut Lentils
**1.** Preheat the oven to 400°F.
**2.** Combine all the marinade ingredients in a blender and blend until completely smooth. Check the seasoning.
**3.** Lay the fish in a baking dish and top with the marinade. Using your hands, gently toss the fish in the sauce so that it's distributed evenly.
**4.** Bake for about 6 minutes, until cooked to your liking. Be sure to check halfway through to see how it's going! Serve on top of Tamarind and Coconut Lentils.
## ecuadorian-inspired ceviche
{ Serves 2 or 3 }
Ceviche is something I crave every now and then. It's sharp and vibrant and gets my taste buds going.
I spent a couple of days in mainland Ecuador looking for food suppliers while _Eos_ was in the Galápagos Islands. I was by myself in Quito, which is notoriously dangerous, wandering the streets going from market to market. I made it out safe and sound, and although it wasn't a comfortable experience, I'm grateful for the ceviche I ate there.
Ecuadorians add ketchup to their ceviche, which sounds terrible, but a little bit makes an already good dish more interesting. In my recipe it's almost undetectable after the two hours in the fridge, but it makes a difference. I think you should give it a try, but make sure you use only the very best quality ketchup. If you don't have that, then you can leave it out of the recipe.
10 ounces striped bass (you could use halibut, or another type of bass, if you like), diced into 1/2-inch pieces
2 lemons
2 tomatoes, seeded and neatly diced
2 tablespoons finely chopped red onion
1 teaspoon agave nectar
1 handful cilantro, roughly chopped
1 small garlic clove, minced
1 teaspoon minced fresh ginger
1 tablespoon chopped mint
11/2 teaspoons best-quality ketchup (optional)
Maldon or other flaky salt
Tortilla chips, for serving (optional)
Combine all the ingredients in a nonreactive bowl and refrigerate for at least 2 hours and up to 24 hours. When you're ready to serve, give it a good mix around and check your seasoning. I like to eat ceviche with good-quality tortilla chips.
Morocco.
Istanbul.
## beef tagliata with chopped arugula and basil salad
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
This recipe makes my mouth water. It's simple in execution and ingredients, but it's so good and will appeal to anyone. The chopped salad is basically a pesto but kept rough, which works best with the grilled meat. To avoid the expense of a big tenderloin, you could serve this with any piece of grilled meat, particularly beef.
One 5-pound beef tenderloin
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil, plus more for coating the tenderloin
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup pine nuts
1 garlic clove, minced
3/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
3 handfuls arugula, very roughly chopped
2 handfuls fresh basil leaves, very roughly chopped
Freshly grated lemon zest
**1.** Preheat the oven to 450°F.
**2.** Rub the tenderloin with olive oil to coat, then a generous amount of salt and pepper. Place it in a smoking hot ovenproof skillet and brown all sides of the beef, a couple of minutes on each side. Set the skillet in the oven to roast the beef for about 20 minutes—15 if the meat is a bit shy of 5 pounds. This cut of meat is really best served rare to medium rare, but allow more time to cook it if you like it more well done.
**3.** Meanwhile, in a small dry skillet over medium-low heat, toast the pine nuts for 2 to 3 minutes, until golden, stirring often and taking care that they don't burn. Lightly crush the pine nuts and set them aside to cool.
**4.** Remove the beef from the oven and transfer to a cutting board; cover in foil and allow the meat to rest for at least 15 minutes.
**5.** Meanwhile, to make the salad, combine the pine nuts, garlic, Parmesan, arugula, basil, 1 tablespoon olive oil, and lemon zest. Season with salt and pepper.
**6.** To serve, slice the beef and spread it out on a platter. Dress it with the chopped arugula and basil salad.
## cape malay lamb curry
{ Serves 4 }
The food in South Africa is really diverse, and there's a big Malay influence in Cape Town, where I'm from, which results in dishes that are wonderfully spiced and fragrant. This is my version of a Cape Malay curry. I serve it with Cardamom Rice and Pineapple and Chile Relish, and it's also great with finely diced banana scattered over the curry. It may sound strange, but it's a great little addition, and something I remember so clearly from eating my grandmother's curry.
2 pounds lamb stew meat, cut into 1-inch chunks
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Extra virgin olive oil
1/2 red onion, roughly chopped
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 thumb-size piece ginger, minced
2 teaspoons ground turmeric
2 tablespoons ground coriander
2 tablespoons curry powder
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1/3 cup finely chopped fresh cilantro stems
1 bay leaf
1 cinnamon stick
About 5 peppercorns
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
Two 14.5-ounce cans diced tomatoes
1 large handful fresh cilantro leaves
Agave nectar
Cardamom Rice
Pineapple and Chile Relish
**1.** Preheat the oven to 350°F. Place the lamb in a medium bowl and toss with some salt and pepper.
**2.** Get a Dutch oven very hot on the stovetop. When it's just smoking, add a lug of olive oil and the lamb, working in batches so that the pieces of lamb don't touch (or they will stew, not brown). Sear the lamb on all sides for at least 10 minutes, until beautifully brown. This stage is very important—it will add lots of flavor. Remove the lamb from the pot and turn the heat down a little.
**3.** Add the onion and cook for about 5 minutes, until browned, but don't let it burn. Keep the onion pieces moving to pick up some of the brown from the meat and to develop their sweetness. Reduce the heat to low and cook for 1 minute, then add the garlic, ginger, turmeric, coriander, curry, cumin, cilantro stems, bay leaf, cinnamon, peppercorns, and lemon zest. Stir for a few minutes to form a paste and toast the spices.
**4.** Add the tomatoes, 1½ cups water, and salt to taste. Cover and place in the oven. Cook the curry for 1 hour, then remove the pot and stir. If there is a lot of liquid still remaining, keep the pot uncovered to let some of those juices go; otherwise, keep it covered. Return to the oven to cook for 30 minutes, or until the lamb is starting to fall apart.
**5.** Let the pot sit off the heat for about 15 minutes to allow the meat to rest and settle. Stir in the cilantro, a squeeze of agave nectar, and the lemon juice. Serve with Cardamom Rice and Pineapple and Chile Relish.
## chicken and beef koftas
{ Serves 4 }
These are delicious. A kofta is basically the Middle Eastern version of a meatball. I've included a couple versions of them, so you can see how easy to make and tasty they are. Play around with the different methods and ingredients, and try mixing it up to see what you like best. I can safely say that koftas make a lot of people happy, so it's worth adding them to your repertoire.
I serve these with Spinach, Pomegranate, Dill, and Cilantro Chopped Salad.
1/2 pound ground beef
1/2 pound ground organic, free-range chicken
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons ground coriander
1/3 cup chopped fresh cilantro
Zest of 1/2 lemon
3 tablespoons chopped red onion
1 large garlic clove, minced
1 egg yolk
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
3 ounces feta cheese, crumbled
2 tablespoons canola oil
Spinach, Pomegranate, Dill, and Cilantro Chopped Salad
**1.** Put the beef, chicken, cumin, coriander, cilantro, lemon zest, onion, and garlic in a large glass bowl and mix well with your hands (hands are really the best mixers here). Add the egg yolk, a couple of good pinches of salt, and pepper to taste and mix again. Add the feta and gently mix it in. Wrap the mixture with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 10 minutes or up to 2 hours.
**2.** Remove the meat from the fridge and form it into elongated meatballs, kind of like the shape of a football, or any shape you like. I use about 2 tablespoons of the meat mixture per meatball.
**3.** Heat the oil in a sauté pan over medium-high heat until the pan is very hot. Working in batches if necessary, add the meatballs to the hot pan and cook them on all sides for about 3 minutes total. They'll taste so much better with some good color on them, so shake the pan around to brown them evenly on all sides. Remove them from the pan and place in aluminum foil to form a parcel. Pop them in the oven for another 5 minutes to finish them off.
**4.** Serve with Spinach, Pomegranate, Dill, and Cilantro Chopped Salad.
## chicken stew with lemon and a side of israeli couscous
{ Serves 3 }
This stew is always a hit. It's very, very simple but so comforting and full of flavor, and I like the texture of the Israeli couscous with it.
One of my favorite guests on the boat, Antonia, used to love when I made her a little chicken potpie. Try using this stew as a potpie mix. Just place it in a baking dish or little ramekins and cover with some good-quality puff pastry. Brush with some egg wash (beaten egg with milk) and pop in a 400°F oven till golden brown. That's love in a baking dish.
6 boneless, skinless organic chicken thighs
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Extra virgin olive oil
Just under 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup sauvignon blanc or other white wine
4 ounces shiitake mushrooms, stems removed, roughly chopped
6 ounces button mushrooms, roughly chopped
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
4 celery stalks, chopped
2 garlic cloves, grated on a Microplane
1 bay leaf
2 fresh thyme sprigs
2 cups uncooked Israeli couscous
Lemon zest
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 large handful fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, roughly chopped
1 small handful fresh dill, roughly chopped
1 large handful baby cress or baby spinach
**1.** Slice half the chicken thighs into 6 pieces and the other half into 3 pieces. In stews I like having different-size pieces of meat, as it adds a nice texture. Place the chicken into a large bowl and season well with salt and pepper.
**2.** Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large saucepan or Dutch oven over high heat. When it's very hot, add the chicken. You want it to be really hot so that the chicken gets lovely and brown in parts. When the chicken pieces have colored a little, turn the heat off, put the chicken back into the bowl, add the flour, and toss to coat.
**3.** Add the wine to your original pot and use a wooden spoon to get all the pieces off the bottom of the pot. Pour this mixture over the flour-coated chicken pieces.
**4.** Using the same pan over high heat, add another lug of olive oil. When it's smoking hot, add the mushrooms. Again, you want them to color slightly, to bring out the best of their flavor. Cook for about 4 minutes, stirring occasionally. Don't add more oil, even if the mushrooms look dry at first (see Note), as they will soften in time.
**5.** Reduce the heat to low. When the pan has cooled a little, add the onion and celery and let them sweat down for about a minute, then add the garlic, bay leaf, and thyme. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes, until softened.
**6.** Add the chicken mixture, making sure you get everything out of the bowl, and 4 cups of water to the pan and season very lightly with salt and pepper. Bring to a simmer and simmer for about 1 hour, stirring occasionally.
**7.** In the meantime, place the Israeli couscous in a saucepan of salted boiling water and cook for 8 to 10 minutes, until al dente. Drain, add the zest, and season well.
**8.** The chicken will fall apart to the touch when it's ready, or if you like it to be more broken up, cook it longer—I like it so that it's only just able to hold itself together. Remove it from the heat, add the lemon juice, and season with salt and pepper. Add the parsley and dill.
**9.** Serve the chicken over the couscous and a handful of baby cress. I prefer cress because it's wonderfully peppery and fresh tasting, but if you can't find it, spinach works well, too.
NOTE: _Mushrooms are interesting because they're like little sponges—they soak up all the olive oil when they're being cooked. A common mistake is to saturate them because they do start out looking dry, but give them time—when they cook, they relax, and all that oil they soaked up will be released. So as tempting as it is to add oil, just let them be, and they'll keep their own flavor, rather than being overwhelmed by oil._
## chicken tagine
{ Serves 3 }
My Moroccan friend Naima taught me how to make this tagine. Her cooking is so wonderfully tasty, simple, and authentic, and this is a particularly great recipe.
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
3 pounds boneless, skinless organic, free-range chicken thighs, cut in half
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
1 red onion, cut into 8 wedges
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 thumb-size piece ginger, minced
2 pinches saffron threads
Maldon or other flaky salt
One 15-ounce can chickpeas
1/3 cup green olives, pitted and halved
1/2 lemon
Agave nectar
1/2 cup roughly chopped fresh cilantro
1/2 cup roughly chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
**1.** Heat the olive oil in a large saucepan until it's smoking hot. Add the chicken pieces and give them time to get some good color on each side, about 2 minutes, untouched, per side. Lower the heat to very low and wait a minute for the pan to cool a bit, then add the turmeric. Cook for a minute to toast the spice—you'll know when it's done toasting because you'll smell it (see Note).
**2.** Add the onion and stir for about a minute, then add the garlic, ginger, saffron, and a large pinch of salt. Add the chickpeas, including enough of their own liquid, to cover all the contents plus about an inch. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat to a simmer, cover partway with a lid, and cook for about 40 minutes, until you can see the chicken has started to become more tender and the whole mixture looks thicker and comes together.
**3.** Remove the lid and give the stew a good stir. Simmer for another 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. If it looks as though the pot is too dry, you can add a bit of water.
**4.** Add the olives and cook for 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and let it sit for a few minutes to rest. Add the lemon juice and season with salt and agave, so that it's right for you. Finish with the cilantro and parsley.
NOTE: _Toasting a spice really brings out its flavor, and this recipe is a great use of the technique. Just take care not to burn the spices, or their flavor will be lost. When you're toasting spices, your nose will be the best way to tell when they're done. It's as if they suddenly burst with aroma. It sounds ridiculous, but I promise that you'll understand when you try it._
## moroccan lamb
{ Serves 4 }
One of the best meals I've ever had was at a restaurant in Marrakech called Dar Yacout. Course after course, the food was extraordinary. Toward the end of the meal, I had a lamb dish that really stuck out; I could taste the saffron and the ginger so clearly. This is my attempt to re-create that dish.
I serve this with steamed couscous and Beet and Orange Salad with a Citrus-Cumin Vinaigrette.
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons ground coriander
2 pounds lamb stew meat, cut into rough 1-inch chunks
Maldon or other flaky salt
2 tomatoes, quartered
11/2 red onions, cut into 6 wedges, root intact
1 bouquet fresh parsley and cilantro (about 7 sprigs of each, tied together well with string)
1 thumb-size piece ginger, minced
2 garlic cloves
1 large pinch saffron
Freshly ground black pepper
Optional additions:
1/4 butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 zucchini, quartered down the middle, then halved lengthwise
1 carrot, quartered down the middle, then halved lengthwise
Half to one 15-ounce can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
Lemon juice
Agave nectar
**1.** In a dry sauté pan over low heat, add the cumin and coriander. Cook for a few minutes, until fragrant and toasted. Set aside.
**2.** Place the lamb in a heavy-bottomed saucepan, sprinkle with salt, give a quick toss, and let rest for 5 minutes. Add just enough water to cover the lamb. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, and simmer, skimming the fat from the stew as it cooks, for about 8 minutes, or long enough to remove some of the impurities.
**3.** Add the tomatoes, onions, herb bouquet, toasted spices, ginger, garlic, saffron, and a pinch of salt. Cover the pan partway and simmer for 35 minutes, stirring occasionally; add water if you feel it's getting too dry.
**4.** Remove the lid and the herb bouquet. Simmer over low heat for 10 minutes, then add the vegetables and/or chickpeas, if using. Cook for another 20 minutes, or until the lamb is fork-tender.
**5.** Taste the stew and season with salt, pepper, lemon, and agave.
## poached chicken with crushed potatoes
{ Serves 2 to 4 }
I love poaching food, like this chicken, because poaching couldn't be simpler and it produces the most tender, flavorful meat. Use the poaching liquid left over in the bag as your sauce—it's the best bit. I serve this chicken on Crushed Potatoes with Asparagus and Tomato. It's such a quick dinner, but so satisfying.
_Equipment: kitchen twine_
4 boneless, skinless organic, free-range chicken thighs, cut into thirds
A few fresh thyme sprigs
2 fresh rosemary sprigs
1 or 2 unpeeled garlic cloves, crushed
Zest of 1/2 lemon (optional)
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2/3 cup sauvignon blanc or other white wine
Crushed Potatoes with Asparagus and Tomato, optional
1 small handful fresh parsley leaves, for garnish
**1.** Preheat the oven to 400°F.
**2.** In a large bowl, combine the chicken, thyme, rosemary, garlic, lemon zest, and olive oil. Season with salt and pepper.
**3.** Set out 2 medium bowls and place a large piece of wax paper over each bowl to make a well. Split the chicken mixture evenly between the 2 bowls, bringing the sides of the wax paper up around the chicken. Pour 1/3 cup of the wine into each paper parcel and tie each one with twine (as shown in the pictures).
**4.** Place the parcels on a baking sheet and bake for 20 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through.
**5.** To serve, either place the little parcels on the table and let guests rip them open themselves, or serve the chicken plated over the Crushed Potatoes with Asparagus and Tomato. Be sure to spoon the wonderful juices on top—they're the best part! Finish with a sprinkle of parsley.
## polenta meatballs with quick red wine and tomato sauce
{ Serves 6 }
I love meatballs! I actually don't know anyone who doesn't (who isn't a vegetarian). They're wholesome and comforting.
I've used cornmeal instead of bread crumbs to make these gluten-free, and a touch healthier too. The addition of the lemon, herbs, and fennel seeds also makes them a little more ballsy. Sorry—it's true, though!
red wine and tomato sauce
Two 15-ounce cans diced tomatoes
13/4 cups red wine (such as merlot)
3 fresh thyme sprigs
1 squeeze agave nectar
3 fresh basil leaves
1 garlic clove, thinly sliced
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
meatballs
1/3 cup pine nuts
1/2 pound good-quality organic ground pork
1/2 pound good-quality organic ground beef
1/4 red onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons fennel seeds, pounded in a mortar and pestle or chopped
2 tablespoons fresh thyme leaves, chopped
1 large handful fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
Zest of 1 lemon
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 egg yolks
1/4 cup cornmeal
Extra virgin olive oil
Cooked pasta of your choice, for serving
Grated Parmesan cheese, for garnish
Fresh basil and parsley leaves, for garnish
**1.** To make the tomato sauce, place the tomatoes in a saucepan, then pour the wine into the empty can and add it to the saucepan as well. Add the thyme, agave nectar, basil, and garlic; season with salt and pepper, give it a good stir, and bring to a light simmer over medium-low heat. Keep an eye on it so that it doesn't boil or get too dry, stirring every so often, for about 30 minutes, until the tomatoes have started to break up and it has a sauce consistency.
**2.** To make the meatballs, in a small dry skillet over medium-low heat, toast the pine nuts until evenly browned, 2 to 3 minutes, stirring often so that they don't burn. Transfer them to a mortar and pestle and grind them until slightly crushed (or simply chop them).
**3.** In a large bowl, combine the pine nuts, pork, beef, onion, garlic, fennel, thyme, parsley, lemon zest, and salt and pepper to taste and mix thoroughly with your hands. This is a time when your hands will do a far better job than any utensil or machine. When the mixture is well combined, add the egg yolks and cornmeal and mix again.
**4.** Give the meat a little taste. (Don't worry that it's not cooked—I taste things before I cook all the time, and I'm probably the healthiest person I know.) It's vitally important that the meatballs are seasoned well; if not, you might as well be making any old meatball. Adjust the seasonings as desired.
**5.** Refrigerate the meat mixture for 10 to 20 minutes to let the meat rest and the flavors mingle.
**6.** Form the meat into any size meatballs you like. I like mine a little smaller than golf balls.
**7.** Get a skillet super-hot and add a lug of olive oil. When the oil starts smoking, add the meatballs (you may need to work in batches, depending on the size of your pan) and cook them on all sides until browned, about 3 minutes total. Turn the heat off, put all the meatballs back into the skillet, add the tomato sauce, and cook for another 3 minutes or so.
**8.** When you're ready to serve, pour the meatballs and sauce over freshly cooked pasta and top with some grated Parmesan cheese. Scatter a few fresh basil leaves on top.
## roast leg of lamb
{ Serves 6 to 8 }
On the baking tray, ready to go.
This is a very simple recipe to make an already great-tasting piece of meat even better, and it's a very versatile dish—you could go hot and serve it traditionally, with potatoes and roast vegetables, such as North African Salad, along with some toasted pita bread.
A few fresh thyme sprigs
2 fresh rosemary sprigs
1 fresh sage sprig
4 garlic cloves, sliced
Zest of 1 lemon
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
One 31/2-pound leg of lamb
**1.** Put the thyme, rosemary, sage, garlic, lemon zest, and salt and pepper to taste in a mortar and pestle and roughly smash it all up. It doesn't have to be a paste, but you're releasing all the wonderful oils in the zest and herbs. Add the olive oil and give it a good mix. Let it sit for a few minutes for the flavors to develop. If you don't have a mortar and pestle, just give everything a rough chop on a cutting board.
**2.** In the meantime, place the lamb in a baking dish. Using a paring knife, make 10 to 15 small holes on each side of the leg.
**3.** Rub the herb mixture all over the lamb, taking care to use your fingers to push the herbs and garlic into the little holes. This will flavor the whole lamb, not just the outside.
**4.** Cover the lamb and place it in the refrigerator. Let it sit for up to 24 hours, if you can. It makes a huge difference and the lamb will be very aromatic. It's a beautiful thing. If you don't have the time for a full 24 hours, no problem at all, but do give it a couple of hours to come to room temperature before you put it in the oven.
**5.** When you're near ready to roast the lamb, preheat the oven to 400°F. Roast the lamb for 30 minutes, then lower the oven temperature to 350°F and roast for another 50 to 60 minutes, depending on how you like your lamb done. I like mine cooked until the inside temperature is at 140°F to 150°F—check it with a meat thermometer.
**6.** Cover the lamb with foil and set aside to rest for 15 minutes. This resting is a really important step to prevent the juices from rushing out of the meat. If you leave it to rest, all those beautiful juices will distribute back into the meat and create the juiciest possible piece of lamb.
## thai curry
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
A lovely bowl of Thai curry served with lime and cilantro rice is a favorite with guests on the boat, and serving this dish is a surefire way to get on the good side of my crewmates. I like to serve it with an Asian slaw on the side, and, if you can find them, shrimp crackers are a treat too.
You can make the curry as hot or mild as you like. I prefer it hot, but I know some people are sensitive. . .every New Zealand crewmate I've ever worked with has a surprisingly low tolerance to heat, so if you're feeding Kiwis, keep it mild!
**curry paste**
1 tablespoon coriander seeds
2 teaspoons cumin seeds
1/2 teaspoon black peppercorns
2 thumb-size pieces ginger, grated
3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1 green or red serrano chile, sliced, including seeds
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro stems
2 lemongrass stalks, tender parts roughly chopped
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
Two 14-ounce cans coconut milk
11/2 tablespoons fish sauce
1 medium eggplant, cut into 1-inch cubes
1 zucchini, cut into 1-inch pieces
6 organic, free-range chicken thighs, each cut into 6 pieces
Juice of 1 to 2 limes
1 tablespoon sugar
1 large handful fresh cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
1 handful fresh mint leaves, roughly chopped
1 handful fresh basil leaves, roughly chopped
Maldon or other flaky salt
Lime and Cilantro Rice
Optional garnishes: lime wedges, sliced chiles, fresh cilantro sprigs
**1.** To make the curry paste, smash the coriander, cumin, and peppercorns in a mortar and pestle. Don't be afraid to make noise. Really smash and pound them until they become a powder, then add the ginger, garlic, chile, cilantro stems, and lemongrass and pound again. This will take a few minutes of stress-relieving effort. Stop when it looks like a paste and starts smelling beautiful.
**2.** Heat the vegetable oil in a large saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the onion and sweat it down until it's translucent and sweet, 3 to 4 minutes. Add the curry paste, making sure you scrape everything out of the mortar and pestle. Cook for about 5 minutes to release the flavors, stirring often and taking care that the mixture doesn't burn.
**3.** Add the coconut milk and give it a stir. Fill the coconut milk cans with water and add the water to the pan. Add the fish sauce, stir to combine, and simmer for at least 30 minutes, until it's thickened. (Note: From here you could either let it cool down and place it in the fridge until you're ready to use it, or continue to finish the curry.)
**4.** Add the eggplant and cook for 10 to 15 minutes, until the eggplant has softened. Add the zucchini and chicken and cook for 15 minutes, or until the chicken is tender. (The wonderful thing about chicken thighs is that they don't need to cook for a long time, and when they're just cooked, they're the most juicy, tender piece of meat.)
**5.** To finish the dish off, season it up with the juice of 1 or 2 limes, depending on how juicy they are, the sugar, herbs, and salt to taste. Check the seasoning. This is a really important step, because it'll bring out all the effort you put into your curry paste.
**6.** Serve the curry with a bowl of steaming hot Lime and Cilantro Rice. You could also garnish it with some lime wedges, sliced chiles, and cilantro sprigs.
NOTE: _This Thai curry doesn't have to be made with chicken. You can drop some shrimp in at the last minute and make it a seafood curry, or just add vegetables and tofu. The most important thing here is really the paste, and to make the most of it, finish the curry well: lots of lime, enough sweetness to balance that, salt, and plenty of fresh herbs._
## whole stuffed chicken
{ Serves 4 }
This is one tasty chicken. The spaghettini might seem like a funny addition, but it soaks up and cooks in the juices of the chicken, mushrooms, and tomatoes so it ends up with the most wonderful texture. I was at a meat counter in San Francisco ordering a deboned chicken when the woman next to me asked what I'd be doing with it. Instead of telling her I'd be stuffing it with mushrooms and prosciutto, I just said, "Pasta." I'm not sure where it came from, but I felt obligated to try it!
This recipe might be off-putting because of all the instructions, but it's just so you understand the process the first time. After that, it's easy. The tying up may seem a little awkward at first, but once you've made this a couple of times, the whole process will take about 15 minutes (and you'll look like a pro).
This is a great dish for entertaining. You can stuff the chicken in advance and keep it wrapped up in the fridge.
_Equipment: 10 pieces of kitchen twine, each cut to 12 to 15 inches_
Extra virgin olive oil
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
5 to 6 ounces oyster mushrooms, diced
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh thyme
11/2 tomatoes, diced
1/3 cup sauvignon blanc or other white wine
1 handful fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
4 ounces soft goat cheese
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
One 21/2\- to 3-pound organic, free-range chicken, deboned
2 ounces uncooked spaghettini
3 ounces prosciutto
2 handfuls spinach leaves, optional
1 cup sauvignon blanc or other white wine or water
**1.** Preheat the oven to 400°F.
**2.** Heat a few lugs of olive oil in a skillet over low heat. Add the onion and garlic and sweat for 3 to 4 minutes.
**3.** Add the mushrooms and thyme and another lug of olive oil if you feel it's too dry. Cook for 4 minutes or so, then add the tomatoes and cook for another 2 minutes. Add the wine and let it simmer away and reduce until the moisture has almost (but not completely) evaporated. Gently mix in the parsley and big dollops of goat cheese. Season really well with salt and pepper. This is important, as it'll act as seasoning for the chicken too.
**4.** Lay the chicken out flat, skin side down, on a clean surface. I like to work on some wax paper—it's easier to clean up, and it'll catch any juices that you can then pour into the baking dish. With a sharp knife, make some slits lengthwise in the breasts on the back side, not the skin side. They are the thickest part of the chicken and you want to be able to push as much of the stuffing down into them as you can.
**5.** Spoon the mushroom mixture inside the chicken, using your hands to really get in there. Shove the stuffing in the legs, in the slits you made in the breasts, and so forth. Crack the spaghettini into rough pieces (it's a rustic dish) and shove them in too. They'll soak up the juices from the chicken and the stuffing and will be amazing. Don't worry too much about overstuffing; if you put too much stuffing in, it'll just kind of squish out when you tie it up. Lay the prosciutto over the top of the stuffing.
**6.** To tie up the chicken, fold the legs back over and place a piece of string under the chicken. Slowly pull the ends together and make a little knot. Don't pull too tight—if you squeeze it too tight now, it'll push the insides out. Continue tying the chicken with the rest of the string until it's nicely secure and relatively tight.
**7.** Place the chicken breast side down in a baking dish. I throw some spinach leaves in the dish first because it makes a nice bed, and the spinach cooks deliciously in the chicken juices, but it's totally optional. Add any leftover stuffing to the bottom of the baking dish and pour any leftover juices over the chicken. This is the stuff flavor comes from.
**8.** Season the outside of the chicken very well with salt and pepper, along with a generous drizzle of olive oil. Pour the wine or water (or a mixture of both) into the baking dish and place in the oven.
**9.** Roast the chicken for about 1 hour or less, depending on the size of the bird. Check it every now and then to see how it's going, and take the opportunity to baste the chicken when you do. I'm a big-time baster—just use a spoon to pour the cooking juices back over the top. The best way to test that the chicken is done is to check the internal temperature; it shouldn't go over 165°F. I usually like to go to 160°F, because the chicken will continue cooking after it's removed from the oven.
**10.** Cover the chicken with foil and let it rest for at least 15 minutes. Don't be tempted to dive straight in, because it'll just lose all the incredible juices. If you let it sit, the juices will settle gently into everything.
**11.** To serve, carefully remove the strings and cut the chicken into ½-inch-thick slices, or your desired thickness. Serve with some crusty fresh bread and a leafy green salad with a lemony vinaigrette.
NOTE: _I can't say it enough: Improvise. Throw some spinach into the stuffing or some pine nuts. And you don't have to use pasta—you could stuff the chicken with couscous, quinoa, anything you like. Have fun!_
## roast chicken stuffed with fennel, potatoes, bacon, and apricots
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
Sometimes people want the comforts of old classics, but also want to feel like they're having something a bit different. This is the dish for such an occasion. It's basically two dishes in one: a veg/side and a roast chicken, except that you're cooking the side dish inside the chicken to give it a lot of extra flavor. In fact, it's kind of like a stuffing, but without the eggs and bread. And it dirties only two cooking vessels, which is always a bonus for a full meal.
One 4-pound organic, free-range chicken
1/2 cup pine nuts
4 strips uncured organic bacon, roughly chopped
1/2 large fennel bulb, thinly sliced
1 leek, white part only, thinly sliced
1 russet potato (about 7 ounces), scrubbed and cut into 1/2-inch pieces
2 fresh thyme sprigs
1 fresh oregano sprig
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon fennel seeds, crushed
Maldon or other flaky salt
Extra virgin olive oil
11/2 cups ale (I use Newcastle Brown Ale)
1 bay leaf
9 apricots, thinly sliced
Freshly ground black pepper
1 handful fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, roughly chopped
Zest of 1 lemon
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
**1.** Set the oven rack to the lower third of the oven and preheat the oven to 450°F. Remove the chicken from the fridge to lose its chill.
**2.** Toast the pine nuts as directed. Transfer to a small bowl and set aside.
**3.** Increase the heat under the skillet to medium, add the bacon, and cook until crispy, 4 to 5 minutes. Reduce the heat to medium-low and add the fennel, leek, potato, thyme, oregano, garlic, and fennel seeds, along with a pinch of salt. You could also add a tablespoon of olive oil if it looks too dry. Cook for about 10 minutes, until the vegetables have softened and caramelized slightly.
**4.** Add 3/4 cup of the ale, the bay leaf, apricots, and pine nuts, and cook for another few minutes, until the liquid has almost evaporated.
**5.** Check the seasoning and adjust as desired. Season with black pepper and add the parsley and lemon zest. Let the mixture cool for a few minutes.
**6.** Stuff the cavity of the chicken with the vegetable mixture. If any doesn't fit, just place it in the roasting pan as a bed for the chicken.
**7.** Slice the butter and place it under the chicken skin over the breasts. Rub about a tablespoon of olive oil over the whole chicken and season generously with salt and pepper. Set the chicken in the roasting pan and add the remaining 3/4 cup ale to the pan.
**8.** Turn the oven temperature down to 400°F and place the roasting pan in the oven. Roast for 1 hour and 15 minutes to 1 hour and 30 minutes, depending on your oven. After an hour, check the internal temperature of the chicken; it shouldn't go above 165°F. The skin will be a rich, dark golden brown color, but don't go by that alone. If you're in doubt, cut into it—just make sure you don't overcook it. No one likes a dry chicken.
**9.** Let the chicken rest under aluminum foil for about 15 minutes before carving and serving with the vegetables.
## lamb and quinoa koftas on soft chickpeas with toasted pita bread
{ Serves 2 to 3 }
It's amazing how much flavor you can shove into one little ball. Here's another version of a nontraditional kofta. Serve this with the Haydari (Turkish dipping sauce).
**lamb**
1/4 cup uncooked quinoa
1/2 pound best-quality ground lamb
2 tablespoons minced red onion
1 large garlic clove, minced
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1/4 teaspoon ground sumac
Pinch cayenne pepper
Leaves from 1/3 bunch fresh cilantro, minced
Zest of 1/2 lemon
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
**chickpeas**
1 teaspoon ground cumin
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
1 large garlic clove, minced
One 15-ounce can chickpeas
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 lemon
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 large pieces pita bread, cut into
11/2-inch strips
1 handful fresh cilantro leaves, for garnish
**1.** Cook the quinoa according to the package directions and drain. Place back over the heat and stir for a minute to remove any excess moisture. Remove from the heat and cool.
**2.** In a large bowl, combine the lamb, onion, garlic, cumin, coriander, sumac, cayenne, cilantro, and lemon zest; season with salt and pepper. Give it a good mix with your hands, add the quinoa, and mix again until the ingredients are evenly distributed. I taste mine here and encourage you to do the same.
**3.** Cover the lamb mixture in plastic wrap and refrigerate it for at least 30 minutes, or up to 6 hours, to firm up a little.
**4.** Meanwhile, prepare the chickpeas. Add the cumin to a dry sauté pan and toast it for a couple of minutes over low heat, stirring often, until fragrant. Add the olive oil to the pan, then the onion and garlic, and sweat them down for about 5 minutes, still over low heat (you're not looking for them to brown). Add the chickpeas along with the liquid in the can. Season with a little salt and pepper and simmer for about 10 minutes. You want the chickpeas to be fork tender but not so soft that they don't hold together. Give the pan a shake every now and then.
**5.** Remove the pan from the heat and let the chickpeas cool a bit. Add a squeeze of lemon juice and check the seasoning. (You'll be reheating the chickpeas quickly when the koftas are cooked.)
**6.** Remove the lamb mixture from the fridge and form it into football shapes. I start by rolling meatballs the size of a golf ball and then I squash them a little to elongate them. Or you can make the meatballs in any shape you like.
**7.** When you're ready to eat, heat a large sauté pan over medium-high heat and add a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. Get the pan pretty hot, but not smoking hot. You want to get nice color on the lamb, but not so much heat that the outsides burn before the insides cook. Place the meatballs one by one in the pan and cook them for about 4 minutes each, until browned on the outside and cooked through in the middle. (If you want to prepare them in advance, cook them for a couple of minutes in a very hot pan to give them some color and then transfer them to a baking dish. When you're ready to serve, finish them off in a 400°F oven for a few minutes.)
**8.** While the meatballs are cooking, gently warm the chickpeas over low heat.
**9.** Place the warmed chickpeas on a serving platter and top with the meatballs. Keep the heat going on the sauté pan that held the meatballs and use that oil to fry the pita bread strips, about 1 minute on each side. Place the pita strips on the side of the platter, top the whole thing with cilantro leaves, and serve.
Costa Rica.
Solomon Islands.
## baked lima beans
{ Serves 6 }
I know I've said it before, but I'm such a big fan of beans. In the winter I love to prepare them this way with a roast chicken. They're good comfort food.
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1/4 red onion, finely chopped
3 garlic cloves, minced
Leaves from 2 fresh thyme sprigs
Four 15-ounce cans lima beans, drained
Two 15-ounce cans diced tomatoes
2 teaspoons powdered mustard
Zest of 1 lemon
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Agave nectar
1 bay leaf
1 handful feta cheese, optional
**1.** Preheat the oven to 275°F.
**2.** Heat the olive oil in a medium saucepan over low heat, add the onion, garlic, and thyme, and sweat until the onion is softened, 4 to 5 minutes.
**3.** Add the beans and cook them lightly for a few minutes, then add the tomatoes, mustard, lemon zest, a couple of good pinches of salt, pepper to taste, a good squeeze of agave, and the bay leaf. Bring to a mild simmer and cook for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
**4.** Check the seasoning, pour the mixture into a 2-quart baking dish, and cover it with foil. Be sure to use a large enough baking dish, or the mixture will bubble over and make a mess. Bake the beans for 30 minutes, or until they are soft and have soaked up the liquid in the baking dish, and it looks as though everything is melded together. If you like, for the last 5 minutes of cooking, remove the foil, add some feta, and give it a little mix through. Serve hot.
## bean casserole
{ Serves 4 }
Beans are so good at soaking up flavor, and they go with almost anything. I like serving bean casseroles to the crew—the boys are always on massive protein kicks, so beans are quite popular. I also recently started adding ginger to beans—what a match! This is great with roast chicken and an arugula salad.
Extra virgin olive oil
1/4 red onion, finely chopped
1 large thumb-size piece ginger, minced
2 garlic cloves, minced
Three 15-ounce cans beans, drained (I recommend 1 cannellini, 1 pinto, and 1 red kidney)
Leaves from 7 fresh thyme sprigs
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
2 tablespoons good-quality ketchup
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
**1.** Preheat the oven to 300°F.
**2.** Heat a little olive oil in a large saucepan over low heat. Add the onion, ginger, and garlic and sweat for about 4 minutes to get the onion translucent and sweet, which is what you're looking for.
**3.** Add the beans, thyme, vinegar, ketchup, and mustard. Cook for another 2 minutes or so, until the mixture comes together. Season with salt and pepper and taste to check the seasoning.
**4.** Pour the mixture into a baking dish, cover it with foil, and punch a few small holes in the foil. (Be sure to use a large enough baking dish, or the mixture will bubble over and make a mess.) Bake for 1 hour, or until the beans are soft, have soaked up the liquid, and have melded together.
**5.** Let the casserole sit for a couple of minutes to cool, then serve.
## beer tempura with simple dipping sauce
{ Serves 2 }
This is an easy alternative way to make tempura, and the results are wonderfully crisp. The beer gives the tempura mixture a great depth, and the cilantro and sesame seeds are interesting additions to the batter.
The recipe makes about 3 cups of batter, but what you fry depends on you. I've given a few examples of foods to use, but try what you like.
**simple dipping sauce**
1/2 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup rice vinegar
1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger
1 teaspoon agave nectar
1 small handful fresh cilantro leaves, finely chopped
A few fresh basil leaves, finely chopped
2 teaspoons red chile flakes
**tempura**
1 cup all-purpose flour
Maldon or other flaky salt
1 tablespoon cornstarch
11/2 cups ice-cold beer (I use Sapporo, but you can use whatever you have in your fridge)
2 tablespoons sesame seeds, optional
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh cilantro stalks, optional
Vegetable oil, for frying
Foods to fry, such as shrimp, sugar snap peas, bok choy, eggplant—the possibilities are endless!
**1.** To make the dipping sauce, combine all the ingredients in a nonreactive bowl.
**2.** To make the batter, combine the flour, salt, and cornstarch in a large bowl and slowly whisk in the beer until smooth. If you're going to add the sesame seeds and/or cilantro, do it now.
**3.** Place a saucepan filled with about 5 inches of oil over high heat and bring to about 350°F. This doesn't actually take very long, and you don't need a thermometer to know when it's ready—just throw in a little piece of vegetable or batter, and if the oil starts bubbling straightaway, it's ready.
**4.** When you're ready to start frying, place the pieces of food in the batter one by one to coat and then gently place them away from you into the hot oil. You can fry a few pieces at a time, depending on the size of your pan. Leave them in the oil for 2 to 3 minutes, until they're a nice golden color.
**5.** Remove the tempura-battered items one by one with a slotted spoon and place them on a plate lined with a paper towel to soak up the oil. Serve as soon as possible with the dipping sauce.
## brussels sprouts and oyster mushrooms with pine nuts
{ Serves 4 }
If you're not keen on Brussels sprouts, pretend you've forgotten and make this recipe anyway. I'm not their biggest fan, but I could eat a whole bowl of this. Try it.
1/4 cup pine nuts
Extra virgin olive oil
3 strips bacon, diced
8 ounces oyster mushrooms, roughly torn
Hazelnut oil
10 Brussels sprouts, trimmed, halved, and thinly sliced
1/4 red onion, minced
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
Freshly ground black pepper
Maldon or other flaky salt
Agave nectar
**1.** In a small dry skillet over low heat, toast the pine nuts until golden, 3 to 4 minutes, stirring often.
**2.** Get a sauté pan smoking hot and add a tiny bit of olive oil and the bacon. Cook until the bacon is nice and crispy, but don't let it burn—you just want to cook the fat off and brown it a bit, about 2 minutes. Add the mushrooms and sauté until they have some color and have soaked up all the rendered bacon fat in the pan, about 4 minutes.
**3.** Pour a small lug of hazelnut oil into the pan. Add the Brussels sprouts and onion to the mixture and toss around for 30 seconds to 1 minute. You want to keep the green color and make sure they don't get too wilted.
**4.** To finish it off, add the vinegar, a few good twists of pepper, salt, and a touch of agave nectar. Add the pine nuts, toss around again a few times, and serve.
## chickpea and corn falafel
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
This takes a bit more effort than most of my recipes, but it's such a great little dish. You'll feel really satisfied when it's done, especially if you make it for friends. Serve it as an appetizer with some toasted pita bread and Haydari sauce or Hummus, or as part of a meal with a lovely piece of roast lamb, some pita bread, dips, and a leafy salad.
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1/4 red onion, minced
1 large or 2 small garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon ground allspice
One 15-ounce can chickpeas
Maldon or other flaky salt
2 cups whole milk
1 bay leaf
Freshly ground black pepper
1 cup yellow cornmeal
1 lemon
About 1 quart vegetable oil, for frying
All-purpose flour, for dusting
Haydari or Hummus, optional
**1.** Heat the olive oil in a large saucepan over low heat. Add the onion and garlic and sweat for 3 to 4 minutes, until the onion is translucent and soft.
**2.** Add the cumin and allspice and cook, stirring, for 1 to 2 minutes, to toast the spices and bring out their flavor. Just don't let them burn!
**3.** Add the chickpeas along with their liquid and a good pinch of salt. Turn the heat up and simmer, stirring occasionally to make sure nothing is sticking or burning. After about 6 minutes, the chickpeas should be fork tender. Use the back of a fork to lightly crush them, but keep some texture—you're not looking to make a puree.
**4.** Add the milk and give it a good stir. Add the bay leaf and a pinch of salt and slowly bring to a simmer again. Cook the mixture down for another 7 minutes or so, stirring occasionally and monitoring the heat. Don't let it cook too quickly, or it'll catch the bottom of the pan and burn.
**5.** Remove the bay leaf and reduce the heat to low. Add the cornmeal and stir with a wooden spoon to incorporate. Take care—it's a hot mixture and it might spit like a little volcano. If this happens, just take it off the heat and keep stirring. Cook for 7 to 8 minutes, until the cornmeal is mostly cooked through but still a bit grainy—give it a taste to check.
**6.** Mix in some black pepper, more salt, and a squeeze of lemon. You almost want to overseason the mixture a bit, because by the time it's rested in the fridge and cooked again, the seasoning will have become a bit muted.
**7.** Remove the mixture from the pan and flatten it onto a plate. Cover with plastic wrap and place in the fridge to cool down for at least 30 minutes. (You can prepare the recipe up to this stage 1 or 2 days in advance.)
**8.** When you're ready to eat, pour the vegetable oil into a large saucepan and heat it over medium-high heat.
**9.** While you're waiting for your oil to heat up, form the falafel. Roll the mixture in your hands to make balls about the size of a golf ball, then gently press them with your palms to form a football shape. The shape isn't too important, but I do find this shape is easiest to work with and creates great crunchy ends and a soft middle. Place the falafels in a small tray of flour and roll them to coat lightly.
**10.** To test the oil, place a pea-size piece of the mixture into the pot—when it rises to the surface and starts bubbling, turning a deep gold color, you're ready to cook. Place one falafel into the oil and fry for 4 to 5 minutes, until it's a deep golden color—I like to test one after cooking to make sure it's piping hot all the way through. Serve warm.
## crushed potatoes with asparagus and tomato
{ Serves 2 to 4 }
I've paired this dish with Poached Chicken, but it would also be lovely with a piece of poached fish. It's a wonderfully tasty dish, and so quick. You just put everything in a pot, smash it up, season, and it's done!
1 pound baby potatoes, halved (I like to use the different colors)
About 12 spears of asparagus, cut into 1-inch pieces
4 ounces cherry tomatoes, halved
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
Zest of 1/2 lemon
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 handful fresh dill, chopped (no big stems)
1 handful fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
Poached Chicken, optional, for serving
**1.** Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add the potatoes and cook for 15 minutes, or until they're just about to fall apart. They should crush easily when pressed with the back of a fork but not be so soft that they're ready to mash.
**2.** When your potatoes are about ready, add the asparagus and cherry tomatoes and let them finish cooking with the potatoes. Drain when the asparagus is crisp-tender. Let sit for a couple of minutes so that the vegetables steam off some excess water.
**3.** Place the potatoes, asparagus, and tomatoes in a large bowl and add the olive oil and lemon zest; season with salt and pepper. Give it a good mix around—the potatoes will soak up the olive oil and the beautiful lemon zest flavor while they're warm. If the potatoes aren't slightly breaking up on their own, pinch them a bit with your fingers to help them along.
**4.** When you're ready to serve, season well and add the fresh herbs. Serve underneath Poached Chicken, if you like, with the beautiful juices from the chicken drizzled over the crushed potatoes.
## cumin pita bread / plain pita bread with spiced oil
{ Makes about 10 pitas }
This is a really simple pita bread recipe, and it's so satisfying to make yourself, either in the oven or as a flatbread on top of the stove (see Note). One of my sous-chefs, DeWaal van Heerden, used to make a flatbread with cumin seeds, and it's a great idea. Now I add cumin to my pitas when I'm serving them with a Middle Eastern–style lunch.
**pita dough**
1 package (1/4 ounce) active dry yeast
1/2 cup warm water
2 teaspoons agave nectar or 1 teaspoon sugar
3 cups all-purpose flour
11/2 teaspoons salt
21/2 teaspoons ground cumin, optional
1 teaspoon cumin seeds, optional
1 cup lukewarm water
Extra virgin olive oil
**spiced oil**
2 fresh oregano sprigs
1 garlic clove
Pinch Maldon or other flaky salt
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
**1.** In a small bowl, combine the yeast, warm water, and agave nectar and let it sit in a warm place for about 15 minutes. You'll see that the yeast is starting to work when it bubbles.
**2.** In the meantime, combine the flour, salt, and cumin, if desired, in a large bowl. Make a little well in the center and lightly flour the work surface.
**3.** Add the yeast mixture to the flour mixture and incorporate with one hand. Add the lukewarm water and slowly incorporate it. Bring it all together to form a lump of dough, turn it onto the floured surface, and knead it with both hands for a solid 10 minutes, or until smooth and elastic. If you feel you're not quite there yet, give it another couple of minutes of kneading.
**4.** Place the dough in a large bowl, lightly rub the dough with some oil, and set it in a warm place to rise for 2 to 3 hours, until at least doubled in size.
**5.** Meanwhile, to make the spiced oil, combine the oregano, garlic, and salt in a mortar and pestle and smash it up. Mix in the olive oil and let it sit for at least 1 hour before using.
**6.** Place a baking sheet in the oven and preheat it to 500°F, or the hottest setting you have.
**7.** For each piece of pita bread, roll a bit of dough into a ball just a little bigger than a golf ball (you'll get about 10 pitas out of the dough). Use a rolling pin to roll each ball into a circle that's about 1/4 inch thick and about 5 to 6 inches across.
**8.** Bake each piece of pita on the hot baking sheet, about 2½ minutes on each side, until it's puffed up and has some good color on it. I make 3 or 4 at a time. Brush the spiced oil over the warm baked pita.
NOTE: _To cook as flatbread, get a dry skillet really hot and cook the rolled-out pita dough one at a time for 2 to 3 minutes on each side._
## stuffed pita breads
{ Makes 10 pita pockets }
These are the greatest! A cook I know from El Salvador told me about pupusas, which are basically stuffed corn tortilla breads. It's such a cool idea, and I thought it might work well with pita bread dough as well—and it does. They're so tasty, and this is a fun way to use up leftovers—you can make these with any leftover meat, such as lamb, chicken, or beef, and top with some fresh arugula and cheese. The recipe below is only a suggestion—stuff them with anything you like. Definitely a crowd pleaser.
2 handfuls arugula
2 tomatoes
4 ounces fresh mozzarella cheese
1/8 red onion, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
Extra virgin olive oil
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 recipe Plain Pita Bread, prepared through step 7 (minus the spice oil), or store-bought pizza dough
**1.** Place the arugula, tomatoes, mozzarella, and onion on a cutting board and finely chop all together. Place in a bowl with the garlic and mix. Drizzle with a tablespoon of olive oil and season well with salt and pepper.
**2.** Dust your left hand (if you're a righty) with some flour and place a dough circle flat in the palm of that hand. With your other (dominant) hand, take a small handful of the salad mixture and squeeze it, making it small enough to place in your palm, as if the dough circle were a baseball glove. Bring the dough together at the top to wrap around the salad mixture and seal with your fingertips. Carefully flatten the ball between the palms of your hands to make a disk about ½ inch thick. Repeat with the remaining dough circles and salad mixture (see photos).
**3.** Place each stuffed pita in a very hot, dry sauté pan and cook for about 2 minutes on each side, until golden, and serve.
## lime and cilantro rice
{ Serves 4 }
This is the first rice recipe I ever made in culinary school. I'd really never even made rice before! Years later, I'm still making it.
2 cups uncooked jasmine rice
2 handfuls fresh cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
1 handful fresh mint leaves, roughly torn
Juice of 2 limes
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 teaspoon sesame oil, optional
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
**1.** Rinse the rice under cold running water until the water runs clear.
**2.** Cook the rice according to the package instructions.
**3.** Add the cilantro, mint, lime juice, vegetable oil, and, if you like, sesame oil. Season well with salt and pepper and serve hot.
## mushroom, pea, and corn ragout
{ Serves 2 to 4 }
I used to make this ragout when I lived and worked at a vineyard in the Napa Valley. Chanterelle mushrooms are easily found there, and you should use them if possible—they're the best. This is lovely with some spring lamb.
2 ears fresh corn
Extra virgin olive oil
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 cup oyster mushrooms, roughly chopped or torn
1/4 red onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 fresh thyme sprigs
About 10 asparagus spears, cut into 1-inch-long pieces
3/4 cup cooked lima beans
3/4 cup green peas, preferably fresh
1/4 pound green beans, halved
1/2 cup shelled fava beans
Zest of 1/2 lemon
1 handful fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, roughly chopped
**1.** Preheat the oven to 500°F.
**2.** Cover a baking sheet with aluminum foil, place the corn on it, cover with a good lug of olive oil, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast the corn for about 10 minutes, until it is nicely colored. Cool slightly, then use a paring knife to remove the kernels from the cobs. Set aside.
**3.** Get a sauté pan smoking hot over high heat and add a tablespoon or so of olive oil, the mushrooms, and some salt and pepper. Toss them around until they have some good color on them, about 4 minutes.
**4.** In a large saucepan, heat 2 tablespoons olive oil over low heat, add the onion, garlic, and thyme, and sweat until the onion is softened, 4 to 5 minutes. Add the asparagus, lima beans, peas, green beans, fava beans, mushrooms, and corn kernels.
**5.** Increase the heat to medium-high, add a splash of water, cover, and cook for about 3 minutes, so that the vegetables cook quickly and retain their bright green color. Add the lemon zest and season with salt and pepper. Top with the fresh parsley and serve.
## moroccan steamed couscous
{ Makes about 4 cups }
My Moroccan friend Naima Benamich, who makes couscous like this, describes a couple of the steps as lightly massaging the couscous. It kind of gets the point across that you're putting a lot of love and effort into the couscous to make it wonderfully light and airy. Serve with Moroccan Lamb.
2 cups uncooked couscous
1 teaspoon Maldon or other flaky salt
1/2 teaspoon olive oil
**1.** Place the couscous in a fine sieve and rinse it under cold water. Spread it out on a baking sheet and let it sit for 5 minutes.
**2.** Break up the couscous between your fingertips to separate all the grains. Place the couscous back in the sieve and set it over a pot of simmering water. Cover the sieve with aluminum foil and steam the couscous for 15 minutes (see photo).
**3.** Transfer the couscous to a bowl and work through it again with your fingertips, both aerating it and breaking up any lumps.
**4.** Transfer it back to the sieve, cover with the foil again, and simmer for another 15 minutes.
**5.** Return the couscous to the bowl and add the salt and olive oil. Break it up with your fingertips again and serve.
## garlic bread stuffed with italian herbs
{ Serves 6 to 8 }
While I was making this recipe to photograph for the book, I was talking about how I'm often too busy to make bread a priority on the boat, but I do bake this bread quite often because it's foolproof and delicious. The photographer's assistant, Janell, was listening when I talked about how to make the bread, and when she went camping that weekend, she made it and cooked it on the fire. What a great idea! It makes me so happy, and if this is something a few friends can enjoy when camping, you know it's a winner!
2 garlic cloves, roughly sliced
1/3 cup loosely packed fresh rosemary leaves, roughly chopped
1/3 cup loosely packed fresh oregano leaves, roughly torn
1/3 cup fresh marjoram leaves, roughly torn
1 small handful fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, roughly torn
Maldon or other flaky salt
3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 loaf of Italian bread (or your favorite unsliced bread)
Freshly ground black pepper
1 handful cherry tomatoes
1 handful black olives
1 handful good-quality feta cheese
**1.** Preheat the oven to 400°F.
**2.** Place the garlic, rosemary, oregano, marjoram, parsley, and a good pinch of salt in a mortar and pestle and smash it up for a few minutes. Really go for it! Add the olive oil, give it a good mix around, and set it aside for about 5 minutes to allow the flavors to develop.
**3.** Cut the bread into vertical slices, but don't cut all the way down to the bottom. You'll be stuffing the slices with deliciousness.
**4.** Give the herb and garlic mixture another good stir in the mortar and pestle, adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper as desired, and spoon the mixture into the bread between the slices, really filling it up.
**5.** Give the tomatoes a little squeeze to break them open (watch out for spatters on T-shirts!) and place them inside the bread. Add the olives. Next, crumble the feta into the bread. Drizzle in any olive oil left in the mortar (and add an extra drizzle if you feel the need).
**6.** Wrap the bread in foil and bake it for 10 minutes. Uncover the top part of the foil to expose the top of the bread and bake for another 7 minutes, or until golden.
**7.** Serve the bread whole and let people pull off pieces of the bread for themselves.
## cardamom rice
{ Serves 4 }
This is my favorite way to cook rice: in a baking dish in the oven. You can add whatever whole spices you want and it'll come out fragrant and wonderful. If you do use whole cardamom, don't eat the pods! You may know that already, but our captain eats them every time and it makes him pull a terrible face.
1 cup uncooked basmati rice
2 or 3 cardamom pods
2 tablespoons salted or unsalted butter
1 bay leaf
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup sliced almonds
**1.** Preheat the oven to 350°F.
**2.** In an ovenproof dish, combine the rice, cardamom, butter, and bay leaf; season with salt and pepper and add 1 cup water. Cover with foil and bake for about 40 minutes, checking after 35 minutes, depending on your oven. You want the rice to soak up all the water but also to look dry (see photo).
**3.** In the meantime, toast the almonds in a small dry skillet over medium-low heat until golden brown, stirring often, 3 to 4 minutes. Set aside.
**4.** Remove the foil and gently fluff the rice with a fork. Check the seasoning, top with the toasted almonds, and serve.
## seed loaf
{ Makes one 5-inch × 10-inch loaf }
Baking bread couldn't get any easier than this, really. You basically just throw everything together, mix, and put it in whatever baking vessel you like. My mother has been making this for years. She got the recipe from a friend in our carpool when I was in kindergarten. She makes it in whatever she can find—mostly old coffee tins, which produce a cool, round loaf. She usually makes two at a time—one for everyone else and one for my father, who only likes to eat it after about four days. He slices it really thick, toasts it, puts some butter on it, then eats it with his eyes closed.
2 cups rye flour
2 cups whole wheat flour
1 tablespoon Maldon or other flaky salt
1 package (1/4 ounce) instant dry yeast
13/4 cups mixed seeds (I use sesame, flax, poppy, pumpkin, and sunflower)
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon agave nectar
**1.** Preheat the oven to 400°F.
**2.** Combine the rye and whole wheat flours, salt, yeast, and seeds in a large bowl. Mix in the oil, vinegar, agave nectar, and 2 cups water. It'll all come together in a sticky dough.
**3.** Place the dough in an oiled loaf pan or tin and press it in. It'll only rise slightly, so you can fill it almost to the top.
**4.** Bake for about 1 hour. You'll know it's done when it starts to color and pull away from the sides of the pan.
## tamarind and coconut lentils
See the photo with the Cilantro Fish
{ Serves 4 }
My intention when I made this sauce was to cook and serve it with mussels. DVF told me afterward that she doesn't eat mussels, but she did love the sauce. So the next time I made her this sauce, I made it with lentils instead. It works equally well with both, so if you're looking for a different way to serve mussels, give them a try in this sauce.
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 garlic clove, minced
1/4 red onion, finely chopped
1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger
1/2 tablespoon curry powder
1 tablespoon pure tamarind paste (see Note)
One 14-ounce can coconut milk
11/2 cups Puy lentils, rinsed
Maldon or other flaky salt
Fish sauce, optional
Agave nectar
1 lime
1 small handful fresh cilantro leaves, chopped
1 small handful fresh basil leaves, chopped
1 small handful fresh mint leaves, chopped
**1.** Heat the vegetable oil in a medium saucepan over low heat. Add the garlic and onion and sweat for a few minutes, until softened, then add the ginger and curry powder. Stir for another couple of minutes, then add the tamarind paste and cook for another minute or so, until fragrant.
**2.** Add the coconut milk, keeping the heat low. You don't want the coconut milk to boil, as it will separate. If this happens, whisk vigorously until it comes back together. Simmer lightly for 30 minutes, or until the liquid thickens.
**3.** In the meantime, cook the lentils in a pot of boiling water for about 20 minutes, until tender, and drain.
**4.** When the sauce is finished, add the lentils and season with salt, fish sauce, if using, and agave nectar. Finish the sauce with a squeeze of lime juice and the chopped herbs.
NOTE: _You can buy tamarind paste at most supermarkets now. It has a lovely tangy, tart flavor. But store-bought paste often has the seeds and skin in it, which are hard and inedible. You need to soak the paste to remove the unwanted bits. To do this, soak 2 tablespoons store-bought tamarind paste in 3 tablespoons of water for about 5 minutes. After it's soaked, pass it through a sieve to get a smooth paste._
_However, if you are able to purchase tamarind without the seeds, you're good to go as is._
## tomato and leek sauce
See the photo with the Green Quinoa–Crusted Bass
{ Serves 4 to 6 }
I've served this sauce with so many dishes, such as the Green Quinoa–Crusted Bass. It's really versatile, but also super-easy and low maintenance to cook.
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 cups thinly sliced leeks (white and green parts)
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 fresh thyme sprigs
4 tomatoes, roughly chopped
1/3 cup sauvignon blanc or other white wine
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Agave nectar, optional
**1.** Heat the olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the leeks, garlic, and thyme and sweat until tender but not browned, 8 to 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.
**2.** Add the tomatoes and wine, season with salt and pepper, and continue to cook for about 30 minutes, until the sauce thickens and everything starts to meld, stirring occasionally.
**3.** Check the seasoning before serving—it may need a touch of agave nectar.
Temple, Halong Bay, Vietnam.
## arugula and walnut pesto
{ Makes about 1 cup }
There's nothing revolutionary about this pesto, but it's super-tasty and versatile. Use this as an easy pasta sauce or sandwich spread, or try a dollop over a grilled steak.
1/2 cup walnuts
1 small garlic clove, minced
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 handfuls arugula
1 small handful fresh basil leaves
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
**1.** In a small dry skillet over medium-low heat, toast the walnuts until golden brown, about 3 to 4 minutes, stirring constantly.
**2.** Combine all the ingredients in a blender and blend until you're happy with the consistency. Some people like their pesto fine and others like a bit of texture to it. I personally like it a bit chunky. Season with more salt and pepper if needed.
## eggplant dip
{ Makes about 3 cups }
This is a super-tasty dip that can be used on sandwiches or at a barbecue or picnic. You can also make it with a large zucchini instead of the eggplant—just halve the cooking time.
I've used a mortar and pestle in this recipe—it's one of my favorite tools in the kitchen. It's ideal for something like this because it brings out all of the beautiful oils in the herbs and makes a rough paste of the ingredients. Besides its practical uses, it's also a hugely satisfying tool to use. If you don't have one, no worries—just roughly chop the ingredients together on a cutting board.
1 heaping cup fresh mixed herbs (rosemary, thyme, oregano, and basil)
1 garlic clove, sliced
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 medium to large eggplant
Juice of 1/2 lemon
**1.** Preheat the oven to 400°F.
**2.** Put the herbs, garlic, and salt and pepper to taste in a mortar and pestle and grind to work the oil out of the herbs. Do this for a few minutes, then add the olive oil and give a good mix to help the flavors develop.
**3.** Halve the eggplant lengthwise and crisscross the flesh of the eggplant with a knife (don't cut all the way through).
**4.** Stuff the herb mixture into the flesh of the eggplant, pushing it in with your fingers until it's really well distributed throughout. Pour any leftover oil on top.
**5.** Place the eggplant halves back together, wrap the whole eggplant in foil, and roast it for about 45 minutes, until the flesh is soft. To test, just give it a squeeze in the foil—if it feels soft and squishy, it's done.
**6.** Unwrap the foil (watch out for hot steam!) and scoop out the flesh and herbs (leaving the skin behind). Place it in a food processor and blend until it's almost smooth but still has a little texture. Check the seasoning and add the lemon juice. Serve hot or cold.
## avocado and yogurt dipping sauce
{ Makes 1 cup }
I'm trying to think of someone I know who doesn't like avocado. . .and I can't. It's the best. It's so versatile and can add such a wonderful rich creaminess to food that isn't often possible with something that's so good for you. This sauce works really well with Cornmeal Squid, but you can serve it with anything you like! I also use it as a salad dressing—follow the recipe, then whisk a little bit of water into it at the end.
1 avocado, peeled, pitted, and roughly chopped
2 tablespoons plain yogurt
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1 teaspoon minced fresh ginger
2 teaspoons agave nectar
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
Combine all the ingredients in a blender and blend until completely smooth.
## haydari
{ Makes 1½ cups}
I spent a bit of time in Turkey last year, and a trip to Istanbul made me fall in love with the food there. The flavors are big and exciting. I make this little dip a lot and serve it with numerous dishes—it's perfect with Lamb and Quinoa Kofta, but you can also serve it with toasted pita bread or a chopped salad, and it would also be great as a dip with crudités.
6 ounces plain Greek yogurt (I like Fage brand)
1/2 garlic clove, minced
1/2 cup loosely packed fresh dill, roughly chopped
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon agave nectar
Maldon or other flaky salt to taste
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
Mix all the ingredients together in a glass bowl, cover, and refrigerate. Serve chilled.
## hot! mexican salsa
{ Makes about 4 cups }
Buying condiments is tempting, I know. We're all busy and often concentrate our efforts on the main components of a dish, but this is a great example of a condiment that's worth it, because it's incredibly low maintenance and easy to make, and it has a wonderful deep smoky flavor from the blackened skins.
You can keep it in a mason jar in the refrigerator for a week or so. If you don't have tomatillos or can't find them, no worries, just use more tomatoes.
4 whole tomatoes
2 tomatillos
1 whole jalapeño chile
3 unpeeled garlic cloves
Maldon or other flaky salt
Agave nectar
Squeeze of lime
**1.** Preheat the broiler.
**2.** Place the tomatoes, tomatillos, jalapeño, and garlic on a baking sheet on the top shelf of the oven under the broiler. Place the tomatoes and tomatillos upside down so that the greatest amount of surface area is exposed to the broiler.
**3.** Broil the vegetables for about 10 minutes, until the skin is blackened. (Remove the garlic after 5 to 7 minutes—the garlic shouldn't be black, just roasted. Peel the garlic.) See the pictures for Blackened Tomato Soup—you really want the skin of the tomatoes, tomatillos, and jalapeño to be black to get a smoky flavor.
**4.** Remove the tomatoes, tomatillos, and jalapeño from the oven and place in a blender with the roasted garlic. Puree until it's a chunky consistency. Season with salt, agave, and lime juice. Check the seasoning again before serving.
## hummus
{ Makes about 1 cup }
Making your own hummus is a satisfying task—so quick, and it's going to taste so much better than anything you'll find in a grocery store.
One 15-ounce can chickpeas
1 or 2 garlic cloves, minced
11/2 teaspoons ground cumin
1/4 cup tahini
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 lemon
**1.** Drain about two-thirds of the liquid from the chickpea can and reserve the rest.
**2.** Add the chickpeas and their reserved juices to a food processor. Add the garlic, cumin, and tahini and pulse until combined. Season with salt and pepper and add a good squeeze of lemon. Pulse again, taste, and adjust the seasonings.
NOTE: _It's your choice how smooth you make the hummus. I don't like mine to be too smooth, but go with what you like. The most important thing is that you like the way it tastes, so make sure the seasoning makes you happy and add more lemon if you like._
## pineapple and chile relish
{ Makes about 2 cups }
This isn't exactly a traditional South African condiment, but it definitely feels like something I'd be served in South Africa. I've served it alongside Cape Malay Lamb Curry, but it would also work well with a barbecued lamb or pork chop or any Indian curry.
2 cups finely diced pineapple
11/2 teaspoons minced fresh ginger
1/2 tablespoon minced red onion
Zest of 1 lime
1/2 serrano chile, seeds and all, minced
1 pinch Maldon or other flaky salt
1/4 cup agave nectar
1 small handful fresh cilantro leaves, chopped
1 small handful fresh mint leaves, chopped, optional
**1.** Put the pineapple, ginger, onion, lime zest, chile, salt, and agave nectar in a saucepan along with 1½ cups water. Bring to a simmer over low heat and simmer for 35 to 40 minutes, until pretty much all of the liquid has cooked away.
**2.** Let the mixture cool, then add the cilantro and, if you wish, mint leaves.
## nut salad dressing
{ Makes 1/4 cup }
A salad dressing made out of a nut oil adds a certain richness to a dish. I've used this on the Trout, Pear, and Mâche Salad, but I also like it as a vinaigrette for some cooked dishes. For example, if you roast some cauliflower with a few mustard seeds and serve it with a piece of pan-seared sea bass, this would be a lovely dressing to drizzle on top. You can substitute any nut oil you like.
1 tablespoon good-quality nut oil (I use hazelnut oil, but walnut is good too)
1 teaspoon agave nectar
1/2 garlic clove, minced
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/2 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 pinch Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
**1.** Place all the ingredients in a mason jar or small covered plastic container and shake!
**2.** Taste for seasoning and refrigerate until ready to use.
## sesame and lemon dipping sauce
{ Makes a little more than ½ cup }
Tahini is basically just ground sesame seeds, and is often used in North African, Greek, and Turkish cooking. It's really smooth and tastes so rich, but it's wonderfully good for you—it's high in antioxidants and is said to lower your blood pressure. This tahini-based sauce is really versatile and awesome paired with Chickpea and Corn Falafel or Lamb and Quinoa Koftas. Or add more water to turn it into a salad dressing.
11/2 tablespoons sesame seeds
1/4 cup tahini
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
Maldon or other flaky salt to taste
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
2 teaspoons agave nectar
**1.** Toast the sesame seeds in a small dry skillet over medium heat. This'll only take about a minute. Keep a close eye on them—they can burn really quickly!
**2.** Place all the ingredients in a bowl and mix. Use a fork to whisk in 3 tablespoons water to make a sauce. Beautiful!
## tomato sauce
{ Makes about 2 cups }
This beautiful, rustic tomato sauce is a favorite of DVF's. My friend Anne asked me for a tomato pasta recipe years ago when we worked together, but she requested that I make it with ginger. I didn't really like the sound of it at first but made it for her anyway. Needless to say, I loved the tomato and ginger combination—it's really interesting.
I like this versatile sauce with Poached Salmon with Shrimp Served on Couscous, or with shrimp or barbecued chicken. It's a great thing to have in the fridge, so you might as well make a double batch, or more.
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger
2 cups cherry tomatoes
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 lemon
Agave nectar
**1.** Heat the olive oil in a saucepan over low heat. Add the onion, garlic, and ginger and sweat, cooking for at least 8 minutes—don't rush it. The onion should be very soft, translucent, and sweet.
**2.** Add the tomatoes and season with salt and pepper. Keep the heat low and cook them down for another 30 minutes. Stir the mixture occasionally, taking care that it doesn't burn, and add a touch more oil if you like. When the skin of the tomatoes starts to break, squash some of the tomatoes with the back of a fork.
**3.** To finish off the sauce, give it a small squeeze of lemon juice and a bit of agave nectar. Taste and adjust the seasoning if necessary.
## guacamole
{ Makes 3 to 4 cups }
I know you've probably made guacamole before, but I really think you should give this recipe a try. Guacamole is good, but add ginger and it becomes incredible! Really, give it a go. It's so quick and easy, and totally worth the effort. It'll be the first thing gone from the table.
4 ripe avocados, peeled, pitted, and cubed
1 heaping tablespoon minced fresh ginger
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 squeeze agave nectar
1/2 red chile (preferably serrano), seeded and chopped
Juice of 2 limes
1 large handful fresh cilantro leaves and stems, roughly chopped
Maldon or other flaky salt to taste
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
Place all the ingredients in a blender. Blend until slightly chunky, or as smooth as you'd like. Adjust the seasoning as needed.
## tomato pesto
{ Makes about 2 cups }
It's good to have some basic sauce recipes that you can pull out at any time to take something to the next level, and this is one of them. You could serve this on top of a quick grilled steak, under a beautiful piece of grilled fish, or tossed through some pasta. I love it with the Green Herb and Lemon Zest Gnocchi.
Let's quickly address the anchovies—I love them, but many people don't. I think they get a pretty bad rap, though . . . they have the ability to add so much depth to a simple dish or sauce like this one, and they leave no "fishy" taste at all.
1/3 cup pine nuts
2 large vine-ripened tomatoes, roughly chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
2 anchovy fillets, roughly chopped
3/4 cup grated Parmesan
1 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil
Squeeze of agave nectar
1 small handful fresh mint leaves, roughly chopped
1 small handful fresh basil leaves, roughly chopped
Squeeze of lemon juice
Maldon or other flaky salt
Freshly ground black pepper
**1.** In a small dry skillet, toast the pine nuts until golden, stirring often, about 2 minutes.
**2.** Put all the ingredients into a blender and blend until you reach the consistency you like. I like it quite chunky, but some people prefer it smoother—up to you.
NOTE: _The pesto will keep in the fridge for a couple of days. It will separate a bit, but no worries—just give it a quick mix and it'll come together really easily._
A beautiful boy in the Solomon Islands. I bought fifteen of these old Coca-Cola bottles from him. They'd been hand-dived from a World War II wreck. Amazing!
## Acknowledgments
I've always been taken such good care of. All over the world, I've met kind, generous people who have looked after me, had me in their homes and around their table, and made me feel welcome. Traveling has been a wonderful way to see that the world is bursting with good people.
I've been equally lucky regarding this book, and I give my deepest thanks to those who have helped:
Diane von Furstenberg. Where do I start? There truly isn't enough space to write all the ways in which you've been so incredibly generous and supportive, and so I hope you believe me when I say that I'm grateful for _every. single. thing._ And always will be. Mr. Diller: thank you.
My little photography team: John Bedell, Allegra Hsiao, and Janell Hughes. We did it. I really couldn't have worked with better people for this. John—amazing talent + passion + hard work = greatness. The photos are beautiful. Thank you so much. Thanks, Allie, for your effortless style and impeccable taste, and for always finding a way to make me smile. And Janell—you were the perfect fit into this little photo quartet. Thank you for your patience and assistance with everything.
Tatiana von Furstenberg, one of the funniest people I've met, and also incredibly generous. Thank you for giving me an amazing place to hide out in New York City, and for looking after me in L.A. You're the best. Thank you.
Thank you so much, Alex von Furstenberg and Ali Kay, for opening your home and giving me a spectacular space to stay and be inspired. Your home was where I gathered my thoughts, and took big steps, and I appreciate it so much. And to Talita and Tassilo for allowing me to use your wonderful kitchen for some of the photos.
AK, for the introduction to the amazing Andrea Rosen! Andrea, I have so much appreciation for you, it's crazy—you were so supportive from the very beginning, and I can't tell you how much that meant and still means to me. And for all the ongoing help: invaluable. You rule. (Really.) Thank you.
The William Morrow people are all wonderful, really. Kara Zauberman—thank you for all your hard work, and to everyone else that I've worked with and am looking forward to working with: Liate Stehlik, Lynn Grady, Tavia Kowalchuk, Megan Swartz, Katie Steinberg, Joyce Wong, and Karen Lumley. Thank you, Mary Schuck, for the beautiful cover, and Lorie Pagnozzi, for the freshest, happiest, most beautiful interior design. I genuinely feel so lucky to be working with this group of people.
It's so cool that I get to refer to someone as "my editor," and then to actually get the best one in the business is crazy. Cassie Jones, you're as sharp as my chef's knife. I have so much respect—thank you for your patience, support, and for guiding me so, so well.
I was a little overwhelmed when I flew into busy New York for the first time from the quiet Pacific, and so thank you, Ellen Gross, for keeping an eye out for me, and letting me come over and eat chicken soup in a great home environment. Thank you also for the ongoing support and understanding.
When it was time for me to be in Connecticut, the setting couldn't have been more perfect—thank you, Lourdes Mecha, for taking such good care of me at the beautifully serene Cloudwalk.
Genevieve Ernst—you've been the hugest help, and I appreciate all of it. Your enthusiasm and encouragement has meant a lot. Thank you so much.
Sarah Knutson, you've gone above and beyond to help me out—thank you, thank you. As a colleague and a person, I have the hugest respect.
Luisella Meloni—we're just starting to work on some things together now, and judging by how great you've been so far in such a short period of time, I know I will want to extend a massive thank-you by the time this prints. I love working with you.
Rebecca Szczypka—thank you for being my little rock. Your support has always been immeasurable and invaluable.
Shout-out to my little _Eos_ family! We've traveled around the world together, worked hard, and made some of the most amazing memories and tight bonds. Thanks especially to Hannah Zarnack, for always being there and making my life better.
Ambassador Hall—for being my first mentor and giving me amazing opportunities.
David Higgs—for teaching me to cook and making it so easy to fall in love with food.
Finally, to my mom and dad—thank you for introducing me to travel at such a young age, and for always making us sit around a table. I love you, and I'm so lucky you're my parents.
## Index
The pagination of this electronic edition does not match the edition from which it was created. To locate a specific entry, please use your e-book reader's search tools.
a
Agave nectar
Apple(s)
Bircher Muesli
Green, and Macadamia Quinoa
Green, Celeriac, and Fennel Salad
Arugula
Avocado, and Spinach Salad, Simple
Brie, and Grape Salad
Chopped, and Basil Salad, Beef Tagliata with
and Walnut Pesto
Asparagus and Tomato, Crushed Potatoes with
Avocado(s)
Arugula, and Spinach Salad, Simple
Guacamole
Rice Noodle, and Beef Salad
and Yogurt Dipping Sauce
b
Barley, Pearl, with Baby Spinach, Corn, and Shiitake Mushrooms
Basil, Chopped, and Arugula Salad, Beef Tagliata with
Bass, Green Quinoa–Crusted
Bean(s). _See also_ Lentil(s)
Casserole
Chickpea and Corn Falafel
and Citrus Salad, Mexican
Green, Tomato, and Potato Salad
Hummus
Lamb and Quinoa Koftas on Soft Chickpeas with Toasted Pita Bread
Lima, Baked
White, Salad
Beef and Chicken Koftas
Polenta Meatballs with Quick Red Wine and Tomato Sauce
Rice Noodle, and Avocado Salad
Tagliata with Chopped Arugula and Basil Salad
Beer Tempura with Simple Dipping Sauce
Beet and Orange Salad with a Citrus-Cumin Vinaigrette
Berries
Breakfast Verrines
Vanilla Bean
Warm Quinoa Breakfast Porridge
Breads
Cumin Pita / Plain Pita, with Spiced Oil
Garlic, Stuffed with Italian Herbs
Panzanella Salad
Seed Loaf
Stuffed Pita
Broccoli, Spinach, and Mint Soup
Brussels Sprouts and Oyster Mushrooms with Pine Nuts
c
Cabbage
Asian Slaw with Wasabi
Carrot, Grapefruit, and Watercress Salad
Cauliflower and Sunchoke Soup
Celeriac, Green Apple, and Fennel Salad
Cheese
Brie, Grape, and Arugula Salad
Endive, Pomegranate, and Manchego Salad with Yogurt Dressing
Marinated Tomato and Chile Salad with Buffalo Mozzarella
Middle Eastern Watermelon Salad
Panzanella Salad
Stuffed Pita Breads
White Bean Salad
Chicken and Beef Koftas
Poached, with Crushed Potatoes
Roast, Stuffed with Fennel, Potatoes, Bacon, and Apricots
Stew with Lemon and a Side of Israeli Couscous
Tagine
Thai Curry
Whole Stuffed
Chile(s)
Hot! Mexican Salsa
and Marinated Cucumber Salad
and Pineapple Relish
Cilantro
Fish
and Lime Rice
Clam Soup
Coconut and Tamarind Lentils
Corn
Baby Spinach, and Shiitake Mushrooms, Pearl Barley with
Mushroom, and Pea Ragout
Cornmeal
Chickpea and Corn Falafel
Squid with Avocado and Yogurt Sauce
Couscous
Israeli, a Side of, Chicken Stew with
Israeli, with Shrimp and Zucchini
Poached Salmon with Shrimp Served on
Steamed, Moroccan
Crab, Tomato, and Lemon Spaghetti
Cucumber(s)
Marinated, and Chile Salad
North African Salad
Tomato, and Sumac Soup, Chilled
Curry
Cape Malay Lamb
Thai
d
Dips and spreads
Arugula and Walnut Pesto
Avocado and Yogurt Dipping Sauce
Eggplant Dip
Guacamole
Haydari
Hot! Mexican Salsa
Hummus
Sesame and Lemon Dipping Sauce
Simple Dipping Sauce
e
Eggplant Dip
Egg(s)
Best Breakfast
and Tomato Salad
Endive, Pomegranate, and Manchego Salad with Yogurt Dressing
f
Falafel, Chickpea and Corn
Fennel
Celeriac, and Green Apple Salad
Potatoes, Bacon, and Apricots, Roast Chicken Stuffed with
Fish
Cilantro
Ecuadorian-Inspired Ceviche
Green Quinoa–Crusted Bass
Herb, Lemon, and Caper–Stuffed Trout
Poached Salmon with Shrimp Served on Couscous
South African Pickled
Tacos
Trout, Pear, and Mâche Salad with Hazelnut Dressing
Tuna and Udon Noodles with Ginger Dressing
Fruit. _See also_ Berries; _specific fruits_
Tropical Bircher Muesli
g
Garlic, cooking with
Garlic Bread Stuffed with Italian Herbs
Gnocchi, Green Herb and Lemon Zest
Grains. _See also_ Cornmeal; Oats; Quinoa; Rice
Multiseed Granola
Pearl Barley with Baby Spinach, Corn, and Shiitake Mushrooms
Super-Healthy Muesli
Grape, Brie, and Arugula Salad
Grapefruit, Watercress, and Carrot Salad
Green Bean, Tomato, and Potato Salad
Greens. _See also_ Arugula; Spinach
Trout, Pear, and Mâche Salad with Hazelnut Dressing
Guacamole
h
Herb(s), 11–12. _See also_ _specific herbs_
Green, and Lemon Zest Gnocchi
Green Quinoa–Crusted Bass
Italian, Garlic Bread Stuffed with
Lemon, and Caper–Stuffed Trout
Hummus
k
Koftas
Chicken and Beef
Lamb and Quinoa, on Soft Chickpeas with Toasted Pita Bread
l
Lamb
Curry, Cape Malay
Moroccan
and Quinoa Koftas on Soft Chickpeas with Toasted Pita Bread
Roast Leg of
Leek and Tomato Sauce
Lemons, cooking with
Lentil(s)
Soup
Tamarind and Coconut
Lime and Cilantro Rice
Lobster
Quinoa
Tails, Asian
Tails, Mediterranean
m
Meatballs
Chicken and Beef Koftas
Lamb and Quinoa Koftas on Soft Chickpeas with Toasted Pita Bread
Polenta, with Quick Red Wine and Tomato Sauce
Mushroom(s)
Oyster, and Brussels Sprouts with Pine Nuts
Pale Ale and Shiitake Pasta
Pea, and Corn Ragout
Shiitake, Baby Spinach, and Corn, Pearl Barley with
Soup, Velvety
Whole Stuffed Chicken
n
Noodle(s)
Rice, Avocado, and Beef Salad
Udon, and Tuna with Ginger Dressing
Nut(s)
Arugula and Walnut Pesto
Pomegranate, and Green Herb Quinoa
o
Oats
Bircher Muesli
Multiseed Granola
Super-Healthy Muesli
Tropical Bircher Muesli
Onions, red, cooking with
Orange and Beet Salad with a Citrus-Cumin Vinaigrette
p
Pasta. _See also_ Couscous; Noodle(s)
Crab, Tomato, and Lemon Spaghetti
Green Herb and Lemon Zest Gnocchi
Pale Ale and Shiitake
Roast Vegetable Risoni
Whole Stuffed Chicken
Pear, Trout, and Mâche Salad with Hazelnut Dressing
Pea(s)
Bright Green, Salad with Lemon and Mint
Mushroom, and Corn Ragout
Peppers. _See_ Chile(s)
Pesto
Arugula and Walnut
Tomato
Pineapple and Chile Relish
Honey-Poached
Tropical Bircher Muesli
Pomegranate
Endive, and Manchego Salad with Yogurt Dressing
Nut, and Green Herb Quinoa
Spinach, Dill, and Cilantro Chopped Salad
Pork
Polenta Meatballs with Quick Red Wine and Tomato Sauce
Potato(es)
Crushed, Poached Chicken with
Crushed, with Asparagus and Tomato
Fennel, Bacon, and Apricots, Roast Chicken Stuffed with
Green Bean, and Tomato Salad
Green Herb and Lemon Zest Gnocchi
Sweet, Citrus, Shrimp with
q
Quinoa
Breakfast Porridge, Warm
Green, –Crusted Bass
Green Apple and Macadamia
and Lamb Kofta on Soft Chickpeas with Toasted Pita Bread
Lobster
Pomegranate, Nut, and Green Herb
Risotto
r
Relish, Pineapple and Chile
Rhubarb Poached with Vanilla Bean, Ginger, and Cardamom
Rice
Cardamom
Lime and Cilantro
s
Salad Dressing, Nut
Salads
Asian Slaw with Wasabi
Avocado, Arugula, and Spinach, Simple
Bean and Citrus, Mexican
Beet and Orange, with a Citrus-Cumin Vinaigrette
Brie, Grape, and Arugula
Celeriac, Green Apple, and Fennel
Endive, Pomegranate, and Manchego, with Yogurt Dressing
Grapefruit, Watercress, and Carrot
Green Bean, Tomato, and Potato
Green Pea, Bright, with Lemon and Mint
Marinated Cucumber and Chile
Marinated Tomato and Chile, with Buffalo Mozzarella
North African
Panzanella
Rice Noodle, Avocado, and Beef
Spinach, Pomegranate, Dill, and Cilantro Chopped
Tomato and Egg
Trout, Pear, and Mâche, with Hazelnut Dressing
Watermelon, Middle Eastern
White Bean
Salmon, Poached, with Shrimp Served on Couscous
Salsa, Hot! Mexican
Salt, sea
Sauces
Arugula and Walnut Pesto
Dipping, Avocado and Yogurt
Dipping, Simple
Tomato
Tomato and Leek
Tomato Pesto
Seed(s)
Loaf
Multiseed Granola
Sesame and Lemon Dipping Sauce
Super-Healthy Muesli
Shellfish. _See also_ Lobster; Shrimp
Clam Soup
Cornmeal Squid with Avocado and Yogurt Sauce
Crab, Tomato, and Lemon Spaghetti
Shrimp
with Citrus Sweet Potato
Poached Salmon with, Served on Couscous
and Zucchini, Israeli Couscous with
Soups
Blackened Tomato
Clam
Cucumber, Tomato, and Sumac, Chilled
Lentil
Mushroom, Velvety
Spinach, Broccoli, and Mint
Sunchoke and Cauliflower
Spinach
Avocado, and Arugula Salad, Simple
Baby, Corn, and Shiitake Mushrooms, Pearl Barley with
Broccoli, and Mint Soup
Pomegranate, Dill, and Cilantro Chopped Salad
Squash. _See_ Zucchini
Squid, Cornmeal, with Avocado and Yogurt Sauce
Stews. _See also_ Curry
Chicken, with Lemon and a Side of Israeli Couscous
Chicken Tagine
Moroccan Lamb
Sunchoke and Cauliflower Soup
Sweet Potato, Citrus, Shrimp with
t
Tacos, Fish
Tagine, Chicken
Tahini
Hummus
Sesame and Lemon Dipping Sauce
Tamarind and Coconut Lentils
Tempura, Beer, with Simple Dipping Sauce
Tomato(es)
Best Breakfast Eggs
Blackened, Soup
Cucumber, and Sumac Soup, Chilled
and Egg Salad
Green Bean, and Potato Salad
Hot! Mexican Salsa
and Leek Sauce
Marinated, and Chile Salad with Buffalo Mozzarella
North African Salad
Panzanella Salad
Pesto
and Red Wine Sauce, Quick, Polenta Meatballs with
Sauce
Trout
Herb, Lemon, and Caper–Stuffed
Pear, and Mâche Salad with Hazelnut Dressing
Tuna and Udon Noodles with Ginger Dressing
v
Vegetable(s). _See also_ _specific vegetables_
Beer Tempura with Simple Dipping Sauce
Quinoa Risotto
Roast, Risoni
w
Walnut and Arugula Pesto
Watercress, Grapefruit, and Carrot Salad
Watermelon Salad, Middle Eastern
y
Yogurt and Avocado Dipping Sauce
Breakfast Verrines
Haydari
z
Zucchini and Shrimp, Israeli Couscous with
Vanuatu
Solomon Islands
## About the Author
**JANE COXWELL** grew up in South Africa's Cape wine region. She trained in South Africa under chef David Higgs, who has been rated one of South Africa's best chefs, and in France. She served as chef for former ambassador Kathryn Hall, cooked for fundraisers for Hillary Rodham Clinton, and later became executive chef at Hall Wines in Napa Valley, California. In 2009, Jane joined the crew of _Eos_ and divides her time between New York City and the rest of the world.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
## Credits
**COVER DESIGN BY MARY SCHUCK**
**PHOTOGRAPHS BY JOHN BEDELL**
**AUTHOR PHOTOGRAPH BY KATIE OSGOOD**
## Copyright
FRESH HAPPY TASTY. Copyright © 2013 by Jane Coxwell. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
Food photography by John Bedell
Travel photography by Jane Coxwell; travel photographs featuring Jane taken by crew members or passersby
ISBN 978-0-06-212540-8
EPub Edition June 2013 ISBN 9780062125422
13 14 15 16 17 [DIX/RRD] 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
## About the Publisher
**Australia**
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http://www.harpercollins.com.au
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**United Kingdom**
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**United States**
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
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http://www.harpercollins.com
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2024-05-12T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/8197
|
Ian Fells
Ian Fells is Emeritus Professor of Energy Conversion at the University of Newcastle upon Tyne, and former chairman of the "New and Renewable Energy Centre" at Blyth, Northumberland, England.
Education and career
Fells was educated at King Edward VII School, Broomhill, Sheffield, then carried out national service in the British army, before studying at Trinity College, Cambridge where he gained an M.A. then in 1958 a Ph.D. entitled "The kinetics of the hydrolysis of the chlorinated methanes".
After lecturing in Chemical Engineering and Fuel Technology at the University of Sheffield he was appointed Reader in Fuel Science at King's College of University of Durham in 1962. In 1963 this college became the University of Newcastle upon Tyne, and he was on the staff of the Chemical Engineering Department. He has been Professor of Energy Conversion at Newcastle University since 1975 and has published some 200 papers on a varied range of topics, including:
The chemical physics of combustion
fuel cells
rocket combustion
energy economics
environmental protection
energy conversion systems
energy policy
Fells is a long-standing advocate of nuclear power. As of 2008, Fells was of the view that "any notion that renewables can provide for all our [energy] requirements is a mischievous and reckless boast".
Honours
In 1976 Fells was awarded the Beilby Medal and Prize. He was then elected Fellow of The Royal Academy of Engineering in 1979 and was President of The Institute of Energy (now the Energy Institute) for 1978-79. In 1993 he received the Michael Faraday medal and prize from the Royal Society, and was elected Fellow of The Royal Society of Edinburgh in 1996. He was awarded the Melchett Medal of the Energy Institute in 1999 and the John Collier Medal of the Institution of Chemical Engineers in the same year. He was awarded a CBE in June 2000. In the same year he presented the Higginson Lecture.
Other activities
Fells has made over 500 television and radio programmes, including the TV popular science series Take Nobody's Word For It with Carol Vorderman, and appeared as guest expert on The Great Egg Race in 1985.
He has been science adviser to the World Energy Council and special adviser to select committees of both the House of Lords and the House of Commons as well as serving on several Cabinet and Research Council committees. He was chairman of the UK-based National Renewable Energy Centre (Narec) and is an energy adviser to the European Union and European Parliament, has advised a number of Foreign Governments on energy policy and is a consultant to various multi-national companies.
In 2012 he created a Newcastle based company, Penultimate Power, to develop small modular reactors.
His wife is Hazel, a mathematician, and they have four sons, all engineers:
References
External links
Biography at Incoteco.com
Biography and publications
, Ian Fells, 2012
Category:English physicists
Category:English engineers
Category:British chemical engineers
Category:Engineering academics
Category:People educated at King Edward VII School, Sheffield
Category:Alumni of Trinity College, Cambridge
Category:Academics of Durham University
Category:Academics of Newcastle University
Category:Academics of the University of Sheffield
Category:Fellows of the Royal Academy of Engineering
Category:Fellows of the Royal Society of Edinburgh
Category:Commanders of the Order of the British Empire
Category:Living people
Category:Year of birth missing (living people)
Category:Place of birth missing (living people)
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2023-11-02T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/2789
|
Would You Like Shape Shifting with that Touch Surface?
Looks like Microsoft continues to try and push the envelope when it comes to touch. According to a recently filed patent they’ve created a method of touching a surface to create a different tactile experience that makes users think they are touching a 3D like surface.
According to an article on New Scientist, Microsoft is working with creating a real texture, using pixel-sized shape-memory plastic cells that can be programmed to rise from the surface on command.
Here’s a quote from the article:
A projector built into the Surface displays a computer image onto the table top from below. As the user touches it, infrared reflections from their fingertips are detected by cameras beneath the table and used to pinpoint the position of the finger and lend touchscreen capability.
In the patent, Microsoft proposes coating the display with a light-induced shape-memory polymer. This becomes hard and protruding when one wavelength of ultraviolet light is transmitted at a pixel, and soft when another wavelength hits it. By modulating these wavelengths, texture can be created, the patent claims.
The article goes on to claim that this might mark the beginning of the end for keyboards on mobile devices for text entry. I wouldn’t look to see this on the market anytime soon, but it is interesting to think about.
|
2023-10-18T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/5660
|
Q:
Proving that if coprime $\alpha_{i}\in R$ divide b, then $\alpha_{1}...\alpha_{n}$ divide b.
Let $R$ be a principal ideal domain and let $\alpha_{1},...,\alpha_{n}\in R$ be such that $(\gcd(\alpha_{i},\alpha_{j}))=(1)$.
Let $b\in R$ such that each $\alpha_{i}|b$.
I want to show that $\alpha_{1}\alpha_{2}...\alpha_{n}|b$.
I have managed this for $\alpha_{1}$ and $\alpha_{2}$, as follows;
$\alpha_{1}|b$ so there exists $s_{1}\in R$ such that $b=\alpha_{1}s_{1}.$
By Bezout's lemma for principal ideal domains, there exists $r,s\in R$ such that $r\alpha_{1}+s\alpha_{2}=\gcd(\alpha_{1},\alpha_{2})=1$
Then $s_{1}=rb+s\alpha_{2}s_{1}$. Clearly $\alpha_{2}|s\alpha_{2}s_{1}$ and we know $\alpha_{2}|b$, so $\alpha_{2}|s_{1}$
So there exists $q\in R$ such that $s_{1}=\alpha_{2}q$
So $b=\alpha_{1}\alpha_{2}q$, and thus $\alpha_{1}\alpha_{2}|b$
I feel like this could be generalized to some kind of inductive argument, but I can't even seem to manage to show that $\alpha_{1}\alpha_{2}\alpha_{3}|b$.
Any help would be much appreciated, thanks!
A:
Each principal ideal domain is factorical, so you can simply use factorization into prime elements. Then all you need to show is that being coprime means not having any prime factors in common (up to multiplication with units, etc.).
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2024-01-16T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/2854
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Democratic Party (United States) organizations
This is an incomplete list of official organizations associated with the United States Democratic Party:
Constituency groups
AAPI Democrats
AfricanAmerican Dems
College Democrats
High School Democrats of America
LGBT Democrats
Los Demócratas
National Federation of Democratic Women
National Jewish Democratic Council
Stonewall Democrats
Young Democrats of America
DNC Women
Ideological
Center for American Progress
Blue Dog Coalition
Democracy for America
ActBlue
America Votes
Democrats for Life of America
New Democrat Coalition
New Democrat Network
Progressive Caucus
Progressive Change Campaign Committee
Progressive Democrats of America
Progressive Policy Institute
Eleanor Roosevelt Legacy Committee
Emily's List
Moveon.org
Fundraising and coordination
Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee
Democratic Governors Association
Democratic National Committee
Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee
Democrats Abroad
National Conference of Democratic Mayors
Democratic Legislative Campaign Committee
Democratic Attorneys General Association
Democratic Association of Secretaries of State
National Democratic County Officials
Democratic Municipal Officials
See also
List of state parties of the Democratic Party (United States)
Unofficial organizations for Democrats
References
|
2023-09-23T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/4175
|
vendredi 25 novembre 2016
Have We Forgotten the Jewish Poor?
Most Jewish holidays are heavy and laden with restrictions. But some, without being any less meaningful, are a lot of fun. Purim is one of them. It's a festival that's more about glamor than grit: we sport costumes that put Halloween to shame, spend hours baking triangular pastries (or free-ride off the labor of others), and have fun shaking pasta-filled cartons to drown out a bad guy’s name. And that’s not even the half of it. On Purim eve, Jews across the world fulfill—with grudging, painful reluctance, I must concede—the religious obligation to drink until they can’t tell the difference between Mordechai the hero and Haman the villain.
Yet, there’s more to Purim than sanctioned revelry and reciting the megillah—the cosmically-savage tale that recounts Esther’s takedown of Haman: It's the obligation of preparing and delivering mishloach manot, food packages, to one’s friends, and matnot l'evyonim— food packages and charity to the poor (we'll refer to this whole giving-arrangement by the well-known term mishloach manot).
Mishloach manot were not meant to be a Jewish social idiosyncrasy. As Rabbi Shmuel Herzfeld notes, we give them to our friends and family as well as the poor because singling out the poor might make them feel ashamed. The custom’s specific orientation toward the poor is evident from the fact that its rabbinic requirement can be satisfied only by donating food.
That Purim contrasts mirthful indulgence with serious responsibility makes it an appropriate time to reflect on our obligation as Jews to specifically help others, and not just any others, but other Jews. In March 1776, Abigail Adams wrote a now-famous letter to her husband John, imploring him to “remember the ladies” when waging his grand, transformative fight for independence from Britain. This Purim, I see fit to adapt her poetic formulation to suit Purim and the idea of mishloach manot: Remember the Jews.
Indeed, many of us have forgotten them. As Anna Heim, who produced the 2014 documentary "Jews Got Money," a short film that examines taboos about wealth and poverty among American-Jews, notes in the Huffington Post, “while 'tzedakah' and philanthropy are deeply entrenched in the Jewish culture, many Jews ignore that members of their community also need support.”
By saying this I don't mean to promote tribal insularity, or to impugn that spirit of universal altruism that forms a cornerstone of the identity of many Jews. But I am hazarding that while we’re helping others, we need to make sure that our own house is in order. Because right now, it's not. In Israel, a government report concluded last year that 775,500 children suffer from poverty, making Israel one of the worst OECD countries in that regard. And while the American Jewish community is generally well-off, its wealth—like the rest of America’s national fortune—is unevenly distributed. Pew’s 2013 “Portrait of Jewish Americans” found that while two-thirds of Jews make above $75,000 per year, about 20 percent have incomes below $20,000.
There is no shortage of Jewish philanthropists ready to make out checks to (very worthy) non-Jewish causes. "Borat" star Sacha Baron Cohen, for example, basked in the spotlight for a commendable $1 million donation to Syrian refugees, but it’s depressing that Look to the Stars, a website that tracks celebrity philanthropy, does not show any contributions he’s made to the Jewish community. He's not alone. A 2013 report from the Chronicle of Philanthropy showed that American-Jews—younger ones, especially—were quite latitudinarian in their gift-giving.
When offering unsolicited advice, it’s important to also give credit where credit is due. In March 2014, The Forward published a breakdown of the American-Jewish community’s titanic institutional budget, concluding that about one-third of its resources are spent on social services.
Having said that, big-picture politics can, to a certain extent, distract us from simple, casual responsibilities. Anti-Israel hostility is metastasizing in the United States and Europe, and the Jewish community has diverted a vast fortune to combatting the boycott, divestment and sanctions movement and buttressing Israel’s firewall on Capitol Hill. Meanwhile, Zionism is tenuous among younger Jews and controversial among younger non-Jews, and the pressures of assimilation erode the American-Jewish population. Faced with these problems, Jewish philanthropy appears to have been more focused on political activism and Jewish education, and less focused on plain old charity for the needy.
The broader challenges facing us aren’t going to abate, and these trials understandably occupy the minds of Jewish community leaders. Yet as we approach a holiday that exalts the mitzvah of giving to the poor, we should take care to remember all the Jews.
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2023-12-12T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/5956
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Bleach gel pens are great for erasing stains on white shirts or cleaning grout around your bathroom, but they're pretty pricey. Luckily, you can make your own with just three simple ingredients.
One Good Thing by Jillee has the unbelievably simple recipe. All you'll need is a little bleach, a few Tablespoons of cornstarch, and water. The resulting gel is just like what you'd get from the store, but for a tiny fraction of the price. Once you're done creating the gel, you can store it in a squeeze bottle for easy and precise application on your clothes or around the house.
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2023-12-24T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/5222
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Welcome
The Fish House Restaurant
For the best in food, service, value and atmosphere, you can’t beat our restaurant. We guarantee you the freshest seafood, delivered daily from the Florida docks, prepared to your liking.
About Our Location
Our location provides a wonderful casual ambiance to enjoy your meals all year round, We offer both convenient fast take-out and delivery. Plus we focus on serving the absolute freshest fish and seafood daily. In addition, while here visit our Fish Market inside the Zubi Super Market and take home some of the Best Fresh Seafood from the South Florida Oceans.
What’s new?
Our promise
Cook Good
We cook seafood like
rock stars, truly
We have the best chef and his team. We can prepare a specific meal by request, cooked to taste with our fresh, local seafood
Cook Quick
We guess you don’t like
to wait for too long
We cook too hot and too fast. We like fire, we cook fast, tasty and healthy! Our professional team never let you wait for your order
Sommelier
We know everything
about wines
We have a great bar selection and friendly bar tenders. At our pub, we proudly offer our guests to taste our best types of wine
Chef in House Explains
Fresh Fabulous Taste
Meet our chef! Today, he is a culinary talent, passion for fresh seafood, and dedication to all aspects of running a restaurant serve him well as Executive Chef of Seafood Restaurant, a role he earned after many successful years
Happy guests say
Very good quality of food and service. Vast menu with child friendly items as well as local seafood and even entrees for those who dont like seafood. Also a great bar selection and friendly bar tenders. Plus you can get some fresh local seafood on your way back home. Great place! Thanks. We absolutely love everything there!
Jason M.
This is a delightful restaurant serving both locally caught and imported sea-foods. The service was fast and the food deliciously prepared as you request it. Plenty to watch on the sound and on the walkways, relaxing way to eat dinner. They also sell a very large variety of fresh sea foods. We highly recommend this restaurant.
Penny V.
Great food! Fresh, quick, friendly, delicious, affordable! Very flexible with orders. Great service! Asked for things from the runners, and they didn’t miss a beat… prompt, courteous, and polite. Great portions! If you want great seafood though, this place will not disappoint you. I’m glad we visited here. Definitely recommend.
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2024-06-09T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/4480
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Interaction of CJY, an isoflavone, with ATPase of P-glycoprotein in doxorubicin-resistant human myelogenous leukemia (K562/DOX) cells.
The previous study reported CJY, an isoflavone, can reverse P-glycoprotein (P-gp)-mediated multidrug-resistance (MDR) in doxorubicin-resistant human myelogenous leukemia (K562/DOX) cells. This study will investigate the exact mechanism of CJY on P-gp. By assessment of ATPase activity, we gained further insight into the nature of the CJY interactions with P-gp. Kinetic studies on ATPase activity were applied to show the effects of Verapamil (Ver) on CJY-stimulated, CJX1 on Ver-stimulated, and CJX1 on CJY-stimulated P-gp ATPase activity. Furthermore, the combined effects of CJY with Ver, and CJY with CJX1 were also evaluated isobolographically in numerous fixed-ratio combinations of 1:1, 1:2, 1:4, 1:8, and 1:10. The results showed that basal P-gp ATPase activity was increased by CJY with half-maximal activity concentration (Km) of 2.9±0.3 μM and the maximal ATPase activity velocity (Vmax) of 265±21 nM · min-1 · mg-1. Kinetic studies on ATPase activity showed the effects of Verapamil (Ver) on CJY-stimulated, CJX1 on Ver-stimulated, and CJX1 on CJY-stimulated P-gp ATPase activity were all non-competitive inhibition, indicating that these substrates can simultaneously but independently bind to diverse sites on P-gp. The combined effects of CJY with Ver, and CJY with CJX1 show that mixtures of both drugs at these fixed-ratios displayed synergistic interactions. CJY, CJX1 and Ver bind P-gp on different sites. CJY could be applied combining with other P-gp inhibitors to get better reversal of multidrug resistance than it used alone.
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2024-04-10T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/9870
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United States President Barack Obama insists his government isn’t in the business of domestic surveillance, but one of his former advisers says that’s contrary to the truth.
"Everybody knows I love this president, but this is ridiculous," former-Special Adviser for Green Jobs Van Jones said Wednesday on CNN. "First of all, we do have a domestic spying program, and what we need to be able to do is figure out how to balance these things, not pretend like there’s no balancing to be done.”
The remark made by Jones, who currently serves as a senior fellow at the Center for American Progress, directly contrasts with comments Obama made earlier in the week to late night talk show host Jay Leno.
“We don’t have a domestic spying program,” Obama told Leno during a Tuesday night interview. "What we do have are some mechanisms where we can track a phone number or an email address that we know is connected to some sort of terrorist threat."
Speaking to CNN’s Jake Tapper, Jones jabbed the president’s remarks while also assaulting the commander-in-chief’s record with regards to charging intelligence leakers like Bradley Manning and Edward Snowden with espionage.
Despite campaigning on a platform of utmost transparency, Obama and his administration have so far charged more leakers with espionage than all previous presidents combined twice over. Speaking to CNN, Jones challenged the president’s past behavior towards whistleblowers and suggested that Snowden, the 30-year-old leaker of classified National Security Agency documents, stands little chance of a fair trial in America.
“But much more important, he said something else that I thought that was really awful,” Jones continued. He said that if somebody like Snowden wanted to be a whistleblower, they could have gone ahead.
“Well, hold on a second, sir. That is — you are right now prosecuting more whistleblowers – not only than any American president, than every American president combined! So you can’t then come out on Leno and yuck it up and say, 'Well, whistleblowers, come on out and we’ll treat you right.' because you haven’t been doing that.”
Last week, Russia approved Snowden’s request for asylum by allowing him a one-year stay overseas as charges of spying loom stateside. Meanwhile, days earlier a military judge convicted Army Private First Class Bradley Manning with multiple counts of espionage for his role in sharing classified material with the anti-secrecy website WikiLeaks. Manning’s court-martial is currently in its sentencing phase and could end with Col. Denise Lind sending him to prison for a maximum of 90 years.
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2024-03-22T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/3868
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Q:
What happens if a geocentric model of the world were correct?
For a fantasy, I need to know how a world similar to Earth would exist in a geocentric model.
1) I would assume the sun would have to be a lot smaller. I'm okay with artificial stars (hand-wave that stuff away with magic). But I would like to know if that makes an Earth-similar planet impossible. (I don't need other planets in this model.) For example, how would it effect...
seasons and climate
length of day, month, or year
sunrises and sunsets
gravity
constellations and/or navigation
any huge effect I don't have enough science to anticipate
2) How would I manipulate my universe's model to make it more Earth similar if those things are completely off? It doesn't have to be exact, but I need a temperate climate with pretty normal seasons and climate zones.
A:
The first thing we must understand is that from a purely kinematic point of view, the heliocentric and geocentric models are both equally correct within the accuracy limits of astronomical instruments available before the, say, 16th century. There was no way for an astronomer who lived before Tycho Brahe to bring serious arguments in favor of one or the other. (That's why Galileo Galilei had such trouble with the astronomical establishment of the day -- he simply did not have any good arguments to bring in favor of his pet theory.)
The problem is that from a dynamic point of view, for a geocentric model to be correct it is necessary to abolish the law of universal gravitation: and this means, of course, that the universe in which a geocentric model is correct from a physical point of view has vastly different physics from ours. Whether "a world similar to Earth would exist" in an universe with vastly different physics than ours is not something that anybody but you can answer.
How would it effect...
Seasons and climate:
We don't know. The law of universal gravity doesn't work in your world, so we have no idea how wind works, how the water cycle works, the lot. By the way, how does fire work in a world where the law of universal gravity does not operate?
Length of day, month, or year:
Those are purely kinematic phenomena, and from a purely kinematic point of view the heliocentric and geocentric models are both equally correct within the accuracy limits of astronomical instruments available before the Renaissance.
Sunrises and sunsets:
The sun will rise and the sun will set. We have no idea how the atmosphere works, or how thick it is, because the law of universal gravitation doesn't work in that world. So we don't know if, for example, the sun will appear red at sunset.
Gravity:
Our kind of gravity doesn't work in an universe where the geocentric model is correct. It must be some different force which is called gravity. How it works nobody but you, the author, can say.
Constellations and/or navigation:
No effect whatsoever. The funny thing is that up to this day celestial navigation, as an application of practical astronomy, is done assuming a geocentric model. See celestial sphere for how this works.
Of course, satellite-based navigation systems won't work, because the law of universal gravitation doesn't work.
Any huge effect I don't have enough science to anticipate:
The main huge effect is that only the author can say how that world works, because it most definitely it doesn't work like ours. What keeps water in the ocean, what keeps people on the ground? Does hot air rise? Why? Are there tides? Why?
Note that you do not have to make Sun any smaller or bigger -- whether we adopt a heliocentric or geocentric system has no impact on the distance between the Earth and the Sun.
Everything also applies for the Moon. A Moon may or may not exist; if it exists, it is not universal gravitation which makes it orbit. What is it that keeps the Moon in orbit only the author can decide.
A:
It would be perfectly possible for an extremely advanced civilization, perhaps humans of the future, to create a geocentric solar system.
They could take a rogue Earth-sized planet in interstellar space and create a giant sun satellite orbiting the planet with gigantic fusion power generators generating power for thousands of giant lamps aimed at the planet to heat it and warm it.
If they want the sidereal day of the Earth-sized planet to be similar to that of Earth (23 hours, 56 minutes, 4.0905 seconds) they will have to select an Earth-sized planet in interstellar space that rotates with a similar period and/or slow down or spreed up the rotation of the planet. If they do that the stars at night will seem to circle with the same speed as on Earth.
The giant artificial sun satellite will have to orbit at such a distance that the solar day (the time between two successive noons or midnights at the same location) will equal 24 hours. So that means that the time it takes for the giant artificial sun satellite to make one orbit combined with the time it takes for the planet to rotate once (the sidereal day) will equal 24 hours, a solar day on Earth. I'm certain there are some users at this site who can easily calculate the distance for you.
Of course there is the problem that the "moon" should orbit the Earth-sized planet at the same distance that the Moon orbits the Earth in order to have a month of the same length and similar tides.
In Aristotle's (384–322 BC) description of the universe, the Moon marked the boundary between the spheres of the mutable elements (earth, water, air and fire), and the imperishable stars of aether, an influential philosophy that would dominate for centuries.[183] However, in the 2nd century BC, Seleucus of Seleucia correctly theorized that tides were due to the attraction of the Moon, and that their height depends on the Moon's position relative to the Sun.[184] In the same century, Aristarchus computed the size and distance of the Moon from Earth, obtaining a value of about twenty times the radius of Earth for the distance. These figures were greatly improved by Ptolemy (90–168 AD): his values of a mean distance of 59 times Earth's radius and a diameter of 0.292 Earth diameters were close to the correct values of about 60 and 0.273 respectively.[185] Archimedes (287–212 BC) designed a planetarium that could calculate the motions of the Moon and other objects in the Solar System.[186]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon#Before_spaceflight1
So the size and distance of the Moon was measured reasonably accurately about 2,000 years ago. And a fake moon orbiting a fake earth in an artificial geocentric solar system would have to orbit the fake earth at a similar distance to that of the real Moon.
Which could be a farther distance than than the proper distance for the giant artificial sun satellite to orbit. Which would be bad because on Earth eclipses are caused by the nearer Moon passing in front of the farther Sun.
There are many other things to consider when designing a possible artificial geocentric solar system. But presumably some users on this board can do it for you.
A possibly simpler way to create an artificial geocentric solar system would be to find an Earth-sized rogue planet in interstellar space and build a gigantic artificial geodesic spherical structure around it and fit the inner surface of that spherical structure with countless gazillions of lamps. The lamps would be programmed to turn on and off in patterns to simulate the movements of the Sun, the Moon, the visible planets in the Solar System, and the stars.
So if it is scientifically possible for an advanced civilization to create an artificial geocentric solar system, a possibly artificial or natural geocentric solar system might exist in a science fiction story set in some parallel universe where the laws of science are different. And of course a natural geocentric solar system might exist in a fantasy story filled with magic.
As I remember, in J.R.R. Tolkien's legendarium the world was originally not only geocentric but flat, until a great cataclysm where the God of the story changed the Earth into a sphere and made the solar system heliocentric.
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2023-11-05T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/9340
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Opera “The Barber of Seville” will be under the baton of Margarita Grinivetskaya on April 19
Margarita Grinivetskaya will first conduct the opera “The Barber of Seville”, which will be held on the stage of Odessa National Academic Opera and Ballet Theatre on Friday, April 19.
Margarita Grinivetskaya first conducted the orchestra at the age of 15 years. She graduated from Nezhdanova National Music Academy in specialties "choral conducting" and "opera-symphonic conducting". In 2015, as an assistant conductor, she took part in the staging of opera “Selma” by Poul Ruders at State Opera of Bavaria, as well as in recordings of symphonic works by Boris Lyatoshinskiy with the Bamberg City Symphony Orchestra for Bavaria Radio. In 2016 she won the Grand Prix and the audience award at the Fifth All-Ukrainian competition-festival of conducting art "Musical Tavria" in Kherson. She became a conductor of Odessa National Academic Opera and Ballet Theatre in June 2018.
Also on April 19the theatre-goers will first enjoy a soloist of Odessa Opera House Anastasia Martynyuk as Rosina. The part of Figaro will be performed by Bogdan Panchenko and Honoured Artist of Ukraine Vladislav Goray will play Count Almaviva.
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2024-06-08T01:26:28.774034
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https://example.com/article/3265
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