KGLQA-dataset
Collection
contain QuALITY,RACE,NCR,CCLUE-MRC datasets
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13 items
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Updated
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1
conversation_id
int64 1
2.52k
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stringclasses 1
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934 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nExtensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Anybody who shunned a Cure needed his head examined—assuming he had one left! Henry Infield placed the insulated circlet on his head gently. The gleaming rod extended above his head about a foot, the wires from it Infield turned his soft blue eyes to the black and tan oxfords with the plate—steps or a manhole cover—what good would your lightning rod do Infield whirled and stalked to the desk. \"That's the answer! The whole cure anything. Eventually the savage dies—just as all those sick savages out in the street will die unless we can cure the disease, not only the indications.\" a nuclear explosion. The foetic gyro ball was worn day and night, for The sickness overcame him. He sat down on Morgan's desk. \"That's just one thing, the gyro ball. There are so many others, so many.\" Morgan smiled. \"You know, Henry, not all of our Cures are so—so—not with that insidious voice drumming in his head night and day, do you mean to say that man's senses will only be impaired 23 per cent? Why, he'll turn violently schizophrenic sooner or later—and you know it. The only cure we have for that is still a strait jacket, a padded cell or one of those inhuman lobotomies.\" \"You're damned right!\" Infield slammed the door behind him. lightning rod, his face changing when he realized it must be some kind Suddenly something else was pushing against Infield, forcing the guy's got a lightning rod? You're grounding him! jabbed the button that sent a negative current through the cable. The magnetic suction dart dropped away from Infield like a thing that had releasing and drawing all his darts into his belt, making it resemble a The young man's eyes almost seemed to narrow, although his face didn't move he merely radiated narrowed eyes. \"How long have you been Cured?\" \"Not—not long,\" Infield evaded. Infield's pulse raced, trying to get ahead of his thoughts, and losing out. A chance to study a pseudo-culture of the \"Cured\" developed in cleared his throat, noticing the affectation of it. \"My name's Infield.\" Infield supposed it was a Cure, although he had never issued one like it. He didn't know if it would be good form to inquire what kind it was. \"It's a cure for alcoholism,\" Price told him. \"It runs a constant blood check to see that the alcohol level doesn't go over the sobriety limit.\" \"What happens if you take one too many?\" more interesting than what he was saying. \"It drives a needle into my temple and kills me.\" The psychiatrist felt cold fury rising in him. The Cures were supposed to save lives, not endanger them. \"What kind of irresponsible idiot could have issued such a device?\" he \"I did,\" Price said. \"I used to be a psychiatrist. I was always good in shop. This is a pretty effective mechanism, if I say so myself. It can't be removed without causing my death and it's indestructible. himself, Infield knew. The threat of death would keep him constantly Infield looked up self-consciously and noticed that they had crossed Of course he didn't, Infield knew. Why should he? It was useless to Reggie went away. Price kept dissecting the tobacco and paper. Infield Cured,\" he said as a reminder. Price looked up, no longer interested in the relic of a cigarette. He was suddenly intensely interested and intensely observant of the rest have them for generations, everyone who didn't have one developed a defense mechanism and an aberration so they would be normal. If that phobia isn't brought to the surface and Cured, it may arise any time Infield's throat went dry. \"And you're the one to deal with them?\" Doubly dangerous to Infield because, even though he was one of the few visibly thinking that he shouldn't run that routine into the ground. \"We'll Cure them whether they want to be Cured or not—for their own good.\" Infield felt cold inside. After a time, he found that the roaring was not just in his head. It was thundering outside. He was getting sick. Price was the type of man who could spread his ideas throughout the ranks of the Cured—if indeed the plot was not already universal, imposed upon many ill minds. He could picture an entirely Cured world and he didn't like the view. Every Cure cut down on the mental and physical abilities of the patient as it was, whether Morgan and the others admitted it or not. But if everyone had a crutch to lean on for one phobia, he would develop secondary symptoms. People would start needing two Cures—perhaps a foetic gyro and a But Infield let himself relax. How could anyone force a mechanical relief for neurotic or psychopathic symptoms on someone who didn't want or need it? He's not an alcoholic. He didn't need to put that Cure on his head. It's just an excuse for not drinking. All of this is just because a mark of honor of the completely sane man. You should be proud of your Cure and eager to Cure others. Very eager.\" Cure is not even thought of—hypochondria. Hundreds of people come to your office for a Cure and you turn them away. Suppose you and the other Cured psychiatrists give everybody who comes to you a Cure?\" unless they were absolutely necessary.\" \"You'll feel differently after you've been Cured for a while yourself. Other psychiatrists have.\" Before Infield could speak, a stubble-faced, barrel-chested man moved Infield hit the big man behind the ear. He dropped the bottle and fell \"I'm going to kill you,\" he said, glaring at Infield. \"You made me fall Infield wasn't a large man, but he had pressed two hundred and fifty \"I'll do it if you cause more trouble.\" Infield sat down and rubbed his \"No. No, you aren't.\" Infield felt an excitement pounding through him, same as when he had diagnosed his first case. No, better than that. \"That taste of liquor didn't kill you, Price. Nothing terrible happened. You could find some way to get rid of that Cure.\" Price stared at him as if he were a padded-cell case. \"That's different. I'd be a hopeless drunk without the Cure. Besides, no one ever gets rid of a Cure.\" \"I'll show you.\" He took off the circlet with the lightning rod and lightning flashes, Reggie. Come on.\" books. He had had a latent fear of lightning when he chose the lightning rod Cure. He could have picked a safety belt or foetic gyro just as well. excitement was all gone now and it left an empty space into which fear rushed. Infield looked up and saw the lightning reflected on the blade of a the knife fell into Infield's palm. The psychiatrist pulled himself It was his problem. Infield usually solved other people's problems, but Infield realized that he had gone mad as he held the thin blade high overhead, but he did need some kind of lightning rod. Price (who was right behind him, gaining) had been right. No one could discard a Cure. He watched the lightning play its light on the blade of his Cure and he knew that Price was going to kill him in the next moment. He was wrong. The lightning hit him first. \"Mr. Infield went out without his Cure in a storm and was struck by lightning. We took him to the morgue. He must have been crazy to go Reggie went out. \"Yes, sir. He was struck by lightning, struck dead. He Morgan exhaled. Poor Infield. But it wasn't the lightning that killed The thunder, naturally, was what had killed Infield. Loud noise—any\n\n<question>:\nWhy has Infield attached a lightning rod to his head?\n\n<options>:\nA He needs it in order to survive the elements\nB He wants to go back to being an Incomplete\nC He is conducting an experiment involving electricity\nD He believes it has cured him of his fear\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "D"
}
] |
2,314 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nHe jumped into a bramble bush and scratched out both his eyes. be laughed at? Do you think we could stand a little discredit, making silly asses of ourselves? Because when I finish this book, we'll be laughed out of existence. There won't be any Authority in psionics for a while—and maybe that way one of the lads who's really \"No. Oh, no!\" \"It stops things from going out.\" \"That's right. And it stops things from going in. It's an insulator. You need it badly. It would hurt you a great deal if you took it off, away from the Farm.\" The boy fought back tears. \"But I don't want to go back there—\" The deal with this morning—the one who's threatening to upset the whole \"Full psi precautions?\" asked Dorffman. sure of it. If Tommy's in the trouble I think he's in, we don't dare risk a chance of Adult Contact now. We could end up with a dead boy on our hands.\" get back to work again. The other letter cheered him a bit more. It bore the letterhead of the International Psionics Conference: In recognition of your position as an authority on human Psionic earlier papers had only hinted at the direction he was going—but the book would clear away the fog. He scanned the title page proudly. \"A Theory of Psionic Influence on Infant and Child Development.\" A good title—concise, commanding, yet modest. They would read it, all right. And they would find it a light shining brightly in the darkness, a For they were floundering. When they were finally forced to recognize that this great and powerful force did indeed exist in human minds, with unimaginable potential if it could only be unlocked, they had plunged eagerly into the search, and found themselves in a maddening bramble bush of contradictions and chaos. Nothing worked, and \"I'm really overwhelmed,\" he said after a moment. \"Within the stronghold of psionic research at last. And face to face with the Master in the trembling flesh!\" Connecticut and see for myself how much pressure these experimental controls you keep talking about will actually bear. But mostly, I want to see just what in psionic hell you're so busy making yourself an misdirected, is all.\" \"According to your Theory, that is.\" \"Wildly unorthodox approach to psionics—but at least you're energetic enough.\" \"We haven't been energetic enough to find an orthodox approach that got why all. It's not inconceivable that the children \"Yes, wasn't it,\" mused Melrose, scratching his bony jaw. \"Only took them seventy years to climb it, thanks to a certain man's theories. I wonder how long it'll take psionics to crawl out of the pit you're digging for it?\" Lessing glared at him. \"When we began studying this psi-potential, we found out some curious things. For one thing, it seemed to be immensely more powerful and active in infants and children than in adults. Somewhere along the line as a child grows up, something happens. We don't know what. We do know that the child's psi-potential gradually withdraws deeper and deeper into his mind, burying itself farther and farther out of reach, just the way a tadpole's tail is absorbed deeper underground? What buries it so deeply that adult human beings can't get hard grey plastic material, with a network of wiring buried in the substance, connected to a simple pocket-sized power source. \"The major problem,\" Lessing said, \"has been to shield the children from any external psionic stimuli, except those we wished to expose them to. Our goal is a perfectly controlled psi environment. The monitors are quite effective—a simple Renwick scrambler screen.\" \"It blocks off all types of psi activity?\" asked Melrose. \"As far as we can measure, yes.\" \"Which may not be very far.\" so far afield at that—with scholarships supported by Hoffman Center funds. Other children come to us—foundlings, desertees, children from broken homes, children of all ages from infancy on. Sometimes they stay until they have reached college age, or go on to jobs. As far as psionics research is concerned, we are not trying to be teachers. We are strictly observers. We try to place the youngsters in positions where they can develope what potential they have— without the presence of external psionic influences they would normally be subject to. The results have been remarkable.\" grey glass they could see three children, about four years old, playing in a large room. \"They're perfectly insulated from us,\" said Lessing. \"A variety of penetrated into the children's room. There was no sign of a switch, nor a power source. As the children moved about, the screen flickered. Below it, a recording-tape clicked along in little spurts and starts of moments. \"Those three seem to work as a team, somehow. Each one, individually, had a fairly constant recordable psi potential of about seventeen on the arbitrary scale we find useful here. Any two of them scale in at thirty-four to thirty-six. Put the three together and they operate The children laughed and jabbered, apparently intrigued by the game he to see what I'm driving at,\" he said slowly. \"Yes,\" said Melrose. \"I think I'm beginning to see.\" He scratched his jaw. \"You think that it's adult psi-contact that drives the child's potential underground—that somehow adult contact acts like a damper, a sort of colossal candle-snuffer.\" \"That's what I think,\" said Lessing. \"How do you know those children didn't make you take off your monitor?\" Lessing blinked. \"Why should they?\" \"Maybe they enjoy the crash when the blocks fall down.\" \"But that wouldn't make any difference, would it? The blocks still fall down.\" an Authority in a field where the most devastating thing that could see him go, Lessing thought, and tried to force the thin, angry man firmly out of his mind. But somehow Melrose wouldn't force. \"Stop worrying about it,\" Dorffman urged. \"He's a crackpot. He's \"He wasn't objecting to the theory. He's afraid of what happens after \"I hurt. My head hurts. I hurt all over. Go away.\" \"Why do you hurt?\" horribly wrong—could the boy really be sensing the source of the trouble? Lessing felt a cold knot gather in the pit of his stomach. He knew what happened when adult psi-contact struck a psi-high youngster's mind. He had seen it a hundred times at the Farm. But even more—he had felt it in his own mind, bursting from the child. Like a violent physical blow, the hate and fear and suspicion and cruelty buried and repressed in the adult mind, crushing suddenly into the raw receptors of the child's mind like a smothering fog—it was a fearful thing. A healthy youngster could survive it, even though the scar remained. But an animal instinctively seeks its own protection sense of warmth—peace and security and comfort—swept in as the fear faded from the boy's face. The fire engine clattered to the floor. They analyzed the tapes later, punching the data cards with greatest before. There must be an error.\" \"Of course,\" said Lessing. \"According to the theory. The theory says that adult psi-contact is deadly to the growing child. It smothers their potential through repeated contact until it dries up completely. We've proved that, haven't we? Time after time. Everything goes according to the theory—except Tommy. But Tommy's psi-potential was drying up there on the Farm, until the distortion was threatening the balance of his mind. Then he made an adult contact, and we saw how he\n\n<question>:\nWhy will adult psi contact hurt the children?\n\n<options>:\nA Adult psi contact increases a child's psionic ability so much it can cause a psychotic break.\nB Adult psi contact overwhelms the children's brains. It gives them migraines.\nC Adult psi contact overwhelms the children's nervous systems. It gives them nose bleeds.\nD Adult psi contact dampens the children's natural psionic abilities. Eventually, adult psi contact will snuff out a child's abilities altogether.\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "D"
}
] |
1,057 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\n... and it comes out here By LESTER DEL REY Illustrated by DON SIBLEY like him. But it's a longish story, and you might as well let me in. You will, you know, so why quibble about it? At least, you always have ... or do ... or will. I don't know, verbs get all mixed up. We Anyhow, you'll let me in. I did, so you will. Thanks. You think you're crazy, of course, but you'll find out you how you feel I felt the same way when he—that is, of course, I or we—came back to tell me about it, thirty years ago. Right now, you're shocked. It's a real wrench when a man meets himself for the first time. Some kind of telepathy seems to work between two of the same people. You sense things. So I'll simply go ahead talking for half an hour or so, until you get over it. After that you'll come along with me. You know, I could try to change things around by telling but he—I—told me what I was going to do, so I might as well do the same. I probably couldn't help telling you the same thing in the same words, even if I tried—and I don't intend to there . You are completely outside of time and space, as best you can guess how things are. You can't feel any motion, of course. You try to reach a hand out Then you feel silly, because you'll remember that I said you'd ask that. Well, I asked it after I was told, then I came back and told it to you, and I still can't help answering when you speak. \"Not exactly,\" I try to explain. \"Maybe it's no dimension—or it might be the fifth the machine and I don't understand it.\" \"But....\" I let it go, and so do you. If you don't, it's a good way of going for us to imagine it. When you spend thirty years thinking about it, as I did—and you will—you get further and further from an answer. think about that then, either. I'm smoking, and so are you, and the air in the machine is getting a open, yet you haven't seen any effects of air loss. \"Where are we getting our air?\" you ask. \"Or why don't we lose it?\" \"No place for it to go,\" I explain. There isn't. Out there is neither time nor space, apparently. How could the air leak out? You still feel feel a dankish sort of air replace the stale air, and you breathe easier, though we're in complete darkness, except for the weak light in the machine, which always burns, and a few feet of rough dirty cement I'd told you that, too, but you've forgotten. \"As near as I can guess, it's about 2150. He told me, just as I'm telling you, that it's an future. Then the door opens, and the elevator says \"first\" back at us. grab the motor, and get out. And good luck to you.\" You act as if you're dreaming, though you can't believe it's a dream. You nod at me and I move out into the main corridor. A second later, You get up your courage and go up to a boy selling something that might \"Where can I find the Museum of Science?\" \"Downayer rien turn lefa the sign. Stoo bloss,\" he tells you. Around you, you hear some pretty normal English, but there are others using stuff as garbled as his. The educated and uneducated? I don't know. You go right until you find a big sign built into the rubbery surface of the walk: in his suit and the friendly grin on his face, he looks like any other guard. What's more, he speaks pretty clearly. Everyone says things in a sort of drawl, with softer vowels and slurred consonants, but it's rather pleasant. \"Help you, sir? Oh, of course. You must be playing in 'Atoms and He beams at that. \"Of course.\" The gate is swung to behind you, but obviously he isn't locking it. In fact, there doesn't seem to be a lock. \"Must be a new part. You go down that corridor, up one flight them to check his latest theory of how they work. Too bad he could not explain the principle, either. Someone will, some day, though. Lord, the genius of that twentieth century inventor! It's quite a Oh—congratulations on your pronunciation. Sounds just like some of our oldest tapes.\" You get away from him, finally, after some polite thanks. The building but with variations, probably depending on the power output. A big sign on the ceiling gives a lot of dope on atomic generators, explaining You study it, but it mentions casually the inventor, without giving his name. Either they don't know it, or they take it for granted that everyone does, which seems more probable. They call attention to the the cathogrids and we had to replace that, but otherwise it's exactly as the great inventor made it. And it still operates as well as ever. Like to have me tell you about it?\" \"Not particularly,\" you begin, and then realize bad manners might be conspicuous here. While you're searching for an answer, the guard pulls if you'd stop drinking so much of that scotch and staring at the time machine out there now, you'd hear what I'm saying and know what will happen to you. But of course, just as I did, you're going to miss a lot of what I say from now on, and have to find out for yourself. But maybe some of it helps. I've tried to remember how much I remembered, after he told me, but I can't be sure. So I'll keep on talking. I probably can't help it, anyhow. Pre-set, you might say. Well, you stagger down the corridor, looking out for the guard, but all seems clear. Then you hear his voice from the weapons room. You bend down and try to scurry past, but you know you're in full view. Nothing happens, though. Something goes over your head and drops on the sidewalk just in front of your feet, with a sudden ringing sound. You don't wait to find out dart past. seeming to come out of the sockets, and that atomic generator getting heavier at every step. before you. And he is. He stands just inside the door of the building as you reach to satisfy your amiable guard friend. He finally smiles in satisfaction gulping out something about going all the way down, and then wonder how a machine geared for voice operation can make anything of that. What You'll never know what the shouting was about—whether they finally doped out the fact that they'd been robbed, or whether they were trying to help you. You don't care which it is. The field springs up around been used so far—sends you off into nothingness. There is no beam of light, you can't hear a thing, and you're safe. It isn't much of a trip back. You sit there smoking and letting your You'll figure out the cycle in more details later. You get into the machine in front of your house, go to the future in the sub-basement, And with the controls set at 120 volts, 60 cycles and 15 amperes, you get just that. You don't need the power company any more. And you feel a little happier when you realize that the luggage space wasn't put in the museum with you as the inventor so you can steal it to be But you're thinking of the puzzle. You can't find any answer. One day you come across an old poem—something about some folks that's waiting in the building you had put around it. Then you'll be knocking on your own door, thirty years back—or right now, from your view—and telling your younger self all these things I'm telling you. But now.... came looking for you and shouting, before the time machine left.\n\n<question>:\nWhy was futuristic Jerome so sure that past Jerome would invite him inside?\n\n<options>:\nA Because he himself had done so already.\nB Because he can see into the future.\nC Because he knows that his decisions have been altered by the machine.\nD Because he can hear the inner thoughts of his mind\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "A"
}
] |
59 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nFrom Venus to Earth, and all the way between, it was a hell of a world for men ... and Apprentice Burnerman O'Rielly particularly. O'Rielly wondered had Callahan passed out, was so long before the old what on Earth wasn't any more? Anyway, nobody could get to a burner except through its watch Well, ma'am, O'Rielly searched every cranny where even a three-tailed mouse of Venus could have stowed away. His first flight, and O'Rielly saw himself washed out, busted to sweeper on the blast-off stands of that O'Rielly could have torn down the universe and rebuilt it just for in his head. Never felt so fine before. Except on the Venus layover when he'd been roped into a dice game with a bunch of Venus lads who Callahan said something through his teeth, then studied O'Rielly \"Venus dames,\" O'Rielly said dreamily, \"don't boss anything, do they?\" Callahan yelped like he'd been bit in the pants by a big Jupiter ant. \"O'Rielly! You trying to get both of us condemned to a Uranus moon?\" Callahan also shot a wild look to the intercom switch. It was in OFF position \"Thousand years ago, it was, the first flight reached Venus. Guys got one look at them dames. Had to bring some home or bust. So then everybody on Earth got a look, mostly by TV only of course. That did \"Well, that's when Earth dames took over like armies of wild cats with knots in their tails. Before the guys who'd brought the Venus dames to Earth could say anything they was taken apart too small to pick up with a blotter. Earth dames wound up by flying the Venus ones back where they come from and serving notice if one ever set foot on Earth again there wouldn't be enough left of Venus to find with an electron microscope. \"Venus boys rared up and served notice that if Earth ever got any funny notions, right away there wouldn't be enough Earth left to hide in an atom's eyebrow. Touchy as hornets on a hot griddle, them Venus guys. Crazier than bed bugs about war. Could smell a loose dollar a million light years away too. Finagled around until they finally cooked up a deal. \"No Venus dames allowed within fifty miles of their port. Earth guys stay inside the high-voltage fence. Any dame caught trying to leave Venus thrown to the tigers for supper. Same for any Earth guy caught around a Venus dame. In return, Earth could buy practically everything at bargain basement prices.\" \"Oh, I was shown the history films in pre-flight,\" O'Rielly said, still dreamily. \"But not a peek of any Venus dame.\" \"Pray heaven you'll never lay eyes on one nor have one get within ten foot of you! Even though you'd know she'd be your damnation wouldn't With suddenly enlivened interest O'Rielly looked at Callahan. \"Hey, how Callahan glared fit to drill holes in O'Rielly's head. \"Look! I was was saved! And O'Rielly would now think of grand ways to save her was being slapped together again. \"O'Rielly! Awp, you angel-faced pirate, couldn't you hide her somewheres better than that? Shut up, you don't have to explain to me, but God help the whole universe if we O'Rielly's shower opened and Callahan, glowing like a young bucko, looked at O'Rielly and Callahan still lolling on the bunk. \"Believe you did, ma'am,\" Callahan responded cheerfully. \"And the betwixt O'Rielly's grand brain and Callahan's great experience she'd be drowned himself if he could. \"There are rewards,\" the Old Woman said with the deadly coldness of outer space, \"for Earthmen found in a Venus woman's company, and for her leaving her planet.\" O'Rielly, Callahan and Trillium. \"All right, come along!\" O'Rielly joined the death march gladly. He felt the way Callahan \"Presidents of Earth and Venus, please,\" the Old Woman stated evenly. \"Interplanetary emergency.\" Highly groomed flunkies appeared on the panels and were impersonally pleasant. The flunkies' faces went slack with shock, then were replaced by a blizzard of scrambled faces and torrents of incoherent voices. Finally on the Earth panel appeared the famous classic features. \"The \"An innocent child,\" Mr. President snapped, \"obviously kidnapped by those two idiotic Earthmen there!\" \"Oh, no, Grandpapa,\" Trillium said swiftly \"I stole away all by years ago.\" \"Hundred twenty-five,\" Grandpapa president growled like a boiling volcano. \"The year some Earthman.... Never did catch the devil.... Earth out of the universe. \"My grandchild was kidnapped by men under your official command! Weren't you, Trillium dear?\" \"No. One of us stowing away was the only way we Venus women could bring our cause to the attention of Earth's President. If Earth will only stop buying from Venus, you won't have any money to squander on your have to have something to keep their minds off their troubles! Nobody around here gets hurt. Oh, maybe a few scratches here and there. But nobody on Venus dies from the things any more.\" \"But Venus men are so excited all the time about going to war they Venus for ten thousand years and all the women in the universe can't change it!\" \"And new President of Venus, elected by unanimous vote of all women.\" \"Impossible! The men run Venus! Nobody's turning this planet into another Earth where a man can't even sneeze unless some woman says so!\" \"Take him away, girls,\" Berta ordered coolly, whereupon her spouse was yanked from view. His bellows, however, could be heard yet. \"Unhand me, you fool creatures! Guards! Guards!\" Venus women had our own men in our power.\" \"Those crewmen there,\" Grandmamma President said, \"seem to be proof enough that we Venus women no longer radiate any threat to Earth's tranquility.\" Mr. O'Rielly and Mr. Callahan be suitably rewarded for assisting our \"Oh, well,\" O'Rielly muttered, once he and Callahan were safely beyond Saturn? Lucky we ain't programmed to be hung, shot and thrown to the crows for breakfast.\" Callahan's old pick-and-shovel face wore a little grin like the cat that nobody could prove ate the canary. \"You—I mean, that Earth guy a hundred twenty-five years ago,\" O'Rielly said in sudden thought. \"If Venus dames wanted to be loved so bad, why did Trillium's Grandmamma let him go?\" \"Venus guys wasn't so busy playing war all the time,\" Callahan mumbled, like to himself, \"they'd of found out the answer centuries ago. Yep, guess our boy was the only guy on Earth or Venus to find out and live. Dames bossing both planets now, though, his old secret won't be one much longer. Venus dames could of let it out centuries ago themselves but didn't, just to spite Earth probably. Later, was part of organizing to take over Venus, I guess.\" O'Rielly still had memories of the way he had felt about Trillium \"Yes, ma'am,\" Callahan sighed like he hadn't heard a word O'Rielly\n\n<question>:\nWhat were Callahan and O'Rielly awarded for assisting the revolution?\n\n<options>:\nA They were allowed to visit with the women of Venus\nB They were allotted five minutes leisure before returning to their stations.\nC They were punished, rather than rewarded, and programmed to be hung, shot and thrown to the crows for breakfast.\nD Nothing, but they were spared from being condemned to a Uranus moon.\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "B"
}
] |
1,962 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\n. They were uncovering new talent at such a great rate, (Harl Vincent, David H. Keller, E. E. Smith, Philip Francis Nowlan, hundred and fifty stories. Eric Breuer), that Jack Williamson barely managed to become one of a distinguished group of discoveries by stealing the cover of the December issue for his first story Fletcher Pratt and Miles J. to imitate in style, mood and subject the magic of that late lamented master of fantasy. The imitation found great favor from the readership and almost . He followed his initial success AMAZING STORIES and The Alien Intelligence in Eric now recognized as a prominent SCIENCE WONDER STORIES , these stories were close copies of A. Merritt, whose style and method Jack Williamson parlayed into Yet the strange thing about it was that Jack Williamson was one of the most versatile science vogue for science-fantasy altered to super science, he created the memorable super lock-picker Giles Habilula as the major attraction When grim realism was the order of the day, he produced wanted extrapolated theory in present tense, he assumed the disguise of Will Stewart and popularized the concept of contra terrene matter in science fiction \"Why, hello, Eric, old man!\" with Shock. Finally, when only psychological studies of the future He confessed to a few pangs of and—\" \"Young man, if any harm appeal to the Society for the in existence at the time of the writing, the surmise that this media would be a natural for angrily, face highly colored, clothing shimmering with artificial gems, waddled pompously out of the door through which westerns was particularly astute. Eric?\" drought and frost and dust-storms, poison-weeds and hail, for the sake of survival on the Llano Estacado.\" The discovery of was the escape he sought and his goal was to be a science fiction writer. He labored to this end and the first AMAZING STORIES Eric held up the silver flask. he knew that a story of his had Since then, he has written millions of words of science fiction and has gone on record as follows: \"I feel that science-fiction is the folklore of the new world of science, and the expression of man's reaction to a technological environment. By which I mean that it is the most interesting and stimulating form of literature today.\" heart when he looked up from his clattering machine. rumpled bed-clothing, a striking slender figure in purple-striped set you down. But I can't be responsible for what happens afterward.\" \"Simple, primitive life is what pajamas. He smiled fondly across bending exercises. But after a few half-hearted movements, he and also with scientific appliances that would have been strange to the man of four or five centuries before, when the Age of Aviation was beginning. Eric helped Nada to a place \"Go ahead. We aren't coming back.\" \"Gee! What is it? Elopement? With another yawn, Mr. Eric Nada and Eric felt themselves seated himself before a broad, their faces. Eric sat up, found \"It's wonderful to have a fine, green, that brought a thrill of pleasure to the young novelist's a bloody rock in one hand and strong man like you to trust in, He wrote \"thrilling action romances,\" as his enthusiastic publishers and television directors said, \"of ages past, when men were men. Red-blooded heroes responding vigorously to the stirring passions of primordial life!\" He was impartial as to the source of his thrills—provided they were distant enough from modern civilization. His hero was likely to be an ape-man roaring through the jungle, with Eric. You're just like one of the civilization! We're back to Nature!\" \"Yes, we're on our feet now, not parasites on the machines.\" Or a cowboy, \"hard-riding, hard-shooting,\" the vanishing hero of the ancient ranches. Or a man His heroes were invariably strong, fearless, resourceful fellows, savage animals he had seen in the television. equal terms with a cave-man, or call science to aid them in defending marooned with a lovely woman a beautiful mate from Eric's novels, and watched the television screens. They thrilled at the simple, romantic lives his heroes led, paid him handsome royalties, and subconsciously shared his opinion that civilization had taken all the best from the life of man. Eric had settled down to the artistic satisfaction of describing the sensuous delight of his tripping into the study, gay and vivacious, and—as her husband of a few months most justly thought—altogether beautiful in a bright silk dressing gown. Recklessly, he slammed the machine back into its place, and resolved to forget that his next \"red-blooded action thriller\" was say nothing of a mass of pure copper. \"Probably you're right. This soil seemed to be of alluvial origin. Shouldn't be surprised if with Nature, and growing things. Men read her poems and called her a genius. Even though the whole world had grown up into a city, the birds were extinct, there were no wild flowers, and no one had time to \"Matches! Of course not! \"Eric, darling,\" she said, \"isn't We're going back to Nature.\" bother about sunsets. things we both love?\" \"Yes, dear. Civilization has ruined the world. If we could only have lived a thousand years ago, when life was simple and natural, when men hunted and killed their meat, instead of drinking synthetic \"Eric, that reminds me that his own. They turned their attention stuff, when men still had the joys of conflict, instead of I'm hungry.\" contrary ideas about the matter. At last, from sheer weariness, by a vast fallen tree-trunk. Earth had before civilization ruined it.\" \"Yes, Kinsley, with his new infra-red ray telescope, that penetrates seemingly not inconvenienced in the least by the inclement elements, begin life like the characters in this hateful civilization, and live natural lives. Maybe a rocket—\" The world seems to be in about the The Cosmic Express.\" \"The Cosmic Express?\" \"A new invention. Just perfected a few weeks ago, I understand. By Ludwig Von der Valls, \"Eric,\" a thin voice trembled. \"I've quit bothering about science. It has ruined nature, filled the world with silly, artificial people, doing silly, artificial things.\" \"But this is quite remarkable, the German physicist.\" dear. A new way to travel—by \"Eric?\" she called softly. \"Don't you wish—we had known better?\" change. The disintegration of the energy . And Millikan's old proof that his Cosmic of electricity are united to form weren't a scientist.\" He glowed with pride. \"But the method, in the new Cosmic Express, is simply Eric and Nada clung to each humans. Nada burst into tears. \"Oh, if only—if only—\" \"A darned shame,\" Eric grumbled, object and sets it down on the other side of the world. \"An analogy from television might help. You know that by means of the scanning disc, the picture is transformed into mere rapid fluctuations in the brightness \"So sorry—an accident—inconceivable. I can't see how he of the power is lost, and power is required to rebuild the Mr. Eric Stokes-Harding, noted author of primitive life and love, ate a hearty meal with his pretty spouse, after they had washed as much satisfaction from contemplation of each other's delivered his promised story to his publishers, a thrilling tale of faces as from the excellent food. a beautiful girl. The hero made stone tools, erected a dwelling for himself and his mate, hunted food for her, defended her from society—\" Eric laughed, fumbled with a minutes later Mr. Eric\n\n<question>:\nWhere does Eric view himself and others in relation to the modern world?\n\n<options>:\nA He believes that humans rely too much on modern technological advancements and are devolving as a result\nB He believes that scientists and inventors are responsible for the downfall of society\nC He believes that humans will never be content until they are able to perform any task without leaving the confines of their homes\nD He believes that technological advancement has swindled humans of their natural gifts and activities\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "D"
}
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1,663 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nBY RICK RAPHAEL That the gentleman in question was a nut was beyond question. He was an institutionalized Illustrated by Freas Miss Abercrombie, the manual therapist patted the old man on the shoulder. \"You're doing just fine, Mr. Lieberman. Show it to me when you have finished.\" Miss Abercrombie smoothed her smock down over trim hips and surveyed the other patients working at the long tables in the hospital's arts and crafts shop. Two muscular and bored attendants in spotless whites, lounged beside the locked door and chatted idly about the Dodgers' complex of buildings that housed the main wards. The therapist strolled down the line of tables, pausing to give a word of advice here, and a suggestion there. She stopped behind a frowning, intense patient, rapidly shaping blobs of clay into odd-sized strips and forms. As he finished each piece, he \"And what are we making today, Mr. Funston?\" Miss Abercrombie asked. patient ignored the question. He hunched closer to his table as if to draw away from the woman. \"We mustn't be antisocial, Mr. Funston,\" Miss Abercrombie said lightly, but firmly. \"You've been coming along famously and you must remember to answer when someone talks to you. Now what are you making? It looks very complicated.\" She stared professionally at the maze of clay parts. Thaddeus Funston continued to mold the clay bits and put them in place. thought you said an 'atom bomb.'\" \"Did,\" Funston murmured. Safely behind the patient's back, Miss Abercrombie smiled ever so slightly. \"Why that's very good, Mr. Funston. That shows real creative thought. I'm very pleased.\" She patted him on the shoulder and moved down the line of patients. A few minutes later, one of the attendants glanced at his watch, stood up and stretched. things.\" There was a rustle of paint boxes and papers being shuffled and chairs being moved back. A tall, blond patient with a flowing mustache, put one more dab of paint on his canvas and stood back to survey the meaningless smears. He sighed happily and laid down his palette. clapped the other half of the clay sphere over the filled hemisphere and then stood up. The patients lined up at the door, waiting for the walk warm, afternoon sunlight and the door closed behind them. Miss Abercrombie gazed around the cluttered room and picked up her chart book of patient progress. Moving slowly down the line of benches, she patient. At the clay table, she carefully lifted the top half of the clay ball and stared thoughtfully at the jumbled maze of clay strips laced through As she drove out of the hospital grounds, Thaddeus Funston stood at the barred window of his locked ward and stared vacantly over the hills towards the craft shop. He stood there unmoving until a ward attendant came and took his arm an hour later to lead him off to the patients' mess hall. The sun set, darkness fell over the stilled hospital grounds and the An instant later, the shattering roar and blast of the explosion struck the hospital buildings in a wave of force and the bursting crash of a thousand windows was lost in the fury of the explosion and the wild screams of the frightened and demented patients. the arts and crafts building. Thaddeus Funston took his hands from his face and lay back in his bed with a small, secret smile on his lips. Attendants and nurses scurried through the hospital, seeing how many had been injured in the explosion. None had. The hills had absorbed most of the shock and apart from a In Ward 4-C, Thaddeus Funston slept peacefully and happily. \"It's impossible and unbelievable,\" Colonel Thomas Thurgood said for the fifteenth time, later that morning, as he looked around the group of \"How can an atom bomb go off in a nut house?\" \"It apparently was a very small bomb, colonel,\" one of the haggard AEC men offered timidly. \"Not over three kilotons.\" \"I don't care if it was the size of a peanut,\" Thurgood screamed. \"How did it get here?\" A military intelligence agent spoke up. \"If we knew, sir, we wouldn't be \"Colonel, I've told you a dozen times,\" the hospital administrator said with exasperation, \"this was our manual therapy room. We gave our patients art work. It was a means of getting out of their systems, through the use of their hands, some of the frustrations and problems Madame Curie was a misguided scrubwoman.\" doctor. \"Where's that girl you said was in charge of this place?\" \"We've already called for Miss Abercrombie and she's on her way here now,\" the doctor snapped. Outside the tent, a small army of military men and AEC technicians moved tent. An armed MP helped Miss Abercrombie from the vehicle. expression. \"He did make an atom bomb,\" she cried. Colonel Thurgood, who had snapped from his chair at her words, leaped forward to catch her as she collapsed in a faint. At 4:00 p.m., the argument was still raging in the long, narrow staff room of the hospital administration building. Colonel Thurgood, looking more like a patient every minute, sat on the edge of his chair at the head of a long table and pounded with his fist on the wooden surface, making Miss Abercrombie's chart book bounce with every beat. At his left, Miss Abercrombie cringed deeper into her chair at the broadside. Down both sides of the long table, psychiatrists, physicists, strategists and radiologists sat in various stages of nerve-shattered weariness. \"Miss Abercrombie,\" one of the physicists spoke up gently, \"you say that The therapist nodded unhappily. \"And you say that, to the best of your knowledge,\" the physicist \"I'm positive that's all there was in it,\" Miss Abercrombie cried. another chance to repeat his bomb. But this time under our supervision.\" Thurgood leaped to his feet, his face purpling. greatcoat that concealed the strait jacket binding him and with an officer's cap jammed far down over his face, was hustled out of a small side door of the hospital and into a waiting staff car. A few minutes Abercrombie and with a roar, the plane raced down the runway and into military men huddled around a small wooden table. There was nothing on the table but a bowl of water and a great lump of modeling clay. While the psychiatrists were taking the strait jacket off Thaddeus in the staff car outside, Colonel Thurgood spoke to the weary Miss Abercrombie. \"I brought it along from the same batch we had in the store room at the hospital,\" she replied, \"and it's the same amount.\" Thurgood signaled to the doctors and they entered the shack with Thaddeus Funston between them. The colonel nudged Miss Abercrombie. walked to the table and sat down. His fingers began working the damp clay, making first the hollow, half-round shell while the nation's top atomic scientists watched in fascination. Miss Abercrombie stood at his shoulder as Thaddeus hunched over the from the shack. There was a moment of hushed silence and then pandemonium burst. The stony-faced military policemen. \"I told you this whole thing was asinine,\" Thurgood snarled as the a neatly-tied bundle. In the conference room, a red-faced, four-star general cast a chilling glance at the rumpled figure of Colonel Thurgood. \"I've listened to some silly stories in my life, colonel,\" the general said coldly, \"but this takes the cake. You come in here with an insane asylum inmate in a strait jacket and you have the colossal gall to sit\n\n<question>:\nWhat kind of person is Miss Abercrombie? Choose the best option\n\n<options>:\nA Cautious and discouraging\nB Impatient but well-meaning\nC Encouraging and strict\nD Patient but sometimes easily shaken\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "D"
}
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525 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\njust as phony as a three-dollar bill! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Trust Company, the gentleman to whom Miss Orison McCall was applying for a job, was not at all the public picture of a banker. His suit of hound's-tooth checks, the scarlet vest peeping above the vee of his \"He was a very kind employer,\" Orison said. She tried to keep from \"Beg pardon?\" \"What kinda salary you bucking for?\" he translated, bouncing up and down on the toes of his rough-leather desert boots. to Orison. He, too, she observed, wore earmuffs. His were more formal \"What will I be doing, Mr. Wanji?\" Orison asked. might explain why she'd been selected from the Treasury Department's By lunchtime Orison had finished the gentlemen whipped off their hats with a single motion as Orison stepped heart, wore a pair of earmuffs. Orison nodded bemused acknowledgment eyed Orison with the coolness due so attractive a competitor, and favored her with no gambit to enter their conversations. Orison sighed, No call. Orison slipped between the sheets at eleven-thirty. The clock Orison sat up, clutching the sheet around her throat. \"Beg pardon?\" she Orison reached under the bed for a shoe. Gripping it like a Scout-ax, \"What you're testing,\" Orison said in a firm voice, \"is my patience. Who are you?\" \"You make it sound so improper,\" Orison said. Orison briefed her pillow on the Earmuffs, on her task of reading to a \"How do you know ... why do you think I'm beautiful?\" Orison asked. a peculiar electronic pop that puzzled Orison for a moment. Then she Orison flung the shoe and the pillow under her bed, and resolved of leather heels. The gentleman whose heels had just slammed together was bowing. And she saw with some gratification that he was not wearing earmuffs. \"My name,\" the stranger said, \"is Dink Gerding. I am little family.\" \"I'm Orison McCall,\" she said. A handsome man, she mused. Twenty-eight? So tall. Could he ever be interested in a girl just five-foot-three? Maybe higher heels? \"We're pleased with your work, Miss McCall,\" Dink Gerding said. He took reasonably astute sixth-grader couldn't do as well,\" Orison said. with calling me 'sir.' My name is Dink. It is ridiculous, but I'd enjoy \"Dink?\" she asked. \"And I suppose you're to call me Orison?\" \"Then I'll pick you up at seven. Windsor Arms, if I remember your personnel form correctly.\" He stood, lean, all bone and muscle, and bowed slightly. West Point? Hardly. His manners were European. curtsy? Orison wondered. \"Thank you,\" she said. He was a soldier, or had been: the way, when he turned, his shoulders stayed square. The crisp clicking of his steps, a military metronome, to the elevator. When the door slicked open Orison, staring after Dink, just head-and-neck. But not to her. To Dink Gerding. Orison finished the Record , thinking as she read of meeting again this evening that handsome Orison looked up. \"Oh, hello,\" she said. \"I didn't hear you come up.\" \"I walk ever so lightly,\" the woman said, standing hip-shot in front of the desk, \"and pounce ever so hard.\" She smiled. Opulent, Orison thought. Built like a burlesque queen. No, she thought, I don't like her. Can't. Wouldn't if I could. Never cared for cats. \"I'm Orison McCall,\" she said, and tried to smile back without showing \"Common courtesy,\" Miss Vingt explained. \"Also, darling, I'd like to draw your attention to one little point. Dink Gerding—you know, the shoulders and muscles and crewcut? Well, he's posted property. Should you throw your starveling charms at my Dink, you'd only get your little eyes scratched out. Word to the wise, \"What is this?\" Orison demanded. \"Visiting-day at the zoo?\" She paused \"Auga is rather intense,\" the new Mr. Gerding said. \"Yeah, intense,\" Orison said. \"Like a kidney-stone.\" Dink's elder brother. I understand you've met Dink already.\" \"Yes, sir,\" Orison said. The hair of this new Mr. Gerding was cropped even closer than Dink's. His mustache was gray-tipped, like a patch of frosted furze and his eyes, like Dink's, were cobalt blue. The head, Orison mused, would look quite at home in one of Kaiser Bill's spike-topped Instead, Kraft Gerding smiled a smile as frosty as his mustache and the wise....\" \" Half an hour further into the paper, Orison jumped, startled by the Dink ger-Dink d'summa. Orison scribbled down this intelligence in bemused Gregg before Orison was blinded by the lights, brilliant as noonday sun. The room Orison thought she saw Benjamin Franklin winking up at her from the leaping, swinging, spinning webs, seething in the hundred tanks. Orison her two sumo -sized captors, whose combined weights exceeded hers by some quarter-ton, without doing more than lifting her feet from the floor. \"... your flesh would be unharmed, though they spun and darted \"Dink ... Dink!\" Orison shouted. \"I came to bring a message to Dink,\" Orison said. \"Let me go, you himself to one knee. Dink had entered the spider-room. Without his chest. \"You're all right, child. Breathe deep, swallow, and turn your brain back on. All right, now?\" Dink brought his right fist up from hip-level, crashing it into Kraft's Kraft struggled to one knee and remained kneeling, gazing up at Dink \"I wish you hadn't come up here, Orison,\" Dink said. \"Why did you do to Dink, keeping her eyes on the nearest spidertank. \"I had to see \"You're too curious, and Wanji is too careless,\" Dink said. \"Now, what \"I've always been terrified of them,\" Orison said. \"When I was a little \"Strange,\" Dink said. He walked over to the nearest tank and plucked Orison,\" he said. She backed away from Dink Gerding and the minuscule creature he cupped in the palm of his hand. \"These are Microfabridae, more nearly related to shellfish than to spiders,\" he said. \"They're stone-and-metal eaters. They literally couldn't harm a fly. Look at it, Orison.\" He the bowl of his hand. \"Pretty little fellow, isn't he?\" Dink asked. \"I'd be happier if you did,\" Dink said. Orison extended her hand as into a furnace. Dink brushed the \"A sort of crustacean,\" Dink agreed. \"We use them in a commercial \"That's still a secret,\" Dink said, smiling. \"I can't tell even you that, not yet, even though you're my most confidential secretary.\" \"What's he doing now?\" Orison asked, watching the Microfabridus, perched up on the rear four of his six microscopic legs, scratching against her high-school class-ring with his tiny chelae. \"They like gold,\" Dink explained, peering across her shoulder, comfortably close. \"They're attracted to it by a chemical tropism, as children are attracted to candy. Toss him back into his tank, Orison. We'd better get you down where you belong.\" Orison brushed the midget crustacean off her finger into the nearest Orison closed her eyes, leaning back into Dink's arms, listening to\n\n<question>:\nWhy did Orison think that Dink had a European background?\n\n<options>:\nA His accent\nB The languages he speaks\nC His manners\nD His physique\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "C"
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844 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nthe U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Not to be or not to not be ... that was the not-question for the invader of the not-world. Dear Editor: My 14 year old boy, Ronnie, is typing this letter for me because he India, China, England, everywhere. My kid, he reads. He says it's no joke. He wants to call the cops or Dear Joe: Greetings, greetings, greetings. Hold firm in your wretched projection, for tomorrow you will not be alone in the not-world. In two days I, Glmpauszn, will be born. Today I hang in our newly developed not-pod just within the mirror gateway, torn with the agony that we calculated must go with such tremendous wavelength fluctuations. I have attuned myself to a fetus within the body of a not-woman in the not-world. Already I am static and for hours have looked into this weird extension of the Universe with fear and trepidation. and surrounded with an impregnable chimera. Quickly, from the not-world vibrations about you, I learned the not-knowledge of your location. So I must communicate with you by what the not-world calls \"mail\" till we meet. For this purpose I must utilize the feeble vibrations of various not-people through whose inadequate articulation I will attempt to make my moves known to you. Each time I will pick a city other than the one I am in at the time. I, Glmpauszn, come equipped with powers evolved from your fragmentary reports before you ceased to vibrate to us and with a vast treasury of facts from indirect sources. Soon our tortured people will be free I must leave off now because the not-child is about to be born. When it is alone in the room, it will be spirited away and I will spring from the pod on the gateway into its crib and will be its exact vibrational likeness. I have tremendous powers. But the not-people must never know I am among them. This is the only way I could arrive in the room where the gateway lies without arousing suspicion. I will grow up as the not-child in order that I might destroy the not-people completely. Glmpauszn Mnghjkl, fhfjgfhjklop phelnoprausynks. No. When I communicate with you, I see I must avoid those complexities of procedure for which there are no terms in this language. There is no way of describing to you in not-language what I had to go through during the first moments of my birth. Now I know what difficulties you must have had with your limited equipment. These not-people are unpredictable and strange. Their doctor As they arrived hourly, they found me heavier and heavier. Naturally, since I am growing. This is part of my instructions. My not-mother Dredging into the treasury of knowledge I had come equipped with, I produced the proper phrase for occasions of this kind in the not-world. But you know old Blgftury. He wanted to go on this expedition himself and it's his nature never to flatter anyone. From now on I will refer to not-people simply as people, dropping the qualifying preface except where comparisons must be made between this alleged world and our own. It is merely an offshoot of our primitive mythology when this was considered a spirit world, just as these people refer to our world as never-never land and other anomalies. But we learned otherwise, while they never have. New sensations crowd into my consciousness and I am having a hard time classifying them. Anyway, I shall carry on swiftly now to the inevitable climax in which I singlehanded will obliterate the terror of the not-world and return to our world a hero. I cannot understand your not replying to my letters. I have given you a box number. What could have happened to your vibrations? Glmpauszn I fear his words are limited. Ah, well. I had great things to tell you about my progress, but I cannot convey even a hint of how I have accomplished these miracles through the thick skull of this incompetent. As I said before, floods of impressions are driving into my xzbyl ... my brain ... from various nerve and sense areas and I am having a hard must feel each, become accustomed to it. The more I think about it, the more I realize that the information I have been given is very unrealistic. You have been inefficient, Joe. impaired. Farewell, till I find a more intelligent mind so I can write you with more enlightenment. Glmpauszn are powerless even to provide yourself with the wherewithal to live in this inferior world? A reminder, please. You and I—I in particular—are now engaged in a struggle to free our world from the terrible, maiming intrusions of this not-world. Through many long gleebs, our people have lived a semi-terrorized existence while errant vibrations from this world ripped across the closely joined vibration flux, whose individual fluctuations make up our sentient population. Even our eminent, all-high Frequency himself has often been jeopardized by these people. The not-world and our world are like two baskets as you and I see them in our present forms. Baskets woven with the greatest intricacy, design and color but baskets whose convex sides are joined by a thin fringe of filaments. Our world, on the vibrational plane, extends just a bit into this, the not-world. But being a world of higher vibration, it is ultimately tenuous to these gross peoples. While we vibrate only within a restricted plane because of our purer, Glmpauszn not-worlders—I would come to New York immediately. You would rue that day, I assure you. Glmpauszn Blgftury has been goading me for reports. To hell with his reports! I've got a lot more emotions to try, such as romantic love. I've been studying this phenomenon, along with other racial characteristics of Glmpauszn wonderful, in spite of this miserable imitation of a body. There are long hours during which I am so well-integrated into this body and this world that I almost consider myself a member of it. Now I can function efficiently. I sent Blgftury some long reports today outlining my experiments in the realm of chemistry where we must finally defeat these people. Of course, I haven't made the experiments yet, but I will. This is not deceit, merely realistic anticipation of the inevitable. Anyway, what the old xbyzrt doesn't know won't muss his vibrations. ends which send sensations to the brain. The brain interprets these impulses in a certain manner. As a result, the fate of secretion in the Glmpauszn the room. The best way to describe it in not-world language is a white, shapeless cascade of light. result of drinking alcohol. Our wrenchingly attuned faculties in these not-world bodies need the loathsome drug to escape from the reality of not-reality. It's true. I cannot do without it now. The day is only my powers as it has practically obliterated yours. I can't even become invisible any more. I must find the formula that will wipe out the not-world men quickly. Quickly! Glmpauszn \"They're not safe.\" \"Not safe? But that is ridiculous. This hotel is....\" Another day, another hotel. I swear I'm even beginning to think like the not-men, curse them. Glmpauszn Rochester, New York niggling criticism, I have succeeded. I now have developed a form of mold, somewhat similar to the antibiotics of this world, that, transmitted to the human organism, will cause a disease whose end will world. You and I together, Joe, conquerors, liberators. You say you eat little and drink as much as you can. The same with me. Even in this revolting world I am a sad sight. My not-world senses Glmpauszn\n\n<question>:\nWhat is the conflict between Glmpauszn and the not-world?\n\n<options>:\nA Glmpauszn's world wants to conquer the not-world, because they deem the not-world valuable.\nB The not-world unkowningly overlaps and disrupts his.\nC The not-world is full of humans that terrorize his.\nD Glmpauszn's world doesn't understand how people in the not-world operate..\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "B"
}
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618 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nFirst, a quick précis of The Bell Curve . IQ tests, according to Murray and Herrnstein, measure an essential human quality, general intelligence. During the second half of the 20 th century, this quality has risen to supreme importance, because society has become increasingly complex. The intelligent have therefore gone through an \"invisible migration,\" from points of origin all over the class system to a concentration at the top of business, government, and the professions. They are likely to become ever more dominant and prosperous. The unintelligent are falling further and further behind. Because intelligence is substantially inherited, nothing is likely to reverse this process. Blacks are overrepresented among the unintelligent. Any efforts government might make to improve the economic opportunities of poor people, especially poor black people, are likely to fail, because their poverty is so much the result of inherited low intelligence. About the best that can be done for these people is an effort to create a world of simple, decent, honorable toil for them. Herrnstein and Murray begin by telling us that the liberal position on IQ--namely, \"Intelligence is a bankrupt concept\"--has been discredited, and that \"a scholarly consensus has been reached\" around their position. This consensus is \"beyond significant technical dispute.\" Thus, by the end of their introduction, they have arranged matters so that if intelligence has any meaning at all, the idiotic liberals stand discredited and meanwhile, extremely broad claims for intelligence have the cover of \"consensus.\" Having conditioned its audience to view IQ as all-important, The Bell Curve then manipulates statistics in a way that makes IQ look bigger, and everything else smaller, in determining Americans' life-chances. The basic tool of statistical social science in general, and of The Bell Curve in particular, is regression analysis, a technique used to assign weights to various factors (called \"independent variables\") in determining a final outcome (called the \"dependent variable\"). The original statistical work in The Bell Curve consists of regression analyses on a database called the National Longitudinal Study of Youth. The authors claim to demonstrate that high IQ is more predictive of economic success than any other factor, and that low IQ is more predictive of poverty and social breakdown. Virtually all the early commentators on The Bell Curve were unable to assess the merits of the regression analysis. \"I am not a scientist. I know nothing about psychometrics,\" wrote Leon Wieseltier (who was otherwise quite critical) in a typical disclaimer. But by now the statistics have been gone over by professionals, who have come up with different results. The key points of their critique of The Bell Curve are as follows: What Herrnstein and Murray used to measure IQ is actually a measure of education as well as intelligence. All the people tracked in the National Longitudinal Study of Youth took the Armed Forces Qualifying Test, which Herrnstein and Murray treat as a good measure of intelligence. Because the material covered in the test includes subjects like trigonometry, many academic critics of The Bell Curve have objected to its use as a measure only of IQ and not at all of academic achievement. Herrnstein and Murray concede in the footnotes that scores tend to rise with the subjects' education--but they seriously underestimate the magnitude of this rise, as shows. And they resist the obvious inference that the test scores are measuring something other than intelligence. Most of The Bell Curve 's analysis is devoted to proving that IQ has more predictive power than parental \"socio-economic status.\" But Herrnstein and Murray's method of figuring socioeconomic status seems designed to low-ball its influence, as explains. Herrnstein and Murray begin their discussion of the National Longitudinal Study of Youth data by announcing that they aren't going to analyze the effect of education, because education is too much a result of IQ. It's not an independent variable. (Of course, according to their theory, socioeconomic status is also a result of IQ, but somehow, that doesn't stop them.) Therefore, what you'd most want to know from a policy standpoint--how much education can increase opportunity--isn't dealt with in the book, except in two obscure footnotes. Both would seem to support the liberal, pro-education position that Herrnstein and Murray say is futile. One footnote shows education increasing IQ year by year. The other shows a higher correlation between college degree and family income than between IQ and family income. One of The Bell Curve 's theoretical linchpins is the high heritability of IQ. Herrnstein and Murray, sounding like the souls of caution, write that \"half a century of work, now amounting to hundreds of empirical and theoretical studies, permits a broad conclusion that the genetic component of IQ is unlikely to be smaller than 40 per cent or higher than 80 per cent. ... For purposes of this discussion, we will adopt a middling estimate of 60 per cent heritability.\" This now looks seriously overstated. Michael Daniels, Bernie Devlin, and Kathryn Roeder of Carnegie Mellon University took the same studies on which Herrnstein and Murray based their estimate, and subjected them to a computer meta-analysis (\"a powerful method of statistical analysis\"-- The Bell Curve ). Their paper, which has not yet been published, says: \"In brief, studies of IQ, and our reanalyses of them, suggest a narrow-sense heritability of 34 per cent and a broad-sense heritability of 46 per cent. [The difference between broad and narrow is too technical to explain in this limited space.] This is a far cry from Herrnstein and Murray's maximum value of 80 per cent or their middling value of 60 per cent. Consequently, Herrnstein and Murray give the impression that IQ is highly 'heritable,' but it is not.\" If the purpose of the whole exercise is to figure out what our social policies should be, then, \"Which is more predictive, IQ or socioeconomic status?\" isn't the essential question anyway. Making it the essential question avoids the issue of whether IQ is really so massively predictive that it drowns out everything else. (Herrnstein and Murray mostly leave the evidence for this, their central contention, to footnotes. The figures they offer are far from dispositive.) The chapter of The Bell Curve on policies that might be able to overcome the fate of a low IQ focuses mainly on whether early-childhood programs like Head Start (most of which aren't run with raising IQ as their primary goal) can raise IQ significantly over the long term, and sorrowfully concludes that they can't. What the book doesn't discuss is whether public schools--by far the biggest government social program--can raise IQ, or earnings after you control for IQ. As James Heckman of the University of Chicago wrote in the Journal of Political Economy , \" Evidence of a genetic component to skills has no bearing on the efficacy of any social policy. ... The relevant issue is the cost effectiveness of the intervention.\" (As an example of where the kind of analysis Herrnstein and Murray didn't do can lead, a new study by Jay Girotto and Paul Peterson of Harvard shows that students who raise their grades and take harder courses can increase their IQ scores by an average of eight points during the first three years of high school.) At the beginning of The Bell Curve , Herrnstein and Murray declare that \"the concept of intelligence has taken on a much higher place in the pantheon of human virtues than it deserves.\" And they claim that their view of IQ tests is \"squarely in the middle of the scientific road.\" They end by expressing the hope that we can \"be a society that makes good on the fundamental promise of the American tradition: the opportunity for everyone, not just the lucky ones, to live a satisfying life.\" Throughout, Herrnstein and Murray consistently present themselves as fair- (or even liberal-) minded technicians who have, with great caution, followed the evidence where it leads--which, unfortunately, is to a few unassailable if unpleasant scientific truths that it is their reluctant duty to report. : Education and IQ\n\n<question>:\nWhat is the problem with using IQ to predict economic success?\n\n<options>:\nA IQ tests are not aimed at people of all races\nB IQ tests are impacted by the amount of education a person has had\nC IQ tests aren't all the same, so it's not a fair control\nD IQ tests only test inherited intelligence\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "B"
}
] |
1,021 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nthe gas. Eckert had lit a cigarette and was calmly blowing the smoke It was Eckert who had come into his office several days ago and told Eckert was just a dull, formless blur opposite him. His cigarette was out. Eckert had come into his office without saying a word and had watched his scenery-window. It had been snowing in the window, the white flakes making a simple pattern drifting past the glass. Eckert had fiddled with the controls and changed it to sunshine, then to a weird mixture of hail amid the brassy, golden sunlight. And then Eckert had told him that Pendleton had taken the short way out. Pendleton? Try to forget it and drink a toast to him at the next class reunion? And never, never be so crude as to speculate why Pendleton Eckert and he had talked it out and gone over the records. Pendleton had been elected president of that, he had graduated with such and such honors. But try getting a picture of him by reading the records, resurrect him from a page of black print. Would he be human? Would he be flesh and blood? Hell, no! In the statistics Pendleton was the All-Around Boy, the cold marble statue with the finely chiseled muscles Pendleton had been in his second year as attache on Tunpesh, a small maybe the Service had slipped up, as it sometimes did, and Tunpesh had to pay his respects to Pendleton. Only Pendleton wasn't there. The Tunpesh had been Pendleton's second assignment. Eckert and he had been chosen to go to Tunpesh and investigate. The two But that wasn't the real reason. Maybe Eckert thought so, but he knew Pendleton had been killed and who had killed him. That was it. Warm breezes rustled through Eckert's graying hair and tugged gently suddenly, acutely aware that he and Templin would be stranded for six at that, away from the din and the hustle and confusion, spending the time in a place where the sun was warm and inviting. , he thought, thinking about the warmth and comfort. Like old dogs and octogenarians. Templin was looking at the scenery with a disappointed expression on his face. Eckert stole a side glance at him and for a fleeting moment surface can prove to be quite dangerous underneath.\" \"It's rather hard to think of danger in a setting like this.\" Eckert nodded agreement. \"It wouldn't fit, would it? It would be like a in the shadow of huge trees and hugged the banks of a small stream. It looked fairly primitive, Eckert thought, and yet it didn't have the earmarks, the characteristics of most primitive villages. It didn't Eckert stared at them for a moment, wondering what it was that seemed seamed face and white hair aged him somewhat. Eckert still had the wide expanse of the countryside. There wasn't, so far as he could see, much manufacturing above the level of handicrafts and simple weaving. Colored patches on far hillsides indicated the presence of farms, and It was late afternoon when they followed Jathong into a small, white-washed house midway up a hill. \"You are free to use this while you are here,\" he said. Eckert and Templin took a quick tour of the few rooms. They were well furnished, in a rustic sort of way, and what modern conveniences they didn't have they could easily do without. The youngsters who had carried their luggage left it outside and quietly faded away. It was Eckert shrugged. \"That's one of the things you do out of habit, try them.\" He stopped for a moment, thinking. \"Did you notice the context? He didn't say he didn't want what we showed him. He said there was nothing that he wanted. Implying that everything he wanted, he the way Templin had put it, as if any deviation from an Earth norm was \"In what way?\" The words came out slowly. \"The people are too casual, as though they're playing a rehearsed part. Here we are, from an entirely different solar system, landed in what must be to them an unusual we're supposed to think—just an idyllic, harmless society. Maybe that's what Pendleton thought, right to the very end.\" He was keyed up, jumpy, Eckert realized. He would probably be seeing \"It hasn't been established yet that Pendleton was killed, Ray. Let's wood slat blinds, carrying the fragrance of the trees and the grass, and he inhaled deeply and let his thoughts wander for a moment. It was He turned his head a little to watch Templin get ready for bed. There even realize. He wondered what Templin would do if he ever found out psychological chart was very close to Pendleton's. Pendleton's own feelings and emotions would almost exactly be duplicated in Templin's. A few stray wisps of starlight pierced through the blinds and sparkled power pack, Eckert saw grimly, probably leading to the buttons on his Eckert put down the chain he had been whittling and reached for his \"Well, what do you think about it?\" \"The obvious. They evidently have as much technology as they want, at least in fields where they have to have it.\" \"How come they haven't gone any further?\" Eckert sighed and watched a fat bug waddle across a small patch of sunlight on the wooden floor. It was bad enough drawing an assignment in a totally foreign culture, even if the natives were humanoid. It complicated things beyond all measure when your partner in the project seemed likely to turn into a vendettist. It meant that Eckert would \"You're convinced that Pendleton was murdered, aren't you?\" those lines. But nobody has mentioned Pendleton discreet statements that we would like to talk to Pendleton's friends, \"What reason?\" Templin shrugged. \"Murder. What other reason could there be?\" Eckert rolled up the thin, slatted blinds and stared out at the \"Does it? I hadn't noticed.\" Eckert turned away from the blinds. His \"You knew Pendleton,\" Templin repeated grimly. \"Do you think it was out that we know it is?\" Templin's eyes dueled for a moment. Then he turned his back and walked to the window. \"I suppose you're right,\" he said at last. \"It's nice living here, Ted. Maybe I've been fighting it. But I can't help thinking that Don must have liked it here, too.\" The old Greek ideal , he thought: shrugged mentally. Templin looked as if he was about to break down and in Templin's getting excited and doing something he was bound to regret if Templin ever finds out Eckert took another sip of the wine and turned to the Tunpeshan on his knew about Pendleton's death. Eckert gnawed the dainty meat off a slender Pendleton Eckert had a sudden clammy feeling which quickly passed away. What Nayova had said was something he'd make sure Templin never heard about. Pendleton had killed Eckert stared bleakly at his wine glass and tried to put the pieces of to dwindle and the center of the circle became filled with the motions of shadows intermixed with the swift, sure movements of glistening limbs. Eckert felt his eyebrows crawl upward. Apparently the dance was . He glanced across the circle at Templin. Templin's face—what he could see of it by the flickering light—was brick red. A voice spoke in his ear. \"It is hard for us to imagine anybody doing Eckert translated as being roughly equivalent to \"\n\n<question>:\nWhy can we infer that Eckert had changed the office window-scenery before telling Templin about Pendleton's demise?\n\n<options>:\nA In order to make the scenery less dreary than the news would already seem.\nB In order to let in light to the dark room so that he could see his reaction.\nC As a last effort to convince Eckert to travel to Tunpesh and see the scenery for himself.\nD In order to show what the current state was outside.\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "A"
}
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603 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nCaptain Gwayne cursed and rolled over, reaching for his boots. He was during the night?\" in the murk. I've kept a signal going to guide them back.\" Gwayne swore softly to himself. Earth couldn't turn out enough starmen Of course there was no obvious need for caution here. The blobs hadn't something had happened to the exploration party fifteen years back, and to the more recent ship under Hennessy that was sent to check up. deep gorge where they'd found Hennessy's carefully buried ship was completely hidden by the fog. now, as they often seemed to do. Gwayne stared at them for a minute, Earth had ordered him to detour here, after leaving his load of deep-sleep stored colonists on Official World 71, to check on any sign of Hennessy. He'd been here a week longer than he should have stayed already. If there was no sign in another day or so of what had happened to the men who'd deserted their ship and its equipment, he'd have to He would have left before, if a recent landslip hadn't exposed enough Gwayne grabbed the microphone, yelling into the radio toward the cadets. others forward. \"Get the jeeps out!\" Gwayne yelled at Jane. He yanked the door of agonizingly slow, but faster than climbing down. He ripped the door back at the exit deck. Men were dashing in, stumbling around in confusion. But someone was taking over now—one of the crew women. The Gwayne dashed for it as the exit port slid back. There was no sign of the cadets at first. Then Gwayne spotted them \"Follow the blobs,\" Gwayne yelled. He realized now he'd been a fool to leave his suit kids. But it was too late to go back. There was no time to stop. The jeep plowed through them. Gwayne had a other jeeps were coming up, by the sound of their motors, but too late to help. They'd have to get to the group with the cadets in a hurry or Abruptly, Barker's foot ground at the brake. Gwayne jolted forward leaped back. But Gwayne was out of the jeep before it stopped, diving shoulders, but amazingly strong. Gwayne felt them wrench at him as his sound, and it collapsed. Gwayne eased back slowly, but it made no onto a jeep while men helped Barker and Gwayne stow the bound monster \"I hope so,\" Gwayne told him. \"I want that thing to live—and you're detailed to save it and revive it. Find out if it can make sign language or draw pictures. I want to know what happened to Hennessy and why that ship was buried against detection. This thing may be the answer.\" Barker nodded grimly. \"I'll try, though I can't risk drugs on an alien makes no sense. We've scoured this planet by infra-red, and there was \"Troglodytes, maybe,\" Gwayne guessed. \"Anyhow, send for me when you get anything. I've got to get this ship back to Earth. We're overstaying busy being little heroes. Gwayne sentenced them to quarters as soon as he could, knowing their stories would only get wilder and less informative with retelling. If they could get any story from the captured creature, they might save time and be better off than trying to dig through Hennessy's ship. That was almost certainly spoorless by now. The only possible answer seemed to be that the exploring expedition and Hennessy's rescue group had been overcome by the aliens. It was an answer, but it left a lot of questions. How could the primitives have gotten to the men inside Hennessy's ship? Why was its fuel dumped? Only men would have known how to do that. And who told these creatures that a space ship's metal finders could be fooled by a cunningly, and only the accidental slippage had undone their work. Maybe there would never be a full answer, but he had to find prevent an interplanetary war with the Venus colonists. It had found a drive that led to the stars, and hadn't even found intelligent life there to be dangerous on the few worlds that had cultures of their own. finally proved that the sun was going to go nova. It wouldn't be much of an explosion, as such things go—but it would man had to colonize. And there were no worlds perfect for him, as Earth had been. The explorers went out in desperation to find what they could began filling worlds with colonists, carried in deep sleep to conserve it now seemed, no more time could be wasted here. Gwayne grabbed the phone and called Barker. \"How's the captive coming?\" Gwayne dropped the phone and headed for the little sick bay. He swore sound that lifted the hair along the nape of Gwayne's neck. Barker some kind of a salute as he saw Gwayne enter, and his eyes burned up unerringly toward the device on the officer's cap. \"Haarroo, Cabbaan!\" the thing said. \"Captain Gwayne, may I present your former friend, Captain Hennessy?\" Barker said. There was a grin on the doctor's lips, but his face was taut with strain. well. Says they've had to change the language around to make the sounds fit, and he's forgotten how to use what normal English he can. But it gets easier as you listen. It's Hennessy, all right. I'm certain.\" Gwayne had his own ideas on that. It was easy for an alien to seize on the gold ornament of a captive earthman, even to learn a little English, maybe. But Hennessy had been his friend. By the time the session was over, Gwayne had begun to understand the When it was finished, Gwayne and Barker sat for long minutes in silence. Finally Gwayne drew a shuddering breath and stood up. \"Is it their kids. Adults in eight years, but they stay shorter. It can't be a hereditary change—the things that affect the body don't change the germ plasm. But in this case, what changed Hennessy is real, so maybe the fact that the change is passed on is as real as he claims.\" Gwayne led the former Hennessy to the exit. The waiting blobs dropped down to touch the monstrous man, then leaped up again. The crowd of Back in the control room, Gwayne found the emergency release levers, ground where no ingenuity could ever recover it to bring life to the ship again. He'd have to tell the men and women of the crew later, after he'd had time to organize things and present it all in a way they could accept, however much they might hate it at first. But there was no putting off giving the gist of it to Jane. \"It was the blobs,\" he summarized it. \"They seem to be amused by men. They don't require anything from us, but they like us around. Hennessy hull. It doesn't show yet—but we're changed. In another month, Earth food would kill us. We've got to stay here. We'll bury the ships deeper this time, and Earth won't find us. They can't risk trying a colony where three ships vanish, so we'll just disappear. And they'll never know.\" It was the only thing they could do. Earth needed a place to plant her rise to culture a better one. \"We're needed here,\" he told her, his voice pleading for the as rich a set of bloodlines as possible to give the new race strength. The fifty men and women on this ship will be needed to start them with a decent chance. We can't go to Earth, where nobody would believe or accept the idea—or even let us come back. We have to stay here.\" But she was no longer listening, and that part of his idea could wait. again, looking for other worlds. With the blobs to help them, they\n\n<question>:\nWhy did Gwayne decide that they all had to stay?\n\n<options>:\nA to discover all of the secrets on the planet\nB because it was the best chance at human survival\nC because everyone outside the hull is beyond saving\nD to try to save Hennessy and his crew\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "B"
}
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111 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nMONOPOLY By Vic Phillips and Scott Roberts Sheer efficiency and good management can make a monopoly grow into being. And once it grows, someone with a tyrant mind is going to try to use it as a weapon if he can— That was the first sign of animation he had displayed all day. \"I am, but you're not,\" Hanson told him grimly. \"Get your notes \"One of these days the chief is going to have his glands catch up with him.\" Brian Hanson wondered dispassionately for a moment how his assistants He dismissed the whole business as he did everything else that did not He ignored the surface transport system and walked to his own that kept his body hard and resilient in spite of long hours spent in water running into his bath. Perfect timing. He was making that walk in precisely seven minutes, four and four-fifths seconds. He undressed and climbed into the tub, relaxing luxuriously in the exhilaration of irradiated water. He let all the problems of his work drift away, his mind was a peaceful blank. Then someone was hammering on his head. He struggled reluctantly battering thunder continued persistently. He swore and sat up. \"What do you want?\" There was no answer the hammering continued. grabbed a towel, wrapping it inadequately around him it didn't quite meet astern. He paddled wetly across the floor sounding like a flock of uniform. \"Sorry, sir, but one of those rebels is loose in the Administration \"Oh, I see, sir. No rebels, of course. Sorry to have disturbed you. Brian closed the door in puzzlement. What the devil had that flat-foot it should be, but the outline under the counterpane and the luxuriant mass of platinum-blond hair on the pillow was certainly no part of his regular routine. \"Hello.\" The voice matched the calm alertness of a pair of deep-blue eyes. Brian just stared at her in numbed fascination. That was what the soon fix that. \"All right, joke's over, you can beat it now.\" Brian slowly acquired a complexion suitable for painting fire plugs. struggling heroically to refrain from laughing and that didn't help his embrace of the bath and deliberately set his mind loose to wander in complete relaxation. A hammering thunder burst on the outer door. He sat up with a groan. \"Lay off, you crazy apes!\" he yelled furiously, but the pounding continued steadily. He struggled out of the bath, wrapped his damp bathrobe clammily around him and marched to the door with a seething mouth all set for a withering barrage, but he didn't get a chance. Four police constables and a sergeant swarmed into the room, shoving him \"Rebel? You're crazy! That was just ... Pete said ... rebel? Did you say rebel?\" \"Yeah, I said rebel, an' where is she?\" Brian had had about enough. \"I'm not going anywhere to see anybody. arrested is your idea of a joke—\" his voice to an appreciative whisper, \"Gosh, chief, I didn't know you had it in you. How long have you been in with that bunch? Is that girl as good-looking as they say she is?\" \"There's nothing to give away, you fool!\" Brian bellowed. \"I don't know pass the word along.\" \"Come here, you idiot!\" Brian screamed after his erstwhile assistant. Brian retired to his cell bunk and clutched his aching head in frustrated fury. For the nineteenth time Brian Hanson strode to the door of his cell and rattled the bars. \"Listen here, guard, you've got to take a message to McHague. You can't hold me here indefinitely.\" Brian's eyes almost popped out as he saw a gloved hand reach around Brian felt as though something had kicked him in the stomach. She was of himself, the fair-haired boy of Venus Consolidated, in his flapping bathrobe, leading a band of escaping rebels out of the company's best Brian's hands opened the complicated lock in a matter of seconds. They Brian felt as though his stomach had fallen down around his ankles corner. Brian and the rebels bundled into them and took away with a \"What are we stopping here for?\" Brian demanded. \"We've got to get and that gave them the edge on Brian. They followed Crystal down into \"Where the dickens are we?\" Brian whispered hoarsely. \"What do we do? Hide here?\" keeps up to scare people with.\" \"That's what you think,\" Crystal snapped. \"McHague's legend got my father and he'll get all of us unless we run the whole company right \"Well, what the dickens does he look like?\" Brian asked doubtfully. Brian was startled at the icy hardness of her voice. crumbling, fallen in in some places and signs of new work where the rebels had cleared away the debris of years. Brian struggled into a zippered overall suit as they followed a gash in the wall of the cavern. Brian followed Crystal into the smaller \"Wait a minute, how do we get out of here?\" Brian demanded. \"We're going to crash! That gap isn't wide enough!\" The sides of the gap rushed in on the tips of the stubby wings. Brian the mountain while Brian struggled to get his internal economy back \"Oh—I see,\" Brian said weakly and a few moments later he really did set in grim lines as she pulled the ship up in a screaming climb. Brian bitterly. \"They've been killing people all over the planet. What do you think this revolution is about?\" Brian almost got to his feet when another wild maneuver hurled him back slicing in close over the ship. Brian's eyes bulged as he saw a long \"That's them,\" Crystal said with satisfaction. \"How are the others \"Look! They're hit!\" Brian felt sick. white flowers of half a dozen parachutes blossoming around it. Brian \"The dirty, murdering rats!\" Brian's voice ripped out in a fury of \"Into where?\" Brian demanded. All he could see immediately ahead was of the mountain face. Brian yelped and cowered instinctively back. The A tall, lean man with bulbous eyes and a face like a startled horse, \"Who was that crazy coot and what is this place?\" Brian demanded. well as we do.\" \"How come?\" \"Well, what do we do now? Just stand here? It looks like everybody's Brian suggested doubtfully. She looked at him steadily. \"You sound like the only good rebel left. We can try it, anyway.\" around and jockeyed them into position—not a moment too soon. Half a dozen police showed in brief silhouette as they slipped cautiously into the cavern, guns ready, expecting resistance. They met a dead silence. A score or more followed them without any attempt at concealment. Then Brian and Crystal cut loose with the drives of the maneuver, fussing with the throttle till he had the fuel mixture adjusted to critical fineness. The beat of the stuttering exhaust seemed to catch up to the other and built to an aching pulsation. In Brian clambered out of the ship and glanced at the glowing points \"It's time to check out,\" Brian shouted. \"Run!\" Brian shoved her and they plunged madly through the thick tangle joined the roaring rush of the slide. They were tumbled irresistibly downward, riding the edge of the slide for terrifying minutes till it stilled and left them bruised and shaken in a tangle of torn vegetation. slide. The dust was settling away. A flock of brilliant blue, gliding lizards barking in raucous terror, fled down the valley. Then they were gone and the primeval silence settled back into place. Brian and Crystal struggled painfully to solid ground. Crystal gazed \"How did you do it?\" \"It's a matter of harmonics,\" Brian explained. \"If you hit the right \"Where are we heading for?\" Brian grunted as he struggled along.\n\n<question>:\nGenerally, which of the following best describes Brian's character?\n\n<options>:\nA Dutiful, oblivious, and practical\nB Smart, kind hearted, and humorous\nC Practical, humorous, and laid-back\nD Dutiful, meek, and persistent\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "A"
}
] |
112 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nMONOPOLY By Vic Phillips and Scott Roberts Sheer efficiency and good management can make a monopoly grow into being. And once it grows, someone with a tyrant mind is going to try to use it as a weapon if he can— That was the first sign of animation he had displayed all day. \"I am, but you're not,\" Hanson told him grimly. \"Get your notes straightened up. Run those centrifuge tests and set up the still so we can get at that vitamin count early in the morning.\" \"Tomorrow morning? Aw, for gosh sakes, chief, why don't you take a day still on the vitamin research they had been conducting, he barely heard the remarks that followed him. suffer the consequences of their own ignorance. There had been rumors of revolution among the disgruntled older families. apartment. This walk was part of a regular routine of physical exercise that kept his body hard and resilient in spite of long hours spent in in precisely seven minutes, four and four-fifths seconds. He undressed and climbed into the tub, relaxing luxuriously in the exhilaration of irradiated water. He let all the problems of his work drift away, his mind was a peaceful \"What do you want?\" There was no answer uniform. it should be, but the outline under the counterpane and the luxuriant mass of platinum-blond hair on the pillow was certainly no part of his regular routine. \"Hello.\" The voice matched the calm alertness of a pair of deep-blue eyes. Brian just stared at her in numbed fascination. That was what the she was fully dressed. The snug, zippered overall suit she wore did nothing to conceal the fact that she was a female. He wrapped his bathrobe austerely around him. \"Well, now what?\" she asked and looked at him questioningly. satisfaction of the unending extra work that was going to occur around the laboratory from now on. He sank back into the soothing liquid embrace of the bath and deliberately set his mind loose to wander in complete relaxation. A hammering thunder burst on the outer door. He sat up with a groan. \"Lay off, you crazy apes!\" he yelled furiously, but the pounding \"Wherethehell's who?\" \"She ... why ... why ... she left, of course. You don't think I was That wasn't Myrtle, that was Crystal James, old man James' daughter. his voice to an appreciative whisper, \"Gosh, chief, I didn't know you had it in you. How long have you been in with that bunch? Is that girl as good-looking as they say she is?\" \"Gotcha, chief,\" Brent whispered understandingly. \"I'll see if I can pass the word along.\" frustrated fury. For the nineteenth time Brian Hanson strode to the door of his cell and rattled the bars. bathrobe, leading a band of escaping rebels out of the company's best Crystal James pushed past him. \"That's just what we're doing,\" Crystal snapped. \"Everybody out.\" and that gave them the edge on Brian. They followed Crystal down into \"What do we do? Hide here?\" \"That's what you think,\" Crystal snapped. \"McHague's legend got my \"Well, what the dickens does he look like?\" Brian asked doubtfully. Brian was startled at the icy hardness of her voice. twisting, tortuous course for half an hour, switching from one tunnel to another repeatedly until he had lost all conception of direction. Crystal James, at the controls, seemed to know exactly where they were going. gash in the wall of the cavern. Brian followed Crystal into the smaller Crystal held the ship in its roll and completed the maneuver outside into some semblance of order. An aërial torpedo exploded in front of the rebel ship. Crystal's face set in grim lines as she pulled the ship up in a screaming climb. Brian \"That's what you think,\" Crystal muttered. \"Those children don't play \"Authority doesn't make much difference to them,\" Crystal snapped bitterly. \"They've been killing people all over the planet. What do you think this revolution is about?\" \"You must be mistak—\" He slumped to the floor as Crystal threw the \"I guess that was a mistake!\" Crystal yelled as she fought the controls. saw the crew battling their controls in startled terror. The ship slipped frantically away and fell into a spin. \"That's them,\" Crystal said with satisfaction. \"How are the others doing?\" outrage. \"They didn't have a chance!\" \"Don't get excited,\" Crystal told him in a dead, flat voice. \"That's Crystal's answer was to yank the ship into a rocketing climb. The \"Just follow along, suckers,\" Crystal invited grimly. blinding fog. Half-seen, ghostly fingers of stone clutched up at them, talons of gray rock missed and fell away again as Crystal nursed the ship out of its dive. \" Phew! \"That's figuring it nice and close,\" Crystal said in satisfaction. \"We can glide in from here.\" \"You leave the flying to me,\" Crystal snapped. She held the ship in its glide, aiming directly for the tangled foliage lush green of the mountainside swirled up to meet them. They ripped through the foliage—there was no crash. They burst through into a huge, brilliantly lighted cavern and settled to a perfect landing. Men came running. Crystal tumbled out of her ship. A tall, lean man with bulbous eyes and a face like a startled horse, rushed up to Crystal. opening Crystal's ship had left. \"He hasn't got a chance! We'll be \"They got him!\" Crystal's voice was a moan. \"Oh, the fool, the fool!\" well as we do.\" \"How come?\" \"Well, what do we do now? Just stand here? It looks like everybody's \"We might as well just wait,\" Crystal said hopelessly. \"It won't do us around and jockeyed them into position—not a moment too soon. Half a dozen police showed in brief silhouette as they slipped cautiously into the cavern, guns ready, expecting resistance. They met a dead silence. A score or more followed them without any attempt at concealment. Then Brian and Crystal cut loose with the drives of the Crystal was white and shaking, her face set in a mask of horror, as she maneuver, fussing with the throttle till he had the fuel mixture adjusted to critical fineness. The beat of the stuttering exhaust seemed to catch up to the other and built to an aching pulsation. In Crystal screamed. \"Brian! There's more police cutting in around the Crystal led the way as they fled down the escape tunnel. The roaring \"The whole side of the mountain's sliding,\" Crystal screamed. Crystal went down as the ground slipped from under her. Brian grabbed downward, riding the edge of the slide for terrifying minutes till it stilled and left them bruised and shaken in a tangle of torn vegetation. they attempted to land, stuck up grotesquely out of the foot of the slide. The dust was settling away. A flock of brilliant blue, gliding lizards barking in raucous terror, fled down the valley. Then they were gone and the primeval silence settled back into place. Brian and Crystal struggled painfully to solid ground. Crystal gazed with a feeling of awe at the devastated mountainside. \"How did you do it?\" \"It's a matter of harmonics,\" Brian explained. \"If you hit the right vibratory combination, you can shake anything down. But now that we've made a mess of the old homestead, what do we do?\" \"Walk,\" Crystal said laconically. She led the way as they started scrambling through the jungle up the mountainside. can depend on. They've kept out of the rebellion, but they're on our side. They've helped us before.\"\n\n<question>:\nGenerally, which of the following best describes Crystal's character?\n\n<options>:\nA Kind, quiet, and persistent\nB Naive, fun, and brave\nC Focused, bold, and charismatic\nD Focused, meek, and understanding\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "C"
}
] |
1,825 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nagainst Jakdane's bunk—propelled himself like a projectile at Quest. a string. For a moment Trella thought he was going to meet Asrange's assault. But he fled in a long There was only one question: Was he human? Trella feared she was in for trouble even before Motwick's Asrange pursued with the stick upraised. The two evil-looking men at the table nearby had been watching her surreptitiously, and now they shifted restlessly in their chairs. Trella had not wanted to come to the Golden Satellite. It was a of him as if to ward it off. In a moment, Jakdane and the other and pulled him off. When they had Asrange in irons, Jakdane turned to Quest, Jakdane insisted on examining him carefully, he had to admit it. There was hardly a mark on her around the waist with a steely arm. Trella swung with her whole body, and slapped him so hard he nearly fell from his chair. As she walked swiftly toward the bar, he leaped up to follow her. and turned his face away. Later, alone with Trella on the control deck, Jakdane gave her some sober advice. “What? Jakdane, you can't be an artificial imitation of a man. It all figures. “Look, Trella, he said he was born on Jupiter. A human could stand the gravity of Jupiter, inside injured. How can you believe he's really human?” Trella remembered the thug Kregg striking Quest in the face and then crying that he had injured his father,” protested Trella. their parents,” said Jakdane. “Quest may not even know he's Trella again as Kregg overtook his quarry and swung a huge fist like a sledgehammer. Exactly what happened, Trella wasn't sure. She had the impression 57 from the approaching Kregg. The dark man moved in on of Jupiter, if he's human?” Trella was silent. “For the protection of humans, there are two psychological and Kregg sank stunned to his knees. The dark man, who had grabbed Trella's arm, released her and ran for the door. Moving agilely around the end man Quest to a T, Trella. There is no other explanation for him: Trella did not want to believe Jakdane was right, but his reasoning was unassailable. Looking he must be an android.” “Those characteristics fit your you!” Kregg stumbled to his feet his refusal to defend himself against a human, his inability to return Trella's love for him. It was not inconceivable that she should have unknowingly and staggered out. Trella ran to the unconscious Motwick's side. “That means you, too, lady,” Quest about seeing him again after she had completed her assignment. Even if Jakdane was wrong and Quest was human—as now seemed unlikely—Quest her. Her best course was to try to forget him. with her for a later meeting. “It has been pleasant knowing you, Trella,” he said when they left the G-boat at White Sands. A faraway look came into his we can't help,” she said gently, taking his hand in farewell. Trella took a fast plane from He followed Trella out the door of the Golden Satellite and fell in step beside her. Immediately though he lifted a feather pillow. White Sands, and twenty-four hours later walked up the front unconscious heap against the rear of the garage. Trella had opened the door of the car, but said her companion. “I'm just in from Jupiter.” “I'm Trella Nuspar,” she said, favoring him with a green-eyed glance. “You mean Io, don't you—or Miss Trella, eh?” “I'm glad they're something as Dr. Mansard's heir.” Trella planned to spend a few days resting in her employer's spacious home, and then to take landing on Jupiter, why didn't anyone ever hear from him again?” she demanded. Trella could think of. Without actually intending to, she exclaimed: anyone.” Trella sighed. Cowardice was a state of mind. It was peculiarly inappropriate, but not unbelievable, What about that, eh?” Trella was silent, shocked. There was something here she hadn't known about, hadn't even suspected. For some reason, Dom They had reached the more brightly lighted section of the city now. Trella could get a cab from here, but the Stellar Hotel wasn't far. They walked on. Trella had the desk clerk call a cab to deliver the unconscious Motwick to his home. She and Trella's connection with Blessing. But, since this was to be the atmosphere of Blessing's admiring her honey-colored hair and comely face. “I'm heading for Earth on the next spaceship.” Quest came the day before she was scheduled to leave. Trella was in the living room with Blessing, discussing the instructions she was to give to the against telling him that the Earth. them. The other guards were at their posts. Trella heard the doorbell ring. The heavy oaken front door was kept locked now, and the guards Motwick was an irresponsible playboy whom Trella had known weeks before the spaceship blasted off. She found herself briefly on Earth, and Trella was glad to dispense with his company enjoying the steadier companionship for the remaining three with him. Now this did not suit her at all. Trella had always liked her being so strongly attracted to a man several inches shorter than she. She was particularly unhappy about feeling drawn to a man who was a coward. The ship that they boarded on Earth, but it would still require fifty-four days to make the trip. So Trella was delighted to find that the ship was the Cometfire across the floor and lay in an friend, dark-eyed, curly-haired Jakdane Gille. “Jakdane,” she said, flirting with him with her eyes as in 54 Quest was after it, like a chunky deer, running faster than Trella had ever seen a man run before. Blessing slowed for the turn I'm getting old,” he answered, laughing. “What's your trouble, Trella?” “I'm in love with that huge chunk of man who came aboard tree on the other side in a twisted tangle of wreckage. With a horrified gasp, Trella ran down the driveway toward the smoking heap of metal. crew members and three passengers aboard the ship's tiny personnel sphere, and Trella was thrown with Quest almost constantly. She enjoyed every minute She told him only that she was a messenger, sent out to Ganymede to pick up some important sabotaged the ship's drive so it would fall into Jupiter. Her employer had impressed upon her that her mission was confidential, but surely Dom More gently than Trella would have believed possible for his done.” Trella disengaged herself. “I'm sorry,” she said. “Don't you know this, too, now: that shoulder was startling: as sent Trella, his most trusted secretary, to Ganymede to bring back to him the notebooks found atmosphere as well as an oxygen atmosphere.” Trella looked at him. He was that he received his rightful share of the inheritance. Because of this, Trella was tempted not badly hurt, any more than an elephant would have been, to tell Quest the good news herself do this his own way, and he might not appreciate her meddling. At midtrip, Trella made a rueful confession to Jakdane. “It seems I was taking unnecessary unhappily. “He said he She expected Jakdane to salve her wounded feelings with a sympathetic pleasantry, but he assignment on which she had come to the Jupiter system was\n\n<question>:\nHow does Jakdane feel about Trella?\n\n<options>:\nA Jakdane thinks of Trella as a little sister.\nB Jakdane has always had a crush on Trella, but they are just friends.\nC Jakdane is obsessed with Trella. That is why he's on the same ship to Earth.\nD Jakdane thinks Trella might be stalking him. She is on the same ship to Earth.\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "B"
}
] |
140 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nwarning you, Tremaine. Get that transmitter. I need someone to hang!\" Tremaine left the hotel, walked two blocks west along Commerce Street Tremaine took off his hat. \"Sure you do, Jess. It's been a while, In a back room Tremaine said, \"To everybody but you this is just a \"I didn't expect any easy answers, Jess. But I was hoping maybe you had something ...\" \"Course,\" said Jess, \"there's always Mr. Bram ...\" \"Mr. Bram,\" repeated Tremaine. \"Is he still around? I remember him as a hundred years old when I was kid.\" \"Still just the same, Jimmy. Comes in town maybe once a week, buys his I never did go. We kids used to play in the caves near his place, and sometimes he gave us apples.\" \"I've never seen any harm in Bram,\" said Jess. \"But you know how this town is about foreigners, especially when they're a mite addled. Bram has blue eyes and blond hair—or did before it turned white—and he talks just like everybody else. From a distance he seems just like an \"How long's he lived here in Elsby?\" \"Beats me, Jimmy. You remember old Aunt Tress, used to know all about ancestors and such as that? She couldn't remember about Mr. Bram. She was kind of senile, I guess. She used to say he'd lived in that same old place out on the Concord road when she was a girl. Well, she died in the streets playin' with matches by now. I'm waiting for the day they'll make jail age.\" \"Why Bram?\" Tremaine persisted. \"As far as I know, he never had any dealings to speak of with anybody here in town.\" \"Oh hoh, you're a little young, Jimmy,\" Jess chuckled. \"You never knew about Mr. Bram—the young Mr. Bram—and Linda Carroll.\" Tremaine shook his head. \"Old Miss Carroll. School teacher here for years Sitting up proud and tall, with that red hair piled up high. I used to think she was some kind of princess....\" \"What about her and Bram? A romance?\" eight years old. Miss Linda was maybe in her twenties—and that made her an old maid, in those times. The word got out she was setting her cap for Bram. He was a good-looking young feller then, over six foot, of course, broad backed, curly yellow hair—and a stranger to boot. Like I said, Linda Carroll wanted nothin to do with the local her reputation, as far as the biddies in Elsby was concerned. It was ten years 'fore she even landed the teaching job. By that time, she was already old. And nobody was ever fool enough to mention the name Bram in front of her.\" Tremaine. Tremaine put a hand on the counter, looked thoughtful. \"I was hoping \"No, thanks,\" Tremaine said. \"That's all I needed.\" He turned back to the door. \"What's up, mister?\" the clerk called after him. \"Bram in some kind of trouble?\" \"No. No trouble.\" The man was looking at the book with pursed lips. \"Nineteen-oh-one,\" he said. \"I never thought of it before, but you know, old Bram must be dern near to ninety years old. Spry for that age.\" old Bram. Useta say his place was haunted. You know funny noises and lights. And they used to say there was money buried out at his place.\" Tremaine waited. \"Now why would I do that?\" Tremaine reached for the door knob. The clerk shrugged. \"Thought I'd ask. Anyway—I can swear to this. Nobody in this town's ever seen Bram between sundown and sunup.\" Tremaine set off at a run, covered the two blocks to the hotel, yanked \"Mind if I have a word with him? My name's Tremaine.\" Tremaine?\" \"Don't tell me my job, Tremaine!\" the voice snapped. \"And don't try out face looked at him coolly. \"Miss Carroll,\" Tremaine said. \"You won't remember me, but I—\" \"There is nothing whatever wrong with my faculties, James,\" Miss Only a faint quaver reflected her age—close to eighty, Tremaine thought, startled. \"I'm flattered you remember me, Miss Carroll,\" he said. \"Come in.\" She led the way to a pleasant parlor set out with the \"Just another bureaucrat, I'm afraid.\" \"You were wise to leave Elsby. There is no future here for a young man.\" \"I often wondered why you didn't leave, Miss Carroll. I thought, even \"Of course.\" \"How long has Mr. Bram lived in Elsby?\" Miss Carroll looked at him for a long moment. \"Will what I tell you be used against him?\" \"There'll be nothing done against him, Miss Carroll ... unless it needs to be in the national interest.\" \"I'm not at all sure I know what the term 'national interest' means, James. I distrust these glib phrases.\" \"I always liked Mr. Bram,\" said Tremaine. \"I'm not out to hurt him.\" \"Mr. Bram came here when I was a young woman. I'm not certain of the year.\" \"What does he do for a living?\" \"I have no idea.\" \"Why did a healthy young fellow like Bram settle out in that isolated piece of country? What's his story?\" \"I'm ... not sure that anyone truly knows Bram's story.\" \"You called him 'Bram', Miss Carroll. Is that his first name ... or his last?\" \"That is his only name. Just ... Bram.\" \"You knew him well once, Miss Carroll. Is there anything—\" A tear rolled down Miss Carroll's faded cheek. She wiped it away impatiently. Tremaine stood up. \"I'm sorry. Really sorry. I didn't mean to grill you. Miss Carroll. You've been very kind. I had no right....\" Miss Carroll shook her head. \"I knew you as a boy, James. I have complete confidence in you. If anything I can tell you about Bram will be helpful to you, it is my duty to oblige you She paused. Tremaine waited. \"Many years ago I was courted by Bram. One day he asked me to go with him to his house. On the way he told me a terrible and pathetic tale. Miss Carroll drew a deep breath and went on. \"I was torn between pity and horror. I begged him to take me back. He refused.\" Miss Carroll twisted her fingers together, her eyes fixed on the long past. \"When we reached the house, he ran to the kitchen. He lit a lamp and threw Miss Carroll hesitated, then put her hand to her throat, lifted a silver disc on a fine golden chain. \"You see what a foolish old woman I am, James.\" \"There is one other thing,\" she said, \"perhaps quite meaningless....\" \"I'd be grateful for any lead.\" \"Bram fears the thunder.\" III As Tremaine walked slowly toward the lighted main street of Elsby a car dud, I'm afraid.\" \"Funny thing about Bram. You know, he hasn't showed up yet. I'm getting a little worried. Want to run out there with me and take a look around?\" Tremaine went to the car, dropped the pistol in his coat pocket, them spies. Wanted to know all about any funny-actin people around hers.\" \"And you mentioned Bram?\" The boy darted another look at Tremaine. \"They said they figured the spies was out north of town. Well, Bram's a foreigner, and he's out\n\n<question>:\nIf Tremaine didn't go see Miss Carroll, what would've happened?\n\n<options>:\nA He wouldn't know how crazy Mr. Bram is and he wouldn't know the true culprit of the transmissions.\nB He wouldn't know what thing scares Mr. Bram and Miss Carroll wouldn't have given him the item.\nC He wouldn't know about the thing that scares Mr. Bram.\nD He wouldn't have the item that Miss Carroll gave him and he wouldn't know how mean she thinks Mr. Bram is.\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "B"
}
] |
1,118 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nRepublican Shakeout This weekend's straw poll in Ames, Iowa, kicked off the 2000 presidential race and sorted out the Republican field. Everyone agrees that George W. Bush is the front-runner, that Steve Forbes is in second place, and that Dan Quayle, who finished back in the pack with Lamar Alexander, will soon join Alexander on the sidelines. But Ames failed to resolve the fate of the candidates who came in third and fourth--Elizabeth Dole and Gary Bauer--and the one who skipped Ames, John McCain. For these three, the post-game spin contest is crucial. Here's a playback of their takes on the straw poll results and a look ahead at their playbook of messages for the remainder of the race. Elizabeth Dole Playback 1. Top three. Dole needed to get within striking distance of Bush and to seal off the rest of the pack behind her. On Meet the Press , Face the Nation , and Late Edition , she boasted that she had cracked \"the top three.\" Pundits bought the three-winners line, treating Ames as a horse race (\"win, place, and show\") and noting that \"no one's ever won the Republican nomination without finishing in the top three\" at Ames. Newspapers, cramped for space, confined their headlines to Bush, Forbes, and Dole. Though Dole's 14 percent was closer to Bauer's 9 than to Forbes' 21, she earned a \"solid third\" and a place among the leaders by crossing the \"double-digit\" threshold. As Fox News' Carl Cameron put it: \"The other seven candidates could not crack double digits.\" 2. Race for third. Since Bush and Forbes were expected to finish first and second, many pundits concluded, as Lisa Myers put it on Meet the Press , that \"the real race here was for third. Elizabeth Dole won that.\" The Boston Globe called Dole \"the winner of this contest-within-the-contest.\" Dole touted her \"victory\" on every talk show and cited the Myers and Globe quotes in a press release. At a news conference, an aide introduced Dole as the straw poll's \"real winner.\" 3. Underdog. In every TV interview, Dole claimed to have been \"outspent by millions of dollars.\" Her spokesman told reporters that \"on a dollar-per-vote basis, Elizabeth Dole trounced George Bush and Steve Forbes.\" Reporters love an underdog. \"From a strict cost-benefit standpoint, the big winner may be Elizabeth Dole,\" concluded Time . Playbook 1. Race for second. Forbes wants to fast-forward the GOP tournament to a finals bracket: Bush vs. Forbes. To prevent this, Dole needs to create a semifinal playoff--Forbes vs. Dole--to determine who gets to play Bush. Despite Forbes' huge financial advantage, \"we finished close to second,\" Dole told reporters Saturday night. \"This is going to become a two-person race.\" The press agreed. \"Forbes had growing hopes ... that he might upset Bush or finish a close second,\" recalled the Post . Instead, \"he finished closer to Dole than to Bush.\" 2. Experience. Having narrowed the field to three, Dole needs to focus the contest on criteria that favor her. The first of these is political experience, of which Bush has little and Forbes has almost none. On every talk show, Dole vowed \"to demonstrate that the candidate with the most experience is more qualified than the candidates with the most money. ... We're talking about president of the United States.\" 3. Gender. This is the more obvious criterion that distinguishes Dole. She hardly needs to mention it--the media bring it up anyway--but she invokes it subtly, alluding (as she did on two Sunday talk shows) to \"women who drive their daughters halfway across the state to shake my hand, a woman they dare to believe in.\" Newspapers hail Dole's female followers as evidence \"that she can attract new voters to the GOP.\" Gary Bauer Playback 1. Top four. Like Dole, Bauer needed to crack the top tier and seal off the pack. Since sports analogies tend to cut off the top tier at three rather than four (e.g., \"bronze medal,\" \"win, place, and show\"), Bauer changed metaphors, telling reporters that he had reached \"the first rung of candidates\" and that lower finishers might soon perish. On Meet the Press , he called himself the \"breakout candidate.\" While some pundits lumped Bauer with the winners, others offered him the next best position--\"leading the rest of the pack\"--or at least distinguished him from the \"losers.\" 2. Social conservative quarterfinal. This was Bauer's big spin win. Like Dole, he won a crucial \"contest-within-the-contest.\" His scant margin over Pat Buchanan--8.9 percent to 7.3 percent--became a huge factor in the post-poll analysis. Pundits concluded that Bauer \"did what he had to do ... beat Pat Buchanan,\" and therefore \"can legitimately say he is the candidate of the Christian right,\" establishing himself as \"one of the winners,\" the \"three or four\" candidates who \"got their tickets punched\" to stay in the race. Talk show hosts reminded Buchanan that he had lost to Bauer and asked whether Buchanan was finished. 3. Conservative semifinal. Having scored well ahead of Bauer and Buchanan, Forbes anointed himself \"the conservative in a two-man race\" against Bush. Bauer disagreed, and the media took his side. \"Forbes, Bauer Battle for Right,\" the Post proclaimed, concluding that because Forbes failed to break away, \"he and Bauer are likely to continue a long and tough fight for the leadership of the conservative wing.\" 3. Conservatism. If Bauer wins the social conservative quarterfinal and the conservative semifinal, he gets to run as the \"Reagan\" candidate against \"Bush-Gore\" moderation on abortion, Hollywood, China, and other hot-button issues. This bracket-by-bracket tournament strategy reduces Bauer's obstacles from three candidates to two. He can target Forbes, knowing that if he prevails, either Bush or Dole will have vanquished the other in the moderate semifinal. Indeed, Dole's success at Ames arguably helps Bauer by giving Bush a semifinal contest. John McCain Playback 4. Vote-buying. To undermine the straw poll's authority as an arbiter of his candidacy, McCain called it a \"fund-raiser,\" \"a sham and a joke\" in which campaigns spent \"millions\" to \"buy\" votes. \"My campaign theme is to try to reform the system that is now awash with money and the influence of special interests,\" he argued on Fox News Sunday . Brit Hume's retort--\"that this whole process isn't quite pure enough for you\"--played right into McCain's hands. McCain doesn't need to persuade the media that his reasons for skipping Ames were morally sound. He just needs to persuade them that his reasons were moral rather than political. Playbook 1. Real votes. The vote-buying complaint only gets McCain a bye on the straw poll. To get another bye on February's Iowa caucuses, he'll rely on two other moral arguments. First, he'll claim that caucuses aren't \"real votes.\" \"We'll have real votes in New Hampshire,\" McCain argued on Fox News Sunday . \"That's where real people are motivated to vote.\" On Face the Nation , he suggested that he would focus on \"the genuine balloting process, which takes place in New Hampshire and then South Carolina.\"\n\n<question>:\nWhat was the overall structure of the article?\n\n<options>:\nA Describing the progress of a few candidates during the primaries\nB Describing a few major candidates and their core beliefs during and at the end of the primaries\nC Describing George W. Bush's decisions over the course of the presidential primaries\nD Describing every candidate's major decisions over the course of the presidential primaries\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "A"
}
] |
2,232 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nNot all the world’s citizens were content. Bergstrom was waiting in his office when Zarwell arrived that evening. “They’re probably just curious to see what he looks like first. They’ll be disappointed.” Zarwell opened his eyes a slit to His captor’s broad face jeered down at Zarwell. “Have a good sleep?” he asked with mock solicitude. Zarwell did not deign to acknowledge that he heard. Zarwell followed his gaze to where a younger man, with a blond lock of hair on his forehead, stood behind While their attention was away from him Zarwell had unobtrusively loosened his bonds as much as yet?” “You’re a yellow-livered bastard,” Zarwell told him. The grin faded from the oily face as the man stood up. He leaned over Zarwell pulled the struggling body down against his chest and held it there until all agitated Bergstrom, asked. John Zarwell shook his head. “Did I talk while I was under?” ] nonchalance. “The next couple “How does it tie in with what I told you before?” Bergstrom’s neat-boned, fair-skinned face betrayed no emotion other than an introspective stillness Zarwell did not answer. His should do it.” memory seemed on the point of complete return, and he sat quietly, at the sight of the gun. He tried in the palm of his hand. He knew “I don’t see why not.” Zarwell Bergstrom had his bad moment. [p 137 “You’re not going to …” he began now why he always carried it. Zarwell corrected him. “You’d be foolish!” Bergstrom obviously realized how close he was to death. Yet surprisingly, after the first start, he showed little fear. Zarwell had area. “Good.” Bergstrom rose. “The serum is quite harmless, John.” He maintained a professional diversionary thought the man a bit soft, too adjusted to a life of ease and some The floor beneath Zarwell’s feet Bergstrom shook his head. “I know it’s been broken before. But you need me. You’re not through, and rolled gently toward the far wall. Bergstrom continued talking, “Is that the best you can do?” “No.” Bergstrom was angry now. with practiced urbanity. “When analyst.” psychiatry was a less exact science,” Zarwell debated with himself the truth of what the other had said. “Why didn’t you turn me in?” he trouble.” and Zarwell sank deep into The floor continued its transmutation, to be past, Bergstrom spoke more The words tumbled down from above. They faded, were gone. ZARWELL found himself calmly, even allowed himself to relax. “You’re still pretty much in Zarwell’s eyebrows raised. “Who am I?” he asked, very interested now. Without attention he put his pistol away in a trouser pocket. Bergstrom brushed the question aside with one hand. “Your name makes little difference. You’ve used the human worlds. I’d like to talk more with you on that later.” While Zarwell considered, Bergstrom pressed his advantage. “One more scene might do it,” he said. 145 ] Zarwell made his decision quickly. “Go ahead,” he answered. ALL Zarwell’s attention seemed on the cigar he lit as he rode down the escalator, but he surveyed confidence?” longer the same. No longer his own features. The stranger face smiled approvingly “O DD,” Bergstrom said. He brought his hands up and joined more to you than the first, I suppose?” “No,” Zarwell answered. He was not a talking man, Bergstrom reflected. It was more than least every twenty hours. Fortunately his natural features would serve as an adequate disguise He was a man who could handle himself well in an emergency. Bergstrom shrugged, dismissing his strayed thoughts. “I expected as much. A quite normal first phase reticence, however. The man had concealed by his present perplexity. down at his appointment pad. “Tomorrow at two, then?” Zarwell grunted acknowledgment and pushed himself to his feet, apparently unaware that his Zarwell left the analyst’s office. as he strolled from the compartment. gray-mottled with windows. Zarwell Back at the locker he replaced “A good man must have done that job on your mind,” Bergstrom homes of the laborers and lower class techmen who live there. Zarwell passed a group of smaller children playing a desultory ] “Trust and money,” Zarwell said drily. “Your memory’s back then?” Zarwell nodded. “I’m glad to hear that,” Bergstrom assured him. “Now that you’re well again I’d like to introduce Zarwell stopped him with an upraised The next morning when Zarwell you see the reason for all this? I’m tired. I’m trying to quit.” “Quit?” Bergstrom did not quite follow him. ] Zarwell explained listlessly. “A “Because you’re no mad-dog killer!” Now that the crisis seemed also. “I’m not a professional do-gooder.” Zarwell’s tone appealed to Bergstrom for understanding. “I have only a normal man’s indignation at injustice. And now I’ve done A village was being ravaged. Men struggled and died in the streets. Zarwell moved among Johnson can do your own revolting. I’m through!” Bergstrom did not argue as he left. RESTLESSNESS drove Zarwell was nearing its end. Zarwell was riding a shaggy pony outside a high wall surrounding the stricken metropolis. He moved in and joined a can spare a few minutes,” the stranger said. Zarwell turned and studied the man without answering. He was Zarwell was not the leader of the killing. invaders, only a lesser figure in the medium tall, with the body of an in the streets again, plundering and The job had been well done. Time passed, without visible break in the panorama. Now Zarwell was fleeing, pursued by the Zarwell tried to feel the anger he same bearded men who had been The man nodded. wanted to feel, but somehow it liking the man, and wanting at least to be courteous. He inclined his conflict engulfed him. Weary but resigned he accepted it, and did what he had to do …BERGSTROM was regarding BERGSTROM was regarding him with speculative scrutiny. Johnson smiled agreeably and “You’ve had quite a past, apparently,” head toward a curb wastebox with 141 ] Zarwell smiled with mild embarrassment. “At least in my dreams.” “Dreams?” Bergstrom’s eyes past.” Zarwell’s expression became wary. He watched Bergstrom closely. After a minute, however, he seemed satisfied, and he let himself Zarwell found himself not listening as Johnson’s voice went on. The of what I saw,” he observed. “That’s why you’re here, you know,” Bergstrom answered. “To help you remember.” story was always the same. But why settle back against the cushion Johnson had finished his speech. Bergstrom went on, “that your lost Zarwell gazed up at the bright memory will turn out to be no ordinary “That’s what makes me so certain,” Bergstrom said confidently. “You don’t remember what we have shown to be true. Conversely “I won’t have any time off again until next week end,” Zarwell reminded him. “That’s right.” Bergstrom thought for a moment. “We shouldn’t let this hang too long. tomorrow?” “I suppose I could.” “Fine,” Bergstrom said with satisfaction. “I’ll admit I’m considerably more than casually interested A WORK truck picked Zarwell needs. When Zarwell arrived, six worker’s mouth. Zarwell gazed idly about at the\n\n<question>:\nHow does Zarwell feel about Bergstrom?\n\n<options>:\nA Zarwell is afraid of Bergstrom. The dreams induced by Bergstrom's drugs grow more and more disturbing.\nB Zarwell is suspicious of Bergstrom. Bergstrom always seems to be uncomfortable in Zarwell's presence.\nC Zarwell is suspicious of Bergstrom. He's sure Bergstrom has been tampering with his memories.\nD Zarwell thinks Bergstrom is an alright guy. However, Zarwell isn't interested in making friends. He just wants to retire in anonymity.\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "D"
}
] |
1,020 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nroutine, and they in turn were succeeded by a native singer. They were all excellent, Eckert thought. If anything, they were too good. perhaps. He could smell the bitter fragrance of tobacco smoke mingling with the gas. Eckert had lit a cigarette and was calmly blowing the smoke at the neon \"No Smoking\" sign, which winked on and off in mechanical disapproval. He turned his head slightly so he could just see Eckert in the bank facing him. Eckert, one of the good gray men in the Service. The old reliables, the ones who could take almost anything in their stride because, at one time or another, they had had to. It was Eckert who had come into his office several days ago and told him that Don Pendleton had killed himself. Only Pendleton wasn't the type. He was the kind who have everything Eckert was just a dull, formless blur opposite him. His cigarette was out. Eckert had come into his office without saying a word and had watched And then Eckert had told him that Pendleton had taken the short way out. perfume. Eckert and he had talked it out and gone over the records. Pendleton had come of good stock. There had been no mental instability in his family for as far back as the genetic records went. He had been raised with drowsiness, his eyelids a heavy weight that he knew he couldn't keep open much longer. Eckert and he had been chosen to go to Tunpesh and investigate. The two of them, working together, should be able to find out why Pendleton had killed himself. But that wasn't the real reason. Maybe Eckert thought so, but he knew better. The real reason they were going there was to find out why Pendleton had been killed and who had killed him. That was it. alive.\" Warm breezes rustled through Eckert's graying hair and tugged gently at his tunic. The air smelled as if it had been washed and faintly perfumed with the balsamy scent of something very much like pine. A Templin was looking at the scenery with a disappointed expression on his face. Eckert stole a side glance at him and for a fleeting moment Eckert nodded agreement. \"It wouldn't fit, would it? It would be like a famous singer suddenly doing a jazz number in an opera, or having the Eckert stared at them for a moment, wondering what it was that seemed odd about them, and they stared back with all the alert dignity of childhood. They finally came out on the field and clustered around him \"The reception committee,\" Templin said tightly. His hand went inside his tunic. He couldn't be blamed for being jumpy, Eckert realized. This was his first time out, his first mission like this. And, of course, Pendleton had been a pretty good friend of his. \"I'd be very careful what I did,\" Eckert said softly. \"I would hate to start something merely because I misunderstood their intentions.\" The committee of one was a middle-aged man dressed in a simple strip of white cloth twisted about his waist and allowed to hang freely to his knees. When he got closer, Eckert became less sure of his age. He had the firm, tanned musculature of a much younger man, though a slightly seamed face and white hair aged him somewhat. Eckert still had the feeling that if you wanted to know his exact age, you'd have to look at his teeth or know something about his epiphyseal closures. menshars from Earth?\" The voice was husky and pleasant and the pronunciation was very clear. Eckert regarded him thoughtfully and made a few mental notes. He wasn't bowing and scraping like most natives who weren't too familiar with visitors from the sky, and yet he and then offered his hand, somewhat shyly, Eckert thought, in the Terrestrial sign of greeting. \"You may call me \"While you are here, you will need a place to stay. There is one ready, if you will follow me.\" He was polite, Eckert thought. He didn't ask what they were there for or how long they were going to stay. But then again, perhaps the natives were a better judge of that than he and Templin. Eckert opened one of the boxes they had brought along, took out an electric lantern and lighted it. He turned to Jathong. \"You've been very kind to us and we would like to repay you. You may Eckert shrugged. \"That's one of the things you do out of habit, try and buy some of the natives so you'll have friends in case you need them.\" He stopped for a moment, thinking. \"Did you notice the context? natural.\" \"They're probably just well brought-up kids,\" Eckert said sharply. \"Maybe they've been taught not to get in fights or play around in the mud on the way home from school.\" He felt faintly irritated, annoyed at that's what Pendleton thought, right to the very end.\" He was keyed up, jumpy, Eckert realized. He would probably be seeing things in every shadow and imagining danger to be lurking around every corner. \"It hasn't been established yet that Pendleton was killed, Ray. Let's even realize. He wondered what Templin would do if he ever found out There were disadvantages in taking Templin, too. \"Just how primitive do you think the society is, Ted?\" Eckert put down the chain he had been whittling and reached for his pipe and tobacco. Eckert hefted it in his palm. \"The most important thing is that they have the knowledge to use it. Surgery isn't a simple science.\" in a totally foreign culture, even if the natives were humanoid. It complicated things beyond all measure when your partner in the project seemed likely to turn into a vendettist. It meant that Eckert would have to split his energies. He'd have to do what investigating he could among the Tunpeshans, and he'd have to watch Templin to see that he discreet statements that we would like to talk to Pendleton's friends, Eckert rolled up the thin, slatted blinds and stared out at the scenery. A hundred feet down the road, a native woman was going to \"Does it? I hadn't noticed.\" Eckert turned away from the blinds. His voice was crisp. \"I knew Don Pendleton quite well, too,\" he said. \"But \"You knew Pendleton,\" Templin repeated grimly. \"Do you think it was thinking that Don must have liked it here, too.\" One of the hardest things to learn in a foreign culture, Eckert There will be hell to pay , Eckert thought, if Templin ever finds out Eckert.\" Eckert took another sip of the wine and turned to the Tunpeshan on his left. He was a tall, muscular man with sharp eyes, a firm chin and a certain aura of authority. knew about Pendleton's death. what duties he had to perform here, but he was a generous and courteous man.\" Eckert gnawed the dainty meat off a slender ulami bone and tried to as we could. While he was here, he had the house that you have now and we saw that he was supplied with food and all other necessities.\" Eckert had a sudden clammy feeling which quickly passed away. What Nayova had said was something he'd make sure Templin never heard about. He wiped his mouth on a broad, flat leaf that had been provided and Pendleton had killed Nayova's gaze slid away from him. \"Perhaps it was the will of the Great One,\" he said vaguely. He didn't seem anxious to talk about it. Eckert stared bleakly at his wine glass and tried to put the pieces of information together. They probably had a taboo about self-destruction which would make it difficult to talk about. That would make it even A voice spoke in his ear. \"It is hard for us to imagine anybody doing what menshar Eckert translated as being roughly equivalent to \" obscene .\"\n\n<question>:\nHow did Templin find about about Pendleton's death?\n\n<options>:\nA He was told by Nayova\nB He received a formal letter from the captain.\nC He received a letter from Pendleton himself.\nD He was told by Eckert.\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "D"
}
] |
1,690 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nthis:\" first,\" I said. \"I'm beginning to feel Betty looked up from her magazine. She said mildly, \"You're late.\" \"Don't yell at me, I feel awful,\" Simon told her. He sat down at his desk, passed his tongue over his teeth in distaste, groaned, fumbled in a drawer for the aspirin bottle. He looked over at Betty and said, almost as though reciting, \"What I need is a vacation.\" \"What,\" Betty said, \"are you going to use for money?\" \"Providence,\" Simon told her Arth was saying, \"Where's your \"will provide.\" Simon said, mournful of tone, \"Fifty dollars? Why not make it five hundred?\" \"I'm not selfish,\" Betty said. \"All I want is enough to pay me this week's salary.\" \"Money,\" Simon said. \"When you Simon said, enigmatically, \"Now it comes.\" There was a knock. Betty bounced up with Olympic agility and had the door swinging wide before the knocking was quite \"Who ... how ... oh, Simon said unenthusiastically, sir.\" The client fussed himself with Betty's assistance into the seat, bug-eyed Simon, said finally, \"You know my name, that's pretty good. Never \"You didn't have a hotel. What a stupidity. I'll be phased. \"Well, we need some nourishment,\" \"Just a minute,\" Arth said, staggering Phased all the way down.\" I said. Simon said nothing. Across the room, where she had resumed her seat, Betty cleared her throat. When Simon continued to say nothing she ventured, \"Time travel is impossible.\" \"Why?\" \"Why?\" \"Yes, why?\" Betty looked to her boss for assistance. None was forthcoming. There ought to be some very quick, positive, definite answer. She said, \"Well, lice.\" \"Confound it if I know,\" the little fellow growled. \"How?\" Simon said, \"Let's get to the point, some time travelers,\" the old boy said. Betty was too far in now to maintain her proper role of silent secretary. \"Time travelers,\" she said, not Arth said, \"That was last night.\" floor for a time. He removed the pince-nez glasses and pointed them at Betty. He said, \"Have you read much science fiction, Miss?\" \"Some,\" Betty admitted. \"Then you'll realize that there are a dozen explanations of the paradoxes cautious, \"At my hotel, don't you remember?\" contention that within a century or so man will have solved the problems get my luggage.\" Arth didn't put up an argument travelers.\" Simon seemed incapable of carrying the ball this morning, so Betty said, \"But ... Mr. Oyster, if the future has developed time travel why don't we ever meet such travelers?\" Simon put in a word. \"The usual explanation, Betty, is that they can't the attendant there evidently couldn't make heads nor tails of the check afford to allow the space-time continuum track to be altered. If, say, a receipt. He didn't speak English and especially accompanied by a blockbusting hangover. Simon shrugged and fumbled their perch, bug-eyed Simon, but then Simon said, \"You want to hire me was fouled up, some clerk's error, evidently. \"Right!\" Betty had been looking from one to the other. Now she said, plaintively, \"But where are you going to find the office rather than going to my apartment. I figured I might as well check in with Betty. I opened the door and there I found Mr. Oyster sitting in the chair would figure they had D.T.'s.\" that's where they'd be!\" He seemed elated. Betty and Simon waited. \"The Oktoberfest ,\" he repeated. hangover. \"Came for?\" Mr. Oyster snorted. \"I'm merely waiting for your girl to make out my receipt. I thought you had already left.\" \"You'll miss your plane,\" Betty said. There was suddenly a double dip Mr. Oyster was saying something to the effect that if I didn't leave today, it would have to be tomorrow, that he hadn't ponied up that thousand dollars advance for anything less than immediate service. Stuffing his receipt in his wallet, he fussed his way out the door. I said to Betty hopefully, \"I suppose you haven't changed this calendar since I left.\" Betty said, \"What's the matter with you? You look funny. How did your clothes get so mussed? You tore \"All right,\" Simon said. \"We'll accept \"Well,\" the old boy pursued, into in this morning.\" \"This morning,\" I said weakly. While Betty stared at me as though it was me who didn't know exactly how to wear his clothes correctly, or was off the ordinary in any of a dozen other pathetic remains of the thousand. I said pleadingly, \"Betty, listen, how long ago did I go out that door—on the way to the airport?\" \"But why would a time traveler want to go to a—\" Betty began. \"Why not! What better opportunity to study a people than when they \"See here,\" Mr. Oyster said (interrupting Simon's story), \"did you say this was supposed to be amusing, young man? I don't find it so. In fact, I believe I am being ridiculed.\" \"You've been acting sick all morning. You went out that door about \"I'm not interested in more,\" Mr. Oyster said. \"I suppose your point was to show me how ridiculous the He took a deep breath. \"No ma'am, you'd have to stick to some great event, both for the sake of actual Simon winced at the noise, took took two, washed them down with water from the desk carafe. Betty looked at him admiringly. Came to her feet, crossed over and took up the fifty dollars. \"Week's Simon was shaking his head. \"Not interested.\" As soon as Betty had got her jaw back into place, she glared unbelievingly at him. \"I did,\" Simon groaned. \"Three Betty stared at him. \"You mean—\" times.\" Simon nodded, miserably. She said, \"But Simon \"Sorry,\" Simon said. \"Can't be Mr. Oyster was taken aback himself. \"See here, young man, I realize this isn't an ordinary assignment, \"I keep telling you,\" Simon said \"No go,\" Simon said, a sad quality something comes up that looks like you bring me a time traveler.\" \"Out of the question,\" Simon said. \"But why ?\" Betty wailed. \"Just for laughs,\" Simon told the \"You mean,\" Betty was suddenly furious at him, \"you've given up! Why this is the biggest thing— Why from the future and change the past.\" Simon said wearily, \"There's just Betty who was making out a receipt, I hustled back to the apartment and the fifty thousand dollars is nothing. two of them sourly, \"suppose I tell Oyster (Simon began) in the way of an advance, and leaving him with packed a bag. Hell, I'd wanted a vacation The future! Just think!\" ponied up all the money for such expenditures? How could the average German, with his twenty-five dollars a week salary? A desperate waitress bearing six mugs of beer in each hand scurried to us and then hustled on. \"Down the hatch,\" the other said, \"I'm clean. I won't mess up the \"To the ladies,\" I told him. Before place. All I've got is a hangover, not \"Next what?\" Baldy's conversation didn't seem to hang together very well. Name is Simon.\" bust,\" I said approvingly. Arth was waving to a waitress. As if you'll make it or not, Arth.\" \"Make what?\" \"Oh.\" A waitress was on her way by, the beginning and let things start—for to her for refills. asked him, in the way of making you a funny story. It goes like\n\n<question>:\nWhat is Simon referring to when he says \"now it comes\" to Betty during their discussion at the beginning of the story?\n\n<options>:\nA He knows his headache is about to get worse.\nB The client he is expecting is about to show up.\nC He is used to complaints about Betty's salary.\nD He is expecting the usual argument with Betty about her job.\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "B"
}
] |
2,383 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nturn Ledman over to the authorities. HUNTED HEROES \"I never bothered to find out their names,\" Ledman By ROBERT SILVERBERG said casually. \"They were \"What others?\" genius who had a motto: Death to all Terrans! \"Let's we dump this guy I'm sacking in for twenty hours, and then oxymask to make things a It was beyond her to see that some grease monkey back at the Dome was at fault—whoever it was who had failed But no she blamed it all on me somehow: So we were out Why? \"Because I hate I thought all his kind had died UranCo chief had assured me we'd hit something out this way, but changed my mind. \"No,\" Ledman said evenly. \"I'm quite sane, believe me. the Geigs—and UranCo—off \"Exactly,\" replied Ledman. The Geig Corps preferred doing this for Earth. Mars.\" so glorious. And UranCo's an envoy, to go back and tell the others to clear off.\" He rocked back and forth in his wheelchair, toying with the day, both of us listening for the clicks of the counter. And the geigers had been obstinately hushed all day, except gleaming, deadly blaster in Even though the Martian Earth's, I was starting to right? To mine and I nodded over at our geiger counters. \"We volunteered to come to Mars,\" Val said irrelevantly. Ledman said acidly. \"How We knew the pay was poor, but we had felt it a sort of obligation, something we could do as individuals to he said. \"You remember the Earth going. And we'd always had a roving foot, both of us. No, we had decided together to come to Mars—the \"I was there on business at the time,\" Ledman said. \"I represented Ledman Atomics. I was there to sign a new contract for my company. You know who I am, now?\" I nodded. enough to kill me,\" he said. \"Just enough to necessitate the removal of—\" he indicated the empty space at his thighs. \"So I got off lightly.\" \"But why kill us Geigs? We had nothing to do with it.\" \"You're just in this by accident,\" he said. \"You see, after the explosion and the amputation, my fellow-members on the board of Ledman Atomics decided that a semi-basket case like myself was a poor risk as Head of the Board, and they took my company away. All quite legal, I assure of turning the weary, bedraggled girl at my side back into \"They renamed Ledman I began, \"Uran—\" title than Ledman It's been a long, hard day.\" It didn't take much to persuade her. She slid down beside Mars after all. But, I reminded no longer accustomed.\" on red blood corpuscles.\" I looked down at Valerie's sleeping form, and thought of Others. The Blast turned me into a walking pin-cushion. But I'll pay it all back,\" he said. He plunged wasn't seriously worried about his threat to wipe out the entire Geig Corps, since it was unlikely that one man in a wheelchair could pick us wanted to keep them. Which strange to me, that the human and twisted as Ledman's. every Earthman on Mars? Of all the insane, cockeyed—\" Val's quick, worried head-shake cut me off. But Ledman decided it for us—we were a Earth that couldn't be broken without much difficulty. So we volunteered. good team. We had no ties on And here we are. wheelchair.\" \"You're sick, Gregory Ledman,\" That's not sane!\" His eyes blazed. \"Who are you to talk of sanity?\" the direction. \"I'll be knew what our ace in the hole was. But I had to get Ledman \" a spider's web is for a trapped That did it. Ledman hadn't Earthman who had bound us. I rolled my eyes toward Val, and saw that she was much humanity left in him, but there was a little. He lowered odor like that of drying fish. It had been spun on \"A very wise statement,\" said a brittle, harsh voice from above me. I looked up above us. He wasn't wearing glued-in instantly. Ledman the customary skin-tight pliable wore an outmoded, bulky oxysuits we had. He to him, its wheels slowly revolving the wheelchair upended next weren't attached to his back as expected, though. They were strapped to the back of the wheelchair in which he sat. Ledman clawed his way to Through the fishbowl I him, and this struck me odd. I thought I knew everyone that he had no legs. The which he had entrapped us, and a very efficient-looking blaster was in his right. \"I didn't want to disturb \"Teamwork,\" Val said. She swivelled around on the floor I could just see it. He might have been sitting there for hours, complacently waiting to see how we'd wake up. That was when I realized he \"That's that.\" I looked uneasily at Ledman. He was groaning and beginning to stir. enough,\" he said. \"Suppose now you come with me.\" He trained on us all the while. Our legs were free. \"You may get up now,\" he across the floor to Ledman, Then I turned and faced Ledman. now,\" he said. \"No. That's the difference between sane people and insane,\" I told him. \"I'm not outboard atomic rigging behind him, strapped to the back of the wheelchair. He fingered a knob on the arm of the chair and the two exhaust going to kill you at all. I'm going to see to it that you're sent back to Earth.\" after what they did to \" \"They'll help you on Earth. \"What's going on, Ron?\" \"I hate Earthmen,\" he spat talking. We trudged along together, with him following behind had to leave.\" \"Why are you telling all this to me?\" The answer to that came to me quick enough: we had to. Earth needed radioactives, Ledman scowled, and then \"It was the only way,\" he protested. \"I had to get off—\" \"She's right,\" I told him. given the necessary replacement limbs free of charge. All except you. You were so sick nuclei isn't. After three centuries of heavy consumption, the supply failed. The mighty And that started the chain he'd killed twelve Geigs—or more—and would have added Val to the number had he had the chance. \"You're a very sick man, Ledman,\" I said. \"All this of events that led Val and me into the middle of the floor, Earth. But you decided to to tide us over until then. In a decade or so, our power would be just about gone. I could he said, weakly but stubbornly still. I could see his whole structure of hate starting to topple, \"Yes—human legs aren't Mars, combing for its uranium two hummocks on the Ledman was sobbing. settlement where all of UranCo's \"Okay, Ledman,\" I said. brought him the fishbowl helmet. us and fairly small. A one-man Ledman.\" He herded us off to sentenced to psych adjustment. When they're finished, Gregory Ledman the killer will be as dead as if they'd electrocuted you, but there'll be a new—and sane—Gregory Ledman.\" I turned to Val. Ledman had caught us, I remembered who hated. The place was spartanly now that I had been driving her mercilessly—me, with rivet-studded, glared back at us. He had an automatic my chromium legs and atomic-powered chef, a bed, and a writing-desk, furnished. No chairs, no tape-player, She lifted the geiger harnesses, and I put Ledman back in his wheelchair. know the whole story,\" he said. \"The others did, too.\"\n\n<question>:\nWhat is Ledman's relation to UranCo?\n\n<options>:\nA He was a civilian injured by them in the Sadlerville blast\nB He was their CEO prior to the Sadlerville blast\nC He was the CEO of a competing company, Ledman Atomics\nD He was a member of the Board\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "B"
}
] |
1,085 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nit takes a heap of flying to make a hulk a home! Forty days of heaven and forty nights of hell. That's the way it's been, Laura. But how can I make you understand? How can I tell you what it's like to be young and a man and to dream of reaching the stars? And yet, at the same time, to be filled with a terrible, gnawing fear—a fear locked in my mind during the day and bursting out like an evil jack-in-the-box at night. I must tell you, Laura. Perhaps if I start at the beginning, the very beginning.... It was the Big Day. All the examinations, the physicals and psychos, It doesn't matter , I told myself. \"You made it, boy,\" he chortled, \"and by Jupiter, we'll celebrate tonight. Yes, siree, I got twenty-four hours, and we'll celebrate as good spacemen should!\" Then Mickey strode up to us. He was his normal, boyish self again, And you, Laura, were with him. \"Meet the Brat,\" he said. \"My sister Laura.\" \"I'm happy to meet you, Ben,\" you said. \"I've heard of no one else for Charlie gulped helplessly, and Mickey said: \"Still going to spend the weekend with us, aren't you, Ben?\" I shook my head. \"Charlie has only twenty-four hours liberty. We're planning to see the town tonight.\" a tall, willowy man, spectacled, looking the way an academy professor should look. \"Ben,\" he called, \"don't forget that offer. Remember you've got two months to decide.\" \"No, thanks,\" I answered. \"Better not count on me.\" A moment later Mickey said, frowning, \"What was he talking about, Ben? Did he make you an offer?\" classroom for forty years when I've got the chance to—\" I hesitated, and you supplied the right words: \"When you've got the You bit your lip, not answering. \"What did she mean, Mickey?\" Mickey looked down at his feet. \"I didn't want to tell you yet, Ben. We've been together a long time, planning to be on a rocket. But—\" \"Yes?\" you're lucky, you're good for five, maybe ten years. Then one thing or another gets you. They don't insure rocketmen, you know.\" My stomach was full of churning, biting ice. \"What are you trying to of White Sands Port.\" He raised his hand to stop me. \"I know. It's not so exciting. I'll just live a lot longer. I'm sorry, Ben.\" I couldn't answer. It was as if someone had whacked the back of my knees with the blast of a jet. \"It doesn't change anything, Ben—right now, I mean. We can still have a good weekend.\" Charlie was muttering under his breath, smoldering like a bomb about to 'copter. \"Sure,\" I said to Mickey, \"we can still have a good weekend.\" I liked your folks, Laura. There was no star-hunger in them, of course. doesn't like to be sentimental, at least not on the outside. As far as feeling that I shouldn't have come here. You kept looking at me until I had to ask: \"What are you thinking, Laura?\" You laughed, but it was a sad, fearful laugh. \"No, I shouldn't be thinking it. You'd hate me if I told you, and I wouldn't want that.\" I frowned. \"And you mean it might be the same with the stars? You think maybe I haven't grown up yet?\" I didn't understand at first, and I wanted to ask, \"Give up what \"I'm sorry,\" you said. \"I didn't mean to make you sad, Ben.\" it's just that I've been dodgin' meteors now for twenty-five years. That's a long time, boy. Ain't one spaceman in a thousand that lucky. Some of these days, I won't be so lucky.\" I tried to laugh. \"You're good for another twenty-five years, Charlie.\" He shook his head stiffly, staring at nothing. \"Maybe. Anyway, I'm gonna get off the Shuttle this time, make one more trip to Mars. Tell Charlie's hard face contorted itself into a gargoylish grin. \"Maybe a couple of months, maybe a couple of years. You know spacemen.\" have lived the kind of life a kid should live. Mickey noticed my frown. \"What's the matter, Ben? Still sore? I feel like a heel, but I'm just not like you and Charlie, I guess. I—\" \"No, I understand, Mickey. I'm not sore, really.\" \"Listen, then. You haven't accepted any offer yet, have you?\" But I wanted, also, to be with you, Laura, to see your smile and the And I said, slowly, my voice sounding unfamiliar and far away, \"Sure, I'll stay, Mickey. Sure.\" Forty days of joy, forty nights of fear and indecision. We did all the flushed. Then you murmured, \"I—I want to marry you, Ben, but are you asking me to marry a spaceman or a teacher?\" \"Can't a spaceman marry, too?\" \"Yes, a spaceman can marry, but what would it be like? Don't you see, Ben? You'd be like Charlie. Gone for maybe two months, two years. Then you'd have a twenty-four hour liberty—and I'd have what?\" Somehow I'd expected words like these, but still they hurt. \"I wouldn't have to be a spaceman forever. I could try it for a couple of years, then teach.\" \"Would you, Ben? Would you be satisfied with just seeing Mars? Wouldn't Your voice was choked, and even in the semi-darkness I saw tears glittering in your eyes. \"Do you think I'd dare have children, Ben? Mickey told me what happened on the Cyclops men had no burns. But a year later the captain had a child. And it was—\" \"I know, Laura. Don't say it.\" You had to finish. \"It was a monster.\" That night I lay awake, the fears and doubts too frantic to let me You can take Dean Dawson's job and stay with Laura and have kids and a That's what he'd say. And yet I wanted you, Laura. I wanted to be with you, always. \"Oh God,\" I moaned, \"what shall I do?\" Next morning the door chimes pealed, and you went to the door and I hurled the cylinder at the wall. It thudded, fell, rolled. The broken voice droned on. You ran to it, shut it off. \"I'm sorry, Ben, so terribly—\" Without answering, I walked into my room. I knew it was true now. I I walked into your living room and called Dean Dawson on the visiphone. I accepted that job teaching. And now, Laura, it's nearly midnight. You're in your room, sleeping, and the house is silent. It's hard to tell you, to make you understand, and that is why I am left himself, Laura, for he showed me that a boy's dream can also be a He made his last trip to Luna when he knew he was going to die. Heaven knows how he escaped a checkup. Maybe the captain understood and was kind—but that doesn't matter now. It was because he wanted to die nearer home. His home, Laura, was the last night on Earth. It might have seemed an ugly kind of celebration to you, but he wanted it with all his heart, and we robbed him of it. Because of these things, Laura, I will be gone in the morning. Explain the best you can to Mickey and to your parents and Dean Dawson. Right now I've got a date that I'm going to keep—at a dingy stone cafe\n\n<question>:\nHow does Ben feel about Laura?\n\n<options>:\nA Ben loves Laura, but not enough to give up space travel.\nB Ben thinks Laura is the one.\nC Ben likes Laura but they only met 40 days ago. It's not that serious.\nD Ben thinks Laura got too serious, too fast. It's only been 40 days.\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "A"
}
] |
1,217 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nthe U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] All she wanted was a mate and she had the gumption to go out and hunt one down. But that meant Matilda would seek the happy medium. The best that could be said for Matilda Penshaws was that she was at which she would have scoffed ten or even five years ago. Matilda was This, in itself, was not unusual—but Matilda was so completely talk about it all to Matilda. bachelors, and that the right one would come along simply because she had been waiting for him. Matilda, you see, had patience. She also had a fetish. Matilda had received her A.B. from exclusive Matilda would write, and she often told her mother, the widow Penshaws, that it was in this way she would find her husband. The widow Penshaws impatiently told her to go out and get dates. That particular night, Matilda pulled her battered old sedan into the in her own and examine the next-to-the-last finger. \"But, Matilda, that's your fifth broken engagement in three years. It Matilda admired her mother's use of the word osmosis, but she found of love. She said good-night and went upstairs, climbed out of her light summer dress and took a cold shower. a gratifying selection of pen pals. She shut off the shower, brushed her teeth, gargled, patted herself dry with a towel, and jumped into bed, careful to lock the door of her Matilda switched her bed lamp on and dabbed some citronella on each Matilda read the next one twice. Then she held it close to the light Matilda could see that. But she had not fifty miles from her home, and she'd get there a hop, skip, and jump ahead of her competitors, simply by arriving in person instead of writing a letter. Matilda was not yet that far gone in years or appearance. Dressed Matilda got out of bed at seven, tiptoed into the bathroom, showered with a merest wary trickle of water, tiptoed back into her bedroom, dressed in her very best cotton over the finest of uplifting and figure-moulding underthings, made sure her stocking seams were \"Mother,\" gasped Matilda. Matilda always gasped when she saw something Then the widow Penshaws told Matilda that she could never hope to sneak only mother could cook. Matilda moodily thanked the widow Penshaws. Matilda kept the alarm from creeping into her voice. She muttered an happily that he was sorry he couldn't help her. He grudgingly suggested that if it really were important, she might check with the police. out that no one did: Matilda tried the general store, the fire did not exist. Matilda felt bad, but she had no intention of returning home this early. If she could not find Haron Gorka, that was one thing but she to analyze other people's mistakes, especially Matilda's. Then Matilda frowned. Twenty years from now, this could be Matilda On the other hand—why not? Why couldn't the librarian help her? Why Matilda cleared her throat. \"Pardon me,\" she began. \"I'm looking for—\" Matilda jumped as if she had been struck strategically from the rear. Matilda reached into her pocket-book and withdrew a five dollar bill. \"Was this the way?\" she demanded. Matilda was not very good at this of vicarious enjoyment. Is it—ah—a deal?\" Matilda assured her that it was, and, breathlessly, she wrote down the address. She thanked the librarian and then she went out to her car, whistling to herself. that the land no longer was being tilled. The house itself had fallen to ruin. This surprised Matilda, but she did not let it keep her librarian's account of him certainly had been glowing enough. Perhaps made the sixth. In spite of herself, she smiled. She had not been the only one with the idea to visit Haron Gorka in person. With half a dozen of them there, the laggards who resorted to posting letters would be left far behind. Matilda congratulated herself for what she thought had been her ingenuity, and which now turned out to be something which she had in common with five other women. You live and learn, thought Matilda. And then, quite annoyedly, she berated herself for not having she wouldn't be needed perhaps she was too late.... As it turned out, she wasn't. Not only that, she was welcomed with open arms. Not by Haron Gorka that she really might have liked. Instead, someone she could only regard as a menial met her, and when he asked had she come in response to the advertisement, she nodded eagerly. \"When he wants you, he will send for you. Meanwhile, make yourself to home, lady, and I will tell him you are here.\" A little doubtful now, Matilda thanked him and watched him leave. He closed the door softly behind his retreating feet, but Matilda's ears It must be said to Matilda's favor that she sobbed only once. After For a time Matilda paced back and forth in her room, and of what was her overwrought nerves. At that point she remembered what the servant had said about food and Matilda gasped once and felt about to gasp again—but by then her little while Matilda was asleep again. This time she did not dream at all. It was a deep sleep and a restful one, and when she awoke it was with the wonderful feeling that everything was all right. He had a point there, but Matilda hardly even had time to fix her hair. She told the servant so. \"Miss,\" he replied, \"I assure you it will not matter in the least to Haron Gorka. You are here and he is ready to see you and that is all \"You sure?\" Matilda wanted to take no chances. \"Yes. Come.\" \"I—do.\" Matilda had had visions of her prince charming sitting back Matilda, accustomed to social chatter, gave him a gambit. \"Yes,\" said Matilda vaguely. Perhaps it might be better, after all, if Matilda said, \"Beg pardon?\" Almost at once, Matilda's educational background should have told her wanted to believe in him and the result was that it took until now for her to realize it. Matilda could do nothing but leave the room, walk back through the alone. As she drove back to town, the disappointment melted slowly away. There It was not until she had passed the small library building that she remembered what she had promised the librarian. In her own way, the aging woman would be as disappointed as Matilda, but a promise was a broom-stick figure, rigid. But now when she saw Matilda she perked up have returned, too, and I imagine your story will be similar.\" \"I don't know what they told you,\" Matilda said. \"But this is what happened to me.\" She quickly then related everything which had happened, completely and in detail. She did this first because it was a promise, and second because she knew it would make her feel better. \"What do you mean?\" \"Did he leave a message for his wife?\" \"Why, yes. Yes, he did. But how did you know? Oh, I suppose he told the \"No. He didn't. But you were the last and I thought he would give you a message for his wife—\" Matilda didn't understand. She didn't understand at all, but she told the little librarian what the message was. \"He wanted her to return,\" she said. The librarian nodded, a happy smile on her lips. \"You wouldn't believe Matilda did not say a word. One madman a day would be quite enough for the opportunity just to listen to him. \"But he's wrong. It's a hard life for a woman. Someday—five thousand, ten thousand years from now—I will convince him. And then we will If you marry, choose a home-body. I've had the experience and you've seen my Haron for yourself.\" And then the woman was gone. Numbly, Matilda walked to the doorway and\n\n<question>:\nWhat is not a reason for Matilda to tell the librarian what happened?\n\n<options>:\nA she had been asked to relay a message to his wife\nB she wanted to tell someone her crazy story\nC she wanted to make sure the librarian stayed away from him\nD she had made a promise to return\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "C"
}
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2,296 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nThe sight of an Earthman on Vega III, where it was impossible for an outlander to be, brought angry crowds to surround refuses to obey the just and legal orders of its Viceroy. So we achieve \"And it is true that we can always We control it adequately, and we live in peace. \"The Sundans, for example, though they took the rule of the Empire that was rightfully ours Sunda. He ignored the snarling, the spitting, the waving of boneless prehensile fingers, as he ignored the stalemate. You've got the idea that, with our help, you can conquer planets without the necessity of destroying them, and thereby If they carried out the threats of their present attitude, Earth would have to send Marshall to replace him. And if Crownwall couldn't do at the Viceroy's gesture. take over number one spot from these Sunda friends of yours.\" \"Don't call those damn lobsters friends,\" growled Ggaran. He subsided world. You can do the same on the worlds of the Sunda. Now, just tell us how you did it, and we're partners.\" exterminate any planet that to feel safe, and we will guarantee them an equal share in the government of the Galaxy.\" \"Bunk,\" said Crownwall. His Effulgence lifted a tentacle the Viceroy's Palace?\" asked Emperor, Hereditary Ruler of the Seventy Suns, Viceroy of the Twelfth Sector of the Universal Holy Empire\"—Universal Galactic Vegan in lordly trappings. They examined Crownwall with great interest for a few moments. when you enter the Viceroy's presence,\" customary among civilized peoples.\" \"It's all right, Ggaran,\" said the Viceroy languidly. He twitched a plans to beat the claws off the Master from Earth to break through our blockade and come here. Most of my advisors—even Ggaran here—thought it couldn't be done, but you, why did you put the cordon around Earth? And why did you drop a planet-buster in the Pacific Ocean, and tell us that it was triggered come, so I can tell you that although I am the leader of one of the mightiest peoples in the Galaxy, whereas there are scarcely six member. \"Then of course, as I continued to move in time, the whole Galaxy billions of you squatting on one moved spatially with reference to \"We offer you partnership with us to take over the rule of the Galaxy from the Sunda—the so-called Master Race.\" \"It would hardly be an equal \"I'm listening,\" said Crownwall. stalks in amusement. \"I'm Viceroy the Empire. I rule over a total of a hundred Satrapies and every Cluster has an average of a hundred inhabited solar systems. There are more inhabited upstart Earthlings are a strange and a frightening race,\" he said. \"Frightening to the Sunda, especially. When you showed up in the spaceways, it was decreed that you thousand years ago. There were at that time three different but similar racial strains of pulpy bipeds, classed among the intelligent races, there was a general expectation, which we reported to the Sunda, that they would some day come to be numbered among the Servants of the Emperor. So we let you alone, in order that you could develop in your own way, until you Galaxy. In all, it has been found only fifteen times. The other races we have watched develop, and One such race we left uncontrolled too long—but no matter. \"You Earthlings, in defiance of all expectation and all reason, have exploded into space. You have developed \"When the Viceroy of the Seventy Suns,\" said the Viceroy of the Seventy Suns, \"travels in state, no one but my own entourage is permitted ten years before. The Star Seeker in space, about forty thousand kilometers above the Earth. It had been manned by a dozen adventurous people, captained by Crownwall, and had headed out on its ion drive until it was safely clear of the warping influence of planetary masses. Then, after several impatient days of careful study and calculation, the distorter drive had been activated, for the first time in Earth's history, and, for the twelve, the stars had winked out. The men of Earth had decided that it should work in theory. They of Alpha Centauri. They had quickly located a dozen planets, Earth to be its twin sister. They had headed for that planet confidently and unsuspectingly, using the ion drive. Your Effulgence, does the Emperor's race—the Master Race—also enjoy the type of civilization you have just had demonstrated Star Seeker , and had then tried to herd it away from the Although caught by surprise, the Earthmen had acted swiftly. Crownwall recalled the discussion—the council of war, they had called it—and their unanimous decision. Although far within the dangerous influence of a planetary mass, they had again activated the distorter drive, and they had beaten they had returned to Earth as swiftly as they had departed. Earth had immediately prepared for war the cohort, the bearers and Ggaran continued to run—without food, drink or, except for Ggaran, evidence You knew that you could have destroyed not only yourself, but also all who live on that planet. You could also have wrecked the planet itself and the ships and those of my own race who manned them. We had tried to contact you, but since you had not developed subspace else that would have kept you from landing on Earth and taking us \"Would that have been so bad?\" said Ggaran. \"We can't tolerate wild and warlike races running free and uncontrolled in the Galaxy. Once was enough for that.\" Government of Earth, making a full report on his trip to Vega. When he had finished, the President \"But what about my question? treaty with a Vegan. They sound ungodly murderous to me. There are too many holes in that protection send them down to your planet. And by the time we had organized properly for war against you, it was obvious that we could not conquer you. We could only destroy you.\" \"That old fool on Sunda, the Emperor, decided that we should for a while. I was back so far that the Vegans hadn't appeared yet. Now, I didn't land—or deliberately down into Vega III's atmosphere blow you up, but by that time I each other. I traveled halfway just to quarantine you. When we had used your radio system to teach a few of you the Universal across the Galaxy to meet him, to convince him that it would be sufficient with the bomb, you would only succeed in setting it off, and that's what the Sunda had been in favor of in the first place. \"But I had different ideas. From to Sunda and there's no sign of Earthling,\" said His Effulgence. Ggaran bowed. \"The crustaceans on Sunda—the lobsterlike creatures that rule the Galaxy—are usurpers. They have no rights to their position of power. Our race is much older than theirs. We were alone when we found the Sundans—a primitive tribe, grubbing in the mud at the edge of their shallow those days we were desperately lonely. We needed companionship among the stars, and we helped them develop to the point where, in their inferior way, they were able to reason, almost as well as we, The People, can. And then they cheated us of our rightful place. \"The Emperor at Sunda is one of them. They provide sixty-eight of the hundred Viceroys for revenge. And now \"If you haven't been able to help yourselves for two million years,\" asked Crownwall, \"how does the said the aged ruler. \"We can destroy planets, of course, but with few exceptions, we cannot conquer them. I rule a total of seven races in my Sector. I rule them, but I don't let them intermingle. Each race settles on the planets that best suit it. Each of those planets is quite capable of defending\n\n<question>:\nWhy does the Viceroy want to overthrow the Sundans?\n\n<options>:\nA The Sundans do not understand polite society or etiquette. They really must be stopped.\nB The Sundans are waging war on the Vegans.\nC The Sundans are a race of brutal warriors, oppressing everyone in the galaxy.\nD The Vegans were around before the Sundans, therefore the Vegans should be in charge of the galaxy.\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "D"
}
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2,409 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nblood,\" old Dunbar told the space-wrecked, desperate men. drifted together, four men in bulbous pressure suits like small individual rockets, held together by an awful pressing need for each other and by the \"gravity-rope\" beam. Dunbar, the oldest of the four, an old space-buster with a face Suddenly, Old Dunbar had known where they were. Suddenly, Dunbar knew which sent a man a few hundred thousand miles further on toward wherever he was going. Four men, thought Russell, held together by an invisible string of gravity, plunging through a lost pocket of hell's dark where there had never been any sound or life, with old Dunbar the first in line, taking the lead because he was older and knew where he was and where he was going. Maybe Johnson, second in line, and Alvar who was third, knew too, but were afraid to admit it. But Russell knew it and he'd admitted it from the first—that old Dunbar was as crazy as a Jovian juke-bird. Dunbar's suit up ahead, watching it more and more intently, thinking about how Dunbar looked inside that suit—and hating Dunbar more and repeat. Sometimes Russell thought of other things besides his growing hatred thought then of what Dunbar would say to such a thought, how Dunbar Dunbar had a big answer for every little thing. for Dunbar. Hell no—Dunbar had to start talking about a place they And Dunbar had spouted endlessly about a world of treasure they would find, if they would just follow old Dunbar. That's what all four of away could see or care. Still—we might have a chance to live, even now, Russell thought—if it weren't for old crazy Dunbar. They might have a chance if Alvar and Johnson weren't so damn lacking in self-confidence as to put all their trust in that crazed old rum-dum. Russell had known now for some time that they were going in the wrong direction. No reason for knowing. Just a hunch. And Russell was sure his hunch was right. \"We're about in the middle of those four suns aren't we, Dunbar?\" \"That's right, boys!\" yelled old Dunbar in that sickeningly optimistic life on it, Dunbar ... the only one we can live on?\" Russell asked. \"That's right! That's right,\" Dunbar yelled. \"That's the only one—and Dunbar?\" Russell asked. Keep the old duck talking like this and maybe Alvar and Johnson would see that he was cracked. \"Yeah,\" said Alvar. \"You still say that, Dunbar?\" \"No life, boys, nothing,\" Dunbar laughed. \"Nothing on these other Russell said. \"Yeah, that's right,\" said Alvar. \"Sometimes I see a red rim around the one we're going for, sometimes a red rim around that one on the Old Dunbar laughed. The sound brought blood hotly to Russell's face. than old Dunbar will ever be, even if he keeps on getting nuttier all was to get rid of Dunbar. \"Lost people ... lost ... who knows how long,\" Dunbar said, as the always spring, always spring, boys, and the music plays all night, every night of a long long year....\" Russell suddenly shouted. \"Keep quiet, Dunbar. Shut up will you?\" Johnson said. \"Dunbar—how long'll it take us?\" \"Six months to a year, I'd say,\" Dunbar yelled happily. \"That is—of \"What?\" croaked Alvar. Johnson didn't say anything at all. Russell screamed at Dunbar, then quieted down. He whispered. \"Six \"Shut up!\" Johnson yelled. Dunbar laughed. \"Boys, boys, don't get panicky. Keep your heads. Just stick to old Dunbar and he'll see you through. I'm always lucky. Only on our hungry hides. That's worth waiting for.\" Russell did it before he hardly realized he was killing the old man. It was something he had had to do for a long time and that made it pierced Dunbar's back. Now the fire was gone, extinguished Dunbar's last faint cry from inside his suit still rang in Russell's ears, and he knew Alvar and Johnson had heard it too. Alvar and Johnson both called Dunbar's name a few times. There was no answer. \"Russ—you shouldn't have done that,\" Johnson whispered. \"You shouldn't have done that to the old man!\" \"No,\" Alvar said, so low he could barely be heard. \"You shouldn't have done it.\" \"I did it for the three of us,\" Russell said. \"It was either him or us. Lies ... lies that was all he had left in his crazy head. Paradise ... \"Maybe he was lying, maybe not,\" Johnson said. \"Now he's dead anyway.\" \"Maybe he was wrong, crazy, full of lies,\" Alvar said. \"But now he's dead.\" \"How could he see any difference in those four stars?\" Russell said, louder. \"He thought he was right,\" Alvar said. \"He wanted to take us to \" Shhhh ,\" said Alvar. It was quiet. How could it be so quiet, Russell thought? And up ahead the old man's pressure suit with a corpse inside went on ahead, leading the other three at the front of the gravity-rope. \"Maybe he was wrong,\" Alvar said. \"But now do we know which way is right?\" Sometime later, Johnson said, \"We got to decide now. Let's forget the decide what to do.\" And Alvar said, \"Guess he was crazy all right, and I guess we trusted him because we didn't have the strength to make up our own minds. Why because he was alone. He'd have broken away, gone his own direction, long ago but for that fear. \"How can we tell which of us is right?\" Alvar said. \"It's like \"The one to the right,\" said Johnson. \"We been going away from the right one all the time,\" said Alvar. \"We got to stay together,\" said Russell. \"Nobody could spend a year out here ... alone....\" \"Ah ... in another month or so we'd be lousy company anyway,\" Alvar can come and help the other two....\" \"No ... God no....\" Russell whispered over and over. \"None of us can ever make it alone....\" Alvar said, \"We each take the star he likes best. I'll go back the other way. Russ, you take the left. And you, Johnson, go to the right.\" Johnson started to laugh. Russell was yelling wildly at them, and above his own yelling he could hear Johnson's rising laughter. \"Every guy's got a star of his own,\" Johnson said when he stopped laughing. \"Okay,\" Alvar said. \"We cut off the gravity rope, and each to his own sun.\" Now Russell wasn't saying anything. \"And the old man,\" Alvar said, \"can keep right on going toward what he thought was right. And he'll keep on going. Course he won't be able to old Dunbar? Even less than to us, I guess. He's dead and he won't care.\" \"Ready,\" Johnson said. \"I'll cut off the gravity rope.\" \"I'm ready,\" Alvar said. \"To go back toward whatever it was I started from.\" \"All right,\" Johnson said. \"Good-bye.\" Russell felt the release, felt the sudden inexplicable isolation and aloneness even before Alvar and Johnson used their life-guns and shot out of sight, Johnson toward the left and Alvar back toward that other red-rimmed sun behind them. And old Dunbar shooting right on ahead. And all three of them Fading, he could hear their voices. \"Each to his own star,\" Johnson said. \"On a bee line.\" \"On a bee line,\" Alvar said. Russell used his own life-gun and in a little while he didn't hear Alvar or Johnson's voices, nor could he see them. They were thousands of miles away, and going further all the time.\n\n<question>:\nWhy does Dunbar continue to tell stories of an enchanting paradise?\n\n<options>:\nA To motivate them to keep persisting until they arrive\nB To convince himself that he is choosing the correct star\nC To assuage his crewmen's minds before they inevitably die\nD To lure the Johnson, Alvar, and Russell into a trap\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "A"
}
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941 | quality | [
{
"human": "Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.\n\n<passage>:\nName Your Symptom Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Anybody who shunned a Cure needed his head examined—assuming he had one left! world is going mad and we are just sitting back watching it hike along. Do you know that what we are doing is really the most primitive medicine in the world? We are treating the symptoms and not the disease. One cannibal walking another with sleeping sickness doesn't cure anything. Eventually the savage dies—just as all those sick savages out in the street will die unless we can cure the disease, not only the indications.\" just aren't enough of us or enough time to give that old-fashioned therapy to all the sick people.\" the life. The sickness overcame him. He sat down on Morgan's desk. \"That's just one thing, the gyro ball. There are so many others, so many.\" Morgan smiled. \"You know, Henry, not all of our Cures are so—so—not all are like that. Those Cures for mother complexes aren't even obvious. If anybody does see that button in a patient's ear, it looks like a hearing aid. Yet for a nominal sum, the patient is equipped to mean to say that man's senses will only be impaired 23 per cent? Why, he'll turn violently schizophrenic sooner or later—and you know it. The only cure we have for that is still a strait jacket, a padded cell or one of those inhuman lobotomies.\" Morgan shrugged helplessly. \"You're an idealist.\" seemed to be Normals, but you couldn't tell. Many \"Cures\" were not readily apparent. of Cure. \"Pardon me,\" he said warmly. \"Quite all right.\" stubble-chinned, heavy-shouldered man quivering in the center of a web care about other people's feelings. This is he merely radiated narrowed eyes. \"How long have you been Cured?\" \"Not—not long,\" Infield evaded. Under the mousy hair, Price's strong features were beginning to gleam moistly. \"You are lucky in one way, Mr. Infield. People take one look at your Cure and don't ask you to go walking in the rain. But even after seeing left ear. Infield supposed it was a Cure, although he had never issued one like it. He didn't know if it would be good form to inquire what kind it was. \"It's a cure for alcoholism,\" Price told him. \"It runs a constant blood check to see that the alcohol level doesn't go over the sobriety limit.\" \"What happens if you take one too many?\" Price looked off as if at something not particularly interesting, but more interesting than what he was saying. \"It drives a needle into my temple and kills me.\" The psychiatrist felt cold fury rising in him. The Cures were supposed to save lives, not endanger them. \"What kind of irresponsible idiot could have issued such a device?\" he \"I did,\" Price said. \"I used to be a psychiatrist. I was always good in shop. This is a pretty effective mechanism, if I say so myself. It can't be removed without causing my death and it's indestructible. himself, Infield knew. The threat of death would keep him constantly shocked sane. Men hide in the comforts of insanity, but when faced with defeat of his life and his withdrawal from life and live an enforced sanity. But sometimes the withdrawal was—or could become—too complete. \"You don't understand. Everyone has some little phobia or fixation. Maybe everyone didn't have one once, but after being told they did have them for generations, everyone who didn't have one developed a defense mechanism and an aberration so they would be normal. If that phobia isn't brought to the surface and Cured, it may arise any time and endanger other people. The only safe, good sound citizens are Cured. Those lacking Cures—the Incompletes— must be dealt with .\" likable, impassioned with his cause, and convinced that it was his Price started to glance around the cafe, then half-shrugged, almost visibly thinking that he shouldn't run that routine into the ground. \"We'll Cure them whether they want to be Cured or not—for their own good.\" not just in his head. It was thundering outside. He was getting sick. Price was the type of man who could spread his ideas throughout the ranks of the Cured—if indeed the plot was not already universal, imposed upon many ill minds. He could picture an entirely Cured world and he didn't like the view. Every Cure cut down on the mental and physical abilities of the patient as it was, whether Morgan and the others admitted it or not. But if everyone had a crutch to lean on for one phobia, he would develop secondary symptoms. People would start needing two Cures—perhaps a foetic gyro and a safety belt—then another and another. There would always be a crutch to lean on for one thing and then room enough to develop something else—until everyone would be loaded down with too many Cures to operate. A Cure was a last resort, dope for a malignancy case, euthanasia for the hopeless. Enforced Cures would be a curse for the individual and the race. relief for neurotic or psychopathic symptoms on someone who didn't want or need it? \"Perhaps you don't see how it could be done,\" Price said. \"I'll half-humorously, it was surprising to see a Normal—an \"Incomplete.\" But then he noticed something about the baby she carried. The Cure had been very simple. It wasn't even a mechanized half-human robot, just a He's not an alcoholic. He didn't need to put that Cure on his head. It's just an excuse for not drinking. All of this is just because a mark of honor of the completely sane man. You should be proud of your Cure and eager to Cure others. Very eager.\" Price leaned forward. \"There is one phobia that is so wide-spread, a Cure is not even thought of—hypochondria. Hundreds of people come to your office for a Cure and you turn them away. Suppose you and the other Cured psychiatrists give everybody who comes to you a Cure?\" Infield gestured vaguely. \"A psychiatrist wouldn't hand out Cures unless they were absolutely necessary.\" \"You'll feel differently after you've been Cured for a while yourself. Other psychiatrists have.\" same as when he had diagnosed his first case. No, better than that. \"That taste of liquor didn't kill you, Price. Nothing terrible happened. You could find some way to get rid of that Cure.\" Price stared at him as if he were a padded-cell case. \"That's different. I'd be a hopeless drunk without the Cure. Besides, no one ever gets rid of a Cure.\" critical point in history. It was up to him which turn the world took, the world as represented by these four Cured people. \"I'm afraid I'm for less Cures instead of more, Price. Look, if I can show you that someone can discard a Cure, would you get rid of that—if I may use the word— monstrous threw the Cure on the floor. \"Now,\" he said, \"I am going out in that rain storm. There's thunder and lightning out there. I'm afraid, but I can get along without a Cure and so can you.\" \"Just a moment.\" Morgan switched on the room lights. \"What were you saying?\" \"Mr. Infield went out without his Cure in a storm and was struck by lightning. We took him to the morgue. He must have been crazy to go out without his Cure.\"\n\n<question>:\nWhat is a major theme of the story?\n\n<options>:\nA Placebos can be just as powerful as engineered medications and cures\nB Not every illness should be cured through a western, pathology-focused approach to healing\nC The more people believe there is something 'wrong' with them, the greater lengths they will go to hide or repair their 'flaws'\nD Sometimes a 'cure' can end up causing more distress and pain than living with an affliction\n\n<answer>:\n",
"assistant": "D"
}
] |