Chlorine essays

Chlorine essays When you think of chlorine, the first thing that comes to your mind is the stuff you put in pools. Well that is one of the uses, but there is many, many more. Chlorine protects organisms ranging from the Ecuadorian tree frog, to wood rotting fungi. Chlorine is also surprisingly more plentiful than carbon. Believe it or not chlorine was the first substance used as a poisonous gas in World War I. Chlorine, symbol Cl, is a greenish-yellow gaseous element. In the group 17 of the periodic table, chlorine is one of the halogens. The atomic number of chlorine is 17. Elementary chlorine was first isolated in 1774 by the Swedish chemist Carl Wilhelm Scheele, who thought that gas was a compound of oxygen. It was not until 1810 that the British chemist Sir Humphry Davy proved that chlorine was an element and gave it its present name. At ordinary temperatures, chlorine is a greenish-yellow gas that can readily be liquefied under pressure of 6.8 atmospheres, at 20 degrees Celsius (68 degrees pharenhit). The gas has an irritating odor and can sometimes be dangerous. Chlorine does not occur in nature, but its compounds are common minerals, and it is the 20th most abundant element in the earth's crust. Cl has a specific gravity of 1.41 at -35 degrees Celsius (-31 degrees pharnehit). The atomic weight of the element is 35.453. Chlorine is an active element, reacting with water, organic compounds, and many metals. Chlorine will not burn in air, but will support the combustion of many substances. An ordinary paraffin candle, for example, will burn chlorine with a smoky flame. Chlorine and hydrogen can be kept together in the dark, but react explosively in the presence of light. Chlorine solutions in water are familiar in the home as bleaching agents. Most chlorine is produced by the electrolysis of ordinary salt solution, with sodium hydroxide as a by-product. Because the demand for chlorine exceeds that for sodium hydro...

Kalamazoo River PCB content or Oil Spill Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1250 words

Kalamazoo River PCB content or Oil Spill - Essay Example It stretches across several states, and drains into Lake Michigan. The rivers course covers about 178 miles and its median flow is about 2000 cubic feet per second. The archeological artifacts show the use of this river by humans for a period of over 10000 years. The river is home to abundant aquatic life and a natural habitat for several fish species. It has ponds and a natural scene that is conducive for most aquatic invertebrates. The river has though undergone a lot of pollution from industrial wastes in the past. Despite the continued efforts to clean the river of industrial wastes, the presence of chemicals left behind by previous pollution is still a setback to the efforts. A major oil spill that occurred in the Kalamazoo River in 2010 spelled a major disaster as a broken pipeline leaked a million gallons of diluted bitumen into the river. The occurrence sparked the most costly cleanup operation in the history of the United States. It took over 750 million dollars to clean up the leak, but the long term effects still remain to date. The Alliance for Great Lakes blames the leaks on companies trying to minimize costs and use of substandard pipelines, which lack proper maintenance. Oil spills are a major cause of worry in relation to the effects they have on the environment, oil in its form inhibits penetration of gases and can easily suffocate marine by cutting oxygen supply. After the oil spill, the Kalamazoo had dead fish all over the surface; fishing activities ban for some time affected the livelihood of the people. Enbridge Energy Partners came under criticism, as they owned the pipeline. The effects of the Kalamazoo oil spill are both direct and indirect. The spill led to the closure of sections of the river for dredging. The dredging works cost Enbridge more than the insurance cover they had undertaken and was subject to many legal battles. They also came under public criticism due to closure of sections which used by many people. The slow pace of t he cleanup exercise too attracted public criticism and dissatisfaction. It ended up bringing back the subject of pollution experienced previously on the river, according to a survey AGL conducted people complained of companies being allowed time to conduct more research on the effects rather than concentrating on removal of the toxic wastes from the river. The presence of carcinogenic chemicals like polychlorinated biphenyl’s from wastes of landfills left by paper mills from recycled carbonless paper a now illegal chemical. Despite a major cleanup exercise, AGL believes everything changed after the leak. Some people vacated the area; others still live in uncertainty and are unsure of what long-term effects to expect. The land along the shores soaks with oil and solid materials still float along the riverbed. The scars of the disastrous spill are still visible. The period it takes to clean up an oil spill completely is hard to tell especially on such a large water body. The ef fect on wildlife is under research and turtles and ducks submerged in oil. The effect of this oil coating on feathers and turtle shells is may cause a change in breeding patterns, a negative effect on the animal’s reproduction or even damage to organs in their bodies. The uncertainty breeds anxiety on the actual impact expected to result. There is a drastic change in the food chain, and already there is a drastic reduction of fish in the most affected parts of the river. Certain insects

Project Management Methods Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 7000 words

Project Management Methods - Essay Example Project Management has developed into a major area of study. One of the major reasons is the fact that there are numerous factors that are not fully understood in project management. Every project needs three resources: Man, Material and Money. Managing men, material and money might be the easiest thing to do when compared to the software projects or IT projects. What makes IT projects different is the fact that it is mostly virtual and almost uniformly not realized in any physical form until the final moment. The lack of understanding of the expectations of the end user is just one of the bottlenecks. The very fact that every end user has his or her own perception of the requirements makes the IT project a far tougher proposition than what it was conceived to be. Surveys conducted by Robbins – Gioia (2001) concluded that nearly 51% of all software projects fail. They also said that nearly 46% of the companies just did not know where they are going with the IT projects. Most of the projects go over board on cost as well as on time (Brenda Whittaker 1999). Worse still is the fact that most of the companies are not able to identify what is a success and what is a failure. At the same time, Standish Group released a report that compared the performance of IT projects all through the last decade. From 1994 to 2005, the Group indicated that the IT projects have improved in their performance and have been consistently producing better results. The graph below from the Standish Group's CHAOS report (2004) indicates that the success rate has been increasing gradually. Though this is cause for commendation, still majority of the projects, over 71% of the projects, still fail or do not satisfy the customers who are paying for it. This paper studies the numerous causes for the failures. The paper also studies the various methods adopted by the people to forestall failures and how these methods have failed if they have. Also analyzed are the success reasons for some of the projects. Why do some projects succeed And what makes such projects better than the rest of the projects The results of such study are looked at in this paper. 4. Aims and Objectives In order to put in the right perspective the discussions, the following aims and objectives have been set for this project. The aim of the project is to identify why software and IT projects fail and why their failure rates are higher. This will ensure that real issues behind the failures are identified and listed. Once this is done, the objective is easily reachable. The objective is to find the right project management method and the right process that a software development company should adopt so that the failure rate of their project is low. This objective can be met once the problem points are clearly identified. 5. Literature Review 5.1 Introduction The literature review of the project failure would aim at studying the various methods that are available. While doing so, the primary evolutionary path of these project management methods was identified. This would also ensure that the reasons behind such a methodology will also be known. Every development

Research Design Paper Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 500 words - 2

Design - Research Paper Example This study design is of great importance since it informs policy formulation and implementation strategies and avoids wastage of resources in starting interventions that would not change the state of the population. In the case of HBP the study type would inform the researcher whether the access to a health facility and follow-up are the major causes and therefore policies and interventions to address the same can be put in place to ensure that the interventions are most effective and do not use a lot of resources. HBP management has proven to be technical and requires behavior changes, good diet, along with a regimen of antihypertensive medications that require medical follow-up. Therefore the black men in urban areas have poor access to health services and do not seek care or remain in treatment and this is considered as a great factor in the rate of disability and death in this population. This study design is important in this particular scenario since in order to understand if the factors expressed are the real cause, one half of the population be exposed to the factors and the other not and then assessed over a period of time in order to determine whether the factors have an effect on HBP management. A cohort study is a type of study design which is used widely in cases where the researcher aims at reaching persons with particular similarities. There are different cohorts that can be described in terms of age or condition being suffered from. Most cohorts are attributed by age and therefore age has been the most common dividing factor in cohort studies. It has been expressed widely in this study where Dr Jemmott focuses on reducing risky sexual behavior, primarily among minority adolescents. This clearly illustrates that the target population of the study are the adolescents who are the cohort in this case. The use of cohort study design is important in ensuring that the target population is actually captured

The Morally Blasphemous Essay Example for Free

The Morally Blasphemous Essay In the following essay, I will argue that modern day suicide bombers are not morally blameless by Camus’s standards. To be morally blameless in Camus’s terms, modern day suicide bombers must absolutely meet two vital criteria. For suicide bombers to be morally blameless, Camus stresses that these terrorists must have a just cause, and secondly meet the qualifications of proportional atonement. Since some suicide bombers have a just cause, but all do not meet the criteria of proportional atonement, they are therefore considered not to be morally blameless by Camus’s standards. In the following paragraphs, I will lay out the framework and foundations to explain why the majority of suicide bombers do not meet the criteria for proportional atonement. Secondly I will attempt to demonstrate how some of the terrorism committed by these people, may be in the name of justice but then again look at fluent counter arguments that point out that suicide bombers are breaking one of Camus’s important deontological constraints. Proportional atonement for Camus is the ability for any terrorist , and in this case Kaliayev, to reflect on his actions after having committed the act of violence against the Grand Duke. The terrorist or suicide bomber must then have the courage to pay the ultimate price with their own life. In Kaliayev’s case, this means to refuse any form of acquittal and to suffer the punishment. For Camus, paying with one’s life is the highest price an individual can pay. Therefore a terrorist willing to go through with his or her plan must understand that by doing so, he or she is acting under the pretenses that they are giving up everything. Those who provide an argument in saying that terrorists do pay a proportional price, bring forth the idea that by blowing themselves up, suicide bombers are clearly paying with their life, and are therefore accepting to pay the maximum price. Whether a terrorist like Kaliayev, kills one person by blowing up the Grand Duke’s carriage, or whether it be the back bombers who blew themselves up killing 191 Spaniards in Madrid, these terrorists are paying the ultimate price for what they see as committing an act of justice. The number of people you kill, be it one or ten thousand is irrelevant as a person only has one life to give since we cannot kill ourselves over. For those who hold this true, what they are failing to realize is that suicide bombers, although they are paying the ultimate price, are often celebrated as heroes back at home and monetary compensation is often rewarded to the family members of the suicide bombers. Therefore, you might say that terrorist do pay with their lives but minus the amount of post-mortem social prestige. In his book Driven to Death, author Ariel Merari discusses the effect that monetary compensation has on helping to recruit suicide bombers. In his book, Merari states that families receive money from many sources, including local charities as well as terrorist recruiter groups like modern day Al-Qaeda and the Palestinian authority. In Iraq, before the fall of Sadam Hussein’s regime, his government would give between $20,000 and $25,000 to the families of su icide bombers, often given the goal to blow up and kill American troops or Iranian Shi’ites. 1 1Merari, Ariel. A Controlled Study of Would Be Suicides. Driven to Death. New York: Oxford UP, 2010. 132-33. Print This brings me to my next point which discuses the power of what I call selfish reasoning. Another method is to try and compare modern day suicide bombers, (which we unfortunately have to generalize as Muslims) to Kaliayev. In my estimation suicide bombers blow themselves up for much ore selfish reasons. This would include the Islamic tradition of securing a place in paradise. Thus it could be far fetched to say that their death is an act of repentance but rather a quick way of going right up to paradise. Of course we do have to recognize that this may not be true for all suicide bombers. Unlike these suicide bombers Kaliayev is content to die for his cause, which is for securing a better life for the Russian people. Throughout the play there is absolutely no talk of heaven or paradise but rather the act of death as merely the end. During one of his arguments with Stepan, Kailayev notes that he joined the revolution because he loves life and is willing to give it up for the group’s cause. 2 The final foundation I wish to discuss is this idea of repentance. After having killed the Grand Duke, Kaliayev was forced to go on living in prison for a short amount of time, forced to focus and repent on his action. Even for the short amount of time, Kaliayev was forced to live knowing that he was a murderer and knowing of his dirty blood stained hands. Unlike Kaliayev who is forced to reconcile and repent, suicide bombers blow themselves up immediately, removing any bit of suffering, self reflection and pity from their agenda. This of course brings me to the next idea, which will focus on Camus’s first argument of being able to fulfill la just cause. 2Camus, Albert. The Just Assasins. Trans. Stuart Gilbert. Caligula And 3 Other Plays. New York: Random House, 1958. 243. Print. To say whether or not suicide bombers have a just or unjust cause is a very tricky question to answer. Since we are talking about modern day examples, let us assume we are referring to modern day su icide bombers recruited for groups like Al-Qaeda. Al-Qaeda’s objective is to stop the evils of American-Western oppression and economic control in the Arab world. In the last century, America has secured a dictatorship in Iran, invaded Iraq on a number of occasions, invaded Afghanistan overthrowing the Taliban and has stationed troops in Saudi Arabia in an effort to maintain a partnership that would give the United States cheap oil. Certainly having felt the oppression, suicide bombers and terrorists networks who do not have the means to take on the American military head on and engage in what is called guerilla or asymmetrical warfare. Suicide bombers will target the populations of western countries in order for the people to demand policy changes from the government out of fear of further attacks. After the dreadful Madrid bombings in 2004, the Spanish government pulled out of Iraq. A parallel can be drawn to the terrorist organization in the â€Å"Just Assassins†, unable to take the Russian military head on, the oppressed proletariats resort to unconventional warfare of terrorism against the leaders of governments in order to achieve their goal of freedom which Camus would define as clearly a just want for both those in the Arab world and for the proletariats of Russia. All this being considered, those opposed to the granting terrorists the â€Å"just cause† stamp of approval, we must consider that suicide bombers unlike Kaliayev are engaging in the violation of one of Camus’s largest moral constraints which includes the killing of innocents, along with the guilty. When a suicide bomber blows himself up, he usually does so with the goal of killing as many people as possible. In the story, kalayev cannot bring himself to kill the Grand Dukes niece and nephew because they are innocent; a group consensus follows his decision. If the Madrid back pack bombers wanted to get Camus’s morally blameless stamp of approval, perhaps they would have blown up the Spanish government rather than commuters. Having considered all the factors that have been discussed, for suicide bombers to be morally blameless by Camus’s standards they must first have a just cause and secondly practice proportional atonement. Whether or not some suicide bombers have a just cause is certainly up for interpretation and can be seen in many different lights, factors would include whether blowing up civilians is morally just and on what account they can be seen as blameful for even supporting a government that oppresses a people. On the other hand, assuming that the given suicide bombers have a just cause, it is evident for the reasons stated above that no modern day suicide bomber can fit the criteria of proportional atonement. Therefore anyway you put it, modern day suicide bombers are not morally blameless because they cannot meet both criteria successfully. Works Cited Camus, Albert, and Stuart Gilbert. Caligula Three Other Plays. New York: Random House, 1958. Print. Merari, Ariel. Driven to Death: Psychological and Social Aspects of Suicide Terrorism. New York: Oxford UP, 2010. Print.

Decrypting Cryptography Essay -- E-Commerce Internet Papers

Decrypting Cryptography Cryptography is the study of techniques and implementation dedicated to the solving of complex problems. Today, its primary use is to protect sensitive information by maintaining the privacy of communications. In general, the secret information is transformed into an altered text by a process referred to as encryption, thus preventing the message from being read by anyone besides the intended receiver. It is this cipher text that is transmitted to the intended recipient, who must use the proper key to reverse the process, that is convert the encoded message back into its plain text form. Cryptography has seen a recent rise in popularity due to the expanding nature of communications technology, the Internet, and the inherent security needs of such systems. Cryptography has many practical uses besides providing a code for secret communications. A major contributor to the many current applications of cryptology is the status of computers. Cryptology provides the tools to create a large-scale network of individuals who can communicate with each other confidentially without the threat of an unintended party being able to receive the transmission. The electronically intangible nature of e-mail messages makes them particularly susceptible to attack. Cryptography provides encryption for e-mails, so that only the intended recipient can access the plain text. Cryptographic applications have been augmented with the recent increase of business conducted over the Internet, otherwise known as e-commerce. Online banking, brokerage accounts, and shopping have increased the need for protection against fraud, theft and corruption of the vital information that is sent via the Internet with each electronic transa... ...lobe. Whether you are trading stocks at the office, talking on a cellular phone in the car, or just purchasing a CD at home, cryptography provides the necessary security to insure that your sensitive information will not fall into the wrong hands. Works Cited [1] Daepp, Ulrich. â€Å"Public Key Encryption Scheme.† 14 October 1999. [2] â€Å"Frequently Asked Questions About Today’s Cryptology.† RSA Security. [FTP] ftp://ftp.rsasecurity.com/pub/labsfaq/labsfaq4.pdf. 1 December 1999. [3] â€Å"Leonard Adleman.† The University of Southern California. [WWW] http://www-hto.usc.edu/people/Adleman.html. 3 December 1999. [4] McHugh, Josh. â€Å"People-Innovators, Smart People, Smart Ideas: Leonard Adleman.† Forbes 7 July 1997. [5] â€Å"RSA† [WWW] http://www.whatis.com/rsa.htm. 3 December 1999 [6] Shamir, Adi. â€Å"RSA for Paranoids.† CryptoBytes vol.1, no.3 Autumn 1995: 1-4.

Storm Born Chapter Twelve

I finally worked up the courage to see my mom and Roland a few days later. Tim had left for the day, but he'd apparently baked this morning. A plate of almond poppy seed muffins sat on the kitchen table, and I grabbed two for the road. My ability to think clearly had improved with some rest, but my anger and pain hadn't really faded. I still felt betrayed and not just by Wil. If anything, I could forgive him more easily than anyone else. He had not fostered a years-long secret. His actions had been open and desperate. They had not been so insidious as Kiyo's, my mom's, and Roland's. When I arrived at the house, I didn't bother knocking. The front door was open, and I pushed inside, slamming it loudly behind me. â€Å"Genie?† I heard my mom call. â€Å"Is that you?† I walked across the wood floor, my shoes echoing in the foyer. Mom and Roland sat at the kitchen table, eating lunch. Bread and cold cuts were laid out, along with assorted condiments. It looked so normal. So peaceful and innocent. My mom half-rose when she saw me. â€Å"Thank God you're back safe. I've been so – what's the matter?† I loved these people so much, but seeing them increased my fury, maybe because I did love them so much. For a moment, I couldn't get the words out. I just stared at them, looking from face to face. â€Å"Eugenie?† she asked tentatively. â€Å"Who's my father?† I demanded of her. â€Å"Was I born in the Otherworld?† I saw her go pale, her dark eyes widening in fear. In an instant, Roland was up beside her. â€Å"Eugenie, listen – † The look on his face spoke legions. â€Å"Jesus. It really is true.† I saw him open his mouth to protest, but then he thought better of it. â€Å"How did you find out?† Honesty, at least. â€Å"It's all over the Otherworld. Everyone knows. I'm apparently next in line for world domination.† â€Å"That's not true,† he said. â€Å"Forget about it. You aren't like them.† â€Å"But I am one of them, right? At least half?† â€Å"By blood only. Everything else†¦well, for all intents and purposes, you're human. You have nothing to do with them.† â€Å"Except killing and banishing them. How could you set me up for that†¦if I'm†¦?† One of them, I wanted to finish. But I couldn't get the words out. â€Å"Because you have a talent for it. One we need. You know what they can do.† â€Å"Yes. And you've made sure I do, telling me all the horror stories growing up. But there's a hell of a lot more than that. They're weird, yes, but not all evil.† My mother suddenly joined the conversation, eyes wild and frantic. â€Å"Yes! They are! You don't know what you're talking about. When did you have this revelation? A day ago? A week ago? I lived with them for three years, Eugenie. Three years.† Her voice dropped to a whisper. â€Å"Three years, and I never once encountered a decent one. No one who would help me. No one who would keep me from Tirigan.† â€Å"Who?† â€Å"Storm King,† said Roland. â€Å"That's his name. Was his name.† â€Å"They say you saved her from him.† He nodded. â€Å"I was there chasing down a kelpie when I heard rumors of a captured human woman. I went to investigate and found her and you. You were a baby. I slipped you both out of there and hid you.† â€Å"But Dorian†¦someone I met†¦said Storm King came looking for us.† â€Å"He did. And he found you.† I frowned. From what Dorian had said, I should have been a young teenager then. â€Å"I don't remember that.† Roland nodded again. â€Å"Once close enough, he could reach out and call to you. He summoned you to him. By the time I tracked you down, you were out in the desert, very near a crossroads. You'd walked miles to get to him.† â€Å"I don't remember that,† I repeated. In some ways, what Roland told me now was crazier than what I'd learned at Aeson's. â€Å"His magic spoke to yours. He wanted to take you back with him, and you fought against him. You were struck by lightning in the process.† â€Å"Wait, I know I'd remember that.† â€Å"No. I hypnotized you and repressed it. I killed him, but your magic had still been awakened. After seeing what I'd seen, I was afraid you couldn't control it – that it would control you instead.† â€Å"I don't have any magic. Not gentry magic anyway.† â€Å"Not that you know of. It's hidden away. I made you forget. After that, I started teaching you the craft in the hope of protecting you. I didn't know if others would follow him or if someone else could reawaken you or summon you. I needed to give you the tools you'd need for defense.† He suddenly looked tired. â€Å"I never realized how well you'd take to them.† I felt as tired as he looked, despite all the sleep. I pulled up one of the chairs and sat; they continued to stand. So I had met Storm King. I had answered his summons. And I had been struck by lightning? That was interesting, because in a lot of cultures, shamans are called to their art through some traumatic event. Lightning strikes are actually common ones. Many of the local Indian shamans – already skeptical of the plethora of New Age white shamans – did not consider me authentic since I'd had no such profound initiation. Turns out I had. Score one for me. â€Å"You made me forget. You got inside my head, and you made me forget. All this time†¦both of you have known and never told me.† â€Å"We wanted to protect you,† he said. â€Å"And what then? Did you think I'd never find out?† The heat rose in my voice again. â€Å"I had to hear it from gentry. I would have rather heard it from you.† My mother closed her eyes, and one tear trailed down her cheek. Roland regarded me calmly. â€Å"In hindsight, yes, that would have been better. But we never thought it would actually come out.† â€Å"It's out,† I said bitterly. â€Å"Everyone knows it. And now everyone wants a piece of this prophecy – and of me.† â€Å"What prophecy?† I told them. When I finished, my mother sat down and buried her face in her hands, crying softly. I could hear her murmuring, â€Å"It'll happen to her. It'll happen to her too.† Roland rested a hand on her shoulder. â€Å"Don't put much stock in gentry prophecies. They come out with a new one every day.† â€Å"Doesn't matter, if they believe it. They're still going to come after me.† â€Å"You should stay with us. I'll help protect you.† I stood up, glancing at my mother. No way would I expose her to more gentry. â€Å"No. This is my problem. Besides, don't take this too badly† – I felt myself start to choke up – â€Å"but I don't really want to see you guys for a while. I guess you meant well, but†¦I need to†¦I don't know. I need to think.† â€Å"Eugenie – † I saw raw pain on his face. My mom's sobs grew louder. I stood up, averting my eyes from both of them. Suddenly, I couldn't stay here anymore. â€Å"I've got to go.† Roland was still calling after me when I practically ran out of the house. But I needed to get away, or I'd say something stupid. I didn't want to hurt them, even though I probably had. But they'd hurt me too, and we all needed to deal with that. While opening my car door, I looked up and saw a red fox watching me from the same spot as last time. I strode toward him, close but not too close. â€Å"Go away!† I shouted. He stared at me, unmoving. â€Å"I mean it. I'm not speaking to you. You're as bad as the rest of them.† He lay down, resting his chin on crossed paws while he continued to regard me solemnly. â€Å"I don't care how cute you are, okay? I'm through with you.† A woman working in her yard next door gave me an uneasy look. I turned my back on the fox, got in the car, and drove home. Yet, as I did, I couldn't help but feel relieved Kiyo had survived. I honestly hadn't known if he would. Strong and vicious he might be, but Aeson had been slinging fire at him. The question was, had Kiyo merely escaped? Or had he managed to kill the king? What had happened to Jasmine? Tim still wasn't back when I got home. I decided then I didn't want to leave my house that day or make any pretense of productivity. I wanted to hit the sauna, put on pajamas, and then watch bad TV while eating Milky Ways. It seemed like a pretty solid plan, and I set out to make it happen. Twenty minutes later, I sat immersed in hot steam, draped in humidity. Heat was great for loosening muscles, although that only made me realize how much I'd hurt them. At least I'd made it out alive. That was the real miracle, considering what a disaster last night had turned into. I didn't want to think much about it or about Mom and Roland, but it was hard not to. Part of me still believed – still hoped – that all of this was a mistake. After all, wasn't it just everyone's say-so? Of course, somehow I doubted my parents would make all that up. But really. Where was the DNA test? The photographic evidence? I had nothing tangible. Nothing I could see and believe. Except my own memories. The memories Roland had covered up for me. Hypnotism wasn't uncommon in our line of work. It was just another state of unconsciousness. Shamans who served as religious leaders and healers used similar techniques on their followers and patients to heal the body and mind. Roland and I, as â€Å"freelance shamans,† didn't really have much need for it. Our contact with the spirit world often became more physical and direct. But I had done some healings and soul retrievals, so I knew the basics. Leaning my head against the wall, I closed my eyes and thought about the tattoo of Selene on my back. She was my earthly connection, the grounding of my body and soul and mind in this world. I focused on her image and what she represented and then slowly altered my state of mind. Rather than slipping out to another plane, I crossed inward, back into the far reaches of myself and the parts of me buried in my unconscious. It probably didn't take long, but in that state, it was painstakingly slow. I browsed through pieces of me, both memories and hidden truths alike. All the things that made me Eugenie Markham. I concentrated on lightning, hoping it would snag my attention. Surely a lightning strike couldn't be buried forever. There. A faint tug. I dove in after it, trying to grasp it and the memory it linked to. It was difficult. The image was slippery, like trying to hold on to a fish. Each time I thought I had it, it wriggled away. Roland had done a good job. Steeling myself, I fought against the layers, clawing and fighting until – I woke up in bed. But it wasn't the bed in my house. It was a different bed, a smaller bed covered in a pink comforter. The bed of my childhood. I lay in it, staring up at a ceiling covered in plastic stars just like the one I had as an adult. It was the middle of the night, and I couldn't sleep. I'd been an insomniac then, just as now. This time, however, it was different. Something other than my churning mind was keeping me awake. Somewhere, outside, I could hear a voice calling me. No, not a voice exactly, but it was a pull. A pull I couldn't shut out. Climbing out of bed, I slipped my feet into dirty sneakers and put a light jacket on over my pajamas. In the hallway, the door to Mom and Roland's room was closed. I moved past as quietly as possible, down the stairs and then out the door. Outside, the air was still warm. It was high summer. Earlier temperatures had been in the 100s; even now, they had dropped only to the 80s. I walked down the quiet street of our neighborhood, past all the familiar cars and houses. With each step, the call grew louder. I followed, my feet moving on their own. The call led me away from our street, our subdivision, and even the small suburb we lived in. I traveled off of main roads, moving onto trails I'd never known existed. Then, after almost two hours, I stopped. I didn't know where I was. The desert, obviously, because that and the mountains were all that surrounded Tucson. The foothills were larger than at home, so I must have gone north. Otherwise, there were no distinguishing features. Prickly pears and saguaros spread out around me in quiet watchfulness. Suddenly, I felt the air around me charge. There was a presence with me. A person. I turned and saw a man standing and watching me, far taller than my twelve-year-old self. His features were indistinct; I could not make them out no matter how hard I tried. He was only a dark shape, crackling with power. â€Å"Eugenie†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I took three steps back, but he held his hand out to me. â€Å"Eugenie†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I shook off the thrall that had brought me out here. Desperately, I realized I had to get away as quickly as I could. But I no longer knew the way back. The trails I'd followed were a blur. So, I backed up farther, but he kept coming, beckoning to me. My feet stumbled, and I fell. Still facing him, I tried to get up, but he stood over me now. In his indistinct features, I could make out a crown on his head, glittering silver and purple. â€Å"Come,† he said, extending his arm to help me up. â€Å"It's time to go.† I was trapped. Helpless and trapped and out of options. I had never felt so desperate in my young life. It terrified me. I decided then and there that if I survived this, I would make sure I could never be helpless again. His hand touched my shoulder, and I screamed. As I did, some part of me reached out beyond my body and grasped the power lying around us – I blinked. Steam swirled around me in the sauna, and I felt lightheaded. I'd been in there too long; it was a wonder I hadn't passed out. Standing up, I had to grip the wall for support and close my eyes. My heart raced from the vision, the vision that finally convinced me all of this was true. I knew – knew with absolute certainty – that the dark man had been Storm King, my father. I could feel it within me. In my soul. Overcome, I sat back down, needing a few more moments to consider all this and get my bearings. Yet, the longer I sat there, the more I began to despair. Storm King really was my father. And as for the rest of my life†¦well, things were bad. And they were only going to get worse. Every horny gentry wanted to knock me up; the rest probably still wanted to kill me. I'd never have a moment of peace again. Minutes passed as I ruminated on all this, falling deeper and deeper into depression – as well as exhaustion. I felt fatigued, too apathetic to care about any of it now. What was the point? I had snubbed my parents today. I'd let Jasmine Delaney down. I had nothing to look forward to ever again except a life of fighting and running. And really, why should I even bother fighting anymore? Nothing mattered. It was hopeless. I should just cross over to the Otherworld and give myself up. At least it'd stop the agony of – I opened my eyes and sat bolt upright. What was wrong with me? Things were grim, but this†¦this wasn't natural. I blinked rapidly, trying to gain focus as I took deep breaths. There it was. I could feel it. A thick, unseen darkness wrapping itself around me. It touched me, crawling along my skin. It was trying to drag me down, to suck away all of my energy. All of my hope. Standing up, no longer dizzy, I pulled my robe off its hook and put it on. Slowly, I opened the door of the sauna and stuck my head out. I saw nothing too disconcerting, but that bleak feeling continued to swirl around me. The light almost seemed dimmer, darker than it should be for late afternoon. I squinted, trying to break the illusion, for that's what it was. Stepping completely out of the sauna, I tried to assess the source. The sauna was in the center of my house. Turn left to go to the kitchen and living room, right toward the bathroom and bedrooms. My weapons were in my bedroom; that was where I wanted to be. But if the thing was in the front of the house, I didn't want to turn my back on it. At last, I compromised by putting my back up to the hall's wall and sliding down it toward my bedroom. The distance wasn't far, but when you had to inch your way there, it felt like miles. Creeping, I passed Tim's closed bedroom door, grateful he wasn't here. He knew about my shamanic adventures, but that didn't mean I wanted him exposed to them. Next came the bathroom. Yeah, the only bathroom. The thing about cute little houses was the â€Å"little† part. I loved everything else about this place, but next time, I'd make sure my house had at least as many bathrooms as occupants. Tim and I had gotten into some nasty rumbles when – A hand reached out for me from within the dark bathroom, but I saw it coming out of my periphery. I ducked and slid across the hall as he lumbered out. A Gray Man. That had been one of my top three culprits for the negativity zone my house had become. Gray Men cast an aura of despair around them, feeding off physical energy and positive feelings. This one was, well, gray, of course. Other than that, he looked more or less human-shaped, with dark eyes and scraggly white hair. He was even dressed, which I took as a plus since other monsters and sometimes elemental gentry often came over in loincloths or nothing at all, depending on their strength. Considering what everyone wanted to do to me, I was pretty happy about keeping genitalia covered up. I tried to scramble toward my bedroom, but his long arm reached out and grabbed me by the hair. I yelled out as he dragged me toward him, pressing me to his body. At least he didn't say anything suggestive; Gray Men were apparently strong, silent types. But the way he grappled with my robe left little to the imagination about what he wanted to do. Struggling in his strong grasp, I tried to break free but mostly managed to loosen my robe more. Swearing, I decided if I couldn't get away, then I'd at least delay his amorous actions. My knee jutted up in one hard motion, hitting him in the groin. His hold on me loosened, and he groaned as one hand instinctively reached down between his legs. I broke away from him, still trying to make for my bedroom. Deciding he could ignore the pain, he lunged toward me, just stopping me from getting to my bedroom doorway. Gripping me by both shoulders, he shoved me up against the wall so that I faced it. Using that hard surface as a constraint, he held me with one arm against it while his other finished pulling off the robe. I felt his tongue lick my neck, but the truly disgusting nature of that couldn't really permeate me. I was in survival mode now. I struggled against him, hoping to make it difficult for him to get his own pants off. Being pinned liked this gave me fewer options for escape. Moving my hands against the wall, I groped around for something – anything – I could use as a weapon. Then my fingers brushed over a small decorative mirror that had been my grandmother's. It wasn't very big, but its frame was shaped like a sun – with sharp, pointed metal rays. Not only that, they were silver rays. Grabbing it from the wall, I held it in my left hand, not my dominant hand, but the hand I wore my amethyst ring on. The amethyst could cut through magic and glamour and also focus my own intentions. It wasn't as good as a wand, but it had to do. Concentrating on the stone, I let my will pour into it. The stone amplified my energy and then sent it into the silver frame. In as fluid a motion as I could manage in my confined state, I swung the mirror back, driving it into any flesh I could find. The Gray Man screamed, and I smelled something burning. He released me, and I turned around, not wasting any time, though I uneasily realized I'd dumped more energy into that silver than I should have been capable of. The mirror had stuck in his side and was smoking. It wouldn't kill him, but having it lodged in there was pretty serious. He reached out toward it with hesitant fingers, knowing he had to touch it to pull it out. I sprinted to my bedroom. He was only seconds behind me, but it was all I needed to arm myself in my bedroom. He came running in after me, but this time I was on the offensive. I used the silver athame to draw the death symbol on his chest, eliciting a tortured scream from him. Iron was the bane of gentry, but for whatever other reasons, silver hurt anything else Otherworldly. I didn't know why, but I didn't question it either. Especially when it had just proven so handy. Hurt or no, he pushed me backward. I landed on my bed, head hitting with a crack against the wall. It slowed me, but I had already started connecting beyond this world. I reached out, touched the world of death, and sent that connection through the wand. It leapt out at the Gray Man, sucking him in. He fought it, thrashing as though physical action might fight the pull. It couldn't. A moment later, he vanished. Almost immediately, the spell of despair in my house disappeared. It was like emerging from underwater. I could breathe again. I let my body slump and relax. I wanted to lean my head against the wall but knew that wouldn't feel too good after the hard blow I'd just sustained. A loud sound cracked out from the front of my house, like the door being kicked open. I jerked up, adrenaline going a second round as I heard footsteps pounding down the hall. I was reaching for the gun when a familiar voice yelled, â€Å"Eugenie?† Relaxing – only slightly – I watched as Kiyo burst into my room.