Q: In 1981, when I was nine years old, my father took me to see Raiders of the Lost Ark. Although I had to squint my eyes during some of the scary scenes, I loved it – in particular because I was fairly sure that Harrison Ford’s character was based on my dad. My father was a palaeontologist at the University of Chicago, and I’d gone on several field trips with him to the Rocky Mountains, where he seemed to transform into a rock-hammer-wielding superhero. That illusion was shattered some years later when I figured out what he actually did: far from spending his time climbing dangerous cliffs and digging up dinosaurs, Jack Sepkoski spent most of his career in front of a computer, building what would become the first comprehensive database on the fossil record of life. The analysis that he and his colleagues performed revealed new understandings of phenomena such as diversification and extinction, and changed the way that palaeontologists work. But he was about as different from Indiana Jones as you can get. The intertwining tales of my father and his discipline contain lessons for the current era of algorithmic analysis and artificial intelligence (AI), and points to the value-laden way in which we “see” data. My dad was part of a group of innovators in palaeontology who identified as “palaeobiologists” – meaning that they approached their science not as a branch of geology, but rather as the study of the biology and evolution of past life. Since Charles Darwin’s time, palaeontology – especially the study of the marine invertebrates that make up most of the record – involved descriptive tasks such as classifying or correlating fossils with layers of the Earth (known as stratigraphy). Some invertebrate palaeontologists studied evolution, too, but often these studies were regarded by evolutionary biologists and geneticists as little more than “stamp collecting”. What did the author go with his father to see in the movies in 1981?  A. Star Wars  B. not enough information  C. Star Trek  D. Raiders of the Lost Ark
A: D


Q: Greg said goodbye to his last student at 8:15 PM, locked up the studio, and got into his car. He always looked forward to his evening rendezvous with Bonnie--his nickname for the Bonneville. He liked to put her top down, and drive her around town in the moonlight. Their route varied from night to night, but the ultimate destination was never in question. "May I help you?" The worn-out speaker was crackly, but he still recognized the particularly twangy East Texas voice of Fontana Fry. Over his six years of vocal training, he had become acutely aware of accents. This is true of all classically trained singers. Great emphasis is placed on precise pronunciation and enunciation. It is mandatory that the singer's repertoire include works written in English, Latin, Italian, German, and French. So, by the time Greg finished his graduate degree, his accent had been all but eliminated. He sounded somewhat like a network news anchor instead of an East Texan. "I would like a large--" "--a large dipped cone, the usual. Right?" The Dairy Queen drive-thru ordering station was located out in front of the restaurant, on the right side. He looked up, and saw the 19 year-old waving at him. She looked so cute in her little Dairy Queen outfit. Fontana was in her first year at Kilgore College. She planned to be an elementary teacher. He knew she would be a good one. Greg had met Fontana a few months earlier when she brought her 13-year-old brother to the studio to enroll for guitar lessons. The boy was holding a U.S. made, 1968 Harmony acoustic guitar his uncle gave him. The body and the frets were badly worn, but the instrument still played beautifully. It looked somewhat like a large violin, with arched top and f-holes. That shape produces a more mellow sound than flattops. And the guitar's age contributed additional warmth to the tone. What did Greg do before going to the drive-thru?  A. He said goodbye to Bonnie  B. He played guitar  C. He locked up his studio.  D. not enough information
A: C


Q: I saw one last night on an episode of Designated Survivor. To qualify this, I’m not normally bothered by product placements. Sometimes they can even add to the scene. But this one was bad, really bad. Agent is busy hunting for baddies. Finishes questioning one naughty person who climbs in his Ford F150 and speeds off. So far, so good - it is the sort of vehicle a country-living billionaire bad-guy would drive. The agent then pulls out her phone and… Move to close up of phone screen showing Ford app already loaded (and screen unlocked!). Agent slowly moves finger to app. Does something. Pause as app does fancy graphics. Cut to car interior. Shot of dash, showing Ford logo on steering wheel. It’s bright blue - are they not normally grey or more subtle? Pause for a second… Zoom in on dash. Dash light up. Car starts. Show pretty dash lights for a second or so. Cut to agent Agent walks to car, gets in drives off. Lingering shot of rear of car. It was just so clumsy. Massive halt to the flow of the scene to show it. In most films you never see anyone starting cars, putting on seatbelts or similar unless this is part of the plot because it’s unnecessary and not interesting to watch. I sort of expected the remote start function to have some sort of relevance later… but no, it was totally ignored. Added to that: There was no password or security on her phone - and this is an agent investigating super secret stuff. If you don’t show her unlocking the phone, why show her lovingly prodding the app? They are as relevant. She unlocked and started the car while she was 20–30 paces away, on the grounds of a suspect ranch. Someone could easily have jumped in the car. Not very security conscious. What kind of truck did the naughty person drive?  A. not enough information  B. Ford F150  C. Country billionaire  D. Ford F250
A: B


Q: I don't reckon the sun's ever come up quite the same since the day it happened. I've been watching it for years now and to me it still don't look right somehow. Maybe it's just me thinking it, sending myself doolally after what I've done. But I swear every morning it creeps up and it's looking at me, all knowing like. And when you reckon the sun's acting like that over you there isn't a right lot you can do about it, beyond burying yourself away like a mole in the soil. That's what I've been doing more or less in the score or so years that have gone by since. But however tight I shut them curtains to stop that damn sun lighting me up, it still don't stop the inside of my head from pounding out the truth. No way it's ever going to stop harassing me neither, not unless the deaf and dumb lass was to happen right back on my doorstep and give me the chance to tell her that it wasn't never meant to work out this way. The deaf and dumb lass went by the name of Mitzi Barker. Her being deaf and dumb, she was the kind of lass you went up the lane with if you didn't want no-one shouting their gob off about it after. Funny but it's the small things I recall best about her, like the way her hair reeked of bonfires and how that little old checkered dress of hers rode right up her thigh with no help from me. After we'd finished our business we'd head over the trout farm and I'd hunker down and poach us up a couple of rainbows for our tea. That Mitzi Barker, she was thin as an ear of barley and I always figured a good nosh-up was the least I could do for her troubles. why was he always making her trout?  A. not enough information  B. because they were hungry  C. because he likes to cook  D. because Mitzi was really thin

A: D