Deception Point Page 61

The chamber looked like a walk-in closet whose ceiling, walls, and floor had been completely covered with foam spires jutting inward from all directions. It reminded Rachel of a cramped underwater cave where stalagmites had run wild, growing off every surface. Most unsettling, however, was the apparent lack of a floor. The floor was a taut, meshed chicken-wire grid strung horizontally across the room like a fishing net, giving the inhabitants the feeling that they were suspended midway up the wall. The mesh was rubberized and stiff beneath the feet. As Rachel gazed down through the webbed flooring, she felt like she was crossing a string bridge suspended over a surrealistic fractalized landscape. Three feet below, a forest of foam needles pointed ominously upward. Instantly upon entering Rachel had sensed the disorientating lifelessness to the air, as if every bit of energy had been sucked out. Her ears felt as if they'd been stuffed with cotton. Only her breath was audible inside her head. She called out, and the effect was that of speaking into a pillow. The walls absorbed every reverberation, making the only perceivable vibrations those inside her head. Now the captain had departed, closing the padded door behind him. Rachel, Corky, and Tolland were seated in the center of the room at a small U-shaped table that stood on long metal stilts that descended through the mesh. On the table were affixed several gooseneck microphones, headphones, and a video console with a fish-eye camera on top. It looked like a mini-United Nations symposium. As someone who worked in the U.S. intelligence community-the world's foremost manufacturers of hard laser microphones, underwater parabolic eavesdroppers, and other hypersensitive listening devices-Rachel was well aware there were few places on earth where one could have a truly secure conversation. The dead room was apparently one of those places. The mics and headphones on the table enabled a face-to-face â€Å"conference call† in which people could speak freely, knowing the vibrations of their words could not escape the room. Their voices, upon entering the microphones, would be heavily encrypted for their long journey through the atmosphere. â€Å"Level check.† The voice materialized suddenly inside their headphones, causing Rachel, Tolland, and Corky to jump. â€Å"Do you read me, Ms. Sexton?† Rachel leaned into the microphone. â€Å"Yes. Thank you.† Whoever you are. â€Å"I have Director Pickering on the line for you. He's accepting AV. I am signing off now. You will have your data stream momentarily.† Rachel heard the line go dead. There was a distant whirr of static and then a rapid series of beeps and clicks in the headphones. With startling clarity, the video screen in front of them sprang to life, and Rachel saw Director Pickering in the NRO conference room. He was alone. His head snapped up and he looked into Rachel's eyes. She felt oddly relieved to see him. â€Å"Ms. Sexton,† he said, his expression perplexed and troubled. â€Å"What in the world is going on?† â€Å"The meteorite, sir,† Rachel said. â€Å"I think we may have a serious problem.† 71 Inside the Charlotte's dead room, Rachel Sexton introduced Michael Tolland and Corky Marlinson to Pickering. Then she took charge and launched into a quick account of the day's incredible chain of events. The NRO director sat motionless as he listened. Rachel told him about the bioluminescent plankton in the extraction pit, their journey onto the ice shelf and discovery of an insertion shaft beneath the meteorite, and finally of their sudden attack by a military team she suspected was Special Ops. William Pickering was known for his ability to listen to disturbing information without so much as flinching an eye, and yet his gaze grew more and more troubled with each progression in Rachel's story. She sensed disbelief and then rage when she talked about Norah Mangor's murder and their own near-death escape. Although Rachel wanted to voice her suspicions of the NASA administrator's involvement, she knew Pickering well enough not to point fingers without evidence. She gave Pickering the story as cold hard facts. When she was finished, Pickering did not respond for several seconds. â€Å"Ms. Sexton,† he finally said, â€Å"all of you†¦ † He moved his gaze to each of them. â€Å"If what you're saying is true, and I cannot imagine why three of you would lie about this, you are all very lucky to be alive.† They all nodded in silence. The President had called in four civilian scientists†¦ and two of them were now dead. Pickering heaved a disconsolate sigh, as if he had no idea what to say next. The events clearly made little sense. â€Å"Is there any way,† Pickering asked, â€Å"that this insertion shaft you're seeing in that GPR printout is a natural phenomenon?† Rachel shook her head. â€Å"It's too perfect.† She unfolded the soggy GPR printout and held it up in front of the camera. â€Å"Flawless.† Pickering studied the image, scowling in agreement. â€Å"Don't let that out of your hands.† â€Å"I called Marjorie Tench to warn her to stop the President,† Rachel said. â€Å"But she shut me down.† â€Å"I know. She told me.† Rachel looked up, stunned. â€Å"Marjorie Tench called you?† That was fast. â€Å"Just now. She's very concerned. She feels you are attempting some kind of stunt to discredit the President and NASA. Perhaps to help your father.† Rachel stood up. She waved the GPR printout and motioned to her two companions. â€Å"We were almost killed! Does this look like some kind of stunt? And why would I-â€Å" Pickering held up his hands. â€Å"Easy. What Ms. Tench failed to tell me was that there were three of you.† Rachel could not recall if Tench had even given her time to mention Corky and Tolland. â€Å"Nor did she tell me you had physical evidence,† Pickering said. â€Å"I was skeptical of her claims before I spoke to you, and now I am convinced she is mistaken. I do not doubt your claims. The question at this point is what it all means.† There was a long silence. William Pickering rarely looked confused, but he shook his head, seeming lost. â€Å"Let's assume for the moment that someone did insert this meteorite beneath the ice. That begs the obvious issue of why. If NASA has a meteorite with fossils in it, why would they, or anyone else for that matter, care where it is found?† â€Å"It appears,† Rachel said, â€Å"that the insertion was performed such that PODS would make the discovery, and the meteorite would appear to be a fragment from a known impact.† â€Å"The Jungersol Fall,† Corky prompted. â€Å"But of what value is the meteorite's association with a known impact?† Pickering demanded, sounding almost mad. â€Å"Aren't these fossils an astounding discovery anywhere and anytime? No matter what meteoritic event they are associated with?† All three nodded. Pickering hesitated, looking displeased. â€Å"Unless†¦ of course†¦ â€Å" Rachel saw the wheels turning behind the director's eyes. He had found the simplest explanation for placing the meteorite concurrent with the Jungersol strata, but the simplest explanation was also the most troubling. â€Å"Unless,† Pickering continued, â€Å"the careful placement was intended to lend credibility to totally false data.† He sighed, turning to Corky. â€Å"Dr. Marlinson, what is the possibility that this meteorite is a counterfeit.† â€Å"Counterfeit, sir?† â€Å"Yes. A fake. Manufactured.† â€Å"A fake meteorite?† Corky gave an awkward laugh. â€Å"Utterly impossible! That meteorite was examined by professionals. Myself included. Chemical scans, spectrograph, rubidium-strontium dating. It is unlike any kind of rock ever seen on earth. The meteorite is authentic. Any astrogeologist would agree.†

Impact of Literature on my Personal Growth Essay

The select readings that the class has discussed this semester have covered a variety of literature that has made an impact on how I now view life and the world around me. The stories of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, Virgil’s The Aeneid, Jonathan Kirsch’s God against the Gods and Elaine Pagels’ Origin of Satan have affected my personal beliefs to the extent that I have started to think more critically about certain moral issues in life. Impact of Literature Personal Growth In Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, I have finally realized several points and issues about fighting for something and protecting it. I also learned how much risks and sacrifices that these characters of Achilles, Hector, and Odysseus can lay down for the sake of keeping what is rightfully theirs. Each character possesses braveness and honor that enable them to become stronger in their pursuits and battles. The role of women is also notable in these epic stories as their status supports the development of the male characters. Rage—Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles, murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses, hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls, reat fighters’ souls, but made their bodies carrion, feasts for the dogs and birds, (Iliad, lines 1-5) Achilles, a skillful warrior is introduced in the opening of Homer’s The Iliad. He represents a stereotypical masculinity which is often known as bold, daring, brave, and egotistical. I realized that men of Homer’s time are likely to become more established based on the battle skills that they possessed. When he defeated Hector in public in a single battle, he earns further respect from his colleagues and enemies. Odysseus, on the other hand, is just like any other real man who has a defining character of what a leader should be; nobility, courage, intellect, thirst for glory and authority. He has a loving wife Penelope who perfectly fulfills domestic roles back home. Though she has not seen Odysseus in twenty years, she never loses faith that her husband will come back and that they will live happy again. Her faithfulness and loyalty illustrates a perfect representation of a wife who is truly in love and a woman who is dutiful to her husband. Aenas in The Aeneid, is one of the heroes of classical literature. At some point his character can be associated with that of Jesus Christ. To fully grasp and understand the context of their characters as heroes, one must understand their societal and cultural background. A hero should not be aloof and removed to their present reality. They should conform and adjust but should make a difference. Jesus Christ in the Gospel of Mark and Aenas in the poem of Virgil are heroic characters that illustrate acceptance of the workings and providence of the Gods as fate. They both represent the virtue of accepting and performing one’s duty. Though Aenas is a son of the goddess Venus and who receives special providence from the gods, Aenas is still considered mortal while Jesus is both God and man. Aenas is sometimes driven by his unhappiness and emotional impulses to accept his destined path but he chooses obey and follow still. Aenas is for the glory of Rome but Jesus Christ is for the glory of God, the Father. Meanwhile, Kirsch’s God against the Gods made me think twice about the nature of monotheism and polytheism in our country. Kirsch points out in this book that monotheism is the one responsible for the world war problems today. monotheism turned out to inspire a ferocity and even a fanaticism that are mostly absent from polytheism† (Kirsch 2). I support his claim that monotheism is really a problem if this world needs peace. People have different beliefs and to tell the other that his or her belief is wrong is very crucial to a relationship. With the examples that he pointed out in his book about Jews, Muslims and Christians, I realized that these religions are actually just worshipping a god that has common features. I came to a conclusion that religion is not as important to a person’s spirituality as one’s personal relationship with God. No matter what a person’s religion is, it does not really matter as long as people believe in something and they respect other people’s beliefs as well. Pagels’ Origin of Satan made me realize that amidst the promises of stories about love in The New Testament, the power of Satan is present amongst its stories especially in the crucifixion story. I came to a realization that biblical stories tell more than what meets the eye. With an in-depth analysis, it got me into thinking that to be able to fully understand and comprehend what the Bible really has to offer, I have to finish the book and consult scholarly sources. Conclusion  These stories enable me to think and analyze the world around me and its history in a much critical way. History is written in these books and their still manifesting significance in our society today. Personally, as a Christian I still believe in the teachings of Jesus Christ. I eventually conform to the idea of heaven and hell, of the Second Coming, of the body of Sacred Writings but I was restricted to the limits of what my religion teaches me and tells me what to do. However, upon reading these literary works, I realized that as an individual, I must think for myself and conform to the ideas which I think is right as a human being.

A Game of Thrones Chapter Fiftyone

Jeyne Poole had been confined with her, but Jeyne was useless. Her face was puffy from all her crying, and she could not seem to stop sobbing about her father. â€Å"I’m certain your father is well,† Sansa told her when she had finally gotten the dress buttoned right. â€Å"I’ll ask the queen to let you see him.† She thought that kindness might lift Jeyne’s spirits, but the other girl just looked at her with red, swollen eyes and began to cry all the harder. She was such a child. Sansa had wept too, the first day. Even within the stout walls of Maegor’s Holdfast, with her door closed and barred, it was hard not to be terrified when the killing began. She had grown up to the sound of steel in the yard, and scarcely a day of her life had passed without hearing the clash of sword on sword, yet somehow knowing that the fighting was real made all the difference in the world. She heard it as she had never heard it before, and there were other sounds as well, grunts of pain, angry curses, shouts for help, and the moans of wounded and dying men. In the songs, the knights never screamed nor begged for mercy. So she wept, pleading through her door for them to tell her what was happening, calling for her father, for Septa Mordane, for the king, for her gallant prince. If the men guarding her heard her pleas, they gave no answer. The only time the door opened was late that night, when they thrust Jeyne Poole inside, bruised and shaking. â€Å"They’re killing everyone,† the steward’s daughter had shrieked at her. She went on and on. The Hound had broken down her door with a warhammer, she said. There were bodies on the stair of the Tower of the Hand, and the steps were slick with blood. Sansa dried her own tears as she struggled to comfort her friend. They went to sleep in the same bed, cradled in each other’s arms like sisters. The second day was even worse. The room where Sansa had been confined was at the top of the highest tower of Maegor’s Holdfast. From its window, she could see that the heavy iron portcullis in the gatehouse was down, and the drawbridge drawn up over the deep dry moat that separated the keep-within-a-keep from the larger castle that surrounded it. Lannister guardsmen prowled the walls with spears and crossbows to hand. The fighting was over, and the silence of the grave had settled over the Red Keep. The only sounds were Jeyne Poole’s endless whimpers and sobs. They were fed—hard cheese and fresh-baked bread and milk to break their fast, roast chicken and greens at midday, and a late supper of beef and barley stew—but the servants who brought the meals would not answer Sansa’s questions. That evening, some women brought her clothes from the Tower of the Hand, and some of Jeyne’s things as well, but they seemed nearly as frightened as Jeyne, and when she tried to talk to them, they fled from her as if she had the grey plague. The guards outside the door still refused to let them leave the room. â€Å"Please, I need to speak to the queen again,† Sansa told them, as she told everyone she saw that day. â€Å"She’ll want to talk to me, I know she will. Tell her I want to see her, please. If not the queen, then Prince Joffrey, if you’d be so kind. We’re to marry when we’re older.† At sunset on the second day, a great bell began to ring. Its voice was deep and sonorous, and the long slow clanging filled Sansa with a sense of dread. The ringing went on and on, and after a while they heard other bells answering from the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya’s Hill. The sound rumbled across the city like thunder, warning of the storm to come. â€Å"What is it?† Jeyne asked, covering her ears. â€Å"Why are they ringing the bells?† â€Å"The king is dead.† Sansa could not say how she knew it, yet she did. The slow, endless clanging filled their room, as mournful as a dirge. Had some enemy stormed the castle and murdered King Robert? Was that the meaning of the fighting they had heard? She went to sleep wondering, restless, and fearful. Was her beautiful Joffrey the king now? Or had they killed him too? She was afraid for him, and for her father. If only they would tell her what was happening . . . That night Sansa dreamt of Joffrey on the throne, with herself seated beside him in a gown of woven gold. She had a crown on her head, and everyone she had ever known came before her, to bend the knee and say their courtesies. The next morning, the morning of the third day, Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard came to escort her to the queen. Ser Boros was an ugly man with a broad chest and short, bandy legs. His nose was flat, his cheeks baggy with jowls, his hair grey and brittle. Today he wore white velvet, and his snowy cloak was fastened with a lion brooch. The beast had the soft sheen of gold, and his eyes were tiny rubies. â€Å"You look very handsome and splendid this morning, Ser Boros,† Sansa told him. A lady remembered her courtesies, and she was resolved to be a lady no matter what. â€Å"And you, my lady,† Ser Boros said in a flat voice. â€Å"Her Grace awaits. Come with me.† There were guards outside her door, Lannister men-at-arms in crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms. Sansa made herself smile at them pleasantly and bid them a good morning as she passed. It was the first time she had been allowed outside the chamber since Ser Arys Oakheart had led her there two mornings past. â€Å"To keep you safe, my sweet one,† Queen Cersei had told her. â€Å"Joffrey would never forgive me if anything happened to his precious.† Sansa had expected that Ser Boros would escort her to the royal apartments, but instead he led her out of Maegor’s Holdfast. The bridge was down again. Some workmen were lowering a man on ropes into the depths of the dry moat. When Sansa peered down, she saw a body impaled on the huge iron spikes below. She averted her eyes quickly, afraid to ask, afraid to look too long, afraid he might be someone she knew. They found Queen Cersei in the council chambers, seated at the head of a long table littered with papers, candles, and blocks of sealing wax. The room was as splendid as any that Sansa had ever seen. She stared in awe at the carved wooden screen and the twin sphinxes that sat beside the door. â€Å"Your Grace,† Ser Boros said when they were ushered inside by another of the Kingsguard, Ser Mandon of the curiously dead face, â€Å"I’ve brought the girl.† Sansa had hoped Joffrey might be with her. Her prince was not there, but three of the king’s councillors were. Lord Petyr Baelish sat on the queen’s left hand, Grand Maester Pycelle at the end of the table, while Lord Varys hovered over them, smelling flowery. All of them were clad in black, she realized with a feeling of dread. Mourning clothes . . . The queen wore a high-collared black silk gown, with a hundred dark red rubies sewn into her bodice, covering her from neck to bosom. They were cut in the shape of teardrops, as if the queen were weeping blood. Cersei smiled to see her, and Sansa thought it was the sweetest and saddest smile she had ever seen. â€Å"Sansa, my sweet child,† she said, â€Å"I know you’ve been asking for me. I’m sorry that I could not send for you sooner. Matters have been very unsettled, and I have not had a moment. I trust my people have been taking good care of you?† â€Å"Everyone has been very sweet and pleasant, Your Grace, thank you ever so much for asking,† Sansa said politely. â€Å"Only, well, no one will talk to us or tell us what’s happened . . . â€Å" â€Å"Us?† Cersei seemed puzzled. â€Å"We put the steward’s girl in with her,† Ser Boros said. â€Å"We did not know what else to do with her.† The queen frowned. â€Å"Next time, you will ask,† she said, her voice sharp. â€Å"The gods only know what sort of tales she’s been filling Sansa’s head with.† â€Å"Jeyne’s scared,† Sansa said. â€Å"She won’t stop crying. I promised her I’d ask if she could see her father.† Old Grand Maester Pycelle lowered his eyes. â€Å"Her father is well, isn’t he?† Sansa said anxiously. She knew there had been fighting, but surely no one would harm a steward. Vayon Poole did not even wear a sword. Queen Cersei looked at each of the councillors in turn. â€Å"I won’t have Sansa fretting needlessly. What shall we do with this little friend of hers, my lords?† Lord Petyr leaned forward. â€Å"I’ll find a place for her.† â€Å"Not in the city,† said the queen. â€Å"Do you take me for a fool?† The queen ignored that. â€Å"Ser Boros, escort this girl to Lord Petyr’s apartments and instruct his people to keep her there until he comes for her. Tell her that Littlefinger will be taking her to see her father, that ought to calm her down. I want her gone before Sansa returns to her chamber.† â€Å"As you command, Your Grace,† Ser Boros said. He bowed deeply, spun on his heel, and took his leave, his long white cloak stirring the air behind him. Sansa was confused. â€Å"I don’t understand,† she said. â€Å"Where is Jeyne’s father? Why can’t Ser Boros take her to him instead of Lord Petyr having to do it?† She had promised herself she would be a lady, gentle as the queen and as strong as her mother, the Lady Catelyn, but all of a sudden she was scared again. For a second she thought she might cry. â€Å"Where are you sending her? She hasn’t done anything wrong, she’s a good girl.† â€Å"She’s upset you,† the queen said gently. â€Å"We can’t be having that. Not another word, now. Lord Baelish will see that Jeyne’s well taken care of, I promise you.† She patted the chair beside her. â€Å"Sit down, Sansa. I want to talk to you.† Sansa seated herself beside the queen. Cersei smiled again, but that did not make her feel any less anxious. Varys was wringing his soft hands together, Grand Maester Pycelle kept his sleepy eyes on the papers in front of him, but she could feel Littlefinger staring. Something about the way the small man looked at her made Sansa feel as though she had no clothes on. Goose bumps pimpled her skin. â€Å"Sweet Sansa,† Queen Cersei said, laying a soft hand on her wrist. â€Å"Such a beautiful child. I do hope you know how much Joffrey and I love you.† â€Å"You do?† Sansa said, breathless. Littlefinger was forgotten. Her prince loved her. Nothing else mattered. The queen smiled. â€Å"I think of you almost as my own daughter. And I know the love you bear for Joffrey.† She gave a weary shake of her head. â€Å"I am afraid we have some grave news about your lord father. You must be brave, child.† Her quiet words gave Sansa a chill. â€Å"What is it?† â€Å"Your father is a traitor, dear,† Lord Varys said. Grand Maester Pycelle lifted his ancient head. â€Å"With my own ears, I heard Lord Eddard swear to our beloved King Robert that he would protect the young princes as if they were his own sons. And yet the moment the king was dead, he called the small council together to steal Prince Joffrey’s rightful throne.† â€Å"No,† Sansa blurted. â€Å"He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t!† The queen picked up a letter. The paper was torn and stiff with dried blood, but the broken seal was her father’s, the direwolf stamped in pale wax. â€Å"We found this on the captain of your household guard, Sansa. It is a letter to my late husband’s brother Stannis, inviting him to take the crown.† â€Å"Please, Your Grace, there’s been a mistake.† Sudden panic made her dizzy and faint. â€Å"Please, send for my father, he’ll tell you, he would never write such a letter, the king was his friend.† â€Å"Robert thought so,† said the queen. â€Å"This betrayal would have broken his heart. The gods are kind, that he did not live to see it.† She sighed. â€Å"Sansa, sweetling, you must see what a dreadful position this has left us in. You are innocent of any wrong, we all know that, and yet you are the daughter of a traitor. How can I allow you to marry my son?† â€Å"But I love him,† Sansa wailed, confused and frightened. What did they mean to do to her? What had they done to her father? It was not supposed to happen this way. She had to wed Joffrey, they were betrothed, he was promised to her, she had even dreamed about it. It wasn’t fair to take him away from her on account of whatever her father might have done. â€Å"How well I know that, child,† Cersei said, her voice so kind and sweet. â€Å"Why else should you have come to me and told me of your father’s plan to send you away from us, if not for love?† â€Å"It was for love,† Sansa said in a rush. â€Å"Father wouldn’t even give me leave to say farewell.† She was the good girl, the obedient girl, but she had felt as wicked as Arya that morning, sneaking away from Septa Mordane, defying her lord father. She had never done anything so willful before, and she would never have done it then if she hadn’t loved Joffrey as much as she did. â€Å"He was going to take me back to Winterfell and marry me to some hedge knight, even though it was Joff I wanted. I told him, but he wouldn’t listen.† The king had been her last hope. The king could command Father to let her stay in King’s Landing and marry Prince Joffrey, Sansa knew he could, but the king had always frightened her. He was loud and rough-voiced and drunk as often as not, and he would probably have just sent her back to Lord Eddard, if they even let her see him. So she went to the queen instead, and poured out her heart, and Cersei had listened and thanked her sweetly . . . only then Ser Arys had escorted her to the high room in Maegor’s Holdfast and posted guards, and a few hours later, the fighting had begun outside. â€Å"Please,† she finished, â€Å"you have to let me marry Joffrey, I’ll be ever so good a wife to him, you’ll see. I’ll be a queen just like you, I promise.† Queen Cersei looked to the others. â€Å"My lords of the council, what do you say to her plea?† â€Å"The poor child,† murmured Varys. â€Å"A love so true and innocent, Your Grace, it would be cruel to deny it . . . and yet, what can we do? Her father stands condemned.† His soft hands washed each other in a gesture of helpless distress. â€Å"A child born of traitor’s seed will find that betrayal comes naturally to her,† said Grand Maester Pycelle. â€Å"She is a sweet thing now, but in ten years, who can say what treasons she may hatch?† â€Å"No,† Sansa said, horrified. â€Å"I’m not, I’d never . . . I wouldn’t betray Joffrey, I love him, I swear it, I do.† â€Å"Oh, so poignant,† said Varys. â€Å"And yet, it is truly said that blood runs truer than oaths.† â€Å"She reminds me of the mother, not the father,† Lord Petyr Baelish said quietly. â€Å"Look at her. The hair, the eyes. She is the very image of Cat at the same age.† The queen looked at her, troubled, and yet Sansa could see kindness in her clear green eyes. â€Å"Child,† she said, â€Å"if I could truly believe that you were not like your father, why nothing should please me more than to see you wed to my Joffrey. I know he loves you with all his heart.† She sighed. â€Å"And yet, I fear that Lord Varys and the Grand Maester have the right of it. The blood will tell. I have only to remember how your sister set her wolf on my son.† â€Å"I’m not like Arya,† Sansa blurted. â€Å"She has the traitor’s blood, not me. I’m good, ask Septa Mordane, she’ll tell you, I only want to be Joffrey’s loyal and loving wife.† She felt the weight of Cersei’s eyes as the queen studied her face. â€Å"I believe you mean it, child.† She turned to face the others. â€Å"My lords, it seems to me that if the rest of her kin were to remain loyal in this terrible time, that would go a long way toward laying our fears to rest.† Grand Maester Pycelle stroked his huge soft beard, his wide brow furrowed in thought. â€Å"Lord Eddard has three sons.† â€Å"Mere boys,† Lord Petyr said with a shrug. â€Å"I should be more concerned with Lady Catelyn and the Tullys.† The queen took Sansa’s hand in both of hers. â€Å"Child, do you know your letters?† Sansa nodded nervously. She could read and write better than any of her brothers, although she was hopeless at sums. â€Å"I am pleased to hear that. Perhaps there is hope for you and Joffrey still . . . â€Å" â€Å"What do you want me to do?† â€Å"You must write your lady mother, and your brother, the eldest . . . what is his name?† â€Å"Robb,† Sansa said. â€Å"The word of your lord father’s treason will no doubt reach them soon. Better that it should come from you. You must tell them how Lord Eddard betrayed his king.† Sansa wanted Joffrey desperately, but she did not think she had the courage to do as the queen was asking. â€Å"But he never . . . I don’t . . . Your Grace, I wouldn’t know what to say . . . â€Å" The queen patted her hand. â€Å"We will tell you what to write, child. The important thing is that you urge Lady Catelyn and your brother to keep the king’s peace.† â€Å"It will go hard for them if they don’t,† said Grand Maester Pycelle. â€Å"By the love you bear them, you must urge them to walk the path of wisdom.† â€Å"Your lady mother will no doubt fear for you dreadfully,† the queen said. â€Å"You must tell her that you are well and in our care, that we are treating you gently and seeing to your every want. Bid them to come to King’s Landing and pledge their fealty to Joffrey when he takes his throne. If they do that . . . why, then we shall know that there is no taint in your blood, and when you come into the flower of your womanhood, you shall wed the king in the Great Sept of Baelor, before the eyes of gods and men.† . . . wed the king . . . The words made her breath come faster, yet still Sansa hesitated. â€Å"Perhaps . . . if I might see my father, talk to him about . . . â€Å" â€Å"Treason?† Lord Varys hinted. â€Å"You disappoint me, Sansa,† the queen said, with eyes gone hard as stones. â€Å"We’ve told you of your father’s crimes. If you are truly as loyal as you say, why should you want to see him?† â€Å"I . . . I only meant . . . † Sansa felt her eyes grow wet. â€Å"He’s not . . . please, he hasn’t been . . . hurt, or . . . or . . . â€Å" â€Å"Lord Eddard has not been harmed,† the queen said. â€Å"But . . . what’s to become of him?† â€Å"That is a matter for the king to decide,† Grand Maester Pycelle announced ponderously. The king! Sansa blinked back her tears. Joffrey was the king now, she thought. Her gallant prince would never hurt her father, no matter what he might have done. If she went to him and pleaded for mercy, she was certain he’d listen. He had to listen, he loved her, even the queen said so. Joff would need to punish Father, the lords would expect it, but perhaps he could send him back to Winterfell, or exile him to one of the Free Cities across the narrow sea. It would only have to be for a few years. By then she and Joffrey would be married. Once she was queen, she could persuade Joff to bring Father back and grant him a pardon. Only . . . if Mother or Robb did anything treasonous, called the banners or refused to swear fealty or anything, it would all go wrong. Her Joffrey was good and kind, she knew it in her heart, but a king had to be stern with rebels. She had to make them understand, she had to! â€Å"I’ll . . . I’ll write the letters,† Sansa told them. With a smile as warm as the sunrise, Cersei Lannister leaned close and kissed her gently on the cheek. â€Å"I knew you would. Joffrey will be so proud when I tell him what courage and good sense you’ve shown here today.† In the end, she wrote four letters. To her mother, the Lady Catelyn Stark, and to her brothers at Winterfell, and to her aunt and her grandfather as well, Lady Lysa Arryn of the Eyrie, and Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun. By the time she had done, her fingers were cramped and stiff and stained with ink. Varys had her father’s seal. She warmed the pale white beeswax over a candle, poured it carefully, and watched as the eunuch stamped each letter with the direwolf of House Stark. Jeyne Poole and all her things were gone when Ser Mandon Moore returned Sansa to the high tower of Maegor’s Holdfast. No more weeping, she thought gratefully. Yet somehow it seemed colder with Jeyne gone, even after she’d built a fire. She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florian and Jonquil, of Lady Shella and the Rainbow Knight, of valiant Prince Aemon and his doomed love for his brother’s queen. It was not until later that night, as she was drifting off to sleep, that Sansa realized she had forgotten to ask about her sister. A Game of Thrones Chapter Fiftyone Jeyne Poole had been confined with her, but Jeyne was useless. Her face was puffy from all her crying, and she could not seem to stop sobbing about her father. â€Å"I’m certain your father is well,† Sansa told her when she had finally gotten the dress buttoned right. â€Å"I’ll ask the queen to let you see him.† She thought that kindness might lift Jeyne’s spirits, but the other girl just looked at her with red, swollen eyes and began to cry all the harder. She was such a child. Sansa had wept too, the first day. Even within the stout walls of Maegor’s Holdfast, with her door closed and barred, it was hard not to be terrified when the killing began. She had grown up to the sound of steel in the yard, and scarcely a day of her life had passed without hearing the clash of sword on sword, yet somehow knowing that the fighting was real made all the difference in the world. She heard it as she had never heard it before, and there were other sounds as well, grunts of pain, angry curses, shouts for help, and the moans of wounded and dying men. In the songs, the knights never screamed nor begged for mercy. So she wept, pleading through her door for them to tell her what was happening, calling for her father, for Septa Mordane, for the king, for her gallant prince. If the men guarding her heard her pleas, they gave no answer. The only time the door opened was late that night, when they thrust Jeyne Poole inside, bruised and shaking. â€Å"They’re killing everyone,† the steward’s daughter had shrieked at her. She went on and on. The Hound had broken down her door with a warhammer, she said. There were bodies on the stair of the Tower of the Hand, and the steps were slick with blood. Sansa dried her own tears as she struggled to comfort her friend. They went to sleep in the same bed, cradled in each other’s arms like sisters. The second day was even worse. The room where Sansa had been confined was at the top of the highest tower of Maegor’s Holdfast. From its window, she could see that the heavy iron portcullis in the gatehouse was down, and the drawbridge drawn up over the deep dry moat that separated the keep-within-a-keep from the larger castle that surrounded it. Lannister guardsmen prowled the walls with spears and crossbows to hand. The fighting was over, and the silence of the grave had settled over the Red Keep. The only sounds were Jeyne Poole’s endless whimpers and sobs. They were fed—hard cheese and fresh-baked bread and milk to break their fast, roast chicken and greens at midday, and a late supper of beef and barley stew—but the servants who brought the meals would not answer Sansa’s questions. That evening, some women brought her clothes from the Tower of the Hand, and some of Jeyne’s things as well, but they seemed nearly as frightened as Jeyne, and when she tried to talk to them, they fled from her as if she had the grey plague. The guards outside the door still refused to let them leave the room. â€Å"Please, I need to speak to the queen again,† Sansa told them, as she told everyone she saw that day. â€Å"She’ll want to talk to me, I know she will. Tell her I want to see her, please. If not the queen, then Prince Joffrey, if you’d be so kind. We’re to marry when we’re older.† At sunset on the second day, a great bell began to ring. Its voice was deep and sonorous, and the long slow clanging filled Sansa with a sense of dread. The ringing went on and on, and after a while they heard other bells answering from the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya’s Hill. The sound rumbled across the city like thunder, warning of the storm to come. â€Å"What is it?† Jeyne asked, covering her ears. â€Å"Why are they ringing the bells?† â€Å"The king is dead.† Sansa could not say how she knew it, yet she did. The slow, endless clanging filled their room, as mournful as a dirge. Had some enemy stormed the castle and murdered King Robert? Was that the meaning of the fighting they had heard? She went to sleep wondering, restless, and fearful. Was her beautiful Joffrey the king now? Or had they killed him too? She was afraid for him, and for her father. If only they would tell her what was happening . . . That night Sansa dreamt of Joffrey on the throne, with herself seated beside him in a gown of woven gold. She had a crown on her head, and everyone she had ever known came before her, to bend the knee and say their courtesies. The next morning, the morning of the third day, Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard came to escort her to the queen. Ser Boros was an ugly man with a broad chest and short, bandy legs. His nose was flat, his cheeks baggy with jowls, his hair grey and brittle. Today he wore white velvet, and his snowy cloak was fastened with a lion brooch. The beast had the soft sheen of gold, and his eyes were tiny rubies. â€Å"You look very handsome and splendid this morning, Ser Boros,† Sansa told him. A lady remembered her courtesies, and she was resolved to be a lady no matter what. â€Å"And you, my lady,† Ser Boros said in a flat voice. â€Å"Her Grace awaits. Come with me.† There were guards outside her door, Lannister men-at-arms in crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms. Sansa made herself smile at them pleasantly and bid them a good morning as she passed. It was the first time she had been allowed outside the chamber since Ser Arys Oakheart had led her there two mornings past. â€Å"To keep you safe, my sweet one,† Queen Cersei had told her. â€Å"Joffrey would never forgive me if anything happened to his precious.† Sansa had expected that Ser Boros would escort her to the royal apartments, but instead he led her out of Maegor’s Holdfast. The bridge was down again. Some workmen were lowering a man on ropes into the depths of the dry moat. When Sansa peered down, she saw a body impaled on the huge iron spikes below. She averted her eyes quickly, afraid to ask, afraid to look too long, afraid he might be someone she knew. They found Queen Cersei in the council chambers, seated at the head of a long table littered with papers, candles, and blocks of sealing wax. The room was as splendid as any that Sansa had ever seen. She stared in awe at the carved wooden screen and the twin sphinxes that sat beside the door. â€Å"Your Grace,† Ser Boros said when they were ushered inside by another of the Kingsguard, Ser Mandon of the curiously dead face, â€Å"I’ve brought the girl.† Sansa had hoped Joffrey might be with her. Her prince was not there, but three of the king’s councillors were. Lord Petyr Baelish sat on the queen’s left hand, Grand Maester Pycelle at the end of the table, while Lord Varys hovered over them, smelling flowery. All of them were clad in black, she realized with a feeling of dread. Mourning clothes . . . The queen wore a high-collared black silk gown, with a hundred dark red rubies sewn into her bodice, covering her from neck to bosom. They were cut in the shape of teardrops, as if the queen were weeping blood. Cersei smiled to see her, and Sansa thought it was the sweetest and saddest smile she had ever seen. â€Å"Sansa, my sweet child,† she said, â€Å"I know you’ve been asking for me. I’m sorry that I could not send for you sooner. Matters have been very unsettled, and I have not had a moment. I trust my people have been taking good care of you?† â€Å"Everyone has been very sweet and pleasant, Your Grace, thank you ever so much for asking,† Sansa said politely. â€Å"Only, well, no one will talk to us or tell us what’s happened . . . â€Å" â€Å"Us?† Cersei seemed puzzled. â€Å"We put the steward’s girl in with her,† Ser Boros said. â€Å"We did not know what else to do with her.† The queen frowned. â€Å"Next time, you will ask,† she said, her voice sharp. â€Å"The gods only know what sort of tales she’s been filling Sansa’s head with.† â€Å"Jeyne’s scared,† Sansa said. â€Å"She won’t stop crying. I promised her I’d ask if she could see her father.† Old Grand Maester Pycelle lowered his eyes. â€Å"Her father is well, isn’t he?† Sansa said anxiously. She knew there had been fighting, but surely no one would harm a steward. Vayon Poole did not even wear a sword. Queen Cersei looked at each of the councillors in turn. â€Å"I won’t have Sansa fretting needlessly. What shall we do with this little friend of hers, my lords?† Lord Petyr leaned forward. â€Å"I’ll find a place for her.† â€Å"Not in the city,† said the queen. â€Å"Do you take me for a fool?† The queen ignored that. â€Å"Ser Boros, escort this girl to Lord Petyr’s apartments and instruct his people to keep her there until he comes for her. Tell her that Littlefinger will be taking her to see her father, that ought to calm her down. I want her gone before Sansa returns to her chamber.† â€Å"As you command, Your Grace,† Ser Boros said. He bowed deeply, spun on his heel, and took his leave, his long white cloak stirring the air behind him. Sansa was confused. â€Å"I don’t understand,† she said. â€Å"Where is Jeyne’s father? Why can’t Ser Boros take her to him instead of Lord Petyr having to do it?† She had promised herself she would be a lady, gentle as the queen and as strong as her mother, the Lady Catelyn, but all of a sudden she was scared again. For a second she thought she might cry. â€Å"Where are you sending her? She hasn’t done anything wrong, she’s a good girl.† â€Å"She’s upset you,† the queen said gently. â€Å"We can’t be having that. Not another word, now. Lord Baelish will see that Jeyne’s well taken care of, I promise you.† She patted the chair beside her. â€Å"Sit down, Sansa. I want to talk to you.† Sansa seated herself beside the queen. Cersei smiled again, but that did not make her feel any less anxious. Varys was wringing his soft hands together, Grand Maester Pycelle kept his sleepy eyes on the papers in front of him, but she could feel Littlefinger staring. Something about the way the small man looked at her made Sansa feel as though she had no clothes on. Goose bumps pimpled her skin. â€Å"Sweet Sansa,† Queen Cersei said, laying a soft hand on her wrist. â€Å"Such a beautiful child. I do hope you know how much Joffrey and I love you.† â€Å"You do?† Sansa said, breathless. Littlefinger was forgotten. Her prince loved her. Nothing else mattered. The queen smiled. â€Å"I think of you almost as my own daughter. And I know the love you bear for Joffrey.† She gave a weary shake of her head. â€Å"I am afraid we have some grave news about your lord father. You must be brave, child.† Her quiet words gave Sansa a chill. â€Å"What is it?† â€Å"Your father is a traitor, dear,† Lord Varys said. Grand Maester Pycelle lifted his ancient head. â€Å"With my own ears, I heard Lord Eddard swear to our beloved King Robert that he would protect the young princes as if they were his own sons. And yet the moment the king was dead, he called the small council together to steal Prince Joffrey’s rightful throne.† â€Å"No,† Sansa blurted. â€Å"He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t!† The queen picked up a letter. The paper was torn and stiff with dried blood, but the broken seal was her father’s, the direwolf stamped in pale wax. â€Å"We found this on the captain of your household guard, Sansa. It is a letter to my late husband’s brother Stannis, inviting him to take the crown.† â€Å"Please, Your Grace, there’s been a mistake.† Sudden panic made her dizzy and faint. â€Å"Please, send for my father, he’ll tell you, he would never write such a letter, the king was his friend.† â€Å"Robert thought so,† said the queen. â€Å"This betrayal would have broken his heart. The gods are kind, that he did not live to see it.† She sighed. â€Å"Sansa, sweetling, you must see what a dreadful position this has left us in. You are innocent of any wrong, we all know that, and yet you are the daughter of a traitor. How can I allow you to marry my son?† â€Å"But I love him,† Sansa wailed, confused and frightened. What did they mean to do to her? What had they done to her father? It was not supposed to happen this way. She had to wed Joffrey, they were betrothed, he was promised to her, she had even dreamed about it. It wasn’t fair to take him away from her on account of whatever her father might have done. â€Å"How well I know that, child,† Cersei said, her voice so kind and sweet. â€Å"Why else should you have come to me and told me of your father’s plan to send you away from us, if not for love?† â€Å"It was for love,† Sansa said in a rush. â€Å"Father wouldn’t even give me leave to say farewell.† She was the good girl, the obedient girl, but she had felt as wicked as Arya that morning, sneaking away from Septa Mordane, defying her lord father. She had never done anything so willful before, and she would never have done it then if she hadn’t loved Joffrey as much as she did. â€Å"He was going to take me back to Winterfell and marry me to some hedge knight, even though it was Joff I wanted. I told him, but he wouldn’t listen.† The king had been her last hope. The king could command Father to let her stay in King’s Landing and marry Prince Joffrey, Sansa knew he could, but the king had always frightened her. He was loud and rough-voiced and drunk as often as not, and he would probably have just sent her back to Lord Eddard, if they even let her see him. So she went to the queen instead, and poured out her heart, and Cersei had listened and thanked her sweetly . . . only then Ser Arys had escorted her to the high room in Maegor’s Holdfast and posted guards, and a few hours later, the fighting had begun outside. â€Å"Please,† she finished, â€Å"you have to let me marry Joffrey, I’ll be ever so good a wife to him, you’ll see. I’ll be a queen just like you, I promise.† Queen Cersei looked to the others. â€Å"My lords of the council, what do you say to her plea?† â€Å"The poor child,† murmured Varys. â€Å"A love so true and innocent, Your Grace, it would be cruel to deny it . . . and yet, what can we do? Her father stands condemned.† His soft hands washed each other in a gesture of helpless distress. â€Å"A child born of traitor’s seed will find that betrayal comes naturally to her,† said Grand Maester Pycelle. â€Å"She is a sweet thing now, but in ten years, who can say what treasons she may hatch?† â€Å"No,† Sansa said, horrified. â€Å"I’m not, I’d never . . . I wouldn’t betray Joffrey, I love him, I swear it, I do.† â€Å"Oh, so poignant,† said Varys. â€Å"And yet, it is truly said that blood runs truer than oaths.† â€Å"She reminds me of the mother, not the father,† Lord Petyr Baelish said quietly. â€Å"Look at her. The hair, the eyes. She is the very image of Cat at the same age.† The queen looked at her, troubled, and yet Sansa could see kindness in her clear green eyes. â€Å"Child,† she said, â€Å"if I could truly believe that you were not like your father, why nothing should please me more than to see you wed to my Joffrey. I know he loves you with all his heart.† She sighed. â€Å"And yet, I fear that Lord Varys and the Grand Maester have the right of it. The blood will tell. I have only to remember how your sister set her wolf on my son.† â€Å"I’m not like Arya,† Sansa blurted. â€Å"She has the traitor’s blood, not me. I’m good, ask Septa Mordane, she’ll tell you, I only want to be Joffrey’s loyal and loving wife.† She felt the weight of Cersei’s eyes as the queen studied her face. â€Å"I believe you mean it, child.† She turned to face the others. â€Å"My lords, it seems to me that if the rest of her kin were to remain loyal in this terrible time, that would go a long way toward laying our fears to rest.† Grand Maester Pycelle stroked his huge soft beard, his wide brow furrowed in thought. â€Å"Lord Eddard has three sons.† â€Å"Mere boys,† Lord Petyr said with a shrug. â€Å"I should be more concerned with Lady Catelyn and the Tullys.† The queen took Sansa’s hand in both of hers. â€Å"Child, do you know your letters?† Sansa nodded nervously. She could read and write better than any of her brothers, although she was hopeless at sums. â€Å"I am pleased to hear that. Perhaps there is hope for you and Joffrey still . . . â€Å" â€Å"What do you want me to do?† â€Å"You must write your lady mother, and your brother, the eldest . . . what is his name?† â€Å"Robb,† Sansa said. â€Å"The word of your lord father’s treason will no doubt reach them soon. Better that it should come from you. You must tell them how Lord Eddard betrayed his king.† Sansa wanted Joffrey desperately, but she did not think she had the courage to do as the queen was asking. â€Å"But he never . . . I don’t . . . Your Grace, I wouldn’t know what to say . . . â€Å" The queen patted her hand. â€Å"We will tell you what to write, child. The important thing is that you urge Lady Catelyn and your brother to keep the king’s peace.† â€Å"It will go hard for them if they don’t,† said Grand Maester Pycelle. â€Å"By the love you bear them, you must urge them to walk the path of wisdom.† â€Å"Your lady mother will no doubt fear for you dreadfully,† the queen said. â€Å"You must tell her that you are well and in our care, that we are treating you gently and seeing to your every want. Bid them to come to King’s Landing and pledge their fealty to Joffrey when he takes his throne. If they do that . . . why, then we shall know that there is no taint in your blood, and when you come into the flower of your womanhood, you shall wed the king in the Great Sept of Baelor, before the eyes of gods and men.† . . . wed the king . . . The words made her breath come faster, yet still Sansa hesitated. â€Å"Perhaps . . . if I might see my father, talk to him about . . . â€Å" â€Å"Treason?† Lord Varys hinted. â€Å"You disappoint me, Sansa,† the queen said, with eyes gone hard as stones. â€Å"We’ve told you of your father’s crimes. If you are truly as loyal as you say, why should you want to see him?† â€Å"I . . . I only meant . . . † Sansa felt her eyes grow wet. â€Å"He’s not . . . please, he hasn’t been . . . hurt, or . . . or . . . â€Å" â€Å"Lord Eddard has not been harmed,† the queen said. â€Å"But . . . what’s to become of him?† â€Å"That is a matter for the king to decide,† Grand Maester Pycelle announced ponderously. The king! Sansa blinked back her tears. Joffrey was the king now, she thought. Her gallant prince would never hurt her father, no matter what he might have done. If she went to him and pleaded for mercy, she was certain he’d listen. He had to listen, he loved her, even the queen said so. Joff would need to punish Father, the lords would expect it, but perhaps he could send him back to Winterfell, or exile him to one of the Free Cities across the narrow sea. It would only have to be for a few years. By then she and Joffrey would be married. Once she was queen, she could persuade Joff to bring Father back and grant him a pardon. Only . . . if Mother or Robb did anything treasonous, called the banners or refused to swear fealty or anything, it would all go wrong. Her Joffrey was good and kind, she knew it in her heart, but a king had to be stern with rebels. She had to make them understand, she had to! â€Å"I’ll . . . I’ll write the letters,† Sansa told them. With a smile as warm as the sunrise, Cersei Lannister leaned close and kissed her gently on the cheek. â€Å"I knew you would. Joffrey will be so proud when I tell him what courage and good sense you’ve shown here today.† In the end, she wrote four letters. To her mother, the Lady Catelyn Stark, and to her brothers at Winterfell, and to her aunt and her grandfather as well, Lady Lysa Arryn of the Eyrie, and Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun. By the time she had done, her fingers were cramped and stiff and stained with ink. Varys had her father’s seal. She warmed the pale white beeswax over a candle, poured it carefully, and watched as the eunuch stamped each letter with the direwolf of House Stark. Jeyne Poole and all her things were gone when Ser Mandon Moore returned Sansa to the high tower of Maegor’s Holdfast. No more weeping, she thought gratefully. Yet somehow it seemed colder with Jeyne gone, even after she’d built a fire. She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florian and Jonquil, of Lady Shella and the Rainbow Knight, of valiant Prince Aemon and his doomed love for his brother’s queen. It was not until later that night, as she was drifting off to sleep, that Sansa realized she had forgotten to ask about her sister.

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Assignment - Essay Example Some of the continuous changes in the environment these organizations operate in include international competition, increasing acquisitions and mergers, reformations of individual organizations, and technological advances as identified by Dowling & Welch (2004). The implications of these changes on various aspects of the organization vary depending on the individual organization, however, for international corporations that experience the impact of these changing dynamic environments it is necessary to adopt a greater level of flexibility and search for novel sources of competitive advantage. As mentioned above, skills and core competencies are regarded as the key elements essential for driving effective innovation and desired change, and therefore are the major source of competitive advantage (Gratton, 2000). As highlighted by Boxall and Purcell (2003), these changes do indeed qualify knowledge work and employee skills. In tandem, this offers the suggestion that Human Resource Devel opment (HRD) is the core function around which Multinational Corporations (MRCs) succeed and maintain competitive advantage. Although all organizations are bound in such external environments, particular organizational features put emphasis on some important disparities in the role profiles of the people who have been tasked with carrying out the operations in each specific organization. It is widely held that the prevailing competitive environmental condition and appreciation of the significance of knowledge and learning to gain a competitive edge are increase the status and power of the HRD function and lead to the emergence of varied opportunities for HRD professionals (Boud and Garrick, 2001: Carter, Hirsh and Aston, 2002: Harrison, 2006). The increasing challenges manifest in the organizational structure of MNCs lead to the creation of distinctive roles for HR and HRD professionals that are not available in domestic organizations or the national context (Peterson and Thomas, 20 07). This paper therefore discusses the role played by the HRD function in MNCs in an international context concerning the changing environmental circumstances that have been highlighted above. In addition, draws on the conclusion that the role of HRD in maintaining a competitive advantage in a global stage has become greater than ever before, and is mainly influenced by the international factors that come into play. The International Context and the Role of HRD in MNCs The extant surge in globalization has been identified as a central environmental factor that continues to shape the operations of HRD professionals in MNCs across the world. Globalization entails a large quantity of issues such as the growth in international, multinational and transnational organizations’ advances in technology, mergers, acquisitions, ad strategic alliances. Short and Callahan (2005) state that in the quest for organizations to go global or maintain their position at the international stage, t hey are likely to turn to HRD professional to offer advice and support on the most viable strategies and practices to adopt. However, globalization forces the HRD function of such organizations to transform their way of thinking about the nature radically, role and tools of people development in order to remain competitive. The methods, therefore, adopted by the HRD function in MNCs is mainly influenced by the decision of the organization to lean toward international convergence, divergence or to operate as a transnational

AnimeMethod and Meaning Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 2000 words

AnimeMethod and Meaning - Essay Example The substance of this prose will analyze the production and narrative of the anime in light of eminent feature Anime films and series. One of the greatest treasures in the world of Japanese anime is Studio Ghibli and their master creator, Hayao Miyazaki. His anime like spirited away, Nausicaa of the valley of the wind and Mononoke Hime are one of the great anime features that define almost every individual’s childhood. These anime consisted of fantastic animation, with vibrant color schemes and used computer graphics. Studio Ghibli even defied some of the norms set by their very own animation industry. The characters in Studio Ghibli anime had proportionate eyes as opposed to the extremely over-sized eyes in other mainstream anime and also the hair color of the characters was close to what was natural unless the character had a supernatural origin. The end result was that the animation style was smooth and had a very intense, life-like feel to it. One of the most recurring sub -genres in almost all of Miyazaki anime was the concept of steampunk. Steampunk is a cinematic concept that shows the use of steam-powered machines rather than the use of sophisticated technology. For Miyazaki, the use of Steampunk was meant to juxtapose east with west and man with nature, because steam power is generated using coal that is extracted from the earth. Moreover, it is a viable method of creating machinery but there are alternate power sources as well that the West had come up with and the anime tried to explore the aspect of Japan trying to catch up with their western counterparts. (Shaner 2011) All three of the aforementioned anime went on to gain critical acclaim, but it was not the production style that caught the audience’s but it was the amazing storyline that went with it. All three of these anime were metaphors for some important events and controversies that had grabbed the entire world. Mononoke Hime is about a girl Mononoke raised by wolves who fights to protect the forest, and another sub-plot involves Prince Ashitaka, who has been poisoned by possessed boar and then sets out to save the spirit of nature. The film was ranked high because of its deep message regarding environment preservation and has taken inspiration from many historical incidents. Most notably, the anime feature hits upon the use of Atomic bomb and other destructive weapons that not only destroy life but the world we live in as well. Moreover, the movie was also a metaphorical representation of the struggle by the Japanese government to have a more balanced approach for the environment and rapid modernization. The event gained media attention after the announcement regarding the construction of Narita Airport. There was a huge furor particularly from the agricultural sector and the farmer, who strongly opposed the construction project. (Selin & Kalland 2003, 178) Naturally, the biggest concern for the people and activists was the environment and even though, th e government had suppressed all sorts of rebellion from the farmers but the activists did try to sabotage the project all throughout the 70’s (Selin & kalland 2003, 178). Therefore, Princess Mononoke was a loose adaptation of the events that transpired during the 70’s and the forest creatures, and the titular character and Prince Ashitaka represented the farmers and activists

America's Great Indian Nations - Full Documentary Essay

America's Great Indian Nations - Full Documentary - Essay Example of the colonial powers and downward spiral of the confederacy that comprised of several Indian tribes continued without intermission, fierce resistance was offered by the Indian tribes through three major wars but they were finally subdued by the colonial powers. Their deep desire to dominate the land, what is now America, fructified. The documentary elucidates the story of six major Native American Tribes with the support of maps, artwork, scenic beauty of the land, different features related to lifestyle and culture of the Iroquois. The content of the movie is an eye-opener for the viewers in general and the students of the American history in particular. The atrocities committed by the colonial powers on the native Indians, are too horrible for the printed pages to capture. The movie is eminently suited to enrich one’s knowledge about the tribal life and their fierce loyalties. The elements that I want to apply in my life: Notwithstanding the sufferings of the Native Indians, it is no use carrying on with the process of vengeance and it is for the good of all races, whites and the African Americas and the Native Indians to live together with peaceful co-existence honoring the true spirit of the American Constitution. Moreover, every effort should be made to preserve the cultural heritage of the Native