Reality Television

Reality television has strong influence and damaging effects on our society. But let’s face it, we feed on the drama. We love to absorb another life other than our own. Along with it comes the misconception of reality which distorts how one believes they have to behave to gain fame or attention. Reality television is bad for culture because it only elevates money, beauty, and fame above other qualities by promoting inappropriate behavior such as bullying, casual sex, alcohol abuse and bad language. The media plays a major role in selling this trash in order to increase revenue. Reality tv has a strong impact on our society because it distorts our view of reality. It pollutes our minds with Knowledge, attitudes, values, and behavior that are influenced by exposure to reality television and deemed acceptable by society. Our culture serves up degradation as a form of entertainment. Such shows incorporate inappropriate behavior such as bullying, scheming, and manipulating in order to get ahead or get the guy/girl. This is extremely harmful to children and teens because at this age they are seeking out their personal identities and starting to develop relationships with family, friends, and the opposite sex. They indentify with the media for what’s cool and look up to these public figures for how they should act, dress, talk etc. One example how these shows are negative would be MTVs Parental control, where the parents are unhappy with their child’s current choice of whom in which they’re dating. So, they get to choose who they assume would be a better choice for their child. While doing so, their current significant watches as they bf/gf go on a dates with their parent’s choices. This usually results in disrespect and bad mouthing to the parents from the current bf/gf. Some of the stuff is appalling that is said and sexually suggested to a teen audience. Not only do these shows encourage inappropriateness it creates drama because drama creates attention that we all crave at times. Other shows spotlight this lavish lifestyle and make the common person believe that they do can live this life if they model these infamous characters behavior and they too can receive stardom for random careless acts. It mainly bases stardom on physical appearance and how far you will go for the prize whether it be 100,000 or the rich husband. It makes us all superficial, materialistic and really unrealistic. Fall in love in 8 weeks, give me a break. But it’s entertaining and does suck us in. The contestants on these shows contribute to the ideology of competitive elements and stereotyping over working. What kid would want to go to school if he could party all day and have a rich bf gf and receive fame for it as well. I think we all seek another unrealistic lifestyle and these reality shows are giving our youth the message that if they act according they may too receive fame. Although, such shows demonstrate negative values ans are corrupting our youth and perception on things, the media is making money and doesn’t see these shows as negative only a positive asset to their bank account. The media has definitely altered the baseline of civility because money rules all things. The cost for these shows and their content are nothing but cheap. According to a recent article by Laurie Hibberd, she suggests cost has much to do with it. Reality shows cost an average of 400,00 to produce and gain up to 2 million for a dramatic series (Hibberd2002. It’s the less expensive option and ratings sky high , why wouldn’t; they keep these drama on the air. They may lack moral and values but big companies are not bothered by this only bothered by financial gain. Also big companies and organizations back these productions up with service or merchandise. Their only motive is to market their products and services, not to improve quality of programs. For in stance, a clothing label may give out merchandise hoping this may promote their brand. If the reality stars are wearing it, the kids will want to wear it as well. They don’t care what else the show may promote as long as its promoting their brand and resulting in an increase in sales. Reality television I believe has such a negative impact on society because it makes us believe that we can see ourselves on tv. That if we fit the profile that we too may receive stardom. But on the same not it makes us believe that our lives aren’t normal and maybe even boring which may even cause more drama in our life. Also, the media’s interest in making money is a contributing factor to wht such behavior these shows represent are coming into the norm. Reality Television In the year 1992 a new idea was introduced to America and it was called reality television. MTV produced a show called, The Real World that had seven strangers living in a house together and had everything they did filmed. After many failed attempts at trying to make this reality trend catch on, CBS launched Survivor, which pioneered the way for all reality shows to follow in the next decade. It was a show about people battling it out in two separate tribes to their wits end in the jungle and it spread like wildfire across America. Survivor premiere debuted to 28 million viewers and is still on today, a decade and 21 seasons later (McCraley). Reality television did not have the power to tip and become an epidemic until producers began to use clever marketing strategies to bring Survivor to the mass of America. It has been almost twenty years since MTV first attempted to air The Real World with hopes of creating a new type of television America would love. First broadcasted in 1992 it is now the longest running show in MTV’s history and is currently on its twenty-fifth season. It is credited with being the first reality television show aired but it was not the first to grasp America and change the way we watch television. Reality television’s first big tipping point came the night Survivor premiered in May of 2000 on CBS and producers were beyond ecstatic when receiving the numbers the next day of viewers that tuned in (Metz par. 1). An epidemic had begun and it was here to stay. The American Survivor was derived from the Swedish version of the same show but only the first season of America’s Survivor had the same format. Throughout the seasons the producers have added new twists, turns, and contests. The United States version of Survivor is produced by Mark Burnett and hosted by Jeff Probst (Metz par. 1). This one single show caught the eyes of millions of Americans and since then all of our basic channels have been flooded with what we call ‘reality’ television. The format and concepts have changed drastically but there still seems to be a demand for reality television so producers will continue to come up with new ideas until America no longer seems to show interest. Reality television has become a constant target for controversy and complaints but seems to be one of those things we either love to hate or hate to love. Reality television that used to just be fun competition has turned into pregnant teenagers, partying Guidos, rich kids in Los Angeles or eight roommates all sleeping with each other in one house. Each one of these presents obvious controversy for the public eye but the producers do this for a reason. If there is nothing to talk about then no one will talk. The more buzz a producer can build about their show the more people will want to watch (King par. 2). Reality television producers seem to have a certain niche for stirring up as much debate and controversy as they can. As ridiculous as reality television shows have recently become with at least 6 different ones all involving competition of baking the perfect cake, Americans are what propel this industry. We continually watch them and keep their ratings up so they are beginning to take over other shows such as sitcoms and dramas. Some reality television shows are even getting signed for more seasons than non-reality shows are receiving. Survivor and The Real World being prime examples, both having over twenty seasons of airtime (Metz par. ). It is not a question of whether or not reality television is or is not an epidemic, it is a question of how did Survivor manage to turn this industry around and make everyone fall in love with it. The gist of Survivor goes a little something like this; the show starts with sixteen average Americans who are brought to a remote island to fend for themselves. The island is usually a very unforgiving place with no modern conveniences. The sixteen individuals are divided into two teams. Every few days, one of the teams gathers at a tribal council and votes someone off the island. You can gain immunity by winning the challenges, which are very fun and interesting to watch. Once a total of six people remain the tribes merge. After this, it is every person for him or herself. The last Survivor at the end wins one million dollars (Charkow). It is all about who will make just the right alliances and just the right enemies in order to take home the money. Over the past years connecting with people on common interests has become an important aspect of living. Reality TV allows us to do just that; we can watch a show Monday night and then have something to talk about the next day at work or school. We can have a common interest with someone without really having to like the same things. Curiosity also plays a role in our obsession with this trend, viewers will imagine themselves in these certain situations and think how they would react but the difference is the viewers get to watch from afar and not have any consequences for what they might choose (Hotchkiss par. 2). Reality television has completely changed the entertainment industry in that it creates a fun way to follow these participants and since they are real people with real conflicts their lives matter to us. This seems to be one reason surrounding why reality television has become so captivating for America and just why it is undeniably here to stay for the long haul. So what exactly did Survivor have that managed to captivate America and keep us here? Unpredictability with relatability (Crum). Each week there were these normal human beings performing risky tasks unknowing if they were going to be sent home the following week. Americans began to watch, found their favorite contestants, and had to stay to make sure they made it until the end. Survivor producers also knew when creating this show the factor of relatability would play a major role. By taking normal human beings that are not trained actors, viewers begin to realize they may personally know one of the contestants or at least know them through the six degrees of separation. Even if they do not somehow know a contestant there is always one that they can relate to and connect with. When a viewer has a personal connection in a show it makes them want to invest more and they are willing to dedicate an hour of their time each week to tune in and see how their favorites are doing (Yazbek). Producers and casting directors thrived off of this concept of relatability. Each and every contestant is different in some way that producers believe will reach a vast majority of viewers in America. If there is a contestant representing each main demographic there is at least one person for almost everyone to connect with and want to root for. Once the viewers lock in their favorites they religiously watch Survivor in order to check up and make sure their contestant is still in and surviving. This is what helped Survivor manage to tip the reality trend (McCraley). The casting directors and producers knew exactly what to look for in the contestants they choose and they chose perfectly. America originally tuned in for Survivor’s first premiere because they did not know what to expect from these ordinary people getting their own television show and Survivor’s marketing team created a hype that was able to draw in over 28 million viewers for the first time (Metz par. 1). Dr. Kathleen King, who is a motivational keynote speaker, believes that Survivor uses their contestants as characters as a marketing strategy. If situations can't be resolved in a timely manner, people grow frustrated and bored with them. Our brain starts telling us, through our emotions, that it is time to move on. For a show to be successful, it has to introduce a parade of situations, just like real life would. So, how does a show keep us engaged in between situations? What keeps us tuned in? The characters . Characters are what we connect to. Characters engage us at a completely different level than situations. Situations are an intellectual challenge. Characters create emotional bonds. We care what happens to them (King). This caring, this connection, provides the emotional overtones that keep the situations of Survivor consistently interesting. Americans instantly fell in love with this nail-biting reality show as soon as it made its debut. From the get-go producers created characters that they knew America would fall in love with, each for different reasons. Although Survivor is not scripted certain teams are paired together and certain scenes may be edited in hopes of causing a stir with viewers. Producers create good and bad controversy to evoke emotions from their viewers. Once you are able to pull at the heartstrings of your viewers and have them emotionally involved with your characters you can create a true bond (Morrison par. ). Survivor made viewers fall in love with certain characters so when they were backstabbed or voted off they felt emotions for them. They would continue to watch so they knew exactly how their season would end and who took the winning spot of someone they wished would have won or stuck with their favorites until they would win (Hotchkiss par. 2). This level of emotional connection created a st ickiness factor that helped Survivor stay with its viewers. One more reason Survivor has lasted so long and continually intrigued viewers is they way it is shot. A reality show's segment producers or story editors usually assemble storyboards and shooting scripts, which are important tools for shaping the direction of the show. In the TV sitcom and drama world, these people would be known as writers. Unlike writers, the Writers Guild of America does generally not recognize them and so they are not union employees. This distinction could be seen as a disservice to the segment producers and story editors, but it benefits the show in that it lowers production costs and it helps preserve the idea that the shows are real and unscripted. It also allows reality shows to keep on rolling when a writer strike hits, like it did in fall 2007. Many reality show staffers have contested the distinction in ongoing court cases since 2005 (Poniewozik par. 2). Reality shows typically do not have scripts, but there is often a shooting script or an outline that details aspects of an episode or part of the show. For example, it can set up a specific challenge for the contestants on Survivor. A shooting script could also create conflict between some of the participants by pairing specific people as roommates or partners. Producers create shooting scripts with viewers in mind thinking about what they might like to see and what would make them stay tuned. In extreme cases, a shooting script might include a storyboard, which is a visual representation of the concept that physically illustrates what will occur in a scene (Metz par. 2). Ultimately, reality producers and editors have a lot of control over what happens on the show, just by the sheer fact that they have put the people together in certain situations, and they are controlling what footage gets aired and what does not. If Survivor were just a 24/7 camera on contestants living in the jungle viewers would get bored. Producers pick and choose the best material and content to air because obviously America does not want to watch strangers sleeping or eating their food, they want to see conflict, emotion, and turmoil. If it were not for Survivor we would never know if some other show would have had the power to tip the reality television trend. Thanks to Survivor, its stickiness factor, and its relatability we will never have to worry about that. Survivor paved the way for the majority of America’s favorite television shows we watch today and opened doors for a new format of television programming. There is no way to tell how long reality television is here to stay but at the rate it is going, it seems like it will be putting up a fight until America stops watching. After all, reality television would not have already lasted this long if it wasn’t a survivor.

How to Sleep Well Essay

In order to kip good we should follow three grounds. First of all. don’t eat or imbibe a batch before bedtime. If you drink excessively much liquid before kiping. you’ll wake up repeatedly in the dark for trips to the bathroom or cause you to wake up repeatedly. Don’t eat spicy or fatty nutrients because they cause pyrosis particularly. don’t eat something that triggers 5-hydroxytryptamine. which makes you sleepy. Second. make and don’t exercising when you have free clip. For illustration. if you have a sedentary occupation. a deficiency of physical effort may be cut downing the quality of your slumber. A twenty-four hours of physical effort ( such as taking a tally or a swim ) or. better yet. regular exercising can do for deeper and more reposeful slumber. The best clip to exercising is in the afternoon. Third. Change your kiping place. You may believe that it’s impossible to command what place you sleep in since you aren’t to the full cognizant of what you are making. but it can do a considerable difference. When you go to kip. or if you wake up in the center of the dark. do a witting attempt to follow these guidelines until it becomes accustomed. Keep your organic structure in a â€Å"mid-line† place. where both your caput and cervix are kept approximately consecutive. Don’t use a level pillow that causes your caput to lean down toward the mattress. It’s hard to keep the mid-line place. and it is more likely to do strivings. This will assist relieve emphasis on your dorsum and cervix by somewhat shore uping up your organic structure on one side. To sum up. seek one or two or a combination until you have adequate quality sleep to experience watchful and good rested.

A Game of Thrones Chapter Seventy

He strapped his roll to the saddle, his scarred fingers stiff and clumsy. â€Å"Ghost,† he called softly, â€Å"to me.† And the wolf was there, eyes like embers. â€Å"Jon, please. You must not do this.† He mounted, the reins in his hand, and wheeled the horse around to face the night. Samwell Tarly stood in the stable door, a full moon peering over his shoulder. He threw a giant’s shadow, immense and black. â€Å"Get out of my way, Sam.† â€Å"Jon, you can’t,† Sam said. â€Å"I won’t let you.† â€Å"I would sooner not hurt you,† Jon told him. â€Å"Move aside, Sam, or I’ll ride you down.† â€Å"You won’t. You have to listen to me. Please . . . â€Å" Jon put his spurs to horseflesh, and the mare bolted for the door. For an instant Sam stood his ground, his face as round and pale as the moon behind him, his mouth a widening O of surprise. At the last moment, when they were almost on him, he jumped aside as Jon had known he would, stumbled, and fell. The mare leapt over him, out into the night. Jon raised the hood of his heavy cloak and gave the horse her head. Castle Black was silent and still as he rode out, with Ghost racing at his side. Men watched from the Wall behind him, he knew, but their eyes were turned north, not south. No one would see him go, no one but Sam Tarly, struggling back to his feet in the dust of the old stables. He hoped Sam hadn’t hurt himself, falling like that. He was so heavy and so ungainly, it would be just like him to break a wrist or twist his ankle getting out of the way. â€Å"I warned him,† Jon said aloud. â€Å"It was nothing to do with him, anyway.† He flexed his burned hand as he rode, opening and closing the scarred fingers. They still pained him, but it felt good to have the wrappings off. Moonlight silvered the hills as he followed the twisting ribbon of the kingsroad. He needed to get as far from the Wall as he could before they realized he was gone. On the morrow he would leave the road and strike out overland through field and bush and stream to throw off pursuit, but for the moment speed was more important than deception. It was not as though they would not guess where he was going. The Old Bear was accustomed to rise at first light, so Jon had until dawn to put as many leagues as he could between him and the Wall . . . if Sam Tarly did not betray him. The fat boy was dutiful and easily frightened, but he loved Jon like a brother. If questioned, Sam would doubtless tell them the truth, but Jon could not imagine him braving the guards in front of the King’s Tower to wake Mormont from sleep. When Jon did not appear to fetch the Old Bear’s breakfast from the kitchen, they’d look in his cell and find Longclaw on the bed. It had been hard to abandon it, but Jon was not so lost to honor as to take it with him. Even Jorah Mormont had not done that, when he fled in disgrace. Doubtless Lord Mormont would find someone more worthy of the blade. Jon felt bad when he thought of the old man. He knew his desertion would be salt in the still-raw wound of his son’s disgrace. That seemed a poor way to repay him for his trust, but it couldn’t be helped. No matter what he did, Jon felt as though he were betraying someone. Even now, he did not know if he was doing the honorable thing. The southron had it easier. They had their septons to talk to, someone to tell them the gods’ will and help sort out right from wrong. But the Starks worshiped the old gods, the nameless gods, and if the heart trees heard, they did not speak. When the last lights of Castle Black vanished behind him, Jon slowed his mare to a walk. He had a long journey ahead and only the one horse to see him through. There were holdfasts and farming villages along the road south where he might be able to trade the mare for a fresh mount when he needed one, but not if she were injured or blown. He would need to find new clothes soon; most like, he’d need to steal them. He was clad in black from head to heel; high leather riding boots, roughspun breeches and tunic, sleeveless leather jerkin, and heavy wool cloak. His longsword and dagger were sheathed in black moleskin, and the hauberk and coif in his saddlebag were black ringmail. Any bit of it could mean his death if he were taken. A stranger wearing black was viewed with cold suspicion in every village and holdfast north of the Neck, and men would soon be watching for him. Once Maester Aemon’s ravens took flight, Jon knew he would find no safe haven. Not even at Winterfell. Bran might want to let him in, but Maester Luwin had better sense. He would bar the gates and send Jon away, as he should. Better not to call there at all. Yet he saw the castle clear in his mind’s eye, as if he had left it only yesterday; the towering granite walls, the Great Hall with its smells of smoke and dog and roasting meat, his father’s solar, the turret room where he had slept. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to hear Bran laugh again, to sup on one of Gage’s beef-and-bacon pies, to listen to Old Nan tell her tales of the children of the forest and Florian the Fool. But he had not left the Wall for that; he had left because he was after all his father’s son, and Robb’s brother. The gift of a sword, even a sword as fine as Longclaw, did not make him a Mormont. Nor was he Aemon Targaryen. Three times the old man had chosen, and three times he had chosen honor, but that was him. Even now, Jon could not decide whether the maester had stayed because he was weak and craven, or because he was strong and true. Yet he understood what the old man had meant, about the pain of choosing; he understood that all too well. Tyrion Lannister had claimed that most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, but Jon was done with denials. He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. For the rest of his life—however long that might be—he would be condemned to be an outsider, the silent man standing in the shadows who dares not speak his true name. Wherever he might go throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he would need to live a lie, lest every man’s hand be raised against him. But it made no matter, so long as he lived long enough to take his place by his brother’s side and help avenge his father. He remembered Robb as he had last seen him, standing in the yard with snow melting in his auburn hair. Jon would have to come to him in secret, disguised. He tried to imagine the look on Robb’s face when he revealed himself. His brother would shake his head and smile, and he’d say . . . he’d say . . . He could not see the smile. Hard as he tried, he could not see it. He found himself thinking of the deserter his father had beheaded the day they’d found the direwolves. â€Å"You said the words,† Lord Eddard had told him. â€Å"You took a vow, before your brothers, before the old gods and the new.† Desmond and Fat Tom had dragged the man to the stump. Bran’s eyes had been wide as saucers, and Jon had to remind him to keep his pony in hand. He remembered the look on Father’s face when Theon Greyjoy brought forth Ice, the spray of blood on the snow, the way Theon had kicked the head when it came rolling at his feet. He wondered what Lord Eddard might have done if the deserter had been his brother Benjen instead of that ragged stranger. Would it have been any different? It must, surely, surely . . . and Robb would welcome him, for a certainty. He had to, or else . . . It did not bear thinking about. Pain throbbed, deep in his fingers, as he clutched the reins. Jon put his heels into his horse and broke into a gallop, racing down the kingsroad, as if to outrun his doubts. Jon was not afraid of death, but he did not want to die like that, trussed and bound and beheaded like a common brigand. If he must perish, let it be with a sword in his hand, fighting his father’s killers. He was no true Stark, had never been one . . . but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three. Ghost kept pace with them for almost half a mile, red tongue lolling from his mouth. Man and horse alike lowered their heads as he asked the mare for more speed. The wolf slowed, stopped, watching, his eyes glowing red in the moonlight. He vanished behind, but Jon knew he would follow, at his own pace. Scattered lights flickered through the trees ahead of him, on both sides of the road: Mole’s Town. A dog barked as he rode through, and he heard a mule’s raucous haw from the stable, but otherwise the village was still. Here and there the glow of hearth fires shone through shuttered windows, leaking between wooden slats, but only a few. Mole’s Town was bigger than it seemed, but three quarters of it was under the ground, in deep warm cellars connected by a maze of tunnels. Even the whorehouse was down there, nothing on the surface but a wooden shack no bigger than a privy, with a red lantern hung over the door. On the Wall, he’d heard men call the whores â€Å"buried treasures.† He wondered whether any of his brothers in black were down there tonight, mining. That was oathbreaking too, yet no one seemed to care. Not until he was well beyond the village did Jon slow again. By then both he and the mare were damp with sweat. He dismounted, shivering, his burned hand aching. A bank of melting snow lay under the trees, bright in the moonlight, water trickling off to form small shallow pools. Jon squatted and brought his hands together, cupping the runoff between his fingers. The snowmelt was icy cold. He drank, and splashed some on his face, until his cheeks tingled. His fingers were throbbing worse than they had in days, and his head was pounding too. I am doing the right thing, he told himself, so why do I feel so bad? The horse was well lathered, so Jon took the lead and walked her for a while. The road was scarcely wide enough for two riders to pass abreast, its surface cut by tiny streams and littered with stone. That run had been truly stupid, an invitation to a broken neck. Jon wondered what had gotten into him. Was he in such a great rush to die? Off in the trees, the distant scream of some frightened animal made him look up. His mare whinnied nervously. Had his wolf found some prey? He cupped his hands around his mouth. â€Å"Ghost!† he shouted. â€Å"Ghost, to me.† The only answer was a rush of wings behind him as an owl took flight. Frowning, Jon continued on his way. He led the mare for half an hour, until she was dry. Ghost did not appear. Jon wanted to mount up and ride again, but he was concerned about his missing wolf. â€Å"Ghost,† he called again. â€Å"Where are you? To me! Ghost!† Nothing in these woods could trouble a direwolf, even a half-grown direwolf, unless . . . no, Ghost was too smart to attack a bear, and if there was a wolf pack anywhere close Jon would have surely heard them howling. He should eat, he decided. Food would settle his stomach and give Ghost the chance to catch up. There was no danger yet; Castle Black still slept. In his saddlebag, he found a biscuit, a piece of cheese, and a small withered brown apple. He’d brought salt beef as well, and a rasher of bacon he’d filched from the kitchens, but he would save the meat for the morrow. After it was gone he’d need to hunt, and that would slow him. Jon sat under the trees and ate his biscuit and cheese while his mare grazed along the kingsroad. He kept the apple for last. It had gone a little soft, but the flesh was still tart and juicy. He was down to the core when he heard the sounds: horses, and from the north. Quickly Jon leapt up and strode to his mare. Could he outrun them? No, they were too close, they’d hear him for a certainty, and if they were from Castle Black . . . He led the mare off the road, behind a thick stand of grey-green sentinels. â€Å"Ouiet now,† he said in a hushed voice, crouching down to peer through the branches. If the gods were kind, the riders would pass by. Likely as not, they were only smallfolk from Mole’s Town, farmers on their way to their fields, although what they were doing out in the middle of the night . . . He listened to the sound of hooves growing steadily louder as they trotted briskly down the kingsroad. From the sound, there were five or six of them at the least. Their voices drifted through the trees. † . . . certain he came this way?† â€Å"We can’t be certain.† â€Å"He could have ridden east, for all you know. Or left the road to cut through the woods. That’s what I’d do.† â€Å"In the dark? Stupid. If you didn’t fall off your horse and break your neck, you’d get lost and wind up back at the Wall when the sun came up.† â€Å"I would not.† Grenn sounded peeved. â€Å"I’d just ride south, you can tell south by the stars.† â€Å"What if the sky was cloudy?† Pyp asked. â€Å"Then I wouldn’t go.† Another voice broke in. â€Å"You know where I’d be if it was me? I’d be in Mole’s Town, digging for buried treasure.† Toad’s shrill laughter boomed through the trees. Jon’s mare snorted. â€Å"Keep quiet, all of you,† Haider said. â€Å"I thought I heard something.† â€Å"Where? I didn’t hear anything.† The horses stopped. â€Å"You can’t hear yourself fart.† â€Å"I can too,† Grenn insisted. â€Å"Quiet!† They all fell silent, listening. Jon found himself holding his breath. Sam, he thought. He hadn’t gone to the Old Bear, but he hadn’t gone to bed either, he’d woken the other boys. Damn them all. Come dawn, if they were not in their beds, they’d be named deserters too. What did they think they were doing? The hushed silence seemed to stretch on and on. From where Jon crouched, he could see the legs of their horses through the branches. Finally Pyp spoke up. â€Å"What did you hear?† â€Å"I don’t know,† Haider admitted. â€Å"A sound, I thought it might have been a horse but . . . â€Å" â€Å"There’s nothing here.† Out of the corner of his eye, Jon glimpsed a pale shape moving through the trees. Leaves rustled, and Ghost came bounding out of the shadows, so suddenly that Jon’s mare started and gave a whinny. â€Å"There!† Halder shouted. â€Å"I heard it too!† â€Å"Traitor,† Jon told the direwolf as he swung up into the saddle. He turned the mare’s head to slide off through the trees, but they were on him before he had gone ten feet. â€Å"Jon!† Pyp shouted after him. â€Å"Pull up,† Grenn said. â€Å"You can’t outrun us all.† Jon wheeled around to face them, drawing his sword. â€Å"Get back. I don’t wish to hurt you, but I will if I have to.† â€Å"One against seven?† Halder gave a signal. The boys spread out, surrounding him. â€Å"What do you want with me?† Jon demanded. â€Å"We want to take you back where you belong,† Pyp said. â€Å"I belong with my brother.† â€Å"We’re your brothers now,† Grenn said. â€Å"They’ll cut off your head if they catch you, you know,† Toad put in with a nervous laugh. â€Å"This is so stupid, it’s like something the Aurochs would do.† â€Å"I would not,† Grenn said. â€Å"I’m no oathbreaker. I said the words and I meant them.† â€Å"So did I,† Jon told them. â€Å"Don’t you understand? They murdered my father. It’s war, my brother Robb is fighting in the riverlands—† â€Å"We know,† said Pyp solemnly. â€Å"Sam told us everything.† â€Å"We’re sorry about your father,† Grenn said, â€Å"but it doesn’t matter. Once you say the words, you can’t leave, no matter what.† â€Å"I have to,† Jon said fervently. â€Å"You said the words,† Pyp reminded him. â€Å"Now my watch begins, you said it. It shall not end until my death.† â€Å"I shall live and die at my post,† Grenn added, nodding. â€Å"You don’t have to tell me the words, I know them as well as you do.† He was angry now. Why couldn’t they let him go in peace? They were only making it harder. â€Å"I am the sword in the darkness,† Halder intoned. â€Å"The watcher on the walls,† piped Toad. Jon cursed them all to their faces. They took no notice. Pyp spurred his horse closer, reciting, â€Å"I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.† â€Å"Stay back,† Jon warned him, brandishing his sword. â€Å"I mean it, Pyp.† They weren’t even wearing armor, he could cut them to pieces if he had to. Matthar had circled behind him. He joined the chorus. â€Å"I pledge my life and honor to the Night’s Watch.† Jon kicked his mare, spinning her in a circle. The boys were all around him now, closing from every side. â€Å"For this night . . . † Halder trotted in from the left. † . . . and all the nights to come,† finished Pyp. He reached over for Jon’s reins. â€Å"So here are your choices. Kill me, or come back with me.† Jon lifted his sword . . . and lowered it, helpless. â€Å"Damn you,† he said. â€Å"Damn you all.† â€Å"Do we have to bind your hands, or will you give us your word you’ll ride back peaceful?† asked Halder. â€Å"I won’t run, if that’s what you mean.† Ghost moved out from under the trees and Jon glared at him. â€Å"Small help you were,† he said. The deep red eyes looked at him knowingly. â€Å"We had best hurry,† Pyp said. â€Å"If we’re not back before first light, the Old Bear will have all our heads.† Of the ride back, Jon Snow remembered little. It seemed shorter than the journey south, perhaps because his mind was elsewhere. Pyp set the pace, galloping, walking, trotting, and then breaking into another gallop. Mole’s Town came and went, the red lantern over the brothel long extinguished. They made good time. Dawn was still an hour off when Jon glimpsed the towers of Castle Black ahead of them, dark against the pale immensity of the Wall. It did not seem like home this time. They could take him back, Jon told himself, but they could not make him stay. The war would not end on the morrow, or the day after, and his friends could not watch him day and night. He would bide his time, make them think he was content to remain here . . . and then, when they had grown lax, he would be off again. Next time he would avoid the kingsroad. He could follow the Wall east, perhaps all the way to the sea, a longer route but a safer one. Or even west, to the mountains, and then south over the high passes. That was the wildling’s way, hard and perilous, but at least no one wouid follow him. He wouldn’t stray within a hundred leagues of Winterfell or the kingsroad. Samwell Tarly awaited them in the old stables, slumped on the ground against a bale of hay, too anxious to sleep. He rose and brushed himself off. â€Å"I . . . I’m glad they found you, Jon.† â€Å"I’m not,† Jon said, dismounting. Pyp hopped off his horse and looked at the lightening sky with disgust. â€Å"Give us a hand bedding down the horses, Sam,† the small boy said. â€Å"We have a long day before us, and no sleep to face it on, thanks to Lord Snow.† When day broke, Jon walked to the kitchens as he did every dawn. Three-Finger Hobb said nothing as he gave him the Old Bear’s breakfast. Today it was three brown eggs boiled hard, with fried bread and ham steak and a bowl of wrinkled plums. Jon carried the food back to the King’s Tower. He found Mormont at the window seat, writing. His raven was walking back and forth across his shoulders, muttering, â€Å"Corn, corn, corn.† The bird shrieked when Jon entered. â€Å"Put the food on the table,† the Old Bear said, glancing up. â€Å"I’ll have some beer.† Jon opened a shuttered window, took the flagon of beer off the outside ledge, and filled a horn. Hobb had given him a lemon, still cold from the Wall. Jon crushed it in his fist. The juice trickled through his fingers. Mormont drank lemon in his beer every day, and claimed that was why he still had his own teeth. â€Å"Doubtless you loved your father,† Mormont said when Jon brought him his horn. â€Å"The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember when I told you that?† â€Å"I remember,† Jon said sullenly. He did not care to talk of his father’s death, not even to Mormont. â€Å"See that you never forget it. The hard truths are the ones to hold tight. Fetch me my plate. Is it ham again? So be it. You look weary. Was your moonlight ride so tiring?† Jon’s throat was dry. â€Å"You know?† â€Å"Know,† the raven echoed from Mormont’s shoulder. â€Å"Know.† The Old Bear snorted. â€Å"Do you think they chose me Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch because I’m dumb as a stump, Snow? Aemon told me you’d go. I told him you’d be back. I know my men . . . and my boys too. Honor set you on the kingsroad . . . and honor brought you back.† â€Å"My friends brought me back,† Jon said. â€Å"Did I say it was your honor?† Mormont inspected his plate. â€Å"They killed my father. Did you expect me to do nothing?† â€Å"If truth be told, we expected you to do just as you did.† Mormont tried a plum, spit out the pit. â€Å"I ordered a watch kept over you., You were seen leaving. If your brothers had not fetched you back, you would have been taken along the way, and not by friends. Unless you have a horse with wings like a raven. Do you?† â€Å"No.† Jon felt like a fool. â€Å"Pity, we could use a horse like that.† Jon stood tall. He told himself that he would die well; that much he could do, at the least. â€Å"I know the penalty for desertion, my lord. I’m not afraid to die.† â€Å"Die!† the raven cried. â€Å"Nor live, I hope,† Mormont said, cutting his ham with a dagger and feeding a bite to the bird. â€Å"You have not deserted—yet. Here you stand. If we beheaded every boy who rode to Mole’s Town in the night, only ghosts would guard the Wall. Yet maybe you mean to flee again on the morrow, or a fortnight from now. Is that it? Is that your hope, boy?† Jon kept silent. â€Å"I thought so.† Mormont peeled the shell off a boiled egg. â€Å"Your father is dead, lad. Do you think you can bring him back?† â€Å"No,† he answered, sullen. â€Å"Good,† Mormont said. â€Å"We’ve seen the dead come back, you and me, and it’s not something I care to see again.† He ate the egg in two bites and flicked a bit of shell out from between his teeth. â€Å"Your brother is in the field with all the power of the north behind him. Any one of his lords bannermen commands more swords than you’ll find in all the Night’s Watch. Why do you imagine that they need your help? Are you such a mighty warrior, or do you carry a grumkin in your pocket to magic up your sword?† Jon had no answer for him. The raven was pecking at an egg, breaking the shell. Pushing his beak through the hole, he pulled out morsels of white and yoke. The Old Bear sighed. â€Å"You are not the only one touched by this war. Like as not, my sister is marching in your brother’s host, her and those daughters of hers, dressed in men’s mail. Maege is a hoary old snark, stubborn, short-tempered, and willful. Truth be told, I can hardly stand to be around the wretched woman, but that does not mean my love for her is any less than the love you bear your half sisters.† Frowning, Mormont took his last egg and squeezed it in his fist until the shell crunched. â€Å"Or perhaps it does. Be that as it may, I’d still grieve if she were slain, yet you don’t see me running off. I said the words, just as you did. My place is here . . . where is yours, boy?† I have no place, Jon wanted to say, I’m a bastard, I have no rights, no name, no mother, and now not even a father. The words would not come. â€Å"I don’t know.† â€Å"I do,† said Lord Commander Mormont. â€Å"The cold winds are rising, Snow. Beyond the Wall, the shadows lengthen. Cotter Pyke writes of vast herds of elk, streaming south and east toward the sea, and mammoths as well. He says one of his men discovered huge, misshapen footprints not three leagues from Eastwatch. Rangers from the Shadow Tower have found whole villages abandoned, and at night Ser Denys says they see fires in the mountains, huge blazes that burn from dusk till dawn. Quorin Halfhand took a captive in the depths of the Gorge, and the man swears that Mance Rayder is massing all his people in some new, secret stronghold he’s found, to what end the gods only know. Do you think your uncle Benjen was the only ranger we’ve lost this past year?† â€Å"Ben Jen,† the raven squawked, bobbing its head, bits of egg dribbling from its beak. â€Å"Ben Jen. Ben Jen.† â€Å"No,† Jon said. There had been others. Too many. â€Å"Do you think your brother’s war is more important than ours?† the old man barked. Jon chewed his lip. The raven flapped its wings at him. â€Å"War, war, war, war,† it sang. â€Å"It’s not,† Mormont told him. â€Å"Gods save us, boy, you’re not blind and you’re not stupid. When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?† â€Å"No.† Jon had not thought of it that way. â€Å"Your lord father sent you to us, Jon. Why, who can say?† â€Å"Why? Why? Why?† the raven called. â€Å"All I know is that the blood of the First Men flows in the veins of the Starks. The First Men built the Wall, and it’s said they remember things otherwise forgotten. And that beast of yours . . . he led us to the wights, warned you of the dead man on the steps. Ser Jaremy would doubtless call that happenstance, yet Ser Jaremy is dead and I’m not.† Lord Mormont stabbed a chunk of ham with the point of his dagger. â€Å"I think you were meant to be here, and I want you and that wolf of yours with us when we go beyond the Wall.† His words sent a chill of excitement down Jon’s back. â€Å"Beyond the Wall?† â€Å"You heard me. I mean to find Ben Stark, alive or dead.† He chewed and swallowed. â€Å"I will not sit here meekly and wait for the snows and the ice winds. We must know what is happening. This time the Night’s Watch will ride in force, against the King-beyond-the-Wall, the Others, and anything else that may be out there. I mean to command them myself.† He pointed his dagger at Jon’s chest. â€Å"By custom, the Lord Commander’s steward is his squire as well . . . but I do not care to wake every dawn wondering if you’ve run off again. So I will have an answer from you, Lord Snow, and I will have it now. Are you a brother of the Night’s Watch . . . or only a bastard boy who wants to play at war?† Jon Snow straightened himself and took a long deep breath. Forgive me, Father. Robb, Arya, Bran . . . forgive me, I cannot help you. He has the truth of it. This is my place. â€Å"I am . . . yours, my lord. Your man. I swear it. I will not run again.† The Old Bear snorted. â€Å"Good. Now go put on your sword.† A Game of Thrones Chapter Seventy He strapped his roll to the saddle, his scarred fingers stiff and clumsy. â€Å"Ghost,† he called softly, â€Å"to me.† And the wolf was there, eyes like embers. â€Å"Jon, please. You must not do this.† He mounted, the reins in his hand, and wheeled the horse around to face the night. Samwell Tarly stood in the stable door, a full moon peering over his shoulder. He threw a giant’s shadow, immense and black. â€Å"Get out of my way, Sam.† â€Å"Jon, you can’t,† Sam said. â€Å"I won’t let you.† â€Å"I would sooner not hurt you,† Jon told him. â€Å"Move aside, Sam, or I’ll ride you down.† â€Å"You won’t. You have to listen to me. Please . . . â€Å" Jon put his spurs to horseflesh, and the mare bolted for the door. For an instant Sam stood his ground, his face as round and pale as the moon behind him, his mouth a widening O of surprise. At the last moment, when they were almost on him, he jumped aside as Jon had known he would, stumbled, and fell. The mare leapt over him, out into the night. Jon raised the hood of his heavy cloak and gave the horse her head. Castle Black was silent and still as he rode out, with Ghost racing at his side. Men watched from the Wall behind him, he knew, but their eyes were turned north, not south. No one would see him go, no one but Sam Tarly, struggling back to his feet in the dust of the old stables. He hoped Sam hadn’t hurt himself, falling like that. He was so heavy and so ungainly, it would be just like him to break a wrist or twist his ankle getting out of the way. â€Å"I warned him,† Jon said aloud. â€Å"It was nothing to do with him, anyway.† He flexed his burned hand as he rode, opening and closing the scarred fingers. They still pained him, but it felt good to have the wrappings off. Moonlight silvered the hills as he followed the twisting ribbon of the kingsroad. He needed to get as far from the Wall as he could before they realized he was gone. On the morrow he would leave the road and strike out overland through field and bush and stream to throw off pursuit, but for the moment speed was more important than deception. It was not as though they would not guess where he was going. The Old Bear was accustomed to rise at first light, so Jon had until dawn to put as many leagues as he could between him and the Wall . . . if Sam Tarly did not betray him. The fat boy was dutiful and easily frightened, but he loved Jon like a brother. If questioned, Sam would doubtless tell them the truth, but Jon could not imagine him braving the guards in front of the King’s Tower to wake Mormont from sleep. When Jon did not appear to fetch the Old Bear’s breakfast from the kitchen, they’d look in his cell and find Longclaw on the bed. It had been hard to abandon it, but Jon was not so lost to honor as to take it with him. Even Jorah Mormont had not done that, when he fled in disgrace. Doubtless Lord Mormont would find someone more worthy of the blade. Jon felt bad when he thought of the old man. He knew his desertion would be salt in the still-raw wound of his son’s disgrace. That seemed a poor way to repay him for his trust, but it couldn’t be helped. No matter what he did, Jon felt as though he were betraying someone. Even now, he did not know if he was doing the honorable thing. The southron had it easier. They had their septons to talk to, someone to tell them the gods’ will and help sort out right from wrong. But the Starks worshiped the old gods, the nameless gods, and if the heart trees heard, they did not speak. When the last lights of Castle Black vanished behind him, Jon slowed his mare to a walk. He had a long journey ahead and only the one horse to see him through. There were holdfasts and farming villages along the road south where he might be able to trade the mare for a fresh mount when he needed one, but not if she were injured or blown. He would need to find new clothes soon; most like, he’d need to steal them. He was clad in black from head to heel; high leather riding boots, roughspun breeches and tunic, sleeveless leather jerkin, and heavy wool cloak. His longsword and dagger were sheathed in black moleskin, and the hauberk and coif in his saddlebag were black ringmail. Any bit of it could mean his death if he were taken. A stranger wearing black was viewed with cold suspicion in every village and holdfast north of the Neck, and men would soon be watching for him. Once Maester Aemon’s ravens took flight, Jon knew he would find no safe haven. Not even at Winterfell. Bran might want to let him in, but Maester Luwin had better sense. He would bar the gates and send Jon away, as he should. Better not to call there at all. Yet he saw the castle clear in his mind’s eye, as if he had left it only yesterday; the towering granite walls, the Great Hall with its smells of smoke and dog and roasting meat, his father’s solar, the turret room where he had slept. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to hear Bran laugh again, to sup on one of Gage’s beef-and-bacon pies, to listen to Old Nan tell her tales of the children of the forest and Florian the Fool. But he had not left the Wall for that; he had left because he was after all his father’s son, and Robb’s brother. The gift of a sword, even a sword as fine as Longclaw, did not make him a Mormont. Nor was he Aemon Targaryen. Three times the old man had chosen, and three times he had chosen honor, but that was him. Even now, Jon could not decide whether the maester had stayed because he was weak and craven, or because he was strong and true. Yet he understood what the old man had meant, about the pain of choosing; he understood that all too well. Tyrion Lannister had claimed that most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, but Jon was done with denials. He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. For the rest of his life—however long that might be—he would be condemned to be an outsider, the silent man standing in the shadows who dares not speak his true name. Wherever he might go throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he would need to live a lie, lest every man’s hand be raised against him. But it made no matter, so long as he lived long enough to take his place by his brother’s side and help avenge his father. He remembered Robb as he had last seen him, standing in the yard with snow melting in his auburn hair. Jon would have to come to him in secret, disguised. He tried to imagine the look on Robb’s face when he revealed himself. His brother would shake his head and smile, and he’d say . . . he’d say . . . He could not see the smile. Hard as he tried, he could not see it. He found himself thinking of the deserter his father had beheaded the day they’d found the direwolves. â€Å"You said the words,† Lord Eddard had told him. â€Å"You took a vow, before your brothers, before the old gods and the new.† Desmond and Fat Tom had dragged the man to the stump. Bran’s eyes had been wide as saucers, and Jon had to remind him to keep his pony in hand. He remembered the look on Father’s face when Theon Greyjoy brought forth Ice, the spray of blood on the snow, the way Theon had kicked the head when it came rolling at his feet. He wondered what Lord Eddard might have done if the deserter had been his brother Benjen instead of that ragged stranger. Would it have been any different? It must, surely, surely . . . and Robb would welcome him, for a certainty. He had to, or else . . . It did not bear thinking about. Pain throbbed, deep in his fingers, as he clutched the reins. Jon put his heels into his horse and broke into a gallop, racing down the kingsroad, as if to outrun his doubts. Jon was not afraid of death, but he did not want to die like that, trussed and bound and beheaded like a common brigand. If he must perish, let it be with a sword in his hand, fighting his father’s killers. He was no true Stark, had never been one . . . but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three. Ghost kept pace with them for almost half a mile, red tongue lolling from his mouth. Man and horse alike lowered their heads as he asked the mare for more speed. The wolf slowed, stopped, watching, his eyes glowing red in the moonlight. He vanished behind, but Jon knew he would follow, at his own pace. Scattered lights flickered through the trees ahead of him, on both sides of the road: Mole’s Town. A dog barked as he rode through, and he heard a mule’s raucous haw from the stable, but otherwise the village was still. Here and there the glow of hearth fires shone through shuttered windows, leaking between wooden slats, but only a few. Mole’s Town was bigger than it seemed, but three quarters of it was under the ground, in deep warm cellars connected by a maze of tunnels. Even the whorehouse was down there, nothing on the surface but a wooden shack no bigger than a privy, with a red lantern hung over the door. On the Wall, he’d heard men call the whores â€Å"buried treasures.† He wondered whether any of his brothers in black were down there tonight, mining. That was oathbreaking too, yet no one seemed to care. Not until he was well beyond the village did Jon slow again. By then both he and the mare were damp with sweat. He dismounted, shivering, his burned hand aching. A bank of melting snow lay under the trees, bright in the moonlight, water trickling off to form small shallow pools. Jon squatted and brought his hands together, cupping the runoff between his fingers. The snowmelt was icy cold. He drank, and splashed some on his face, until his cheeks tingled. His fingers were throbbing worse than they had in days, and his head was pounding too. I am doing the right thing, he told himself, so why do I feel so bad? The horse was well lathered, so Jon took the lead and walked her for a while. The road was scarcely wide enough for two riders to pass abreast, its surface cut by tiny streams and littered with stone. That run had been truly stupid, an invitation to a broken neck. Jon wondered what had gotten into him. Was he in such a great rush to die? Off in the trees, the distant scream of some frightened animal made him look up. His mare whinnied nervously. Had his wolf found some prey? He cupped his hands around his mouth. â€Å"Ghost!† he shouted. â€Å"Ghost, to me.† The only answer was a rush of wings behind him as an owl took flight. Frowning, Jon continued on his way. He led the mare for half an hour, until she was dry. Ghost did not appear. Jon wanted to mount up and ride again, but he was concerned about his missing wolf. â€Å"Ghost,† he called again. â€Å"Where are you? To me! Ghost!† Nothing in these woods could trouble a direwolf, even a half-grown direwolf, unless . . . no, Ghost was too smart to attack a bear, and if there was a wolf pack anywhere close Jon would have surely heard them howling. He should eat, he decided. Food would settle his stomach and give Ghost the chance to catch up. There was no danger yet; Castle Black still slept. In his saddlebag, he found a biscuit, a piece of cheese, and a small withered brown apple. He’d brought salt beef as well, and a rasher of bacon he’d filched from the kitchens, but he would save the meat for the morrow. After it was gone he’d need to hunt, and that would slow him. Jon sat under the trees and ate his biscuit and cheese while his mare grazed along the kingsroad. He kept the apple for last. It had gone a little soft, but the flesh was still tart and juicy. He was down to the core when he heard the sounds: horses, and from the north. Quickly Jon leapt up and strode to his mare. Could he outrun them? No, they were too close, they’d hear him for a certainty, and if they were from Castle Black . . . He led the mare off the road, behind a thick stand of grey-green sentinels. â€Å"Ouiet now,† he said in a hushed voice, crouching down to peer through the branches. If the gods were kind, the riders would pass by. Likely as not, they were only smallfolk from Mole’s Town, farmers on their way to their fields, although what they were doing out in the middle of the night . . . He listened to the sound of hooves growing steadily louder as they trotted briskly down the kingsroad. From the sound, there were five or six of them at the least. Their voices drifted through the trees. † . . . certain he came this way?† â€Å"We can’t be certain.† â€Å"He could have ridden east, for all you know. Or left the road to cut through the woods. That’s what I’d do.† â€Å"In the dark? Stupid. If you didn’t fall off your horse and break your neck, you’d get lost and wind up back at the Wall when the sun came up.† â€Å"I would not.† Grenn sounded peeved. â€Å"I’d just ride south, you can tell south by the stars.† â€Å"What if the sky was cloudy?† Pyp asked. â€Å"Then I wouldn’t go.† Another voice broke in. â€Å"You know where I’d be if it was me? I’d be in Mole’s Town, digging for buried treasure.† Toad’s shrill laughter boomed through the trees. Jon’s mare snorted. â€Å"Keep quiet, all of you,† Haider said. â€Å"I thought I heard something.† â€Å"Where? I didn’t hear anything.† The horses stopped. â€Å"You can’t hear yourself fart.† â€Å"I can too,† Grenn insisted. â€Å"Quiet!† They all fell silent, listening. Jon found himself holding his breath. Sam, he thought. He hadn’t gone to the Old Bear, but he hadn’t gone to bed either, he’d woken the other boys. Damn them all. Come dawn, if they were not in their beds, they’d be named deserters too. What did they think they were doing? The hushed silence seemed to stretch on and on. From where Jon crouched, he could see the legs of their horses through the branches. Finally Pyp spoke up. â€Å"What did you hear?† â€Å"I don’t know,† Haider admitted. â€Å"A sound, I thought it might have been a horse but . . . â€Å" â€Å"There’s nothing here.† Out of the corner of his eye, Jon glimpsed a pale shape moving through the trees. Leaves rustled, and Ghost came bounding out of the shadows, so suddenly that Jon’s mare started and gave a whinny. â€Å"There!† Halder shouted. â€Å"I heard it too!† â€Å"Traitor,† Jon told the direwolf as he swung up into the saddle. He turned the mare’s head to slide off through the trees, but they were on him before he had gone ten feet. â€Å"Jon!† Pyp shouted after him. â€Å"Pull up,† Grenn said. â€Å"You can’t outrun us all.† Jon wheeled around to face them, drawing his sword. â€Å"Get back. I don’t wish to hurt you, but I will if I have to.† â€Å"One against seven?† Halder gave a signal. The boys spread out, surrounding him. â€Å"What do you want with me?† Jon demanded. â€Å"We want to take you back where you belong,† Pyp said. â€Å"I belong with my brother.† â€Å"We’re your brothers now,† Grenn said. â€Å"They’ll cut off your head if they catch you, you know,† Toad put in with a nervous laugh. â€Å"This is so stupid, it’s like something the Aurochs would do.† â€Å"I would not,† Grenn said. â€Å"I’m no oathbreaker. I said the words and I meant them.† â€Å"So did I,† Jon told them. â€Å"Don’t you understand? They murdered my father. It’s war, my brother Robb is fighting in the riverlands—† â€Å"We know,† said Pyp solemnly. â€Å"Sam told us everything.† â€Å"We’re sorry about your father,† Grenn said, â€Å"but it doesn’t matter. Once you say the words, you can’t leave, no matter what.† â€Å"I have to,† Jon said fervently. â€Å"You said the words,† Pyp reminded him. â€Å"Now my watch begins, you said it. It shall not end until my death.† â€Å"I shall live and die at my post,† Grenn added, nodding. â€Å"You don’t have to tell me the words, I know them as well as you do.† He was angry now. Why couldn’t they let him go in peace? They were only making it harder. â€Å"I am the sword in the darkness,† Halder intoned. â€Å"The watcher on the walls,† piped Toad. Jon cursed them all to their faces. They took no notice. Pyp spurred his horse closer, reciting, â€Å"I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.† â€Å"Stay back,† Jon warned him, brandishing his sword. â€Å"I mean it, Pyp.† They weren’t even wearing armor, he could cut them to pieces if he had to. Matthar had circled behind him. He joined the chorus. â€Å"I pledge my life and honor to the Night’s Watch.† Jon kicked his mare, spinning her in a circle. The boys were all around him now, closing from every side. â€Å"For this night . . . † Halder trotted in from the left. † . . . and all the nights to come,† finished Pyp. He reached over for Jon’s reins. â€Å"So here are your choices. Kill me, or come back with me.† Jon lifted his sword . . . and lowered it, helpless. â€Å"Damn you,† he said. â€Å"Damn you all.† â€Å"Do we have to bind your hands, or will you give us your word you’ll ride back peaceful?† asked Halder. â€Å"I won’t run, if that’s what you mean.† Ghost moved out from under the trees and Jon glared at him. â€Å"Small help you were,† he said. The deep red eyes looked at him knowingly. â€Å"We had best hurry,† Pyp said. â€Å"If we’re not back before first light, the Old Bear will have all our heads.† Of the ride back, Jon Snow remembered little. It seemed shorter than the journey south, perhaps because his mind was elsewhere. Pyp set the pace, galloping, walking, trotting, and then breaking into another gallop. Mole’s Town came and went, the red lantern over the brothel long extinguished. They made good time. Dawn was still an hour off when Jon glimpsed the towers of Castle Black ahead of them, dark against the pale immensity of the Wall. It did not seem like home this time. They could take him back, Jon told himself, but they could not make him stay. The war would not end on the morrow, or the day after, and his friends could not watch him day and night. He would bide his time, make them think he was content to remain here . . . and then, when they had grown lax, he would be off again. Next time he would avoid the kingsroad. He could follow the Wall east, perhaps all the way to the sea, a longer route but a safer one. Or even west, to the mountains, and then south over the high passes. That was the wildling’s way, hard and perilous, but at least no one wouid follow him. He wouldn’t stray within a hundred leagues of Winterfell or the kingsroad. Samwell Tarly awaited them in the old stables, slumped on the ground against a bale of hay, too anxious to sleep. He rose and brushed himself off. â€Å"I . . . I’m glad they found you, Jon.† â€Å"I’m not,† Jon said, dismounting. Pyp hopped off his horse and looked at the lightening sky with disgust. â€Å"Give us a hand bedding down the horses, Sam,† the small boy said. â€Å"We have a long day before us, and no sleep to face it on, thanks to Lord Snow.† When day broke, Jon walked to the kitchens as he did every dawn. Three-Finger Hobb said nothing as he gave him the Old Bear’s breakfast. Today it was three brown eggs boiled hard, with fried bread and ham steak and a bowl of wrinkled plums. Jon carried the food back to the King’s Tower. He found Mormont at the window seat, writing. His raven was walking back and forth across his shoulders, muttering, â€Å"Corn, corn, corn.† The bird shrieked when Jon entered. â€Å"Put the food on the table,† the Old Bear said, glancing up. â€Å"I’ll have some beer.† Jon opened a shuttered window, took the flagon of beer off the outside ledge, and filled a horn. Hobb had given him a lemon, still cold from the Wall. Jon crushed it in his fist. The juice trickled through his fingers. Mormont drank lemon in his beer every day, and claimed that was why he still had his own teeth. â€Å"Doubtless you loved your father,† Mormont said when Jon brought him his horn. â€Å"The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember when I told you that?† â€Å"I remember,† Jon said sullenly. He did not care to talk of his father’s death, not even to Mormont. â€Å"See that you never forget it. The hard truths are the ones to hold tight. Fetch me my plate. Is it ham again? So be it. You look weary. Was your moonlight ride so tiring?† Jon’s throat was dry. â€Å"You know?† â€Å"Know,† the raven echoed from Mormont’s shoulder. â€Å"Know.† The Old Bear snorted. â€Å"Do you think they chose me Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch because I’m dumb as a stump, Snow? Aemon told me you’d go. I told him you’d be back. I know my men . . . and my boys too. Honor set you on the kingsroad . . . and honor brought you back.† â€Å"My friends brought me back,† Jon said. â€Å"Did I say it was your honor?† Mormont inspected his plate. â€Å"They killed my father. Did you expect me to do nothing?† â€Å"If truth be told, we expected you to do just as you did.† Mormont tried a plum, spit out the pit. â€Å"I ordered a watch kept over you., You were seen leaving. If your brothers had not fetched you back, you would have been taken along the way, and not by friends. Unless you have a horse with wings like a raven. Do you?† â€Å"No.† Jon felt like a fool. â€Å"Pity, we could use a horse like that.† Jon stood tall. He told himself that he would die well; that much he could do, at the least. â€Å"I know the penalty for desertion, my lord. I’m not afraid to die.† â€Å"Die!† the raven cried. â€Å"Nor live, I hope,† Mormont said, cutting his ham with a dagger and feeding a bite to the bird. â€Å"You have not deserted—yet. Here you stand. If we beheaded every boy who rode to Mole’s Town in the night, only ghosts would guard the Wall. Yet maybe you mean to flee again on the morrow, or a fortnight from now. Is that it? Is that your hope, boy?† Jon kept silent. â€Å"I thought so.† Mormont peeled the shell off a boiled egg. â€Å"Your father is dead, lad. Do you think you can bring him back?† â€Å"No,† he answered, sullen. â€Å"Good,† Mormont said. â€Å"We’ve seen the dead come back, you and me, and it’s not something I care to see again.† He ate the egg in two bites and flicked a bit of shell out from between his teeth. â€Å"Your brother is in the field with all the power of the north behind him. Any one of his lords bannermen commands more swords than you’ll find in all the Night’s Watch. Why do you imagine that they need your help? Are you such a mighty warrior, or do you carry a grumkin in your pocket to magic up your sword?† Jon had no answer for him. The raven was pecking at an egg, breaking the shell. Pushing his beak through the hole, he pulled out morsels of white and yoke. The Old Bear sighed. â€Å"You are not the only one touched by this war. Like as not, my sister is marching in your brother’s host, her and those daughters of hers, dressed in men’s mail. Maege is a hoary old snark, stubborn, short-tempered, and willful. Truth be told, I can hardly stand to be around the wretched woman, but that does not mean my love for her is any less than the love you bear your half sisters.† Frowning, Mormont took his last egg and squeezed it in his fist until the shell crunched. â€Å"Or perhaps it does. Be that as it may, I’d still grieve if she were slain, yet you don’t see me running off. I said the words, just as you did. My place is here . . . where is yours, boy?† I have no place, Jon wanted to say, I’m a bastard, I have no rights, no name, no mother, and now not even a father. The words would not come. â€Å"I don’t know.† â€Å"I do,† said Lord Commander Mormont. â€Å"The cold winds are rising, Snow. Beyond the Wall, the shadows lengthen. Cotter Pyke writes of vast herds of elk, streaming south and east toward the sea, and mammoths as well. He says one of his men discovered huge, misshapen footprints not three leagues from Eastwatch. Rangers from the Shadow Tower have found whole villages abandoned, and at night Ser Denys says they see fires in the mountains, huge blazes that burn from dusk till dawn. Quorin Halfhand took a captive in the depths of the Gorge, and the man swears that Mance Rayder is massing all his people in some new, secret stronghold he’s found, to what end the gods only know. Do you think your uncle Benjen was the only ranger we’ve lost this past year?† â€Å"Ben Jen,† the raven squawked, bobbing its head, bits of egg dribbling from its beak. â€Å"Ben Jen. Ben Jen.† â€Å"No,† Jon said. There had been others. Too many. â€Å"Do you think your brother’s war is more important than ours?† the old man barked. Jon chewed his lip. The raven flapped its wings at him. â€Å"War, war, war, war,† it sang. â€Å"It’s not,† Mormont told him. â€Å"Gods save us, boy, you’re not blind and you’re not stupid. When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?† â€Å"No.† Jon had not thought of it that way. â€Å"Your lord father sent you to us, Jon. Why, who can say?† â€Å"Why? Why? Why?† the raven called. â€Å"All I know is that the blood of the First Men flows in the veins of the Starks. The First Men built the Wall, and it’s said they remember things otherwise forgotten. And that beast of yours . . . he led us to the wights, warned you of the dead man on the steps. Ser Jaremy would doubtless call that happenstance, yet Ser Jaremy is dead and I’m not.† Lord Mormont stabbed a chunk of ham with the point of his dagger. â€Å"I think you were meant to be here, and I want you and that wolf of yours with us when we go beyond the Wall.† His words sent a chill of excitement down Jon’s back. â€Å"Beyond the Wall?† â€Å"You heard me. I mean to find Ben Stark, alive or dead.† He chewed and swallowed. â€Å"I will not sit here meekly and wait for the snows and the ice winds. We must know what is happening. This time the Night’s Watch will ride in force, against the King-beyond-the-Wall, the Others, and anything else that may be out there. I mean to command them myself.† He pointed his dagger at Jon’s chest. â€Å"By custom, the Lord Commander’s steward is his squire as well . . . but I do not care to wake every dawn wondering if you’ve run off again. So I will have an answer from you, Lord Snow, and I will have it now. Are you a brother of the Night’s Watch . . . or only a bastard boy who wants to play at war?† Jon Snow straightened himself and took a long deep breath. Forgive me, Father. Robb, Arya, Bran . . . forgive me, I cannot help you. He has the truth of it. This is my place. â€Å"I am . . . yours, my lord. Your man. I swear it. I will not run again.† The Old Bear snorted. â€Å"Good. Now go put on your sword.†

Migration and Immigration Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 250 words

Migration and Immigration - Essay Example As a result of migration, the U.S. experiences a lot of individuals who get either illegal or legal entry through its borders. According to Martin (2010) in his highlights, U.S experienced 40 million residents who are foreigners born in the country. Moreover, in the total global migration it has 20% portion totaling to about 214 million immigrants of which 30% of them illegally migrate into the U.S., Martin (2010). This situation is quite intensified as researches reveal since there is a record of 100,000 daily entries through front doors, back doors and side-door migration. It is a clear fact that the U.S is inclusive to migrants who influx the various states. This is because of enormous benefits that come along with the acts of the migrant. That therefore introduces benefits and detriments aspects of immigration in the U.S, which include amelioration of military power and labor force as well as tax and consumer expansion. On the contrary, illegal immigration may strain infrastructure due to overcrowding thereby introducing various ailments that the immigrants might have along come with that will ultimately infect the entire population. In addition, immigration causes imbalance in ethnicity and social life, an issue which consequences conflict and discrimination of immense diversities, Gannon

Managing change Case Study Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1500 words

Managing change - Case Study Example This is because these tenets make managing personal change probable. Before commencing an organizational change; individuals should ask questions such as; what is the organization going to achieve with the change? How and why will they discern that the change is successful? Who will be affected by the change, and what will be their reaction? To what extent can the change be effected with help; and in what areas should assistance be sought? These questions guide the individual effecting change since it makes him or her understand what is being done. This paper shall seek to explain the change management effected in a local insurance company; so that it could be saved from imminent collapse after going bankrupt. The eight stages of change management, as well as three tools of needs assessment, will be used to analyze the change management initiative. Since the local insurance company needs a powerful restructuring plan to save it from imminent collapse, it should consider downsizing some of the high level executive positions. Additionally, it should thin down its organizational chart by laying-off some of the employees conducting programs that are no longer aimed at bringing the company back to its feet. Laying-off workers who have stood by the company for the many years is not an easy task; therefore, it should be done with extreme caution. First and foremost, the underperformers and the underachievers should be the ones to face the axe. This is because they add little value to the company and their dismissal would do the company good. Secondly, while downsizing some of the high level executive positions, it should be noted that some roles done by one executive duplicate to another executive. Therefore, such situations should allow the merging up of two different portfolios that perform almost similar roles. In order to make the change management effective, it is necessary to use Kotter’s eight steps of efficacious change

Stock project Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 750 words

Stock project - Essay Example The company has acquired you tube and feed burner making it easier to access entertainment through the web. It has also acquired documents termed as jotspots, spreadsheets i.e. the 2web technologies and presentations called zenters. Google Company believes in working in a fun environment to develop technology. It also aims to synchronize the information from different companies. The information provided in the search engines is targeted for users as well it is relevant (Susan, 2025). Stock analysis The company stock stood at highs of $588.19 since the upgrading was implemented. The past three months have experienced a market rise in its price earnings of 12%. The company has been able recouple its losses since the adopted upgrading strategy. The share gained 4.5% on 28/11/2009 to close at $588.19. It had lows of $587.55 i.e.-0.11% to -0.64%. The company share price stood at lows of $500 and highest of $600 in the past three month (Market watch, pp.1). The company has been experiencin g threats in its advertising from Facebook that was causing the losses in its share price before upgrading. The company has spent $1.48million in lobby acts to government in an attempt to scrutinize the illegal use of internet activities. This amount has been to be the highest ever spent over the years of its operations. This report was revealed last work. Another reason causing the trend in shares is the feared mounting assault by Facebook team last week. The Facebook team intends to go public i.e. offer it shares hence tarnishes Google along the way. Google Company has intentions of acquiring Motorola Mobility for $12.5billion (Paul, pp.1). This acquisition is the biggest ever to be made by the Company. This has been viewed as an opportunity to make Google a mobile phone marker. The strategy will put the company ahead of its competitors because the latest android feature will be their patent. The threats have been seen from its competitors from the move of acquiring the android pa tent that belongs to Motorola. This will however consume a great deal of money i.e. a third of its cash reserve that may influence its share price. Nevertheless the company has been experiencing a long term upward of its share price for the past three months. It market analysis reveals earnings per share of $27.95 and a price earnings ratio of $21.05. Economic fundamentals The company enjoys high profits rates at the peak of the economic crisis. This has been seen towards the effects of competitors’ weakness to enter the industry of technological advances. The company’s beta stands at 1.12 currently. The company has had an upward trend in its earnings after tax for the past five years. Its growth stands at 42% compared to the industries average of 49% of net income growth. One of the biggest competitors is Apple that lies behind it. Its beta stands at 1.22. Its share market has risen by 12.5% compared to Google’s 25.19%. Its Smart technology on IPhone is however being threatened by the android phones from Google Company. Google Company stands at the highest share price rise in yesterday’s trading. The trend may be different depending on the future operations as its competitors are working tirelessly to be on the lead. I would buy shares of Google Company as they have been having an upward trend. My strategy is to watch the share price growth or decline. I would sell them if the share starts losing and buy them again at a lower price. With its high beta of 1.12, the company is a risky

'Classical pluralism comes nowhere near capturing the reality of local Essay

'Classical pluralism comes nowhere near capturing the reality of local politics' (Stone 2008). Discuss - Essay Example This paper aims to study the classical pluralist theory and analyze how much it is found in our local politics today. Classical pluralism is the view that politics and decision making are mostly located in the government, but there are also non-governmental groups who use many resources to exert their influence on politics and decision making (Barzilai 2003). Discussion What we observe these days in our local politics is actually neopluralism. It is the reconstruction of political science and advancement in the fundamental and traditional structure of classical pluralism of political sociology. Our societies have come a long way from the traditional classic era of classic pluralism of the post second world war era. Pluralist legacy emphasized on the primacy on the pluralist social agents and factors. Neopluralism still falls in the pluralist legacy of the classic, but it has undergone a series of complicated revisions. There are many theoretical perspectives on one of the most fundam ental question of politics. Who should rule? The answer varies from the many, the few, to one? Classical pluralist answer to this question is the rule of many. Although there are not many theories that support the rule of one but classical theories do support the existence of one ruling class or powerful elite. In short we can term it as the rule of the few (Connolly 2010). What is classical pluralism? The central theme of classical pluralism is the concept of unity in diversity proposed by Aristotle. It is also followed by early liberal’s competitive and representative democracy. This theory of liberal democracy in socially diverse countries flourished and evolved into what is called Polyarchy. Polyarchy form of pluralism is about effective rule of elected representatives through a process of free and competitive elections conducted in the supervision of the civil associations of civil liberties. Polyarchy is rooted in the heterogeneous pluralist social structure. The era of 1960’s and 70’s was the era of political and ideological tumultuous and the pluralist theory also responded by evolving into neo pluralist theory. In this theory attention was given to state initiatives. The pluralism of agency was extended to the state-based interest groups (Janosky 2005. The theory of classical pluralism is founded on two building blocks namely interest groups and power politics. It revolves around the idea that interest groups compete with each other to acquire power to further their own interests. The classical pluralist democracy also has equilibrium in place through self correcting balance of political powers. It believes that all the interest groups will have equal opportunities to influence public decision making process. Classical pluralist theory was more an idealistic vision rather than the actual situation although proponents of this theory claimed it to be realistic and based on empirical evidence. This was the first generation of plurali st. Second generation pluralist also called neopluralist were led by Robert Dahl and Charles Linblom. These second generation pluralist were more realistic and realized the inequalities in the theory which were not in favor of the less disadvantaged. Third generation pluralist restricted the identification and categorization of fixed groups with fixed interests (Behrouzi 2006). What are interest groups? There are two views about

Systems and Operations Management Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 2000 words - 1

Systems and Operations Management - Essay Example The main importance of such strategies is to ensure that the relationship with customers is enhanced in order to improve the processes of sales and marketing. Nonetheless, the lack of or presence of internet security is likely to be a major topic of discussion among different countries as well as in a large number of corporations (Peng, 2008). Part One: Option 4 Summary of the text; Achieving Operational Excellence and Customer Intimacy Technology has been extensively applied in transforming the shape of marketing as is used in different organizations. However, with the development and implementation of these advanced technologies a number of changes are experienced within the operational functions of the business. There is thus need to safeguard and protect the information systems, data as well as other information technologies. In this chapter, the major processes associated with advanced technology in the form of online and internet use of the computer is highlighted. The number o f challenges is depicted to be related to Facebook whose users are warned to watch out. In relation to this, there have been a number of reported cases related to theft and presence of malicious software. These are associated with spam, malware as well as other serious security issues. With time, several destructive elements have been introduced into these systems. Similarly to the other viruses circulating within the computer system, these areas were faced with the introduction of Koobface worm in December 2008, the 18 month hacker scam for passwords, which resulted in the entry of the Trojan horse. It is as a result of this that financial data was stolen around the year 2009. The other main challenge was the emails that were created in May 2010 with an intention of stealing logins (Laudon & Laudon, 2013). In comparison to other online tools such as e-mails social sites and especially Facebook is shown as the main target that is used by hackers. It has been related to a high gullib ility level of the users. This is despite the high security measures that have been placed by its dedicated team to include up-to-date measures. The hackers thus make use of â€Å"social engineering† malicious software to develop the attacks aimed at the consumers. As such, it is indicated that there main activities include the theft of passwords and data as well as using botnets. As Laudon and Laudon indicate, it is because of this that different organizations are faced with the task of constantly developing advanced security policies. This is done through the people who include stakeholders within the organization. With this, the organization and specifically its management are presented with the duty to deploy a serious security team to ensure that security is always maintained. These have to be achieved through the application of current technological advancements. They may include the implementation of the website security system, technology that is able to authenticate and security technologies that are applied on an individual basis (2013). The most appropriate way to attain this is through the identification of most of the malicious codes normally used, to identify the different sources of spam and to protect user data. All this is stated as the effort towards responding while making use of the information systems and operations. As such, these steps enhance the action towards providing a number of business solutions since

No real title. it is all about the COP 15 Meeting in Copenhagen Essay

No real title. it is all about the COP 15 Meeting in Copenhagen - Essay Example For the US alone, the impact of climate change is $60 billion annually at 1990 prices from 1990 to 2025 in terms of effects on agriculture, forest, specie extinctions, sea-level rise, morbidity, loss of human lives, migration, hurricane, and pollution (Encyclopedia of Earth, 2008). Many of the US states are expected to have damages from climate change at US$ 1 billion each (Science Daily 2008). In Europe, the European Environment Agency (2004, p. 70) has determined that economic losses from weather disturbances increased from US$ 5 billion to US$11 yearly during 20 years prior to its 2004 report. The European Environment Agency estimate did not include several things but the report is highly indicative of the damage that climate change would make on Europe. The cost or impact to developing countries is anticipated to be higher as the changing climate raise sea levels and warm the globe. A two degrees centigrade of global warming can have a yearly cost of 3 percent of the world’s gross domestic product (Tol 2002, p. 47).1 The 15th Conference of Parties 15 or COP 15 is a conference of 187 countries in Copenhagen (Denmark) mandated to come up with binding agreements among countries on climate change mitigation and adaptation measures. The World Bank acknowledged that if mitigation measures are not adopted, global warming could be 5 degrees centigrade by the end of the century (World Bank 2010, p. 1). This paper assesses the COP 15 of Copenhagen and identifies the lessons with regard to the ability of international environmental conference processes to develop collectively beneficial agreements. Sampaio et al. (2009, p. 6-9) summarizes the results of the Conferences of Parties (COP) prior to COP 15 and is the main source of this paper on earlier COPs. COP 1 held 1995 in Berlin agreed that nations should take action to curb greenhouse emissions and

African American Contributions to American History Essay Example for Free

African American Contributions to American History Essay Many blacks contributed to the success of our country in every war that we as a people have ever fought. In order to properly thank them for their heroic effort, I as a Hispanic Caucasian must give credit where credit is due. In order to properly do so, I must begin with the contributions of â€Å"Black America† beginning with the American Revolution and continue up until the World War II. Make no mistake blacks made contributions well past World War II, but in the interest of time and accuracy I must stay within the confines of our earlier history. One main aspect that should be analyzed is the fact that no matter how hard the struggle, blacks have always overcome adversity no matter what the cost. Of course, contributions made by blacks are not limited to war alone, but include a wide spectrum of achievements that have advanced civilization as a whole. My personal respect and thanks go to all people who have served and continue to serve this country at any capacity. But we must never forget the contributions made by our black brothers and sisters who gave their lives fighting for a cause that so greatly affected their lives as well as our well being. Charles Dickens said it best in his book A Tale of Two Cities, â€Å"It was the best of times it was the worst of times†. The American Revolution was a time of great struggle for people of all races. But, Blacks in particular understood the literal meaning of patriot rhetoric, eagerly took up the cause of American freedom, fighting bravely in the early confrontations with the British. Though the revolution freed some blacks and set the country on a course toward the abolition of slavery, political accommodation to plantation owners forestalled emancipation for many blacks in the south for 90 more years. A black man was one of the first martyrs of the patriot cause. Crispus Attucks, apparently a slave who had run away from his owner 20 years before, died in the Boston Massacre in 1770. Though facts were disputed at trials then as now, witnesses said Attucks hit a British officer with a large piece of firewood, grabbed a bayonet and urged the crowd to attack just before the British fired. Attucks and two others were killed while eight were wounded, two mortally. Blacks served at the battles of Lexington and Concord. Peter Salem, a freed slave, stood on the green at Lexington facing the British when the first battle broke out with the shot that was heard around the world. One of the last men wounded in the battle as the British escaped to Boston was Prince Estabrook, a black man from West Lexington. At least 20 blacks, including Peter Salem, were in the ranks two months later when the British attacked an American position outside Boston in the Battle of Bunker Hill. Salem has been honored for firing the shot that killed Major John Pitcairn, the British officer who led the Redcoats when they had attacked his small unit at Lexington. Unable to venture outside Boston and then threatened with cannon surrounding the city, the British left Boston for New York. As the war changed from a Massachusetts endeavor to a broader conflict throughout the colonies, the politics of race changed dramatically. Blacks had been welcomed in the New England militia, but Congress initially decided against having them in the Continental army. Congress needed support from the South if all the colonies were to win their independence from England. Since southern plantation owners wanted to keep their slaves, they were afraid to give guns to blacks. Congress ordered all blacks removed from the army, but black veterans appealed directly to George Washington, who took up their cause with John Hancock, president of the Continental Congress. Blacks serving in the army were allowed to stay, but new enlistments were forbidden. Though the Declaration of Independence declared that all men were created equal, many blacks soon saw more opportunity on the British side. The British governor of Virginia promised immediate freedom and wages to any slave who would join the Kings army. Hundreds flocked to the standard of the governor, Lord Dunmore, but he was denied a base on the land by the American forces and many of the blacks who joined him died of smallpox on overcrowded ships. The loyalty of blacks was a serious issue for the American leaders because blacks made up one-fifth of the two million people in the colonies. With the British soldiers already outnumbering the American troops, and recruitment difficult for the patriots, the northern colonies soon again began to enlist blacks. Rhode Island made up a regiment almost entirely of blacks. As the war continued, colonies as far south as Maryland and Virginia were recruiting free blacks for the American cause. As the war spread into the South, Congress found it needed to recruit slaves. It offered to pay South Carolina slave owners $1,000 for able-bodied male slaves. The slaves would receive no pay, but would be given $50 and their freedom at the end of the war if they served well and faithfully. The South Carolina Assembly threatened to leave the war, dooming the plan in the southernmost colonies. Recruitment of blacks to the American cause continued further north, but the patriots had less success than the British. The offer of immediate freedom extended by Virginia’s unfortunate loyalist governor was eventually made by the British throughout the colonies. Slaves joined the British by the tens of thousands. The fate of the loyalist blacks varied considerably. Some were captured by Americans and either returned to their masters or treated as war loot and sold back into slavery. Approximately 20,000 were with the British at the end of the war, taken to Canada or the Caribbean. Some became the founders of the British colony of Sierra Leone in West Africa. Even though the British offered slaves a better deal, many blacks served on the American side. They made up a sizeable share of the men in the Continental navy, state navies and the large force of American privateers. Blacks had long been in the labor force on ships and at seaports. On the water, then as now, skill counted for more than politics. The precise role of blacks in the revolution is difficult to quantify. Blacks in those days generally did not write. The people who did write early histories of the revolution were whites and concentrated on the efforts of white men. Also, many participants in the revolution were not specifically identified by race in the documents of the time and historians now have no way of knowing whether they were black. When blacks were allowed to serve in the American military, they often did work as laborers, sometimes in addition to regular soldier duties. Usually they were privates, though a few rose to command small groups of men. The words of the Declaration of Independence were taken literally by blacks and some whites. In, 1780, Pennsylvania became the first colony to pass a law phasing out slavery. Children born to slaves after that date were granted their freedom when they reached 28. Other northern states followed. The Superior Court of Massachusetts held in 1783 that slavery violated the state constitution, and New Hampshire also ended slavery by a court ruling. Vermont outlawed slavery and Connecticut and Rhode Island passed gradual emancipation laws. New York outlawed slavery in 1799 and New Jersey followed in 1804. The international slave trade was outlawed in 1808. Progress then came to a stop. A boom in cotton production spread the slave economy into the lower Mississippi Valley. Slave states were careful to control at least half the political power in the federal government, blocking any national movement against slavery until the Civil War. The 54th Massachusetts Regiment On January 1, 1863, President Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation, freeing the slaves in the rebelling territories of the confederacy and authorizing Black enlistment in the Union Army. Since the beginning of the Civil War, free Black people in general, and Black Bostonians in particular, were ready to gather arms on behalf of the Union, yet they were prevented from doing so. Popular racial stereotypes and institutional discrimination against Blacks in the military contributed to the prevailing myth that Black men lacked the intelligence and bravery necessary to serve their country. By the fall of 1862, however, the lack of White Union enlistment and confederate victories at Antietem forced the U. S. government to reconsider its racist policy. As Congress met in October to address the issue of Black enlistment, various troops of Black volunteers had already been organized, including the First South Carolina and the Kansas Colored Troops. It wasnt until January 26, 1863; however, that secretary of war Edwin Stanton authorized the enlistment of Black troops. As a result, the 54th Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteer infantry was founded, becoming the first all-Black Union regiment raised in the north. Training began for Black volunteers at Camp Meigs in Reedville, MA on February 21, 1863. Although some members of the community voiced opposition to the prevention of Black men from achieving the rank of colonel or officer, most community activists urged Black men to seize the opportunity to serve in the Union forces. The fear many Black volunteers had about the potential racism of White officers and colonels was calmed when Massachusetts Governor John Andrew assured Bostonians that White officers assigned to the 54th Regiment would be young men of military experience, of firm anti-slavery principles, ambitious, superior to a vulgar contempt for color, and having faith in the capacity of colored men for military service. Andrew held to his word, appointing 25-year-old Robert Gould Shaw as colonel and George P. Hallowell as Lieutenant. The son of wealthy abolitionists, Shaw had been educated in Europe and at Harvard before joining the seventh New York National Guard in 1861. In 1862, when Governor Andrew contacted Shaws father about the prospect of commissioning his son as colonel of the soon-to-be organized fifty-fourth, Shaw was an officer in the Second Massachusetts Infantry. Although reluctant to accept the commission, Shaw eventually became colonel. By the time training began at Camp Meigs, Shaw and his officers began work with the soldiers whose bravery would forever change public perception of Black military skill and valor. Black community leaders across the country such as Frederick Douglass and William Wells Brown served as recruiting agents for the Union army. As a result, over 1000 volunteers enlisted in the 54th Regiment, a response so overwhelming that Massachusetts organized a second Black regiment, the fifty-fifth. Men of the fifty-fourth represented twenty-four states, the District of Columbia, the West Indies, and Africa. Approximately 25% of them had been slaves, over 50% were literate, and, although as civilians they had worked in forty-six different occupations, the overwhelming majorities (55%) were common laborers. Regardless of origin, occupation, or social class, the men of the 54th Regiment both inspired Bostons Black community and provided a symbol of pride for abolitionists across the country. Activists such as William Lloyd Garrison and Frederick Douglass visited Camp Meigs to show their support. Although the organization of the 54th Regiment resolved the conflict over Black enlistment in the Union army, the struggle of Black soldiers to gain respect in the military was just beginning. Upon arrival in the south, the Black soldiers were often treated as common laborers and the potential for their valor on the battlefield was disregarded. Upon arriving in Georgia on June 11, they were ordered by Col. James Montgomery of the Department of the South to raid the town of Darien. Reports of Black soldiers burning buildings and ravaging the homes of townspeople confirmed stereotypes of Black soldiers as un-trainable brutes. Col. Shaw found the raid on Darien barbarous and distasteful, and sent a letter to Brigadier General George C. Strong, requesting that the men be used in the planned attack on Fort Wagner, South Carolina. On July 16, the 54th Regiment fought alongside White soldiers of the 10th Connecticut Infantry in a skirmish on James Island, SC. This battle redeemed the Black soldiers fighting ability in the eyes of White skeptics, including General Strong, who commanded the 54th Regiment to lead the assault on Fort Wagner, scheduled for July 18. Strategically, a successful attack on Fort Wagner would allow Union forces to seize control of Charleston Harbor. Located on Morris Island, Fort Wagner protected Battery Gregg overlooking Fort Sumter. Thus, seizure of Fort Wagner was valuable because it enabled the Union to shell Sumter and close the harbor to confederate blockade runners, thereby paving the way for further Union attack on Charleston. Fort Wagner was located at the northern tip of Morris Island, and was controlled by 1700 troops and 17 artillery guns. Depleted to just over 600 men by the skirmish two days previous, the men of the 54th Regiment were ordered to lead the assault on Fort Wagner with the backing of regiments from New York, Connecticut, Maine, and Pennsylvania. Before the charge commenced, Colonel Shaw ordered the regiment to prove yourselves as men. Within 200 feet of the Fort, the confederates began to attack as the brave men of the 54th Regiment struggled through darkness, four-foot deep water, and marshland. Colonel Shaw, accompanied by dwindling numbers of dying men, managed to reach the top of the parapet where a bitter hand-to-hand combat ensued, the Black Union soldiers with bayonets against the White Confederate soldiers with handspikes and gun rammers. Colonel Shaw was mortally wounded with a pierce through the heart, along with a dozen of his men. Meanwhile, members of the 54th Regiment some wounded, some dying began to retreat; those who refused to back down were taken prisoner. As the smoke cleared, evidence of Confederate victory was immediately apparent, with 174 Rebel casualties and 1515 Union soldiers dead or wounded. Of the eleven regiments who participated in the Union assault, the fifty-forth Regiment accrued the most casualties, with 256 of their 600 men dead or wounded. Despite the heavy losses, the assault on Fort Wagner proved to the nation and the world the valor of Black soldiers in general and the men of the 54th Regiment in particular. From the ranks of the fifty-forth came stories of unfailing patriotism and undying glory. The men of the 54th Massachusetts Regiment, their White officers, colonel, and allies, not only struck a blow for American freedom and unity, they also proved to the nation and the world the valor, bravery, and devotion of African American soldiers. In the sacrifice made by Col. Shaw and his soldiers, Americans witnessed, for the first time, the supremacy of equality over racism, discrimination, and ignorance. Upon his death at Fort Wagner, the body of Col. Shaw was placed in a mass grave on Morris Island along with the bodies of his soldiers. The lack of proper military burial for a man who had distinguished himself as a soldier and as a leader was intended to insult the honor of Shaw and his family, who were deemed as race traitors by Confederates and White unionists alike. However, upon learning that his son had been buried with his black soldiers, Francis Shaw stated, with dignity, that We hold that a soldiers most appropriate burial place is on the field where he has fallen. This statement and the honor displayed by the Shaw family and veterans of the fifty-fourth helped immortalize Shaw and his men as symbols of the Civil War battle for unity and equality. As a result of the 54th Regiment, over 180,000 Black men enlisted under the Union flag between 1863 and 1865. AFRICAN AMERICAN MILITARY SERVICE from WWI through WWII. During the global conflicts of the first half of the 20th century, U. S. servicemen fought in Europe for the first time in the nation’s history. African Americans were among the troops committed to combat in World War I (WWI) and World War II (WWII), even though they and other black Americans were denied the full blessings of the freedom for which the United States had pledged to fight. Traditional racist views about the use of black troops in combat initially excluded African Americans from the early recruiting efforts and much of the actual combat in both wars. Nonetheless, large numbers of African Americans still volunteered to fight for their country in 1917-18 and 1940-45. Once again, many black servicemen hoped their military contribution and sacrifice would prove to their white countrymen that African Americans desired and deserved a fully participatory role in U. S. society. Unfortunately, the deeply entrenched negative racial attitudes prevalent among much of the white American population, including many of the nation’s top military and civilian leaders, made it very difficult for blacks to serve in the military establishment of this period. African-American servicemen suffered numerous indignities and received little respect from white troops and civilians alike. The historic contributions by blacks to the defense of the United States were usually ignored or downplayed, while combat failures similar to those of whites and violent racial incidents often provoked by whites were exaggerated into a condemnation of all African Americans. In the Jim Crow world of pre-1945 America, black servicemen confronted not only the hostility of enemies abroad but that of enemies at home. African-American soldiers and sailors had two formidable obstacles to deal with: discrimination and segregation. Yet, black servicemen in both world wars repeatedly demonstrated their bravery, loyalty, and ability in combat or in support of frontline troops. Oftentimes, they accomplished these tasks without proper training or adequate equipment. Poor communications and a lack of rapport with their white officers were two additional burdens hampering the effectiveness and efficiency of African Americans in the military. Too frequently, there was little or no recognition or gratitude for their accomplishments. One of the worst slights of both wars was the willingness of the white establishment to allow racism to influence the award of the prestigious Medal of Honor. Although several exceptionally heroic African Americans performed deeds worthy of this honor, not one received at the time the award that their bravery and self-sacrifice deserved. It took over 70 years for the United States to rectify this error for WWI and over 50 years for WWII. Despite the hardships and second-class status, their participation in both wars helped to transform many African-American veterans as well as helped to eventually change the United States. Though still limited by discrimination and segregation at home, their sojourn in Europe during WWI and WWII made many black servicemen aware that the racial attitudes so common among white Americans did not prevail everywhere else. The knowledge that skin color did not preclude dignity and respect made many black veterans unwilling to submit quietly to continuing racial discrimination once they returned to the United States. In addition, the growing importance of black votes beginning in the 1930s and 1940s forced the nation’s political and military leaders to pay more attention to African Americans’ demands, particularly in regard to the military. Although it was a tedious and frustrating process, one too often marked by cosmetic changes rather than real reform, by the end of WWII, the U. S. military establishment slowly began to make some headway against racial discrimination and segregation within its ranks. The stage was set for President Harry S Truman’s landmark executive order of 26 July 1948. Another main contribution of note would be the trails and tribulations of the Tuskegee Airmen. In the 1940s, it was still believed that Blacks were incapable of flying aircraft. This myth was dispelled with the help of the U. S. Congress. On June 27, 1939 THE CIVILIAN PILOT TRAINING ACT was passed. This solitary ACT helped to create a reserve of civilian pilots to be called in case of War. Young black pilots were given the opportunity to train with U. S. approved programs located at TUSKEGEE INSTITUTE. The SELECTIVE SERVICE ACT OF 1940 also increased the opportunity for a broader participation of Blacks in the military when it banned discrimination in the selection and training of all American citizens because of race and color. The success of the CIVILIAN PILOT TRAINING ACT helped put the 99TH PURSUIT SQUADRON OF TUSKEGEE on the map. It was said that the success of Negro youth in the Army Air Force would be predicated upon the success of the Tuskegee Experiment. HBOs docudrama, THE TUSKEGEE AIRMEN, is a good depiction of this era of Black Americans seeking acceptance as military pilots. Because of the opportunity provided by the Civilian Pilot Training Act, the number of Blacks in the ARMY AIR FORCE jumped from 2,250 in 1941 to over 145,000 by 1944. The two major groups to see combat as AAF men were the 99TH PURSUIT SQUADRON and the 332ND FIGHTER GROUP. Out of the 332nd Group came the 100th, 301st, and 302nd Squadrons under the command of Lieutenant Colonel BENJAMIN O. DAVIS, SR. , who became Americas FIRST AFRICAN AMERICAN GENERAL on October 25, 1940. By 1944, the 99th was added to the 332nd and participated in campaigns in Sicily, Rome, and Romania. The 99th and 332nd earned many DISTINGUISHED UNIT CITATIONS. These historical examples are but a small sample of the many great contributions and sacrifices made by black people in order to secure freedom and prosperity for this great nation. We owe them a debt than can never be fully repaid. If anything these great contributions should curtail any negative or racial thoughts toward such a magnanimous people. You would think that with all that has transpired throughout history, that we as a people could live and coexist together with peace and harmony. My only hope is that with time people will come to realize that we are all not that different from one another and that we can thrive together for a better future for all of us.