Y.T.'s mom works in Fedland. She has parked her little car in her own little numbered slot, for which the Feds require her to pay about ten percent of her salary (if she doesn't like it she can take a taxi or walk) and walked up several levels of a blindingly lit reinforced-concrete helix in which most of the spaces -- the good spaces closer to the surface -- are reserved for people other than her, but empty. She always walks up the center of the ramp1, between the rows of parked cars, so that the EBGOC boys won't think she's lurking2, loitering, skulking3, malingering, or smoking.
Reaching the subterranean4 entrance of her building, she has taken all metal objects from her pockets and removed what little jewelry5 she's wearing and dumped them into a dirty plastic bowl and walked through the detector6. Flashed her badge. Signed her name and noted7 down the digital time. Submitted to a frisking from an EBGOC girl. Annoying, but it sure beats a cavity search. They have a right to do a cavity search if they want. She got cavity searched every day for a month once, right after she had spoken up at a meeting and suggested that her supervisor8 might be on the wrong track with a major programming project. It was punitive9 and vicious, she knew it was, but she always wanted to give something back to her country, and whenever you work for the Feds you just accept the fact that there's going to be some politicking10. And that as a low-level person you're going to bear the brunt. And later on, you climb the GS ladder, don't have to put up with as much shit. Far be it from her to quarrel with her supervisor. Her supervisor, Marietta, doesn't have an especially stellar CS level, but she does have access. She has connections. Marietta knows people who know people. Marietta has attended cocktail11 parties that were also attended by some people who, well, your eyes would bug12 out.
She has passed the frisking with flying colors. Put the metal stuff back into her pockets. Climbed up half a dozen flights of stairs to her floor. The elevators here still work, but some very highly placed people in Fedland have let it be known -- nothing official, but they have ways of letting this stuff out -- that it is a duty to conserve13 energy. And the Feds are real serious about duty. Duty, loyalty14, responsibility. The collagen that binds15 us into the United States of America. So the stairwells are filled with sweaty wool and clacking leather. If you took the elevator, no one would actually say anything, but it would be noticed. Noticed and written down and taken into account. People would look at you, glance you up and down, like, what happened, sprain16 your ankle? Taking the stairs is no problem.
Feds don't smoke. Feds generally don't overeat. The health plan is very specific, contains major incentives17, get too heavy or wheezy and, no one says anything about it -- which would be rude -- but you feel a definite pressure, a sense of not fitting in, as you walk across the sea of desks, eyes glance up to follow you, estimating the mass of your saddlebags, eyes darting18 back and forth19 between desks as, by consensus20, your co-workers say to themselves, I wonder how much he or she is driving up our health plan premiums21?
So Y.T.'s mom has clacked up the stairs in her black pumps and gone into her office, actually a large room with computer workstations placed across it in a grid22. Used to be divided up by partitions, but the EBGOC boys didn't like it, said what would happen if there had to be an evacuation? All those partitions would impede23 the free flow of unhinged panic. So no more partitions. Just workstations and chairs. Not even any desktops25. Desktops encourage the use of paper, which is archaic26 and reflects inadequate27 team spirit. What is so special about your work that you have to write it down on a piece of paper that only you get to see? That you have to lock it away inside a desk? When you're working for the Feds, everything you do is the property of the United States of America. You do your work on the computer. The computer keeps a copy of everything, so that if you get sick or something, it's all there where your co-workers and supervisors28 can get access to it. If you want to write little notes or make phone doodles, you're perfectly29 free to do that at home, in your spare time. And there's the question of interchangeability. Fed workers, like military people, are intended to be interchangeable parts. What happens if your workstation should break down? You're going to sit there and twiddle your thumbs until it gets fixed30? No siree, you're going to move to a spare workstation and get to work on that. And you don't have that flexibility31 if you've got half a ton of personal stuff cached inside of a desk, strewn around a desktop24.
So there is no paper in a Fed office. All the workstations are the same. You come in in the morning, pick one at random32, sit down, and get to work. You could try to favor a particular station, try to sit there every day, but it would be noticed. Generally you pick the unoccupied workstation that's closest to the door. That way, whoever came in earliest sits closest, whoever came in latest is way in the back, for the rest of the day it's obvious at a glance who's on the ball in this office and who is -- as they whisper to each other in the bathrooms -- having problems.
Not that it's any big secret, who comes in first. When you sign on to a workstation in the morning, it's not like the central computer doesn't notice that fact. The central computer notices just about everything. Keeps track of every key you hit on the keyboard, all day long, what time you hit it, down to the microsecond, whether it was the right key or the wrong key, how many mistakes you make and when you make them. You're only required to be at your workstation from eight to five, with a half-hour lunch break and two ten-minute coffee breaks, but if you stuck to that schedule it would definitely be noticed, which is why Y.T.'s mom is sliding into the first unoccupied workstation and signing on to her machine at quarter to seven. Half a dozen other people are already here, signed on to workstations closer to the entrance, but this isn't bad. She can look forward to a reasonably stable career if she can keep up this sort of performance. The Feds still operate in Flatland. None of this three-dimensional stuff, no goggles33, no stereo sound. The computers are all basic flat-screen two-dimensional numbers. Windows appear on the desktop, with little text documents inside. All part of the austerity program. Soon to reap major benefits.
She signs on and checks her mail. No personal mail, just a couple of mass-distributed pronouncements from Marietta.
NEW TP POOL REGULATIONS
I've been asked to distribute the new regulations regarding office pool displays. The enclosed memo34 is a new subchapter of the EBGOC Procedure Manual, replacing the old subchapter entitled PHYSICAL PLANT/CALIFORNIA/LOS ANGELES/BUILDINGS/OFFICE AREAS/PHYSICAL LAYOUT REGULATIONS/EMPLOYEE INPUT/GROUP ACTIVITIES.
The old subchapter was a flat prohibition35 on the use of office space or time for "pool" activities of any kind, whether permanent (e.g., coffee pool) or one-time (e.g., birthday parties).
This prohibition still applies, but a single, one-time exception has now been made for any office that wishes to pursue a joint36 bathroom-tissue strategy.
By way of introduction, let me just make a few general comments on this subject. The problem of distributing bathroom tissue to workers presents inherent challenges for any office management system due to the inherent unpredictability of usage -- not every facility usage transaction necessitates37 the use of bathroom tissue, and when it is used, the amount needed (number of squares) may vary quite widely from person to person and, for a given person, from one transaction to the next. This does not even take into account the occasional use of bathroom tissue for unpredictable/creative purposes such as applying/removing cosmetics38, beverage39-spill management, etc For this reason, rather than trying to package bathroom tissue in small one-transaction packets (as is done with premoistened towelettes, for example), which can be wasteful40 in some cases and limiting in other cases, it has been traditional to package this product in bulk distribution units whose size exceeds the maximum amount of squares that an individual could conceivably use in a single transaction (barring force majeure). This reduces to a minimum the number of transactions in which the distribution unit is depleted41 (the roll runs out) during the transaction, a situation that can lead to emotional stress for the affected42 employee. However, it does present the manager with some challenges in that the distribution unit is rather bulky and must be repeatedly used by a number of different individuals if it is not to be wasted.
Since the implementation43 of Phase XVII of the Austerity Program, employees have been allowed to bring their own bathroom tissue from home. This approach is somewhat bulky and redundant44, as every worker usually brings their own roll.
Some offices have attempted to meet this challenge by instituting bathroom-tissue pools.
Without overgeneralizing, it may be stated that an inherent and irreducible feature of any bathroom-tissue pool implemented45 at the office level, in an environment (i.e., building) in which comfort stations are distributed on a per-floor basis (i.e., in which several offices share a single facility) is that provision must be made within the confines of the individual office for temporary stationing of bathroom tissue distribution units (i.e., rolls). This follows from the fact that if the BTDUs (rolls) are stationed, while inactive, outside of the purview46 of the controlling office (i.e., the office that has collectively purchased the BTDU) -- that is, if the BTDUS are stored, for example, in a lobby area or within the facility in which they are actually utilized47, they will be subject to pilferage49 and "shrinkage" as unauthorized persons consume them, either as part of a conscious effort to pilfer48 or out of an honest misunderstanding, i.e., a belief that the BTDUs are being provided free of charge by the operating agency (in this case the United States Government), or as the result of necessity, as in the case of a beverage spill that is encroaching on sensitive electronic equipment and whose management will thus brook51 no delay. This fact has led certain offices (which shall go unnamed -- you know who you are, guys) to establish makeshift BTDU depots52 that also serve as pool-contribution collection points. Usually, these depots take the form of a table, near the door closest to the facility, on which the BTDUs are stacked or otherwise deployed53, with a bowl or some other receptacle in which participants may place their contributions, and typically with a sign or other attention-getting device (such as a stuffed animal or cartoon) requesting donations. A quick glance at the current regulations will show that placement of such a display/depot violates the procedure manual. However, in the interests of employee hygiene54, morale55, and group spirit-building, my higher-ups have agreed to make a one-time exception in the regulations for this purpose.
As with any part of the procedure manual, new or old, it is your responsibility to be thoroughly56 familiar with this material. Estimated reading time for this document is 15.62 minutes (and don't think we won't check). Please make note of the major points made in this document, as follows:
1) BTDU depot/displays are now allowed, on a trial basis, with the new policy to be reviewed in six months.
2) These must be operated on a voluntary, pool-type basis, as described in the subchapter on employee pools. (Note: This means keeping books and tallying57 all financial transactions.)
3) BTDUs must be brought in by the employees (not shipped through the mailroom) and are subject to all the usual search-and-seizure regulations.
4) Scented58 BTDUs are prohibited as they may cause allergic59 reactions, wheezing60, etc. in some persons.
5) Cash pool donations, as with all monetary61 transactions within the U.S. Government, must use official U.S. currency -- no yen62 or Kongbucks!
Naturally, this will lead to a bulk problem if people try to use the donation bucket as a dumping ground for bundles of old billion. and trillion-dollar bills. The Buildings and Grounds people are worried about waste-disposal problems and the potential fire hazard that may ensue if large piles of billions and trillions begin to mount up. Therefore, a key feature of the new regulation is that the donation bucket must be emptied every day -- more often if an excessive build-up situation is seen to develop.
In this vein64, the B & C people would also like me to point out that many of you who have excess U.S. currency to get rid of have been trying to kill two birds with one stone by using old billions as bathroom tissue. While creative, this approach has two drawbacks:
1) It clogs65 the plumbing66, and
2) It constitutes defacement of U.S. currency, which is a federal crime.
DON'T DO IT.
Join your office bathroom-tissue pool instead. It's easy, it's hygienic, and it's legal.
Happy pooling!
Marietta.
Y.T.'s mom pulls up the new memo, checks the time, and starts reading it. The estimated reading time is 15.62 minutes. Later, when Marietta does her end-of-day statistical67 roundup, sitting in her private office at 9:00 P.M., she will see the name of each employee and next to it, the amount of time spent reading this memo, and her reaction, based on the time spent, will go something like this:
Less than 10 min.: Time for an employee conference and possible attitude counseling.
10-14 min.: Keep an eye on this employee; may be developing slipshod attitude.
14-15.61 min.: Employee is an efficient worker, may sometimes miss important details.
Exactly 15.62 min.: Smartass. Needs attitude counseling.
15.63-16 min.: Asswipe. Not to be trusted.
16-18 min.: Employee is a methodical worker, may sometimes get hung up on minor68 details.
More than 18 min.: Check the security videotape, see just what this employee was up to (e.g., possible unauthorized restroom break).
Y.T.'s mom decides to spend between fourteen and fifteen minutes reading the memo. It's better for younger workers to spend too long, to show that they're careful, not cocky. It's better for older workers to go a little fast, to show good management potential. She's pushing forty. She scans through the memo, hitting the Page Down button at reasonably regular intervals69, occasionally paging back up to pretend to reread some earlier section. The computer is going to notice all this. It approves of rereading. It's a small thing, but over a decade or so this stuff really shows up on your work-habits summary.
Having got that out of the way, she dives into work. She is an applications programmer for the Feds. In the old days, she would have written computer programs for a living. Nowadays, she writes fragments of computer programs. These programs are designed by Marietta and Marietta's superiors in massive week-long meetings on the top floor. Once they get the design down, they start breaking up the problem into tinier and tinier segments, assigning them to group managers, who break them down even more and feed little bits of work to the individual programmers. In order to keep the work done by the individual coders from colliding, it all has to be done according to a set of rules and regulations even bigger and more fluid than the Government procedure manual.
So the first thing that Y.T.'s mother does, having read the new subchapter on bathroom tissue pools, is to sign onto a subsystem of the main computer system that handles the particular programming project she's working on. She doesn't know what the project is -- that's classified -- or what it's called. It's just her project. She shares it with a few hundred other programmers, she's not sure exactly who. And every day when she signs on to it, there's a stack of memos71 waiting for her, containing new regulations and changes to the rules that they all have to follow when writing code for the project. These regulations make the business with the bathroom tissue seem as simple and elegant as the Ten Commandments.
So she spends until about eleven A.M. reading, rereading, and understanding the new changes in the Project. There are many of these, because this is a Monday morning and Marietta and her higher-ups spent the whole weekend closeted on the top floor, having a catfight about this Project, changing everything.
Then she starts going back over all the code she has previously72 written for the Project and making a list of all the stuff that will have to be rewritten in order to make it compatible with the new specifications73. Basically, she's going to have to rewrite all of her material from the ground up. For the third time in as many months.
But hey, it's a job.
About eleven-thirty, she looks up, startled, to see that half a dozen people are standing50 around her workstation. There's Marietta. And a proctor. And some male Feds. And Leon the polygraph man.
"I just had mine on Thursday," she says.
"Time for another one," Marietta says. "Come on, let's get this show on the road."
"Hands out where I can see them," the proctor says.
Y.T.'s mom stands up, hands to her sides, and starts walking. She walks straight out of the office. None of the other people look up. Not supposed to. Insensitive to co-workers' needs. Makes the testee feel awkward and singled out, when in fact the polygraph is just part of the whole Fed way of life. She can hear the snapping footsteps of the proctor behind her, walking two paces behind, watching, keeping her eyes on those hands so they can't be doing anything, like popping a Valium or something else that might throw off the test.
She stops in front of the bathroom door. The proctor walks in front of her, holds it open, and she walks in, followed by the proctor.
The last stall on the left is oversized, big enough for two people. Y.T.'s mom goes in, followed by the proctor, who closes and locks the door. Y.T.'s morn pulls down her panty hose, pulls up her skirt, squats74 over a pan, pees. The proctor watches every drop go into the pan, picks it up, empties it into a test tube that is already labeled with her name and today's date.
Then it's back out to the lobby, followed again by the proctor. You're allowed to use the elevators on your way to the polygraph room, so you won't be out of breath and sweaty when you get there.
It used to be just a plain office with a chair and some instruments on a table. Then they got the new, fancy polygraph system. Now it's like going in for some kind of high-tech75 medical scan. The room is completely rebuilt, no vestige76 of its original function, the window covered over, everything smooth and beige and smelling like a hospital. There's only one chair, in the middle. Y.T.'s mom goes and sits down in it, puts her arms on the arms of the chair, nestles her fingertips and palms into the little depressions that await. The neoprene fist of the blood-pressure cuff77 gropes blindly, finds her arm, and seizes it. Meanwhile, the room lights are dimming, the door is closing, she's all alone. The crown of thorns closes over her head, she feels the pricks79 of the electrodes through her scalp, senses the cool air flowing down over her shoulders from the superconducting quantum-interference devices that serve as radar80 into her brain. Somewhere on the other side of the wall, she knows, half a dozen personnel techs are sitting in a control room, looking at a big-screen blow-up of her pupils.
Then she feels a burning prick78 in her forearm and knows she's been injected with something. Which means it's not a normal polygraph exam. Today she's in for something special. The burning spreads throughout her body, her heart thumps81, eyes water. She's been shot up with caffeine to make her hyper, make her talkative.
So much for getting any work done today. Sometimes these things go for twelve hours.
"What is your name?" a voice says. It's an unnaturally82 calm and liquid voice. Computer generated. That way, everything it says to her is impartial83, stripped of emotional content, she has no way to pick up any cues as to how the interrogation is going.
The caffeine, and the other things that they inject her with, screw up her sense of time also.
She hates these things, but it happens to everyone from time to time, and when you go to work for the Feds, you sign on the dotted line and give permission for it. In a way, it's a mark of pride and honor. Everyone who works for the Feds has their heart in it. Because if they didn't, it would come out plain as day when it is their turn to sit in this chair.
The questions go on and on. Mostly nonsense questions. "Have you ever been to Scotland? Is white bread more expensive than wheat bread?" This is just to get her settled down, get all systems running smoothly84. They throw out all the stuff they get from the first hour of the interrogation, because it's lost in the noise.
She can feel herself relaxing into it. They say that after a few polygraphs, you learn to relax, the whole thing goes quicker. The chair holds her in place, the caffeine keeps her from getting drowsy85, the sensory86 deprivation87 clears out her mind.
"What is your daughter's nickname?"
"How do you refer to your daughter?"
"I call her by her nickname. Y.T. She kind of insists on it."
"Does Y.T. have a job?"
"Yes. She works as Kourier. She works for RadiKS."
"How much money does Y.T. make as a Kourier?"
"I don't know. A few bucks63 here and there."
"How often does she purchase new equipment for her job?"
"I'm not aware. I don't really keep track of that."
"Has Y.T. done anything unusual lately?"
"That depends on what you mean." She knows she's equivocating88. "She's always doing things that some people might label as unusual." That doesn't sound too good, sounds like an endorsement89 of nonconformity. "I guess what I'm saying is, she's always doing unusual things."
"Has Y.T. broken anything in the house recently?"
"Yes." She gives up. The Feds already know this, her house is bugged90 and tapped, it's a wonder it doesn't short out the electrical grid, all the extra stuff wired into it. "She broke my computer."
"Did she give an explanation for why she broke the computer?"
"Yes. Sort of. I mean, if nonsense counts as an explanation."
"What was her explanation?"
"She was afraid -- this is so ridiculous -- she was afraid I was going to catch a virus from it."
"Was Y.T. also afraid of catching91 this virus?"
"No. She said that only programmers could catch it."
Why are they asking her all of these questions? They have all of this stuff on tape.
"Did you believe Y.T.'s explanation of why she broke the computer?"
That's it.
That's what they're after.
They want to know the only thing they can't directly tap -- what's going on in her mind. They want to know whether she believes Y.T.'s virus story.
And she knows she's making a mistake just thinking these thoughts. Because those supercooled SQUIDs around her head are picking it up. They can't tell what she's thinking. But they can tell that something's going on in her brain, that she's using parts of her brain right now that she didn't use when they were asking the nonsense questions.
In other words, they can tell that she is analyzing92 the situation, trying to figure them out. And she wouldn't be doing that unless she wanted to hide something.
"What is it you want to know?" she says. "Why don't you just come out and ask me directly? Let's talk about this face to face. Just sit down together in a room like adults and talk about it."
She feels another sharp prick in her arm, feels numbness93 and coldness spreading all across her body over an interval70 of a couple of seconds as the drug mixes with her bloodstream. It's getting harder to follow the conversation.
"What is your name?" the voice says.
收听单词发音 |
1
ramp
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| n.暴怒，斜坡，坡道；vi.作恐吓姿势，暴怒，加速；vt.加速 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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skulking
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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detector
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| n.发觉者，探测器 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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supervisor
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| n.监督人，管理人，检查员，督学，主管，导师 | |
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punitive
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| adj.惩罚的，刑罚的 | |
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politicking
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| n.政治活动，竞选活动v.从政( politic的现在分词 ) | |
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cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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conserve
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| vt.保存，保护，节约，节省，守恒，不灭 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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binds
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| v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 )；装订；捆绑；（用长布条）缠绕 | |
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sprain
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| n.扭伤,扭筋 | |
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incentives
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| 激励某人做某事的事物( incentive的名词复数 )； 刺激； 诱因； 动机 | |
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darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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consensus
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| n.(意见等的)一致，一致同意，共识 | |
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premiums
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| n.费用( premium的名词复数 )；保险费；额外费用；（商品定价、贷款利息等以外的）加价 | |
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grid
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| n.高压输电线路网；地图坐标方格；格栅 | |
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impede
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，阻止 | |
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desktop
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| n.桌面管理系统程序；台式 | |
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desktops
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| 桌面( desktop的名词复数 ) | |
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archaic
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| adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的，已不通用的 | |
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inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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supervisors
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| n.监督者，管理者( supervisor的名词复数 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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flexibility
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| n.柔韧性，弹性，（光的）折射性，灵活性 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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goggles
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| n.护目镜 | |
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memo
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| n.照会，备忘录；便笺；通知书；规章 | |
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prohibition
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| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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necessitates
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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cosmetics
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| n.化妆品 | |
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beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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wasteful
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| adj.（造成）浪费的，挥霍的 | |
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depleted
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| adj. 枯竭的, 废弃的 动词deplete的过去式和过去分词 | |
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42
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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43
implementation
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| n.实施，贯彻 | |
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44
redundant
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| adj.多余的，过剩的；(食物)丰富的；被解雇的 | |
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implemented
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| v.实现( implement的过去式和过去分词 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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46
purview
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| n.范围；眼界 | |
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utilized
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| v.利用，使用( utilize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
pilfer
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| v.盗，偷，窃 | |
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pilferage
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| n.行窃，偷盗；v.偷窃 | |
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50
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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52
depots
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| 仓库( depot的名词复数 )； 火车站； 车库； 军需库 | |
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deployed
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| （尤指军事行动）使展开( deploy的过去式和过去分词 )； 施展； 部署； 有效地利用 | |
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54
hygiene
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| n.健康法，卫生学 （a.hygienic） | |
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morale
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| n.道德准则，士气，斗志 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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57
tallying
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| v.计算，清点( tally的现在分词 )；加标签（或标记）于；（使）符合；（使）吻合 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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allergic
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| adj.过敏的，变态的 | |
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wheezing
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的现在分词 )；哮鸣 | |
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monetary
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| adj.货币的，钱的；通货的；金融的；财政的 | |
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yen
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| n. 日元；热望 | |
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63
bucks
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| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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clogs
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| 木屐； 木底鞋，木屐( clog的名词复数 ) | |
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plumbing
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| n.水管装置；水暖工的工作；管道工程v.用铅锤测量（plumb的现在分词）；探究 | |
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statistical
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| adj.统计的，统计学的 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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memos
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| n.备忘录( memo的名词复数 )；（美）内部通知 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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specifications
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| n.规格；载明；详述；（产品等的）说明书；说明书( specification的名词复数 )；详细的计划书；载明；详述 | |
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squats
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| n.蹲坐，蹲姿( squat的名词复数 )；被擅自占用的建筑物v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的第三人称单数 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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high-tech
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| adj.高科技的 | |
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vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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pricks
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| 刺痛( prick的名词复数 )； 刺孔； 刺痕； 植物的刺 | |
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radar
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| n.雷达，无线电探测器 | |
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81
thumps
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| n.猪肺病；砰的重击声( thump的名词复数 )v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的第三人称单数 ) | |
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unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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83
impartial
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| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
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84
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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85
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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86
sensory
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| adj.知觉的，感觉的，知觉器官的 | |
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87
deprivation
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| n.匮乏；丧失；夺去，贫困 | |
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88
equivocating
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| v.使用模棱两可的话隐瞒真相( equivocate的现在分词 ) | |
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endorsement
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| n.背书；赞成，认可，担保；签(注)，批注 | |
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bugged
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| vt.在…装窃听器（bug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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91
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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92
analyzing
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| v.分析；分析( analyze的现在分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析n.分析 | |
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93
numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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