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"There's no tag on her, where is it, go check it out!" At the exit door, the guard blocked him with his body, saying, "Wait a minute! Priority? Who says?"
"Tag? Tag? Are you kidding me?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. As he looked ahead, the sight of the helicopter with blades spinning sluggishly heightened his anxiety. A rescue litter was being hoisted gently into the aircraft by the attending medical crew. Heart pounding with urgency, his frantic eyes darted between the chopper and the guard, trying to convey the desperation of his current predicament. "The lunacy back there is unbelievable! There's just no goddamn time to tag anybody!"
Gathering his courage and wiping beads of sweat from his brow, he met the guard's gaze head-on, making himself as convincing as possible. "Dr. Alison Ransom specifically ordered her immediate evacuation!" He recalled the skilled doctor who had expertly reset his dislocated finger just last year at the nearby hospital. At this moment, using Dr. Ransom's name was not only essential but necessary for ensuring the quick and essential transport of their patient out of this treacherous zone of danger and despair.
"Ransom, huh? Yeah, well..." The physician's name apparently carried some weight, and so they acquiesced. "Okay but move her to the holding room. Priority or not, we've got sixty patients ahead of her. Just don't forget to ask the nurse to assign your patient a number."
With his heart pounding in his chest, Richard hesitated at the edge of the helipad, feeling an intense desire to press further through the chaos. Just a few yards away, the emergency helicopter was preparing for takeoff. Its powerful rotors gained speed, sending turbulent gusts of air billowing around the landing pad like an angry whirlwind. Richard's gaze locked onto the attendant who had carried out the final patient moments ago. Laboring under the relentless pressure of time, the attendant rushed back towards Richard with an empty litter, his body bent forward as if bracing himself against the roaring wind that threatened to sweep him off his feet. The chopper's massive blades whirred above them, creating a deafening cacophony that filled Richard's ears and seemed to shake his very bones. As if responding to some invisible signal, the helicopter slowly began to lift off from its perch on the concrete pad, casting a long shadow over everyone involved in this urgent rescue mission.
Despite carefully planning and keeping a sharp eye on the clock, he realized he had missed the mark; it was too late. The chance to catch this airlift had slipped through his fingers, leaving him to ponder the consequences of waiting for the next one or even the one after that. Disappointment gnawed at him; frustration simmered beneath the surface as he considered the implications of this missed opportunity. Bitterly swallowing his emotions, he took a deep breath, gripping the handles of the gurney with renewed determination. With methodical precision, he began to wheel it down the dimly lit corridor that led towards the holding room. As fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows around him, he couldn't help but ruminate on what could have been if only he'd managed to secure a spot on that crucial airlift.
Richard anxiously clutched the number he had been given by a nurse with a furrowed brow. Her skeptical gaze repeatedly glanced back at his mother, who lay pale and weak in her hospital bed. The querying nurse hesitated as she spoke, her voice filled with uncertainty as she peered over the paperwork. "Are you sure this one's been triaged to fly out? She looks..." Her voice trailed off, not quite allowing herself to admit what both of them could visibly see - that his mother's condition was deteriorating rapidly. The ambiguity hung heavily in the air, a somber reminder of what was at stake as they waited for the critical decision to be made. Time flew past them like a blur; each second slipping painfully through their grasp, as they hoped against all odds for a chance - a chance for her to receive urgent care and reclaim life from the jaws of impending darkness.
Richard interrupted her abruptly, his tone firm and decisive. "Listen, Dr. Ransom made it clear that she's borderline – that's precisely why he insisted on giving her case the utmost priority." His words hung heavily in the air between them as realization dawned on both of their faces. This was not a matter that could be brushed under the rug or treated half-heartedly; the gravity of the situation demanded their complete attention and unwavering commitment to finding a solution. They understood now that time was of the essence, and any delay or misstep could have severe consequences. With renewed urgency, they joined forces to address the critical challenges that lay ahead and navigate the precarious path toward an uncertain outcome – knowing all too well how much was at stake for the young woman who stood at the precipice of an irreversible decision. Together, they knew they held not just her future but also her life in their hands.
"They're all priority!" The nurse's tone was firm as she scribbled the number fifty-seven onto a small card before handing it to the anxious young man. He hesitated for a moment, his heart sinking at the realization that there were still fifty-six people ahead of his mother in the urgent evacuation process. He almost raised his voice to argue but managed to hold himself back just in time, remembering that adding more chaos wouldn't change anything. "Put her there," she gestured to a nearby spot with a quick jerk of her head, her expression clearly indicating that she wasn’t open to debate. "Then you can go on back." The young boy felt unsettled under her suspicious gaze and quickly complied, hurriedly pushing his mother's gurney towards the indicated area, doing his best not to betray any sign of emotion lest it make matters worse. The fragility of life and the dependence on the kindness of strangers weighed heavily on him until he disappeared into the crowd.
They soon found themselves surrounded by the distressing sights and sounds of suffering individuals, people who were either crying out in agony, moaning from their aches, or tossing about helplessly, unable to find solace from their pain. The boy couldn't help but wonder why his mother remained so still and silent in contrast; he wished for her to cry out or show any signs of life, if only to prove that she was still among those clinging onto existence. Compelled by an overwhelming sense of urgency, he pushed her to the designated spot as instructed by the nurse. Left momentarily to his own devices, he hovered by the IV control, pretending to tinker with its settings so as to not arouse suspicion. All the while, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and strategies as he desperately sought a way to remain by his mother’s side. As a runner in this dire context, it would be expected of him to leave her bedside and return immediately to the emergency room to assist with the next patient. But this notion was utterly inconceivable; he was unequivocally resolved never to abandon her vulnerable figure in this unsettling sea of suffering strangers.
The piercing sound of the helicopter's rotors pounding through the air grew louder, drawing the nurse away from her previous tasks as she looked up to identify the source. Her eyes widened as she saw yet another helicopter making its descent towards them. Disrupting the momentary silence, the dispatcher burst into the room, his voice filled with urgency as he proclaimed, "We got a big one coming in! A Marine CH-53, hanging a water buffalo." The enormity of the situation was not lost on those present, and they sprung into action preparing for what was to come. As the colossal helicopter finally touched down and began unloading its precious cargo, it quickly became apparent that this would be no ordinary mission. The immense weight of the water buffalo strained against the Marines' ropes and their muscles alike. Sensing their increasing burden, the dispatcher returned once more to offer a nervous estimate - "Should take a dozen, maybe fifteen, soon as it's unloaded!" With a reinforcement of determination, everyone braced themselves for the challenge that awaited them. The air buzzed with heightened energy as medical personnel rushed about in anticipation, ready to do everything in their power to tend to those in need and help alleviate this crisis.
"Alright, everyone, let's move 'em," the head nurse's voice boomed, cutting through the cacophony of activity in the busy medical ward. Her authoritative stance and unwavering gaze seemed to energize the room, propelling everyone into motion. She was a seasoned professional, with years of experience at major hospitals across the country, and it showed in her demeanor – calm yet commanding, efficient yet empathetic. "We haven't got all day! Let's go!" she repeated, her voice resonating with urgency.
Richard nodded in silent agreement as he lined up behind his "colleagues." With practiced precision, they navigated the narrow hallways together, each pushing a bulky gurney holding a patient in need of immediate attention. They knew these routes like the back of their hands and could feel each other's presence as they worked in sync to transport the precious cargo through the labyrinthine corridors.
Despite the overwhelming chaos around them – shouts from other medical staff carrying vital instructions or requests for assistance echoing off walls lined with stretchers and IV poles – Richard and the orderlies remained focused on their important task. Their eyes met briefly as they maneuvered past nurses and doctors rushing past them in opposite directions, a shared understanding passing between them. They all knew that these moments required their utmost dedication and coordination to ensure that every patient would receive life-saving care as quickly as possible. In this frenetic environment where life and death decisions were made on a daily basis, there was no room for hesitance or error – only teamwork and relentless determination to make each moment count.
Through the open door at the far end of the hall, Richard caught sight of an unusual sight - a large water tank, suspended from a formidable chain and swinging ominously on its platform as it gradually descended toward the ground below. It was an unexpected addition to this familiar scene, and he found himself momentarily captivated by it. Could that really be a water buffalo submerged within? The curiosity swirled inside him like a persistent itch he couldn't quite reach.
The attendant standing before him eagerly shared his knowledge, saying, "Yeah, I've seen those things. They usually pull them behind powerful six-wheel trucks, specifically designed to handle the weight and provide stability during transportation. These tanks can hold a staggering fifteen hundred gallons of water - a massive volume that's useful both for construction projects or when facing emergencies like wildfires. The trucks themselves are equipped with heavy-duty hitches and suspension systems that ensure that the water stays safely contained as it's moved from place to place." As the attendant spoke of these immense vessels, it was clear these technological marvels not only piqued his interest but also signified the importance of such equipment in a world where resources need to be carefully managed and distributed.
As the darkness of the night was pierced by a vibrant search beam striking the landing pad, the low hum of an approaching helicopter grew louder, leading to an electrifying burst of energy in the air. Within seconds, the powerful aircraft set down, its whirling blades stirring up a storm of dust around it. In no time, the helicopter's door slid open and a well-organized group of about thirty men hopped off, their steel-toed boots hitting the ground with determination. They rushed into the building with an air of urgency, hauling boxes that Richard presumed were filled with precious medical supplies and much-needed food for those struggling within. The Marines scattered in different directions once inside, swiftly moving toward various supply rooms in their quest to restore stability and order. Accompanying them was an orderly who had been given explicit instructions to find someone capable of hooking up a vital water tank for those relying on its contents to survive. Meanwhile, two men clad in Marine Corps fatigues — their faces obscured by gauze masks and hands protected by gloves — began meticulously examining each patient languishing in the packed hallways. Attending to them alongside a dedicated nurse who hovered over every individual, they worked tirelessly to ensure help reached all those in distress.
Richard's heart pounded faster in his chest, almost as if it were trying to escape the tense situation he found himself in. He could feel the heat rising to his face, causing him to break out into a nervous sweat. A sudden idea struck him – perhaps, amidst all the confusion, he could manage to blend his mother in with the crowd in the hallway. Desperation ignited a glimmer of hope within him; it was definitely a risky move, but worth a try considering the dire circumstances they were in. With determination fueling his every step, Richard made his way back to the holding room where his mother waited, anxious for news. As he entered the room, he locked eyes with her; it was time to initiate their bold escape plan.
Her eyes were wide open, but they were dark and expressionless as she stared at the ceiling. The weight of concern and worry that had enveloped him finally lightened as he called out, "Mom!" Her hands were tightly clenched around the sheet, her pain seeming almost unbearable. Yet, amidst her struggle, only her eyes moved. They gazed upon him, yet there was no response. It was as if a veil had descended upon her, separating her from the world around her. In that silent moment, the weight of her unresponsiveness overshadowed the room. The flicker of hope he had felt slowly diminished, replaced by an unsettling realization. What lay behind her unresponsive gaze? Were her thoughts trapped within, hidden from his grasp? The solid connection they once shared felt distant, and the ache of longing settled in his heart. He stood there, the room filled with a heavy silence, wondering what had caused this sudden disconnect. She was physically present, her body signaling signs of distress, but her mind seemed to have retreated to a place unknown. How could he bridge the gap and reach her? The desire to ignite a spark of recognition, to witness her radiant smile once more, was an urgent plea within him. Yet, at that moment, the profound silence between them echoed louder than words ever could.
Despite being on the brink of utter exhaustion, he was faced with the heart-wrenching sight of his mother's excruciating pain, which threatened to completely overwhelm him. Nevertheless, he somehow summoned whatever little strength remained within him and forced himself to redirect his gaze elsewhere. With an almost fragile touch, he cautiously maneuvered the gurney out of the room, painstakingly mindful of avoiding any additional discomfort that could potentially exacerbate the already agonizing situation.
Out in the hallway the commotion of Marines passing back and forth with boxes and of gurneys moving towards the exit door and out to the helipad helped mask his deception. He moved to the end of the line, eyes so intent on the nurse and doctor, 3 patients away, that he feared they would sense it. He tried to appear unconcerned, as if the patient beside him meant no more than any other, but his heart pounded in his ears, and his neck itched with sweat. Any moment now they would move on to the next patient, and then the next, and then they would stop at his mother.
He moved forward. The loaded gurneys were rolling swiftly through the exit door to the helicopter, and just as swiftly returning empty for new patients. His whole body trembled as the doctor approached their gurney.
The paper pinned to his mother's bedsheet showed the percent of second- and third- degree burns. Glancing first at the paper, then taking his mother's hand for a pulse, the doctor said, "She's in great pain. Demerol!"
"Wait a minute!" the nurse cried, noticing Richard for the first time and checking the number. "She's out of turn! The next patient should be 24."
"Please!" Richard cried. "Please take her!"
"There's only room for 12. Orderly, bring out the next patient."
"This is your mother, isn't it, son?" the doctor asked.
"Yes!"
The doctor barely hesitated. "Nurse, don't hold us up. Give her the shot. Let's keep things going. Go on, son. Take her out."
He was so grateful that he wanted to laugh and cry simultaneously. Before the doctor could change his mind, he covered his mother's face as he'd seen the other orderlies do before they pushed their patients out to the helipad----then ran. He ran past the guard at the door, across the dusty, windy stretch of no-man's land to the waiting chopper. There, helping hands raised her aboard before he could say goodbye, good luck, I love you, or anything else. He suddenly found himself back at the exit door with great big knobs of pain in his throat as the big bird rose skyward with its load of burn victims---and his mom.
He let out his breath. He felt as if he'd been holding it for hours. The chopper swooped up, then swung off into the darkness, its small lights flickering.
Thank you, God, he whispered silently. Thank you. Take good care of her. Keep her alive, and I'll never doubt again. He pushed the gurney back down the hall, light-headed and as empty as the gurney, and sad now, in a way that he'd never felt before. Would someone else's mom or dad die because his mother had taken their place on the chopper? Well, there was no use thinking about that now. It seemed to him it was the only thing he could have done, but he didn't like having done it. He owed a heavy debt, and he could think of no way to repay it except to keep going.
Stacey and Richard were not where he'd left them, so he went on to the emergency room. "Take a rest, kid," a Marine said, removing the gurney from him. "We'll take over from here." The rooms were prepped with uniformed Marines, so he moved out to the parking lot.
It was a different scene from before. Lights had been set up to illuminate the big space and move of the cars had been removed to make space for more patients. In the distance he heard the rumble of heavy equipment. He heard trucks and bulldozers and the almost constant flap-flap of helicopter movement.
It was late, well after midnight, and the human traffic to the mountains had slowed. He blinked burning eyes as he looked around for his brother and Stacey. He let himself imagine being in his own bed again, feeling the smooth, cool surface of the sheets as he slid a foot downward, smelling the familiar scent of his own pillow as he buried his nose in it. He wrapped his arms around his chest, cold from fatigue and the night air. And then he saw Stacey!
She was making out name tags at a table with several others. As soon as she saw him her tired eyes brightened, and she jumped up. They ran to each other like magnets about to collide. And then they were hugging and laughing with relief and delight to be together and still alive. Richard couldn't recall ever feeling a greater happiness.
"Hey, mister! That's my girl!" It was Washington's voice, and his hand was on Richard's shoulder. Richard swung around to find his brother grinning at him. A 2-day growth of beard gave his face a dirty look, but his eyes were bright with happiness.
"Hey, ugly!" he returned. "You're gonna have to fight for her!" Laughing, they wrapped arms around each other, hugging with viselike grips.
After an awkward moment they pulled apart and Washington asked, "How's Mom? Did she get off okay?"
"She's on her way to Arizona, a burn center there."
"Didja have any trouble?"
"Trouble? Hell, no. Easy as one of Larkin's workouts."
Washington regarded him seriously. "I bet...."
For a moment they stared at each other with a mixture of affection and some of the same challenging competitiveness that was always there, close to the surface. Richard, four inches shorter, didn't feel the difference that had always bothered him before. Though he'd talked of fighting for Stacey in jest, he realized with a twinge of surprise that he meant it. "So," he said, "where were you guys all day? Playing tiddlywinks?" He grinned. It was a tired imitation of his father's grin anytime he gave that explanation of his day's work.
"You hear that, Stacey?" Washington responded in mock irritation. He moved close to Stacey and put an arm lightly around her shoulder. "He was probably sleeping while we were slaving away at the church."
Stacey shrugged Washington's arm away and took his hand instead. With her other hand she reached for Richard's. "What do we do now?"
Richard felt like the question was directed at him, but Washington answered. "Looks like things are under control here, so let's get some rest."
In the time they had been speaking, other helicopters had come in with more personnel and supplies. Some were fanning out to the main roads and were beginning to move disabled vehicles out of the way. Several times they had been told to move, and they'd even been asked once to leave the grounds.
"Let's get Dad," Richard said.
"You're crazy! It's two A.M. I'm bushed! We're all bushed! I can't stand how grungy I feel!" Washington nodded at Stacey. "Stacey wants to get home and see if her mother's returned."
"Okay, we'll take her there, then go on."
"That's stupid! In two hours, the place will be swarming with outside help. If we got some sleep now we could just hitch a ride into Pasadena in the daylight instead of hiking all that way in the dark.
"Nine, ten miles----that's all it is, Washington."
"It's dark, stupid! People are out there with guns, shooting anything that moves near them!
"Don't call me stupid, Washington. I'm not!"
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. You're not. But it's dumb to keep going when I can barely think, I'm so trashed."
For a moment neither spoke, then Richard said, "They'll start evacuating as soon as those roads clear. We'll never find Dad then!"
"There'll be central information banks. He'll find us."
They stared at each other again. For just a moment Richard doubted his judgment. He usually bowed to Washington's wishes because his brother always seemed to be right, seemed to know what was best. But suddenly it seemed that Washington was just being stubborn. Inflexible. Here they were going through the same song and dance they always went through. And at the end he'd be the one expected to back down, not Washington. He'd be the one made to feel stupid or wrong.
Not this time.
"I want to see about Dad, Washington. I just want to. He may need help like Mom did. I promised Mom." He paused. "You don't have to come."
"Don't worry! I won't! And not because I don't love Dad as much as you do. I just think it's pointless when we'll get help in only a few hours."
"Oh, come on, you two. You're acting like babies," Stacey cried. "Why can't two brothers get along?"
"Last chance, Washington. Coming?" Richard asked stubbornly.
Washington hesitated. Richard knew his brother never expected that he'd hold out under pressure. "No."
"Okay." Although he spoke calmly, it hurt that Washington wouldn't come with him. His throat tightened at the prospect of going it alone, and he was so very tired. He couldn't look at Washington. Maybe he'd go back to the Scarlolfos' and get the dog. Yeah, he'd feel safer with him along. Someone to talk to, to warn him if....
"When I find Dad, I'll try to get back to the Del Carlos' with him," he said. "S'long." He turned on his heels and headed out of the hospital parking lot.
He began to doubt the wisdom of his decision. Maybe he should wait until daybreak. Maybe Washington was right that they might get a ride into Pasadena. Or was he? Who could predict what it would be like? Everyone needed help. Maybe people would be stopped from going in any direction except away from the city. Maybe everyone would be herded into trucks and taken out of the area.
He wanted to cry. He felt abandoned. But he wouldn't change his mind. Not this time.
In his misguided mindset, naively believed that Stacey's opinion held some semblance of truth. However, it is evident that even siblings with a shared bloodline struggle to find common ground, so how can the uninformed masses be expected to reach a consensus? The lingering question remains: will the chaos ever subside and allow society to return to its alleged state of normalcy?
In actuality, the world Richard and his friends lived in would not get back to anything like normal. Instead, the world would have to adapt to a new reality, one that could never have been anticipated.389Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMGYKOV5j4O
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The American people were captivated by the authoritative voice of Walter Cronkite as he reported from every corner of the nation, delivering the shocking news of the Hinckley Holocaust. The tragedy unfolded before their eyes, spreading terror and despair throughout the country. Images of destruction and heartbreak flooded the airwaves, leaving the nation in a state of disbelief.
In the face of this unimaginable horror, President Reagan swiftly sprang into action, vowing immediate assistance to those affected. However, the true extent of the tragedy surpassed all initial estimations, leaving a devastating impact that would forever alter the course of history. Cronkite, with his unwavering dedication to truth, shed light on the immense human cost of the attack.
The sheer scale of the bombing was mind-boggling, encompassing over 100 city blocks. The aftermath revealed a grim reality - more than 400 lives were lost, and thousands were left injured and scarred. The magnitude of this catastrophe left an indelible mark on the nation's collective consciousness, forever etching it into the annals of American history.
"The city is completely destroyed," Cronkite said. "Most buildings have been reduced to rubble. Smoke and ash fill the air. The streets are deserted. There are barely any signs of life. It is a scene of utter devastation. The survivors are in shock, struggling to comprehend what has happened. Everywhere, there are reminders of what once was, but now is no more. The city is in ruins, a shadow of its former glory. It is heartbreaking to witness the destruction that has been wrought. No one could have predicted such a fate for this once vibrant city. The only sound that can be heard is the distant cry of the survivors, as they search for a glimmer of hope in the darkness. Everywhere is chaos and despair. People wander the streets aimlessly, searching for answers that may never come. It is a grim reminder of the fragility of life."
The economic outlook was equally bleak. When the bomb exploded, all industrial activity ceased. Stores were looted. Gasoline was barely available. The steel mills were demolished. Uncontrolled fires raged in warehouses, chemical plants, factories, and even movie studios. A pipeline in the Pacific harbor that ran underwater to the shore from the location where supertankers discharge their cargo of Alaskan crude was damaged, but repairs were impossible. A Coast Guard helicopter spotted an enormous floating oil slick the size of Manhattan, and there were even reports that some of it is on fire. The local fire department and Coast Guard struggled to contain the damage. People living in nearby towns were warned to stay indoors and wear face masks to protect from the toxic fumes. Environmentalists worried about the lasting impacts of the disaster.
People across the nation watched TV with their mouths open, trying to make sense of this unbelievable event. It was like nothing ever seen before. It was so far-reaching that it impacted people from all corners of the country. It was an event that left people in shock and disbelief, unable to process what was happening in real time. Attorney General Edwin Meese, in a statement to the press, compared John Hinckley Jr. to Charles Manson, who, on the night of August 9th, 1969, led his followers in a series of murders that left seven people dead and shook the nation. The brutality of that crime and the celebrity status of the victims made it a shocking event that no one was prepared for.
As a result of Hinckley's actions, the world saw a stark demonstration of the power of one man to wreak havoc on a global scale. However, nobody could have foreseen how extraordinary and far-reaching Hinckley's crime would ultimately be. Even after the crime had settled, its impact continued to be felt in the global marketplace, with the prices of fresh produce becoming increasingly unaffordable and canned foods becoming a more sought-after bargain. As the crime's reverberations spread, people had to make difficult adjustments to their daily lives, with leisure activities being one of the first casualties. This ripple effect of the crime slowly made its way into households, making people re-evaluate their spending habits and prompting them to make more responsible fiscal choices in light of the economic downturn. The bombing also had tremendous implications for the entertainment and sports industries, with many highly renowned figures lost forever. This tragedy highlighted the fragility of life, as well as the importance of remembrance when honoring the legacy of cultural icons and beloved destinations. As the world mourned the loss of these figures, it became clear that honoring their legacies would require more than just words - it would require action.
The question was: could the US afford Los Angeles' recovery? The US government had already faced a budget crisis before the bombing and investing in Los Angeles' recovery required billions of dollars. This investment put an even broader strain on the US budget, and other cities and states did not receive the same level of funding.
As a result, the inequality between these areas of the country widened significantly, adding to the economic hardship that was already being experienced. This created an even broader gap between the haves and the have-nots. This widening gap in economic opportunity ultimately harmed the economy and served to create an environment where any dramatic financial event, such as the Wall Street Crash of 1985, could have far-reaching consequences.
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Richard trudged halfway up the slope towards the Garlolfo place when he heard the dog's welcoming bark. He wiped the wetness from his cheeks with a hand and hurried on.
"Richard! Richard, wait!"
He stopped and looked back. In the bright lights of the hospital parking lot, he saw Washington, climbing the hill towards him, pulling Stacey along. "Hey, turkey, wait up!"
"F*ck you," he said under his breath and kept on climbing. He kicked at a rock in his path and stopped again as Washington called.
"Shake it, buddy!" he shouted back, "I haven't got all night!" He felt a rush of relief and joy spreading through him. Grinning, he started back down the slope to help them.
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THE END
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