Incite Magazine - November 2013

INCITE MAGAZINE VOLUME 16, ISSUE 3 ▪ NOVEMBER 2013

ELEMENTS

Incite Magazine is a McMaster student-run publication released six times a year, intended to challenge, stimulate, and inform.

EXECUTIVE EDITORS-IN-CHIEF Stephen Clare Sam Godfrey MANAGING EDITORS Avery Lam (Layout) Jessie Lu (Photography) Ianitza Vassileva (Graphics) ASSISTANT EDITORS Khatija Anjum (Photography) Sarah Conrad (Layout) CONTENT EDITORS Devra Charney Sarah Kanko Palika Kohli Julie-Anne Mendoza Kacper Niburski Jessica Teicher

CONTRIBUTORS WRITERS Matthew Bassett, Asha Behdinan, Stephen Clare, Sarah Conrad, Suzy Flader, Aaron Grierson, Tony Jin, Sebastian Johnston-Lindsay, Ronald Leung, Charlotte Mussells, Ana Qarri, Kaila Radan, Shruti Ramesh, Mackenzie Richardson, Jennifer Scora, Emile Shen, Alison St. Pierre, Raluca Topliceanu, Sophia Topper, Rachelle Zalter ARTWORK Khatija Anjum, Sarah Conrad, Cassandra Ferguson, Alicia Giansante, Jason Lau, Jessie Lu, Sarah Paisley, Jenn Shamo, Raluca Topliceanu, Sophia Topper, Ianitza Vassileva LAYOUT Sarah Conrad, Tony Jin, Avery Lam, Jason Lau, Emily Power, Rahul Sadavarte, Nikkie To, Ianitza Vassileva COVERS Jessie Lu

issuu.com/incite-magazine facebook.com/incitemagazine @incitemagazine

MY FAVOURITE ELEMENT The Editors APOCALYTIC SURVIVAL Ronald Leung THE RISE OF ORGANIZED CHAOS Matthew Bassett

EASY AS PIE Sophia Topper COME TO ATTENTION Alison St. Pierre HOLD ON TIGHT Stephen Clare ART: NATURE EXPERIENCE Cassandra Ferguson ELEMENTARY MYTH Aaron Grierson

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IT’S ALL ABOUT THE CHEMISTRY Charlotte Mussells & Kaila Radan THE ELEMENT OF SURPRISE Asha Behdinan WATER ON AN IRON ROAD Raluca Topliceanu PHILOSOPHY BY THE NUMBERS Ana Qarri THE NOTARY / NOVEMBER Sebastian Johnston-Lindsay ART Alicia Giansante, Jenn Shamo, Ianitza Vassileva NATURE TAKES ITS COURSE Tony Jin

REDEFINING SUCCESS Sarah Conrad SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED Emile Shen ART Ianitza Vassileva RADIOACTIVE DECAY Mackenzie Richardson DECRIMINALIZING B.C. BUD Suzy Flader

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e’ve all met that person before.

That person that even if you spent all day thinking about them (which you may already have) you couldn’t figure out why you find them so special.

It’s not their smile.

It’s not their hair or their hands.

It’s not the way they talk or the way their forehead crinkles.

ELEMENTARY, MY DEAR READERS Shruti Ramesh A FINITELY BEAUTIFUL LIFE Rachelle Zalter BLACK DEATH Jennifer Scora

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It’s not how they get excited about things they love or the little habits that only you notice.

It’s not that they make you laugh or that their eyes have their own gravitational pull.

It’s not any one thing about them, or even many things about them. It’s just them.

For all our knowledge of biology and psychology, people cannot be deconstructed. Nobody can be broken down to a formula of fractions that add to 1. You’re

not 1/10 Canadian and 1/8 a Marauder and 1/4 a reader of Incite Magazine: you’re wholly Canadian, wholly a Marauder, and wholly a reader of Incite Magazine (thanks!).

And even then, we’re not just who we are, but who we are to everyone around us. We’re also all the thoughts and feelings people have ever had for us, every effect that we’ve had on someone and they’ve had on us. We’re children, students, teachers, friends, foes, lovers and fighters.

All at once, each role no lesser or greater than another.

The people who made this magazine are all more than writers, artists, photographers and masters of design, which means this issue is more than articles, graphics, photos and gorgeous layout. It’s more than radioactivity, platonism, natural disasters and Sherlock Holmes, all of which you will find in these pages. It’s also the connections between these things, between writer and reader and art and article.

So as you’re flipping through these pages, realize you the reader are as much a contributor to Incite as anyone. And the next time you’re daydreaming about that special someone, know that there’s someone else daydreaming about you.  – Stephen Clare & Sam Godfrey Editors-in-Chief

MYFAVOURITE CHOCOLATE DC CHOCOLATE I

CHIPS CHIPS

t is the combination of all of the elements of a cookie that gives this timeless treat its familiar taste and texture. Chocolate chips, though, are the most essential element of any cookie.

Butter, sugar, flour, and eggs all contribute to a cookie’s overall goodness, but each of these ingredients can be substituted for alternatives in the case of dietary restrictions or other health concerns without greatly affecting taste. Chocolate chips are a fundamental part of a cookie, though, for which there is no adequate substitution. I can think of few occurrences more disappointing than biting into a cookie expecting sweet, chocolatey goodness, only to discover that it is in fact filled with raisons. Without chocolate chips, a cookie is nothing.  – Devra Charney

CARBON CARBON

KN

M

y favourite element is me. Well, not really; it’s you.

Fine – it’s not you either. It’s everyone and more importantly what we all share. It’s carbon, sugarpie.

Among all the constitutional elements, carbon is the big cheese. Literally. It comprises the largest portion of dairy’s molecular formula. In fact, carbon is arguably necessary for life because virtually all organic molecules are carbon-containing, us included. From our sugars to fats, DNA to proteins, we got carbon out the wazoo.

Which is funny because even our fecal matter, and especially our farts, are comprised of carbon. Use a match to near your rear to find out.

But it’s not the subsequent bang or the near universality of carbons that makes them special, but the way that they come together. What makes carbon vital is its unique valence.

By being able to bind to four other molecules, carbon being one of them, a near infinite amount of rearrangements are possible, certainly more than the number of atoms in the known universe.

And hell, if that isn’t convincing enough, think about this: I’m just an aggregate of carbon writing about carbon on a network run by carbon-nanotubes for other carbon-based people. C? Carbon rules.  – Kacper Niburski

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PK WATER WATER

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learned to swim the old-fashioned way: by getting pushed into the pool by my mother. Ever since, I have loved the water, and have spent many a summer with raisins for fingers. Growing up, I was constantly determined to be the first one in and the last one out of the water, and at one point I had convinced myself that I could breathe beneath the surface. Many of my favourite memories feature this element: riding the wave pool with my best friend at Wonderland on the day of the 2005 blackout; watching a lightning storm across the ocean at night from the deck of a ship; paddle boating to the centre of a lake amidst the French Alps and cannonballing off. Meditating on a kayak in the middle of the ocean, catching my first wave in Hawaii, white-water rafting in the Ganga River. I still sit on the side of the GO train that will afford me a view of Lake Ontario as I pass the Rouge Hill station, and the only qualification I have for my future is that I must live somewhere near a body of water. Even as I write this, I am brought back to the present, comforted by the sound of the rain pattering on my window and by the warm cup of tea in my hand.  – Palika Kohli INCITE MAGAZINE, NOVEMBER 2013

ELEMENT

STOVES STOVES

JAM

DiSt4 DiSt4 SK

T

he metal giant sits, stolid and expectant, in the corner. Four pinwheel eyes stare from its pale, horizontal face. Grasping your skillet for protection and hoping that you won’t have to sacrifice another non-stick companion to the anger of the elemental gods, you sally forth to battle the giant of the kitchen. Your hand shoots out quickly, and with two deft twists of the wrist, the battle has begun. Heat begins to radiate from the unyielding metal body, revealing a devil-may-care attitude to your hydro bill and your impatient hunger. The eyes turn red. You can see the rage slowly building from an annoyed burgundy to a livid orange. Soon, with a crash of metal and a spray of hot oil, the interior is occupied and the eyes are blinded. Covered and conquered by your pots and pans, the giant has been vanquished. Subservient, the giant bears the weight of the metal and the food, cooking for you a feast to celebrate its own defeat. You, the quixotic hero who has conquered the giant and the stomach, triumphantly leave the kitchen. The giant cools off and once again sits, stolid and expectant, waiting for the next battle.  – Sarah Kanko

JT SURPRISES

SURPRISES

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nce he filled my whole room with balloons. Another time, he pulled up in a Volkswagen Beetle, just so he could have the ultimate punch buggy red, no punch backs. He loves surprises, loves to watch my eyes light up in astonishment at his effort and secrecy. It was time to pay it forward. A week too late – just to add to the suspense – up jumped the fifteen or so people gathered around the living room, hiding behind couches and underneath tables, all shouting “Happy birthday!” and failing in their attempt to coordinate the timing. It was a chorus of good wishes, each individual voice heard as part of the collective. His face broke into a huge grin, revealing rows of straight, white teeth. He looked back at me in shock and admonition. How could I possibly have tricked him? How could he not have seen past my abnormal behaviour, and odd requests? The insistence on nice clothing, an extra trip in the car to accommodate my second shower of the day, the necessity of arriving at just the right time. His face alone was worth it. He loves surprises.  – Jessica Teicher

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figure skating score sheet may look like a stats assignment, but the gibberish that makes up the Technical Element Score does actually mean something. Some people scan the left hand column for 5RLi4 (a level four rotational lasso-lift), others for 4T (the famed quadruple toe-loop), and I’ll admit that these are show-stopping tricks, but I still keep an eye out for DiSt4 – the level four diagonal step sequence. Big jumps and big lifts are impressive, sure, and step sequences may look like a bunch of filler steps to the uninitiated, but they really separate the men from the boys, so to speak.

Quads may require technical and athletic ability, but step sequences test a skater’s fundamental skills, their stamina, and their performance ability more than any other technical element. Sure, they’re not as exciting as Mao Asada’s triple axel or Patrick Chan’s massive quad-triple combo, but they’re my favorite nonetheless.

AND...

BUT...

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trunk and White’s The Elements of Style used to be the big kahuna of writing guides, covering matters of composition, spelling, and grammar in English writing, but it has fallen out of vogue since it was published in 1918. I’ll admit to a certain amount of pedantry when it comes to grammar (I have very strong opinions regarding the pluralization of the word octopus, em dashes, and the Oxford comma) but I think that a lot of Strunk and White’s rules are excessively stringent, and not particularly relevant to modern writing. Chief among these, in my opinion, is their admonition against using and and but to start sentences. I don’t think it’s nearly as big a no-no as Strunk and White suggest, and honestly, it’s my go-to sentence structure. So if you’re cringing at the sentences that start with and and but in this issue, I’m probably to blame.  – Julie-Anne Mendoza

VOLUME 16, ISSUE 3 5

APOCALYPTIC SURVIVAL Ronald Leung

OUTWIT. OUTPLAY. OUTLAST.

I

magine a wide-scale apocalyptic event sweeping the country. It could be anything, really; a zombie outbreak akin to The Walking Dead or a total blackout like Revolution, but the initial descent into chaos would be similar. Electrical communications break down. Emergency services are quickly overwhelmed. Governments fall and militias rise. Human survival instincts break out, unrestrained by any cohesive society or laws. These nightmarish scenarios are more than just imagination for a small, but growing demographic: a subculture known as “Preppers”. The end of the world seems dangerously close, and they have extensively prepared for the worst-case scenario. It’s estimated that in the U.S. alone there are three million Preppers, and that number is on the rise. The “survival industry” is also flourishing, transforming into a multibillion dollar opportunity. The recent recession has only heightened the need to prepare for the worst.

There’s a surprising level of interest in the Prepper movement, and broadcasting executives have taken notice. National Geographic has found success in its TV exclusive, Doomsday Preppers, which is the channel’s highest-rated show in the U.S. Featured in an episode, Ron Douglas, his wife, and six children have gathered enough supplies to be self-sufficient for a year. Their collection includes everything from canned food, to solar panels, to weapons. They also own a modified Chevy Suburban SUV with emergency supplies that

can travel 850 miles before requiring a refill.

Critics portray many Preppers as paranoid and certifiably crazy, but the Preppers insist they are just becoming more self-reliant, preparing because they care about the environment and want to safeguard the survival of humans. In an article published in The Daily Mail earlier this year, British Prepper Michael Sanderson, 53, notes that it is important to remember that Preppers reflect society, and that “there are some who are mentally unstable, but there are also

of sealed buckets of soups and stews, and even an underground bunker beneath Peggy’s office fitted with bunk beds, a kitchen, and dining area. The preparations don’t end there – they also have an extensive greenhouse and external garden to grow food. A root cellar doubles as a bomb shelter, and since their home is in the mountains, they have minimized the possibility of any successful attacks, human or otherwise. Their large stockpile of firearms doesn’t hurt either.

Don’t have the time or expertise to outfit your own home? That may not be a problem. Entrepreneurs like Robert Vicino are developing survival bunkers that accept payment for a reserved spot in the case of an apocalyptic event. The survival shelter, called Vivos, is nothing like the grey, dusty rooms you may imagine when thinking of a place to survive through end of the world. This 13 000 square-foot, nuke-proof bunker is in the Mojave Desert, and has a large TV, a gym, comfortable beds, and even a gourmet food menu with everything from Sloppy Joes to pearl potatoes. It looks like Vicino has thought of all the possibilities – there’s even a jail in case some of your bunkmates start to get frisky. The bunker can withstand a 50-megaton blast and was built with both natural and man-made disasters in mind.

Think this sounds outrageous? Vicino says that half of the 132 spaces in the shelter have been filled, at $5000 for adults and $2500 for kids. And this isn’t limited to the

In a subculture known as “Preppers”, the end of the world seems dangerously close.

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those who are very intelligent, highly qualified and motivated individuals.” He also has 12 months’ worth of supplies in his garage, and has a trailer attached to his Land Rover that has its own stockpile of goods. He has a destination in mind if the urban areas become too dangerous: a camping retreat in Wales, where further supplies await.

Some Preppers don’t have to travel far for safety, however. The Learning Channel (TLC) also had its own exclusive on prepared families and introduced Peggy and Scott Layton, parents of seven children, living in Manti, Utah. They have their own stockpile

INCITE MAGAZINE, NOVEMBER 2013

Southwest United States, oh no. A network of shelters is being built to convenience you and your loved ones.

Like most consumer markets, a variety of goods has already been developed for survival living. Another living option: The Survival Condo is built in a former Atlas-F missile solo, and has an underground portion extending 200 feet down that protects against nuclear attacks. It is powered by solar panels and a wind turbine, and even has a digital weather station. Stainless Steel General Electric appliances, Kohler bath fixtures, and a Jacuzzi tub are just some of the highlights of this luxury bunker. It is also equipped with a spa, fitness room, full-size pool, library, and move theatre. Catering to seafood lovers, it boasts a hydroponic and aquaculture center. For defense, it is also armed with a military grade security system, with lethal and nonlethal options. All you

have to do is either pay $1.75 million for a full-floor unit, or $900 000 for a half floor.

The political elite also have their own set of preparations. The Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center was built during the Cold War as a shelter for high-level officials in the event of a national

the highway Virginia State Route 601 leading to the bunker. Cultural preservation is also important, and there are rumours of a program in place at the National Gallery of Art to transport valuable artwork to the shelter using a helicopter in the event of a disaster.

The constant threat and presence of apocalyptic endings is reflected in the extent to which popular media portrays this topic, and for many the end of the world is more than a television episode – it’s an inescapable reality. The rationale? It is better to be prepared for the worst than hope for the best. Whether the Prepper culture is more paranoia than prudence is up to personal opinion, but there’s no denying that this steady trickle of people turning to self-reliance will come out on top if an apocalyptic event does occur. In the words of an ageold adage: it’s just Survival of the Fittest. 

The rationale? It is better to be prepared for the worst than hope for the best. disaster. It’s about 48 miles from Washington, D.C. and has a 600 000 square-foot underground facility. Operating almost like an autonomous city, Mount Weather has its own police and fire department, its own laws, and even designated officials to run the place. Shrouded in secrecy, tours have never been allowed, and armed guards dot

PHOTOGRAPHY BY JASON LAU

VOLUME 16, ISSUE 3 7

Matthew Bassett

THE RISE OF ORGANIZED CHAOS

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ou’re standing with bodies on all sides and your hands in the air. Beams of coloured light swirl around as your heart beats to the pulse of the kick bursting through the system. It starts racing, the bass line enters – it’s carbon high hat in sequence – and a melody comes forth. Major chords from manufactured synths pace out a verse of building significance. You feel the tempo rising. Vocal lines are interspersed with harmonic fragments of electronic instruments filling any void that might have existed previously. The tune slows down, quiet and simple, as the man on stage begins the ascent to what you long for. Like an architect watching his masterpiece grow through time-lapse photography, the sound bellows and grows. Half time, double time, triple time, volume up, and drop. You’re encompassed, vision blurred, ears blasted, movement frantic but always in line with the base underneath. Three minutes of your life gone.

Eat. Sleep. Rave. Repeat.

The rise of electronic dance music (EDM) and its various sub-genres, has been astronomical in the past three years. This year, Calvin Harris has become the highest-earning musician on the planet, pocketing over $46 million in the last 10 months. Tiësto, David Guetta, Avicii, Hardwell, and Deadmau5 all had yearly earnings comparable to those of Jay-Z and Katy Perry. Tomorrowland saw over half a million tickets sold in less than an hour, putting its attendance well above the attendance of the iconic Woodstock festival. EDM is a relatively young genre. Most of the top 100 DJ’s in the world are under the age of 30, with Hardwell, Alesso, Nikki Romero, Afrojack, and Skrillex all under the age of 25. But the EDM craze is beginning to hit the mainstream population and is growing up fast. People can’t seem to get enough of the immensely stimulating sound and surprising musicality of the music.

Technology has opened up a new realm of composers and producers who gain a living by creating one of the

Eat. Sleep. Rave. Repeat.

artwork by

Ianitza Vassileva most energizing atmospheres our culture has seen. Music software has evolved from the standard Garage Band to countless programs with unlimited options for sound manufacturing, looping, harmonic recording, and self-developing scores. Instruments have also progressed from simple electric keyboards to multiple linking systems.

Electric turntables for live mixing and manipulating, midi keyboards for creating multiple melodies in any voice, and tap-based percussion systems that fit into a backpack are now easily accessible to the general population. The availability of these systems is creating a new generation of musicians with the capacity to become advanced composers simply through a laptop.

There are many that say electronically produced music is not music at all. Due to the increased availability and the perceived simplicity of technology, they approach the drum and bass producer with hostile and closed-minded opinions. However, as a musician myself, I am confident that this negative opinion can be deconstructed. Recording and publishing tracks always begins somewhere. Imagine you are a composing a song for ten musicians. You begin with a vision in your head, a sound, a tempo, the intro, verse, chorus, and bridge structure, all within a theme. Once your layout is established, you start to put the individual characters together.

It begins with the verse; then the kit with hat, kick, and snare; then the melody from basic piano chords in sequence. The accompaniment of embellished melody in the different voices, using synth patterns, brass, and strings. A bass line crawls around the chord structure to keep time and to connect the spaces of consonant harmonies. The chorus is next, faster, harder hitting, and with evolving percussion. It has a beat that hooks. The transition of melodies and combining of voices creates a whole unit of sound. The bridge follows. The sound stills, quiets, moving from countless voices to one single melodic unit. Suddenly it builds to the climax and the creation of a sound that surprises, excites, pulses, and pierces when all else is removed. Within the transitions and movement, every hit, every voice, and every effect is exact, potent, and enticing.

To me, the precise layering, the interlocking rhythms, and the movement of different instruments all lead to a creation that cannot be called anything but music. Whether it is thunderous applause after Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, the echo of “encore” after a Chili Peppers’ concert, or the deafening screams of a tired crowd in blinding lights for Tiësto, everyone is on their feet because of music – because of music that encompasses the full range of human emotion, power, and creation. 

EASY AS PIE

Sophia Topper’s Sautéed Apple Pie CRUST    

2 ½ Cups all-purpose flour 1 Tablespoon sugar 1 Cup unsalted butter, frozen and cut into cubes 1 Cup ice cold water (you probably won’t end up using it all, but there’s no harm in having extra)

FILLING  

  

¼ Cup butter 8–10 Large apples (try using a variety of types, like a mixture of Granny Smiths and McIntosh, and local apples always have more flavour!) ½ Cup brown sugar 1 Teaspoon cinnamon A pinch of nutmeg, cloves and allspice (to taste)

FOR THE CRUST 1. Toss 1 cup of the frozen butter cubes in 2 ½ cups of flour. If you have a pastry cutter, cut the butter until the mixture resembles coarse sand. If you don’t have a pastry cutter, you can gently squeeze the butter between your fingertips. The butter should be in chunks – the size of small popcorn kernels. Be careful not to over mix to ensure a flaky crust!

2. Drizzle ½ a cup of ice-cold water into the piecrust. Mix gently. You’ll probably need another ¼ cup of water, but add a tablespoon at a time and stop as soon as you can form the dough into a lump without falling apart.

3. Divide the dough into even two lumps, wrap both lumps with plastic wrap and put them in the freezer.

FOR THE PIE

FOR THE FILLING 4. Peel your apples and chop them into thin slices, about ¼ of an inch thick.

5. Melt ¼ cup of butter on medium-high heat in your frying pan.

6. Add the apples and brown sugar. If your frying pan isn’t large enough, you can do this in several batches.

7. Add spices to taste. This is the fun part: just keep sampling the apples until it tastes good, and then keep on tasting just to make sure.

8. Sauté the apples, stirring occasionally so that they do not stick to the bottom, for about 10 minutes.

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11. Remove the first lump of dough from the freezer and place it on a floured surface (this sounds intimidating, but just sprinkle some flour on a countertop and spread it out with your fingers).

12. Roll out the dough. If you don’t have a rolling pin, a round bottle (like a wine bottle or Smirnoff bottle) works just as well. If you don’t have one of those, you can use your hands to pat it out.

13. Place this piece of dough in a pie pan.

Add the apple mixture.

14. Retrieve the other lump of dough, and roll it out. Drape it over top of the filling. Cut a few slits in the top layer. You can also get creative and do a lattice top by cutting the dough into strips and weaving them together, or use cookie cutters for an interesting design. Pinch the dough around the edges and trim off any excess.

9. Spread the apples on a plate to cool.

15. Place the pie in oven for 40 minutes, or until the pastry is golden. Enjoy the smell!

10. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

16. Cool briefly, then enjoy.  INCITE MAGAZINE, NOVEMBER 2013

PHOTOGRAPHY BY SOPHIA TOPPER (PIE) AND SARAH CONRAD

I

was first introduced to this recipe by my art teacher, who used to make it for my house at boarding school. It was a taste of home, and I hope you will all enjoy it too. This is an excellent first pie to make because it’s simple enough for novices but interesting enough to be impressive. It doesn’t use very many ingredients, and you don’t need a lot of fancy equipment.

Piecrusts intimidate many people, but they aren’t as tricky as they seem.

The first secret is to keep everything as cold as possible, which is why you ought to use ice water and frozen butter. The second is not to overmix the dough – this is why you shouldn’t use a blender. Piecrusts are flaky because butter is trapped between layers of flour and water, and when the butter melts the space between the layers is empty, a unique texture is made.

Keeping the dough cold makes sure that the layers are stable before the butter melts, and mixing properly ensures that the dough does not become too blended and that discrete layers exist. Just follow the instructions, and you’ll be fine!

ARTWORK BY IANITZA VASSILEVA

COME TO ATTENTION Alison St. Pierre

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n 1999, Harvard researchers Christopher Chabris and Daniel Simons performed an experiment in which participants were asked to watch a video and count how many times a ball was passed between people wearing white shirts. Being a diligent digital native, I looked up the video on YouTube. It began, and I started counting. Feeling confident, I watched the final tally come up on the screen, fifteen passes. Yes! My feeling of pride however was soon replaced with embarrassment. Like the participants in the original Harvard study, I failed to notice a person walk through the throwers wearing a full gorilla costume. I fell victim to “inattentional blindness”.

I can hear my parents’ voices saying, “If it was a snake it would’ve bit you!”

Seeing the world is important, and not only to prevent snakebites. Seeing allows us to interact with our surroundings. And come on, it’s a freaking beautiful world.

We are doing ourselves a great disservice by not noticing as much as we can. As someone much more intelligent than myself, Susan Sontag, put it: “Do stuff. Be clenched, curious. Not waiting for inspiration’s shove or society’s kiss on your forehead. Pay attention. It’s all about paying attention. Attention is vitality. It connects you with others. It makes you eager. Stay eager.”

So, how do we start to notice? Introducing the elements of design. Line, shape, direction, size, texture, colour, and value –

these are the building blocks of art and they can help us to become more diligent observers. To begin, just look at something in your surroundings. Now really look. Go through each of the elements, using them like a checklist. I spent some time looking at a wall in my room (hold the applause), and this is what I came up with: straight vertical lines, geometric forms, bigger than a loaf of bread, rough and shiny, bright, white. By using the elements of design, I saw the wall in a new, more detailed way. Once you start noticing, it’s hard to stop.

W.I.B. Breveridge wrote in The Art of Scientific Investigation: “Powers of observation can be developed by cultivating the habit of watching things with an active, enquiring mind. It is no exaggeration to say that well developed habits of observation are more important in research than large accumulations of academic learning.” The McMaster Museum of Art and the McMaster Medical School’s Department of Family Medicine are taking this in stride. A new visual literacy course is being offered to Family Medicine residents called “The Art of Seeing”, where the Residents improve their observation and diagnostic skills through the study of works of visual art. The study of art, and by extension the practice of noticing details and elements of design, increases their ability to be effective physicians. A paper published by Harvard Medical School in 2008 showed that medical students taking an art appreciation course at the university museum were 38 per cent more successful in making accurate medical diagnoses than those who did not take the course. Note to self: ask my doctor their about her favourite painting!

This is a call to action: notice. Notice the little things. The benefits are endless, from personal satisfaction to better observation skills in medicine or in life. It’s time the phrase “the devil is in the details” was changed to something a little more catchy, like “the awesome is in the details”. That’s right, the awesome. Don’t miss out! 

Once you start noticing, it’s hard to stop.

“But Alison!” you complain. “Observing using the elements of design seems so limiting. Everything I look at is more than just lines and stuff.” To this I respond, the reader doth protest too much, methinks. You see, each element of design is only a reminder of what you could be looking for. These elements push us to see more; they don’t force us to classify and analyze, they just provide an accessible way to start seeing the details of our surroundings. Use them as a tool, but don’t limit yourself to them!

VOLUME 16, ISSUE 3 11

PHOTOGRAPHY BY PHOTO DEAN (FLICKR)

HOLD ON TIGHT Stephen Clare

coat, feeling the angles of her bony shoulder press into his chin. He could sense her chest rising and falling against his with each breath.

It was his first physical contact with another person in five years.

Tears forced their way between his closed eyelids and fell onto her coat. As he cried silently he tried to memorize every sensation of the hug, every point where her body pressed against his, how her breath brushed against his neck and the way her small frame disappeared behind his arms. He felt the connection beneath his skin, in his heart, in his bones, and pulled her closer.

They lingered for a few moments still, just immersing themselves in each other’s presence, and then suddenly she was gone.

She pulled back, gently slipping out of his grasp, and scooted a few inches down the bench. Her coat glistened in the moonlight where it was wet from his tears. A familiar ache opened up in his stomach: loneliness, flooding back into the hole she had momentarily filled.

“So…” she said, not looking at him. “How was that?”

James shook his head and stared up at the sky. A few bright stars forced their way through the orange light pollution of the city.

“It was… beautiful.”

“Yeah…” she said. “Yeah, it was. It always is.”

“Every time? It’s always special?”

“Oh yes,” the woman smiled and looked into his eyes. “Everyone feels different.”

James nodded and coughed, noticing the cold for the first time.

He pulled his coat tighter around him. “So…” “Yeah. I should go. It’s not safe to linger.”

“Yeah,” James said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a crumpled handful of his remaining bills. “Here. Take it all.”

She regarded him for a moment, then shook her head. “Nah, it’s cool. First timer’s discount.”

She stood and brushed out the wrinkles in her clothes, turned sharply, and started walking away, her shoulders hunched against the deepening cold.

James watched her go, then stood suddenly and shouted.

“Hey! Wait. Hold on a minute… what’s… what’s your name?”

She paused, then turned around slowly, her face pale in the moonlight. “It’s… Candy.”

“Oh,” James said. “Uh… well, I’m James.”

She nodded once, and walked into the shadows.

“Just relax and remember there ain’t no one here but me and you.”

“H

ey. It’s okay. It’s fine, relax.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. It’s just… I’ve never done this before.”

“Never?”

“Well, no. I mean, I’ve done this. A while ago. I just haven’t… done this.”

“Oh. I see. Okay, well, that’s no problem. That’s totally fine. Just relax and remember there ain’t no one here but me and you.”

James nodded, but a quick glance over his shoulder betrayed his lingering unease. The park was quiet and dark, but these days, you could never be sure you weren’t being watched, be it by a camera, security officer, or roving spy drone. He looked down at his folded hands. They gleamed white in the moonlight, the nails bitten down to the quick.

“Come on darling. Look at me, okay?” soothed the woman beside him. James glanced up and flashed a quick smile. She was small, brunette, with big, dark eyes that seemed to swallow him whole. Pretty, but of course she was.

He could do this. He needed this, damn it, and he deserved it.

“Okay,” James said. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do this.”

The woman smiled. “Great. Great, honey. Alright, I’m just gonna need that half up front.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, sure,” James stammered. He fumbled in his pocket and grabbed a handful of tattered green bills. “It was fifty, right? Fifty in credits?”

“That’s right. Twenty five now, twenty five after.”

He counted carefully, mumbling under his breath, then handed the woman the required credits. She counted them again, flashing him an apologetic glance.

“Alright, it’s all there. You ready?”

James took another look around the park, but no one else was around. The woman smiled, nodded, and, without further warning, leaned forward and took him in a tight hug.

Shock. Overload. The smell of flowery perfume. The feeling of another’s arms wrapped tight, hands grasping the back of his shirt, two people touching and suddenly neither was alone anymore. James closed his eyes and buried his nose in her soft, furry

12

INCITE MAGAZINE, NOVEMBER 2013

 The house was sleeping. James carefully stepped over the threshold and eased the front door shut behind him. He didn’t want to wake Maggie. Not this late. It would be too tough to explain.

He padded down the hallway and into the bedroom, quietly undressed, and slipped under the covers of his small, single bed. Silence and darkness settled around him. The clock ticked impossibly loudly. He stared at the ceiling.

“Where the fuck were you?”

Only the clock replied.

“James. Where. The hell. Were you?”

“Maggie…”

“No James,” the bedroom light snapped on, revealing Maggie in her pajamas perched on the edge of her bed. “Tell me where you were. Were you buying drugs? Is that it?”

“What? No, of course not! I wasn’t buying drugs Maggie.”

“Oh yeah? Then what were you doing, James? Drinking? Gambling?”

“No Maggie! Just… I…” James faltered. He noticed the way the light caught the edges of Maggie’s short, golden hair, illuminating her head with a radiant halo, and sighed. “Maggie, do you remember when we met?”

She frowned, shook her head.

“Of course I do James. Don’t change the fucking subject... what are you talking about?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Senior year of college. Shit, you were hot.

God.” “What the hell does this have to do with anything?”

James stood, took a step across the room to where Maggie’s bed was pushed up against the wall. “I remember everything Maggie. Do you? Our first class together… our first date, we went to the movies together… our first picnic… our first… our first kiss? Do you remember that? Under that big birch tree?”

At that, Maggie stood too. “Don’t talk like that James. Don’t talk about that stuff.”

“Why Maggie? Why? It happened! It’s true, it happened. And they can never take that away from us.”

“Stop James. Stop it, you’re going to get us in trouble.”

“They can’t take that, Maggie, they might have taken everything else, but they can’t take that. That’s ours forever. Don’t you remember? I know you remember. You have to remember—” “No. No, no, no, stop, James, stop talking—” “—Maggie, you must. that’s ours that’s ours forever. They can’t have it. I won’t let them. Oh you know what they do, I know you’ve

heard the stories. I need these Maggie, I need these memories—“ “Oh God James, stop! They can see us, remember? Look, they can see us!” Maggie was shouting now, and she raised a trembling arm to point over James’ shoulder, to the shadowed corner of the bedroom where a red light blinked in time with the clock. The camera. They watched.

James looked there, saw it, and shook his head.

“I don’t care,” he said, and he hugged her.

For a moment, for one frozen moment in that cold, sparse bedroom, it was beautiful, and peaceful, and they were together again.

Then Maggie screamed and pushed him away.

“No, James! You can’t, you can’t, you can’t, it’s not allowed!”

James looked at her numbly, his eyes prickling with tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Maggie was crying too now. “I know,” she said, then turned and ran out of the bedroom.

Silence came again, and James moved in slow motion. He stared at the dark doorway, but there was no point in chasing after her. They would be here soon, and they would take him and do God knows what. Maybe they would take the rest, the scraps of life that they had allowed him until now. He glared at the camera, blinking away impassively, then sat down on Maggie’s bed.

The clock ticked on, and the second hand lapped the minute hand for the millionth time.

With purpose, James stood again and paced across the room placing one foot carefully in front of the other. Twelve steps, as it turned out. Twelve steps separated the two beds, and had done so for the past five years. Laughter mixed with sobs leaped from his throat.

He let time pass.

Eventually – after hours, minutes? – a loud banging echoed through the house, followed by a splintering crash. They were here.

It would be over soon, or perhaps it would begin. Whatever.

James looked around that empty bedroom for the last time.

Two bedside tables, two lamps. Two dressers and two bathrobes and two pairs of slippers. Two beds, separated by twelve steps.

He hated this place, and had for a long time, but as he heard the thud of heavy boots thundering down the hallway he found himself sad to leave. This was it. It was a little too final.

A squad of black-armoured figures burst in through the door.

One holstered his stun gun, marched forward, and grabbed James under the arms with rough leather gloves.

Hands grasped the back of his shirt, and James felt the security officer’s breath fall harshly on his neck. It was a feeling he would never forget. 

Twelve steps separated the two beds, and had done so for the past five years.

VOLUME 16, ISSUE 3 13

Cassandra Ferguson

Nature Experience My work has a consistent desire to relate nature to the self, exploring parallels and connections between human life and the environment. My work is grounded; it is organized and conforms to a structure. Learning the properties and boundaries of different materials is an important aspect of my learning process. I thrive on the combination of multiple working processes within one artwork to give the piece depth and the aspect of layering.

22.3" Ă— 29.13" Sintra reduction carving Xerox lithograph 2013

ď Ž Elementary Myth Aaron Grierson Great souls of the past have evoked the muses But these figments serve no purpose greater than fuses To ignite four elements of the cosmos in creativity An ethereal flame beginning endless sublimity Awash in spectral colours of the winds Submerged within waves which binds Atop the plateaus of the earth congealed.

An endless batter of forces working tireless beneath the shield.

With light one may see from all this energy doth creation spring And so of this the heavens and hells choose to sing.

Origins lay in gyrating licks of insatiable fire Turning over our worlds in endless rotation Constantly rejuvenating myths from atop the pyre Fearlessly being blown across new creation Horizons that blow every which way Directed in contest by the zephyrs gay.

Elevating skies beyond their limitation Carried upon forged updrafts relentless Seeming to jealous flames on a path aimless But through mists do winds gather the foundation Carefully carving the hills and valleys below New rocks cooling a temperament that cannot forgo.

Upon the soft surface unknown footprints press deep Into the core of a creation steeped in elements unattained By grasping hands too late come yet too early to remain Moulding dirt in all forms of empty caverns and windy peaks Breeding all flora and fauna from giants to sneaks Immersed in endless bodies of churning water that always seeps.

Drowning tons of earth beneath incalculable weight With relentless hold always vying for greater lands The ends of these earths are defined by glorious waterfalls The tides change but they cannot ebb away inevitable fate Eating all that it reaches, leaving the rock little more than sands Slipping beneath hearty gusts with cooperation that so often stalls.

So the cycles go, oscillating in struggle but never shifting course An elemental whirlwind of consumption, always varied but never without force. ď Ž

ARTWORK BY IANITZA VASSILEVA

It’s All About the

CHEMISTRY

Charlotte Mussells & Kaila Radan

H

Hydrogen

I

t was at Mr. Carbon’s Magnificent Gala, which happens periodically at his palace in St. Petersburg, Russia. The night was progressing normally when, suddenly, it was reduced to chaos: Oxygen was nowhere to be found. Detective Einsteinium was called in immediately to take charge of the investigation. What follows are his notes pertaining to the case as well as a detailed description of the suspects now in custody.

 The Scene Guests started arriving at Mr. Carbon’s residence at exactly 7:00 p.m. on the 17th of February. A cold night, and some new faces, led to a slow start to the evening. But by the time cocktails were finished and dinner was ready to be served, the party had livened and energy was running high. Dinner conversation revolved around the most recent scandal involving the bitter split between Chlorine and Hydrogen. As always, Mr. Carbon outdid himself by serving a sumptuous dinner. But as the evening progressed and the energy levels in the room rose, guests became increasingly unstable. Around 9:30 p.m., the party had moved into the lounge for an evening scotch and cigar. Next they were planning to hit the dance floor. It was when everybody was pairing off that Helium realized Oxygen was missing! After scouring the house and grounds with no trace of her, Detective Einsteinium was called to take over the case.

 Suspect: Hydrogen Recently divorced, he is the prime suspect in the case as he was the last person seen in the company of Oxygen. Many attribute his quick temper to be the cause of his failed marriage with Chlorine. A bit of a simpleton, he is always present but often goes unnoticed. It is rumoured that his affair with Oxygen was a fiery one and thus Detective Einsteinium is looking into any motives that Hydrogen may have had for the disappearance of his lover.

 Suspect: Silver Silver and Oxygen are childhood friends, although it was always speculated that Oxygen was the ringleader in their little duo. A bit of a pushover, Silver could often be seen acting as the wing-woman to Oxygen’s frequent relations.

However, it is commonly agreed that Silver is the prettier of the two and also tends to have expensive taste, causing her to turn down various suitors. She is being investigated as a suspect because she was unable to produce an alibi for herself at the time of Oxygen’s disappearance.

 Victim: Oxygen Although her own personality is a little dull, Oxygen thrives on the drama of others.

Whenever there is commotion, she is sure to be present to fuel the situation. This has lead to her having a tarnished reputation, not to mention that she has made a habit out of hooking up with the most recent divorcee, namely Hydrogen. Her disappearance at the event, while not unexpected, was a tragedy. Although not a popular dinner guest, those who dislike her will still agree that her attendance is necessary for a lively and successful evening.

Oxygen arrived at the event at 7:16 p.m. accompanied by Hydrogen. She was stunning in her white, airy dress, and was only outshone by Magnesium. Throughout the evening she enjoyed the company of various metals. Around 9:20 p.m. she exited the room on the arm of Hydrogen, and was not seen again.

He Helium

O

Oxygen

Ag Silver

Hg Mercury

 Suspect: Mercury Very few people know Mercury well, as she puts on a different face in every crowd.

People often shy away from spending extensive periods of time with her. Once close friends with Oxygen, the two girls had a falling out some years ago after Oxygen publicly declared that Mercury “just drove her crazy!” It is because of this toxic and unstable bond that Mercury is a probable suspect in the disappearance of Oxygen.

After taking the suspects statements, Detective Einsteinium withdrew into his office in order to review his notes. All of the suspects had motives for Oxygen’s disappearance and not one of them had an alibi for the time period between 9:00 p.m. and 9:30 p.m. when she was declared missing. There would have been enough time for each of the suspects to abduct Oxygen and return to the party.

 Suspect: Helium The first guest to notice Oxygen’s disappearance, Helium is a slight fellow with a high-pitched voice. A family relation to the Detective through their late cousin Argon, he is a noble and attentive friend to the point of suffocation. Although Oxygen and Helium have been in the same circle of friends for years, it is rare that one sees them alone together. Thus the fact that Helium was the first to notice her disappearance has piqued Detective Einsteinium’s interest.

Br

Bromine  Suspect: Bromine Bromine has a reputation for being a ladies’ man. He dated Oxygen briefly in high school before breaking up with her so that he could “explore his options” at college, where he was the star table tennis player (quite the accomplishment at Mendelian College). After a short-lived career he moved back to his hometown where he proceeded to pursue Oxygen. Unfortunately, she turned him down, suspicious of his past. “It just doesn’t smell right,” she told Silver on one of their coffee dates.

It wasn’t until a few days later that the detective received an anonymous email stating that Oxygen had, in fact, also had relations with Krypton, blatantly going against Silver’s wishes. When Silver was brought in for questioning once again, she admitted to the crime stating “I couldn’t stand by and let her ruin her life, the relationship was just so unbalanced! They had no chemistry together!” 

THE

ELEMENT OF

SURPRISE Asha Behdinan

Surprise.

Atomic number: not yet identified.

Atomic mass: undefined.

Physical and chemical properties: variable.

18

artwork by

Sarah Paisley

INCITE MAGAZINE, NOVEMBER 2013

C

learly, I’m not a chemist. I am, however, someone who can truly appreciate a surprise – in any way, shape, or form.

Now I’m not saying that all surprises are great spectacles, spreading happiness and joy to all who have the privilege of being on the receiving end. Rather, the sheer anticipation of waiting for the big reveal, or even the jolt of something totally unexpected is what captures the essence of a surprise.

Let’s assume you’ve been having a completely awful day – the likes of which could (in your opinion) be featured in an Edgar Allan Poe tragedy. You buy a burrito to make yourself feel better. As you’re biking home to enjoy it with a nice cold beer, your tire bursts and you (not to mention the burrito) fly over the handlebars.

Now your burrito is squished and you’ve been subjected to public humiliation. As you limp home you resign yourself to thinking today is just not your day.

But wait…

As soon as you walk through the doors you’re greeted with the most delicious smell – BBQ chicken pizza, complete with garlic dipping sauce and cans of coke, compliments of your lovely roommate. Sure, you may have to go to MACycle tomorrow morning, you may have a guacamole stain on your shirt, and your problems haven’t magically disappeared – but for at least a single moment you aren’t caught up in your own world and can appreciate this thoughtful act of kindness. Surprise! Your gem of a roommate also gets to take part in this delicious moment: seeing your priceless expression after all the anticipation in preparing this surprise.

But enough about the pizza.

Scientifically speaking, it has been shown through stimulating neural pleasure pathways and recording responses using functional MRIs, our brains react more strongly when the stimulus was not expected. Also, think about how many people would pay for a good surprise – as a form of entertainment, surprises have partially ensured the success of movie franchises, narratives, and Las Vegas magic shows.

Why is surprise such a successful and useful tool? Perhaps it brings out our inner child, or at least brings a certain level of nostalgia for the days when we’d eagerly wait to find the mystery prize at the bottom of the cereal box. This is especially true for the more mischievous souls out there, who take such delight in pranking their friends, teachers, co-workers, and pets.

This type of surprise may not exactly bring the person on the receiving end joy, but there is still a unique thrill felt by those who fall victim to a prank. The sensation will probably transform into appreciation (depending on the severity of the practical joke), after the all-too-familiar jolt of adrenaline has passed. And let’s not forget how gratifying these initial reactions must be to the person who planned the prank – surprises are clearly a

two-way street.

The magnitude of the surprise, however, is not the sole factor in determining its scope and effects. Even small surprises – like the completely fictitious pizza example – can have a large impact on a person’s day. A random act of kindness by a stranger, an unexpected token of appreciation from a friend, a thoughtful gift from family – these gestures do not need to be large for them to be profound. This is not to say that the meticulously planned, carefully thought-out, truly extravagant surprises hold no meaning.

Imagine planning an amazing surprise party for a friend, finalizing all the details from the Mad Men theme to the Bean Bar birthday cake.

But wait – what about all of the pressure associated with planning a great surprise? If you’ve decided to treat someone to an elaborate and totally unexpected treat, or even if it’s something on a smaller scale, there’s always that nagging question in the back of your mind of whether they’ll truly like it. This can be a source of stress, especially around the holidays and gift-giving seasons when individuals may have multiple people to please with their surprises. We’ve all heard stories of surprises gone wrong – the man who suddenly pops the question to his unsure and unsuspecting girlfriend, the father who buys a kitten only to discover that his children are actually allergic; the list goes on and on. But the fear of being unappreciated, or even overlooking someone’s true preferences, should not deter the potentially mutually rewarding act of planning a surprise.

As cliché as this may sound, it is the thought that counts, and hopefully the surprise recipient will understand even if everything goes disastrously wrong (within reason).

And on the flip side, what if you’re one of those people who don’t respond well to surprises? It’s arguably equally stressful being in a position where you have to convincingly respond to a surprise, such as a gift, to spare a friend or family member’s feelings (while secretly hoping there is a gift receipt in the bag). However, as previously mentioned, you’d still be able to appreciate the thought and effort that went into creating the surprise even though the results may be underwhelming at times. Regardless of what the surprise is, you have the comfort of knowing someone cares enough to undertake this daunting task (unless it was an ill-spirited surprise… but we’ll save that for another article). And even if you both know the surprise was a complete dud, at least you’ll appreciate what everyone has brought to the table and the effort that was put in to create a spectacular surprise.

The bottom line is – everyone gets it wrong sometimes. However, nothing can beat the thrill of this form of excitement. Whether it’s seeking enjoyment from bringing others unexpected happiness, or if you’re on the receiving side of some sort of imaginative scheme, surprises have widespread benefits for everyone. I can’t wait to see what you come up with next… 

VOLUME 16, ISSUE 3 19

water on an

iron road Raluca Topliceanu

A

smart man once told me that humans are like water. One might say that water is soft, obedient. It humbly drains into soil, and is chilled by winter’s breath. It falls at the beckoning of clouds and dries under the sun’s watchful eye. Water is strong, though. It digs its teeth into rock, carves its own path. It flows unwaveringly. It cleanses. We are water. We chiselled our way into the earth, shaped it under the force of our tools and our hands. We endured where fire would have burned out, earth would have crumbled, and wind would have fallen silent.  If I could paint the view from where I sit, I would drown my brush in dark ink and spatter it across the canvas in harsh strokes, leaving slivers untouched where I could catch the light making crescents out of faces. It was crowded; I could count at least fifty crescents.

The boat swayed, made the light shift from one face to another, then back again. I tried to paste together features – downcast eyes, faces drenched in a layer of sweat, lips forming thin lines – then gave up when I realized that the features I saw were a reflection of my own.

Months of feeling the ocean pushing us along deepened the lines in their faces, and some of the hope that came with Gold Mountain slipped from their eyes.

Only you smiled. I could see you about seven men down from where I sat. Your eyes were open, staring up at the creaking boards above our heads with a sort of reverence, as if you could see something in the rippled wood grain the rest of us could not. When we poured out of the boat and were herded onto the plot of land where we were to set up our tents, the two of us chanced to meet. The

We were still chasing dreams when they woke us to set down the tracks for their railroad.

20

They died alone, their bodies pulled from the wreckage of stone and dust and gunpowder... feel of solid earth beneath my feet felt foreign, and my steps were like those of a child that had not yet learned to walk. We set up our tents with well-worked hands, and rested our heads back to view a sky so much like the one we left behind. Familiar stars were sprinkled across the horizon, and the moon shied from our view, so that we could only see half of her lit face.

We were still chasing dreams when they woke us to set down the tracks for their railroad.  Winter’s teeth bite into my hands, bruise the dry skin into something that looks separate from me. The white gravestones blend into the background, make it look as if a skilled calligrapher took his brush to the snow, painting the names of the dead directly onto the flakes. They never thought it could end like this: the charges going off before they could trickle out of the tunnel, layers of rock falling atop them with the force to break each tender bone. They died alone, their bodies pulled from the wreckage of stone and dust and gunpowder from the explosives they were ordered to set. Some could be identified to be sent back to the families waiting back in their province, and some were too mutilated to possibly identify. After each incident, there would be phone calls made back to China.

We call them the crying lines; the only words ever spoken were to inform about someone who has died, another young man that would not be returning home. I could only imagine the tears shed over each phone call, each lost man.

I rest atop the section of iron train tracks that were set three days ago, thinking of how many men’s backs they were built upon, how many dirt-covered hands positioned each piece. I worked alongside them; my hands lifted with theirs, positioned with theirs.

INCITE MAGAZINE, NOVEMBER 2013

“Humans are like water,” you say. “Put tiny drops in the dessert, and they dry up.”

I feel the cold seep into my skin through the thin layer of clothing, while I trace the ink-drawn characters on the gravestones with my eyes. I hardly know the faces behind the names. I only know them as the ones that got unlucky, the ones that won’t be making their fortune here, won’t be going back on the first boat to be welcomed home by family.

“Humans are like water,” you say. “Put tiny drops in the dessert, and they dry up.” Six months of life here has hardened you somewhat; that smile I first saw on the boat has melted, replaced with a concentrated look in your eyes.

I never understood your analogies, so I just nod.

“They want us to go back in,” I tell you. “They say we are almost through the mountain.”

“Too fast,” you reply, dusting the snowflakes from your hair.

“They are moving too fast. They send us in, we set up the charges, and almost before the dust clears, they are ready to send us in for another round. We need to go slow, make sure the tunnel is not just going to collapse on us; we lose someone each time we go in. No

length of this railroad is worth a life.”

“No one wants to go in anymore; too scared. They are offering five dollars to whoever can go set up the charges, and some extra if it can be done in less than ten minutes. I… I said I would go.”

“You don’t know how to position the charges properly. Put them in the wrong spot and you can clog up the entire tunnel.”

The only times I ever went in, you were the one in front, guiding me as I clutched a corner of your tattered shirt in one hand and two bundles of explosives in the other. You would always tell me where to step, and lead me crawling through the miniature stone tunnels, all the while scanning the barely-seen walls for a place to set the charges. You would think for the longest time before you nicked a hole in the rock and squeezed the explosive inside.

“I watched you do it,” I say.

You shake your head. “I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t—” The smile I saw so long ago came back. “We’ll go in once more and come out rich men.”  ARTWORK BY RALUCA TOPLICEANU

VOLUME 16, ISSUE 3 21

PHILOSOPHY BY THE NUMBERS Ana Qarri

W

e’ve all encountered Plato’s Allegory of the Cave at some point in our education – be it a five second spiel during a high school English class or a three hour lecture during a philosophy class. The Allegory has made its way into popular culture despite being thousands of years old, and continues to appear in literature and philosophical discussions.

Regardless of its popularity, the Allegory is often over-simplified, and its implications on modern philosophy often go unnoticed.

Plato believed in perfect, universal Forms. The world outside Plato’s cave consists of the true Forms, and it was only when the prisoners ventured into this outside world that they were able to see the true realm of the Forms. Exactly what Plato meant by “Forms” is disputable; it could be anything from perfect forms of physical objects to mathematical ideas.

In fact, Plato’s Theory of Forms has inspired the creation of various philosophical schools of thought that rely on the existence of abstract objects. In mathematics, those who adhere to this philosophy are called mathematical Platonists, and they believe that there exists a world outside the mental and physical worlds inhabited by mathematical entities.

The three main principles of mathematical Platonism are that these entities are necessarily existent, uncreated, and eternal. For an object to be necessarily existent it must be impossible for it to not exist. For example, according to some, the Judaeo-Christian God is a necessary being, because by definition God could not have failed to exist. The existence of shoes, however, is not necessary. The existence of a shoe is entirely dependent on the manufacturing of said shoe. Its existence is not necessary, as it could have very well not existed.

The second principle states that these abstract mathematical entities must be uncreated, and relies on the premise that these entities cannot be a result of causal relations. It also complements the third principle: the entities are eternal. An eternal object does not have to be brought into existence, and thus would not need a creator or a causal relation of any sort. These entities,

according to mathematical Platonists, have simply always existed.

It’s understandable that the claim that mathematical objects exist in a world of their own and are necessary and eternal in our universe is appealing to many mathematicians. And, just as Plato describes leaving the cave as a way of seeking truth, Platonists believe that a particular form of perception that allows them to “communicate” with this realm of mathematical Forms. Kurt Gödel, one of the greatest lo-

MIT’s cosmologist Max Tegmark, have taken a more radical approach with the philosophy. Tegmark believes not only that the universe is fundamentally and inherently mathematical, but also that all mathematical Forms individually define one world and come together to form a mathematical multiverse.

However, these beliefs and explanations have rightfully gained critics. Claims that the Platonic world is logically necessary seem to be begging the question, and the circular proof for the existence of all three worlds does not further explain the existence of either one.

In his book Why Does the World Exist?, philosopher Jim Holt claims that mathematical entities aren’t logically necessary; they’re only logically permitted.

The main shortfall of Platonism seems to be the inability of its adherents to create a sufficient argument against the epistemological argument, which states that there is no logical way for humans to communicate with a non-spatiotemporal world and therefore no way for us to access the mathematical world.

There are, however, many belief systems based on abstract worlds that we are arguably unable to access. Despite this, Gödel’s belief in mathematical intuition has received a lot of scepticism and has “scandalized” some mathematicians, and even Platonists. The idea that mathematical entities exist in a world that cannot be empirically observed seems ridiculous to most mathematicians and logicians.

The strongest argument in favour of mathematical existence is the Indispensability Argument. It was formed by Quine, a twentieth-century naturalist, and claims that given the use of mathematics in scientific explanations of physical phenomena, denying mathematical existence is impossible.

Thus, since mathematics is indispensable to science, it is also indispensable to existence.

The case really boils down to whether mathematics is truly indispensable to our physical world and exists independently, or whether our physical world was created in such a way that it possesses physical relationships that define mathematics as we know it. 

There exists a world outside the mental and physical worlds inhabited by mathematical entities …

Plato believed that any knowledge that we have about the Forms, like the shadows on the inner cave wall, is residual knowledge from a previous life.

22

gicians and committed Platonists, referred to this perception as mathematical intuition.

Plato believed that any knowledge that we have about the Forms, like the shadows on the inner cave wall, is residual knowledge from a previous life. He suggests that these memories came from a lifetime when our minds were in direct contact with the Forms.

Sir Roger Penrose, a theoretical physicist and contemporary Platonist, insists that Plato was correct in a way, even if the terminology he used might be slightly outdated.

Penrose thinks that the human brain is the most perfect part of all three worlds (mental, physical, Platonic), and that this should explain why we have access to the Platonic world of mathematical entities.

Some contemporary Platonists, like

INCITE MAGAZINE, NOVEMBER 2013

 The Notary Sebastian Johnston-Lindsay I. The rains came suddenly from the steel brow of cloud; Circling hawks ducked briefly to the shade of leaves and trees that held them.

Tight and alone, stood standing out the waking noon!

I have become Silver in mind; I resent all that is Gold.

But this does not mean I do not love it still.

Merely a note-taker of the eternal senses of ‘man’.

 November Sebastian Johnston-Lindsay Might I have your hand to take away with me; A map of mild memory.

The whisper in the trees will tell Of passages you know.

The floating leaves, what gifts are these?

Such desperate seeds to sow!

A copper crown to trim the homes of suburbs so subdued.

A season like the day does die, trailing clouds so blue.

Silent birds by evening send no food for Autumn’s cold.

Dazed by Indian Summer’s hand, dressed in lakes of Gold.

Who-man?

You man!

May the bridges burn bright and with them bring a calm; What barriers of mind to shatter only to roll into the lake…

These nights hold hands with tough love.

II.



I am a magnitude.

A facet for each state of mind; I am one of the times, a product consummated and bent again to benign ends.

As that which makes a man is that which with conscience destroys.

This season’s flowers bend to the hot wind’s will.

What prayers to fix these broken stems!

Waste of a garden, flung over fences forgotten, as with this dying eve.

What of the old poetic mind?

Chapters and pages to be written and erased; To sell and to sail with the whims, Blanket hymns to roll over a century. 

PHOTOGRAPHY BY IANITZA VASSILEVA

ARTWORK BY FIRSTNAME LASTNAME

Jenn Shamo

Alicia Giansante

Ianitza Vassileva

NATURE TAKES ITS COURSE Tony Jin

The natural elements have physically altered the earth, inspired myths, changed human culture, and redefined history. The classical elements: Fire, Air, Water, and Earth have wreaked havoc on human civilization for millennia and this is just a glimpse of the true fury of the elements.

Minoan Eruption in 2 Millennium BCE

T

he eruption inspired Greek myths, fueled turmoil in ancient Egypt, and was alluded to in Chinese chronicles. Described in the Bamboo Annals, a text detailing Chinese history, as the year with “yellow fog” and “frost in July, famine, and the withering of all five cereals”, this eruption was one of the largest in recorded history. The eruption is estimated to have created a 30–35 kilometre high ash plume, spewed out 100 km3 of debris, and generated a 100 m high tsunami that devastated coastal cities. One of them was Akrotiri – which some scholars believe inspired Plato’s legendary tale of the island Atlantis, where “in a single day and night of misfortune … sank into the earth, and … disappeared in the depths of the sea.” 

EARTH The Spartan Earthquake of 464 BC

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he earthquake described by the Greek historian Thucydides when he observed the sea “subsid[ing] from what was then the shore and afterwards swe[eping] up again in a huge wave” destroyed the city-state of Sparta, igniting the First Peloponnesian War that led to the end of the Golden Age of the Greek Empire. The macroseism, which geologists estimate to have been 7.2 on the Richter scale, killed 20 000 people and triggered a revolt from the helots, the slave class of Spartan society. The uprising exacerbated the existing animosity between Sparta and its long-term rival Athens, leading to a peace treaty cancellation and three decades of a war that completely reshaped the ancient Greek world. 

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AIR

nd

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Bhola Cyclone of 1970

esponsible for over half a million deaths and cited as a catalyst for a civil war that led to Eastern Pakistani Independence (modern day Bangladesh), this freak storm struck Eastern Bangladesh and West Bengal on November 11th, 1970 with 185 km/h winds. Described as the deadliest tropical cyclone in recorded history the storm surge destroyed costal villages and wiped out thousands of square miles of crops throughout the region. Following the disaster, prolonged government relief amplified the already-present political animosity in the region, which ultimately led to a yearlong bloody civil war that culminated in Bangladesh’s independence. 

WATER Chinese Floods of 1931

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ith an estimated death toll of 1.4 million people, locals described “dead bodies floating like fish in the passing river” in the aftermath. In the five years preceding the flood, China experienced seasons of heavy drought, which was followed by an onslaught of rain in the early summer of 1931 that flooded China’s major rivers. By late summer, Mother Nature’s fury broke loose as dams and dikes were overpowered and the rivers flooded over 181 000 km2 of land to a depth of an average of 10–15 feet for three to six months.

This flood not only directly took the lives of millions of people not but indirectly affected tens of millions of people as a result of food shortages, leaving a year of starvation, death and disease. Historians attribute this catastrophe to be the cause of the political unrest that eventually shaped China’s political landscape for the latter half of the 20th century.  INCITE MAGAZINE, NOVEMBER 2013

ARTWORK BY SARAH CONRAD

FIRE

REDEFINING SUCCESS Sarah Conrad

Why put all of our energy into achieving a goal with no substance?

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earn to compromise, manage your time effectively, know all the right people. Go to bed later, go to bed earlier, get up earlier, take more naps. Never take naps. Get more work experience, write a better cover letter, volunteer. Get off Twitter; you’re wasting your time. Get back on Twitter; online networking is essential. Be happier, eat healthier, care about everything, but don’t care too much. Work harder than everyone else. Work longer than anyone else.

Work better than everyone else.

and have made positive contributions to our society. Why is it, though, that thoughts of talented but struggling artists, loving but impoverished parents, or survivors of illness are so often secondary? These are almost undoubtedly examples of successful people, yet the word success continues to carry connotations of deep pockets and flourishing careers.

Why do so many people value objects over moments, good grades over knowledge, and titles over skills? Are we over-

There seem to be too many people talking about how to be successful and too few talking about what exactly success is and why it’s so sought after.

ARTWORK BY SARAH CONRAD

We are surrounded by conflicting advice about how to achieve everything we’ve been working towards and we’re under constant pressure to live the best lives we possibly can. Countless motivational speakers and self-help books tempt us with tips and tricks, promising to lead us down the road to success. Just follow these simple steps and you’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted to be. There seem to be too many people talking about how to be successful and too few talking about what exactly success is and why it’s so sought after.

Our commodity-driven culture places a disproportionate emphasis on the idea that success is defined by the attainment of wealth or a position of power. Accomplishments are valued over experiences and there is a lingering idea that a list of achievements can determine our worth.

Influence, money, and reputation are regarded as evidence of a life well lived.

When asked to list ‘successful’ people, many think of celebrities, CEOs, or politicians. We think of Walt Disney, Steve Jobs and Ellen DeGeneres – and rightly so; these people worked hard to achieve their status,

looking opportunities to better our lives, the lives of those around us, and the world we live in simply because our actions would not produce a tangible and socially sanctioned reward? Environmental scholar David Orr is most notably quoted for writing, “The plain fact is that the planet does not need more ‘successful’ people. But it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers, and lovers of every shape and form. It needs people who live well in their places. It needs people of moral courage willing to join the fight to make the world habitable and humane. And these needs have little to do with success as our culture has defined it.”

This is not to say that we should abandon our ambitions, but that it’s worth taking the time to analyse them. ‘Success expert’ Richard St. John lists passion as the very first quality in his book The 8 Traits Successful People Have in Common. He separates those who aim for success into two categories: strivers and seekers. Strivers are those who pursue a known passion and seekers are those still searching to discover their passion. St. John recognizes that many of

us are seekers; we don’t yet know what we want to accomplish. He doesn’t see this as negative, and neither do I. Why put all of our energy into achieving a goal with no substance behind it?

Success means something different to everyone. Maybe it means getting an A on a paper, or being promoted to the job you’ve always dreamed of. Maybe it’s working up the courage to meet new people, or learning how to do something new. Or maybe it’s getting out of bed in the morning, feeling able to face the day. Whatever your goal, getting there is your version of success.

Brought down to its core, to be successful is to live well. Working our hardest to reach objectives that are nothing but abstract societal ideals seems to lead only to an alluring but hollow triumph. Maybe your vision of success is a fancy job title and substantial bank account, and that’s okay. Though it may seem shallow to some, knowing why you want these things gives them value. None of us know exactly what we want or exactly what we will want in the future, but taking the time to think about what matters to us and why will bring new significance to every ‘how to’ guide we encounter. Success is not determined only by a list of tasks completed but by the knowledge that we have done something worthwhile and done it well. 

VOLUME 16, ISSUE 3 27

SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED Emile Shen

I reflected the concept of home for the first time...

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verything about it was so unfamiliar. It wasn’t supposed to come this easy. I was used to a constant chase, somewhat as a product of my own desire for challenge, but it’s as if you were a perfect gift, dropped on my doorstep. I told myself to approach this whole ordeal with a sort of cautious detachment that would smother any vulnerability. After all, they say the power of a relationship belongs to who cares less. It was probably the warm Californian air, or something akin to how spring is the start of new love. You loved using bad metaphors like that, especially at the end, describing the seasons changing as something we should emulate.

But it’s the middle that really matters in any relationship. You’d give me iced chai tea lattes when I didn’t need them, but the right words when I did. We celebrated my admission into McMaster, lamented your withdrawal from your dream school, but still fantasized a future where long distance was feasible. We approached the relationship like it was unique, fate-driven, and everlasting. Those three words put together now sound like the most cliché descriptions possible, but the sensationalist way I quantify my experiences was just the nature of the relationship. I now wonder, however, what the justification for those thoughts ever was. There was little stability ever there.

I wasn’t used to reciprocation.

Or gestures of love, but just because I wasn’t used to it doesn’t mean I didn’t like it. It was scary to feel the gravity of your decision to give a stranger a chance, just as I made the same choice with you. Now I don’t know if I am writing this from a place of hurt, regret, or appreciation. Everything happened and ended so quickly that it left me breathless at the beginning and end. And careless in the middle. But at least it was in a blissful haze.

The middle of any experience will always be fuzzier than the start or conclusion. When enough time is spent in any process, you get comfortable going through just the actions and not evaluating the meaning behind them. That is, until some outside force questions it. Then you realize that the subjectivity of your perceptions might be quite disparate from the reality of the situation. Without evaluation, you’re not experiencing at all. Rather, you become someone trying to map out and piece together how you got to there in the first place.

So, in the six-week period that I was overseas, both my ideas of self and home were irrevocably altered. I suppose I was too busy adjusting to those changes to realize that something about you was different as well. I did not want to dwell on the brief past we shared, so I pushed myself into the future at Mac. Now, it’s been another six weeks, and while I’m still adjusting to my first year here, my definition of home has evolved once again. It is surprising how quickly this definition changed, how much variety I have purely experienced, and how strong my bonds with some friends already are. The strange feeling lies now with visits home to Toronto; I’ve lived in the same city and house for fifteen years, yet I feel out of my element there. It is a strange feeling that I am more used to the inconveniences like no air conditioning, and walking what feels like a yard to go to the washroom or get water, than I am with the comfort of where I grew up.

Sometimes you go out of your comfort zone and that choice will work out in your favour. Other times, things you cannot necessarily control will make you realize you were misleadingly comfortable in the first place. Regardless, the best any of us can do is try to piece together whatever happens in stride. Positive or negative, it is growth. 

I had always considered myself to have two homes, but the one I was in for the summer started to feel like it was slipping away from me.

That summer I had to visit the motherland. I was looking forward to experiencing the luxury of being surrounded by loving friends and family whom I don’t see very often, while taking what my vibrant hometown Shanghai had to offer. I wasn’t expecting to feel any sort of sadness to be leaving my friends or him behind. By then, expecting the unexpected should have registered as a theme of my 2013 year. So it was when I was approaching the Arctic Circle on my flight across the world that I reflected the concept of home for the first time. It really ceased being a physical place, but a concept where the people you love exist. The prospect of a comfortable adventure 28

was there, but above all, I feared missing out on what could have been the most carefree summer of our lives. Every trip to China is a marker in my physical and mental growth, but this trip was distinct from the last one in 2009, where I had little challenge leaving Toronto, or identifying myself culturally. More than once, I was criticized for being “too Canadian” and rejecting my roots, based on actions that I had no intention of being considered inappropriate. Naturally, my idea of self was shaken. I had always considered myself to have two homes, but the one I was in for the summer started to feel like it was slipping away from me.

INCITE MAGAZINE, NOVEMBER 2013

Ianitza Vassileva VOLUME 16, ISSUE 3 29

PHOTOGRAPHY BY KHATIJA ANJUM

RADIOACTIVE DE

THE FALL OF NUCLEAR ENERGY IN Mackenzie Richardson

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he year is 2076. The last foundations of the McMaster Nuclear Reactor have turned to dust and the depression in which its cooling pool stood is filled with cement. Ontario is a far different place in this distant future. The slow but steady neglect of nuclear facilities over the past sixty years has resulted in their complete dereliction. Energy prices began to soar around 2030 when so called “green” energy facilities, such as wind farms and hydroelectric dams, failed to meet their expected quotas.

Archaic coal- and natural gas-powered systems had to fill the energy void. This solution was only temporary because, within two decades, fossil fuel reserves in the Alberta oil sands almost completely dried up. Unable to afford its basic operating costs, the government of Canada made drastic and sweeping budget cuts, forcing the shutdown of countless institutions and organizations. The property on which McMaster University was formerly situated was eventually abandoned.

This narrative may seem grim but it may be a possible glimpse into the future. Ontario currently has one of the finest empires of nuclear facilities in the world. Three nuclear energy plants generate 56.4% of all of Ontario’s power: Bruce, Darlington, and Pickering. Ontario is also a global leader in production of valuable medical isotopes. Isotopes like 60Co, 99Tc, and WI are used in biomedical applications such as radiation therapy, radiation imaging, and antibody detection. The main source of medical isotope production in Ontario is Chalk River Laboratories, which

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INCITE MAGAZINE, NOVEMBER 2013

CAY:

ONTARIO

can produce over 80% of the world’s supply of these materials. However, with great nuclear power comes great responsibility.

The government of Ontario has been investing very few resources into the maintenance and upkeep of nuclear facilities over the past decade. Two of the reactors at the Pickering plant have been shut down; refurbishments would allow them to continue operating but there is no indication that these repairs will ever happen. The Darlington plant received official approved for environmental assessment of the plans to construct four additional reactors. But the government slashed the funding for these plans this month, making realization of these plants virtually impossible. The state of research reactors such as those in Chalk River Laboratories is also on the decline. Twice in the past six years the main reactor at Chalk River has been shut down for emergency repairs. These shutdowns caused worldwide shortages of medical isotopes and resulted in massive wait times at hospitals and clinics. In both cases, government orders forced the reactor to resume operations before it had been officially approved for service.

The government’s disregard for nuclear facility service and repair is the result of a number of complex factors, among which are several misunderstandings the public holds concerning nuclear energy. Nuclear energy is often seen in a very negative way.

What other power source has protesters

rallying against it on a regular basis? Many people have developed a fear of nuclear energy following major disasters: Chernobyl, Three Mile Island, Fukushima Daiichi, among others. However, these fears can be rationalized by comparing them to airplane and car accidents. Airplane accidents are perceived as being far more destructive than car accidents but, statistically, flying is far safer than driving. Similarly, nuclear disasters can be catastrophic, but they happen very rarely. Statistically, nuclear energy is quite safe. Public opinion is heavily in support of renewable energy sources like wind, solar, and hydro power. Nuclear energy is not considered to be a renewable energy source due to its production of radioactive waste. However, people fail to realize the negative environmental impacts renewable energy sources can have, from creation of heavy metal alkaloids during solar cell production to methane synthesis as a result of the establishment of hydroelectric dam reservoirs. Comparatively, nuclear en-

ergy produces small amounts of waste which could be a future source of precious and rare metals. Despite these benefits of nuclear energy, the public perception of nuclear energy is distorted. And the government, whom the public expects to legislate based on their interests, often follows popular opinions. The misconceptions of the public have led to the neglect of nuclear energy.

If the nuclear industry wants to solve the problems it is facing, it has to start by educating the public and deconstructing myths and misperceptions. This could help public policy shift towards the support and funding of nuclear energy, allowing the construction of new reactors and refurbishment of old ones. Nuclear energy has already proved its worth in the form of large scale energy production and medical isotopes.

Hopefully, the great empire of nuclear energy Ontario has amassed is not ignored or wasted. A better understanding of nuclear energy and more attention and care from the government could pave the way to a golden age of nuclear energy. 

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PHOTOGRAPHY BY IANITZA VASSILEVA

DECRIMINALIZING B.C. BUD: Suzy Flader

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few weeks ago, I found my Facebook feed full of shared links to a video called “How to be a Vancouverite”. It sounded funny, so I clicked the link and took a gander. After less than a minute I was already howling with laughter at how accurate a depiction of my hometown it was. From the way we pronounce Vancouver with an added “g” (“Vang-couver,”) to our overpriced housing situation, these guys had done a great job of encompassing many of the things that we Vancouverites hold near and dear to our hearts.

As I scrolled through the video comments, though, I noticed that someone had commented that they should have added a section about marijuana use. After all, our city is notorious for use of the stuff. Of course, I can’t say that everyone partakes in the smoking of pot, and I also can’t say that those who smoke do so consistently. There is just an overall feeling of acceptance that doesn’t seem to exist as prevalently elsewhere in Canada.

In elementary school, I was given the same drug talk that most other kids of my age were given. “Drugs are bad, they ruin your life, do not do them, ever.” If people were smoking pot around me, I was oblivious to it. All I knew was that I wanted to do the right thing and listen to the adults telling me that getting high was wrong, and this was my mentality for a long time.

Then, in grade ten, I was exposed to

Bust or Benefit?

the world through a different lens. All of a sudden, it became apparent that those same adults who told me not to smoke weed were doing just the opposite. Parents were smoking, teachers were smoking, politicians were smoking, and smoking shed its criminal connotations. The thing is, though, that nothing in my life seemed very different. The people I looked up to were still people I looked up to, even though I now knew that they smoked. I my own way, I had mentally decriminalized marijuana without even trying.

called Sensible B.C. began a campaign to implement the Sensible Policing Act. They claim that if 400 000 signatures can be collected from across the province by December 5th, there will be a referendum to decriminalize marijuana possession by 2014. The Sensible Policing Act has two main goals: firstly, to decriminalize marijuana possession, and secondly, to work towards legal regulation. If the act were followed through completely, marijuana consumption would be regulated in a similar manner to alcohol.

You would have to be of a certain age to purchase it in stores, and laws against driving under the influence would be applied.

This would not be the first time that the BC government has instated a controversial law. Safe heroin injection sites are currently being funded, despite controversy among the public. The decriminalization and potential legalization of marijuana would likely hold a similar effect. Just as heroin use and the spread of needle-borne disease was a prevalent problem that the government identified and dealt with, so too is to the issue of marijuana use. While some officials would like to pretend that the government doesn’t need to get involved, the current fine-based system is a drain on government resources that could otherwise be better spent. While I am not condoning drug use, it is undoubtedly very prevalent in my home province, and decriminalization seems to be a realistic option. 

I was given the same drug talk: “Drugs are bad, they ruin your life, do not do them, ever.”

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And I’m not alone in this thinking. In general, I have witnessed a more liberal view towards marijuana while living in British Columbia than I have in Ontario. Of course, this is based purely on my own subjective experiences and therefore can’t be taken as fact. But having spoken to people who live in both provinces, this does not seem to be so far from the truth. While I don’t think that nationwide decriminalization is something should necessarily be considered at the moment, because a lot of provinces still hold conservative views regarding marijuana, I do think that British Columbia might be ready to make the change.

On September 9th of this year, a group

INCITE MAGAZINE, NOVEMBER 2013

ELEMENTARY, MY DEAR READERS Shruti Ramesh

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or those of you previously unacquainted, Sherlock Holmes is a fictional detective created by the Scottish author and physician, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Considering the fact that Sherlock has been the focus of four novels and well over fifty short stories before spinning off into further books, films, television shows, and plays, it is no surprise that he is no ordinary detective. His abilities as a detective seem almost super-human when coupled with his aptitude for disguises and knowledge of forensic science, but his secret isn’t some sort of super power: it’s logic. Or “elementary”, as he would say.

Sherlock Holmes uses logical reasoning, more specifically abductive reasoning. Abductive reasoning uses observations to form a hypothesis that accounts for reliable data (observation) and seeks to explain and account for these observations. Sherlock Holmes is able to draw conclusions from the smallest of observations by logically analyzing the situation.

Consider the following example:

Where there’s a will, there’s a way.  Scenario An infant Cinderella’s parents had just gotten engaged when her mother passed away. She now lives with her father, stepmother, and stepsisters.

Her father passes away suddenly and she finds out his will was “lost”, leaving everything to her stepmother. The will resurfaces many years later and he in fact did leave everything to her stepmother. She does not understand, and reads the will over with her friend Sherlock Holmes…  Dialogue cinderella: Dated June 4th 1924. I, Sir Father of Cinderella, having survived being widowed and now leaving a widow of my own— sherlock: Well Cinderella, you might as well stop reading, as this will is clearly a forgery.

Can Sherlock really have solved the case this quickly?

A) Yes. His logical thinking led him immediately to a sound conclusion.

B) No. Based on very little data, it is evident that Sherlock is jumping to conclusions.

C) No. There is insufficient evidence.

 Observations Let’s take a look at a few logical observations that can be made from this scenario: – Cinderella’s mother passed away when she was an infant.

– Cinderella’s mother passed away just after her engagement to Cinderella’s father.

– Cinderella’s mother and Cinderella’s father were not married at the time of her death.

– Cinderella’s father was not a widower.

– Cinderella’s father would not refer to himself as ‘widowed’ in his own will.

Therefore, the will is a forgery.

By applying this abductive logic, he is able to prove the will a forgery and put an end to a great injustice.

Thinking Like Sherlock Holmes This logic can be applied in everyday life as well.

– Observe. This may seem obvious, but much of the time, we see things without really observing the details closely. It is important to discern which details are important as well, since it is easy to become distracted.

– Listen. Often times we are too preoccupied to pick up auditory cues.

– Learn to read body language. Communication is also nonverbal: there could be a logical gap in someone’s words that is filled by actions and gestures.

– Remember that the easiest person

to fool is yourself.

Never make unfounded deductions in your analytical process. Only use the evidence that you have on hand to form your conclusions and never assume that something must be the case.

– Trust your intuition! Sherlock tends to justify his logic by saying that it is easier to know something than to explain how you know it. It’s important to be observant and question things, but overthinking can cloud your judgment and ability to observe a situation.

Of course, your abilities will not reach Sherlock Holmes’ level, but that is to be expected. 

ARTWORK BY SARAH PAISLEY

VOLUME 16, ISSUE 3 33

A FINITELY BEAUTIFUL LIFE Rachelle Zalter

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orever young” is an endearing concept. The idea of remaining eternally young can seem magical and promising. We may think of Peter Pan’s journey to Neverland, the mythical fountain of youth, or perhaps even Voldemort’s obsession with living forever. The notion is clearly popular in literature. And why wouldn’t it be? There are endless possibilities for adventure.

Sometimes I’ll find myself reminiscing on the days when I merely knew Arthur as a cartoon aardvark, not as a British king.

On the days when Miley Cyrus didn’t come in like a wrecking ball, but came in with a blonde wig and cowboy hat. When I could skip a day of school without worrying about notes and podcasts. When visiting the doctor was more about getting a lollipop than checking in on my inevitably finite health.

We put our childhood on a pedestal.

We are naturally intimidated by our own death.

Today, many people relate the philosopher’s stone purely to the red stone found in Harry Potter, but people have been writing about it since 300 C.E. The philosopher’s stone was a fictional construct, which fascinated alchemists. It was believed to transform base elements, like lead, into gold and silver. Some people even believed its powers could lengthen or eternalize life. Of all the charms a fabled stone could possess, our ancestors longed

for this above all.

But would all our worries truly be solved by immortality? One obvious problem with eternal life is the very apparent issue of overpopulation. Even in the 18th century, Thomas Malthus introduced this threat, claiming that eternal life would be problematic and immoral. If anything today, the consequences seem even more daunting. But beyond immortality’s threat on humanity as a whole, it would cause problems in our own lives as well. There’s the issue of

of turning 20, let alone 75. There are plenty of people that age gracefully and never lose touch with their optimism; nevertheless, happiness seems to be associated with youth.

So many wonderful things happen later in life. Children. Grandchildren. Buying a home. Traveling. Retirement. The leisure of playing shuffleboard in the sun, (I hope I’m not alone in looking forward to this.) It’s hard to get over the fear of becoming your parents, let alone your grandparents. But

We are naturally intimidated by our own death. watching loved ones die while you go on living. The possibility that life might lose its value, as it becomes easier to take years for granted. So why do we seek immortality? Why is it so much more appealing than life’s natural course?

Perhaps we’re focusing too much on our fears. I myself am dreading my first grey hair. To me, it’s the first step in the wrong direction. Sagging skin, aching back, forgetful tendencies. More importantly, there’s that thing people are always talking about – smiling less, laughing less, viewing the world through a half empty cup. The foreboding “loss of innocence”. I see a smile on my grandparents’ faces and yet I’m afraid

it’s important to appreciate life at all stages.

The very fact that it’s finite helps us do so.

Yet, it’s alright to long for more. In some ways, humankind’s tendency to desire immortality has led to wonderful things.

Alchemists may not have ever found a stone that eternalized life, but scientists have found treatments and cures that have lengthened it tremendously.

We can’t relive our adolescence, not can we control the end. It really all comes down to what happens in between. We could fear it. We could wish it away. Or we could take a bite out of life, and maybe even realize that just like an Oreo, the middle’s the best part.  PHOTOGRAPHY BY JASON LAU

PHOTOGRAPHY BY JASON LAU

BLACK DEATH Jennifer Scora

It was the Black Death that ended them all.

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t last, I think, watching the liquid turn black. I have found it.

I had spent years in the darkness of this laboratory, searching for the impossible. I had hidden from the outside world, had no idea what it was like anymore, had no care to know, really. All I cared for was to leave this world.

The liquid is slow to change, the blackness still expanding, like the darkness that spread through my life.

It had been bright and beautiful, once, full of my children, their warmth, my husband’s smile. They made every day worth living, no matter how long he spent in the laboratory or how much Isabelle and James fought.

It was the Black Death that ended them all. And now, here I am, stirring and stirring to make the blackness take over faster.

But the black of death is slow. I remember that much, from the time of the plague. Everyone was sick, dying. I was the first in my home. Time stretched out after I was infected. I remember my sister dragging the doctor in, taking the kids away. Crying.

So much crying.

My husband cried, too, as he forced his concoctions down my throat.

I was almost gone when he gave me the last one. I have little memory of it, only that I woke up. I survived.

My husband explained it to me. He said a rock had fallen from the sky, sent by God. That it was different from any other he’d seen.

The Philosopher’s Stone, he’d called it, every alchemist’s dream. But he used it all up making the elixir for me. So instead, I had to watch him die. There was a long line of deaths after that. Even my son, who survived the plague, soon died at the hands of some man desperate for the elixir of life.

After that, the only thing left was to undo my husband’s work.

There was no blade or poison that could do it, so I descended to his laboratory. How long I spent down here, I do not know. I only left to

find more materials, and I only left at night.

The liquid is fully black now. I take a glass of it and swirl it.

Suddenly, I remember how my husband would smile when he came out of the laboratory. I had felt like I was working with him these past years. Maybe, though, I would like to see the sun before I go to meet him. I would like to die in the sunlight. I pour the liquid into a vial and place it in my pocket.

As I ascend the stairs a familiar sound echoes around me. A child’s laughter. For a second it’s my daughter, running to meet me.

Instead a different child comes charging down the stairs and crashes into my legs. Another skids to a stop just in time. I bend down and help the little one to her feet. The clothes she wears are strange, but her face is familiar.

“Where are you going?” I ask. Somehow I am smiling.

“We’re exploring!” she exclaims.

“Ellie!” A voice calls. “Sara! Where are you?”

They break into a fit of giggles.

“I’m coming to find you!” They both crowd behind me, one clinging to each leg, as the steps grow louder. Their father finally comes into view, and as he sees me, I realize I must look terrifying.

But his expression barely changes.

“Hello,” he says. “You’re not my children.”

“No, but I may know where to find them.”

“We’re right here!” they screech, and they run around me to pounce on him.

“I’m Paul,” he says.

“Catherine.” I glance back, but I cannot see anything in the gloom.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, after tickling one of his daughters.

“What’s down there?”

“Nothing. The staircase is blocked off.” I think of the children trying to drink the black potion and shiver. He just nods and starts tugging his kids up the stairs.

I follow them like a puppy, lapping up their happiness.

The sunlight is startling. Its warmth creeps all the way inside me, cradling me. I look over at the little family, now chasing each other across the field, and I smile.

Death can wait. 

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