[1]

[A] I was waiting at the veterinarian's office recently with my cat when a young woman came (1) in. After she sat down next to me, she asked if I would mind if she took her pet iguana out of its carrier. It was just a baby, she said, and it liked being held. [B]

[2]

Now, I'm not fond of iguanas.  [c] They’re strange, unpredictable creatures that belong deep in a rainforest, (2) walking on the ground or resting high in the (3) trees, which are hidden in the canopy. (4) Wishing to be polite, but with reluctance in my voice, I told the woman that I didn't mind. She thanked me as she popped open the plastic carrier and pulled the iguana out onto her lap.

[3]

I guardedly examined the animal: A dinosaur-like thing, it was the size of a cat but armored in gray-green scales, with a black-striped, whiplike tail two feet long. (5) It had a spine with tiny spikes, and its muscular limbs ended with what resembled crinkly leather gloves drawn tightly over fine-boned human hands. When I looked more closely, I saw a tiny claw at the tip of each slender finger.

[4]

The woman began to pet the iguana under its chin, and the little dragon arched its neck and closed its eyes. The reptile's calmness amazed me, as did the (6) caress that was given tenderly from the woman to her pet and watched it peacefully rest. With a twinge of pity, I thought how sad it was for (7) us to lavish so much affection on something that couldn't love her back.

[5]

At that moment, the iguana slowly opened its eyes, which shone (8) large and bright, from its scaly face. [D] Head slightly cocked, it (9) regarded me, steadily and fixedly, like a judge (10) delivering a verdict.

[6]

"Who are you," it seemed to ask me, "to name the proper object of love?"

[7]

The veterinary assistant called for my (11) cat, and me from the hallway that leads to the examination area. A bit unsettled, I rose and picked up my cat carrier. As I walked from the waiting room into the hall, I glanced back and saw the iguana snuggle down into the young woman's lap, (12) looking as content as a kitten, and close its eyes again.

^[1] Runner Billy Mills qualified to run in the 10,000-meter race in the 1964 Tokyo Olympics, (15) but he was a long shot. ^[2] In Tokyo, however, Mills became the first to win an (16) Olympic gold medal for the United States in this event. ^[3] His qualifying entry time lagged almost a full minute (17) above the world record time held by Australian Ron Clarke. [18]

(19) Mills, an Oglala Lakota, spent his childhood on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. He started long-distance running while attending boarding school in Kansas. Initially, running was part of his training regimen for boxing, his first love.  (20) Mills had dreamed of being a boxer since he was a child.

Mills broke numerous high school track records, earning himself an athletic scholarship to the University of Kansas. With Mills as a star runner, Kansas won the 1959 and 1960 NCAA Outdoor Track and Field Championships. After graduation, he became an officer in the Marines and assumed the duties of military life. However, Mills was soon drawn back to the track, and, while still in the Marines, (21) races became part of his life again. 

(22) At an important point in his training, Mills wrote the words "Gold Medal" in his journal. He was determined to win, despite being rather unknown as an athlete. [23] Because of his unremarkable qualifying time, the US Olympic shoe sponsor didn't even send him running shoes for the race. (24) Luckily, Mills borrowed a pair and was ready to run when he hit the starting line. [25]

All eyes were on the (26) overseers, Mohamed Gammoudi of Tunisia and Ron Clarke, as they began the last lap of the race. Suddenly, (27) Mills, who had been in third place, broke from the pack, sprinted ahead, and won the race. Before a stunned crowd, Mills (28) had run the 10,000 meters 45 seconds faster than his qualifying time. He set an Olympic record of 28 minutes 24 seconds, (29) finishing ahead of Mohamed Gammoudi and Ron Clarke. As of 2014, he remained the only US runner to have won an Olympic gold medal in the 10,000-meter race.

The movie scene (30) unfolds, a boy out exploring trudges across the snow and arrives at a boarded-up house. As the lad knocks on the door, it slowly opens. Inside, dim light from a cracked and dusty window reveals an old man descending a staircase. Part of what draws an audience into scenes like (31) this, with that in mind, is the sounds that accompany the images. The crunch, the knock, the squeak, the creak.

In most films, such sounds are recorded after the cameras have stopped rolling, a practice named for Jack Foley, who was working in Hollywood in the late 1920s when "talkies" (32) swept silent movies off the screen. It was Foley (33) whom figured out that squeezing a sock full of (34) cornstarch, a sound like that of footsteps in the snow. He felt an old rocking chair to work to create the creaking of stairs. When a scene called for the sound of more than one person walking, Foley grabbed a cane to (35) generate the allusion of many people on foot.  Low-budget solutions to big problems (36) that eventually earned him the status of a Hollywood legend. (37) Movies with sound were in their infancy at the time. 

The need for "Foley" (38) arises from the sound clutter of real life. The job of the sound technician (39) (whose role is distinct from that of the "Foley artist") is to record dialogue without capturing all the distracting background noise. An airplane flying overhead. A phone ringing. (40) A door. Then, while viewing the film in a Foley (41) studio: a small room with a screen, a microphone, and countless props-the Foley artist re-creates the sounds of the actors' actions. It was Jack Foley who pioneered this process.

Directors adored him. To re-create the audible ruckus of Caesar's army for the movie Spartacus, Foley jangled a set of keys in front of the microphone. That simple act, a Jack Foley classic, cut the movie's budget by (42) untold thousands of dollars. The director had planned to ship actors and horses, an army's (43) worth headed to a battlefield overseas to get an authentic sound recording. Instead, they all stayed home, and the audience never knew the difference. [44]

In her lab at Princeton (45) University, molecular biologist, Bonnie Bassler leans over a collection of petri (46) dishes; her face illuminated by an aquamarine glow. The glow, caused by a particular (47) species, of bacteria is confirmation of a phenomenon Bassler has been investigating for years. Bacteria, the simplest forms of life, have the ability to communicate with each other.

As a student in graduate school, Bassler became intrigued with other (48) researchers' and their discoveries involving Vibrio (49) fischeri; a luminescent marine bacteria. Researchers found that these bacteria only begin to glow once they have formed a group. A series of experiments revealed that each bacterial cell releases an autoinducer, a type of chemical signal. A sensory protein (50) allowed other bacteria to "hear" this molecular message. Once the bacteria have released a high enough concentration of (51) autoinducer, they assemble and begin to glow. This "quormµ sensing" enables the bacteria to coordinate their actions and perform their specific function.

(52) On the contrary, in her own lab, Bassler found evidence of quorum sensing in a (53) related bacterial species called Vibrio harveyi. She also discovered that V. harveyi release a second auto inducer, or AI-2. This AI-2, which Bassler has described as a chemical "trade language," makes it possible for bacteria to communicate with other species of bacteria in the (54) same neck of the woods. She found that each of the species she studied, including (55) ones that live in humans, releases AI-2.

After her 2002 discovery, Bassler began using information from her quorum-sensing studies to understand how virulent strains of bacteria found in humans (56) communicate. These (57) disease-spreading bacteria rely on quorum sensing to spread disease. Bassler is hopeful that her ongoing studies of AI-2 will enable (58) she and her team to disrupt quorum sensing. [59]

[l]

Soon after the London Underground subway lines were introduced in the late 1800s, a system for mapping these (60) vicinities creeping beneath was needed so that travelers could navigate this new mode of transportation. (61) As a result, early maps relied on a geographically accurate scale that simply superimposed the twisting subway lines over standard maps of the city streets above. [A] These maps clearly depicted the few subway lines that extended into suburban London, but they compressed and (62) obscured the compact, heavily trafficked routes that converged directly under central London. [63]

[2]

In the 1930s, electrical engineer Harry Beck proposed a solution that would eliminate the need for geographical accuracy. He created a map that was a scaled-down linear diagram of the subway lines. More a stylistic outline of the routes (64) besides a true-to-life (65) sketch; it did not represent actual distances between points. [B] Beck's map, modeled after electrical wiring diagrams, had a clean, grid-like structure (66) having also color-coded routes. Focusing on creating the simplest possible schema (67) to show travelers how to get from one station to another, he (68) did away with all references to city streets above.

[3]

[1] The London Passenger Transport Board, which represented the subway lines, initially resisted Beck's map. [2] Still, willing to try anything to (69) rise subway ridership and therefore revenues, (70) a limited number of copies were printed. [3]Beck's map became a huge success.[4] Over a million copies were in circulation within six months. [5] Board members felt that not showing relative distances between stations was too radical. [71]

[4]

For most of his life, Beck continued to make small refinements to "the diagram," as he called his map, but he retained (72) it's basic elements. [C] His deceptively simple (73) diagrammatic approach to mapping, remains standard in the field of information design not only in London but also around the world. From Sydney, Australia, to Chicago, Illinois, urban transit maps continue to model (74) this to navigate the spaces below. [D]