The World Aircraft Manufacturing Industry

The World Aircraft Manufacturing Industry Introduction As the globalisation spreads out the whole world, the connection between each country becomes closer. Airplane as one means of transportation also plays an important role to support globalisation. Boeing and Airbus are the two largest commercial aircraft manufacturer in the industry. This essay is focus on the market for commercial aircraft manufacturing by analysing competitive factors in the industry and comparing with personal computers market. Background The world aircraft manufacturing Industry can be divided into Military Space Aero-structure and commercial aircraft (Sedaei.S, 2007). In the Figure 1, it shows the segments of world aircraft manufacturing industry. à ¦Ã…“ ªÃƒ ¥Ã¢â‚¬ËœÃ‚ ½Ãƒ ¥Ã‚ Ã‚ .jpg Source: Commercial Aircraft Industry The passenger commercial aircraft is important in the aircraft manufacturing industry (Sedaei.S, 2007). In the large aircraft manufacturing, Boeing as the first producer, its quick development had made it become nearly a monopoly in the commercial aircraft. It made the prospect of airline worried. During the late 1970s, the nature of the industry was changed by European aircraft manufacturing. France and Great Britain created the Concorde with strong aviation industry, and then combined with West Germany to build up Airbus (Sedaei.S, 2007). Since Lockheed quitted in 1986, and McDonnell Douglas was merged by Boeing Company, the commercial aircraft manufacturing market is an oligopoly dominated by Boeing and Airbus (Besanko, 2007) Analysis of Commercial Aircraft Manufacturing Industry Market structure In the market, a few sellers control a significant amount of the market for the industry, which is defined as oligopoly. In the oligopoly, there are barriers to enter, due to the limitation of technologies and raw materials and so on. Also, the firms in the oligopoly are interdependent, which means that the action of one firm will influence all the other firm. Moreover, the non-price competition is engaged in the oligopoly (Besanko, 2007). As mentioned above, the commercial aircraft market has been in an effective duopoly by Boeing and Airbus. à ¦Ã…“ ªÃƒ ¥Ã¢â‚¬ËœÃ‚ ½Ãƒ ¥Ã‚ Ã‚ .jpg In the Figure 2, it reveals the market share of Boeing and Airbus. These two companies control the whole commercial aircraft manufacturing industry. Because of the oligopolistic between Boeing and Airbus, the competitive relationship will depend on the instances of strategic interaction. According to the market structure of commercial aircraft manufacturing industry, each firm would like to consider the actions of others when making decision (Cook.A.J, 2008). Competitive Factors The five-force frame work is the one of efficient ways to analyse the industry. The Figure 3 presents the five forces: internal rivalry, substitutes and complements, entry, supplier power and buyer power. Figure 3: The Five-Force Framework Internal Rivalry is pointed to the competition within the industry. Price competition and non-price competition are involved on the competition of firms. Due to the particularity of commercial aircraft manufacturing industry, which is its price elasticity of demand is not large, it is hard to erode profit by cutting down price-cost margin (Besanko, 2007). Therefore, the market engages in non-price competition. In the non-price competition, the firms can make profit by increasing fixed costs, such as new product development, and marginal cost like adding product features (Besanko, 2007). Except for crisis in 2001, Boeing and Airbus keeps backlogs which can take them long time to finish. It is found that neither Boeing nor Airbus can broaden market share rapidly with high fixed costs during this time. However, when it comes to downturn, Boeing and Airbus are willing to decrease the product capacity and make a deal with each other to face the declining backlogs (Tuttle.M, 2004). Recentl y, in order to make products differentiation, Airbus has developed its A380, which is a double-decker plane with over 550 seats. To maintain the market share, Boeing plans to concentrate on 350-passenger 787 dreamliner which is to be more fuel efficient than the others instead of creating Sonic Cruiser (Boeing.com, nd). Furthermore, the government subsidies is one of the drivers in the competition of commercial aircraft manufacturing. Since the airbus is generated by France, Germany and Great Britain, it received subsidies from European governments. With these subsidies, to some extent Airbus can undercut to the price of Boeing and gain the market share. To Boeing, it is also supported by US government on military aircraft, so that it can remain its competitiveness in commercial aircraft manufacturing (Besanko, 2007). Substitutes is an important factor affect the demand of products. To make profit, substitutes operate in the same way by stealing business and enhancing the internal competition (Besanko, 2007). In terms of the airline, the substitute for Boeing and Airbus is the airplane made by others. In detail, it is not economical that using medium and large capacity to fly with nonstop point-to-point travel. Thus, it forced Canadian manufacturer Bombardier and Brazilian Manufacturer Embraer to fill in this gag. These two manufacturers created regional jets, and 2000 regional jets sold to date. Undoubtedly, it shocked to traditional workhorses Boeing 737s and Airbus 320s. However, the demand for air travel is climbing up, and some carriers suppose to choose Boeing and Airbus to maintain profitability (Cook.A.J, 2008). Some indirect substitutes include the other means of transportation, such as high-speed rail in Japan, which can only impact on regional aircraft in certain routes (Besanko, 2007). Barriers to entry depend on the limitation of raw materials and technologies and so on. The commercial aircraft manufacturing is a special industry with high development costs and experience-based advantage, which makes difficulties on entering. For example, the Airbus takes $ 13million to manufacture the A380. That will be a large amount to an incumbent and the non-experienced will make incumbents to be risky (Besanko, 2007). Suppliers and Buyers are another two forces. Boeing and Airbus can get raw materials and components from supplier markets. In order to tie up with suppliers, Boeing has set up its Global Airlines Inventory Network, which can order spare parts from suppliers directly (Besanko, 2007). Concerned with buyers, each has limit power which are airlines and leasing companies. Because of the few substitutes, the minimum backlogs orders can be kept with its rival competition. Moreover, during the recession, the orders can be canceled by buyers. The cancellation will influence the profitability (Lipczynski.J, 2001). Comparison with personal market Personal computers have possessed an important position in the daily life. The personal computer varies in different types: workstation, desktop computer, single unit, nettop, laptop, netbook, table PC, Ultra-mobile PC, home theater PC and pocket PC (Reimer.J, 2005). Also, there are many competitors in the market for personal computers, such as HP, Dell, Acer, Lenovo, Apple, ASUS and Toshiba. Therefore, the market for person market can be described as monopolistic competition. Different from oligopoly, the monopolistic competition involves many producers and consumers, and no exact business can control the whole market (Lipczynski.J, 2001). For instance, the Boeing and Airbus almost control the commercial aircraft manufacturing industry. Whereas, different brands in horizontal differentiation and different types in horizontal differentiation exist in personal computers and they are substitutes. In the short run, it can behave as monopolies to gain profit wit market power. In the long run, due to the freedom of entry and exit, it can behave like perfect competition (Besanko, 2007). Also, the new product development in personal computers market is independent. The firms can make decisions despite of effects come from the competitors (Shepherd.W.G, 1997). For instance, in the commercial aircraft manufacturing, Boeing and Airbus are interdependent which means the actions of one will entirely influence the other. Once Airbus develops A380 as new product, Boeing abandon its original plans to develop 787. Without the government subsidies, the innovation seems to be difficult owing to the high fixed cost. On the contrary, the producers in personal computer can develop new product based on customer preferences independently. Compared with personal computers, the growth opportunities in commercial aircraft manufacturing are limit. Because of the oligopoly, non-price competition and interdependent relationships is included. Boeing and Airbus have its own customer loyalty, the high operation cost and technologies. It is hard for them to stealing business and market share from each other. However, in the personal computer market, free entry makes the entrants can obtain the profits when sellers set prices above marginal cost, and can offer customers much more new flavors, styles, and so on (Besanko, 2007). Conclusion Overall, the market structure of commercial aircraft manufacturing industry is oligopoly. Boeing and Airbus possess the largest market share in duopoly. The competitive factors come from both internal and external, which are internal rivalry, substitutes, barriers to entry, suppliers and buyers, influence the firm growth, new product development and pricing of the commercial aircraft manufacturing market. Compared with the market for personal computers, they are different owing to different market structure which is monopolistic competition. The personal computers can do innovation freely and large space to grow.

Reality and Experience in Young Goodman Brown Essay examples -- Litera

In reading Nathaniel Hawthorne's Young Goodman Brown, many issues come up that arouse interest in topics of knowledge, evil, reality, amongst other things. During my experience reading this text, how Goodman Brown's outlook changed based on information revealed to him that may not even be the "reality" of the people he knows was fascinating. That knowledge gained outside traditional and physical realms can affect the mind and the perception of the world is a fascinating subject. I also found this interesting in conjunction with some of the concepts of literary critics we reviewed this week, as the question of what literature is and what it should do becomes important in the discussion of what happens to Goodman Brown, but subsequently what happens to the reader of his story. To begin, the introduction to Goodman Brown begins with introducing characters that seem to exemplify youthfulness, earnestness, and innocence. Interactions between Goodman and Faith, such as the "parting kiss" (Hawthorne 239), and even the description of Faith, whose cap contains pink ribbons that the wind plays with contains a sense of whimsy and playfulness that sets the reader up thinking of the young couple in positive terms. However, Goodman changes this quickly with his discussion of leaving, as well as his parting. At this point, we see the conflict within the characterization of Goodman Brown emerge, referring to himself as "a wretch...to leave her on such an errand" (239), a contrast to the initial idea presented of him. This is the beginning of what interested me so much, as the appearance of Goodman Brown was presented ambiguously and painted to be "good" by his interactions with Faith, who was described in a bit more detail. The same can be sa... ...or they were representations within an offshoot of "reality" within his own mind based on his experiences in the world. Furthering this, the reader has the same experience with the fictitious world of Goodman Brown, as even though it is a work of fiction, it is grounded in reality based on its ideas alone. All in all, I found the exploration of reality in Young Goodman Brown to be pivotal in its own right, as the function of "reality" and what defines it in literature and its effect not only depends on the author and the content of the work itself. Instead, the transactional nature of art requires a meshing of ideals and experiences to come together to create meaning independent of a single idea or concept. Works Cited Bressler, Charles E. Literary Criticism: An Introduction to Theory and Practice. 5th ed. New York: Longman, 2011. Print. .

What Is A Feminist? :: essays research papers

FEM-I-NIST n. A person who is involved in the movement advocating the granting of the same social, political and economic rights to women as the ones granted to men. When asking the question, "What is a feminist?," I received some very strange responses. When I posed this question, the people who answered seemed to be confused about their own beliefs. The question was also much more controversial than I had anticipated. The group that I asked was comprised of six females and four males, and was only moderately ethnically diverse (being one African-American, one multiracial person and one Israeli). They had many ideas about what it meant to be a feminist. Going into this assignment, I assumed that everyone would have the same ideas about feminism that I did. I believe that a feminist can be many different types of people. My definition includes women who are not afraid of their own power, and are not afraid of the power of the patriarchal society, and stands up for what they believe in throughout every aspect of their life. There are also male feminists who recognize some of the wrongs that have been done to women, and support the movement to change them. A feminist can be the militant, angry female who thinks that men are against her or the soft-spoken pro-choice woman who believes in her right to choose her own health care. I believe that feminists come in all shapes and sizes, and may not be able to fit into the label that encompasses them. In my experiment, people's view of feminism came in two varieties. One version of answers focused on a positive view of feminism. After posing the question, a friend of mine named Katrina immediately responded, feminism is the "reason why you can have a bank account in your own name." Another friend, who considers herself a feminist, said that feminism is "a person who believes in complete equality; socially, economically and otherwise, between males and females." She also said "because we live in a heteropatriarchy, (feminism includes) going out of your way to support women and help lessen the gap - I will be post-feminist in the post patriarchy." I also heard from a friend named Beth that "a feminist is someone who believes in equal rights for women, even in football". She thinks that they "go out and fight, sometimes bra-less." Greta says that a feminist is "a person who respects and is considerate towards women's rights and will do anything in their power to achieve them.

How can we protect our private information from others? Essay -- Commu

During my brother’s freshman year at TCU, he made the decision to join ROTC, a college military program that TCU offered its’ students in which the students would receive a full tuition scholarship if they joined. However, my brother did not want to disclose this information to our whole family and unfortunately I was unaware of this when my mother and I arrived at TCU for an unexpected visit. Upon the arrival of my mother and me, I fortuitously made the mistake of revealing my brother’s decision to join ROTC, which as a result enraged my mother to a new height. She was infuriated with the fact that my brother kept this important information from her. Due to this unintentional spilling of my brother’s private information, it took him a long time for him to conceal his private information to me and to trust me with his secrets. Conversely, through the research I have conducted on Sandra Petronio’s Communication Privacy Management Theory, I have gain ed helpful insight about realizing that there are certain boundaries and rules when others self-disclose and it is my duty to know and understand these boundaries and rules to appease the chance of â€Å"boundary turbulence.† If I had known the central premise of this theory before revealing my brother’s private information, I could have come to the conclusion that it would not be in mine or my brother’s best interest to reveal to my mother that he was in the ROTC program. The Communication Privacy Management theory is as Petronio states â€Å"as a map of the way people navigate privacy† and gives the necessary steps of how one must set and coordinate certain privacy rules with their co-owner, in order for the owner to feel that they have complete control of who gets to know their private inform... ...e discussions in order to make sure she is in complete control of her private information. During this time, Katherine is considered to have complete ownership of her learning disability. She has not allowed anyone to become a co-owner of this information, and due to a certain event when Russ pokes fun at those with learning disabilities, Katherine soon feels as if she will never be able to conceal her learning disability with her friends. Nevertheless, if Katherine wants to have more than a â€Å"superficial† relationship with Russ and Kim, she must disclose her ADD disability with them and be honest which brings her to asses her relationship with her friends. During this time, Katherine, unknowingly, applies three of the five components of Petronio’s rules based management system that her CPM theory addresses, wherein it explains how we create our privacy boundaries.

The Atkins Diet: A True Diet Revolution Essay -- Low Carb Diet Program

  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  In a society where ones’ pants size measures their self worth, it is no wonder why fad diets, have taken over in the struggle to lose weight. Over the past few decades, Hollywood has painted an unattainable image of the perfect body. Although many celebrities' physical appearance may appear healthy, the measures taken to obtain their body shape can cause numerous health risks. It seems as though, every time people turn on their television, or flip through a magazine, there is a new diet claiming to â€Å"melt away† the pounds. Many of these "miracle diets" do take off weight- temporarily. But which diets really work in the long hual?   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  The definition of diets is, regulated selections of foods, specially designed and prescribed for medical and/or general nutritional purposes. The purpose of diets is to promote an overall lifetime-wellness plan for good health ( Larson). Recently, there has been more interest by the public, geared towards the Revolutionary Atkins’ diet. Although the Atkins’ diet appears to be the dream diet in the battle against the bulge, it can cause serious health problems if done incorrectly ( Dr. Atkins’ 72-80).   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  The Atkins’ diet is a high-protein, low-carbohydrate diet, which has been attributed to the weight loss success of thousands. The Atkins’ diet is based on the belief, that by increasing protein and decreasing carbohydrates, the body is forced to burn stored fat. Many researchers, who study the success of diets rich in protein, believe that insulin is the hormone that makes people fat. The body is an energy machine that powers its operations mainly through the use of glucose. Glucose, which is a basic form of sugar found in the blood, is predominantly found in carbohydrates. After consuming carbohydrates, the blood-sugar levels in the body are raised. When the sugar in the blood is raised, a hormone known as insulin is secreted. The insulin then converts a portion of the glucose into glycogen, which is found in muscle tissue and the liver. If the glycogen storage areas are filled, and there is still more glucose in the blood, that the body does not ne ed, the remaining glucose is then converted into triglyceride. Triglyceride is the main chemical component of adipose tissue- otherwise known as the visible fat on the body ( Dr. Atkins’ 46-50).   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  How does the Atkins’ diet differ from other diets? Why is it that, through... ...used by extra weight. Work Cited â€Å" American Kidney Fund Warns About Impact of High-protein Diets on Kidney Health.† 25 April 2002. American Kidney Fund. 10 Nov 2002. Atkins’, Robert C. Dr. Atkins’ New Diet Revolution. New York: M. Evans Inc., 1992. Cordain, Loren. The Paleo Diet. New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2002. â€Å"Doctors Weigh in on ‘ Diet War’. Cover Stories in NYT and Time Magazine: Nutrition Experts Warn Against ‘ Carbophobia’; Applaud Coverage of Vegetarianism.†Ã‚  8 July 2002. Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine. 13 Nov 2002 http://www.atkinsalert.org. â€Å"Health Risks of High Protein Diets.† Atkins’ Diet Alert. 2 Aug 2002. Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine. 13 Nov. 2002 http://www.atkinsalert.org. Larson, Jeffrey. â€Å" Diets.† Gale Encyclopedia of Medicine. 10 Nov. 2002. â€Å" New Studies Confirm Calorie Reduction Not Only Reason Atkins Nutritional Approach (TM) Works; Other metabolic aspects of controlled carbohydrates nutrition impact on fat loss, and reduction of heart disease risk factors.† PR Newswire. 26  Aug. 2002 http://www.findarticles.jhtml?term=The+atkins%27+diet. Williams, Sara. Personal Interview. 17 Nov. 2002.

A Game of Thrones Chapter Thirty-two

Arya The one-eared black tom arched his back and hissed at her. Arya padded down the alley, balanced lightly on the balls of her bare feet, listening to the flutter of her heart, breathing slow deep breaths. Quiet as a shadow, she told herself, light as a feather. The tomcat watched her come, his eyes wary. Catching cats was hard. Her hands were covered with half-healed scratches, and both knees were scabbed over where she had scraped them raw in tumbles. At first even the cook's huge fat kitchen cat had been able to elude her, but Syrio had kept her at it day and night. When she'd run to him with her hands bleeding, he had said, â€Å"So slow? Be quicker, girl. Your enemies will give you more than scratches.† He had dabbed her wounds with Myrish fire, which burned so bad she had had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. Then he sent her out after more cats. The Red Keep was full of cats: lazy old cats dozing in the sun, cold-eyed mousers twitching their tails, quick little kittens with claws like needles, ladies' cats all combed and trusting, ragged shadows prowling the midden heaps. One by one Arya had chased them down and snatched them up and brought them proudly to Syrio Forel . . . all but this one, this one-eared black devil of a tomcat. â€Å"That's the real king of this castle right there,† one of the gold cloaks had told her. â€Å"Older than sin and twice as mean. One time, the king was feasting the queen's father, and that black bastard hopped up on the table and snatched a roast quail right out of Lord Tywin's fingers. Robert laughed so hard he like to burst. You stay away from that one, child.† He had run her halfway across the castle; twice around the Tower of the Hand, across the inner bailey, through the stables, down the serpentine steps, past the small kitchen and the pig yard and the barracks of the gold cloaks, along the base of the river wall and up more steps and back and forth over Traitor's Walk, and then down again and through a gate and around a well and in and out of strange buildings until Arya didn't know where she was. Now at last she had him. High walls pressed close on either side, and ahead was a blank windowless mass of stone. Quiet as a shadow, she repeated, sliding forward, light as a feather. When she was three steps away from him, the tomcat bolted. Left, then right, he went; and right, then left, went Arya, cutting off his escape. He hissed again and tried to dart between her legs. Quick as a snake, she thought. Her hands closed around him. She hugged him to her chest, whirling and laughing aloud as his claws raked at the front of her leather jerkin. Ever so fast, she kissed him right between the eyes, and jerked her head back an instant before his claws would have found her face. The tomcat yowled and spit. â€Å"What's he doing to that cat?† Startled, Arya dropped the cat and whirled toward the voice. The tom bounded off in the blink of an eye. At the end of the alley stood a girl with a mass of golden curls, dressed as pretty as a doll in blue satin. Beside her was a plump little blond boy with a prancing stag sewn in pearls across the front of his doublet and a miniature sword at his belt. Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen, Arya thought. A septa as large as a draft horse hovered over them, and behind her two big men in crimson cloaks, Lannister house guards. â€Å"What were you doing to that cat, boy?† Myrcella asked again, sternly. To her brother she said, â€Å"He's a ragged boy, isn't he? Look at him.† She giggled. â€Å"A ragged dirty smelly boy,† Tommen agreed. They don't know me, Arya realized. They don't even know I'm a girl. Small wonder; she was barefoot and dirty, her hair tangled from the long run through the castle, clad in a jerkin ripped by cat claws and brown roughspun pants hacked off above her scabby knees. You don't wear skirts and silks when you're catching cats. Quickly she lowered her head and dropped to one knee. Maybe they wouldn't recognize her. If they did, she would never hear the end of it. Septa Mordane would be mortified, and Sansa would never speak to her again from the shame. The old fat septa moved forward. â€Å"Boy, how did you come here? You have no business in this part of the castle.† â€Å"You can't keep this sort out,† one of the red cloaks said. â€Å"Like trying to keep out rats.† â€Å"Who do you belong to, boy?† the septa demanded. â€Å"Answer me. What's wrong with you, are you mute?† Arya's voice caught in her throat. If she answered, Tommen and Myrcella would know her for certain. â€Å"Godwyn, bring him here,† the septa said. The taller of the guardsmen started down the alley. Panic gripped her throat like a giant's hand. Arya could not have spoken if her life had hung on it. Calm as still water, she mouthed silently. As Godwyn reached for her, Arya moved. Quick as a snake. She leaned to her left, letting his fingers brush her arm, spinning around him. Smooth as summer silk. By the time he got himself turned, she was sprinting down the alley. Swift as a deer. The septa was screeching at her. Arya slid between legs as thick and white as marble columns, bounded to her feet, bowled into Prince Tommen and hopped over him when he sat down hard and said â€Å"Oof,† spun away from the second guard, and then she was past them all, running full out. She heard shouts, then pounding footsteps, closing behind her. She dropped and rolled. The red cloak went careening past her, stumbling. Arya sprang back to her feet. She saw a window above her, high and narrow, scarcely more than an arrow slit. Arya leapt, caught the sill, pulled herself up. She held her breath as she wriggled through. Slippery as an eel. Dropping to the floor in front of a startled scrubwoman, she hopped up, brushed the rushes off her clothes, and was off again, out the door and along a long hall, down a stair, across a hidden courtyard, around a corner and over a wall and through a low narrow window into a pitch-dark cellar. The sounds grew more and more distant behind her. Arya was out of breath and quite thoroughly lost. She was in for it now if they had recognized her, but she didn't think they had. She'd moved too fast. Swift as a deer. She hunkered down in the dark against a damp stone wall and listened for the pursuit, but the only sound was the beating of her own heart and a distant drip of water. Quiet as a shadow, she told herself. She wondered where she was. When they had first come to King's Landing, she used to have bad dreams about getting lost in the castle. Father said the Red Keep was smaller than Winterfell, but in her dreams it had been immense, an endless stone maze with walls that seemed to shift and change behind her. She would find herself wandering down gloomy halls past faded tapestries, descending endless circular stairs, darting through courtyards or over bridges, her shouts echoing unanswered. In some of the rooms the red stone walls would seem to drip blood, and nowhere could she find a window. Sometimes she would hear her father's voice, but always from a long way off, and no matter how hard she ran after it, it would grow fainter and fainter, until it faded to nothing and Arya was alone in the dark. It was very dark right now, she realized. She hugged her bare knees tight against her chest and shivered. She would wait quietly and count to ten thousand. By then it would be safe for her to come creeping back out and find her way home. By the time she had reached eighty-seven, the room had begun to lighten as her eyes adjusted to the blackness. Slowly the shapes around her took on form. Huge empty eyes stared at her hungrily through the gloom, and dimly she saw the jagged shadows of long teeth. She had lost the count. She closed her eyes and bit her lip and sent the fear away. When she looked again, the monsters would be gone. Would never have been. She pretended that Syrio was beside her in the dark, whispering in her ear. Calm as still water, she told herself. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. She opened her eyes again. The monsters were still there, but the fear was gone. Arya got to her feet, moving warily. The heads were all around her. She touched one, curious, wondering if it was real. Her fingertips brushed a massive jaw. It felt real enough. The bone was smooth beneath her hand, cold and hard to the touch. She ran her fingers down a tooth, black and sharp, a dagger made of darkness. It made her shiver. â€Å"It's dead,† she said aloud. â€Å"It's just a skull, it can't hurt me.† Yet somehow the monster seemed to know she was there. She could feel its empty eyes watching her through the gloom, and there was something in that dim, cavernous room that did not love her. She edged away from the skull and backed into a second, larger than the first. For an instant she could feel its teeth digging into her shoulder, as if it wanted a bite of her flesh. Arya whirled, felt leather catch and tear as a huge fang nipped at her jerkin, and then she was running. Another skull loomed ahead, the biggest monster of all, but Arya did not even slow. She leapt over a ridge of black teeth as tall as swords, dashed through hungry jaws, and threw herself against the door. Her hands found a heavy iron ring set in the wood, and she yanked at it. The door resisted a moment, before it slowly began to swing inward, with a creak so loud Arya was certain it could be heard all through the city. She opened the door just far enough to slip through, into the hallway beyond. If the room with the monsters had been dark, the hall was the blackest pit in the seven hells. Calm as still water, Arya told herself, but even when she gave her eyes a moment to adjust, there was nothing to see but the vague grey outline of the door she had come through. She wiggled her fingers in front of her face, felt the air move, saw nothing. She was blind. A water dancer sees with all her senses, she reminded herself. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing one two three, drank in the quiet, reached out with her hands. Her fingers brushed against rough unfinished stone to her left. She followed the wall, her hand skimming along the surface, taking small gliding steps through the darkness. All halls lead somewhere. Where there is a way in, there is a way out. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Arya would not be afraid. It seemed as if she had been walking a long ways when the wall ended abruptly and a draft of cold air blew past her cheek. Loose hairs stirred faintly against her skin. From somewhere far below her, she heard noises. The scrape of boots, the distant sound of voices. A flickering light brushed the wall ever so faintly, and she saw that she stood at the top of a great black well, a shaft twenty feet across plunging deep into the earth. Huge stones had been set into the curving walls as steps, circling down and down, dark as the steps to hell that Old Nan used to tell them of. And something was coming up out of the darkness, out of the bowels of the earth . . . Arya peered over the edge and felt the cold black breath on her face. Far below, she saw the light of a single torch, small as the flame of a candle. Two men, she made out. Their shadows writhed against the sides of the well, tall as giants. She could hear their voices, echoing up the shaft. † . . . found one bastard,† one said. â€Å"The rest will come soon. A day, two days, a fortnight . . . â€Å" â€Å"And when he learns the truth, what will he do?† a second voice asked in the liquid accents of the Free Cities. â€Å"The gods alone know,† the first voice said. Arya could see a wisp of grey smoke drifting up off the torch, writhing like a snake as it rose. â€Å"The fools tried to kill his son, and what's worse, they made a mummer's farce of it. He's not a man to put that aside. I warn you, the wolf and lion will soon be at each other's throats, whether we will it or no.† â€Å"Too soon, too soon,† the voice with the accent complained. â€Å"What good is war now? We are not ready. Delay.† â€Å"As well bid me stop time. Do you take me for a wizard?† The other chuckled. â€Å"No less.† Flames licked at the cold air. The tall shadows were almost on top of her. An instant later the man holding the torch climbed into her sight, his companion beside him. Arya crept back away from the well, dropped to her stomach, and flattened herself against the wall. She held her breath as the men reached the top of the steps. â€Å"What would you have me do?† asked the torchbearer, a stout man in a leather half cape. Even in heavy boots, his feet seemed to glide soundlessly over the ground. A round scarred face and a stubble of dark beard showed under his steel cap, and he wore mail over boiled leather, and a dirk and shortsword at his belt. It seemed to Arya there was something oddly familiar about him. â€Å"If one Hand can die, why not a second?† replied the man with the accent and the forked yellow beard. â€Å"You have danced the dance before, my friend.† He was no one Arya had ever seen before, she was certain of it. Grossly fat, yet he seemed to walk lightly, carrying his weight on the balls of his feet as a water dancer might. His rings glimmered in the torchlight, red-gold and pale silver, crusted with rubies, sapphires, slitted yellow tiger eyes. Every finger wore a ring; some had two. â€Å"Before is not now, and this Hand is not the other,† the scarred man said as they stepped out into the hall. Still as stone, Arya told herself, quiet as a shadow. Blinded by the blaze of their own torch, they did not see her pressed flat against the stone, only a few feet away. â€Å"Perhaps so,† the forked beard replied, pausing to catch his breath after the long climb. â€Å"Nonetheless, we must have time. The princess is with child. The khal will not bestir himself until his son is born. You know how they are, these savages.† The man with the torch pushed at something. Arya heard a deep rumbling. A huge slab of rock, red in the torchlight, slid down out of the ceiling with a resounding crash that almost made her cry out. Where the entry to the well had been was nothing but stone, solid and unbroken. â€Å"If he does not bestir himself soon, it may be too late,† the stout man in the steel cap said. â€Å"This is no longer a game for two players, if ever it was. Stannis Baratheon and Lysa Arryn have fled beyond my reach, and the whispers say they are gathering swords around them. The Knight of Flowers writes Highgarden, urging his lord father to send his sister to court. The girl is a maid of fourteen, sweet and beautiful and tractable, and Lord Renly and Ser Loras intend that Robert should bed her, wed her, and make a new queen. Littlefinger . . . the gods only know what game Littlefinger is playing. Yet Lord Stark's the one who troubles my sleep. He has the bastard, he has the book, and soon enough he'll have the truth. And now his wife has abducted Tyrion Lannister, thanks to Littlefinger's meddling. Lord Tywin will take that for an outrage, and Jaime has a queer affection for the Imp. If the Lannisters move north, that will bring the Tullys in as well. Delay, you say. Make haste, I reply. Even the finest of jugglers cannot keep a hundred balls in the air forever.† â€Å"You are more than a juggler, old friend. You are a true sorcerer. All I ask is that you work your magic awhile longer.† They started down the hall in the direction Arya had come, past the room with the monsters. â€Å"What I can do, I will,† the one with the torch said softly. â€Å"I must have gold, and another fifty birds.† She let them get a long way ahead, then went creeping after them. Quiet as a shadow. â€Å"So many?† The voices were fainter as the light dwindled ahead of her. â€Å"The ones you need are hard to find . . . so young, to know their letters . . . perhaps older . . . not die so easy . . . † â€Å"No. The younger are safer . . . treat them gently . . . â€Å" † . . . .if they kept their tongues . . . â€Å" † . . . the risk . . . â€Å" Long after their voices had faded away, Arya could still see the light of the torch, a smoking star that bid her follow. Twice it seemed to disappear, but she kept on straight, and both times she found herself at the top of steep, narrow stairs, the torch glimmering far below her. She hurried after it, down and down. Once she stumbled over a rock and fell against the wall, and her hand found raw earth supported by timbers, whereas before the tunnel had been dressed stone. She must have crept after them for miles. Finally they were gone, but there was no place to go but forward. She found the wall again and followed, blind and lost, pretending that Nymeria was padding along beside her in the darkness. At the end she was knee-deep in foul-smelling water, wishing she could dance upon it as Syrio might have, and wondering if she'd ever see light again. It was full dark when finally Arya emerged into the night air. She found herself standing at the mouth of a sewer where it emptied into the river. She stank so badly that she stripped right there, dropping her soiled clothing on the riverbank as she dove into the deep black waters. She swam until she felt clean, and crawled out shivering. Some riders went past along the river road as Arya was washing her clothes, but if they saw the scrawny naked girl scrubbing her rags in the moonlight, they took no notice. She was miles from the castle, but from anywhere in King's Landing you needed only to look up to see the Red Keep high on Aegon's Hill, so there was no danger of losing her way. Her clothes were almost dry by the time she reached the gatehouse. The portcullis was down and the gates barred, so she turned aside to a postern door. The gold cloaks who had the watch sneered when she told them to let her in. â€Å"Off with you,† one said. â€Å"The kitchen scraps are gone, and we'll have no begging after dark.† â€Å"I'm not a beggar,† she said. â€Å"I live here.† â€Å"I said, off with you. Do you need a clout on the ear to help your hearing?† â€Å"I want to see my father.† The guards exchanged a glance. â€Å"I want to fuck the queen myself, for all the good it does me,† the younger one said. The older scowled. â€Å"Who's this father of yours, boy, the city ratcatcher?† â€Å"The Hand of the King,† Arya told him. Both men laughed, but then the older one swung his fist at her, casually, as a man would swat a dog. Arya saw the blow coming even before it began. She danced back out of the way, untouched. â€Å"I'm not a boy,† she spat at them. â€Å"I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell, and if you lay a hand on me my lord father will have both your heads on spikes. If you don't believe me, fetch Jory Cassel or Vayon Poole from the Tower of the Hand.† She put her hands on her hips. â€Å"Now are you going to open the gate, or do you need a clout on the ear to help your hearing?† Her father was alone in the solar when Harwin and Fat Tom marched her in, an oil lamp glowing softly at his elbow. He was bent over the biggest book Arya had ever seen, a great thick tome with cracked yellow pages of crabbed script, bound between faded leather covers, but he closed it to listen to Harwin's report. His face was stern as he sent the men away with thanks. â€Å"You realize I had half my guard out searching for you?† Eddard Stark said when they were alone. â€Å"Septa Mordane is beside herself with fear. She's in the sept praying for your safe return. Arya, you know you are never to go beyond the castle gates without my leave.† â€Å"I didn't go out the gates,† she blurted. â€Å"Well, I didn't mean to. I was down in the dungeons, only they turned into this tunnel. It was all dark, and I didn't have a torch or a candle to see by, so I had to follow. I couldn't go back the way I came on account of the monsters. Father, they were talking about killing you! Not the monsters, the two men. They didn't see me, I was being still as stone and quiet as a shadow, but I heard them. They said you had a book and a bastard and if one Hand could die, why not a second? Is that the book? Jon's the bastard, I bet.† â€Å"Jon? Arya, what are you talking about? Who said this?† â€Å"They did,† she told him. â€Å"There was a fat one with rings and a forked yellow beard, and another in mail and a steel cap, and the fat one said they had to delay but the other one told him he couldn't keep juggling and the wolf and the lion were going to eat each other and it was a mummer's farce.† She tried to remember the rest. She hadn't quite understood everything she'd heard, and now it was all mixed up in her head. â€Å"The fat one said the princess was with child. The one in the steel cap, he had the torch, he said that they had to hurry. I think he was a wizard.† â€Å"A wizard,† said Ned, unsmiling. â€Å"Did he have a long white beard and tall pointed hat speckled with stars?† â€Å"No! It wasn't like Old Nan's stories. He didn't look like a wizard, but the fat one said he was.† â€Å"I warn you, Arya, if you're spinning this thread of air—† â€Å"No, I told you, it was in the dungeons, by the place with the secret wall. I was chasing cats, and well . . . † She screwed up her face. If she admitted knocking over Prince Tommen, he would be really angry with her. † . . . well, I went in this window. That's where I found the monsters.† â€Å"Monsters and wizards,† her father said. â€Å"It would seem you've had quite an adventure. These men you heard, you say they spoke of juggling and mummery?† â€Å"Yes,† Arya admitted, â€Å"only—† â€Å"Arya, they were mummers,† her father told her. â€Å"There must be a dozen troupes in King's Landing right now, come to make some coin off the tourney crowds. I'm not certain what these two were doing in the castle, but perhaps the king has asked for a show.† â€Å"No.† She shook her head stubbornly. â€Å"They weren't—† â€Å"You shouldn't be following people about and spying on them in any case. Nor do I cherish the notion of my daughter climbing in strange windows after stray cats. Look at you, sweetling. Your arms are covered with scratches. This has gone on long enough. Tell Syrio Forel that I want a word with hirn—† He was interrupted by a short, sudden knock. â€Å"Lord Eddard, pardons,† Desmond called out, opening the door a crack, â€Å"but there's a black brother here begging audience. He says the matter is urgent. I thought you would want to know.† â€Å"My door is always open to the Night's Watch,† Father said. Desmond ushered the man inside. He was stooped and ugly, with an unkempt beard and unwashed clothes, yet Father greeted him pleasantly and asked his name. â€Å"Yoren, as it please m'lord. My pardons for the hour.† He bowed to Arya. â€Å"And this must be your son. He has your look.† â€Å"I'm a girl,† Arya said, exasperated. If the old man was down from the Wall, he must have come by way of Winterfell. â€Å"Do you know my brothers?† she asked excitedly. â€Å"Robb and Bran are at Winterfell, and Jon's on the Wall. Jon Snow, he's in the Night's Watch too, you must know him, he has a direwolf, a white one with red eyes. Is Jon a ranger yet? I'm Arya Stark.† The old man in his smelly black clothes was looking at her oddly, but Arya could not seem to stop talking. â€Å"When you ride back to the Wall, would you bring Jon a letter if I wrote one?† She wished Jon were here right now. He'd believe her about the dungeons and the fat man with the forked beard and the wizard in the steel cap. â€Å"My daughter often forgets her courtesies,† Eddard Stark said with a faint smile that softened his words. â€Å"I beg your forgiveness, Yoren. Did my brother Benjen send you?† â€Å"No one sent me, m'lord, saving old Mormont. I'm here to find men for the Wall, and when Robert next holds court, I'll bend the knee and cry our need, see if the king and his Hand have some scum in the dungeons they'd be well rid of. You might say as Benjen Stark is why we're talking, though. His blood ran black. Made him my brother as much as yours. It's for his sake I'm come. Rode hard, I did, near killed my horse the way I drove her, but I left the others well behind.† â€Å"The others?† Yoren spat. â€Å"Sellswords and freeriders and like trash. That inn was full o' them, and I saw them take the scent. The scent of blood or the scent of gold, they smell the same in the end. Not all o' them made for King's Landing, either. Some went galloping for Casterly Rock, and the Rock lies closer. Lord Tywin will have gotten the word by now, you can count on it.† Father frowned. â€Å"What word is this?† Yoren eyed Arya. â€Å"One best spoken in private, m'lord, begging your pardons.† â€Å"As you say. Desmond, see my daughter to her chambers.† He kissed her on the brow. â€Å"We'll finish our talk on the morrow.† Arya stood rooted to the spot. â€Å"Nothing bad's happened to Jon, has it?† she asked Yoren. â€Å"Or Uncle Benjen?† â€Å"Well, as to Stark, I can't say. The Snow boy was well enough when I left the Wall. It's not them as concerns me.† Desmond took her hand. â€Å"Come along, milady. You heard your lord father.† Arya had no choice but to go with him, wishing it had been Fat Tom. With Tom, she might have been able to linger at the door on some excuse and hear what Yoren was saying, but Desmond was too single-minded to trick. â€Å"How many guards does my father have?† she asked him as they descended to her bedchamber. â€Å"Here at King's Landing? Fifty.† â€Å"You wouldn't let anyone kill him, would you?† she asked. Desmond laughed. â€Å"No fear on that count, little lady. Lord Eddard's guarded night and day. He'll come to no harm.† â€Å"The Lannisters have more than fifty men,† Arya pointed out. â€Å"So they do, but every northerner is worth ten of these southron swords, so you can sleep easy.† â€Å"What if a wizard was sent to kill him?† â€Å"Well, as to that,† Desmond replied, drawing his longsword, â€Å"wizards die the same as other men, once you cut their heads off.†

The Difference in Living in the South

Introduction with Thesis Statement This paper will be discussing the differences in living in the South, and in the North. The two places that will be compared are Chicago Illinois, and Clarksville Tennessee. It will also tell how the two places are alike and different. The difference is the fast pace of city life, and the slow pace of country living. The city life is a better way of living then that of the country, due to its broad cultural environment. Topic 1 The city life is a fast pace way of living than in the country.Unlike the country the cities traffic is like having rush hour all day long. People are rushing to do just about everything, from shopping, eating, exercising, and most importantly to go to work. People go downtown to enjoy the different sites, like the Sears Tower, and the great big buildings the city folk love so much. The food is always magnificent; you can get any kind of food from any nationality. There are many different ethnic groups that dwell in the city of Chicago.There are Mexicans, who live mostly on the Westside of Chicago, and African Americans who live mainly on thee Southside of Chicago. The Eastside is also filled with Blacks. As for the North you will see a majority Whites, these are known as the suburbs. Downtown you have a mixture of them all. You will see Asians, Indians, Italians, French, and West Indies. The streets are crowded everyday with people who are in a hurry. Buckingham Fountain is one of the most beautiful fountains in the City of Chicago.You may recognize it from the TV series Married with Children. The lights that shine are of every color on an artist’s canvas. There are at least five museums; great exhibits for every member in your family. There’s also a museum located on Stoney Island Avenue, with a Harry Potter exhibit it is very fascinating. Down town is like being in a crowded Grocery store. There is always cars honking, buses stopping at every stop, taxi cabs tail-gating other cars, peop le running to catch the bus, and running to get into shops as they open.Some people are crossing the street from every direction trying to get to the other side of the street. You begin to feel like you are a part of something bigger than you are. Start Topic 2 here The country life is a bit slower than that of the city a particular place is Clarksville Tennessee. Clarksville is a small town near a Military Installation. When the soldiers are gone its like living in a ghost town, because the military make up most of the population. The campgrounds are lots of fun, but you have to drive an hour away to Kentucky to enjoy the scenery.The country life is mostly dealt with outdoor activities. In the summer there are Barbeques, parks, swimming pools, and jazz on the lawn. Along the local streets there farms and lots of land for sale. Most of your neighbors own farmland and they have all sorts of farm animals, like cows, horses, and chickens. The air is not always as fresh as you think the re is the fertilizer, and the smell of the factories smoke. Clarksville is very close to the boarder of Oak Grove Kentucky; so driving to the next state to go to your local YMCA was never that fun.There is only a four-corner mall to shopat in Clarksville, so we drive an hour away to go to Nashville Tennessee where there are five malls. The town has a festival from time to time nothing too big due to limited of space available for the town activities. The downtown is very small they have a couple of bars and boutiques. There is one pub that is almost fun it’s called the Black Horse. You can eat, drink as well as dance and mingle. Clarksville is so slow that it makes you want to go back to sleep as soon as you wake up. There are lots of Amish settlers who still live in the town of Clarksville.They do not drive cars, or ride buses they still ride buggies that are pulled buy horses. The town caters to them, there are many signs around that say â€Å"reduce speed ahead: with the horse and buggy picture on them. The town is so spread out that you will have to own a car. The town’s transportation is scarce, there is CTS (Clarksville Transit System), but it stops at nine o clock in the evening, and it runs every two hours. It is very hard to live in the country, and most of all a big difference from the city. The comparison of the TwoLiving in the City of Chicago is quite the difference then living in Clarksville Tennessee, First you have to schedule a precise time just to meet your friend for coffee at Starbucks, or lunch at Abdo Mexican Grill and shopping at Macy’s due to the busy flow of traffic that is in the city. Going down town is big because of the people, the crowds are exciting, the different types of nationalities you see make you a part of a great country that has done away with racism. There are so many sites to see in Chicago; Sears Tower the Museums with all the nice exhibits and much more.However, in Clarksville There is no traffi c you can call your friend up anytime for a cup of coffee and meet right then. The only crowd of people are the ones inside of a Super Wal-Mart Store, in the only sites are your neighbors back yard looking at them barbecue: Unless you drive an hour away everyday to go see the sites in Kentucky or shop in Nashville Tennessee. Choosing the City life is great there is wade too much to see and do, Tall building lit up by beautiful lights at night, different nationalities of people Chinese, Mexicans, Indians, Koreans, Germans, Whites and blacks.The many choices of ethnic restaurants: enjoying food you like created by that race. Having a China town right in your own city, the cultural is so a live you think you really are in China. The people and their clothes, the stores are all Chinese stores, you cannot buy any American anything from China town. People being in a hurry cars moving fast, tall building, and not having to drive hours away to go to a mall is why living in the city is excit ing. The Conclusion