ࡱ> {}z ]bjbj"" *@i~_@i~_U 8 8 8dzD%FvEEEEEEE$HQK`EEEC C C VEC EC C nAD HG"B EE0%FBKZK@DKDC EEk%FK8 X :  SIDE WITH ME By Caroline Higginbottom Judges Choice Award, 2020 West Virginia Fiction Competition When she submitted her story to the WV Fiction Competition, Caroline Higginbottom was a seventh grader in Mrs. Sarah Ochaps English class at the Linsly School in Wheeling. Anthology editor and fiction writer Natalie Sypolt wrote the following review of Carolines award winning story: Thank you for submitting your story, Side with Me, to the West Virginia Fiction Competition, and congratulations on winning the Judges Choice Award. It takes a lot of courage for any writer to submit work to a contest, and it is especially exciting to see someone so young to take that leap. Your story is very imaginative. The other judges and I were impressed by the world you were able to create in these few pages. You help the readers understand this unfamiliar society where everything might appear to be different, but ultimately, the people are the same. Even though your story is set in the future, this is certainly a lesson applicable to today. As you continue to work on this story (or perhaps a longer piece that this is part of), I would suggest focusing more on that world-building. There are a lot of questions here. For instance, can people cross from the Light to the Dark freely? If so, why does the suitcase need to be smuggled? If not, then why are the kids getting this opportunity? Do they not have electricity in the Dark so that they would have lights, and therefore would be able to see colors, etc., or is there some other reason behind the allegiance to darkness? What happened to Earth?!? I think you could have a lot of fun fleshing out these questions. I would also suggest thinking a little more about building the relationship between Astere and Simobu before he asks her to take suitcase. That seems to come very quickly and would make more sense if they had become friends first, or if maybe they had a little flirtation. Again, thank you for submitting this story and for sharing it with us all. We cant wait to see where your writing talent takes you. Whatever I was expecting, when I came to class today, this was not it. Wait, were really doing an exchange program with the Light Side? I whisper. The black-and-white world surrounding me seems to stand still. Miss Sherla nods. Yes. Do you want to be an exchange student? I find myself nodding, and she smiles. Excellent, she whispers. I know youll love the new experience. You should write poetry about your time there! Poetry helps me to imagine things, which helps when I can barely see. I smile, then take the paper she hands me. It looks like Im leaving on Saturday for a border city, then going over to the Light Side and taking a students place over there. Meanwhile, that student will come over here and take my place. My friend Mayla volunteers to be someone who shows the student from the Light Side around. Like we do for all new kids, she whispers. Only more involved, since theyve never been in darkness before. Miss Sherla whispers that its a great idea. But Maylas comment about the change makes me nervous. Ive never been in light before. What will that be like? What will the Light people be like? I start writing a poem about the class. When its done, Ill read it for them and ask them all to sign it so theyre always with me. * * * As Miss Sherla drives me to the city, I scan over the paper she gave me again and again. Do I have everything? Am I prepared for this? Theres so much I dont know, yet so much I probably should. From the moment I see the border city I can tell their lives are different from mine. There are artificial lights in the windows of the dark houses, in contrast to the absolute darkness at home. As I get closer, I see the sky getting lighter. I am grateful for the gradualness of it. The light wont hit me all at once. Suddenly, Im aware that everything has a new quality to it. So this is color, this is what Miss Sherla tried to describe as what warmth looks like. Now I know why she couldnt do it. My eyes are torn between squinting, because of all this light, and opening wide enough to water at the sight of this new thing they call color. All I can think is I am never going to forget this. At the city park, where Im going to meet my replacement, the sky has so much color it seems tangible. I know my mouth is wide open, but Im too busy drinking it all inthe clouds, the grass, everything. Miss Sherla pulls into the parking lot. I get out and finally shut my mouth. She hands me a name pin and whispers, Go on. Ill transfer your things to their van. I walk into the park, where people are happily getting to know each other. I glance at my paper again, noting that it tells me Im supposed to go to a booth on my right. I look up and walk over to it. The lady with red hairred! not pale like my ownsees me and puts down her book. Why, hello, she looks at my name pin, then down at her list, Astere. Youll be swapping places with Emery. Your signature, please. Her voice is a bit loud for my ears, but I suppose everyone else will be that way, save the other Dark Side kids. I sign where she indicates, then pick up two more pieces of paper. I thank her, then walk away reading them. One is a short bio of Emery, written by her, not unlike the one I wrote. My skin is dark, like all of us here, she wrote. I love riding horses (brought from Earth, of course) and doing math. I cant wait to meet you! Interesting, I think as I scan the name tags. When I see Emery, I wave shyly, but she comes right up and hugs me as if we were old friends. Her skin is indeed dark, and her head is shaved bald. I love your hair! she exclaims. I cant help but flinch at the volume. Oh, she says, more quietly, I remember now. Your hearing is over-developed, right? Yeah, I whisper. Side effect of living in darkness for my whole life. Really affects your senses. It happened to all the Dark families. She giggles. I should probably try to remember that, she whispers back. Then she steers me toward a group of kids that seem to be a mix of Light kids, Dark kids, and border citizens. * * * Later, Im in Emerys van, driven by a high schooler who enthusiastically introduced herself as Fiona, thinking about Emery and the other kids there. Id always thought of them as people, of course, but not as individuals who thought and laughed and felt emotions just like us. There are so many people. Why are we so distanced? Sure, weve got the central government ruling us all, border cities, Light Side, and Dark Side, keeping time, but other than that, we never really interact. My eyes are closed because I cant stand the brightness of the Light Side right now, and Im so tired I want to fall asleep, but I force my eyes open and study the second sheet of paper, which is intended to introduce me to the Light Side but doesnt answer all my questions. I groan and shield my eyes again. Before I know it, Im being awakened by Fiona. Morning, Astere! she says, too loudly. Its always morning here, I reply, still groggy and stifling a yawn. Wrong! Thats the border. Its always day here! she exclaims. I drag myself out of the van, quite reluctantly, then carry my luggage inside what Im assuming is Emerys house. Well hello, dear, says Emerys mother, not too loudly, for which Im thankful. Make yourself at home. After all, youll be here for two weeks. She gives me a hug too, as do Emerys brother and father. Then she shows me to my bedroom. The light everywhere is still blinding, the colors so bright, and Im painfully aware of the heat on my skin, but my host family seems nice, at least. * * * At school, the kids all want to touch my hair and feel my pale skin, not as tough or dark as theirs. This morning, I put on some sunscreen based on a formula used on Earth, and added some sunglasses that keep sliding off my nose. Whats it like being in the dark all the time? a girl named Naona asks me. I dont really know how to explain it. I think for a moment, then whisper, Well, its not like here. Theres no color at all, only the rods in our eyes are active most of the time. We are hypersensitive in our other senses, different for different families. Some people can even sense body heat and other things like that. Were all people, though, just like you. They all nod, digesting that. I cant tell whether they really understand or not, but it doesnt matter, because the teacher, Mr. Honeyfield, is starting class. * * * At lunch, some of the kids want to sit with me, and some of them do not. Some think Im cool, some think Im weird. Thats okay with me. I know there will always be people who arent on your side. The girl who sits in the seat beside me, Charlotte, asks me about my family. I tell them about my mother, who always smells like cinnamon, and my father, who loves taking walks and studying what Earth was like before. A group of kids is sitting around me, and they start asking so many questions I cant keep up. Enough, enough, I say, speaking at a normal volume for them so they can hear me well. One at a time. I answer all sorts of questions. Yes, there are cats there too. No, were not vampires (I feel that one was a bit extreme). They ask me about the border city too, since theyve never been, and I try to describe the sun display. By the time lunch is over, my voice is worn out and I cant wait for a quiet moment to write some poetry. During Language, Mr. Honeyfield leaves the room to print something. Naturally, most of the students start talking, but not me. Im reading the book theyre working through, Blackened Skies, which is an anthology about the last days and death of Earth. Im reading about the great explosion when I hear the sound of scratching. Is someone writing? I turn around, and the boy behind me puts a finger on his lips and hands me a note telling me to meet him behind the tree after school. Which tree? I write, then slip it back (more secretly than he). The one behind the school. The schools a big place. The one that towers above them all, he writes back. I nod, he gives me a discreet thumbs-up, and we get back to reading just as Mr. Honeyfield gets back and everyone rushes to look busy working. * * * The tree looks like its a descendant of a yellow Meranti. I start to compose a poem in my head, but I dont get far before he arrives (with a suitcase, for some reason). Hes about to speak, but I cut him off. Before you say anything, I need you to explain yourself. You cant just ask me to meet you behind a tree and not have a reason. I dont even know your name. I dont mention the suitcase. My name is Simobu, and I need to ask you a favor. I narrow my eyes. You, who dont even know me, want to ask me a favor? I can tell he feels that point is valid. Well, youre the only one who can do this. Promise youll keep this between us? Im reluctant to agree to something that doesnt feel quite right, but what can I do? Plus, Im intrigued? I can promise that I wont say anything, but I cant promise Ill do anything. Fair enough, Simobu says. Oh, how do I tell you Ill just say it plain. I need you to smuggle something back to your side of the planet. What? Why? Thats not for you to know yet. Its in this. He points at the suitcase. Its very valuable, and it needs to get over there without anyone knowing. This is very fishy, I say, an old expression originating from Earth. Please, he says, and he looks like hes almost begging. I need this. Please side with me. I debate in my head. Simobu looks at me pleadingly. Please. Okay, I whisper. * * * That night, I think over and over, What have I done, what have I done? What have I agreed to? Who knows whats in that suitcase or why Simobu wants it back on my side. Side with me, he asked. Whose side am I on? What does that even mean? I sigh. Nothing makes sense, but I cant fall asleep, so I write a poem. This is the day I change my life. Kiss goodbye to my good side. Is this going to bring me strife? Miss Sherla, my hands are tied. Will I grow to regret my choice? Til I do, I will not know. Quills I use to project my voice. Still along lifes stream I row. My mind still roiling, I put down the poem and lie in bed, struggling to go to sleep. The light doesnt help, but eventually, exhausted, I drift off. * * * Simobu meets me behind the tree again. I need you to take the suitcase today. What? Astere, he says, knowing my name from hearing it in class, Trust me. Take it. When I go back home, whom do I give it to? I whisper. Do you know Astos Henmess? Yes. Shes my neighbor. Astos was a bit dotty, but she was nice enough. He wont meet my eyes. She sold me some illegal medicine a while back, and I need to repay her. Oh. I can feel my face flushing, and I dont really know what else to say, so I just say Oh again. I look at him, and when he meets my eyes, I see his are filled with tears. It saved my sisters life, but it ruined it, too. It damaged her brain, and now she cant even put together a complete sentence. Im so sorry, I whisper, but I know its not enough. Yeah, me too, he says. I never know whether I made the right decision or not. Is it better to be dead or alive but broken? Its still illegal, what I did, either way, he adds, wiping his eyes, straightening his spine. Back to business, his attitude says, though his voice still quavers a little. You cant let anyone know. I wont, and I mean it. * * * The next few days, I reflect on just how complicated life can get. There is no simple black or white, light or dark. On Earth, there were sunrises and sunsets, and you could always tell when it switched from day to night or back. But here, the border between light and dark is hazy. The suitcase is locked, so I cant tell whats inside it. I keep it with my other luggage. I continue debating with myself whether to give it back to him and tell him I cant do it. Im also trying to figure out how to get the suitcase out of the house with my other stuff and have no one notice if I did decide to smuggle it. Its Thursday of my first week when I encounter my first challenge. Emerys brother comes into my room looking for something. By now, hes kind of like my cousin, and we fight jokingly like siblings. Hey, I protest, throwing a pillow at him. You didnt even knock. Well, its my house, aint it? he answers. I cross my arms. Dont say aint. You just did, he helpfully points out. Hey, whats this suitcase? I dont remember seeing it before. My blood turns to ice, and I shiver as if someone splashed cold water on my head. You dont have Dark Side eyes, I say, having grown accustomed to speaking at an uncomfortable volume. You cant expect to see everything. Hes not buying it. I feel like I would remember this. Its not your style. Its just my dirty clothes. Thats all. Okay he says, still not sounding convinced. Im going to have to watch my step. * * * Saturday night, I try to fit the case into one of my other bags. Its really heavy. Maybe its a gold bar. I dont know. I do know that I get tired easily after lifting it. I finally manage to get it into my biggest bag and zip it up, but then I have a bunch of items displaced and I have to pack them into my other luggage. Im too tired to do that, so I sit on my bed and rest for a minute, thinking about what Im going to do. Ill carry it across the border like it is, in the bigger bag. Once I get home, Ill take it out in my room, then sneak out the window and go to Astos door. When she comes, Ill give her the suitcase and tell her that its from Simobu as payment for the medicine. The medicine, the medicine that destroyed his sister. But I wont tell Astos that. Its not her fault. Actually, it might be, but she doesnt need that on her conscience. Neither does Simobu, and now I really want to help him. I sigh, then start organizing things again. * * * By week two, the novelty of me has apparently worn off, at the Light School. No one is pelting me with questions anymore, so I can think. The thing is, the Light kids differ from the Dark in only a few ways: skin tone, eye color, absence of hair, and noise level. Other than that, there are still the annoying ones who dont care what grade they get and horse around all the time, the ones who giggle behind their hands all the time, the ones who dont care about anyone, the ones that care too much, just people, living their own lives, and mine is intersecting theirs this once. Im sitting here in with these thoughts running through my head, and they have nowhere to go. I start another poem. * * * On Thursday, Simobu meets me behind the tree. I dont know why he needs me again. He clears his throat. I just wanted to thank you for doing this for me. I cant thank you enough. Youre welcome. My sister she wants to meet you. Do you want to go see her? Sure, I reply. He lives down the street from the school, so I just walk to his house with him. Were silent on the way there. When we arrive, I see a girl watching from the window. She actually has hair, unlike the other people here. Its pitch black. She smiles when she sees us, then bolts away from the window. Next thing I know, shes running out the door, her hair flowing like a brook behind her, dashing toward us. She stops in front of me. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, like shes trying to piece together something to say. Write? You. Write? she finally says. I write poems, I say by way of an answer. Nadia, she says. Nadia. Im not sure if shes saying her name or guessing at mine, so I just say, Im Astere. Nice to meet you. Meet, she says. Theres a pause, then, One side. Protect. One side. I have no idea what she means, but I say that I will. Good. Good. Only one side, one side, she says, then runs back to the house and up the stairs. From her window she shouts, See you! See again! I dont have the heart to tell her I will never see her again. I find myself wishing things were different. * * * I say goodbye to the class on Friday, and I think, I'm going to miss them. I leave a poem in each of their desks when they arent looking. Simobu gives me his contact information, and I think its because he wants me to report back how it goes with Astos, but then I realize he doesnt have any friends here. I dont know where my moral compass is pointing anymore. I guess I know things are confusing now, no black and white. Sometimes its hard to tell whats right and whats wrong. Back at Emerys house, I give her family one last hug, then carry all my luggage to the van. Hello again! exclaims Fiona. Hello, I whisper, trying to get back into the habit. The whole drive, I review my plan. When we get closer to the park, I can almost hear my eyes sigh with relief at the slightly dark city at the border. When we arrive, Emery is already there and it is she who opens the van door and gives me a hug. This switch will be shorter, since there isnt any information to cover. I give her my contact information, she gives me hers, and we swap stories as our luggage is transferred back. Fiona groans as she picks up my biggest bag. My goodness, Emery, this case is so heavy! I remember the suitcase inside it, and I offer to carry it, probably too quickly, as Fiona gives me a suspicious look, but she doesnt say anything. I get back in Miss Sherlas car. I cant believe its over already. * * * As the dark approaches, I see everything fade to black and white again, but thats enough for me. Color was pretty, but its not needed to be happy. I get home, and my parents smother me with hugs, asking in whispers how was it, how are you, weve missed you so much, can I help carry anything (to which I say no). I encounter an issue, though, when my mother offers to help me unpack. She insists that I must be tired. I try to tell her that Im fine, but she is persistent and finally I resign myself to the fact that Im going to have to be very sneaky. I run upstairs, a bag in each hand, one of which contains Simobus suitcase. As quickly as I can, I unzip the suitcase bag and slide the suitcase under my dresser. I then hurry to look like Im unpacking, and just in time, because my mother is there right behind me. * * * It takes forever to unpack everything, but finally my mother leaves, and I open my window. Careful not to make a sound, I unhook the window screen and gently place it on my bed. I climb out the window and manage to get to the ground with the bag, hardly gracefully but mostly quietly. Part one completed. I run to Astoss house as quickly as I can with the heavy case. I knock on her door. No answer. I ring the doorbell. Nothing. I knock louder, and she comes, whispering, What could possibly be so important? I dont actually know, as I cant open the suitcase, but I whisper, This is valuable, and hold up the case. Her eyes grow wide. Is this from Simobu? I nod my head. He asked me to bring it to you. Bring sounds better than smuggle. For the medicine? Yes. She stands for a moment, then goes inside. When she comes back, shes holding a key. You want to see what it is? she asks. Sure, I whisper, though I dont actually care anymore. All I can think about is right and wrong, black and white, and the fact that Simobu had to pay for something that damaged his sister. Still, I hold my breath as she puts the key in, jiggles it a bit, and turns it. She opens the lid slowly. Inside, there is, cast in solid gold, a one-sided shape, no division, no separation, no boundary. Just one side, forever and evera Mobius band.     )efg     % 8  R ]  p q ŶŘʼnyŶiiYYYYYh{vh:5CJOJQJaJh{vh3(5CJOJQJaJh{vh3(6CJOJQJaJh{vh:CJOJQJaJ:h{vh B*CJOJQJ^JaJfHph q h{vh3(CJOJQJaJh{vh CJOJQJaJh{vh 5CJOJQJaJh{vh 5CJOJQJaJh CJOJQJaJ")fg'(p> #(q$dh^`a$gd;$dh`a$gd; $dha$gd; $da$gd3($a$gd3( $da$gd @ dh^@ `gd  / 5 $%'(@Aop=> or  "#'(4Ph{vh}zCJOJQJaJh{vhtnCJOJQJaJh{vh.8CJOJQJaJh{vh(aCJOJQJaJh{vh:CJOJQJaJh{vh3(5CJOJQJaJh{vh:5CJOJQJaJh{vh 5CJOJQJaJ4P3MNaeopq<Mm'(qr~34|}_`    ? Z h h{vh<CJOJQJaJh{vhxCJOJQJaJh{vh(a6CJOJQJaJh{vh:}CJOJQJaJh{vh}zCJOJQJaJh{vh4wPCJOJQJaJh{vhtnCJOJQJaJh{vh(aCJOJQJaJ5q(r4}` "###$&&'R'(a)h)-*+ $dha$gd;$dh^`a$gd;$dh`a$gd; !*!7!"" "###[#^#a#c#######$$$$$$$%"%H%%%&&&&&P&o&q&&&''')'<'Q'R'''((()`)a)g)³त•h{vhBwCJOJQJaJh{vh%CJOJQJaJh{vhxCJOJQJaJh{vhtnCJOJQJaJh{vh<CJOJQJaJh{vh(aCJOJQJaJh{vh(a6CJOJQJaJ:g)h)*,*-***++++,,,,------W-x----./.5./// /A/B/\/]/v/w////090:0F0G0Z0z01112 2 222񴤴h{vh%CJOJQJaJh{vhtn6CJOJQJaJh{vh(a6CJOJQJaJh{vhY"CJOJQJaJh{vh%CJOJQJaJh{vh(aCJOJQJaJh{vhtnCJOJQJaJ7+-/B/]/w//:0G01 2T2234&445c555566$dh^a$gd;$dh^a$gd;$dh`a$gd;22R2S2T2223#3*3/3839333444%4&4444444555)5=5b5c555555555566c6o666666677Ӧ▖Ӗh{vh(a6CJOJQJaJh{vh%CJOJQJaJh{vhRCJOJQJaJh{vhWZrCJOJQJaJh{vhtnCJOJQJaJh{vh(aCJOJQJaJh{vh;CJOJQJaJ4771727S7T7s7t7u777777777788'8888888889 9)9;9<9U9V9s9t999999:<:=:::;q;r;;;<;<G<<<<h{vhjCJOJQJaJh{vhtnCJOJQJaJh{vh%CJOJQJaJh{vh(aCJOJQJaJh{vh%6CJOJQJaJh{vh(a6CJOJQJaJh{vhtn6CJOJQJaJ:6727T7t7u777778888<9t999=::r;;< =$dh^`a$gd;$dh`a$gd;$pdh^p`a$gd;<<= = ======>>>&>'>/>0>?v?w?@>@?@@@@@@@@@@@@A=A>ABBBdBkBlBmBBBBBBBBBCClCnCDxDzDDDDDDEE⵵񵵵h{vh(a6CJOJQJaJh{vhjCJOJQJaJh{vh~CJOJQJaJh{vh%CJOJQJaJh{vh(aCJOJQJaJh{vhtnCJOJQJaJA ==0>w??@@@@>ABmBBBBBDEFFFFHGaIwI$xhdh^x`ha$gd;$dh`a$gd;$dh^`a$gd;EEEFFFLFfFlFoFrFxFyFFFFFFFFFFFFFFGGGGGHGGGHHHHHI"I$I`IaIvIwI}I~IIIJ3J4J5JEJFJJJJJKKKNKRKL-Lӵӵӵӥh{vh(a6CJOJQJaJh{vhWZrCJOJQJaJh{vh)CCJOJQJaJh{vh(aCJOJQJaJh{vhCJOJQJaJh{vhtnCJOJQJaJAwI~II4JFJJJK.LLLLMMMMMNNOO9PPHQgQQ$dh`a$gd;$dh^`a$gd;-L.LLLLLLLMMM~MMMMMMMMNxNyNNNNNNOOO6OMOOOP8P9PpPPPPQQ QGQHQfQgQQQRR%R3R5R6RSLSMSSⵖh{vh*SCJOJQJaJh{vh(a6CJOJQJaJh{vhCJOJQJaJh{vh)CCJOJQJaJh{vhWZrCJOJQJaJh{vh(aCJOJQJaJh{vhtnCJOJQJaJ;Q6RMS=TTTUUVWWXY6ZaZZZZ$[L[[\u\]] ]dgd4wP$dh^`a$gd;$dh`a$gd;SST6666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666hH66666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666p62&6FVfv2(&6FVfv&6FVfv&6FVfv&6FVfv&6FVfv&6FVfv8XV~ 0@ 0@ 0@ 0@ 0@ 0@ 0@ 0@ 0@ 0@ 0@ 0@ 0@ 0@66666$OJPJQJ^J_HmH nH sH tH F`F NormaldCJ_HaJmH sH tH DD Heading 1$$xCJ(aJ(HH Heading 2$$hx 5CJ aJ PP Heading 3$$@P5B*CJaJphCCCNN Heading 4$$PB*CJaJphfffNN Heading 5$$PB*CJaJphfffPP Heading 6$$P6B*CJaJphfffDA D Default Paragraph FontRiR 0 Table Normal4 l4a (k ( 0No List <>< Title$$<CJ4aJ4^J^ Subtitle$$@$6B*CJOJPJQJ^JaJphfffNN n0 Balloon TextdCJOJQJ^JaJN/!N n0Balloon Text CharCJOJQJ^JaJ424 4wP0Header  H$>/A> 4wP0 Header CharCJaJmH sH 4 R4 4wP0Footer  H$>/a> 4wP0 Footer CharCJaJmH sH PK![Content_Types].xmlN0EH-J@%ǎǢ|ș$زULTB l,3;rØJB+$G]7O٭Vj\{cp/IDg6wZ0s=Dĵw %;r,qlEآyDQ"Q,=c8B,!gxMD&铁M./SAe^QשF½|SˌDإbj|E7C<bʼNpr8fnߧFrI.{1fVԅ$21(t}kJV1/ ÚQL×07#]fVIhcMZ6/Hߏ bW`Gv Ts'BCt!LQ#JxݴyJ] C:= ċ(tRQ;^e1/-/A_Y)^6(p[_&N}njzb\->;nVb*.7p]M|MMM# ud9c47=iV7̪~㦓ødfÕ 5j z'^9J{rJЃ3Ax| FU9…i3Q/B)LʾRPx)04N O'> agYeHj*kblC=hPW!alfpX OAXl:XVZbr Zy4Sw3?WӊhPxzSq]y U,  P g)227<E-LS\]/124578:<>@Aq+6 =wIQ ]]0369;=?B8@0(  B S  ?AG     + 1 v|oux~BGB!L!2%<%'())++x-~-B.H.Y/_///000011111188880=5=====`>f>AAdEjEGGGHH I IIPLXLNNQQXR^RSSUU U U UUUUUq~ UU3#+*+/+8+8888l:m:;;z<<<<<<<<f>o>r>y>>>>>>>??xFyFFFHH I I8M?MNMTMOOOOPPPPTTUUU#+*+/+8+//////(1)1;4G46'688888888l:m:;;z<<<<<<f>o>r>y>>>>>>>??xFyFFFHH I I8M?MNMTMOOOOPPPPTTUUU U U UUUUU pRCApC[%boD `jb2A0bz\D i6yM"kP=Nd([]d}e h l,M ldj^`OJPJQJ^Jo(^`OJQJ^Jo(hHop^p`OJQJo(hH@ ^@ `OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHo^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHoP^P`OJQJo(hH^`OJPJQJ^Jo(^`OJQJ^Jo(hHop^p`OJQJo(hH@ ^@ `OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHo^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHoP^P`OJQJo(hH^`OJPJQJ^Jo(^`OJQJ^Jo(hHop^p`OJQJo(hH@ ^@ `OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHo^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHoP^P`OJQJo(hH^`OJPJQJ^Jo(^`OJQJ^Jo(hHop^p`OJQJo(hH@ ^@ `OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHo^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHoP^P`OJQJo(hH^`OJPJQJ^Jo(^`OJQJ^Jo(hHop^p`OJQJo(hH@ ^@ `OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHo^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHoP^P`OJQJo(hH^`OJPJQJ^Jo(^`OJQJ^Jo(hHop^p`OJQJo(hH@ ^@ `OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHo^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHoP^P`OJQJo(hH^`OJPJQJ^Jo(^`OJQJ^Jo(hHop^p`OJQJo(hH@ ^@ `OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHo^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHoP^P`OJQJo(hH^`OJPJQJ^Jo(^`OJQJ^Jo(hHop^p`OJQJo(hH@ ^@ `OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHo^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHoP^P`OJQJo(hH^`OJPJQJ^Jo(^`OJQJ^Jo(hHop^p`OJQJo(hH@ ^@ `OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHo^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHoP^P`OJQJo(hH^`OJPJQJ^Jo(^`OJQJ^Jo(hHop^p`OJQJo(hH@ ^@ `OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHo^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHoP^P`OJQJo(hH^`OJPJQJ^Jo(^`OJQJ^Jo(hHop^p`OJQJo(hH@ ^@ `OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHo^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHoP^P`OJQJo(hH^`OJPJQJ^Jo(^`OJQJ^Jo(hHop^p`OJQJo(hH@ ^@ `OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHo^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHoP^P`OJQJo(hH^`OJPJQJ^Jo(^`OJQJ^Jo(hHop^p`OJQJo(hH@ ^@ `OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHo^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJo(hH^`OJQJ^Jo(hHoP^P`OJQJo(hH Ap l}e hb2[]Dlp[%yMkP=NA\D 6J        XL        B&        6        "        e        |        df        Z:h        FE        "K        ~8         $        ('YKXp% 3#$%e>'R).8N<E4wPR(aueWZr{v}z4Yn<:~Y"Zx;3(J*Sew:}j)CtnBwUU@U@Unknown G.[x Times New Roman5^Symbol3. *Cx Arial9GaramondK.  . Segoe UISegoe UIC.{ @Calibri Light7.*{$ Calibri?= .Cx Courier New;^MWingdingsA$BCambria Math"1h z' VH + VH +a0TTCQHP $Ptn! xx? Sylvia Shurbutt Adam Leviton@         Oh+'0|   , 8 D P\dlt'Sylvia Shurbutt Normal.dotmAdam Leviton3Microsoft Office Word@F#@xw @b8@D  VH ՜.+,0 hp  'ϳԹUniversity+T  Title  !"#$%&'()*+,-./0123456789:;<=>?@ABCEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ[\]^_`abcdefghiklmnopqstuvwxy|Root Entry F[HG~1TableDKWordDocument*SummaryInformation(jDocumentSummaryInformation8rCompObjr  F Microsoft Word 97-2003 Document MSWordDocWord.Document.89q