Also known (by me, at least) as The Waste of Words Pep Talk.

Why a waste of words?

Because, honestly, what am I going to tell you at this point? It’s Week Three! We’re past the midway point, and now, regardless of anything I’ve written to you earlier this month, or anything I’ll say to you as the final deadline approaches, you’re either part of the process, or you’re not.

The good news is, Lawrence has a LOT of people that ARE part of the process. We have...

Crittias

It took a moment, but finally Ghazali’s site finally appeared on the screen. At first glance the site appeared to be completely innocuous. The page design was functional but extremely plain: there were no advanced features, fanciful graphics or interactive interface. Instead, all that was available was a single page that contained a few photos of Ahmed, half a dozen paragraphs describing his music and philosophical viewpoints, and at the bottom of the page a few links to sample music tracks....

Crittias

That afternoon, despite vigorous protests from Isaac, Emily got dressed and prepared to leave the apartment for an early dinner meeting with her voice coach.

“I promised Vicky I would meet with her after the concert to talk about my performance,” she explained. “I can’t back out now. Without her help there’s no way I could’ve ever stood on that stage last night with you. I owe her dinner at least, don’t you think?”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “Vicky?” he exclaimed...

Crittias

Isaac threw open the front door of the apartment with a loud bang. The door ricocheted against the doorstop and crashed hard into his shoulder, causing him to stumble into the door jamb. Growling, he reached out and pushed the door open a second time, this time holding his arm out to prevent it from closing on him. With his other hand he jiggled his key, trying to free it from the deadbolt. The key wasn’t budging, however.

“Come on, you son of a—”

“Isaac,...

Crittias

Hearty voices of assent answered him. He nodded graciously and, with a gesture to some unseen sensor in the room, the windows opaqued and the lights dimmed. Cedric sat down, and behind him a screen lit up with an image of a young man sitting inside an automobile and fiddling with the radio controls.

A female narrator’s voice, strong and assertive, said, “It all started with a relatively simple idea.” The video zoomed in on the view of the radio, with the driver’s hand punching...

Crittias