MALS was formed here more than 30 years ago. Today, 14 staff attorneys, 26 office workers and 21 University of Memphis third- year law students work out of rented offices in the old Claridge Hotel building at 109 N. Main. Offices are spartan. There are no lush rugs or stylish furniture. The large table in the conference room is simple varnished wood. Offices are small and mostly plain, except for the eclectic mix of pop art, African statuary and neon that adorns litigation director Webb Brewer's space. Brewer, who has been at the agency 20 years, said there is a need for lawyers of all stripes to help with the problems of the poor. "The private bar could meet more of the need through pro bono work, but there are still cases that involve the systemic problems for low-income people that we would need to do," said Brewer. "The legal system marketplace just doesn't serve low-income people too well, except in fee-generat-ing type cases," Brewer said. "If a poor person gets run over by a bus, an attorney might take that case because they might be able to recover part of the damage award as attorney fees. But so many of the cases we handle have to do with basic rights and a decent life. There is just no profit motive." Larry Pivnick, law professor at the University of Memphis Law School and director of political programs at MALS, said Legal Services is a great learning laboratory for law students. "There are thousands and thousands of people who have problems that never get an opportunity to appear in court," Pivnick said. "Some people may not be particularly articulate. Courts have rules that clients don't always understand." Brewer said a major focus of the agency's work involves housing. "Although a lot of our work is grant-driven, we find that the lack of safe and decent affordable housing and the prevalence of predatory lending are the biggest problems in our client population," Brewer said, referring to clients such as James.

Question: "Who is Larry Pivnick?"

Answer: "Law professor"

Response: yes

After his cousin Joe dies , Layne Vassimer and his girlfriend Macy , along with their friends Stephen , Maurice , Iris and Katrina , decide to clean up Joe's house with the intention of selling it . When they see it for the first time , they discover the house completely covered in plates of iron armor . The group also finds crop circles in the nearby cornfield . When Iris , one of their friends , suddenly disappears they realize something is really wrong . During a blackout , the house is attacked by aliens , who had previously killed Joe and abducted Iris . The group figures out the aliens are allergic to iron , Joe had covered the house in it to keep them out . They attempt to fight the aliens off , but the house is eventually blown up with Layne , Macy , and Katrina the only survivors . In the end , they drive off , listening to the radio . They hear a news report stating that the blackout they experienced affects five western states and parts of Canada . They also hear that people everywhere are being attacked by '' strange creatures . ''

Question: "What they find when they cleaned Joe's house?"

Answer: "They find crop circles in the nearby cornfield"

Response: yes

Juzo Murasaki arrives at a work construction area to take on his new job as a construction worker . To his quiet dismay , his supervising boss turns out to be Toru Akai , who with his gang had made Juzo's middle school life a living hell . Akai , however , does n't recognize Juzo . Juzo's more disconcerted when he discovers that Akai lives with his wife , Nozomi Akai and their toddler son above Juzo's new apartment . As Juzo emotionally struggles to handle these unexpected developments , a mysterious and seemingly malicious hooded figure appears . It calls itself Number 13 . As Juzo attempts to control increasing number of flashbacks and a spiral fall into psychological darkness , Akai constantly picks on Juzo and other work colleagues including Seki Hajime , a former middle school student who becomes Juzo's casual friend in spite of Juzo's anti-social tendencies , at work . Meanwhile Akai's wife , Nozomi , attempts to make friends with Juzo and entrusting the care of her toddler son to Juzo . She proudly shows Juzo her husband's school photos . In one class photo , Juzo's space is marked with an X to show he was absent . Juzo suffers a severe flashback to explain his absence that day : in their school's science room , Akai and his friends have thrown acid at Juzo's face . Seki becomes suspicious about Juzo's increasingly odd behavior and goes to inform Arai at the work site , but Arai dismisses him without giving him a chance to speak . During this incident , Seki does n't realize he's being watched by Number 13 , but as soon as he does , Number 13 kills him .

Question: "Why was Juzo absent on while taking photos in the school day?"

Answer: "Akai's gang threw acid in his face"

Response: yes

Hotel California My first thought: I was going crazy. Twenty-four hours of silence (vacuum, remember); was I hallucinating noises now? I heard it again. It was a fine bell, reminiscent of ancient stone churches and the towering cathedrals I'd seen in documentaries. And accompanying the bell, I saw a light. Now, there were two things here that made ridiculously small amounts of sense. First, the whole in-a-vacuum why's-there-a-bell thing. Second, I was floating in the dark remnants of my broken ship, and any conceivable light sources were not within view; starlight is a distinctly different color and significantly less bright. These signals were the heralds of my saviors. The first words they said to me meant nothing. I wasn't listening; I didn't care; I was going to live; I was going to keep breathing. Next to those, nothing else mattered. The recycled air tasted sweet in my mouth, and all thoughts that crossed my mind were cheap metaphors about life-giving substances and how breathing was like sex, only better. (I reserved the right to revise this opinion later.) When I was done mentally exclaiming over my impossible rescue, I looked around. The ship, it was odd and old, either so outdated or so heavily modified that I couldn't tell what make it was, and somehow, the crew standing around me fit the same description, a singularly atypical amalgamation of folk. And me, I guess I was one more piece in their puzzle. I was one more scrap to weld onto the rest, one more stranded survivor who was found. I was now one of them.

Question: "Why did the writer think he was going crazy?"

Answer: "He felt that he could hear nothing and then started hearing the sound of bells and then saw a light"

Response:
yes