Question: Shortly after five, the hospital called. More precisely, the emergency room phoned to ask if Ray had a bed. Ray pretended to consult his admission log, just as he always did. The nightly hospital call meant one of three things: the chemical dependency floor was full (highly unlikely), the individual in question had fallen under the hospital's "one treatment episode every three months" sanction (also known as the Black List, and only moderately unlikely), or the prospective client had no insurance (in Ray's experience, very likely). The folks at the hospital knew, as did Ray, that federal law prohibited him from turning away individuals requesting detoxification services if he had an open bed. The hospital was generous enough to spring for a cab voucher for the intoxicate. In Ray's experience as well, overnight admissions were less interested in detox than in free food, a free bed and complimentary meds. For his two hour paperwork investment and aggravation, he would receive the benefit of knowing the client slept until noon then slipped out the side door and into another binge. Any bills for service generated for the brief stay would return in a week or so stamped "No Such Address" or simply "Return to Sender". On average, the clients of addictions services managed to muster a raging 25% of them who would ever pay a dime toward their bill. The night shift admission payment percentages were a quarter of that quarter in good years. Thus, the frequent calls from the hospital. They had little better luck in getting good addresses (or even with those, a client who stayed sober long enough to give a shit). No one relished treating the uninsured and uninsurable. It was fiscal suicide. The hospital was perfectly willing to let the local experts in deadbeats handle the workload. Tonight, Ray could tell them no. He liked telling them no, especially when it was the truth. Question: How many things does Ray belives the nightly call from the hospital could mean? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Anything
- not enough information
- Only one
- Three
Answer: Three

input with options: Thanks Richard for asking. Yes. I have something to tell. We have record rainfall during 24 hours in Lahore, breaking previous one day record by more than 60%. Our drainage system is pathetic. Other systems such as telephone, electricity, cable etc. are no better. Poor planning has further been aggravated by extremely mismanaged maintenance and operational bugs. This morning, when I was out for our fajr (morning prayers) in masjid, a neighbor told me that the pole laden with electricity meters was under fire. After that he buzzed off for complaint office. When I returned after prayers, I saw fire reaching cable part after meter; one meter had caught fire and other meters (including ours) was in danger of catching fire. It was still dark. I waited for someone to come out. No one appeared. I came inside and told my wife about and went again out to see if I could find someone to go about extinguishing fire. IT WAS DAM RISKY AS DIGGING WAS DONE BY TELEPHONE COMPANY AND RAINS HAD MADE A MESS ON OUR STREET. No one was seen. My wife came out; brought hose pipe. I managed to use it as water gun and there was some post-extinguishing sparking; fire was put out. I want to add here that hose pipe should only be used when someone knows how to send bursts of water so that electric current cannot build a circuit. Later in day we heard about the most stupid thing; people were inside their houses, watching flames from pole but not knowing what to do. THEY DID NOT EVEN COME OUT TO SHARE THE ACTIVITY. That has happened today. I am going to ask everyone about it one by one. Also, I am still looking for the guy who went to complaint office and was never seen thereafter this morning. That can happen to anybody. Question: After the end of this story, how was the narrator probably feeling? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- annoyed
- grateful
- excited
- not enough information
output: annoyed

Q: Countess Nicolette de Gobignon pressed a wet cloth tothe King's brow. Though he lay there helpless, still she found him an awesome figure, like a fallen cathedral tower. Only two other men are as tall, she thought. Amalric and Orlando. She felt a pang of guilt. How could she be thinking about the troubadour here where her royal master lay slowly dying? She fixed her eyes on Louis, and on the ivory and wood crucifix that rose and fell on his chest with his labored breathing. Nicolette felt as if she, too, could hardly breathe. Across the crowded room a fire roared in a huge stone-lined fireplace. The air was stifling. She resented all that made it so, down to the woolen draperies and wall hangings and the thick carpets that sealed in the heat. But she knew that this northern chateau, Pontoise-les-Noyons, a day's ride from Paris, had had to be built to withstand cold, its walls thick and its windows tiny ? so totally unlike the bright, airy Languedoc manor she had grown up in. Sweat trickled down her brow and stung her eyes. Her breath was coming in little gasps. She felt as if she would faint if she couldn't go outside soon. Dozens of people, the King's family and courtiers, had packed themselves uselessly into the room, making it even more suffocating. Their whispers, like the buzzing of mosquitoes, irritated Nicolette. Almost all of them, she was sure, worried more about their own welfare than about the King's. And even Louis's wife and mother, though they grieved for him, were too distracted to do much to alleviate his suffering. She saw the King's lips quiver, and quickly she bent close to him. Any last words could be terribly important. "Jerusalem," he mumbled. "Towers - golden. Gates of pearl. Crystal waters." Then he panted heavily. "Hush, sire," she whispered. "Rest easy." Question: The Kings wife: === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- was not in the room
- was beautiful
- not enough information
- was also tall

A:
not enough information