"They've got cameras everywhere, man. Not just in supermarkets and departments stores, they're also on your cell phones and your computers at home. And they never turn off. You think they do, but they don't. "They're always on, always watching you, sending them a continuous feed of your every move over satellite broadband connection. "They watch you fuck, they watch you shit, they watch when you pick your nose at the stop light or when you chew out the clerk at 7-11 over nothing or when you walk past the lady collecting for the women's shelter and you don't put anything in her jar. "They're even watching us right now," the hobo added and extended a grimy, gnarled digit to the small black orbs mounted at either end of the train car. There were some days when I loved taking public transportation, and other days when I didn't. On a good day, I liked to sit back and watch the show, study the rest of the passengers, read into their little ticks and mannerisms and body language, and try to guess at their back stories, giving them names and identities in my head. It was fun in a voyeuristic kind of way. And luckily, today was a good day. I watched the old Vietnamese woman with the cluster of plastic shopping bags gripped tightly in her hand like a cloud of tiny white bubbles. My eyes traced the deep lines grooving her face, and I wondered about the life that led her to this place. I watched the lonely businessman staring longingly across the aisle at the beautiful Mexican girl in the tight jeans standing with her back to him. He fidgeted with the gold band on his finger, and I couldn't tell if he was using it to remind himself of his commitment or if he was debating whether he should slyly slip it off and talk to her. Why did the businessman fidget? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. not enough information B. the hobo pointed at the security cameras C. he was staring at the beautiful Mexican girl D. the Vietnamese woman was staring at him
C

I loved the little guy from the day she brought him home. She carried him wrapped in a sweatshirt from the shelter at the corner where she'd been saying for months she was going to go. She set him down on the hardwood floor and he clipped around like a fawn - - clip, clip -- looking through doorways and carefully eyeing us both. He was tiny but he was strong. He was muscular and sleek, like a miniature greyhound, and we both watched intently as he clipped around, soldiering things out and whining under his breath. Miss Tennessee looked at me and smiled and said: "Well honey? What do you think?" And I told her: "I love the little guy." He was never really my dog. He was more like my step-dog, but together we named him Steve. We thought it was funny, giving a dog a man's name like that. But it fit, like Miss Tennessee, which I started just to tease her about being full-grown and long- legged and pretty, but in a tomboyish way that made it both absolutely ridiculous and absolutely plausible that she had ever been Miss Anything. It always made her swallow a grin. Steve's name, on the other hand, made it sound like he wasn't a dog at all, but this little man. Miss Tennessee often called him that: the little man. Steve liked me okay but he loved Miss Tennessee. With me it was man things. After he got snipped or when he was stung by bees, down there, in grass that came up to his chin, he would come sit by me, hoping I'd understand. With her, it was everything else. When she took a bath, he stood with his paws on the side of the tub, and when she went someplace he couldn't go he stood where he last saw her and waited. If she went into a store and left us together in the car, he stood with his paws on the dashboard, waiting and crying and looking at me like maybe I was to blame. What is probably true about Miss Tennessee? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. She likes cats B. She likes fish C. not enough information D. She likes dogs
D

(Q).
I don't see a point. That's the biggest problem with my life currently. I honestly, don't see a point. Am I working towards temporary monetary gain? Is my goal supposed to be buying my dream car(s)? Is my goal spiritual? I'm currently Catholic, but I've seen how spiritually those around me have changed. I've even wondered what's the point of heaven, if everything I want is there. I like life because of the ups and the downs. I enjoy learning and discovering new things. The idea of perfection seems like an impossible concept to me. Maybe even an unenjoyable one. Maybe my goal is to have a family. Being catholic naturally we gravitate towards larger families. But as a libertarian I don't see a lot of potential in the United States at it pertains to economic freedoms. I see the government encroaching more and more into our lives. Is this the type of country I want to raise a family in? I certainly don't want to be outside the United States (no offense towards anyone outside of the U.S). Maybe my goal is political. I've always wanted to run for office. Maybe governor one day. Would I be able to avoid the waves of bipartisanship, and actually do what I believe is the best for the people of my state. Or would I collapse under the political pressures and sign up for agreements I know in my heart and mind won't help the people. Only time will tell. I just don't see a point. I actually have many goals, but I struggle to see the overall point of accomplishing any of it. Especially seeing as anything I do will be lost in the ink-blots of history. How long does the author have goals for? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. the author only on occasion thinks about goals B. the author gives up on all goals C. the author keeps making goals all his or her life D. not enough information
(A).
C