Tokugawa Takes All: When Hideyoshi died in 1598, he hoped to have his five-year-old son continue his "dynasty," initially under the tutelage of five regents. But one of the regents was Ieyasu Tokugawa, who had been biding his time at Edo for 12 years, nurturing dynastic ambitions of his own. Of the cunning, ruthless triumvirate that came out on top at the end of the country's century of civil war, Tokugawa was without doubt the most patient, the most prudentand most treacherous. He moved quickly to eliminate his strongest rivals, crushing them in 1600 at the great Battle of Sekigahara (near modern Nagoya). During its subsequent two and a half centuries of rule from the new capital established at Edo, the Tokugawa organized a tightly controlled coalition of some 260 daimyo in strategic strongholds throughout the country. The allegiance of this highly privileged and prestigious group was ensured by cementing their ethical principles in the code of bushido, "The way of the warrior": loyalty to one's master, defense of one's status and honor, and fulfillment of all obligations. Loyalty was further enforced by holding the vassals' wives and children hostage in Edo. All roads into Edo, the most famous being the Tokaido Highway, had checkpoints for guns coming in and for wives going out. One of the most effective ways of keeping a tight rein on the country was to cut it off from the outside world, to keep Japan Japanese. At first, Ieyasu Tokugawa was eager to promote foreign trade. He wanted silk and encouraged the Dutch and British as good, nonproselytizing Protestants just interested in trade. But he didn't like the Portuguese and Spanish Catholic missionaries, who he felt were undermining traditional Japanese values. He banned their activities in 1612 and two years later ordered the expulsion of all missionaries and unrepentant Japanese converts. Executions and torture followed. Converts were forced to renounce their faith by trampling crucifixes and effigies of Jesus and Mary. The Catholic Church has counted 3,125 martyrs in Japan from 1597 (beginning under Hideyoshi) to 1660. In 1635 the Japanese were forbidden, on pain of death, to attempt to travel abroad, and Japanese citizens already overseas were prevented from returning, in case they brought back subversive Christian doctrines. Western books were banned, as were Chinese books that mentioned Christianity.
What question would one ask from this paragraph?

QUESTION: How many regents where there and how many had ambitions of their own?

Duane was hungry, but he hurried through the ample supper that was set before him, urged on by curiosity and astonishment. The only way he could account for his presence there in a ranger's camp was that MacNelly hoped to get useful information out of him. Still that would hardly have made this captain so eager. There was a mystery here, and Duane could scarcely wait for it to be solved. While eating he had bent keen eyes around him. After a first quiet scrutiny the rangers apparently paid no more attention to him. They were all veterans in service--Duane saw that--and rugged, powerful men of iron constitution. Despite the occasional joke and sally of the more youthful members, and a general conversation of camp-fire nature, Duane was not deceived about the fact that his advent had been an unusual and striking one, which had caused an undercurrent of conjecture and even consternation among them. These rangers were too well trained to appear openly curious about their captain's guest. If they had not deliberately attempted to be oblivious of his presence Duane would have concluded they thought him an ordinary visitor, somehow of use to MacNelly. As it was, Duane felt a suspense that must have been due to a hint of his identity.
What question would one ask from this paragraph?

QUESTION: In Duane's opinion, how do the Ranger's perceive him?

Let me begin again. I like life on the resort worlds -- always have and, after the upcoming mindwipe, always will. Last year, I rented a small house on Vega IV, a sea world, all islands and reefs and archipelagos, turquoise waters and aquamarine skies, sunrises like symphonies and sunsets like stars gone supernova. There's only one city: called Nuevo Acapulco in La Enciclopedia del Empirio de la Humanidad, it's N'apulco to the locals. The N'apulcans are mostly emigrants from Polaris II; the only difference between them and their Carribbean ancestors is that the ancestors fleeced NorAm tourists. Now the N'apulcans profit from their Hispanic siblings. I don't mean to sound cynical. I suppose I wish to show that I'm still capable of a certain authorial distance, a semblance of dispassionate observation. The following events may indicate otherwise. In fine tourist tradition, most homes on Vega IV are named. Mine was The Sleeping Flamingo, and its outer walls were coral pink. Were they mood-sensitive, they would have changed as I first viewed them. The rental agent, an attractive N'apulcan named Tasha Cortez, was not mood-sensitive either. She said, "It's beautiful, isn't it, Senor Flynn?" My instinct was to gesture curtly with a cupped hand that she lift the wind boat and take me elsewhere. But she was young and attractive (as I have said and may say again) and eager and so happy to be assisting the infamous Bernardo Flynn that I merely raised an eyebrow in mild scepticism. And then, because a playwright cannot resist a promising line, I said, "Your Sleeping Flamingo should be put to sleep."
What question would one ask from this paragraph?

QUESTION: Who rented a small house on Vega IV?

Captured Moments by Will Shetterly I remember Papa's stopbox, a teal blue Tiempo Capturado that Mama brought home for his birthday. It was huge and inefficient, and she should never have spent so many pesos on a toy, but Papa would not let her return it. He used it to preserve baby tomatoes, cucumbers, and strawberries in translucent cubes that he stored in the pantry for spring-time meals in the middle of winter. Mama kept her mink jacket, a family hand-me-down, safe from time in a stopbox, and lent the capturador to my uncle for his stamp collection. Sometimes they would let us little ones to seal a treasured toy or a last piece of birthday cake until we begged them for its release, usually a few hours after enclosing it. When my father died, a year after my mother, my sisters and I cleaned out their apartment. We found our baby shoes protected in stopboxes. I took mine home, where they sat above my computer while I worked on my first play. One night when I did not believe love had ever existed for anyone, I used my own capturador, a sleek titanium Sanyo Tardar Ahora, to undo the stopbox. Bringing my face close to the shoes, I breathed deeply of air that my parents had trapped while closing up that symbol of their love for me. The instant would have been improved had my baby shoes been cleaned before they were encased. But as soon as I coughed, I laughed, and I did not try to kill myself that night.
What question would one ask from this paragraph?

QUESTION:
What did Papa use his birthday present for?