Question: His eyes were open and his head bobbed around at an impossible angle. He was sitting in about forty feet of water, stone dead, one arm pinned between the rocks. As best I could tell, he had been dead when he landed there. The mud and ooze around him were as serene and smooth as he was. The cop who was assisting me swam over and made a palms up gesture. I shrugged back at him and began to work the body loose. The corpse had only one leg, and as I worked I wondered what he had been doing in the lake. I got the arm free and kicked toward the quicksilver surface above me. The body turned bloated and heavy when I broke water with it, and it took three of us to load it into the police launch. I dried off and got a coke out of the cooler. It was getting to be another Texas scorcher, and the sunlight bouncing off the surface of the lake felt like it had needles in it. My mouth was dry from breathing canned air and the carbonation burned like fire. Winslow, from the sheriff's office, sat down next to me. 'I appreciate this, Dan,' he said. 'No problem.' Sam Winslow and I had grown up together about twenty miles outside Austin in a little town called Coupland. We'd fought a lot as kids, and there were still plenty of differences in our politics and educations. But being on the police and fire rescue squad had brought me closer to him again, and I was glad of it. A private detective needs all the friends he can get. 'What do you make of it?' I asked him. 'Accidental drowning, looks like.' I raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. 'He's got a bump on the head that could have come off a rock. We'll see what the coroner says.' 'Any idea who he is?' Winslow shook his head. He'd gained weight in his face recently and his jowls vibrated with the gesture. Question: What was the main character's name? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Dan
- Winslow
- not enough information
- Sam
Answer: Dan

input with options: Paul Reynolds crisscrossed his sketchbook with furious strokes, filling the pages with images of the vengeance he would take on his former coworkers at Fear and Loading Games. He'd founded the company three years back and, just a few hours ago, his partners and erstwhile friends had fired him without cause or warning. He concentrated hard as his pen brought to life demonic figures from one of the best-selling comics he'd created, scythe wielding cyber-men called Myrmidons who tore into surprised computer programmers with fangs and claws. Elsewhere on the page, computers assembled themselves into 21st century Golems, rising up against traitorous CEO's and producers to crush them to bloody pulp as they cowered beneath their desks. Sitting at the bar in Senor Goldstein's Mexican Restaurant in San Jose, California, Paul's own artwork engaged him for the first time in months, maybe years. Under other circumstances, that would have made him happy. But today's circumstances allowed only two emotions: despair and a burning desire for revenge. Not wanting to succumb to the former, and not quite wanting to find a gun and go back to the office, he instead drew. He had turned to a fresh page and begun to sketch his most elaborate revenge-scheme yet when a woman walked into his line of vision. There were four or five other women in the restaurant already (most of them employees), but this one stood out. This one would've stood out anywhere. Her hair, cut short and spiky, was dyed a magenta so bright it nearly glowed. She wore a tight black t-shirt, baggy olive drab shorts that hung on shapely hips, and heavy black boots with two inch thick soles. She had a faded black messenger bag slung across her chest, the strap pressing between her breasts. If Paul had to guess, she wasn't wearing a bra. She definitely wasn't your average Silicon Valley techie on an early lunch break, and certainly not a restaurant employee. Question: Who wanted revenge on his partners? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- Myrmidons
- Paul Reynolds
- CEO of the company
output: Paul Reynolds

Q: I've had two. Both happened in Newport RI when I was in the US Navy. First, I lived in a cottage that was in an old motel. It had a cottage in front where the landlady lived and there were ten little cottages in a half-moon configuration around it. Ours was a party place and we didn't have a phone. This was in the early 1970's. The landlady was in her 50's I'd guess. The only phone was a pay-phone outside her cottage and it was o party line with her phone. When we used it, she would try to listen, especially if we were talking to a girl. We could tell and sometimes we'd ask he to hang up, but other times we'd talk about sexy stuff and let her listen. We could hear her breathing heavy when we did. When we'd be parting, she'd come to the door wearing sexy clothes that were completely inappropriate and want to be invited in. Though we were a bunch of horny sailors, no one wanted any part of that. We never let her come in. I got married and moved into an apartment that was three rooms in a huge old house. They closed that Navy base and all of the sailors were transferred elsewhere. There were bumper-stickers that said, "Will the last sailor to leave, please turn out the lights." In those days, Newport was a small town that leached off of sailors. My landlord said that when my wife and I were completely out and it was completely clean, he'd refund my deposit. We left the apartment immaculately clean and he wouldn't refund my deposit. That was nearly 50 years ago and it still pisses me off. Question: How did the landlady probably feel about the sailors who were renting her apartment? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- She found them attractive
- She felt they were wicked sinners
- She was afraid of them
- not enough information

A:
She found them attractive