Input: In her storage room-turned-office, Jennifer Baum works under an expanding leak that is causing the ceiling to turn brown and crumble. Mold grows in the buckets positioned to catch the water. She shrugs it off. Outside her office she has taped up a clear plastic suit, and a sign that reads, "All employees must don protective gear before coming in." Such is life in limbo. Nearly a year after Sept. 11, the Legal Aid Society-the lawyers for New York's poor and homeless-remains, well, homeless. The nonprofit has been barred from returning to its 90 Church St. headquarters, across from the World Trade Center site, because of environmental concerns. Legal Aid has uncomfortable company. More than 11,500 New Yorkers continue to work out of temporary space, according to analysis by Manhattan-based real estate brokerage TenantWise.com Inc. and Crain's New York Business. That's 8% of the 137,000 workers who lost their offices or access to them when the Twin Towers collapsed. Legal Aid's 450 displaced attorneys and staffers have spent the past 12 months spread among previously unused spaces-some unused for good reason-in the nonprofit's other offices. It could be another year and a half before they return to their old desks. They have contended with difficult working conditions as demand for Legal Aid's services is on the rise because of Sept. 11 and the deteriorating economy. The civil division is spread among a few boroughs. Their papers and documents, some 20,000 boxes worth, are stuck in a storage facility in Linden, N.J. "I am counting the days till we can have all the parts back in one place," says Steven Banks, Legal Aid's associate attorney in chief. In the memories of the exiled workers, the old office has achieved mythical proportions. They say the wood paneling and rugs had the ability to cool emotions and lift spirits. The Legal Aid office on Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights, where 65 displaced workers have cobbled together space amid the faded and scratched walls, looks more like a bargain basement.

Does the response "123 World Trade Center Blvd" correctly answer the question "Where was the original address of the Legal Aid Society headquarters"?

OPTIONS:
- no
- yes
***
Output: no

So what is gravity? A typical definition of gravity is that it is a force. It causes an attraction between two masses. According to this definition, anything that has mass exerts a force. Any object exerts gravity on other objects. It does not matter how small it is, it has gravity. The more matter an object has, the more gravity it has. Your pencil has a tiny bit of gravity, but far too little to notice. What about a planet? It would have a lot of gravity. An objects gravity exerts a pull on other objects. Friction only occurs between objects that are touching. Gravity can act between objects that are not touching. In fact, gravity can act over very long distances. Where else can you feel gravity?

Question: "Do all objects exert gravity?"

OPTIONS:
- no
- yes

Answer: "Yes, as long as it is big enough."

Response: no

Life for the partners of Cates, Katalinic & Lund holds little of the glamour one might expect from a career in law. Instead of lunches at Lutce, they caucus at the Palace Diner in Queens. Wooing clients means passing out fliers on street corners, not securing box seats at Madison Square Garden. To make ends meet, one partner stacks pipe and cleans the yard at a plumbing warehouse. Another handles urine samples in a hospital lab. A sign of failure, of a feeble economy, perhaps? Hardly. They are heeding the call of a growing pool of law schools, which are for the first time pointing graduates in a new direction and teaching them how to get there. Forget the lure of large firms, the security of a government post. Here is how to grapple "in the service of justice," as many of the schools put it, instead. Convinced that corporate largess and government programs barely dent the nation's legal needs, the law schools are urging graduates to buck tradition, pass up big salaries and ignore mushrooming student debt to join tiny neighborhood practices or simply start their own, all with an eye toward charging no more than their clients can afford. This is not pro bono legal work; it is "low bono," a term the schools coined to define the atypical kind of law career they are training students for. While its practitioners do charge for their services, they are also dead set on turning no one away - or at least as few as possible. "When you go into this kind of social justice law, it's really brutal and you're almost guaranteed to struggle for a couple of years before there's a light at the end of the tunnel," said Fred Rooney, director of the Community Legal Resource Network at City University of New York School of Law, from which the lawyers of the newly formed Cates, Katalinic & Lund graduated last May. "But if our graduates don't do it, the millions of people who cannot access justice in this country will continue to soar." The movement, primly called the consortium, started four years ago by CUNY, Northeastern University, the University of Maryland and St. Mary's Law School in Texas. (St. Mary's later dropped out.) Since then, it has drawn seven additional law schools to its ranks: the University of Michigan, Rutgers and Syracuse Law Schools, New York Law School, University of New Mexico School of Law, Thomas M. Cooley Law School and Touro Law School. It has elicited at least initial interest from 19 more.

Question: "What kind of legal work do recent graduates of City University of New York School of Law tend to find, which pays very little?"

Response: "Small law firm"
OPTIONS:
- no
- yes

A: yes

Coleco Industries Inc., a once high-flying toy maker whose stock peaked at $65 a share in the early 1980s, filed a Chapter 11 reorganization plan that provides just 1.125 cents a share for common stockholders. Under the plan, unsecured creditors, who are owed about $430 million, would receive about $92 million, or 21 cents for each dollar they are owed. In addition, they will receive stock in the reorganized company, which will be named Ranger Industries Inc. After these payments, about $225,000 will be available for the 20 million common shares outstanding. The Avon, Conn., company's stock hit a high in 1983 after it unveiled its Adam home computer, but the product was plagued with glitches and the company's fortunes plunged. But Coleco bounced back with the introduction of the Cabbage Patch dolls, whose sales hit $600 million in 1985. But as the craze died, Coleco failed to come up with another winner and filed for bankruptcy-law protection in July 1988. The plan was filed jointly with unsecured creditors in federal bankruptcy court in New York and must be approved by the court.

Question: "What will unsecured creditors receive as a result of Coleco's Chapter 11 reorganization plan?"

Response: "$92 million and stock in the reorganized company (Ranger Industries Inc.)"
OPTIONS:
- no
- yes

A:
yes