Act Reading Prose Fiction

Members of modern society are fortunate to enjoy many conveniences once unheard of or reserved for the elite. Imagine, if you can, only one day without running water. It strains the mind to think of all the daily rituals one would have to change if the tap suddenly went dry. People today take electricity for granted, too. Lately, I’ve realized that while reliance on modern technology can improve the efficiency and quality of life, it also keeps people from learning meaningful lessons about living with the earth. The conservation ethics that I gained this summer while working at a hunting lodge I could not have learned elsewhere. The lodge is located on a massive, little known lake in northern Canada, closer to the Arctic Circle than it is to the U.S. border. Every spring, the lodge reopens to welcome scores of dedicated anglers itching to dip a line in the nearby pristine creeks. By summer, the small lodge fills to capacity with eager hunters. On the guided treks, these men and women primarily chase migratory birds and caribou, but I have seen plenty of other unique game come back to the lodge kitchen for preparation. Every hunter agrees that what one finds at the lodge is a truly luxurious hunting experience. Many people are surprised to find the lodge is totally self-sufficient, with the exception of the food staples it receives by small airplane. For a whole season, I was “off the grid,” totally dependent on the lodge to provide me with heat, light, water, and sanitation. When I asked the owner why he built his modern-looking log lodge so far beyond the reach of civilization, he replied, “I didn’t really like hunting anywhere the sewer line ran.” Or electricity or telephone or the water main, I thought to myself. The boss is a peculiar man, but I see why he had no reservations about setting up shop so deep in the wilderness. He had learned to love it years ago when he was an elite mountain soldier in the army. He always mentioned that life wasn’t as difficult in the sub-arctic wilderness as people think. Of course, he had a lodge to run, and not everyone was as hardy as he. His creative solutions to the lack of infrastructure are impressive. The first necessity of employees and guests is clean water for cooking, eating, and washing. A nearby creek feeds a large pump that draws the water through a particulate filter and into a large holding tank. A much smaller pipe takes some of this water through a series of purification devices. Inside, every sink has three taps: two blue and one red. Guests are used to the blue ones, drinkable hot and cold water, but the red one always requires an explanation. My contribution over the summer was to design a sign for each sink explaining the ways one could use the unpurified water from the red tap that came directly from the holding tank. Showering and cleaning are the most important uses, but “red” water is also useful for the garden or to give to the dogs. The roof of the lodge is layered with solar cells to take advantage of the bright, clear summer sky. On average, the 10-room lodge can generate the same amount of power as a conventional two-bedroom apartment uses. Naturally, this poses challenges. The biggest conservation measure I could see was total lack of electronics, with the exception of the computer in the back office, which I’ve never seen turned on. The ceiling of every room has a large skylight, eliminating the need for electric light during the day. At night, a limited set of high-efficiency fluorescent bulbs illuminates the corridors and public spaces. Staff is equipped with flashlights for use in closets, outside, or in other unlit spaces. Interestingly, the low lighting seems to foster an “early to bed, early to rise” mentality among the guests, who always rave about how rested they feel after a week’s stay. Guests and staff alike stay warm with heavy woolen blankets, or, as my boss once quipped, “personal insulating devices.” A full-circle fireplace in the center heats the main space. Smoke floats up the chimney while the heavy stainless steel hood reflects heat to all corners of the room. When guests close their room doors at night, they can barely hear the high-speed electric impellers that draw warmth from the fire into the rooms. The lodge is a model of efficiency in an often-unforgiving territory. My summer there taught me to budget more carefully my consumption of water and power. It is such discipline that will be necessary in the future when costs of these commodities might be so high that civilization can no longer take their abundance for granted. Which of the following commentaries on modern utilities is best supported by the details in the passage?

• Public water and electricity are currently very expensive.

• Utility commodities might eventually run out.

• Public utility lines reinforce the divide between densely populated cities and sparse wilderness.

• Municipal water and electricity are taken for granted, so most people never learn to live without them.

PROSE FICTION: The Lessons of Wilderness Living Members of modern society are fortunate to enjoy many conveniences once unheard of or reserved for the elite. Imagine, if you can, only one day without running water. It strains the mind to think of all the daily rituals one would have to change if the tap suddenly went dry. People today take electricity for granted, too. Lately, I’ve realized that while reliance on modern technol- ogy can improve the efficiency and quality of life, it also keeps people from learning meaningful lessons about living with the earth. The conservation ethics that I gained this summer while working at a hunting lodge I could not have learned elsewhere. The lodge is located on a massive, little known lake in northern Canada, closer to the Arctic Circle than it is to the U.S. border. Every spring, the lodge reopens to welcome scores of dedicated anglers itching to dip a line in the nearby pristine creeks. By summer, the small lodge fills to capacity with eager hunters. On the guided treks, these men and women primarily chase migratory birds and caribou, but I have seen plenty of other unique game come back to the lodge kitchen for preparation. Every hunter agrees that what one finds at the lodge is a truly luxurious hunting experience. Many people are surprised to find the lodge is totally self-sufficient, with the exception of the food staples it receives by small airplane. For a whole season, I was “off the grid,” totally dependent on the lodge to provide me with heat, light, water, and sanitation. When I asked the owner why he built his modern-looking log lodge so far beyond the reach of civilization, he replied, “I didn’t really like hunting any- where the sewer line ran.” Or electricity or telephone or the water main, I thought to myself. The boss is a peculiar man, but I see why he had no reservations about setting up shop so deep in the wilderness. He had learned to love it years ago when he was an elite mountain soldier in the army. He always mentioned that life wasn’t as difficult in the sub-arctic wilderness as people think. Of course, he had a lodge to run, and not everyone was as hardy as he. His creative solutions to the lack of infrastructure are impressive. The first necessity of employees and guests is clean water for cooking, eating, and washing. A nearby creek feeds a large pump that draws the water through a particulate filter and into a large holding tank. A much smaller pipe takes some of this water through a series of purification devices. Inside, every sink has three taps: two blue and one red. Guests are used to the blue ones, drinkable hot and cold water, but the red one always requires an explanation. My contribution over the summer was to design a sign for each sink explain- ing the ways one could use the unpurified water from the red tap that came directly from the holding tank. Showering and cleaning are the most important uses, but “red” water is also useful for the garden or to give to the dogs. The roof of the lodge is layered with solar cells to take advantage of the bright, clear summer sky. On average, the 10-room lodge can generate the same amount of power as a conventional two-bedroom apartment uses. Naturally, this poses challenges. The biggest conservation measure I could see was total lack of electronics, with the exception of the computer in the back office, which I’ve never seen turned on. The ceiling of every room has a large skylight, eliminating the need for electric light during the day. At night, a limited set of high-efficiency fluorescent bulbs illumi- nates the corridors and public spaces. Staff is equipped with flashlights for use in closets, outside, or in other unlit spaces. Interestingly, the low lighting seems to fos- ter an “early to bed, early to rise” mentality among the guests, who always rave about how rested they feel after a week’s stay. Guests and staff alike stay warm with heavy woolen blankets, or, as my boss once quipped, “personal insulating devices.” A full-circle fireplace in the center heats the main space. Smoke floats up the chim- ney while the heavy stainless steel hood reflects heat to all corners of the room. When guests close their room doors at night, they can barely hear the high-speed electric impellers that draw warmth from the fire into the rooms. The lodge is a model of efficiency in an often- unforgiving territory. My summer there taught me to budget more carefully my consumption of water and power. It is such discipline that will be necessary in the future when costs of these commodities might be so high that civilization can no longer take their abundance for granted. One can reasonably infer from the passage that a person who were to drink from a red tap would most likely:

• prefer cooler water.

• have to become accustomed to water with added chlorine or fluoride.

• be disappointed by the low pressure

• risk falling ill from waterborne pathogens.

Members of modern society are fortunate to enjoy many conveniences once unheard of or reserved for the elite. Imagine, if you can, only one day without running water. It strains the mind to think of all the daily rituals one would have to change if the tap suddenly went dry. People today take electricity for granted, too. Lately, I’ve realized that while reliance on modern technology can improve the efficiency and quality of life, it also keeps people from learning meaningful lessons about living with the earth. The conservation ethics that I gained this summer while working at a hunting lodge I could not have learned elsewhere. The lodge is located on a massive, little known lake in northern Canada, closer to the Arctic Circle than it is to the U.S. border. Every spring, the lodge reopens to welcome scores of dedicated anglers itching to dip a line in the nearby pristine creeks. By summer, the small lodge fills to capacity with eager hunters. On the guided treks, these men and women primarily chase migratory birds and caribou, but I have seen plenty of other unique game come back to the lodge kitchen for preparation. Every hunter agrees that what one finds at the lodge is a truly luxurious hunting experience. Many people are surprised to find the lodge is totally self-sufficient, with the exception of the food staples it receives by small airplane. For a whole season, I was “off the grid,” totally dependent on the lodge to provide me with heat, light, water, and sanitation. When I asked the owner why he built his modern-looking log lodge so far beyond the reach of civilization, he replied, “I didn’t really like hunting anywhere the sewer line ran.” Or electricity or telephone or the water main, I thought to myself. The boss is a peculiar man, but I see why he had no reservations about setting up shop so deep in the wilderness. He had learned to love it years ago when he was an elite mountain soldier in the army. He always mentioned that life wasn’t as difficult in the sub-arctic wilderness as people think. Of course, he had a lodge to run, and not everyone was as hardy as he. His creative solutions to the lack of infrastructure are impressive. The first necessity of employees and guests is clean water for cooking, eating, and washing. A nearby creek feeds a large pump that draws the water through a particulate filter and into a large holding tank. A much smaller pipe takes some of this water through a series of purification devices. Inside, every sink has three taps: two blue and one red. Guests are used to the blue ones, drinkable hot and cold water, but the red one always requires an explanation. My contribution over the summer was to design a sign for each sink explaining the ways one could use the unpurified water from the red tap that came directly from the holding tank. Showering and cleaning are the most important uses, but “red” water is also useful for the garden or to give to the dogs. The roof of the lodge is layered with solar cells to take advantage of the bright, clear summer sky. On average, the 10-room lodge can generate the same amount of power as a conventional two-bedroom apartment uses. Naturally, this poses challenges. The biggest conservation measure I could see was total lack of electronics, with the exception of the computer in the back office, which I’ve never seen turned on. The ceiling of every room has a large skylight, eliminating the need for electric light during the day. At night, a limited set of high-efficiency fluorescent bulbs illuminates the corridors and public spaces. Staff is equipped with flashlights for use in closets, outside, or in other unlit spaces. Interestingly, the low lighting seems to foster an “early to bed, early to rise” mentality among the guests, who always rave about how rested they feel after a week’s stay. Guests and staff alike stay warm with heavy woolen blankets, or, as my boss once quipped, “personal insulating devices.” A full-circle fireplace in the center heats the main space. Smoke floats up the chimney while the heavy stainless steel hood reflects heat to all corners of the room. When guests close their room doors at night, they can barely hear the high-speed electric impellers that draw warmth from the fire into the rooms. The lodge is a model of efficiency in an often-unforgiving territory. My summer there taught me to budget more carefully my consumption of water and power. It is such discipline that will be necessary in the future when costs of these commodities might be so high that civilization can no longer take their abundance for granted. Given the way he is presented in the passage, the boss of the lodge can best be described as:

• sheltered and timid.

• vain and insincere.

• eccentric and enterprising.

• brash and calculating

The Lessons of Wilderness Living Members of modern society are fortunate to enjoy many conveniences once unheard of or reserved for the elite. Imagine, if you can, only one day without running water. It strains the mind to think of all the daily rituals one would have to change if the tap suddenly went dry. People today take electricity for granted, too. Lately, I’ve realized that while reliance on modern technology can improve the efficiency and quality of life, it also keeps people from learning meaningful lessons about living with the earth. The conservation ethics that I gained this summer while working at a hunting lodge I could not have learned elsewhere. The lodge is located on a massive, little known lake in northern Canada, closer to the Arctic Circle than it is to the U.S. border. Every spring, the lodge reopens to welcome scores of dedicated anglers itching to dip a line in the nearby pristine creeks. By summer, the small lodge fills to capacity with eager hunters. On the guided treks, these men and women primarily chase migratory birds and caribou, but I have seen plenty of other unique game come back to the lodge kitchen for preparation. Every hunter agrees that what one finds at the lodge is a truly luxurious hunting experience. Many people are surprised to find the lodge is totally self-sufficient, with the exception of the food staples it receives by small airplane. For a whole season, I was “off the grid,” totally dependent on the lodge to provide me with heat, light, water, and sanitation. When I asked the owner why he built his modern-looking log lodge so far beyond the reach of civilization, he replied, “I didn’t really like hunting anywhere the sewer line ran.” Or electricity or telephone or the water main, I thought to myself. The boss is a peculiar man, but I see why he had no reservations about setting up shop so deep in the wilderness. He had learned to love it years ago when he was an elite mountain soldier in the army. He always mentioned that life wasn’t as difficult in the sub-arctic wilderness as people think. Of course, he had a lodge to run, and not everyone was as hardy as he. His creative solutions to the lack of infrastructure are impressive. The first necessity of employees and guests is clean water for cooking, eating, and washing. A nearby creek feeds a large pump that draws the water through a particulate filter and into a large holding tank. A much smaller pipe takes some of this water through a series of purification devices. Inside, every sink has three taps: two blue and one red. Guests are used to the blue ones, drinkable hot and cold water, but the red one always requires an explanation. My contribution over the summer was to design a sign for each sink explaining the ways one could use the unpurified water from the red tap that came directly from the holding tank. Showering and cleaning are the most important uses, but “red” water is also useful for the garden or to give to the dogs. The roof of the lodge is layered with solar cells to take advantage of the bright, clear summer sky. On average, the 10-room lodge can generate the same amount of power as a conventional two-bedroom apartment uses. Naturally, this poses challenges. The biggest conservation measure I could see was total lack of electronics, with the exception of the computer in the back office, which I’ve never seen turned on. The ceiling of every room has a large skylight, eliminating the need for electric light during the day. At night, a limited set of high-efficiency fluorescent bulbs illuminates the corridors and public spaces. Staff is equipped with flashlights for use in closets, outside, or in other unlit spaces. Interestingly, the low lighting seems to foster an “early to bed, early to rise” mentality among the guests, who always rave about how rested they feel after a week’s stay. Guests and staff alike stay warm with heavy woolen blankets, or, as my boss once quipped, “personal insulating devices.” A full-circle fireplace in the center heats the main space. Smoke floats up the chimney while the heavy stainless steel hood reflects heat to all corners of the room. When guests close their room doors at night, they can barely hear the high-speed electric impellers that draw warmth from the fire into the rooms. The lodge is a model of efficiency in an often-unforgiving territory. My summer there taught me to budget more carefully my consumption of water and power. It is such discipline that will be necessary in the future when costs of these commodities might be so high that civilization can no longer take their abundance for granted. The narrator's comment about novel hunts refers to trips that:

• provide amenities such as gourmet food.

• are all-inclusive, where no one need bring personal equipment.

• expose hunters to an unusual variety of game.

• educate guests on arctic ecology as they hunt.

The second and third paragraphs suggest that, if not for the need to host a variety of guests, the boss would prefer:

• a lodge closer to city services.

• a more modest lodge with fewer creature comforts.

• a large hunting estate with modern improvements.

• a wilderness skills training facility.

Which of the following conclusions about the relationship between the narrator and the boss is best supported by the details in the passage?

• The narrator does not fully grasp the boss's rationale for having such an isolated lodge, but admires his ingenuity nonetheless.

• The boss largely ignores the narrator and the rest of the workforce, focusing instead on the guests, but the narrator does not resent him for it.

• The boss is very shy and the narrator obliges him with privacy.

• The narrator is an inquisitive person whose frequent questions irritate the boss.

What does the narrator suggest is a central characteristic of modern society's water and power consumption?

• Temperance

• Resourcefulness

• Excess

• Caution

As it is used in line 27, the word grid most likely means:

• roadway system.

• map.

• utility system.

• populated land.

The boss would most likely agree with which of the following characterizations of his lodge?

• It is rustic, unrefined, and occasionally uncomfortable.

• It retains its wilderness charm in spite of concessions to some modern conveniences.

• It establishes an oasis in the barren North for guests demanding luxury.

• It focuses on premium lodging, with some guests choosing to participate in guided hunts.

It is most reasonable to infer from the passage that the creeks near the lodge are pristine because:

• they teem with fish.

• the lodge only draws water from one of them.

• civilization is not present to alter or pollute them.

• many specialty fishes can be readily caught in their waters.