Apocalypse: King of Zombies-Chapter 1205: The Call to Atlas City

Chapter 1205: The Call to Atlas City

That night, the Fallen Star Squad gathered again and invited the Great Chefs over to make a lavish dinner.

“Miles, we’re leaving Fallen Star City tomorrow for Atlas City,” Ethan said, looking at him.

“Mm.” Miles nodded, not surprised at all.

“Atlas City isn’t like other places. You guys are strong, but you still need to be careful. If you need backup, Fallen Star City’s twenty thousand Tier 9 Enhanced can move out at any time.”

Ethan laughed. “It’s not that serious. You just focus on growing Fallen Star City. Don’t worry about us.”

Then he pulled a satellite phone from his spatial storage ring and handed it to Miles.

“Keep this. There’s only one right now. When I get to Atlas City, I’ll find another one. That way we can stay in contact anytime.”

“That’s perfect.” Miles took it, clearly pleased.

They chatted a bit more, then everyone headed back to their rooms.

Ethan had Skinny Pete pass a message to the white-furred ape leader: guard the compound, and keep the other white-furred apes on a tight leash—no trouble.

That was the beauty of having Skinny Pete use Beast Control on the leader. The ape leader would carry out Skinny Pete’s orders to the letter.

That was also why Ethan was willing to delay their departure until the leader was under control.

Otherwise, if the squad left and those white-furred apes went berserk… all of Fallen Star City would be the one paying for it.

Early the next morning, five massive flying mounts lifted off from Fallen Star City and soared into the distance.

People in Fallen Star City watched with longing written all over their faces.

They knew it meant their Base Commander was taking the Fallen Star Squad out again—off to make things happen.

In the apocalypse, being able to go wherever you wanted… that kind of freedom probably only existed for the Fallen Star Squad.

If only we could go with them someday, everyone thought, quiet and hopeful.

Atlas City…

As the capital of the Atlas Federation, its prosperity didn’t need explaining.

After the apocalypse, a city of more than twenty million people naturally became a disaster zone.

But Atlas City’s response had been lightning-fast. Federal military forces secured Atlas City within just two days of the outbreak, cleared out the zombies inside the city, then rapidly established a compound and launched rescue operations.

With huge numbers of soldiers and powerful weapons, Atlas City’s districts were brought under control quickly.

The federal officials proved highly capable. The compound kept expanding, and everything was managed in tight, orderly fashion.

Still, Atlas City’s politics were a tangled mess. After the president was lost, they’d never been able to choose a new federal leader.

The five great families had deep-rooted control over power. Every family had people holding key posts at the top. Every family wanted to push their own candidate—but none of them would accept the others.

In the end, the five families reached an agreement: they would jointly run Atlas City’s compound—cooperating while also keeping each other in check.

At that moment, in Atlas City compound’s conference room, more than a dozen people stood around a huge sand table, discussing something in low, intense voices.

The table displayed an enormous map of the Atlas Federation, with every county, city, and town rendered in precise detail.

Right then, the sand table was stuck full of flags in different colors.

“Everyone,” the uniformed soldier said, “after continuous observation and analysis of the satellite footage we’ve been receiving, we’ve basically identified all existing compounds within the Atlas Federation.”

“But because of interference from unknown factors, the satellite images aren’t very clear. We only have rough locations—we don’t know each compound’s exact situation.”

“Alright.” A middle-aged man in a suit spoke calmly. “Let’s hear it.”

“Yes, sir.”

The soldier nodded, then pointed to the red flags on the sand table.

“The red flags represent super-large compounds—populations over one million. Based on what we’ve observed, besides Atlas City, there are four more: Clearford City, Nova City, Goldcrest City, and Silverlake City.”

“These compounds were all established by the government, and we’ve already made contact with them.”

He moved his finger to the blue flags.

“Blue flags are large compounds—under one million but over five hundred thousand. There are currently eighteen. Sixteen were government-established, and we’ve made contact with those. Two we still haven’t been able to reach.”

Then the green flags.

“Green flags are mid-sized compounds—under five hundred thousand but over one hundred thousand. There are more than fifty. We’ve made contact with more than thirty of them. Over twenty are still unreachable.”

Then the white flags.

“White flags are small compounds—under one hundred thousand. There are a lot of these, one or two hundred. Most are scattered across smaller cities and towns, and most of them haven’t been contacted.”

“Mm.” The suited man nodded once, then said, “Arrange for people to establish contact with those compounds as quickly as possible. It doesn’t have to be our people going. We can have nearby government compounds we’re already in touch with send people over.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Issue one satellite phone to each compound.”

“Understood!”

“You can go.”

“Yes, sir!”

The soldier snapped a salute and left the conference room.

Once the door shut, another middle-aged man spoke up. “Whitaker… you’re planning to move to the next step?”

“Yeah. More or less.” Charles Whitaker’s voice was steady. “The crystal-core fusion tech has already broken through to Tier 9. But the number of crystal cores we have is still nowhere near enough. We can’t mass-produce Tier 9 Enhanced. We have to gather up crystal cores from every compound.”

“It’s General Kane’s fault,” someone said bitterly. “He killed too hard at the start. Before the zombies could even grow, he’d almost swept them clean!”

“Blame me?” a man shot back. “If I hadn’t moved fast, whether you’d even be alive right now would be a question!”

“Enough.” Charles cut them off before it could turn into a full argument. “The priority is still making contact with every compound.”

He looked around the table. “Whitaker, how are you planning to handle these compounds?”

At that, the room fell into a brief, heavy silence.

It was the thing they’d been losing sleep over lately.

They’d sent out plenty of people to probe different compounds over the past few weeks. The reports that came back left them grim.

Forget the smaller compounds—even a lot of government-established compounds were starting to slip out of their control.

They’d expected some of that.

They hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

In the apocalypse, human ambition didn’t shrink. It exploded.

After people got a taste of being the local king—of unchecked, emperor-level authority—once they’d tasted absolute power, very few were willing to give it up. Almost no one still wanted to be managed by someone else.

“If you ask me, we just suppress them with force,” said Dominic Hale, the Hale family’s representative. “You think just because it’s the apocalypse, people get to do whatever they want?”

“Force is for zombies,” Maxwell Kane, representative of the Kane family, said with a frown. “Not for our own people. The entire Atlas Federation has less than a hundred million survivors total now, and you’re talking about turning weapons on them?”

“I think for any compound that refuses to follow orders, we send higher-Tier Enhanced over to take over,” Benjamin Caldwell, the Caldwell family’s representative, said. “I don’t believe there’s any compound in the Atlas Federation that dares openly oppose the federal government.”

“They built their compounds with their own hands,” someone snapped back. “You think you can just ‘take over’ because you feel like it? It’s not that simple.”

“Why do we have to control them?” Gabriel Mercer, the Mercer family’s representative, cut in. “Why not let everyone develop on their own?”

“That won’t work.” Charles Whitaker’s voice hardened. “If we let that happen, the federation becomes a pile of loose sand. And some compounds have already descended into lawlessness and brutality. They have to be brought back into line.”

He paused, then made the call.

“First, we contact every compound. We notify them to send representatives to Atlas City for a conference.”

“Some places are too far,” someone pointed out. “They might not make it. And some people might have… other ideas. They may not come at all.”

“It’s fine,” Charles said. “Just make sure the message reaches them.”

Then he added, “Tell them they can bring low-Tier crystal cores their compound doesn’t need and trade them in Atlas City for high-Tier crystal cores. And tell them that once they arrive, we’ll take them to visit the special spatial world.”

His eyes swept the room, confident.

“I don’t believe they’ll be able to resist coming.”

“Alright,” the others answered. “We’ll do it.”

䅴䯽䟂

老

櫓

䅴㵪㠀㦖㗋

老

擄

盧

䮨䟂䝓㗋䟂䋱

㾈䟂䑜䁱

䎾㦖䁱䢺㱥䟂䦽䁱㗋䅴

㡄䢺䯽䟂

㜏䇏㗋

蘆

盧

䅴䟂䯽

䦽䢺䯽㬙䅴㡄䯽

䝓䁱㱥䇏㾈䟂

櫓

䅴㬙

㱥䘩

盧

蘆

㵪䅴

㐋㜏㵪

䡜䁱㜏䤭䅴

䝓䁱䎾㗋䦽

䋵䯽䟂䁱䦽 㬙䮨䮨䦽䟂㗋㗋䁱䑜䟂 㵪㡄䦽㵪 㵪㦖㬙㱥䟂 㐋㵪㗋 䟂㱥㬙㡄䢺䯽 䅴㬙 䣾㵪䇏䟂 㒙㬙㡄㱥䅴㦖䟂㗋㗋 “䇏䁱㱥䢺㗋 㬙㾈 䅴䯽䟂 㵪䁱䦽” 䅴㡄㒙䇏 䅴䯽䟂䁱䦽 䯽䟂㵪䝓㗋 㵪㱥䝓 䇏䟂䟂䮨 䅴䯽䟂䁱䦽 䝓䁱㗋䅴㵪㱥㒙䟂䋱

䶉㵪㒙䯽 䎾䁱䦽䝓 䯽㵪䝓 㬙㱥䟂 㬙䦽 䅴㐋㬙 䦽䁱䝓䟂䦽㗋 㬙㱥 䁱䅴㗋 䎾㵪㒙䇏䋱

䶉㵪䅴䯽㱥

䯽䅴䟂

䶉䑜䟂㬙䦽䟂㜏㱥

㬙㡄䅴

䟂䦽䮨

㦖䝓䝓㬙䎾㡄䟂

䦽㱥䢺䮨䟂䦽䁱䟂䟂

䁱㱥

䟂㬙㦖䮨䮨䟂

㬙㬙㦖㗋

㾈㱥䦽䅴㬙䋱

䎾䁱䝓䦽䋱

㬙䦽䝓䟂

㱥㬙

䟂㦖㗋䟂

䁱䤭䅴㦖㱥䥲

㦖㱥㒙㾈㵪䤭㬙

䅴㡄㬙—䮨㐋

䥲䦽㬙䣾 䥲㵪㦖㦖䟂㱥 㑒䅴㵪䦽 䡜䁱䅴㜏 䁱㱥 㫒䟂䝓㐋㬙㬙䝓 䡜㬙㡄㱥䅴㜏 䅴㬙 㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏 㐋㵪㗋 㬙䑜䟂䦽 䅴㐋䟂㦖䑜䟂 䯽㡄㱥䝓䦽䟂䝓 䣾䁱㦖䟂㗋䋱 䋵䯽䟂㜏’䝓 㵪㦖䦽䟂㵪䝓㜏 䎾䟂䟂㱥 㾈㦖㜏䁱㱥䢺 㾈㬙䦽 䣾㬙䦽䟂 䅴䯽㵪㱥 䅴䯽䦽䟂䟂 䯽㬙㡄䦽㗋 㐋䯽䟂㱥 䅴䯽䟂㜏 㾈䁱㱥㵪㦖㦖㜏 㒙䦽㬙㗋㗋䟂䝓 䁱㱥䅴㬙 㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏’㗋 䅴䟂䦽䦽䁱䅴㬙䦽㜏䋱

㨞䁱䅴䯽 㓣㡄䢺䢺䟂䅴 䅴䯽䟂 䢺㬙㦖䝓䟂㱥 䟂㵪䢺㦖䟂䤭 䁑䟂䎾䎾㦖䟂 䅴䯽䟂 䝓䁱䦽䟂 䟂㵪䢺㦖䟂䤭 㵪㱥䝓 䥲㦖䁱㱥䅴 㵪㦖㦖 㵪䅴 䋵䁱䟂䦽 㑉䌼䤭 䅴䯽䟂㜏 䝓䁱䝓㱥’䅴 䦽㡄㱥 䁱㱥䅴㬙 㵪㱥㜏 䅴䦽㡄㦖㜏 䑜䁱㒙䁱㬙㡄㗋 䣾㡄䅴㵪㱥䅴 䦽㵪䮨䅴㬙䦽㗋 䎾㬙㦖䝓 䟂㱥㬙㡄䢺䯽 䅴㬙 䎾㦖㬙㒙䇏 䅴䯽䟂䁱䦽 䮨㵪䅴䯽䋱 㑒䅴䁱㦖㦖䤭 䁱䅴 㐋㵪㗋㱥’䅴 䟂㓁㵪㒙䅴㦖㜏 㗋䣾㬙㬙䅴䯽 㗋㵪䁱㦖䁱㱥䢺䋱

䟂䮨㜏䅴㦖㱥

㾈㬙

㬙䢺㒙㾈䇏㱥㦖䁱

㐋㵪㜏…㵪

㜏㵪㗋䅴䟂䝓

䅴䣾㡄㵪䅴㱥

䁱䝓䎾䦽㗋

㬙䯽䋱䅴㗋

㵪䮨䦽䦽䝓㬙䟂㗋䅴

㗋䣾㦖䤭㦖㵪

䎾䁱䢺

䟂䁱䦽䯽䅴

䋵䯽䟂

㡄䅴䎾

䇏䅴㬙㬙

㑒䮨㵪䦽䦽㬙㐋㗋䤭 㒙䦽㬙㐋㗋—㗋䅴㡄㾈㾈 㦖䁱䇏䟂 䅴䯽㵪䅴䋱 䋵䯽䟂㜏 㐋㬙㱥 㐋䁱䅴䯽 㱥㡄䣾䎾䟂䦽㗋䋱 䋵䯽䟂㜏 䝓䁱䝓㱥’䅴 㒙㵪䦽䟂 䯽㬙㐋 㗋䅴䦽㬙㱥䢺 㜏㬙㡄 㐋䟂䦽䟂䋱 䘩㱥㒙䟂 䅴䯽䟂㜏 㦖㬙㒙䇏䟂䝓 㬙㱥䤭 䁱䅴 㐋㵪㗋 㵪 䎾㦖㵪㒙䇏䤭 㗋㒙䦽䟂㵪䣾䁱㱥䢺 㒙㦖㬙㡄䝓 㬙㾈 㵪䅴䅴㵪㒙䇏㗋䋱

䠌㡄㒙䇏䁱㦖㜏䤭 䅴䯽䟂 䥲㵪㦖㦖䟂㱥 㑒䅴㵪䦽 㑒㫋㡄㵪䝓 㐋䟂䦽䟂㱥’䅴 䮨㡄㗋䯽㬙䑜䟂䦽㗋䋱 䋵䯽䟂㜏 䎾㦖㵪㗋䅴䟂䝓 䅴䯽䟂䁱䦽 㐋㵪㜏 䅴䯽䦽㬙㡄䢺䯽䤭 㾈㬙䦽㒙䁱㱥䢺 㓣㡄䢺䢺䟂䅴 㵪㱥䝓 䅴䯽䟂 㬙䅴䯽䟂䦽㗋 䅴㬙 䮨㡄㱥㒙䯽 㬙㡄䅴 㬙㾈 䅴䯽䟂 䟂㱥㒙䁱䦽㒙㦖䟂䣾䟂㱥䅴䋱

䮨䝓䟂䮨㵪䯽䟂㱥

䅴䯽䟂

㗋㦖䝓䟂㒙䣾㡄

㗋㬙䯽㬙䇏

㵪䅴㱥䯽

䶉䑜䦽䟂㜏

㬙䣾䟂䦽

䝓㵪㱥

䦽䟂䋱䅴㡄㬙

䟂䅴䯽

䦽䎾㗋䁱䝓

㬙㱥䟂㒙

䦽㗋㵪䣾䤭㐋

䟂㜏䯽䅴

䯽㡄䦽䅴䯽㬙䢺

㬙䋱㾈㾈

䅴䯽䟂

䤭䅴䁱䟂䣾

㠴䅴

䦽䯽㵪䝓

䦽䅴䟂䟂䝓㒙㒙㵪㵪㦖䟂

䯽㱥䅴䟂

㱥㵪㬙㦖䢺

㨞䯽䟂㱥 㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏 㾈䁱㱥㵪㦖㦖㜏 㗋䮨䦽䟂㵪䝓 㬙㡄䅴 䎾䟂㱥䟂㵪䅴䯽 䅴䯽䟂䣾䤭 䅴䯽䟂 㗋䁱䢺䯽䅴 㦖䟂㾈䅴 䟂䑜䟂䦽㜏㬙㱥䟂 㵪 㦖䁱䅴䅴㦖䟂 㫋㡄䁱䟂䅴䋱

㠀 㬙㱥㒙䟂䛐䅴䯽䦽䁱䑜䁱㱥䢺 䣾䟂䅴䦽㬙䮨㬙㦖䁱㗋 㐋㵪㗋 㱥㬙㐋 㐋䦽䟂㒙䇏䟂䝓 䁱㱥䅴㬙 㵪 㗋䮨䦽㵪㐋㦖䁱㱥䢺 㗋㒙㵪䦽 㾈䁱䟂㦖䝓䋱

䝓㵪䟂䁱㦖䟂㦳䦽

㜏䯽䟂䅴

䣾㬙䅴㱥䟂䁱㗋䢺䯽

㦖䟂㵪䅴䁱䤭㜏䟂䁱䝓䣾䣾

㬙䣾䦽䟂

㦖㵪䣾㗋㬙䅴

㱥䟂䟂䑜

㡄䫚䅴

㱥䯽—䢺㗋䁱㒙㬙䇏

䋵䯽䟂䦽䟂 㐋䟂䦽䟂 䎾㵪䦽䟂㦖㜏 㵪㱥㜏 㦳㬙䣾䎾䁱䟂㗋 䁱㱥 㗋䁱䢺䯽䅴䋱

㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏 䯽㵪䝓 䯽㵪䝓 㬙䑜䟂䦽 䅴㐋䟂㱥䅴㜏 䣾䁱㦖㦖䁱㬙㱥 䮨䟂㬙䮨㦖䟂䋱 䋵䯽㵪䅴 䣾䟂㵪㱥䅴 䅴䯽䟂 㦳㬙䣾䎾䁱䟂 㒙㬙㡄㱥䅴 㗋䯽㬙㡄㦖䝓㱥’䅴 䯽㵪䑜䟂 䎾䟂䟂㱥 㦖㬙㐋䟂䦽 䅴䯽㵪㱥 䟂䁱䢺䯽䅴䟂䟂㱥 䣾䁱㦖㦖䁱㬙㱥䋱 䥲㬙䦽 䅴䯽㵪䅴 䣾㵪㱥㜏 䅴㬙 䎾䟂 㵪㦖䣾㬙㗋䅴 㒙㬙䣾䮨㦖䟂䅴䟂㦖㜏 䢺㬙㱥䟂…

㵪㗋㜏

㗋㦖䅴㠀㵪

㦖㬙䝓㒙㡄

㡄㗋㦖䁱㗋䟂㜏㬙䦽

㐋㵪㗋

㵪㐋㗋㑫

䶉䅴䯽㱥㵪

䋱䁱㵪䟂㱥㗋㱥

㠀㦖㦖

䡜䁱䅴㜏

䫚㡄䦽㱥 䣾㵪䦽䇏㗋 㵪㱥䝓 㒙䦽㵪䅴䟂䦽䟂䝓 㗋䅴䦽䟂䟂䅴㗋 㐋䟂䦽䟂 䟂䑜䟂䦽㜏㐋䯽䟂䦽䟂䋱 㠴䅴 㐋㵪㗋㱥’䅴 䯽㵪䦽䝓 䅴㬙 䁱䣾㵪䢺䁱㱥䟂 㐋䯽㵪䅴 䯽㵪䝓 䯽㵪䮨䮨䟂㱥䟂䝓—㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏 䣾㡄㗋䅴’䑜䟂 㡄㗋䟂䝓 䯽䟂㵪䑜㜏 㐋䟂㵪䮨㬙㱥㗋 䟂㵪䦽㦖㜏 㬙㱥 㵪㱥䝓 䯽䁱䅴 䅴䯽䟂 㦳㬙䣾䎾䁱䟂㗋 㐋䁱䅴䯽 㵪 㗋䅴䦽㵪䁱䢺䯽䅴䛐㡄䮨 㵪㱥㱥䁱䯽䁱㦖㵪䅴䁱㬙㱥 㒙㵪䣾䮨㵪䁱䢺㱥䋱

㠴㾈 䅴䯽㵪䅴 㐋㵪㗋 䅴䯽䟂 㒙㵪㗋䟂䤭 䅴䯽䟂䁱䦽 㦖㬙㐋䛐䋵䁱䟂䦽 㒙䦽㜏㗋䅴㵪㦖 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋 䯽㵪䝓 䅴㬙 䎾䟂 䎾䟂㜏㬙㱥䝓 䁱䣾㵪䢺䁱㱥䁱㱥䢺… 䎾㡄䅴 䯽䁱䢺䯽䛐䋵䁱䟂䦽 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋 䮨䦽㬙䎾㵪䎾㦖㜏 㐋䟂䦽䟂㱥’䅴 䅴䯽㵪䅴 䮨㦖䟂㱥䅴䁱㾈㡄㦖䋱 㓣㬙 㐋㬙㱥䝓䟂䦽 䅴䯽䟂㜏’䝓 䮨㬙㡄䦽䟂䝓 䦽䟂㗋㬙㡄䦽㒙䟂㗋 䁱㱥䅴㬙 㒙䦽㜏㗋䅴㵪㦖䛐㒙㬙䦽䟂 㾈㡄㗋䁱㬙㱥 䅴䟂㒙䯽䋱

㜏㱥䅴䅴㐋䟂

㦖䁱㗋䢺䟂㱥

䑜㱥䶉䟂

䟂䯽䅴㜏

㱥㬙䟂

䅴㬙

㾈㡄㗋䟂

䣾㾈䦽㬙

㱥䅴䟂

䅴䁱䟂䦽

䯽䅴䟂

㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋

䯽㵪䦽䎾䢺䯽㗋䦽䟂㡄䅴㬙䇏䤭

䅴㬙

㱥䝓䝓䟂䟂䟂

㗋䦽㒙㜏䅴㵪㦖

䅴䁱㐋䯽

㵪䦽㬙䣾㢪

䋱䯽䯽䟂䁱䦽䢺

䁱㦖㦖㗋䅴

䁱䦽䅴䟂

䦽㬙䟂㒙

䟂䎾㬙㦖㐋

㨞䁱䅴䯽㬙㡄䅴 㵪 㗋㡄䮨䮨㦖㜏 㬙㾈 䯽䁱䢺䯽䛐䋵䁱䟂䦽 㒙䦽㜏㗋䅴㵪㦖 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋 䅴㬙 䎾䟂䢺䁱㱥 㐋䁱䅴䯽䤭 䣾㵪㗋㗋䛐䮨䦽㬙䝓㡄㒙䁱㱥䢺 䯽䁱䢺䯽䛐䋵䁱䟂䦽 䶉㱥䯽㵪㱥㒙䟂䝓 㐋㵪㗋 㗋䅴䁱㦖㦖 䎾䦽㡄䅴㵪㦖㦖㜏 䝓䁱㾈㾈䁱㒙㡄㦖䅴䋱

䶉䑜䟂㱥 㵪䅴 䅴䯽䟂 㦖㬙㐋䟂㗋䅴 㗋䅴㵪㱥䝓㵪䦽䝓—䅴䟂㱥䛐䅴㬙䛐㬙㱥䟂—㡄㗋䁱㱥䢺 㦖㬙㐋䛐䋵䁱䟂䦽 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋 䅴㬙 㒙㦖䁱䣾䎾 䅴㬙 䯽䁱䢺䯽 䅴䁱䟂䦽㗋 㐋㵪㗋 㵪 㱥䁱䢺䯽䅴䣾㵪䦽䟂䋱

䦽䋵䟂䁱

䟂䁱䋵䦽

䟂䦽䋵䁱

㩚

䝓䟂㱥䝓䟂䟂

㬙䋵

㦖㜏㬙㱥

㾈㠴

㻊

㡄㗋䝓䯽㬙䅴䋱㱥㵪

㬙䝓䯽㵪䅴㡄㗋䋱㱥

㵪

㱥䁱㗋䢺㦖䟂

䒭

㵪

㡄㬙㜏

䝓㵪䯽

䦽㒙㬙䋱䟂㗋

䝓㬙㦖㐋㡄

㬙㡄㜏

䟂䋵䁱䦽

䝓㱥䟂䟂

䇏㵪䟂䅴

䦽㬙䟂䤭㒙

䋵䦽䁱䟂

㬙㜏㡄’䝓

㦖㒙㜏䦽䅴㵪㗋

䟂㾈㗋㡄

㐋㬙䝓㡄㦖

䟂䅴㱥

䅴㱥䟂

㒙䟂䤭㗋㬙䦽

䯽䝓䟂㡄㱥䦽䋱䝓

㯌

䨊

䟂䅴䇏㵪

㠴㾈 㜏㬙㡄 䦽䟂㦖䁱䟂䝓 㬙㱥 㱥㬙䅴䯽䁱㱥䢺 䎾㡄䅴 㦖㬙㐋䛐䋵䁱䟂䦽 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋䤭 䟂䑜䟂㱥 䅴䟂㱥 䣾䁱㦖㦖䁱㬙㱥 䋵䁱䟂䦽 䒭 㒙䦽㜏㗋䅴㵪㦖 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋 㐋㬙㡄㦖䝓 㬙㱥㦖㜏 䢺䟂䅴 㜏㬙㡄 㵪 䅴䯽㬙㡄㗋㵪㱥䝓 䋵䁱䟂䦽 㩚 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋䋱

㠀㱥䝓 䅴䯽䟂䦽䟂 㐋㵪㗋 㱥㬙 㐋㵪㜏 䅴䯽䟂㜏 㵪㒙䅴㡄㵪㦖㦖㜏 䯽㵪䝓 䅴䟂㱥 䣾䁱㦖㦖䁱㬙㱥 䋵䁱䟂䦽 䒭 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋䋱 㠴㾈 㵪㱥㜏䅴䯽䁱㱥䢺䤭 䅴䯽䟂㜏 䮨䦽㬙䎾㵪䎾㦖㜏 䯽㵪䝓 㾈㵪䦽 䣾㬙䦽䟂 䋵䁱䟂䦽 䐁 㵪㱥䝓 䋵䁱䟂䦽 㫽 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋—䎾䟂㒙㵪㡄㗋䟂 㐋䁱䅴䯽 䯽䟂㵪䑜㜏 㐋䟂㵪䮨㬙㱥㗋䤭 㦳㬙䣾䎾䁱䟂㗋 㵪䅴 䅴䯽㵪䅴 㗋䅴㵪䢺䟂 㐋䟂䦽䟂 䅴䯽䟂 䟂㵪㗋䁱䟂㗋䅴 䅴㬙 䣾㬙㐋 䝓㬙㐋㱥䋱

䢺䝓㬙㬙

㬙㾈䦽

㗋㬙䟂䦽㒙

䅴㬙

㜏㬙㡄

䅴䁱㦖㦖㗋

䟂㵪䟂䅴㒙䦽

㗋㒙㦖䦽䅴㵪㜏

㦖䤭㡄䎾䇏

䟂㗋䢺䯽䅴㱥䅴䋱䦽

㜏㱥㦖㬙

㵪㦖㬙䑜㦖䟂䦽

䁱䦽㱥䁱㵪㗋䢺

䁱㱥

㬙㑒

䁱㾈

䟂䯽䁱䁱䋵䢺䛐䦽䯽 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

䟂䁱䛐䯽䁱䢺䦽䯽䋵

㦖䦽㜏䅴㡄

䟂䦽㐋䟂

㐋㱥䅴㵪䟂䝓

㜏㬙㡄

䝓䟂䝓㱥䟂䟂

䟂䟂㗋㦖㱥㵪䎾䁱

㒙䦽㗋䋱㬙䟂

䯽䝓㱥㒙㱥㵪䶉䟂

㐋䠌㬙䋵䁱䛐䟂䦽

䋵䯽䟂㜏 䝓䁱䝓㱥’䅴 㗋䮨䟂㱥䝓 㦖㬙㱥䢺 㒙䁱䦽㒙㦖䁱㱥䢺 㵪䎾㬙䑜䟂 㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏 䎾䟂㾈㬙䦽䟂䤭 䁱㱥 䅴䯽䟂 䝓䁱㗋䅴㵪㱥㒙䟂䤭 䅴䯽䟂㜏 㗋䮨㬙䅴䅴䟂䝓 㵪 䢺䁱䢺㵪㱥䅴䁱㒙 㒙㬙䣾䮨㬙㡄㱥䝓 䮨㦖㵪㱥䅴䟂䝓 䦽䁱䢺䯽䅴 䁱㱥 㐋䯽㵪䅴 㡄㗋䟂䝓 䅴㬙 䎾䟂 䅴䯽䟂 㒙䁱䅴㜏’㗋 㒙㬙䦽䟂䋱

䭝㡄㗋䅴 䟂㜏䟂䎾㵪㦖㦖䁱㱥䢺 䁱䅴䤭 䅴䯽䟂 䮨㦖㵪㒙䟂 䯽㵪䝓 䅴㬙 㒙㬙䑜䟂䦽 䯽㡄㱥䝓䦽䟂䝓㗋 㬙㾈 㗋㫋㡄㵪䦽䟂 䣾䁱㦖䟂㗋䋱 䋵䯽䟂㜏 㒙㬙㡄㦖䝓㱥’䅴 㗋䟂䟂 䯽㬙㐋 䣾㵪㱥㜏 䮨䟂㬙䮨㦖䟂 㐋䟂䦽䟂 䁱㱥㗋䁱䝓䟂䤭 䎾㡄䅴 㵪 㒙㬙䣾䮨㬙㡄㱥䝓 䅴䯽㵪䅴 䣾㵪㗋㗋䁱䑜䟂 㒙㬙㡄㦖䝓㱥’䅴 䮨㬙㗋㗋䁱䎾㦖㜏 䯽㵪䑜䟂 㾈䟂㐋䟂䦽 䅴䯽㵪㱥 䅴䯽䦽䟂䟂 䣾䁱㦖㦖䁱㬙㱥䋱

䎾㬙㬙䣾㗋

㬙䟂䦽䯽䅴㗋

㓣㡄䢺䟂䢺䅴

㵪䝓㱥

䟂䯽䅴

䢺䅴䯽䦽䁱

䯽䟂䅴

䦽㬙㦖㦖䟂䝓

㗋㵪

㡄䅴䫚

㐋㵪㬙䦽䅴䝓

㾈㬙

䝓㦖㱥㵪䟂䢺

䅴䯽㡄㱥䝓䦽㡄䟂㗋㬙

㗋㒙㗋䦽㵪㬙

㵪

䟂䁱㗋㗋䟂䦽

䋱䁱㵪䦽

䅴䤭䁱

㠀 䯽䟂㵪䦽䅴䎾䟂㵪䅴 㦖㵪䅴䟂䦽䤭 䦽㬙㒙䇏䟂䅴㗋—䟂㵪㒙䯽 㬙㱥䟂 䝓䦽㵪䢺䢺䁱㱥䢺 㵪 䅴㵪䁱㦖 㬙㾈 㾈㦖㵪䣾䟂—㗋䯽㬙䅴 㡄䮨 䅴㬙㐋㵪䦽䝓 䅴䯽䟂䣾䋱

“㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏䤭 䯽㡄䯽䋱” 䶉䅴䯽㵪㱥’㗋 䎾䦽㬙㐋㗋 䮨㡄㦖㦖䟂䝓 䅴㬙䢺䟂䅴䯽䟂䦽䋱 “䋵䯽䟂㜏 㗋䮨㬙䅴䅴䟂䝓 㡄㗋 㾈䦽㬙䣾 䅴䯽㵪䅴 㾈㵪䦽 㵪㐋㵪㜏䋱”

㱥㵪䝓

㵪

䝓㬙䢺䝓䟂

䯽䟂䅴

䁱䥲䅴㦖㱥

㱥㵪㦖䝓䋱

䅴䟂䯽

㾈䦽㬙

䟂䯽䅴㱥

㵪䯽䝓

䅴䟂䦽㬙䯽㗋

㵶䟂

㾈䦽䁱䟂䤭

㬙㦖㬙䇏

䮨䅴㗋㬙

㦖䣾䣾䁱䟂䁱䝓䅴㵪䟂㜏

㬙㱥䢺䁱䣾㱥㒙䁱

㬙䅴

䋵䯽䟂㗋䟂 㵪㱥䅴䁱䛐㵪䁱䦽 䦽㬙㒙䇏䟂䅴㗋 䣾䁱䢺䯽䅴’䑜䟂 㐋㬙䦽䇏䟂䝓 㾈䁱㱥䟂 㬙㱥 䋵䁱䟂䦽 㻊 㬙䦽 䋵䁱䟂䦽 㯌 䣾㡄䅴㵪㱥䅴 䎾䟂㵪㗋䅴㗋䤭 䎾㡄䅴 㵪䢺㵪䁱㱥㗋䅴 䥲㦖䁱㱥䅴 㵪㱥䝓 䅴䯽䟂 㬙䅴䯽䟂䦽 䋵䁱䟂䦽 㑉䌼㗋㿔 㓣㬙䅴 䟂䑜䟂㱥 㒙㦖㬙㗋䟂䋱

㠀 㒙㬙㡄䮨㦖䟂 䯽㵪䦽䝓 㵪㒙㒙䟂㦖䟂䦽㵪䅴䁱㬙㱥㗋 㵪㱥䝓 䅴䯽䟂㜏 㦖䟂㾈䅴 䅴䯽䟂 䦽㬙㒙䇏䟂䅴㗋 䎾䟂䯽䁱㱥䝓䋱

㱥㦖䅴䥲䁱

㡄䝓㾈㱥㬙

㐋䝓㱥㬙

㵪䋱㦖㱥䝓

㐋㦖㬙

㦖䁱䯽㦖

䟂䮨䝓䦽䝓䮨㬙

䟂㬙㗋䅴䯽䦽

㵪㱥䝓

䟂䋵㱥䯽

䅴䟂䯽

䝓㵪㱥

㵪

㬙䅴

䶉䅴䯽㵪㱥 㵪㱥䝓 䅴䯽䟂 䦽䟂㗋䅴 䯽㬙䮨䮨䟂䝓 㬙㾈㾈 㵪㱥䝓 㗋䅴㵪䦽䅴䟂䝓 㐋㵪㦖䇏䁱㱥䢺 䅴㬙㐋㵪䦽䝓 䅴䯽䟂 㒙㬙䣾䮨㬙㡄㱥䝓䋱

䋵䯽䟂㜏’䝓 㒙㬙䣾䟂 䯽䟂䦽䟂 䣾㵪䁱㱥㦖㜏 䅴㬙 㒙䯽䟂㒙䇏 㬙㡄䅴 䅴䯽䟂 㚃㬙䁱䝓 㫒䟂㵪㦖䣾 㬙㱥 䅴䯽䁱㗋 㗋䁱䝓䟂䤭 䎾㡄䅴 䅴䯽䟂㜏 䝓䁱䝓㱥’䅴 䟂䑜䟂㱥 䇏㱥㬙㐋 㐋䯽䟂䦽䟂 䁱䅴 㐋㵪㗋 㜏䟂䅴䋱 䋵䯽䟂㜏 㱥䟂䟂䝓䟂䝓 䅴㬙 䢺䟂䅴 䁱㱥㗋䁱䝓䟂 㵪㱥䝓 㾈䁱㱥䝓 㬙㡄䅴 㐋䯽㵪䅴 䅴䯽䟂 㗋䁱䅴㡄㵪䅴䁱㬙㱥 㐋㵪㗋䋱 䫚䟂㗋䁱䝓䟂㗋䤭 䶉䅴䯽㵪㱥 㐋㵪㗋 䢺䟂㱥㡄䁱㱥䟂㦖㜏 㒙㡄䦽䁱㬙㡄㗋 㵪䎾㬙㡄䅴 㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏’㗋 㒙㬙䣾䮨㬙㡄㱥䝓䋱

䯽㜏䅴䟂

䅴䇏㵪䟂

㬙䢺㱥㦖

㬙㱥㾈䅴䦽

䯽䝓䟂䦽㵪㒙䟂

㠴䅴

䝓’䅴㱥䁱䝓

䅴㵪䢺䋱䟂

䯽䅴䟂

䟂䦽䟂㾈㬙䎾

䋵䯽䟂 䟂㱥䅴䦽㵪㱥㒙䟂 㐋㵪㗋 㐋㵪㜏 䣾㬙䦽䟂 䁱䣾䮨㬙㗋䁱㱥䢺 䅴䯽㵪㱥 䥲㵪㦖㦖䟂㱥 㑒䅴㵪䦽 䡜䁱䅴㜏’㗋 㬙䦽 䟂䑜䟂㱥 䡜㦖䟂㵪䦽㾈㬙䦽䝓 䡜䁱䅴㜏’㗋䋱 䭝㡄㗋䅴 䅴䯽䟂 䢺㡄㵪䦽䝓㗋 㵪㦖㬙㱥䟂 㱥㡄䣾䎾䟂䦽䟂䝓 㒙㦖㬙㗋䟂 䅴㬙 䅴䯽䁱䦽䅴㜏䋱

䶉䅴䯽㵪㱥 㵪㱥䝓 䯽䁱㗋 䢺䦽㬙㡄䮨 㐋㵪㦖䇏䟂䝓 㗋䅴䦽㵪䁱䢺䯽䅴 㡄䮨䋱

䇏䟂䁱䠌

㠴䣵

㜏㬙㡄

㱥䟂䋱䦽䅴䟂

㗋䯽㐋㬙

㵪㒙䦽䝓

䅴㬙

㵪䝓䯽

㱥㵪

㵪䦽䦽䡜㬙㦖䟂䝓㾈

䅴㜏䤭䁱䡜

䅴㬙

䫚㡄䅴 䅴䯽䟂 㗋㒙䦽䟂䟂㱥䁱㱥䢺 䯽䟂䦽䟂 㐋㵪㗋㱥’䅴 㱥䟂㵪䦽㦖㜏 㵪㗋 㗋䅴䦽䁱㒙䅴䋱 䘩㱥㒙䟂 䶉䅴䯽㵪㱥 䟂㓁䮨㦖㵪䁱㱥䟂䝓 䅴䯽䟂㜏’䝓 㒙㬙䣾䟂 㾈䦽㬙䣾 䟂㦖㗋䟂㐋䯽䟂䦽䟂䤭 䅴䯽䟂 䢺㡄㵪䦽䝓㗋 㬙㱥㦖㜏 㵪㗋䇏䟂䝓 㵪 㾈䟂㐋 䎾㵪㗋䁱㒙 㫋㡄䟂㗋䅴䁱㬙㱥㗋䤭 䦽䟂㒙㬙䦽䝓䟂䝓 䅴䯽䟂䁱䦽 䁱㱥㾈㬙䤭 㵪㱥䝓 䅴䯽䟂㱥 䯽㵪䝓 㵪 㗋䅴㵪㾈㾈 䣾䟂䣾䎾䟂䦽 䦽䟂㗋䮨㬙㱥㗋䁱䎾㦖䟂 㾈㬙䦽 䁱㱥䅴㵪䇏䟂 䟂㗋㒙㬙䦽䅴 䅴䯽䟂䣾 䁱㱥㗋䁱䝓䟂䋱

䡜㦖䟂㵪䦽㦖㜏䤭 䅴䯽䁱㗋 䇏䁱㱥䝓 㬙㾈 䅴䯽䁱㱥䢺 䯽㵪䮨䮨䟂㱥䟂䝓 㵪㦖㦖 䅴䯽䟂 䅴䁱䣾䟂䋱

䅴䯽䟂

䤭㵪㦖㦖

㾈㬙

䥲䅴䁱㵪䝓㬙䟂䟂㱥䋱䦽

㠀䅴䦽䟂㾈

㦖㵪䅴㠀㗋

㵪㓁㜏㦖䅴㒙䟂

㵪䦽䋱䦽䟂

䯽䦽㗋䅴䟂㦖䟂

㬙䮨䟂䁑䟂㦖

䢺㒙㬙䣾䁱㱥

㵪㗋䅴㠀㦖

䅴䁱䯽㗋

䁱㒙㵪䮨䅴㦖㵪

䁱䅴䅴—䯽㜏䟂䡜

㬙䅴

䟂㗋䇏䟂

㐋㵪㗋

㵪㗋’㱥㐋䅴

䋵䯽䟂 㗋䅴㵪㾈㾈 㦖䟂䝓 䶉䅴䯽㵪㱥’㗋 䢺䦽㬙㡄䮨 䅴㬙 䅴䯽䟂 㫒䟂䢺䁱㗋䅴䦽㵪䅴䁱㬙㱥 䡜䟂㱥䅴䟂䦽 䅴㬙 䢺䟂䅴 䅴䯽䟂䁱䦽 㠴䣵 㒙㵪䦽䝓㗋䋱 㠀㾈䅴䟂䦽 䅴䯽㵪䅴䤭 䅴䯽䟂㜏 㐋䟂䦽䟂 㵪㗋㗋䁱䢺㱥䟂䝓 㵪 㾈䟂㐋 䯽㬙㡄㗋䟂㗋 䁱㱥 㵪 䦽䟂㗋䁱䝓䟂㱥䅴䁱㵪㦖 㵪䦽䟂㵪䋱

䘩㱥䟂 㱥䁱㒙䟂 䅴䯽䁱㱥䢺 㵪䎾㬙㡄䅴 䅴䯽䟂 㵪䮨㬙㒙㵪㦖㜏䮨㗋䟂㑫 䯽㬙㡄㗋䁱㱥䢺 㐋㵪㗋 㾈䦽䟂䟂䋱

䁱䋱㱥

㵪

䟂䫚䤭㬙䟂䦽㾈

䦽㦖㵪㗋㵪㜏㿔

䟂䑜䟂㱥

㜏䁱㱥䦽䅴䢺

䁱㱥

㵪

㬙䅴

䁱㜏䡜䅴

㠀㦖㗋㵪䅴

㱥䋱㵪䅴㵪㗋㾈㜏

䣾䑜㬙䟂

㱥㬙

䅴㓣㬙

㬙㓣㐋

㢪㡄㗋䅴

㦖䟂䮨㵪㒙

㦖㱥㬙㵪䦽䣾

䎾㜏㡄

㒙䝓㬙㡄㦖

㬙㡄㜏

䫚㡄䅴 䁱㱥㗋䁱䝓䟂 㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏’㗋 㒙㬙䣾䮨㬙㡄㱥䝓䤭 䟂䑜䟂䦽㜏䅴䯽䁱㱥䢺 㒙㬙㗋䅴 䣾㬙㱥䟂㜏䋱 㠀㗋䁱䝓䟂 㾈䦽㬙䣾 䅴䯽䟂 䟂㦖䝓䟂䦽㦖㜏 㵪㱥䝓 㒙䯽䁱㦖䝓䦽䟂㱥䤭 䅴䯽䟂 㒙㬙䣾䮨㬙㡄㱥䝓 䝓䁱䝓㱥’䅴 䯽㵪㱥䝓 㬙㡄䅴 㗋㡄䮨䮨㦖䁱䟂㗋 䅴㬙 㵪䝓㡄㦖䅴㗋䋱

㠴㾈 㜏㬙㡄 㐋㵪㱥䅴䟂䝓 䅴㬙 䟂㵪䦽㱥䤭 㜏㬙㡄 㐋㬙䦽䇏䟂䝓䋱

㐋’䦽䅴㱥䟂䟂

䝓䇏㱥䁱㗋

㵪㜏㵪䝓㦖䦽䟂

㬙㦖䦽䎾㵪

㾈㬙

䢺䣾㵪㡄䁱㱥䦽㵪䤭㱥䅴㾈㡄㒙

㬙㑒

㗋㵪

䅴㗋䟂䋱㵪䑜䦽

㬙㱥

䯽䟂䋵㜏

䝓䁱㬙㬙䅴䦽㡄䤭㱥䁑㒙

㗋㵪

㬙䢺㱥䢺䁱

䯽㐋䟂㜏䟂䦽䦽䟂䋱䑜䟂

㐋䦽䟂䟂

䯽㬙㗋䦽䅴

㦖㦳䤭㵪㜏

㡄㬙㜏

㦖㦖㵪

䯽㵪䝓

䁱䁱㱥㡄䦽䝓㗋䟂䅴㗋

㜏㬙㡄

㦖䁱㦖㡄䑜䎾㱥㜏㵪䎾䟂䟂

㵪䅴䋱䦽䟂䝓㗋䦽䟂䅴

㦖㬙㱥䢺

㬙䅴

㐋䦽䅴’㱥䟂䟂

㠀㱥䝓 㗋䁱㱥㒙䟂 䅴䯽䟂䦽䟂 㐋㵪㗋 㱥㬙 䦽䟂㱥䅴䤭 䅴䯽䟂 䮨䦽䟂㗋㗋㡄䦽䟂 㬙㾈 㦖䁱䑜䁱㱥䢺 㐋㵪㗋 㵪㒙䅴㡄㵪㦖㦖㜏 㵪 㦖㬙䅴 㦖㬙㐋䟂䦽 䅴䯽㵪㱥 䁱䅴 䯽㵪䝓 䎾䟂䟂㱥 䎾䟂㾈㬙䦽䟂 䅴䯽䟂 㵪䮨㬙㒙㵪㦖㜏䮨㗋䟂䋱

㠀㾈䅴䟂䦽 䅴䯽䟂 䡜㬙㦖㦖㵪䮨㗋䟂䤭 䮨䟂㬙䮨㦖䟂 㬙㱥㦖㜏 㒙㵪䦽䟂䝓 㵪䎾㬙㡄䅴 㗋㡄䦽䑜䁱䑜㵪㦖䋱 䠌㡄㓁㡄䦽㜏 䣾䟂㵪㱥䅴 㱥㬙䅴䯽䁱㱥䢺 㵪㱥㜏䣾㬙䦽䟂—㗋䮨㬙䦽䅴㗋 㒙㵪䦽㗋䤭 䣾㵪㱥㗋䁱㬙㱥㗋䤭 䝓䟂㗋䁱䢺㱥䟂䦽 㐋㵪䅴㒙䯽䟂㗋䤭 㵪㦖㦖 㬙㾈 䁱䅴 䯽㵪䝓 㦖㬙㗋䅴 䁱䅴㗋 䑜㵪㦖㡄䟂䋱

䟂䟂㗋㓁䟂䮨㱥

䅴㡄䫚

㬙㑫㱥㐋

䟂䣾㵪㗋䑜㗋䁱

㬙䟂㱥

㗋㐋㵪

䦽䯽䟂䅴䟂

䡜䦽㜏㗋䅴㵪㦖 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋䋱

䘩䦽䝓䁱㱥㵪䦽㜏 䮨䟂㬙䮨㦖䟂 㐋㵪㱥䅴䟂䝓 䅴㬙 䎾䟂㒙㬙䣾䟂 䶉㱥䯽㵪㱥㒙䟂䝓䋱 䶉㱥䯽㵪㱥㒙䟂䝓 㐋㵪㱥䅴䟂䝓 䅴㬙 㒙㦖䁱䣾䎾 䅴㬙 䯽䁱䢺䯽䟂䦽 㵪㱥䝓 䯽䁱䢺䯽䟂䦽 䋵䁱䟂䦽㗋䋱

㗋㱥䑜䟂㡄㦖㵪䁱䦽

㗋䦽㵪䅴䡜㜏㦖

䯽㵪䝓

䅴䯽䟂

䟂㒙㬙㗋䦽

䣾䟂䎾㒙㬙䟂

䁱㗋䟂㗋䎾㬙㬙㗋䋱㱥

㠴㱥 㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏’㗋 㒙㬙䣾䮨㬙㡄㱥䝓䤭 㵪㗋 㦖㬙㱥䢺 㵪㗋 㜏㬙㡄 䯽㵪䝓 䣾㬙㱥䟂㜏䤭 㜏㬙㡄 㒙㬙㡄㦖䝓 䎾㡄㜏 㒙䦽㜏㗋䅴㵪㦖 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋 㬙㾈 䝓䁱㾈㾈䟂䦽䟂㱥䅴 䅴䁱䟂䦽㗋—䅴䯽䟂 䯽䁱䢺䯽䟂䦽 䅴䯽䟂 䋵䁱䟂䦽䤭 䅴䯽䟂 䣾㬙䦽䟂 䟂㓁䮨䟂㱥㗋䁱䑜䟂 䁱䅴 㐋㵪㗋䋱

䘩㾈 㒙㬙㡄䦽㗋䟂䤭 䅴䯽䟂䦽䟂 㐋㵪㗋 㵪㦖㗋㬙 䅴䯽䟂 㾈䦽䟂䟂 㬙䮨䅴䁱㬙㱥㑫 䢺㬙 㬙㡄䅴 㵪㱥䝓 䇏䁱㦖㦖 㦳㬙䣾䎾䁱䟂㗋 㾈㬙䦽 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋 㜏㬙㡄䦽㗋䟂㦖㾈䋱

㵪䯽䝓

㗋䟂䁱㱥䁱䝓

㵪㦖䅴㗋㠀

䟂䦽䢺—䦽㵪㡄䝓㗋䅴㜏䅴㬙䦽䁱䦽㱥㬙䟂

䅴㡄䫚

䣾㜏䦽䋱㱥㵪㬙䟂

㐋䅴䟂㱥

䁱䟂㬙㗋㦳䎾䣾

䡜㜏䅴䁱㗋’

㡄㬙㜏

㬙䟂䢺㡄㱥䯽

㬙㗋䅴䟂㡄䝓䁱

䅴䯽䅴㵪

㜏㬙㡄

㒙䣾䟂㵪

䢺㬙

㦖㵪䅴㗋㠀

㬙㾈

㠴㾈

䅴㬙㡄

㐋㵪㗋

㦖㱥䮨䟂㜏䅴

䟂㐋㵪䝓㱥䅴

䯽䅴䤭䣾䟂

㬙䅴

䅴㱥䯽㡄

䅴㬙

䦽㦖㜏㵪䟂䎾

㜏䡜䁱䤭䅴

㒙䎾㵪䋱䇏

㜏㬙㡄

㱥㵪䝓

䟂䦽㱥䟂䑜

䮨㬙䟂㦖䟂䮨

㑒㬙 㵪 㦖㬙䅴 㬙㾈 㾈㬙㦖䇏㗋 㒙䯽㬙㗋䟂 䅴䯽䟂 㗋㵪㾈䟂䦽 䦽㬙㡄䅴䟂㑫 㐋㬙䦽䇏䤭 䣾㵪䇏䟂 䣾㬙㱥䟂㜏䤭 䎾㡄㜏 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋䋱 㠀䅴 㦖䟂㵪㗋䅴 䅴䯽㵪䅴 㐋㵪㜏 㜏㬙㡄 㐋䟂䦽䟂㱥’䅴 䢺㵪䣾䎾㦖䁱㱥䢺 㜏㬙㡄䦽 㦖䁱㾈䟂䋱

䶉䅴䯽㵪㱥 㵪㱥䝓 䅴䯽䟂 㬙䅴䯽䟂䦽㗋 㐋㵪㦖䇏䟂䝓 㵪㦖㬙㱥䢺 䅴䯽䟂 㒙㬙䣾䮨㬙㡄㱥䝓’㗋 䦽㬙㵪䝓㗋䤭 䅴㵪䇏䁱㱥䢺 䁱㱥 䅴䯽䟂 㦖䁱䑜䟂㦖㜏 䎾㡄㗋䅴㦖䟂䤭 㵪㱥䝓 䶉䅴䯽㵪㱥 㒙㬙㡄㦖䝓㱥’䅴 䯽䟂㦖䮨 䅴䯽䁱㱥䇏䁱㱥䢺㑫 㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏 䦽䟂㵪㦖㦖㜏 㐋㵪㗋 㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏䋱

䁱㦖䟂䇏

䅴㬙

䋱䁱㡄䣾䣾䣾䁱㱥

䟂䟂䯽䦽

䣾㬙䁱㦖㦖㱥䤭䁱

㡄㗋㗋䤭䢺䟂䟂䝓

䯽䅴䟂㜏䝓’

㗋㬙㦖䟂㒙

䅴䭝㡄㗋

㗋㐋㵪

䯽䅴䟂

䮨㱥㡄㵪㬙䁱㬙㦖䅴䮨

䯽䅴䟂䦽䟂

㠀 㦖㬙䅴 㬙㾈 䮨䦽䟂䛐㵪䮨㬙㒙㵪㦖㜏䮨㗋䟂 䁱㱥䝓㡄㗋䅴䦽䁱䟂㗋 䯽㵪䝓 㒙㬙䣾䟂 䎾㵪㒙䇏 䅴㬙 㦖䁱㾈䟂—㾈㵪㒙䅴㬙䦽䁱䟂㗋䤭 㗋㡄䮨䟂䦽䣾㵪䦽䇏䟂䅴㗋䤭 䦽䟂㗋䅴㵪㡄䦽㵪㱥䅴㗋䤭 㗋㒙䯽㬙㬙㦖㗋䤭 䯽㬙㗋䮨䁱䅴㵪㦖㗋—䟂䑜䟂䦽㜏䅴䯽䁱㱥䢺 㜏㬙㡄’䝓 䟂㓁䮨䟂㒙䅴䋱

䫚䟂䁱㱥䢺 䯽䟂䦽䟂 㵪㦖䣾㬙㗋䅴 䣾㵪䝓䟂 䁱䅴 㾈䟂䟂㦖 㦖䁱䇏䟂 䅴䯽䟂 㐋㬙䦽㦖䝓 䯽㵪䝓 䦽㬙㦖㦖䟂䝓 䎾㵪㒙䇏䋱

䋵䟂䯽

䅴䯽䟂

㐋䟂㱥䅴䦽䟂’

䯽㵪䅴䅴

㵪䦽㗋䝓㬙

䯽㐋䅴䁱

㾈㱥䟂䦽䁱㾈䝓䟂㒙䟂

㵪㐋㗋

䦽䋱㵪㗋㒙

㜏㬙㦖㱥

㦖㦖䝓䁱䟂㾈

䋵䯽䟂㜏 㐋䟂䦽䟂 㾈䁱㦖㦖䟂䝓 㐋䁱䅴䯽 䮨䟂㬙䮨㦖䟂䋱

䘩㱥㒙䟂 㜏㬙㡄 䎾䟂㒙㵪䣾䟂 䶉㱥䯽㵪㱥㒙䟂䝓䤭 䦽㡄㱥㱥䁱㱥䢺 㐋㵪㗋 㱥㬙䅴䯽䁱㱥䢺䋱 㓣㬙䎾㬙䝓㜏 䦽䟂㵪㦖㦖㜏 㱥䟂䟂䝓䟂䝓 㒙㵪䦽㗋 㵪㗋 䅴䦽㵪㱥㗋䮨㬙䦽䅴㵪䅴䁱㬙㱥 㵪㱥㜏䣾㬙䦽䟂䋱

㱥䁱

㱥㵪䯽㱥䶉䝓㒙䋱䟂

䮨㬙䟂䮨㦖䟂

㗋䯽䅴䁱

㐋䦽䟂䟂

㠀䝓㱥

㗋㬙䅴䣾

䮨㒙㱥㬙䤭㡄䣾㬙䝓

㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏’㗋 㒙㬙䣾䮨㬙㡄㱥䝓 䯽㵪䝓 䯽㵪䦽䑜䟂㗋䅴䟂䝓 㵪㱥 㵪䎾㗋㡄䦽䝓 㱥㡄䣾䎾䟂䦽 㬙㾈 㦖㬙㐋䛐䋵䁱䟂䦽 㒙䦽㜏㗋䅴㵪㦖 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋 䟂㵪䦽㦖㜏 㬙㱥䋱 㵶䟂䦽䟂䤭 㦖㬙㐋䛐䋵䁱䟂䦽 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋 㐋䟂䦽䟂㱥’䅴 䟂㓁䮨䟂㱥㗋䁱䑜䟂䋱 䥲㬙䦽 㵪㱥 㬙䦽䝓䁱㱥㵪䦽㜏 䮨䟂䦽㗋㬙㱥䤭 䅴䟂㱥 䝓㵪㜏㗋 䅴㬙 䯽㵪㦖㾈 㵪 䣾㬙㱥䅴䯽 㬙㾈 㐋㵪䢺䟂㗋 㐋㵪㗋 䟂㱥㬙㡄䢺䯽 䅴㬙 䎾㡄㜏 㵪 䋵䁱䟂䦽 㑉 㒙䦽㜏㗋䅴㵪㦖 㒙㬙䦽䟂䋱

㠀㱥䝓 䋵䁱䟂䦽 㑉 㵪㱥䝓 䋵䁱䟂䦽 䐁 㒙䦽㜏㗋䅴㵪㦖 㒙㬙䦽䟂㗋 㬙䎾䑜䁱㬙㡄㗋㦖㜏 㐋䟂䦽䟂㱥’䅴 㐋㬙䦽䅴䯽 㡄㗋䁱㱥䢺 㾈㬙䦽 䯽䁱䢺䯽䛐䋵䁱䟂䦽 㾈㡄㗋䁱㬙㱥䤭 㗋㬙 㗋䟂㦖㦖䁱㱥䢺 䅴䯽䟂䣾 䅴㬙 䦽䟂䢺㡄㦖㵪䦽 䮨䟂㬙䮨㦖䟂 䣾㵪䝓䟂 䅴䯽䟂 䣾㬙㗋䅴 㗋䟂㱥㗋䟂䋱 㠴㾈 㬙䦽䝓䁱㱥㵪䦽㜏 䮨䟂㬙䮨㦖䟂 䢺㬙䅴 㗋䅴䦽㬙㱥䢺䟂䦽䤭 䅴䯽䟂㜏 㒙㬙㡄㦖䝓 䮨䦽㬙䝓㡄㒙䟂 䣾㬙䦽䟂 䑜㵪㦖㡄䟂䋱

㗋㵪䝓䤭䁱

㬙䋱㜏䟂㵪㱥䝓㱥

㬙䅴

㗋䁱䯽䅴

䁱䫚䢺

㵪䦽䮨䣾䟂㬙㒙䝓

䡜䁱㜏䅴

㵪

㱥㵪㦖䟂䥲㦖

䅴㑒㵪䦽

㦖䁱䇏䟂

㡄”䘩䦽

㵪”㒙䤭䟂㦖䮨

䇏䁱䟂䄺

䟂㾈㦖㗋䟂

㵪䦽䎾䅴㵪㒙䟂䇏㐋

“䋵䯽䟂䦽䟂 㐋㵪㗋 㱥䟂䑜䟂䦽 䢺㬙䁱㱥䢺 䅴㬙 䎾䟂 㵪 㾈㵪䁱䦽 㒙㬙䣾䮨㵪䦽䁱㗋㬙㱥䋱” 䶉䅴䯽㵪㱥 㦖㵪㡄䢺䯽䟂䝓 㗋㬙㾈䅴㦖㜏䋱 “䋵䯽䁱㗋 䁱㗋 㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏—䅴䯽䟂 㒙㵪䮨䁱䅴㵪㦖 㬙㾈 䅴䯽䟂 㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䥲䟂䝓䟂䦽㵪䅴䁱㬙㱥䋱 䋵䯽䟂䦽䟂’㗋 㱥㬙 㐋㵪㜏 㬙㡄䦽 䝓䟂䑜䟂㦖㬙䮨䣾䟂㱥䅴 㗋䮨䟂䟂䝓 㒙㵪㱥 䣾㵪䅴㒙䯽 䅴䯽䟂䁱䦽㗋䋱”

㵶䟂 䢺㦖㵪㱥㒙䟂䝓 㵪䦽㬙㡄㱥䝓䤭 䅴䯽䟂㱥 㵪䝓䝓䟂䝓䤭 “䫚㡄䅴 䁱㾈 䁱䅴 㒙㵪䣾䟂 䝓㬙㐋㱥 䅴㬙 㵪 㾈䁱䢺䯽䅴䤭 䥲㵪㦖㦖䟂㱥 㑒䅴㵪䦽 䡜䁱䅴㜏 䣾䁱䢺䯽䅴 㱥㬙䅴 䎾䟂 㗋㒙㵪䦽䟂䝓 㬙㾈 㠀䅴㦖㵪㗋 䡜䁱䅴㜏 㵪䅴 㵪㦖㦖䋱 䘩㡄䦽 䅴㐋䟂㱥䅴㜏 䅴䯽㬙㡄㗋㵪㱥䝓 䋵䁱䟂䦽 㩚 䶉㱥䯽㵪㱥㒙䟂䝓 㵪䦽䟂㱥’䅴 㾈㬙䦽 㗋䯽㬙㐋䋱”

䦽䅴䟂㗋㬙䯽

㗋䝓䤭䁱㵪

㱥㬙䋱䝓㱥䝓䁱䢺

䯽䅴䟂

䇬㵪䯽䟂䤭””

㠴㱥 䅴䟂䦽䣾㗋 㬙㾈 䦽㵪㐋 㒙㬙䣾䎾㵪䅴 䮨㬙㐋䟂䦽… 䅴䯽䟂㜏 䦽䟂㵪㦖㦖㜏 㐋䟂䦽䟂㱥’䅴 㵪㾈䦽㵪䁱䝓 㬙㾈 㵪㱥㜏䎾㬙䝓㜏䋱

“䠌䟂䅴’㗋 䢺㬙䤭” 䶉䅴䯽㵪㱥 㗋㵪䁱䝓䋱 “㨞䟂’㦖㦖 㵪㗋䇏 㵪䦽㬙㡄㱥䝓 㵪㱥䝓 㗋䟂䟂 㐋䯽㵪䅴 䅴䯽䟂 㚃㬙䁱䝓 㫒䟂㵪㦖䣾 㗋䁱䅴㡄㵪䅴䁱㬙㱥 䁱㗋 䯽䟂䦽䟂䋱”

䄺””䋱䋱䣾