The jet was a solid eighteen-inch column, a pillar of brown mud and yellow gravel and sea water that beat against the steel plates of the hull with a hollow drumming roar. In the few seconds since the explosion the cyclone was already half-filled with a slimy shifting porridge that rushed from wall to wall ...
"We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand."---Randy Pausch A lot of professors give talks titled "The Last Lecture." Professors are asked to consider their demise and to ruminate on what matters most to them. And while they speak, audiences can't help but mull the same question: What wisdom would we impart to the world if we knew it was our last chance? If we had to vanish tomorrow...
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