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When Paul Jobs was mustered out of the Coast Guard after World War II, he made a wager with his crewmates. They had arrived in San Francisco, where their ship was decommissioned, and Paul bet that he would find himself a wife within two weeks. He was a taut, tattooed engine mechanic, six feet tall, with a passing resemblance to James Dean. But it wasn’t his looks that got him a date with Clara Hagopian, a sweet-humored daughter of Armenian immigrants. It was the fact that he and his friends had a car, unlike the group she had originally planned to go out with that evening. Ten days later, in March 1946, Paul got engaged to Clara and won his wager. It would turn out to be a happy marriage, one that lasted until death parted them more than forty years later. Paul Reinhold Jobs had been raised on a dairy farm in Germantown, Wisconsin. Even though his father was an alcoholic and sometimes abusive, Paul ended up with a gentle and calm disposition under his leathery exterior. After dropping out of high school, he wandered through the Midwest picking up work as a mechanic until, at age nineteen, he joined the Coast Guard, even though he didn’t know how to swim. He was deployed on the USS General M. C. Meigs and spent much of the war ferrying troops to Italy for General Patton. His talent as a machinist and fireman earned him commendations, but he occasionally found himself in minor trouble and never rose above the rank of seaman. Clara was born in New Jersey, where her parents had landed after fleeing the Turks in Armenia, and they moved to the Mission District of San Francisco when she was a child. She had a secret that she rarely mentioned to anyone: She had been married before, but her husband had been killed in the war. So when she met Paul Jobs on that first date, she was primed to start a new life. Like many who lived through the war, they had experienced enough excitement that, when it was over, they desired simply to settle down, raise a family, and lead a less eventful life. They had little money, so they moved to Wisconsin and lived with Paul’s parents for a few years, then headed for Indiana, where he got a job as a machinist for International Harvester. His passion was tinkering with old cars, and he made money in his spare time buying, restoring, and selling them. Eventually he quit his day job to become a full-time used car salesman. Clara, however, loved San Francisco, and in 1952 she convinced her husband to move back there. They got an apartment in the Sunset District facing the Pacific, just south of Golden Gate Park, and he took a job working for a finance company as a 「repo man,」 picking the locks of cars whose owners hadn’t paid their loans and repossessing them. He also bought, repaired, and sold some of the cars, making a decent enough living in the process. There was, however, something missing in their lives. They wanted children, but Clara had suffered an ectopic pregnancy, in which the fertilized egg was implanted in a fallopian tube rather than the uterus, and she had been unable to have any. So by 1955, after nine years of marriage, they were looking to adopt a child. Like Paul Jobs, Joanne Schieble was from a rural Wisconsin family of German heritage. Her father, Arthur Schieble, had immigrated to the outskirts of Green Bay, where he and his wife owned a mink farm and dabbled successfully in various other businesses, including real estate and photoengraving. He was very strict, especially regarding his daughter’s relationships, and he had strongly disapproved of her first love, an artist who was not a Catholic. Thus it was no surprise that he threatened to cut Joanne off completely when, as a graduate student at the University of Wisconsin, she fell in love with Abdulfattah 「John」 Jandali, a Muslim teaching assistant from Syria. Jandali was the youngest of nine children in a prominent Syrian family. His father owned oil refineries and multiple other businesses, with large holdings in Damascus and Homs, and at one point pretty much controlled the price of wheat in the region. His mother, he later said, was a 「traditional Muslim woman」 who was a 「conservative, obedient housewife.」 Like the Schieble family, the Jandalis put a premium on education. Abdulfattah was sent to a Jesuit boarding school, even though he was Muslim, and he got an undergraduate degree at the American University in Beirut before entering the University of Wisconsin to pursue a doctoral degree in political science. In the summer of 1954, Joanne went with Abdulfattah to Syria. They spent two months in Homs, where she learned from his family to cook Syrian dishes. When they returned to Wisconsin she discovered that she was pregnant. They were both twenty-three, but they decided not to get married. Her father was dying at the time, and he had threatened to disown her if she wed Abdulfattah. Nor was abortion an easy option in a small Catholic community. So in early 1955, Joanne traveled to San Francisco, where she was taken into the care of a kindly doctor who sheltered unwed mothers, delivered their babies, and quietly arranged closed adoptions. Joanne had one requirement: Her child must be adopted by college graduates. So the doctor arranged for the baby to be placed with a lawyer and his wife. But when a boy was born—on February 24, 1955—the designated couple decided that they wanted a girl and backed out. Thus it was that the boy became the son not of a lawyer but of a high school dropout with a passion for mechanics and his salt-of-the-earth wife who was working as a bookkeeper. Paul and Clara named their new baby Steven Paul Jobs. When Joanne found out that her baby had been placed with a couple who had not even graduated from high school, she refused to sign the adoption papers. The standoff lasted weeks, even after the baby had settled into the Jobs household. Eventually Joanne relented, with the stipulation that the couple promise—indeed sign a pledge—to fund a savings account to pay for the boy’s college education. There was another reason that Joanne was balky about signing the adoption papers. Her father was about to die, and she planned to marry Jandali soon after. She held out hope, she would later tell family members, sometimes tearing up at the memory, that once they were married, she could get their baby boy back. Arthur Schieble died in August 1955, after the adoption was finalized. Just after Christmas that year, Joanne and Abdulfattah were married in St. Philip the Apostle Catholic Church in Green Bay. He got his PhD in international politics the next year, and then they had another child, a girl named Mona. After she and Jandali divorced in 1962, Joanne embarked on a dreamy and peripatetic life that her daughter, who grew up to become the acclaimed novelist Mona Simpson, would capture in her book Anywhere but Here. Because Steve’s adoption had been closed, it would be twenty years before they would all find each other. Steve Jobs knew from an early age that he was adopted. 「My parents were very open with me about that,」 he recalled. He had a vivid memory of sitting on the lawn of his house, when he was six or seven years old, telling the girl who lived across the street. 「So does that mean your real parents didn’t want you?」 the girl asked. 「Lightning bolts went off in my head,」 according to Jobs. 「I remember running into the house, crying. And my parents said, 『No, you have to understand.』 They were very serious and looked me straight in the eye. They said, 『We specifically picked you out.』 Both of my parents said that and repeated it slowly for me. And they put an emphasis on every word in that sentence.」 Abandoned. Chosen. Special. Those concepts became part of who Jobs was and how he regarded himself. His closest friends think that the knowledge that he was given up at birth left some scars. 「I think his desire for complete control of whatever he makes derives directly from his personality and the fact that he was abandoned at birth,」 said one longtime colleague, Del Yocam. 「He wants to control his environment, and he sees the product as an extension of himself.」 Greg Calhoun, who became close to Jobs right after college, saw another effect. 「Steve talked to me a lot about being abandoned and the pain that caused,」 he said. 「It made him independent. He followed the beat of a different drummer, and that came from being in a different world than he was born into.」 Later in life, when he was the same age his biological father had been when he abandoned him, Jobs would father and abandon a child of his own. (He eventually took responsibility for her.) Chrisann Brennan, the mother of that child, said that being put up for adoption left Jobs 「full of broken glass,」 and it helps to explain some of his behavior. 「He who is abandoned is an abandoner,」 she said. Andy Hertzfeld, who worked with Jobs at Apple in the early 1980s, is among the few who remained close to both Brennan and Jobs. 「The key question about Steve is why he can’t control himself at times from being so reflexively cruel and harmful to some people,」 he said. 「That goes back to being abandoned at birth. The real underlying problem was the theme of abandonment in Steve’s life.」 Jobs dismissed this. 「There’s some notion that because I was abandoned, I worked very hard so I could do well and make my parents wish they had me back, or some such nonsense, but that’s ridiculous,」 he insisted. 「Knowing I was adopted may have made me feel more independent, but I have never felt abandoned. I』ve always felt special. My parents made me feel special.」 He would later bristle whenever anyone referred to Paul and Clara Jobs as his 「adoptive」 parents or implied that they were not his 「real」 parents. 「They were my parents 1,000%,」 he said. When speaking about his biological parents, on the other hand, he was curt: 「They were my sperm and egg bank. That’s not harsh, it’s just the way it was, a sperm bank thing, nothing more.」 Silicon Valley The childhood that Paul and Clara Jobs created for their new son was, in many ways, a stereotype of the late 1950s. When Steve was two they adopted a girl they named Patty, and three years later they moved to a tract house in the suburbs. The finance company where Paul worked as a repo man, CIT, had transferred him down to its Palo Alto office, but he could not afford to live there, so they landed in a subdivision in Mountain View, a less expensive town just to the south. There Paul tried to pass along his love of mechanics and cars. 「Steve, this is your workbench now,」 he said as he marked off a section of the table in their garage. Jobs remembered being impressed by his father’s focus on craftsmanship. 「I thought my dad’s sense of design was pretty good,」 he said, 「because he knew how to build anything. If we needed a cabinet, he would build it. When he built our fence, he gave me a hammer so I could work with him.」 Fifty years later the fence still surrounds the back and side yards of the house in Mountain View. As Jobs showed it off to me, he caressed the stockade panels and recalled a lesson that his father implanted deeply in him. It was important, his father said, to craft the backs of cabinets and fences properly, even though they were hidden. 「He loved doing things right. He even cared about the look of the parts you couldn’t see.」 His father continued to refurbish and resell used cars, and he festooned the garage with pictures of his favorites. He would point out the detailing of the design to his son: the lines, the vents, the chrome, the trim of the seats. After work each day, he would change into his dungarees and retreat to the garage, often with Steve tagging along. 「I figured I could get him nailed down with a little mechanical ability, but he really wasn’t interested in getting his hands dirty,」 Paul later recalled. 「He never really cared too much about mechanical things.」 「I wasn’t that into fixing cars,」 Jobs admitted. 「But I was eager to hang out with my dad.」 Even as he was growing more aware that he had been adopted, he was becoming more attached to his father. One day when he was about eight, he discovered a photograph of his father from his time in the Coast Guard. 「He’s in the engine room, and he’s got his shirt off and looks like James Dean. It was one of those Oh wow moments for a kid. Wow, oooh, my parents were actually once very young and really good-looking.」 Through cars, his father gave Steve his first exposure to electronics. 「My dad did not have a deep understanding of electronics, but he』d encountered it a lot in automobiles and other things he would fix. He showed me the rudiments of electronics, and I got very interested in that.」 Even more interesting were the trips to scavenge for parts. 「Every weekend, there』d be a junkyard trip. We』d be looking for a generator, a carburetor, all sorts of components.」 He remembered watching his father negotiate at the counter. 「He was a good bargainer, because he knew better than the guys at the counter what the parts should cost.」 This helped fulfill the pledge his parents made when he was adopted. 「My college fund came from my dad paying $50 for a Ford Falcon or some other beat-up car that didn’t run, working on it for a few weeks, and selling it for $250—and not telling the IRS.」 The Jobses』 house and the others in their neighborhood were built by the real estate developer Joseph Eichler, whose company spawned more than eleven thousand homes in various California subdivisions between 1950 and 1974. Inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright’s vision of simple modern homes for the American 「everyman,」 Eichler built inexpensive houses that featured floor-to-ceiling glass walls, open floor plans, exposed post-and-beam construction, concrete slab floors, and lots of sliding glass doors. 「Eichler did a great thing,」 Jobs said on one of our walks around the neighborhood. 「His houses were smart and cheap and good. They brought clean design and simple taste to lower-income people. They had awesome little features, like radiant heating in the floors. You put carpet on them, and we had nice toasty floors when we were kids.」 Jobs said that his appreciation for Eichler homes instilled in him a passion for making nicely designed products for the mass market. 「I love it when you can bring really great design and simple capability to something that doesn’t cost much,」 he said as he pointed out the clean elegance of the houses. 「It was the original vision for Apple. That’s what we tried to do with the first Mac. That’s what we did with the iPod.」 Across the street from the Jobs family lived a man who had become successful as a real estate agent. 「He wasn’t that bright,」 Jobs recalled, 「but he seemed to be making a fortune. So my dad thought, 『I can do that.』 He worked so hard, I remember. He took these night classes, passed the license test, and got into real estate. Then the bottom fell out of the market.」 As a result, the family found itself financially strapped for a year or so while Steve was in elementary school. His mother took a job as a bookkeeper for Varian Associates, a company that made scientific instruments, and they took out a second mortgage. One day his fourth-grade teacher asked him, 「What is it you don’t understand about the universe?」 Jobs replied, 「I don’t understand why all of a sudden my dad is so broke.」 He was proud that his father never adopted a servile attitude or slick style that may have made him a better salesman. 「You had to suck up to people to sell real estate, and he wasn’t good at that and it wasn’t in his nature. I admired him for that.」 Paul Jobs went back to being a mechanic. His father was calm and gentle, traits that his son later praised more than emulated. He was also resolute. Jobs described one example: Nearby was an engineer who was working at Westinghouse. He was a single guy, beatnik type. He had a girlfriend. She would babysit me sometimes. Both my parents worked, so I would come here right after school for a couple of hours. He would get drunk and hit her a couple of times. She came over one night, scared out of her wits, and he came over drunk, and my dad stood him down—saying 「She’s here, but you’re not coming in.」 He stood right there. We like to think everything was idyllic in the 1950s, but this guy was one of those engineers who had messed-up lives. What made the neighborhood different from the thousands of other spindly-tree subdivisions across America was that even the ne』er-do-wells tended to be engineers. 「When we moved here, there were apricot and plum orchards on all of these corners,」 Jobs recalled. 「But it was beginning to boom because of military investment.」 He soaked up the history of the valley and developed a yearning to play his own role. Edwin Land of Polaroid later told him about being asked by Eisenhower to help build the U-2 spy plane cameras to see how real the Soviet threat was. The film was dropped in canisters and returned to the NASA Ames Research Center in Sunnyvale, not far from where Jobs lived. 「The first computer terminal I ever saw was when my dad brought me to the Ames Center,」 he said. 「I fell totally in love with it.」 Other defense contractors sprouted nearby during the 1950s. The Lockheed Missiles and Space Division, which built submarine-launched ballistic missiles, was founded in 1956 next to the NASA Center; by the time Jobs moved to the area four years later, it employed twenty thousand people. A few hundred yards away, Westinghouse built facilities that produced tubes and electrical transformers for the missile systems. 「You had all these military companies on the cutting edge,」 he recalled. 「It was mysterious and high-tech and made living here very exciting.」 In the wake of the defense industries there arose a booming economy based on technology. Its roots stretched back to 1938, when David Packard and his new wife moved into a house in Palo Alto that had a shed where his friend Bill Hewlett was soon ensconced. The house had a garage—an appendage that would prove both useful and iconic in the valley—in which they tinkered around until they had their first product, an audio oscillator. By the 1950s, Hewlett-Packard was a fast-growing company making technical instruments. Fortunately there was a place nearby for entrepreneurs who had outgrown their garages. In a move that would help transform the area into the cradle of the tech revolution, Stanford University’s dean of engineering, Frederick Terman, created a seven-hundred-acre industrial park on university land for private companies that could commercialize the ideas of his students. Its first tenant was Varian Associates, where Clara Jobs worked. 「Terman came up with this great idea that did more than anything to cause the tech industry to grow up here,」 Jobs said. By the time Jobs was ten, HP had nine thousand employees and was the blue-chip company where every engineer seeking financial stability wanted to work. The most important technology for the region’s growth was, of course, the semiconductor. William Shockley, who had been one of the inventors of the transistor at Bell Labs in New Jersey, moved out to Mountain View and, in 1956, started a company to build transistors using silicon rather than the more expensive germanium that was then commonly used. But Shockley became increasingly erratic and abandoned his silicon transistor project, which led eight of his engineers—most notably Robert Noyce and Gordon Moore—to break away to form Fairchild Semiconductor. That company grew to twelve thousand employees, but it fragmented in 1968, when Noyce lost a power struggle to become CEO. He took Gordon Moore and founded a company that they called Integrated Electronics Corporation, which they soon smartly abbreviated to Intel. Their third employee was Andrew Grove, who later would grow the company by shifting its focus from memory chips to microprocessors. Within a few years there would be more than fifty companies in the area making semiconductors. The exponential growth of this industry was correlated with the phenomenon famously discovered by Moore, who in 1965 drew a graph of the speed of integrated circuits, based on the number of transistors that could be placed on a chip, and showed that it doubled about every two years, a trajectory that could be expected to continue. This was reaffirmed in 1971, when Intel was able to etch a complete central processing unit onto one chip, the Intel 4004, which was dubbed a 「microprocessor.」 Moore’s Law has held generally true to this day, and its reliable projection of performance to price allowed two generations of young entrepreneurs, including Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, to create cost projections for their forward-leaning products. The chip industry gave the region a new name when Don Hoefler, a columnist for the weekly trade paper Electronic News, began a series in January 1971 entitled 「Silicon Valley USA.」 The forty-mile Santa Clara Valley, which stretches from South San Francisco through Palo Alto to San Jose, has as its commercial backbone El Camino Real, the royal road that once connected California’s twenty-one mission churches and is now a bustling avenue that connects companies and startups accounting for a third of the venture capital investment in the United States each year. 「Growing up, I got inspired by the history of the place,」 Jobs said. 「That made me want to be a part of it.」 Like most kids, he became infused with the passions of the grown-ups around him. 「Most of the dads in the neighborhood did really neat stuff, like photovoltaics and batteries and radar,」 Jobs recalled. 「I grew up in awe of that stuff and asking people about it.」 The most important of these neighbors, Larry Lang, lived seven doors away. 「He was my model of what an HP engineer was supposed to be: a big ham radio operator, hard-core electronics guy,」 Jobs recalled. 「He would bring me stuff to play with.」 As we walked up to Lang’s old house, Jobs pointed to the driveway. 「He took a carbon microphone and a battery and a speaker, and he put it on this driveway. He had me talk into the carbon mike and it amplified out of the speaker.」 Jobs had been taught by his father that microphones always required an electronic amplifier. 「So I raced home, and I told my dad that he was wrong.」 「No, it needs an amplifier,」 his father assured him. When Steve protested otherwise, his father said he was crazy. 「It can’t work without an amplifier. There’s some trick.」 「I kept saying no to my dad, telling him he had to see it, and finally he actually walked down with me and saw it. And he said, 『Well I』ll be a bat out of hell.』」 Jobs recalled the incident vividly because it was his first realization that his father did not know everything. Then a more disconcerting discovery began to dawn on him: He was smarter than his parents. He had always admired his father’s competence and savvy. 「He was not an educated man, but I had always thought he was pretty damn smart. He didn’t read much, but he could do a lot. Almost everything mechanical, he could figure it out.」 Yet the carbon microphone incident, Jobs said, began a jarring process of realizing that he was in fact more clever and quick than his parents. 「It was a very big moment that’s burned into my mind. When I realized that I was smarter than my parents, I felt tremendous shame for having thought that. I will never forget that moment.」 This discovery, he later told friends, along with the fact that he was adopted, made him feel apart—detached and separate—from both his family and the world. Another layer of awareness occurred soon after. Not only did he discover that he was brighter than his parents, but he discovered that they knew this. Paul and Clara Jobs were loving parents, and they were willing to adapt their lives to suit a son who was very smart—and also willful. They would go to great lengths to accommodate him. And soon Steve discovered this fact as well. 「Both my parents got me. They felt a lot of responsibility once they sensed that I was special. They found ways to keep feeding me stuff and putting me in better schools. They were willing to defer to my needs.」 So he grew up not only with a sense of having once been abandoned, but also with a sense that he was special. In his own mind, that was more important in the formation of his personality. School Even before Jobs started elementary school, his mother had taught him how to read. This, however, led to some problems once he got to school. 「I was kind of bored for the first few years
When Paul Jobs was mustered out of the Coast Guard after World War II, he made a wager with his crewmates. They had arrived in San Francisco, where their ship was decommissioned, and Paul bet that he would find himself a wife within two weeks. He was a taut, tattooed engine mechanic, six feet tall, with a passing resemblance to James Dean. But it wasn’t his looks that got him a date with Clara Hagopian, a sweet-humored daughter of Armenian immigrants. It was the fact that he and his friends had a car, unlike the group she had originally planned to go out with that evening. Ten days later, in March 1946, Paul got engaged to Clara and won his wager. It would turn out to be a happy marriage, one that lasted until death parted them more than forty years later. Paul Reinhold Jobs had been raised on a dairy farm in Germantown, Wisconsin. Even though his father was an alcoholic and sometimes abusive, Paul ended up with a gentle and calm disposition under his leathery exterior. After dropping out of high school, he wandered through the Midwest picking up work as a mechanic until, at age nineteen, he joined the Coast Guard, even though he didn’t know how to swim. He was deployed on the USS General M. C. Meigs and spent much of the war ferrying troops to Italy for General Patton. His talent as a machinist and fireman earned him commendations, but he occasionally found himself in minor trouble and never rose above the rank of seaman. Clara was born in New Jersey, where her parents had landed after fleeing the Turks in Armenia, and they moved to the Mission District of San Francisco when she was a child. She had a secret that she rarely mentioned to anyone: She had been married before, but her husband had been killed in the war. So when she met Paul Jobs on that first date, she was primed to start a new life. Like many who lived through the war, they had experienced enough excitement that, when it was over, they desired simply to settle down, raise a family, and lead a less eventful life. They had little money, so they moved to Wisconsin and lived with Paul’s parents for a few years, then headed for Indiana, where he got a job as a machinist for International Harvester. His passion was tinkering with old cars, and he made money in his spare time buying, restoring, and selling them. Eventually he quit his day job to become a full-time used car salesman. Clara, however, loved San Francisco, and in 1952 she convinced her husband to move back there. They got an apartment in the Sunset District facing the Pacific, just south of Golden Gate Park, and he took a job working for a finance company as a 「repo man,」 picking the locks of cars whose owners hadn’t paid their loans and repossessing them. He also bought, repaired, and sold some of the cars, making a decent enough living in the process. There was, however, something missing in their lives. They wanted children, but Clara had suffered an ectopic pregnancy, in which the fertilized egg was implanted in a fallopian tube rather than the uterus, and she had been unable to have any. So by 1955, after nine years of marriage, they were looking to adopt a child. Like Paul Jobs, Joanne Schieble was from a rural Wisconsin family of German heritage. Her father, Arthur Schieble, had immigrated to the outskirts of Green Bay, where he and his wife owned a mink farm and dabbled successfully in various other businesses, including real estate and photoengraving. He was very strict, especially regarding his daughter’s relationships, and he had strongly disapproved of her first love, an artist who was not a Catholic. Thus it was no surprise that he threatened to cut Joanne off completely when, as a graduate student at the University of Wisconsin, she fell in love with Abdulfattah 「John」 Jandali, a Muslim teaching assistant from Syria. Jandali was the youngest of nine children in a prominent Syrian family. His father owned oil refineries and multiple other businesses, with large holdings in Damascus and Homs, and at one point pretty much controlled the price of wheat in the region. His mother, he later said, was a 「traditional Muslim woman」 who was a 「conservative, obedient housewife.」 Like the Schieble family, the Jandalis put a premium on education. Abdulfattah was sent to a Jesuit boarding school, even though he was Muslim, and he got an undergraduate degree at the American University in Beirut before entering the University of Wisconsin to pursue a doctoral degree in political science. In the summer of 1954, Joanne went with Abdulfattah to Syria. They spent two months in Homs, where she learned from his family to cook Syrian dishes. When they returned to Wisconsin she discovered that she was pregnant. They were both twenty-three, but they decided not to get married. Her father was dying at the time, and he had threatened to disown her if she wed Abdulfattah. Nor was abortion an easy option in a small Catholic community. So in early 1955, Joanne traveled to San Francisco, where she was taken into the care of a kindly doctor who sheltered unwed mothers, delivered their babies, and quietly arranged closed adoptions. Joanne had one requirement: Her child must be adopted by college graduates. So the doctor arranged for the baby to be placed with a lawyer and his wife. But when a boy was born—on February 24, 1955—the designated couple decided that they wanted a girl and backed out. Thus it was that the boy became the son not of a lawyer but of a high school dropout with a passion for mechanics and his salt-of-the-earth wife who was working as a bookkeeper. Paul and Clara named their new baby Steven Paul Jobs. When Joanne found out that her baby had been placed with a couple who had not even graduated from high school, she refused to sign the adoption papers. The standoff lasted weeks, even after the baby had settled into the Jobs household. Eventually Joanne relented, with the stipulation that the couple promise—indeed sign a pledge—to fund a savings account to pay for the boy’s college education. There was another reason that Joanne was balky about signing the adoption papers. Her father was about to die, and she planned to marry Jandali soon after. She held out hope, she would later tell family members, sometimes tearing up at the memory, that once they were married, she could get their baby boy back. Arthur Schieble died in August 1955, after the adoption was finalized. Just after Christmas that year, Joanne and Abdulfattah were married in St. Philip the Apostle Catholic Church in Green Bay. He got his PhD in international politics the next year, and then they had another child, a girl named Mona. After she and Jandali divorced in 1962, Joanne embarked on a dreamy and peripatetic life that her daughter, who grew up to become the acclaimed novelist Mona Simpson, would capture in her book Anywhere but Here. Because Steve’s adoption had been closed, it would be twenty years before they would all find each other. Steve Jobs knew from an early age that he was adopted. 「My parents were very open with me about that,」 he recalled. He had a vivid memory of sitting on the lawn of his house, when he was six or seven years old, telling the girl who lived across the street. 「So does that mean your real parents didn’t want you?」 the girl asked. 「Lightning bolts went off in my head,」 according to Jobs. 「I remember running into the house, crying. And my parents said, 『No, you have to understand.』 They were very serious and looked me straight in the eye. They said, 『We specifically picked you out.』 Both of my parents said that and repeated it slowly for me. And they put an emphasis on every word in that sentence.」 Abandoned. Chosen. Special. Those concepts became part of who Jobs was and how he regarded himself. His closest friends think that the knowledge that he was given up at birth left some scars. 「I think his desire for complete control of whatever he makes derives directly from his personality and the fact that he was abandoned at birth,」 said one longtime colleague, Del Yocam. 「He wants to control his environment, and he sees the product as an extension of himself.」 Greg Calhoun, who became close to Jobs right after college, saw another effect. 「Steve talked to me a lot about being abandoned and the pain that caused,」 he said. 「It made him independent. He followed the beat of a different drummer, and that came from being in a different world than he was born into.」 Later in life, when he was the same age his biological father had been when he abandoned him, Jobs would father and abandon a child of his own. (He eventually took responsibility for her.) Chrisann Brennan, the mother of that child, said that being put up for adoption left Jobs 「full of broken glass,」 and it helps to explain some of his behavior. 「He who is abandoned is an abandoner,」 she said. Andy Hertzfeld, who worked with Jobs at Apple in the early 1980s, is among the few who remained close to both Brennan and Jobs. 「The key question about Steve is why he can’t control himself at times from being so reflexively cruel and harmful to some people,」 he said. 「That goes back to being abandoned at birth. The real underlying problem was the theme of abandonment in Steve’s life.」 Jobs dismissed this. 「There’s some notion that because I was abandoned, I worked very hard so I could do well and make my parents wish they had me back, or some such nonsense, but that’s ridiculous,」 he insisted. 「Knowing I was adopted may have made me feel more independent, but I have never felt abandoned. I』ve always felt special. My parents made me feel special.」 He would later bristle whenever anyone referred to Paul and Clara Jobs as his 「adoptive」 parents or implied that they were not his 「real」 parents. 「They were my parents 1,000%,」 he said. When speaking about his biological parents, on the other hand, he was curt: 「They were my sperm and egg bank. That’s not harsh, it’s just the way it was, a sperm bank thing, nothing more.」 Silicon Valley The childhood that Paul and Clara Jobs created for their new son was, in many ways, a stereotype of the late 1950s. When Steve was two they adopted a girl they named Patty, and three years later they moved to a tract house in the suburbs. The finance company where Paul worked as a repo man, CIT, had transferred him down to its Palo Alto office, but he could not afford to live there, so they landed in a subdivision in Mountain View, a less expensive town just to the south. There Paul tried to pass along his love of mechanics and cars. 「Steve, this is your workbench now,」 he said as he marked off a section of the table in their garage. Jobs remembered being impressed by his father’s focus on craftsmanship. 「I thought my dad’s sense of design was pretty good,」 he said, 「because he knew how to build anything. If we needed a cabinet, he would build it. When he built our fence, he gave me a hammer so I could work with him.」 Fifty years later the fence still surrounds the back and side yards of the house in Mountain View. As Jobs showed it off to me, he caressed the stockade panels and recalled a lesson that his father implanted deeply in him. It was important, his father said, to craft the backs of cabinets and fences properly, even though they were hidden. 「He loved doing things right. He even cared about the look of the parts you couldn’t see.」 His father continued to refurbish and resell used cars, and he festooned the garage with pictures of his favorites. He would point out the detailing of the design to his son: the lines, the vents, the chrome, the trim of the seats. After work each day, he would change into his dungarees and retreat to the garage, often with Steve tagging along. 「I figured I could get him nailed down with a little mechanical ability, but he really wasn’t interested in getting his hands dirty,」 Paul later recalled. 「He never really cared too much about mechanical things.」 「I wasn’t that into fixing cars,」 Jobs admitted. 「But I was eager to hang out with my dad.」 Even as he was growing more aware that he had been adopted, he was becoming more attached to his father. One day when he was about eight, he discovered a photograph of his father from his time in the Coast Guard. 「He’s in the engine room, and he’s got his shirt off and looks like James Dean. It was one of those Oh wow moments for a kid. Wow, oooh, my parents were actually once very young and really good-looking.」 Through cars, his father gave Steve his first exposure to electronics. 「My dad did not have a deep understanding of electronics, but he』d encountered it a lot in automobiles and other things he would fix. He showed me the rudiments of electronics, and I got very interested in that.」 Even more interesting were the trips to scavenge for parts. 「Every weekend, there』d be a junkyard trip. We』d be looking for a generator, a carburetor, all sorts of components.」 He remembered watching his father negotiate at the counter. 「He was a good bargainer, because he knew better than the guys at the counter what the parts should cost.」 This helped fulfill the pledge his parents made when he was adopted. 「My college fund came from my dad paying $50 for a Ford Falcon or some other beat-up car that didn’t run, working on it for a few weeks, and selling it for $250—and not telling the IRS.」 The Jobses』 house and the others in their neighborhood were built by the real estate developer Joseph Eichler, whose company spawned more than eleven thousand homes in various California subdivisions between 1950 and 1974. Inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright’s vision of simple modern homes for the American 「everyman,」 Eichler built inexpensive houses that featured floor-to-ceiling glass walls, open floor plans, exposed post-and-beam construction, concrete slab floors, and lots of sliding glass doors. 「Eichler did a great thing,」 Jobs said on one of our walks around the neighborhood. 「His houses were smart and cheap and good. They brought clean design and simple taste to lower-income people. They had awesome little features, like radiant heating in the floors. You put carpet on them, and we had nice toasty floors when we were kids.」 Jobs said that his appreciation for Eichler homes instilled in him a passion for making nicely designed products for the mass market. 「I love it when you can bring really great design and simple capability to something that doesn’t cost much,」 he said as he pointed out the clean elegance of the houses. 「It was the original vision for Apple. That’s what we tried to do with the first Mac. That’s what we did with the iPod.」 Across the street from the Jobs family lived a man who had become successful as a real estate agent. 「He wasn’t that bright,」 Jobs recalled, 「but he seemed to be making a fortune. So my dad thought, 『I can do that.』 He worked so hard, I remember. He took these night classes, passed the license test, and got into real estate. Then the bottom fell out of the market.」 As a result, the family found itself financially strapped for a year or so while Steve was in elementary school. His mother took a job as a bookkeeper for Varian Associates, a company that made scientific instruments, and they took out a second mortgage. One day his fourth-grade teacher asked him, 「What is it you don’t understand about the universe?」 Jobs replied, 「I don’t understand why all of a sudden my dad is so broke.」 He was proud that his father never adopted a servile attitude or slick style that may have made him a better salesman. 「You had to suck up to people to sell real estate, and he wasn’t good at that and it wasn’t in his nature. I admired him for that.」 Paul Jobs went back to being a mechanic. His father was calm and gentle, traits that his son later praised more than emulated. He was also resolute. Jobs described one example: Nearby was an engineer who was working at Westinghouse. He was a single guy, beatnik type. He had a girlfriend. She would babysit me sometimes. Both my parents worked, so I would come here right after school for a couple of hours. He would get drunk and hit her a couple of times. She came over one night, scared out of her wits, and he came over drunk, and my dad stood him down—saying 「She’s here, but you’re not coming in.」 He stood right there. We like to think everything was idyllic in the 1950s, but this guy was one of those engineers who had messed-up lives. What made the neighborhood different from the thousands of other spindly-tree subdivisions across America was that even the ne』er-do-wells tended to be engineers. 「When we moved here, there were apricot and plum orchards on all of these corners,」 Jobs recalled. 「But it was beginning to boom because of military investment.」 He soaked up the history of the valley and developed a yearning to play his own role. Edwin Land of Polaroid later told him about being asked by Eisenhower to help build the U-2 spy plane cameras to see how real the Soviet threat was. The film was dropped in canisters and returned to the NASA Ames Research Center in Sunnyvale, not far from where Jobs lived. 「The first computer terminal I ever saw was when my dad brought me to the Ames Center,」 he said. 「I fell totally in love with it.」 Other defense contractors sprouted nearby during the 1950s. The Lockheed Missiles and Space Division, which built submarine-launched ballistic missiles, was founded in 1956 next to the NASA Center; by the time Jobs moved to the area four years later, it employed twenty thousand people. A few hundred yards away, Westinghouse built facilities that produced tubes and electrical transformers for the missile systems. 「You had all these military companies on the cutting edge,」 he recalled. 「It was mysterious and high-tech and made living here very exciting.」 In the wake of the defense industries there arose a booming economy based on technology. Its roots stretched back to 1938, when David Packard and his new wife moved into a house in Palo Alto that had a shed where his friend Bill Hewlett was soon ensconced. The house had a garage—an appendage that would prove both useful and iconic in the valley—in which they tinkered around until they had their first product, an audio oscillator. By the 1950s, Hewlett-Packard was a fast-growing company making technical instruments. Fortunately there was a place nearby for entrepreneurs who had outgrown their garages. In a move that would help transform the area into the cradle of the tech revolution, Stanford University’s dean of engineering, Frederick Terman, created a seven-hundred-acre industrial park on university land for private companies that could commercialize the ideas of his students. Its first tenant was Varian Associates, where Clara Jobs worked. 「Terman came up with this great idea that did more than anything to cause the tech industry to grow up here,」 Jobs said. By the time Jobs was ten, HP had nine thousand employees and was the blue-chip company where every engineer seeking financial stability wanted to work. The most important technology for the region’s growth was, of course, the semiconductor. William Shockley, who had been one of the inventors of the transistor at Bell Labs in New Jersey, moved out to Mountain View and, in 1956, started a company to build transistors using silicon rather than the more expensive germanium that was then commonly used. But Shockley became increasingly erratic and abandoned his silicon transistor project, which led eight of his engineers—most notably Robert Noyce and Gordon Moore—to break away to form Fairchild Semiconductor. That company grew to twelve thousand employees, but it fragmented in 1968, when Noyce lost a power struggle to become CEO. He took Gordon Moore and founded a company that they called Integrated Electronics Corporation, which they soon smartly abbreviated to Intel. Their third employee was Andrew Grove, who later would grow the company by shifting its focus from memory chips to microprocessors. Within a few years there would be more than fifty companies in the area making semiconductors. The exponential growth of this industry was correlated with the phenomenon famously discovered by Moore, who in 1965 drew a graph of the speed of integrated circuits, based on the number of transistors that could be placed on a chip, and showed that it doubled about every two years, a trajectory that could be expected to continue. This was reaffirmed in 1971, when Intel was able to etch a complete central processing unit onto one chip, the Intel 4004, which was dubbed a 「microprocessor.」 Moore’s Law has held generally true to this day, and its reliable projection of performance to price allowed two generations of young entrepreneurs, including Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, to create cost projections for their forward-leaning products. The chip industry gave the region a new name when Don Hoefler, a columnist for the weekly trade paper Electronic News, began a series in January 1971 entitled 「Silicon Valley USA.」 The forty-mile Santa Clara Valley, which stretches from South San Francisco through Palo Alto to San Jose, has as its commercial backbone El Camino Real, the royal road that once connected California’s twenty-one mission churches and is now a bustling avenue that connects companies and startups accounting for a third of the venture capital investment in the United States each year. 「Growing up, I got inspired by the history of the place,」 Jobs said. 「That made me want to be a part of it.」 Like most kids, he became infused with the passions of the grown-ups around him. 「Most of the dads in the neighborhood did really neat stuff, like photovoltaics and batteries and radar,」 Jobs recalled. 「I grew up in awe of that stuff and asking people about it.」 The most important of these neighbors, Larry Lang, lived seven doors away. 「He was my model of what an HP engineer was supposed to be: a big ham radio operator, hard-core electronics guy,」 Jobs recalled. 「He would bring me stuff to play with.」 As we walked up to Lang’s old house, Jobs pointed to the driveway. 「He took a carbon microphone and a battery and a speaker, and he put it on this driveway. He had me talk into the carbon mike and it amplified out of the speaker.」 Jobs had been taught by his father that microphones always required an electronic amplifier. 「So I raced home, and I told my dad that he was wrong.」 「No, it needs an amplifier,」 his father assured him. When Steve protested otherwise, his father said he was crazy. 「It can’t work without an amplifier. There’s some trick.」 「I kept saying no to my dad, telling him he had to see it, and finally he actually walked down with me and saw it. And he said, 『Well I』ll be a bat out of hell.』」 Jobs recalled the incident vividly because it was his first realization that his father did not know everything. Then a more disconcerting discovery began to dawn on him: He was smarter than his parents. He had always admired his father’s competence and savvy. 「He was not an educated man, but I had always thought he was pretty damn smart. He didn’t read much, but he could do a lot. Almost everything mechanical, he could figure it out.」 Yet the carbon microphone incident, Jobs said, began a jarring process of realizing that he was in fact more clever and quick than his parents. 「It was a very big moment that’s burned into my mind. When I realized that I was smarter than my parents, I felt tremendous shame for having thought that. I will never forget that moment.」 This discovery, he later told friends, along with the fact that he was adopted, made him feel apart—detached and separate—from both his family and the world. Another layer of awareness occurred soon after. Not only did he discover that he was brighter than his parents, but he discovered that they knew this. Paul and Clara Jobs were loving parents, and they were willing to adapt their lives to suit a son who was very smart—and also willful. They would go to great lengths to accommodate him. And soon Steve discovered this fact as well. 「Both my parents got me. They felt a lot of responsibility once they sensed that I was special. They found ways to keep feeding me stuff and putting me in better schools. They were willing to defer to my needs.」 So he grew up not only with a sense of having once been abandoned, but also with a sense that he was special. In his own mind, that was more important in the formation of his personality. School Even before Jobs started elementary school, his mother had taught him how to read. This, however, led to some problems once he got to school. 「I was kind of bored for the first few years
作者：木棉姐姐
來源：木棉說（ID：mumianshuo）
截止7月29日，全球確診人數超過1695萬，累計死亡人數超過66萬，治癒了1066多萬。
有些事，努力一把才知道成績，奮鬥一下才知道自己的潛能。花淡故雅，水淡故真，人淡故純。做人需淡，淡而久香。不爭、不諂、不豔、不俗。淡中真滋味，淡中有真香。心若無恙，奈我何其；人若不戀，奈你何傷。痛苦緣於比較，煩惱緣於心。淡定，故不傷；淡然，故不惱。欲望是壺裡沸騰的水，人心是杯子裡的茶，水因為火的熱量而沸騰，心因為杯體的清涼而不驚。當欲望遇涼，沉澱於心，便不煩，不惱。不要嘲笑他人的努力，不要輕視他人的成績。每個人的價值不同，無需對任何人不屑。在你眼中的無用價值，未必真的無用。不輕一人，不廢一物。活不是戰場，無需一較高下。人與人之間，多一份理解就會少一些誤會；心與心之間，多一份包容，就會少一些紛爭。不要以自己的眼光和認知去評論一個人，判斷一件事的對錯。不要苛求別人的觀點與你相同，不要期望別人能完全理解你，每個人都有自己的性格和觀點。人往往把自己看得過重才會患得患失，覺得別人必須理解自己。其實，人要看輕自己，少一些自我，多一些換位，才能心生快樂。所謂心有多大，快樂就有多少；包容越多，得到越多。而光腦，則是梅克斯博士在研究矩陣模擬系統程序的時候，意外發現靈能晶石的特異之處，不同於光電等任何物質和能量，靈能晶石蘊含的能源本質類似於精神這種虛無飄渺的東西。
命一場， 或喜或悲，都是一次洗禮，一次歲月的歷練；或濃或淡，都是一抹綻放，一抹美麗的風景。春風得意時，不必張揚驕傲， 淡定從容一些，沒有人能永遠一帆風順。一切得與失、隱與顯，無非風景與風情。淡看世事，靜對春花秋月，即使遭受別人的不看好和擠兌，不必辯解討好，雲淡風輕一笑，用時間來證明自己。何必追慕名車香宴，我只需清茶淡飯，愛相隨，情也真。該來的自然來，會走的留不住。不違心，不刻意，不必太在乎，放開執念，隨緣是最好的生活。不管這世上會有多少寒涼，依舊會有不一樣的煙火。遇山過山，遇雨撐傘，有橋橋渡，無橋自渡，淡若清風，含笑走過。人世喧囂，名利來往，放下浮躁，心靜自安。淡淡的歲月，淡淡的心。人生的味道，淡久生香，安之若素，人淡如菊。淡淡地做人，淡淡地生活，淡淡的日子，每天都散發著淡淡的芳香。在某種程度上來說，機甲就是駕駛者，駕駛者就是機甲。而光腦的運算能力，也足夠負擔機甲運行時所需要的全部運算。
但由於靈能的特質，導致機甲對駕駛者的精神強度要求較高。同時也出現了駕駛機甲的精神強度和精神契合度的問題。精神契合度是天生的，也是幾乎恆定的，契合度越高，那麼駕駛者與機甲的協調度也就越高。機甲的動作也更快更精準，更接近駕駛者使用自己肉.體的層次。世上最酸的感覺不是吃醋，而是無權吃醋。吃醋也要講名份，和他相愛的是另一個人，他的醋也就輪不到你吃，自有另一個人光明正大地吃醋。原來，吃不到的醋才是最酸的。最難過的，莫過於當你遇上一個特別的人，卻明白永遠不可能在一起，或遲或早，你不得不放棄。曾經以為，傷心是會流很多眼淚的，原來，真正的傷心，是流不出一滴眼淚。什麼事情都會過去，我們是這樣活過來的。
一切都像剛睡醒的樣子，欣欣然張開了眼。山朗潤起來了，水漲起來了，太陽的臉紅起來了。小草偷偷地從土裡鑽出來，嫩嫩的，綠綠的。園子裡，田野裡，瞧去，一大片一大片滿是的。坐著，躺著，打兩個滾，踢幾腳球，賽幾趟跑，捉幾回迷藏。風輕悄悄的，草軟綿綿的。桃樹、杏樹、梨樹，你不讓我，我不讓你，都開滿了花趕趟兒。紅的像火，粉的像霞，白的像雪。花裡帶著甜味兒；閉了眼，樹上仿佛已經滿是桃兒、杏兒、梨兒。花下成千成百的蜜蜂嗡嗡地鬧著，大小的蝴蝶飛來飛去。野花遍地是：雜樣兒，有名字的，沒名字的，散在草叢裡，像眼睛，像星星，還眨呀眨的。「吹面不寒楊柳風」，不錯的，像母親的手撫摸著你。風裡帶來些新翻的泥土的氣息，混著青草味兒，還有各種花的香，都在微微潤溼的空氣裡醞釀。鳥兒將巢安在繁花嫩葉當中，高興起來了，呼朋引伴地賣弄清脆的喉嚨，唱出宛轉的曲子，與輕風流水應和著。牛背上牧童的短笛，這時候也成天嘹亮地響著。雨是最尋常的，一下就是三兩天。可別惱。看，像牛毛，像花針，像細絲，密密地斜織著，人家屋頂上全籠著一層薄煙。樹葉兒卻綠得發亮，小草兒也青得逼你的眼。傍晚時候，上燈了，一點點黃暈的光，烘託出一片安靜而和平的夜。在鄉下，小路上，石橋邊，有撐起傘慢慢走著的人，地裡還有工作的農民，披著蓑戴著笠。他們的房屋，稀稀疏疏的在雨裡靜默著。天上風箏漸漸多了，地上孩子也多了。城裡鄉下，家家戶戶，老老小小，也趕趟兒似的，一個個都出來了。舒活舒活筋骨，抖擻抖擻精神，各做各的一份事去。「一年之計在於春」，剛起頭兒，有的是工夫，有的是希望。春天像剛落地的娃娃，從頭到腳都是新的，它生長著。春天像小姑娘，花枝招展的，笑著，走著。春天像健壯的青年，有鐵一般的胳膊和腰腳，領著我們上前去。精神強度到達一定程度後可以提高駕駛者與機甲的契合度1%—5%，但也僅止於此。 往日時光，有那麼一種情結，經年難解，有那麼一件事，想做卻沒有勇氣做，有那麼一個人，自己沒有篤定的意念追隨。歷歷種種，都成為今天時而感嘆的源由。然而，當機會擺在面前，依然會顧慮重重。當那個深戀過的人再次遇見，卻一樣沒有勇氣做什麼！滄海桑田的變幻，並不是一句：物是人非，可以解釋的了的！時過境遷的無奈，也不是一句：此情可待成追憶，能夠詮釋的心境！或許，留在光陰深處的，總是最珍貴，念念不忘的，總是最美好吧！我們時常在別人的故事裡，一遍遍溫習著自己曾經的心境，而所有有關年輕的記憶，都帶著迷人的醉意。茫茫大地的影子，似流光拉長的嘆息，路旁夭折的情意，灑淚，為祭。太多想做的事、想見的人，沒有固執到底，都丟在了舊年的風裡；記下那人最初的樣子，堅持著最真的自己。不言不語，將一扇往事的門，輕輕關上。人生中經過的每個人，或溫暖，或涼薄，都感恩於一場交集的緣分。留一抹綠意在心底，回眸，一個純粹的微笑，便是一朵盛大的春天。做個不算糊塗的人，明了一些善意的委婉，也會發現流動風景的美麗。時間是一切生命哲學的定理，羈絆與遺憾都將散落塵埃。從未預約的前程，永恆著心上的希望與光明。有生之年，不貪求事事皆如人意，不奢念所有想要的都得以圓滿，只希望，生命中的每分每秒，都不曾浪費便好。每一天醒來，做著自己該做且喜歡做的事，每一段空閒，陪著自己該陪且珍愛的人；拈花惹草的心情，侍奉一些愛好情趣，品茶捧書的雅致，供養心靈與思想，如此，便不辜負命運優渥相待的靜好時光。光陰舊，覆水難收，再回首，敬往事一杯酒，說好，永不回頭。向前走，穿過一段歲月的風煙迷霧，走到山清水秀……
而對那些被治癒的患者來說，其實一切還遠遠沒有結束，活下來仍然是要和新冠後遺症對抗的一生。7月18日，法國國家醫學科學院發表了一份有關新冠後遺症的分析報告和建議。
在這份報告裡，首次提出了新冠部分患者在康復後，他們的心臟、腎臟、大腦等重要器官，都有很大程度的後遺症。法國醫科院成員Patrick Berche教授表示，就算是輕症患者，也會有肺部纖維化的後遺症。而肺部纖維化會導致呼吸功能衰退，增加呼吸道感染的風險，這簡直就是個定時炸彈。
義大利球星馬爾蒂尼表示，雖然自己只是輕微的感染了新冠，但是卻留下了非常影響生活和工作的後遺症：「我今天試著去健身房進行一些訓練，但是才過了短短的10分鐘的時間，我就堅持不住了。」新冠肺炎的屍檢報告裡，遺體解剖教授說，肺部纖維化，已經不是肺了，肺裡面充滿了別的東西。
有些事，努力一把才知道成績，奮鬥一下才知道自己的潛能。花淡故雅，水淡故真，人淡故純。做人需淡，淡而久香。不爭、不諂、不豔、不俗。淡中真滋味，淡中有真香。心若無恙，奈我何其；人若不戀，奈你何傷。痛苦緣於比較，煩惱緣於心。淡定，故不傷；淡然，故不惱。欲望是壺裡沸騰的水，人心是杯子裡的茶，水因為火的熱量而沸騰，心因為杯體的清涼而不驚。當欲望遇涼，沉澱於心，便不煩，不惱。不要嘲笑他人的努力，不要輕視他人的成績。每個人的價值不同，無需對任何人不屑。在你眼中的無用價值，未必真的無用。不輕一人，不廢一物。活不是戰場，無需一較高下。人與人之間，多一份理解就會少一些誤會；心與心之間，多一份包容，就會少一些紛爭。不要以自己的眼光和認知去評論一個人，判斷一件事的對錯。不要苛求別人的觀點與你相同，不要期望別人能完全理解你，每個人都有自己的性格和觀點。人往往把自己看得過重才會患得患失，覺得別人必須理解自己。其實，人要看輕自己，少一些自我，多一些換位，才能心生快樂。所謂心有多大，快樂就有多少；包容越多，得到越多。而光腦，則是梅克斯博士在研究矩陣模擬系統程序的時候，意外發現靈能晶石的特異之處，不同於光電等任何物質和能量，靈能晶石蘊含的能源本質類似於精神這種虛無飄渺的東西。
命一場， 或喜或悲，都是一次洗禮，一次歲月的歷練；或濃或淡，都是一抹綻放，一抹美麗的風景。春風得意時，不必張揚驕傲， 淡定從容一些，沒有人能永遠一帆風順。一切得與失、隱與顯，無非風景與風情。淡看世事，靜對春花秋月，即使遭受別人的不看好和擠兌，不必辯解討好，雲淡風輕一笑，用時間來證明自己。何必追慕名車香宴，我只需清茶淡飯，愛相隨，情也真。該來的自然來，會走的留不住。不違心，不刻意，不必太在乎，放開執念，隨緣是最好的生活。不管這世上會有多少寒涼，依舊會有不一樣的煙火。遇山過山，遇雨撐傘，有橋橋渡，無橋自渡，淡若清風，含笑走過。人世喧囂，名利來往，放下浮躁，心靜自安。淡淡的歲月，淡淡的心。人生的味道，淡久生香，安之若素，人淡如菊。淡淡地做人，淡淡地生活，淡淡的日子，每天都散發著淡淡的芳香。在某種程度上來說，機甲就是駕駛者，駕駛者就是機甲。而光腦的運算能力，也足夠負擔機甲運行時所需要的全部運算。
但由於靈能的特質，導致機甲對駕駛者的精神強度要求較高。同時也出現了駕駛機甲的精神強度和精神契合度的問題。精神契合度是天生的，也是幾乎恆定的，契合度越高，那麼駕駛者與機甲的協調度也就越高。機甲的動作也更快更精準，更接近駕駛者使用自己肉.體的層次。世上最酸的感覺不是吃醋，而是無權吃醋。吃醋也要講名份，和他相愛的是另一個人，他的醋也就輪不到你吃，自有另一個人光明正大地吃醋。原來，吃不到的醋才是最酸的。最難過的，莫過於當你遇上一個特別的人，卻明白永遠不可能在一起，或遲或早，你不得不放棄。曾經以為，傷心是會流很多眼淚的，原來，真正的傷心，是流不出一滴眼淚。什麼事情都會過去，我們是這樣活過來的。
一切都像剛睡醒的樣子，欣欣然張開了眼。山朗潤起來了，水漲起來了，太陽的臉紅起來了。小草偷偷地從土裡鑽出來，嫩嫩的，綠綠的。園子裡，田野裡，瞧去，一大片一大片滿是的。坐著，躺著，打兩個滾，踢幾腳球，賽幾趟跑，捉幾回迷藏。風輕悄悄的，草軟綿綿的。桃樹、杏樹、梨樹，你不讓我，我不讓你，都開滿了花趕趟兒。紅的像火，粉的像霞，白的像雪。花裡帶著甜味兒；閉了眼，樹上仿佛已經滿是桃兒、杏兒、梨兒。花下成千成百的蜜蜂嗡嗡地鬧著，大小的蝴蝶飛來飛去。野花遍地是：雜樣兒，有名字的，沒名字的，散在草叢裡，像眼睛，像星星，還眨呀眨的。「吹面不寒楊柳風」，不錯的，像母親的手撫摸著你。風裡帶來些新翻的泥土的氣息，混著青草味兒，還有各種花的香，都在微微潤溼的空氣裡醞釀。鳥兒將巢安在繁花嫩葉當中，高興起來了，呼朋引伴地賣弄清脆的喉嚨，唱出宛轉的曲子，與輕風流水應和著。牛背上牧童的短笛，這時候也成天嘹亮地響著。雨是最尋常的，一下就是三兩天。可別惱。看，像牛毛，像花針，像細絲，密密地斜織著，人家屋頂上全籠著一層薄煙。樹葉兒卻綠得發亮，小草兒也青得逼你的眼。傍晚時候，上燈了，一點點黃暈的光，烘託出一片安靜而和平的夜。在鄉下，小路上，石橋邊，有撐起傘慢慢走著的人，地裡還有工作的農民，披著蓑戴著笠。他們的房屋，稀稀疏疏的在雨裡靜默著。天上風箏漸漸多了，地上孩子也多了。城裡鄉下，家家戶戶，老老小小，也趕趟兒似的，一個個都出來了。舒活舒活筋骨，抖擻抖擻精神，各做各的一份事去。「一年之計在於春」，剛起頭兒，有的是工夫，有的是希望。春天像剛落地的娃娃，從頭到腳都是新的，它生長著。春天像小姑娘，花枝招展的，笑著，走著。春天像健壯的青年，有鐵一般的胳膊和腰腳，領著我們上前去。精神強度到達一定程度後可以提高駕駛者與機甲的契合度1%—5%，但也僅止於此。 往日時光，有那麼一種情結，經年難解，有那麼一件事，想做卻沒有勇氣做，有那麼一個人，自己沒有篤定的意念追隨。歷歷種種，都成為今天時而感嘆的源由。然而，當機會擺在面前，依然會顧慮重重。當那個深戀過的人再次遇見，卻一樣沒有勇氣做什麼！滄海桑田的變幻，並不是一句：物是人非，可以解釋的了的！時過境遷的無奈，也不是一句：此情可待成追憶，能夠詮釋的心境！或許，留在光陰深處的，總是最珍貴，念念不忘的，總是最美好吧！我們時常在別人的故事裡，一遍遍溫習著自己曾經的心境，而所有有關年輕的記憶，都帶著迷人的醉意。茫茫大地的影子，似流光拉長的嘆息，路旁夭折的情意，灑淚，為祭。太多想做的事、想見的人，沒有固執到底，都丟在了舊年的風裡；記下那人最初的樣子，堅持著最真的自己。不言不語，將一扇往事的門，輕輕關上。人生中經過的每個人，或溫暖，或涼薄，都感恩於一場交集的緣分。留一抹綠意在心底，回眸，一個純粹的微笑，便是一朵盛大的春天。做個不算糊塗的人，明了一些善意的委婉，也會發現流動風景的美麗。時間是一切生命哲學的定理，羈絆與遺憾都將散落塵埃。從未預約的前程，永恆著心上的希望與光明。有生之年，不貪求事事皆如人意，不奢念所有想要的都得以圓滿，只希望，生命中的每分每秒，都不曾浪費便好。每一天醒來，做著自己該做且喜歡做的事，每一段空閒，陪著自己該陪且珍愛的人；拈花惹草的心情，侍奉一些愛好情趣，品茶捧書的雅致，供養心靈與思想，如此，便不辜負命運優渥相待的靜好時光。光陰舊，覆水難收，再回首，敬往事一杯酒，說好，永不回頭。向前走，穿過一段歲月的風煙迷霧，走到山清水秀……
而肺部纖維化，患者很容易呼吸衰竭而死。這種死因，本質上和淹死是一個道理。大量的水倒進肺部，氧氣進不去，病人掙扎向醫生大喊救命，直到他去世。醫生說我患上了充血性心肌炎，一輩子都要和這個病纏鬥。情況惡化的話，甚至需要安裝心臟起搏器，甚至移植心臟。」
有些事，努力一把才知道成績，奮鬥一下才知道自己的潛能。花淡故雅，水淡故真，人淡故純。做人需淡，淡而久香。不爭、不諂、不豔、不俗。淡中真滋味，淡中有真香。心若無恙，奈我何其；人若不戀，奈你何傷。痛苦緣於比較，煩惱緣於心。淡定，故不傷；淡然，故不惱。欲望是壺裡沸騰的水，人心是杯子裡的茶，水因為火的熱量而沸騰，心因為杯體的清涼而不驚。當欲望遇涼，沉澱於心，便不煩，不惱。不要嘲笑他人的努力，不要輕視他人的成績。每個人的價值不同，無需對任何人不屑。在你眼中的無用價值，未必真的無用。不輕一人，不廢一物。活不是戰場，無需一較高下。人與人之間，多一份理解就會少一些誤會；心與心之間，多一份包容，就會少一些紛爭。不要以自己的眼光和認知去評論一個人，判斷一件事的對錯。不要苛求別人的觀點與你相同，不要期望別人能完全理解你，每個人都有自己的性格和觀點。人往往把自己看得過重才會患得患失，覺得別人必須理解自己。其實，人要看輕自己，少一些自我，多一些換位，才能心生快樂。所謂心有多大，快樂就有多少；包容越多，得到越多。而光腦，則是梅克斯博士在研究矩陣模擬系統程序的時候，意外發現靈能晶石的特異之處，不同於光電等任何物質和能量，靈能晶石蘊含的能源本質類似於精神這種虛無飄渺的東西。
命一場， 或喜或悲，都是一次洗禮，一次歲月的歷練；或濃或淡，都是一抹綻放，一抹美麗的風景。春風得意時，不必張揚驕傲， 淡定從容一些，沒有人能永遠一帆風順。一切得與失、隱與顯，無非風景與風情。淡看世事，靜對春花秋月，即使遭受別人的不看好和擠兌，不必辯解討好，雲淡風輕一笑，用時間來證明自己。何必追慕名車香宴，我只需清茶淡飯，愛相隨，情也真。該來的自然來，會走的留不住。不違心，不刻意，不必太在乎，放開執念，隨緣是最好的生活。不管這世上會有多少寒涼，依舊會有不一樣的煙火。遇山過山，遇雨撐傘，有橋橋渡，無橋自渡，淡若清風，含笑走過。人世喧囂，名利來往，放下浮躁，心靜自安。淡淡的歲月，淡淡的心。人生的味道，淡久生香，安之若素，人淡如菊。淡淡地做人，淡淡地生活，淡淡的日子，每天都散發著淡淡的芳香。在某種程度上來說，機甲就是駕駛者，駕駛者就是機甲。而光腦的運算能力，也足夠負擔機甲運行時所需要的全部運算。
但由於靈能的特質，導致機甲對駕駛者的精神強度要求較高。同時也出現了駕駛機甲的精神強度和精神契合度的問題。精神契合度是天生的，也是幾乎恆定的，契合度越高，那麼駕駛者與機甲的協調度也就越高。機甲的動作也更快更精準，更接近駕駛者使用自己肉.體的層次。世上最酸的感覺不是吃醋，而是無權吃醋。吃醋也要講名份，和他相愛的是另一個人，他的醋也就輪不到你吃，自有另一個人光明正大地吃醋。原來，吃不到的醋才是最酸的。最難過的，莫過於當你遇上一個特別的人，卻明白永遠不可能在一起，或遲或早，你不得不放棄。曾經以為，傷心是會流很多眼淚的，原來，真正的傷心，是流不出一滴眼淚。什麼事情都會過去，我們是這樣活過來的。
一切都像剛睡醒的樣子，欣欣然張開了眼。山朗潤起來了，水漲起來了，太陽的臉紅起來了。小草偷偷地從土裡鑽出來，嫩嫩的，綠綠的。園子裡，田野裡，瞧去，一大片一大片滿是的。坐著，躺著，打兩個滾，踢幾腳球，賽幾趟跑，捉幾回迷藏。風輕悄悄的，草軟綿綿的。桃樹、杏樹、梨樹，你不讓我，我不讓你，都開滿了花趕趟兒。紅的像火，粉的像霞，白的像雪。花裡帶著甜味兒；閉了眼，樹上仿佛已經滿是桃兒、杏兒、梨兒。花下成千成百的蜜蜂嗡嗡地鬧著，大小的蝴蝶飛來飛去。野花遍地是：雜樣兒，有名字的，沒名字的，散在草叢裡，像眼睛，像星星，還眨呀眨的。「吹面不寒楊柳風」，不錯的，像母親的手撫摸著你。風裡帶來些新翻的泥土的氣息，混著青草味兒，還有各種花的香，都在微微潤溼的空氣裡醞釀。鳥兒將巢安在繁花嫩葉當中，高興起來了，呼朋引伴地賣弄清脆的喉嚨，唱出宛轉的曲子，與輕風流水應和著。牛背上牧童的短笛，這時候也成天嘹亮地響著。雨是最尋常的，一下就是三兩天。可別惱。看，像牛毛，像花針，像細絲，密密地斜織著，人家屋頂上全籠著一層薄煙。樹葉兒卻綠得發亮，小草兒也青得逼你的眼。傍晚時候，上燈了，一點點黃暈的光，烘託出一片安靜而和平的夜。在鄉下，小路上，石橋邊，有撐起傘慢慢走著的人，地裡還有工作的農民，披著蓑戴著笠。他們的房屋，稀稀疏疏的在雨裡靜默著。天上風箏漸漸多了，地上孩子也多了。城裡鄉下，家家戶戶，老老小小，也趕趟兒似的，一個個都出來了。舒活舒活筋骨，抖擻抖擻精神，各做各的一份事去。「一年之計在於春」，剛起頭兒，有的是工夫，有的是希望。春天像剛落地的娃娃，從頭到腳都是新的，它生長著。春天像小姑娘，花枝招展的，笑著，走著。春天像健壯的青年，有鐵一般的胳膊和腰腳，領著我們上前去。精神強度到達一定程度後可以提高駕駛者與機甲的契合度1%—5%，但也僅止於此。 往日時光，有那麼一種情結，經年難解，有那麼一件事，想做卻沒有勇氣做，有那麼一個人，自己沒有篤定的意念追隨。歷歷種種，都成為今天時而感嘆的源由。然而，當機會擺在面前，依然會顧慮重重。當那個深戀過的人再次遇見，卻一樣沒有勇氣做什麼！滄海桑田的變幻，並不是一句：物是人非，可以解釋的了的！時過境遷的無奈，也不是一句：此情可待成追憶，能夠詮釋的心境！或許，留在光陰深處的，總是最珍貴，念念不忘的，總是最美好吧！我們時常在別人的故事裡，一遍遍溫習著自己曾經的心境，而所有有關年輕的記憶，都帶著迷人的醉意。茫茫大地的影子，似流光拉長的嘆息，路旁夭折的情意，灑淚，為祭。太多想做的事、想見的人，沒有固執到底，都丟在了舊年的風裡；記下那人最初的樣子，堅持著最真的自己。不言不語，將一扇往事的門，輕輕關上。人生中經過的每個人，或溫暖，或涼薄，都感恩於一場交集的緣分。留一抹綠意在心底，回眸，一個純粹的微笑，便是一朵盛大的春天。做個不算糊塗的人，明了一些善意的委婉，也會發現流動風景的美麗。時間是一切生命哲學的定理，羈絆與遺憾都將散落塵埃。從未預約的前程，永恆著心上的希望與光明。有生之年，不貪求事事皆如人意，不奢念所有想要的都得以圓滿，只希望，生命中的每分每秒，都不曾浪費便好。每一天醒來，做著自己該做且喜歡做的事，每一段空閒，陪著自己該陪且珍愛的人；拈花惹草的心情，侍奉一些愛好情趣，品茶捧書的雅致，供養心靈與思想，如此，便不辜負命運優渥相待的靜好時光。光陰舊，覆水難收，再回首，敬往事一杯酒，說好，永不回頭。向前走，穿過一段歲月的風煙迷霧，走到山清水秀……
而除了纖維肺，他們還在新冠病人遺體內發現了大量的血栓。
美國著名歌手Scarface，在新冠治癒以後，他的腎臟卻衰竭了。而加拿大有8-9%的新冠肺炎重症患者，都顯示出他們患有嚴重的腎損傷、腎衰竭。除了以上這些，還有很多已經康復的新冠患者出現了嚴重的中樞神經後遺症。
許多人感到頭痛、頭暈、意識混沌，他們嚴重的還會出現急性腦血管疾病、癲癇等等。英國首相鮑裡斯在新冠痊癒後，說自己的視力嚴重受損：「我好多年都不戴眼鏡，現在突然要戴了，我覺得這是病毒的後遺症。
有些事，努力一把才知道成績，奮鬥一下才知道自己的潛能。花淡故雅，水淡故真，人淡故純。做人需淡，淡而久香。不爭、不諂、不豔、不俗。淡中真滋味，淡中有真香。心若無恙，奈我何其；人若不戀，奈你何傷。痛苦緣於比較，煩惱緣於心。淡定，故不傷；淡然，故不惱。欲望是壺裡沸騰的水，人心是杯子裡的茶，水因為火的熱量而沸騰，心因為杯體的清涼而不驚。當欲望遇涼，沉澱於心，便不煩，不惱。不要嘲笑他人的努力，不要輕視他人的成績。每個人的價值不同，無需對任何人不屑。在你眼中的無用價值，未必真的無用。不輕一人，不廢一物。活不是戰場，無需一較高下。人與人之間，多一份理解就會少一些誤會；心與心之間，多一份包容，就會少一些紛爭。不要以自己的眼光和認知去評論一個人，判斷一件事的對錯。不要苛求別人的觀點與你相同，不要期望別人能完全理解你，每個人都有自己的性格和觀點。人往往把自己看得過重才會患得患失，覺得別人必須理解自己。其實，人要看輕自己，少一些自我，多一些換位，才能心生快樂。所謂心有多大，快樂就有多少；包容越多，得到越多。而光腦，則是梅克斯博士在研究矩陣模擬系統程序的時候，意外發現靈能晶石的特異之處，不同於光電等任何物質和能量，靈能晶石蘊含的能源本質類似於精神這種虛無飄渺的東西。
命一場， 或喜或悲，都是一次洗禮，一次歲月的歷練；或濃或淡，都是一抹綻放，一抹美麗的風景。春風得意時，不必張揚驕傲， 淡定從容一些，沒有人能永遠一帆風順。一切得與失、隱與顯，無非風景與風情。淡看世事，靜對春花秋月，即使遭受別人的不看好和擠兌，不必辯解討好，雲淡風輕一笑，用時間來證明自己。何必追慕名車香宴，我只需清茶淡飯，愛相隨，情也真。該來的自然來，會走的留不住。不違心，不刻意，不必太在乎，放開執念，隨緣是最好的生活。不管這世上會有多少寒涼，依舊會有不一樣的煙火。遇山過山，遇雨撐傘，有橋橋渡，無橋自渡，淡若清風，含笑走過。人世喧囂，名利來往，放下浮躁，心靜自安。淡淡的歲月，淡淡的心。人生的味道，淡久生香，安之若素，人淡如菊。淡淡地做人，淡淡地生活，淡淡的日子，每天都散發著淡淡的芳香。在某種程度上來說，機甲就是駕駛者，駕駛者就是機甲。而光腦的運算能力，也足夠負擔機甲運行時所需要的全部運算。
但由於靈能的特質，導致機甲對駕駛者的精神強度要求較高。同時也出現了駕駛機甲的精神強度和精神契合度的問題。精神契合度是天生的，也是幾乎恆定的，契合度越高，那麼駕駛者與機甲的協調度也就越高。機甲的動作也更快更精準，更接近駕駛者使用自己肉.體的層次。世上最酸的感覺不是吃醋，而是無權吃醋。吃醋也要講名份，和他相愛的是另一個人，他的醋也就輪不到你吃，自有另一個人光明正大地吃醋。原來，吃不到的醋才是最酸的。最難過的，莫過於當你遇上一個特別的人，卻明白永遠不可能在一起，或遲或早，你不得不放棄。曾經以為，傷心是會流很多眼淚的，原來，真正的傷心，是流不出一滴眼淚。什麼事情都會過去，我們是這樣活過來的。
一切都像剛睡醒的樣子，欣欣然張開了眼。山朗潤起來了，水漲起來了，太陽的臉紅起來了。小草偷偷地從土裡鑽出來，嫩嫩的，綠綠的。園子裡，田野裡，瞧去，一大片一大片滿是的。坐著，躺著，打兩個滾，踢幾腳球，賽幾趟跑，捉幾回迷藏。風輕悄悄的，草軟綿綿的。桃樹、杏樹、梨樹，你不讓我，我不讓你，都開滿了花趕趟兒。紅的像火，粉的像霞，白的像雪。花裡帶著甜味兒；閉了眼，樹上仿佛已經滿是桃兒、杏兒、梨兒。花下成千成百的蜜蜂嗡嗡地鬧著，大小的蝴蝶飛來飛去。野花遍地是：雜樣兒，有名字的，沒名字的，散在草叢裡，像眼睛，像星星，還眨呀眨的。「吹面不寒楊柳風」，不錯的，像母親的手撫摸著你。風裡帶來些新翻的泥土的氣息，混著青草味兒，還有各種花的香，都在微微潤溼的空氣裡醞釀。鳥兒將巢安在繁花嫩葉當中，高興起來了，呼朋引伴地賣弄清脆的喉嚨，唱出宛轉的曲子，與輕風流水應和著。牛背上牧童的短笛，這時候也成天嘹亮地響著。雨是最尋常的，一下就是三兩天。可別惱。看，像牛毛，像花針，像細絲，密密地斜織著，人家屋頂上全籠著一層薄煙。樹葉兒卻綠得發亮，小草兒也青得逼你的眼。傍晚時候，上燈了，一點點黃暈的光，烘託出一片安靜而和平的夜。在鄉下，小路上，石橋邊，有撐起傘慢慢走著的人，地裡還有工作的農民，披著蓑戴著笠。他們的房屋，稀稀疏疏的在雨裡靜默著。天上風箏漸漸多了，地上孩子也多了。城裡鄉下，家家戶戶，老老小小，也趕趟兒似的，一個個都出來了。舒活舒活筋骨，抖擻抖擻精神，各做各的一份事去。「一年之計在於春」，剛起頭兒，有的是工夫，有的是希望。春天像剛落地的娃娃，從頭到腳都是新的，它生長著。春天像小姑娘，花枝招展的，笑著，走著。春天像健壯的青年，有鐵一般的胳膊和腰腳，領著我們上前去。精神強度到達一定程度後可以提高駕駛者與機甲的契合度1%—5%，但也僅止於此。 往日時光，有那麼一種情結，經年難解，有那麼一件事，想做卻沒有勇氣做，有那麼一個人，自己沒有篤定的意念追隨。歷歷種種，都成為今天時而感嘆的源由。然而，當機會擺在面前，依然會顧慮重重。當那個深戀過的人再次遇見，卻一樣沒有勇氣做什麼！滄海桑田的變幻，並不是一句：物是人非，可以解釋的了的！時過境遷的無奈，也不是一句：此情可待成追憶，能夠詮釋的心境！或許，留在光陰深處的，總是最珍貴，念念不忘的，總是最美好吧！我們時常在別人的故事裡，一遍遍溫習著自己曾經的心境，而所有有關年輕的記憶，都帶著迷人的醉意。茫茫大地的影子，似流光拉長的嘆息，路旁夭折的情意，灑淚，為祭。太多想做的事、想見的人，沒有固執到底，都丟在了舊年的風裡；記下那人最初的樣子，堅持著最真的自己。不言不語，將一扇往事的門，輕輕關上。人生中經過的每個人，或溫暖，或涼薄，都感恩於一場交集的緣分。留一抹綠意在心底，回眸，一個純粹的微笑，便是一朵盛大的春天。做個不算糊塗的人，明了一些善意的委婉，也會發現流動風景的美麗。時間是一切生命哲學的定理，羈絆與遺憾都將散落塵埃。從未預約的前程，永恆著心上的希望與光明。有生之年，不貪求事事皆如人意，不奢念所有想要的都得以圓滿，只希望，生命中的每分每秒，都不曾浪費便好。每一天醒來，做著自己該做且喜歡做的事，每一段空閒，陪著自己該陪且珍愛的人；拈花惹草的心情，侍奉一些愛好情趣，品茶捧書的雅致，供養心靈與思想，如此，便不辜負命運優渥相待的靜好時光。光陰舊，覆水難收，再回首，敬往事一杯酒，說好，永不回頭。向前走，穿過一段歲月的風煙迷霧，走到山清水秀……
而這一切都沒有恢復的跡象，未來會不會恢復，也未可知。
「新冠患者痊癒後失去了味覺和嗅覺，沒有恢復且不是孤例。」有專家預測，這些後遺症還不是全部，在未來1-3年或許有更多的症狀會顯現。同樣是傳染性肺炎，17年前的非典患者在治癒後，超過70%的患者因為肱骨頭壞死而再度治療。
有些事，努力一把才知道成績，奮鬥一下才知道自己的潛能。花淡故雅，水淡故真，人淡故純。做人需淡，淡而久香。不爭、不諂、不豔、不俗。淡中真滋味，淡中有真香。心若無恙，奈我何其；人若不戀，奈你何傷。痛苦緣於比較，煩惱緣於心。淡定，故不傷；淡然，故不惱。欲望是壺裡沸騰的水，人心是杯子裡的茶，水因為火的熱量而沸騰，心因為杯體的清涼而不驚。當欲望遇涼，沉澱於心，便不煩，不惱。不要嘲笑他人的努力，不要輕視他人的成績。每個人的價值不同，無需對任何人不屑。在你眼中的無用價值，未必真的無用。不輕一人，不廢一物。活不是戰場，無需一較高下。人與人之間，多一份理解就會少一些誤會；心與心之間，多一份包容，就會少一些紛爭。不要以自己的眼光和認知去評論一個人，判斷一件事的對錯。不要苛求別人的觀點與你相同，不要期望別人能完全理解你，每個人都有自己的性格和觀點。人往往把自己看得過重才會患得患失，覺得別人必須理解自己。其實，人要看輕自己，少一些自我，多一些換位，才能心生快樂。所謂心有多大，快樂就有多少；包容越多，得到越多。而光腦，則是梅克斯博士在研究矩陣模擬系統程序的時候，意外發現靈能晶石的特異之處，不同於光電等任何物質和能量，靈能晶石蘊含的能源本質類似於精神這種虛無飄渺的東西。
命一場， 或喜或悲，都是一次洗禮，一次歲月的歷練；或濃或淡，都是一抹綻放，一抹美麗的風景。春風得意時，不必張揚驕傲， 淡定從容一些，沒有人能永遠一帆風順。一切得與失、隱與顯，無非風景與風情。淡看世事，靜對春花秋月，即使遭受別人的不看好和擠兌，不必辯解討好，雲淡風輕一笑，用時間來證明自己。何必追慕名車香宴，我只需清茶淡飯，愛相隨，情也真。該來的自然來，會走的留不住。不違心，不刻意，不必太在乎，放開執念，隨緣是最好的生活。不管這世上會有多少寒涼，依舊會有不一樣的煙火。遇山過山，遇雨撐傘，有橋橋渡，無橋自渡，淡若清風，含笑走過。人世喧囂，名利來往，放下浮躁，心靜自安。淡淡的歲月，淡淡的心。人生的味道，淡久生香，安之若素，人淡如菊。淡淡地做人，淡淡地生活，淡淡的日子，每天都散發著淡淡的芳香。在某種程度上來說，機甲就是駕駛者，駕駛者就是機甲。而光腦的運算能力，也足夠負擔機甲運行時所需要的全部運算。
但由於靈能的特質，導致機甲對駕駛者的精神強度要求較高。同時也出現了駕駛機甲的精神強度和精神契合度的問題。精神契合度是天生的，也是幾乎恆定的，契合度越高，那麼駕駛者與機甲的協調度也就越高。機甲的動作也更快更精準，更接近駕駛者使用自己肉.體的層次。世上最酸的感覺不是吃醋，而是無權吃醋。吃醋也要講名份，和他相愛的是另一個人，他的醋也就輪不到你吃，自有另一個人光明正大地吃醋。原來，吃不到的醋才是最酸的。最難過的，莫過於當你遇上一個特別的人，卻明白永遠不可能在一起，或遲或早，你不得不放棄。曾經以為，傷心是會流很多眼淚的，原來，真正的傷心，是流不出一滴眼淚。什麼事情都會過去，我們是這樣活過來的。
一切都像剛睡醒的樣子，欣欣然張開了眼。山朗潤起來了，水漲起來了，太陽的臉紅起來了。小草偷偷地從土裡鑽出來，嫩嫩的，綠綠的。園子裡，田野裡，瞧去，一大片一大片滿是的。坐著，躺著，打兩個滾，踢幾腳球，賽幾趟跑，捉幾回迷藏。風輕悄悄的，草軟綿綿的。桃樹、杏樹、梨樹，你不讓我，我不讓你，都開滿了花趕趟兒。紅的像火，粉的像霞，白的像雪。花裡帶著甜味兒；閉了眼，樹上仿佛已經滿是桃兒、杏兒、梨兒。花下成千成百的蜜蜂嗡嗡地鬧著，大小的蝴蝶飛來飛去。野花遍地是：雜樣兒，有名字的，沒名字的，散在草叢裡，像眼睛，像星星，還眨呀眨的。「吹面不寒楊柳風」，不錯的，像母親的手撫摸著你。風裡帶來些新翻的泥土的氣息，混著青草味兒，還有各種花的香，都在微微潤溼的空氣裡醞釀。鳥兒將巢安在繁花嫩葉當中，高興起來了，呼朋引伴地賣弄清脆的喉嚨，唱出宛轉的曲子，與輕風流水應和著。牛背上牧童的短笛，這時候也成天嘹亮地響著。雨是最尋常的，一下就是三兩天。可別惱。看，像牛毛，像花針，像細絲，密密地斜織著，人家屋頂上全籠著一層薄煙。樹葉兒卻綠得發亮，小草兒也青得逼你的眼。傍晚時候，上燈了，一點點黃暈的光，烘託出一片安靜而和平的夜。在鄉下，小路上，石橋邊，有撐起傘慢慢走著的人，地裡還有工作的農民，披著蓑戴著笠。他們的房屋，稀稀疏疏的在雨裡靜默著。天上風箏漸漸多了，地上孩子也多了。城裡鄉下，家家戶戶，老老小小，也趕趟兒似的，一個個都出來了。舒活舒活筋骨，抖擻抖擻精神，各做各的一份事去。「一年之計在於春」，剛起頭兒，有的是工夫，有的是希望。春天像剛落地的娃娃，從頭到腳都是新的，它生長著。春天像小姑娘，花枝招展的，笑著，走著。春天像健壯的青年，有鐵一般的胳膊和腰腳，領著我們上前去。精神強度到達一定程度後可以提高駕駛者與機甲的契合度1%—5%，但也僅止於此。 往日時光，有那麼一種情結，經年難解，有那麼一件事，想做卻沒有勇氣做，有那麼一個人，自己沒有篤定的意念追隨。歷歷種種，都成為今天時而感嘆的源由。然而，當機會擺在面前，依然會顧慮重重。當那個深戀過的人再次遇見，卻一樣沒有勇氣做什麼！滄海桑田的變幻，並不是一句：物是人非，可以解釋的了的！時過境遷的無奈，也不是一句：此情可待成追憶，能夠詮釋的心境！或許，留在光陰深處的，總是最珍貴，念念不忘的，總是最美好吧！我們時常在別人的故事裡，一遍遍溫習著自己曾經的心境，而所有有關年輕的記憶，都帶著迷人的醉意。茫茫大地的影子，似流光拉長的嘆息，路旁夭折的情意，灑淚，為祭。太多想做的事、想見的人，沒有固執到底，都丟在了舊年的風裡；記下那人最初的樣子，堅持著最真的自己。不言不語，將一扇往事的門，輕輕關上。人生中經過的每個人，或溫暖，或涼薄，都感恩於一場交集的緣分。留一抹綠意在心底，回眸，一個純粹的微笑，便是一朵盛大的春天。做個不算糊塗的人，明了一些善意的委婉，也會發現流動風景的美麗。時間是一切生命哲學的定理，羈絆與遺憾都將散落塵埃。從未預約的前程，永恆著心上的希望與光明。有生之年，不貪求事事皆如人意，不奢念所有想要的都得以圓滿，只希望，生命中的每分每秒，都不曾浪費便好。每一天醒來，做著自己該做且喜歡做的事，每一段空閒，陪著自己該陪且珍愛的人；拈花惹草的心情，侍奉一些愛好情趣，品茶捧書的雅致，供養心靈與思想，如此，便不辜負命運優渥相待的靜好時光。光陰舊，覆水難收，再回首，敬往事一杯酒，說好，永不回頭。向前走，穿過一段歲月的風煙迷霧，走到山清水秀……
60%的患者因為肺部纖維化再度治療，這其中因為新冠喪失生活能力、無法正常工作生活的人超過30%。
而除了身體上的痛苦，在後疫情時代，新冠的後遺症還波及到了每個健康的普通人。美國勞動統計局顯示，近半數美國人已經失業，美國就業人口比跌至52.8%。這是一個全民高負債的神奇國度，這也是一個美國夢破碎的殘酷現實。而越來越多的證據顯示，美國的第二輪失業潮已經來了。
有些事，努力一把才知道成績，奮鬥一下才知道自己的潛能。花淡故雅，水淡故真，人淡故純。做人需淡，淡而久香。不爭、不諂、不豔、不俗。淡中真滋味，淡中有真香。心若無恙，奈我何其；人若不戀，奈你何傷。痛苦緣於比較，煩惱緣於心。淡定，故不傷；淡然，故不惱。欲望是壺裡沸騰的水，人心是杯子裡的茶，水因為火的熱量而沸騰，心因為杯體的清涼而不驚。當欲望遇涼，沉澱於心，便不煩，不惱。不要嘲笑他人的努力，不要輕視他人的成績。每個人的價值不同，無需對任何人不屑。在你眼中的無用價值，未必真的無用。不輕一人，不廢一物。活不是戰場，無需一較高下。人與人之間，多一份理解就會少一些誤會；心與心之間，多一份包容，就會少一些紛爭。不要以自己的眼光和認知去評論一個人，判斷一件事的對錯。不要苛求別人的觀點與你相同，不要期望別人能完全理解你，每個人都有自己的性格和觀點。人往往把自己看得過重才會患得患失，覺得別人必須理解自己。其實，人要看輕自己，少一些自我，多一些換位，才能心生快樂。所謂心有多大，快樂就有多少；包容越多，得到越多。而光腦，則是梅克斯博士在研究矩陣模擬系統程序的時候，意外發現靈能晶石的特異之處，不同於光電等任何物質和能量，靈能晶石蘊含的能源本質類似於精神這種虛無飄渺的東西。
命一場， 或喜或悲，都是一次洗禮，一次歲月的歷練；或濃或淡，都是一抹綻放，一抹美麗的風景。春風得意時，不必張揚驕傲， 淡定從容一些，沒有人能永遠一帆風順。一切得與失、隱與顯，無非風景與風情。淡看世事，靜對春花秋月，即使遭受別人的不看好和擠兌，不必辯解討好，雲淡風輕一笑，用時間來證明自己。何必追慕名車香宴，我只需清茶淡飯，愛相隨，情也真。該來的自然來，會走的留不住。不違心，不刻意，不必太在乎，放開執念，隨緣是最好的生活。不管這世上會有多少寒涼，依舊會有不一樣的煙火。遇山過山，遇雨撐傘，有橋橋渡，無橋自渡，淡若清風，含笑走過。人世喧囂，名利來往，放下浮躁，心靜自安。淡淡的歲月，淡淡的心。人生的味道，淡久生香，安之若素，人淡如菊。淡淡地做人，淡淡地生活，淡淡的日子，每天都散發著淡淡的芳香。在某種程度上來說，機甲就是駕駛者，駕駛者就是機甲。而光腦的運算能力，也足夠負擔機甲運行時所需要的全部運算。
但由於靈能的特質，導致機甲對駕駛者的精神強度要求較高。同時也出現了駕駛機甲的精神強度和精神契合度的問題。精神契合度是天生的，也是幾乎恆定的，契合度越高，那麼駕駛者與機甲的協調度也就越高。機甲的動作也更快更精準，更接近駕駛者使用自己肉.體的層次。世上最酸的感覺不是吃醋，而是無權吃醋。吃醋也要講名份，和他相愛的是另一個人，他的醋也就輪不到你吃，自有另一個人光明正大地吃醋。原來，吃不到的醋才是最酸的。最難過的，莫過於當你遇上一個特別的人，卻明白永遠不可能在一起，或遲或早，你不得不放棄。曾經以為，傷心是會流很多眼淚的，原來，真正的傷心，是流不出一滴眼淚。什麼事情都會過去，我們是這樣活過來的。
一切都像剛睡醒的樣子，欣欣然張開了眼。山朗潤起來了，水漲起來了，太陽的臉紅起來了。小草偷偷地從土裡鑽出來，嫩嫩的，綠綠的。園子裡，田野裡，瞧去，一大片一大片滿是的。坐著，躺著，打兩個滾，踢幾腳球，賽幾趟跑，捉幾回迷藏。風輕悄悄的，草軟綿綿的。桃樹、杏樹、梨樹，你不讓我，我不讓你，都開滿了花趕趟兒。紅的像火，粉的像霞，白的像雪。花裡帶著甜味兒；閉了眼，樹上仿佛已經滿是桃兒、杏兒、梨兒。花下成千成百的蜜蜂嗡嗡地鬧著，大小的蝴蝶飛來飛去。野花遍地是：雜樣兒，有名字的，沒名字的，散在草叢裡，像眼睛，像星星，還眨呀眨的。「吹面不寒楊柳風」，不錯的，像母親的手撫摸著你。風裡帶來些新翻的泥土的氣息，混著青草味兒，還有各種花的香，都在微微潤溼的空氣裡醞釀。鳥兒將巢安在繁花嫩葉當中，高興起來了，呼朋引伴地賣弄清脆的喉嚨，唱出宛轉的曲子，與輕風流水應和著。牛背上牧童的短笛，這時候也成天嘹亮地響著。雨是最尋常的，一下就是三兩天。可別惱。看，像牛毛，像花針，像細絲，密密地斜織著，人家屋頂上全籠著一層薄煙。樹葉兒卻綠得發亮，小草兒也青得逼你的眼。傍晚時候，上燈了，一點點黃暈的光，烘託出一片安靜而和平的夜。在鄉下，小路上，石橋邊，有撐起傘慢慢走著的人，地裡還有工作的農民，披著蓑戴著笠。他們的房屋，稀稀疏疏的在雨裡靜默著。天上風箏漸漸多了，地上孩子也多了。城裡鄉下，家家戶戶，老老小小，也趕趟兒似的，一個個都出來了。舒活舒活筋骨，抖擻抖擻精神，各做各的一份事去。「一年之計在於春」，剛起頭兒，有的是工夫，有的是希望。春天像剛落地的娃娃，從頭到腳都是新的，它生長著。春天像小姑娘，花枝招展的，笑著，走著。春天像健壯的青年，有鐵一般的胳膊和腰腳，領著我們上前去。精神強度到達一定程度後可以提高駕駛者與機甲的契合度1%—5%，但也僅止於此。 往日時光，有那麼一種情結，經年難解，有那麼一件事，想做卻沒有勇氣做，有那麼一個人，自己沒有篤定的意念追隨。歷歷種種，都成為今天時而感嘆的源由。然而，當機會擺在面前，依然會顧慮重重。當那個深戀過的人再次遇見，卻一樣沒有勇氣做什麼！滄海桑田的變幻，並不是一句：物是人非，可以解釋的了的！時過境遷的無奈，也不是一句：此情可待成追憶，能夠詮釋的心境！或許，留在光陰深處的，總是最珍貴，念念不忘的，總是最美好吧！我們時常在別人的故事裡，一遍遍溫習著自己曾經的心境，而所有有關年輕的記憶，都帶著迷人的醉意。茫茫大地的影子，似流光拉長的嘆息，路旁夭折的情意，灑淚，為祭。太多想做的事、想見的人，沒有固執到底，都丟在了舊年的風裡；記下那人最初的樣子，堅持著最真的自己。不言不語，將一扇往事的門，輕輕關上。人生中經過的每個人，或溫暖，或涼薄，都感恩於一場交集的緣分。留一抹綠意在心底，回眸，一個純粹的微笑，便是一朵盛大的春天。做個不算糊塗的人，明了一些善意的委婉，也會發現流動風景的美麗。時間是一切生命哲學的定理，羈絆與遺憾都將散落塵埃。從未預約的前程，永恆著心上的希望與光明。有生之年，不貪求事事皆如人意，不奢念所有想要的都得以圓滿，只希望，生命中的每分每秒，都不曾浪費便好。每一天醒來，做著自己該做且喜歡做的事，每一段空閒，陪著自己該陪且珍愛的人；拈花惹草的心情，侍奉一些愛好情趣，品茶捧書的雅致，供養心靈與思想，如此，便不辜負命運優渥相待的靜好時光。光陰舊，覆水難收，再回首，敬往事一杯酒，說好，永不回頭。向前走，穿過一段歲月的風煙迷霧，走到山清水秀……
但即便是這樣，在接下來的一年裡，美國將有超過2500萬美國人將領不到失業補助。疫情期間公共運輸都沒有停運，《紐約時報》的記者採訪了那些在崗的人。其中一個是機場的搬運工，他說自己的帳戶裡就只有1000塊了，如果不工作很快就會花光這些錢。CNBC報導採訪了一位媽媽，她有三個孩子，丈夫失業了。
她和丈夫加起來的現金是負1000美元，美國政府發給她們的補助只有1200美元，這些錢只能全部用來還款。一位斷糧的肯亞婦女為她的8個孩子在鍋裡煮石頭，希望暫時騙到他們還有飯吃。
她是家裡的唯一經濟來源，因為疫情失業，家裡已經斷糧。越來越多的人失業，貧困正迫使數以百萬計的印度人去翻垃圾堆。
許多人都因為無法支付基本生活而感到絕望無助，新冠的後遺症，沒有放過任何一個普通人。全球30個不同國家，都因為疫情勞動力不足、蝗災面臨嚴重的糧食危機。有些事，努力一把才知道成績，奮鬥一下才知道自己的潛能。花淡故雅，水淡故真，人淡故純。做人需淡，淡而久香。不爭、不諂、不豔、不俗。淡中真滋味，淡中有真香。心若無恙，奈我何其；人若不戀，奈你何傷。痛苦緣於比較，煩惱緣於心。淡定，故不傷；淡然，故不惱。欲望是壺裡沸騰的水，人心是杯子裡的茶，水因為火的熱量而沸騰，心因為杯體的清涼而不驚。當欲望遇涼，沉澱於心，便不煩，不惱。不要嘲笑他人的努力，不要輕視他人的成績。每個人的價值不同，無需對任何人不屑。在你眼中的無用價值，未必真的無用。不輕一人，不廢一物。活不是戰場，無需一較高下。人與人之間，多一份理解就會少一些誤會；心與心之間，多一份包容，就會少一些紛爭。不要以自己的眼光和認知去評論一個人，判斷一件事的對錯。不要苛求別人的觀點與你相同，不要期望別人能完全理解你，每個人都有自己的性格和觀點。人往往把自己看得過重才會患得患失，覺得別人必須理解自己。其實，人要看輕自己，少一些自我，多一些換位，才能心生快樂。所謂心有多大，快樂就有多少；包容越多，得到越多。而光腦，則是梅克斯博士在研究矩陣模擬系統程序的時候，意外發現靈能晶石的特異之處，不同於光電等任何物質和能量，靈能晶石蘊含的能源本質類似於精神這種虛無飄渺的東西。
命一場， 或喜或悲，都是一次洗禮，一次歲月的歷練；或濃或淡，都是一抹綻放，一抹美麗的風景。春風得意時，不必張揚驕傲， 淡定從容一些，沒有人能永遠一帆風順。一切得與失、隱與顯，無非風景與風情。淡看世事，靜對春花秋月，即使遭受別人的不看好和擠兌，不必辯解討好，雲淡風輕一笑，用時間來證明自己。何必追慕名車香宴，我只需清茶淡飯，愛相隨，情也真。該來的自然來，會走的留不住。不違心，不刻意，不必太在乎，放開執念，隨緣是最好的生活。不管這世上會有多少寒涼，依舊會有不一樣的煙火。遇山過山，遇雨撐傘，有橋橋渡，無橋自渡，淡若清風，含笑走過。人世喧囂，名利來往，放下浮躁，心靜自安。淡淡的歲月，淡淡的心。人生的味道，淡久生香，安之若素，人淡如菊。淡淡地做人，淡淡地生活，淡淡的日子，每天都散發著淡淡的芳香。在某種程度上來說，機甲就是駕駛者，駕駛者就是機甲。而光腦的運算能力，也足夠負擔機甲運行時所需要的全部運算。
但由於靈能的特質，導致機甲對駕駛者的精神強度要求較高。同時也出現了駕駛機甲的精神強度和精神契合度的問題。精神契合度是天生的，也是幾乎恆定的，契合度越高，那麼駕駛者與機甲的協調度也就越高。機甲的動作也更快更精準，更接近駕駛者使用自己肉.體的層次。世上最酸的感覺不是吃醋，而是無權吃醋。吃醋也要講名份，和他相愛的是另一個人，他的醋也就輪不到你吃，自有另一個人光明正大地吃醋。原來，吃不到的醋才是最酸的。最難過的，莫過於當你遇上一個特別的人，卻明白永遠不可能在一起，或遲或早，你不得不放棄。曾經以為，傷心是會流很多眼淚的，原來，真正的傷心，是流不出一滴眼淚。什麼事情都會過去，我們是這樣活過來的。
一切都像剛睡醒的樣子，欣欣然張開了眼。山朗潤起來了，水漲起來了，太陽的臉紅起來了。小草偷偷地從土裡鑽出來，嫩嫩的，綠綠的。園子裡，田野裡，瞧去，一大片一大片滿是的。坐著，躺著，打兩個滾，踢幾腳球，賽幾趟跑，捉幾回迷藏。風輕悄悄的，草軟綿綿的。桃樹、杏樹、梨樹，你不讓我，我不讓你，都開滿了花趕趟兒。紅的像火，粉的像霞，白的像雪。花裡帶著甜味兒；閉了眼，樹上仿佛已經滿是桃兒、杏兒、梨兒。花下成千成百的蜜蜂嗡嗡地鬧著，大小的蝴蝶飛來飛去。野花遍地是：雜樣兒，有名字的，沒名字的，散在草叢裡，像眼睛，像星星，還眨呀眨的。「吹面不寒楊柳風」，不錯的，像母親的手撫摸著你。風裡帶來些新翻的泥土的氣息，混著青草味兒，還有各種花的香，都在微微潤溼的空氣裡醞釀。鳥兒將巢安在繁花嫩葉當中，高興起來了，呼朋引伴地賣弄清脆的喉嚨，唱出宛轉的曲子，與輕風流水應和著。牛背上牧童的短笛，這時候也成天嘹亮地響著。雨是最尋常的，一下就是三兩天。可別惱。看，像牛毛，像花針，像細絲，密密地斜織著，人家屋頂上全籠著一層薄煙。樹葉兒卻綠得發亮，小草兒也青得逼你的眼。傍晚時候，上燈了，一點點黃暈的光，烘託出一片安靜而和平的夜。在鄉下，小路上，石橋邊，有撐起傘慢慢走著的人，地裡還有工作的農民，披著蓑戴著笠。他們的房屋，稀稀疏疏的在雨裡靜默著。天上風箏漸漸多了，地上孩子也多了。城裡鄉下，家家戶戶，老老小小，也趕趟兒似的，一個個都出來了。舒活舒活筋骨，抖擻抖擻精神，各做各的一份事去。「一年之計在於春」，剛起頭兒，有的是工夫，有的是希望。春天像剛落地的娃娃，從頭到腳都是新的，它生長著。春天像小姑娘，花枝招展的，笑著，走著。春天像健壯的青年，有鐵一般的胳膊和腰腳，領著我們上前去。精神強度到達一定程度後可以提高駕駛者與機甲的契合度1%—5%，但也僅止於此。 往日時光，有那麼一種情結，經年難解，有那麼一件事，想做卻沒有勇氣做，有那麼一個人，自己沒有篤定的意念追隨。歷歷種種，都成為今天時而感嘆的源由。然而，當機會擺在面前，依然會顧慮重重。當那個深戀過的人再次遇見，卻一樣沒有勇氣做什麼！滄海桑田的變幻，並不是一句：物是人非，可以解釋的了的！時過境遷的無奈，也不是一句：此情可待成追憶，能夠詮釋的心境！或許，留在光陰深處的，總是最珍貴，念念不忘的，總是最美好吧！我們時常在別人的故事裡，一遍遍溫習著自己曾經的心境，而所有有關年輕的記憶，都帶著迷人的醉意。茫茫大地的影子，似流光拉長的嘆息，路旁夭折的情意，灑淚，為祭。太多想做的事、想見的人，沒有固執到底，都丟在了舊年的風裡；記下那人最初的樣子，堅持著最真的自己。不言不語，將一扇往事的門，輕輕關上。人生中經過的每個人，或溫暖，或涼薄，都感恩於一場交集的緣分。留一抹綠意在心底，回眸，一個純粹的微笑，便是一朵盛大的春天。做個不算糊塗的人，明了一些善意的委婉，也會發現流動風景的美麗。時間是一切生命哲學的定理，羈絆與遺憾都將散落塵埃。從未預約的前程，永恆著心上的希望與光明。有生之年，不貪求事事皆如人意，不奢念所有想要的都得以圓滿，只希望，生命中的每分每秒，都不曾浪費便好。每一天醒來，做著自己該做且喜歡做的事，每一段空閒，陪著自己該陪且珍愛的人；拈花惹草的心情，侍奉一些愛好情趣，品茶捧書的雅致，供養心靈與思想，如此，便不辜負命運優渥相待的靜好時光。光陰舊，覆水難收，再回首，敬往事一杯酒，說好，永不回頭。向前走，穿過一段歲月的風煙迷霧，走到山清水秀……
聯合國糧農組織說，如果這個情況持續變糟，會有許多人死於饑荒。在拉丁美洲，約有8500萬名兒童依賴學校供餐。對其中1000萬名兒童來說，校餐是每天最為可靠的食品來源。在南非50%以上的兒童都處在極端貧困的生活裡，學校裡的兒童餐，是他們最寶貴奢侈的食物。
聯合國兒童基金會稱，預計六個月內，疫情將造成南亞再有1.2億名兒童陷入貧困。已經康復的患者，還在飽受身體上各種後遺症併發症的痛苦；而即便是僥倖逃過一劫的普通人，也仍然在疫情的陰影下艱難度日。即便中國進入了「動態清零新常態」，誰都不能保證自己所在的城市一定沒有散發病例，但是我們唯一能做的就是要快速地響應，精準地防控。
而在7月18日，新疆維吾爾族自治區新增新冠肺炎無症狀感染者12例，於是再次緊急封城。有些事，努力一把才知道成績，奮鬥一下才知道自己的潛能。花淡故雅，水淡故真，人淡故純。做人需淡，淡而久香。不爭、不諂、不豔、不俗。淡中真滋味，淡中有真香。心若無恙，奈我何其；人若不戀，奈你何傷。痛苦緣於比較，煩惱緣於心。淡定，故不傷；淡然，故不惱。欲望是壺裡沸騰的水，人心是杯子裡的茶，水因為火的熱量而沸騰，心因為杯體的清涼而不驚。當欲望遇涼，沉澱於心，便不煩，不惱。不要嘲笑他人的努力，不要輕視他人的成績。每個人的價值不同，無需對任何人不屑。在你眼中的無用價值，未必真的無用。不輕一人，不廢一物。活不是戰場，無需一較高下。人與人之間，多一份理解就會少一些誤會；心與心之間，多一份包容，就會少一些紛爭。不要以自己的眼光和認知去評論一個人，判斷一件事的對錯。不要苛求別人的觀點與你相同，不要期望別人能完全理解你，每個人都有自己的性格和觀點。人往往把自己看得過重才會患得患失，覺得別人必須理解自己。其實，人要看輕自己，少一些自我，多一些換位，才能心生快樂。所謂心有多大，快樂就有多少；包容越多，得到越多。而光腦，則是梅克斯博士在研究矩陣模擬系統程序的時候，意外發現靈能晶石的特異之處，不同於光電等任何物質和能量，靈能晶石蘊含的能源本質類似於精神這種虛無飄渺的東西。
命一場， 或喜或悲，都是一次洗禮，一次歲月的歷練；或濃或淡，都是一抹綻放，一抹美麗的風景。春風得意時，不必張揚驕傲， 淡定從容一些，沒有人能永遠一帆風順。一切得與失、隱與顯，無非風景與風情。淡看世事，靜對春花秋月，即使遭受別人的不看好和擠兌，不必辯解討好，雲淡風輕一笑，用時間來證明自己。何必追慕名車香宴，我只需清茶淡飯，愛相隨，情也真。該來的自然來，會走的留不住。不違心，不刻意，不必太在乎，放開執念，隨緣是最好的生活。不管這世上會有多少寒涼，依舊會有不一樣的煙火。遇山過山，遇雨撐傘，有橋橋渡，無橋自渡，淡若清風，含笑走過。人世喧囂，名利來往，放下浮躁，心靜自安。淡淡的歲月，淡淡的心。人生的味道，淡久生香，安之若素，人淡如菊。淡淡地做人，淡淡地生活，淡淡的日子，每天都散發著淡淡的芳香。在某種程度上來說，機甲就是駕駛者，駕駛者就是機甲。而光腦的運算能力，也足夠負擔機甲運行時所需要的全部運算。
但由於靈能的特質，導致機甲對駕駛者的精神強度要求較高。同時也出現了駕駛機甲的精神強度和精神契合度的問題。精神契合度是天生的，也是幾乎恆定的，契合度越高，那麼駕駛者與機甲的協調度也就越高。機甲的動作也更快更精準，更接近駕駛者使用自己肉.體的層次。世上最酸的感覺不是吃醋，而是無權吃醋。吃醋也要講名份，和他相愛的是另一個人，他的醋也就輪不到你吃，自有另一個人光明正大地吃醋。原來，吃不到的醋才是最酸的。最難過的，莫過於當你遇上一個特別的人，卻明白永遠不可能在一起，或遲或早，你不得不放棄。曾經以為，傷心是會流很多眼淚的，原來，真正的傷心，是流不出一滴眼淚。什麼事情都會過去，我們是這樣活過來的。
一切都像剛睡醒的樣子，欣欣然張開了眼。山朗潤起來了，水漲起來了，太陽的臉紅起來了。小草偷偷地從土裡鑽出來，嫩嫩的，綠綠的。園子裡，田野裡，瞧去，一大片一大片滿是的。坐著，躺著，打兩個滾，踢幾腳球，賽幾趟跑，捉幾回迷藏。風輕悄悄的，草軟綿綿的。桃樹、杏樹、梨樹，你不讓我，我不讓你，都開滿了花趕趟兒。紅的像火，粉的像霞，白的像雪。花裡帶著甜味兒；閉了眼，樹上仿佛已經滿是桃兒、杏兒、梨兒。花下成千成百的蜜蜂嗡嗡地鬧著，大小的蝴蝶飛來飛去。野花遍地是：雜樣兒，有名字的，沒名字的，散在草叢裡，像眼睛，像星星，還眨呀眨的。「吹面不寒楊柳風」，不錯的，像母親的手撫摸著你。風裡帶來些新翻的泥土的氣息，混著青草味兒，還有各種花的香，都在微微潤溼的空氣裡醞釀。鳥兒將巢安在繁花嫩葉當中，高興起來了，呼朋引伴地賣弄清脆的喉嚨，唱出宛轉的曲子，與輕風流水應和著。牛背上牧童的短笛，這時候也成天嘹亮地響著。雨是最尋常的，一下就是三兩天。可別惱。看，像牛毛，像花針，像細絲，密密地斜織著，人家屋頂上全籠著一層薄煙。樹葉兒卻綠得發亮，小草兒也青得逼你的眼。傍晚時候，上燈了，一點點黃暈的光，烘託出一片安靜而和平的夜。在鄉下，小路上，石橋邊，有撐起傘慢慢走著的人，地裡還有工作的農民，披著蓑戴著笠。他們的房屋，稀稀疏疏的在雨裡靜默著。天上風箏漸漸多了，地上孩子也多了。城裡鄉下，家家戶戶，老老小小，也趕趟兒似的，一個個都出來了。舒活舒活筋骨，抖擻抖擻精神，各做各的一份事去。「一年之計在於春」，剛起頭兒，有的是工夫，有的是希望。春天像剛落地的娃娃，從頭到腳都是新的，它生長著。春天像小姑娘，花枝招展的，笑著，走著。春天像健壯的青年，有鐵一般的胳膊和腰腳，領著我們上前去。精神強度到達一定程度後可以提高駕駛者與機甲的契合度1%—5%，但也僅止於此。 往日時光，有那麼一種情結，經年難解，有那麼一件事，想做卻沒有勇氣做，有那麼一個人，自己沒有篤定的意念追隨。歷歷種種，都成為今天時而感嘆的源由。然而，當機會擺在面前，依然會顧慮重重。當那個深戀過的人再次遇見，卻一樣沒有勇氣做什麼！滄海桑田的變幻，並不是一句：物是人非，可以解釋的了的！時過境遷的無奈，也不是一句：此情可待成追憶，能夠詮釋的心境！或許，留在光陰深處的，總是最珍貴，念念不忘的，總是最美好吧！我們時常在別人的故事裡，一遍遍溫習著自己曾經的心境，而所有有關年輕的記憶，都帶著迷人的醉意。茫茫大地的影子，似流光拉長的嘆息，路旁夭折的情意，灑淚，為祭。太多想做的事、想見的人，沒有固執到底，都丟在了舊年的風裡；記下那人最初的樣子，堅持著最真的自己。不言不語，將一扇往事的門，輕輕關上。人生中經過的每個人，或溫暖，或涼薄，都感恩於一場交集的緣分。留一抹綠意在心底，回眸，一個純粹的微笑，便是一朵盛大的春天。做個不算糊塗的人，明了一些善意的委婉，也會發現流動風景的美麗。時間是一切生命哲學的定理，羈絆與遺憾都將散落塵埃。從未預約的前程，永恆著心上的希望與光明。有生之年，不貪求事事皆如人意，不奢念所有想要的都得以圓滿，只希望，生命中的每分每秒，都不曾浪費便好。每一天醒來，做著自己該做且喜歡做的事，每一段空閒，陪著自己該陪且珍愛的人；拈花惹草的心情，侍奉一些愛好情趣，品茶捧書的雅致，供養心靈與思想，如此，便不辜負命運優渥相待的靜好時光。光陰舊，覆水難收，再回首，敬往事一杯酒，說好，永不回頭。向前走，穿過一段歲月的風煙迷霧，走到山清水秀……
即便中國現在已經進入平穩期，可仍然有可能因為防疫不力而再次捲土重來。如今，新冠累計死亡人數已經超過66萬，全球確診人數超過1695萬，而它最終會讓人類走向何方，我們還不得而知。
勇敢的往前走，只要活著，相信我們終究會贏下這一仗。When Paul Jobs was mustered out of the Coast Guard after World War II, he made a wager with his crewmates. They had arrived in San Francisco, where their ship was decommissioned, and Paul bet that he would find himself a wife within two weeks. He was a taut, tattooed engine mechanic, six feet tall, with a passing resemblance to James Dean. But it wasn’t his looks that got him a date with Clara Hagopian, a sweet-humored daughter of Armenian immigrants. It was the fact that he and his friends had a car, unlike the group she had originally planned to go out with that evening. Ten days later, in March 1946, Paul got engaged to Clara and won his wager. It would turn out to be a happy marriage, one that lasted until death parted them more than forty years later. Paul Reinhold Jobs had been raised on a dairy farm in Germantown, Wisconsin. Even though his father was an alcoholic and sometimes abusive, Paul ended up with a gentle and calm disposition under his leathery exterior. After dropping out of high school, he wandered through the Midwest picking up work as a mechanic until, at age nineteen, he joined the Coast Guard, even though he didn’t know how to swim. He was deployed on the USS General M. C. Meigs and spent much of the war ferrying troops to Italy for General Patton. His talent as a machinist and fireman earned him commendations, but he occasionally found himself in minor trouble and never rose above the rank of seaman. Clara was born in New Jersey, where her parents had landed after fleeing the Turks in Armenia, and they moved to the Mission District of San Francisco when she was a child. She had a secret that she rarely mentioned to anyone: She had been married before, but her husband had been killed in the war. So when she met Paul Jobs on that first date, she was primed to start a new life. Like many who lived through the war, they had experienced enough excitement that, when it was over, they desired simply to settle down, raise a family, and lead a less eventful life. They had little money, so they moved to Wisconsin and lived with Paul’s parents for a few years, then headed for Indiana, where he got a job as a machinist for International Harvester. His passion was tinkering with old cars, and he made money in his spare time buying, restoring, and selling them. Eventually he quit his day job to become a full-time used car salesman. Clara, however, loved San Francisco, and in 1952 she convinced her husband to move back there. They got an apartment in the Sunset District facing the Pacific, just south of Golden Gate Park, and he took a job working for a finance company as a 「repo man,」 picking the locks of cars whose owners hadn’t paid their loans and repossessing them. He also bought, repaired, and sold some of the cars, making a decent enough living in the process. There was, however, something missing in their lives. They wanted children, but Clara had suffered an ectopic pregnancy, in which the fertilized egg was implanted in a fallopian tube rather than the uterus, and she had been unable to have any. So by 1955, after nine years of marriage, they were looking to adopt a child. Like Paul Jobs, Joanne Schieble was from a rural Wisconsin family of German heritage. Her father, Arthur Schieble, had immigrated to the outskirts of Green Bay, where he and his wife owned a mink farm and dabbled successfully in various other businesses, including real estate and photoengraving. He was very strict, especially regarding his daughter’s relationships, and he had strongly disapproved of her first love, an artist who was not a Catholic. Thus it was no surprise that he threatened to cut Joanne off completely when, as a graduate student at the University of Wisconsin, she fell in love with Abdulfattah 「John」 Jandali, a Muslim teaching assistant from Syria. Jandali was the youngest of nine children in a prominent Syrian family. His father owned oil refineries and multiple other businesses, with large holdings in Damascus and Homs, and at one point pretty much controlled the price of wheat in the region. His mother, he later said, was a 「traditional Muslim woman」 who was a 「conservative, obedient housewife.」 Like the Schieble family, the Jandalis put a premium on education. Abdulfattah was sent to a Jesuit boarding school, even though he was Muslim, and he got an undergraduate degree at the American University in Beirut before entering the University of Wisconsin to pursue a doctoral degree in political science. In the summer of 1954, Joanne went with Abdulfattah to Syria. They spent two months in Homs, where she learned from his family to cook Syrian dishes. When they returned to Wisconsin she discovered that she was pregnant. They were both twenty-three, but they decided not to get married. Her father was dying at the time, and he had threatened to disown her if she wed Abdulfattah. Nor was abortion an easy option in a small Catholic community. So in early 1955, Joanne traveled to San Francisco, where she was taken into the care of a kindly doctor who sheltered unwed mothers, delivered their babies, and quietly arranged closed adoptions. Joanne had one requirement: Her child must be adopted by college graduates. So the doctor arranged for the baby to be placed with a lawyer and his wife. But when a boy was born—on February 24, 1955—the designated couple decided that they wanted a girl and backed out. Thus it was that the boy became the son not of a lawyer but of a high school dropout with a passion for mechanics and his salt-of-the-earth wife who was working as a bookkeeper. Paul and Clara named their new baby Steven Paul Jobs. When Joanne found out that her baby had been placed with a couple who had not even graduated from high school, she refused to sign the adoption papers. The standoff lasted weeks, even after the baby had settled into the Jobs household. Eventually Joanne relented, with the stipulation that the couple promise—indeed sign a pledge—to fund a savings account to pay for the boy’s college education. There was another reason that Joanne was balky about signing the adoption papers. Her father was about to die, and she planned to marry Jandali soon after. She held out hope, she would later tell family members, sometimes tearing up at the memory, that once they were married, she could get their baby boy back. Arthur Schieble died in August 1955, after the adoption was finalized. Just after Christmas that year, Joanne and Abdulfattah were married in St. Philip the Apostle Catholic Church in Green Bay. He got his PhD in international politics the next year, and then they had another child, a girl named Mona. After she and Jandali divorced in 1962, Joanne embarked on a dreamy and peripatetic life that her daughter, who grew up to become the acclaimed novelist Mona Simpson, would capture in her book Anywhere but Here. Because Steve’s adoption had been closed, it would be twenty years before they would all find each other. Steve Jobs knew from an early age that he was adopted. 「My parents were very open with me about that,」 he recalled. He had a vivid memory of sitting on the lawn of his house, when he was six or seven years old, telling the girl who lived across the street. 「So does that mean your real parents didn’t want you?」 the girl asked. 「Lightning bolts went off in my head,」 according to Jobs. 「I remember running into the house, crying. And my parents said, 『No, you have to understand.』 They were very serious and looked me straight in the eye. They said, 『We specifically picked you out.』 Both of my parents said that and repeated it slowly for me. And they put an emphasis on every word in that sentence.」 Abandoned. Chosen. Special. Those concepts became part of who Jobs was and how he regarded himself. His closest friends think that the knowledge that he was given up at birth left some scars. 「I think his desire for complete control of whatever he makes derives directly from his personality and the fact that he was abandoned at birth,」 said one longtime colleague, Del Yocam. 「He wants to control his environment, and he sees the product as an extension of himself.」 Greg Calhoun, who became close to Jobs right after college, saw another effect. 「Steve talked to me a lot about being abandoned and the pain that caused,」 he said. 「It made him independent. He followed the beat of a different drummer, and that came from being in a different world than he was born into.」 Later in life, when he was the same age his biological father had been when he abandoned him, Jobs would father and abandon a child of his own. (He eventually took responsibility for her.) Chrisann Brennan, the mother of that child, said that being put up for adoption left Jobs 「full of broken glass,」 and it helps to explain some of his behavior. 「He who is abandoned is an abandoner,」 she said. Andy Hertzfeld, who worked with Jobs at Apple in the early 1980s, is among the few who remained close to both Brennan and Jobs. 「The key question about Steve is why he can’t control himself at times from being so reflexively cruel and harmful to some people,」 he said. 「That goes back to being abandoned at birth. The real underlying problem was the theme of abandonment in Steve’s life.」 Jobs dismissed this. 「There’s some notion that because I was abandoned, I worked very hard so I could do well and make my parents wish they had me back, or some such nonsense, but that’s ridiculous,」 he insisted. 「Knowing I was adopted may have made me feel more independent, but I have never felt abandoned. I』ve always felt special. My parents made me feel special.」 He would later bristle whenever anyone referred to Paul and Clara Jobs as his 「adoptive」 parents or implied that they were not his 「real」 parents. 「They were my parents 1,000%,」 he said. When speaking about his biological parents, on the other hand, he was curt: 「They were my sperm and egg bank. That’s not harsh, it’s just the way it was, a sperm bank thing, nothing more.」 Silicon Valley The childhood that Paul and Clara Jobs created for their new son was, in many ways, a stereotype of the late 1950s. When Steve was two they adopted a girl they named Patty, and three years later they moved to a tract house in the suburbs. The finance company where Paul worked as a repo man, CIT, had transferred him down to its Palo Alto office, but he could not afford to live there, so they landed in a subdivision in Mountain View, a less expensive town just to the south. There Paul tried to pass along his love of mechanics and cars. 「Steve, this is your workbench now,」 he said as he marked off a section of the table in their garage. Jobs remembered being impressed by his father’s focus on craftsmanship. 「I thought my dad’s sense of design was pretty good,」 he said, 「because he knew how to build anything. If we needed a cabinet, he would build it. When he built our fence, he gave me a hammer so I could work with him.」 Fifty years later the fence still surrounds the back and side yards of the house in Mountain View. As Jobs showed it off to me, he caressed the stockade panels and recalled a lesson that his father implanted deeply in him. It was important, his father said, to craft the backs of cabinets and fences properly, even though they were hidden. 「He loved doing things right. He even cared about the look of the parts you couldn’t see.」 His father continued to refurbish and resell used cars, and he festooned the garage with pictures of his favorites. He would point out the detailing of the design to his son: the lines, the vents, the chrome, the trim of the seats. After work each day, he would change into his dungarees and retreat to the garage, often with Steve tagging along. 「I figured I could get him nailed down with a little mechanical ability, but he really wasn’t interested in getting his hands dirty,」 Paul later recalled. 「He never really cared too much about mechanical things.」 「I wasn’t that into fixing cars,」 Jobs admitted. 「But I was eager to hang out with my dad.」 Even as he was growing more aware that he had been adopted, he was becoming more attached to his father. One day when he was about eight, he discovered a photograph of his father from his time in the Coast Guard. 「He’s in the engine room, and he’s got his shirt off and looks like James Dean. It was one of those Oh wow moments for a kid. Wow, oooh, my parents were actually once very young and really good-looking.」 Through cars, his father gave Steve his first exposure to electronics. 「My dad did not have a deep understanding of electronics, but he』d encountered it a lot in automobiles and other things he would fix. He showed me the rudiments of electronics, and I got very interested in that.」 Even more interesting were the trips to scavenge for parts. 「Every weekend, there』d be a junkyard trip. We』d be looking for a generator, a carburetor, all sorts of components.」 He remembered watching his father negotiate at the counter. 「He was a good bargainer, because he knew better than the guys at the counter what the parts should cost.」 This helped fulfill the pledge his parents made when he was adopted. 「My college fund came from my dad paying $50 for a Ford Falcon or some other beat-up car that didn’t run, working on it for a few weeks, and selling it for $250—and not telling the IRS.」 The Jobses』 house and the others in their neighborhood were built by the real estate developer Joseph Eichler, whose company spawned more than eleven thousand homes in various California subdivisions between 1950 and 1974. Inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright’s vision of simple modern homes for the American 「everyman,」 Eichler built inexpensive houses that featured floor-to-ceiling glass walls, open floor plans, exposed post-and-beam construction, concrete slab floors, and lots of sliding glass doors. 「Eichler did a great thing,」 Jobs said on one of our walks around the neighborhood. 「His houses were smart and cheap and good. They brought clean design and simple taste to lower-income people. They had awesome little features, like radiant heating in the floors. You put carpet on them, and we had nice toasty floors when we were kids.」 Jobs said that his appreciation for Eichler homes instilled in him a passion for making nicely designed products for the mass market. 「I love it when you can bring really great design and simple capability to something that doesn’t cost much,」 he said as he pointed out the clean elegance of the houses. 「It was the original vision for Apple. That’s what we tried to do with the first Mac. That’s what we did with the iPod.」 Across the street from the Jobs family lived a man who had become successful as a real estate agent. 「He wasn’t that bright,」 Jobs recalled, 「but he seemed to be making a fortune. So my dad thought, 『I can do that.』 He worked so hard, I remember. He took these night classes, passed the license test, and got into real estate. Then the bottom fell out of the market.」 As a result, the family found itself financially strapped for a year or so while Steve was in elementary school. His mother took a job as a bookkeeper for Varian Associates, a company that made scientific instruments, and they took out a second mortgage. One day his fourth-grade teacher asked him, 「What is it you don’t understand about the universe?」 Jobs replied, 「I don’t understand why all of a sudden my dad is so broke.」 He was proud that his father never adopted a servile attitude or slick style that may have made him a better salesman. 「You had to suck up to people to sell real estate, and he wasn’t good at that and it wasn’t in his nature. I admired him for that.」 Paul Jobs went back to being a mechanic. His father was calm and gentle, traits that his son later praised more than emulated. He was also resolute. Jobs described one example: Nearby was an engineer who was working at Westinghouse. He was a single guy, beatnik type. He had a girlfriend. She would babysit me sometimes. Both my parents worked, so I would come here right after school for a couple of hours. He would get drunk and hit her a couple of times. She came over one night, scared out of her wits, and he came over drunk, and my dad stood him down—saying 「She’s here, but you’re not coming in.」 He stood right there. We like to think everything was idyllic in the 1950s, but this guy was one of those engineers who had messed-up lives. What made the neighborhood different from the thousands of other spindly-tree subdivisions across America was that even the ne』er-do-wells tended to be engineers. 「When we moved here, there were apricot and plum orchards on all of these corners,」 Jobs recalled. 「But it was beginning to boom because of military investment.」 He soaked up the history of the valley and developed a yearning to play his own role. Edwin Land of Polaroid later told him about being asked by Eisenhower to help build the U-2 spy plane cameras to see how real the Soviet threat was. The film was dropped in canisters and returned to the NASA Ames Research Center in Sunnyvale, not far from where Jobs lived. 「The first computer terminal I ever saw was when my dad brought me to the Ames Center,」 he said. 「I fell totally in love with it.」 Other defense contractors sprouted nearby during the 1950s. The Lockheed Missiles and Space Division, which built submarine-launched ballistic missiles, was founded in 1956 next to the NASA Center; by the time Jobs moved to the area four years later, it employed twenty thousand people. A few hundred yards away, Westinghouse built facilities that produced tubes and electrical transformers for the missile systems. 「You had all these military companies on the cutting edge,」 he recalled. 「It was mysterious and high-tech and made living here very exciting.」 In the wake of the defense industries there arose a booming economy based on technology. Its roots stretched back to 1938, when David Packard and his new wife moved into a house in Palo Alto that had a shed where his friend Bill Hewlett was soon ensconced. The house had a garage—an appendage that would prove both useful and iconic in the valley—in which they tinkered around until they had their first product, an audio oscillator. By the 1950s, Hewlett-Packard was a fast-growing company making technical instruments. Fortunately there was a place nearby for entrepreneurs who had outgrown their garages. In a move that would help transform the area into the cradle of the tech revolution, Stanford University’s dean of engineering, Frederick Terman, created a seven-hundred-acre industrial park on university land for private companies that could commercialize the ideas of his students. Its first tenant was Varian Associates, where Clara Jobs worked. 「Terman came up with this great idea that did more than anything to cause the tech industry to grow up here,」 Jobs said. By the time Jobs was ten, HP had nine thousand employees and was the blue-chip company where every engineer seeking financial stability wanted to work. The most important technology for the region’s growth was, of course, the semiconductor. William Shockley, who had been one of the inventors of the transistor at Bell Labs in New Jersey, moved out to Mountain View and, in 1956, started a company to build transistors using silicon rather than the more expensive germanium that was then commonly used. But Shockley became increasingly erratic and abandoned his silicon transistor project, which led eight of his engineers—most notably Robert Noyce and Gordon Moore—to break away to form Fairchild Semiconductor. That company grew to twelve thousand employees, but it fragmented in 1968, when Noyce lost a power struggle to become CEO. He took Gordon Moore and founded a company that they called Integrated Electronics Corporation, which they soon smartly abbreviated to Intel. Their third employee was Andrew Grove, who later would grow the company by shifting its focus from memory chips to microprocessors. Within a few years there would be more than fifty companies in the area making semiconductors. The exponential growth of this industry was correlated with the phenomenon famously discovered by Moore, who in 1965 drew a graph of the speed of integrated circuits, based on the number of transistors that could be placed on a chip, and showed that it doubled about every two years, a trajectory that could be expected to continue. This was reaffirmed in 1971, when Intel was able to etch a complete central processing unit onto one chip, the Intel 4004, which was dubbed a 「microprocessor.」 Moore’s Law has held generally true to this day, and its reliable projection of performance to price allowed two generations of young entrepreneurs, including Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, to create cost projections for their forward-leaning products. The chip industry gave the region a new name when Don Hoefler, a columnist for the weekly trade paper Electronic News, began a series in January 1971 entitled 「Silicon Valley USA.」 The forty-mile Santa Clara Valley, which stretches from South San Francisco through Palo Alto to San Jose, has as its commercial backbone El Camino Real, the royal road that once connected California’s twenty-one mission churches and is now a bustling avenue that connects companies and startups accounting for a third of the venture capital investment in the United States each year. 「Growing up, I got inspired by the history of the place,」 Jobs said. 「That made me want to be a part of it.」 Like most kids, he became infused with the passions of the grown-ups around him. 「Most of the dads in the neighborhood did really neat stuff, like photovoltaics and batteries and radar,」 Jobs recalled. 「I grew up in awe of that stuff and asking people about it.」 The most important of these neighbors, Larry Lang, lived seven doors away. 「He was my model of what an HP engineer was supposed to be: a big ham radio operator, hard-core electronics guy,」 Jobs recalled. 「He would bring me stuff to play with.」 As we walked up to Lang’s old house, Jobs pointed to the driveway. 「He took a carbon microphone and a battery and a speaker, and he put it on this driveway. He had me talk into the carbon mike and it amplified out of the speaker.」 Jobs had been taught by his father that microphones always required an electronic amplifier. 「So I raced home, and I told my dad that he was wrong.」 「No, it needs an amplifier,」 his father assured him. When Steve protested otherwise, his father said he was crazy. 「It can’t work without an amplifier. There’s some trick.」 「I kept saying no to my dad, telling him he had to see it, and finally he actually walked down with me and saw it. And he said, 『Well I』ll be a bat out of hell.』」 Jobs recalled the incident vividly because it was his first realization that his father did not know everything. Then a more disconcerting discovery began to dawn on him: He was smarter than his parents. He had always admired his father’s competence and savvy. 「He was not an educated man, but I had always thought he was pretty damn smart. He didn’t read much, but he could do a lot. Almost everything mechanical, he could figure it out.」 Yet the carbon microphone incident, Jobs said, began a jarring process of realizing that he was in fact more clever and quick than his parents. 「It was a very big moment that’s burned into my mind. When I realized that I was smarter than my parents, I felt tremendous shame for having thought that. I will never forget that moment.」 This discovery, he later told friends, along with the fact that he was adopted, made him feel apart—detached and separate—from both his family and the world. Another layer of awareness occurred soon after. Not only did he discover that he was brighter than his parents, but he discovered that they knew this. Paul and Clara Jobs were loving parents, and they were willing to adapt their lives to suit a son who was very smart—and also willful. They would go to great lengths to accommodate him. And soon Steve discovered this fact as well. 「Both my parents got me. They felt a lot of responsibility once they sensed that I was special. They found ways to keep feeding me stuff and putting me in better schools. They were willing to defer to my needs.」 So he grew up not only with a sense of having once been abandoned, but also with a sense that he was special. In his own mind, that was more important in the formation of his personality. School Even before Jobs started elementary school, his mother had taught him how to read. This, however, led to some problems once he got to school. 「I was kind of bored for the first few years
When Paul Jobs was mustered out of the Coast Guard after World War II, he made a wager with his crewmates. They had arrived in San Francisco, where their ship was decommissioned, and Paul bet that he would find himself a wife within two weeks. He was a taut, tattooed engine mechanic, six feet tall, with a passing resemblance to James Dean. But it wasn’t his looks that got him a date with Clara Hagopian, a sweet-humored daughter of Armenian immigrants. It was the fact that he and his friends had a car, unlike the group she had originally planned to go out with that evening. Ten days later, in March 1946, Paul got engaged to Clara and won his wager. It would turn out to be a happy marriage, one that lasted until death parted them more than forty years later. Paul Reinhold Jobs had been raised on a dairy farm in Germantown, Wisconsin. Even though his father was an alcoholic and sometimes abusive, Paul ended up with a gentle and calm disposition under his leathery exterior. After dropping out of high school, he wandered through the Midwest picking up work as a mechanic until, at age nineteen, he joined the Coast Guard, even though he didn’t know how to swim. He was deployed on the USS General M. C. Meigs and spent much of the war ferrying troops to Italy for General Patton. His talent as a machinist and fireman earned him commendations, but he occasionally found himself in minor trouble and never rose above the rank of seaman. Clara was born in New Jersey, where her parents had landed after fleeing the Turks in Armenia, and they moved to the Mission District of San Francisco when she was a child. She had a secret that she rarely mentioned to anyone: She had been married before, but her husband had been killed in the war. So when she met Paul Jobs on that first date, she was primed to start a new life. Like many who lived through the war, they had experienced enough excitement that, when it was over, they desired simply to settle down, raise a family, and lead a less eventful life. They had little money, so they moved to Wisconsin and lived with Paul’s parents for a few years, then headed for Indiana, where he got a job as a machinist for International Harvester. His passion was tinkering with old cars, and he made money in his spare time buying, restoring, and selling them. Eventually he quit his day job to become a full-time used car salesman. Clara, however, loved San Francisco, and in 1952 she convinced her husband to move back there. They got an apartment in the Sunset District facing the Pacific, just south of Golden Gate Park, and he took a job working for a finance company as a 「repo man,」 picking the locks of cars whose owners hadn’t paid their loans and repossessing them. He also bought, repaired, and sold some of the cars, making a decent enough living in the process. There was, however, something missing in their lives. They wanted children, but Clara had suffered an ectopic pregnancy, in which the fertilized egg was implanted in a fallopian tube rather than the uterus, and she had been unable to have any. So by 1955, after nine years of marriage, they were looking to adopt a child. Like Paul Jobs, Joanne Schieble was from a rural Wisconsin family of German heritage. Her father, Arthur Schieble, had immigrated to the outskirts of Green Bay, where he and his wife owned a mink farm and dabbled successfully in various other businesses, including real estate and photoengraving. He was very strict, especially regarding his daughter’s relationships, and he had strongly disapproved of her first love, an artist who was not a Catholic. Thus it was no surprise that he threatened to cut Joanne off completely when, as a graduate student at the University of Wisconsin, she fell in love with Abdulfattah 「John」 Jandali, a Muslim teaching assistant from Syria. Jandali was the youngest of nine children in a prominent Syrian family. His father owned oil refineries and multiple other businesses, with large holdings in Damascus and Homs, and at one point pretty much controlled the price of wheat in the region. His mother, he later said, was a 「traditional Muslim woman」 who was a 「conservative, obedient housewife.」 Like the Schieble family, the Jandalis put a premium on education. Abdulfattah was sent to a Jesuit boarding school, even though he was Muslim, and he got an undergraduate degree at the American University in Beirut before entering the University of Wisconsin to pursue a doctoral degree in political science. In the summer of 1954, Joanne went with Abdulfattah to Syria. They spent two months in Homs, where she learned from his family to cook Syrian dishes. When they returned to Wisconsin she discovered that she was pregnant. They were both twenty-three, but they decided not to get married. Her father was dying at the time, and he had threatened to disown her if she wed Abdulfattah. Nor was abortion an easy option in a small Catholic community. So in early 1955, Joanne traveled to San Francisco, where she was taken into the care of a kindly doctor who sheltered unwed mothers, delivered their babies, and quietly arranged closed adoptions. Joanne had one requirement: Her child must be adopted by college graduates. So the doctor arranged for the baby to be placed with a lawyer and his wife. But when a boy was born—on February 24, 1955—the designated couple decided that they wanted a girl and backed out. Thus it was that the boy became the son not of a lawyer but of a high school dropout with a passion for mechanics and his salt-of-the-earth wife who was working as a bookkeeper. Paul and Clara named their new baby Steven Paul Jobs. When Joanne found out that her baby had been placed with a couple who had not even graduated from high school, she refused to sign the adoption papers. The standoff lasted weeks, even after the baby had settled into the Jobs household. Eventually Joanne relented, with the stipulation that the couple promise—indeed sign a pledge—to fund a savings account to pay for the boy’s college education. There was another reason that Joanne was balky about signing the adoption papers. Her father was about to die, and she planned to marry Jandali soon after. She held out hope, she would later tell family members, sometimes tearing up at the memory, that once they were married, she could get their baby boy back. Arthur Schieble died in August 1955, after the adoption was finalized. Just after Christmas that year, Joanne and Abdulfattah were married in St. Philip the Apostle Catholic Church in Green Bay. He got his PhD in international politics the next year, and then they had another child, a girl named Mona. After she and Jandali divorced in 1962, Joanne embarked on a dreamy and peripatetic life that her daughter, who grew up to become the acclaimed novelist Mona Simpson, would capture in her book Anywhere but Here. Because Steve’s adoption had been closed, it would be twenty years before they would all find each other. Steve Jobs knew from an early age that he was adopted. 「My parents were very open with me about that,」 he recalled. He had a vivid memory of sitting on the lawn of his house, when he was six or seven years old, telling the girl who lived across the street. 「So does that mean your real parents didn’t want you?」 the girl asked. 「Lightning bolts went off in my head,」 according to Jobs. 「I remember running into the house, crying. And my parents said, 『No, you have to understand.』 They were very serious and looked me straight in the eye. They said, 『We specifically picked you out.』 Both of my parents said that and repeated it slowly for me. And they put an emphasis on every word in that sentence.」 Abandoned. Chosen. Special. Those concepts became part of who Jobs was and how he regarded himself. His closest friends think that the knowledge that he was given up at birth left some scars. 「I think his desire for complete control of whatever he makes derives directly from his personality and the fact that he was abandoned at birth,」 said one longtime colleague, Del Yocam. 「He wants to control his environment, and he sees the product as an extension of himself.」 Greg Calhoun, who became close to Jobs right after college, saw another effect. 「Steve talked to me a lot about being abandoned and the pain that caused,」 he said. 「It made him independent. He followed the beat of a different drummer, and that came from being in a different world than he was born into.」 Later in life, when he was the same age his biological father had been when he abandoned him, Jobs would father and abandon a child of his own. (He eventually took responsibility for her.) Chrisann Brennan, the mother of that child, said that being put up for adoption left Jobs 「full of broken glass,」 and it helps to explain some of his behavior. 「He who is abandoned is an abandoner,」 she said. Andy Hertzfeld, who worked with Jobs at Apple in the early 1980s, is among the few who remained close to both Brennan and Jobs. 「The key question about Steve is why he can’t control himself at times from being so reflexively cruel and harmful to some people,」 he said. 「That goes back to being abandoned at birth. The real underlying problem was the theme of abandonment in Steve’s life.」 Jobs dismissed this. 「There’s some notion that because I was abandoned, I worked very hard so I could do well and make my parents wish they had me back, or some such nonsense, but that’s ridiculous,」 he insisted. 「Knowing I was adopted may have made me feel more independent, but I have never felt abandoned. I』ve always felt special. My parents made me feel special.」 He would later bristle whenever anyone referred to Paul and Clara Jobs as his 「adoptive」 parents or implied that they were not his 「real」 parents. 「They were my parents 1,000%,」 he said. When speaking about his biological parents, on the other hand, he was curt: 「They were my sperm and egg bank. That’s not harsh, it’s just the way it was, a sperm bank thing, nothing more.」 Silicon Valley The childhood that Paul and Clara Jobs created for their new son was, in many ways, a stereotype of the late 1950s. When Steve was two they adopted a girl they named Patty, and three years later they moved to a tract house in the suburbs. The finance company where Paul worked as a repo man, CIT, had transferred him down to its Palo Alto office, but he could not afford to live there, so they landed in a subdivision in Mountain View, a less expensive town just to the south. There Paul tried to pass along his love of mechanics and cars. 「Steve, this is your workbench now,」 he said as he marked off a section of the table in their garage. Jobs remembered being impressed by his father’s focus on craftsmanship. 「I thought my dad’s sense of design was pretty good,」 he said, 「because he knew how to build anything. If we needed a cabinet, he would build it. When he built our fence, he gave me a hammer so I could work with him.」 Fifty years later the fence still surrounds the back and side yards of the house in Mountain View. As Jobs showed it off to me, he caressed the stockade panels and recalled a lesson that his father implanted deeply in him. It was important, his father said, to craft the backs of cabinets and fences properly, even though they were hidden. 「He loved doing things right. He even cared about the look of the parts you couldn’t see.」 His father continued to refurbish and resell used cars, and he festooned the garage with pictures of his favorites. He would point out the detailing of the design to his son: the lines, the vents, the chrome, the trim of the seats. After work each day, he would change into his dungarees and retreat to the garage, often with Steve tagging along. 「I figured I could get him nailed down with a little mechanical ability, but he really wasn’t interested in getting his hands dirty,」 Paul later recalled. 「He never really cared too much about mechanical things.」 「I wasn’t that into fixing cars,」 Jobs admitted. 「But I was eager to hang out with my dad.」 Even as he was growing more aware that he had been adopted, he was becoming more attached to his father. One day when he was about eight, he discovered a photograph of his father from his time in the Coast Guard. 「He’s in the engine room, and he’s got his shirt off and looks like James Dean. It was one of those Oh wow moments for a kid. Wow, oooh, my parents were actually once very young and really good-looking.」 Through cars, his father gave Steve his first exposure to electronics. 「My dad did not have a deep understanding of electronics, but he』d encountered it a lot in automobiles and other things he would fix. He showed me the rudiments of electronics, and I got very interested in that.」 Even more interesting were the trips to scavenge for parts. 「Every weekend, there』d be a junkyard trip. We』d be looking for a generator, a carburetor, all sorts of components.」 He remembered watching his father negotiate at the counter. 「He was a good bargainer, because he knew better than the guys at the counter what the parts should cost.」 This helped fulfill the pledge his parents made when he was adopted. 「My college fund came from my dad paying $50 for a Ford Falcon or some other beat-up car that didn’t run, working on it for a few weeks, and selling it for $250—and not telling the IRS.」 The Jobses』 house and the others in their neighborhood were built by the real estate developer Joseph Eichler, whose company spawned more than eleven thousand homes in various California subdivisions between 1950 and 1974. Inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright’s vision of simple modern homes for the American 「everyman,」 Eichler built inexpensive houses that featured floor-to-ceiling glass walls, open floor plans, exposed post-and-beam construction, concrete slab floors, and lots of sliding glass doors. 「Eichler did a great thing,」 Jobs said on one of our walks around the neighborhood. 「His houses were smart and cheap and good. They brought clean design and simple taste to lower-income people. They had awesome little features, like radiant heating in the floors. You put carpet on them, and we had nice toasty floors when we were kids.」 Jobs said that his appreciation for Eichler homes instilled in him a passion for making nicely designed products for the mass market. 「I love it when you can bring really great design and simple capability to something that doesn’t cost much,」 he said as he pointed out the clean elegance of the houses. 「It was the original vision for Apple. That’s what we tried to do with the first Mac. That’s what we did with the iPod.」 Across the street from the Jobs family lived a man who had become successful as a real estate agent. 「He wasn’t that bright,」 Jobs recalled, 「but he seemed to be making a fortune. So my dad thought, 『I can do that.』 He worked so hard, I remember. He took these night classes, passed the license test, and got into real estate. Then the bottom fell out of the market.」 As a result, the family found itself financially strapped for a year or so while Steve was in elementary school. His mother took a job as a bookkeeper for Varian Associates, a company that made scientific instruments, and they took out a second mortgage. One day his fourth-grade teacher asked him, 「What is it you don’t understand about the universe?」 Jobs replied, 「I don’t understand why all of a sudden my dad is so broke.」 He was proud that his father never adopted a servile attitude or slick style that may have made him a better salesman. 「You had to suck up to people to sell real estate, and he wasn’t good at that and it wasn’t in his nature. I admired him for that.」 Paul Jobs went back to being a mechanic. His father was calm and gentle, traits that his son later praised more than emulated. He was also resolute. Jobs described one example: Nearby was an engineer who was working at Westinghouse. He was a single guy, beatnik type. He had a girlfriend. She would babysit me sometimes. Both my parents worked, so I would come here right after school for a couple of hours. He would get drunk and hit her a couple of times. She came over one night, scared out of her wits, and he came over drunk, and my dad stood him down—saying 「She’s here, but you’re not coming in.」 He stood right there. We like to think everything was idyllic in the 1950s, but this guy was one of those engineers who had messed-up lives. What made the neighborhood different from the thousands of other spindly-tree subdivisions across America was that even the ne』er-do-wells tended to be engineers. 「When we moved here, there were apricot and plum orchards on all of these corners,」 Jobs recalled. 「But it was beginning to boom because of military investment.」 He soaked up the history of the valley and developed a yearning to play his own role. Edwin Land of Polaroid later told him about being asked by Eisenhower to help build the U-2 spy plane cameras to see how real the Soviet threat was. The film was dropped in canisters and returned to the NASA Ames Research Center in Sunnyvale, not far from where Jobs lived. 「The first computer terminal I ever saw was when my dad brought me to the Ames Center,」 he said. 「I fell totally in love with it.」 Other defense contractors sprouted nearby during the 1950s. The Lockheed Missiles and Space Division, which built submarine-launched ballistic missiles, was founded in 1956 next to the NASA Center; by the time Jobs moved to the area four years later, it employed twenty thousand people. A few hundred yards away, Westinghouse built facilities that produced tubes and electrical transformers for the missile systems. 「You had all these military companies on the cutting edge,」 he recalled. 「It was mysterious and high-tech and made living here very exciting.」 In the wake of the defense industries there arose a booming economy based on technology. Its roots stretched back to 1938, when David Packard and his new wife moved into a house in Palo Alto that had a shed where his friend Bill Hewlett was soon ensconced. The house had a garage—an appendage that would prove both useful and iconic in the valley—in which they tinkered around until they had their first product, an audio oscillator. By the 1950s, Hewlett-Packard was a fast-growing company making technical instruments. Fortunately there was a place nearby for entrepreneurs who had outgrown their garages. In a move that would help transform the area into the cradle of the tech revolution, Stanford University’s dean of engineering, Frederick Terman, created a seven-hundred-acre industrial park on university land for private companies that could commercialize the ideas of his students. Its first tenant was Varian Associates, where Clara Jobs worked. 「Terman came up with this great idea that did more than anything to cause the tech industry to grow up here,」 Jobs said. By the time Jobs was ten, HP had nine thousand employees and was the blue-chip company where every engineer seeking financial stability wanted to work. The most important technology for the region’s growth was, of course, the semiconductor. William Shockley, who had been one of the inventors of the transistor at Bell Labs in New Jersey, moved out to Mountain View and, in 1956, started a company to build transistors using silicon rather than the more expensive germanium that was then commonly used. But Shockley became increasingly erratic and abandoned his silicon transistor project, which led eight of his engineers—most notably Robert Noyce and Gordon Moore—to break away to form Fairchild Semiconductor. That company grew to twelve thousand employees, but it fragmented in 1968, when Noyce lost a power struggle to become CEO. He took Gordon Moore and founded a company that they called Integrated Electronics Corporation, which they soon smartly abbreviated to Intel. Their third employee was Andrew Grove, who later would grow the company by shifting its focus from memory chips to microprocessors. Within a few years there would be more than fifty companies in the area making semiconductors. The exponential growth of this industry was correlated with the phenomenon famously discovered by Moore, who in 1965 drew a graph of the speed of integrated circuits, based on the number of transistors that could be placed on a chip, and showed that it doubled about every two years, a trajectory that could be expected to continue. This was reaffirmed in 1971, when Intel was able to etch a complete central processing unit onto one chip, the Intel 4004, which was dubbed a 「microprocessor.」 Moore’s Law has held generally true to this day, and its reliable projection of performance to price allowed two generations of young entrepreneurs, including Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, to create cost projections for their forward-leaning products. The chip industry gave the region a new name when Don Hoefler, a columnist for the weekly trade paper Electronic News, began a series in January 1971 entitled 「Silicon Valley USA.」 The forty-mile Santa Clara Valley, which stretches from South San Francisco through Palo Alto to San Jose, has as its commercial backbone El Camino Real, the royal road that once connected California’s twenty-one mission churches and is now a bustling avenue that connects companies and startups accounting for a third of the venture capital investment in the United States each year. 「Growing up, I got inspired by the history of the place,」 Jobs said. 「That made me want to be a part of it.」 Like most kids, he became infused with the passions of the grown-ups around him. 「Most of the dads in the neighborhood did really neat stuff, like photovoltaics and batteries and radar,」 Jobs recalled. 「I grew up in awe of that stuff and asking people about it.」 The most important of these neighbors, Larry Lang, lived seven doors away. 「He was my model of what an HP engineer was supposed to be: a big ham radio operator, hard-core electronics guy,」 Jobs recalled. 「He would bring me stuff to play with.」 As we walked up to Lang’s old house, Jobs pointed to the driveway. 「He took a carbon microphone and a battery and a speaker, and he put it on this driveway. He had me talk into the carbon mike and it amplified out of the speaker.」 Jobs had been taught by his father that microphones always required an electronic amplifier. 「So I raced home, and I told my dad that he was wrong.」 「No, it needs an amplifier,」 his father assured him. When Steve protested otherwise, his father said he was crazy. 「It can’t work without an amplifier. There’s some trick.」 「I kept saying no to my dad, telling him he had to see it, and finally he actually walked down with me and saw it. And he said, 『Well I』ll be a bat out of hell.』」 Jobs recalled the incident vividly because it was his first realization that his father did not know everything. Then a more disconcerting discovery began to dawn on him: He was smarter than his parents. He had always admired his father’s competence and savvy. 「He was not an educated man, but I had always thought he was pretty damn smart. He didn’t read much, but he could do a lot. Almost everything mechanical, he could figure it out.」 Yet the carbon microphone incident, Jobs said, began a jarring process of realizing that he was in fact more clever and quick than his parents. 「It was a very big moment that’s burned into my mind. When I realized that I was smarter than my parents, I felt tremendous shame for having thought that. I will never forget that moment.」 This discovery, he later told friends, along with the fact that he was adopted, made him feel apart—detached and separate—from both his family and the world. Another layer of awareness occurred soon after. Not only did he discover that he was brighter than his parents, but he discovered that they knew this. Paul and Clara Jobs were loving parents, and they were willing to adapt their lives to suit a son who was very smart—and also willful. They would go to great lengths to accommodate him. And soon Steve discovered this fact as well. 「Both my parents got me. They felt a lot of responsibility once they sensed that I was special. They found ways to keep feeding me stuff and putting me in better schools. They were willing to defer to my needs.」 So he grew up not only with a sense of having once been abandoned, but also with a sense that he was special. In his own mind, that was more important in the formation of his personality. School Even before Jobs started elementary school, his mother had taught him how to read. This, however, led to some problems once he got to school. 「I was kind of bored for the first few years