The Weight Experiment Nicola Waiters has been taking part in experiments in Scotland to discover why humans gain and lose weight. Being locked in a small room called a "calorimeter" (热量测量室) is one way to find out . 1．The signs above the two rooms read simply "Chamber One" and "Chamber Two". These are the calorimeters: 4m by 2m white-walled rooms where human volunteers are locked up in the name of science. Outside these rooms another sign reads "Please do not enter—work in progress" and in front of the rooms advanced machinery registers every move the volunteers make. Each day, meals measured to the last gram are passed through a hole in the wall of the calorimeter to the resident volunteer. 2．Nicola Waiters is one of twenty volunteers who, over the past eight months, have spent varying periods inside the calorimeter. Tall and slim, Nicola does not have a weight problem, but thought the strict diet might help with her training and fitness programme. A self-employed community dance worker, she was able to fit the experiment in around her work. She saw an advert for volunteers at her local gym and as she is interested in the whole area of diet and exercise, she thought she would help out. 3．The experiment on Nicola involved her spending one day on a fixed diet at home and the next in the room. This sequence was repeated four times over six weeks. She arrived at the calorimeter at 8:30 am on each of the four mornings and from then on everything she ate or drank was carefully measured. Her every move was noted too, her daily exercise routine timed to the last second. At regular intervals, after eating, she filled in forms about how hungry she felt and samples were taken for analysis. 4．The scientists help volunteers impose a kind of order on the long days they face in the room. "The first time, I only took one video and a book, but it was OK because I watched TV the rest of the time," says Nicola. And twice a day she used the exercise bike. She pedaled (踩踏板) for half an hour, watched by researchers to make sure she didn’t go too fast. 5．It seems that some foods encourage you to eat more, while others satisfy you quickly. Volunteers are already showing that high-fat diets are less likely to make you feel full. Believing that they may now know what encourages people to overeat, the researchers are about to start testing a high-protein weight-loss diet. Volunteers are required and Nicola has signed up for further sessions. Paragraph 2 ______

All this is important because the finagle factor is still at work. For example, in the artificial sweetener controversy, for example, it is (64) that all the studies sponsored by the sugar industry find that the artificial sweetener is unsafe, (65) all the studies sponsored by the diet food industry find nothing wrong with it.

A language is not just a collection of sounds, or even words. A language has a structure and what we call a grammar. The structure and grammar of a language help to give it meaning. For example, the two questions "Who loves Mary" and "Who does Mary love" mean very different things. If you stop to think about it, you will see that this difference doesn’t come from the words in the question but from the difference in structure. That is why the question "Can dolphins speak" can’t be answered until we find out if dolphins not only make sounds but also arrange them in a grammatical order which affects their meaning.

After too long on the Net, even a phone call can be a shock. My boyfriend’s Liverpudlian accent suddenly becomes hard to understand after the clarity of his words on screen; a secretary’s tone seems more rejecting than I’d imagined it would be. Time itself becomes fluid—hours become minutes, and alternately seconds stretch into days. Weekends, once a highlight of my week, are now just two ordinary days.
B. For the last three years, since I stopped working as a producer for Charlie Rose, I have done much of my work as a tele-commuter (远程交谈者). I submit articles and edit them via E-mail and communicate with colleagues on Internet mailing lists. My boyfriend lives in England, so much of our relationship is computer-mediated.
C. If I desired, I could stay inside for weeks without wanting anything. I can order food, and manage my money, love and work. In fact, at times I have spent as long as three weeks alone at home, going out only to get mail and buy newspapers and groceries. I watched most of the blizzard (风) of ’96 on TV.
D. But after a while, life itself begins to feel unreal. I start to feel as though I’ve merged with my machines, taking data in, spitting them back out, just another node (节点) on the Net. Others on line report the same symptoms. We start to strongly dislike the outside forms of socializing. It’s like attending an A.A. meeting in a bar with everyone holding a half-sipped drink. We have become the Net opponents’ worst nightmare.
E. What first seemed like a luxury, crawling from bed to computer, not worrying about hair, and clothes and face, has become an avoidance, a lack of discipline. And once you start replacing real human contact with cyber-interaction (网上交流), coming back out of the cave can be quite difficult.At times, I turn on the television and just leave it to chatter in the background, something that I’d never done previously. The voices of the programs soothe (安危) me, but then I’m jarred (使感不快) by the commercials. I find myself sucked in by soap operas, or compulsively (强制性地) needing to keep up with the latest news and the weather. "Dateline," "Frontline," "Nightline," CNN, every possible angle of every story over and over and over, even when they are of no possible use to me. Work moves from foreground to background.

After too long on the Net, even a phone call can be a shock. My boyfriend’s Liverpudlian accent suddenly becomes hard to understand after the clarity of his words on screen; a secretary’s tone seems more rejecting than I’d imagined it would be. Time itself becomes fluid—hours become minutes, and alternately seconds stretch into days. Weekends, once a highlight of my week, are now just two ordinary days.
B. For the last three years, since I stopped working as a producer for Charlie Rose, I have done much of my work as a tele-commuter (远程交谈者). I submit articles and edit them via E-mail and communicate with colleagues on Internet mailing lists. My boyfriend lives in England, so much of our relationship is computer-mediated.
C. If I desired, I could stay inside for weeks without wanting anything. I can order food, and manage my money, love and work. In fact, at times I have spent as long as three weeks alone at home, going out only to get mail and buy newspapers and groceries. I watched most of the blizzard (风) of ’96 on TV.
D. But after a while, life itself begins to feel unreal. I start to feel as though I’ve merged with my machines, taking data in, spitting them back out, just another node (节点) on the Net. Others on line report the same symptoms. We start to strongly dislike the outside forms of socializing. It’s like attending an A.A. meeting in a bar with everyone holding a half-sipped drink. We have become the Net opponents’ worst nightmare.
E. What first seemed like a luxury, crawling from bed to computer, not worrying about hair, and clothes and face, has become an avoidance, a lack of discipline. And once you start replacing real human contact with cyber-interaction (网上交流), coming back out of the cave can be quite difficult.At times, I turn on the television and just leave it to chatter in the background, something that I’d never done previously. The voices of the programs soothe (安危) me, but then I’m jarred (使感不快) by the commercials. I find myself sucked in by soap operas, or compulsively (强制性地) needing to keep up with the latest news and the weather. "Dateline," "Frontline," "Nightline," CNN, every possible angle of every story over and over and over, even when they are of no possible use to me. Work moves from foreground to background.