Why this work is in the frame
A frame that forgets how it found something cannot be audited. These are the routes that admitted this work.
Bibliographic record
Abstract
She couldn't take another step. Maybe I'll just stop for a moment, Yuk Ki said to herself. Just sit, right here. She didn't. She knew what would happen if she sat down on the steps by the exit of the neon-lit cafe in Sheung Wan; it wasn't a fancy place, but it was filled with people in clean clothes. More than that, if she sat, she was giving in. She looked down the street: Che Sum was nowhere in sight. She leaned against her handcart and tried to shut out the noise from the city. With bowlegs shaped like a bent iron magnet and a spine so curved it forced her to twist her neck like a turtle to see anything but the ground most of the time, Yuk Ki didn't care; she knew the way they looked at her pushing her handcart stacked with cardboard-this was just life. It wasn't her fault her son died. Yes, she had thrown her daughter out of the house, but at the time Moy was nothing but trouble; and besides, it had been ten years since Moy had left Hong Kong. She was in Canada. Children don't do what they should for their parents. Didn't matter. She got on fine by herself. Years ago, she and Ming Ho sold newspapers; they even had their own stand by Wing On department store when business was really booming, but the stand went bust. The 7-Elevens really killed them. Who wanted to buy a newspaper from old people on a corner when you could get it at 7-Eleven? By the time Ming Ho died, they were back where they started, out on the street, sitting on the cement steps down from Cat's Alley with a stack of newspapers and an old basket of coins. Back then she and Ming Ho would talk to Che Sum whenever she passed them. The three would take a quick break and then Che Sum would be off, pushing her handcart down the street. Collecting cardboard for recycling was hard work, but after Ming Ho died, Che Sum had helped her get a handcart and showed her what cardboard pieces were best, how to stack and tie everything properly so things wouldn't slip off. Lean and wiry Yuk Ki was ten years Che Sum's senior, but she managed to push the load up Wellington from Queen's Road, right past that fancy new gym, slow, to be sure, but she made it like everybody else. Lately, the junction seemed steeper; it took longer to get around the curve. The slight slope was like a long steep hill and she found herself taking a break on the cement island in the middle of the road waiting for lights to change red-green-red-green-red-green, massaging the back of her neck with her stiff hands, before she finally shoved off to move the handcart. People never liked it when she stood there for too long; women shuddered and shrank away, fearful their skirts would brush her. When they looked, men said, get out of the way, old woman. -You get out of the way, she'd answer defiantly behind her cart. You'd smell like garbage, too, if you spent your days picking from the dumps, she wanted to say, but never did. Drivers honked when she didn't cross the street fast enough, but they never hit, at least not her. She and Che Sum were meeting up as they often did, to exchange news or eat rice together. Yuk Ki waved when she saw Che Sum down the block and watched her navigate the cart through the narrow street between taxicabs. -Lots of boxes. People moving in that new building, said Che Sum. We can go back after lunch. hot today. Hey, sit down. -I'll sit, said Yuk Ki. She didn't sit but stood looking at the crowd. Lunchtime. Everyone was hungry, rushing to eat, impatient to get back to work. She was hungry. Now and then the two women worked together, but more often than not, they each spent their day alone. It was hot; the weather had turned and the chill had left the air. The wet heat clung to their bodies and hung in the air like layers of steam. The city was waiting for the monsoons, summer rains to wash away the grime-the spit on the sidewalks, the dust from construction, the stench of car fumes and garbage. -Shoes look good, said Che Sum. …
Fetched live from OpenAlex and de-inverted. Abstracts are not stored in this database: the inverted indexes are 8.6 GB of the frame’s 9.3 GB of text, and the host has 13 GB free.
Full frame distilled prediction
Teacher imitationNot calibrated prevalence, not ground truth. Human validation pending. Learned from the 10,348 direct Codex labels and 10,348 direct Gemma labels. Candidate is the union of thresholded teacher heads; consensus is their intersection. These outputs are machine_predicted_unvalidated and are not human labels or direct frontier model labels.
Codex and Gemma teacher scores by category
| Category | Codex | Gemma |
|---|---|---|
| Metaresearch | 0.003 | 0.000 |
| Meta-epidemiology (narrow) | 0.000 | 0.000 |
| Meta-epidemiology (broad) | 0.000 | 0.000 |
| Bibliometrics | 0.000 | 0.000 |
| Science and technology studies | 0.001 | 0.001 |
| Scholarly communication | 0.000 | 0.000 |
| Open science | 0.000 | 0.000 |
| Research integrity | 0.000 | 0.000 |
| Insufficient payload (model declined to judge) | 0.000 | 0.000 |
Machine scores (provisional)
The two teacher heads of the student model, read on this work. A score orders the frame for review; it never asserts a category, and the validation status ships verbatim with every row.
Baseline scores from an immature model (maturity gate not passed, 7 training rounds). Scores rank; they never assert a category.
score_only:v0-immature-baseline · verbatim from the scoring run: score_only means the number may rank works, and no category label ships from it