영어 모의고사 (자동 편성)

Suppose you meet a quiet, gentle man ①who speaks softly, tends a small garden, and organizes his bookshelf with meticulous care. ②Ask whether he is more likely a florist or a truck driver, most people instinctively choose florist, since his personality matches the stereotype so neatly. This judgment, however, ③ignores a crucial fact: truck drivers vastly outnumber florists in almost every country, which means that, statistically, he is far more likely to belong to the larger group regardless of how well he fits the flower-shop image. Relying on resemblance to a familiar category rather than on underlying numerical proportions, ④known among researchers as representativeness, leads people to overlook these base rates almost automatically. Even trained professionals, ⑤who should know better, often fall into the same trap when a vivid description feels more convincing than plain statistics.

Philosophers often pair the classic trolley problem with a companion case ①designed to test whether our moral intuitions are actually consistent. Imagine a brilliant surgeon who has five patients, each dying from the failure of a different organ, and one healthy visitor in the waiting room whose organs ②happen to be a perfect match for all five. If the surgeon secretly killed the healthy visitor and transplanted the organs, five lives would ③save at the cost of one, exactly the same arithmetic used to justify diverting a runaway trolley onto a track with a single worker. Yet almost everyone who accepts the trolley diversion ④recoils immediately at the idea of the surgeon cutting up an unwilling patient, even though the numbers are identical in both cases. Philosophers use this contrast to argue that outcomes alone cannot fully explain our moral judgments, something that appears ⑤to matter deeply to most people's sense of right and wrong.

For much of the twentieth century, memory researchers assumed that once a memory had been ①consolidated—transformed from a fragile, short-term trace into a stable, long-term representation—it remained essentially fixed, immune to further modification unless the underlying neural circuitry was physically damaged. This assumption, however, was ②overturned by a body of research demonstrating that the act of retrieval itself can ③stabilize a previously consolidated memory, rendering it temporarily susceptible to alteration before it is, in a sense, filed away again. During this narrow window, which typically lasts only a few hours, the memory can be ④strengthened, weakened, or even subtly distorted by new information encountered in the interim, after which it must undergo a second round of stabilization, a process now widely referred to as reconsolidation. Consequently, what we experience as a stable recollection may actually be a continuously ⑤revised construction, reshaped every time it is summoned into conscious awareness and returned to storage.

Classical economic theory long assumed that decision makers gather all relevant information, calculate every possible outcome, and select the single option that maximizes their benefit. Herbert Simon, however, questioned this assumption, arguing that human beings operate under real constraints of time, knowledge, and mental capacity that make such ①exhaustive calculation practically impossible. Instead of searching ②endlessly for the theoretically perfect choice, people typically stop once they find an option that seems good enough to meet their immediate needs, a strategy Simon termed satisficing. A shopper comparing refrigerators, for example, rarely examines every model available; she instead sets a few practical criteria, such as price and size, and selects the first appliance that satisfies them ③adequately. This approach is not a failure of reasoning but rather a sensible adaptation to a world where information is ④costly and time is genuinely limited. Consequently, models assuming unlimited rationality often fail to predict actual behavior, while frameworks acknowledging these cognitive boundaries offer a far more ⑤unrealistic account of how ordinary decisions are actually made.

Philosopher Robert Nozick asked his readers to imagine a machine capable of producing any experience they ①desired, from writing a great novel to falling in love, all indistinguishable from reality once they were plugged in. Neuroscientists would simply stimulate the brain to generate a lifetime of perfectly satisfying experiences, and the person floating in the tank would have no memory of ever choosing to enter it. If pleasure and the avoidance of pain were truly all that mattered, as classical hedonism claims, then everyone should ②rush to connect themselves permanently to such a machine. Yet when people actually consider the offer, most ③eagerly accept, and many refuse outright. Nozick took this reluctance as evidence that human beings care about more than the quality of their internal sensations; people also want to actually ④do certain things, to actually be a certain kind of person, and to maintain genuine ⑤contact with a reality beyond their own mind.

Political philosophers have long ①debated how much authority, if any, a government may legitimately claim over free individuals. Robert Nozick imagined a hypothetical starting point in which people live without any state at all, each relying on private arrangements to protect their own person and property. He argued that a minimal state, limited strictly to enforcing contracts and protecting citizens from violence, theft, and fraud, could arise gradually through a series of voluntary exchanges, with everyone's rights ②repeatedly being violated along the way. Critics on one side, the anarchists, insist that even this minimal government inevitably ③violates the rights of those who never consented to join it, since a truly voluntary arrangement would allow individuals to ④opt out entirely. Critics on the other side argue that a state limited to bare protection cannot address deeper inequalities that arise naturally in any free market. Nozick's thought experiment therefore sits at the center of an ⑤unresolved argument about where legitimate political authority actually begins.

Classical economic theory assumes that consumers evaluate every price change in the same rational way, weighing marginal benefit against marginal cost regardless of the absolute numbers involved. (A) In a well-known laboratory experiment, participants chose between two chocolates, one of higher quality priced at a small fee and one of lower quality offered for free. When both prices were merely reduced by the same amount, most participants still preferred the higher-quality option. Yet once the cheaper chocolate's price was lowered to zero, the majority abruptly switched their preference, even though the price gap between the two options had not actually changed. (B) Researchers explain this reversal by noting that a free item carries no perceived risk of loss, which makes it feel disproportionately attractive compared with any option that still requires payment, however small. (C) Behavioral economists, however, have discovered a striking exception: the moment a price drops to exactly zero, people's judgment shifts in a way that ordinary discounting cannot explain.

The eventual collapse of a speculative bubble often unfolds with surprising speed compared with the gradual climb that preceded it. (A) As prices begin to fall, investors who bought near the peak, motivated largely by fear of missing further gains, are often the first to sell, since they have the least conviction in the asset's underlying value. (B) Their selling triggers further price declines, which in turn prompt additional investors to sell out of a newly urgent fear of continued loss rather than a fear of missing out. (C) This reversal illustrates that the same herd psychology driving prices upward can just as easily reverse direction, converting collective optimism into collective panic within a remarkably short period.

In some cases, nature alone is simply too slow, and human ingenuity is called on to speed things along. When an oil tanker ruptures and crude spreads across open water, cleanup crews increasingly reach not only for skimmers and floating booms but also for something far smaller: bacteria that eat oil. ( ① ) Certain naturally occurring microbes possess enzymes capable of breaking hydrocarbon molecules apart, using the carbon as an energy source and gradually converting a toxic slick into carbon dioxide and harmless byproducts. ( ② ) Bioremediation, as this approach is called, works far more slowly than mechanical cleanup, often taking months rather than days. ( ③ ) But it can reach contamination trapped in soil or sediment that skimmers and booms can never reach. ( ④ ) Scientists have learned to accelerate the process by adding nutrients that help native microbial populations multiply faster, or in some cases by introducing engineered strains selected specifically for their appetite for a particular pollutant. ( ⑤ ) Because the method relies on living organisms rather than heavy machinery, it also tends to leave a far gentler footprint on the surrounding ecosystem than excavation or chemical treatment ever could.

The same technology, researchers realized, could be pushed even further, from generic drug screening toward medicine tailored to a single individual. A liver no longer has to sit inside a human body to be studied closely. ( ① ) By coaxing stem cells to organize themselves within a nutrient-rich gel, scientists can now grow miniature three-dimensional structures called organoids, which reproduce much of the architecture and function of a real organ despite being no larger than a grain of rice. ( ② ) Unlike flat cultures grown on a plastic dish, which lose many of the cues that guide normal development, organoids let cells interact in three dimensions much as they would inside the body. ( ③ ) This yields tissue that behaves in strikingly realistic ways. ( ④ ) This fidelity has made organoids invaluable for testing how a drug affects human tissue before any patient is exposed, sparing researchers much of the burden of relying on animal models alone. ( ⑤ ) Some laboratories have even grown organoids from a single patient's own cells, raising the possibility of trialing a treatment on a miniature copy of that patient's organ before committing to an actual course of therapy.