영어 모의고사 (자동 편성)

Suppose a mysterious being with a near-perfect track record of ①predicting human choices presents a player with two boxes. Box A always contains a visible thousand dollars, while Box B contains either a million dollars or nothing at all, depending on a prediction the being made before the game even began. If the being predicted the player would take only Box B, it ②placed a million dollars inside; if it predicted the player would take both boxes, it left Box B empty. The player may choose to take only Box B, or to take both boxes, and the prediction has already ③been made and cannot change. One line of reasoning says taking both boxes is strictly better, since whatever is already inside the boxes cannot ④be altered by the player's choice at this point. A second line of reasoning says taking only Box B is better, since the being's near-perfect accuracy means that choosing both boxes almost ⑤guaranteeing an empty Box B.

Social unrest does not always emerge from the poorest conditions; it frequently erupts when circumstances ①are improving but not quickly enough to satisfy rising expectations. This paradox lies at the heart of relative deprivation theory, which ②holds that discontent arises less from objective hardship than from a perceived gap between what people expect and what they actually receive. Political scientist Ted Gurr illustrated the pattern with what is often called the J-curve: revolutions tend to follow a period of sustained improvement that is then followed by a sudden reversal, ③left citizens who had grown accustomed to progress feeling suddenly cheated of gains they had come to regard as their due. Because the theory centers on perception rather than raw statistics, it helps explain why relatively prosperous societies can experience intense protest while societies ④mired in long-standing poverty sometimes remain comparatively quiet, ⑤having adjusted their expectations to match a bleak and unchanging reality.

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.

Two drivers, equally distracted by their phones, run a red light in exactly the same careless manner. By pure chance, a child happens to be crossing the street in front of one driver but not the other; the first driver kills the child, while the second driver drives through safely and never even notices the danger. Although both drivers behaved identically and made exactly the same reckless choice, society judges them very differently: one faces criminal charges and lifelong guilt, while the other receives, at most, a minor traffic ticket. Philosophers call this troubling asymmetry moral luck, since factors entirely outside a person's control end up determining how severely we judge their moral character. If moral responsibility is supposed to depend only on what a person chooses and intends, this outcome seems deeply unfair, yet few people are willing to excuse the unlucky driver as if nothing worse had happened. Moral luck suggests that _______________.

In the late nineteenth century, the psychologist Hermann Ebbinghaus undertook a rigorous investigation of forgetting by serving as his own experimental subject. He memorized thousands of meaningless three-letter syllables so that prior knowledge could not skew his results. After learning each list to perfection, he tested his retention at intervals ranging from twenty minutes to a month later. He recorded how many repetitions were required to relearn the material each time. The resulting curve revealed a consistent pattern: _______________. Roughly half of the acquired information vanished within the first hour alone. Yet whatever survived that initial plunge tended to persist for much longer periods. Ebbinghaus further found that distributing study sessions across several days produced better retention than cramming the same repetition into one sitting. This finding, now central to modern learning theory, implies that revisiting material shortly before it would otherwise be forgotten interrupts the decline of the forgetting curve.

Sensors buried in the soil now report moisture levels in real time, and automated systems adjust irrigation without a farmer ever walking the rows. For large operations with the capital to invest, these tools have measurably increased yields while reducing water waste. Smaller family farms, however, often cannot afford the upfront cost of this equipment, and some worry that _______________.

When people face a difficult decision, they often weigh how painful it would feel to discover later that a different choice had been better. This anticipation of future regret frequently becomes the dominant factor shaping the final decision. Researchers have found that people feel sharper regret over losses that resulted from taking action than over identical losses that resulted from doing nothing, _______________. Ironically, this strategy of avoiding regret can itself produce outcomes that are later regretted even more deeply than the ones it was originally designed to prevent.

This malfunction, harmless as it sounds, reveals something troubling: memory and psychological continuity alone cannot fully settle what personal identity actually requires. Imagine a teleportation device that scans every atom in your body, transmits that information to a distant station, and reconstructs an exact physical duplicate there, while destroying the original body in the process. ( ① ) From the traveler's point of view, stepping into the machine and stepping out on the other side would feel utterly seamless, complete with continuous memories and a sense of having simply walked through a door. ( ② ) Philosophers, however, are troubled by a version of the same device that malfunctions. ( ③ ) Instead of destroying the original, it leaves the original body intact while still creating a perfect duplicate elsewhere. ( ④ ) Now two people exist, each with identical memories and an equally strong claim to being the original traveler, and there is no principled way to say which one is the real continuation of the person who entered the machine. ( ⑤ )

This is a decision, in short, that no single person should be allowed to make alone. The discovery of CRISPR gene-editing technology gave scientists a tool precise enough to correct a single mistaken letter in the human genome, raising hope for curing inherited diseases that have resisted treatment for generations. ( ① ) Yet the same precision that makes CRISPR so promising also makes it dangerous in the wrong hands. ( ② ) Editing a gene in a sperm, egg, or early embryo does not simply change one patient. ( ③ ) It alters the genetic code passed down to every future generation. ( ④ ) Scientific organizations around the world have therefore drawn a careful line, permitting gene editing to treat disease in existing patients while banning any edit that would be inherited by their descendants. ( ⑤ ) Critics worry, however, that this line will become harder to enforce than it is to draw.

At that distant point in time, the future increase feels almost costless, since no immediate sacrifice is required. One practical application of hyperbolic discounting involves a savings program that gradually raises an employee's contribution rate over several years. ( ① ) Employees are first asked to commit, well in advance, to increasing their savings rate at a specific future date, often timed to coincide with an expected salary raise. ( ② ) Because the commitment applies only to a point far in the future, the vast majority of employees readily agree to the plan. ( ③ ) When the scheduled date finally arrives, the increase takes effect automatically unless the employee actively opts out, and remarkably few do. ( ④ ) The program succeeds precisely because it separates the decision from the discomfort, asking employees to commit when the cost feels abstract rather than immediate. ( ⑤ ) In this way, a well-timed program can help individuals overcome the very bias that would otherwise prevent them from saving adequately for the future.