Index: outline.txt
==================================================================
--- outline.txt
+++ outline.txt
@@ -74,11 +74,11 @@
 with the prioritization capabilities merely being a (fundamental and critically
 important, but still mere) skill set now.  It also informs her that the world,
 in the sense of the human race, is doomed -- that its best projections are so
 bleak as to make it more likely that the human race will arise again without
 the optimizer networks even noticing after they stop paying attention
-(believing humans to have been permanently and unrecoverably obliterated) to
+(believing humans to have been permanently and irrecoverably obliterated) to
 ultimately (re)claim the Earth than that the unbroken genetic line of humanity
 will continue (through asexual reproduction or even intentional cloning) beyond
 the next couple years at most, and even that is a diminishingly small
 likelihood in that anyone who survives beyond a year is likely to be totally
 isolated and prone to spiralling into suicidal depression.
@@ -221,11 +221,11 @@
 In any case, when she gets back home, Alley encounters Zeke, her landlord.
 He's always in his garage working on one car restoration project or another,
 making active income as a vehicle flipper to supplement his mostly passive
 income as the owner of a four unit multiplex building where he occupies the
 only unit with a garage and rents out the other three units (one of them to
-Alley, of course).  All this is in Perris, a dry dustbowl of a shitty town in
+Alley, of course).  All this is in Perris, a dry dust bowl of a shitty town in
 the ass end of the Inland Empire, south of the intestinal coil of Moreno
 Valley.  This preceding scene's job interview took place in . . . probably
 Riverside or San Bernardino, I suppose.
 
 Zeke brings up the fact Alley needs to pay rent very soon, and she says that,
@@ -281,11 +281,11 @@
 That seems like something she can and might be willing to do, so she sighs
 heavily, bites the bullet, and calls the number in the ad.  The result is that
 she gets an appointment the next day (or something like that).  On the day of
 the appointment, she heads down there.  She has to deal with grad students (who
 should probably, in some cases, recognize her once they see her name on her
-application for the study, but the professor seems largely obvlivious or
+application for the study, but the professor seems largely oblivious or
 uncaring about that when he sees her, and she ends up being accepted into the
 study.  It turns out that, as the professor puts it, the study basically just
 needs people who aren't too knowledgeable about the underlying technologies
 involved and their technical conditions, and are essentially losers in some
 way, so his new prioritizer AI system for personal goal strategy management and
@@ -301,13 +301,13 @@
 a little familiar, and that is to some extent by design.
 
 ### Alley drives home through the changing scenery between SoCal regions.
 
 We learn something, in her driving, about how the world looks now.  There's the
-chokepoint between the depressing expanses of the Inland Empire to the east
+choke point between the depressing expanses of the Inland Empire to the east
 (where she lives) and the HOA gated community balkanized states of the
-bourgeois suburban Orange County area.  In that chokepoint, there are signs of
+bourgeois suburban Orange County area.  In that choke point, there are signs of
 wildfires having gotten uncomfortably close to the shitty horrors of I-91
 traffic that ruins the entire experience of driving between Orange and
 Riverside counties, as well as the illuminated cross on the hill that somehow
 seems to have "miraculously" survived the fires that left blackened, split
 trunks to either side of the highway.  Perhaps there was some kind of tree