FCE 閱讀與英語運用 Part 6
文章填句

官方題型說明 Task format

文章被抽掉六個句子，從七個選項裡選回去，一個是干擾。靠代名詞、指示詞與邏輯連接判斷，不能只看主題像不像。官方考卷中為 第 37–42 題，每題 2 分。

題目說明（rubric）依照官方題型格式以英文呈現；以下練習題為埃森美語原創編寫，用於熟悉題型，非劍橋官方試題。官方免費樣卷：cambridgeenglish.org → B2 First for Schools preparation。

Flying Blind, Seeing Everything

Most people who watch Aiden Cole's races assume, understandably, that he is looking up at the small aircraft buzzing between the trees. He is not. He is looking down at a screen strapped to his face, seeing exactly what his drone sees, banking hard around a tree trunk at nearly 120 kilometres an hour while the rest of us would still be finding the tree. [1] This is FPV — first-person-view — drone racing, and Aiden, at fourteen, is ranked second in his age category nationally.

He did not start out wanting to race anything. Two years ago, a birthday gift from his uncle — a small, cheap drone meant for taking photographs of the back garden — spent most of its short life crashing into fences. [2] Within a month, the photography drone had been quietly retired, and a much smaller, much faster machine, built rather than bought, had taken its place.

Building the drones, it turns out, is at least half the sport. [3] Aiden now keeps a small workshop in the garage, shared uneasily with his father's tools, where broken frames and stripped propellers accumulate in a box he calls, without irony, ‘the graveyard.’

Racing itself happens on courses marked out through woodland, warehouses, or purpose-built tracks strung with fabric gates barely wider than the drones themselves. [4] Aiden has, by his own count, destroyed eleven drones this year. He shrugs when asked about the cost, which is considerable, and mentions that he has learned to rebuild a damaged frame in under twenty minutes.

What is less obvious, watching a race, is how physically still the pilots are. [5] Aiden describes the sensation as being closer to dreaming than to flying — a kind of total absorption in which the actual garage, the actual trees, the actual watching parents disappear entirely.

His parents, for their part, have stopped asking when he will grow out of it. [6] Whatever this hobby costs in propellers and patience, it appears to be worth it, at least to the boy behind the goggles, who is already building his next machine before the current one has finished crashing.

Sentences A-G

A His mother, once sure the hobby was a passing phase, now drives him to competitions most weekends and can tell a healthy motor from a dying one just by its sound. B Crashing, far from being embarrassing, is treated by most young pilots as simply part of the learning process. C National competitions increasingly offer prize money, although most young pilots insist they would race for nothing. D A tiny camera mounted on the drone sends a live video signal to a pair of goggles, so the pilot sees exactly what the aircraft sees, in real time, from the inside of the flight itself. E He taught himself to solder from late-night tutorials, ruining three motors before he finally wired one correctly. F Their thumbs move constantly, in small, precise adjustments, even though their bodies stay almost completely still. G It was only after Aiden found online videos of racing pilots weaving through gaps barely wider than their machines that ordinary photography stopped holding his attention.

Learning Taipei by Heart

When Priya Shah's father announced, over dinner on a Tuesday in June, that his company was transferring him to Taipei, Priya's first thought was entirely practical: she wondered whether her phone would still work. [1] It was only much later that night, lying awake doing the maths on the eleven-hour time difference to her best friend's bedroom, that the size of what was happening actually reached her.

The family arrived in August, a month before the start of term, which her mother insisted was ‘enough time to settle in’ and which Priya now describes, drily, as ‘enough time to get spectacularly lost twice.’ [2] By the end of the first week she could find her way to the night market and back without checking her phone once, which felt, at the time, like a genuine achievement.

School was harder than the MRT map. [3] For the first month, Priya ate lunch alone in a corner of the classroom, not because anyone was unkind to her, but because she hadn't yet worked out how a person was supposed to join a conversation that was already moving at full speed in a language she was still catching up to.

That changed, unglamorously, over a maths problem. [4] Within a fortnight the two of them were sharing lunch every day, and Priya's classmate had appointed herself, entirely without being asked, as an unofficial translator for anything the teachers said too quickly.

It would be tidy to say that Taipei started to feel like home from that point onward, but Priya is careful to correct this version of events. [5] There were still Tuesday evenings, months later, when she would sit with her phone and the time difference and feel the whole eleven hours of it.

What did change, gradually and without her quite noticing, was the balance. [6] A year after that dinner-table announcement, Priya can tell you the fastest route from her school to four different night markets, and she no longer thinks of Taipei as the place her father was transferred to. She thinks of it, most days, simply as where she lives.

Sentences A-G

A A girl called Zoe, sitting one desk across, leaned over during a test to point out, quietly and without being asked twice, exactly where Priya's equation had gone wrong. B Taipei's night markets, she soon discovered, stay busy well past midnight even on a school night. C Homesickness, she has learned, does not leave on any predictable schedule, and it has a way of arriving on ordinary afternoons for no particular reason at all. D Twice in the first three days she took the MRT in completely the wrong direction, once ending up so far from home that she had to phone her father, mortified, to ask for the fare back. E The hard days did not disappear exactly, but they became noticeably outnumbered by the ordinary, easy ones — a good class, a favourite food stall, a joke she finally understood without needing it translated. F She was, as far as she could tell, the only student in her year who had not grown up speaking Mandarin at home, and for the first few weeks that fact seemed to sit between her and everyone else like a pane of glass. G The practical question was easily answered — her phone worked fine — but the bigger ones, about leaving her school, her friends, and the only bedroom she had ever slept in, took rather longer to arrive.