Earthquakes

Groaning and trembling slightly, a three-floor, 400-ton concrete structure was playing its part Wednesday in an earthquake simulation project meant to help prepare California for the Big One. In an obscure area east of Interstate 15, investigators at the UC San Diego Camp Elliott Structural Research Center are testing the strength and flexibility of precast concrete. The goal of the $2.

Rescue workers facing a rising death toll and heavy rains Tuesday dug for survivors of China's worst earthquake in decades, as people throughout the country searched for loved ones, medical help, water and food. At Zhu Renmin Hospital in Mianzhu, where thousands of dead and severely injured people filled a parking lot, police and government workers arrived early in the day to help move patients to the provincial capital, Chengdu, and hospitals elsewhere in the area.

On television screens around the world, images of protesting Tibetan monks and an Olympic torch doused by protesters have been replaced by footage of Chinese rescuers pulling children out of the wreckage of this week's massive earthquake. The country is in pain and mourning. But the tragedy that struck Monday, and has taken more than 12,000 lives, also has given China an opportunity for a dramatic image makeover.

On Sunday, Liu Li received a simple Mother's Day present from her only child: a basket of red, pink and white carnations wrapped in purple rice paper. That afternoon, her 15-year-old boy returned to boarding school knowing he had made his mother the happiest woman in their village. Liu and her husband never thought about defying China's one-child policy. They already had everything they could hope for in a son.

Everywhere you turned Wednesday, there was more bad news: The official death toll from China's earthquake climbed to nearly 15,000, with thousands still missing; 391 dams were damaged; and in Mianyang county, 3,600 passengers were trapped in trains, and 120 coal miners lost underground. Although survivors at the epicenter of the magnitude 7.9 earthquake began receiving some aid, tens of thousands of others were in dire straits, lacking food, water and shelter.

The fiery dishes spiked with Sichuan peppercorns began arriving on the table, but Tang Xiulan and her friends remained transfixed by a television screen above the restaurant's front door showing images of rescue efforts in their home province. The past week has provided the most they had seen or heard of Sichuan since they immigrated to the United States -- some a decade ago or more. Unlike Beijing, Shanghai or Guangzhou, the cities of Sichuan are largely unheralded overseas.

In a system with a centuries-long tradition of austere leaders laying down the law from behind their palace walls, China's response to its worst natural disaster in three decades has revealed a nation in the throes of political change. The China that emerged from the wreckage of Monday's magnitude 7.9 earthquake in Sichuan province looked surprisingly modern, flexible and if not democratic, at least open.

As health concerns intensified and aid poured in from across China and the world, Beijing on Sunday began three days of mourning to commemorate the likely 50,000 deaths from the massive earthquake in Sichuan province. The toll continued to rise, with a report today by the official New China News Agency that more than 200 relief workers had been buried by mud. Details were not immediately available. This afternoon, exactly one week after the magnitude 7.

Chinese officials, facing a barrage of questions from bereaved parents and angry citizens, say they will launch an investigation into why so many schools were toppled by last week's earthquake. Officials said that at least 6,898 schoolrooms had collapsed in Sichuan province, where the quake was centered.

Deng Rufu sits on a rock watching the exodus of his people from their ravaged homeland. A young Qiang man with a sweating brow carries his 82-year-old grandmother on a wooden contraption strapped to his back. Another elderly woman climbs painfully with a hand-carved walking stick. A little girl in pink sneakers lags behind the rest. "At this point, we don't know how many we've lost," Deng said as he tapped on one of the few items he'd salvaged, a traditional sheepskin drum.