BLOGS

Source: Decoded Science

Technology Review: An Entire Book Written in DNA

Now, in Fisherman’s Alley at the Salty Dog, Citizens sat in booths lining the walls or perched on bar stools. Among the laughing crowd were Mark and Layla, sharing
a drink at the bar.

Mark was thin with short, unruly blond hair and green eyes. His companion Layla had skin the color of cocoa beans, with full lips. Her kinky, brown hair was twisted into two braids.
He smiled into her eyes. “How’s your Mum doing?”
“Alright…tired of working double shifts.”
“What time’s she going in tonight?”
“Midnight.“
“Want me to come over?”
Layla grinned over her beer. “Yeah.”
“I’ll be there about 12:30.”
Layla was a skin popper -- a placid addict. She shot up between her thighs, so that she didn’t have to wear long sleeve shirts. She thought Mark didn’t know.
Beside them sat Joan, a woman with burnt sienna skin and slanted, brown eyes, staring morosely into her glass of juice.
Across the room her lover Toki grinned up at Keith, another activist, then cut her eyes over at Joan to see if her flirting was making Joan angry. It wasn’t.
Sitting in a booth behind them was José, slender and tan, with hazel colored eyes. Beside him was his mate Consuela, a buxom, sepia colored woman, with a heart shaped face and curly, shoulder length hair. Petite Estella and her heavily muscled lover, Parco, shared their booth.

Two enforcers walked into the bar and the crowd tensed. Both were Fuchsia. The older officer had a reddish complexion, his ample stomach hanging over the waistband of his trousers. But his companion had the scrubbed, fresh face look of a rookie.
“Take the back,” the beefy officer said to his partner, “I’ll start up here.”
“Ok, searg.” The rookie approached Toki and Keith’s table. “Papers!” he ordered.
Keith and Toki reached into their pockets and handed him two black booklets.
These identity papers listed their personal history, including their legal right to live and work in Topaz. Yet Keith’s ID had something that Toki’s didn’t. His draft status.
Every male citizen, sixteen and older, was required to carry a copy of their military record. This record always listed a citizen as ready for service, ready but declined, because of mental or physical handicap or discharged.
If a man’s ID didn’t list one of these categories, he was, in the eyes of planet law: “a draft dodger.” A man hiding from his required duties as a soldier.
The peacekeeper glanced through the booklets and handed them back, moving to the female Citizen at the next table over.
His partner had already inspected The Salty Dog’s first booth, and was now standing before José and Consuela’s table. “Papers!” the enforcer barked. They hastily complied. “Papers!” he said again to Estella and Parco.
Estella handed the man her ID. But her burly man hesitated. “I don’t have mine with me.” Parco grinned, exposing a missing front tooth. “I -- I left ‘em at home.”

“Then you might as well come with me now!” The enforcer flashed a nasty grin. “It’s illegal not to carry identity papers -- and you know it!”
Reluctantly, Parco handed over his ID. The officer flipped back to the service record section. It was blank.
“Just like I thought!“ he exclaimed. “Alright, let’s go!…I said, let’s go!” As Parco stood, the beefy man hit him in the mouth with his fist, drawing blood, “Stinkin’ draft dodger!” and Parco staggered back against the table.
“Parco!” Estelle cried. “You ain’t got to do that!”
“Shut up! Or I’ll take you in too! Come on Cecil!” he called to the younger officer.
They strutted out, their prisoner walking stiffly in front of them. “Try to run,” the older man said, “and I’ll shoot you in the back!”
They left the grill and the crowd followed.
“Pigs!” Estelle spat. “You’re not takin’ my man!”
As they stepped out into the street, Keith called out: “That far enough!”
The enforcers whirled around to face the mob. “Who you talking to, boy?” The older one snarled.
“He’s talking to you!” a redheaded, Fuchsia man shouted.
“You should know better!”
“And you should know better than to come down here, and try to drag one of us outta here to send to that rich man’s war!”

“It’s a noble cause!” the younger enforcer yelled.
“And you’re a damn fool!” Keith shot back. “You’re not takin’ him!”
“I can have a van here in under a minute!” the older man bellowed, his face turning a deeper shade of red. “I can identify all of you!” But he was trembling.
Estelle stepped forward, pulling a metal box from her dress. At the touch of her thumb, a knife popped out. It was six inches long and very sharp.
“Not if we cut your stinkin’ hearts out!”
Mark stood behind the crowd, his hand resting on the small of Layla’s back. This is about to get real ugly. They’re gonna kill ‘em, and there’s gonna to be hell to pay -- for all of us.
He glanced over at José and Consuela. They stood to his right, at the edge of the crowd…out of the enforcers’ line of vision. Mark locked eyes with José, then Consuela. The Bronze man nodded, and they inched away from the group.
José blurred behind the older enforcer. There were gasps from the crowd as -- in one smooth motion -- he snatched the enforcer’s taser from his belt, and struck him between the neck and shoulder blades. The officer collapsed in a boneless heap.
At the same time, Consuela wrapped her arm about the younger man’s throat, and the other about his forehead, holding his head immobile.
They had to change to do this. It took superhuman control to let only a little of their power come forth -- to stop hair from covering their bodies, their muscles from
swelling.

Both were sweating from the effort. José kept his head down until his eyes were hazel again. Until he could speak without growling. Consuela ducked her head behind the enforcer’s.
But not before she looked into Parco’s face. Not before his jaw dropped, when he gazed into her yellow eyes.
Estelle pushed through the crowd and wrapped her arms about her lover.
“Popi --!”
Parco stood frozen unable to believe what he’d just seen.
José inclined his head to the right. “Go!”
Hands clasped, they took off running up the street. By nightfall, the enforcers would be searching for Parco. The lovers would have to go into hiding now, melting into the homeless underground of draft dodgers, and homeless squatting in Topaz’s castoff buildings.
“I’m going to let you go,” Consuela whispered into the young officer’s ear. “Don’t turn around for fifteen minutes. If you do, I’ll kill you!” She released him…and released her gift.
José took her hand. They turned their backs to the crowd and raced away.
Behind them, their warriors whistled and applauded.

She felt herself traveling at a great speed, into a wide tunnel, bombarded with colors, textures, images… She was seated upon a throne…Dancing in a lush jungle…
…Chased by fanged dogs through a snow covered wood…Girded for battle, axe in hand…Then, in a plume of smoke, the images faded…
They stood before a heavy oak door, exquisitely carved with the shapes of wolves, cats and other beasts. Karla opened it and they stepped out...
Behind them, the doorway vanished.
The two gazed up at the black and gray buildings towering over them. In the distance, smoke escaped from the tops of rounded towers. Vehicles rode past them, belching fumes from their tailpipes.
To their right, an entire block had been flattened into debris. The air had a foul odor, and both recognized the stench of pollution that was illegal in their own time. They’d traveled 400 years into the past. To the most violent era Tundra had ever known.
The Time of Legend...
 
 
Copyright 2008, 2009, 2012 Valjeanne Jeffers all rights reserved

Why did I vote for President Barack Hussein Obama II? It wasn’t because he knew how to read well and sounded eloquent on the stage, though this was a very proud change from the last eight years. It wasn’t because he had written two books, though this too was something to be proud of, his words in Audacity of Hope truly resonated with me. I didn’t vote for him because of his ethnicity, or how he was perceived by the Pop-Life crowd. I voted for Barack Obama in 2008 because I read his platform, and found it to be in common with his book, and his words, which were … well, truly very eloquent.

However, as an aspiring critical thinker I follow no party or ideology without reservation. My vote must be earned, again, and again, and again. For every vote I consider the past actions of the candidate and what the candidate intends for myself, my family, my community, my state, my nation, and yes the world.

Over the course of Barack Obama’s Presidency I have been truly astounded by what he has been able to achieve, despite the abject obstruction of today’s GOP, which actively wages a social war on America, shameless and arrogant in their position and perspective. I am proud of this President and his record. This book is at times raw and unvarnished, a personal perspective and journey. It is also a legacy for my family, a commemoration of my trip to President Obama’s Inauguration.

However, it also serves as a clear and concise explanation of why I, an everyday common American who aspires daily to be better than he was before, voted for this President, and why now, at this moment in 2012, President Barack Hussein Obama II continues to earn my vote without equivocation.

http://bookstore.authorhouse.com/Products/SKU-000586234/Why-I-Voted-For-President-Barack-Hussein-Obama-II.aspx

...it's Friday!

LHC: Phys.org

Phys.org: CERN physicists break record for hottest manmade material

I may be somewhat repeating myself here, but here's one of my more recent blogs.

I've just finished reading  Valjeanne Jeffers' IMMORTAL IV: COLLISION OF WORLDS. And what a great time I had!

The world of Tundra has been altered, changed, and reshaped in the demon Tehotep's image. Oh, yes, he's back and badder than ever. This sucker is one mean dude, and he has a nasty agenda, too. We again meet up with Sonya, Joseph, Opal, Consuela, Joan and the whole gang. Karla and Joseph have been transported to a steam-powered world. Did I mention that Karla has become  Tehotep's  reluctant concubine? And then there's the Guardian William, who's cut off from the life he once led and imprisoned in a strange mansion, where he stares into a mirror that is his only contact with the outside world. He can see people, see The Others, and sometimes swears they can see him, too. And the front door seems to move closer at certain times, and then recedes at others. As usual, there are plenty of wonderful vampires roaming the streets, preying on anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. Demons rule and android enforcers make sure the laws of Tundra are upheld. Like the first three books in the series -- IMMORTAL, IMMORTAL II: TIME OF LEGEND, and IMMORTAL III: STEALER OF SOULS, Jeffers once again offers up another fun and yet terrifying world of werewolves and  demons, and various shape shifters. Her splendid 4-book series has more than you could imagine, more than you could hope for: street gangs and drug addicts, drug rehab, political and social  upheaval, revolution, corporate overlords, and vampires who drink blood and steal time from  their victims. And before I forget, let me mention her cast of demons,  centaurs, mermen, merwomen, folks who "walk between the raindrops," and mirrors  that are actually portals into other realities . . . well, you have more  imagination, more characters, more plot, more theme, and more to offer in these 4 novels than most door-stop novels of 1000 pages. Jeffers' prose in lean and mean, with the poetic rhythm that is her unique voice. She uses no more words than are needed to describe her world, letting the story and the characters bring it all to life and invoke the images in your mind. Her narration moves like a speeding steam-powered train, and her dialogue breathes life into her characters as well as propels the story -- and transports the reader inside the magic of her writing. This is my introduction to steampunk, and this series ROCKS!!!!! It has a definite  street flavor and a 1960s feel with an ultra modern as well as futuristic  sensibility. Valjeanne Jeffers is the real deal, and these novels are the real  thing. Four-star rating for the whole quadrilogy. Excellent stuff you can get totally lost in, a world you would like to visit, but will surely walk its streets looking over your shoulder.

USA Science and Engineering - Facebook

Physics Today: A crisis of perception

The Priestess returns in August and she has her hands full with a new goddess and the growing power of the now teenaged Little Fish! If all that wasn't bad enough a troubling vision and the meddling of the mischievous God Qatula will lead to no good. All will be revealed in 'The Priestess: A Time for Finding One's Place'.

All Hail the Priestess!

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Post title: 1^st heard in US Air Force; title of Google e-book: "Rigid Flexibility - the Logic of Intelligence,"Pei Wang, author.

John Maynard Keynes, when accused of being inconsistent, said, "When I get new information, I change my position. What, sir, do you do with new information?"

BBC

BBC: New biofuels offer hope to hungry world

Physics World: Probing Single Atoms

Quote for the post title from a talk given at Cal Tech by Richard Feynman.

Physics World: X-ray spectroscopy detects single atoms

I guess one can only draw from what one has seen to project into the future. With me it was art history. They tried to teach that the Greeks were the main thrust of civilization. Then a remedial English class, the subject, "the utopian novel." These were the two threads, a material culture exemplified by architecture, then how a society was meshed with it. We are conned to think these strains are evolving. Society has improved, fell back, improved, sided off, come back, not changed. Architecture has changed with the glaciers, very slow. Then, we all are stuck with structures (the ones we live in) till we die. Corporate buildings may look like spaceships but the humble home looks like Paul Revere lives here. We are lost in home recycling, flipping, rehab, remodel, retro and don't let me go off on building codes. Incremental advancement by adding on to lingering presidents. Architecture to glorify what has become of the Greek strain. Not me? Huh! What kind of columns hold up your porch? Probably the same as the ones holding up the courthouse, hmmmmmmm!

Reality smacks hard, how many Black Architects can you think of? What of the buildings they built? Do they show off the ingenuity of a Black civilization or are they an add on to the Greek matrix? Paul Williams was the Hollywood man in the 30's - 50's, he was very, very advanced. I myself met the Madison brothers, Julian and Robert, in the Ohio area. They are heroes to me.

Back to the future, the humble implements of a material culture for us is summed up in the stuff we own as we move from place to place. I have moved many times. Even when I bought a home the thought was this is temporary, not really mine. I did not design this or build this. You see I lived also in the home my grandparents built. They had this way of ignoring the shortcomings of what they had done. They knew all the corners and the squeaks and quirks. It suited them. My life there was fix and repair and finally the bulldozer. The developers fixed up the old hood. It looks like any suburb in Ohio......same old.

If a fancy custom home is built it is an anomaly, but what if that were the standard and the whole neighbourhood was that way. Who would be bold enough, (probably wealthy enough), to forsake the past to embrace the future in reality, a material culture. First one on your block to buy a greenish car, good luck! You oddball whacko bag recycling ingredient reader. Hey fool compost this!! This is changing.

As I said before, towers of glass and steel pale to the potential of the steel shanty towns. Because it is a peoples architecture on a human scale, it's honest. Add to this the quonset barns and cargo containers. Who doesn't want to turn a rustic barn into a home or is not awed by the space within an aircraft hanger. Our first words are usually is it safe in a storm, does the wind seep through? We see the container's insides and go hummm, I wonder.

So in the spirit of the utopian novel, what if we give up the gabled roof, wood constructs and reminders of a romantic past for adventure of a new material culture? Not so much mix of old and new? What kind of people will we become if we embrace the future?

I see the picture of a modular home factory (lots of wood working tools), building a standard wood house. Flip to the modern car factory with robot welders, imagine them building modular home units instead of cars. What an industry and the variety of options available all ready to be welded onto the frame in factory or on site. Deco skins, thermo skins, solar skins, stiff and flexible, neutral and colored and panels able to take a bullet or a sonic blast. Strong as steel yet supple as tissue. What about decor, folks still need rest, whither sleep or stasis, standing or planking. You turn on your GPS to set your destination and your neural-net displacement generator (the geeko zombi unit, $19.95) puts your mind to rest, yet your feet walks or jogs till you get there. Talk about sleep walking! No need to ask how I got here, also great for sleep learning.....! Protection, the matrix app will have you master martial arts while in the zombi state. The jump suit has detachable sleeves, trouser leggings and hoodie, has full kevlar micro-mesh and sonics to keep away predators. If the zombi state persists beyond the units up time, you are having a near death experience, see your doctor immediately.

The future, you write but also it is foretelling of a possible material culture. This is the stuff of sci-fi. Madame Walker invented the straightener and then the wave maker, that's a metaphor...makes your hair stand on end, lol.......

Technology Review

Technology Review: First Logic Gate Made From Undoped Silicon Nanowires

Physics arXiv:
Multifunctional Devices and Logic Gates With Undoped Silicon Nanowires

MAS Media Studios is an independent publisher established back in 2007 by three guys who wanted to bring something to the comic book world that was more than just super heroes in tights. A few years back we were able to print a small run of a graphic novel entitled Street Journal. The book sold well so we decided to reprint the novel with a larger print run and a new dynamic cover. To do so, however, we need your help.

Boeing

BBC News: NASA announces space shuttle replacement shortlist

Currently, what's on the NASA research site for MARS:

39 total: 15 successful, 24 failures

NASA: Mars Image Gallery

No, seriously the attic. We are the repository of my mother-n-laws things after she passed away. Among the books are several volumes of Ladies Home Journals from around 1889, Outline of Jewish History from 1890 and a small tattered book of Aesop's Fables from 1831. I like to see what they wrote about the Jews and if there are a diff between Jews and Hebrews (they don't say with emphasis, but they do say), so much word slinging about history these days.  The Aesop identity crisis a problem? No, but if truth be told there is a context, a point of view and a perspective (African or Greek), but also I think Aesop was the spook who sat by the door (an African in the Greek culture) perhaps.

Damn, logistics and semantics skewers the mind with riddles of reason and motive. The thin veil of pen names, pseudo-names, aliases, ghost writers was a popular way to air an opinion from a distance while standing next to your enemy, smiling at him, cheers! Lite bard anyone or did Shakespeare really get his name into the King Jimmy script. Just joking or serious jesting, the classical tales were, plays of ridicule, contempt and unyielding satire, that's entertainment.

Ooh, what's all that laughter down in the village? A play about a king's weird ways and all the king's men are in on it. The king slips in incognito (wearing his royal plain brown wrapper hoodie), sees for himself, is enraged. Get my scribes, write me a refute, a rebuttal and find me a scapegoat. If he hits the big time hang him, if not shoot him, we'll sell his name later in a retrospective. Either way I will have my say. Can you trust the writings of the past, is the hero the archetype, the worship target, the I want to be like Mike? or the YOU WILL BE LIKE MIKE or lose your miserable lives in the playoffs (battlefield). The village knew all along it was the king, he has the hoodie but didn't jack his pants every 3 minutes as is the standard interval in the hood. The next play, king2 the sequel. In the village tabloid, "king's pants jacked by valet crew."

I'm picking the book up in my attic, reading it as if it were truth, I don't know better. Good story, seems historical, sound wisdom, I could run my life by this. I am not the illiterate masses of the pass. I don't have the stage as my means of receiving the common thought of the day. The thought scripts pour in from every media from every source. Still, I don't question much. It doesn't matter if it is pseudo or not, "it's the written word, it must be true!" And Washington had wooden teeth, no his teeth were as brown as wood. There is so much concern when I seek the truth these days.

Next the story about a planet of super humans saved by it's only non-super resident.

The one I've been editing, it's now finished and up on Kindle and smashwords!

http://www.amazon.com/Demona-Book-One-ebook/dp/B008U3VIAK/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1344369038&sr=1-1&keywords=demona+-+book+one

You can read sample pages on either website.