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BACK TO EARTH

The War of the Worlds, by H. G. Wells, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . XI. AT THE WINDOW XI. AT THE WINDOW I have already said that my storms of emotion have a trick of exhausting themselves. After a time I discovered that I was cold and wet, and with little pools of water about me on the stair carpet. I got up almost mechanically, went into the dining room and drank some whisky, and then I was moved to change my clothes. After I had done that I went upstairs to my study, but why I did so I do not know. The window of my study looks over the trees and the railway towards Horsell Common. In the hurry of our departure this window had been left open. The passage was dark, and, by contrast with the picture the window frame enclosed, the side of the room seemed impenetrably dark. I stopped short in the doorway. The thunderstorm had passed. The towers of the Oriental College and the pine trees about it had gone, and very far away, lit by a vivid red glare, the common about the sand-pits was visible. Across the light huge black shapes, grotesque and strange, moved busily to and fro. It seemed indeed as if the whole country in that direction was on fire—a broad hillside set with minute tongues of flame, swaying and writhing with the gusts of the dying storm, and throwing a red reflection upon the cloud scud above. Every now and then a haze of smoke from some nearer conflagration drove across the window and hid the Martian shapes. I could not see what they were doing, nor the clear form of them, nor recognise the black objects they were busied upon. Neither could I see the nearer fire, though the reflections of it danced on the wall and ceiling of the study. A sharp, resinous tang of burning was in the air. I closed the door noiselessly and crept towards the window. As I did so, the view opened out until, on the one hand, it reached to the houses about Woking station, and on the other to the charred and blackened pine woods of Byfleet. There was a light down below the hill, on the railway, near the arch, and several of the houses along the Maybury road and the streets near the station were glowing ruins. The light upon the railway puzzled me at first; there were a black heap and a vivid glare, and to the right of that a row of yellow oblongs. Then I perceived this was a wrecked train, the fore part smashed and on fire, the hinder carriages still upon the rails. Between these three main centres of light—the houses, the train, and the burning county towards Chobham—stretched irregular patches of dark country, broken here and there by intervals of dimly glowing and smoking ground. It was the strangest spectacle, that black expanse set with fire. It reminded me, more than anything else, of the Potteries at night. At first I could distinguish no people at all, though I peered intently for them. Later I saw against the light of Woking station a number of black figures hurrying one after the other across the line. And this was the little world in which I had been living securely for years, this fiery chaos! What had happened in the last seven hours I still did not know; nor did I know, though I was beginning to guess, the relation between these mechanical colossi and the sluggish lumps I had seen disgorged from the cylinder. With a queer feeling of impersonal interest I turned my desk chair to the window, sat down, and stared at the blackened country, and particularly at the three gigantic black things that were going to and fro in the glare about the sand-pits. They seemed amazingly busy. I began to ask myself what they could be. Were they intelligent mechanisms? Such a thing I felt was impossible. Or did a Martian sit within each, ruling, directing, using, much as a man’s brain sits and rules in his body? I began to compare the things to human machines, to ask myself for the first time in my life how an ironclad or a steam engine would seem to an intelligent lower animal. The storm had left the sky clear, and over the smoke of the burning land the little fading pinpoint of Mars was dropping into the west, when a soldier came into my garden. I heard a slight scraping at the fence, and rousing myself from the lethargy that had fallen upon me, I looked down and saw him dimly, clambering over the palings. At the sight of another human being my torpor passed, and I leaned out of the window eagerly. “Hist!” said I, in a whisper. He stopped astride of the fence in doubt. Then he came over and across the lawn to the corner of the house. He bent down and stepped softly. “Who’s there?” he said, also whispering, standing under the window and peering up. “Where are you going?” I asked. “God knows.” “Are you trying to hide?” “That’s it.” “Come into the house,” I said. I went down, unfastened the door, and let him in, and locked the door again. I could not see his face. He was hatless, and his coat was unbuttoned. “My God!” he said, as I drew him in. “What has happened?” I asked. “What hasn’t?” In the obscurity I could see he made a gesture of despair. “They wiped us out—simply wiped us out,” he repeated again and again. He followed me, almost mechanically, into the dining room. “Take some whisky,” I said, pouring out a stiff dose. He drank it. Then abruptly he sat down before the table, put his head on his arms, and began to sob and weep like a little boy, in a perfect passion of emotion, while I, with a curious forgetfulness of my own recent despair, stood beside him, wondering. It was a long time before he could steady his nerves to answer my questions, and then he answered perplexingly and brokenly. He was a driver in the artillery, and had only come into action about seven. At that time firing was going on across the common, and it was said the first party of Martians were crawling slowly towards their second cylinder under cover of a metal shield. Later this shield staggered up on tripod legs and became the first of the fighting-machines I had seen. The gun he drove had been unlimbered near Horsell, in order to command the sand-pits, and its arrival it was that had precipitated the action. As the limber gunners went to the rear, his horse trod in a rabbit hole and came down, throwing him into a depression of the ground. At the same moment the gun exploded behind him, the ammunition blew up, there was fire all about him, and he found himself lying under a heap of charred dead men and dead horses. “I lay still,” he said, “scared out of my wits, with the fore quarter of a horse atop of me. We’d been wiped out. And the smell—good God! Like burnt meat! I was hurt across the back by the fall of the horse, and there I had to lie until I felt better. Just like parade it had been a minute before—then stumble, bang, swish!” “Wiped out!” he said. He had hid under the dead horse for a long time, peeping out furtively across the common. The Cardigan men had tried a rush, in skirmishing order, at the pit, simply to be swept out of existence. Then the monster had risen to its feet and had begun to walk leisurely to and fro across the common among the few fugitives, with its headlike hood turning about exactly like the head of a cowled human being. A kind of arm carried a complicated metallic case, about which green flashes scintillated, and out of the funnel of this there smoked the Heat-Ray. In a few minutes there was, so far as the soldier could see, not a living thing left upon the common, and every bush and tree upon it that was not already a blackened skeleton was burning. The hussars had been on the road beyond the curvature of the ground, and he saw nothing of them. He heard the Maxims rattle for a time and then become still. The giant saved Woking station and its cluster of houses until the last; then in a moment the Heat-Ray was brought to bear, and the town became a heap of fiery ruins. Then the Thing shut off the Heat-Ray, and turning its back upon the artilleryman, began to waddle away towards the smouldering pine woods that sheltered the second cylinder. As it did so a second glittering Titan built itself up out of the pit. The second monster followed the first, and at that the artilleryman began to crawl very cautiously across the hot heather ash towards Horsell. He managed to get alive into the ditch by the side of the road, and so escaped to Woking. There his story became ejaculatory. The place was impassable. It seems there were a few people alive there, frantic for the most part and many burned and scalded. He was turned aside by the fire, and hid among some almost scorching heaps of broken wall as one of the Martian giants returned. He saw this one pursue a man, catch him up in one of its steely tentacles, and knock his head against the trunk of a pine tree. At last, after nightfall, the artilleryman made a rush for it and got over the railway embankment. Since then he had been skulking along towards Maybury, in the hope of getting out of danger Londonward. People were hiding in trenches and cellars, and many of the survivors had made off towards Woking village and Send. He had been consumed with thirst until he found one of the water mains near the railway arch smashed, and the water bubbling out like a spring upon the road. That was the story I got from him, bit by bit. He grew calmer telling me and trying to make me see the things he had seen. He had eaten no food since midday, he told me early in his narrative, and I found some mutton and bread in the pantry and brought it into the room. We lit no lamp for fear of attracting the Martians, and ever and again our hands would touch upon bread or meat. As he talked, things about us came darkly out of the darkness, and the trampled bushes and broken rose trees outside the window grew distinct. It would seem that a number of men or animals had rushed across the lawn. I began to see his face, blackened and haggard, as no doubt mine was also. When we had finished eating we went softly upstairs to my study, and I looked again out of the open window. In one night the valley had become a valley of ashes. The fires had dwindled now. Where flames had been there were now streamers of smoke; but the countless ruins of shattered and gutted houses and blasted and blackened trees that the night had hidden stood out now gaunt and terrible in the pitiless light of dawn. Yet here and there some object had had the luck to escape—a white railway signal here, the end of a greenhouse there, white and fresh amid the wreckage. Never before in the history of warfare had destruction been so indiscriminate and so universal. And shining with the growing light of the east, three of the metallic giants stood about the pit, their cowls rotating as though they were surveying the desolation they had made. It seemed to me that the pit had been enlarged, and ever and again puffs of vivid green vapour streamed up and out of it towards the brightening dawn—streamed up, whirled, broke, and vanished. Beyond were the pillars of fire about Chobham. They became pillars of bloodshot smoke at the first touch of day. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. H. G. Wells (1992). The War of the Worlds. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022, from https://www.gutenberg.org/files/36/36-h/36-h.htm This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

The War of the Worlds: Chapter XI. AT THE WINDOW

The Beautiful and Damned: Book III, Chapter I - A Matter of Civilization

On War by Carl Von Clausewitz, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Friction in War Book I: Chapter VII. Friction in War As long as we have no personal knowledge of War, we cannot conceive where those difficulties lie of which so much is said, and what that genius and those extraordinary mental powers required in a General have really to do. All appears so simple, all the requisite branches of knowledge appear so plain, all the combinations so unimportant, that in comparison with them the easiest problem in higher mathematics impresses us with a certain scientific dignity. But if we have seen War, all becomes intelligible; and still, after all, it is extremely difficult to describe what it is which brings about this change, to specify this invisible and completely efficient factor. Everything is very simple in War, but the simplest thing is difficult. These difficulties accumulate and produce a friction which no man can imagine exactly who has not seen War, Suppose now a traveller, who towards evening expects to accomplish the two stages at the end of his day’s journey, four or five leagues, with post-horses, on the high road—it is nothing. He arrives now at the last station but one, finds no horses, or very bad ones; then a hilly country, bad roads; it is a dark night, and he is glad when, after a great deal of trouble, he reaches the next station, and finds there some miserable accommodation. So in War, through the influence of an infinity of petty circumstances, which cannot properly be described on paper, things disappoint us, and we fall short of the mark. A powerful iron will overcomes this friction; it crushes the obstacles, but certainly the machine along with them. We shall often meet with this result. Like an obelisk towards which the principal streets of a town converge, the strong will of a proud spirit stands prominent and commanding in the middle of the Art of War. Friction is the only conception which in a general way corresponds to that which distinguishes real War from War on paper. The military machine, the Army and all belonging to it, is in fact simple, and appears on this account easy to manage. But let us reflect that no part of it is in one piece, that it is composed entirely of individuals, each of which keeps up its own friction in all directions. Theoretically all sounds very well: the commander of a battalion is responsible for the execution of the order given; and as the battalion by its discipline is glued together into one piece, and the chief must be a man of acknowledged zeal, the beam turns on an iron pin with little friction. But it is not so in reality, and all that is exaggerated and false in such a conception manifests itself at once in War. The battalion always remains composed of a number of men, of whom, if chance so wills, the most insignificant is able to occasion delay and even irregularity. The danger which War brings with it, the bodily exertions which it requires, augment this evil so much that they may be regarded as the greatest causes of it. This enormous friction, which is not concentrated, as in mechanics, at a few points, is therefore everywhere brought into contact with chance, and thus incidents take place upon which it was impossible to calculate, their chief origin being chance. As an instance of one such chance: the weather. Here the fog prevents the enemy from being discovered in time, a battery from firing at the right moment, a report from reaching the General; there the rain prevents a battalion from arriving at the right time, because instead of for three it had to march perhaps eight hours; the cavalry from charging effectively because it is stuck fast in heavy ground. These are only a few incidents of detail by way of elucidation, that the reader may be able to follow the author, for whole volumes might be written on these difficulties. To avoid this, and still to give a clear conception of the host of small difficulties to be contended with in War, we might go on heaping up illustrations, if we were not afraid of being tiresome. But those who have already comprehended us will permit us to add a few more. Activity in War is movement in a resistant medium. Just as a man immersed in water is unable to perform with ease and regularity the most natural and simplest movement, that of walking, so in War, with ordinary powers, one cannot keep even the line of mediocrity. This is the reason that the correct theorist is like a swimming master, who teaches on dry land movements which are required in the water, which must appear grotesque and ludicrous to those who forget about the water. This is also why theorists, who have never plunged in themselves, or who cannot deduce any generalities from their experience, are unpractical and even absurd, because they only teach what every one knows—how to walk. Further, every War is rich in particular facts, while at the same time each is an unexplored sea, full of rocks which the General may have a suspicion of, but which he has never seen with his eye, and round which, moreover, he must steer in the night. If a contrary wind also springs up, that is, if any great accidental event declares itself adverse to him, then the most consummate skill, presence of mind, and energy are required, whilst to those who only look on from a distance all seems to proceed with the utmost ease. The knowledge of this friction is a chief part of that so often talked of, experience in War, which is required in a good General. Certainly he is not the best General in whose mind it assumes the greatest dimensions, who is the most over-awed by it (this includes that class of over-anxious Generals, of whom there are so many amongst the experienced); but a General must be aware of it that he may overcome it, where that is possible, and that he may not expect a degree of precision in results which is impossible on account of this very friction. Besides, it can never be learnt theoretically; and if it could, there would still be wanting that experience of judgment which is called tact, and which is always more necessary in a field full of innumerable small and diversified objects than in great and decisive cases, when one’s own judgment may be aided by consultation with others. Just as the man of the world, through tact of judgment which has become habit, speaks, acts, and moves only as suits the occasion, so the officer experienced in War will always, in great and small matters, at every pulsation of War as we may say, decide and determine suitably to the occasion. Through this experience and practice the idea comes to his mind of itself that so and so will not suit. And thus he will not easily place himself in a position by which he is compromised, which, if it often occurs in War, shakes all the foundations of confidence and becomes extremely dangerous. It is therefore this friction, or what is so termed here, which makes that which appears easy in War difficult in reality. As we proceed, we shall often meet with this subject again, and it will hereafter become plain that besides experience and a strong will, there are still many other rare qualities of the mind required to make a man a consummate General. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Carl von Clausewitz (2006). On War. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1946/pg1946-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

Friction in War

"High tech runs three-times faster than normal businesses, and the government runs three-times slower than normal businesses. So, we have a nine-times gap" - Former CEO of Intel, Andrew Grove “Some of us continue to have old-fashioned careers in the twenty-first century— we are doctors, professors, lawyers, and truck drivers. Yet the main economy is now driven not by what we do, but by the information extracted from us, not by our labor in any established sense, but by our data.” -Justin E. H. Smith in The Internet Is Not What You Think It Is: A History, a Philosophy, a Warning (2022) “In the past, humans had to struggle against exploitation. In the 21st century, the really big struggle will be against irrelevance. It is much worse to be irrelevant than to be exploited. Those who fail in the struggle against irrelevance will constitute a new useless class.” -Yuval Noah Harari in a talk at World Economic Forum, Davos (2020) ” “Tackling these problems will require a combination of clear-eyed analysis and profound philosophical examination of what matters in our lives, a task for both our minds and our hearts - Kai-Lee Fu in AI Super-Powers: China, Silicon Valley, and the New World Order (2018) “If we believe that life has a meaning beyond this material rat race, then AI just might be the tool that can help us uncover that deeper meaning.” -Kai-Lee Fu in AI Super-Powers: China, Silicon Valley, and the New World Order (2018) I imagine the quotes above as inner voices repeating themselves in a continuous loop to kick off this post which has been in the making for a while. In fact, this is not a single post, but the first one in a series of posts that I plan to write over a longer time frame. I am interested in exploring how the AI revolution, and the Web 3.0 paradigm, including the peculiar Metaverse concept, will shape the human experience in the future. Without going too deep down the rabbit hole, and without further ado, here is a brief overlook of the challenges that I plan to write about. Threats from the AI Revolution Yuval Noah Harari's talk at the World Economic Forum in Davos, 2020 is an excellent jumping-off point to convey the macro threat of advanced AI systems. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gG6WnMb9Fho Harari identifies three challenges that will come from the AI revolution: , , and a new useless class data colonialism digital dictatorships. is intertwined with the concept of technological unemployment that I will get more into later. Briefly explained, “the useless class” is an envisioned, new caste for employees who fall behind the technological development as they witness how their hard-earned skills are replaced by automation.  ' A new useless class relates to “technological inequality”. For example, the divide between some developing countries that are mostly “off the digital grid” compared to the AI superpowers US and China. Automation in highly developed countries can replace low-wage labor in developing countries. Besides, . Whoever has the data can control and exploit people with knowledge about how they behave, act, think, and feel. As Harari says in his talk, “ ” Data colonialism data is the oil of the 21st Century when you have enough data, you don't need soldiers to invade a country. Harari states in a simple, dark equation that he believes will be the defining equation of life in the 21st Century: digital dictatorships “B x C x D = AHH” Which means: “ ” Biological knowledge (B) multiplied by computing power (C) multiplied by data (D) equals the ability to hack humans (AHH) According to Harari, governments and corporations with access to information about our personality types, political views, religious beliefs, sexual preferences, likes and dislikes, weaknesses and strengths, deepest fears and desires, are able to monitor everyone and predict and manipulate our behavior. Essentially, they have the “ability to hack humans”. In Harari’s words, if we are not careful, we could create the worst totalitarian regime in history with the biological knowledge, computing power, and data about citizens that tyrants of the past lacked. Automated Decision-making and GDPR On a smaller scale, we increasingly delegate decision-making powers and authority to algorithms and algorithmic recommendation systems. As Harari also points out in his talk: “ .” Billions of people trust the Facebook algorithm to tell us what is new, the Google algorithms tell us what is true, Netflix tells us what to watch, and the Amazon and Ali Baba algorithms tell us what to buy Algorithmic systems even decide if we are suited for a job, if we are eligible for a loan, how our money should be invested, or who we should date by matching us with potential partners on Tinder.  Meanwhile, we have no insights into how these decisions are made, and even if we had, we wouldn’t be able to understand the machine's reasoning. I have made some lengthy, legalistic posts on GDPR’s regulation of automated decision-making and . More or less, I conclude in the words of Edward Snowden that as it offers no meaningful protection for individuals against automated decisions. The right for data subjects to obtain human intervention that follows from Article 22 of GDPR is a noble initiative with limited effect.  Even if the decision is necessary for entering into a contract or is based on the individual’s explicit consent, there is often no way of understanding or explaining the processes behind how a specific decision was reached, neither for the individual, the business owner, or the developers of an advanced AI system. here here GDPR is a paper tiger That being said, the EU Commission has proposed a with a risk-based approach that aims to fill the regulatory holes and mitigate the dangers of AI systems in a delicate balancing act with the business interests of namely small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs). legal framework for regulating AI “The paper tiger” GDPR has also shown its teeth in 2021 with hefty fines. The Data Protection Commission of Luxembourg imposed a reportedly related to Amazon’s use of customer data for targeted advertising. The Irish Data Protection for unclear privacy policies and a lack of transparency in how it handles user data. and by the French data authority CNIL for failing to provide a simple method for users to opt-out of . record fine on Amazon of €746 Million fined WhatsApp €225 Million Google was fined €150 Million Facebook Ireland Limited was fined €90 Million tracking cookies Exponential Technological Growth and Technological Unemployment Exponential technological growth has done wonders for humanity over the last century, raising living standards, comfort, and convenience. And the growth continues unhinged, perhaps even . outpacing Moore’s law Moore’s law is an economic principle named after Intel co-founder who that the number of transistors in a computer chip would roughly double every year for a ten-year period. He was right. In 1975, Moore and suggested that the number of transistors would roughly double every two years. But he was too pessimistic. The number of transistors would double approximately every 18 months for 50 years from 1961. As the number of transistors in a computer chip increases, so does the computer processing power, while the price per transistor falls. Gordon E. Moore predicted in 1965 revised his prediction In 2011, physicist and futurist Michio Kaku : described the effects of Moore’s law “Today, your cell phone has more computer power than all of NASA back in 1969, when it placed two astronauts on the moon. Video games, which consume enormous amounts of computer power to simulate 3-D situations, use more computer power than mainframe computers of the previous decade. The Sony PlayStation of today, which costs $300, has the power of a military supercomputer of 1997, which cost millions of dollars.” Exponential growth of technology has of course not been limited to computer chips. Today, text-to-image models such as OpenAI’s or can generate artwork and hyper-realistic photos from prompts. can write any form of content nearly indistinguishable from human writing.  We have staffless stores like , we can build driverless cars, and acquire software to support any kind of business function. Dall-E 2 Google’s Imagen Language models Amazon Go Within decades AI systems can likely outcompete humans in any intellectual field.  Including in tasks that were previously considered safe ground such as researching and discovering, philosophizing, judicial reviewing, diagnosing, and financial analyzing. How severe will the impacts be on the job market? A pair of Oxford University researchers in 2013 that 47% of the total US employment was at high risk of automation within a decade or two. made an early prediction from the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) came with a low-end estimate in 2016 that only 9 % of jobs were automatable on average across 21 OECD countries. Another report from 2017 found that around 30% of jobs in the UK and around 38% in the US were at high risk of automation by the early 2030s. A PricewaterhouseCoopers (PwC) report World-leading AI experts Kai Fu-Lee predicted in 2018 that we would be technically capable to automate 40-50% of jobs in the United States within ten to twenty years. How should governments around the world respond? And how can we maintain a sense of purpose when job functions that previously gave us an identity are no longer needed?  We are dealing with an entirely new beast. Technocapitalism, the Internet, and Web 3.0 The name of the game in capitalism has always been that the richer become richer, while the poorer becomes poorer.  Unfortunately, techno-capitalism, which is capitalism boosted by AI systems and other modern technologies, is widening the gap further between rich and poor. For example, American billionaires during the corona pandemic. At the same time, parents in Afghanistan are to feed their starving children in the current food crisis.  Such facts remain completely invisible to us, despite of all the amazing improvements that the internet has brought to our daily lives. gained $2 trillion selling their kidneys The internet of today seems more and more like a designed to distract us with and generated partly or in whole by algorithms. famously compares the impact of social media with . According to the myth, descendants of Noah were setting out to build the Tower of Babel “with its top in the heavens”, until God disrupted their plans by confusing their language so they were no longer able to communicate. Similarly, Haidt theorizes that obfuscate our communication so we are no longer able to understand each other on the most basic level. gigantic gaslighting project attention-grabbing fake content Jonathan Haidt the biblical myth of Babel's tower polarization and echo chambers on social media To avoid Big Tech’s aggressive business models which are based on data collection, attention-capturing, and targeted ad campaigns, new web services based on blockchain technology are accessible to anyone already now. They are centered around creators, instead of intermediaries, and allow users to own, and even earn revenue, from their data. The Web 3.0 movement is inspired and founded on the philosophy behind Bitcoin. The Bitcoin system allows users to store and exchange value on the internet outside of the control of banks and governments. According to in his book , the same system could be used to even disrupt geography by forming new countries. Balaji Srinivasan The Network State What Is Next? When I study the works of futurists and AI experts, I can't help but think that policymakers and regulators are preparing for a technological tsunami with raincoats and umbrellas. Key public decision-makers should not be oblivious to the scope and scale of the technological disruption which is happening right now above our heads. In my view, radically new ideas should be listened to, and people who think outside of outdated boxes and protocols should be welcomed in order to regulate the current state of affairs and stand up to the challenges and opportunities of the post-internet era. If you are still with me, and interested in deeper, philosophical and legal contributions, sign up to my . I am also keenly interested to connect with any writer or entrepreneur who shares my perspective. Substack

Elaborating on the Need for Futuristic Thinkers

Profundizando en la necesidad de pensadores futuristas

Élaborer sur le besoin de penseurs futuristes

भविष्यवादी विचारकों की आवश्यकता पर विस्तार से विचार करना

未来派の思想家の必要性について詳しく説明する

Elaborando sobre a necessidade de pensadores futuristas

Xây dựng dựa trên sự cần thiết của những nhà tư tưởng tương lai

阐述对未来主义思想家的需求

The world of that we live in today, people are now getting knowledgeable on the business practices that were at a point hidden. According to one of the studies, it was revealed that about 80% of consumers are saying that business should play a role in addressing social issues. Here we shall be covering on the way brands are roping in cause-related marketing. information What does Cause Marketing mean? Cause marketing is a kind of that is done by the brands that are after increased profits and enhancing society as well. In this manner, they are staying in line with organizational social responsibilities. This can be done by including the activist message in the advertising campaign. marketing The main principle of cause marketing is aligning a specific brand with the cause for producing profits and also helping society. This benefits both the parties. The mutual advantage may include enhanced public connections, social value making, profit, and also shared value communication. Cause marketing includes serious collaborative efforts that occur between the brand and the NGO for mutual benefits. Different organizations usually pair up with social causes for creating a meaningful impact. But most business owners do it for driving authentic consumer engagements and also building brands. Social Cause Marketing: What is it? With the surfacing of social media like , the fruitful platform has led to increasing awareness of social causes. This can also help with gaining consumer trust and participation. Consumers are also smart now. They are easily able to understand the canny choices on the brands they look forward to buying from. This depends on the kind of company identity and brand image an organization has. facebook marketing Some well-known Cause-related Campaigns: Here are some of the best examples that we have seen in the country, that showcase cause-related campaigns. This has made a wonderful impact on society as well. 1. Red Ramp Project by Johnson Tiles: Johnson Tiles are the bath tile makers. They had always aimed at sanitizing the society for making the public placed disabled-friendly. With more than 10 million people that are not able to visit the beaches, airports, temples, churches, and malls, there was a need to think about how the public places in the country needed to change for being disabled-friendly. They were then able to launch the Red Ramp Project. This was first built at the Goa’s Kiri beach. Disabled people were now able to visit the beaches through the tiled ramps and also feel the water on their feet. The company also made a campaign video that was created to show 3 people with different physical disabilities. This video showcased how the ramp had helped them in fulfilling their dream of visiting the beach. 2. Dark is beautiful by Women of Worth: This campaign had gained popularity in recent months. The country had a history of considering dark skin as beautiful and girls of darker skin as not. In India, women are told constantly that having fair skin makes them beautiful. But these beauty standards are very narrow and people need to understand the fact that dark skin is equally beautiful. This campaign had discouraged the use of fairness and encourage everyone to be proud of their true color. The main aim was celebrating the fact that beauty resides in all skin colors. products 3. Jago Re campaign by Tata Tea This was an initiative by Tata Tea in the year 2009 and the objective has kept changing over the years. The first reminder was made for voting the leaders that will be accountable for making the country progressive. Later these campaigns had put forward messages against bribery and the simplified knowledge as Choti Shuruat that focused mainly on women empowerment. 4. Help a child reach 5 by Lifebuoy Now there are preventable infections in the country like pneumonia and diarrhea. Every year 1.3 million children used to get infected before they even turn 5. Sadly most of the children and infants come from rural and semi-rural areas that are from families with very low income. This also means that mothers had very little awareness of the small steps that they can take for stopping the infections. The company encouraged handwashing benefits and also publicized the information on hygiene in remote rural areas of the country. Because of this, about 130 million people were trained for proper hand hygiene through the help of a child reach 5 initiative. It helped in keeping the children and parents protected from the risks. Advantages of Cause Marketing For Brands: Cause Marketing increases awareness and exposure for NGOs and businesses respectively. This is an and offers some amazing benefits. Some of the advantages include: effective marketing strategy Brand loyalty enlargement. Employee morale-boosting. Sales Growth. Positive reviews and press coverage. Stand out images from the competition. Having a favorable public establishment is one of the biggest advantages of this marketing campaign. With studies, it had revealed that a lot of consumers switch to a different brand if it was linked with a cause for the betterment of society. Also, understand that this is different from philanthropy. It’s purely a marketing strategy for generating better business and helping non-governmental organization. Final words: From all of the examples that we mentioned it is clear that cause-related campaigns are the perfect way for bringing awareness towards vital causes. These can be a bit tricky when it comes to tracking the impact or performance, but it has a great demand by some of the biggest brands in the world. Therefore cause-related marketing is a norm. The customers that visit the website will be observing the social media activity and see that your business stands for specific principles. This will establish that the brand is approachable and motivates community sense on the target audience. When done correctly, cause-related marketing can become a huge factor in building the brand community. This is also good for establishing high brand values and the audience will be connecting in a much better way with you.

Great Examples Of Brands Roping In Cause-Related Campaign

The problem of Illegal arms trading is complex. Procurement and sale of illegal weapons worldwide involved so many venues where each terrorist or terrorist organizations can buy arms. When bought, it is easy to trade arms across international borders because of corrupt agents, open borders and advantages of lax security, these resources can be used as facilitation of procurement and trade of illegal weapons. Once brought across borders, they use in conflicts across the globe and reason of killing innocent civilians. In today’s digital age, other venues facilitate black markets, which boast the sale of weapons. We all are aware of the United States is the largest exporter of legal weapons but another fact the US is also the most common source country for arms found on the dark web. Sixty percent of all the weapons sold on the dark web are smuggled out of the US, according to research from the RAND Corporation along with the University of Manchester, began investigating the illegal trade in firearms, explosives and ammunition available on Silk Road-esque marketplaces. The pair believe that sellers are making a large profit by buying guns in the US and shipping them to Europe, where prices are higher. Last year, a Global Financial Integrity study estimated the average price of AK-47 on the darknet is in the $2,800 to $3,600 range. The global market of arms sale is about 60 billion dollars surveyed by Arms Control Association and others say the market value is up to 100 billion dollars. The US controls the arms market with 33% share. Russia with 10%. There are estimates that state, 10–20% of the arms traded ending up on the illegal arms black market. Today, this market includes a new avenue for illicit trade such as the Dark Web. Security Council already debated about halting illicit trade on the Dark Web. Blockchain Can Help To Stop Trading Of Illegal Arms in Black Market To fight against the illegal trading of arms is possible through Blockchain Technology by creating a global immutable database. The Blockchain would help to track any weapon from the time of their inception. The Blockchain prevents the hacking of that system as well. This being essential as it lessens the possibility of a single hack (please read in details about Blockchain Technology) used to proceeds illegal sale and procurement of weaponry from that multinational database. We know it is possible and practical because of the power of Blockchain technology, it very practical to stops illegal trading. Let us understand it with some details: Gun Tracking using Blockchain to avoid terrorism activities: If gun possession-related information were logged and connected through blockchain, it could provide a connected infrastructure for tracking where weapons came from in the event of unlawful use. I penned down about this problem after hearing the twin terror attacks on the Muslim mosques in New Zealand. By the implementation of Blockchain Technology, we would have a database to track the purchases of guns, transfers and manufacturers. The log would also be exact and hack-proof. And easy to use with purchasers, vendors and regulators. The regulators will take advantage of the information available on Blockchain explorer. Before each sale, purchasers required to pass a background check. Both the seller and gun dealer would have to approve a sale before it happened. Every gun would have an electronic gun safe; this would not be physical but digital. The digital gun safe on top of some Blockchain as like cryptocurrency wallet to support the transparency and gun control in an open environment with the help of participants. The information in the safe is only accessible through the owner’s retina scan or fingerprint, or some other way (debatable) of biometric data. The environment should be at the multinational scale. The Blockchain is the tool to fight against illegal trade of arms in the Black market but Blockchain technology should not be an end-all, rather collaborate among many others. Now, it is a time that governments should start thinking how to fight against this trade using technology and how to mitigate the sale and procurement of illegal arms in the Black market especially Dark Web by using advanced technologies such as Blockchain and others for the safety of entire humanity. The Author is a Pakistani Blockchain Evangelist and involved in international Blockchain based projects, He is the Founder of Go4 Blockchain. Follow him on Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/mahsankhan92 OR Read more about Author: https://www.about.me/mahsankhan

The Blockchain has the Potential to Stop Illegal Arms Trading into Black Market

Are VPNs Legal in Your Country? Well.. It Depends

The future of AI chips is about more than NVIDIA: AMD, Intel, chiplets, upstarts, analog AI, optical computing, and AI chips designed by AI. The interest and investment in AI is skyrocketing, and generative AI is fueling it. Over one-third of CxOs have already embraced GenAI in their operations, with nearly half preparing to invest in it. reportedly What’s powering it all – AI chips – used to receive less attention. Up to the moment, OpenAI’s for a “wildly-ambitious” tech project to boost the world’s chip capacity. Sam Altman claimed he wants to raise up to $7 trillion and sensationalism aside, however, keeping an eye on AI chips means being aware of today’s blockers and tomorrow’s opportunities. Geopolitics According to a , the global AI chip market is expected to reach $89.6 Billion by 2029. The demand for AI chips has increased substantially over time. Growth in AI technology, rising demand for AI chips in consumer electronics, and AI chip innovation all contribute to this forecast. recent study by IMARC Few people have more insights to share on AI hardware than . In an extensive conversation, Pialis shared his insider’s perspective on the AI chip landscape, the transformative rise of chiplets, specialized hardware for training and inference, the future of AI chips and emerging directions like analog and optical computing, and much more. Tony Pialis, CEO and co-founder of Alphawave An AI Leader Behind the Scenes Pialis is a semiconductor serial entrepreneur. He has previously founded and successfully sold two startups: Snowbush Microelectronics and V Semiconductor Inc. V Semiconductor was acquired by Intel in 2012, where Pialis spent a few years as the Vice President of Analog and Mixed-Signal IP. Pialis co-founded AlphaWave in 2017 with the goal of becoming “the next great semiconductor company.” Alphawave went public in 2021 with an impressive market cap of $4.5 billion. The company’s core products include silicon IP, chips, custom silicon, and high-speed interconnect technology tailored for major hyper-scaler customers like Google, Microsoft, Amazon, and Meta. Alphawave is an AI leader behind the scenes, powering hyper scalers and founded on a couple of key premises that Pialis laid out. https://pod.co/orchestrate-all-the-things-podcast-connecting-the-dots-with-george-anadiotis/the-future-of-ai-hardware-leaders-dark-horses-and-rising-stars-featuring-tony-pialis-alphawave-ceo-co-founder?embedable=true , the major players in terms of scaling out data centers and computing these days are no longer the Ciscos of the world. It’s transitioned to Hyperscalers – the Googles, Microsofts, Amazons, and Metas. Hyperscalers have internal design capability, and they also build their own servers, networks, data centers, and campuses. First , the major challenge facing AI moving forward is not computing. Pialis’ view is that the ability to design and implement compute is there. The challenge is the connectivity needed to connect the compute in order to process all of the data. This is what AlphaWave is focusing on. Second The Explosion of Specialized AI Hardware While consumer apps like ChatGPT drove the initial hype cycle in 2023, enterprise adoption reports are mixed. However, according to Pialis, the AI semiconductor sector has seen an enormous explosion of investment and new in the second half of 2023 across industries and geographies. design starts Pialis cited major national initiatives around building domestic AI chip capabilities in the US, Canada, UK, France, Germany, Korea, Taiwan and Japan. After years of relying largely on NVIDIA, governments want to foster their own chip industries to reduce strategic dependence on any one vendor. While NVIDIA CEO Jensen Huang also says that , it does not seem like this also includes the hardware layer. every country needs Sovereign AI Pialis believes this surging demand is spurring not just startups but also tech giants to develop specialized training and inference hardware. In his view, not every organization could or should develop its own AI model, but that’s bound to change. “Over time, AI will inevitably progress to be something like a utility, where hyperscalers will provide access to all of the compute power, like electricity. I think it will be reasonably priced. Anyone will be able to use this utility to train, develop, optimize and deploy their own models. But there’s going to be a lot of profit taking between now and then, and who knows how long it’ll take to eventually reach that state”, said Pialis. Leaders, Dark Horses, and Rising Stars in the AI Chip Race Few people would disagree that NVIDIA is clearly the dominant force in AI accelerators today, and Pialis shares this view. He sees AMD as a strong second place and praised CEO Lisa Su for her leadership. Others such as Ben Lorica also see . favorable winds for AMD in the GenAI chip market But Pialis cautioned not to underestimate Intel, calling it a dark horse that could still prove highly formidable in this market. More specifically, Pialis spoke highly of . Intel’s Habana acqui-hired division led by David Dahan Having worked at Intel, Pialis has an insider view. Having , and kept track of their , we tend to agree. Dahan helped architect new Intel processors that have showcased performance exceeding NVIDIA’s latest GPUs on key benchmarks. covered Habana, met Dahan MLPerf results But performance is not everything. As Pialis also noted, NVIDIA’s software platform including CUDA gives it a huge advantage in the AI chip segment. The ecosystem effects are strong, as engineers and researchers develop optimized frameworks and models for NVIDIA’s architecture. However, there is potential for alternatives; for example, . Pialis opined that a rule of thumb for AI hardware companies is that for every hardware engineer, they need 2-3 software engineers. So even though there’s a lot of talk about NVIDIA and hardware, the vast majority of the investment actually goes into the software. building upon AMD’s hardware and software stack https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYx1rGieDmE&embedable=true This was confirmed by NVIDIA’s Dave Salvator. At the , Salvator said that NVIDIA has twice as many software engineers as hardware engineers. That’s not at all by accident, as he emphasized. last MLPerf results briefing for 2023 However, Pialis sees far more potential for challengers in . The reason is that standards are still emerging in that area. As OctoML’s Luis Ceze , there’s for LLM serving, for portable deployment, and and for multiplexed fined-tuned model inference. Inference, is in fact, a bigger market than training as Pialis noted. the inference accelerator market shared vLLM MLC-LLM LoRAX Punica “There’s so much focus on training, large models and the cost of training. But it’s deployment where we all benefit from, on the inference side. That needs significant scale. That needs a different solution. More chips will inevitably be sold on the inference side than the training side. I’m sure business plans also improve with that increase in volume”, Pialis said. Startups like and are attracting significant funding, and so are companies from countries like the UK, Korea, and China trying to reduce reliance on US firms. As far as hyperscalers go, Pialis sees Amazon and Google as being neck to neck, with Microsoft showing strong momentum, and Meta being behind and rumored to acquire one of the smaller startups. Groq Tenstorrent Join the Orchestrate All the Things Newsletter Stories about how Technology, Data, AI, and Media flow into each other shaping our lives. Analysis, Essays, Interviews, and News. Mid-to-long form, 1-3 times per month. The Chiplet Technological Revolution One of the biggest transformations underway in semiconductors, according to Pialis, is the shift to . Previously, progress meant integrating more and more functionality into a single monolithic chip. But transistor dimensions are now down to ~5 atoms wide, and even tiny defects can ruin a whole chip. chiplets Pialis shared an anecdote from his own experience to highlight this. As he related, when he visited OpenAI at some point, he saw a bunch of engineers on their knees praying in front of servers. Not because they were “ ”, but rather because they didn’t want the model they were training to crash. feeling the AGI Some of us may have first heard about chiplets in the context of the China–US trade war that spills over to technology. Chiplets are a key element in the strategy of both and the . China US For Pialis, “chiplets are another technological revolution to deal with the problem that God has thrown at us.” That may sound like a wild appeal to the supernatural, but it has more to do with the challenges of physics at nanoscale. “When we build transistors, which are the basic building blocks of any integrated circuit, we’re stacking atoms. When you’re stacking atoms, the laws of probability, the laws of averaging, fall apart, because now it’s two atoms rather than hundreds of atoms and electrons. So what you get is defects”, Pialis explained. Chiplets are an innovative solution to this nanoscale physics challenge. Rather than one giant chip, designs are split into smaller Lego-like chiplets that can be connected through advanced packaging. This modularity lets chipmakers avoid throwing out entire devices due to one small flaw. The benefits, Pialis said, are important for both makers and buyers. “Silicon is no longer the foundation of leading edge semiconductors; it’s the package. Silicon is now something that is a component on this packaging. There’s been a lot of talk about semiconductor supply chains. There’s a lot of silicon capacity now. Where there’s still very little to no capacity is on the packaging, specifically for designs built using chiplets”, Pialis noted. Chiplets as Lego Building Blocks However, there is a standout example of an AI hardware company that seems to be successful, despite going the opposite way: Cerebras. Cerebras is known for its wafer-scale hardware. Pialis was positive that Cerebras was going to encounter the same defects as everyone else. The difference with Cerebras is they have redundancy. A wafer is like a panel, Pialis noted. Cerebras doesn’t even cut the panel. What they do is they have software that works around the defects. Fundamentally, they’re using silicon as the foundation rather than packaging. They have multiple chips that are arrayed, but they’re not cut. They just connect on the wafer. It definitely is a different approach. However, Pialis added, there are advantages to cutting things up. Imagine a vendor like Intel is trying to build different units such as a CPU, a GPU, a DPU, or a networking device. By breaking things up into smaller pieces, they become like Lego building blocks. So you can have a processor core chiplet, a PCI Express connectivity chiplet, an Ethernet networking chiplet, a DDR memory I/O chiplet, and a memory I/O chiplet. These chiplets can be mixed and matched in a package to build out an entire product portfolio. Pialis thinks that from a design complexity and upfront investment perspective, that’s a winning formula. Pialis sees massive benefits in chiplets, reducing costs by over 60% and power consumption by 40%. This is a major incentive for hyperscale data centers. While he sees Apple, AMD, and Intel leading in chiplets today, Pialis believes chiplets will soon become essential for any company focused on leading-edge hardware. Join the Orchestrate All the Things Newsletter Stories about how Technology, Data, AI, and Media flow into each other shaping our lives.Analysis, Essays, Interviews, and News. Mid-to-long form, 1-3 times per month. Software and Chiplet Modularity, Composability, Programmability Drawing parallels from the world of software engineering, one can wonder how come the modularity that chiplets bring to the table did not prevail earlier. But in hardware, up to now, the winners were the ones that could integrate into a monolithic device the most. The reason is that this drove down cost, which Pialis noted has created “a maniacal focus on integration.” However, as we now approach the dimensions of a single atom, the manufacturing cost eclipses the cost of integration. But even in software, . excessive modularity can also incur excessive overhead Pialis expects that some hardware vendors may take the chiplet approach too far. If functionality is broken into too many tiny pieces, the cost of integrating all of these becomes limiting. So ultimately, it’ll be a hybrid approach that wins. There are two ways of splitting things up with chiplets. The first way of building chiplets is building a single Lego block, mirroring it over and over with the same functionality, and they just talk to each other. That seems more akin to the “traditional” approach. However, one may wonder how these identical chiplet building blocks can be synthesized. The answer is, again, software. Different packages can be composed for different needs, based on the same chiplet, using the software. For example, multiples of 1, 2, 4, or 8 chiplets. The same silicon, just packaged differently, priced differently, and with different software to leverage the incremental compute and memory bandwidth associated with these devices. The other way of building chiplets is by splitting and cutting, creating Lego blocks for different types of functionality. This creates chiplets like a compute Lego block, a training I/O Lego block, a network I/O Lego block, and so on. Pialis sees more momentum behind this approach, as reusable Lego blocks can accelerate other products too. Analog AI, Optical Computing, and AI-Assisted Hardware Design Chiplets may be the immediate way forward. But at a time when power-hungry digital accelerators like GPUs dominate, Pialis claims there’s more to the future of AI chips. And that involves a radical break with the current paradigm. AI needs massively parallelized arithmetic processing, and binary is the dominant approach for this. Using binary compute, numbers are represented as ones and zeros, and floating point arithmetic is done defining precision and range. In analog arithmetic processing, floating point can be represented via voltages or currents. In theory, that may have infinite precision. In the real world where noise exists, that may yield less precision. But that may well work for applications. Using very small currents keeps things operating at low power. Edge AI https://pod.co/orchestrate-all-the-things-podcast-connecting-the-dots-with-george-anadiotis/the-future-of-ai-hardware-leaders-dark-horses-and-rising-stars-featuring-tony-pialis-alphawave-ceo-co-founder?embedable=true There’s another form of compute that some companies are investing in: optical compute for arithmetic. Optical compute uses the properties of optics to implement what are called (multiply & accumulate functionality) which is the core of any arithmetic unit. This results in even lower power demands. MACs Pialis noted that analog and optical approaches are attracting billions in investment to meet specialized needs around computational scale, energy efficiency, and precision. However, it remains unclear if analog techniques can scale effectively to match digital compute for cutting-edge AI models. There is active debate on this question in the hardware community. Even though these techniques are often dismissed as impractical, Pialis believes the investment will eventually pay off. For example, recently, it was reported that capable of processing computer vision tasks with remarkable speed and energy efficiency. researchers at Tsinghua University have developed the world’s first super all-analog photoelectric chip Finally, there’s also the question of . Pialis said that the most effective hardware designers these days are the best software developers. But if AI models can be trained by leveraging the wealth of their experience, that may bring about a sea change. using AI to help design hardware to power AI While the future of AI chips is unknown, Pialis believes the fundamental principles of engineering are timeless. Hopefully, that translates to something that does not end up draining the world’s energy and resources on the promise of future gains to be made.

What Is the Future of AI Chips? Leaders, Dark Horses, and Rising Stars

The long obscurity of the Dark Ages lifted over Italy

THE DUTY OF AMERICAN WOMEN TO THEIR COUNTRY.

THE DARK CONTINENT

Anne of Avonlea by L. M. Montgomery, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . A Prophet in His Own Country Chapter XXIV - A Prophet in His Own Country One May day Avonlea folks were mildly excited over some “Avonlea Notes,” signed “Observer,” which appeared in the Charlottetown Daily Enterprise. Gossip ascribed the authorship thereof to Charlie Sloane, partly because the said Charlie had indulged in similar literary flights in times past, and partly because one of the notes seemed to embody a sneer at Gilbert Blythe. Avonlea juvenile society persisted in regarding Gilbert Blythe and Charlie Sloane as rivals in the good graces of a certain damsel with gray eyes and an imagination. Gossip, as usual, was wrong. Gilbert Blythe, aided and abetted by Anne, had written the notes, putting in the one about himself as a blind. Only two of the notes have any bearing on this history: “Rumor has it that there will be a wedding in our village ere the daisies are in bloom. A new and highly respected citizen will lead to the hymeneal altar one of our most popular ladies. “Uncle Abe, our well-known weather prophet, predicts a violent storm of thunder and lightning for the evening of the twenty-third of May, beginning at seven o’clock sharp. The area of the storm will extend over the greater part of the Province. People traveling that evening will do well to take umbrellas and mackintoshes with them.” “Uncle Abe really has predicted a storm for sometime this spring,” said Gilbert, “but do you suppose Mr. Harrison really does go to see Isabella Andrews?” “No,” said Anne, laughing, “I’m sure he only goes to play checkers with Mr. Harrison Andrews, but Mrs. Lynde says she knows Isabella Andrews must be going to get married, she’s in such good spirits this spring.” Poor old Uncle Abe felt rather indignant over the notes. He suspected that “Observer” was making fun of him. He angrily denied having assigned any particular date for his storm but nobody believed him. Life in Avonlea continued on the smooth and even tenor of its way. The “planting” was put in; the Improvers celebrated an Arbor Day. Each Improver set out, or caused to be set out, five ornamental trees. As the society now numbered forty members, this meant a total of two hundred young trees. Early oats greened over the red fields; apple orchards flung great blossoming arms about the farmhouses and the Snow Queen adorned itself as a bride for her husband. Anne liked to sleep with her window open and let the cherry fragrance blow over her face all night. She thought it very poetical. Marilla thought she was risking her life. “Thanksgiving should be celebrated in the spring,” said Anne one evening to Marilla, as they sat on the front door steps and listened to the silver-sweet chorus of the frogs. “I think it would be ever so much better than having it in November when everything is dead or asleep. Then you have to remember to be thankful; but in May one simply can’t help being thankful . . . that they are alive, if for nothing else. I feel exactly as Eve must have felt in the garden of Eden before the trouble began. Is that grass in the hollow green or golden? It seems to me, Marilla, that a pearl of a day like this, when the blossoms are out and the winds don’t know where to blow from next for sheer crazy delight must be pretty near as good as heaven.” Marilla looked scandalized and glanced apprehensively around to make sure the twins were not within earshot. They came around the corner of the house just then. “Ain’t it an awful nice-smelling evening?” asked Davy, sniffing delightedly as he swung a hoe in his grimy hands. He had been working in his garden. That spring Marilla, by way of turning Davy’s passion for reveling in mud and clay into useful channels, had given him and Dora a small plot of ground for a garden. Both had eagerly gone to work in a characteristic fashion. Dora planted, weeded, and watered carefully, systematically, and dispassionately. As a result, her plot was already green with prim, orderly little rows of vegetables and annuals. Davy, however, worked with more zeal than discretion; he dug and hoed and raked and watered and transplanted so energetically that his seeds had no chance for their lives. “How is your garden coming on, Davy-boy?” asked Anne. “Kind of slow,” said Davy with a sigh. “I don’t know why the things don’t grow better. Milty Boulter says I must have planted them in the dark of the moon and that’s the whole trouble. He says you must never sow seeds or kill pork or cut your hair or do any ‘portant thing in the wrong time of the moon. Is that true, Anne? I want to know.” “Maybe if you didn’t pull your plants up by the roots every other day to see how they’re getting on ‘at the other end,’ they’d do better,” said Marilla sarcastically. “I only pulled six of them up,” protested Davy. “I wanted to see if there was grubs at the roots. Milty Boulter said if it wasn’t the moon’s fault it must be grubs. But I only found one grub. He was a great big juicy curly grub. I put him on a stone and got another stone and smashed him flat. He made a jolly sqush I tell you. I was sorry there wasn’t more of them. Dora’s garden was planted same time’s mine and her things are growing all right. It can’t be the moon,” Davy concluded in a reflective tone. “Marilla, look at that apple tree,” said Anne. “Why, the thing is human. It is reaching out long arms to pick its own pink skirts daintily up and provoke us to admiration.” “Those Yellow Duchess trees always bear well,” said Marilla complacently. “That tree’ll be loaded this year. I’m real glad. . . they’re great for pies.” But neither Marilla nor Anne nor anybody else was fated to make pies out of Yellow Duchess apples that year. The twenty-third of May came . . . an unseasonably warm day, as none realized more keenly than Anne and her little beehive of pupils, sweltering over fractions and syntax in the Avonlea schoolroom. A hot breeze blew all the forenoon; but after noon hour it died away into a heavy stillness. At half past three Anne heard a low rumble of thunder. She promptly dismissed school at once, so that the children might get home before the storm came. As they went out to the playground Anne perceived a certain shadow and gloom over the world in spite of the fact that the sun was still shining brightly. Annetta Bell caught her hand nervously. “Oh, teacher, look at that awful cloud!” Anne looked and gave an exclamation of dismay. In the northwest a mass of cloud, such as she had never in all her life beheld before, was rapidly rolling up. It was dead black, save where its curled and fringed edges showed a ghastly, livid white. There was something about it indescribably menacing as it gloomed up in the clear blue sky; now and again a bolt of lightning shot across it, followed by a savage growl. It hung so low that it almost seemed to be touching the tops of the wooded hills. Mr. Harmon Andrews came clattering up the hill in his truck wagon, urging his team of grays to their utmost speed. He pulled them to a halt opposite the school. “Guess Uncle Abe’s hit it for once in his life, Anne,” he shouted. “His storm’s coming a leetle ahead of time. Did ye ever see the like of that cloud? Here, all you young ones, that are going my way, pile in, and those that ain’t scoot for the post office if ye’ve more’n a quarter of a mile to go, and stay there till the shower’s over.” Anne caught Davy and Dora by the hands and flew down the hill, along the Birch Path, and past Violet Vale and Willowmere, as fast as the twins’ fat legs could go. They reached Green Gables not a moment too soon and were joined at the door by Marilla, who had been hustling her ducks and chickens under shelter. As they dashed into the kitchen the light seemed to vanish, as if blown out by some mighty breath; the awful cloud rolled over the sun and a darkness as of late twilight fell across the world. At the same moment, with a crash of thunder and a blinding glare of lightning, the hail swooped down and blotted the landscape out in one white fury. Through all the clamor of the storm came the thud of torn branches striking the house and the sharp crack of breaking glass. In three minutes every pane in the west and north windows was broken and the hail poured in through the apertures covering the floor with stones, the smallest of which was as big as a hen’s egg. For three quarters of an hour the storm raged unabated and no one who underwent it ever forgot it. Marilla, for once in her life shaken out of her composure by sheer terror, knelt by her rocking chair in a corner of the kitchen, gasping and sobbing between the deafening thunder peals. Anne, white as paper, had dragged the sofa away from the window and sat on it with a twin on either side. Davy at the first crash had howled, “Anne, Anne, is it the Judgment Day? Anne, Anne, I never meant to be naughty,” and then had buried his face in Anne’s lap and kept it there, his little body quivering. Dora, somewhat pale but quite composed, sat with her hand clasped in Anne’s, quiet and motionless. It is doubtful if an earthquake would have disturbed Dora. Then, almost as suddenly as it began, the storm ceased. The hail stopped, the thunder rolled and muttered away to the eastward, and the sun burst out merry and radiant over a world so changed that it seemed an absurd thing to think that a scant three quarters of an hour could have effected such a transformation. Marilla rose from her knees, weak and trembling, and dropped on her rocker. Her face was haggard and she looked ten years older. “Have we all come out of that alive?” she asked solemnly. “You bet we have,” piped Davy cheerfully, quite his own man again. “I wasn’t a bit scared either . . . only just at the first. It come on a fellow so sudden. I made up my mind quick as a wink that I wouldn’t fight Teddy Sloane Monday as I’d promised; but now maybe I will. Say, Dora, was you scared?” “Yes, I was a little scared,” said Dora primly, “but I held tight to Anne’s hand and said my prayers over and over again.” “Well, I’d have said my prayers too if I’d have thought of it,” said Davy; “but,” he added triumphantly, “you see I came through just as safe as you for all I didn’t say them.” Anne got Marilla a glassful of her potent currant wine . . . how potent it was Anne, in her earlier days, had had all too good reason to know . . . and then they went to the door to look out on the strange scene. Far and wide was a white carpet, knee deep, of hailstones; drifts of them were heaped up under the eaves and on the steps. When, three or four days later, those hailstones melted, the havoc they had wrought was plainly seen, for every green growing thing in the field or garden was cut off. Not only was every blossom stripped from the apple trees but great boughs and branches were wrenched away. And out of the two hundred trees set out by the Improvers by far the greater number were snapped off or torn to shreds. “Can it possibly be the same world it was an hour ago?” asked Anne, dazedly. “It must have taken longer than that to play such havoc.” “The like of this has never been known in Prince Edward Island,” said Marilla, “never. I remember when I was a girl there was a bad storm, but it was nothing to this. We’ll hear of terrible destruction, you may be sure.” “I do hope none of the children were caught out in it,” murmured Anne anxiously. As it was discovered later, none of the children had been, since all those who had any distance to go had taken Mr. Andrews’ excellent advice and sought refuge at the post office. “There comes John Henry Carter,” said Marilla. John Henry came wading through the hailstones with a rather scared grin. “Oh, ain’t this awful, Miss Cuthbert? Mr. Harrison sent me over to see if yous had come out all right.” “We’re none of us killed,” said Marilla grimly, “and none of the buildings was struck. I hope you got off equally well.” “Yas’m. Not quite so well, ma’am. We was struck. The lightning knocked over the kitchen chimbly and come down the flue and knocked over Ginger’s cage and tore a hole in the floor and went into the sullar. Yas’m.” “Was Ginger hurt?” queried Anne. “Yas’m. He was hurt pretty bad. He was killed.” Later on Anne went over to comfort Mr. Harrison. She found him sitting by the table, stroking Ginger’s gay dead body with a trembling hand. “Poor Ginger won’t call you any more names, Anne,” he said mournfully. Anne could never have imagined herself crying on Ginger’s account, but the tears came into her eyes. “He was all the company I had, Anne . . . and now he’s dead. Well, well, I’m an old fool to care so much. I’ll let on I don’t care. I know you’re going to say something sympathetic as soon as I stop talking . . . but don’t. If you did I’d cry like a baby. Hasn’t this been a terrible storm? I guess folks won’t laugh at Uncle Abe’s predictions again. Seems as if all the storms that he’s been prophesying all his life that never happened came all at once. Beats all how he struck the very day though, don’t it? Look at the mess we have here. I must hustle round and get some boards to patch up that hole in the floor.” Avonlea folks did nothing the next day but visit each other and compare damages. The roads were impassable for wheels by reason of the hailstones, so they walked or rode on horseback. The mail came late with ill tidings from all over the province. Houses had been struck, people killed and injured; the whole telephone and telegraph system had been disorganized, and any number of young stock exposed in the fields had perished. Uncle Abe waded out to the blacksmith’s forge early in the morning and spent the whole day there. It was Uncle Abe’s hour of triumph and he enjoyed it to the full. It would be doing Uncle Abe an injustice to say that he was glad the storm had happened; but since it had to be he was very glad he had predicted it . . . to the very day, too. Uncle Abe forgot that he had ever denied setting the day. As for the trifling discrepancy in the hour, that was nothing. Gilbert arrived at Green Gables in the evening and found Marilla and Anne busily engaged in nailing strips of oilcloth over the broken windows. “Goodness only knows when we’ll get glass for them,” said Marilla. “Mr. Barry went over to Carmody this afternoon but not a pane could he get for love or money. Lawson and Blair were cleaned out by the Carmody people by ten o’clock. Was the storm bad at White Sands, Gilbert?” “I should say so. I was caught in the school with all the children and I thought some of them would go mad with fright. Three of them fainted, and two girls took hysterics, and Tommy Blewett did nothing but shriek at the top of his voice the whole time.” “I only squealed once,” said Davy proudly. “My garden was all smashed flat,” he continued mournfully, “but so was Dora’s,” he added in a tone which indicated that there was yet balm in Gilead. Anne came running down from the west gable. “Oh, Gilbert, have you heard the news? Mr. Levi Boulter’s old house was struck and burned to the ground. It seems to me that I’m dreadfully wicked to feel glad over that, when so much damage has been done. Mr. Boulter says he believes the A.V.I.S. magicked up that storm on purpose.” “Well, one thing is certain,” said Gilbert, laughing, “‘Observer’ has made Uncle Abe’s reputation as a weather prophet. ‘Uncle Abe’s storm’ will go down in local history. It is a most extraordinary coincidence that it should have come on the very day we selected. I actually have a half guilty feeling, as if I really had ‘magicked’ it up. We may as well rejoice over the old house being removed, for there’s not much to rejoice over where our young trees are concerned. Not ten of them have escaped.” “Ah, well, we’ll just have to plant them over again next spring,” said Anne philosophically. “That is one good thing about this world . . . there are always sure to be more springs.” About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. L. M. Montgomery (2022). Anne of Avonlea. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/47/pg47-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html. The lead image was generated using HackerNoon's Stable Disffusion Al Image Generator feature, via the prompt "Anne of Avonlea".

A Prophet in His Own Country

The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . In The Dark Chapter IV. In The Dark Where was he running? “Where could she be except at Fyodor Pavlovitch’s? She must have run straight to him from Samsonov’s, that was clear now. The whole intrigue, the whole deceit was evident.” ... It all rushed whirling through his mind. He did not run to Marya Kondratyevna’s. “There was no need to go there ... not the slightest need ... he must raise no alarm ... they would run and tell directly.... Marya Kondratyevna was clearly in the plot, Smerdyakov too, he too, all had been bought over!” He formed another plan of action: he ran a long way round Fyodor Pavlovitch’s house, crossing the lane, running down Dmitrovsky Street, then over the little bridge, and so came straight to the deserted alley at the back, which was empty and uninhabited, with, on one side the hurdle fence of a neighbor’s kitchen‐garden, on the other the strong high fence, that ran all round Fyodor Pavlovitch’s garden. Here he chose a spot, apparently the very place, where according to the tradition, he knew Lizaveta had once climbed over it: “If she could climb over it,” the thought, God knows why, occurred to him, “surely I can.” He did in fact jump up, and instantly contrived to catch hold of the top of the fence. Then he vigorously pulled himself up and sat astride on it. Close by, in the garden stood the bath‐house, but from the fence he could see the lighted windows of the house too. “Yes, the old man’s bedroom is lighted up. She’s there!” and he leapt from the fence into the garden. Though he knew Grigory was ill and very likely Smerdyakov, too, and that there was no one to hear him, he instinctively hid himself, stood still, and began to listen. But there was dead silence on all sides and, as though of design, complete stillness, not the slightest breath of wind. “And naught but the whispering silence,” the line for some reason rose to his mind. “If only no one heard me jump over the fence! I think not.” Standing still for a minute, he walked softly over the grass in the garden, avoiding the trees and shrubs. He walked slowly, creeping stealthily at every step, listening to his own footsteps. It took him five minutes to reach the lighted window. He remembered that just under the window there were several thick and high bushes of elder and whitebeam. The door from the house into the garden on the left‐hand side, was shut; he had carefully looked on purpose to see, in passing. At last he reached the bushes and hid behind them. He held his breath. “I must wait now,” he thought, “to reassure them, in case they heard my footsteps and are listening ... if only I don’t cough or sneeze.” He waited two minutes. His heart was beating violently, and, at moments, he could scarcely breathe. “No, this throbbing at my heart won’t stop,” he thought. “I can’t wait any longer.” He was standing behind a bush in the shadow. The light of the window fell on the front part of the bush. “How red the whitebeam berries are!” he murmured, not knowing why. Softly and noiselessly, step by step, he approached the window, and raised himself on tiptoe. All Fyodor Pavlovitch’s bedroom lay open before him. It was not a large room, and was divided in two parts by a red screen, “Chinese,” as Fyodor Pavlovitch used to call it. The word “Chinese” flashed into Mitya’s mind, “and behind the screen, is Grushenka,” thought Mitya. He began watching Fyodor Pavlovitch, who was wearing his new striped‐silk dressing‐gown, which Mitya had never seen, and a silk cord with tassels round the waist. A clean, dandified shirt of fine linen with gold studs peeped out under the collar of the dressing‐gown. On his head Fyodor Pavlovitch had the same red bandage which Alyosha had seen. “He has got himself up,” thought Mitya. His father was standing near the window, apparently lost in thought. Suddenly he jerked up his head, listened a moment, and hearing nothing went up to the table, poured out half a glass of brandy from a decanter and drank it off. Then he uttered a deep sigh, again stood still a moment, walked carelessly up to the looking‐glass on the wall, with his right hand raised the red bandage on his forehead a little, and began examining his bruises and scars, which had not yet disappeared. “He’s alone,” thought Mitya, “in all probability he’s alone.” Fyodor Pavlovitch moved away from the looking‐glass, turned suddenly to the window and looked out. Mitya instantly slipped away into the shadow. “She may be there behind the screen. Perhaps she’s asleep by now,” he thought, with a pang at his heart. Fyodor Pavlovitch moved away from the window. “He’s looking for her out of the window, so she’s not there. Why should he stare out into the dark? He’s wild with impatience.” ... Mitya slipped back at once, and fell to gazing in at the window again. The old man was sitting down at the table, apparently disappointed. At last he put his elbow on the table, and laid his right cheek against his hand. Mitya watched him eagerly. “He’s alone, he’s alone!” he repeated again. “If she were here, his face would be different.” Strange to say, a queer, irrational vexation rose up in his heart that she was not here. “It’s not that she’s not here,” he explained to himself, immediately, “but that I can’t tell for certain whether she is or not.” Mitya remembered afterwards that his mind was at that moment exceptionally clear, that he took in everything to the slightest detail, and missed no point. But a feeling of misery, the misery of uncertainty and indecision, was growing in his heart with every instant. “Is she here or not?” The angry doubt filled his heart, and suddenly, making up his mind, he put out his hand and softly knocked on the window frame. He knocked the signal the old man had agreed upon with Smerdyakov, twice slowly and then three times more quickly, the signal that meant “Grushenka is here!” The old man started, jerked up his head, and, jumping up quickly, ran to the window. Mitya slipped away into the shadow. Fyodor Pavlovitch opened the window and thrust his whole head out. “Grushenka, is it you? Is it you?” he said, in a sort of trembling half‐ whisper. “Where are you, my angel, where are you?” He was fearfully agitated and breathless. “He’s alone.” Mitya decided. “Where are you?” cried the old man again; and he thrust his head out farther, thrust it out to the shoulders, gazing in all directions, right and left. “Come here, I’ve a little present for you. Come, I’ll show you....” “He means the three thousand,” thought Mitya. “But where are you? Are you at the door? I’ll open it directly.” And the old man almost climbed out of the window, peering out to the right, where there was a door into the garden, trying to see into the darkness. In another second he would certainly have run out to open the door without waiting for Grushenka’s answer. Mitya looked at him from the side without stirring. The old man’s profile that he loathed so, his pendent Adam’s apple, his hooked nose, his lips that smiled in greedy expectation, were all brightly lighted up by the slanting lamplight falling on the left from the room. A horrible fury of hatred suddenly surged up in Mitya’s heart: “There he was, his rival, the man who had tormented him, had ruined his life!” It was a rush of that sudden, furious, revengeful anger of which he had spoken, as though foreseeing it, to Alyosha, four days ago in the arbor, when, in answer to Alyosha’s question, “How can you say you’ll kill our father?” “I don’t know, I don’t know,” he had said then. “Perhaps I shall not kill him, perhaps I shall. I’m afraid he’ll suddenly be so loathsome to me at that moment. I hate his double chin, his nose, his eyes, his shameless grin. I feel a personal repulsion. That’s what I’m afraid of, that’s what may be too much for me.” ... This personal repulsion was growing unendurable. Mitya was beside himself, he suddenly pulled the brass pestle out of his pocket. “God was watching over me then,” Mitya himself said afterwards. At that very moment Grigory waked up on his bed of sickness. Earlier in the evening he had undergone the treatment which Smerdyakov had described to Ivan. He had rubbed himself all over with vodka mixed with a secret, very strong decoction, had drunk what was left of the mixture while his wife repeated a “certain prayer” over him, after which he had gone to bed. Marfa Ignatyevna had tasted the stuff, too, and, being unused to strong drink, slept like the dead beside her husband. But Grigory waked up in the night, quite suddenly, and, after a moment’s reflection, though he immediately felt a sharp pain in his back, he sat up in bed. Then he deliberated again, got up and dressed hurriedly. Perhaps his conscience was uneasy at the thought of sleeping while the house was unguarded “in such perilous times.” Smerdyakov, exhausted by his fit, lay motionless in the next room. Marfa Ignatyevna did not stir. “The stuff’s been too much for the woman,” Grigory thought, glancing at her, and groaning, he went out on the steps. No doubt he only intended to look out from the steps, for he was hardly able to walk, the pain in his back and his right leg was intolerable. But he suddenly remembered that he had not locked the little gate into the garden that evening. He was the most punctual and precise of men, a man who adhered to an unchangeable routine, and habits that lasted for years. Limping and writhing with pain he went down the steps and towards the garden. Yes, the gate stood wide open. Mechanically he stepped into the garden. Perhaps he fancied something, perhaps caught some sound, and, glancing to the left he saw his master’s window open. No one was looking out of it then. “What’s it open for? It’s not summer now,” thought Grigory, and suddenly, at that very instant he caught a glimpse of something extraordinary before him in the garden. Forty paces in front of him a man seemed to be running in the dark, a sort of shadow was moving very fast. “Good Lord!” cried Grigory beside himself, and forgetting the pain in his back, he hurried to intercept the running figure. He took a short cut, evidently he knew the garden better; the flying figure went towards the bath‐house, ran behind it and rushed to the garden fence. Grigory followed, not losing sight of him, and ran, forgetting everything. He reached the fence at the very moment the man was climbing over it. Grigory cried out, beside himself, pounced on him, and clutched his leg in his two hands. Yes, his foreboding had not deceived him. He recognized him, it was he, the “monster,” the “parricide.” “Parricide!” the old man shouted so that the whole neighborhood could hear, but he had not time to shout more, he fell at once, as though struck by lightning. Mitya jumped back into the garden and bent over the fallen man. In Mitya’s hands was a brass pestle, and he flung it mechanically in the grass. The pestle fell two paces from Grigory, not in the grass but on the path, in a most conspicuous place. For some seconds he examined the prostrate figure before him. The old man’s head was covered with blood. Mitya put out his hand and began feeling it. He remembered afterwards clearly, that he had been awfully anxious to make sure whether he had broken the old man’s skull, or simply stunned him with the pestle. But the blood was flowing horribly; and in a moment Mitya’s fingers were drenched with the hot stream. He remembered taking out of his pocket the clean white handkerchief with which he had provided himself for his visit to Madame Hohlakov, and putting it to the old man’s head, senselessly trying to wipe the blood from his face and temples. But the handkerchief was instantly soaked with blood. “Good heavens! what am I doing it for?” thought Mitya, suddenly pulling himself together. “If I have broken his skull, how can I find out now? And what difference does it make now?” he added, hopelessly. “If I’ve killed him, I’ve killed him.... You’ve come to grief, old man, so there you must lie!” he said aloud. And suddenly turning to the fence, he vaulted over it into the lane and fell to running—the handkerchief soaked with blood he held, crushed up in his right fist, and as he ran he thrust it into the back pocket of his coat. He ran headlong, and the few passers‐by who met him in the dark, in the streets, remembered afterwards that they had met a man running that night. He flew back again to the widow Morozov’s house. Immediately after he had left it that evening, Fenya had rushed to the chief porter, Nazar Ivanovitch, and besought him, for Christ’s sake, “not to let the captain in again to‐day or to‐morrow.” Nazar Ivanovitch promised, but went upstairs to his mistress who had suddenly sent for him, and meeting his nephew, a boy of twenty, who had recently come from the country, on the way up told him to take his place, but forgot to mention “the captain.” Mitya, running up to the gate, knocked. The lad instantly recognized him, for Mitya had more than once tipped him. Opening the gate at once, he let him in, and hastened to inform him with a good‐humored smile that “Agrafena Alexandrovna is not at home now, you know.” “Where is she then, Prohor?” asked Mitya, stopping short. “She set off this evening, some two hours ago, with Timofey, to Mokroe.” “What for?” cried Mitya. “That I can’t say. To see some officer. Some one invited her and horses were sent to fetch her.” Mitya left him, and ran like a madman to Fenya. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Fyodor Dostoyevsky (2009). The Brothers Karamazov. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/28054/pg28054-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

In The Dark

Virgin Orbit, an American company, recently attempted to launch a satellite into space using a large airplane to carry the rocket LauncherOne from Newquay, Cornwall to the Atlantic Ocean. Despite initial success, the rocket encountered an issue, resulting in the loss of the satellites it was carrying. In this slogging thread, our community discussed the UK's failed satellite launch and some other failed attempts by other countries. This Slogging thread by Valentine Enedah, Sara Pinto, Mónica Freitas and Marco Sullivan occurred in slogging's official #space channel, and has been edited for readability. Valentine Enedah Jan 13, 2023, 6:18 AM UK’s Launch Goes Dark: Satellite Mission Fails https://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-64218883 Valentine Enedah Jan 13, 2023, 7:29 AM This mission was tagged as a major milestone for the UK space agency, as it has been a great ambition for the country to be a big player in terms of building rockets, manufacturing satellites, and launching spacecraft. The upper segment of the rocket was where the issue occurred and due to the second-stage engine experiencing a technical anomaly, it could not complete its required orbit. Valentine Enedah Jan 13, 2023, 8:03 AM Valentine Enedah Jan 13, 2023, 8:08 AM Although the UK’s space industry delivers its products to other foreign space stations to put them into orbit, it is still known globally for building satellites of different sizes. This failed mission raises questions about the reliability and effectiveness of new, unconventional methods of launching satellites. Regardless of that, I will quote the famous words of President John F. Kennedy, which emphasize perseverance in pursuing difficult endeavours. "We do these things not because they are easy but because they are hard." What do you think? Sara Pinto Jan 13, 2023, 10:43 AM Valentine Enedah, picking up on the famous quote, I think it totally fits the situation. Unfortunately, it didn't go as planned, but there's so much yet to explore that we can't let go of this ambition. Valentine Enedah Jan 13, 2023, 10:48 AM Sara Pinto Yes, exactly. Progress is progress, no matter how little it is. Africa is not even close to launching theirs so believe this is a huge leap.🔥 Mónica Freitas Jan 13, 2023, 2:18 PM I mean, we learn from failure. This will be important for their future developments. It's a shame it failed but it'll be useful later on and it's a great initiative 💚 1 Valentine Enedah Jan 13, 2023, 6:41 PM Mónica Freitas Indeed! I hope they figure it out. Has Portugal launched a satellite to space? Marco Sullivan Jan 16, 2023, 8:03 AM Satellite launch is not an easy feat and this is indeed horrible. Valentine Enedah Do you know more about this and can you tell us about countries that have tried and also failed? Mónica Freitas Jan 16, 2023, 4:06 PM Valentine Enedah I don't think so, Even though we have a Space Agency - - I don't think we ever got that much involved. How about your country? https://ptspace.pt/azores-islp/ Valentine Enedah Jan 17, 2023, 5:20 AM Marco Sullivan Well, a couple of countries have tried and failed. But I found a useful site where you can check some popular satellite launch failures. I think the one that was really sad for me is China's  failed attempt to launch the World's first Methane-fueled Orbital rocket. Link: https://www.space.com/12-biggest-rocket-failures-2022 Valentine Enedah Jan 17, 2023, 5:22 AM Mónica Freitas That's okay. We haven't attempted any satellite launches yet. I don't think we will do that soon!😂 Mónica Freitas Jan 17, 2023, 8:05 PM Valentine Enedah I'm not sure but I think this says a lot about our countries finances ahaha 💚 1 Valentine Enedah Jan 18, 2023, 2:16 AM Mónica Freitas Yes, cause most times, these satellites fail to launch so imagine investing millions of a currency into space operations and the launch fails. It might deal a heavy blow on the economy. Mónica Freitas Jan 25, 2023, 7:41 PM True, especially for economies that aren't as strong. Great point Valentine Enedah 💚 1 Valentine Enedah Jan 26, 2023, 2:07 PM Mónica Freitas Yes and it happened during this time. I hope they don't increase taxes for their citizens. Mónica Freitas Feb 1, 2023, 11:39 AM Unfortunately we're experiencing that here but for different events - religious in the most recent case - and we're all kinda mad about it 💚 1 Valentine Enedah Feb 1, 2023, 1:38 PM Mónica Freitas Religious taxes? That's interesting! Mónica Freitas Feb 1, 2023, 2:13 PM Yeah, so basically, there's this youth event where the pope comes to a country and for a while they have all these religious ceremonies. The issue is, our government is willing to spend over 38M euros for this event - with us, the people, paying part of it and other bit being payed by the church 💚 1 Mónica Freitas Feb 1, 2023, 2:14 PM With the inflation raging about, no one is happy about this 💚 1 Valentine Enedah Feb 1, 2023, 2:29 PM Mónica Freitas 38M!!!! What! That's a lot of money. Reminds me of back in the medieval where Kingdoms have to pay a lot of money to the papacy. 😂 1 Mónica Freitas Feb 1, 2023, 3:41 PM FACTS! 💚 1

The UK’s Space Launch Goes Dark: Satellite Mission Fails

Voodoo Planet by Poul Anderson, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . V Voodoo Planet Chapter V Sitting up, Dane stared wide-eyed into the dark. A handful of glowing coals, guarded by rocks, was the center of their camp. He hunched up to that hardly knowing why he moved. His hands were shaking, his skin damp with sweat no heat produced. Yet, now that he was conscious of the night, the Terran could not remember the nightmare from which he had just awakened, though he was left with a growing apprehension which he could not define. What prowled out there in that dark? Walked the mountain side? Listened, spied and waited? Dane half started to his feet as a form did move into the dim light of the fire. Tau stood there, regarding him with sober intensity. "Bad dream?" The younger man admitted to that with a nod, partly against his will. "Well, you aren't the only one. Remember any of it?" With an effort, Dane looked away from the encircling dark. It was as if the fear which had shaken him awake, now embodied, lurked right there. "No." He rubbed sleep-smarting eyes. "Neither did I," Tau remarked. "But both of 'em must have been jet-powered." "I suppose one could expect to have nightmares after yesterday." Dane advanced the logical explanation, yet at the same time something deep inside him denied every word of it. He had known nightmares before; none of them had left this aftertaste. And he wanted no return of sleep tonight. Reaching to the pile of wood he fed the fire as Tau settled down beside him. "There is something else...." the medic began, and then fell silent. Dane did not press him. The younger man was too busy fighting a growing desire to whirl and aim the fire ray into that darkness, to catch in its withering blast that lurking thing he could feel padded there, biding its time. Despite his efforts Dane did drowse again before morning, waking unrefreshed, and, to his secret dismay, with no lessening of his odd dislike for the country about them. Asaki did not suggest that they trail the poachers into the morass of Mygra. Instead the Chief Ranger was eager to press on in the opposite direction, find a way over the range to the preserve where he could assemble a punitive force to deal with the outlaws. So they began an upward climb which took them away from the dank heat of the lowlands, into the parched blaze of the sunbaked ledges above. The sun was bright, far too bright, and there were few shadows left. Yet Dane, stopping to drink sparingly from his canteen, could not lose that sense of eyes upon him, of being tracked. Rock apes? Cunning as those beasts were, it was against their nature to trail in utter silence, to be able to carry through a long-term project. Lion, perhaps? He noted that Nymani and Asaki took turns at rear guard today, and that each was alert. Yet, oddly enough, none of them mentioned the uneasiness they must all share. They had a dry climb, finding no mountain stream to renew their water supply. All being experienced in wilderness travel, they made a mouthful of liquid go a long way. When the party halted slightly before midday, canteens were still half full. "Haugh!" They jerked up, hands on weapons. A rock ape, its hideous body clearly seen here, capered, coughed, spat. Asaki fired from the hip and the thing screeched, clawed at its chest where the dark blood spewed out, and raced for them. Nymani cut the beast down and they waited tensely for the attack of the thing's tribe, which should have followed the abortive lunge on the part of their scout. But there was nothing—neither sound nor movement. What did follow froze them all momentarily. That mangled body began to move again, drew itself together, crawled toward them. Dane knew that it was impossible that the creature could live with such wounds. Yet the beast advanced, its head lolling on its hunched shoulders so that the eyes were turned blindly up to the full glare of the sun, while it crawled to reach the man it could not see. "Demon!" Nymani dropped his needler, shrank back against the rocks. As the thing advanced, before their eyes the impossible happened. Those gaping wounds closed, the head straightened on the almost invisible neck, the eyes glared once more with life, and slaver dripped from the swine snout. Jellico caught up the needler Nymani had dropped. With a coolness Dane envied, the captain shot. And for the second time the rock ape collapsed, torn to ribbons. Nymani screamed, and Dane tried to choke back his own cry of horrified protest. The dead thing put on life for the second time, crawled, got somehow to its feet, healed itself, and came on. Asaki, his face greenish-pale, stepped out stiffly as if each step he took was forced by torture. He had dropped his needler. Now he caught up a rock as large as his own head, raised it high with arms on which the muscles stood out like ropes. He hurled the stone, and Dane heard as well as saw the missile go home. The rock ape fell for the third time. When one of those taloned paws began to move again, Nymani broke. He ran, his screams echoing thinly in the air, as the thing lurched up, the gory mess of its head weaving about. If his feet would have obeyed him, Dane might have followed the Khatkan. As it was, he drew his ray and aimed it at that shambling thing. Tau struck up the barrel. The medic's face was livid; there was the same horror in his eyes. But he moved out to front that monster. A spot of shadow coalesced on the ground, deepened in hue, took on substance. Crouched low facing the rock ape, its haunches quivering for a deadly spring, narrowed green eyes holding on its prey, was a black leopard. The tiny forward and backward movements of its body steadied, and it arched through the air, brought down the ape. A pitting, snarling tangle rolled across the slope—and was gone! Asaki's hands shook as he drew them down his sweating face. Jellico readied a second clip in the needler mechanically. But Tau was swaying so that Dane leaped to take the shock of the other's weight as he collapsed. Only for a moment did the medic hang so, then he struggled to stand erect. "Magic?" Jellico's voice, as controlled as ever, broke the silence. "Mass hallucination," Tau corrected him. "Very strong." "How!" Asaki swallowed and began again. "How was it done?" The medic shook his head. "Not by the usual methods, that is certain. And it worked on us—on me—when we weren't conditioned. I don't understand that!" Dane could hardly believe it yet. He watched Jellico stride to where the tangle of struggling beasts had rolled, saw him examine bare ground on which no trace of the fight remained. They must accept Tau's explanation; it was the only sane one. Asaki's features were suddenly convulsed with a rage so stark that Dane realized how much a veneer was the painfully built civilization of Khatka. "Lumbrilo!" The Chief Ranger made of that name a curse. Then with a visible effort he controlled his emotions and came to Tau, looming over the slighter medic almost menacingly. "How?" he demanded for the second time. "I don't know." "He will try again?" "Not the same perhaps—" But Asaki had already grasped the situation, was looking ahead. "We shall not know," he breathed, "what is real, what is not." "There is also this," Tau warned. "The unreal can kill the believer just as quickly as the real!" "That I know also. It has happened too many times lately. If we could only find out how! Here are no drums, no singing—none of the tricks to tangle a man's mind that he usually uses to summon his demons. So without Lumbrilo, without his witch tools, how does he make us see what is not?" "That we must discover and speedily, sir. Or else we shall be lost among the unreal and the real." "You also have the power. You can save us!" Asaki protested. Tau drew his arm across his face. Very little of the normal color had returned to his thin, mobile features. He still leaned against Dane's supporting arm. "A man can do only so much, sir. To battle Lumbrilo on his own ground is exhausting and I can not fight so very often." "But will he not also be exhausted?" "I wonder...." Tau gazed beyond the Khatkan to the barren ground where leopard and rock ape had ceased to be. "This magic is a tricky thing, sir. It builds and feeds upon a man's own imagination and inner fears. Lumbrilo, having triggered ours, need not strive at all, but let us ourselves raise that which will attack us." "Drugs?" demanded Jellico. Tau gave a start sufficient to take him out of Dane's loose hold. His hand went to the packet of aid supplies which was his own care, his eyes round with wonder and then shrewdly alert. "Captain, we disinfected those thorn punctures of yours. Thorson, your foot salve.... But, no, I didn't use anything—" "You forget, Craig, we all had scratches after that fight with the apes." Tau sat down on the ground. With feverish haste he unsealed his medical supplies, laid out some containers. Then delicately he opened each, examined its contents closely by eye, by smell, and two by taste. When he was done he shook his head. "If these have been in any way meddled with, I would need laboratory analysis to detect it. And I don't believe that Lumbrilo could hide traces of his work so cleverly. Or has he been off-planet? Had much to do with off-worlders?" he asked the Chief Ranger. "By the nature of his position he is forbidden to space voyage, to have any close relationship with any off-worlder. I do not think, medic, he would choose your healing substances for his mischief. There would only be chance to aid him then in producing the effects he wants. Though there is often call for first aid in travel, he could not be certain you would use any of your drugs on this trip to the preserve." "And Lumbrilo was certain. He threatened something such as this," Jellico reminded them. "So it would be something which we would all use, which we had to depend upon...." "The water!" Dane had been holding his own canteen ready to drink. But as that possible explanation dawned in his mind, he smelled instead of tasted the liquid sloshing inside. There was no odor he could detect. But he remembered Tau commenting on the powdered purifier pills at their first camp. "That's it!" Tau dug further into his kit, brought out the vial of white powder with its grainy lumps. Pouring a little into the palm of his hand he smelled it, touched it with the tip of his tongue. "Purifier and something else," he reported. "It could be one of half a dozen drugs, or some native stuff from here which we've never classified." "True. There are drugs we have found here." Asaki scowled down at the green mat of jungle. "So our water is poisoned?" "Do you always purify it?" Tau asked the Chief Ranger. "Surely during the centuries since your ancestors landed on Khatka you must have adapted to native water. You couldn't have lived otherwise. We must use the purifier, but must you?" "There is water and water." Asaki shook his own canteen, his scowl growing fiercer as the gurgle from its depths was heard. "From springs on the other side of the mountains we drink—yes. But over here, this close to the Mygra swamps, we have not done so. We may have to chance it." "Do you think we are literally poisoned?" Jellico bored directly to the heart of their private fears. "None of us have been drinking too heavily," Tau observed thoughtfully. "And I don't believe Lumbrilo had outright killing in mind. How long the effect will last I have no way of telling." "If we saw one rock ape," Dane wondered, "why didn't we see others? And why here and now?" "That!" Tau pointed ahead on the trail Asaki had picked for their ascent. For a long moment Dane could see nothing of any interest there and then he located it—a finger of rock. It did not point directly skyward this time, in fact it slanted so that its tip indicated their back trail. Yet in outline the spire was very similar to that outcrop from which the real rock ape had charged them the day before. Asaki exclaimed in his own tongue and slapped his hand hard against the stock of the needler. "We saw that and so again we saw an ape also! Had earlier we been charged by graz or jumped by a lion in such a place, then again we would have been faced by graz or lion here!" Captain Jellico gave a bark of laughter colored only by the most sardonic humor. "Clever enough. He merely leaves it to us to select our own ghost and then repeat the performance in the next proper setting. I wonder how many rocks shaped like that one there are in these mountains? And how long will a rock ape continue to pop out from behind each one we do find?" "Who knows? But as long as we drink this water we're going to continue to have trouble; I feel safe in promising that," Tau replied. He put the vial of doctored purifier into a separate pocket of his medical kit. "It may be a problem of how long we can go without water." "Perhaps," Asaki said softly. "Only not all the water on Khatka comes running in streams." "Fruit?" Tau asked. "No, trees. Lumbrilo is not a hunter, nor could he be certain when and where his magic would go to work. Unless the flitter was deliberately sabotaged, he was planning for us to use our canteens in the preserve. That is lion country and there are long distances between springs. This is jungle below us and there is a source there I think we can safely tap. But first I must find Nymani and prove to him that this is truly deviltry of a sort, but not demon inspired." He was gone, running lightly down-slope in the direction his hunter had taken, and Dane spoke to Captain Jellico. "What's this about water in trees, sir?" "There is a species of tree here, not too common, with a thickened trunk. It stores water during the rainy season to live on in the hot months. Since we are in the transition period between rains, we could tap it—if we locate one of the trees. How about that, Tau? Dare we drink that without a purifier?" "Probably a choice of two evils, sir. But we have had our preventive shots. Personally, I'd rather battle disease than take a chance on a mind-twisting drug. You can go without water just so long...." "I'd like to have a little talk with Lumbrilo," remarked Jellico, the mildness in his voice very deceptive. "I'm going to have a little talk with Lumbrilo, if and when we see him again!" promised Tau. "What are our chances, sir?" Dane asked. He screwed the cap back on his canteen, his mouth feeling twice as dry since he knew he dared not drink. "Well, we've faced gambles before." Tau sealed the medical kit. "I'd like to see one of those trees before sundown. And I don't want to face another pointed rock today!" "Why the leopard?" asked Jellico reflectively. "Another case of using flame to fight fire? But Lumbrilo wasn't among those present to be impressed." Tau rubbed his hand across his forehead. "I don't really know, sir. Maybe I could have made the ape vanish without a counter projection, but I don't think so. With these hallucinations it is better to battle one vision against another for the benefit of those involved. And I can't even tell you why I selected a leopard—it just flashed into mind as about the fastest and most deadly animal fighter I could recall at that moment." "You'd better work out a good list of such fighters." Jellico's grim humor showed again. "I can supply a few if you need them. Not that I don't share your hope we won't see any more trigger rocks. Here comes Asaki with his wandering boy." The Chief Ranger was half-leading, half-supporting his hunter, and Nymani seemed only half-conscious. Tau got to his feet and hurried to meet them. It would appear that their search for the water tree would be delayed. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Andre Alice Norton (2006). Voodoo Planet. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/18846/pg18846-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

Sitting up, Dane stared wide-eyed into the dark

The First Men In The Moon, by H. G. Wells, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . The First Making of Cavorite The First Making of Cavorite But Cavor’s fears were groundless, so far as the actual making was concerned. On the 14th of October, 1899, this incredible substance was made! Oddly enough, it was made at last by accident, when Mr. Cavor least expected it. He had fused together a number of metals and certain other things—I wish I knew the particulars now!—and he intended to leave the mixture a week and then allow it to cool slowly. Unless he had miscalculated, the last stage in the combination would occur when the stuff sank to a temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit. But it chanced that, unknown to Cavor, dissension had arisen about the furnace tending. Gibbs, who had previously seen to this, had suddenly attempted to shift it to the man who had been a gardener, on the score that coal was soil, being dug, and therefore could not possibly fall within the province of a joiner; the man who had been a jobbing gardener alleged, however, that coal was a metallic or ore-like substance, let alone that he was cook. But Spargus insisted on Gibbs doing the coaling, seeing that he was a joiner and that coal is notoriously fossil wood. Consequently Gibbs ceased to replenish the furnace, and no one else did so, and Cavor was too much immersed in certain interesting problems concerning a Cavorite flying machine (neglecting the resistance of the air and one or two other points) to perceive that anything was wrong. And the premature birth of his invention took place just as he was coming across the field to my bungalow for our afternoon talk and tea. I remember the occasion with extreme vividness. The water was boiling, and everything was prepared, and the sound of his “zuzzoo” had brought me out upon the verandah. His active little figure was black against the autumnal sunset, and to the right the chimneys of his house just rose above a gloriously tinted group of trees. Remoter rose the Wealden Hills, faint and blue, while to the left the hazy marsh spread out spacious and serene. And then— The chimneys jerked heavenward, smashing into a string of bricks as they rose, and the roof and a miscellany of furniture followed. Then overtaking them came a huge white flame. The trees about the building swayed and whirled and tore themselves to pieces, that sprang towards the flare. My ears were smitten with a clap of thunder that left me deaf on one side for life, and all about me windows smashed, unheeded. I took three steps from the verandah towards Cavor’s house, and even as I did so came the wind. Instantly my coat tails were over my head, and I was progressing in great leaps and bounds, and quite against my will, towards him. In the same moment the discoverer was seized, whirled about, and flew through the screaming air. I saw one of my chimney pots hit the ground within six yards of me, leap a score of feet, and so hurry in great strides towards the focus of the disturbance. Cavor, kicking and flapping, came down again, rolled over and over on the ground for a space, struggled up and was lifted and borne forward at an enormous velocity, vanishing at last among the labouring, lashing trees that writhed about his house. A mass of smoke and ashes, and a square of bluish shining substance rushed up towards the zenith. A large fragment of fencing came sailing past me, dropped edgeways, hit the ground and fell flat, and then the worst was over. The aerial commotion fell swiftly until it was a mere strong gale, and I became once more aware that I had breath and feet. By leaning back against the wind I managed to stop, and could collect such wits as still remained to me. In that instant the whole face of the world had changed. The tranquil sunset had vanished, the sky was dark with scurrying clouds, everything was flattened and swaying with the gale. I glanced back to see if my bungalow was still in a general way standing, then staggered forwards towards the trees amongst which Cavor had vanished, and through whose tall and leaf-denuded branches shone the flames of his burning house. I entered the copse, dashing from one tree to another and clinging to them, and for a space I sought him in vain. Then amidst a heap of smashed branches and fencing that had banked itself against a portion of his garden wall I perceived something stir. I made a run for this, but before I reached it a brown object separated itself, rose on two muddy legs, and protruded two drooping, bleeding hands. Some tattered ends of garment fluttered out from its middle portion and streamed before the wind. For a moment I did not recognise this earthy lump, and then I saw that it was Cavor, caked in the mud in which he had rolled. He leant forward against the wind, rubbing the dirt from his eyes and mouth. He extended a muddy lump of hand, and staggered a pace towards me. His face worked with emotion, little lumps of mud kept falling from it. He looked as damaged and pitiful as any living creature I have ever seen, and his remark therefore amazed me exceedingly. “Gratulate me,” he gasped; “gratulate me!” “Congratulate you!” said I. “Good heavens! What for?” “I’ve done it.” “You have. What on earth caused that explosion?” A gust of wind blew his words away. I understood him to say that it wasn’t an explosion at all. The wind hurled me into collision with him, and we stood clinging to one another. “Try and get back—to my bungalow,” I bawled in his ear. He did not hear me, and shouted something about “three martyrs—science,” and also something about “not much good.” At the time he laboured under the impression that his three attendants had perished in the whirlwind. Happily this was incorrect. Directly he had left for my bungalow they had gone off to the public-house in Lympne to discuss the question of the furnaces over some trivial refreshment. I repeated my suggestion of getting back to my bungalow, and this time he understood. We clung arm-in-arm and started, and managed at last to reach the shelter of as much roof as was left to me. For a space we sat in arm-chairs and panted. All the windows were broken, and the lighter articles of furniture were in great disorder, but no irrevocable damage was done. Happily the kitchen door had stood the pressure upon it, so that all my crockery and cooking materials had survived. The oil stove was still burning, and I put on the water to boil again for tea. And that prepared, I could turn on Cavor for his explanation. “Quite correct,” he insisted; “quite correct. I’ve done it, and it’s all right.” “But,” I protested. “All right! Why, there can’t be a rick standing, or a fence or a thatched roof undamaged for twenty miles round....” “It’s all right—really. I didn’t, of course, foresee this little upset. My mind was preoccupied with another problem, and I’m apt to disregard these practical side issues. But it’s all right—” “My dear sir,” I cried, “don’t you see you’ve done thousands of pounds’ worth of damage?” “There, I throw myself on your discretion. I’m not a practical man, of course, but don’t you think they will regard it as a cyclone?” “But the explosion—” “It was not an explosion. It’s perfectly simple. Only, as I say, I’m apt to overlook these little things. It’s that zuzzoo business on a larger scale. Inadvertently I made this substance of mine, this Cavorite, in a thin, wide sheet....” He paused. “You are quite clear that the stuff is opaque to gravitation, that it cuts off things from gravitating towards each other?” “Yes,” said I. “Yes.” “Well, so soon as it reached a temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit, and the process of its manufacture was complete, the air above it, the portions of roof and ceiling and floor above it ceased to have weight. I suppose you know—everybody knows nowadays—that, as a usual thing, the air has weight, that it presses on everything at the surface of the earth, presses in all directions, with a pressure of fourteen and a half pounds to the square inch?” “I know that,” said I. “Go on.” “I know that too,” he remarked. “Only this shows you how useless knowledge is unless you apply it. You see, over our Cavorite this ceased to be the case, the air there ceased to exert any pressure, and the air round it and not over the Cavorite was exerting a pressure of fourteen pounds and a half to the square inch upon this suddenly weightless air. Ah! you begin to see! The air all about the Cavorite crushed in upon the air above it with irresistible force. The air above the Cavorite was forced upward violently, the air that rushed in to replace it immediately lost weight, ceased to exert any pressure, followed suit, blew the ceiling through and the roof off.... “You perceive,” he said, “it formed a sort of atmospheric fountain, a kind of chimney in the atmosphere. And if the Cavorite itself hadn’t been loose and so got sucked up the chimney, does it occur to you what would have happened?” I thought. “I suppose,” I said, “the air would be rushing up and up over that infernal piece of stuff now.” “Precisely,” he said. “A huge fountain—” “Spouting into space! Good heavens! Why, it would have squirted all the atmosphere of the earth away! It would have robbed the world of air! It would have been the death of all mankind! That little lump of stuff!” “Not exactly into space,” said Cavor, “but as bad—practically. It would have whipped the air off the world as one peels a banana, and flung it thousands of miles. It would have dropped back again, of course—but on an asphyxiated world! From our point of view very little better than if it never came back!” I stared. As yet I was too amazed to realise how all my expectations had been upset. “What do you mean to do now?” I asked. “In the first place if I may borrow a garden trowel I will remove some of this earth with which I am encased, and then if I may avail myself of your domestic conveniences I will have a bath. This done, we will converse more at leisure. It will be wise, I think”—he laid a muddy hand on my arm—“if nothing were said of this affair beyond ourselves. I know I have caused great damage—probably even dwelling-houses may be ruined here and there upon the country-side. But on the other hand, I cannot possibly pay for the damage I have done, and if the real cause of this is published, it will lead only to heartburning and the obstruction of my work. One cannot foresee everything, you know, and I cannot consent for one moment to add the burthen of practical considerations to my theorising. Later on, when you have come in with your practical mind, and Cavorite is floated—floated is the word, isn’t it?—and it has realised all you anticipate for it, we may set matters right with these persons. But not now—not now. If no other explanation is offered, people, in the present unsatisfactory state of meteorological science, will ascribe all this to a cyclone; there might be a public subscription, and as my house has collapsed and been burnt, I should in that case receive a considerable share in the compensation, which would be extremely helpful to the prosecution of our researches. But if it is known that I caused this, there will be no public subscription, and everybody will be put out. Practically I should never get a chance of working in peace again. My three assistants may or may not have perished. That is a detail. If they have, it is no great loss; they were more zealous than able, and this premature event must be largely due to their joint neglect of the furnace. If they have not perished, I doubt if they have the intelligence to explain the affair. They will accept the cyclone story. And if during the temporary unfitness of my house for occupation, I may lodge in one of the untenanted rooms of this bungalow of yours—” He paused and regarded me. A man of such possibilities, I reflected, is no ordinary guest to entertain. “Perhaps,” said I, rising to my feet, “we had better begin by looking for a trowel,” and I led the way to the scattered vestiges of the greenhouse. And while he was having his bath I considered the entire question alone. It was clear there were drawbacks to Mr. Cavor’s society I had not foreseen. The absentmindedness that had just escaped depopulating the terrestrial globe, might at any moment result in some other grave inconvenience. On the other hand I was young, my affairs were in a mess, and I was in just the mood for reckless adventure—with a chance of something good at the end of it. I had quite settled in my mind that I was to have half at least in that aspect of the affair. Fortunately I held my bungalow, as I have already explained, on a three-year agreement, without being responsible for repairs; and my furniture, such as there was of it, had been hastily purchased, was unpaid for, insured, and altogether devoid of associations. In the end I decided to keep on with him, and see the business through. Certainly the aspect of things had changed very greatly. I no longer doubted at all the enormous possibilities of the substance, but I began to have doubts about the gun-carriage and the patent boots. We set to work at once to reconstruct his laboratory and proceed with our experiments. Cavor talked more on my level than he had ever done before, when it came to the question of how we should make the stuff next. “Of course we must make it again,” he said, with a sort of glee I had not expected in him, “of course we must make it again. We have caught a Tartar, perhaps, but we have left the theoretical behind us for good and all. If we can possibly avoid wrecking this little planet of ours, we will. But—there must be risks! There must be. In experimental work there always are. And here, as a practical man, you must come in. For my own part it seems to me we might make it edgeways, perhaps, and very thin. Yet I don’t know. I have a certain dim perception of another method. I can hardly explain it yet. But curiously enough it came into my mind, while I was rolling over and over in the mud before the wind, and very doubtful how the whole adventure was to end, as being absolutely the thing I ought to have done.” Even with my aid we found some little difficulty, and meanwhile we kept at work restoring the laboratory. There was plenty to do before it became absolutely necessary to decide upon the precise form and method of our second attempt. Our only hitch was the strike of the three labourers, who objected to my activity as a foreman. But that matter we compromised after two days’ delay. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. H. G. Wells (2010). The First Men In The Moon. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022, from https://www.gutenberg.org/files/1013/1013-h/1013-h.htm This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

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Dark Country is American gothic game world where items are created, owned and managed by players. Based on the classic Collectible Card Games (CCG), we welcome you to unleash the full power of NFTs.

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