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Friday, 25 February 2022

Grey Goos

Beware!

For I have already given Art a dose of the cattle-prod and vapourised a couple of cemeteries of bafunes who yarked on about the 'spelling mistake'.  Today we continue with our examination of A.C.O.R.N. microbots, as promised yesteryon*.  As you should surely recall, 'Grey Goo' is a scenario where assembler nanotechnology experiences a runaway logarithmic expansion and consumes the entire planetary biosphere.  Art!

"Ooops"

     You know what?  I was pondering an album by Caravan, namely "In The Land Of Pink And Grey' earlier this week, when looking out of the Dark Tower at the rain-shrouded lands beyond.  "In The Land Of Grey" would be a more apt title, I thought - and then we have the picture above, a world consumed by microbots.

     ANYWAY it makes a wonderful horror scenario, except it's far more impossible than unlikely to ever happen, for the reasons that follow.

     Complexity: the more components these machines have, the greater the possibility that one of them will fail, or that they were mis-assembled in the first place.  Art!


Robustness: Either designed or incidental, how long an assembler will function is, in part, down to how tough it is.  A wise microbotics designer will ensure that his teaspoon of microbots have a limited lifespan so that the teaspoon doesn't become a mass greater than the City Of London overnight.  Or the simple act of assembling other assemblers might degrade the original generation into uselessness over time.  One would expect designers to give their mechanical children a very, very short initial lifespan and work up from there.

Testing: Only a completely mad scientist with no regards for self-preservation would deliberately create and release microbots into the environment WITHOUT TESTING THEM FIRST.  First, you run computer simulations.  Once you arrive at a design that doesn't eat the planet, you proceed to test the replication process in a 'sandbox'.  This is a physically closed and hermetically sealed system, with - and you may be ahead of me here - a kill-switch that will destroy all microbots via oooh I dunno, gamma ray lasers? if this step goes wrong.  Only then would you trial a release, in a remote location, probably an island.  


Remote Operation: Rather than have microbots that can operate autonomously, that is without any supervision, lessen the risk by having very stupid assemblers that need computer guidance to operate.  If things look like going wrong, you hit the computer kill-switch.  Or, more likely, the computer trips said switch if any one of a list of parameters are exceeded, because it can kill-switch far faster than can any Hom. Sap. 


     There are practical limitations, too.  What kind of materials are the assemblers able to assimilate?  Organic?  Mineral?  Metallic?  A microbot designed to work with dangerous fissile materials is going to be hard-pressed to find thorium or plutonium to work with.  What happens if they get rained on?  Would ultra-violet radiation degrade their performance?  Or a hurricane?     

     So, Grey Goo makes a terrific horror story.  In real life?  Nah, not so much.  Sorry, Mike.


Conrad - Still Seething!

I certainly am, and yes, beyond my usual level of Unfocussed Anger, in fact right up there with Frothing Nitric Ire.  Not quite Raving Chlorine-Trichloride Rage**.  Of course the reason is Codeword compilers going beyond the reasonable and into the ridiculous.  I dunno.  I keep vapourising them and the replacements never seem to learn.  At least my Button-Pushing Finger is getting a good workout.

"FLAK":  Conrad is only concerned about you, gentle reader, for with himself it is perfectly rational and reasonable to see this slang for 'anti-aircraft fire', a portmanteau of the Teuton 'Flieger Abwehr Kanone', given the extensive (perhaps worryingly so) collection of works I have on the Second Unpleasantness.  Art!

An attack of flak

"JERBOA": NOT to be confused with a Jeraboam, which is an exceedingly large bottle of champagne.  Art!

Jeroboam with puny human for scale

     Again, Conrad is intimately familiar with the jerboa because of the Second Unpleasantness and his obsessive interest with the war in North Africa, where the Seventh Armoured Division had as an emblem the 'Desert Rat'.  Art!

The Axis did not like

     The 'Desert Rat' was the soldiers nickname for the Jerboa, and if Art can cease his convulsive twitching (it was a very large cattle-prod) -

Cute.  BUT LETHAL***!

"CICADA":  ARE YOU KIDDING!  How ethnocentric can you get!  Of course this will be intimately familiar with South Canadians BUT NOT THE REST OF THE WORLD.  Your Humble Scribe does in fact recall hearing them whilst reading on the back porch of our rental in Portland.  BUT THAT'S NO EXCUSE!  Art?

Wow, how ugly are they

Business In Great Waters

Yay, more wet images from the Underwater Photographer of the Year competition, which is a quick win for Conrad as he doesn't have to chase down items for content; it's all there on the plate.  Art!

'Gannet Storm' By Henley Spiers

     You may not be aware, so a little explication is in order.  Gannets are seabirds that dive from height into the sea, in order to catch fish, a necessity if you don't have mutually-opposable thumbs and a rod.  Henley was underwater off the Shetland Isles for this shot, thus getting an opportunity to shoot a gannet as it went under.  The sound, he said, was thunderous, as there were dozens of them taking the plunge in a short timespan.  None mistook the human for an especially large and tasty fish, luckily for both parties.


Go On, A Little Torment In Your Lives

Luma was being informed by Father Geoghan about another unfortunate soul with a similar, equally-unwanted 'gift'.

Taking advantage the priest’s unusual surprise, Louis pressed on.

               ‘Who was he?  All I know is that he came from Lithuania, in nineteen forty four.’

               Father Geoghan drew a sigh.

               ‘Oh my.  Anton.  Anton Verbius.  Vilnius is the capital of Lithuania, by the way.  He was as unfortunate as yourself.  The NKVD arrested and tortured him when the Bolsheviks occupied the country in nineteen forty – he’d been heard making anti-Soviet remarks.  His wife and children were killed on their farm when it became a battleground after the Nazis invaded.  He ended up in hospital, either having been injured during that same battle or shortly afterwards, maybe even trying to commit suicide.’

               All of this had a nasty familiar air to Louis, making him frown and rub his arms.

               ‘Then he started to see things that weren’t there, but which seemed to influence the real world.  The Orthodox church authorities took an interest in him, sheltered and protected him.  Sadly, the chaos of war and occupation by the Nazis meant that serious research was never fully undertaken.  Anton Verbius disappeared in post-war Germany.  It is suspected that he was murdered, but nothing has ever been proven.’

               The priest looked at his watch with a start.

               ‘Goodness me!  I only meant to stop and say thank you.  I have to be going, Louis.  Now, please treat those religious artefacts I gave you in all seriousness.  You need to protect yourself.’

               After being left alone, Louis shook his head again. 

               ‘S***. I’m the lecturer. How come I end up getting lectured to!’  Between the priest and the Professor, he felt like a man trapped by a symbolic pincer-movement.

     I wrote about Vilnius, didn't I?  Art!

Viva Vilnius

Finally -

BOVINGTON TANK MUSEUM!  That's my suggestion for how we spend our entirely unexpected social funding opportunity.  Or White Scar Caves.  The thing about the caves is that entry is weather-dependent, because if a storm arrives whilst you're underground, things can get a tad hairy.  And this month of February has been extremely hirsute in weather terms.  SO - Bovvie is a safer bet.  Art!



     And with that, we are done.  O so very done!


Autonomous Constructor Omnivorous Replicating NanobotS

**  You'll recognise this right away, as there will be laser beams shooting from my eyes.

***  Ha, you're so gullible.

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