Every year lightning strikes cause a lot of damage — with the high-voltage discharges being a major risk to buildings, infrastructure, and the continued existence of squishy bags of mostly salty water. While some ways exist to reduce their impact such as lightning rods, these passive systems can only be deployed in select locations and cannot prevent the build-up of the charge that leads up to the plasma discharge event. But the drone-based system recently tested by Japan’s NTT, the world’s fourth largest telecommunications company, could provide a more proactive solution.

The idea is pretty simple: fly a drone that is protected by a specially designed metal cage close to a thundercloud with a conductive tether leading back to the ground. By providing a very short path to ground, the built-up charge in said cloud will readily discharge into this cage and from there back to the ground.

To test this idea, NTT researchers took commercial drones fitted with such a protective cage and exposed them to artificial lightning. The drones turned out to be fine up to 150 kA which is five times more than natural lightning. Afterwards the full system was tested with a real thunderstorm, during which the drone took a hit and kept flying, although the protective cage partially melted.

Expanding on this experiment, NTT imagines that a system like this could protect cities and sensitive areas, and possibly even use and store the thus captured energy rather than just leading it to ground. While this latter idea would need some seriously effective charging technologies, the idea of proactively discharging thunderclouds is perhaps not so crazy. We would need to see someone run the numbers on the potential effectiveness, of course, but we are all in favor of (safe) lightning experiments like this.

If you’re wondering why channeling lightning away from critical infrastructure is such a big deal, you may want to read up on Apollo 12.

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We’ve certainly seen people take a photo of a part, bring it into CAD, and then scale it until some dimension on the screen is the same as a known dimension of the part. We like what [Scale Addition] shows in the video below. In addition to a picture of the part, he also takes a picture of a vernier caliper gripping the part. Now your scale is built into the picture, and you can edit out the caliper later.

He uses SketchUp, but this would work on any software that can import an image. Given the image with the correct scale, it is usually trivial to sketch over the image or even use an automatic tracing function. You still need some measurements, of course. The part in question has a vertical portion that doesn’t show up in a flat photograph. We’ve had good luck using a flatbed scanner before, and there’s no reason you couldn’t scan a part with a caliper for scale.

This is one case where a digital caliper probably isn’t as handy as an old-school one. But it would be possible to do the same trick with any measurement device. You could even take your picture on a grid of known dimensions. This would also allow you to check that the distances at the top and bottom are the same as the distances on the right and left.

Of course, you can get 3D scanners, but they have their own challenges.

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The 1970s saw a veritable goldrush to corner the home computer market, with Tandy’s Z80-powered TRS-80 probably one of the most (in)famous entries. Designed from the ground up to be as cheap as possible, the original (Model I) TRS-80 cut all corners management could get away with. The story of the TRS-80 Model I is the subject of a recent video by the [Little Car] YouTube channel.

Having the TRS-80 sold as an assembled computer was not a given, as kits were rather common back then, especially since Tandy’s Radio Shack stores had their roots in selling radio kits and the like, not computer systems. Ultimately the system was built around the lower-end 1.78 MHz Z80 MPU with the rudimentary Level I BASIC (later updated to Level II), though with a memory layout that made running the likes of CP/M impossible. The Model II would be sold later as a dedicated business machine, with the Model III being the actual upgrade to the Model I. You could also absolutely access online services like those of Compuserve on your TRS-80.

While it was appreciated that the TRS-80 (lovingly called the ‘Trash-80’ by some) had a real keyboard instead of a cheap membrane keyboard, the rest of the Model I hardware had plenty of issues, and new FCC regulations meant that the Model III was required as the Model I produced enough EMI to drown out nearby radios. Despite this, the Model I put Tandy on the map of home computers, opened the world of computing to many children and adults, with subsequent Tandy TRS-80 computers being released until 1991 with the Model 4.

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Although [Vitor Fróis] is explaining linear regression because it relates to machine learning, the post and, indeed, the topic have wide applications in many things that we do with electronics and computers. It is one way to use independent variables to predict dependent variables, and, in its simplest form, it is based on nothing more than a straight line.

You might remember from school that a straight line can be described by: y=mx+b. Here, m is the slope of the line and b is the y-intercept. Another way to think about it is that m is how fast the line goes up (or down, if m is negative), and b is where the line “starts” at x=0.

[Vitor] starts out with a great example: home prices (the dependent variable) and area (the independent variable). As you would guess, bigger houses tend to sell for more than smaller houses. But it isn’t an exact formula, because there are a lot of reasons a house might sell for more or less. If you plot it, you don’t get a nice line; you get a cloud of points that sort of group around some imaginary line.

There are mathematical ways to figure out what line you should imagine, but you can often eyeball it, too. The real trick is evaluating the quality of that imaginary line.

To do that, you need an error measure. If you didn’t know better, you’d probably think expressing the error in terms of absolute value would be best. You know, “this is 10 off” or whatever. But, as [Vitor] explains, the standard way to do this is with a squared error term R2. Why? Read the post and find out.

For electronics, linear regression has many applications, including interpreting sensor data. You might also use it to generalize a batch of unknown components, for example. Think of a batch of transistors with different Beta values at different frequencies. A linear regression will help you predict the Beta and the error term will tell you if it is worth using the prediction or not. Or, maybe you just want to make the perfect cup of coffee.

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In the driving simulator community, setups can quickly grow ever more complicated and expensive, all in the quest for fidelity. For [CNCDan], rather than buy pedals off the shelf, he opted to build his own.

[Dan] has been using some commercial pedals alongside his own DIY steering wheel and the experience is rather lackluster in comparison. The build starts with some custom brackets. To save on cost, they are flat with tabs to let you know where to bend it in a vise. Additionally, rather than three sets of unique brackets, [Dan] made them all the same to save on cost. The clutch and throttle are a simple hall effect sensor with a spring to provide feedback. However, each bracket provides a set of spring mounting holes to adjust the curve. Change up the angle of the spring and you have a different curve. The brake pedal is different as rather than measure position, it measures force. A load cell is perfect for this. The HX711 load cell sensor board that [Dan] bought was only polling at 10hz. Lifting a pin from ground and bodging it to VDD puts the chip in 80hz, which is much more usable for a driving sim setup.

[Dan] also cleverly uses a 3d printed bushing without any walls as resistance for the pedal. Since the bushing is just the infill, the bushing stiffness is controlled by the infill percentage. Aluminum extrusion forms the base so [Dan] can adjust the exact pedal positions. To finish it off, a bog standard Arduino communicates to the PC as a game controller.

The project is on GitHub. Perhaps the next version will have active feedback, like this DIY pedal setup.

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You might be old enough to remember record platters, but you probably aren’t old enough to remember when records were cylinders. The Edison Blue Amberol records came out in 1912 and were far superior to the earlier wax cylinders. If you had one today, how could you play it? Easy. Just build [Palingenesis’] record player. You can even hear it do its thing in the video below.

The cylinders are made of plaster with a celluloid wrapper tinted with the namesake blue color. They were more durable than the old wax records and could hold well over four minutes of sound.

The player is mostly made from wood cut with a mill or a laser. There are some bearings, fasteners, and — of course — electronics. The stylus requires some care. Conventional records use a lateral-cut groove, but these old records use a vertical-cut. That means the pickup moves up and down and has a rounder tip than a conventional needle.

Rather than try to control the motor to an exact speed, you get to set the speed with a potentiometer and see the resulting RPM on a small display. Overall, an involved but worthwhile project.

We recently looked at some players that would have been new about the same time as the blue record in the video. We don’t think you could modify one of these to play stereo, but if you do, let us know immediately!

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If you have seen Star Wars, you know what is being referenced here. Holochess appeared as a diversion built into the Millennium Falcon in the very first movie, way back in 1977. While not quite as iconic a use of simulated holograms as tiny Princess Leia begging for hope, it evidently struck a chord with [Maker Mac70], given the impressive effort he’s evidently gone through to re-create the game table from the film.

The key component of this unit is a plate from Japanese firm ASKA3D that scatters light from displays inside the table in just such a way that the diverging rays are focused at a point above its surface, creating the illusion of an image hovering in space. Or in this case, hovering at the surface of a acrylic chessboard. Granted, this technique only works from one viewing angle, and so is not a perfect recreation of a sci-fi holoprojector. But from the right angle, it looks really good, as you can see in the video below.

There are actually six SPI displays, driven by an Arduino GIGA, positioned and angled to project each character in the game. Placing two of the displays on 3D printed gantries allows them to move, allowing two creatures to battle in the center of the table. As [Maker Mac70] admits, this is quite a bit simpler than the Holochess game seen in the film, but it’s quite impressive for real world hardware.

If this all seems a little bit familiar, we covered an earlier floating display by [Maker Mac70] last year. This works on similar principles, but uses more common components which makes the technique more accessible. If chess isn’t your forte, why not a volumetric display that plays DOOM? If you’re interested in real holograms, not Sci-Fi, our own [Maya Posch] did a deep dive you may find interesting.

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These days, if you are in the market for a capable digital voltmeter, you might as well consider getting one with an oscilloscope built-in. One choice is the Owon HDS160, which [Kerry Wong] covers in the video below. The model is very similar to the HDS120, but the multimeter in the HDS160 has more counts–60,000 vs 20,000 as you might expect from the model number.

The internal chip is an HY3131, which is rated at 50,000 counts which is odd since the meter is 60,000 counts, but presumably the meter uses some capability of the chip, possibly putting it out of spec. The oscilloscope is the same between the two models. Almost everything else works the same, other than the capacitance measuring feature, as the video shows.

The difference in cost between the two units isn’t much, so if you are shopping, the small extra cost is probably worth it. Not that a 20,000 count meter isn’t perfectly fine for most normal uses.

[Kerry] really likes scopemeters. He gets excited about bench scopes, too.

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The word “Schlieren” is German, and translates roughly to “streaks”. What is streaky photography, and why might you want to use it in a project? And where did this funny term come from?

Think of the heat shimmer you can see on a hot day. From the ideal gas law, we know that hot air is less dense than cold air. Because of that density difference, it has a slightly lower refractive index. A light ray passing through a density gradient faces a gradient of refractive index, so is bent, hence the shimmer.

Heat shimmer: the refractive index of the air is all over the place. Image: “Livestock crossing the road in Queensland, Australia” by [AlphaLemur]German lens-makers started talking about “Schelieren” sometime in the 19th century, if not before. Put yourself in the shoes of an early lensmaker: you’ve spent countless hours laboriously grinding away at a glass blank until it achieves the perfect curvature. Washing it clean of grit, you hold it to the light and you see aberration — maybe spatial, maybe chromatic. Schliere is the least colourful word you might say, but a schliere is at fault. Any wonder lens makers started to develop techniques to detect the invisible flaws they called schlieren?

When we talk of schlieren imagery today, we generally aren’t talking about inspecting glass blanks. Most of the time, we’re talking about a family of fluid-visualization techniques. We owe that nomenclature to German physicist August Toepler, who applied these optical techniques to visualizing fluid flow in the middle of the 19th century. There is now a whole family of schlieren imaging techniques, but at the core, they all rely on one simple fact: in a fluid like air, refractive index varies by density.

Toepler’s pioneering setup is the one we usually see in hacks nowadays. It is based on the Foucault Knife Edge Test for telescope mirrors. In Foucault’s test, a point source shines upon a concave mirror, and a razor blade is placed where the rays focus down to a point. The sensor, or Foucault’s eye, is behind the knife edge such that the returning light from the pinhole is interrupted. This has the effect of magnifying any flaws in the lens, because rays that deviate from the perfect return path will be blocked by the knife-edge and miss the eye.

[Toepler]’s single-mirror layout is quick and easy.Toepler’s photographic setup worked the same way, save for the replacement of the eye with a photographic camera, and the use of a known-good mirror. Any density changes in the air will refract the returning rays, and cause the characteristic light and dark patterns of a schlieren photograph. That’s the “classic” schlieren we’ve covered before, but it’s not the only game in town.

Fun Schlieren Tricks

A little color can make a big difference for any kind of visualization. (Image: “Colored schlieren image“ by [Settles1])For example, a small tweak that makes a big aesthetic difference is to replace the knife edge with a colour filter. The refracted rays then take on the colour of the filter. Indeed, with a couple of colour filters you can colour-code density variations: light that passes through high-density areas can be diverted through two different colored filters on either side, and the unbent rays can pass through a third. Not only is it very pretty, the human eye has an easier time picking up on variations in colour than value. Alternatively, the light from the point source can be passed through a prism. The linear spread of the frequencies from the prism has a similar effect to a line of colour filters: distortion gets color-coded.

A bigger tweak uses two convex mirrors, in two-mirror or Z-path schlieren. This has two main advantages: one, the parallel rays between the mirrors mean the test area can be behind glass, useful for keeping sensitive optics outside of a high-speed wind tunnel. (This is the technique NASA used to use.) Parallel rays also ensure that the shadow of both any objects and the fluid flow are no issue; having the light source off-centre in the classic schrilien can cause artifacts from shadows. Of course you pay for these advantages: literally, in the sense that you have to buy two mirrors, and figuratively in that alignment is twice as tricky. The same colour tricks work just as well, though, and was in often use at NASA.

The z-fold allows for parallel rays in the test area.

There’s absolutely no reason that you could not substitute lenses for mirrors, in either the Z-path or classical version, and people have to good effect in both cases. Indeed, Robert Hooke’s first experiment involved visualizing the flow of air above a candle using a converging lens, which was optically equivalent to Toepler’s classic single-mirror setup. Generally speaking, mirrors are preferred for the same reason you never see an 8” refracting telescope at a star party: big mirrors are way easier to make than large lenses.

T-34s captured in flight with NASA’s AirBOS technique. Image credit : NASA.

What if you want to visualize something that doesn’t fit in front of a mirror? There are actually several options. One is background-oriented schrilien, which we’ve covered here. With a known background, deviations from it can be extracted using digital signal processing techniques. We showed it working with a smart phone and a printed page, but you can use any non-uniform background. NASA uses the ground: by looking down, Airborn Background Oriented Schlieren (AirBOS)  can provide flow visualization of shockwaves and vortices around an airplane in flight.

In the days before we all had supercomputers in our pockets, large-scale flow-visualization was still possible; it just needed an optical trick. A pair of matching grids is needed: one before the lamp, creating a projection of light and dark, and a second one before the lens. Rays deflected by density variations will run into the camera grid. This was used to good effect by Gary S. Styles to visualize HVAC airflows in 1997

Can’t find a big mirror? Try a grid.

Which gets us to another application, separate from aerospace. Wind tunnel photos are very cool, but let’s be honest: most of us are not working on supersonic drones or rocket nozzles. Of course air flow does not have to be supersonic to create density variations; subsonic wind tunnels can be equipped with schlieren optics as well.

HVAC as you’ve never seen it before. Imagine those were ABS fumes? (Image from Styles, 1997.)

Or maybe you are more concerned with airflow around components? To ID a hotspot on a board, IR photography is much easier. On the other hand, if your hotspot is due to insufficient cooling rather than component failure? Schlieren imagery can help you visualize the flow of air around the board, letting you optimize the cooling paths.

That’s probably going to be easiest with the background-oriented version: you can just stick the background on one side of your project’s enclosure and go to work. I think that if any of you start using schlieren imaging in your projects, this might be the killer app that will inspire you to do so.

Another place we use air? In the maker space. I have yet to see someone use schlieren photography to tweak the cooling ducts on their 3D printer, but you certainly could. (It has been used to see shielding gasses in welding, for example.) For that matter, depending what you print, proper exhaust of the fumes is a major health concern. Those fumes will show up easily, given the temperature difference, and possibly even the chemical composition changing the density of the air.

Remember that the key thing being imaged isn’t temperature difference, but density difference. Sound waves are density waves, can they be imaged in this way? Yes! The standing waves in ultrasonic levitation rigs are a popular target. Stroboscopic effects can be used for non-standing waves, though keep in mind that the sound pressure level is the inverse of frequency, so audible frequencies may not be practical if you like your eardrums.

Schlieren photography isn’t limited to air. Density variations in liquids and solids are game, too. Want to see how multiple solutions of varying density or tempeature are mixing? Schlieren imaging has you covered. Watch convection in a water tank? Or, if you happen to be making lenses, you could go right back to basics and use one of the schlieren techniques discussed here to help you make them perfect.

The real reason I’m writing about these techniques aren’t the varied applications I hope you hackers can put them to: it’s an excuse to collect all the pretty pictures of flow visualization I can cram into this article. So if you read this and thought “I have no practical reason to use this technique, but it does seem cool” – great! We’re in the same boat. Let’s make some pretty pictures. It still counts as a hack.

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Of all FDM filament types, flexible ones such as TPU invite a whole new way of thinking, as well as applications. Case in point the TPU-based bellows that the [Functional Part Friday] channel on YouTube recently demonstrated.

The idea is quite straightforward: you print TPU and PLA in alternating layers, making sure that the TPU is connected to its previous layer in an alternating fashion. After printing, you peel the PLA and TPU apart, remove the PLA layers and presto, you got yourself bellows.

There were some issues along the way, of course. Case in point the differences between TPU from different brands (Sainsmart, Sunlu) that caused some headaches, and most of all the incompatibility between the Bambu Lab AMS and TPU that led to incredibly brittle TPU prints. This required bypassing the feed mechanism in the AMS, which subsequently went down a rabbit hole of preventing the PTFE tube from getting sucked into the AMS. Being able to print TPU & PLA at the same time also requires a printer with two independent extruders like the Bambu Lab H2D used here, as both materials do not mix in any way. Great news for H2D and IDEX printer owners, of course.

As for practical applications for bellows, beyond printing your own 1900s-era camera, accordion or hand air bellows, you can also create lathe way covers and so on.

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Detecting a signal pulse is usually basic electronics, but you start to find more complications when you need to time the signal’s arrival in the picoseconds domain. These include the time-walk effect: if your circuit compares the input with a set threshold, a stronger signal will cross the threshold faster than a weaker signal arriving at the same time, so stronger signals seem to arrive faster. A constant-fraction discriminator solves this by triggering at a constant fraction of the signal pulse, and [Michael Wiebusch] recently presented a hacker-friendly implementation of the design (open-access paper).

A constant-fraction discriminator splits the input signal into two components, inverts one component and attenuates it, and delays the other component by a predetermined amount. The sum of these components always crosses zero at a fixed fraction of the original pulse. Instead of checking for a voltage threshold, the processing circuitry detects this zero-crossing. Unfortunately, these circuits tend to require very fast (read “expensive”) operational amplifiers.

This is where [Michael]’s design shines: it uses only a few cheap integrated circuits and transistors, some resistors and capacitors, a length of coaxial line as a delay, and absolutely no op-amps. This circuit has remarkable precision, with a timing standard deviation of 60 picoseconds. The only downside is that the circuit has to be designed to work with a particular signal pulse length, but the basic design should be widely adaptable for different pulses.

[Michael] designed this circuit for a gamma-ray spectrometer, of which we’ve seen a few examples before. In a spectrometer, the discriminator would process signals from photomultiplier tubes or scintillators, such as we’ve covered before.

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The iMac G3 is an absolute icon of industrial design, as (or perhaps more) era-defining than the Mac Classic before it. In the modern day, if your old iMac even boots, well, you can’t do much with it. [Rick Norcross] got a hold of a dead (hopefully irreparable) specimen, and stuffed a modern PC inside of it.

From the outside, it’s suprizingly hard to tell. Of course the CRT had to go, replaced with a 15″ ELO panel that fits well after being de-bezeled. (If its resolution is only 1024 x 768, well, it’s also only 15″, and that pixel density matches the case.) An M-ATX motherboard squeezes right in, above a modular PSU. Cooling comes from a 140 mm case fan placed under the original handle. Of course you can’t have an old Mac without a startup chime, and [Rick] obliges by including an Adafruit FX board wired to the internal speakers, set to chime on power-up while the PC components are booting.

These sorts of mods have proven controversial in the past– certainly there’s good reason to want to preserve aging hardware–but perhaps with this generation of iMac it won’t raise the same ire as when someone guts a Mac Classic. We’ve seen the same treatment given to a G4 iMac, but somehow the lamp doesn’t quite have the same place in our hearts as the redoubtable jellybean.

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It might seem strange to people like us, but normal people hate wires. Really hate wires. A lot. So it makes sense that with so many wireless technologies, there should be a way to do USB over wireless. There is, but it really hasn’t caught on outside of a few small pockets. [Cameron Kaiser] wants to share why he thinks the technology never went anywhere.

Wireless USB makes sense. We have high-speed wireless networking. Bluetooth doesn’t handle that kind of speed, but forms a workable wireless network. In the background, of course, would be competing standards.

Texas Instruments and Intel wanted to use multiband orthogonal frequency-division multiplexing (MB-OFDM) to carry data using a large number of subcarriers. Motorola (later Freescale), HP, and others were backing the competing direct sequence ultra-wideband or DS-UWB. Attempts to come up with a common system degenerated.

This led to two systems W-USB (later CF-USB) and CW-USB. CF-USB looked just like regular USB to the computer and software. It was essentially a hub that had wireless connections. CW-USB, on the other hand, had cool special features, but required changes at the driver and operating system level.

Check out the post to see a bewildering array of orphaned and incompatible products that just never caught on. As [Cameron] points out, WiFi and Bluetooth have improved to the point that these devices are now largely obsolete.

Of course, you can transport USB over WiFi, and maybe that’s the best answer, today. That is, if you really hate wires.

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They might call it Levity, but there’s nothing funny about Rapid Liquid Print’s new silicone 3D printer. It has to be seen to be believed, and luckily [3D Printing Nerd] gives us lots of beauty shots in this short video, embedded below.

Smooth, and fast. This bladder took 51 minutes according to the RLP website.

Printing a liquid, even a somewhat-viscous one like platinum-cure silicone, presents certain obvious challenges. The Levity solves them with buoyancy: the prints are deposited not onto a bed, but into a gel, meaning they are fully supported as the silicone cures. The fact that the liquid doesn’t cure instantly has a side benefit: the layers bleed into one another, which means this technique should (in theory) be much less isotropic in strength than FDM printing. We have no data to back that up, but what you can see for yourself that the layer-blending creates a very smooth appearance in the finished prints.

If you watch the video, it really looks like magic, the way prints appear in the gel. The gel is apparently a commercially-available hydrogel, which is good since the build volume looks to need about 500 L of the stuff. The two-part silicone is also industry-standard and off-the-shelf, though no doubt the exact ratios and are tweaked for purpose. There’s no magic, just a really neat technology.

If you want one, you can sign up for the waiting list at Rapid Liquid Print’s website, but be prepared to wait; units ship next year, and there’s already a list.

Alternatively, since there is no magic here, we’d love to see someone take it on themselves, the way once equally exotic SLS printers have entered the DIY world. There was a time when resin printers were new and exotic and hobbyists had to roll their own, too. None of this is to say we don’t respect the dickens out of the Rapid Liquid Print team and their achievement–it’s just that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

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Researchers from the USA and India have proposed that Floquet Majorana fermions may improve quantum computing by controlling superconducting currents, potentially reducing errors and increasing stability.

In a study published in Physical Review Letters that was co-authored by [Babak Seradjeh], a Professor of Physics at Indiana University Bloomington, and theoretical physicists [Rekha Kumari] and [Arijit Kundu], from the Indian Institute of Technology Kanpur, the scientists validate their theory using numerical simulations.

In the absence of room-temperature superconductors — the Holy Grail of superconductivity, everybody put your thinking caps on! — the low temperatures required lead to expense (for cooling) and errors (due to decoherence) which need to be managed. Using the techniques proposed by the study, quantum information may be modeled non-locally and be spread out spatially in a material, making it more stable and less error prone, immune to local noise and fluctuations.

Majorana fermions are named after Italian physicist [Ettore Majorana] who proposed them in 1937. Unlike most particles, Majorana fermions are their own antiparticles. In the year 2000 mathematical physicist [Alexei Kitaev] realized Majorana fermions can exist not only as elementary particles but also as quantum excitations in certain materials known as topological superconductors. Topological superconductors differ from regular superconductors in that they have unique, stable quantum states on their surface or edges that are protected by the material’s underlying topology.

Superconductivity is such an interesting phenomenon, where electrical resistance all but vanishes in certain materials when they are very cold. Usually to induce a current in a material you apply a voltage, or potential difference, in order to create the electrical pressure that results in the current. But in a superconductor currents can flow in the absence of an applied voltage. This is because of a peculiar quantum tunneling process known as the “Josephson effect”. It is hoped that by tuning the Josephson current using a superconductor’s “chemical potential” that we discover a new level of control over quantum materials.

Ettore Majorana picture: Mondadori Collection, Public domain.

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The 1970s was a perfect time for alternative modes of transport to be trialed that might replace cars in the wake of the global oil crisis. One of these was the Cabinentaxi, or C-Bahn as it was later called, which was a variation on the standard suspended and monorail concepts.

It was a people mover concept, with ‘pods’ (or cabins) that’d ride either on top of or below the suspended track. It was tested intensively over the course of six years, performed admirably, and completely failed to materialize commercially due to budget crunch times around the world.

Recently [Tim Traveller] went to the muddy farm field that once housed the big test track (pictured above), of which nothing remains but the gates and a sign. Despite the fact that few people have heard of Cabinentaxi prior to seeing [Tim]’s video or reading this, there is a big Wikipedia entry on it, as well as a (German language) site dedicated to the technology.

What made the C-Bahn different from trains and buses were the smaller pods, high throughput capacity and ability to call a pod on demand at any of the stations. This kind of flexibility is what is seen more or less with today’s people moving systems at airports and some cities, except the C-Bahn was classified as a personal rapid transport (PRT), with on-demand pods that could travel between any two stations without stopping or delays. This is something that isn’t seen with public transport today, even if self-driving cars purport to one day do this kind of trick.

Considering that this technology died most due to economical circumstances, we remain hopeful to see its revival one day.

Top image: Cabinentaxi layout as it existed in 1978, with labels by the Tim Traveller YT channel.

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We don’t often consider using do-it-yourself projects as a hedge against the apocalypse. But [The Thought Emporium] thinks we should know how to make penicillin just in case. We aren’t so sure, but we do think it is a cool science experiment, and you can learn how to replicate it in the video below.

If you want to skip the history lesson, you need to fast-forward to about the six-minute mark. According to the video, we are surrounded by mold that can create anti-bacterial compounds. However, in this case, he starts with a special strain of mold made to produce lots of antibiotics.

You may not have all the gear he uses, including a bioreactor to generate liters of mold. Even with a lot of mold, the yield of penicillin is relatively low. Since Purina doesn’t make mold chow, you’ll have to create your own food for the mold colony.

All the work he did wound up producing 125 milligrams of drug. Obviously, if you are going to save the post-apocalyptic world, you are going to need to scale that process up.

If you are the sole survivor, maybe your AI companion can help out.

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Not too long ago, I was searching for ideas for the next installment of the “Big Chemistry” series when I found an article that discussed the world’s most-produced chemicals. It was an interesting article, right up my alley, and helpfully contained a top-ten list that I could use as a crib sheet for future articles, at least for the ones I hadn’t covered already, like the Haber-Bosch process for ammonia.

Number one on the list surprised me, though: sulfuric acid. The article stated that it was far and away the most produced chemical in the world, with 36 million tons produced every year in the United States alone, out of something like 265 million tons a year globally. It’s used in a vast number of industrial processes, and pretty much everywhere you need something cleaned or dissolved or oxidized, you’ll find sulfuric acid.

Staggering numbers, to be sure, but is it really the most produced chemical on Earth? I’d argue not by a long shot, when there’s a chemical that we make 4.4 billion tons of every year: Portland cement. It might not seem like a chemical in the traditional sense of the word, but once you get a look at what it takes to make the stuff, how finely tuned it can be for specific uses, and how when mixed with sand, gravel, and water it becomes the stuff that holds our world together, you might agree that cement and concrete fit the bill of “Big Chemistry.”

Rock Glue

To kick things off, it might be helpful to define some basic terms. Despite the tendency to use them as synonyms among laypeople, “cement” and “concrete” are entirely different things. Concrete is the finished building material of which cement is only one part, albeit a critical part. Cement is, for lack of a better term, the glue that binds gravel and sand together into a coherent mass, allowing it to be used as a building material.

What did the Romans ever do for us? The concrete dome of the Pantheon is still standing after 2,000 years. Source: Image by Sean O’Neill from Flickr via Monolithic Dome Institute (CC BY-ND 2.0)

It’s not entirely clear who first discovered that calcium oxide, or lime, mixed with certain silicate materials would form a binder strong enough to stick rocks together, but it certainly goes back into antiquity. The Romans get an outsized but well-deserved portion of the credit thanks to their use of pozzolana, a silicate-rich volcanic ash, to make the concrete that held the aqueducts together and built such amazing structures as the dome of the Pantheon. But the use of cement in one form or another can be traced back at least to ancient Egypt, and probably beyond.

Although there are many kinds of cement, we’ll limit our discussion to Portland cement, mainly because it’s what is almost exclusively manufactured today. (The “Portland” name was a bit of branding by its inventor, Joseph Aspdin, who thought the cured product resembled the famous limestone from the Isle of Portland off the coast of Dorset in the English Channel.)

Portland cement manufacturing begins with harvesting its primary raw material, limestone. Limestone is a sedimentary rock rich in carbonates, especially calcium carbonate (CaCO3), which tends to be found in areas once covered by warm, shallow inland seas. Along with the fact that limestone forms between 20% and 25% of all sedimentary rocks on Earth, that makes limestone deposits pretty easy to find and exploit.

Cement production begins with quarrying and crushing vast amounts of limestone. Cement plants are usually built alongside the quarries that produce the limestone or even right within them, to reduce transportation costs. Crushed limestone can be moved around the plant on conveyor belts or using powerful fans to blow the crushed rock through large pipes. Smaller plants might simply move raw materials around using haul trucks and front-end loaders. Along with the other primary ingredient, clay, limestone is stored in large silos located close to the star of the show: the rotary kiln.

Turning and Burning

A rotary kiln is an enormous tube, up to seven meters in diameter and perhaps 80 m long, set on a slight angle from the horizontal by a series of supports along its length. The supports have bearings built into them that allow the whole assembly to turn slowly, hence the name. The kiln is lined with refractory materials to resist the flames of a burner set in the lower end of the tube. Exhaust gases exit the kiln from the upper end through a riser pipe, which directs the hot gas through a series of preheaters that slowly raise the temperature of the entering raw materials, known as rawmix.

The rotary kiln is the centerpiece of Portland cement production. While hard to see in this photo, the body of the kiln tilts slightly down toward the structure on the left, where the burner enters and finished clinker exits. Source: by nordroden, via Adobe Stock (licensed).

Preheating the rawmix drives off any remaining water before it enters the kiln, and begins the decomposition of limestone into lime, or calcium oxide:

The rotation of the kiln along with its slight slope results in a slow migration of rawmix down the length of the kiln and into increasingly hotter regions. Different reactions occur as the temperature increases. At the top of the kiln, the 500 °C heat decomposes the clay into silicate and aluminum oxide. Further down, as the heat reaches the 800 °C range, calcium oxide reacts with silicate to form the calcium silicate mineral known as belite:

Finally, near the bottom of the kiln, belite and calcium oxide react to form another calcium silicate, alite:

It’s worth noting that cement chemists have a specialized nomenclature for alite, belite, and all the other intermediary phases of Portland cement production. It’s a shorthand that looks similar to standard chemical nomenclature, and while we’re sure it makes things easier for them, it’s somewhat infuriating to outsiders. We’ll stick to standard notation here to make things simpler. It’s also important to note that the aluminates that decomposed from the clay are still present in the rawmix. Even though they’re not shown in these reactions, they’re still critical to the proper curing of the cement.

Portland cement clinker. Each ball is just a couple of centimeters in diameter. Source: مرتضا, Public domain

The final section of the kiln is the hottest, at 1,500 °C. The extreme heat causes the material to sinter, a physical change that partially melts the particles and adheres them together into small, gray lumps called clinker. When the clinker pellets drop from the bottom of the kiln, they are still incandescently hot. Blasts of air that rapidly bring the clinker down to around 100 °C. The exhaust from the clinker cooler joins the kiln exhaust and helps preheat the incoming rawmix charge, while the cooled clinker is mixed with a small amount of gypsum and ground in a ball mill. The fine gray powder is either bagged or piped into bulk containers for shipment by road, rail, or bulk cargo ship.

The Cure

Most cement is shipped to concrete plants, which tend to be much more widely distributed than cement plants due to the perishable nature of the product they produce. True, both plants rely on nearby deposits of easily accessible rock, but where cement requires limestone, the gravel and sand that go into concrete can come from a wide variety of rock types.

Concrete plants quarry massive amounts of rock, crush it to specifications, and stockpile the material until needed. Orders for concrete are fulfilled by mixing gravel and sand in the proper proportions in a mixer housed in a batch house, which is elevated above the ground to allow space for mixer trucks to drive underneath. The batch house operators mix aggregate, sand, and any other admixtures the customer might require, such as plasticizers, retarders, accelerants, or reinforcers like chopped fiberglass, before adding the prescribed amount of cement from storage silos. Water may or may not be added to the mix at this point. If the distance from the concrete plant to the job site is far enough, it may make sense to load the dry mix into the mixer truck and add the water later. But once the water goes into the mix, the clock starts ticking, because the cement begins to cure.

Cement curing is a complex process involving the calcium silicates (alite and belite) in the cement, as well as the aluminate phases. Overall, the calcium silicates are hydrated by the water into a gel-like substance of calcium oxide and silicate. For alite, the reaction is:

Scanning electron micrograph of cured Portland cement, showing needle-like ettringite and plate-like calcium oxide. Source: US Department of Transportation, Public domain

At the same time, the aluminate phases in the cement are being hydrated and interacting with the gypsum, which prevents early setting by forming a mineral known as ettringite. Without the needle-like ettringite crystals, aluminate ions would adsorb onto alite and block it from hydrating, which would quickly reduce the plasticity of the mix. Ideally, the ettringite crystals interlock with the calcium silicate gel, which binds to the surface of the sand and gravel and locks it into a solid.

Depending on which adjuvants were added to the mix, most concretes begin to lose workability within a few hours of rehydration. Initial curing is generally complete within about 24 hours, but the curing process continues long after the material has solidified. Concrete in this state is referred to as “green,” and continues to gain strength over a period of weeks or even months.

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Magnets aren’t magic, but sometimes you can do things with them to fool the uninitiated — like levitating. [Jonathan Lock] does that with his new maglev desk toy, that looks like at least a level 2 enchantment.

This levitator is USB-powered, and typically draws 1 W to 3 W to levitate masses between 10 g and 500 g. The base can provide 3 V to 5 V inductive power to the levitator to the tune of 10 mA to 50 mA, which is enough for some interesting possibilities, starting with the lights and motors [Jonathan] has tried.

In construction it is much like the commercial units you’ve seen: four permanent magnets that repel another magnet in the levitator. Since such an arrangement is about as stable as balancing a basketball on a piece of spaghetti, the permanent magnets are wrapped in control coils that pull the levitator back to the center on a 1 kHz loop. This is accomplished by way of a hall sensor and an STM32 microcontroller running a PID loop. The custom PCB also has an onboard ESP32, but it’s used as a very overpowered USB/UART converter to talk to the STM32 for tuning in the current firmware.

If you think one of these would be nice to have on your desk, check it out on [Jonathan]’s GitLab. It’s all there, from a detailed build guide (with easy-to-follow animated GIF instructions) to CAD files and firmware. Kudos to [Jonathan] for the quality write-up; sometimes documenting is the hardest part of a project, and it’s worth acknowledging that as well as the technical aspects.

We’ve written about magnetic levitation before, but it doesn’t always go as well as this project. Other times, it very much does. There are also other ways to accomplish the same feat, some of which can lift quite a bit more.

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If you want solar power, you usually have to make a choice. You can put a solar panel in a fixed location and accept that it will only put out the maximum when the sun is properly positioned. Or, you can make the panels move to track the sun.

While this isn’t difficult, it does add cost and complexity, plus mechanical systems usually need more maintenance. According to [Xavier Derdenback], now that solar panels are cheaper than ever, it is a waste of money to make a tracking array. Instead, you can build a system that looks to the east and the west. The math says it is more cost effective.

The idea is simple. If you have panels facing each direction, then one side will do better than the other side in the morning. The post points out that a tracking setup, of course, will produce more power. That’s not the argument. However, for a given power output, the east-west solution has lower installation costs and uses less land.

Letting the post speak for itself:

East-West arrays are simple. They consist of parallel strings of PV modules that are oriented in opposing directions, one facing East and the other West. The current of the whole array is the summation of these string currents, effectively letting East-West arrays capture sunlight from dawn till dusk, similar to a tracked array.

So what do you think? Are solar trackers old hat? If you want one, they don’t have to be very complex. But still easier to just double your panels.

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This week, Jonathan Bennett chats with Alexandre Dulaunoy and Quentin Jérôme about Kunai and CIRCL! How does Kunai help solve Linux security monitoring? Why is eBPF the right place for one of these tools to run? And how is CIRCL helping Luxembourg and the world deal with the modern security landscape? Watch to find out!

https://github.com/kunai-projecthttps://circl.lu/https://www.foo.be/https://euvd.enisa.europa.eu/

Did you know you can watch the live recording of the show right on our YouTube Channel? Have someone you’d like us to interview? Let us know, or contact the guest and have them contact us! Take a look at the schedule here.

Direct Download in DRM-free MP3.

If you’d rather read along, here’s the transcript for this week’s episode.

Places to follow the FLOSS Weekly Podcast:

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Theme music: “Newer Wave” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)

Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License

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An ongoing refrain with modern movies is “Why is all of this CG?”– sometimes, it seems like practical effects are simultaneously a dying art, while at the same time modern technology lets them rise to new hights. [Davis Dewitt] proves that second statement with his RC movie star “robot” for an upcoming feature film.

The video takes us through the design process, including what it’s like to work with studio concept artists. As for the robot, it’s controlled by an Arduino Nano, lots of servos, and a COTS airplane R/C controller, all powered by li-po batteries. This is inside an artfully weathered and painted 3D printed body. Apparently weathering is important to make the character look like a well-loved ‘good guy’. (Shiny is evil, who knew?) Hats off to [Davis] for replicating that weathering for an identical ‘stunt double’.

Check out the video below for all the deets, or you can watch to see if “The Lightening Code” is coming to a theater near you. If you’re into films, this isn’t the first hack [Davis] has made for the silver screen. If you prefer “real” hacks to props, his Soviet-Era Nixie clock would look great on any desk. Thanks to [Davis] for letting us know about this project via the tips line.

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You think of op amps as amplifiers because, no kidding, it is right in the name. But just like some people say, “you could do that with a 555,” [Doctor Volt] might say, “you can do that with an op amp.” In a recent video, you can see below, he looks at simulations and breadboards for five applications that aren’t traditional amplifiers.

Of course, you can split hairs. A comparator is sort of an amplifier with some very specific parameters, but it isn’t an amplifier in the classic sense.

In addition to comparators, there’s a flip flop, a few oscillators, and a PWM audio over optical transmitter and receiver. If you want to test your understanding of op amps, you can try to analyze the different circuits to see if you can explain how they work.

Op amps are amazing for analog design since you don’t have to build up high-quality amplifier blocks from discrete devices. Even the worst op amp you can buy is probably better than something you have the patience to design in a few minutes with a FET or a bipolar device. Fair to say that we do enjoy these oddball op amp circuits.

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The remote for [Dillan Stock]’s TV broke, so he built a remote. Not just as a replacement but as something new. For some of us, there was a glorious time in the early 2000s when a smart remote was needed and there were options you could buy off the shelf. Just one handy button next to the screen had a macro programmed that would turn on the receiver, DVD player, and TV, and then configure it with the right inputs. However, the march of technological convenience has continued and nowadays soundbars turn on just in time and the TV auto switches the input. Many devices are (for better or worse) connected to WiFi, allowing all sorts of automation.

[Dillan] was lucky enough that his devices were connected to his home assistant setup. So this remote is an ESP32 running ESPHome. These automations could be triggered by your phone or via voice assistant. What is more interesting is watching [Dillan] go through the design process. Deciding what buttons there should be, where they should be placed, and how the case would snap together takes real effort. The design uses all through-hole components except for the ESP32 which is a module.

This isn’t the first thing [Dillan] has made with an ESP32, as he previously revamped a non-standard smart lamp with the versatile dev board. The 3d printable files for the remote are free available. Video after the break.

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If you want to keep eggs warm to hatch, you’ll need an incubator. You could buy one off the shelf, but they’re not so complex — just a nicely-controlled warm box you could easily whip up yourself. As it turns out, that’s precisely what [RCLifeOn] did.

The incubator is built out of wooden panels screwed together to make a simple box. The frame of the front door is also wood, but it features 3D printed hinges and handles, because that’s the easiest way to make hardware when you’re a printing wizard like [RCLifeOn].

The box is fitted with controls for humidity and temperature to ensure the best possible conditions for hatching chicken eggs inside. As you might have guessed, a heated bed from a 3D printer was used to control the temperature inside. As for humidity, a sensor tracks the conditions in the box, and triggers an ultrasonic mister to increase the level as necessary. There’s also a little motion introduced via a moving platform run by a motor and some step-down gearing, which apparently aids in the hatching process.

[RCLifeOn] calls it “a machine that creates life,” and that honestly sounds about fair. We’ve seen similar projects along these lines before, too.

[Thanks to Chris Muncy for the tip!]

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