bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025 huggingface dataset:
Large-Scale Forcing by Sea Surface Buoyancy Fluxes
Authors: Kraus Eric B. , Businger Joost A.
Published: November 2020

This chapter deals with convective fluxes of sensible heat, moisture, and salinity that originate at the sea surface. In Section 8.1 we consider the relative influence of oceanic and atmospheric variability upon these fluxes. The general character of deep convection and its occurrence in the polar oceans is discussed in Section 8.2. The case of deep convection over the ocean in the tropical atmosphere, which is somewhat more complicated because of compressibility and cloud formation, is discussed in Section 8.3. Finally, in Section 8.4, we consider some of the long-term ocean-atmosphere feedback processes. Kinetic energy in the atmosphere-ocean system is derived mainly from an upward flux of buoyancy. The resulting redistribution of mass reduces available potential energy APE and lowers the centre of gravity. In turn, APE is generated, primarily by non-adiabatic processes: unequal absorption and emission of radiation; local release of latent heat in the atmosphere; local salinity changes in the ocean; and unequal heat conduction from the boundaries. The total mass of the oceans is about 280 times that of the atmosphere; their heat capacity is nearly 1200 times larger. Oceanic response times to external forcing are correspondingly slower. Although the annual irradiation cycle affects only a small part of the water mass, the thermal inertia is strong enough to prevent large or fast temperature variations. It is well known that this has a dominant influence on the whole terrestrial climate. This influence is particularly strong in the marine temperate regions. Figure 5.10 showed that even the daily temperature changes of the surface waters are smaller than those in the air. By virtue of their mechanical and thermal inertia, the oceans tend to play the role of a flywheel in the air-sea system. The atmosphere is the more volatile and more variable partner. It supplies mechanical energy to the oceans at a rate that has a very skewed distribution in space and time because the work of the wind stress is proportional to the third power of the windspeed. This creates a strong bias in favour of restricted stormy areas.
One Phase and Two Components
Authors: Bayly Brian
Published: November 2020

The purpose of this chapter is to bring chemical variation into the examples discussed. Equation (12.7) shows a material's change of dimension as the sum of two effects, change of shape and diffusive mass transfer, but it describes only changes driven by unequal stress components. Equation (12.8) suggests that the same form continues to be applicable when potential gradients exist for reasons that are not stress-related, but the suggestion is not followed up and Chapter 13 is entirely concerned with effects of stress. We now go back to the harmonic variation in Figure 11.6 and ask: supposing that both the radial compression and the composition fluctuate along the x-direction, what material movements will result? An answer to this seemingly simple and fundamental question was produced rather recently, by G. B. Stephenson, whose work provides the foundation for this chapter. At once we have to give up the idea of a continuum and turn to a material containing countable numbers of atoms.
Further Extensions
Authors: Bayly Brian
Published: November 2020

The purpose of this chapter is to give attention to three directions along which more ideas could be attached, building on the preceding chapters as base. Labels or titles for the three directions are: unsteady behavior and elastic effects; the factor f; anisotropy. Throughout the preceding chapters, a highly artificial practice has been followed: attention has been focused on states where processes are occurring in the steadiest possible manner. The purpose of this chapter is to consider the question: if processes are less steady, can we still describe them concisely and predict their evolution? If we can, presumably it is by adding some terms to the descriptive equations, and we consider briefly what kinds of terms might be needed. As with turning from a single cylindrical inclusion to a granular aggregate, there is an immediate change to a vast field of complexities. The purpose of the chapter is to give just a preliminary view of how one might begin to identify possibilities. The purpose is to enquire how unsteady or transient effects might occur in a system that is capable of steady behavior. For this purpose, something simpler than a chemical nonhydrostatic system can be used, as shown in Figure 20.1. The simpler of the systems illustrated, Figure 20.1a, consists of a weight that is supported by two elements P and Q. The elements are known as dashpots; each is imagined to consist of a cylinder and piston; each cylinder is full of oil both above and below the piston and each piston has a hole. In consequence, when the element is pulled it can change length as fast as oil can slip through the piston's hole, and ideally the rate of elongation is proportional to the force pulling on the element. The fact that ultimately the piston comes to the end of the cylinder is ignored; we imagine P and Q to have as much length as we need. In Figure 20.1a, the system is such that the two elements have to elongate at equal rates; but they are dissimilar and we imagine a system where, to achieve equal rates, the force pulling P needs to be three times the force pulling Q.
The Deluge
Authors: Gelernter David
Published: November 2020

we’ve installed the foundation piles and are ready to start building Mirror worlds. In this chapter we discuss (so to speak) the basement, in the next chapter we get to the attic, and the chapter after that fills in the middle region and glues the whole thing together. The basement we are about to describe is filled with lots of a certain kind of ensemble program. This kind of program, called a Trellis, makes the connection between external data and internal mirror-reality. The Trellis is, accordingly, a key player in the Mirror world cast. It’s also a good example of ensemble programming in general, and, I’ll argue, a highly significant gadget in itself. The hulking problem with which the Trellis does battle on the Mirror world’s behalf is a problem that the real world, too, will be confronting directly and in person very soon. Floods of data are pounding down all around us in torrents. How will we cope? what will we do with all this stuff? when the encroaching electronification of the world pushes the downpour rate higher by a thousand or a million times or more, what will we do then? Concretely: I’m talking about realtime data processing. The subject in this chapter is fresh data straight from the sensor. we’d like to analyze this fresh data in “realtime”—to achieve some understanding of data values as they emerge. Raw data pours into a Mirror world and gets refined by a data distillery in the basement. The processed, refined, one-hundredpercent pure stuff gets stored upstairs in the attic, where it ferments slowly into history. (In the next chapter we move upstairs.) Trellis programs are the topic here: how they are put together, how they work. But there’s an initial question that’s too important to ignore. we need to take a brief trip outside into the deluge, to establish what this stuff is and where it’s coming from. Data-gathering instruments are generally electronic. They are sensors in the field, dedicated to the non-stop, automatic gathering of measurements; or they are full-blown infomachines, waiting for people to sit down, log on and enter data by hand.
Optics from the Single Cell to the Mesoscale
Authors: Morél Andre
Published: November 2020

The inherent optical properties of a water body (mesoscale), namely, the absorption coefficient, the scattering coefficient, and the volume scattering function combine with the radiant distribution above the sea to yield the apparent optical properties (Preisendorfer, 1961). The radiative transfer equation is the link between these two classes of optical properties. Locally, the inherent properties of seawater are governed by, and strictly result from, the sum of the contributions of the various components, namely, the water itself, the various particles in suspension able to scatter and absorb the radiant energy, and finally the dissolved absorbing compounds. Analyzing these contributions is an important goal of optical oceanography. Among these particles, the phytoplanktonic cells, with their photosynthetic pigments, are of prime importance, in particular in oceanic waters far from terrestrial influence. They also are at the origin of other kinds of particles, such as their own debris, as well as other living “particles” grazing on them (bacteria, flagellates and other heterotrophs). Studying optics at the level of single cells and particles is therefore a requirement for a better understanding of bulk optical properties of oceanic waters. Independently of this goal, the study of the individual cell optics per se is fundamental when analyzing the pathways of radiant energy, in particular the light harvesting capabilities and the photosynthetic performances of various algae or their fluorescence responses. The following presentation is a guidline for readers who will find detailed studies in the classic books Light Scattering by Small Particles by van de Hulst (1957) and Light and Photosynthesis in Aquatic Ecosystems by Kirk (1983), as well as in a paper dealing specifically with the optics of phytoplankton by Morel and Bricaud (1986). This chapter is organized according to the title, with first a summary of the relevant theories to be applied when studying the interaction of an electromagnetic field with a particle, and then, as a transition between this scale and that of in vitro experiments, some results concerning the optical behavior of pure algal suspensions; finally the more complicated situations encountered in natural environments are briefly described to introduce the “nonlinear biological” effect (Smith and Baker, 1978a) upon the optical coefficients for oceanic waters, and to examine some of the empirical relationships, as presently available, between the pigment concentration and the optical properties of the upper ocean at mesoscale and global scale.
Why is the Measurement of Fluorescence Important to the Study of Biological Oceanography?
Authors: Yentsch Charles S.
Published: November 2020

What follows are my impressions of why the measurement of fluorescence has been and will continue to be important in biological oceanography. I will present some of the early history behind the introduction of fluorescence techniques to biological oceanography. What you will read is my impression of how the use of fluorescence advanced our studies, the history of why it was needed, and where it can take us. The text may read as elementary to some, but hopefully has the potential of generating interest in others. Let us begin by trying to answer the question posed by the title. The best short answer is: “Measurements of fluorescence are important for the study of primary production in the oceans.” Figure 8-1 shows a block diagram of major areas of interest that used fluorescence techniques and the approximate dates of appearance. These blocks will serve to outline the major points of my discussion. At the time I started my career in oceanography (1950), the quantitative measurement of chlorophyll was becoming an important objective for studies of primary production. Two important methods helped to advance this research: (1) the trichromatic spectrophotometric method of Richards with Thompson (1952), and (2) the introduction of membrane filtration by Creitz and Richards (1955). Neither of these may seem to be very important today; however, their importance concerns what was going on before these methods were introduced. The first advance introduced the Beckman DU spectrophotometer to the subject of quantitative analysis of ocean chemistry. Some of the best chlorophyll methods available in the 1950s used filter colorimeters; others used visual standards. The Richards with Thompson method called for optical measurements better than filter colorimetry could provide. The ability to characterize mixtures of pigments in vitro required 10-nm spectral resolution and photometric accuracy that would insure that Beer’s law was obeyed. The Beckman DU spectrophotometer met those requirements. The second advance introduced the use of membrane filters for microfiltration of particles from seawater. Prior to the use of membrane filters, one had to resort to fine mesh netting or centrifugation.
Light Absorption, Fluorescence, and Photosynthesis: Skeletonema Costatum and Field Measurements
Authors: Kiefer Dale A.
Published: November 2020

In this chapter we will consider the fate of photons that are absorbed by phytoplankton. While such interaction will involve both the scattering and absorption of photons, we will be concerned with absorption and the subsequent processes of photosynthesis and the fluorescence of chlorophyll a. In particular and as the title of this chapter indicates, I wish to consider the environmental factors that cause variations in the cellular rates of light absorption, fluorescence, and photosynthesis. This consideration will focus on how environmental factors such as temperature, nutrient concentration, light intensity, and photoperiod effect changes in these three processes. Our approach to examining the relationship between light absorption, fluorescence, and photosynthesis is based upon phenomenological formulations between these three processes.
OTEC Historical Background
Authors: Avery William H. , Wu Chih
Published: November 2020

As in other branches of technology, the understanding of the physical and chemical principles underlying the operation of heat engines followed long after such systems were in commercial use. Apparently both the ancient Egyptians and Chinese were able to use steam or combustion gases to do work in special applications; however, the first practical use of a heat engine was the steam-driven piston engine for pumping water from mines, invented in 1698 by the Englishman Thomas Savery. This was followed by a better device invented in 1712 by Newcomen and further developed by Smeaton, which was widely adopted for mining operations in the tin mines of Cornwall and the British coal mines. In 1763, James Watt invented his greatly improved steam engine, which laid the foundation for the industrial revolution based on steam power. Interesting accounts of these developments are presented in Fenn (1982) and Callendar and Andrews (1958). By 1800, there were nearly 500 engines of Watt’s design emplaced throughout England for pumping water, working metal, or other uses. Steam use in ships was successfully demonstrated by Fulton on the Hudson River in New York in 1807. Railroad transportation based on steam-driven locomotives was introduced by Stephenson in 1812 following small beginnings in 1801 by Trevithick. As the steam engines of Newcomen were manufactured and installed, their performance was measured by the amount of water that could be pumped to a given height per bushel of coal burned. The heating value of the coal being used was approximately 1 million Btu per bushel. The data of Table 2–1 show how the thermal efficiency of steam engines improved with time. It is interesting to note that the industrial revolution began with engines of less than 1% efficiency and blossomed with the development of Watt’s engine of 2.7% efficiency. Watt and his predecessors related the performance of their engines in pumping water to what could be accomplished by horses engaged in the same task. An average value of the power capability of a horse was estimated by Watt, who established the unit of one horsepower as the power needed to raise 33,000 pounds 1 foot in 1 minute.
Prevalence of Substance Abuse
Authors: Dryfoos Joy G.
Published: November 2020

Quantifying the number of young people who are high risk because of substance abuse is complicated by the ambiguity of existing definitions and the absence of ideal data. Among other definitional problems, the term substance abuse covers a multitude of “sins”—smoking, drinking, use of marijuana, and use of a whole range of drugs from over-the-counter diet pills to illicit heroin and cocaine. In recent years, chewing smokeless tobacco and wine coolers have been added to the menu. To add to the confusion, the substance abuse field has not produced an adequate response to the question: Who is at risk of long-term consequences? In the teen pregnancy field, the problem is generally defined using the outcome to be prevented, early childbearing (see Chapter 5). Teen fertility is quantifiable, measured from official statistics (Vital Statistics), and the characteristics of those at risk can be determined by studying the outcome date. In the delinquency field, there are official arrest figures. In the education field, school records and selfreports can be used to define low achievers and dropouts. In the substance abuse field, research suggests that there are important differences between occasional users and those who ever tried these substances (but are not abstainers), and the subset who become heavy users. It is the subset of heavy users who should be the prime targets of interventions, and yet it appears that most prevention is aimed at the larger group. The task of defining risk groups for substance-abuse prevention programs would be facilitated if one could turn to a data set that had all the requisite parts: a large random sample of 10- to 17-year-olds, followed longitudinally, and rich in detail about precursors and the social environment. From such a resource, we could better understand the antecedents of drug and alcohol use, current use patterns by different subgroups of the population, and the consequences that followed from that use. A number of researchers have produced important work on what they describe as the etiology or the causes of substance abuse, others have focused on the consequences, and many surveys have been conducted to track prevalence patterns.
Greek Settlements and Karst Phenomena: Corinth and Syracuse
Authors: Crouch Dora P.
Published: November 2020

To get a sense of the relationship between karst geology and Greek settlement, we will look at examples from the Greek mainland, the islands of the Aegean, and Sicily. There is no attempt here to be comprehensive, as the necessary field work has not been done to make that possible, but rather these examples are selected to suggest the way that karst water potential played an important role in site selection and development. The major examples selected are Athens and Corinth for mainland Greece, Rhodes for the Aegean Islands, Assos and Priene for Ionia, and Syracuse and Akragas for Sicily. Other places will be cited briefly if the details from those sites are particularly illuminating. Karst phenomena, as we have seen, are found throughout the Greek world. Since Athens is perhaps the best documented Greek city, and has in addition a phenomenal karst system as its monumental focus, it receives here a section of its own, Chapter 18, The Well-Watered Acropolis. In Chapter 11, Planning Water Management, we discuss Corinth’s water system in comparison with that of her daughter city Syracuse. Here, however, we will consider the aspects of water at Corinth that derive from the karst geology of the area. This city is an excellent example of the adaptation of urban requirements to karst terrane, the siting of an ancient Greek city to take advantage of this natural resource. Ancient Corinth was built on gradually sloping terraces below the isolated protuberance of Acrocorinth, which acts as a reservoir, with the flow of waters through it resulting in springs (Fig. 8.1). That karst waters are to be found in perched nappes even at high altitudes accounts for the spring of Upper Peirene not far below the summit of Acrocorinth, as well as the two fountains half-way down the road from its citadel, and the fountain called Hadji Mustapha, at the immediate foot of the citadel (as reported by the late seventeenth century traveler, E. Celebi, cited in Mackay, 1967, 193–95.) The aquifers also supply the aqueduct (probably ancient) from Penteskouphia southwest of Acrocorinth.
Natural Models for Water Elements
Authors: Crouch Dora P.
Published: November 2020

The Greek builders developed their control over water by careful observation coupled with trial and error, to determine where there would be ample water supply. They could amass the same kind of knowledge as modern engineers, although on a different (nonmathematical) basis. They were adept at utilizing observation but not at complicated technical manipulation of data, at least partly because of the defects in their mathematical system. They also were adept at utilizing discoveries made by their neighbors, such as the qanats of Persia. Unfortunately we do not know how much of the highly developed Mycenaean and Minoan water technology survived the “Dark Ages” of the first third of the first millennium B.C. The features of a karst landscape that tell modern engineers where to drill would have spoken equally strongly to their predecessors: 1. In limestone gaps between vertical or steeply dipping aquicludes (strata that hold water but do not transmit it) 2. In open faults or at fault intersections, especially in younger faults not resealed by precipitated calcite 3. At the noses of limestone spurs jutting into alluvium, places that are often the location of springs, but even if no spring is visible, one can find water at depth 4. On the peak of an anticline where tension opens the aquifer (cf. artesian wells) 5. Below surface drainage—especially in places with large solution openings (FAO, Vols. 4 and 5, pt. 1, p. 24) Thus, inspection of the karst terrane would have enabled the ancient water specialists to find and utilize springs, and also to know where to dig for wells. Such knowledge contributed directly to the success of ancient Greek cities. Inspection of and meditation on the natural environment over many centuries gave the Greeks the necessary models to develop highly sophisticated water systems. In what follows I am speculating, but in no case do these suggestions go beyond what would be possible given both time, intelligence, and necessity. In the case of either dolines/sinkholes or the kind of shaft that grows gradually upward, the lower end of the shaft is always or seasonally filled with water (see Fig. 7.3).
Note on Testing the Water from the Asklepion Area, Athens
Authors: Crouch Dora P.
Published: November 2020

These tests were performed at the Technical University of Athens, Department of Water Resources, by Assistant Professor Alexandra Katsiri during November-December 1988. The problem she was asked to investigate was in what ways these waters differed from ordinary drinking water in Athens. (I am extremely grateful to her for this gracious assistance.) The waters were gathered from three separate sites in and near the Asklepieion on the south slope of the Acropolis, Athens (Fig. 18.5). Specifically, they are: A. Sacred Spring in Asklepion B. Archaic shaft immediately west of Asklepion C. Byzantine cistern immediately adjacent to B, to the west Table 19.1 gives a detailed analysis of the water samples. The fact that the figures from the three sources differ significantly indicates that the three places derive their water from different channels within the Acropolis. Thus the belief of the workmen on the site that these are different waters has been verified.
Architectural Expression of Public and Private Water Supply at Morgantina, Corinth, Athens, and Delos
Authors: Crouch Dora P.
Published: November 2020

Water in ancient Greek cities can be considered under several rubrics— aesthetic enrichment of urban spaces, ornamentation of enclosed precincts, nuisance or danger in the form of flood or excessive storm runoff, domestic amenity, public ritual and spectacle, to name a few. This chapter focuses on public fountains, which were both amenity and necessity, contrasting them with the more humble domestic arrangements of the same cities. The appearance, function, and location of fountains cannot be understood as merely visual matters, even though the form and ornamentation of fountains made significant architectural and aesthetic contributions to the cityscape. Rather, understanding the local geology and climate and the principles of hydraulic engineering makes possible a new and clearer understanding of this architectural type. The technological and geological basis of water supply is of equal weight in urban development with the formal presentation of water as an urban amenity. Water management in ancient Greek cities expressed in its physical forms both the simplicity and the sophistication of their hydraulic technology. The physical arrangements were expressed in the same vocabulary of the Greek orders and decorative details that were used for other buildings and fittings, and in the same range of local and imported materials. Placement of the water system elements not only facilitated their use but also indicated the high value placed on water and on its use. The dangers of too much water or not enough were not only solved by Greek technological tradition but also expressed in the physical forms given to the individual parts and to the water system as a whole. Each of the water elements I have studied is simple, fulfilling its function economically, yet each is sophisticated enough that modern day practice is just beginning to catch up with these crafty ancients. For instance, having both the flowing water of fountains and wells, and the stored rainwater of cisterns, meant that the water supply of a Greek city was diversified for greater safety in time of war or shortage, and for ecological soundness. In the late twentieth century we are just beginning to understand the utility of redundancy.
Discoveries About Greek Water Management
Authors: Crouch Dora P.
Published: November 2020

Looking back through twenty years of work on this topic, I can sum up what I have learned under two major categories: general truths and site-specific insights. Within each of these categories, I differentiate between items that were not known by me when I started and items that as far as I can tell were not known at all. First let us consider the findings that have general application. Primary are findings connected with the geological basis of Greek settlement. The ones in italics have not been known before at all, as far as I can tell. For each discovery, there is a brief discussion. 1. Relation of karst patterns to settlement in the ancient Greek world. In Part IV of this volume we have discussed this topic in a preliminary fashion. As is the case with so many details of the human situation, the relevant knowledge is in the hands of two disciplines that rarely perceive that they have any questions in common. Karst has been studied by hydrogeologists and ancient Greek settlements by classicists, with an impenetrable membrane separating the two fields of knowledge. Nevertheless, my study has conclusively demonstrated that one cannot understand either the choice of an ancient Greek site or the subsequent history of the settlement without factoring in the geological base and the water resources this base provided (Fig. 7.1). It is a pity that the lead of the noted classicist Judeich (1905 and 1931) was not followed sooner, since he illustrated his section on water supply with a geological map and section. 2. Utilization of karst in urban water systems. The work of modern engineers and geologists in such countries as Yugoslavia makes us aware that karst waters can be tapped or, to put it more strongly, harnessed for settlements. Many of their modern solutions are not dependent on advanced technology but rather on careful observation and clever manipulation. The ancient Greeks were fully capable of both. The famous pinecone experiment on the Tripoli plain of the sixth century B.C. is strong indication that the ancient engineers were examining data with an eye to manipulating karst for human purposes, and in fact we have a story, from the same area, of water being diverted down a sinkhole to drown out an unsuspecting enemy settlement.
Spirited Inquiry
Authors: Schwehn Mark R.
Published: November 2020

All communities of higher learning are formed in large part by an ethos or spirit of inquiry. Indeed, all higher learning depends not simply upon the possession of certain cognitive skills but also upon the possession of moral dispositions or virtues that enable inquiry to proceed. Academies, if they are to flourish over the long run, must therefore cultivate and sustain in their members those virtues that are required for the kind of learning they hope to promote. Taken together, these virtues constitute the ethos of inquiry. As epistemologies differ, however, so too do spirits of inquiry. I have argued that the Weberian ethos, connected as it is to a purely instrumental view of reason, exhibits its own characteristic set of motives (mastery, manipulation, and control) and virtues (clarity, honesty, diligence, dedication, and devotion to a rigorous regimen of disciplinary procedures). By contrast, communitarian epistemologies necessarily favor virtues that are less matters of purely personal integrity and more interpersonal or social in character. For communitarians, the pursuit of truth is linked inextricably to care taken with the lives and the thoughts of others. Though Weber banished charity and friendship from his conception of the academy, virtues such as these have constituted the spirit of inquiry for most of Western history. These virtues have, moreover, been spiritual in at least the strictly historical sense that they arose initially within communities that were self-consciously religious in character. In this chapter, I propose to redescribe the present-day academy by examining the sense in which and the extent to which the conduct of academic life still depends upon such spiritual virtues as humility, faith, self-sacrifice, and charity. I offer this critical redescription as a corrective to the Weberian account of academic life, as an answer to Bok and others who are concerned about the ethical dimension of higher learning but who seem uncertain about where properly to locate the ethical within the academy, and as an effort to enrich current, communitarian accounts of learning. First, I shall mention briefly some historical warrants for and some cultural implications of linking spiritual virtues to learning and teaching.
Adams’s Education
Authors: Schwehn Mark R.
Published: November 2020

The argument of this book has been based upon one major assumption, namely that epistemologies have ethical implications, that ways of knowing are not morally neutral but morally directive. Accordingly, the major contrast developed thus far has been between the Weberian epistemology that connects knowledge fundamentally to power, to the prospect of technical mastery of the world, and communitarian epistemologies that connect knowledge fundamentally to understanding, to the pursuit of the truth of matters. This broadly articulated contrast has in turn informed two distinct conceptions of academic life and of the nature and purpose of the academic vocation. On one account, the soul of the university is Wissenschaft, on the other, edification. My discussion, in this epistemological and ethical context, of religious matters, especially the suggestion that certain spiritual virtues are indispensable to learning, has thus far been justified primarily on historical grounds. I have tried to show, first, that the Weberian conception of the academic calling derived in part from a transmutation of religious terms, and second, that for most of Western history religion and higher learning were interdependent in ways that have largely escaped the notice of many present-day analysts of the university. Then, in Chapter 3, I tried to demonstrate that, in spite of the triumph of Weberianism, practices that are central to the academy, such as teaching, learning, and scholarship, still depend for their success upon the exercise of spiritual virtues like charity. If these observations are correct, my analysis and criticism of the current understanding of the academic vocation are not yet complete. For the following questions arise: Why do so many contemporary academics believe that their sense of vocation ought to conform to the ideal type developed by Weber even as they at the same time resonate to the more spiritualized conception of teaching and learning articulated by Parker Palmer? Is there a peculiarly modern and secular spirituality that gives a deep measure of meaning to the academic vocation as Weber described it and at the same time blinds its practitioners to their own necessary reliance upon virtues that are distinctively religious?
Introduction and Historical Background
Authors: Badler Norman I. , Phillips Cary B. , Webber Bonnie Lynn
Published: November 2020

People are all around us. They inhabit our home, workplace, entertainment, and environment. Their presence and actions are noted or ignored, enjoyed or disdained, analyzed or prescribed. The very ubiquitousness of other people in our lives poses a tantalizing challenge to the computational modeler: people are at once the most common object of interest and yet the most structurally complex. Their everyday movements are amazingly fluid yet demanding to reproduce, with actions driven not just mechanically by muscles and bones but also cognitively by beliefs and intentions. Our motor systems manage to learn how to make us move without leaving us the burden or pleasure of knowing how we did it. Likewise we learn how to describe the actions and behaviors of others without consciously struggling with the processes of perception, recognition, and language. A famous Computer Scientist, Alan Turing, once proposed a test to determine if a computational agent is intelligent [Tur63]. In the Turing Test, a subject communicates with two agents, one human and one computer, through a keyboard which effectively restricts interaction to language. The subject attempts to determine which agent is which by posing questions to both of them and guessing their identities based on the “intelligence” of their answers. No physical manifestation or image of either agent is allowed as the process seeks to establish abstract “intellectual behavior,” thinking, and reasoning. Although the Turing Test has stood as the basis for computational intelligence since 1963, it clearly omits any potential to evaluate physical actions, behavior, or appearance. Later, Edward Feigenbaum proposed a generalized definition that included action: “Intelligent action is an act or decision that is goal-oriented, arrived at by an understandable chain of symbolic analysis and reasoning steps, and is one in which knowledge of the world informs and guides the reasoning.” [Bod77]. We can imagine an analogous “Turing Test” that would have the subject watching the behaviors of two agents, one human and one synthetic, while trying to determine at a better than chance level which is which.
State Preparation and Intramolecular Vibrational Energy Redistribution
Authors: Baer Tomas , Hase William L.
Published: November 2020

The first step in a unimolecular reaction involves energizing the reactant molecule above its decomposition threshold. An accurate description of the ensuing unimolecular reaction requires an understanding of the state prepared by this energization process. In the first part of this chapter experimental procedures for energizing a reactant molecule are reviewed. This is followed by a description of the vibrational/rotational states prepared for both small and large molecules. For many experimental situations a superposition state is prepared, so that intramolecular vibrational energy redistribution (IVR) may occur (Parmenter, 1982). IVR is first discussed quantum mechanically from both time-dependent and time-independent perspectives. The chapter ends with a discussion of classical trajectory studies of IVR. A number of different experimental methods have been used to energize a unimolecular reactant. Energization can take place by transfer of energy in a bimolecular collision, as in . . . C2H6 + Ar → C2H6* + Ar . . . . . . (4.1) . . . Another method which involves molecular collisions is chemical activation. Here the excited unimolecular reactant is prepared by the potential energy released in a reactive collision such as . . . F + C2H4 → C2H4F* . . . . . . (4.2) . . . The excited C2H4F molecule can redissociate to the reactants F + C2H4 or form the new products H + C2H3F. Vibrationally excited molecules can also be prepared by absorption of electromagnetic radiation. A widely used method involves initial electronic excitation by absorption of one photon of visible or ultraviolet radiation. After this excitation, many molecules undergo rapid radiationless transitions (i.e., intersystem crossing or internal conversion) to the ground electronic state, which converts the energy of the absorbed photon into vibrational energy. Such an energization scheme is depicted in figure 4.1 for formaldehyde, where the complete excitation/decomposition mechanism is . . . H2CO(S0) + hν → H2CO(S1) → H2CO*(S0) → H2 + CO . . . . . . (4.3) . . . Here, S0 and S1 represent the ground and first excited singlet states.
Design for Usability: Crafting a Strategy for the Design of a New Generation of Xerox Copiers
Authors: Rheinfrank John J. , Wasserman Arnold
Published: November 2020

As designers, we view our work not merely as the production of products, but also as the creation of evocative and evolutionary artifacts that play important roles in shaping people’s lives. Well-designed artifacts tell people what functions they perform and how they perform them—this is why they have been designed, not merely produced or created. More important, through their design, well-designed artifacts also participate in the construction of human experience. In particular, carefully crafted artifacts can participate in the construction of human experiences surrounding how they (the artifacts themselves) can be used. Thus, we arrive at “Design for Usability,” a phrase we use to refer to the design of an artifact’s use through the design of its physical presence in the world. This chapter, then, is about a shift in perspective from “design as the post hoc application of form and appearance elements to functionality, with the intent of communicating that functionality” to “design as the conscious crafting of usability, through the skillful development of form and appearance elements, with the intent of providing people with the resources to perceive and construct usability themselves.” Expressed another way, we are talking about turning innovative concepts into everyday and universal operations through the design of things. As we said to ourselves while working on the “Design for Usability” project we are about to describe: “If we could make the experience of using a Xerox photocopier as simple and straightforward as the experience of walking through a door, then we will have made a truly usable copier.” We will demonstrate the process of designing according to this shift in perspective through a case study of a successful photocopier-design collaboration between Xerox Corporation (Xerox) and Fitch RichardsonSmith (FRS). Historically, Xerox has always pursued the goal of creating products and services intended to improve how people work and the overall quality of people’s work lives. More recently, Xerox copiers have not been designed as objects, but as artifacts that galvanize the work culture at Xerox to produce them and the widely distributed work culture of Xerox’s customers to make them part of their everyday activities.
Scandinavian Design: On Participation and Skill
Authors: Ehn Pelle
Published: November 2020

In Scandinavia we have for two decades been concerned with participation and skill in the design and use of computer-based systems. Collaboration between researchers and trade unions on this theme, starting with the pioneering work of Kristen Nygaard and the Norwegian Metal Workers’ Union, and including leading projects like DEMOS and UTOPIA, has been based on a strong commitment to the idea of industrial democracy. This kind of politically significant, interdisciplinary, and action-oriented research on resources and control in the processes of design and use has contributed to what is often viewed abroad as a distinctively Scandinavian approach to systems design. This Scandinavian approach might be called a work-oriented design approach. Democratic participation and skill enhancement, and not only productivity and product quality, are themselves considered objective of design. [Based on the two research projects, DEMOS and UTOPIA, I have elaborated this approach in detail in Work-Oriented Design of Computer Artifacts (1989). This paper is based on that work.] Two important features of participatory design shape its trajectory as a design strategy. The political one is obvious. Participatory design raises questions of democracy, power, and control in the workplace. In this sense it is a deeply controversial issue, especially from a management point of view. The other major feature is technical—its promise that the participation of skilled users in the design process can contribute importantly to successful design and high-quality products. Some experiences, perhaps most developed in Scandinavia, support this prediction and contribute to the growing interest in participatory design in the United States and other countries; by contrast, “expert” design strategies have too often turned out to be failures in terms of the usability of the resulting systems. These two features together suggest that there should be a strong link between the skill and product quality aspect of user participation and the democracy and control aspect, or else participatory design will be a deeply controversial issue from the point of view of the employees and trade unions. The trade-union-oriented democracy aspect of skill and participation in design is discussed in the first part of the chapter.
Intensionality
Authors: Ashcroft E. A. , Faustini A. A. , Jaggannathan R. , Wadge W. W.
Published: November 2020

The intensional programming language, Lucid, described in Chapter 1 is based directly on intensional logic, a family of mathematical formal systems that permit expressions whose value depends on hidden contexts or indices. Our use of intensional logic is one in which the hidden contexts or indices are integers or tuples of integers. Intensional logic, as used to give semantics to natural language, uses a much more general notion of context or index. Of course, intensional logic is hardly the first example of a formal system of interest to both logicians and computer scientists. The language LISP (invented by McCarthy and others in the early sixties [34]) was originally intended to be an adaptation of the lambda calculus, although it diverged in its treatment of variable-binding and higher-order functions. Shortly after, however, Landin produced ISWIM, the first true functional language [30]. These “logical” programming languages such as ISWIM are in many respects vastly superior to the more conventional ones. They are much simpler and better defined and yet at the same time more regular and more powerful. These languages are notationally closer to ordinary mathematics and are much more problem-oriented. Finally, programs are still expressions in a formal system, and are still subject to the rules of the formal system. It is therefore much easier to reason formally about their correctness, or to apply meaningpreserving transformations. With these languages, programming really is a respectable branch of applied mathematical logic. These logic-based (or declarative) languages at first proved difficult to implement efficiently, and interest in declarative languages declined soon after the promising initial work of McCarthy and Landin. Fortunately, the advent of large scale integration and new compiling technology reawakened interest in declarative languages, and brought about a series of new “second generation” declarative languages, such as Prolog [12] and Miranda [44]. Lucid itself was one of these second generation declarative languages. Lucid is based not so much on classical logical systems as on the possible worlds approach to intensional logic—itself a relatively new branch of logic [43] which reached maturity during the period (1965-75) in which declarative programming languages were in eclipse.
Understanding Real Estate Markets and Submarkets
Authors: Thrall Grant Ian
Published: November 2020

This chapter explains the workings and characteristics of real estate submarkets and the interaction of the submarkets with the larger local market. Market analysts have often defined a real estate market by political divisions such as a county, city, or metropolitan area (e.g., Palm Beach County, the City of Los Angeles, Baltimore- Washington, DC metropolitan area). Market trends are compared and contrasted between real estate markets, such as the growth of Baltimore-Washington, DC versus the decline of Buffalo-Niagara Falls metro areas. Such comparisons at a large geographic scale are valuable because they can identify potential opportunities and potential investment failures. However, as discussed in the previous chapter, the real estate decision is a site-specific decision. Analysis at the appropriate scale and for the appropriate submarket is required to support the real estate decision. Submarkets are areas within the larger market area that stand out in some important way (see Thrall and Amos 1999; Thrall and McMullin, 2000b). For example, . . . Sites within the submarket are at the same stage of a cycle with one another, while perhaps being countercyclical with sites in the larger market or other submarkets. Land use within the submarket is homogeneous and differs from land use in other adjacent submarkets (e.g., a submarket of office buildings or retail). A submarket might be composed of households of similar demographic characteristics (lifestyle segmentation profiles), and have housing in a similar price range. . . . The city is an aggregate of submarkets. Each submarket is affected by the whole city; each submarket affects, and in turn is affected by, other nearby submarkets. In other words, submarkets are interdependent with one another and each is interdependent with the whole. Nearby submarkets generally have greater interdependency with one another than they have with submarkets that are more remote. However, some submarkets may be highly interdependent, even though they are distant from one another, such as submarkets of office buildings or industrial park land uses. An urban area will have few office building submarkets that depend on the same geographically large urban market to sustain them; overdevelopment of one office building submarket can have a price effect on another office building submarket.