The April 1926 issue of “Science and Invention” had a fascinating graphic. It explained, for the curious, how a photo of a rescue at sea could be in the New York papers almost immediately. It was the modern miracle of the wire photo. But how did the picture get from Plymouth, England, to New York so quickly? Today, that’s no big deal, but set your wayback machine to a century ago.
Of course, the answer is analog fax. But think about it. How would you create an analog fax machine in 1926? The graphic is quite telling. (Click on it to enlarge, you won’t be disappointed.)
If you are like us, when you first saw it you thought: “Oh, sure, paper tape.” But a little more reflection makes you realize that solves nothing. How do you actually scan the photo onto the paper tape, and how can you reconstitute it on the other side? The paper tape is clearly digital, right? How do you do an analog-to-digital converter in 1926? Continue reading “Picture By Paper Tape”→
As you can probably imagine, we get tips on a lot of really interesting projects here at Hackaday. Most are pretty serious, at least insofar as they aim to solve a specific problem in some new and clever way. Some, though, are a little more lighthearted, such as a fun project that came across the tips line back in May. Charmingly dubbed “pISSStream,” the project taps into NASA’s official public telemetry stream for the International Space Station to display the current level of the urine tank on the Space Station.
Now, there are a couple of reactions to a project like this when it comes across your desk. First and foremost is bemusement that someone would spend time and effort on a project like this — not that we don’t appreciate it; the icons alone are worth the price of admission. Next is sheer amazement that NASA provides access to a parameter like this in its public API, with a close second being the temptation to look at what other cool endpoints they expose.
But for my part, the first thing I thought of when I saw that project was, “How do they even measure liquid levels in space?” In a place where up and down don’t really have any practical meaning, the engineering challenges of liquid measurement must be pretty interesting. That led me down the rabbit hole of low-gravity process engineering, a field that takes everything you know about how fluids behave and flushes it into the space toilet.
Even in the early days of the Cold War, it quickly became apparent that simply having hundreds or even thousands of nuclear weapons would never be a sufficient deterrent to atomic attack. For nuclear weapons to be anything other than expensive ornaments, they have to be part of an engineered system that guarantees that they’ll work when they’re called upon to do so, and only then. And more importantly, your adversaries need to know that you’ve made every effort to make sure they go boom, and that they can’t interfere with that process.
In practical terms, nuclear deterrence is all about redundancy. There can be no single point of failure anywhere along the nuclear chain of command, and every system has to have a backup with multiple backups. That’s true inside every component of the system, from the warheads that form the sharp point of the spear to the systems that control and command those weapons, and especially in the systems that relay the orders that will send the missiles and bombers on their way.
When the fateful decision to push the button is made, Cold War planners had to ensure that the message got through. Even though they had a continent-wide system of radios and telephone lines that stitched together every missile launch facility and bomber base at their disposal, planners knew how fragile all that infrastructure could be, especially during a nuclear exchange. When the message absolutely, positively has to get through, you need a way to get above all that destruction, and so they came up with the Emergency Rocket Communication System, or ERCS.
Given all the incredible technology developed or improved during the Apollo program, it’s impossible to pick out just one piece of hardware that made humanity’s first crewed landing on another celestial body possible. But if you had to make a list of the top ten most important pieces of gear stacked on top of the Saturn V back in 1969, the fuel cell would have to place pretty high up there.
Apollo fuel cell. Credit: James Humphreys
Smaller and lighter than batteries of the era, each of the three alkaline fuel cells (AFCs) used in the Apollo Service Module could produce up to 2,300 watts of power when fed liquid hydrogen and liquid oxygen, the latter of which the spacecraft needed to bring along anyway for its life support system. The best part was, as a byproduct of the reaction, the fuel cells produced drinkable water.
The AFC was about as perfectly suited to human spaceflight as you could get, so when NASA was designing the Space Shuttle a few years later, it’s no surprise that they decided to make them the vehicle’s primary electrical power source. While each Orbiter did have backup batteries for emergency purposes, the fuel cells were responsible for powering the vehicle from a few minutes before launch all the way to landing. There was no Plan B. If an issue came up with the fuel cells, the mission would be cut short and the crew would head back home — an event that actually did happen a few times during the Shuttle’s 30 year career.
This might seem like an incredible amount of faith for NASA to put into such a new technology, but in reality, fuel cells weren’t really all that new even then. The space agency first tested their suitability for crewed spacecraft during the later Gemini missions in 1965, and Francis Thomas Bacon developed the core technology all the way back in 1932.
So one has to ask…if fuel cell technology is nearly 100 years old, and was reliable and capable enough to send astronauts to the Moon back in 1960s, why don’t we see them used more today?
Check (or cheques) have long been a standard way for moving money from one bank account to another. They’re essentially little more than a codified document that puts the necessary information in a standard format to ease processing by all parties involved in a given transaction.
The check was once a routine, if tedious, way for the average person to pay for things like bills, rent, or even groceries. As their relevance continues to wane in the face of newer technology, though, the Australian government is making a plan to phase them out for good.
When we last brought you word of the SS United States, the future of the storied vessel was unclear. Since 1996, the 990 foot (302 meter) ship — the largest ocean liner ever to be constructed in the United States — had been wasting away at Pier 82 in Philadelphia. While the SS United States Conservancy was formed in 2009 to support the ship financially and attempt to redevelop it into a tourist attraction, their limited funding meant little could be done to restore or even maintain it. In January of 2024, frustrated by the lack of progress, the owners of the pier took the Conservancy to court and began the process of evicting the once-great liner.
SS United States docked at Pier 82 in Philadelphia
It was hoped that a last-minute investor might appear, allowing the Conservancy to move the ship to a new home. But unfortunately, the only offer that came in wasn’t quite what fans of the vessel had in mind: Florida’s Okaloosa County offered $1 million to purchase the ship so they could sink it and turn it into the world’s largest artificial reef.
The Conservancy originally considered it a contingency offer, stating that they would only accept it if no other options to save the ship presented themselves. But by October of 2024, with time running out, they accepted Okaloosa’s offer as a more preferable fate for the United States than being scrapped.
It at least means the ship will remain intact — acting not only as an important refuge for aquatic life, but as a destination for recreational divers for decades to come. The Conservancy has also announced plans to open a museum in Okaloosa, where artifacts from the ship will be on display.
Open any consumer electronics catalog from around the 1980s to the early 2000s and you are overwhelmed by a smörgåsbord of devices, covering any audio-visual and similar entertainment and hobby needs one might have. Depending on the era you can find the camcorders, point-and-shoot film and digital cameras right next to portable music players, cellphones, HiFi sets and tower components, televisions and devices like DVD players and VCRs, all of them in a dizzying amount of brands, shapes and colors that are sure to fit anyone’s needs, desires and budget.
When by the late 2000s cellphones began to absorb more and more of the features of these devices alongside much improved cellular Internet access, these newly minted ‘smartphones’ were hailed as a technological revolution that combined so many consumer electronics into a single device. Unlike the relatively niche feature phones, smartphones absolutely took off.
Fast-forward more than a decade and the same catalogs now feature black rectangles identified respectively as smart phones, smart TVs and tablets, alongside evenly colored geometric shapes that identify as smart speakers and other devices. While previously the onus for this change was laid by this author primarily on the death of industrial design, the elephant in the room would seem to be that consumer electronics are suffering from a terminal disease: subscription services.
he April 1926 issue of “Science and Invention” had a fascinating graphic. It explained, for the curious, how a photo of a rescue at sea could be in the New York papers almost immediately. It was the modern miracle of the wire photo. But how did the picture get from Plymouth, England, to New York so quickly? Today, that’s no big deal, but set your wayback machine to a century ago.
