Recently thermal power stations have been in the news quite a bit, mostly in the context of them being throttled back or shut down due to the river water used to cool them either getting too warm or said river having dropped to a level where it can no longer provide cooling water. Obviously this is a problem, but it helps to understand how we got to this point and what can be done to fix it.
Thermal power stations – also called power plants – come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes, ranging from old-school coal- and gas-fueled power stations to modern nuclear power plants. Something like a concentrated solar power (CSP) station is also a thermal power station, as all of them have a heat source that’s used to generate electricity from, whether that’s a boiler, nuclear reactor core or a big vat of sodium heated up by the Sun via massive mirrors or oil-filled tubes in parabolic throughs.
Except for open-cycle gas turbines (OCGTs) – which are basically jet engines connected to a generator – this thermal energy is then used to generate steam that drives a steam turbine. Once most energy in the steam has been depleted, it has to be condensed back into e.g. water, so that it can be led back to the steam generator. How this condensing step is performed is the question here, with a number of methods available.
When the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant’s #4 reactor experienced an extreme criticality event on that infamous day in 1986, the resulting steam explosion and lack of any kind of containment building meant that parts of the core were scattered throughout the site. In an extensive update to the original 2023 video, the [Chornobyl Family] covers the mad scramble to design robots to perform on-the-ground measurements, and ultimately remove all this debris for safe disposal.
The TR-1A, an early debris removal robot. (Source: Chornobyl Family, YouTube)
This essentially took the form of a hackathon, involving teams from all over the USSR and allied nations, creating the most diverse range of robots that 1980s Soviet technology and later Western technology could muster.
Many of these robots didn’t perform very well, or at all, mostly due to the bypassing of any kind of testing before deployment. Especially at the beginning of the clean-up the robots were being pushed into the high-radiation zones as soon as they were finished, with not only mechanical issues being a problem, but also with e.g. inaccurate radiation measurements by the RR-1 robot, that overstated measurements by more than a factor of ten. Meanwhile the RR-2 and RR-3 were too top-heavy and after deployment by helicopter simply tipped over. Eventually manual measurements proved to be faster and safer.
Early debris removal robots like the TR-1A were rather simplistic, with successive generations of robots over the next weeks and months improving on it. The use of a combustion engine instead of batteries provided to be a boon, as combustion engines are far less affected by radiation.
The BAER Beloyarets used an airport cart as the basis, with its electronics relying on vacuum tube technology and relays, with an internal combustion engine. This proved to be one of the most reliable designs and it’s been largely preserved on display in the Chornobyl Exclusion Zone, with many others of these robots also being on display around the nuclear plant or in the city of Chornobyl.
Overall an absolutely dizzying number of robotic designs were invented on the spot, adapted from existing designs or repurposed for operation in a high-radiation zone. Eventually bulldozer designs like the STR-1 helped to push radioactive debris off the roofs into containers, massively reducing the radioactive contamination of the area.
The fact that following #4’s RUD the other three RBMK units were able to keep operating safely without risks to its operators, and with the zone now safe for tourists, is a real testament to the success of the worst hackathon imaginable. Many of the lessons learned are relevant today, including during the decommissioning of Fukushima Daiichi’s melted-down cores.
PID controllers are everywhere. They regulate temperature, motor speed, power supplies, positioning systems, process equipment, and probably a dozen things within arm’s reach of you right now.
They’re also frequently explained with enough calculus to make them seem more mysterious than they really are. Granted, the I and D in PID stand for calculus terms, but they are easy enough to build into a spreadsheet. Grab a copy and keep it open while you read this post.
The Google Sheet implements a simple simulated PID controller along with a simulated process — the thing we’re trying to control. You can change the controller gains, alter the process, introduce disturbances, and watch what happens without compiling anything or wiring up a heater that might accidentally become a toaster. Continue reading “Calculus-Free PID (Almost) In A Spreadsheet”→
Everyone talks about the weather. This is doubly true for sailors, where bad weather could mean a very bad day. So it isn’t surprising that navies around the world have had a keen interest in weather forecasting. But how did you predict the weather before modern instruments, radar, and satellite images? Vice Admiral Robert FitzRoy had great faith in “storm glasses,” a glass chamber containing some chemicals that he didn’t invent, but did document and promote heavily during the 1860s.
Did it work? Apparently not, but the device is still interesting in its own right. FitzRoy was a pioneer of meteorology, replacing folklore with actual observations and attempts at scientific rigor. While he did arm observation stations with conventional things like thermometers and barometers, he was also a proponent of the weather glass. Continue reading “FitzRoy’s Glass: Victorian Weather Marvel Or Glorified Thermometer?”→
Once upon a time, telephones were primarily point-to-point communications systems. There were options for three-way and conference calls out there, but by and large the plain old telephone system was about connecting one handset to another for a direct conversation. For this reason, the telephone was seldom used for mass emergency communications, because it was simply not fit for broadcasting a message to a wide number of people.
However, technology has since changed. Our modern phones are all connected to a big digital over-the-air network, and large swathes of them can be addressed all at once if so needed. This has led to the development of emergency warning systems that use the cellular network, with Cell Broadcast being the most notable iteration.
Trains and the railways they run on are a great way to move lots of stuff, or lots of people, a long way. Steel wheels on steel rail can shift great loads at good speeds and railways remain a backbone of logistics for this very reason. The only problem is that they require a great deal of initial investment to build and plenty of maintenance to keep them functional over time.
These concerns can make a railway a difficult proposition when it comes to getting large amounts of goods in and out of remote areas. It’s a problem that Australia faces, with settlements far off the beaten track that are nevertheless in need of high-throughput freight connections. And if you can’t go rail, you go road… in a big way.
You may have a 4K television. Perhaps you have even bought an 8K screen, despite the shortage of things worth watching in 8K. A 16K display is, today, a rarity. But even when those eventually become commonplace, yours probably will not cover 14,900 square meters, rise 73 meters into the air, or wrap over your head and behind your peripheral vision.
That is approximately what happens inside Sphere in Las Vegas. The venue’s interior display is quoted as having a resolution of 16K by 16K and an area of 160,000 square feet, or about 3.7 acres. Unlike most enormous movie screens, it is not illuminated by a projector. The entire surface is a direct-view LED display: an immense, curved video wall assembled from tens of thousands of smaller pieces.
After seeing The Wizard of Oz at Sphere, however, the most interesting part was not simply the screen’s size. It was how thoroughly the screen could disguise itself.
Where Did The Theater Go?
Radio City or the Sphere? (It is the Sphere; photo courtesy [DP])Before the presentation began, the auditorium appeared to have a conventional architectural ceiling. Great orange ribs curved over the seating, while ventilation grilles, suspended loudspeakers, lighting fixtures, curtains, and video monitors completed the illusion. It looked like the Radio City Music Hall’s proscenium. Then the show started — and the apparent theater completely disappeared. The speakers, the TVs, even the stage.
The obvious first conclusion was that the LED surface must be optically transparent, allowing the audience to see the real roof behind it until the pixels illuminated. That explanation was attractive because Sphere’s audio system really is installed behind the display, and the surface must allow sound through it.
It was also, apparently, wrong. The only explanation that makes sense is that the ceiling, ribs, grilles, speakers, and monitors were already being displayed by the screen. It was like a holodeck impersonating a physical theater interior. When the Oz material began, the system simply replaced one complete visual environment with another.
That’s what happens when a display fills nearly all of your useful visual field. A normal screen announces itself with a bezel, a wall, or at least a clearly visible edge. Sphere’s display extends upward and around the audience, removing many of those references. Give the image credible perspective, texture, shadows, and familiar architectural details, and the brain accepts the pixels as a room.
The same effect makes the Oz landscapes seem less like scenes displayed in front of the audience and more like places into which the auditorium has been inserted. Of course, there are more special effects. For The Wizard of Oz, there is wind and smoke, along with paper leaves, flower petals, and foam-rubber apples that fall from the sky. All of this makes it even more immersive.
