the-clerks

Maxwell’s Demon

Maxwell’s Demon—a thought experiment of James Clerk Maxwell when thinking of the second law of thermodynamics, that heat does not flow spontaneously from cold to hot body.  The first law of thermodynamics, incidentally, is conservation of energy—energy is never created or destroyed, just converted from one state to another. 

Maxwell’s demon was born in 1867 and still thrives in modern physics.  Maxwell described his Demon as follows:

”.. if we conceive of a being whose faculties are so sharpened that he can follow every molecule in its course, such a being, whose attributes are as essentially finite as our own, would be able to do what is impossible to us. For we have seen that molecules in a vessel full of air at uniform temperature are moving with velocities by no means uniform, though the mean velocity of any great number of them, arbitrarily selected, is almost exactly uniform. Now let us suppose that such a vessel is divided into two portions, A and B, by a division in which there is a small hole, and that a being, who can see the individual molecules, opens and closes this hole, so as to allow only the swifter molecules to pass from A to B, and only the slower molecules to pass from B to A. He will thus, without expenditure of work, raise the temperature of B and lower that of A, in contradiction to the second law of thermodynamics.”

If there were such a Demon, he could warm up your coffee without using any fuel or electricity!  Physicists say that Maxwell’s demon is impossible because he would have to use up energy observing the molecules and processing that information (and presumably opening and closing the door).  In that way Maxwell’s Demon demonstrates a theoretical link between thermodynamics and information theory.  There is a significant resemblance between the information theoretic Shannon entropy and the thermodynamic Boltzmann entropy.  The first law of thermodynamics is conservation of energy—energy is never created or destroyed, just converted from one state to another. 

But, what about matter going down a gravity gradient?  Isn’t that a case of matter flowing from a cold body (outer space) into a hotter body (a black hole for instance)? It seems that the larger the black hole, the more energy it contains, but the lower its temperature. Thus, the supermassive black hole in the center of the Milky Way is supposed to have a temperature of 10−14 K, much lower than the cosmic microwave background temperature of 2.7 K.

“The irreplaceable reciprocity between physics and information has given rise to a number of implications in the foundations of not only quantum mechanics, but also gravity. This may be suggesting that information would help us merge quantum mechanics and gravity since Maxwell’s demon is playing his game at the very core of both theories. Moreover, the interplay has been a powerful driving force in the development of quantum information science. We probably had better prepare for more ‘demonic’ intellectual challenges as more revolutionary paradigm shifts might be expected to come in any fields of natural sciences. Therefore it should be still too early to presume the demise of the demon with plenty of mysteries in nature lying in front of us.”

—Maruyama, et al.—

More:

Second law of thermodynamics

Maruyama, et al. The physics of Maxwell’s demon and information

Maxwell’s Demon and the Nature of Information

Maxwell, a second class demon in  Cha-Cha-Chaos

anonymous asked:

Hotel clerk: Ms. Heath? Tobin: Yes. Hotel clerk: There is a message. Would you like to hear it? Tobin: Sure. Jill (over phone): Hello Tobin. It was bloody hard tracking you down. We had an idea you were in Australia surfing, but didn't know exactly where. Enough with the chit chat. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to recapture this trophy *shows World Cup* from Japan. There is no set plan, just beat whichever teams we face. This message will self destruct in 5 seconds. *MI theme*

Originally posted by find-a-reaction-gif

2

Here are all of the Hamilton souvenirs I got during my trip to NYC a couple of weeks ago.

I got two Hamilton shirts, but I almost didn’t get the #YayHamlet one.  I went to the merch stands as soon as the door opened, but the two stands in the lobby were completely sold out of them.  I then checked the merch stands upstairs and met a super nice clerk (we had a conversation about the changes in the show and how misinformed women shouting to Lin-Manuel Miranda on the street can lead to a much-loved hashtag).  He thought he didn’t have any, but he checked and he had one last shirt in my size.  I told him that he made my night.  I also got a Hamilton tank top, but I ordered that online.

I also got a postcard set so I could get signatures from the cast.  I had everyone sign their respective character’s postcard, and if they didn’t have a postcard, I had them sign the Playbill.  On the postcards you can see signatures from Lin-Manuel Miranda, Daveed Diggs, Jasmine Cephas Jones, Renée Elise Goldsberry, Phillipa Soo, Leslie Odom Jr., and Christopher Jackson.  Okieriete Onaodowan didn’t come out that night, so I didn’t get a Hercules Mulligan/James Madison signature.  On the Playbill you can see signatures from Andrew Chappelle (who played John Laurens/Philip Hamilton that night), Jonathan Groff, Jon Rua, and Betsy Struxness.  Everyone was incredibly nice!  I couldn’t get any pictures with anybody because I was too far from the barricade (I had to reach over people to get my stuff signed), but I thanked all of them and told them how wonderful their performances were.  Some notable interactions include:

  • Christopher Jackson loved my postcard.  He said something like, “A Washington postcard!  Yes!” (to which I responded with something like, “Of course!  Just for you.”).  He then told me about how he loved the fact that his Washington silhouette got featured on the loading doors outside the theater because those are the biggest doors.
  • When I gave Daveed Diggs the postcard with Lafayette and Mulligan on it, he said something like, “Oh, cool, I haven’t seen this one before.”  At which pointed I had a did-I-just-hand-Daveed-Diggs-a-postcard-that-doesn’t-even-have-his-character-on-it moment.  But I’m pretty positive that it’s Lafayette on the postcard and not Laurens?  So I think we’re good.
  • Leslie Odom Jr. almost used my Sharpie.  He kindly asked the crowd if someone had a pen he could borrow for signing.  I offered my pen, as did a girl next to me.  He took the pen from the girl next to me.  So close.

Last night after I performed CPR in the middle of the street with cars passing by and had a lady pass away in my arms after she was struck by a car, I walked past a bunch of onlookers who stepped out of my way in silence and walked into a 7/11 that we frequent. The clerk already had my normal purchase ready for me and just gave me a hug and said it’s okay. You give cops shit, but you don’t know what we go through on a daily basis. Have a nice day and bye for the day tumblr.

Cloud, with Tifa’s full approval, names their first child ‘Zack’. From the dusting of dark hair on that soft infant head, from the stubborn uplift of even those downy strands, he can tell that Zack Lockhart-Strife will have a fair enough resemblance to his namesake. It’s been so long since Cloud’s headstrong, boisterous childhood and he’s become a much quieter man, but he hopes he can raise little Zack to have something of the old Zack’s spirit. ‘Big Zack’ grins from his Lifestream perch, too pleased for words.

Tifa names the next one ‘Brodrik’. The clerk stumbles over the Old Nibel spelling. He’s much like his brother, Brody is, though Cloud likes to think the Lockhart genes have had a taming influence on the hair. The boys are close enough in age to do everything together. If the media had not already made it known otherwise, they could be taken for twins, two peas in a pod.

The pod is getting bigger, making room for a blond. Cloud and Tifa choose ‘Westyn’ by mutual agreement, and Tifa is happy though she had been hoping for a girl. There’s no time to dwell on it. With three young children in the house, a restaurant and bar to run and Denzel occasionally popping home from college, their hands are full.

When Kaydn comes along on the heels of the others, they realize they need to take steps. Tifa puts her foot down. Her body has been through enough. She wants to be able to kick a man’s tailbone into his cranium again. She misses her abs. Cloud spends two months in quiet dread and one afternoon with an ice pack on his groin. When the kids are all old enough to run, when they start recreating his battles with sticks and every high surface, he considers it the smartest thing he’s ever done. He never did like being outnumbered. It’s been years since he last glimpsed Zack Fair in the Lifestream, but Zack is there beside him all the same, promising to have his back.

After years of being the happy aunt, of bouncing the boys on her knee and ‘glowing’ away their scraped knees, Aerith gets her turn. She brings her pale daughter into the world and even Tifa has to admit, the child is cute, although the infant squirms in her arms and refuses to settle down. Maybe something of her old longing for a girl has stirred, but things are what they are. Cloud is surprised how the child quiets in his arms, content with Uncle Cloud as she is with few others.

There are more children to the mix. Aerith’s. Yuffie’s. Cid’s. Marlene has become the big sister that Aerith had been to her and Barret glows with pride at the young woman she’s become. Seventh Heaven gatherings have become family friendly, for all that they used to be a bunch of terrorists. Correction, a bunch of terrorists and one homicidal maniac, who screams ‘Stop smacking your brother’ like all the rest, has unspoken vegetable chopping contests with Tifa and sits in the corner with the cat in his lap until the cat is good and ready to leave.

They go home with plenty of cake after the Cetra twins’ birthday. They have some that night with a bottle of wine. Life is good. Until Tifa complains that her breasts are sore and that she’s suddenly tired all the time and the smell of orange juice is making her stomach turn. They stare at the blue line on the stick and wonder what happened. Seems vasectomies sometimes reverse themselves, given enough time, and Cloud always did heal up pretty well. They name the little one ‘Jessica’ and try to figure out a new plan.

huffingtonpost.com
Kentucky Clerk Who Refuses To Issue Gay Marriage Licenses Begs Supreme Court For Help

I have no words for this, so this lady gets to violate federal mandate and she walking around free while people who do less die in jail.She actually thinks imposing her beliefs and denying these people their rights to marry is righteous, Miss me with that mess.Why doesn’t she worry about herself and god instead of God with everyone else.

As the phone began to ring, Dee stood there, wondering what she was going to say. The clerk at the Grunewald answered and she asked for the Presley room. The connection was made.
“Hullo?”
“Uh, hello, uh, is Elvis there?” she asked uncertainly.
“This is Elvis.” The voice was deeper than she expected, but the lilting drawl was unmistakable, making her think of home. To her astonishment, she had the real McCoy.
“Yes, hello there,” she said sweetly now, leaping right in. “You don’t know me, Elvis, but perhaps you know my husband. He’s an officer at the base. My name is Dee Stanley, Elvis, and I was just calling to welcome you to Germany. It isn’t too often that we get celebrities from home out here.”
“Well, I do appreciate that, Mrs. Stanley,” said Private Presley. “Thank you very, very much, ma'am.”
Dee fumbled in the short silence that followed, wondering if she was saying the right thing.
“I also wanted to tell you how very sorry we all were to hear about your poor mother,” she said solemnly. “Please accept our condolences.” She paused for a second, then brightened up the tone of her voice. “Now, how would you and all your family like to have supper one night with me and my husband out here at our place? I’m sure you’d enjoy a little home cookin’ after all that slop they feed you out at the base!”
“Oh, the food out there isn’t so bad,” Elvis laughed. “Well, thank you very much for the invitation, ma'am. It’s sweet of you to think of us, but I have to go on maneuvers next week. Why don’t you call back this Monday, and I’ll speak to my daddy about it?”
Just then one of Dee’s friends entered. “Who are you talking to?” she whispered. Dee put her hand over the phone and whispered back, “Elvis.” Her mouth dropped open and she stared jumping up and down, screaming.
“I’m sorry, Elvis,” said Dee over the wail in the background, embarrassed. “One of my friends just walked in, and I guess she’s a little taken aback that I’m really talking to you on the phone. I’ll call back Monday.”
“Fine, Mrs. Stanley,” he said, restraining his laughter. “That’ll be just fine.”
—  Dee Stanley introduces herself to Elvis in Germany, 1958.
Hacker, Hoaxer, Whistleblower, Spy: why only an anthropologist can tell the story of Anonymous #1yrago

The Spectator has just run my review of Gabriella Coleman’s Hacker, Hoaxer, Whistleblower, Spy: The Many Faces of Anonymous , an anthropological recounting of the glories and disasters of Anonymous.

Coleman’s previous book, Coding Freedom, was a sprightly but scholarly anthropological study of the free/open software movement. In Hacker, Hoaxer, Coleman’s narrative voice is in full throat, telling a story that is as exciting as any spy-thriller:

Real hacker work looks like secretarial work. A person sits at a keyboard, looking, mostly, at text. That person types commands (sometimes arcane ones, though to the untutored eye no more mysterious than the commands typed by an airport check-in clerk), and squints and frowns at the screen, and types some more, and then, sometimes, feels very happy about some more text the computer is displaying. There can be very long waits. A TV show about hacking would be duller than one about fishing — at least fishing has the odd moment of a human-animal death struggle. (Combine the two and you’d have a winner: call it Pier to Pier, and film it in a rowing boat with a fishing rod at one end and a wireless laptop at the other.)

But hacking of every kind, from writing free software, to breaking into computers you don’t own, to jailbreaking devices that you do, is exciting. It’s thrilling. It’s the most marvellous sort of satisfying mental work there is — solving puzzles of enormous complexity through an impossible-to-systematise combination of rational method and intuitive leaps.

And the kind of hacking that Anonymous does — by means of the fluid, structureless norms of the group, half macho posturing, half uber-savvy media prankstership — is doubly exciting. Or exciting squared. It is filled with drama — betrayals, police informants, intimidation, brinksmanship, insane risk-taking and impassioned speeches from the battlements.

The Anonymous ghost in the machine [Spectator]

Hacker, Hoaxer, Whistleblower, Spy: The Many Faces of Anonymous

anonymous asked:

Could you please explain the four-timed married Kim Davis, the Kentucky County clerk who is refusing to issue marriage license to same sex couples? What is her legal standing? How can she be still in office? How does her understanding of Christianity justify her actions and marriages?

She has no legal standing. The U.S. Supreme Court has ruled and she has been ordered by both the Federal Court and the Governor to issue licenses. She is still in office because she is a Civil Servant (and possibly an elected official) and it is no simple matter to oust her. Her understanding of Christianity in no way justifies either. She is a bigot. Plain and simple. She will lose her position. 

Sound Bites from My Day

Clerk: These are cute pants.

Me: And they have a sweet little pep-talk inside!! (It says, “You’re beautiful” inside the waist band)

Hubby: Everybody needs a pep-talk in their pants.

———————————————-

Overheard:

“You can’t have my pie, Bailey.  Besides, I don’t think dogs have pie-holes.”

———————————————-

While ironing:

Daughter: “Mom, when you were a kid, were ironing boards invented yet?”

banksy goes to a convenience store. he gets a bunch of merchandise and tries to pay for it with loose toilet paper. “its all just paper” he says. then he goes outside and torches the clerk’s car.

erebus-richter asked:

"Good evening." A flat greeting, accompanied by a fleeting smile that does not pass into his eyes. Placing a cheque onto the counter, he proceeds to complete and sign, sliding it towards the clerk once he is done. "This is for the purchase of Estella Randell. She is already in my possession."

“So cordial yet cold. Why so grumpy and pretty?” Kiki says as she pats his chest. “Mm strong body too… Who are you claiming again? Ah yes, yes, the Randell one. I did not take you for a milf man mister Richter.”

“Have a good day, all paperwork will by done.” she smiles waving her little paw at him.

electricemperor asked:

🔪 (with a fake knife, ofc) and "That's what you get for sticking your nose in Lady Crimson's business, Shirogane. Next time I see you skulking around, this is goin' in yer jugular."

Naoto catches on almost immediately and find herself falling into a role she played once, briefly, in a store with a disgruntle clerk. She fake the stab itself, grabbed the handle of the fake knife and a hiss, the plastic in her hand keeping it pressed to her waist.

“You think a knife can stop me? Her business is my business, and I didn’t track you down to back away now~” Naoto looks around her, looking for something to act as a weapon in return. She ends up pulling out a water gun. She shook it, and hear no sound of water, assume it’s safe enough to use indoor. Oh well, it’s only water anyway.

“So start talking or we’ll do this the hard way.”