In a former bomb shelter beneath London, Zero Carbon Food grows leafy greens and microgreens. Believe it or not, this dark, dank underground farm is an energy-efficient way to grow fresh produce.
Outriders is BBC Radio 5 live’s programme dedicated to exploring the frontiers of the web.
This week Jamillah explores a new addition to Unicode, how emoticons show up in the brain and what it takes to create a clear symbol :)
Daniel Boulud is the iconic classic French chef. Raised in Lyon, he began his culinary training at age 14, apprenticed under the most esteemed chefs of the era, was soon named personal chef of the European Commission in Washington DC, and by 1986 was head chef at NYC’s famed Le Cirque. He opened his first restaurant, DANIEL, in 1993, launching an empire that now includes fourteen more restaurants, spread across the US, Canada, Singapore, and China.
His newest project, “Daniel: My French Cuisine” is a beautifully photographed, coffee-table-worthy cookbook focusing on a more rustic, casual, and fundamentally personal take on Chef Boulud’s native cuisine. But it’s still luxurious… as BRendan found out when chef Boulud took him through a “virtual tasting menu” that began with venison consommé with, of course, black truffle.
Daniel Boulud: Do you think there is any other ingredients who are so rare, so luxurious and so delicious? I don’t know.
Brendan Francis Newnam: That is true. It’s so rare that I don’t know if I can afford enough truffles in my life.
Daniel Boulud: Well nobody can afford truffles until you taste truffles and you feel, you know… For me I wish truffle was cheaper, but then it’d be like potatoes — everybody could eat it!
Brendan Francis Newnam: Well it’s interesting you mention potatoes, because you talk about this very kind of humble truffle dish you made once out of a baked potato and truffles.
Daniel Boulud: That was when I was chef at Le Cirque. We had a customer who was coming there every day, and he was always eating a baked potato with chives and nothing else. And I said “God, this baked potato is boring.” And I made him one day a baked potato with white truffle and he went crazy. It’s only two ingredients, but it’s amazing.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Didn’t you make this dish for your father once when he was visiting?
Daniel Boulud: Oh yes, at Christmas. Oh my God, you know some old stories! Yeah, at Christmas we had a candlelight dinner. And he saw me working in the kitchen, and he saw me splitting the potatoes, and he saw me preparing the things. And so when I served it at the table — with the candlelight –it was covered with white truffles but you couldn’t tell if that was the skin of the potato. So he put it all on the side, and he started to scoop the inside. And he found it very good, but then when we started to clear his plate we realized he didn’t eat the truffle!
Brendan Francis Newnam: He put all the truffles — the expensive tasty morsels — to the side, and just focused on the potato. He was like, “Daniel, your cooking’s gotten much simpler!”
Daniel Boulud: Yeah, well my father never had truffles in his life, you know. He gets confused sometimes.
Brendan Francis Newnam: So I’m gonna move on to the Wild Hare á la Royale, and this dish…
Daniel Boulud: You are really on the game trip.
Brendan Francis Newnam: I am on a game trip. Because it’s autumn, I figured this was appropriate.
Daniel Boulud: Absolutely, and the preparation takes hours. First the wild hare gets boneless totally, and then after we make a stuffing — with pork And foie gras and truffles and onion and…
Brendan Francis Newnam: Really light food here.
Daniel Boulud: … Yeah, well, you know. It’s about the wine you’re gonna drink with it after, so that’s why it’s important. And you braise it in the red wine sauce for hours and hours very, very gently until the sauce reduces and really gets super gamey and rich. And sometimes we put a little bit of cocoa powder, a little bit in the sauce to keep a good darkness, a little bit of tannin inside.
Brendan Francis Newnam: And this dish was originally, some say, created for Louis XIV?
Daniel Boulud: Yes. Well I’m sure they were hunting around Versailles there and finding a lot of wild hare.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Some suggest he liked this because he had bad teeth and the meat is so soft.
Daniel Boulud: Yeah, of course it’s fork-tender, because it cooks for hours and hours – and it’s delicious.
Brendan Francis Newnam: All right, so that’s great, so I have my entrée, I have my truffles… I’m gonna leave the game behind. For dessert, I was thinking of having the Chestnut Mont Blanc.
Daniel Boulud: Ah, I love it. So the idea came from that little cake in France we have often in the winter. And what’s very good is you stay within the season, which I like, because now we are talking chestnut. And the Chestnut Mont Blanc, it’s about the chestnut, and the wonderful, different combinations of the chestnut, from the mousse to the crushed chestnut paste…
Brendan Francis Newnam: And the candied chestnuts in the middle, it takes up to three months to candy those chestnuts?
Daniel Boulud: Yes, because what you do is first you choose the most beautiful chestnut there is, and the chestnuts gets peeled, and then you put them in a syrup, you bring them to a boil, and you let them rest. Then you bring them to a boil, and you let them rest. And you do that for days and days and days until the chestnuts slowly cook and slowly absorb the sugar, and it’s very, very long process to confit the chestnut.
Brendan Francis Newnam: You’re famous for your desserts, and for the pastry chefs that have worked for you. One of them has been on our show a couple times, Dominique Ansel.
Daniel Boulud: Oh yeah, Mr. Cronut!
Brendan Francis Newnam: That’s right, he’s Mr. Cronut now.
Daniel Boulud: He hates to be known just for the cronut. Dominique worked for five years with us at DANIEL, and he is very talented.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Have you ever eaten a cronut?
Daniel Boulud: Yeah, I had one, actually last week again.
Brendan Francis Newnam: What did you think, a little sweet?
Daniel Boulud: It’s a little sweet, it’s a little rich, but it’s a craze!
Brendan Francis Newnam: So you travel a lot. You have restaurants around the world. Do you have any guilty pleasure foods like the cronut? Like if you’re at the airport do you get nachos or cheeseburgers or something that?
Daniel Boulud: No nachos. The best guilty pleasure I had was, you know, when you take chili con carne, and you put it in a bag of Fritos?
Brendan Francis Newnam: Frito pie?
Daniel Boulud: Yeah, Frito pie. I mean to me, anytime, any day, a Frito pie.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Really?
Daniel Boulud: It is my favorite thing! Right in the bag!
Brendan Francis Newnam: Are you serious? You’ve done that?
Daniel Boulud: Yeah.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Oh my goodness.
Daniel Boulud: This is good because it’s all about the spice, the crunch, the kind of like soft with the beans. Yeah, it’s so good.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Where did you discover that?
Daniel Boulud: Well, tailgating, you know? In New York we tailgate with the Giants, and there is always somebody in charge of Frito pie.
Brendan Francis Newnam: And what wine would you pair with some Frito pie?
Daniel Boulud: Frito pie? A chilled beer, yeah? I don’t think you want wine.
Billy Bragg’s mix of pop, folk, punk and protest music has won him a loyal following since the eighties. His newest album “Tooth and Nail” takes a more personal approach to songwriting; it actually draws inspiration from a fan’s nickname for him: the ‘Sherpa of Heartbreak.’
Billy tells us a little bit about it, then gamely tackles our listeners’ etiquette questions…about everything from lyrical ‘reinterpretation’ to explicit genealogy to a Trivial Pursuit showdown with Joey Ramone. (Catch Billy doing the festival rounds in Europe this summer and on a US tour starting in September.)
Brendan Francis Newnam: Now you’ve said the inspiration for this album came from a fan’s tweet in which they coined a nickname for you. You want to tell us what that was?
Billy Bragg: Yeah, it was a woman talking about overcoming a breakup by listening to Billy Bragg. “He’s the sherpa of heartbreak.”
Brendan Francis Newnam: The sherpa of heartbreak.
Rico Gagliano: So perfect.
Billy Bragg: I like the idea of my songs helping people, doing the heavy emotional lifting for people.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Yeah, you are known for your progressive politics and your political songs, but yes you also have “Greetings to the New Brunette,” all these great classic love songs.
Billy Bragg: Yeah, people just kind of like think of me as a political songwriter, and of course I do write political songs, but really, you know, I write as many love songs, if not more, and while I don’t mind being called a political songwriter it really annoys me when people just dismiss me. Politics is just part of the show.
Rico Gagliano: That’s true and I think I would say that your fans actually many of them are drawn to you by your love songs and then they stick around for the politics.
Billy Bragg: Yeah, you know even people who are into politics need a bit of emotional heavy lifting every now and then. I often say to people, it’s not either or. Life isn’t all politics. How boring would it be if it was?
Brendan Francis Newnam: My favorite is when you combine the two, like in one of your songs you sing “we’re trapped in an ideological cuddle.”
Billy Bragg: That’s right, the ideological cuddle. And I mean, they are the best ones. I have another song called “I Keep Faith,” which is a song about you and your commitment to your partner or it’s about my faith in the audience’s ability to make a difference, depending on how I pitch it.
Lyrical improvisation – or artistic disrespect?
Rico Gagliano: Well listen, your audience has made a difference in this show, because they have sent in questions for you to answer – and the first one is from Warbler: “I love to sing along to music, even if I get some lyrics wrong. I consider it high praise to the song. I’m digging the music, who cares if I make unintentional revisions? My sister seems to think I’m dissing the song and artist though. If I can’t sing it right, don’t sing it. Thoughts?”
Billy Bragg: Well, Warbler, I think you’re getting to the very core of the creative urge there. It’s by filling in the gaps yourself of your own imagination, you’re adding to things.
I know that people have come to me with lyrics that they have totally misheard. Sometimes they’re disappointed when I tell them it’s not the right line, but the line they had is better. There’s a song I have called “Richard,” which at the end of it I shout “here comes Richard” and somebody heard that as “in a country church”, which was just a nicer end to the song because it mentions marriage in the song.
An interesting thing to do if you’re in the music industry is to get the Japanese lyric sheet from your album and get some Japanese people to translate the lyrics into English for you. The line “the milkman of human kindness” in Japanese would become “the delivery man of human love.” So that is nice.
So, I think Warbler’s getting to the very essence of songwriting. The way to learn to write songs is to take your favorite song, maybe even keep the chorus and write new lyrics.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Yeah, I’ve been ripping you off for years.
Billy Bragg: Feel free.
Rico Gagliano: You did that with Beethoven. You wrote new lyrics to “Ode to Joy.”
Billy Bragg: I’ve done it with Beethoven, I’ve done it with Bob Dylan. You know, I have a song called “Ideology” that is basically using the framework of a song called “The Chimes of Freedom.” I was actually here in New York City, someone came to me and said, “You’re not going to believe this Billy, but Bruce Springsteen has stolen your song Ideology and he’s calling it The Chimes of Freedom!” I said, “Yeah, we need to have a little chat, mate.”
Rico Gagliano: It’s a circular thing.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Well, you come from a tradition of Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan, I mean everyone was borrowing from classics.
Billy Bragg: That’s what folk music is. I think Warbler, what Warbler’s doing is he’s engaging, he’s ?? in that creative process.
Brendan Francis Newnam: So Warbler, there you go. Now you have an answer for your sister.
Rico Gagliano: Absolutely and if you do it right, maybe Billy will rip off your lyrics and put them in his songs.
Overcoming political conversation killers?
Brendan Francis Newnam: Alright, so we have another question. This one comes from John in Burbank. John writes, “I couldn’t be more opposed ideologically to some of my relatives, so politics are a surefire conversation killer. As a result, we end up falling into banal chit chat about the weather, sports, et cetera. What’s a safe, but stimulating third way?
Billy Bragg: Well, I mean this may be a British thing but…
Rico Gagliano: Pornography.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Don’t talk.
Billy Bragg: It’s funny you should say pornography, because I was just about to say the second most popular search on the internet is genealogy, family history. And you Americans are pretty good on family history because so many of you are, you know two or three generation immigrants. You actually know quite a lot about your own personal history in a way that we Brits who have been in the same place, I mean look at Richard III, he’s been under a car park in Leicester for 500 years.
Rico Gagliano: That’s right, they just found his skeleton.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Yeah, not as much to talk about.
Billy Bragg: Exactly. So, engage them in conversations about family history. Your parents and your grandparents. They know a lot of esoteric stuff about whereabouts exactly was it in central Europe that great-great-grandma came from?
Brendan Francis Newnam: Yeah, you’re like, you know that CVS in Budapest, it’s underneath that drugstore.
Billy Bragg: And It’s that sort of thing, you know that parents often want to talk about anyway. Older stuff is really easy to find on the internet now, unless your name is Smith.
Rico Gagliano: Yeah, in which case just discuss religion. Always a safe topic.
Talking through menu anxiety?
Rico Gagliano: Here is a letter from Kelly in Chicago. Kelly writes, “The only moment of socializing that gives me anxiety is looking over the menu at a dinner date. Either I dutifully keep the conversation going and never get to take a good look at the menu or I get lost in reading the menu and feel like dull company. Any advice on a middle ground?”
Billy Bragg: I think most restaurants these days have their menu online, Kelly. I’d check it out before you go. Just make notes or go to one of those Asian restaurants where they just have little pictures.
In the end, you’ve got to stay engaged with the person I think, and this is America. I mean, my experience particularly in New York, you can never imagine what it’s going to look like when it comes. You order something that you think is going to be relatively easy to eat and then something comes out of the kitchen that’s like 3 foot tall and on fire and you think, “Please don’t let that be what I’ve ordered.” Oh my heavens.
Brendan Francis Newnam: You’re like, “Here comes my oatmeal.”
Billy Bragg: A sandwich in the UK, I could make a sign by putting my hand horizontal like that. That’s a UK sandwich, you put that in your mouth. An American sandwich is like a fist. It’s impossible.
Rico Gagliano: Dripping with goo.
Billy Bragg: So I carry a mallet with me in America to get the sandwiches.
Rico Gagliano: To flatten it down.
Billy Bragg: Get them flat so I can get my teeth around them.
Rico Gagliano: There you go.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Kelly there you go.
Rico Gagliano: There’s your answer. Err on the side of engagement and bring a sandwich hammer.
Billy Bragg: I think that’s just for English people because, remember, we have socialized medicine teeth.
Playing board games with rock stars.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Alright, this is our last question that we ask of all our etiquette guests. It is, “What is the most memorable get-together you have ever been to? Who, what, where, details please.”
Billy Bragg: Oh, I once went to somebody’s house and there was a wonderful collection of people there and among them was Joey Ramone. And it wasn’t only memorably for that, but it was also memorable for the first time I encountered Trivial Pursuit.
Rico Gagliano: You played Trivial Pursuit with Joey Ramone?
Brendan Francis Newnam: How’d he do?
Billy Bragg: Yeah, with Joey Ramone and the problem was, of course it was probably among the first few times I came to America, so that would’ve been ’84, ’85.
Rico Gagliano: Oh, it was the American edition?
Billy Bragg: It was the American edition.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Tough.
Rico Gagliano: Tough for you.
Billy Bragg: It was really really difficult, so in order to try and hold back Joey and keep him from totally whitewashing me, I started making up the questions.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Really?
Billy Bragg: Yeah, I really did.
Brendan Francis Newnam: And he didn’t notice?
Billy Bragg: No. I started putting English questions that I knew he wouldn’t get and eventually the final one that gave it away was how I asked who played the lead in the Lassie movies.
Rico Gagliano: And how did that expose your ruse?
Billy Bragg: Lassie never wore a lead.
Rico Gagliano: That’s what you said the answer was?
Billy Bragg: And that’s when he asked to look at the card. That’s how we totally blew it.
Brendan Francis Newnam: What was wrong with Risk?
Billy Bragg: You know, well that’s probably, I would play Risk if I met The Clash, maybe or me and The Smiths might play, I think.
Rico Gagliano: Man, invite us over.
Brendan Francis Newnam: I thought Morrissey was an Uno man.
Rico Gagliano: Billy Bragg, thank you so much for telling our audience how to behave.
Billy Bragg: Thank you.
Thousands of scientists from around the world have dedicated decades of their lives to a single project: building a machine that may be able to recreate the conditions of the moments following the Big Bang. The Large Hadron Collider is the single biggest, most expensive science experiment conducted, focusing on something very, very small – The Higgs-Boson Particle – and something as big as human understanding.
“Particle Fever” is the acclaimed new documentary from Mark Levinson, a physics PhD himself, who left the science world to become a filmmaker. His dual background makes him well-suited to tell the dramatic stories that personalize what the scientists are doing at the Collider and explaining what it means for all of us.
Brendan Francis Newnam: It’s time for chattering class. This is the part of the show where we get schooled in a dinner party worthy topic. Today our subject is merely the origins of life itself and our expert is physicist turned director Mark Levinson.
His new documentary is called “Particle Fever” and it’s about the search for sub-atomic matter, specifically the Higgs-Boson aka the “God Particle.” This little clue to the origins of the universe was first theorized by Peter Higgs back in 1965, and it lead to the creation of the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland.
You know what Mark, you do such a good job of clarifying complex topics in this documentary. Maybe you can explain what the Collider is and how it works?
Mark Levinson: Okay. So the Large Hadron Collider basically collides particles. It’s a 17 mile underground ring. It’s underneath Switzerland and France. It’s about 300 feet below the surface. In this tunnel, basically they are circulating beams of protons in opposite directions. So you accelerate these beams of proton in opposite directions at the speed of light and then you crash them together at four points. And at those four points are the experiments, the detectors, which is what we call the experiments. That’s where you’re looking at what comes out of these collisions.
Brendan Francis Newnam: And tell me more about the Higgs-Boson and why it’s so important.
Mark Levinson: We understand, at this point, that the universe is basically made up of particles and they have certain interactions. But at the beginning of the universe, the theory is that they didn’t have mass. They would have just been like light. There was no atom, nothing formed, because everything was just flying all over.
What the Higgs Mechanism does is explains how just a fraction of a milli-milli-milli-second after the Big Bang this so-called Higgs Field turned on. And it allowed electrons and certain other things to get mass. And once they had mass then they could be trapped into atoms, and so you could start to get structure. You could get atoms and then of course molecules and then eventually galaxies and everything else.
That theory essentially explains everything we see on earth. But we were missing this one central part of that theory.
Brendan Francis Newnam: And so they built the Large Hadron Collider to figure that out. It took decades to build, involved thousands of scientists from all over the world.
You’re there when it finally opens. So you knew you had a story there. However, theoretical physics is a long game. How did you know you were gonna have an ending? How did you know that you were gonna have a movie? Tell me a little bit about the premise.
Mark Levinson: I was always looking for “How this is gonna be a dramatic story?” As it turns out, I just barely got it organized to get over in time for the first test, the first beam test, the first big milestone in 2008. We didn’t know if it would start up. Luckily it did.
But then as it turns out, there was a huge explosion and there was a big accident just ten days after I started shooting. Of course I had to hang my head with the physicist because it was very depressing for them. But as a filmmaker I was thinking, “Yes!” But then, again, in classic screenwriting fashion, there ended up being other things that happened. False leads, and this and that.
It became more complex. But if I actually scripted what happened, people would have thought I was just really including all sorts of artifice.
Brendan Francis Newnam: So the trials and tribulations of the Hadron Collider are one source of tension in the movie. Another one is meeting these physicists who have spent their whole careers crafting theories which can be proven or disproven by one spin on this Collider. And it’s fascinating to think that one set of data could alter their entire careers.
Mark Levinson: We wanted to focus on people whose lives really had something that was incredibly at risk with the Large Hadron Collider. People like Nima Arkani-Hamed who has been working in the field for 30 years. He has many theories but it depends on seeing something at the Large Hadron Collider that is new. For the experimentalists it’s a little bit different.
Brendan Francis Newnam: Experimentalists are physicists who test theoretical physicists’ theories.
Mark Levinson: They have been working on this but they’ve been very actively building the machine for 20 years or something like that. But the stakes are also tremendous because if you, for instance, you look at a young woman, she was a post-doc at the beginning of this film, Monica Dunford. She spends all of her life building a machine that doesn’t find anything. That’s pretty frustrating.
Brendan Francis Newnam: So you ended the movie with the Stanford physicist Savas Dimopoulos saying, “Why do humans do science? Why do they do art? The things that are least important for survival are the very things that make us human.” Why did you end on that note?
Mark Levinson: For me, I had make the transition myself from physics to art in a certain sense. And people always ask me, “How did you do that? It seems like this completely continuous thing.” But I actually saw similarities in the process. We are all trying to make sense of the world around us. We represent it in some sense and we try to interpret it and, by representing it, try to understand how it works and our place in it.
In his new book Life at the Speed of Light: From the Double Helix to the Dawn of Digital Life, Craig Venter writes of the brave new world synthetic biology may some day deliver: from consumer devices that print out the latest flu vaccine to instruments on Mars landers that analyze Martian DNA and teleport it back to Earth to be studied or recreated.
I turned the tinted glass tablet over in my hands, looked at the perfectly ground edges, felt the silk-like quality of the cool surface and finally held it up and looked though it. The effect was astonishing, unreal, unexpected.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me that this is some sort of quantum shit?”
The suited executive at my side smiled a pained, corporate smile and looked around nervously — as though he expected the chaos of the kitchen to have suddenly sprouted thrusting microphones and whirring news cameras.
“I’m not going to tell you anything, John — and I advise you not to ask. The terms of this demonstration are clearly laid out in the agreement, and we are paying you after all …”
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Oh, yes — they were paying all right, a sudden windfall that had landed on my kitchen table like manna from a clear blue sky. Enough money to let me finish the book, buy in some kit for the next project and maybe even fix the chimney.
I gently placed the tablet back in its foam-padded case, it made me nervous just holding it. “Does this stuff at least have a name? I’ve got to call it something in the report.”
He gave me a sheepish look. “We’re calling it ‘OwlPlex’ … Sorry, marketing seemed to think the military would like it.”
Yes, I’m sure the military will like it. A sheet of glass, barely a centimetre thick, with no wires or power supply — yet it acted as the highest resolution, most powerful, colour-perfect image intensifier I’d ever seen. And I’ve seen a few, in a shadowy technical career that I no longer like to think about, let alone talk about. I still had some questions though — whether he wanted them or not.
“Where does the power come from? It can’t do this without any input.”
He smiled again and pointed out of the window, across the beach and towards the hills. “Sunshine. It soaks up energy when light falls on it, then releases it slowly as the light fades — augmenting the photons that are passing through it at the time. And before you ask, I really can’t say any more. Oh, but don’t drop it — it’s the only prototype …” He stood up, made some pointed comments about security and edged his way to the door. “I’ll be back next week. Remember, we are looking for insights here. Novel applications, things the kids in Development haven’t thought of.”
It stayed on the table for four days before I worked up the courage to test it fully. At nightfall I eased the tablet from the case, gripped it carefully in one hand, and turned off the light. One side of the glass glowed like a backlit laptop screen, bright but not too bright, showing me the litter on the floor under the table — including a half chewed mouse that the cat had left there. Making a mental note to clean up, I opened the back door and allowed myself a slow, tuneless whistle as the garden and hillside erupted on the screen into glorious deep autumn hues. The effect was startling, addictive — and I knew exactly what everyone was going to want for Christmas this year.
I awoke in full daylight, with the cat pointedly stropping the end of the sofa in a way that meant he was hungry and wanted feeding now. As he ate, I looked around the room wondering what novel ideas I could come up with to justify my fee. The wall next to the fireplace was home to some of my favourite photographs, shot on 5 × 4 film to get the maximum quality. Pictures of the surrounding countryside: the headland with its granite cliffs, the tranquil sweep of the beach where the seals haul out with their pups, the pattern of dry stone walls enclosing bog cotton and coarse grasses.
The old madness returned. It took only an hour to kludge together a holder for the tablet and secure it like a filter to the pin-sharp prime lens of the ancient technical camera. The fridge still held a box of slow, fine-grained monochrome film, so as darkness fell I loaded up the dark-slides, then hefted the tripod onto one shoulder, picked up the camera and set off.
My assumption was that the tablet would allow a constant exposure, but after the first few photos it was clear that the tablet was fading from a lack of daylight. Cursing, I increased the shutter timing to compensate — guesstimating a 30-second exposure to harvest a final image from the rapidly dimming tablet.
After development, the images were as sharp as I had hoped — with none of the raster artefacts I would have seen from a conventional system. The content of the last image was, like everything to do with the tablet, unexpected. After a few moments of silent thought I wandered out into the kitchen for tea and a long, long ponder — strongly regretting that I’d given up drinking.
As I looked out over the long-deserted beach in the dawn light, I tried to visualize it as the tablet had imaged it: wooden fishing skiffs hauled out on the shingle, nets drying on the close cropped turf beyond, a single row of whitewashed cottages with split-stone roofs and racks of drying fish. The scrunch of gravel told me that my executive friend was returning, and I was wryly pleased that I’d found his killer application.
I made a bet with myself that no one had taken a time exposure through the fading glow of dying OwlPlex before. Developers today are too hasty, you see — you need to take a long view, just as OwlPlex itself does in those crucial seconds as some weird internal field collapses. In retrospect though, a less distracted man wouldn’t have left the tablet so close to the edge of the table. It was all the opportunity the cat needed.
Speech scientist Rupal Patel creates customized synthetic voices that enable people who can’t speak to communicate in a unique voice that embodies their personality.
Anna Debenham on Code For America, starting a web career at age 14, checking websites in game console browsers, producing 24 Ways, what comes after winning young developer of the year, and the delights of Spotted Dick and Victoria Sponge.
Anna is the author of Front-end Style Guides, creator of the Game Console Browsers website for developers, co-producer of 24 Ways, technical editor for A List Apart, and was Netmag’s Young Developer of the Year 2013.
We all fail. We all make mistakes. Now, a new exhibit at Trinity College in Dublin is celebrating epic failures across the globe to make a point about the importance of making mistakes.
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