Today in ‘guess we didn’t learn anything as a species’, someone’s 3D-printed the throat of an Egyptian priest to see what his voice sounded like. The cute thing is that in doing so, they actually fulfilled his wish - as indicated on his sarcophagus. The less cute thing is do we want to accidentally raise a 5000-yo demon? Because that’s how you raise a 5000-yo demon.
Putting aside the joke that “it’s old and Egyptian therefore it must be evil”, this is amazing:
It is believed to be the first project of its kind to successfully recreate the voice of a dead person through artificial means. In the future, the researchers hope to use computer models to recreate full sentences in Nesyamun’s voice.
it’s also why we want people on space missions to grow their own food
even if we are aiming for the ability to cellularly grow meat, like a 3d printed ready-to-eat steak that never was a cow, we still want to use the tried-and-true method of growing our own plants
not just because hey free oxygen or aww cute lll friend plant companions
but because humans become extremely distressed if we can’t see or interact with plants, and we become depressed and lethargic. Even just looking at a plant – even a fake plant – reduces stress levels in humans
we don’t even do well in daily work conditions that don’t involve plants
we’re like little geckos in a jar with food and water
we need some sticks and leaves or we’ll lose the will to do gecko stuff
Humans have never lived fully under ground or in completely inclosed societies at any point in human history in part because we need a decent circadian rhythm from the sun and to see plants and breathe fresh air
But also because humans hallucinate and lose their minds if they are inclosed in something with structural insecurities, like we are legit predisposed to go psycho
So hear me out
Story plot:Everything is going fine with a fifteen year space mission
Everyone’s in good spirits, there’s plenty of food and resources, everything’s functioning normally
Toph: I mean you guys have killed a bunch of people too
Aang: what no I haven’t I’ve never killed anyone!
Toph: twinkletoes you pick people up and drop them and blow them into walls. katara hits people with water hard enough to throw them to the ground and encases them in ice. Zuko’s straight-up throwing fire at people. Sokka hits people with a club.
Katara:
Aang:
Sokka:
Toph: when you hit people really hard they often die. I mean, I feel it every time. not counting the head trauma and frostbite that probably means they die later.
Toph: ….did you guys not know you were killing people?
Zuko: I mean I wasn’t going to bring it up but she’s right
Toph: I thought we were all doing it on purpose!
Zuko: it’s all in self-defense, it’s not like we’re going out of our way to kill people, but these things happen. Sometimes people have to die to protect everyone else. I thought you understood that already
No but Toph was a professional earthbending wrestler with the power to feel the whole human body at once through vibrations with enough accuracy to tell lies. She knows exactly how much pressure the human body can take before important things start breaking or I’ll go buy a hat for the sole purpose of eating it.
When I was a kid, my mom was a judge and my dad was starting his solo practice, and they both worked full time. There were four of us kids between the ages of one and seven (the Just Us League) and no decent daycares nearby, so they hired a nanny. She had three almost-adult children, and on days when she couldn’t work, one of her kids would substitute. The oldest kid was named Bob, age 18, and he had just finished army basic training when this all went down. Bob did not have the good sense god gave a rock.
I have an older brother, Jake, who was seven; then me, Hellen, age five, then Seth, age three, and my little sister Gin would have been one. It was late August, and we were at our nanny’s house, though she was gone for the day. Bob was in charge.
Bob should probably not have been in charge.
Bob tried keeping us entertained with board games and tag and movies. Gin took a nap. Eventually he decided to get creative, and sat us down in the living room with a game and vanished into the garage. There was a smashing sound. And then some saw noises. And then some hammering. And then we saw him going around the house to the back yard through the windows, though we were too short to see what he was doing. And finally, he yelled to us to come out into the driveway.
Jake and Seth and I trooped out. Bob had both hands behind his back. He stepped up to Jake and revealed what he had in his right hand.
It was a wooden sword. It was clearly made from what appeared to be parts of a chair’s legs, cut down and nailed together. He presented this, and announced, “You are Sir Jake, the strongest knight!”
He stepped up to Seth and presented what was in his left hand. It was another wooden sword, smaller than the first, also crudely made out of chair legs. He announced, “You are Sir Seth, the bravest knight!”
At this point, I was practically vibrating in place, waiting eagerly for my sword so I could use it to whale on my brothers, as god intended me to do. I was therefore understandably disappointed to be presented with the business end of a garden hose and told, “You are Miss Hellen, the Water Fairy!”
“No,” I said. “I want a sword.”
Bob was confused. “But you get water magic! Magic’s great!”
“No.” I repeated, holding the hose. It had a spray nozzle set to jet. “I want a sword.”
“Magic’s great. Magic’s better than a sword.” Bob insisted. “You’ll see. Wait here a moment.”
And then Bob ran around the side of house and vanished.
We stood in the driveway. Jake and Seth poked each other with their swords. I spritzed them idly with the hose, trying to decide which of them would be easier to steal a sword from.
And then we heard a quiet wooshing noise, and smelled smoke.
We turned. As we watched, a line of fire rushed around the corner of the house, consuming a path of gasoline poured into the dry August grass.
We paused and considered this for a few moments. I raised the hose and sprayed a jet of water at the fire. It went out. We glanced at each other. Then we took off running, following the trail of fire, spraying as we went.
The fire led in a path around the house to the back yard. As we turned the corner, we saw Bob, clad in a bathrobe and holding a curtain rod, standing in the center of a large ring of burning grass. He cackled manically. “I am the FIRE WIZARD! Your puny swords are useless! Nothing but water magic can defeat me!”
I promptly blasted him with the hose. He spluttered. The fire did not go out.
I turned the hose on the fire itself, spraying a section close to us so that it would extinguish. As soon as there was enough room, Jake charged forward, brandishing his chair leg sword with a battle cry. Seth, always happy to be included, followed. They ran into the circle and began beating Bob around the kneecaps with their swords. I kept spraying.
Eventually, Bob the Fire Wizard was brought down and all the fire was extinguished. Seth and Jake continued to work on bruising Bob’s shins, and I quickly discarded the hose to lend my fists and extremely pointy elbows to the cause. Bob lay in the smoldering grass, probably regretting using such sturdy chair legs.
Once we’d all tired ourselves out and lay panting in a heap, Bob decided it was time for the moral of the story. “You see, a sword is nothing compared to the power of a little girl with **magic**.”
We thought about this for a few moments. Bob nodded wisely. Jake and Seth nodded back.
“I still want a sword.” I said.
there’s a lot of people in the tags and replies expressing several concerns, which I will address:
“Where was Gin?” She was sleeping in a crib on the sunporch. We did this a lot–played outside while she napped–because we could hear her if she woke up and started crying, but were less likely to wake her up. She slept through the whole thing and was totally fine.
“You can’t put out a gasoline fire with water.” At the time, my little kid brain assumed that any flammable liquid was gas, but in retrospect it could have been almost anything. It very well may have been something other than gasoline. All I know is I could extinguish it with a garden hose.
“What did your parents say?” A lot of swear words at a very high volume.
“Did you get a sword?” Yes. Lots. Here are a couple of them, and also my pet ringneck dove, Arson. You can see how this all may have had some lasting effect on me.
Is that a real bird?? :0
Yes, she’s real. This is Arson, her mate, Larceny, and their idiot children, Forgery and Fraud.
Arson lives her life constantly wishing she had opposable thumbs so she could light fires.
