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Multiphysics applications are all around us. Consider, for example, a setting where science may be the last thing on our minds: a music concert. You might be enjoying the slight sinusoidal variations in atmospheric pressure we call sound waves, or music, but those pressure variations must come from somewhere. In fact, they are due to a multiphysics effect where sinusoidal structural vibrations in an object disturb the surrounding air, causing pressure variations in the air that then propagate outward and create the sound waves your ears recognize as music. When it comes to tuning an orchestra to produce perfect sound, we can get help from a multiphysics simulation.
Tuning an Orchestra
In order to determine the sound produced by an object, you must know all of the structural qualities of that object. Conversely, in order to understand the structural behavior of an object, you must take into consideration the properties of the fluid (such as air or water) surrounding the object and the sound waves produced in that fluid. The load (or pressure) of the air on the structure will also affect the ability of the structure to vibrate. That's where COMSOL comes in, making such a coupling between the structural mechanics and acoustic aspects of an object easy to simulate and analyze.
One application where this acoustic-structural interaction analysis is applicable in music is in the design of a tuning fork. A tuning fork is used to tune instruments in an orchestra to a pitch of exactly 440 Hz, which is the note A above middle C, in musical terms. When a tuning fork is struck against an object or surface, its two prongs, or tines, vibrate at their resonant frequencies and create sound waves that should correspond exactly to 440 Hz. An incorrectly designed tuning fork would cause instruments tuned with the device to be out of tune with other instruments, creating unwanted clashes in the harmonies you hear during a concert.
Vibrating tuning fork geometry showing the acoustic pressure field and displacement of the fork's prongs.
Analysis of a Tuning Fork
Let's take a look at an example of an analysis of a tuning fork in COMSOL (note that you can download this tuning fork model file below). This model has two basic steps of analysis:
- First, in Study 1 of the model, we analyze how the fundamental eigenfrequency of this particular shape of tuning fork changes as we vary the length of the prongs. We plot both the shape of the deformation of the fork as it vibrates, and we also plot the frequency the fork will naturally vibrate at when it is struck, based on the length of the prongs. You will see in this plot how the eigenfrequency drops as the prong length increases. The relationship between these two parameters is quite sensitive; an increase of only 1 mm in prong length corresponds to a decrease of about 10 Hz for the resonant frequency. This eigenfrequency vs. prong length plot below (left) shows us that the ideal prong length for this tuning fork is approximately 7.906 cm.
- Now that we have determined our desired prong length, we want to investigate the interaction between the acoustics and the structural components of the fork to analyze the sound that will be radiating from the tuning fork out to the orchestra. We use a Frequency Domain study type to see the characteristics of the sound produced for a harmonic structural load on a prong of the tuning fork that varies over frequency. From this analysis we are able to verify that the resonant frequency of this tuning fork is indeed at 440 Hz. This is depicted in the figure below (right). Note that only the relative levels are of interest here (their absolute values are inaudible), as we have simply applied a unit load in this example. We can also calculate the magnitude of the sound we would expect to hear from the tuning fork based on different magnitudes of applied structural loads. This study corresponds to finding the frequency response of the fork; that is, the Fourier components of the response. In practice, a tuning fork starts to vibrate when it is struck with another object, and from this object it receives an impulse consisting of several Fourier components. In this study we are also able to create plots of the radiation pattern of sound coming from the fork. This analysis gives us an accurate picture of how these two physics are working together to produce the tone heard by musicians while tuning their instruments in an orchestra.
The left figure shows the fundamental vibrating frequency of the tuning fork as a function of the prong length L. The right figure depicts the sound pressure level measured in the proximity of the tuning fork (blue line) and measured at 1 m away from the fork (green line) at 440 Hz. Only the relative value is of interest as the fork is actuated by a unit load (right). Click to view larger images.
Theoretical Solutions Sometimes Come up Short
Note that a theoretical solution exists that relates the resonate frequency of an "ideal" tuning fork to the other parameters of the fork, such as the fork material's Young's modulus, the material's density, the radius of the prong cross sections, and the length of the two prongs. However, this theoretical solution assumes that the prongs of the fork are perfect cantilever beams, where in reality the bending stiffness of the prongs increases near the base of the fork where the prongs meet. Therefore, you should use COMSOL Multiphysics to explicitly model applications like the tuning fork where the real device you want to model doesn't match up perfectly with the assumptions made by known theoretical solutions.
We find in this model that using theory alone we would arrive at a tuning fork with prongs of length 7.8 cm, but our COMSOL model has shown us that the real length needed for this particular tuning fork design is 7.906 cm. If we would have designed this tuning fork with the theoretically-determined prong length, our tuning fork would create a tone at about 430 Hz, which is nearly a quartertone away from the desired note A at 440 Hz. This difference would be very noticeable to the average listener and would create quite an undesirable clash of harmonies within the orchestra.
Model Download
- Download the Tuning Fork with Acoustics model from the Model Gallery
- Or download the pure structural mechanics model of a the tuning fork geometry


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Saltworks in Morocco are interesting places to visit. They can be found along the Atlantic Coast of Morocco, in the Moroccan Sahara Desert. This one was south of Merlift, between Sidi Ifni and Tarfaya. Others can be found south of Tan-Tan Plage and Laayoune, all the way to Dakhla. To reach these locations, one must drive considerably south of Agadir.
It's highly advisable to have a four-wheel drive vehicle, although the descent/ascent back up can be managed in some cars with an experienced driver.
A number of shallow pan areas such as the one above are bulldozed out, surrounded by by earthen walls up to a meter high. The ocean water is let in, such as up to 20 cm (10 inches), then closed off so that the ocean water is trapped. The water is left to evaporate. Once fully evaporated, it looks just like this. This salt was about one centimeter thick (one-half inch), waiting to be bulldozed up into a pile the size of the top photo in this post.
Most Moroccan salt comes in square or rectangular plastic bags, tends to be a bit wet, and contains a bit of fine sand. Moroccan cooks don't notice this small amount of sand, but if you take a heaping tablespoon of salt and dissolve it in a glass of water, you can see the small grains of sand drop to the bottom. Seeing how and where the Moroccan salt is collected explains why it is usually a bit damp in the plastic bag, and why it contains small bits of sand.
Moroccan saltworks can be very interesting places to visit during your Moroccan Sahara Desert Tour.
For more information about Travel and Tours to Morocco plus highlights on Moroccan culture visit Morocco's Imperial Cities, Seaside Resorts,Sahara Desert, Berber villages, A Taste of Morocco, Magical Kasbahs, Ruins & Waterfalls, Absolute Morocco, The Best of Marrakech, Fes, and Ouarzazate
Travel Exploration specializes in Morocco Travel. We provide Tours and travel opportunities to Morocco for the independent traveler and tailor-made tours for families and groups with a distinctly unique flavor. From Morocco's Seven Imperial Cities, to the Magical Sahara Travel Exploration offers a captivating experience that will inspire you. At Travel Exploration we guarantee that you will discover the best of Morocco! Call Travel Exploration at 1 (800) 787-8806 or 1 (917)703-2078 and let's book a tour to Morocco for you today.
Agadir, Dakhla, Laayoune, Merlift, Morocco Holidays, Sahara Desert Tours, Sidi Ifni, Tan Tan Tan-Tan- Plage, Tarfaya, Morocco Tours, Morocco Travel, Tours to Morocco, Morocco Vacations, Morocco Holiday
Tags: Agadir, Dakhla, Laayoune, Merlift, Morocco Holiday, Morocco Holidays, Morocco Tours, Morocco Travel, Morocco Vacations, Sahara Desert Tours, Sidi Ifni, Tan Tan Tan-Tan- Plage, Tarfaya, Tours to Morocco

subset: commoncrawl


text: The 2013 American Shetland Pony Congress will take place July 9-13 at the Iowa State Fair Grounds in Des Moines, IA. The Congress is the longest continually running show of the American Shetland Pony Club, Inc., one of the oldest breed registries in the United States. This year marks the 67th anniversary and one of the largest with over 530 […] Continue Reading


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Symposium on Sustainability and Contemporary Art
Central European University Budapest (Hungary) – 11 May 2012
The upsurge of new popular movements from Egypt to Greece and Bucharest to New York has engendered an atmosphere of defiance and social creativity that has captured the global imagination. Beyond the ebb and flow of individual protest movements, this symposium asks whether global solidarity has really taken hold this time and considers the variety of ways in which contemporary art is embroiled through practices of dialogue and collaboration in the emergence of a common horizon and the imagining of a sustainable future. Providing a trans-disciplinary forum for discussion of the vital issues bridging the fields of art and environmental thought, the symposium sheds light on our understanding of the multifarious notion of sustainability, which appears by turns as a radical concept in global ecological thinking, can be recruited as a corporate strategy for green capitalism, and may act as a spur to new forms of social activism.
Speakers include artist-activists Noah Fischer and Maria Byck, who are members of the Occupy Museums Collective that protests against the domination of the interests of the 1% in the running of New York art institutions, as well as Berlin and Amsterdam-based urbanibalists Matteo Pasquinelli and Wietske Maas, who will present a radical gastro-manifesto that seeks to recover the spontaneous living matter of the city. Activist and writer on affective labour Emma Dowling will reflect on the sustainability of the protest movement in the light of the spread of locally-organised occupations of public and private space, while Tomas Rafa's video archive of marches and counter-demonstrations illuminates the spectrum of contemporary protest.
The symposium is organised by curators Maja and Reuben Fowkes (Translocal.org) in collaboration with the Department of Environmental Science and Policy and the Centre for Arts and Culture at Central European University (CEU).
Attendance is free, advance reservation is recommended. For more information see the symposium website: www.translocal.org


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Modifier 25
All evaluation and management services provided on the same day as a procedure are part of the procedure and WellCare only makes separate payment if an exception applies.
Modifier 25 is used to describe a significant, separately identifiable evaluation and management service that was performed at the same time as a procedure.
CMS and the OIG have documented that modifier 25 is one of the most frequently misused modifiers by medical providers. WellCare may require medical records prior to payment for evaluation and management services to which Modifier 25 is appended in certain situations to validate that the documentation demonstrates that the evaluation and management service is significant and separately identifiable.
A member's medical documentation must clearly show that the evaluation and management service that was performed and billed was unique and distinct from the usual pre-operative and post-operative care associated with the primary procedure performed on the date of service.
Providers should reference the NCCI Policy Manual for guidance on correct submission of modifier 25.
Place of Service Coding
According to CMS policy, the place of service code used should indicate the setting in which the patient received a face-to-face encounter or where the technical component of a service was rendered, in the case of an interpretation. However, when a patient is in a registered inpatient status, all services billed by all providers should reflect and acknowledge the patient's inpatient status.
When a physician/practitioner/supplier furnishes services to a registered inpatient, payment is made under the Physician Fee Schedule at the facility rate. A physician/practitioner/supplier furnishing services to a patient who is a registered inpatient shall, at a minimum, report the inpatient hospital POS code 21 irrespective of the setting where the patient actually receives the face-to-face encounter.
WellCare policy requires all providers to use POS 21 when providing services to a patient who is a registered inpatient, regardless of the site where the patient physically receives the service.
Providers should reference MLN Matters MM7631 for place of service coding instruction.


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Eye-catching labels stigmatize many healthy foods
When customers walk down aisles of grocery stores, they are inundated with labels such as organic, fair-trade and cage free, just to name a few. Labels such as these may be eye-catching but are often free of any scientific basis and stigmatize many healthy foods, a new University of Delaware-led study found.
The paper published recently in the journal Applied Economics Perspectives and Policy examined the good, the bad and the ugly of food labeling to see how labels identifying the process in which food was produced positively and negatively influenced consumer behavior.
By reviewing over 90 academic studies on consumer response to process labels, the researchers found that while these labels satisfy consumer demand for quality assurances and can create value for both consumers and producers, misinterpretation is common and can stigmatize food produced by conventional processes even when there is no scientific evidence those foods cause harm.
For the poor, in particular, there is danger in misunderstanding which food items are safe, said Kent Messer, the study's lead author and the Unidel Howard Cosgrove Career Development Chair for the Environment.
"That has me worried about the poor and those who are food insecure," said Messer, who is also director of the Center for Experimental and Applied Economics in the College of Agriculture and Natural Resources. "Because now you're trying to make everything a high-end food choice and frankly, we just want to have healthy food choices, we don't need to have extra labels that scare away people,"
Process labels, by definition, focus on the production of a food, but largely ignore important outcomes of the process such as taste or healthiness. According to Messer and his study co-authors, policy changes could help consumers better understand their choices. They argue governments should not impose bans on process labels but rather encourage labels that help document how the processes affect important quality traits, such as calorie count.
"Relying on process labels alone, on the other hand, is a laissez faire approach that inevitably surrenders the educational component of labeling to mass media, the colorful array of opinion providers, and even food retailers, who may not always be honest brokers of information," the researchers wrote.
The Good
With regards to the positive impact process labels have on consumers, Messer said that consumers are able to more freely align their purchasing decisions with their values and preferences.
If, for example, a consumer wants to buy fair trade coffee, they are able to do so with greater ease.
"The good part is that process labels can help bridge the trust between the producer and the consumer because it gives the consumer more insight into the market," said Messer. "New products can be introduced this way, niche markets can be created, and consumers, in many cases, are willing to pay more for these products. It's good for industry, consumers are getting what they want, and new players get to find ways of getting a higher price."
The Bad
The bad part is that consumers are already in the midst of a marketplace filled with information that can be overwhelming because of the sheer amount of product choices and information available.
In addition, when most consumers go to buy food, they are often crunched for time.
"Human choice tends to be worse when you put time constraints on it," said Messer. "Maybe you've got a child in the aisle with you and now you're adding this new label and there's lots of misinterpretation of what it means. The natural label is a classic one which means very little, yet consumers assume it means more than it does. They think it means 'No GMO' but it doesn't. They think it means it is 'organic' but it isn't. This label is not helping them align their values to their food, and they're paying a price premium but not getting what they wanted to buy."
Messer said that another problem are "halo effects," overly optimistic misinterpretation of what a label means.
"If you show consumers a chocolate bar that is labeled as 'fair trade', some will tell you that it has lower calories," Messer said. "But the label is not about calories. Consumers do this frequently with the 'organic' label as they think it is healthy for the consumer. Organic practices may be healthier for the farm workers or the environment, but for the actual consumer, there's very little evidence behind that. You're getting lots of mixed, wrong messages out there."
The Ugly
Like halo effects, the ugly side of food processing labels comes into play when labels sound like they have a positive impact but really have a negative one.
A label such as "low food miles" might sound nice but could actually be causing more harm than good.
"Sometimes, where food is grown doesn't mean that it's actually the best for climate change," said Messer.
Hot house tomatoes grown in Canada, for example, might have low food miles for Canadian consumers but it's probably far better environmentally—because of all the energy expended in creating tomatoes in an energy intensive hot house in Canada—to grow the tomatoes in Florida and then ship them to Canada.
"If you just count miles and not true energy use, you can get people paying more money for something that's actually going the opposite of what they wanted which is to get a lower carbon footprint," said Messer.
He added that the ugly side of food labeling is that a lot of fear is being introduced into the marketplace that isn't based on science.
"When you start labeling everything as 'free of this' such as 'gluten free water,' you can end up listing stuff that could never have been present in the food in the first place," Messer said. "These 'free of' labels can cause unnecessary fear and cast the conventionally produced food in a harsh, negative light."
Since the vast majority of the food market is still conventionally produced and is the lower cost product, there is a danger in taking that safe food and calling it unsafe because of a few new entrants into the food market.
Messer also said that there is evidence that food companies are getting worried about investing in science and technology because they don't know how the consumer is going to respond or how marketers are going to attack their food product because it's new and different and therefore, can be labeled as bad or dangerous.
"We've got a lot of mouths to feed in our country and around the world," Messer said. "We are currently able to feed so many because of advances in agricultural science and technology. If we're afraid of that now, we have a long-term impact on the poor that could be quite negative in our country and around the world. That's when I start thinking these process labels could really be ugly."
Provided by University of Delaware


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Sender Framework Policy (SPF) is a tool to you can use to advertise what sources are legitimately allowed to originate email for your domain names. It is useful for distancing yourself from forged email with your domain and can help protect recipients of real email from you (such as your customers and members) from some forms of phishing attacks.
It works by publishing a "blob" of data about your domain over DNS, this wizard is to help you create that blob.


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Chapter IV: The Countess Explains
"Your Paris is more dangerous than my savage jungles, Paul," concluded Tarzan, after narrating his adventures to his friend the morning following his encounter with the apaches and police in the Rue Maule. "Why did they lure me there? Were they hungry?"
D'Arnot feigned a horrified shudder, but he laughed at the quaint suggestion.
"It is difficult to rise above the jungle standards and reason by the light of civilized ways, is it not, my friend?" he queried banteringly.
"Civilized ways, forsooth," scoffed Tarzan. "Jungle standards do not countenance wanton atrocities. There we kill for food and for self-preservation, or in the winning of mates and the protection of the young. Always, you see, in accordance with the dictates of some great natural law. But here! Faugh, your civilized man is more brutal than the brutes. He kills wantonly, and, worse than that, he utilizes a noble sentiment, the brotherhood of man, as a lure to entice his unwary victim to his doom. It was in answer to an appeal from a fellow being that I hastened to that room where the assassins lay in wait for me.
"I did not realize, I could not realize for a long time afterward, that any woman could sink to such moral depravity as that one must have to call a would-be rescuer to death. But it must have been so—the sight of Rokoff there and the woman's later repudiation of me to the police make it impossible to place any other construction upon her acts. Rokoff must have known that I frequently passed through the Rue Maule. He lay in wait for me—his entire scheme worked out to the last detail, even to the woman's story in case a hitch should occur in the program such as really did happen. It is all perfectly plain to me."
"Well," said D'Arnot, "among other things, it has taught you what I have been unable to impress upon you—that the Rue Maule is a good place to avoid after dark."
"On the contrary," replied Tarzan, with a smile, "it has convinced me that it is the one worth-while street in all Paris. Never again shall I miss an opportunity to traverse it, for it has given me the first real entertainment I have had since I left Africa."
"It may give you more than you will relish even without another visit," said D'Arnot. "You are not through with the police yet, remember. I know the Paris police well enough to assure you that they will not soon forget what you did to them. Sooner or later they will get you, my dear Tarzan, and then they will lock the wild man of the woods up behind iron bars. How will you like that?"
"They will never lock Tarzan of the Apes behind iron bars," replied he, grimly.
There was something in the man's voice as he said it that caused D'Arnot to look up sharply at his friend. What he saw in the set jaw and the cold, gray eyes made the young Frenchman very apprehensive for this great child, who could recognize no law mightier than his own mighty physical prowess. He saw that something must be done to set Tarzan right with the police before another encounter was possible.
"You have much to learn, Tarzan," he said gravely. "The law of man must be respected, whether you relish it or no. Nothing but trouble can come to you and your friends should you persist in defying the police. I can explain it to them once for you, and that I shall do this very day, but hereafter you must obey the law. If its representatives say 'Come,' you must come; if they say 'Go,' you must go. Now we shall go to my great friend in the department and fix up this matter of the Rue Maule. Come!"
Together they entered the office of the police official a half hour later. He was very cordial. He remembered Tarzan from the visit the two had made him several months prior in the matter of finger prints.
When D'Arnot had concluded the narration of the events which had transpired the previous evening, a grim smile was playing about the lips of the policeman. He touched a button near his hand, and as he waited for the clerk to respond to its summons he searched through the papers on his desk for one which he finally located.
"Here, Joubon," he said as the clerk entered. "Summon these officers—have them come to me at once," and he handed the man the paper he had sought. Then he turned to Tarzan.
"You have committed a very grave offense, monsieur," he said, not unkindly, "and but for the explanation made by our good friend here I should be inclined to judge you harshly. I am, instead, about to do a rather unheard-of-thing. I have summoned the officers whom you maltreated last night. They shall hear Lieutenant D'Arnot's story, and then I shall leave it to their discretion to say whether you shall be prosecuted or not.
"You have much to learn about the ways of civilization. Things that seem strange or unnecessary to you, you must learn to accept until you are able to judge the motives behind them. The officers whom you attacked were but doing their duty. They had no discretion in the matter. Every day they risk their lives in the protection of the lives or property of others. They would do the same for you. They are very brave men, and they are deeply mortified that a single unarmed man bested and beat them.
"Make it easy for them to overlook what you did. Unless I am gravely in error you are yourself a very brave man, and brave men are proverbially magnanimous."
Further conversation was interrupted by the appearance of the four policemen. As their eyes fell on Tarzan, surprise was writ large on each countenance.
"My children," said the official, "here is the gentleman whom you met in the Rue Maule last evening. He has come voluntarily to give himself up. I wish you to listen attentively to Lieutenant D'Arnot, who will tell you a part of the story of monsieur's life. It may explain his attitude toward you of last night. Proceed, my dear lieutenant."
D'Arnot spoke to the policemen for half an hour. He told them something of Tarzan's wild jungle life. He explained the savage training that had taught him to battle like a wild beast in self-preservation. It became plain to them that the man had been guided by instinct rather than reason in his attack upon them. He had not understood their intentions. To him they had been little different from any of the various forms of life he had been accustomed to in his native jungle, where practically all were his enemies.
"Your pride has been wounded," said D'Arnot, in conclusion. "It is the fact that this man overcame you that hurts the most. But you need feel no shame. You would not make apologies for defeat had you been penned in that small room with an African lion, or with the great Gorilla of the jungles.
"And yet you were battling with muscles that have time and time again been pitted, and always victoriously, against these terrors of the dark continent. It is no disgrace to fall beneath the superhuman strength of Tarzan of the Apes."
And then, as the men stood looking first at Tarzan and then at their superior the ape-man did the one thing which was needed to erase the last remnant of animosity which they might have felt for him. With outstretched hand he advanced toward them.
"I am sorry for the mistake I made," he said simply. "Let us be friends." And that was the end of the whole matter, except that Tarzan became a subject of much conversation in the barracks of the police, and increased the number of his friends by four brave men at least.
On their return to D'Arnot's apartments the lieutenant found a letter awaiting him from an English friend, William Cecil Clayton, Lord Greystoke. The two had maintained a correspondence since the birth of their friendship on that ill-fated expedition in search of Jane Porter after her theft by Terkoz, the bull ape.
"They are to be married in London in about two months," said D'Arnot, as he completed his perusal of the letter. Tarzan did not need to be told who was meant by "they." He made no reply, but he was very quiet and thoughtful during the balance of the day.
That evening they attended the opera. Tarzan's mind was still occupied by his gloomy thoughts. He paid little or no attention to what was transpiring upon the stage. Instead he saw only the lovely vision of a beautiful American girl, and heard naught but a sad, sweet voice acknowledging that his love was returned. And she was to marry another!
He shook himself to be rid of his unwelcome thoughts, and at the same instant he felt eyes upon him. With the instinct that was his by virtue of training he looked up squarely into the eyes that were looking at him, to find that they were shining from the smiling face of Olga, Countess de Coude. As Tarzan returned her bow he was positive that there was an invitation in her look, almost a plea. The next intermission found him beside her in her box.
"I have so much wished to see you," she was saying. "It has troubled me not a little to think that after the service you rendered to both my husband and myself no adequate explanation was ever made you of what must have seemed ingratitude on our part in not taking the necessary steps to prevent a repetition of the attacks upon us by those two men."
"You wrong me," replied Tarzan. "My thoughts of you have been only the most pleasant. You must not feel that any explanation is due me. Have they annoyed you further?"
"They never cease," she replied sadly. "I feel that I must tell some one, and I do not know another who so deserves an explanation as you. You must permit me to do so. It may be of service to you, for I know Nikolas Rokoff quite well enough to be positive that you have not seen the last of him. He will find some means to be revenged upon you. What I wish to tell you may be of aid to you in combating any scheme of revenge he may harbor. I cannot tell you here, but tomorrow I shall be at home to Monsieur Tarzan at five."
"It will be an eternity until tomorrow at five," he said, as he bade her good night. From a corner of the theater Rokoff and Paulvitch saw Monsieur Tarzan in the box of the Countess de Coude, and both men smiled.
At four-thirty the following afternoon a swarthy, bearded man rang the bell at the servants' entrance of the palace of the Count de Coude. The footman who opened the door raised his eyebrows in recognition as he saw who stood without. A low conversation passed between the two.
At first the footman demurred from some proposition that the bearded one made, but an instant later something passed from the hand of the caller to the hand of the servant. Then the latter turned and led the visitor by a roundabout way to a little curtained alcove off the apartment in which the countess was wont to serve tea of an afternoon.
A half hour later Tarzan was ushered into the room, and presently his hostess entered, smiling, and with outstretched hands.
"I am so glad that you came," she said.
"Nothing could have prevented," he replied.
For a few moments they spoke of the opera, of the topics that were then occupying the attention of Paris, of the pleasure of renewing their brief acquaintance which had had its inception under such odd circumstances, and this brought them to the subject that was uppermost in the minds of both.
"You must have wondered," said the countess finally, "what the object of Rokoff's persecution could be. It is very simple. The count is intrusted with many of the vital secrets of the ministry of war. He often has in his possession papers that foreign powers would give a fortune to possess—secrets of state that their agents would commit murder and worse than murder to learn.
"There is such a matter now in his possession that would make the fame and fortune of any Russian who could divulge it to his government. Rokoff and Paulvitch are Russian spies. They will stop at nothing to procure this information. The affair on the liner—I mean the matter of the card game—was for the purpose of blackmailing the knowledge they seek from my husband.
"Had he been convicted of cheating at cards, his career would have been blighted. He would have had to leave the war department. He would have been socially ostracized. They intended to hold this club over him—the price of an avowal on their part that the count was but the victim of the plot of enemies who wished to besmirch his name was to have been the papers they seek.
"You thwarted them in this. Then they concocted the scheme whereby my reputation was to be the price, instead of the count's. When Paulvitch entered my cabin he explained it to me. If I would obtain the information for them he promised to go no farther, otherwise Rokoff, who stood without, was to notify the purser that I was entertaining a man other than my husband behind the locked doors of my cabin. He was to tell every one he met on the boat, and when we landed he was to have given the whole story to the newspaper men.
"Was it not too horrible? But I happened to know something of Monsieur Paulvitch that would send him to the gallows in Russia if it were known by the police of St. Petersburg. I dared him to carry out his plan, and then I leaned toward him and whispered a name in his ear. Like that"—and she snapped her fingers—"he flew at my throat as a madman. He would have killed me had you not interfered."
"The brutes!" muttered Tarzan.
"They are worse than that, my friend," she said.
"They are devils. I fear for you because you have gained their hatred. I wish you to be on your guard constantly. Tell me that you will, for my sake, for I should never forgive myself should you suffer through the kindness you did me."
"I do not fear them," he replied. "I have survived grimmer enemies than Rokoff and Paulvitch." He saw that she knew nothing of the occurrence in the Rue Maule, nor did he mention it, fearing that it might distress her.
"For your own safety," he continued, "why do you not turn the scoundrels over to the authorities? They should make quick work of them."
She hesitated for a moment before replying.
"There are two reasons," she said finally. "One of them it is that keeps the count from doing that very thing. The other, my real reason for fearing to expose them, I have never told—only Rokoff and I know it. I wonder," and then she paused, looking intently at him for a long time.
"And what do you wonder?" he asked, smiling.
"I was wondering why it is that I want to tell you the thing that I have not dared tell even to my husband. I believe that you would understand, and that you could tell me the right course to follow. I believe that you would not judge me too harshly."
"I fear that I should prove a very poor judge, madame," Tarzan replied, "for if you had been guilty of murder I should say that the victim should be grateful to have met so sweet a fate."
"Oh, dear, no," she expostulated; "it is not so terrible as that. But first let me tell you the reason the count has for not prosecuting these men; then, if I can hold my courage, I shall tell you the real reason that I dare not. The first is that Nikolas Rokoff is my brother. We are Russians. Nikolas has been a bad man since I can remember. He was cashiered from the Russian army, in which he held a captaincy. There was a scandal for a time, but after a while it was partially forgotten, and my father obtained a position for him in the secret service.
"There have been many terrible crimes laid at Nikolas' door, but he has always managed to escape punishment. Of late he has accomplished it by trumped-up evidence convicting his victims of treason against the czar, and the Russian police, who are always only too ready to fasten guilt of this nature upon any and all, have accepted his version and exonerated him."
"Have not his attempted crimes against you and your husband forfeited whatever rights the bonds of kinship might have accorded him?" asked Tarzan. "The fact that you are his sister has not deterred him from seeking to besmirch your honor. You owe him no loyalty, madame."
"Ah, but there is that other reason. If I owe him no loyalty though he be my brother, I cannot so easily disavow the fear I hold him in because of a certain episode in my life of which he is cognizant.
"I might as well tell you all," she resumed after a pause, "for I see that it is in my heart to tell you sooner or later. I was educated in a convent. While there I met a man whom I supposed to be a gentleman. I knew little or nothing about men and less about love. I got it into my foolish head that I loved this man, and at his urgent request I ran away with him. We were to have been married.
"I was with him just three hours. All in the daytime and in public places—railroad stations and upon a train. When we reached our destination where we were to have been married, two officers stepped up to my escort as we descended from the train, and placed him under arrest. They took me also, but when I had told my story they did not detain me, other than to send me back to the convent under the care of a matron. It seemed that the man who had wooed me was no gentleman at all, but a deserter from the army as well as a fugitive from civil justice. He had a police record in nearly every country in Europe.
"The matter was hushed up by the authorities of the convent. Not even my parents knew of it. But Nikolas met the man afterward, and learned the whole story. Now he threatens to tell the count if I do not do just as he wishes me to."
Tarzan laughed. "You are still but a little girl. The story that you have told me cannot reflect in any way upon your reputation, and were you not a little girl at heart you would know it. Go to your husband tonight, and tell him the whole story, just as you have told it to me. Unless I am much mistaken he will laugh at you for your fears, and take immediate steps to put that precious brother of yours in prison where he belongs."
"I only wish that I dared," she said; "but I am afraid. I learned early to fear men. First my father, then Nikolas, then the fathers in the convent. Nearly all my friends fear their husbands—why should I not fear mine?"
"It does not seem right that women should fear men," said Tarzan, an expression of puzzlement on his face. "I am better acquainted with the jungle folk, and there it is more often the other way around, except among the black men, and they to my mind are in most ways lower in the scale than the beasts. No, I cannot understand why civilized women should fear men, the beings that are created to protect them. I should hate to think that any woman feared me."
"I do not think that any woman would fear you, my friend," said Olga de Coude softly. "I have known you but a short while, yet though it may seem foolish to say it, you are the only man I have ever known whom I think that I should never fear—it is strange, too, for you are very strong. I wondered at the ease with which you handled Nikolas and Paulvitch that night in my cabin. It was marvellous." As Tarzan was leaving her a short time later he wondered a little at the clinging pressure of her hand at parting, and the firm insistence with which she exacted a promise from him that he would call again on the morrow.
The memory of her half-veiled eyes and perfect lips as she had stood smiling up into his face as he bade her good-by remained with him for the balance of the day. Olga de Coude was a very beautiful woman, and Tarzan of the Apes a very lonely young man, with a heart in him that was in need of the doctoring that only a woman may provide.
As the countess turned back into the room after Tarzan's departure, she found herself face to face with Nikolas Rokoff.
"How long have you been here?" she cried, shrinking away from him.
"Since before your lover came," he answered, with a nasty leer.
"Stop!" she commanded. "How dare you say such a thing to me—your sister!"
"Well, my dear Olga, if he is not your lover, accept my apologies; but it is no fault of yours that he is not. Had he one-tenth the knowledge of women that I have you would be in his arms this minute. He is a stupid fool, Olga. Why, your every word and act was an open invitation to him, and he had not the sense to see it."
The woman put her hands to her ears.
"I will not listen. You are wicked to say such things as that. No matter what you may threaten me with, you know that I am a good woman. After tonight you will not dare to annoy me, for I shall tell Raoul all. He will understand, and then, Monsieur Nikolas, beware!"
"You shall tell him nothing," said Rokoff. "I have this affair now, and with the help of one of your servants whom I may trust it will lack nothing in the telling when the time comes that the details of the sworn evidence shall be poured into your husband's ears. The other affair served its purpose well—we now have something tangible to work on, Olga. A real AFFAIR—and you a trusted wife. Shame, Olga," and the brute laughed.
So the countess told her count nothing, and matters were worse than they had been. From a vague fear her mind was transferred to a very tangible one. It may be, too, that conscience helped to enlarge it out of all proportion.


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Summary & Analysis of Tribe of Mentors by ZIP Reads
Tribe of Mentors is a 600-page tome for the person asking: "What should I do next?" Tim Ferriss collects insights from the world's most innovative artists, scientists, athletes, and entrepreneurs to help us learn how to treat failure as a foundation to success and find meaning in our daily lives.
This ZIP Reads summary takes the essence of Ferriss' book and distills the key takeaways into an easy-to-read format. Decide whether Ferriss' latest book is right for you before you invest the time and money reading it!
[Read more…] about Summary & Analysis of Tribe of Mentors by ZIP Reads


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Welcome to this week's M9B Friday Reveal!
This week, we are revealing chapter one of
Vessel by Lisa T. Cresswell
presented by Month9Books!
Be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!
The sun exploded on On April 18, 2112 in a Class X solar storm the likes of which humankind had never seen.
They had exactly nineteen minutes to decide what to do next.
They had nineteen minutes until a geomagnetic wave washed over the Earth, frying every electrical device created by humans, blacking out entire continents, and every satellite in their sky.
Nineteen minutes to say goodbye to the world they knew, forever, and to prepare for a new Earth, a new Sun.
Generations after solar storms destroyed nearly all human technology on Earth, humans reverted to a middle ages-like existence, books are burned as heresy, and all knowledge of the remaining technology is kept hidden by a privileged few called the Reticents.
Alana, a disfigured slave girl, and Recks, a traveling minstrel and sometimes-thief, join forces to bring knowledge and books back to the human race. But when Alana is chosen against her will to be the Vessel, the living repository for all human knowledge, she must find the strength to be what the world needs even if it's the last thing she wants.
Title: Vessel
Publication date: May 2014
Publisher: Month9Books, LLC.
Author: Lisa T. Cresswell
A Class-X solar storm, the likes of which humankind had never seen, erupted from the Sun on April 18, 2112.
They had nineteen minutes.
Nineteen minutes until the geomagnetic wave washed over the Earth, frying every man-made electrical device, blacking out entire continents and every satellite in their sky.
Nineteen minutes to say goodbye to the world they knew forever and prepare for a new Earth, a new way of life.
All digital data was lost, all the knowledge of the centuries past gone in an instant. Unable to feed themselves without technology, humans began to die of starvation and disease. At first thousands, then millions, and, finally, billions died. The survivors fought amongst themselves for the scraps until there were almost none left.
Part I Alana
Chapter 1
Year 2165
Master Dine's kick sent me sprawling into the wall. Pain bloomed in my shoulder. That was nothing new, but my billa slipped dangerously close to falling off. I grasped at the awkward headgear, a giant tent designed to hide my ugliness.
No one must see, I thought.
"It's too hot, you stupid chit," Master Dine yelled.
At seventeen, I was officially a woman and had been for a while, but no one gave a slave girl that recognition.
"Now look what you've done," he said. The clay teapot I'd been using to pour water over Master's feet lay shattered on the floor. "Clean it up, chit."
I silently seethed as I collected the pieces. I wasn't a chit. I was Alana, a name I'd given myself and no one else used. I cursed him under my billa, something he'd never hear through the dark, black drapes shrouding me from everyone. I prayed Mother Sun would do terrible things to him, something that didn't make me feel any better.
"When you're done with that, go help Master Tow. He's expecting you."
"But your bath?"
"I'll do it myself," Master Dine spat at me, as if he didn't trust me, as if I hadn't been washing his feet every morning since I was old enough to hold soap.
Master Dine was one of the oldest men in our village at almost forty, too mean to die of flu fever like most old men. He'd caught it once or twice, but it only seemed to make him more determined to live.
"Yes, Master," I whispered and ducked out of the room with the remains of the teapot. I threw them in the garbage pit behind the house as I left for Master Tow's. I'd have to make a new one later. I wondered when I would find the time to gather the clay from the riverbank, which was a fair walk from here. Where was here? Master Dine's village was called Roma.
Master Dine reminded me constantly I wasn't from this place—my eyes too almond-shaped, my hair too black, and my skin too yellow to be from Roma. My looks didn't stop him from slinking into my room in the darkness to have his way with me. I was his, bought from my own parents in a faraway place, he always said. Even in the dark, he made me cover my face. I closed my eyes anyway. Maybe if I couldn't see Master Dine with his lazy eye and crooked teeth, he'd cease to exist. Please, Mother Sun, make it so.
I walked down the dirty footpath toward Roma's center market square, past the mud and stone houses scraped together with whatever the inhabitants could find. It was early yet; fog still clung to the base of the mountains and dripped off the trees' new leaves. Winter was breaking at last. Mother Sun had saved us again, but we always knew she could destroy us if she wanted to.
I didn't mind wearing the billa so much when the weather was cool or misty like this morning. It trapped my own warm breath around me like a cocoon. It made doing chores outside awkward, though. Master Dine kept me primarily for house chores, although I was allowed to shop on market day, and he occasionally lent me to Master Tow. Tow had no wives and probably needed his house cleaned.
Master Tow was a young man in his twenties, still undecided on a wife. Suitable women were rare in Roma, so he was faced with the prospect of waiting until certain girls came of age or traveling to the next province for a wife. The expense of a wife was more than Tow really wanted, so he borrowed me from time to time. It was an arrangement he had with Dine, made possible by Dine's first wife, Mistress Shel. Shel hated my position in her house as a sort of third wife, a standing I could never truly attain even if I wanted to. It was Shel who had disfigured the right side of my face years ago. It hadn't stopped Dine's visits to me, just made him more discrete.
Master Tow was chopping wood in the small yard next to his house. His clothes, littered with fine shavings of fir, made him smell better than usual. He was stripped to the waist, his pale chest glistening with sweat even in the morning cold. I stopped and waited. I could never address anyone without first being addressed myself. I learned that very young.
Master Tow continued his work, perhaps enjoying the fact that I was his audience. He often flirted with me, even though he had no reason to tease a slave. I think he was quite proud of his own blond hair that fell to his shoulders. Taunting all the unsuitable women in town seemed to please him tremendously. And so I stood perfectly still, watching the breeze blow the fabric in front of my face until he finally spoke.
"Hello, chit," he said, taking a break from his chopping.
"Master Dine said you were expecting me."
"So I am." Tow breathed heavily, his ribs showing under his creamy skin with each exhale. He dropped his hatchet in the dirt at his feet and held up two fingers beckoning me to follow him behind his house. I hesitated. Wasn't I doing housework? What did Tow have in store for me?
"C'mon, chit! Haven't got until sundown," he called, his tone good-natured as always.
I couldn't shake the feeling he was playing a trick on me, but I followed him down the hill behind his house through a thicket of small aspen just beginning to bud. I soon saw it was a shortcut he used to reach the square rather than taking the main path that switch-backed down the mountain. Although it was easy for him, the trees snagged the fabric of my billa.
"Come on!" his voice urged. I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard him muttering under his breath about my ridiculous garb. None of the other slaves wore what I wore. I stood out wherever I went—a black ghost in a crowd of humans. Everyone knew it was my punishment for tempting Dine. That's what Shel told them and most believed it.
I did my best to keep up with Tow. Once out of the shrubs, it was easier to match his pace. He headed for the crumbling castle perched on a precipice over the wide green valley on the edge of Roma. Eons ago, before the Great Death that wiped out billions, some strange unknown race had built castles all across this region. Most were rubble now.
No one lived there, but the people of Roma sometimes stored things in some of the rooms or held meetings there. Windows long gone, the arches still stood in places, the stone thick with moss and lichens silently feasting on the remains of the beast. It was a forgotten place, somewhere I rarely went because I wasn't invited to public affairs. As Tow and I got close, I heard the sound of someone singing a sad melody in a cool, clear voice. Even the birds in the trees were drawn to it, flitting away only when we came near.
As I followed Tow down a stone stairway littered with last winter's dead leaves into the ruins and closer to the voice, my fears melted away and curiosity overcame me. Tow couldn't walk fast enough now. Who was it? And why were they here? The singing suddenly stopped.
Deep inside the castle, where little sunshine could penetrate, Tow stopped at an old door with a small slit for a tiny window. A boy's face, not much older than mine, with dark hair and eyes like mine, peered out of the opening.
"You can't keep us in here," the boy said, his voice angry.
"Don't worry. It won't be long before the authorities come for you. A week at the most," said Tow. He turned to me. "These two were caught last night stealing. You need to feed them at least once a day, no more. Just enough to keep them alive for their trial."
"Trial?" I asked.
"The Reticents have been summoned. They'll send someone to pick them up."
"But what do I feed them, Master Tow?"
Everyone's winter stores were running low and few spring crops had been harvested yet. Master Dine wouldn't allow me to use his food for such a purpose.
"Hog feed will do."
"Hog feed?" shouted the prisoner. "We're not animals!" I flinched and backed away from him.
"Never you mind that, chit. Do as you're told. Put the food in here." Master Tow pointed to a small slot near the floor with the toe of his boot. "Don't open the door, no matter what."
"Yes, Master Tow."
"Any questions?"
"Have they been fed today?"
"No. Better get to work."
Master Tow turned and bounded up the stairs. I stood motionless, watching the black-eyed boy watching me. I'd never seen anyone like me before. He looked hard at the billa like he could see underneath.
"Do you have any water?" he asked in an accent I didn't recognize. "He's very weak."
The prisoner backed away from the door so I could creep up and peer inside. The oldest man I'd ever seen, maybe fifty years or more, lay on the floor. He groaned as the boy knelt down and touched his arm.
"I'm here," he said to the old man. Before I knew it, I'd loosened the water bag I kept tied at my hip and pushed it through the hole in the wall toward them.
"Take this. I'll be back," I whispered before hurrying to find food.
Normally I fed the hogs caysha roots I dug up in the forest. A person could eat them and survive, but they weren't kind to the stomach. They were a last resort, eaten only when all else was gone. I'd eaten them myself when the winters were hard and Master Dine saved all his food for his family. Slaves weren't supposed to forage for their own food. It was a sign a family wasn't wealthy enough to support them, but Dine looked the other way quite often. He allowed me to find other means of sustenance when times called for it, which was more often than not. The less of his food I ate, the more wealthy he fancied himself.
I walked as quickly as I could without attracting attention to a meadow below the castle where the caysha had started to bloom, blue lilies on tall stems. I dug a few roots to satisfy Master Tow, but I had no intention of feeding them to the prisoners. I dropped them in my basket and slung it over my shoulder, heading for the river. Checking my traps, I found a snared rabbit and smiled for the first time that day. Not that anyone knew or cared. I spent my days alone in a tent made for one, seldom speaking to anyone. But something in that boy's eyes reached out to me behind the curtain. I wasn't going to serve him hog feed. My decision risked a beating, but it wouldn't mean my death. Though I didn't fear death anyway.
An hour had passed by the time I returned to the ruined castle dungeon with food, water, and fuel. Midday was approaching yet the prisoners made no sound. I hoped to hear his song again the way I longed for the lark song after winter. Like a mouse cleaning up crumbs, I silently cleared away the leaves in a dark corner near the stairs and built a cooking fire. The smell of roasting meat brought the boy's face to the hole in the door once more.
"You're torturing me," he complained, although his lips smiled.
"It won't be much longer," I said, crossing the room to the door between us. "I brought more water. Give me the water bag, and I'll refill it." He scrambled to retrieve the bag and return it.
"How is he?" I asked, looking at the impossibly old man.
"Better. Some real food will do him good."
I handed the boy some jake nuts through the slot in the wall. "Chew these. They'll help keep the food down."
He shoved the handful into his mouth.
"Save one for him," I said, pointing to the old man. The boy chewed hard but managed to spit out one nut for his friend. He knelt by the man again and shook his arm.
"Kinder? Wake up. It's dinner time." The old man sat up with the boy's help, leaning against the stone wall. "Eat this," he said, giving him the nut.
I refilled the water and retrieved the rabbit from the spit on the fire. It had started to burn, the grease glistening on the meat. Too big to fit through the slot, the rabbit had to be torn into pieces and slipped into the cell. The boy snatched it from my fingers and rushed to the old man, who suddenly came alive, devouring it. The boy returned and snagged a second piece for himself, ignoring me as he inhaled his food. I waited by the slot with the rest of the meat, holding it until they were ready for it. The sounds of eating, chewing, and licking made me hungry, but I didn't eat any. The rabbit would've been my lunch, but I'd eat wild carrots instead.
I gave them the remains of the rabbit and returned to the corner to put out my fire. Master Tow mustn't know I'd cooked, so I hid my hearth as best I could with damp leaves and rubble. The moss on the stone walls would hide any sign of smoke. I turned to go.
"Wait," called the boy. "What's your name?"
The words I'd never heard directed at me, the words I dreamt of every night, came from his lips. Was he speaking to me? Of course he was. There was no one else here.
"Is it Chit?"
"No. I'm Alana." I'd never told anyone the name I chose for myself. It felt good to say it out loud.
"Thank you, Alana. I'm Recks, and this is Kinder. We're grateful for your kindness. May Mother Sun shine on you."
I stopped breathing for a second. No one had ever blessed me before. It just wasn't done. I waited as if the sky might fall down. There was nothing but the sound of Kinder sucking the marrow from his rabbit bones.
"Is something wrong?" asked Recks.
"No," I said. "I should go." I suddenly remembered the bones. "Hide the bones when you're done."
"Kinder will eat them all." Recks smiled at me and snickered at the thought.
"I'll bring more tonight," I told him.
"But Tow said once a day … "
"What Tow doesn't know won't trouble him." I hurried up the steps.
"Be careful," warned Recks, as if he might actually be concerned for my safety. Hidden tears leaked from my eyes.
As I walked back to Master Dine's house, I had an overwhelming urge to throw the billa off and feel the sun on my shoulders. Mother Sun could bless me too, even if she never had before. But if I did, I knew I would never see Recks again. Instead, I clasped my hands together under my billowy tent in happiness, knowing the feeling could escape me like mist in the sunlight.
I left the house again at sunset, making Shel smile. Dine would assume I went foraging, which I did, but not so much for myself this time. Recks and Kinder needed me. I was thankful for the billa, which allowed me to stow extra supplies—flint, a blanket, and some socks—without being noticed. The goods were mine, the cast-offs of others, and wouldn't be missed.
I openly carried my caysha basket still filled with the roots I had collected that morning. Carefully wrapped underneath those were three sunflower seed cakes made with the last of our honey the summer before. Shel had thrown them in the refuse because they were too hard for her taste, dried out from a long winter in storage. Recks and Kinder were in dire need of fattening up. I worried Kinder might not last the week, even with a bit of honey. I stopped by one of my snares on my way through the forest, lucky to have caught a partridge. I plucked its soft feathers inside the billa as I walked to the ruins, my fingers working without me looking down. I couldn't be gone long or someone would notice.
At first, the prisoners were so quiet I thought perhaps they had escaped. I used the flint to light a small torch so I wouldn't fall down the steps.
"Alana? Is that you?" came Recks's voice from the darkness.
"Yes." Alana? He said my name. My heart raced in my chest faster than when I was sneaking around, faster than from my fear of Dine or Tow. I held the torch up to see inside the door.
"You shouldn't have come, but I'm glad you did," said Recks. "I have something for you."
"For me?" Was he mad? He had nothing but an old man. I set about building a fire to roast the partridge.
"I may not look like much, but I'm a gifted performer."
"A performer?"
"A teller of tales, singer of songs—"
"Stealer of goods!" yelled Kinder. He obviously felt better. He had at least found his voice again.
"What?" I asked, blowing gently on my fire to make it grow.
"Recks has sticky fingers, which is what got us into the fix we presently find ourselves," said Kinder.
"I don't hear you complaining when you're enjoying the spoils, old man."
"What did you take?" I asked, skewering the bird and laying it over the flames.
"Only a heel of bread," Recks insisted. "We're seldom paid for the service we provide."
"Is Kinder a performer too?"
"In a manner of speaking. He is an academic, a man of studies."
"What does he study?"
"I'm right here, you know," Kinder grumbled from behind the door.
"Be more polite to the woman who saved your life, fool. Don't you know how close you are to death's embrace?"
"Better the devil you know than the one you don't," muttered Kinder.
"What?" I approached the door again.
"Never mind him," said Recks. "He's overly fond of proverbs."
"I've brought some things that will help with the chill," I said, pulling out the blanket and the woolen socks. I'd have to find replacements for myself for next winter. Recks gasped in pleasure at the sight of the gifts.
"What is it?" Kinder demanded, unable to see. I fed the blanket through the slot to Recks, who laughed as he pulled it through. As before, he rushed it over to Kinder, spreading it out over him.
"You'll have to hide it when Tow comes," I said, stuffing the socks through the same hole.
"Of course," said Recks, pulling the socks onto his hands and admiring them. "What else have you got under there?"
I flinched under the billa as if Recks saw right through it. He could never see me. No one could.
"Nothing," I said. "Is there something else you require?"
"A key to the lock would be dandy."
"I'm sorry. I don't know where Master Tow keeps it."
"Ah well, he's not a stupid man, is he? He caught us. Not an easy thing to do."
I retreated back to tend the fire and the little roasting bird, which smelled delicious.
"So my gift to you, Alana, is a tale," said Recks. "It's not much, but it's all I have."
I sat down, making myself as comfortable as I could considering the rubble that littered the room. I'd seen street performers from time to time, but I'd never been so close or had the time to really listen. For a minute, the only sound was the popping of the dry sticks in the fire. Then Recks cleared his throat.
"You'll have to forgive me. This isn't the best place for telling stories."
"Never stopped you before," grumbled Kinder.
"Shush," Recks told him. "Your dinner's coming. Do you have any favorites, Alana?"
The few stories I knew were ones told by Dine's first wife to her children. They were short and generally brutal, told to teach some lesson when they misbehaved. They weren't the kind of tales I wanted to hear.
"I don't know any stories."
"That's impossible. Did your mother never tell you 'The Fox and the Hen'? And everyone knows 'The Ruby Quiver.'"
"No, no one's ever told me any stories."
"Why not?"
"Recks, you nitwit. Can't you see the girl's a slave?" barked Kinder.
"How can that be? She walks freely."
"Ask her yourself. Not all are enslaved by chains. Who would wear that willingly?"
"Is it true, Alana?"
"Yes," I said, turning the meat with my fingertips.
"But why are you here? Why don't you run?"
"And go where? It's all like here, isn't it?"
"No. The world is a wide, wondrous place. It's not all like Roma."
"Thank Mother Sun for that!" exclaimed Kinder. "Is the meat done yet?"
"Done enough, I suppose," I said, pulling the stick of roast partridge away from the flames. "It's not much," I said as I walked it over to the men in the cell and put it in the slot.
"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush!" Kinder said, clearly delighted. They both devoured it eagerly, even as it burned their fingers and tongues. They groaned in pleasure and pain, but they didn't stop eating until every bite was gone. When I dug the sunflower seed cakes out of the basket, they both smiled as if I'd presented them with the key to their freedom.
"We should get arrested in Roma more often," said Kinder, crunching on the sticky cake. "I can't remember when I've eaten so well."
"Me neither," said Recks, licking the honey from his fingers. "Just for that, I'm going to tell you the best story I know."
"I can't stay much longer. I'll be missed."
"Then I'll be quick about it," said Recks, wiping his hands on his shabby tunic and then holding them palms up toward the sky. "Mother Sun knows the hearts of all men. May they all please her."
That I'd heard many times. It was the traditional prayer before beginning any work. One never knew what might displease Mother Sun, so it was customary to let her know your intentions were good in the hope that she would take pity on you.
"In the Time of Great Darkness, there lived a young boy. He had lost everyone and everything he'd ever known: his mother, his father, and his sister dead with many thousands of others. His village overflowed with the dead. No one was left to bury them all. Mother Sun willed it so, but she let this one boy live. He was special, wise beyond his years, and Mother Sun knew he could found a new race of men. She guided him to a sacred valley, high in the mountains, far from his home. On his journey, he met others like himself—thinkers, artists, healers, poets, and storytellers. They banded together and sought to create a world better than the one before the Time of Great Darkness. They built their city on the cliffs above a valley, where they live in comfort. To this day, they grow all they need. Everyone helps, none go hungry, and there are no slaves."
"No slaves?" I asked, incredulous.
"Ask Kinder. He's actually been there," said Recks.
"You have?"
"Many moons ago. Then I got a crazy notion about wanting to study the peoples of the West. Now I wish I'd never left."
"No fool like an old fool, huh, Kinder?" teased Recks.
The call of an owl outside reminded me I was in Roma, not a magical, shining city of freedom.
"I have to go," I said, standing up. I doused the embers of the fire with my water bag, sending steam hissing into the air.
"Alana?" Recks whispered through the hole in the door. Two of his fingers poked out, reaching for me in the darkness.
"Did you like the story?"
"Like" seemed too casual a word for how I felt. Overwhelmed was a better choice. It stretched my imagination, showed me how much I didn't know about the world. I trembled, knowing I'd remember this story for the rest of my pitiful life. Now in the cover of darkness, I reached out of the billa and touched his two warm, rough fingers with one of my own.
Lisa, like most writers, began scribbling silly notes, stories, and poems at a very young age. Born in North Carolina, the South proved fertile ground to her imagination with its beautiful white sand beaches and red earth. In fifth grade, she wrote, directed and starred in a play "The Queen of the Nile" at school, despite the fact that she is decidedly un-Egyptian looking. Perhaps that's why she went on to become a real life archaeologist?
Unexpectedly transplanted to Idaho as a teenager, Lisa learned to love the desert and the wide open skies out West. This is where her interest in cultures, both ancient and living, really took root, and she became a Great Basin archaeologist. However, the itch to write never did leave for long. Her first books became the middle grade fantasy trilogy, The Storyteller Series. Her first traditionally published work, Hush Puppy, is now available from Featherweight Press.
Lisa still lives in Idaho with her family and a menagerie of furry critters that includes way too many llamas!
Connect with the Author: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads
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Title will be sent upon its release.


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Stale indexes
RavenDB performs data indexing in a background thread, which is executed whenever new data comes in or existing data is updated. Running this as a background thread allows the server to respond quickly even when large amounts of data have changed, however in that case you may query stale indexes.
The notion of stale indexes comes from an observation deep in RavenDB's design, assuming that the user should never suffer from assigning the server big tasks. As far as RavenDB is concerned, it is better to be stale than offline, and as such it will return results to queries even if it knows they may not be as up-to-date as possible.
And indeed, RavenDB returns quickly for every client request, even if involves re-indexing hundreds of thousands of documents. And since the previous request has returned so quickly, the next query can be made a millisecond after that and results will be returned, but they will be marked as Stale.
Checking for stale results
As part of the response when an index is queried, a property is attached indicating whether the results are stale - that is, whether there are currently any tasks outstanding against that index. It can be fetched using the RavenQueryStatistics
RavenQueryStatistics stats;
var results = session.Query<Product>()
.Statistics(out stats)
.Where(x => x.Price > 10)
if (stats.IsStale)
// Results are known to be stale
When IsStale
is true, that means someone probably added or changed a Product, and the indexes haven't had time to fully update before we queried.
For most cases you don't really care about that, however there are scenarios where you cannot work with data that could be stale.
Explicitly waiting for non-stale results
When it is a requirement to get non-stale results back from a query, it is possible to specify this while querying:
RavenQueryStatistics stats;
var results = session.Query<Product>()
.Statistics(out stats)
.Where(x => x.Price > 10)
.Customize(x => x.WaitForNonStaleResults(TimeSpan.FromSeconds(5)))
Note that in the sample above a time-out of 5 seconds was specified. While you can ask RavenDB to wait indefinitely until there are non-stale results, this should only be used in unit-testing, and never in a real-world application, unless you are 100% sure you understand the implications, and that is what you want to have.
Setting cut-off point
Even when using WaitForNonStaleResults
with a time-out like shown above, it is still possible to get back stale results - for example when a very lengthy indexing task is executing. A better approach to make sure you are working with non-stale results is to use a cut-off point and tell the server to use that as a base:
RavenQueryStatistics stats;
var results = session.Query<Product>()
.Statistics(out stats)
.Where(x => x.Price > 10)
.Customize(x => x.WaitForNonStaleResultsAsOf(new DateTime(2011, 5, 1, 10, 0, 0, 0)))
This will make sure that you get the latest results up to that point in time. All pending tasks for changes occurred after this cut-off point will not be considered. And like before, a time-out can be set on that as well.
is also available, which is equivalent of calling WaitForNonStaleResultsAsOf(DateTime.Now)
Another option is to use WaitForNonStaleResultsAsOfLastWrite
, which does exactly what it says it do. It tracks the last write by the application, and uses that as the cutoff point. You might find it useful if you are working on the machines where clock synchronization might be an issue, since WaitForNonStaleResultsAsOfLastWrite
doesn't use the machine time, but etag values for the writes. The time-out can apply as well.
The default time-out value is 15 seconds.
You can also setup the document store to always wait for the last write, like so:
documentStore.Conventions.DefaultQueryingConsistency = ConsistencyOptions.QueryYourWrites;
All queries in the store would behave as if WaitForNonStaleResultsAsOfLastWrite
was applied to them.
Beware of QueryYourWrites
The indexing mechanism in RavenDB is built on a BASE model (Basically Available, Soft state, Eventual consistency). In order to avoid querying consistency pitfalls in the future you need to consider this at the data modeling phase.
The usage of WaitForNonStaleResultsAsOfLastWrite
is usually reasonable on only very rare occassions. The need of taking advantage of QueryYourWrites
convention is very often a symptom of deeper issues in an application model and misunderstanding of querying concepts in RavenDB.


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No other term is as misleading as "compensated temperature range". Let´s first begin with what is meant: The compensated temperature range is the temperature range in which the temperature error, and accordingly the temperature coefficients, are valid.
Not, as one might think and what is often being used, the range in which there is no temperature error. No, there are also errors in the compensated temperature range. This might perhaps surprise the user, but as a manufacturer we can assure you that we have already made quite some effort to bring these errors under control. This immediately becomes evident when the instrument/pressure sensor is operated outside of the compensated temperature range. Here the prevailing errors are generally much bigger. Not least because of this, the term compensated temperature range no longer appears in the world of standards these days.
Today, the correct designation is "rated temperature" (more about this can be found in the blog article "Compensated temperature range, rated temperature range and nominal temperature range", coming soon). Under Priced remains to be seen whether the designation rated temperature is so much better. Of course, there are also instruments that have no additional error in the compensated temperature range. This is why they are also known as actively compensated.


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The Importance of a Sitemap
A sitemap is often considered redundant in the process of building a website, and that is indeed the fact if you made a sitemap for the sake of having one. By highlighting the importance of having a well constructed sitemap, you will be able to tailor your own sitemap to suit your own needs.
1) Navigation purposes
A sitemap literally acts as a map of your site. If your visitors browses your site and gets lost between the thousands of pages on your site, they can always refer to your sitemap to see where they are, and navigate through your pages with the utmost ease.
2) Conveying your site's theme
When your visitors load up your sitemap, they will get the gist of your site within a very short amount of time. There is no need to get the "big picture" of your site by reading through each page, and by doing that you will be saving your visitors' time.
3) Site optimization purposes
When you create a sitemap, you are actually creating a single page which contains links to every single page on your site. Imagine what happens when search engine robots hit this page — they will follow the links on the sitemap and naturally every single page of your site gets indexed by search engines! It is also for this purpose that a link to the sitemap has to be placed prominently on the front page of your website.
4) Organization and relevance
A sitemap enables you to have a complete bird's eye view of your site structure, and whenever you need to add new content or new sections, you will be able to take the existing hierarchy into consideration just by glancing at the sitemap. As a result, you will have a perfectly organized site with everything sorted according to their relevance.
From the above reasons, it is most important to implement a sitemap for website projects with a considerable size. Through this way, you will be able to keep your website easily accesible and neatly organized for everyone.


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this moment
A Friday ritual. A photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment we want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.


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Yesterday on Twitter and Facebook we asked our friends: What is your favorite documentary?
We pose a question to our Twitter and Facebook faithfuls once a day, so if you're not yet a @GOOD follower or fan, make sure to sign up and participate in the conversation.
Here's a sampling of responses from our Twitter
And here is what our Facebook buddies had to say:
Want us to ask the GOOD community something? Tweet or Facebook your question to us.


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Auto Mechanic – Light Duty – General Service Tech
As an entry-level technician, you'll be exposed to and have responsibility for performing
- Alignments
- Batteries, starting and charging
- Tire mounting, rotation
- Fluid exchanges such as oil, coolant, power steering, etc.
- Light maintenance
- Visual safety and courtesy inspections
Learn while you work, work while you learn!
(Mechanic, technician, auto tech, automotive technician, general service, full service, garage, shop)
Interested in joining our team in Woodbridge Township as Auto Mechanic – Light Duty?
Apply directly to Midas below.
Make sure to select this location on page 2 of the application: NJ, Woodbridge Township - 495 U.S. 9
Thank you!
Disclaimer: I acknowledge that I am applying for employment with an independently owned and operated Midas franchisee, a separate company and employer from Midas Corporation and any of its affiliates or subsidiaries. I understand that each independent franchisee is solely responsible for all decisions relating to employees including and without limitation hiring and termination, and Midas Corporation does not accept or review applications. Any questions about my application or the hiring process must be directed to the Midas franchisee.


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OD001/1 – Original Four Panel Door (Internal)
This original four panel door has been stripped of all paint and is now available to buy as seen or together with our full restoration service.
Door Size
30″ / 32″ wide 78″ / 81″ high
Restoration & Repair
Our reclaimed doors may require the following (but can be carried out by us at additional cost):
– repairs to the original locking areas and other cosmetic repairs
– may need clamping to achieve a better fit at the joints
– may need panels to be glued
– requires filling and sanding before being treated with chosen finish
If you choose to have this door restored by our experts, it will take some time to complete and can vary depending on the time of year you order. Standard repair times are usually around one working week, with longer times expected during the winter season. Additional time may be needed depending on the amount of repair required. We try our very best to get your order to you as soon as is possible.
Restoration includes paint stripping, repair to any structural damage and openings. Attention is given to any moulding designs as well. Each door requires a varying amount of work, please speak with us about any specifics.
Glazing Options:
You can optionally add glazing to the top two panels of this door with our optional glazing service.
– Add Bespoke Stained Glass
We can create simple, detailed or intricate bespoke stained glass panel designs to suit this door, at an additional cost. Please get in touch to discuss your requirements.
– Add Bespoke Etched Glass
We can create etched glass panels to suit this door, at an additional cost. Please get in touch to discuss your requirements.
Product Enquiries
If you have any questions or queries about this door please give us a call on 01614778980.
Alternatively you can send us an email or use our contact form.


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Stabilization of a farm is not easy when we talk about PRRS virus. It is often said that a farm is stable when no reproductive clinical signs are observed, but problems in the post-weaning continue. A stable farm is that one that has consistently stopped producing viraemic piglets (producing PCR negative piglets at weaning), but how is it achieved?
In order to have negative piglets at weaning, we must ensure that there is no virus circulation during gestation, preventing that virus is introduced there.
Therefore, it is essential that replacement animals being introduced developed protection to the disease and have overcome virus excretion (i.e. positive ELISAs, but negative PCRs). It is essential to be able to have the replacement animals isolated from gestation.
On the other hand, we must work with negative boars since we know that positive boars can shed PRRS virus and therefore pose a risk of virus introduction into gestation. Once we get a stable farm, next step is to try to remove viral recirculation from post-weaning area, where it frequently remains being one of the reasons promoting other bacterial infections. To remove the virus, the only solution, it is to apply a strict biosecurity protocol between piglet batches, so we do not take the virus to negative weaner batches.
In order to achieve this, it will be necessary to have exclusive material for each batch (syringes and needles, specific boots in each room) and manage the nursery always moving from clean to dirty batches. If this is correctly practiced we will see that step by step, recirculation will move towards older animals, until it gets to disappear from this stage.
You can ask your own question! Visit Pig333.com and submit your question to our experts.
Marcovetgrup S.L. – Spain


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About the
San Francisco Hotel Near Pier 39Renovated and centrally located in San Francisco, the Hyatt Fisherman's Wharf embraces the heart and soul of the famed Fisherman's Wharf. Guests will find a new contemporary style, nautical elements, and textured fabrics paying homage to the history of the city's seaport and local culture. With deluxe amenities and an unbeatable Fisherman's Wharf location, just one block from the Taylor/Bay Street cable car stop and steps to the F-line Hyatt, Fisherman's Wharf places all of San Francisco's best attractions within reach. Explore the city by foot with easy access to Pier 39, Ghirardelli Square, Lombard Street, Aquarium of the Bay, and the Alcatraz Tours.
Locations &
Hyatt Fisherman's Wharf
555 North Point StreetSan Francisco, California, USA, 94133
Tel: +1 415 563 1234
A block of rooms have been reserved at discounted rate of $269 if you reserve your room before January 8, 2018. Be sure to refer the conference name or GSMI to guarantee the discounted rate.
Parking &
- Overnight Parking: $50.00 per night, plus tax, for registered hotel guests. This includes in / out privileges
- Event Parking: $21.00 per day for meeting attendees
- Fisherman's Wharf Hourly Parking: $6.00 per hour
- Book a shuttle to the hotel here


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In my last post, I suggested that while we like to think of housing as an investment, it's really more like a crappy savings plan, potentially redeemed by the fact that you can live inside the piggy bank. Land can be a profitable speculative investment, but allowing land to appreciate and drag the cost of housing upward in real terms is fundamentally incompatible with housing being affordable.
Economists (including Adam Smith, David Ricardo, Thomas Paine, Henry George, Thomas Friedman, Joseph Stiglitz, and Matt Yglesias) have highlighted the negative impacts of allowing land owners to collect monopolistic "ground rents" but nobody seems to care. So now tens of trillions of dollars worth of real estate in the US is predicated on the idea that landowners get to retain these speculative gains. Barring a glorious Georgist Revolution, this is probably the arrangement we have to work within.
Build, Baby Build!
Luckily, in a city with increasing land values, where property owners get to keep all of those unearned financial gains, there's an All American Capitalist Solution™ of sorts, which can potentially keep housing affordable, even when land is expensive: build more housing on less land. By building densely, high land costs can be shared across more households, reducing the overall impacts of expensive land, and allowing home buyers & renters to pay primarily for housing instead of land.
Continue reading Density or Exclusion: the Perils of Local Zoning


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Transforming a singular concrete swimming pool into a full-scale family and group-friendly waterpark experience entailed combining waterpark excitement with the existing "Palm Beach" theming, which included a popular sandy beach offering, palm trees and other lush vegetation.
The beach theming was maintained and reinforced through design elements including natural-looking carved rockscape pool walls, waterfalls and spray features that enhance the existing elements. Designers took the concept one step further and added a Tiki theme overlay to the amenities.
Moody Gardens' extensive family-focused entertainment property is known for its lush landscapes.
Having developed a reputation for providing an educational experience, operators desired a specific blend of fun and interactivity for the renovated aquatic space. There's the new Palm Beach lagoon — a 6,200-square foot wave pool — and a new 650-foot long lazy river and interactive lagoon, fully loaded to creatively interject the learning process through slap targets, water sprays, air bombs and much more. There's also two serpentine body slides, and a large spa.
The Palm Beach renovation project was completed in 2011 and funded by the Moody Foundation at a cost of $6 million. It now includes more than 52,000 square feet of aquatic space.
Moody Gardens targets resort staycationers and public day-user families ranging from toddlers to teenagers, as well as large group buy-outs. The design is engaging to all ages encouraging group participation through intertwined waterfeatures and large open spaces accommodating parties and meetings.
Cost-saving operational features include variable frequency drives, so in the off-season operators can reduce energy costs by turning down the pumps.


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A few years back the internet services were introduced on mobile phones. However with the rise of smart phones and tablets the internet usage through mobile phones has increased substantially. Mobile internet today is not only used for surfing, emails or chats it has become a mega shopping mart for customers. It is one of the most effective mediums to reach probable customers.
"Adaptation to mobile internet is the need of the time."
Our expertise in mobile app development services makes your presence equally effective on mobile internet. We offer comprehensive mobile/PDA application development services to help our customers keep in touch with their clientele through tailor made mobile solutions.
Our expertise and experience in this field helps us design and build user-friendly applications that simplifies customer experience on one hand and facilitates efficient data processing on the other.
Every client engagement begins with defining the mobile application understanding the key components, researching the scenarios where the applications will be used, conceptualizing key patterns and identifying the right technology. Our in-depth knowledge of the technology and a deep understanding of the domain helps us develop customized mobile applications and migrate your existing applications to the mobility platform.
Our mobile practice center delivers solutions in development, deployment and testing across multiple platforms and operating systems. Also our proven methodologies cover the development of various projects from multimedia and entertainment applications to complex enterprise and business solutions.
P.Murphy & Associates offers a wide spectrum of mobility services that includes:
Why P. Murphy & Associates?