Omni-directional Vision and 3D Animation Based Teleoperation of Hydraulically Actuated Hexapod Robot COMET-IV
H. Ohroku and K. Nonami
Graduate School of Science and Technology, Chiba University, 1-33 Yayoi-cho, Inage-ku, Chiba-shi, Chiba, 263-8522, Japan
Improved Iris Verification System
Basma M.Almezgagi, M. A. Wahby Shalaby, Hesham N. Elmahdy Faculty of Computers and Information, Cairo University, Egypt.
This sample passed Smashwords automatic process and was accepted to premium distribution on Dec 6th 2011
This is full ebook in doc-format according to Smashwords Style Guide.
Provided here in original doc-format. Other formats such as EPUB and MOBI available at Smashwords.
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com
Style guide: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/52
My books: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/samsal
In the summer of 1980, a maverick young doctor gave it all up, to hitchhike around the world.
The first arc he carved with his thumb stopped a little red pickup that took him over the horizon. Like his mythical hunter companion, Orion, he was on a vision quest, propelled toward the dawn to have his sight restored.
This is the story of that five-year odyssey to discover his Destiny.
Mocomi TimePass The Magazine - Issue 34Mocomi Kids
Are you curious about black holes, asteroids and all things related to space? Mocomi TimePass Magazine Issue 34 is just for you! Open it up and get exploring! Every issue has something fun for everyone! In each magazine you will find folktales, trivia, puzzles, health tips, jokes and much more!
The New Yorker, January 9, 1989 P. 26Every so often that dead lourapoupheq
The New Yorker
, January 9, 1989 P. 26
Every so often that dead dog dreams me up again.
It’s twenty-five years later. I’m walking along Forty-second Street in Manhattan, the sounds of the city crashing beside me—horns and gearshifts, insults—somebody’s chewing gum holding my foot to the pavement, when that dog wakes from his long sleep and imagines me.
I’m sweet again. I’m sweet-breathed and flat-limbed. Our family is stationed at Fort Niagara, and the dog swims his red heavy fur into the black Niagara River. Across the street from the officers’ quarters, down the steep shady bank, the river, even this far downstream, has been clocked at nine miles per hour. The dog swims after a stick I have thrown.
“Are you crazy?” my grandmother says, even though she is not fond of dog hair in the house, the way it sneaks into the refrigerator every time you open the door. “There’s a current out there! It’ll take that dog all the way to Toronto!”
“The dog knows where the backwater ends and the current begins,” I say, because it is true. He comes down to the river all the time with my father, my brother MacArthur, or me. You never have to yell the dog away from the place where the river water moves like a whip.
Sparky Smith and I had a game we played called Knockout. It involved a certain way of breathing and standing up fast that caused the blood to leave the brain as if a plug had been jerked from the skull. You came to again just as soon as you were on the ground, the blood sloshing back, but it always seemed as if you had left the planet, had a vacation on Mars, and maybe stopped back at Fort Niagara half a lifetime later.
There weren’t many kids my age on the post, because it was a small command. Most of its real work went on at the missile batteries flung like shale along the American-Canadian border. Sparky Smith and I hadn’t been at Lewiston-Porter Central School long enough to get to know many people, so we entertained ourselves by meeting in a hollow of trees and shrubs at the far edge of the parade ground and telling each other seventh-grade sex jokes that usually had to do with keyholes and doorknobs, hot dogs and hot-dog buns, nuns, priests, preachers, schoolteachers, and people in blindfolds.
When we ran out of sex jokes, we went to Knockout and took turns catching each other as we fell like a cut tree toward the ground. Whenever I knocked out, I came to on the grass with the dog barking, yelping, crouching, crying for help. “Wake up! Wake up!” he seemed to say. “Do you know your name? Do you know your name? My name is Duke! My name is Duke!” I’d wake to the sky with the urgent call of the dog in the air, and I’d think, Well, here I am, back in my life again.
Sparky Smith and I spent our school time smiling too much and running for office. We wore mittens instead of gloves, because everyone else did. We made our mothers buy us ugly knit caps with balls on top—caps that in our previous schools would have identified us as weird but were ...
A mysterious sea monster has been creating havoc in the ocean. Ships of all shapes and sizes, as well as humans, have been destroyed by this enigma! No corner of the earth has been spared from its terror, as it continues to kill all who cross its path. In reaction to this destructive force, the US Government wastes no time in sending out a team of experienced professionals to track down and destroy it. Professor Pierre Aronnax, a marine biologist; Conseil, his faithful assistant; and Ned Land, a Canadian master harpooner, come together in an epic hunt. On board a naval ship, the Abraham Lincoln, the three men set out to track down this terrifying beast of the ocean. But will they succeed? And what will they discover if they do? Published in 1870, originally in French, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is a classic example of the imagination and foresight of Jules Verne. His pioneering approach to writing in the late 19th century led many to refer to him as the father of science fiction
Omni-directional Vision and 3D Animation Based Teleoperation of Hydraulically Actuated Hexapod Robot COMET-IV
H. Ohroku and K. Nonami
Graduate School of Science and Technology, Chiba University, 1-33 Yayoi-cho, Inage-ku, Chiba-shi, Chiba, 263-8522, Japan
Improved Iris Verification System
Basma M.Almezgagi, M. A. Wahby Shalaby, Hesham N. Elmahdy Faculty of Computers and Information, Cairo University, Egypt.
This sample passed Smashwords automatic process and was accepted to premium distribution on Dec 6th 2011
This is full ebook in doc-format according to Smashwords Style Guide.
Provided here in original doc-format. Other formats such as EPUB and MOBI available at Smashwords.
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com
Style guide: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/52
My books: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/samsal
In the summer of 1980, a maverick young doctor gave it all up, to hitchhike around the world.
The first arc he carved with his thumb stopped a little red pickup that took him over the horizon. Like his mythical hunter companion, Orion, he was on a vision quest, propelled toward the dawn to have his sight restored.
This is the story of that five-year odyssey to discover his Destiny.
Mocomi TimePass The Magazine - Issue 34Mocomi Kids
Are you curious about black holes, asteroids and all things related to space? Mocomi TimePass Magazine Issue 34 is just for you! Open it up and get exploring! Every issue has something fun for everyone! In each magazine you will find folktales, trivia, puzzles, health tips, jokes and much more!
The New Yorker, January 9, 1989 P. 26Every so often that dead lourapoupheq
The New Yorker
, January 9, 1989 P. 26
Every so often that dead dog dreams me up again.
It’s twenty-five years later. I’m walking along Forty-second Street in Manhattan, the sounds of the city crashing beside me—horns and gearshifts, insults—somebody’s chewing gum holding my foot to the pavement, when that dog wakes from his long sleep and imagines me.
I’m sweet again. I’m sweet-breathed and flat-limbed. Our family is stationed at Fort Niagara, and the dog swims his red heavy fur into the black Niagara River. Across the street from the officers’ quarters, down the steep shady bank, the river, even this far downstream, has been clocked at nine miles per hour. The dog swims after a stick I have thrown.
“Are you crazy?” my grandmother says, even though she is not fond of dog hair in the house, the way it sneaks into the refrigerator every time you open the door. “There’s a current out there! It’ll take that dog all the way to Toronto!”
“The dog knows where the backwater ends and the current begins,” I say, because it is true. He comes down to the river all the time with my father, my brother MacArthur, or me. You never have to yell the dog away from the place where the river water moves like a whip.
Sparky Smith and I had a game we played called Knockout. It involved a certain way of breathing and standing up fast that caused the blood to leave the brain as if a plug had been jerked from the skull. You came to again just as soon as you were on the ground, the blood sloshing back, but it always seemed as if you had left the planet, had a vacation on Mars, and maybe stopped back at Fort Niagara half a lifetime later.
There weren’t many kids my age on the post, because it was a small command. Most of its real work went on at the missile batteries flung like shale along the American-Canadian border. Sparky Smith and I hadn’t been at Lewiston-Porter Central School long enough to get to know many people, so we entertained ourselves by meeting in a hollow of trees and shrubs at the far edge of the parade ground and telling each other seventh-grade sex jokes that usually had to do with keyholes and doorknobs, hot dogs and hot-dog buns, nuns, priests, preachers, schoolteachers, and people in blindfolds.
When we ran out of sex jokes, we went to Knockout and took turns catching each other as we fell like a cut tree toward the ground. Whenever I knocked out, I came to on the grass with the dog barking, yelping, crouching, crying for help. “Wake up! Wake up!” he seemed to say. “Do you know your name? Do you know your name? My name is Duke! My name is Duke!” I’d wake to the sky with the urgent call of the dog in the air, and I’d think, Well, here I am, back in my life again.
Sparky Smith and I spent our school time smiling too much and running for office. We wore mittens instead of gloves, because everyone else did. We made our mothers buy us ugly knit caps with balls on top—caps that in our previous schools would have identified us as weird but were ...
A mysterious sea monster has been creating havoc in the ocean. Ships of all shapes and sizes, as well as humans, have been destroyed by this enigma! No corner of the earth has been spared from its terror, as it continues to kill all who cross its path. In reaction to this destructive force, the US Government wastes no time in sending out a team of experienced professionals to track down and destroy it. Professor Pierre Aronnax, a marine biologist; Conseil, his faithful assistant; and Ned Land, a Canadian master harpooner, come together in an epic hunt. On board a naval ship, the Abraham Lincoln, the three men set out to track down this terrifying beast of the ocean. But will they succeed? And what will they discover if they do? Published in 1870, originally in French, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is a classic example of the imagination and foresight of Jules Verne. His pioneering approach to writing in the late 19th century led many to refer to him as the father of science fiction
The Korendians are a advanced civilization that live approximately 400 light years from earth, and their planet "Korendor" is 6 times bigger than our planet. This goes about a man called Bob Renaud that in July 1961 made contact with a ET woman called "Lin-Erri" that came from that planet.
Source:
http://www.galactic.no/rune/korundor1.html
Johnny gruelle, raggedy ann stories, p.3AbulQassim1
There she sits, a trifle loppy and loose-jointed, looking me squarely in the face in a straightforward, honest manner, a twinkle where her shoe-button eyes reflect the electric light.
Johnny Gruelle, "Raggedy Ann Stories", p.3
Macro/MicroCosm is an inspection into the cycles and patterns that built our cosmos & rule our lives. Introspection turns into outward study, heaven turns to earth. Macro/MicroCosm includes poetry, short stories, articles, art, & photography.
Mars Explorer on @Neonmob for @Blogs4Bytes via #hshdshPallab Kakoty
Full Series for Mars Explorer
One of every piece in the entire series, including variants and chases. Enjoy exquisite digital art prints and savour storytelling capture in its finest fore.
Checkout bonus slide featuring latest track "If Eternity Should Fail" from Iron Maiden's new album The Book of Souls!!
2. Once upon a summer’s morning, In 1969, Grandpa led the singing in church, the light of Sunday gleaming on his silvery head. Through the open windows our voices sailed over Star, our town. The we bowed our heads and prayed for the astronauts, Neil Armstrong, Edwin Alrdin, Jr., and Michael Collins. If all went well a spaceship would land on the moon today, and I dreamed that maybe one day, I could go to the moon too.
3. My gramps thought the space program was a waste of money, but I knew he was praying for them too. I thought about the astronauts’ kids and wondered if they were scared---scared but proud. I know I’d be. I slipped my hand into my dad’s and whispered so only I could hear. “God, please bless the astronauts’ children too.”
4. Once upon a summer’s noon, my cousins and I scouted Gran’s watermelon patch for the biggest one. It took three of us to carry it to a tub of ice---three and a half, counting my littlest cousin, Lacey. We decorated the picnic table with pails of wildflowers. Then, our chores done, we built our own spaceship from scraps we found in the barn.
5. “T minus 15 seconds…12, 11, 10, 9…” as the oldest grandchild, I got to be launch controller and Commander Armstrong. “Ignition sequence start…6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0. Liftoff, we have liftoff!” We closed our eyes, imagining with all our might the rumble, the roar, and the force of the Saturn rocket, blasting the spaceship into the stars. Then we were rushing through space at 25,000 miles per hour.
6. “I wonder how man miles it is to the moon,” Cousin Carrie said. I’d been reading the moon stories in the paper, so I knew. “About 240,000 miles,” I said. “And some scientists say it’s moving away from us-an inch or so farther every year.” I also knew that in May 1961, a month before I was born, President John F. Kennedy had said America would send men to the moon before the decade was out. Now that President Kennedy was in heaven, I wondered if he could see the astronauts. Was he smiling to know his dream was about to come true?
7. That afternoon, we were helping Gramps with the tractor when Gran hollered, “Come quick! They’re landing!” Gramps kept right on tinkering with the engine. The rest of us ran pell-mell for the house and squirmed around the television screen as it glowed with equal parts of the moon and the spaceship called Eagle.
8. We heard the voice of Commander Armstrong directing the landing. “Forward…forward,” he said. Then the newsman we all knew, Walter Cronkite, exclaimed, “Man on the moon!” For a split second we were silent---the whole universe must have been---as we waited…waited…waited to hear the voice of an astronaut 240,000 miles away. And then:
9. “Houston, Tranquility Base here,” Commander Armstrong said. “The Eagle has landed.” Boy, did we cheer, all of the cousins and even the grown-ups---all except Gramps. I remembered something he’d once said: “Why spend all that money to go to the moon when there’s so many folks in need right here on Earth?” “Because we can!” I’d almost shouted, but caught myself. I began to wonder then what Gramps’s dreams had been. From the time he was little, he had worked on the farm, doing the same jobs, day to day, season to season.
10. “Houston, Tranquility Base here,” Commander Armstrong said. “The Eagle has landed.” Boy, did we cheer, all of the cousins and even the grown-ups---all except Gramps. I remembered something he’d once said: “Why spend all that money to go to the moon when there’s so many folks in need right here on Earth?” “Because we can!” I’d almost shouted, but caught myself. I began to wonder then what Gramps’s dreams had been. From the time he was little, he had worked on the farm, doing the same jobs, day to day, season to season.
11. When the crickets began to sing, Gramps took out his pipe. I pulled off his dirt-caked boots for him and stomped around the porch. “Gramps, will you watch it with me tonight…the moon walk?” “I’m mighty worn out today,” he said, “but maybe.” Suddenly, I could see how tired he was. Lifetime-tired. There were deep lines in his face---a farmer’s face, an old farmer’s face. “All right, Gramps,” I said. “It’s okay.”
12. Once upon a summer’s night in 1969, we spread blankets and folding chairs on the edge of the yard, where the buffalo grass grew thick and soft. The cornstalks whispered while we gazed at the pearly slice of moon, and the stars, gleaming like spilled sugar. What were the astronauts seeing, right at this very second? Could they see beyond the moon, to Mars or Neptune or Jupiter? We passed around a bowl of popcorn. What I could see above me, and what I could see in my imagination, were better than any picture show.
13. Later on that summer’s night, in 1969, the television screen flashed with words that gave me goose bumps: LOVE FROM THE SURFACE OF THE MOON. And Mr. Cronkite said, “…Neil Armstrong, thirty-eight-year-old American, standing on the surface of the moon on this July twentieth, nineteen hundred and sixty-nine!” I didn’t know it then, but there were over 600 million people the world over watching with me, and listening, when the Commander Armstrong said, “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” All of us---from New York to Tokyo to Paris to Cairo… to Star---and maybe even President Kennedy too---all of us watched it together, the astronauts bounding across the moon like ghosts on a trampoline. I felt a hand on my shoulder. “I reckon that’s something to remember,” Gramps said quietly.
14. Later, when it was as quiet as the world ever gets, Gramps and I stood together under the moon. “What’s mankind?” I asked him. He puffed on his pipe. “It’s all of us,” he finally said. “All of us who’ve ever lived, all of us still to come.” I put my hand in his. “Just think, Gramps: if they could go to the moon, maybe one day I could too!” “Great days,” he said, “an astronaut in the family. Who’d a thought.” I smiled in the dark. My gramps was proud of me. “First airplane I ever saw…I was your age…was right over yonder,” Gramps said, nodding toward the cornfield. “That was something to see, oh boy…something to see.” A sigh in Gramps’s voice made my heart squeeze. “Keep on dreaming, Mae, “he said. “Just remember, we’re here now together on the prettiest star in the heavens.”
15. Gramps had looked to the moon all of his life. It told him when to plant and when to harvest. And once upon a summer’s night, it told me to dream.