if i believe that could

Сверхпроводимость при комнатной температуре и атмосферном давлении

Команда ученых из Сеула заявляет, что впервые в истории получила сверхпроводник при комнатной температуре и нормальном атмосферном давлении.

Сверхпроводник называется LK-99, его формулу, способ получения и тесты ученые описали в двух статьях, препринты которых появились на Arxiv.org

https://arxiv.org/ftp/arxiv/papers/2307/2307.12008.pdf

https://arxiv.org/ftp/arxiv/papers/2307/2307.12037.pdf

Критическая температура, т. е. такая температура, при которой сверхпроводник теряет свои свойства составляет 127 градусов Цельсия. Максимальный ток 0,25 ампера.

Они также выложили видео левитации образца сверхпроводника над магнитом.

Найдется ли среди многоуважаемых пидоров физик, который сможет пояснить? В комментах, которые я успел прочитать, народ выражает осторожный оптимизм.

Looking at the Stars

by FledgeGirl

This isn't paper: it's a ceiling tile from my school's art room (don't worry, I asked for my teacher's permission). I wanted to do something inspired by Van Gogh, then got some ideas from the Doctor Who episode “Vincent and the Doctor” featuring the painter. I achieved the starry appearance by painting the tile black, swirling a primary color on it, then splattering white, repeating until I got the layered look I wanted. I painted a Van Gogh quote from the episode in the lower left corner, when Vincent says "Art. You know, it seems to me there’s so much more to the world than the average eye’s allowed to see. I believe, if you look hard, there are more wonders in this universe than you could ever have dreamed of." It didn't seem right without a nod to the Doctor, so I painted the TARDIS in the lower right corner. When I realized that painting a ceiling tile was kinda graffiti, I had to include "Bad Wolf". All in all, this piece stretched my use of painting techniques, and I believe it has been a building block to my artistic abilities.

Аннотация от автора:

I loved Rarity in her detective outfit.  I realized that she had a potential foe already in the show: Cheerilee.  Her 'Smooth Criminal' hat gave me the perfect excuse to create a little cat n' mouse game with our resident ponies. 

Frenetic.  The past two days were just that.  She was hot on my tail and no matter what I did I just could not shake her.  By now I’m sure she has a good idea of who it is she's pursuing.  Not that I’d stop to ask her.  No, my only goal was to stay one step ahead of her, literally and figuratively.  But Sweet Celestia, she was making it difficult.

This whole mess began a week ago.  I had stopped in Twilight’s castle to borrow a book.  The princess was out so I spoke to her assistant.  Spike took my request with all the enthusiasm and attention of baked potato learning calculus.  I had clearly interrupted some other task or activity of his.  Now, either I misinterpreted the rules on returning the book or he simply offered a shoddy explanation.  That remains to be determined.

I took the book, expecting to return it in two weeks’ time.  Somehow, none of that was not conveyed to Twilight. 

I had taken the book with me when I had gone to visit a friend in Canterlot.  It was there that I discovered that I was a suspect. I overheard gossip at a local cafe: One of the princess's favorite books had been stolen.  Well isn't that just fine?  I retreated to my hotel room, paranoid that everypony knew I was a fugitive.  I paced, trying to calm myself.  I looked out the window.  Then I saw her.  In the square below she stood out quite well in her detective outfit.  That silly thing.  Yet I knew she meant business.  I left in haste.         

I would be remiss if I failed to mention that I am wholly unaccustomed to being pursued in such a manner.  Yet here I am, racing through dank alleyways in a part of Canterlot barely fit for Diamond Dogs.  The posh and glamour of the city during the day dissipated into a fog of debauchery and grime during the night.  How quaint. What worried me more than the grim and shady characters was that I found enjoyment in being chased.  There was a thrill that teaching just couldn't provide. 

I found I had to do more than just keep moving.  Like a changeling at a costume party, I had to be everypony.  Disguises became my friends.  This little getup you see here is quite fetching, if I'm being honest.  But fashion talk will have to wait.  At this point I simply want to get back to Twilight before Rarity can find me.  Then I'd win.

I could easily explain the situation to Twilight.  She's amenable and forgiving of misunderstanding.  Rarity, however, would be less likely to believe such a tale.  Congenial and understanding is her natural state.  When she plays detective, however, she becomes less hospitable to stories and alibis, no matter their veracity. I’m not allowing myself to be turned in like some common criminal.  Therefore, I run.

Впервые попробовал что-то написать, скромно прошу оценить

My words

I'm staring into endless void
Of starlight and of hope devoid,
But when I try to break away,
The skies look like this pit, the same.

Upon its gates the trial's held,
And I'm behind defendant's stand.
I prosecute, I judge, object,
But I will not myself defend.

"Not guilty" verdict was my bane,
Like groundhog's day returned again,
And now, not to overextend,
I'll put this fallacy to end.

I'm tired of seeing myself again
Each passing day grows my disdain
But now I'm ready to repent
And discontinue my descent.

Hypocrisy, and lies, and more...
All, that I usually abhor,
Has rooted deeply in my soul,
And undermined my better goal.

I'm not religious, but believe
In greater cause, for which to live
But what I've done and what I thought
Betrayed this dream that I have sought.

The ancient sins of human kin
Have left their marks upon my skin
And I am tainted by mistakes.
No turning back, there's no retake.

It's easier to count those falls,
Of which became I thoughtless thrall,
Than seek rare virtue, being made
By these obese and spoiled hands.

When did it start? When have I let
Become myself a sorry pet
Of Gluttony? Each bite and swig
Have made me closer to a pig
Than human; how could one not
Contempt and execrate such bloat?

And when I've tried to find a way
To purify myself, to stray
From path, which obviously leads
To only furthering the needs
I've yet again been weak, like moth
Before the flame, - I longed for Sloth.

"Tomorrow", - was my best excuse.
Why was I trying to refuse
From doing anything required
If even was not really tired?
Sloth doesn't let me go away
From childhood to this very day.

The time have passed, and then just once
I've won the prize, and in long pounce
Not me, but Pride has took the place
Upon the pedestal's embrace
And even now, then I require
Sentence, it reads back, admires
And wants all others do the same,
And me to thirst for praise and fame.

Another one, who lurks inside,
Is Greed, and comes like raging tide
The urge to have, to bear, to wield...
It's nearly hopeless not to yield.
And when this wave has briefly passed,
You always know - it won't be last.

And next one is, of course, the Lust.
I'd kept it still inside, but must
Confess, that every passing day
It's growing harder to obey
The mind, and not the primal needs.
I've all my life preferred to heed
And now I know, that would be best
To not put others to the test.
Who could have wanted being loved
By man like me? So here I stand
Away from others: to protect
Them from me, and to recollect.
These memories are dust for them;
They worth much more than any gem
For me; a subtle touch,
a look, a whisper is like glass,
Like stone, unflinching; so bypass
It could only sight. So, that is left for me, is dream,
And I suppress this wordless scream
Each time I see another eyes,
And dancing beauty, which there lies.
Because it's like a whip, a blaze,
It's better to avert my gaze
And yet again return to bog,
Where I, quite overtly, belong.
But it won't help - in sleepless cold
These damning eyes, and words untold
Return again, like sparking stars,
Reminding of my prison's bars.

It doesn't help that I'm not blind
And all the hands, which intertwine
Remind me every once and then
That better not to leave my den.
But I cannot, for I'm addict
To some I know; so I restrict
Myself; yet Envy's foiled deck
Is full of trumps, so now my neck
Is in its hands; its hard to breathe,
But I don't have a place to leave.

The only sin I haven't yet
Discovered, is Wrath: his hunting net
I somehow managed to avoid.
And this, once more, makes me annoyed:
If only I have had this flame,
Then, maybe, I could harness, tame
Its power; but, alas, it's false
And I still can't approach my goals.

This trial goes forever on,
And every word hits like a stone,
But I cannot - and won't - object.
I've only verdict to expect.
Each witness testifies and leaves,
then prosecution takes up leads...
How do I want to leave this booth!
But I cannot run from the truth.
Well, prosecution has this one.
And I don't want to spoil the fun
For him... or better said, for us?
I like it too, this big demise,
I both have fear and feeling joy.
In hands of judgement I'm a toy,
But even if my end is nigh,
For me it's honor to comply.

At last, the sentence is now set
I close my eyes, and last regrets
Let go my mind, so weak and frail.
Impatience grows, my Holy Grail
Lays peacefully aside the judge.
The time has come to end this grudge.

I know for sure, what's in the blank,
But these last moments are like ankh -
Symbolic hope, marvelous sign...
But here, in this forgotten shrine
I am alone. So bring it in.
Let's put an end to all my sins.
And be it venom, noose or blade
I'll gladly face my end of fate.