Word: micro
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...tanker full of DDT were to be broken up in a storm tomorrow, the way so many oil tankers already have been, that DDT would be enough to slow the photosynthesizing micro-plants of the oceans. These plants produce ninety percent of the oxygen in the atmosphere. In as much time as it took us to breath the remaining oxygen. It would all grind to a halt once...
...twin Mariner probes. Hurriedly examining the readings from his infrared spectrometer on board Mariner 7, Chemist George C. Pimental had dramatically announced that the Martian atmosphere probably contained traces of ammonia and methane, two gases produced on earth by bacterial decay. The implication was clear: there might well be micro-organisms on Mars...
...play in 19th century fiction now is handled by the space program (both novelistically and cinematically, for Kubrick's 2001 held much the same appeal). Where Melville and Dana used to fascinate their readers with descriptions of rigging and trade routes, Crichton delivers mini-lectures on space research, micro-biology, and biochemistry. Meanwhile, names like Wald and DeBakey weave in and out of the narrative. Most of this material is, of course, quite elementary; some will probably find it tediously so. But, for those of us who can only struggle unsuccessfully with the structure of hydrocarbons, it is also curiously...
...Tricks. The plane's micro-miniaturized gear includes "side-looking" radar to peer through clouds and map terrain far from its path. New cameras use "folded optics" to produce telescopic closeups in black-and-white or on new, grainless color film-which can be dropped in pods and parachuted to waiting intelligence officers. When sensitive receivers detect incoming radar pulses, the Blackbird can dip into its bag of tricks and give itself "electronic invisibility." There is even a top-secret method of masking the SR-71's heat emissions to confuse enemy infrared tracking. Put together...
...THEY don't positively leap on stage with a hoot and a "Down with Jerry Herman!" sign, Burt Bacharach and Hal David nevertheless make a wicked entrance in the proceedings now on display at the Colonial. Each micro-second of music has the Bacharach-David signature: a souped-up piano, an unseen chorus blowing like the wind over solos and ensemble numbers alike, tunes that demand alternately a whisper and a belt, and lyrics that stick so close to life in its physical and emotional details as to leave no room either for clever allusions or technical bravado. The long...