Tuesday, January 28, 2020

Human Chip Implants Essay Example for Free

Human Chip Implants Essay It is now possible to track humans wherever they are, thanks to the new technology of human chip implants. While this statement may sound interesting for the developers of the technology, the issue has attracted enormous debate about the ethical implications that surround the application of the technology. Human chip implants are sophisticated silicon microchip devices that are inserted to an individual’s hand or face for identification purposes (Alam, 2010). Prior to human applications, the microchip devices were used to identify and track lost and stolen pets. The first human to accept the device be implanted into his body was Professor Kevin Warwick on August 24th, 1998 (Witt, 1999). Warwick, a director of cybernetics at the University of Reading, U. K became the first person to host the controversial microchip after a procedure which took 20 minutes. Dr (Witt, 1999). George Boulos led a team of doctors who inserted a glass capsule the size of a pearl into Warwick’s left arm just above his elbow. The glass capsule comprised of several microprocessors work to recognize the human and give commands and communicate with other electronic devices (Witt, 1999). The device that was implanted into Warwick’s arm was about (23 X 3) mm and it stayed in his body for only nine days in order to avoid medical complications (Witt, 1999). In addition, the device had been found to have lost some power to function and the removal of it was to ensue. Half of the device was an electric coil while the rest of it was purely an arrangement of silicon microchips that processed and stored the information (Witt, 1999). The device could use only 8 bits of the total 64 bits of information to interact and communicated efficiently with the intelligent building at the University of Reading. The device functions to pass radio signals between the door frames that have rigged up doorways (Witt, 1999). When a human with the device implanted into his body enters or gets through the doorways, the radio signal energizes the coil which then produces an electric current that chips use to communicate signals which the computer recognizes a person as ‘authorized. ’ After this intelligent authentication, the door opens and the person can enter the building. For the nine days after implantation, Warwick was able to make security doors that required only smartcards to swing open through an electronic node system that tracked Warwick’s movement through the entire building (Witt, 1999). The technology of human implants claims several applications such as the identifications of lost children as well as the confused individuals suffering from Alzheimer disease (Mcgee Maquire, 1999). It is also proposed that the technology can have potential uses in the verifications of job applicants to determine whether they are criminals or illegal immigrants (Alam, 2010). The devices can carry criminal and medical history after encoding the device only with one number (Alam, 2010). This shows how the device can be used for tracking among many different uses. The device can be used to gain access to facilities in a secure manner reducing the cases of theft and unauthorized access to buildings, libraries, laboratories or other places where security is of high relevance (Alam, 2010). There are human rights that are infringed when the human microchips are implanted. For example, the human chip implant would impinge the constitutional rights in relation to the Fourth and Fifth Amendments (Alam, 2010). The device is also argued to be violating the Fourteen Amendments which provides for the rights of properties. All persons are protected from unreasonable seizures and searches according to the Fourth Amendment and one of these searches is the electronic surveillance which reveals the privacy of persons without their consent (Macgee Maquire, 1999). Two implications about human rights abuse are made in the use of the human microchip implant; the attachment of the surveillance device on humans and the continued monitoring of the person once the device is in the body. The ability of the microchip implanted into the body to read-write and track predisposes individual personal information to be revealed (Alam, 2010). Even if the read-only devices are used, they can be easily be scanned by the police and unauthorized searches violates the Fourth Amendments. At the same time, the use of microchip implants would violate the Fifth Amendment since the application of the microchip could be one form of self-incrimination where the device presents some tracking capabilities which breach the Fifth Amendment which provides that no citizen shall be forced to witness against himself (Macgee Maquire, 1999). Although the Amendments refer specifically to verbal self-incrimination, it has been argued that the Amendment applies to modern technologies which forcibly take the evidence from someone. Another violation of the implantation of microchips involves the internal property interest (Alam, 2010). The chip installation involves the breaking into the skin and implanting the device just the similar ways a pacemaker or an artificial eye. In the case of eye and pacemaker implants, the procedure is acceptable for medical reasons. Contrary, in the case of human chip implants where the aim of the gadget is for the accounting system as well as to act as a repository for government information. In general, the human chip implants pose a number of ethical and legal issues despite their potential applications in ensuring security and tracking lost and kidnapped individuals. It is important to enact appropriate legislations that will prevent any grievous intrusion into individual privacy as the technology gets a big vote among Americans.

Monday, January 20, 2020

A Comparison of Love According to Browning, Dickinson, Shakespeare and Harris :: Comparison Compare Contrast Essays

Love According to Browning, Dickinson, Shakespeare and Harris Men and women are very different creatures. We express our emotions differently. Women are typically ready to marry, settle down and have children much earlier than men. Men tend to want to experience life before settling. Yet, there is one thing we have in common. In relationships, men and women want to be loved for the person they are and for the rest of their lives. When people begin dating, they are usually playing the field. Few have a strategy for finding their life mate. It is something that happens over time and as you continue to see that person and get to know them, a bond builds that is not easily broken. This is demonstrated in "Wild Nights - Wild Nights!" By Emily Dickinson. "Futile - the winds-/ to a heart in port-/ Done with the compass/ Done with the chart" (line 5-8). No matter how hard outside forces try to tempt you away, you are finished searching for your true love. You have found it and are holding fast. We are all initially searching for romantic love that will hold fast through a lifetime. Romantic love is defined as love that is unrealistic, fanciful, passionate and fabulous. In "Beginning of the Songs of Delight", Papyrus Harris 500 demonstrates fanciful love through "†¦apportioned to you is my heart,/ I do for you what it desires,/ when I am in your arms" (lines 1-3). In Shakespeare's "Othello", the Moor and Desdemona declare their love for one another, at the protest of her father and the disbelief of the councilmen (Act I, scene iii). Their romantic love was unrealistic because of their age difference, and fanciful because she was intrigued by the stories of heroism and daring that he imparted to her. Passionate love is, by definition, ruled by intense emotion and marked by intense feelings as is expressed in "My body thrives, my heart exults/ At our walking together;/ Hearing your voice is pomegranate wine,/ I live by hearing it./ Each look with which you look at me/Sustains me more than food and drink" (lines 24-29). Love such as this can sustain us through all the joys and challenges life has to offer if it is without condition. Unconditional love endures over time. "But love me for love's sake, that evermore/ thou mayst love on, through love's eternity" (Browning, 260), speaks of love that is grounded in love alone and will last all forever.

Sunday, January 12, 2020

Bloodsucking Fiends: A Love Story Chapter 21

Chapter 21 Angel Dust The bed of Simon's pickup was full of beer-sodden Animals enjoying the morning fog and speculating on the marital status of the new cashier. She had smiled at Tommy when she arrived, driving the Animals into a psychosexual frenzy. â€Å"She looked like she was being towed through the store by two submarines,† said Simon. â€Å"Major hooters,† said Troy Lee. â€Å"Major-league hooters.† Tommy said, â€Å"Can't you guys see more in a woman than T and A?† â€Å"Nope,† said Troy. â€Å"No way,† said Simon. â€Å"Spoken like a guy who has a live-in girlfriend,† said Lash. â€Å"Yeah,† Simon said. â€Å"How come we never see you with the little woman?† â€Å"Seagull! â€Å"shouted Barry. Simon pulled a pump shotgun from under a tarp in the truck bed, tracked on a seagull that was passing over, and fired. â€Å"Missed again!† shouted Barry. â€Å"You can't kill them all, Simon,† Tommy said, his ears ringing from the blast. â€Å"Why don't you just cover your truck at night?† Simon said. â€Å"You don't pay for twenty coats of hand-rubbed lacquer to cover it up.† The shotgun went under the tarp and the manager came through the front doors of the store. â€Å"What was that? What was that?† He was scanning the parking lot frantically as if he expected to see someone with a shotgun. â€Å"Backfire,† Simon said. The manager looked for the offending car. â€Å"They were heading toward the Marina,† Tommy said. â€Å"Well, you tell me if they come back,† the manager said. â€Å"There's a noise ordinance in this city, you know.† He turned to go back into the store. â€Å"Hey, boss,† Simon called. â€Å"The new girl, what's her name?† â€Å"Mara,† the manager said. â€Å"And you guys leave her alone. She's had a rough time of it lately.† â€Å"She single?† Troy asked. â€Å"Off limits,† the manager said. â€Å"I mean it. She lost a child a few months ago.† â€Å"Yes, boss,† the Animals said in unison. The manager entered the store. Simon ripped a beer from a six-pack ring. He held another out to Tommy. â€Å"Fearless Leader, another brew?† â€Å"No, I've got to get home.† â€Å"Me too,† said Simon. â€Å"I've got to clean the bird shit off the beast. You need a ride?† â€Å"Sure, can we stop in Chinatown? I want to pick something up for Jody.† Simon shook his head. â€Å"You worry me, son. Men have been pussy-whipped to death, you know.† He downed his beer and crushed the can. â€Å"Out of the truck, girls; Fearless Leader and I have to shop for tampons.† â€Å"Pull!† Troy shouted. A half dozen beer cans arced into the air. The shotgun came out and Simon pumped out two quick shots. The beer cans fell to the parking lot unharmed. The shotgun went under the tarp. The manager came through the front door. Simon said, â€Å"I saw it, boss. Was a baby-blue 72 Nova with a stuffed gerbil on the aerial. Call it in.† Jody's hands were covered with a greasy dust: the remains of Philly. The body had decomposed to dust in seconds after she finished drinking, leaving a pile of empty clothes. After staring at the pile for a moment, she shook off the shock and gathered the clothes into a bundle, which she carried into a nearby alley. The blood-high raced through her like an espresso firehose. She leaned against a dumpster, holding the clothes to her breast like a security blanket. The alley tilted in her vision, then righted, then spun until she thought she would be sick. When the alley stopped moving, she fumbled through the clothing until she found a wallet. She opened it and pulled out the contents. This bundle of rags had been a person; â€Å"Phillip Burns,† the license said. He carried crinkled photos of friends, a library card, a dry-cleaning receipt, a bank card, and fifty-six dollars. Phillip Burns in a convenient, portable package. She pocketed the wallet, threw the clothes into the dumpster, then wiped her hands on her jeans and stumbled out of the alley. I killed someone, she thought. My God, I killed someone. What should I feel? She walked for blocks, not really looking where she was going, but listening to the rhythm of her own steps under the roar of the blood-high in her head. Philly had spilled into her shoes and she stopped and sat on the curb to dump him out. What is this? she thought. This isn't anything. This isn't what I was before I was a vampire. What is this? This is impossible. This isn't a person. A person can't reduce to dust in seconds. What is this? She took off her socks and shook them out. This is fucking magic, she thought. This isn't some story out of one of Tommy's books. This isn't something you can experiment with in the bathroom. This is not natural, and whatever I am, it isn't natural. A vampire is magic, not science. And if this is what happens when a vampire kills, then how are the police finding bodies? Why is there a guy in my freezer? She put on her shoes and socks and resumed walking. It was starting to get light and she quickened her pace, checked her watch, then broke into a run. She'd made a habit of checking the time of sunrise every morning in the almanac so she wouldn't be caught too far from home. Five years in the City had taught her the streets, but if she was going to run she had to learn the alleys and backstreets. She couldn't let anyone see her moving this fast. As she ran, a voice sounded in her head. It was her voice, but not her voice. It was the voice that put no words to what her senses told her, yet understood. It was the voice that told her to hide from the light, to protect herself, to fight or flee. The vampire voice. â€Å"Killing is what you do,† the vampire voice said. The human part of her was revolted. â€Å"No! I didn't want to kill him.† â€Å"Fuck him. It is as it should be. His life is ours. It feels good, doesn't it?† Jody stopped fighting. It did feel good. She pushed the human part of her aside and let the predator take over to race the sun for her life. Nick Cavuto paced around the chalk outline of the body as if he were preparing to perform a violent hopscotch on the corpse. â€Å"You know,† Cavuto said, looking over at Rivera, who was trying to fend off a reporter from the Chronicle at the yellow crime-scene tape, â€Å"this guy is pissing me off.† Rivera excused himself from the reporter and joined Cavuto by the body. â€Å"Nick, keep it down,† he whispered. â€Å"This stiff is making my life difficult,† Cavuto said. â€Å"I say we shoot him and take his wallet. Simple gunshot wound, robbery motive.† â€Å"He didn't have a wallet,† said Rivera. â€Å"There you have it, robbery. Massive blood loss from gunshot wound, broke his neck when he hit the ground.† The reporter perked up. â€Å"So it was a robbery?† Cavuto glared at the reporter and put his hand on his thirty-eight. â€Å"Rivera, what do you say to a murder-suicide? Scoop over there killed this guy, then turned the gun on himself – case closed and we can go get some breakfast.† The reporter backed away from the line. Two coroner's assistants moved to the body, pushing a gurney with a body bag on it. â€Å"You guys done here?† one of them asked Cavuto. â€Å"Yeah,† Cavuto said. â€Å"Take him away.† The coroners spread the body bag out and hoisted the body onto it. â€Å"Hey, Inspector, you want to bag this book?† â€Å"What book?† Rivera turned. A paperback copy of Kerouac's On the Road was lying in the chalk line where the body had been. Rivera slipped on a pair of white cotton gloves and pulled an evidence bag from his jacket pocket. â€Å"Here you go, Nick. The guy was a speed reader. Snapped his neck on a meaningful passage.† Jody glanced at the lightening sky, ducked down an alley, and fell into a trot. She was only a block from home, she'd make it in long before sunrise. She leaped over a dumpster, just to do it, then high-stepped through a pile of crates like a halfback through fallen defenders. She was strong in the blood – high, quick and light on her feet, her body moved, dodged, and leaped on its own – no thought, just fluid motion and perfect balance. She'd never been athletic in life: the last kid to be picked for kickball, straight C's in phys ed, no chance as a cheerleader; the self-conscious, one-step dancer with the rhythmic sense of an inbred Aryan. But now she reveled in the movement and the strength, even as her instincts screamed for her to hide from the light. She heard the policemen's voices before she saw the blue and red lights from their cars playing across the walls at the end of the alley. Fear tightened her muscles and she nearly fell in mid-step. She crept forward and saw the police cars and coroner's wagon parked in front of the loft. The street was full of milling cops and reporters. She checked her watch and backed down the alley. Five minutes to sunrise. She looked for a place to hide. There was the dumpster, even a few large garbage cans, three steel doors with massive locks, and a basement window with steel bars. She ran to the window and tried the bars. They moved a bit. She checked her watch. Two minutes. She braced her feet against the brick wall and pulled on the bars with her legs. Rusty bolts tore out of the mortar and the bars moved another half inch. She tried to peer into the window, but the wire-reinforced glass was clouded with dirt and age. She yanked on the bars again and they screamed in protest and came loose. She dropped the grate and was drawing back to kick out the glass when she heard movement behind the window. Oh my God, there's someone inside! She looked around to the dumpster, some fifty feet away. She looked at her watch. If it was right, the sun was up. She was†¦ The glass shattered behind her. Two hands came through the window, grabbed her ankles, and pulled her inside as she went out. â€Å"These here turtles are defective,† Simon said. â€Å"It's okay, Simon,† said Tommy. They were in a Chinatown fish market, where Tommy was trying to purchase two massive snapping turtles from an old Chinese man in a rubber apron and boots. â€Å"You no know turtle!† the old man insisted. â€Å"These plime, glade-A turtle. You no know shit about turtle.† The turtles were in orange crates to immobilize them. The old man sprayed them down with a garden hose to keep them wet. â€Å"And I'm telling you, these turtles are defective,† Simon insisted. â€Å"Their eyes are all glazed over. These turtles are on drugs.† Tommy said, â€Å"Really, Simon, it's okay.† Simon turned to Tommy and whispered, â€Å"You have to bargain with these guys. They won't respect you if you don't.† â€Å"Turtle's not on dlugs,† said the old man. â€Å"You want turtle, you pay forty bucks.† Simon pushed his black Stetson back on his head and sighed. â€Å"Look, Hop Sing, you can do time for selling drugged turtles in this city.† â€Å"No dlugs. Fuck you, cowboy. Forty bucks or go away.† â€Å"Twenty.† â€Å"Thirty.† â€Å"Twenty-five and you clean 'em.† â€Å"No,† Tommy said. â€Å"I want them alive.† Simon looked at Tommy as if he had farted in neon. â€Å"I'm trying to negotiate here.† â€Å"Thirty,† said the old man. â€Å"As is.† â€Å"Twenty-seven,† Simon said. â€Å"Twenty-eight or go home,† said the old man. Simon turned to Tommy. â€Å"Pay him.† Tommy ticked off the bills and handed them to the old man, who counted them and put them in his rubber apron. â€Å"You cowboy friend no know turtle.† â€Å"Thanks,† Tommy said. He and Simon picked up the crates with the turtles and loaded them into the bed of Simon's truck. As they climbed into the cab, Simon said, â€Å"You got to know how to deal with those little fuckers. Ever since we nuked them, they got a bad attitude.† â€Å"We nuked the Japanese, Simon, not the Chinese.† â€Å"Whatever. You should'a made him clean them for you.† â€Å"No, I want to give them to Jody alive.† â€Å"You're a charmer, Flood. A lot of guys would've just paid the ransom with candy and flowers.† â€Å"Ransom?† â€Å"She's got your nooky held hostage, ain't she?† â€Å"No, I just wanted to get her a present – to be nice.† Simon sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose as if fighting a headache. â€Å"Son, we need to talk.† Simon had distinctive ideas about the way women should be handled, and as they drove to SOMA he waxed eloquent on the subject while Tommy listened, thinking, If they knew about him, Simon would be elected the Cosmo Nightmare Man for the next decade. â€Å"You see,† Simon said, â€Å"when I was a kid in Texas, we used to walk through the watermelon fields kickin' each of them old melons as we went until one was so ripe and ready that it busted right open. Then we'd reach in and eat the heart right out of it and move on to the next one. That's how you got to treat women, Flood.† â€Å"Like kicking watermelons?† â€Å"Right. Now you take that new cashier. She wants you, boy. But you're thinkin', I got me a piece at home so I don't need her. Right?† â€Å"Right,† Tommy said. â€Å"Wrong. You got one at home that you're buying presents for and saying sweet things and tiptoeing around the house so as not to upset her and generally acting like a spineless nooky slave. But if you put it to that new cashier, then you got one up on your old lady. You can do what you want, when you want, and if she gets pissy and don't put out, you go back to your cashier. Your old lady has to try harder. There's competition. It's supply and demand. God bless America, it's nooky capitalism.† â€Å"I'm lost. I thought it was like watermelon farming.† â€Å"Whatever. Point is, you're whipped, Flood. You can't have no self-respect if you're whipped. And you can't have no fun.† Simon turned on Tommy's street and pulled the truck over to the curb. â€Å"Something going on here.† There were four police cars parked in the street in front of the loft and a coroner's van was pulling away. â€Å"Wait here,† Tommy said. He got out of the car and walked toward the cops. A sharp-featured Hispanic cop in a suit met Tommy in the middle of the street. His badge wallet hung open from his belt; he was holding a plastic bag. Inside it Tommy saw a dog-eared copy of On the Road. He recognized the coffee stains on the cover. â€Å"This street is closed, sir,† the cop said. â€Å"Crime investigation.† â€Å"But I just live right there,† Tommy said, pointing to the loft. â€Å"Really,† the cop said, raising an eyebrow. â€Å"Where are you coming from?† â€Å"The fuck's going on here, pancho?† Simon said, coming up behind Tommy. â€Å"I got a truckful of dyin' turtles and I ain't got all damn day.† â€Å"Oh Christ,† Tommy said, hanging his head.

Saturday, January 4, 2020

Hungarians Killed at the Hands of the Soviet Union Essays

In 1956, thousands of Hungarians, aggrieved by the lack of freedom in their nation, crowded into the streets in revolt to protest against the injustice done towards them. Nikita Khrushchev responds quickly and violently to this unruly show of disloyalty. He sends in his troops and tanks to put a swift, crushing end to the spontaneous uprising. This led to the death of more than 2,500 Hungarians at the hands of Khrushchev. The West made no attempts of intervention, due to their desire to not spark conflict with the Soviet Union, and risk war in the process. This event does not reflect the containment policy due to the West’s passivity in the matter; on the grounds that it did not represent the spread of communism, as Hungary was already a†¦show more content†¦In one case, when the Polish Communist Party elected a new official, they were faced with threats of the Soviet forces invading Poland. Meanwhile, the Soviet Union was at odds with the West, how did they respond? The West was following their policy of containment: to prevent communism from spreading any further than it already had. Their response to the matter does not reflect the policy of containment. They didn’t do anything to intervene or support Hungary. Although their citizens were disturbed by the brutal force shown by Khrushchev, and protested, they ultimately remained passive in the matter. Their leaders stated that their policy was containment. They rationalized that Hungary had already been in communist hands before Khrushchev sent his forces in. Consequently, they had no business intervening. In addition, if they did interfere, they would be risking war with the Soviet Union. Therefore they decided they would ultimately remain inactive. In conclusion, the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 resulted in the death of more than 2,500 Hungarians. Many of the attitudes and occurrences at the time, such as Khrushchev’s brutality and the general unrest under the Soviet Union’s control of countries and their freedom were large factors in the revolt. The West makes no attempts of intervention; Hungary was already under the power ofShow MoreRelatedLife in the Soviet Regime During the Cold War1837 Words   |  7 PagesThe Bonds of the Soviet People Elena Gorokhova explains in her memoir that â€Å"The rules are simple: they lie to us, we know theyre lying, they know we know theyre lying, but they keep lying to us, and we keep pretending to believe them.† The novel, A Mountain of Crumbs, depicts the hopelessness, opression and deception of life behind the Iron Curtain during the 70s and 80s. Many rights of the people within the Soviet Union were violated and unacknowledged. 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