Industrial production of kanten (the Japanese name for agar, which translates as “cold weather” or “frozen sky”) began in Japan in the mid-19th century by natural freeze drying, a technique that simultaneously dehydrates and purifies the agar. Seaweed is first washed and boiled to extract the agar, after which the solution is filtered and placed in boxes or trays at room temperature to congeal. The jelly is then cut into slabs called namaten, which can be further processed into noodle-like strips by pushing the slabs through a press. These noodles are finally spread out in layers onto reed mats and exposed to the sun and freezing temperatures for several weeks to yield purified agar. Although this traditional way of producing kanten is disappearing, even today’s industrial-scale manufacturing of agar relies on repeated cycles of boiling, freezing, and thawing.
As far as WIRED can tell, no one has ever died because a piece of space station hit them. Some pieces of Skylab did fall on a remote part of Western Australia, and Jimmy Carter formally apologized, but no one was hurt. The odds of a piece hitting a populated area are low. Most of the world is ocean, and most land is uninhabited. In 2024, a piece of space trash that was ejected from the ISS survived atmospheric burn-up, fell through the sky, and crashed through the roof of a home belonging to a very real, and rightfully perturbed, Florida man. He tweeted about it and then sued NASA, but he wasn’t injured.
Sammy Azdoufal told The Verge he wasn't trying to hack anyone else's robot vacuum. It was merely a fun project for the software engineer, who alerted DJI about its massive authentication slip-up — while sharing how little work it took to access the ins and outs of a Romo owner's home.，推荐阅读WPS官方版本下载获取更多信息
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On vast white sea ice, the blobs of brown are feathers left behind by penguins as they moult