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Second Variety
1,90 CHF *
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The claws were bad enough in the first place-nasty, crawling little death robots. But when they began to imitate their creators, it was time for the human race to make peace-if it could! Excerpt The Russian soldier made his way nervously up the ragged side of the hill, holding his gun ready. He glanced around him, licking his dry lips, his face set. From time to time he reached up a gloved hand and wiped perspiration from his neck, pushing down his coat collar. Eric turned to Corporal Leone. 'Want him? Or can I have him?' He adjusted the view sight so the Russian's features squarely filled the glass, the lines cutting across his hard, somber features. Leone considered. The Russian was close, moving rapidly, almost running. 'Don't fire. Wait.' Leone tensed. 'I don't think we're needed.' The Russian increased his pace, kicking ash and piles of debris out of his way. He reached the top of the hill and stopped, panting, staring around him. The sky was overcast, drifting clouds of gray particles. Bare trunks of trees jutted up occasionally; the ground was level and bare, rubble-strewn, with the ruins of buildings standing out here and there like yellowing skulls. The Russian was uneasy. He knew something was wrong. He started down the hill. Now he was only a few paces from the bunker. Eric was getting fidgety. He played with his pistol, glancing at Leone. 'Don't worry,' Leone said. 'He won't get here. They'll take care of him.' 'Are you sure? He's got damn far.' 'They hang around close to the bunker. He's getting into the bad part. Get set!' The Russian began to hurry, sliding down the hill, his boots sinking into the heaps of gray ash, trying to keep his gun up. He stopped for a moment, lifting his field glasses to his face. 'He's looking right at us,' Eric said. **** The Russian came on. They could see his eyes, like two blue stones. His mouth was open a little. He needed a shave; his chin was stubbled. On one bony cheek was a square of tape, showing blue at the edge. A fungoid spot. His coat was muddy and torn. One glove was missing. As he ran his belt counter bounced up and down against him. Leone touched Eric's arm. 'Here one comes.' Across the ground something small and metallic came, flashing in the dull sunlight of mid-day. A metal sphere. It raced up the hill after the Russian, its treads flying. It was small, one of the baby ones. Its claws were out, two razor projections spinning in a blur of white steel. The Russian heard it. He turned instantly, firing. The sphere dissolved into particles. But already a second had emerged and was following the first. The Russian fired again. A third sphere leaped up the Russian's leg, clicking and whirring. It jumped to the shoulder. The spinning blades disappeared into the Russian's throat. Eric relaxed. 'Well, that's that. God, those damn things give me the creeps. Sometimes I think we were better off before.'

Anbieter: Orell Fuessli CH
Stand: 02.07.2020
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The Static and Blackout
15,90 CHF *
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The Static 'We all have sick thoughts. It doesnae matter what you think, it's what you do that counts. Trouble is, my thoughts do things. Don't believe me? Just watch.' Sparky is a bright but volatile 15-year-old boy on the brink of permanent exclusion from school. Then one day he falls under the spell of a seemingly psychic girl called Siouxsie and develops his own kinetic superpower. But will it save him or push him over the edge? The Static is a coming-of-age love story about what happens when our darkest dreams come true. Blackout 'A small room, bright lights, white walls, a metal door. Oh my God! Imagine you wake up in a jail cell and you don't know how you got there.' Blackout is the true story of a 15-year-old boy charged with attempted murder who tries to piece together the events in his life that have brought him into a secure care unit and threaten to keep him there. This short play packs a big emotional punch with its stylistic economy and razor-sharp storytelling. The Static was originally produced by ThickSkin for the Edinburgh Festival Fringe and UK tour 2012. Blackout was commissioned for NT Connections and produced by ThickSkin at the Edinburgh Fringe 2010, winning the Arches Brick Award and subsequently touring the UK.

Anbieter: Orell Fuessli CH
Stand: 02.07.2020
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Electrochemical Activation of Catalysis
207,99 € *
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I knew nothing of the work of C. G. Vayenas on NEMCA until the early nineties. Then I learned from a paper of his idea (gas interface reactions could be catalyzed electrochemically), which seemed quite marvelous; but I did not understand how it worked. Consequently, I decided to correspond with Professor Vayenas in Patras, Greece, to reach a better understanding of this concept. I think that my early papers (1946, 1947, and 1957), on the relationship between the work function of metal surfaces and electron transfer reactions thereat to particles in solution, held me in good stead to be receptive to what Vayenas told me. As the electrode potential changes, so of course, does the work function at the interface, and gas metal reactions there involve adsorbed particles which have bonding to the surface. Whether electron transfer is complete in such a case, or whether the effect is on the desorption of radicals, the work function determines the strength of their bonding, and if one varies the work function by varying the electrode potential, one can vary the reaction rate at the interface. I got the idea. After that, it has been smooth sailing. Dr. Vayenas wrote a seminal article in Modern Aspects of Electrochemistry, Number 29, and brought the field into the public eye. It has since grown and its usefulness in chemical catalytic reactions has been demonstrated and verified worldwide.

Anbieter: Thalia AT
Stand: 02.07.2020
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Second Variety
0,99 € *
ggf. zzgl. Versand

The claws were bad enough in the first place-nasty, crawling little death robots. But when they began to imitate their creators, it was time for the human race to make peace-if it could! Excerpt The Russian soldier made his way nervously up the ragged side of the hill, holding his gun ready. He glanced around him, licking his dry lips, his face set. From time to time he reached up a gloved hand and wiped perspiration from his neck, pushing down his coat collar. Eric turned to Corporal Leone. 'Want him? Or can I have him?' He adjusted the view sight so the Russian's features squarely filled the glass, the lines cutting across his hard, somber features. Leone considered. The Russian was close, moving rapidly, almost running. 'Don't fire. Wait.' Leone tensed. 'I don't think we're needed.' The Russian increased his pace, kicking ash and piles of debris out of his way. He reached the top of the hill and stopped, panting, staring around him. The sky was overcast, drifting clouds of gray particles. Bare trunks of trees jutted up occasionally; the ground was level and bare, rubble-strewn, with the ruins of buildings standing out here and there like yellowing skulls. The Russian was uneasy. He knew something was wrong. He started down the hill. Now he was only a few paces from the bunker. Eric was getting fidgety. He played with his pistol, glancing at Leone. 'Don't worry,' Leone said. 'He won't get here. They'll take care of him.' 'Are you sure? He's got damn far.' 'They hang around close to the bunker. He's getting into the bad part. Get set!' The Russian began to hurry, sliding down the hill, his boots sinking into the heaps of gray ash, trying to keep his gun up. He stopped for a moment, lifting his field glasses to his face. 'He's looking right at us,' Eric said. **** The Russian came on. They could see his eyes, like two blue stones. His mouth was open a little. He needed a shave; his chin was stubbled. On one bony cheek was a square of tape, showing blue at the edge. A fungoid spot. His coat was muddy and torn. One glove was missing. As he ran his belt counter bounced up and down against him. Leone touched Eric's arm. 'Here one comes.' Across the ground something small and metallic came, flashing in the dull sunlight of mid-day. A metal sphere. It raced up the hill after the Russian, its treads flying. It was small, one of the baby ones. Its claws were out, two razor projections spinning in a blur of white steel. The Russian heard it. He turned instantly, firing. The sphere dissolved into particles. But already a second had emerged and was following the first. The Russian fired again. A third sphere leaped up the Russian's leg, clicking and whirring. It jumped to the shoulder. The spinning blades disappeared into the Russian's throat. Eric relaxed. 'Well, that's that. God, those damn things give me the creeps. Sometimes I think we were better off before.'

Anbieter: Thalia AT
Stand: 02.07.2020
Zum Angebot
The Static and Blackout
13,49 € *
ggf. zzgl. Versand

The Static 'We all have sick thoughts. It doesnae matter what you think, it's what you do that counts. Trouble is, my thoughts do things. Don't believe me? Just watch.' Sparky is a bright but volatile 15-year-old boy on the brink of permanent exclusion from school. Then one day he falls under the spell of a seemingly psychic girl called Siouxsie and develops his own kinetic superpower. But will it save him or push him over the edge? The Static is a coming-of-age love story about what happens when our darkest dreams come true. Blackout 'A small room, bright lights, white walls, a metal door. Oh my God! Imagine you wake up in a jail cell and you don't know how you got there.' Blackout is the true story of a 15-year-old boy charged with attempted murder who tries to piece together the events in his life that have brought him into a secure care unit and threaten to keep him there. This short play packs a big emotional punch with its stylistic economy and razor-sharp storytelling. The Static was originally produced by ThickSkin for the Edinburgh Festival Fringe and UK tour 2012. Blackout was commissioned for NT Connections and produced by ThickSkin at the Edinburgh Fringe 2010, winning the Arches Brick Award and subsequently touring the UK.

Anbieter: Thalia AT
Stand: 02.07.2020
Zum Angebot