If your generator can only make a max of 15,000, you're 2/3 of the way full and will generate heat really fast. In other words, lets say you're using 10,000 "power units". That means that you want a generator with a huuuuuuuuge max energy production. Your heat generation is based on the percentage of the max power you are using. Its power output, its max temp, and other stuff. ![]() If you look at your generator, it has a few stats. They can be used for research which can seriously boost your crew. Find planets you can land on, get those resources. You need to get those as fast as you can. They're often small, hard to see, and there's only a couple (less than 4) per planet. Elements or materials that you need to harvest. There's "science resources" on every planet you can land on. Burning fuel cells to get the cooldowns on those programs to go away is critical to winning battles. You can stop an enemy ship mid-flight, boost your shields very quickly, etc, etc. The engineer can burn fuel cells to re-charge programs. In turn, these disparate imaginaries have underwritten very different responses to a variety of nuclear shocks and challenges, such as Three Mile Island (TMI), Chernobyl, and the spread of the anti-nuclear movement.A re-post from a comment I made some time ago: In the US, the state’s central move was to present itself as a responsible regulator of a potentially runaway technology that demands effective “containment.” In South Korea, the dominant imaginary was of “atoms for development” which the state not only imported but incorporated into its scientific, technological and political practices. Although nuclear power and nationhood have long been imagined together in both countries, the nature of those imaginations has remained strikingly different. This article aims to fill that gap by introducing the concept of “sociotechnical imaginaries.” Through a comparative examination of the development and regulation of nuclear power in the US and South Korea, the article demonstrates the analytic potential of the imaginaries concept. One consequence is that the relationship of science and technology to political power has tended to remain undertheorized. STS research has devoted relatively little attention to the promotion and reception of science and technology by non-scientific actors and institutions. This is a debate we have not yet had either ingenuously or rationally, but, as will be argued here, it is in both our state’s interests and our world’s to have it. Finding a site for Australia’s small volume of short-lived, relatively innocuous, low- and intermediate-level waste (LLNW and ILNW) has been contentious, let alone seriously considering what could effectively be eternal guardianship in this state for the world’s growing volume of long-lived HLNW. The politics of nuclear waste are even more toxic than climate change politics. But South Australia’s ancient deep geology, coupled with optimum meteorological and hydrological conditions, can quarantine radioactivity from the biosphere for the millennia HLNW needs to decay to safer levels: for two billion years, the Gawler Craton successfully contained Olympic Dam’s radioactivity. A critical examination of the risks to safe, long-term storage reveals a stark truth: most nation-states could not safely, or should not, host an HLNW repository. It can be proliferated, and poses a hazard to human health and the environment. Lethally radioactive, HLNW is the longest-lived nuclear waste. This thesis argues that South Australia should establish a state-owned repository for the permanent disposal of the world’s high-level nuclear waste (HLNW). Walker Prize in Western Literature, and received an honorable mention for the 1921 Prize in American Literature. For Silko, the apocalyptic futurelessness that nuclear waste seeds into our present is a vital formal resource for unsettling colonial realism in the contemporary United States. It then turns to a countermodeling of the futures of nuclear waste by Leslie Marmon Silko in Almanac of the Dead (1991), where uranium’s longue durée future, impossible to imagine from a human perspective, recasts the present as a space in which the unlikely, implausible, and unrealistic saturate the everyday. ![]() Although contemporary ecocriticism argues that we must move from apocalyptic depictions of risk to realistic ones, this essay examines fictions of nuclear waste commissioned by the Department of Energy to show that a risk-based realism is used to maintain the status quo of settler colonialism. This essay intervenes in current ecocritical debates about the relationship between fiction and environmental risk by analyzing the limits of risk theory in the deep time of the Anthropocene.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |