Academic literature on the topic 'Mission spatiale LISA'

Large-aperture space telescopes have played an important role in space gravitational wave detection missions. Overcoming the influence of the space environment on interstellar laser distance measurement and realistic high-concentration laser distance measurement is one of the topics that LISA and Taiji are working hard on. It includes solar temperature, spatial stress relief, pointing shake and tilt, etc. However, when considering the impact of vibration on the telescope, both LISA and Taiji only consider the resonance impact of vibration on structural parts, which greatly ignores the impact of high-frequency micro-vibration on space ranging. This paper first considers space gravitational wave detection. Then, we establish the heterodyne interference model and demodulation algorithm of the optical phase-locked loop, and then introduce the vibration component for theoretical analysis. The results show that, although the resonance effect of low-frequency vibration on the system structure is avoided in space gravitational wave detection, the influence of high-frequency micro-vibration on heterodyne interference cannot be ignored. At the same time, we quantitatively analyze the influence efficiency of amplitude and frequency; in the premise of small amplitudes, the influence of vibration frequency is related to the frequency of the heterodyne signal, which has important guiding significance in engineering.

Reducing catastrophic out-of-pocket expenditure (OOPE) and increasing the rates of institutional deliveries are part of the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). India has made significant progress on the maternal and child health front in recent years. India’s National Health Mission (NHM) has been able to increase rates of institutional deliveries. In the present study, we aim to ascertain district-level patterns of percentage of health insurance coverage in the National Family Health Surveys NFHS 4 and NFHS 5. We also aim to ascertain district-level patterns of out-of-pocket expenditure on C-section deliveries in public health facilities in NFHS 4 and NFHS 5. The present study explores district-level data associated with health insurance coverage (%) and out-of-pocket expenditure in a public health facility (in INR) observed across NFHS 4 and NFHS 5. A spatial analysis was carried out using QGIS 3.26 (Mac version) and GeoDA 1.20.0.8. A visual assessment of the maps across NFHS 4 and NFHS 5 shows improvement in insurance coverage at the district level across the two surveys. Despite an increase in insurance coverage, North East India has experienced an increase in OOPE for C-section deliveries. Rajasthan and various parts of South India have experienced a decrease in OOPE for C-section deliveries. Kerala has experienced a rise in insurance coverage and OOPE for C-section deliveries. Univariate LISA cluster and significance maps revealed that Kerala and Tamil Nadu, the eastern coast of India and parts of Mizoram are hot spots, whereas Jammu and Kashmir and parts of Uttar Pradesh and Gujarat are cold spots. Both these findings are significant. Rajasthan emerges as a significant hot spot along with parts of Assam and a few districts on the eastern coast of India in Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh. Jammu and Kashmir, Ladakh, parts of Uttar Pradesh, Maharashtra, and Karnataka have emerged as significant cold spots. The South Indian states of Kerala and Tamil Nadu are no longer hot spots indicating geospatial variations across time. An increase in the number of hot spots across NFHS 4 and NFHS 5 indicates rising out-of-pocket expenditure for C-sections despite growth in health insurance coverage. The present study does not offer any evidence to suggest that health insurance coverage decreases OOPE on C-section deliveries at government facilities. With RSBY having been launched in 2008 and Ayushman Bharat in 2018, high levels of OOPE on C-section deliveries at government facilities raise serious concerns about the efficacy of PFHIs in reducing OOPE. The government would need to plug the well-documented weaknesses of PFHIs, such as fraud, double charging, poor enrolment, and lack of awareness in addition to the unfortunate phenomena of “tips” and “tie ups” mentioned earlier that plague the public healthcare system, if we are to see any reduction in OOPE in the foreseeable future.

Abstract Background: Pre-clinical and clinical data suggest that CDK4/6 inhibitors can promote an immunogenic tumor microenvironment (TME) and when combined with programmed cell death ligand 1 (PD-L1) inhibitors synergistic anti-cancer effects are observed. To understand the differential effects of CDK4/6 inhibition in the context of immunotherapy we designed a study evaluating neoadjuvant endocrine therapy (ET) with a PD-L1 inhibitor (avelumab) with or without a CDK4/6 inhibitor (palbociclib, palbo) in patients (pts) with stage II/III endocrine receptor (ER)-positive breast cancer. Methods: In this randomized phase 2 pilot study, pts with stage II/III ER+, HER2-negative breast cancer were randomized 2:1 to ET (aromatase inhibitor, AI, for post-menopausal pts; tamoxifen+/-ovarian function suppression for pre-menopausal pts) with avelumab, with or without palbo (palbo vs. control arms). Avelumab was added after a 1-month lead-in of ET +/- palbo, and all drugs were continued for additional 3-month-long cycles prior to surgery. We obtained tumor tissue and breast MRIs on C1D1, C2D1, and at the end of treatment. Imaging assessment was done according to RECIST 1.1 criteria at each time point. The primary endpoint was clinical complete response (cCR) by MRI in the palbo arm (H0: cCR=10% vs. 40% at a two-sided alpha level of 0.1). Secondary endpoints included pathologic CR (pCR), overall response rates (ORR), percent sum diameter changes, and adverse effects (AE). We report descriptive statistics on patient characteristics, clinical response rates, and changes in the sum of the longest diameters of the target lesions (SLD). Translational correlatives including imaging mass cytometry, spatial transcriptomic assessments, and other pathologic biomarkers will be reported at the meeting. Results: From 2018-2023, 33 pts were enrolled, and 30 were eligible for the primary analysis, including 20 pts on the palbo arm (1 pt with bilateral breast cancer, response to each breast cancer evaluated separately) and 10 to the control arm (1 pt with missing data). Clinical and pathologic characteristics were well balanced between arms, however, there was a higher proportion of patients with node-positive disease on the palbo arm (80% vs 60%). The study did not meet its primary endpoint as only 1 pt achieved a cCR and pCR in the palbo arm (cCR/pCR rate 4.8%) vs. no pts in the control arm. ORR was numerically higher in the palbo arm, 42.9% vs. 11.1% (p=0.204). After 1-month of ET+palbo, the mean SLD decreased by 11.6% compared to 9.4% in the ET-only control group (p=0.704). After avelumab was added to both arms, the mean SLD decreased by a further 15.2% in the palbo arm in contrast to a 6.9% increase in the control arm (p=0.018). Subgroup analysis in the palbo arm did not identify clinical or pathologic variables significantly associated with responses. No new safety or toxicity signals were observed. Notably, however expected, grade 3 or higher immune-related adverse events were observed including autoimmune diabetes (n=1), hepatitis (n=1), and colitis (n=1). Conclusions: As shown in previous studies, the addition of palbo to ET did not improve responses in the neoadjuvant setting; however, increased responses to palbo+ET were seen after PD-L1 inhibition, whereas not to ET, suggesting synergy between ET/palbo and avelumab. Translational correlative analysis will aim to decipher TME changes that augment PD-L1 inhibitor responses. Future studies in high-risk pts, where the toxicity of immunotherapy is acceptable, are warranted. Citation Format: Phaedon Zavras, Ruizhe Chen, Hanfei Qi, Mary Kate Jones, Ann Folmer, Hayden Chae, Allen Khodab, Ashley Cimino-Mathews, Lisa Jacobs, Lisa Mullen, Christie Hiton, Ahmed Elkhanany, Katia Khoury, Massimo Cristofanilli, Elizabeth Jaffee, Vered Stearns, Cesar Santa-Maria. Neoadjuvant endocrine therapy and avelumab with or without palbociclib in stage II/III endocrine receptor-positive breast cancer: the ImmunoADAPT trial [abstract]. In: Proceedings of the 2023 San Antonio Breast Cancer Symposium; 2023 Dec 5-9; San Antonio, TX. Philadelphia (PA): AACR; Cancer Res 2024;84(9 Suppl):Abstract nr PO1-01-09.

Abstract Background Drug mass spectrometry imaging (MSI) data contain knowledge about drug and several other molecular ions present in a biological sample. However, a proper approach to fully explore the potential of such type of data is still missing. Therefore, a computational pipeline that combines different spatial and non-spatial methods is proposed to link the observed drug distribution profile with tumor heterogeneity in solid tumor. Our data analysis steps include pre-processing of MSI data, cluster analysis, drug local indicators of spatial association (LISA) map, and ions selection. Results The number of clusters identified from different tumor tissues. The spatial homogeneity of the individual cluster was measured using a modified version of our drug homogeneity method. The clustered image and drug LISA map were simultaneously analyzed to link identified clusters with observed drug distribution profile. Finally, ions selection was performed using the spatially aware method. Conclusions In this paper, we have shown an approach to correlate the drug distribution with spatial heterogeneity in untargeted MSI data. Our approach is freely available in an R package 'CorrDrugTumorMSI'.

Abstract TianQin is a proposed Chinese space-borne gravitational wave detection mission, which will consist of three Earth-orbiting spacecraft in equilateral triangle constellation. Due to the ``3 months on + 3 months off'' observation scheme, the continuous scientific observation period of TianQin is much shorter than LISA, it is highly preferred that other on-board operations, such as charge management, will not interrupt gravitational wave detection. This paper presents a torsion pendulum system on the ground to investigate the continuous discharge method in detail. It is found that the difference in surface characteristics between the test mass and the surrounding housing is the most critical to the success of the continuous discharge method. The effect of this difference on the continuous discharge process was evaluated in ground simulation experiments. And then based on our ground test, we also proposed a more feasible spatial continuous charge management strategy for TianQin.

Abstract Introduction Although India has made significant progress in institutional delivery after the implementation of the National Rural Health Mission under which the Janani Suraksha Yojana (JSY) is a sub-programme which played a vital role in the increase of institutional delivery in public facilities. Therefore, this paper aims to provide an understanding of the JSY coverage at the district level in India. Further, it tries to carve out the factors responsible for the regional disparity of JSY coverage at district levels. Methods The study used the National Family Health Survey data, which is a cross-sectional survey conducted in 2015–16, India. The sample size of this study was 148,145 women aged 15–49 years who gave last birth in the institution during 5 years preceding the survey. Bivariate and multivariate regression analysis was used to fulfill the study objectives. Additionally, Moran’s I statistics and bivariate Local Indicator for Spatial Association (LISA) maps were used to understand spatial dependence and clustering of JSY coverage. Ordinary least square, spatial lag and spatial error models were used to examine the correlates of JSY utilization. Results The value of spatial-autocorrelation for JSY was 0.71 which depicts the high dependence of the JSY coverage over districts of India. The overall coverage of JSY in India is 36.4% and it highly varied across different regions, districts, and even socioeconomic groups. The spatial error model depicts that if in a district the women with no schooling status increase by 10% then the benefits of JSY get increased by 2.3%. Similarly, if in a district the women from poor wealth quintile, it increases by 10% the benefits of JSY also increased by 4.6%. However, the coverage of JSY made greater imperative to understand it due to its clustering among districts of specific states only. Conclusion It is well reflected in the EAGs states in terms of spatial-inequality in service coverage. There is a need to universalize the JSY programme at a very individual level. And, it is required to revisit the policy strategy and the implementation plans at regional or district levels.

Tuberculosis (TB) is prevalent in Nigeria, and Katsina, along with other 12 states in the country, accounts for a high proportion of unnotified TB cases: constituting the high priority-intervention States in the country. Interventions focused on TB detection and coverage in the state could benefit from a better understanding of hotspot Local Government Areas (LGAs) that trigger and sustain the disease. Therefore, this study investigated the spatial distribution of TB Case Notification Rates (CNRs), diagnostics and coverage across the LGAs. Using 2017 to 2019 TB case finding data, the geocoordinates of diagnostic facilities and shapefiles, a retrospective ecological study was conducted. The data were analysed with QGIS and GeoDa. Moran’s I and LISA were used to locate and quantify hotspots. The coverage of microscopy and GeneXpert facilities was assessed on QGIS using a 5 km and 20 km radius, respectively. The CNR in the state, and 29 of the 34 LGAs, increased steadily from 2017 to 2019. Hotspots of high CNRs were also identified in 2017 (Moran’s I=0.106, p-value=0.090) and 2018 (Moran’s I=-0.020, p-value=0.370). While CNRs increased along with presumptive TB rates across most LGAs over the years, the positivity yield and bacteriological and Xpert diagnostic rates decreased. Bacteriological and GeneXpert coverage were 78% and 49% respectively. Additionally, only 51% of the state’s population lived within 20km of a GeneXpert facility. These results suggest that TB program interventions had some positive impact on the CNR, however, diagnostic facilities need to be equitably distributed and more innovative approaches need to be explored to find the missing cases.

IntroductionFestivals, according to Chris Gibson and John Connell, are like “glue”, temporarily sticking together various stakeholders, economic transactions, and networks (9). Australia’s First Nations peoples see festivals as an opportunity to display cultural vitality (Henry 586), and to challenge a history which has rendered them absent (587). The 2017 Australia Council for the Arts Showcasing Creativity report indicates that performing arts by First Nations peoples are under-represented in Australia’s mainstream venues and festivals (1). Large Aboriginal cultural festivals have long thrived in Australia’s northern half, but have been under-developed in the south. Each regional happening develops a cultural landscape connected to a long and intimate relationship with the natural environment.The Far South East coast and mountainous hinterland of New South Wales is rich in pristine landscapes that ground the Yuin and Monaro Nations to Country as the Monaroo Bobberrer Gadu (Peoples of the Mountains and the Sea). This article highlights cross-sector interaction between Koori and mainstream organisations in producing the Giiyong (Guy-Yoong/Welcoming) Festival. This, the first large festival to be held within the Yuin Nation, took place on Aboriginal-owned land at Jigamy, via Eden, on 22 September 2018. Emerging regional artists joined national headline acts, most notably No Fixed Address (one of the earliest Aboriginal bands to break into the Australian mainstream music industry), and hip-hop artist Baker Boy (Danzal Baker, Young Australian of the Year 2019). The festival followed five years of sustained community preparation by South East Arts in association with Grow the Music, Twofold Aboriginal Corporation, the Eden Local Aboriginal Land Council, and its Elders. We offer dual understandings of the Giiyong Festival: the viewpoints of a male Yuin Elder wedded to an Australian woman of European descent. We acknowledge, and rely upon, key information, statistics, and photographs provided by the staff of South East Arts including Andrew Gray (General Manager), Jasmin Williams (Aboriginal Creative and Cultural Engagement Officer and Giiyong Festival Project Manager), and Kate Howarth (Screen Industry Development Officer). We are also grateful to Wiradjuri woman Alison Simpson (Program Manager at Twofold Aboriginal Corporation) for valuable feedback. As community leaders from First Nations and non-First Nations backgrounds, Simpson and Williams complement each other’s talents for empowering Indigenous communities. They plan a 2020 follow-up event on the basis of the huge success of the 2018 festival.The case study is informed by our personal involvement with community. Since the general population barely comprehends the number and diversity of Australia’s Indigenous ‘nations’, the burgeoning Indigenous festival movement encourages First Nations and non-First Nations peoples alike to openly and confidently refer to the places they live in according to Indigenous names, practices, histories, and knowledge. Consequently, in the mental image of a map of the island-continent, the straight lines and names of state borders fade as the colours of the Indigenous ‘Countries’ (represented by David Horton’s wall map of 1996) come to the foreground. We reason that, in terms of ‘regionality,’ the festival’s expressions of “the agency of country” (Slater 141) differ vastly from the centre-periphery structure and logic of the Australian colony. There is no fixed centre to the mutual exchange of knowledge, culture, and experience in Aboriginal Australia. The broader implication of this article is that Indigenous cultural festivals allow First Nations peoples cultures—in moments of time—to assume precedence, that is to ‘stitch’ back together the notion of a continent made up of hundreds of countries, as against the exploitative structure of ‘hub and region’ colonial Australia.Festival Concepts and ContextsHoward Becker observed that cultural production results from an interplay between the person of the artist and a multitude of support personnel whose work is not frequently studied: “It is through this network of cooperation that the art work we eventually see or hear comes to be and continues to be” (1). In assisting arts and culture throughout the Bega Valley, Eurobodalla, and Snowy Monaro, South East Arts delivers positive achievements in the Aboriginal arts and cultural sector. Their outcomes are significant in the light of the dispossession, segregation, and discrimination experienced by Aboriginal Australians. Michael Young, assisted by Indigenous authors Ellen Mundy and Debbie Mundy, recorded how Delegate Reserve residents relocating to the coast were faced with having their lives controlled by a Wallaga Lake Reserve manager or with life on the fringes of the towns in shacks (2–3). But as discovered in the records, “their retention of traditional beliefs, values and customs, reveal that the accommodation they were forced to make with the Europeans did not mean they had surrendered. The proof of this is the persistence of their belief in the value of their culture” (3–4). The goal of the Twofold Aboriginal Corporation is to create an inclusive place where Aboriginal people of the Twofold Bay Region can be proud of their heritage, connect with the local economy, and create a real future for their children. When Simpson told Williams of the Twofold Aboriginal Corporation’s and Eden Local Aboriginal Land Council’s dream of housing a large cultural festival at Jigamy, Williams rigorously consulted local Indigenous organisations to build a shared sense of community ownership of the event. She promoted the festival as “a rare opportunity in our region to learn about Aboriginal culture and have access to a huge program of Aboriginal musicians, dancers, visual artists, authors, academics, storytellers, cooks, poets, creative producers, and films” (McKnight).‘Uncle Ossie’ Cruse of Eden envisaged that the welcoming event would enliven the longstanding caring and sharing ethos of the Yuin-Monaro people. Uncle Ossie was instrumental in establishing Jigamy’s majestic Monaroo Bobberrer Gudu Keeping Place with the Eden Local Aboriginal Land Council in 1994. Built brick by brick by Indigenous workers, it is a centre for the teaching and celebration of Aboriginal culture, and for the preservation of artefacts. It represents the local community's determination to find their own solutions for “bridging the gap” by creating education and employment opportunities. The centre is also the gateway to the Bundian Way, the first Aboriginal pathway to be listed on the NSW State Heritage Register. Festival Lead-Up EventsEden’s Indigenous students learn a revived South Coast language at Primary and Secondary School. In 2015, Uncle Ossie vitally informed their input into The Black Ducks, a hip-hop song filmed in Eden by Desert Pea Media. A notable event boosting Koori musical socialisation was a Giiyong Grow the Music spectacle performed at Jigamy on 28 October 2017. Grow the Music—co-founded by Lizzy Rutten and Emily White—specialises in mentoring Indigenous artists in remote areas using digital recording equipment. Eden Marine High School students co-directed the film Scars as part of a programme of events with South East Arts and the Giiyong Festival 2018. The Eden Place Project and Campbell Page also create links between in- and out-of-school activities. Eden’s Indigenous students thus perform confidently at NAIDOC Week celebrations and at various festivals. Preparation and PersonnelAn early decision was made to allow free entry to the Giiyong Festival in order to attract a maximum number of Indigenous families. The prospect necessitated in-kind support from Twofold Aboriginal Corporation staff. They galvanised over 100 volunteers to enhance the unique features of Jigamy, while Uncle Ossie slashed fields of bushes to prepare copious parking space. The festival site was spatially focused around two large stages dedicated to the memory of two strong supporters of cultural creativity: Aunty Doris Kirby, and Aunty Liddy Stewart (Image 1). Image 1: Uncle Ossie Cruse Welcomes Festival-Goers to Country on the Aunty Liddy Stewart Stage. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduction Courtesy of South East Arts.Cultural festivals are peaceful weapons in a continuing ontological political contest (Slater 144). In a panel discussion, Uncle Ossie explained and defended the Makarrata: the call for a First Nations Voice to be enshrined in the Constitution.Williams also contracted artists with a view to capturing the past and present achievements of Aboriginal music. Apart from her brilliant centrepiece acts No Fixed Address and Baker Boy, she attracted Pitjantjatjara singer Frank Yamma (Image 2), Yorta Yorta singer/songwriter Benny Walker, the Central Desert Docker River Band, and Jessie Lloyd’s nostalgic Mission Songs Project. These stellar acts were joined by Wallaga Lake performers Robbie Bundle, Warren Foster, and Alison Walker as well as Nathan Lygon (Eden), Chelsy Atkins (Pambula), Gabadoo (Bermagui), and Drifting Doolgahls (Nowra). Stage presentations were technologically transformed by the live broadcast of acts on large screens surrounding the platforms. Image 2: Singer-Songwriter Frank Yamma Performs at Giiyong Festival 2018. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduction Courtesy of South East Arts.Giiyong Music and Dance Music and dance form the staple components of Indigenous festivals: a reflection on the cultural strength of ancient ceremony. Hundreds of Yuin-Monaro people once attended great corroborees on Mumbulla Mountain (Horton 1235), and oral history recorded by Janet Mathews evidences ceremonies at Fishy Flats, Eden, in the 1850s. Today’s highly regarded community musicians and dancers perform the social arrangements of direct communication, sometimes including their children on stage as apprentices. But artists are still negotiating the power structures through which they experience belonging and detachment in the representation of their musical identity.Youth gain positive identities from participating alongside national headline acts—a form of learning that propels talented individuals into performing careers. The One Mob Dreaming Choir of Koori students from three local schools were a popular feature (Image 3), as were Eden Marine student soloists Nikai Stewart, and Nikea Brooks. Grow the Music in particular has enabled these youngsters to exhibit the roots of their culture in a deep and touching way that contributes to their life-long learning and development. Image 3: The One Mob Dreaming Choir, Directed by Corinne Gibbons (L) and Chelsy Atkins (R). Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduction Courtesy of South East Arts. Brydie-Leigh Bartleet describes how discourses of pride emerge when Indigenous Australian youth participate in hip-hop. At the Giiyong Festival the relationship between musical expression, cultural representation, and political positioning shone through the songs of Baker Boy and Gabadoo (Image 4). Channelling emotions into song, they led young audiences to engage with contemporary themes of Indigeneity. The drones launched above the carpark established a numerical figure close on 6,000 attendees, a third of whom were Indigenous. Extra teenagers arrived in time for Baker Boy’s evening performance (Williams), revealing the typical youthful audience composition associated with the hip-hop craze (Image 5).Image 4: Bermagui Resident Gabadoo Performs Hip-Hop at the Giiyong Festival. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduced Courtesy South East Arts.Image 5: A Youthful Audience Enjoys Baker Boy’s Giiyong Festival Performance. Image Credit: David Rogers for South East Arts, Reproduced Courtesy South East Arts.Wallaga Lake’s traditional Gulaga Dancers were joined by Bermagui’s Gadhu Dancers, Eden’s Duurunu Miru Dancers, and Narooma’s Djaadjawan Dancers. Sharon Mason founded Djaadjawan Dancers in 2015. Their cultural practice connects to the environment and Mingagia (Mother Earth). At their festival tent, dancers explained how they gather natural resources from Walbanja Country to hand-make traditional dance outfits, accessories, and craft. They collect nuts, seeds, and bark from the bush, body paint from ancient ochre pits, shells from beaches, and bird feathers from fresh roadkill. Duurunu Miru dancer/didjeriduist Nathan Lygon elaborates on the functions of the Far South East Coast dance performance tradition:Dance provides us with a platform, an opportunity to share our stories, our culture, and our way of being. It demonstrates a beautiful positivity—a feeling of connection, celebration, and inclusion. The community needs it. And our young people need a ‘space’ in which they can grow into the knowledge and practices of their culture. The festival also helped the wider community to learn more about these dimensions. (n.p.)While music and dance were at the heart of the festival, other traditional skills were included, for example the exhibitions mounted inside the Keeping Place featured a large number of visual artists. Traditional bush cooking took place near Lake Pambula, and yarn-ups, poetry, and readings were featured throughout the day. Cultural demonstrations in the Bunaan Ring (the Yuin name for a corroboree circle) included ‘Gum Leaf Playing.’ Robin Ryan explained how the Yuin’s use of cultural elements to entertain settlers (Cameron 79) led to the formation of the Wallaga Lake Gum Leaf Band. As the local custodian of this unique musical practice, Uncle Ossie performed items and conducted a workshop for numerous adults and children. Festival Feedback and Future PlanningThe Giiyong Festival gained huge Indigenous cultural capital. Feedback gleaned from artists, sponsors, supporters, volunteers, and audiences reflected on how—from the moment the day began—the spirit of so many performers and consumers gathered in one place took over. The festival’s success depended on its reception, for as Myers suggests: “It is the audience who create the response to performance and if the right chemistry is achieved the performers react and excel in their presentation” (59). The Bega District News, of 24 September 2018, described the “incredibly beautiful event” (n.p.), while Simpson enthused to the authors:I believe that the amount of people who came through the gates to attend the Giiyong Festival was a testament to the wider need and want for Aboriginal culture. Having almost double the population of Eden attend also highlights that this event was long overdue. (n.p.)Williams reported that the whole festival was “a giant exercise in the breaking down of walls. Some signed contracts for the first time, and all met their contracts professionally. National artists Baker Boy and No Fixed Address now keep in touch with us regularly” (Williams). Williams also expressed her delight that local artists are performing further afield this year, and that an awareness, recognition, and economic impact has been created for Jigamy, the Giiyong Festival, and Eden respectively:We believe that not only celebrating, but elevating these artists and Aboriginal culture, is one of the most important things South East Arts can do for the overall arts sector in the region. This work benefits artists, the economy and cultural tourism of the region. Most importantly it feeds our collective spirit, educates us, and creates a much richer place to live. (Giiyong Festival Report 1)Howarth received 150 responses to her post-event survey. All respondents felt welcome, included, and willing to attend another festival. One commented, “not even one piece of rubbish on the ground.” Vanessa Milton, ABC Open Producer for South East NSW, wrote: “Down to the tiniest detail it was so obvious that you understood the community, the audience, the performers and how to bring everyone together. What a coup to pull off this event, and what a gift to our region” (Giiyong Festival Report 4).The total running cost for the event was $257,533, including $209,606 in government grants from local, state, and federal agencies. Major donor Create NSW Regional Partnerships funded over $100,000, and State Aboriginal Affairs gave $6,000. Key corporate sponsors included Bendigo Bank, Snowy Hydro and Waterway Constructions, Local Land Services Bega, and the Eden Fisherman’s Club. Funding covered artists’ fees, staging, the hiring of toilets, and multiple generators, including delivery costs. South East Arts were satisfied with the funding amount: each time a new donation arrived they were able to invite more performers (Giiyong Festival Report 2; Gray; Williams). South East Arts now need to prove they have the leadership capacity, financial self-sufficiency, and material resources to produce another festival. They are planning 2020 will be similar to 2018, provided Twofold Aboriginal Corporation can provide extra support. Since South East Arts exists to service a wider area of NSW, they envisage that by 2024, they would hand over the festival to Twofold Aboriginal Corporation (Gray; Williams). Forthcoming festivals will not rotate around other venues because the Giiyong concept was developed Indigenously at Jigamy, and “Jigamy has the vibe” (Williams). Uncle Ossie insists that the Yuin-Monaro feel comfortable being connected to Country that once had a traditional campsite on the east side. Evaluation and ConclusionAlthough ostensibly intended for entertainment, large Aboriginal festivals significantly benefit the educational, political, and socio-economic landscape of contemporary Indigenous life. The cultural outpourings and dissemination of knowledges at the 2018 Giiyong Festival testified to the resilience of the Yuin-Monaro people. In contributing to the processes of Reconciliation and Recognition, the event privileged the performing arts as a peaceful—yet powerful truth-telling means—for dealing with the state. Performers representing the cultures of far-flung ancestral lands contributed to the reimagining of a First Nations people’s map representing hundreds of 'Countries.’It would be beneficial for the Far South East region to perpetuate the Giiyong Festival. It energised all those involved. But it took years of preparation and a vast network of cooperating people to create the feeling which made the 2018 festival unique. Uncle Ossie now sees aspects of the old sharing culture of his people springing back to life to mould the quality of life for families. Furthermore, the popular arts cultures are enhancing the quality of life for Eden youth. As the cross-sector efforts of stakeholders and volunteers so amply proved, a family-friendly, drug and alcohol-free event of the magnitude of the Giiyong Festival injects new growth into an Aboriginal arts industry designed for the future creative landscape of the whole South East region. AcknowledgementsMany thanks to Andrew Gray and Jasmin Williams for supplying a copy of the 2018 Giiyong Festival Report. We appreciated prompt responses to queries from Jasmin Williams, and from our editor Rachel Franks. We are humbly indebted to our two reviewers for their expert direction.ReferencesAustralian Government. Showcasing Creativity: Programming and Presenting First Nations Performing Arts. Australia Council for the Arts Report, 8 Mar. 2017. 20 May 2019 <https://tnn.org.au/2017/03/showcasing-creativity-programming-and-presenting-first-nations-performing-arts-australia-council/>.Bartleet, Brydie-Leigh. “‘Pride in Self, Pride in Community, Pride in Culture’: The Role of Stylin’ Up in Fostering Indigenous Community and Identity.” The Festivalization of Culture. Eds. Andy Bennett, Jodie Taylor, and Ian Woodward. New York: Routledge, 2014.Becker, Howard S. Art Worlds. 25th anniversary edition. Berkeley: U of California P, 2008.Brown, Bill. “The Monaroo Bubberer [Bobberer] Gudu Keeping Place: A Symbol of Aboriginal Self-determination.” ABC South East NSW, 9 Jul. 2015. 20 May 2019 <http://www.abc.net.au/local/photos/2015/07/09/4270480.htm>.Cameron, Stuart. "An Investigation of the History of the Aborigines of the Far South Coast of NSW in the 19th Century." PhD Thesis. Canberra: Australian National U, 1987. Desert Pea Media. The Black Ducks “People of the Mountains and the Sea.” <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fbJNHAdbkg>.“Festival Fanfare.” Eden Magnet 28 June 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <edenmagnet.com.au>.Gibson, Chris, and John Connell. Music Festivals and Regional Development in Australia. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012.Gray, Andrew. Personal Communication, 28 Mar. 2019.Henry, Rosita. “Festivals.” The Oxford Companion to Aboriginal Art and Culture. Eds. Syvia Kleinert and Margot Neale. South Melbourne: Oxford UP, 586–87.Horton, David R. “Yuin.” Encyclopaedia of Aboriginal Australia. Ed. David R. Horton. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press, 1994.———. Aboriginal Australia Wall Map Compiled by David Horton. Aboriginal Studies Press, 1996.Lygon, Nathan. Personal Communication, 20 May 2019.Mathews, Janet. Albert Thomas Mentions the Leaf Bands That Used to Play in the Old Days. Cassette recorded at Wreck Bay, NSW on 9 July 1964 for the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders (AIATSIS). LAA1013. McKnight, Albert. “Giiyong Festival the First of Its Kind in Yuin Nation.” Bega District News 17 Sep. 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <https://www.begadistrictnews.com.au/story/5649214/giiyong-festival-the-first-of-its-kind-in-yuin-nation/?cs=7523#slide=2>. ———. “Giiyong Festival Celebrates Diverse, Enduring Cultures.” Bega District News 24 Sep. 2018. 1 Mar. 2019 <https://www.begadistrictnews.com.au/story/5662590/giiyong-festival-celebrates-diverse-enduring-cultures-photos-videos/>.Myers, Doug. “The Fifth Festival of Pacific Arts.” Australian Aboriginal Studies 1 (1989): 59–62.Simpson, Alison. Personal Communication, 9 Apr. 2019.Slater, Lisa. “Sovereign Bodies: Australian Indigenous Cultural Festivals and Flourishing Lifeworlds.” The Festivalization of Culture. Eds. Andy Bennett, Jodie Taylor, and Ian Woodward. London: Ashgate, 2014. 131–46.South East Arts. "Giiyong Festival Report." Bega: South East Arts, 2018.———. Giiyong Grow the Music. Poster for Event Produced on Saturday, 28 Oct. 2017. Bega: South East Arts, 2017.Williams, Jasmin. Personal Communication, 28 Mar. 2019.Young, Michael, with Ellen, and Debbie Mundy. The Aboriginal People of the Monaro: A Documentary History. Sydney: NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service, 2000.

J.J. Gittes (Jack Nicholson) is appalled to learn that his lover is a victim of incest in Robert Towne and Roman Polanski’s definitive, yet subversive film Chinatown (Roman Polanski, 1974). Similarly, Ethan Mars (Pascale Langdale), the hero of the electronic game Heavy Rain (David Cage, 2010), is equally devastated to find his child has been abducted. One a cinema classic of the detective genre, the other a sophisticated electronic game: both ground-breaking, both compelling, but delivered in contrasting media. So, what do Chinatown and Heavy Rain have in common from the writer’s point of view? Can the writer of games learn from the legacy of film storytelling yet find alternative rules for new media? This article attempts to answer these questions making reference to the two works above to illuminate the gap between games writing and traditional screenwriting scholarship.Western commercial cinema has evolved to place story centrally and Chinatown is an example of a story’s potential as film art and entertainment concurrently. Media convention derives from the lessons of previous relatable art forms such as pictorial art, literature and architecture in the case of film; board games and centuries of physical gaming in the case of games design. Therefore, the invention of new media such as online and electronic gaming relies, in part, on the rules of film. However, game play has reassessed screenwriting and its applicability to this new media rendering many of these rules redundant. If Marshall McLuhan’s adage “the medium is the message” is correct, then despite the reliance of one medium on the traditions of its predecessor, gaming is simply not cinema. This article considers writing for games as axiomatically unconventional and calls for radical reinventions of storytelling within the new media.In order to investigate games writing, I will first revisit some of the rules of cinematic construction as inherited from an original Aristotelian source (Cleary). These rules require: a single focussed protagonist driving the plot; a consistent story form with narrative drive or story engine; the writer to avoid the repeated dramatic beat and; a reassessment of thematic concerns for the new technology. We should also investigate game-centric terminology such as “immersion” and “agency” to see how electronic gaming as an essentially postmodern phenomenon reciprocates, yet contrasts to, its cinematic predecessor (Murray, Hamlet 98/126). Must the maker of games subscribe to the filmmaker’s toolbox when the field is so very different? In order to answer this question, I will consider some concepts unique to games technology, firstly, the enduring debate known as ludology versus narratology. Gaming rhetoric since the late 1990s has questioned the efficacy of the traditional film narrative when adapted to game play. Players are still divided between the narratologists’ view, which holds that story within games is inevitable and the ludologists’ opinion, which suggests that traditional narrative has no place within the spatially orientated freedom of game play. Originally espousing the benefits of ludology, Janet H Murray argues that the essential formalism of gaming separates it from narrative, which Aarseth describes as representing “'colonialist' intrusions” on game play (46). Mimetic aspects inherited from narrative principles should remain incidental rather than forming an overarching hegemony within the game (Murray, "Last Word"). In this way, the ludologists suggest that game development has been undermined by the persistence of the narrative debate and Murray describes game studies as a “multi-dimensional, open-ended puzzle” worth solving on its own terms (indeed, cinema of attractions compelled viewers for thirty years before narrative cinema became dominant in the early twentieth century.Gaming history has proved this argument overblown and Murray herself questions the validity of this spurious debate within game play. She now includes the disclaimer that, ironically, most ludologists are trained in narratology and thus debate a “phantom of their own creation” (Murray, "Last Word"). This implies a contemporary opposition to ludology’s original meaning and impacts upon screenwriting principles in game making. Two further key concepts, which divide the medium of game entirely from the art of cinema are “immersion” and “agency” (Murray, Hamlet 98/126). Murray likens immersion to the physical sensation of being “submerged in water” pointing out that players enjoy the psychologically immersive phenomenon of delving into an undiscovered reality (Murray, Hamlet 98). Although distinct from the passive experience of cinema viewing, this immersion is like the experience of leaving the ordinary world and diving into the special world as Christopher Vogler’s screenwriting theory suggests. The cinema audience is encouraged to immerse themselves in the new world of Gittes’s Chinatown from the comfort of their familiar one. Similarly, the light-hearted world of the summer home contrasts Heavy Rain’s decent into urban, neo-noir corruption. Contrary to its cinematic cousin, the immediacy and subjectivity of the new media experience is more tangible and controllable, which renders immersion in games more significant and brings us to the next gaming concept, agency.To describe agency, Murray uses the complex metaphor of participatory dance, with its predetermined structures, “social formulas” and limited opportunities to change the overall “plot” of the dance: “The slender story is designed to unfold in the same way no matter what individual audience members may do to join the fun” (Hamlet 126-27). In electronic gaming, time-honoured gaming traditions from chess and board games serve as worthy predecessors. In this way, sophisticated permutations of outcome based on the player’s choice create agency, which is “the satisfying power to take meaningful action and see the results of our decisions and choices” (Murray, Hamlet 126). Bearing this in mind, when narrative enters game play, a world of possibility opens up (Murray, Hamlet).So where do the old rules of cinema apply within gaming and where is the maker of games able to find alternatives based on their understanding of agency and immersion? McLuhan’s unconventional scholarship leads the way, by pointing out the alternativity of the newer media. I consider that the rules of cinematic construction are also often disregarded by the casual viewer/player, but of utmost importance to the professional screenwriter.Amongst these rules is the screenwriting convention of having a single protagonist. This is a being fuelled with desire and a clear, visually rendered, actively negotiated goal. This principle persists in cinema according to Aristotle’s precepts (Cleary). The protagonist is a single entity making decisions and taking actions, even if that entity is a collection of individuals acting as one (Dethridge). The exploits of this main character (facing an opposing force of antagonism) determine the path of the story and for that reason a clear, single-minded narrative line is echoed in a single story form (McKee). For example, the baffling depth of meaning in Chinatown still emanates from protagonist J.J. Gittes’s central determination: to solve the crime suggested by the Los Angeles water shortage. The audience’s ability to identify and empathise with Gittes is paramount when he discovers the awful perversion his love interest, Evelyn Mulwray (Faye Dunaway), has been subjected to. However, the world of Chinatown remains intriguing as a string of corruption is revealed though a detective plot fuelled by our hero’s steadfast need to know the truth. In this way, a single protagonist’s desire line creates a solid story form. Conversely, in computer games (and despite the insistence of Draconian screenwriting lecturers who insist on replicating cinematic rules) the effect of a multiple protagonist plot still allows for the essential immersion in an imaginative world. In Heavy Rain, for example, the search for clues through the eyes of several related characters including a hapless father, a hangdog, ageing detective and a hyper-athletic single mother still allows for immersion. The player/interactor’s actions still create agency even as they change avatars from scene to scene. The player also negotiates for mastery of their character’s actions in order to investigate their situation, facts and world. However, each time the player switches their character allegiance, they revert to square one of their potential identification with that character. Indeed, in Heavy Rain, the player keenly aware of the chilling effect generated by the father losing his child in a busy shopping mall, but then another avatar steps forward, then another and the player must learn about new and unfamiliar characters on a scene-by-scene basis. The accumulative identification with a hero like Chinatown’s Gittes, begins with an admiration for his streetwise charm, then strengthens through his unfolding disillusionment and is cemented with Polanski’s brilliant invention: the death of Evelyn Mulwray replete with its politico-sexual implications (Polanski). However, does this mean cinematic identification is superior to game play’s immersion and agency? McLuhan might argue it is not and that the question is meaningless given that the “message” of games is axiomatically different. Traditional screenwriting scholarship therefore falters in the new medium. Further, Heavy Rain’s multi-protagonist miasma conforms to a new breed of structure: the mosaic plot, which according to Murray mirrors the internet’s click and drag mentality. In this sense, a kaleidoscopic world opens in pockets of revelation before the player. This satisfies the interactor in a postmodernist sense: an essential equality of incoming information in random, nonlinear connections. Indeed electronic games of this nature are a triumph of postmodernism and of ludology’s influence on the narratologist’s perspective. Although a story form including clues and detection still drives the narrative, the mosaic realisation of character and situation (which in a film’s plot might seem meandering and nonsensical) is given life by the agency and immersion provided by gaming (Truby).Back in traditional screenwriting principles, there is still the need for a consistent and singular story form providing a constant narrative drive (McKee). As mentioned, this arises from the protagonist’s need. For example a revenge plot relies on the hero’s need for vengeance; a revelation plot like Chinatown hinges on detection. However, first time screenwriting students’ tendency to visualise a story based unconsciously on films they have previously seen (as a bricolage of character moments arranged loosely around a collection of received ideas) tends to undermine the potential effectiveness of their story form. This lack of singularity in filmic writing indicates a misunderstanding of story logic. This propensity in young screenwriters derives from a belief that if the rendered filmic experience means something to them, it will necessarily mean something to an audience. Not so: an abandoned story drive or replaced central character diminishes the audience’s enjoyment and even destroys suspension of disbelief. Consequently, the story becomes bland and confusing. On investigation, it appears the young screenwriter does not realise that they are playing out an idea in their head, which is essentially a bricolage in the postmodern sense. Although this might lead to some titillating visual displays it fails to engage the audience as the result of their participation in an emotional continuum (Hayward). In contradistinction to film, games thrive on such irregularities in story, assuming radically different effects. For example, in cinema, the emotional response of a mass audience is a major draw card: if the filmic story is an accumulation of cause and effect responses, which steadily drive the stakes up until resolution, then it is the emotional “cathexis” as by-product of conflict that the audience resonates with (Freud 75; Chekhov). Does this transfer to games? Do notions such as feeling and empathy actually figure in game play at all? Or is this simply an activity rewarding the interactor with agency in lieu of deeper, emotive experiences? This final question could be perceived as anti-gaming sentiment given that games such as Heavy Rain suggest just such an emotional by-product. Indeed, the mechanics of gaming have the ability to push the stakes even higher than their cinematic counterparts, creating more complex emotionality in the player. In this way, the intentional psychological malaise of Heavy Rain solicits even greater emotion from players due to their inherent act of will. Where cinema renders the audience emotional by virtue of its passivity, no such claim is possible in the game. For example, where in Chinatown, Gittes tortures his lover by repeatedly slapping her, in Heavy Rain the character must actively perform torture on themself in order to solve the mystery. Further, the potential for engagement is extended given there are fourteen possible endings to Heavy Rain. In this way, although the film viewer’s emotional response is tempered by guessing the singular outcome, the multiple endings of this electronic game prevent such prescience (films can have multiple endings, but game mechanics lend the new media more readily to this function, therefore, game books with dice-rolling options are a stronger precedent then cinema).Also effective for the construction of cinema is Aristotle’s warning that the repetition of story and expositional information without rising stakes or any qualification of meaning creates a sense of “dramatic stall” for the audience (Aristotle). This is known as a repeated dramatic story beat and it is the stumbling block of many first time screenwriters. The screenplay should be an inventive effort to overcome escalating obstacles and an accumulative cause and effect chain on the part of the protagonist (Truby). The modern screenwriter for film needs to recognise any repeated beat in their early drafting and delete or alter the repetitive material. What then are the implications of repeated dramatic beats for the game writer? The game form known as “first person shooter” (FPS) depends on the appearance of an eternally regenerating (indeed re-spawning) enemy. In an apocalyptic zombie shooter game, for example, many hordes of zombies die unequivocally without threatening the interactor’s intrigue. Presumably, the antagonists are not intended to pose intellectual opposition for the gamer. Rather, the putrefying zombies present themselves for the gamer’s pugilistic satisfaction, again and again. For the game, therefore, the repeated beat is a distinct advantage. They may come harder and faster, but they are still zombies to be dispatched and the stakes have not necessarily risen. Who cares if this is a succession of repeated beats? It is just good clean fun, right? This is where the ludologists hold sway: to impose principles such as non-repeated beats and rising stakes on the emergence of a world based on pure game play offers no consequence for the FPS game. Nevertheless, the problem is exacerbated in “role play games” (RPG) of which Heavy Rain is an example. Admittedly, the gamer derives effective horror as our hero negotiates his way amongst a sea of disassociated shoppers searching for his lost child. The very fact of gamer agency should abnegate the problem, but does not, it merely heightens the sense of existential hopelessness: turning face after face not finding the child he is searching for is a devastating experience exacerbated by active agency (as opposed to the accepting passivity of cinema spectatorship). The rising panic in the game and the repetition of the faces of impassive shoppers also supports the player’s ongoing disorientation. The iconic appearance of the gruff clown handing out balloons further heightens the panic the gamer/protagonist experiences here. These are examples of repeated beats, yet effective due to player agency. The shoppers only persist until the gamer masters the situation and is able to locate the missing child. Thus, it is the capacity of the gamer to circumvent such repetition, which actually propels the game forward. If the gamer is adept, they will overcome the situation easily; if they are inexperienced, the repetition will continue. So, why apply traditional narrative constrictions on game play within a narrative game?Another crucial aspect of story is theme, which in the young writer reflects a postmodernist fetishisation of plot over story. In fact, theme is one of the first concepts to be ignored when a film student puts pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) when designing their game. In this way, the themes students choose to ignore resurface despite their lack of conscious application of them. They write plot, and plot in abundance (imperative for the modern writer (Truby)), which the mosaic structure of games accommodates for seamlessly. However, plot is causative and postmodern interpretations do not necessarily require the work of art to “say” anything beyond the “message” trapped in the clichés of their chosen genre (McLuhan). In concentrating on plot, therefore, the young writer says what they are unaware they are saying. At its most innocuous level this creates cliché. At its worst, it erases history and celebrates an attitude of unexamined ignorance toward the written material (Hayward). In extreme cases, student writers of both media support fascism, celebrate female masochism, justify rape (with or without awareness), or create nihilistic and derivative art, which sensationalises violence to a degree not possible within film technology. This is ironic given that postmodernism is defined, in part, by a canny reaction to modernist generation of meaning and cynicism toward the technology of violence. In all this postmodernism, that illusive chestnut known as “originality” (a questionable imperative still haunting the conventional screenplay despite the postmodernist declamation that there is no such thing) should also be considered. Although the game writer can learn from the lessons of the screenwriter, the problems of game structure and expression are unique to the new medium and therefore alternative to film. Adhering to traditional understandings of screenwriting in games is counterproductive to the development of the form and demands new assessment. If gaming students are liberated from narratologist impositions of cinematic story structures, will this result in better or more thoughtful games? Further to the ludologists’ original protestation against the ““colonialist” intrusions” of narrative on game play, film writing must recede where appropriate (Aarseth). Then again, if a ludologist approach to game creation renders the student writer free of filmic dogma, why do they impose the same stories repetitively? What gain comes from ignoring the Aristotelian traditions of storytelling–especially as derived from screen culture? I suggest that storytelling, to echo McLuhan’s statement, must necessarily change with the new medium: the differences are illuminating. The younger, nonlinear form embodies the player as protagonist and therefore should not need to impose the single protagonist regime from film. Story engine has been replaced by player agency and game mechanics, which also allows for inventive usage of the repeated beat. Indeed, postmodern and ludological concerns embedded within mosaic plots almost entirely replace the need for any consistency of story form while still subverting the expectations of modernism? Genre rules are partly reinvented by the form and therefore genre conventions in gaming are still in their infancy. Indeed, the very amorality of nihilistic game designers opens a space for burgeoning post-postmodernist concerns regarding ethics and faith within art. In any case, the game designer may choose the lessons of film writing’s modernist legacy if story is to be effective within the new medium. However, as meaning derives from traditional form, it might be wiser to allow the new medium its own reinvention of writing rules. Given Heavy Rain’s considerable contribution to detective genre in game play by virtue of its applying story within new media, I anticipate further developments that might build on Chinatown’s legacy in the future of gaming, but on the game play’s own terms.ReferencesAarseth, Espen. Genre Trouble: Narrativism and the Art of Simulation. First Person: New Media as Story, Performance, and Game. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT P, 2004. Aristotle. Poetics. Australia: Penguin Classics, 1997.Chekhov, Michael. Lessons for the Professional Actor. New York: Performing Arts Journal Publications, 1985.Chinatown. Roman Polanski. Paramount Golden Classics, 2011.Cleary, Stephen. “'What Would Aristotle Do?' Ancient Wisdom for Modern Screenwriters.” Stephen Cleary Lecture Series, 1 May 2011. Melbourne, Vic.: Victorian College of the Arts.Dethridge, Lisa. Writing Your Screenplay. Australia: Allen & Unwin, 2003.Freud, Sigmund. “On Narcissism: An Introduction.” On Metapsychology: The Theory of Psychoanalysis. Middlesex: Pelican, 1984. 65-97.Hayward, Susan. Cinema Studies: The Key Concepts. London: Routledge, 2006.Heavy Rain. David Cage. Quantic Dream, 2010.McKee, Robert. Story: Substance, Structure, Style and the Principles of Screenwriting. UK: Methuen, 1999. McLuhan, Marshall. “The Medium Is the Message.” Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT P, 1994. 1-18.Murray, Janet H. Hamlet on the Holodeck: The Future of Narrative in Cyberspace. New York: Simon and Schuster / Free Press, 1997.Murray, Janet H. “The Last Word on Ludology v Narratology in Game Studies.” Keynote Address. DiGRA, Vancouver, 17 June 2005.Polanski, Roman, dir. DVD Commentary. Chinatown. Paramount Golden Classics, 2011.Truby, John. The Anatomy of Story: 22 Steps to Becoming a Master Storyteller. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2008.Vogler, Christopher. The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Storytellers and Screenwriters. London: Boxtree, 1996.

L'Univers gravitationnel et l'émergence d'une nouvelle astronomie via les ondes gravitationnelles a été sélectionné par l'ESA en tant que thème scientifique de la future mission large L3 prévue pour l'horizon 2030. A ce titre, la mission spatiale eLISA (evolved Laser Interferometer Space Antenna) semble privilégiée, et précédée par ailleurs par une mission de démonstration technologique, LISA Pathfinder, dont le lancement est imminent (2 décembre 2015). L'impact scientifique d'une telle mission serait ainsi multiple et concernerait à la fois les domaines de la physique fondamentale, de la cosmologie et de l'astrophysique. L'objet de ce document est l'élaboration d'un simulateur reproduisant la dynamique en boucle fermée du système Satellite-Masses d'épreuve. Ce simulateur se base sur un modèle en espace d'états du système dynamique et des systèmes de mesure et d'actuation, et inclut également plusieurs modèles d'imperfection du dispositif, tels que le bruit des senseurs ou les forces parasites s'appliquant sur les masses d'épreuve (références d'inertie du système), permettant ainsi d'étudier l'impact de ces imperfections sur les performances du détecteur. En particulier, cet outil de simulation donne accès à des premières estimations d'une quantité d'intérêt majeur le bruit d'accélération, qui limitera la sensibilité à basse fréquence du détecteur aux ondes gravitationnelles
The gravitational Universe and the rise of an entirely new astronomy using gravitational waves have been selected by ESA as the scientific theme for the future large space mission L3 planned for 2030 decade. In that context, eLISA (evolved Laser Interferometer Space Antenna) mission seems favored, and is besides preceded by the LISA Pathfinder mission, about to be launched (December 2nd), that aims to demonstrate the technology envisaged. The scientific outcome of this mission would be very wide, concerning at the same time fundamental physics, cosmology and astrophysics. The work described in this document allows to deliver a simulator reproducing the closed-loop dynamical behavior of a three-body system : the spacecraft and the two test-masses. The simulator is based on a Space State Model of the dynamical system, of the measurement and actuation systems and includes numerous modelled imperfections such as sensor noises and stray forces applied on the test masses (the inertial references of the system), hence allowing to study the impact of these imperfections on the detector performances. In particular, this simulation tool allows to perform preliminary estimates of a fundamental quantity, the residual acceleration, that will limit the sensitivity of eLISA to low frequency gravitational waves

LISA (Laser Interferometer Space Antenna) est un interféromètre spatial dédié à la détection des ondes gravitationnelles dans la gamme de fréquence [20 µHz-1 Hz], actuellement en développement (phase B). Ce projet international géré par l'ESA sera composé d'une constellation de trois satellites en formation triangulaire, chacun d'entre eux émettant deux faisceaux laser vers les deux autres satellites. Il y a donc au total 6 liens laser, et 6 unités, appelées MOSA (Moving Optical Sub-Assembly) chargées d'émettre et de recevoir les faisceaux, et de réaliser la mesure des variations de distance inter-satellites. Chaque MOSA contient trois interféromètres hétérodynes, et comme dans tout dispositif optique la lumière parasite peut compromettre l'exactitude, la résolution ou encore la dynamique des mesures.Il est donc nécessaire d'élaborer une instrumentation (appelé le SL-OGSE, Stray Light-Optical Ground Support Equipment) pouvant détecter et identifier les contributions de lumière parasite cohérente interférant avec les faisceaux nominaux du dispositif. Il devra répondre notamment à deux exigences : déterminer le chemin optique de la lumière parasite avec une résolution meilleure que 2 mm, donnant une précision de 1 mm sur la position du composant défectueux, et atteindre un plancher de mesure en amplitude optique fractionnaire de 1,1.10-6 (ou 2,2.10-6 en amplitude fractionnaire électrique) dans la gamme de chemins optiques à couvrir.La méthode qui a été retenue est l'interférométrie à dérive de fréquence (FMCW, Frequency Modulated Continuous Wave) en injectant un laser à balayage de fréquence dans le système sous test. Les signaux optiques et électriques sortants sont capturés pendant le balayage de fréquence optique, et toute modulation de ces signaux sera attribuée à l'existence d'une amplitude de lumière parasite, qui interfère avec l'amplitude de lumière nominale. La différence de chemin optique (DCO) entre la lumière parasite et le faisceau nominal est déduite de la fréquence de ces franges d'interférence. C'est en exploitant la valeur de la DCO qu'on peut identifier le trajet suivi par la lumière parasite, et remonter au composant fautif.La thèse vise donc à développer un prototype de cette instrumentation comprenant essentiellement une diode laser balayable sur 2 nm (pour atteindre la résolution désirée en DCO), une boucle d'asservissement en phase du laser, une mesure précise de la rampe en fréquence, un calibrateur temps réel de la rampe et un système d’acquisition et de traitement de données.Ce prototype, testé d'abord sur un montage simplifié où nous contrôlons la présence de lumière parasite puis sur un système complexe proche du MOSA, aura permis entre autres de vérifier que la méthode fonctionne pour la détection de tout type de lumière parasite, qu'elle soit de type faisceau parasite ou de type lumière diffusée. La résolution permet d'enregistrer séparément les réflexions sur la face avant et arrière d'une lame de verre de 1 mm d'épaisseur et d'atteindre un plancher de détection meilleur que 10-6 en amplitude optique fractionnaire (10-12 en puissance optique fractionnaire) dans une gamme de valeurs de DCO allant de 15 mm à plus de 10 m, qui couvre les trajets typiques de la lumière parasite dans le MOSA. Le prototype a finalement été utilisé pour mesurer la lumière parasite dans un démonstrateur interférométrique dont la complexité est voisine de la complexité d'un MOSA. Ce test a notamment permis d'identifier certaines perturbations, telles que la modification, du fait du balayage en fréquence, de la polarisation du faisceau injecté, ou les imperfections du balayage en fréquence, qui affectent les signaux optiques enregistrés. Des stratégies sont proposées afin de réduire ces perturbations, ou encore d'en tenir compte au moment du traitement des signaux enregistrés
LISA (Laser Interferometer Space Antenna) is a space interferometer dedicated to the detection of gravitational waves in the frequency range [20 µHz-1 Hz], currently under development (phase B). This international project, managed by ESA, will comprise a constellation of three satellites in a triangular formation, each emitting two laser beams towards the other two. There are therefore a total of 6 laser links, and 6 units, called MOSA (Moving Optical Sub-Assembly) responsible for transmitting and receiving the beams, and for measuring inter-satellite distance variations. Each MOSA contains three heterodyne interferometers, and as with any optical device, stray light can compromise measurement accuracy, resolution and dynamics. It is therefore necessary to develop an instrumentation (called the SL-OGSE, Stray Light-Optical Ground Support Equipment) capable of detecting and identifying the contributions of coherent stray light interfering with the device's nominal beams. It will have to meet two requirements in particular: determine the optical path length of the stray light with a resolution better than 2 mm, giving an accuracy of 1 mm on the position of the faulty component, and achieve a measurement floor in fractional optical amplitude of 1,1.10-6 (or 2,2.10-6 in electrical fractional amplitude) in the range of optical paths to be covered.The chosen method is frequency-drift interferometry (FMCW, Frequency Modulated Continuous Wave) by injecting a frequency-swept laser beam into the system under test. The outgoing optical and electrical signals are captured during the optical frequency sweep, and any modulation of these signals will be attributed to the existence of a stray light amplitude, which interferes with the nominal light amplitude. The optical path difference (OPD) between stray and nominal light is deduced from the frequency of these interference fringes. It is by exploiting the OPD value that we can identify the path followed by the stray light, and trace it back to the offending component.The aim of this thesis is to develop a prototype of this instrumentation, comprising a laser diode that can be scanned over 2 nm (to achieve the desired OPD resolution), a laser phase-locked loop, a precise frequency ramp measurement, a real-time ramp calibrator and a data acquisition and processing system.This prototype, tested first on a simplified set-up where we control the presence of stray light, then on a complex system close to the MOSA, has enabled various verifications. The method works for the detection of any type of stray light (stray beam or scattered light type), effectively resolving the contributions from the two sides of a 1mm glass plate and achieving a detection floor below 10-6 in fractional optical amplitude (below 10-12 in fractionnal optical power) in a range of OPD values from 15 mm to over 10 m, covering typical stray light paths in the MOSA. The prototype was finally used to measure stray light in an interferometric demonstrator whose complexity is close to that of a MOSA. This test enabled us to identify certain disturbances, such as changes in the polarization of the injected beam due to the frequency scanning, or imperfections in the frequency scanning, which affect the optical signals recorded. Strategies are proposed to reduce these disturbances, or to take them into account when processing the recorded signals

Dans le cadre de la mission USA utilisant l'interférométrie pour la détection des ondes gravitationnelles, une pré-stabilisation en fréquence des lasers est requise. La technique actuellement envisagée est l'utilisation d'une cavité Fabry-Pérot, en raison de sa compacité, de sa simplicité et de ses performances de stabilité de fréquence. Cependant, ce dispositif requiert de fortes exigences de stabilité thermique et ne fournit pas d'information sur la valeur absolue de la fréquence laser. Il est d'autre part toujours souhaitable dans un projet spatial de disposer d'une méthode alternative compatible avec les exigences de la mission. En conséquence, les travaux exposés dans ce manuscrit de thèse décrivent l'utilisation d'une transition hyperfine de la molécule de di-iode (I2) comme référence de fréquence. Cette méthode d'asservissement d'un laser Nd:YAG, très employée en métrologie, a déjà démontré des performances de stabilité de fréquence meilleures que celles requises pour le projet USA. Faisant suite à quelques pré-études, nous avons adapté un tel système de stabilisation aux contraintes spatiales. Le dispositif mis en place présente des performances de stabilité de fréquence de l'ordre de 30HzA/Hz jusqu'à 10 m Hz avec une remontée du bruit à plus basse fréquence. Il répond ainsi aux contraintes fixées par la mission. Une caractérisation du système et de ses principales sources de perturbations (liées à la température ambiante ~2kHz/K, aux désalignements des faisceaux ~16kHz/mrad,. . . ) est également proposée dans le manuscrit. Cette étude a permis de renforcer l'attrait d'asservir un laser Nd:YAG sur la molécule de di-iode pour une mission spatiale (en particulier LISA)
As part of the LISA mission using interferometry to detect gravitational waves, a frequency pre-stabilization of the lasers is required. The frequency reference currently planned to use is a Fabry-Perot cavity. The choice of this technique is mainly due to the simplicity, compactness and frequency stability performance of such a System. However, this System needs high thermal stability requirements and does not provide information on the absolute value of the laser frequency. It is moreover always advisable in a space project to have an alternative method compatible with the requirements of the mission. Consequently, the work presented in this manuscript describes the use of a hyperfine transition of the di-iodine (I2) molecule as a frequency reference. This method of controlling a Nd: YAG laser, widely used in metrology, has already demonstrated frequency stability performance betterthan those required for the LISA project. Following some preliminary studies, we have adapted such a stabilization System to space constraints. The implemented System presents performances of frequency stability of about 30Hz / V Hz to 10 mHz with an noise increase at lower frequencies. It therefore meets the constraints set by the mission. A System characterization and its main sources of perturbations (related to ambient temperature ~2kHz/K, beams misalignments ~16kHz/mrad,. . . ) is also given in the manuscript. This study has strengthened the attractiveness of locking a Nd: YAG laser on the molecule of di-iodine for a space mission (especially LISA)

Geographic information systems (GISs) are fairly good at handling three types of data: locational, attribute, and topological. Recent work holds promise for adding temporal data to this list as well (e.g., see Langran, 1992). Yet the unprecedentedly vast resources of geographically referenced data continue to outstrip our ability to derive meaningful information from such databases, despite dramatic improvements in computer processing power, algorithm efficiency, and parallel processing. In part this is because such research has emphasized improvements in processing efficiency rather than effectiveness. We humans are slow-minded compared with our silicon inventions; yet our analytical capabilities remain far more powerful, primarily because we have evolved elaborate cognitive infrastructures devoted to ensuring that we leverage our limited processing power by focusing our attention on the events and information most likely to be relevant. In GIS use, so far only human perception provides the requisite integration of spatial context, and human attention directs the determination of relevance and the selection of geographic features and related analyses. Understanding of spatial context and analytical purpose exists only in the minds of humans working with the GIS or viewing the displays and maps created by such operations. We still extract information from our geographic data systems primarily through long series of relatively tedious and complex spatial operations, performed—or at least explicitly preprogrammed—by a human, in order to derive each answer. Human integration of analytical purpose and spatial and attribute contexts is perhaps the most essential and yet the most invisible component of any geographic analysis, yet it is also perhaps the most fundamental missing link in any GIS. Only humans can glance at a map of a toxic waste dumps next to school yards, or oil spills upstream from fisheries, and recognize the potential threat of such proximity; human cartographers understand the importance of emphasizing either road or stream networks depending on the purpose of a map; humans understand that “near” operates at different scales for corner stores versus cities, or tropical jungle habitat versus open savannah. Given a GIS with the capability to deluge any inquiry with myriad layers of extraneous data, this natural human ability to filter data and manipulate only the meaningful elements is essential.

The eighteenth-dynasty royal city of Malqata has been selected, since much evidence has been discovered here, particularly with regard to faience-production and glass-working, and there is also limited evidence of metalworking and sculpture-production. The settlement itself dates to the reign of Amenhotep III, and more specifically to his thirtieth regal year, when it was established to celebrate the king’s first ḥb-sd (Sed-) festival, the jubilee and rejuvenation celebration of his thirty years of reign. He celebrated a total of three festivals, the other two taking place in his thirty-fourth and thirty-eighth regal years. Due to the somewhat patchy nature of the early excavations and survey work done at Malqata, especially between 1888 and 1971, no genuine spatial analysis, such as was done for the material from Amarna or Gurob, has been possible for Malqata. The early excavation reports, for instance that by Tytus, or those by Winlock for the Metropolitan Museum missions, simply state in a matter-of-fact way that they located the remains of glass factories in, for example, the South Village. They usually continue to list some of the artefacts that were found, which would indicate the presence of glass-working and faience-manufacture in the area, but they do not describe these objects in any detail, and nor do they indicate where—within the large area covered by the South Village—they were found. However, the author has had the opportunity to study the unpublished archive material from the early excavations at Malqata by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, which took place during the early years of the last century. The excavation diaries kept in these archives revealed no detailed information as to more precise locations or quantities of finds. They did, however, make possible a better understanding of the origins of these interpretations, and the sample of relevant artefacts examined made possible further identification and clarification of their nature. In addition, the author was able to access some of the objects relevant to glass-working and faience-production from Malqata at the Brooklyn Museum and was furthermore given permission to study some of the unpublished site reports, plans, and finds lists from the University Museum of Pennsylvania mission, which took place between 1971 and 1977.