Статті в журналах з теми "Semi-enclosed core"

This paper deals with the palaeoenvironmental evolution of the Kitros Pierias Lagoon, located at the west coastline of the Thermaikos Gulf, during the upper Holocene. In addition, the palaeoenvi-ronmental units distinguished in the study area were correlated with the Holocene sea level rise in Thermaikos Gulf. The study is based on the sedimentological and stratigraphical analysis of a core 9.5 m long. Sedimentological and palaeontological analysis was carried out in all selected core sam-ples. The determination of the lithophases and biophases allowed the estimation of the stratigraphy-cal units, the interpretation of the geomorphological evolution and the characterization of the palaeo-environmental conditions. According to the results, we can conclude that the area under investigation was a transitional lagoonal environment, semi-enclosed at its initial stage progressively transformed to an isolated sallow basin. The formation of the semi-enclosed lagoon has been commenced after the conclusion of the rapid phase of sea level rise i.e. 6,000 BP years. Finally, the gradual isolation of the lagoon is attributed to low rate of the sea level rise e.g. over the past 4,000 years..

Trisilanolisobutyl polyhedral oligomeric silsesquioxane (TSI-POSS) with the humping semi-enclosed cage structure, was incorporated in concentrations of 7, 13 and 22 wt% into 4,4’-methylenebis (phenyl isocyanate) (MDI) and glycerol propoxylate to prepare TSI-POSS/PU hybrid composites, respectively. The polymer chain characteristics of these composites were investigated by wide angle X-ray scattering (WAXS) and molecular dynamics simulation approach. The results indicate that with TSI-POSS concentration increasing up to 22 wt% in hybrid composites, due to the humping semi-enclosed cage structure, distinct crystallite clusters are formed which lead to the micro-phase separation in composites. Meanwhile, the mobility of TSI-POSS cores and backbones in PU composites has been evaluated by the mean square displacement, which confirms that as the concentration of TSI-POSS increasing, the mobility of polymer chains are restricted apparently. Furthermore, it also indicates that the incorporation of TSI-POSS is as the rigid core in hybrid composites.

Ankindinova et al. (2020) describe a series of hydrological events that have led to sedimentation and stratigraphic variations in the gradual sinking of the Black Sea shelf during the Holocene. A key aspect of the study is the attempt to provide a reliable stratigraphic basis for proving of a transgression in the basin throughout the Holocene. However, the conclusions of this approach run counter to the stratigraphic rules: redeposition and significant hiatus in the transgressive phase change of depth of sediment core location (M05-03P) – principle of superposition; merging of transgressive and regressive deposits into a common stratigraphic unit (contradicts the sequential stratigraphy). For this reason, the stability of the conclusion of Ankindinova et al. (2020) for the totally transgressive Holocene development of the Black Sea is doubtful. In addition, the study is based on the interpretation that the increase in the 87Sr /86Sr ratio is solely dependent on ocean water inflow, which is not always correct for enclosed and semi-enclosed basins.

During the Holocene period Elefsis bay acted as a semi-enclosed system obstructing water circulation. In some areas, sampling has revealed the problems of anoxia that prevails in the bay, which has been worse during the summer months. Analyses undertaken in a core from the bay of Elefsis showed notable changes in carbonate and organic material, which prove the paleo-environmental evolution of the bay. Such changes of carbonate are due to the different deposition of calcium carbonate from biogenic source (probably and from inorganic source). The variation of organic carbon is still a factor of limited water circulation in the bay.

Detailed analysis of a core taken within the framework of the Marker Wadden project reveals the sedimentary history of the central part of the Netherlands following the Holocene sea level rise. Grain size and thermogravimetric analyses coupled with micropalaeontological and stable oxygen isotope data provide a solid framework for a detailed reconstruction of the landscape during this time interval. The Pleistocene landscape of fluviatile and aeolian deposits was succeeded by periods of marsh growth, brackish semi-enclosed lakes and tidal flats until a permanent connection with the North Sea was established. Palynological data suggest human activities in the immediate surroundings of the research area.

Abstract Two series of six horizontal cylindrical structures (pipes) were discovered recently in a Late Pleistocene (11‑10 ka BP) emerged delta deposit about 40 km NE of Québec City, Canada. The pipes occur at a depth of 19 m in a slightly oxydized layer of fine sand which is interlayered with two strata of compact blue silty clay, respectively 35 and 45 cm in thickness. The maximum length of the pipes is not known, but the remaining exhumed pipes measure 34 to 59 cm. Their diameter ranges from 6.5 to 14.5 cm. The pipe core generally consists of clean and loose medium to coarse sand whereas the outer ring, made of oxydized fine sand, is semi-consolidated. Pipes are the result of water flow in a permeable sand layer enclosed between two non-permeable layers; water enclosed in a shallow basin created by local collapsing was under hydraulic pressure and forced to drain out on the delta front. These water escape features are possibly the first known site of horizontal cylindrical structures observed in unconsolidated Quaternary sediments.

We integrated multiple geochemical analysis of a 13.75 m-long core 973-4 recovered from the northeastern South China Sea (SCS) to detect the response of deep-sea sediment archives to sea-level change spanning the last 42 kyr. The age-depth model based on AMS 14C dating, together with the sediment grain size, shows an occurrence of turbidity current at around 14 kyr, which was associated with submarine landslides caused by gas hydrate dissociation. A dominantly terrigenous sediment input was supplied from southwestern Taiwan rivers. By synthesizing environment-sensitive indexes, four distinct stages of paleoenvironmental evolutions were recognized throughout the studied interval. Well-oxygenated condition occurred during the stage I (42.4-31.8 kyr) with low sea-level stand below -80 m, accompanied by flat terrigenous input. The largest amounts of terrigenous sediment input occurred during the late phase of stage II (31.8-20.4 kyr) with the lowest sea-level stand below -120 m because of a short distance from paleo-Taiwan river estuaries to the core location. An occurrence of Ca-enriched turbidity current disturbed the original sediments during the stage III (20.4-13.9 kyr). The stepwise elevated sea-level stand resulted in an enclosed (semi-enclosed) system and contributed to a relatively low-oxygen environment in deep ocean during the stage IV (13.9 kyr—present). Temporal variations of TOC and CaCO3 display contrary pattern synchronously, indicating a decoupled relationship between organic carbon burial and carbonate productivity. Our results highlight that these sedimentary records as reflected in the paleoenvironmental changes in the northeastern SCS were mainly driven by sea-level fluctuations and later, since the mid-Holocene, the strengthening East Asian summer monsoon (EASM) overwhelmed the stable sea level in dominating the environmental changes.

The wave energy sector is experiencing lively years of conceptual innovation and technological advances. Among the great variety of candidates, only a few are going to be able to reach maturity and, eventually, industrial feasibility and competitiveness. The essential requisite for success is the continuous innovation in response to the incremental experience gained during the design and prototyping stages. In particular, the ability to generate detailed mathematical models, representative of every phenomenon involved in the system, is crucial for informing the design and control stages, allowing to maximize productivity while minimizing costs, and inspiring technological breakthrough and innovation. This papers considers the case of the ISWEC (Inertial Sea Wave Energy Converter), where a technological leap is tightly linked with the modelling of aerodynamic losses around its spinning flywheel, the core of the energy conversion chain. Two mathematical models of increasing complexity are considered, one semi-empiric and one based on computational fluid dynamics, which are successfully validated against experimental data. Such models are used to quantify the benefits of a technological innovation consisting of enclosing the flywheel in a sealed container, allowing pressure regulation to reduce aerodynamic friction. Compared to the free configuration, power losses with the enclosed configuration are about half already at atmospheric pressure, and about one third at half the atmospheric pressure.

Abstract. Heterocyst glycolipids (HGs) are lipids exclusively produced by heterocystous dinitrogen-fixing cyanobacteria. The Baltic Sea is an ideal environment to study the distribution of HGs and test their potential as biomarkers because of its recurring summer phytoplankton blooms, dominated by a few heterocystous cyanobacterial species of the genera Nodularia and Aphanizomenon. A multi-core and a gravity core from the Gotland Basin were analyzed to determine the abundance and distribution of a suite of selected HGs at a high resolution to investigate the changes in past cyanobacterial communities during the Holocene. The HG distribution of the sediments deposited during the Modern Warm Period (MoWP) was compared with those of cultivated heterocystous cyanobacteria, including those isolated from Baltic Sea waters, revealing high similarity. However, the abundance of HGs dropped substantially with depth, and this may be caused by either a decrease in the occurrence of the cyanobacterial blooms or diagenesis, resulting in partial destruction of the HGs. The record also shows that the HG distribution has remained stable since the Baltic turned into a brackish semi-enclosed basin ∼ 7200 cal. yr BP. This suggests that the heterocystous cyanobacterial species composition remained relatively stable as well. During the earlier freshwater phase of the Baltic (i.e., the Ancylus Lake and Yoldia Sea phases), the distribution of the HGs varied much more than in the subsequent brackish phase, and the absolute abundance of HGs was much lower than during the brackish phase. This suggests that the cyanobacterial community adjusted to the different environmental conditions in the basin. Our results confirm the potential of HGs as a specific biomarker of heterocystous cyanobacteria in paleo-environmental studies.

Abstract. Baffin Bay is a semi-enclosed basin connecting the Arctic Ocean and the western North Atlantic, thus making out a significant pathway for heat exchange. Here we reconstruct the alternating advection of relatively warmer and saline Atlantic waters versus the incursion of colder Arctic water masses entering Baffin Bay through the multiple gateways in the Canadian Arctic Archipelago and the Nares Strait during the Holocene. We carried out benthic foraminiferal assemblage analyses, X-ray fluorescence scanning, and radiocarbon dating of a 738 cm long marine sediment core retrieved from eastern Baffin Bay near Upernavik, Greenland (Core AMD14-204C; 987 m water depth). Results reveal that eastern Baffin Bay was subjected to several oceanographic changes during the last 9.2 kyr. Waning deglacial conditions with enhanced meltwater influxes and an extensive sea-ice cover prevailed in eastern Baffin Bay from 9.2 to 7.9 ka. A transition towards bottom water amelioration is recorded at 7.9 ka by increased advection of Atlantic water masses, encompassing the Holocene Thermal Maximum. A cold period with growing sea-ice cover at 6.7 ka interrupts the overall warm subsurface water conditions, promoted by a weaker northward flow of Atlantic waters. The onset of the neoglaciation at ca. 2.9 ka is marked by an abrupt transition towards a benthic fauna dominated by agglutinated species, likely in part explained by a reduction of the influx of Atlantic Water, allowing an increased influx of the cold, corrosive Baffin Bay Deep Water originating from the Arctic Ocean to enter Baffin Bay through the Nares Strait. These cold subsurface water conditions persisted throughout the Late Holocene, only interrupted by short-lived warmings superimposed on this cooling trend.

IntroductionSmoke-free enclosed public environments are effective in reducing exposure to secondhand smoke and yield major public health benefits. Building on this, many countries are now implementing smoke-free policies regulating smoking beyond enclosed public places and workplaces. In order to successfully implement such ‘novel smoke-free policies’, public support is essential. We aim to provide the first comprehensive systematic review and meta-analysis assessing levels and determinants of public support for novel smoke-free policies.Methods and analysisThe primary objective of this review is to summarise the level of public support for novel smoke-free policies. Eight online databases (Embase.com, Medline ALL Ovid, Web of Science Core Collection, WHO Library Database, Latin American and Caribbean Health Sciences Literature, Scientific Online Library Online, PsychINFO and Google Scholar) will be searched from 1 January 2004 by two independent researchers with no language restrictions. The initial search was performed on 15 April 2020 and will be updated prior to finalisation of the report. Studies are eligible if assessing support for novel smoke-free policies in the general population (age ≥16 years) and have a sample size of n≥400. Studies funded by the tobacco industry or evaluating support among groups with vested interest are excluded. The primary outcome is proportion of public support for smoke-free policies, subdivided according to the spaces covered: (1) indoor private spaces (eg, cars) (2) indoor semiprivate spaces (eg, multi-unit housing) (3) outdoor (semi)private spaces (eg, courtyards) (4) non-hospitality outdoor public spaces (eg, parks, hospital grounds, playgrounds) and (5) hospitality outdoor public spaces (eg, restaurant terraces). The secondary objective is to identify determinants associated with public support on three levels: (1) within-study determinants (eg, smoking status) (2) between-study determinants (eg, survey year) and (3) context-specific determinants (eg, social norms). Risk of bias will be assessed using the Mixed Methods Appraisal Tool and a sensitivity analysis will be performed excluding studies at high risk of bias.Ethics and disseminationNo formal ethical approval is required. Findings will be disseminated to academics, policymakers and the general public.

Abstract. The Baltic Sea is a semi-enclosed, brackish water sea in northern Europe. The deep basins of the central Baltic Sea regularly show hypoxic conditions. In contrast, the northern parts of the Baltic Sea, the Bothnian Sea and Bothnian Bay, are well oxygenated. Lateral inflows or a ventilation due to convection are possible mechanisms for high oxygen concentrations in the deep water of the northern Baltic Sea. In March 2017, conductivity–temperature–depth (CTD) profiles and bottle samples, ice core samples, and brine were collected in the Bothnian Bay. In addition to hydrographic standard parameters, light absorption has been measured in all samples. A complementary numerical model simulation provides quantitative estimates of the spread of newly formed bottom water. The model uses passive and age tracers to identify and trace different water masses. Observations indicate a recent ventilation of the deep bottom water at one of the observed stations. The analysis of observations and model simulations shows that the Bothnian Bay is ventilated by dense water formed due to mixing of Bothnian Sea and Bothnian Bay surface water initializing lateral inflows. The observations show the beginning of the inflow and the model simulation demonstrates the further northward spreading of bottom water. These events occur during wintertime when the water temperature is low. Brine rejected during ice formation barely contributes to dense bottom water.

In order to apprehend the toxic effects of chromium, an occupational/environmental pollutant, on the epididymis, adult bonnet monkeys were exposed to chromium (VI) in their drinking water at concentrations of 100, 200 and 400 p.p.m. for a chronic period of 180 days. At the end of the experimental period, testicles and segments of epididymis from control and treated monkeys were subjected to light microscopic (resin-embedded semi-thin sections) and transmission electron microscopic analyses. Among the various changes undergone by the epididymal epithelium, the present paper describes the origin of two different kinds of microcanals, probably caused by ductal obstruction. The first type of microcanal, which appears to provide passage for spermatozoa to bypass the obstructed main duct, is comparable with the one already reported in carbendazim-treated efferent ductules of the rat. The second type of microcanal, which is novel, consisted of a lumen in the epithelium enclosed by four to five cells, which are either modified basal cells, principal cells or a hitherto unknown cell type. This novel type of microcanal is suggested to be a device to entrap the spermatozoa which reach the core of the epithelium and may be a mechanism to prevent extravasation of sperm so as to avoid an autoimmune response of spermatic granuloma formation. Thus, the present study has shown that chronic exposure to chromium (VI) through drinking water can produce pathological manifestations in the epididymal epithelium but the epididymis, being a versatile organ, is capable of overcoming such adverse situations through novel devices.

Dynamic characterization of silicon carbide particles reinforced Al6082 alloy metal matrix composite sandwich beam with magnetorheological fluid core is experimentally investigated. The study is focused on determining the effect of magnetorheological fluid core on the dynamic behavior of the sandwich structure. The magnetorheological fluid core is enclosed between the top and bottom metal matrix composite beams. The metal matrix composite beams are cast with silicon carbide particles in Al6082 alloy varying from 0 to 20 wt%. The magnetorheological fluid is prepared in-house and contains 30 vol.% carbonyl iron powder and 70 vol.% silicone oil. The free vibration test is conducted to determine the natural frequencies and damping ratio. It is found that the natural frequencies and damping ratio of the sandwich beams increased with an increase in the applied magnetic flux density. The experimental forced dynamic response of sandwich beams is carried out using sine sweep excitation. Vibration amplitude suppression capabilities of the sandwich beams subjected to varying magnetic flux densities are determined. The experimental forced vibration results reveal that metal matrix composite–magnetorheological fluid core sandwich beams have excellent vibration amplitude suppression capabilities.

As engineers move into the somewhat new field of assessing vulnerability to terrorist threats, they need to understand the tools available to them and the associated limitations. To facilitate this understanding, an overview of the basic categories of prediction methods for airblast loadings from bomb detonations is presented. The complex problem of bomb detonation beneath an overpass bridge—an area that is semi-enclosed and where numerous reflecting surfaces exist—is used to aid the discussion and to highlight the importance of using the appropriate prediction methods and tools to address problems. Results from three prediction methods are compared. The high-fidelity Second-Order Hydrodynamic Automatic Mesh Refinement Code appears to be superior to the Conventional Weapon Effects Predictions and BlastX codes in terms of accuracy for use in complex environments such as that beneath a bridge, but the complexity, cost, and time required for use of this method make it prohibitive in most cases. The use of more economical and less accurate methods may suffice as long as their limitations are understood and appropriately accounted for in the analytical process.

Falling between seasonal cycle variability and the impact of local drivers, the sea level in the Red Sea and Gulf of Aden has been given less consideration, especially with large-scale modes. With multiple decades of satellite altimetry observations combined with good spatial resolution, the time has come for diagnosis of the impact of large-scale modes on the sea level in those important semi-enclosed basins. While the annual cycle of sea level appeared as a dominant cycle using spectral analysis, the semi-annual one was also found, although much weaker. The first empirical orthogonal function mode explained, on average, about 65% of the total variance throughout the seasons, while their principal components clearly captured the strong La Niña event (1999–2001) in all seasons. The sea level showed a strong positive relation with positive phase El Niño Southern Oscillation in all seasons and a strong negative relation with East Atlantic/West Russia during winter and spring over the study period (1993–2017). We show that the unusually stronger easterly winds that are displaced north of the equator generate an upwelling area near the Sumatra coast and they drive both warm surface and deep-water masses toward the West Indian Ocean and Arabian Sea, rising sea level over the Red Sea and Gulf of Aden. This process could explain the increase of sea level in the basin during the positive phase of El Niño Southern Oscillation events.

Abstract. Cities impact both local climate, through urban heat islands and global climate, because they are an area of heavy greenhouse gas release into the atmosphere due to heating, air conditioning and traffic. Including more vegetation into cities is a planning strategy having possible positive impacts for both concerns. Improving vegetation representation into urban models will allow us to address more accurately these questions. This paper presents an improvement of the Town Energy Balance (TEB) urban canopy model. Vegetation is directly included inside the canyon, allowing shadowing of grass by buildings, better representation of urban canopy form and, a priori, a more accurate simulation of canyon air microclimate. The surface exchanges over vegetation are modelled with the well-known Interaction Soil Biosphere Atmosphere (ISBA) model that is integrated in the TEB's code architecture in order to account for interactions between natural and built-up covers. The design of the code makes possible to plug and use any vegetation scheme. Both versions of TEB are confronted to experimental data issued from a field campaign conducted in Israel in 2007. Two semi-enclosed courtyards arranged with bare soil or watered lawn were instrumented to evaluate the impact of landscaping strategies on microclimatic variables and evapotranspiration. For this case study, the new version of the model with integrated vegetation performs better than if vegetation is treated outside the canyon. Surface temperatures are closer to the observations, especially at night when radiative trapping is important. The integrated vegetation version simulates a more humid air inside the canyon. The microclimatic quantities (i.e., the street-level meteorological variables) are better simulated with this new version. This opens opportunities to study with better accuracy the urban microclimate, down to the micro (or canyon) scale.

Abstract. Dissolved oxygen (DO) concentration in the water column is an environmental parameter that is crucial for the successful development of many pelagic organisms. Hypoxia tolerance and threshold values are species- and stage-specific and can vary enormously. While some fish species may suffer from oxygen values of less than 3 mL O2 L−1 through impacted growth, development and behaviour, other organisms such as euphausiids may survive DO levels as low as 0.1 mL O2 L−1. A change in the average or the range of DO may have significant impacts on the survival of certain species and hence on the species composition in the ecosystem with consequent changes in trophic pathways and productivity. Evidence for the deleterious effects of oxygen depletion on pelagic species is scarce, particularly in terms of the effect of low oxygen on development, recruitment and patterns of migration and distribution. While planktonic organisms have to cope with variable DOs and exploit adaptive mechanisms, nektonic species may avoid areas of unfavourable DO and develop adapted migration strategies. Planktonic organisms may only be able to escape vertically, above or beneath the Oxygen Minimum Zone (OMZ). In shallow areas only the surface layer can serve as a refuge, but in deep waters many organisms have developed vertical migration strategies to use, pass through and cope with the OMZ. This paper elucidates the role of DO for different taxa in the pelagic realm and the consequences of low oxygen for foodweb structure and system productivity. We describe processes in two contrasting systems, the semi-enclosed Baltic Sea and the coastal upwelling system of the Benguela Current to demonstrate the consequences of increasing hypoxia on ecosystem functioning and services.

Abstract. For the first time in the Mediterranean Sea various temperature sampling strategies are studied and compared to each other by means of the Observing System Simulation Experiment technique. Their usefulness in the framework of the Mediterranean Forecasting System (MFS) is assessed by quantifying their impact in a Mediterranean General Circulation Model in numerical twin experiments via univariate data assimilation of temperature profiles in summer and winter conditions. Data assimilation is performed by means of the optimal interpolation algorithm implemented in the SOFA (System for Ocean Forecasting and Analysis) code. The sampling strategies studied here include various combinations of eXpendable BathyThermograph (XBT) profiles collected along Volunteer Observing Ship (VOS) tracks, Airborne XBTs (AXBTs) and sea surface temperatures. The actual sampling strategy adopted in the MFS Pilot Project during the Targeted Operational Period (TOP, winter-spring 2000) is also studied. The data impact is quantified by the error reduction relative to the free run. The most effective sampling strategies determine 25–40% error reduction, depending on the season, the geographic area and the depth range. A qualitative relationship can be recognized in terms of the spread of information from the data positions, between basin circulation features and spatial patterns of the error reduction fields, as a function of different spatial and seasonal characteristics of the dynamics. The largest error reductions are observed when samplings are characterized by extensive spatial coverages, as in the cases of AXBTs and the combination of XBTs and surface temperatures. The sampling strategy adopted during the TOP is characterized by little impact, as a consequence of a sampling frequency that is too low. Key words. Oceanography: general (marginal and semi-enclosed seas; numerical modelling)

Abstract. On 29 October 2018 a windsurfer's mast broke about 1 km offshore from Istria during a severe scirocco storm in the northern Adriatic Sea. He drifted in severe marine conditions until he eventually beached alive and well in Sistiana (Italy) 24 h later. We conducted an interview with the survivor to reconstruct his trajectory and to gain insight into his swimming and paddling strategy. Part of survivor's trajectory was verified using high-frequency radar surface current observations as inputs for Lagrangian temporal back-propagation from the beaching site. Back-propagation simulations were found to be largely consistent with the survivor's reconstruction. We then attempted a Lagrangian forward-propagation simulation of his trajectory by performing a leeway simulation using the OpenDrift tracking code using two object types: (i) person in water in unknown state and (ii) person with a surfboard. In both cases a high-resolution (1 km) setup of the NEMO v3.6 circulation model was employed for the surface current component, and a 4.4 km operational setup of the ALADIN atmospheric model was used for wind forcing. The best performance is obtained using the person-with-a-surfboard object type, giving the highest percentage of particles stranded within 5 km of the beaching site. Accumulation of particles stranded within 5 km of the beaching site saturates 6 h after the actual beaching time for all drifting-particle types. This time lag most likely occurs due to poor NEMO model representation of surface currents, especially in the final hours of the drift. A control run of wind-only forcing shows the poorest performance of all simulations. This indicates the importance of topographically constrained ocean currents in semi-enclosed basins even in seemingly wind-dominated situations for determining the trajectory of a person lost at sea.

ABSTRACTMeasurements of diamond bulk density change of carbon powder in the annealing of UDD to OLC (293-2400 K) was performed by irradiating the samples with a narrow beam of gamma quanta (137Cs gamma-ray source). The intermediates of UDD to OLC transformation were registered by high resolution TEM. The annealing products were also characterized by true density and specific area adsorption measurements. The structural rearrangement of UDD begins from the surface towards a crystal bulk. UDD annealing proceeds via particles composed of semi-spherical shells enclosed one-to-one with the rest of diamond core and quasispiral carbon shells. The influence of particle size on the temperature of UDD to OLC transformation was found.

Abstract Phytoclasts in the form of plant debris in terrestrial sediments can be transported by water to distant areas because they are lighter than inorganic particles. The semi-enclosed East Sea, which is connected by narrow straits to other seas, is adjacent to continental shelves that are the source area of terrestrial sediment flowing into the East Sea. These shelves alternated repeatedly between terrestrial and marine environments as a result of eustatic sea-level changes during the Late Quaternary. Palynofacies analyses of the IODP Exp. 346 U1430 core, located in the Eastern South Korea Plateau (ESKP) of the East Sea, have revealed changes in the size and concentration of phytoclasts associated with glacial–interglacial cycles. These changes are generally negatively correlated with the global sea-level curve, and their anti-phase cycles with high amplitude are clearly evident during the last ca. 750 ka with the geotectonic stabilization period. In particular, several coarse-grained phytoclasts were observed during the glacial period, including the Last Glacial Maximum (LGM). These findings suggest that the concentration and size of phytoclasts flowing into the East Sea were influenced by changes in the distance of the source area, depending on the water depth of the strait and nearby shelves owing to sea-level changes in tandem with glacial–interglacial cycles and geotectonic events.

Urban green spaces (UGSs) improve the quality of life of urban inhabitants. With the acceleration of urbanization and changes in traffic networks, it remains unclear whether changes in the distribution of UGSs can satisfy the needs of all inhabitants and offer equal services to inhabitants from different socioeconomic backgrounds. This study addresses this issue by analyzing dynamic changes in UGS accessibility in 2012, 2016, and 2020 for inhabitants of the central urban area of Fuzhou in China at the community level. The study introduces multiple transportation modes for an accessibility estimation based on a framework using the two-step floating catchment area method and examines the dynamic changes in community deprivation of UGS accessibility using Kernel regularized least squares, a machine learning algorithm. The results demonstrate that spatial disparities of UGS accessibility exist among the multi-transport modes and vary with time. Communities with high accessibility to UGSs by walking are scattered around the urban area; for accessibility by cycling, the high accessibility regions expand and surround the regions with low accessibility in the core urban areas, forming a semi-enclosed spatial pattern. However, the core urban spatial orientation of UGS accessibility by public transit demonstrates a reverse trend to the above two modes. The spatial pattern of UGS accessibility also varies over time, and the growth rate of accessibility slightly declined during the study period. Furthermore, the increase in UGS accessibility tended to slow from 2016–2020 compared with 2012–2016, and the trend toward equality was also erratic. The degree of deprivation for communities first weakened and was then aggravated, corresponding to the slowdown in the growth rate of accessibility, leading to the persistence existence of social inequality. Moreover, significant deprivation mainly exists among less educated people or those using the cycling and integrated travel modes. Although public transport is developing, deprived communities, such as communities with large proportion of older people, have experienced a decline in access to UGSs by public transport. Based on these findings, the study proposes a policy framework for the balanced distribution of UGSs as part of urbanization.

Deglacial dissolved oxygen concentrations were semiquantitatively estimated for intermediate and deep waters in the western Bering Sea using the benthic foraminiferal-based transfer function developed by Tetard et al. (2017), Tetard et al. (2021a). Benthic foraminiferal assemblages were analyzed from two sediment cores, SO201-2-85KL (963 m below sea level (mbsl), the intermediate-water core) and SO201-2-77KL (2,163 mbsl, the deep-water core), collected from the Shirshov Ridge in the western Bering Sea. Intermediate waters were characterized by an oxygen content of ∼2.0 ml L−1 or more during the Last Glacial Maximum (LGM)–Heinrich 1 (H1), around 0.15 ml L−1 during the middle Bølling/Allerød (B/A)–Early Holocene (EH), and a slight increase in [O2] (∼0.20 ml L−1) at the beginning of the Younger Dryas (YD) mbsl. Deep-water oxygen concentrations ranged from 0.9 to 2.5 ml L−1 during the LGM–H1, hovered around 0.08 ml L−1 at the onset of B/A, and were within the 0.30–0.85 ml L−1 range from the middle B/A to the first half of YD and the 1.0–1.7 ml L−1 range from the middle to late Holocene. The [O2] variations remind the δ18O NGRIP record thereby providing evidence for a link between the Bering Sea oxygenation at intermediate depths and the deglacial North Atlantic climate. Changes in the deep-water oxygen concentrations mostly resemble the deglacial dynamics of the Southern Ocean upwelling intensity which is supposed to be closely coupled with the Antarctic climate variability. This coherence suggests that deglacial deep-water [O2] variations were primarily controlled by changes in the circulation of southern-sourced waters. Nevertheless, the signal from the south at the deeper site might be amplified by the Northern Hemisphere climate warming via an increase in sea-surface bioproductivity during the B/A and EH. A semi-enclosed position of the Bering Sea and sea-level oscillations might significantly contribute to the magnitude of oxygenation changes in the study area during the last deglaciation. Interregional correlation of different proxy data from a wide range of water depths indicates that deglacial oxygenation changes were more pronounced in the Bering and Okhotsk marginal seas than along the open-ocean continental margin and abyssal settings of the North Pacific.

What are the possibilities of a body? This is a question that is answered best by thinking prosthetically. After all, the possibilities of a body extend beyond flesh and bone. Asked another way, one might query: what are the affective capacities of bodies—animal or otherwise? Philosophers Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari focus on affectivity as capacity, on what the body does or can do; thinking through Baruch Spinoza’s writing on the body, they state, “we know nothing about a body until we know what it can do, in other words, what its affects are, how they can or cannot enter into composition with other affects” (257). If bodies are defined by their affective capacities, I wonder: how can prosthetics be used to alter dominant and dominating relationships between the human and the non-human animal, particularly as these relationships bear on questions of race? In this essay, I forward a contemporary media installation, “The Slug Princess”, as a productive site for thinking through the prosthetic possibilities around issues of race, animality, and aesthetics. I contend that the Degenerate Art Ensemble’s installation works through uncommon prosthetics to activate what Deleuze and Guattari describe as becoming-animal. While animality has historically been mobilized to perpetuate Orientalist logics, I argue that DAE’s becoming-slug rethinks the capacities of the body prosthetically, and in so doing dismantles the hierarchy of the body normativity.The Degenerate Art Ensemble (DAE) is a collective of artists with international showings co-directed by Haruko Crow Nishimura, originally from Japan, and Joshua Kohl, from the United States. The ensemble is based in Seattle, Washington, USA. The group’s name is a reference to the 1937 Degenerate Art Exhibition in Munich, Germany, organized by Adolf Ziegler and the Nazi Party. The exhibition staged 650 works from what Nazi officials referred to as “art stutterers”, the pieces were confiscated from German museums and defined as works that “insult German feeling, or destroy or confuse natural form or simply reveal an absence of adequate manual and artistic skill” (Spotts 163). DAE “selected this politically charged moniker partly in response to the murder in Olympia [Washington] of an Asian American youth by neo-Nazi skinheads” (Frye). DAE’s namesake is thus an embrace of bodies and abilities deemed unworthy by systems of corrupt power. With this in mind, I argue that DAE’s work provides an opportunity to think through intersections of prostheticity, animality, and race.“The Slug Princess” is part of a larger exhibition of their work shown from 19 March to 19 June 2011 at the Frye Art Museum in Seattle. The installation is comprised of two major elements: a crocheted work and a video projection. For me, both are prosthetics.A Crocheted Prosthetic and Orientalist AnimalityThe crocheted garment is not immediately recognizable as a prosthetic. It is displayed on a mannequin that stands mostly erect. The piece, described as a headdress, is however by no means a traditional garment. Yellow spirals and topographies flow and diverge in tangled networks of yarn that sometimes converge into recognizable form. The knit headdress travels in countless directions, somehow assembling as a wearable fibrous entity that covers the mannequin from head to ground, spreading out, away, and behind the figuration of the human. In slumped orbs, green knit “cabbages’ surround the slug princess headdress, exceeding the objects they intend to represent in mass, shape, and affect. In this bustling excess of movement, the headdress hints at how it is more than a costume, but is instead a prosthetic.The video projection makes the prosthetic nature of the crocheted headdress evident. It is a looped performance of Nishimura that runs from ceiling to floor and spans the semi-enclosed space in which it is displayed. In the video, Nishimura walks, then crawls – slowly, awkwardly – through a forest. She also eats whole cabbages, supporting procedure with mouth, foot, and appendage, throwing the function of her body parts into question. The crocheted element is vital to her movement and the perception of her body’s capacities.As Nishimura becomes slug princess, the DAE begins to intervene in complex regimes of racial identification. It is imperative to note that Nishimura’s boy gets caught up in interpretive schemas of Western constructions of Asians as animals. For example, in the early diaspora in the United States, Chinese men were often identified with the figure of the rat in 19th-century political cartoons. Mel Y. Chen points to the ways in which these racialized animalities have long reinforcing the idea of the yellow peril through metaphor (Chen 110-111). These images were instrumental in conjuring fear around the powerfully dehumanizing idea that hordes of rats were infesting national purity. Such fears were significant in leading to the Chinese exclusion acts of the United States and Canada. Western tropes of Asians find traction in animal symbolism. From dragon ladies to butterflies, Asian femininity in both women and men has been captured by simultaneous notions of treachery and passivity. As Nishimura’s body is enabled by prosthetic, it is also caught in a regime of problematic signs. Animal symbolism persists throughout Asian diasporic gender construction and Western fantasies of the East. Rachel C. Lee refers to the “process whereby the human is reduced to the insect, rodent, bird, or microbe” as zoe-ification, which she illustrates as a resolute means of excluding Asian Americans from species-being (Lee Exquisite 48). DAE’s Slug Princess, I argue, joins Lee’s energies herein by providing and performing alternative modes of understanding animality.The stakes of prosthetics in becoming-animal lie in the problem of domination through definition. Orientalist animality functions to devalue Asians as animals, ultimately justifying forms of subordination and exclusion. I want to suggest that becoming-slug, as I will elaborate below, provides a mode of resisting this narrow function of defining bodies by enacting prosthetic process. In doing so, it aligns with the ways in which prosthetics redefine the points of delineation against normativity. As Margarit Shildrick illuminates, “once it is acknowledged that a human body is not a discrete entity ending at the skin, and that material technologies constantly disorder our boundaries, either through prosthetic extensions or through the internalization of mechanical parts, it is difficult to maintain that those whose bodies fail to conform to normative standards are less whole or complete than others” (24). DAE’s Slug Princess transmutates how animality functions to Orientalize Asians as the degenerate other, heightening the ways in which prosthetics can resist the racialized ideologies of normative wholeness.Why Prosthetics? Or, a Comparative Case in Aesthetic AnimalityDAE is of course not alone in their animalistic interventions. In order to isolate what I find uniquely productive about DAE’s prosthetic performance, I turn to another artistic alternative to traditional modes of Orientalist animality. Xu Bing’s performance installation “Cultural Animal” (1994) at the Han Mo Art Center in in Beijing, China can serve as a useful foil. “Cultural Animal” featured a live pig and mannequin in positions that evoked queer bestial sexuality. The pig was covered in inked nonsensical Roman letters; the full body of the mannequin was similarly tattooed in jumbled Chinese characters. The piece was a part of a larger project entitled “A Case Study of Transference”. According to Xu’s website, “the intention was both to observe the reaction of the pig toward the mannequin and produce an absurd random drama—an intention that was realized when the pig reacted to the mannequin in an aggressively sexual manner” (Xu). The photographs, which were a component of the piece, indeed evoke the difficulty of the concept of transference, imbricating species, languages, and taboos. The piece more generally enacts the unexpected excesses of performance with non-scripted bodies. The pig at times caresses the cheek of the mannequin. The sensuous experience is inked by the cultural confusion that images the seeming sensibility of each language. Amidst the movement of the pig and the rubbings of the ink, the mannequin is motionless, bearing a look of resigned openness. His eyes are closed, with a slight furrowing of the brow and calm downturned lips. The performance piece enacts crossings that reorient the historical symbolic force of racialization and animality. These forms of species and cultural miscegenation evoke for Mel Y. Chen a form of queer relationality that exemplifies “animalities that live together with race and with queerness, the animalities that we might say have crawled into the woodwork and await recognition, and, concurrently, the racialized animalities already here” (104). As such, Chen does the work of pointing out how Xu destabilizes notions of proper boundaries between human and animal, positing a different form of human-animal relationality. In short, Xu’s Cultural Animal chooses relationality. This relationality does not extend the body’s capacities. I argue that by focusing in on the pivotal nature of prosthesis, DAE’s slug activates a becoming-animal that goes beyond relationship, instead rethinking what a body can do.Becoming-Slug: Prosthetics as InterventionBy way of differentiation, how might “The Slug Princess” function beyond symbolic universalism and in excess of human-animal relations? In an effort to understand this distinction, I forward DAE’s installation as a practice of becoming-animal. Becoming-animal is a theoretical intervention in hierarchy, highlighting a minoritarian tactic to resist domination, akin to Shildrick’s description of prosthetics.DAE’s installation enacts becoming-slug, as illustrated in an elaboration of Deleuze and Guattari’s concept they argue: “Becoming-animal always involves a pack” “a multiplicity” (Deleuze and Guatttari 239). The banner of becoming-animal is “I am legion”. DAE is and are a propagation of artists working together. They enact legion. Led by a pack of collaborators, DAE engage a range of artists in continual, ongoing, and fluctuating process. Their current collaborators include (and surpass): architect/designer Alan Maskin, costume designer ALenka Loesch, dancer/singer Dohee Lee, performance artist/expressionist/songwriter/shape-shifter Okanomodé, and sound/installation artist Robb Kunz. For the broader exhibition at the Frye, they listed the biographies of fifteen artists and the names of around 200 artists. Yet, it is not the mere number of collaborators that render DAE a multiplicity – it is the collaborative excess of their process that generates potential at the intersection of performance and prosthetic. Notably, it is important that the wearable prosthetic headpiece used in “Slug Princess” was created in collaboration. “The contagion of the pack, such is the path becoming-animal takes” (Deleuze and Guattari, 243). Created by Many Greer but worn by Nishimura, it weighs on Nishimura’s body in ways that steer her performance. She is unable to stand erect as the mannequin in the exhibition. The prosthetic changes her capacities in unpredictable ways. The unexpected headdress causes her to hunch over and crawl, pushing her body into slow contact with the earth. As the flowing garment slows her forward progress, it activates new modes of movement. Snagging, and undulating, Nishimura moves slowly over the uncertain terrain of a forest. As Greer’s creation collides with Nishimura’s body and the practice of the dance, they enact becoming-slug. This is to suggest, then, following Deleuze and Guattari’s affective understanding of becoming-animal, that prosthetics have a productive role to play in disrupting normative modes of embodiment.Further, as Deleuze and Guattari indicate, becoming-animal is non-affiliative (Deleuze and Guattari 238). Becoming-animal is that which is “not content to proceed by resemblance and for which resemblance, on the contrary, would represent an obstacle or stoppage” (Deleuze and Guattari 233). Likewise, Nishimura’s becoming-slug is neither imitative (305) nor mimetic because it functions in the way of displaced doing through prosthetic process. Deleuze and Guattari describe in the example of Little Hans and his horse, becoming-animal occurs in putting one’s shoes on one’s hands to move, as a dog: “I must succeed in endowing the parts of my body with relations of speed and slowness that will make it become dog, in an original assemblage proceeding neither by resemblance nor by analogy” (258). The headdress engages an active bodily process of moving as a slug, rather than looking like a slug. Nishimura’s body begin as her body human begins, upright, but it is pulled down and made slow by the collaborative force of the wearable piece. As such, DAE enacts “affects that circulate and are transformed within the assemblage: what a horse [slug] ‘can do’” (257). This assemblage of affects pushes beyond the limited capacities of the screen, offering new productive entanglements.The Stuplime Loop as ProstheticTo the extent that conceiving of a headdress as a collaborative bodily prosthetic flows from common understandings of prosthetic, the medial interface perhaps stirs up a more foreign example of prosthesis and becoming-animal. The medial performance of DAE’s “The Slug Princess” operates through the video loop, transecting the human, animal, and technological in a way that displaces being in favor of becoming. The looping video creates a spatio-temporal contraction and elongation of the experience of time in relation to viewing. It functions as an experiential prosthetic, reworking the ability to think in a codified manner—altering the capacities of the body. Time play breaks the chronological experience of straight time and time as mastery by turning to the temporal experience as questioning normativity. Specifically, “The Slug Princess” creates productive indeterminacy through what Siane Ngai designates as “stuplimity”. Ngai’s punning contraction of stupidity and sublimity works in relation to Deleuze’s thinking on repetition and difference. Ngai poses the idea of stuplimity as beginning with “the dysphoria of shock and boredom” and culminating “in something like the ‘open feeling’ of ‘resisting being’—an indeterminate affective state that lacks the punctuating ‘point’ of individuated emotion” (284). Ngai characterizes this affecting openness and stupefying: it stops the viewer in their/her/his tracks. This importation of the affective state cannot be overcome through the exercise of reason (270). Departing from Kant’s description of the sublime, Ngai turns to the uglier, less awe-inspiring, and perhaps more debase form of aesthetic encounter. This is the collaboration of the stupid with the sublime. Stuplimity operates outside reason and sublimity but in alliance with their processes. Viewers seem to get “stuck” at “The Slug Princess”, lost in the stuplimity of the loop. Some affect of the looping videos generates not thoughtfulness or reflection, but perhaps cultural stupidity – the relative and temporary cessation or abatement of cultural logics and aesthetic valuations. The video loop comes together with the medial enactment of becoming-slug in such a manner that performs into stuplimity. Stuplimity, in this case, creates an opening of an affectively stupid or illegible (per Xu) space/time alternative being/becoming. The loop is, of course, not unique to the installation and is a common feature of museum pieces. Yet, the performance, the becoming-slug itself, creates sluggishness. Ngai posits that sluggishness works out the boredom of repetition, which I argue is created through the loop of becoming-slug. The slug princess’ slowness, played in the loop creates a “stuplimity [that] reveals the limits of our ability to comprehend a vastly extended form as totality” (271). That is, the loop, by virtue of its sluggishness, opens up becoming-animal not as a finite thing, but as an ongoing, cycling, and thoughtlessly tedious process. DAE’s installation thus demonstrates an attempt to adopt prosthetics to rethink the logics of control and power. In his writing on contemporary shifts in prosthetic function, Paul Preciado argues that digitalization is a core component of the transition from prosthetics to what emerge as “microprosthetic”, in which “power acts through molecules that incorporate themselves into our [bodies]” (78-79). I would like to consider the stuplime loops of becoming-slug to counter what Preciado describes as an “ensemble of new microprosthetic mechanisms of control of subjectivity by means of biomolecular and multimedia technical protocols” (33). Emerging in the same fashion as microproesthetics, which function as modes of control, the stuplime loops instead suspend the logics of control and power enabled by dominant modes of microprosthetic technologies. Rather than infesting one’s body with modes of control, the stuplime loops hijack the digital message and present the possibility of thinking otherwise. In her writing on queer cyborgs, Mimi Nguyen argues that “as technologies of the self, prostheses are both literal and discursive in the digital imaginary. They are a means of habitation and transformation, a humanmachine mixture engaged as a site of contest over meanings – of the self and the nonself” (373). Binaries perhaps structure a thinking between human and animal, but prosthetics as process goes beyond the idea of the cyborg as a mixture and maps a new terrain altogether.ReferencesChen, Mel Y. Animacies: Biopolitics, Racial Mattering, and Queer Affect. Durham: Duke University Press, 2012.Frye. “Degenerate Art Ensemble.” Frye Museum. 2017. <http://fryemuseum.org/exhibition/3816/>.Lee, Rachel C. The Exquisite Corpse of Asian America: Biopolitics, Biosociality, and Posthuman Ecologies. New York: New York University Press, 2014.Ngai, Sianne. Ugly Feelings. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2005. Nguyen, Mimi. “Queer Cyborgs and New Mutants: Race, Sexuality, and Prosthetic Sociality in Digital Space.” American Studies: An Anthology. Eds. Janice A. Radway, Kevin K. Gaines, Barry Shank, and Penny Von Eschen. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009. 281-305.Preciado, Beatriz [Paul]. Testo Junkie: Sex, Drugs, and Biopolitis in the Pharmacopornographic Era. Trans. Bruce Benderson. New York: The Feminist Press at the City University of New York, 2013.Shildrick, Margarit. “‘Why Should Our Bodies End at the Skin?’: Embodiment, Boundaries, and Somatechnics.” Hypatia 30.1 (2015): 13-29.Spotts, Frederic. Hitler and the Power of Aesthetics. New York: Harry N. Abrams Publishers, 2003.Xu, Bing. “Cultural Animal.” 2017. <http://www.xubing.com/index.php/site/projects/year/1994/cultural_animal>.

Introduction In a period marked by the pervasiveness of new mobile technologies saturating urban areas of the Asia-Pacific region, it can be easy to forget the realities of life in the rural areas. In a location such as Australia, in which 80% of the population lives in urban areas, one must be reminded of the sociotechnological realities of rural existence where often-newer mobile communication devices cease to function. This paper focuses on these black spots – and often forgotten areas – where examples of older, mediated technologies such as UHF Citizen Band (CB) radios can be found as integral to practices of everyday rural life. As Anderson notes, constructs of the nation are formed through contested notions of what individuals and communities imagine and project as a sense of place. In Australia, one of the dominant contested imageries can be found in the urban and rural divide, a divide that is not just social and cultural but technological; it is marked by a digital divide. This divide neatly corresponds to the images of Australia experienced by Australians (predominantly living in urban areas) and exported tourist images of the rugged vast rural landscapes. The remote Australia Outback is a popular destination for domestic tourists. Its sparsely populated and rough terrain attracts tourists seeking a quintessentially Australian experience. Roads are often unmade and in poor condition. Fuel and food supplies and health services are widely separated and there is almost no permanent accommodation. Apart from a small number of regional centres there is no access to mobile phones or radio broadcasts. As a consequence tourists must be largely self sufficient. While the primary roads carry significant road traffic it is possible to drive all day on secondary roads without seeing another person. Isolation and self-sufficiency are both an attraction and a challenge. Travelling in campervans, towing caravans or camper trailers and staying in caravan parks, national parks, roadside stops or alone in the bush, tourists spend extended times in areas where there are few other tourists. Many tourists deal with this isolation by equipping their vehicles with CB radios. Depending on the terrain, they are able to listen to, and participate in conversations with other CB users within a 10-20 kilometre range. In some areas where there are repeater stations, the range of radio transmissions can be extended. This paper examines the role of these CB radios in the daily life of tourists in the Australian Outback. Theoretical Issues The links between travel, the new communications technologies and the diminished spatial-time divide have been explored by John Urry. According to Urry, mobile electronic devices make it possible for people “to leave traces of their selves in informational space” (266). Using these informational traces, mobile communication technologies ‘track’ the movements of travellers, enabling them to communicate synchronously. People become ’nodes in multiple networks of communication and mobility’ (266). Another consequence of readily available communication independent of location is for the meaning of social connections. Social encounters provide tourists with the opportunity to develop and affirm understandings of their shared common occupation of unfamiliar social and cultural landscapes (Harrison). Both transitory and enduring relationships provide information, companionship and resources that allow tourists to create, share and give meaning to their experiences (Stokowski). Communication technology also enables individuals to enter and remain part of social networks while physically absent and distant from them (Johnsen; Makimoto and Manners, Urry). The result is a “nomadic intimacy” in an everyday social and physical environment characterised by extended spaces and individual freedom to move around in these spaces (Fortunati). For travellers in the Australian Outback, this “nomadic intimacy” is both literal and metaphorical. Research has shown that travellers use mobile communications services and a range of other communication strategies to maintain a “symbolic proximity” with family, friends and colleagues (Wurtzel and Turner) and to promote a sense of “presence while absent”, or ‘co-presence’ (Gergen; Lury; Short, Williams and Christie; White and White, “Keeping Connected”; White and White, “Home and Away”). Central to the original notion of co-presence was that it was contingent on those involved in a given communication both being and feeling close enough to perceive each other and to be perceived in the course of their activities (Goffman). That is, the notion of co-presence initially referred to physical presence in face-to-face contact and interactions. However, increasing use of mobile phones in particular has meant that this sense of connection can be affirmed at a distance. But what happens when travellers do not have access to mobile phones and the Internet, and as a consequence, do not have access to their networks of family, friends and colleagues? How do they deal with travel and isolation in a harsh environment? These issues are the starting point for the present paper, which examines travellers’ experience of CB radio in the remote Australian Outback. This exploration of how the CB radio has been incorporated into the daily lives of these travellers can be seen as a contribution to an understanding of the domestication of mobile communications (Haddon). Methodology People were included in the study if they used CB radios while travelling in remote parts of Western Australian and the Northern Territory. The participants were approached in caravan parks, camping grounds and at roadside stops. Most were travelling in caravans while others were using camper trailers and campervans. Twenty-four travellers were interviewed, twelve men and twelve women. All were travelling with partners or spouses, and one group of two couples was travelling together. They ranged in age from twenty five to seventy years, and all were Australian residents. The duration of their travels varied from six weeks to eleven months. Participants were interviewed using a semi-structured interview schedule. The interviews were transcribed and then thematically coded with respect to regularly articulated points of view. Where points of view were distinctive, they were noted during the coding process as contrasting instances. While the relatively small sample size limits generalizability, the issues raised by the respondents provide insights into the meaning of CB radio use in the daily life of travellers in the Australian Outback. Findings Staying Safe The primary reason given for travelling with a CB radio was personal safety. The tourists interviewed were aware of the risks associated with travelling in the Outback. Health emergencies, car accidents and problems with tyres in a harsh and hot environment without ready access to water were often mentioned. ‘If you call a May Day someone will come out and answer…” (Female, 55). Another interviewee reported that: Last year we helped some folk who were bogged in the sand right at the end of the road in the middle of nowhere. The wife just started calling the various channels explaining that they were bogged and asking whether there was anyone out there….We went and towed them out. …. It would have been a long walk for them to get help. (Female, 55) Even though most interviewees had not themselves experienced a personal emergency, many recounted stories about how CB radio had been used to come to the aid of someone in distress. Road conditions were another concern. Travellers were often rightly very concerned about hazards ahead. One traveller noted: You are always going to hear someone who gives you an insight as to what is happening up ahead on the road. If there’s an accident up ahead someone’s going to get on the radio and let people know. Or there could be road works or the road could be shitty. (Male, 50) Safety arose in another context. Tourists share the rough and often dusty roads with road trains towing up to three trailers. These vehicles can be 50 metres long. A road train creates wind turbulence when it passes a car and trailer or caravan and the dust it raises reduces visibility. Because of this car drivers and caravanners need to be extremely careful when they pass or are passed by one. Passing a road train at 100 km can take 2.5km. Interviewees reported that they communicated with road train drivers to negotiate a safe time and place to pass. One caravanner noted: Sometimes you see a road train coming up behind you. You call him up and say ” I’ll pull over for you mate and slow down and you go”. You use it a lot because it’s safer. We are not in a hurry. Road trains are working and they are in a hurry and he (sic.) is bigger, so he has the right of way. (Male, 50) As with the dominant rationale for installing and using a CB radio, Rice and Katz showed that concern about safety is the primary motive for women acquiring a mobile phone, and safety was also important for men. The social contact enabled by CB radio provided a means of tracking the movements of other travellers who were nearby. This tracking ability engendered a sense of comfort and enabled them to communicate and exchange information synchronously in a potentially dangerous environment. As a consequence, a ‘metaworld’ (Suvantola) of ‘informational traces’ (Urry) was created. Making Oneself Known All interactions entail conventions and signals that enable a conversation to commence. These conventions were also seen to apply to CB conversations. Driving in a car or truck involves being physically enclosed with the drivers and passengers being either invisible or only partially visible to other travellers. Caravanners deal with this lack of visibility in a number of ways. Many have their first names, the name of their caravan and the channel they use on the rear of their van. A typical sign was “Bill and Rose, Travelling Everywhere, Channel 18” or “Harry and Mary, Bugger Work, Gone Fishing”, Channel 18” clearly visible to anyone coming from behind. (The male partner’s name was invariably first.) A sign that identified the occupants was seen as an invitation to chat by other travellers. One traveller said that if he saw such a sign he would call up by saying: “Hello Harry and Mary”. From then on who knows where it goes. It depends on the people. If someone comes back really cheery and a bit cheeky I can be cheery and cheeky back. (Male, 50) The names of caravans were used in other more personal ways. One couple from South Africa had given their van a Zulu name and that was seen as a way of identifying their origins and encouraging a specific kind of conversation while they were on the road. This couple reported that People call us up and ask us what it means. We have lots of calls about that. We’ve had more conversations about that than anything else. (Male, 67) Another caravanner reported that he had seen a van with “Nanna and Poppa’ on the back. They used that as a cue to start a conversation about their grandchildren. But caravan names linked to their CB radio channel can have a deeper personal meaning. One couple had their first names and the number 58 on the rear of their van. (The number 58 is beyond the range of CB channels.) On further questioning the number 58 was revealed to be the football club number of a daughter who had died. The sign was an attempt to deal with their grief and its public display a way of entering into a conversation about grief and loss. It has probably backfired because it puts people back into their shell because they think “We don’t want to talk about death”. But because of the sign we’ve met people who’ve lost a child too. (Male, 50) As Featherstone notes, drivers develop competence in switching between a range of communicative modes while they are travelling. These range from body gestures to formal signalling devices on other cars. Signage on caravans designed to invite conversation was a specialised signalling device specific to the CB user. Talking Loneliness was another theme emerging from the interviews. One of the attractions of the Outback is its sparse population. As one interviewee noted ‘You can travel all day and not see another soul’ (Female, 35). But this loneliness can be a challenge. Some of these roads are pretty lonely, the radio lets you know that there’s somebody else out there. (Male, 54) Hearing other travellers talk was comforting. As with previous research showing that travellers use mobile communications services to maintain a “symbolic proximity” (Gergen; Lury; Short, Williams and Christie; White and White, “Keeping Connected”) the CB conversations enabled the travellers to feel this sense of connection. These interactions also offered them the possibility of converting mediated relationships into face-to-face encounters along the road. That is, some travellers reported that CB-based chats with people while they were driving would lead to a decision to stop along the road for a shared morning tea or lunch. Conventions governed the use of specific channels. Some of these are government regulated, while others are user generated. For instance, Channels 18 and 40, were seen as ‘working channels’. Some interviewees felt very strongly about people who ‘cluttered up’ these channels and moved to another unused channel when they wanted to have an extended conversation. One couple was unaware of the local convention and could not understand why no one was calling them up. They later discovered that they were on the ‘wrong channel’. Interviewees travelling in a convoy would use the standard channel for travellers and then agree to move to another channel of their choice. When we travelling in a convoy we go off Channel 18 and use another channel to talk. The girls love it to talk about their knitting and work out what they’ve done wrong. We sometimes tell jokes. Also we work out what we are going to do in the next town. (Male, 67) These extended conversations parallel the lengthy conversations between drivers equipped with CB radio in the United States during the 1970’s which Dannaher described as ‘as diverse as those found at a cocktail party’. They also provided a sense of the “nomadic intimacy” described by Fortunati. Eavesdropping While travellers used Channel 18 for conversations they set their radio to automatically scan all forty channels. When a conversation was located the radio would stop scanning and they could listen to what was being said. This meant that travellers would overhear conversations between strangers. We scan all the channels so you can hear anyone coming up behind, especially trucks and you can hear them say “that damn caravan” and you can say ’ that damn caravan will pull over at the first opportunity.” (Female, 44) But the act of listening in to other people’s conversations created moral dilemmas for some travellers. One interviewee described it as “voyeurism for the ears”. While she described listening to farm conversations as giving her an insight into daily life on huge cattle station she was tempted to butt into one conversation that she was listening to. On reflection she decided against entering the conversation. She said: I didn’t want them to know that we were eavesdropping on their conversation. I’d be embarrassed if a third-party knew that we were listening in. I guess that I’ve been taught that you shouldn’t listen in to other people’s conversations. It’s not good manners… (Female, 35) When travellers overheard conversations between road train or truck drivers they had mixed responses. These conversations were often sexually loaded and seen as coarse by the middle class travellers. Some were forgiving of the conversational excesses, distinguishing themselves from the rough and tumble world of the ‘truckies’. One traveller noted that the truck drivers use a lot of bad language, but you’ve got to go with that, because that’s the type of people they are. But you have to go with the flow. We know that we are ‘playing’ and the truckies are ‘working’ so you have to be considerate to them. (Female, 50) While the language of the truck drivers was often threatening to middle class travellers, overhearing their conversations was also seen as a comfort. One traveller remarked that sometimes you hear truckies talking about their families and they obviously know each other. It’s kind of nice to see how they think. (Female, 50) Travellers had similar feelings when they overheard conversations from cattle stations. Also, local cattle station workers and their families would use CB radios for their social and working communications. Travellers would often overhear these conversations. One traveller noted that when we are driving through a cattle station we work out which channel they are using, and we lock it on that one. And then we listen until they are out of range. We are city people and listening to the station chatter gives us a bit of an insight into what it must be like as a farmer working land out here. And then we talk about the farmers’ conversations. (Female, 35) Another traveller noted: If you are travelling and there’s nothing you can see you can listen to the farmer talking to his wife or the kids. It’s absolutely awesome to hear conversations on radio. (Female, 67) This empathic listening allows the travellers to imagine the lives of others in settings quite different from those with which they are familiar. Furthermore, hearing farmers talking about fixing the fence in the left paddock or rounding up strays makes ‘you feel that you’re not alone’. The networking of the travellers’ social life arising from listening in to others meant that they were able to learn about the environment in which they found themselves, as well as enabling them to feel that they continued to remain embedded or ‘co-present’ in social relationships in circumstances of considerable physical isolation. Conclusions The accounts provided by tourists illustrated the way communications technologies – in this case, CB radio – enabled people to become ’nodes in multiple networks of communication and mobility’ described by Urry and to maintain ‘co-presence’. The CB radio allowed tourists to remain part of social networks while being physically absent from them (Gergen). Their responses also demonstrated the significance of CB radio in giving meaning to the experience of travel. The CB radio was shown to be an important part of the travel experience in the remote Australian Outback. The use of CB made it possible for travellers in the Australian Outback to obtain information vital for the safe traverse of the huge distances and isolated roads. The technology enabled them to break down the atomism and frontier-like isolation of the highway. Drivers and their passengers could reach out to other travellers and avoid remaining unconnected strangers. Long hours on the road could be dealt with by listening in on others’ conversations, even though some ambivalence was expressed about this activity. Despite an awareness that they could be violating the personal boundaries of others and that their conversations could be overheard, the use of CB radio meant staying safe and enjoying guilty pleasures. Imagined or not. References Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Community. London: Verso, 1983 Dannefer, W. Dale. “The C.B. Phenomenon: A Sociological Appraisal.” Journal of Popular Culture 12 (1979): 611-19. Featherstone, Mike. “Automobilities: An Introduction.” Theory, Culture and Society 21.4/5 (2004): 1-24. Fortunati, Leopoldina. “The Mobile Phone: Towards New Categories and Social Relations.” Information, Communication and Society 5.2 (2002): 513-28. Gergen, Kenneth. “The Challenge of Absence Presence.” Perpetual Contact: Mobile Communications, Private Talk, Public Performance. Ed. James Katz. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2002. 227-54. Goffman, Erving. Behavior in Public Places: Notes on the Social Organization of Gatherings. New York: Free Press of Glencoe, 1963. Haddon, Leslie. “Domestication and Mobile Telephony.” Machines That Become Us: The Social Context of Personal Communication Technology. Ed. James E. Katz. New Brunswick, N.J.: Transaction Publishers, 2003. 43-55. Harrison, Julia. Being a Tourist: Finding Meaning in Pleasure Travel. Vancouver: U of British Columbia P, 2003. Johnsen, Truls Erik. “The Social Context of Mobile Use of Norwegian Teens.” Machines That Become Us: The Social Context of Personal Communication Technology. Ed. James Katz. London: Transaction Publishers, 2003. 161-69. Ling, Richard. “One Can Talk about Common Manners! The Use of Mobile Telephones in Inappropiate Situations.” Communications on the Move: The Experience of Mobile Telephony in the 1990s (Report of Cost 248: The Future European Telecommunications User Mobile Workgroup). Ed. Leslie Haddon. Farsta, Sweden: Telia AB, 1997. 97-120. Lury, Celia. “The Objects of Travel.” Touring Cultures: Transformations of Travel and Theory. Eds. Chris Rojek and John Urry. London: Routledge, 1997. 75-95. Rice, Ronald E., and James E. Katz. “Comparing Internet and Mobile Phone Usage: Digital Divides of Usage, Adoption and Dropouts.” Telecommunications Policy 27 (2003): 597-623. Short, J., E. Williams, and B. Christie. The Social Psychology of Telecommunications. New York: Wiley, 1976. Stokowski, Patricia. “Social Networks and Tourist Behavior.” American Behavioural Scientist 36.2 (1992): 212-21. Suvantola, Jaakko. Tourist’s Experience of Place. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2002. Urry, John. “Mobility and Proximity.” Sociology 36.2 (2002): 255-74. ———. “Social Networks, Travel and Talk.” British Journal of Sociology 54.2 (2003): 155-75. White, Naomi Rosh, and Peter B. White. “Home and Away: Tourists in a Connected World.” Annals of Tourism Research 34. 1 (2007): 88-104. White, Peter B., and Naomi Rosh White. “Keeping Connected: Travelling with the Telephone.” Convergence: The International Journal of Research into New Media Technologies 11.2 (2005): 102-18. Williams, Stephen, and Lynda Williams. “Space Invaders: The Negotiation of Teenage Boundaries through the Mobile Phone.” The Sociological Review 53.2 (2005): 314-31. Wurtzel, Alan H., and Colin Turner. “Latent Functions of the Telephone: What Missing the Extension Means.” The Social Impact of the Telephone. Ed. Ithiel de Sola Pool. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1977. 246-61. Citation reference for this article MLA Style White, Peter B., and Naomi White. "Staying Safe and Guilty Pleasures: Tourists and CB Radio in the Australian Outback." M/C Journal 10.1 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0703/11-white-white.php>. APA Style White, P., and N. White. (Mar. 2007) "Staying Safe and Guilty Pleasures: Tourists and CB Radio in the Australian Outback," M/C Journal, 10(1). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0703/11-white-white.php>.

0. IntroductionIf we follow the line of much literature surrounding airports and urban mobility, the emphasis often falls on the fact that these spaces are designed to handle the mega-scale and super-human pace of mass transit. Airports have rightly been associated with velocity, as zones of rapid movement managed by enormous processing systems that guide bodies and things in transit (Pascoe; Pearman; Koolhaas; Gordon; Fuller & Harley). Yet this emphasis tends to ignore the spectrum of tempos and flows that are at play in airport terminals — from stillness to the much exalted hyper-rapidity of mobilized publics in the go-go world of commercial aviation.In this photo essay I'd like to pull a different thread and ask whether it's possible to think of aeromobility in terms of “uneven, differential mobility” (Bissell 280). What would it mean to consider waiting and stillness as forms of bodily engagement operating over a number of different scales and temporalities of movement and anticipation, without privileging speed over stillness? Instead of thinking mobility and stillness as diametrically opposed, can we instead conceive of them as occupying a number of different spatio-temporal registers in a dynamic range of mobility? The following is a provisional "visual ethnography" constructed from photographs of air terminal light boxes I have taken over the last five years (in Amsterdam, London, Chicago, Frankfurt, and Miami). Arranged into a "taxonomy of differentiality", each of these images comes from a slightly different angle, mode or directionality. Each view of these still images displayed in billboard-scale light-emitting devices suggests that there are multiple dimensions of visuality and bodily experience at play in these image-objects. The airport is characterized by an abundance of what appears to be empty space. This may be due to the sheer scale of mass transport, but it also arises from a system of active and non-active zones located throughout contemporary terminals. This photo series emphasises the "emptiness" of these overlooked left-over spaces that result from demands of circulation and construction.1. We Move the WorldTo many travellers, airport gate lounges and their surrounding facilities are loaded with a variety of contradictory associations and affects. Their open warehouse banality and hard industrial sterility tune our bodies to the vast technical and commercial systems that are imbricated through almost every aspect of contemporary everyday life.Here at the departure gate the traveller's body comes to a moment's rest. They are granted a short respite from the anxious routines of check in, body scans, security, information processing, passport scanning, itineraries, boarding procedures and wayfaring the terminal. The landside processing system deposits them at this penultimate point before final propulsion into the invisible airways that pipe them into their destination. We hear the broadcasting of boarding times, check-in times, name's of people that break them away from stillness, forcing people to move, to re-arrange themselves, or to hurry up. Along the way the passenger encounters a variety of techno-spatial experiences that sit at odds with the overriding discourse of velocity, speed and efficiency that lie at the centre of our social understanding of air travel. The airline's phantasmagorical projections of itself as guarantor and enabler of mass mobilities coincides uncomfortably with the passenger's own wish-fulfilment of escape and freedom.In this we can agree with the designer Bruce Mau when he suggests that these projection systems, comprised of "openings of every sort — in schedules, in urban space, on clothes, in events, on objects, in sightlines — are all inscribed with the logic of the market” (Mau 7). The advertising slogans and images everywhere communicate the dual concept that the aviation industry can deliver the world to us on time while simultaneously porting us to any part of the world still willing to accept Diners, VISA or American Express. At each point along the way these openings exhort us to stop, to wait in line, to sit still or to be patient. The weird geographies depicted by the light boxes appear like interpenetrating holes in space and time. These travel portals are strangely still, and only activated by the impending promise of movement.Be still and relax. Your destination is on its way. 2. Attentive AttentionAlongside the panoramic widescreen windows that frame the choreography of the tarmac and flight paths outside, appear luminous advertising light boxes. Snapped tightly to grid and locked into strategic sightlines and thoroughfares, these wall pieces are filled with a rotating menu of contemporary airport haiku and ersatz Swiss graphic design.Mechanically conditioned air pumped out of massive tubes creates the atmosphere for a very particular amalgam of daylight, tungsten, and fluorescent light waves. Low-oxygen-emitting indoor plants are no match for the diesel-powered plant rooms that maintain the constant flow of air to every nook and cranny of this massive processing machine. As Rem Koolhaas puts it, "air conditioning has launched the endless building. If architecture separates buildings, air conditioning unites them" (Koolhaas). In Koolhaas's lingo, these are complex "junkspaces" unifying, colliding and coalescing a number of different circulatory systems, temporalities and mobilities.Gillian Fuller reminds us there is a lot of stopping and going and stopping in the global circulatory system typified by air-terminal-space.From the packing of clothes in fixed containers to strapping your belt – tight and low – stillness and all its requisite activities, technologies and behaviours are fundamental to the ‘flow’ architectures that organize the motion of the globalizing multitudes of today (Fuller, "Store" 63). It is precisely this functional stillness organised around the protocols of store and forward that typifies digital systems, the packet switching of network cultures and the junkspace of airports alike.In these zones of transparency where everything is on view, the illuminated windows so proudly brought to us by J C Decaux flash forward to some idealized moment in the future. In this anticipatory moment, the passenger's every fantasy of in-flight service is attended to. The ultimate in attentiveness (think dimmed lights, soft pillows and comfy blankets), this still image is captured from an improbable future suspended behind the plywood and steel seating available in the moment —more reminiscent of park benches in public parks than the silver-service imagined for the discerning traveller.3. We Know ChicagoSelf-motion is itself a demonstration against the earth-binding weight of gravity. If we climb or fly, our defiance is greater (Appleyard 180).The commercial universe of phones, cameras, computer network software, financial instruments, and an array of fancy new gadgets floating in the middle of semi-forgotten transit spaces constitutes a singular interconnected commercial organism. The immense singularity of these claims to knowledge and power loom solemnly before us asserting their rights in the Esperanto of "exclusive rollover minutes", "nationwide long distance", "no roaming charges" and insider local knowledge. The connective tissue that joins one part of the terminal to a commercial centre in downtown Chicago is peeled away, revealing techno-veins and tendrils reaching to the sky. It's a graphic view that offers none of the spectacular openness and flights of fancy associated with the transit lounges located on the departure piers and satellites. Along these circulatory ribbons we experience the still photography and the designer's arrangement of type to attract the eye and lure the body. The blobby diagonals of the telco's logo blend seamlessly with the skyscraper's ribbons of steel, structural exoskeleton and wireless telecommunication cloud.In this plastinated anatomy, the various layers of commercially available techno-space stretch out before the traveller. Here we have no access to the two-way vistas made possible by the gigantic transparent tube structures of the contemporary air terminal. Waiting within the less travelled zones of the circulatory system we find ourselves suspended within the animating system itself. In these arteries and capillaries the flow is spread out and comes close to a halt in the figure of the graphic logo. We know Chicago is connected to us.In the digital logic of packet switching and network effects, there is no reason to privilege the go over the stop, the moving over the waiting. These light box portals do not mirror our bodies, almost at a complete standstill now. Instead they echo the commercial product world that they seek to transfuse us into. What emerges is a new kind of relational aesthetics that speaks to the complex corporeal, temporal, and architectural dimensions of stillness and movement in transit zones: like "a game, whose forms, patterns and functions develop and evolve according to periods and social contexts” (Bourriaud 11). 4. Machine in the CaféIs there a possible line of investigation suggested by the fact that sound waves become visible on the fuselage of jet planes just before they break the sound barrier? Does this suggest that the various human senses are translatable one into the other at various intensities (McLuhan 180)?Here, the technological imaginary contrasts itself with the techno alfresco dining area enclosed safely behind plate glass. Inside the cafes and bars, the best businesses in the world roll out their biggest guns to demonstrate the power, speed and scale of their network coverage (Remmele). The glass windows and light boxes "have the power to arrest a crowd around a commodity, corralling them in chic bars overlooking the runway as they wait for their call, but also guiding them where to go next" (Fuller, "Welcome" 164). The big bulbous plane sits plump in its hangar — no sound barriers broken here. It reassures us that our vehicle is somewhere there in the network, resting at its STOP before its GO. Peeking through the glass wall and sharing a meal with us, this interpenetrative transparency simultaneously joins and separates two planar dimensions — machinic perfection on one hand, organic growth and death on the other (Rowe and Slutsky; Fuller, "Welcome").Bruce Mau is typical in suggesting that the commanding problem of the twentieth century was speed, represented by the infamous image of a US Navy Hornet fighter breaking the sound barrier in a puff of smoke and cloud. It has worked its way into every aspect of the design experience, manufacturing, computation and transport.But speed masks more than it reveals. The most pressing problem facing designers and citizens alike is growth — from the unsustainable logic of infinite growth in GDP to the relentless application of Moore's Law to the digital networks and devices that define contemporary society in the first world. The shift of emphasis from speed to growth as a time-based event with breaking points and moments of rupture has generated new possibilities. "Growth is nonlinear and unpredictable ... Few of us are ready to admit that growth is constantly shadowed by its constitutive opposite, that is equal partners with death” (Mau 497).If speed in part represents a flight from death (Virilio), growth invokes its biological necessity. In his classic study of the persistence of the pastoral imagination in technological America, The Machine in the Garden, Leo Marx charted the urge to idealize rural environments at the advent of an urban industrialised America. The very idea of "the flight from the city" can be understood as a response to the onslaught of technological society and it's deathly shadow. Against the murderous capacity of technological society stood the pastoral ideal, "incorporated in a powerful metaphor of contradiction — a way of ordering meaning and value that clarifies our situation today" (Marx 4). 5. Windows at 35,000 FeetIf waiting and stillness are active forms of bodily engagement, we need to consider the different layers of motion and anticipation embedded in the apprehension of these luminous black-box windows. In The Virtual Window, Anne Friedberg notes that the Old Norse derivation of the word window “emphasizes the etymological root of the eye, open to the wind. The window aperture provides ventilation for the eye” (103).The virtual windows we are considering here evoke notions of view and shelter, open air and sealed protection, both separation from and connection to the outside. These windows to nowhere allow two distinct visual/spatial dimensions to interface, immediately making the visual field more complex and fragmented. Always simultaneously operating on at least two distinct fields, windows-within-windows provide a specialized mode of spatial and temporal navigation. As Gyorgy Kepes suggested in the 1940s, the transparency of windows "implies more than an optical characteristic; it implies a broader spatial order. Transparency means a simultaneous perception of different spatial locations" (Kepes 77).The first windows in the world were openings in walls, without glass and designed to allow air and light to fill the architectural structure. Shutters were fitted to control air flow, moderate light and to enclose the space completely. It was not until the emergence of glass technologies (especially in Holland, home of plate glass for the display of commercial products) that shielding and protection also allowed for unhindered views (by way of transparent glass). This gives rise to the thesis that windows are part of a longstanding architectural/technological system that moderates the dual functions of transparency and separation. With windows, multi-dimensional planes and temporalities can exist in the same time and space — hence a singular point of experience is layered with many other dimensions. Transparency and luminosity "ceases to be that which is perfectly clear and becomes instead that which is clearly ambiguous" (Rowe and Slutsky 45). The light box air-portals necessitate a constant fluctuation and remediation that is at once multi-planar, transparent and "hard to read". They are informatic.From holes in the wall to power lunch at 35,000 feet, windows shape the manner in which light, information, sights, smells, temperature and so on are modulated in society. "By allowing the outside in and the inside out, [they] enable cosmos and construction to innocently, transparently, converge" (Fuller, "Welcome" 163). Laptop, phone, PDA and light box point to the differential mobilities within a matrix that traverses multiple modes of transparency and separation, rest and flight, stillness and speed.6. Can You Feel It?Increasingly the whole world has come to smell alike: gasoline, detergents, plumbing, and junk foods coalesce into the catholic smog of our age (Illich 47).In these forlorn corners of mobile consumption, the dynamic of circulation simultaneously slows and opens out. The surfaces of inscription implore us to see them at precisely the moment we feel unseen, unguided and off-camera. Can you see it, can you feel it, can you imagine the unimaginable, all available to us on demand? Expectation and anticipation give us something to look forward to, but we're not sure we want what's on offer.Air travel radicalizes the separation of the air traveller from ground at one instance and from the atmosphere at another. Air, light, temperature and smell are all screened out or technologically created by the terminal plant and infrastructure. The closer the traveller moves towards stillness, the greater the engagement with senses that may have been ignored by the primacy of the visual in so much of this circulatory space. Smell, hunger, tiredness, cold and hardness cannot be screened out.In this sense, the airplanes we board are terminal extensions, flying air-conditioned towers or groundscrapers jet-propelled into highways of the air. Floating above the horizon, immersed in a set of logistically ordained trajectories and pressurized bubbles, we look out the window and don't see much at all. Whatever we do see, it's probably on the screen in front of us which disconnects us from one space-time-velocity at the same time that it plugs us into another set of relations. As Koolhaas says, junkspace is "held together not by structure, but by skin, like a bubble" (Koolhaas). In these distended bubbles, the traveler momentarily occupies an uncommon transit space where stillness is privileged and velocity is minimized. The traveler's body itself is "engaged in and enacting a whole kaleidoscope of different everyday practices and forms" during the course of this less-harried navigation (Bissell 282).7. Elevator MusicsThe imaginary wheel of the kaleidoscope spins to reveal a waiting body-double occupying the projected territory of what appears to be a fashionable Miami. She's just beyond our reach, but beside her lies a portal to another dimension of the terminal's vascular system.Elevators and the networks of shafts and vents that house them, are to our buildings like veins and arteries to the body — conduits that permeate and structure the spaces of our lives while still remaining separate from the fixity of the happenings around them (Garfinkel 175). The terminal space contains a number of apparent cul-de-sacs and escape routes. Though there's no background music piped in here, another soundtrack can be heard. The Muzak corporation may douse the interior of the elevator with its own proprietary aural cologne, but at this juncture the soundscape is more "open". This functional shifting of sound from figure to ground encourages peripheral hearing, providing "an illusion of distended time", sonically separated from the continuous hum of "generators, ventilation systems and low-frequency electrical lighting" (Lanza 43).There is another dimension to this acoustic realm: “The mobile ecouteur contracts the flows of information that are supposed to keep bodies usefully and efficiently moving around ... and that turn them into functions of information flows — the speedy courier, the networking executive on a mobile phone, the scanning eyes of the consumer” (Munster 18).An elevator is a grave says an old inspector's maxim, and according to others, a mechanism to cross from one world to another. Even the quintessential near death experience with its movement down a long illuminated tunnel, Garfinkel reminds us, “is not unlike the sensation of movement we experience, or imagine, in a long swift elevator ride” (Garfinkel 191).8. States of SuspensionThe suspended figure on the screen occupies an impossible pose in an impossible space: half falling, half resting, an anti-angel for today's weary air traveller. But it's the same impossible space revealed by the airport and bundled up in the experience of flight. After all, the dimension this figures exists in — witness the amount of activity in his suspension — is almost like a black hole with the surrounding universe collapsing into it. The figure is crammed into the light box uncomfortably like passengers in the plane, and yet occupies a position that does not exist in the Cartesian universe.We return to the glossy language of advertising, its promise of the external world of places and products delivered to us by the image and the network of travel. (Remmele) Here we can go beyond Virilio's vanishing point, that radical reversibility where inside and outside coincide. Since everybody has already reached their destination, for Virilio it has become completely pointless to leave: "the inertia that undermines your corporeity also undermines the GLOBAL and the LOCAL; but also, just as much, the MOBILE and the IMMOBILE” (Virilio 123; emphasis in original).In this clinical corner of stainless steel, glass bricks and exit signs hangs an animated suspension that articulates the convergence of a multitude of differentials in one image. Fallen into the weirdest geometry in the world, it's as if the passenger exists in a non-place free of all traces. Flows and conglomerates follow one another, accumulating in the edges, awaiting their moment to be sent off on another trajectory, occupying so many spatio-temporal registers in a dynamic range of mobility.ReferencesAppleyard, Donald. "Motion, Sequence and the City." The Nature and Art of Motion. Ed. Gyorgy Kepes. New York: George Braziller, 1965. Adey, Peter. "If Mobility Is Everything Then It Is Nothing: Towards a Relational Politics of (Im)mobilities." Mobilities 1.1 (2006): 75–95. Bissell, David. “Animating Suspension: Waiting for Mobilities.” Mobilities 2.2 (2007): 277-298.Bourriaud, Nicolas. Relational Aesthetics. Trans. Simon Pleasance and Fronza Woods. Paris: Les Presses du Reel, 2002. Classen, Constance. “The Deodorized City: Battling Urban Stench in the Nineteenth Century.” Sense of the City: An Alternate Approach to Urbanism. Ed. Mirko Zardini. 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