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What the Weather Is Like on Other Moons and Planets

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On Earth, we get snow, rain, fog, hail, and sleet, and all of them are basically the same thing: water. For a true change of weather, you need to go to other worlds. Here's a tour of what to expect on a trip through our solar system.

Mars: Dry Ice Snow

Scientists have known for years that the polar caps of Mars are made of a combination of water ice and dry ice (or frozen carbon dioxide—the same stuff that makes fog when you dump it into a pot of water). But how does it get there? The ice caps grow and recede with the seasons (in the Hubble images above, the carbon dioxide is receding with the onset of spring), so either the carbon dioxide is freezing directly out of the atmosphere, or it's snowing. Scientists working with data from Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter recently solved the puzzle: MRO detected clouds of carbon dioxide crystals, and clear evidence of snow falling out of them. The snow would not fall as flakes, but as tiny cuboctohedrons (which have eight triangular faces and six square faces). On the surface, Mars snow probably looks like granulated sugar.

Venus: Sulfuric Acid Rain

Once thought to be our sister planet, Venus is, in actuality, a hellhole. The surface is over 462 degrees C (864 degrees F)—easily hot enough to melt lead—and the atmospheric pressure is about 92 times the pressure on Earth at sea level. It's also bone dry (water is baked out of the soil). But high up above the slowly rotating surface, where the winds whip violently, Venus is enshrouded by clouds of sulfuric acid (shown here in ultraviolet light from the Hubble Telescope). When it rains, the acid falls down to about 25 km before evaporating—at these temperatures, even sulfuric acid can't stay liquid. The vapor rises back up to recondense as clouds, giving Venus a liquid cycle confined entirely to the upper atmosphere.

Io: Sulfur Dioxide Snow

Venus isn't the only hellhole in the solar system. Jupiter's moon Io would fit the bill pretty well, too. It's riddled with active volcanoes, covered in brimstone, and hiding a subsurface ocean of lava. And it snows the sort of snow you might get when Hell freezes over, because it too is made of brimstone: sulfur, and, more specifically, sulfur dioxide, which were detected when the Galileo orbiter flew through the volcanic plumes on its kamikaze mission in September 2003. Molten sulfur, heated to the boiling point below the surface of Io by torturous tidal flexing, sprays out of the volcanoes like a geyser would spray water on Earth. In the cold, airless void of space, the sulfur dioxide quickly crystalizes into tiny flakes; most of it falls back to the surface as a fluffy yellow snow. Galileo's sensors indicated that the particles were very small, perhaps 15-20 molecules apiece, so the snow would look extremely fine on the surface.  In the photo above, the broad white semi circle of material is sulfur dioxide snow from a plume called Amirani.

Titan: Methane Rain

Titan is Saturn's largest moon, and the pictures revealed by Cassini and the Huygens lander show a world that looks surprisingly Earthlike, with riverbeds, lakes, and clouds. (The radar image above shows the shores of Kraken Mare, the largest known lake on Titan, with rivers flowing into it.) But this is deceptive. Titan is much colder: What looks like rock is water ice, and what looks like water is natural gas. A methane cycle (much like the water cycle on Earth) exists on Titan, driving seasonal rains that follow patterns (much like the ones tropical monsoons follow on Earth). When the season is right, the rain falls, filling vast but shallow basins bigger than our Great Lakes. As the seasons change, the lakes slowly evaporate. The vapor makes its way up into the atmosphere and condenses into clouds; the clouds drift to the other hemisphere as the weather shifts, and when the rain falls, it starts the next loop of the cycle.

Enceladus: Water and Ammonia Snow

Enceladus is one of the most active moons of Saturn. The south polar region especially is riddled with geysers that shoot water and ammonia hundreds of miles into space. Most of that leaves Enceladus altogether, forming Saturn's E ring. The rest falls back down, forming deep, powdery snow that would put the best "white smoke" of the Rockies to shame. But the snow falls very slowly. By mapping the snowdrifts, scientists have found that although the snow barely accumulates over the course of a year, the snow has been falling on some spots for tens of millions of years. Because of this, the snowpack is over 100 meters deep. And it's all light, fluffy snow; an unwary skier might disappear into the powder if he hit a particularly deep patch. This photo above shows Cairo Sulcus, a grooved feature in Encealdus' active south, its sharp edges softened by millenia of gentle snowfall.

Triton: Nitrogen and Methane Snow

Titan is cold enough to liquify methane, but Neptune's moon Triton is colder still. Voyager 2 discovered that Triton's surface is suspiciously new, and it's not just from volcanic resurfacing; the southern polar region also appears to be covered partially in a light, fluffy material that could only be snow. But while our snow is white and Io's snow is yellow, Triton's snow is pink. It's made of a mixture of nitrogen and methane. Like Io and Enceladus, the snow comes from geysers that blast liquid high up into space, where it freezes into fine particles that fall down as snow onto a terrain pockmarked by nitrogen/methane permafrost. Because of its color and the curious texture of the southern polar region, scientists call it "cantaloupe terrain."

Pluto: Nitrogen, Methane, and Carbon Monoxide Snow

Pluto has an awful lot in common with Triton, and apparently that includes snow. Although Pluto has never been seen close-up, careful observations with the Hubble Space Telescope suggest that it experiences snows of nitrogen, methane, and possibly carbon monoxide. Like Triton, this makes its surface very pinkish. Depending on the process that desposits it (geysers or frost or "diamond dust" snowfall, where the stuff just freezes straight out of the air and falls), this could be a fine powder or big, spiky piles of frost. We'll know more when NASA's New Horizons spacecraft visits; right now, it's about halfway there.

Jupiter: Liquid Helium Rain

The environments on gas giant planets are extreme in many ways; one is that there is a depth within them at which the atmospheric pressure is so great that exotic forms of matter appear, such as metallic helium and hydrogen. If the models are correct, above Jupiter's rocky core lies a deep ocean of liquid metallic hydrogen. Helium is a little harder to compress into a metallic form, so it doesn't mix with this ocean. It is heavier than hydrogen, though; scientists believe it falls through the metallic hydrogen ocean like droplets falling through the atmosphere, until it gets deep enough to become metallic.

Uranus and Neptune: Diamond Rain

Uranus and Neptune aren't really Jovian worlds; they're much colder than Jupiter or Saturn, and contain high fractions of water, leading some to call them ice giants. Another thing they contain is methane—lots of it, pressurized into a liquid state inside the giant planets. Methane is a hydrocarbon; under the right conditions (and models predict such conditions on Uranus and Neptune), the carbon within it can crystallize out as tiny diamonds. On Earth, "diamond dust" means superfine particles of ice suspended in the atmosphere on very cold days, but the phrase might be more literally true on Uranus and Neptune. The diamonds aren't accessible; they continually rain down towards the interior of the planets to be lost forever in a vast diamond ocean.  Fans of Arthur C. Clarke may recognize this idea as part of the inspiration for "2061."

Bonus — The Sun: Plasma Rain

The Sun represents 99 percent of the mass in our solar system, so fittingly, it has what may be the most extreme precipitation in the solar system: plasma rain. Unlike the others on this list, you can actually see it from Earth. Huge loops of plasma are lifted up into space above the photosphere (what is generally considered the "surface" of the Sun) and suspended by magnetism, until finally something snaps and material is hurled violently into space in a coronal mass ejection. Not all of the material escapes, however; a lot of it falls back down as coronal rain. The video above, from June 7, 2011, was a particularly big and dramatic coronal mass ejection; look for the bright flashes as material impacts the photosphere.

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iStock // Ekaterina Minaeva
Man Buys Two Metric Tons of LEGO Bricks; Sorts Them Via Machine Learning
May 21, 2017
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iStock // Ekaterina Minaeva

Jacques Mattheij made a small, but awesome, mistake. He went on eBay one evening and bid on a bunch of bulk LEGO brick auctions, then went to sleep. Upon waking, he discovered that he was the high bidder on many, and was now the proud owner of two tons of LEGO bricks. (This is about 4400 pounds.) He wrote, "[L]esson 1: if you win almost all bids you are bidding too high."

Mattheij had noticed that bulk, unsorted bricks sell for something like €10/kilogram, whereas sets are roughly €40/kg and rare parts go for up to €100/kg. Much of the value of the bricks is in their sorting. If he could reduce the entropy of these bins of unsorted bricks, he could make a tidy profit. While many people do this work by hand, the problem is enormous—just the kind of challenge for a computer. Mattheij writes:

There are 38000+ shapes and there are 100+ possible shades of color (you can roughly tell how old someone is by asking them what lego colors they remember from their youth).

In the following months, Mattheij built a proof-of-concept sorting system using, of course, LEGO. He broke the problem down into a series of sub-problems (including "feeding LEGO reliably from a hopper is surprisingly hard," one of those facts of nature that will stymie even the best system design). After tinkering with the prototype at length, he expanded the system to a surprisingly complex system of conveyer belts (powered by a home treadmill), various pieces of cabinetry, and "copious quantities of crazy glue."

Here's a video showing the current system running at low speed:

The key part of the system was running the bricks past a camera paired with a computer running a neural net-based image classifier. That allows the computer (when sufficiently trained on brick images) to recognize bricks and thus categorize them by color, shape, or other parameters. Remember that as bricks pass by, they can be in any orientation, can be dirty, can even be stuck to other pieces. So having a flexible software system is key to recognizing—in a fraction of a second—what a given brick is, in order to sort it out. When a match is found, a jet of compressed air pops the piece off the conveyer belt and into a waiting bin.

After much experimentation, Mattheij rewrote the software (several times in fact) to accomplish a variety of basic tasks. At its core, the system takes images from a webcam and feeds them to a neural network to do the classification. Of course, the neural net needs to be "trained" by showing it lots of images, and telling it what those images represent. Mattheij's breakthrough was allowing the machine to effectively train itself, with guidance: Running pieces through allows the system to take its own photos, make a guess, and build on that guess. As long as Mattheij corrects the incorrect guesses, he ends up with a decent (and self-reinforcing) corpus of training data. As the machine continues running, it can rack up more training, allowing it to recognize a broad variety of pieces on the fly.

Here's another video, focusing on how the pieces move on conveyer belts (running at slow speed so puny humans can follow). You can also see the air jets in action:

In an email interview, Mattheij told Mental Floss that the system currently sorts LEGO bricks into more than 50 categories. It can also be run in a color-sorting mode to bin the parts across 12 color groups. (Thus at present you'd likely do a two-pass sort on the bricks: once for shape, then a separate pass for color.) He continues to refine the system, with a focus on making its recognition abilities faster. At some point down the line, he plans to make the software portion open source. You're on your own as far as building conveyer belts, bins, and so forth.

Check out Mattheij's writeup in two parts for more information. It starts with an overview of the story, followed up with a deep dive on the software. He's also tweeting about the project (among other things). And if you look around a bit, you'll find bulk LEGO brick auctions online—it's definitely a thing!

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Library of Congress
10 Facts About the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier
May 29, 2017
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Library of Congress

On Veterans Day, 1921, President Warren G. Harding presided over an interment ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery for an unknown soldier who died during World War I. Since then, three more soldiers have been added to the Tomb of the Unknowns (also known as the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier) memorial—and one has been disinterred. Below, a few things you might not know about the historic site and the rituals that surround it.


Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

To ensure a truly random selection, four unknown soldiers were exhumed from four different WWI American cemeteries in France. U.S. Army Sgt. Edward F. Younger, who was wounded in combat and received the Distinguished Service Medal, was chosen to select a soldier for burial at the Tomb of the Unknowns in Arlington. After the four identical caskets were lined up for his inspection, Younger chose the third casket from the left by placing a spray of white roses on it. The chosen soldier was transported to the U.S. on the USS Olympia, while the other three were reburied at Meuse Argonne American Cemetery in France.


One had served in the European Theater and the other served in the Pacific Theater. The Navy’s only active-duty Medal of Honor recipient, Hospitalman 1st Class William R. Charette, chose one of the identical caskets to go on to Arlington. The other was given a burial at sea.


WikimediaCommons // Public Domain

The soldiers were disinterred from the National Cemetery of the Pacific in Hawaii. This time, Army Master Sgt. Ned Lyle was the one to choose the casket. Along with the unknown soldier from WWII, the unknown Korean War soldier lay in the Capitol Rotunda from May 28 to May 30, 1958.


Medal of Honor recipient U.S. Marine Corps Sgt. Maj. Allan Jay Kellogg, Jr., selected the Vietnam War representative during a ceremony at Pearl Harbor.


Wikipedia // Public Domain

Thanks to advances in mitochondrial DNA testing, scientists were eventually able to identify the remains of the Vietnam War soldier. On May 14, 1998, the remains were exhumed and tested, revealing the “unknown” soldier to be Air Force 1st Lt. Michael Joseph Blassie (pictured). Blassie was shot down near An Loc, Vietnam, in 1972. After his identification, Blassie’s family had him moved to Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery in St. Louis. Instead of adding another unknown soldier to the Vietnam War crypt, the crypt cover has been replaced with one bearing the inscription, “Honoring and Keeping Faith with America’s Missing Servicemen, 1958-1975.”


The Tomb was designed by architect Lorimer Rich and sculptor Thomas Hudson Jones, but the actual carving was done by the Piccirilli Brothers. Even if you don’t know them, you know their work: The brothers carved the 19-foot statue of Abraham Lincoln for the Lincoln Memorial, the lions outside of the New York Public Library, the Maine Monument in Central Park, the DuPont Circle Fountain in D.C., and much more.


Tomb Guards come from the 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment "The Old Guard". Serving the U.S. since 1784, the Old Guard is the oldest active infantry unit in the military. They keep watch over the memorial every minute of every day, including when the cemetery is closed and in inclement weather.


Members of the Old Guard must apply for the position. If chosen, the applicant goes through an intense training period, in which they must pass tests on weapons, ceremonial steps, cadence, military bearing, uniform preparation, and orders. Although military members are known for their neat uniforms, it’s said that the Tomb Guards have the highest standards of them all. A knowledge test quizzes applicants on their memorization—including punctuation—of 35 pages on the history of the Tomb. Once they’re selected, Guards “walk the mat” in front of the Tomb for anywhere from 30 minutes to two hours, depending on the time of year and time of day. They work in 24-hour shifts, however, and when they aren’t walking the mat, they’re in the living quarters beneath it. This gives the sentinels time to complete training and prepare their uniforms, which can take up to eight hours.


The Tomb Guard badge is the least awarded badge in the Army, and the second least awarded badge in the overall military. (The first is the astronaut badge.) Tomb Guards are held to the highest standards of behavior, and can have their badge taken away for any action on or off duty that could bring disrespect to the Tomb. And that’s for the entire lifetime of the Tomb Guard, even well after his or her guarding duty is over. For the record, it seems that Tomb Guards are rarely female—only three women have held the post.


Everything the guards do is a series of 21, which alludes to the 21-gun salute. According to

The Sentinel does not execute an about face, rather they stop on the 21st step, then turn and face the Tomb for 21 seconds. They then turn to face back down the mat, change the weapon to the outside shoulder, mentally count off 21 seconds, then step off for another 21 step walk down the mat. They face the Tomb at each end of the 21 step walk for 21 seconds. The Sentinel then repeats this over and over until the Guard Change ceremony begins.