Several days later Conduct military exercises off the coast of California, USS Palau Was at home. The huge aircraft carrier, large enough to transport 25 helicopters, was climbing San Diego Harbor in a jerky clip. Inside the pilothouse on the navigation bridge, two levels above the flight deck – the mood was upbeat. Crew members will soon disembark from the coast and enjoy. The conversation turned out that at night they would go for dinner. Then suddenly the interconnectedness in the ship’s engineer’s voice burst.
“Bridge, Maine control,” he jerked. “I’m losing the pressure of the steam drum. No apparent reason. I’m turning off my throttle. “
A junior officer, working under the supervision of the ship’s navigator, quickly intercepted and acknowledged, “Throttle shooting, aye.” The navigator himself turned to the captain and sat down beside the port of the pilehouse. “Captain, the engineer is losing steam in the boiler for no apparent reason,” he repeated.
Everyone present knew the message was urgent that reducing the vapor pressure meant losing energy throughout the ship. The consequences of this unexpected development soon made them clear. Exactly 40 seconds after the engineer’s report, the steam drum emptied and all the steam-powered systems shut down. A high-pitch alarm sounds for a few seconds; The bridge then calms down for free, with electric motors on radar and other devices coming down and stopping.
However, the reduction in electrical power was not a complete emergency. The lack of steam meant the crew did not have the ability to slow down the ship. The ship was moving too fast to land the anchor. The only way to reduce its speed was to run the ship’s opposite verse must have been driven by steam. After all, the reduction in steam hampered the crew’s ability to sail, another consequence of which soon became painfully clear. Looking anxiously at the ship’s bow, the navigator tells Helsman to turn the rod ten degrees to the right. Helsman spun the wheel, but to no avail.
“Sir, I don’t have a helmet, sir!” She was surprised.
The summit had a manual backup system: two men were sweating in a bogie on the ship’s strain and could use all their strength to move an unmanned rod even an inch. The navigator, still looking at the bow, whispered, “Come on, shame on you, swing!” However, the 1,000,000-tonne ship sailed to the crowded San Diego Harbor and is now far from its main route.
Edwin Hutchins was published in 1964 on that day. Hutchins was a psychologist employed by the Naval Personal Research and Development Center in San Diego. He climbed Run away Conducting studies, taking notes and tape-recording conversations on cognitive claims related to the ship as an observer. A crisis in Kruti’s lingo – a “casualty” – caused the ship to capsize, and Hutchins was on board.
From his corner of the pilehouse, Hutchins looked at the crew leader. The captain, he mentioned, was acting calm, as if these were all routine. In fact, Hutchins knew, “the situation was something out of the ordinary”: “The occasional crackling sound, a changed curse, the removal of a jacket revealing a sweat-soaked shirt this cold spring afternoon, told the real story: Run away Was not fully under control, and career and possibly lives were at risk. “
Hutchins was on the ship Ship to study an event He Call it “socially distributed knowledge” or the way people think from the minds of others. In this Books It has grown from his experience Run away, Wisdom in the wild, He writes that his goal was to “take the boundaries of the cognitive unit of analysis beyond the skin of the individual and to consider the navigation team as a cognitive and computational system.” Such systems, Hutchins added, “may have their own interesting cognitive properties.” Faced with a situation that no single mind can solve, socially distributed knowledge Run awayIts crew is going to be tested.