[via LaToya Egwuekwe]

The always excellent New Scientist has an article synthesizing much of the research into same-sex sexual behavior in animals and the possible evolutionary explanations. They spoke with University of California evolutionary biologists Marlene Zuk and Nathan Bailey, who recently published a paper examining same-sex behavior in various species. Zuk and Bailey note that same-sex sexual behavior in other animals can't necessarily be equated with sexual orientation in humans, researchers have come up with similar questions as to why certain animals have evolved to include members who expend energy on same-sex liaisons.

Evolutionary biologists have come up with various hypotheses for why same-sex behavior has evolved in various animals. In some cases, same-sex behavior has emerged as a result of specific adaptations, such as to foster social bonding, or because certain genes for same-sex attraction hold another survival benefit when only one copy is present. In some cases, though, the behavior is incidental, such as in certain fish that cannot easily tell male and female members apart.

Below, New Scientist charts several of the possible evolutionary explanations for same-sex sexual behavior in various species:

Bailey believes that exploring the evolution of sexual behavior will give us a better understanding of evolution, including the development of our own species:

"Given its persistence in species in many different animal groups, including humans, viewing it as an evolutionary force in its own right promises to provide a much richer understanding of the evolution of reproductive behaviour," Bailey says. He suggests we could make some fascinating comparisons. Might male-male copulation in species as diverse as flour beetles and dolphins have similar, even predictable, evolutionary consequences? More daringly, could understanding the evolutionary consequences of same-sex interactions in animals help us understand our own evolution?

Homosexual selection: The power of same-sex liaisons [New Scientist]

Remember, this is a personal bot, so you couldn't have it do things like run the US economy or reorganize the military. What I thought was interesting was that the top two uses that people voted for - housework and sex work - are traditionally "feminine" forms of labor. We want our robots to replace housewives and hookers.

Of course, we don't know for sure if these results were skewed by the options on offer. For example, we don't see any poll options for stereotypically "masculine" jobs like "fix my computer," "do household repairs," or "work a job you hate all day to earn money." I mean, given the choice, would you rather have a personal robot who does your housework, or a personal robot who does your crappy day job so you can stay home and work on that artistic masterpiece or go surfing?

via IEET

Moss, who also created a clever series of black and red movie posters, and recently designed the brilliant, Hitchcockian Lost Locke poster, drew up this handy survival guide for the A Life Well Wasted podcast. This, and other posters by Moss, will be available in the podcast's store.

[A Life Well Wasted via GeekTyrant]

The Evolution of Superhero Movies [Koldcast TV via Screen Rant]

[PHD Comics via Reddit]

Density Design created this infographic for the new issue of Wired Italia based on predictions made by the Institute for the Future in Palo Alto. You can view the full-sized chart on Flickr, but the individual pieces are laid out below.

We Will Be Here — The Map of the Future [Behance via Nerdcore]

[xkcd]

I recently finished a thesis project on post-apocalyptic genre fiction, and in my research I made a list of 423 books, poems, and short stories about the apocalypse, published between 1826-2007, and charted them by the way their earth met its demise (humans, nature, god, etc.) to see the trends over time.

It's not the idea of Ending itself that has faded – that will be around until we are actually mopped off the face of the Earth. It's the actual moment of disaster, the blood and guts and fire, that has been losing ground in stories of the End. Post-apocalyptic fiction is a 200-year-old trend, and for 170 of those years, the ways writers imagined the end were pretty transparently a reflection of whatever was going on around them – nuclear war, environmental concerns, etc. In the mid-1990s, though, everything just turned into a big muddle. Suddenly, we'd get a post-apocalyptic world whose demise was never explained. It was just a big question mark.

That was the idea behind this chart – I wanted to see if there were patterns in how writers saw the monster. As it turned out, the patterns were clearer than I imagined. Nuclear holocaust was really popular after 1945; that's to be expected. But the precipitous and permanent drop in nuclear war's popularity after the dissolution of the U.S.S.R. in 1991 (see chart)? That surprised me.

Predictably, the human-made apocalypse is a perennial favorite. The way we go about it, though, is always changing, as you can see on the chart, where I've broken up the "human made disaster" into subcategories.

The post-apocalyptic technological utopias of the turn of the century are replaced by dystopias and robot rebellions after World War I (the first expansion of the green region devoted to human-made disaster), when everyone began to suspect that technology was only going to help us go about killing each other more efficiently, not cure us of the need to kill in the first place. Other trends are there, too: anxiety about pollution and global warming tend to spike whenever nuclear fears fade, for example.

The easily spotted trends make the patterns' total collapse in the mid-1990s even weirder. Human-created apocalypses shrink dramatically, and there's a sudden spike of unexplained apocalypse scenarios at the turn of the century. What happened? One possibility is that every End started to feel clichéd. The terror of a possible nuclear war faded, and no new extravagant ways to kill ourselves appeared to replace it.

That's an overly simplistic way of looking at it, though. It's not that the moment of destruction is boring; it's that it doesn't even matter anymore. There are an increasing number of books and films, like The Road and Zombieland, which pick up after the catastrophe and sometimes don't bother to explain what happened at all.

Disaster porn is no longer the point of the apocalypse. It doesn't matter how the world ends, just that it does. Making it to the End doesn't mean the story's finished; much of the time, it's only just gotten started. Stories of the End have never been about ending – they're about the beginning that comes after.

Preceding victory with annihilation disguises how dizzily optimistic some of these narratives are. Stories about the End are so beautifully paradoxical; they are some of the most powerful affirmation stories we have. They can hardly be classified as optimistic, but no matter what happens, even if the End came by human hands, in most stories we are fixable. For the most part, we have faith that though we may screw up, and very badly, we will learn from our mistakes and the world will be better for it.

When the survivors wander around, they're looking at a burned-out shell of a world, but it's still a clean slate. A clean slate full of radiation and cannibals, maybe, but still. I think everyone's had that feeling of wanting to just heave everything out the window and start over. That's what is at the heart of apocalypse stories: the opportunity to rebuild the world in a radically different way.

During the pilgrimage through the wasteland, the survivors – and the readers – are left feeling ostracized from reality. The characters are probably more concerned with where their next meal is coming from, but the reader sees how they are cut loose from the anchors that previously protected us from being overwhelmed by the meaninglessness of existence. The only way to fix it is to find new ways of looking, new patterns to create meaning in the new world.

Destroying the world in books about apocalypse is one way we can entirely take ownership of it. We can only see the world the way we have been raised to, the way our parents saw it, so we need to raze the old world and build a new one in its place in order to have a world that is really and entirely our own. The story of the End, after all, is not nearly as compelling as the story of the Beginning that comes after it.

This is hardly the final word; more a collection of observations and theories. I won't claim any more than that, because if there's one thing I learned while researching apocalypses, it's just how much humans like to see patterns in things – and that when patterns start getting too neat, you've done something wrong. There are still some things about the chart I don't understand – the three points where the natural apocalypse overtakes the human apocalypse, for example – and it doesn't take into account the effect that movies or television had on books. As will any discussion of a large genre, there are some necessary overgeneralizations. But it's a starting point – have at it.

Chanda Phelan just graduated from Pomona College, where she completed a thesis on post-apocalyptic literature. You can read her blog at phnuggle.wordpress.com.

Chart by Stephanie Fox!

Click the chart to enlarge. Vampire Graph By Julia Carusillo.

I first spotted this chart on Laughing Squid, and it was created for IEEE's special issue on traveling to Mars.

See more brilliant and weird concept design at Bryan Christie.

These posters come from Visual Aid and Visual Aid 2, and are available as posters from the Visual Aid shop. Incidentally, they also have useful posters if you want to know how to make a balloon animal, how to play Cat's Cradle, or the different processes for mummification.

[Visual Aid via Core77]

The "Fifty Years of Exploration" map, created by Sean McNaughton and Samuel Velasco for National Geographic, outlines humanity's journeys into space, starting from the early failed mission to Mars and Venus to the current flight of New Horizons. A complete, but scaled-down version of the map is shown below, but you can see the giant, full-sized map here.

Fifty Years of Exploration [National Geographic via Stevey via Metafilter]

We looked at over 300 science fiction and fantasy television shows from 1970, the year after the original Star Trek series ended, to the present. In this chart, we list a few of the most iconic shows, but those are just a sampling of the hundreds we surveyed.

Then we looked at which shows on the air in any given year featured any one of the most common science-fiction themes: aliens, space travel, robots, time travel, and magic.

(Shows that contain multiple themes were counted once in each category, so Star Trek: The Next Generation would add one point each to aliens, space travel, robots and time travel.)

One thing the graph tells us is that the popularity of the different themes are increasingly linked as time goes on. Space travel and aliens are closely linked throughout the graph, since shows about space travel almost always include aliens, but as the graph transitions from the 1970s into the 1980s, shows with robots are increasingly linked to shows with aliens. This is in part because the more recent shows featuring robots and more recent shows featuring aliens are more likely to be one and the same, whereas in the 1970s, shows like Batman and The Bionic Woman would feature artificial intelligence but not extraterrestrials.

But it's interesting to note the way magic trends as well. In 1970, the gap between shows featuring magic and shows featuring more science-based themes is fairly wide, which may be related to the relative cost of producing the different types of shows; Captain Kirk required pricey sets and a makeup crew while Samantha Stevens just needed a film editor and the ability to wiggle her nose. But as audience expectations for shows involving magic become analogous to their expectations for science fiction shows, magic's peaks and valleys start to correspond to those of other themes, though supernatural shows may be a bit more resilient to overall drops in television spending.

The time-travel line is especially interesting, less for what it indicates about the popularity of time travel than for what it says about the variety of stories being told. Although time travel is sometimes the focus of a show (as in Quantum Leap or Seven Days), it more frequently appears in a handful of episodes of a show that tells a diverse set of science fiction or fantasy stories. Shows like the various Star Trek series, Lois and Clark, and even Xena feature the occasional obligatory time travel episode.

But the graph's most striking feature is the boom all the themes apparently experienced in the 1990s, and which now seems to be on the decline. It seems to suggest a huge investment in genre television shows (and perhaps in television in general) that we simply aren't seeing any more.

Interestingly, space travel shows were the first to go as circumstances changed, and although shows about managed to hang on longer, they, too are on their way out. Does this indicate that science fiction and fantasy shows are on the decline? Or does it represent a shift to less expensive, near-future science fiction with different speculative priorities, shows like Dollhouse, Chuck, and Fringe?

Here is a full list of all the shows we surveyed to create this chart.

Graph by Steph Fox and additional reporting by Alexis Brown.

David McCandless created this visualization as part of his upcoming book of chart porn, The Visual Miscellaneum. Here, he charts the temporal paths of different TV and movie time travelers (Doctor Who was omitted for the sake of sanity, though he hasn't ruled out making a separate chart for the Time Lord), and, just for fun, imagines what might happen if time travelers who landed in the same year happened to meet up (I suspect that, despite his ingenuity, Marty McFly would not fare well against the Terminator). McCandless did feel that his research revealed one key deficiency in time travel stories: nearly all time travel journeys he mapped originate and land between the years 1900-2100.

[Information is Beautiful via Reddit]

After having just tracked the most popular fantasy book cover art elements, Holman has turned his eye to urban fantasy's rise among speculative book genres. Using sales data from Nielsen/Bookscan, Holman shows that urban fantasy accounts for only 14 percent of the genre's titles — but it claimed 45 percent of SF/F bestsellers.

This chart shows the rise of urban fantasy among fantasy (not SF/fantasy) bestsellers in the last several years:

So if a large number of urban fantasy books are outselling all other science fiction and fantasy books, but publishers are still putting out relatively few urban fantasy books, it doesn't take a marketing whiz to see what comes next. Says Holman:

The rise of urban fantasy has without any doubt been the biggest category shift within the SFF market of the last 10 years in the US...

How does this affect SFF publishers? Naturally, publishers respond to trends (and publishers tend to spend more time and energy trying to follow trends than setting them). If, for example, higher sales can be expected from an urban fantasy debut than a hard-SF debut, more publishers will be more inclined to publish more urban fantasy debuts than hard-SF debuts. More authors being published in one category will generally mean fewer authors being published in another. Particularly when the alpha category starts to dominate bestseller charts...

It's up to individual publishers, of course, to determine the balance of their lists, and thankfully we don't all end up with the same strategy. However, publishers are still likely to reconfigure to some extent when there is a significant category shift in the market. For example, editors with expertise in the urban fantasy field are likely to be in higher demand (others less so). Why hire an editor with a brilliant publishing instinct for hard SF if hard SF only makes up 2% of the publisher's business?

Holman concludes that urban fantasy may not always be on top, and there may be another seismic shift down the line. And his company, Orbit, has made a strategic decision to focus on other types of science fiction and fantasy in addition to urban fantasy. He winds up hopeful that the rise of swords-and-skyscrapers lit is indicative of a surge of interest in speculative fiction generally. Here's hoping that these books are reaching a new audience, and might serve as a "gateway drug" to other kinds of stories that use our world as a departure point for journeys into the fantastical and the bizarre.

Bigger versions of the charts are at the link. [Tim Holman via MediaBistro]

And not surprisingly, swords are pretty much required if you want to let people know that they're about to read a novel set in a fantasy world. Or the present day with fantasy elements. I like that "glowy magic" is a close second to swords - anyone who has ever browsed a fantasy book aisle at the bookstore knows what that is. A blop of photoshopped shininess, often streaming from a sword or from the hands of a nubile creature in flowing robes. Or perhaps enveloping a dragon?

What remains to be done is an economic analysis of these cover elements, charting which ones tend to sell better.

Tim Holman, publisher of Orbit Books, writes:

I wonder if [this chart] will prove that glowy magic, while prevalent, might not guarantee glowy sales? Or if unicorn-lovers represent a vast untapped market? It wouldn't surprise me. More research is clearly needed, but this is an important starting point and I'd be prepared to devote literally minutes to the task if that's what it takes.

via The Publisher Files

Well, first off, it looks as though people in the early 1990s mostly saw UFOs in major metropolitan areas — although it looks like there were a lot in Hull. Also — and this might just be obsessive fandom speaking –- but doesn't it look like there's a correlation between the number of UFO sightings per year, and the popularity of homegrown science fiction classic Doctor Who? You'll notice the sightings drop off almost completely after Who gets canceled in the late 1980s.

Head over to the Guardian for the nifty interactive version of the map. [Guardian]

Levin, who has also written a beautiful, fascinating book about physics called How the Universe Got Its Spots, gives a technical explanation of her periodic table of black hole orbits:

Understanding the dynamics around rotating black holes is imperative to the success of the future gravitational wave observatories. Although integrable in principle, test particle orbits in the Kerr spacetime can also be elaborate, and while they have been studied extensively, classifying their general properties has been a challenge. This is the first in a series of papers that adopts a dynamical systems approach to the study of Kerr orbits, beginning with equatorial orbits. We define a taxonomy of orbits that hinges on a correspondence between periodic orbits and rational numbers. The taxonomy defines the entire dynamics, including aperiodic motion, since every orbit is in or near the periodic set. A remarkable implication of this periodic orbit taxonomy is that the simple precessing ellipse familiar from planetary orbits is not allowed in the strong-field regime. Instead, eccentric orbits trace out precessions of multi-leaf clovers in the final stages of inspiral. Furthermore, for any black hole, there is some point in the strong-field regime past which zoom-whirl behavior becomes unavoidable. Finally, we sketch the potential application of the taxonomy to problems of astrophysical interest, in particular its utility for computationally intensive gravitational wave calculations.

Kerr black holes are black holes that rotate, and that affects the gravity waves they generate. I love these charts of the many possible ways that objects might approach, orbit, and eventually get swallowed by a black hole. If you want to delve into the math Levin used to create these images, check out the whole paper. It's free online.

"A Periodic Table for Black Hole Orbits" via arXiv