Mostrando resultados por autor "Stephen Huff" en Todas las categorías

This course provides a detailed executive-level review of contemporary topics in graph modeling theory with specific focus on Deep Learning theoretical concepts and practical applications. The ideal student is a technology professional with a basic working knowledge of statistical methods. Upon completion of this review, the student should acquire improved ability to discriminate, differentiate, and conceptualize appropriate implementations of application-specific ("traditional" or "rule-based") methods versus deep learning methods of statistical analyses and data modeling.

This course provides a detailed executive-level review of contemporary topics in supervised machine learning theory with specific focus on predictive modeling and linear regression. The ideal student is a technology professional with a basic working knowledge of machine learning theory. Additionally, to better inform the interested student, the final lesson of this course presents samples in Python describing the essential implementation of described regression methods.

On the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the eleventh year of the eleventh holy epoch, it happened. Some say God is sleeping. Some say God is dead.

It shapes our cosmos by confining the stars and is, perhaps, the interstellar sire of human spawn. Within each mind Dark Matter abides, the primordial ancestor of all things chaotic, violent, and destructive. Gravitational and inert, it unyieldingly obsesses our most deviant desires while alternately flinging our most violent impulses into the fringes of destructive behavior. Take time to embrace the Dark Matter of life, if only because it is utterly inescapable.

When dinosaurs of all eras suddenly appear all over the world, questions abound. Time for answers diminish faster than the human population. One thing is certain, during a plague of prehistoric thunder lizards, a feisty poodle can come in handy!

Zuzu is a futuristic time clipper, a spacecraft capable of zapping backward and forward in time. As it embarks on its latest combat mission, one of its crew smuggles a forbidden keepsake onboard. This is a rose-shaped medallion given to him by his youngest daughter. The smallest things count in large amounts given sufficient time. Worry for the tiniest details of a thing, for these trifles sometimes bury the truth.

On a beam of light as in the fog of dreams, a hundred human beings of all ages and walks-of-life find themselves standing on narrow pedestals in a strange auditorium filled with noxious, frigid liquid. With no room to sit or recline, they cannot rest or sleep. They can only shift from foot to foot atop the pedestals, standing for hours then days, their fears unresolved and their fate unknown. They disappear all over the world. Some of them eventually return home again.

He returns to keep their lawn year upon year, from his youth to middle-age, and never a charge or missed appointment. Their lawn is immaculate, their hedges invariably neat and trimmed, their fall leaves absent, and their home well-kept. It's a burdensome debt to repay. He's choking up every last cent.

If you had known him as a young man, you would not be surprised to learn that he ended up on the coroner's slab with a bullet hole in his forehead. Yet if you knew him as a man, this is the last fate you would imagine for him. We all got it coming. The start doesn't always dictate the end, but the end is certain, nonetheless.

No matter how harsh the instruction or inhumane the conditioning, military doctrine cannot replace compassion with uncaring steel. At his post in the bowels of a Japanese submarine, one frightened boy endures the unspeakable slaughter of an illicit war until he reaches a psychological breaking point. Drafted as a teenager into one of the bloodiest and most fanatical navies in history, he will spin the wheels for ill.

They are lucky to have as a neighbor the old man who lives at the end of their cul-de-sac. Free of charge, he keeps the lawn and the landscaping of the house next door. Only he knows why.

Nightland resides within an extraordinary region of time and space bound only by limits of sheer imagination. Its ephemeral pinnacles soar near the apex of human aspiration while its abysmal valleys plunge deeply into the darkest landscapes of global apocalypse. It is alternately violently wild and oppressively regimented. Nightland is older than all of recorded human history and it is many things to come.

It is lush, vibrant, and ever-changing. Though raucous and overgrown with a breathtaking variety of savory, beautiful delights, it is a deliberate expression of harsh discipline. Its keeper is a lonely old woman with a green thumb who seems harmless enough to the uninitiated. Homeless and wandering through a neglectful city, he ultimately finds his place in this world, tending her garden of evil.

Terminus Part I: Civilization deconstructed itself like a riot in a madhouse. In the aftermath, a handful of guilt-wracked holdouts stumble onto a terrible secret. To learn the final truth and save their species, they must cross a blood-soaked wasteland to investigate the long-standing enigma we call “Area-51”, where Terminus begins. Terminus Part II (Control): A handful of desperate post-apocalyptic survivors will uncover many unsettling truths about the past, present and future of their species. Most startling of all, they will discover why their thoughts are not their own when the ...

Grandma Moses is one of America's last true, living witches. Although she never accepts money for her services, nothing is free, and the cost rises with the value of the result. She lives alone near the swamp with all the slimy, crawling things that flop, splash, and slither there. Her reputation is as dark as her soul, and her powers are prodigious.

Near the turn of the First Century, the Ninth Legion disappeared from frontier borderlands separating Romanized Britannia from the uncivilized lowlands of Caledonia. Between its first deployment there during Agricola’s invasion in 84AD and the return of Emperor Hadrian in 122AD, all mention of the Ninth fades from memory. No authenticated record confirms the legion’s military annihilation on a field of battle, and no evidence confirms its reassignment to any other region of the empire. Contemporary Rome, and all of history, seems to have simply forgotten the Ninth. Until now.

One of the most pivotal waterborne engagements in history would not be fought ship-to-ship in the traditional fashion of naval warfare, a brutal duel between massive battleships. Victory would ultimately be claimed in the skies, aircraft to aircraft. Will humankind ever fully benefit from the sacrifices made that fateful day in the skies surrounding a tiny Pacific Island?

Human beings are abundant. Yet for every person on Earth, countless insects thrive, chewing through the roots and underpinnings of nature. This year, it will be a very good year for bugs! An ocean of insecticide cannot suppress their demonic hordes. They could easily dominate the planet. Why not?

In a dystopian future, humankind has lost its love of violence. Peace has so long ruled the land that we have lost all means of confronting the resurgence of a genocidal revolution, which threatens to reduce human society to a state of chaos and anarchy. Only one defense stands between safety and oblivion. They are genetically modified warriors, bred and born to fight. They are Reapers.

This is reality television run amok, daytime programming in the bloody Coliseum. Survival is the game and vast wealth the reward. As the number of players dwindle, the prize increases with the danger. Only one can win.