Hughes Mobot Gets Frisky With the Ladies in 1964

Need someone to zip up your dress? In 1964, the Hughes Mobot was there to help

1 min read
Hughes Mobot Gets Frisky With the Ladies in 1964

Need someone to zip up your dress? In 1964, the Hughes Mobot was there to help.

Hughes Aircraft's Mobot, aka Mobot the Magnificent Monster (seriously), was originally designed for the Atomic Energy Division of the Phillips Petroleum Company in the late 1950s and early 1960s as a remote manipulator.

A 150-meter [500-foot] cable led back to a control console, where a human operator could safely direct remote cleanup operations of radioactive material and other nasty stuff. Mobot had two manipulator arms along with two cameras, which are the things that look vaguely like water-cooled machine guns but aren't. Sad.

Reuben Hoggett, who maintains the awesome Cybernetic Zoo ("a history of cybernetic animals and early robots"), unveiled a trove of Mobot material, including the photos you see here.

Apparently, this degree of usefulness wasn't good enough for Life magazine, which decided that Mobot (and its delicate touch) would be better off helping women put on makeup and get dressed. Or is it undressed? Feel free to use your imagination on that one.

Images: Cybernetic Zoo

VIA [ Cybernetic Zoo ]

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The Bionic-Hand Arms Race

The prosthetics industry is too focused on high-tech limbs that are complicated, costly, and often impractical

12 min read
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A photograph of a young woman with brown eyes and neck length hair dyed rose gold sits at a white table. In one hand she holds a carbon fiber robotic arm and hand. Her other arm ends near her elbow. Her short sleeve shirt has a pattern on it of illustrated hands.

The author, Britt Young, holding her Ottobock bebionic bionic arm.

Gabriela Hasbun. Makeup: Maria Nguyen for MAC cosmetics; Hair: Joan Laqui for Living Proof
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In Jules Verne’s 1865 novel From the Earth to the Moon, members of the fictitious Baltimore Gun Club, all disabled Civil War veterans, restlessly search for a new enemy to conquer. They had spent the war innovating new, deadlier weaponry. By the war’s end, with “not quite one arm between four persons, and exactly two legs between six,” these self-taught amputee-weaponsmiths decide to repurpose their skills toward a new projectile: a rocket ship.

The story of the Baltimore Gun Club propelling themselves to the moon is about the extraordinary masculine power of the veteran, who doesn’t simply “overcome” his disability; he derives power and ambition from it. Their “crutches, wooden legs, artificial arms, steel hooks, caoutchouc [rubber] jaws, silver craniums [and] platinum noses” don’t play leading roles in their personalities—they are merely tools on their bodies. These piecemeal men are unlikely crusaders of invention with an even more unlikely mission. And yet who better to design the next great leap in technology than men remade by technology themselves?

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