unit 3课文翻译

Unit 3 Computers 课文翻译section A我是谁?经过很长时间我已经改变了很多。

1642年我在法国诞生时是一台计算机器。

尽管当时我还年轻，但是我能简化一些复杂的计算题。

我发育缓慢，差不多到了两百年之后，查尔斯·巴比奇才把我制成了一台分析机。

在操作员用穿孔卡为我设计程序之后，我能够进行逻辑“思考”，并且能够比任何人更快地算出答案。

那时，这被当作是一次技术革命，也是我“人工智能”的开始。

在1936年，我真正的父亲，艾伦·图灵写了一本书，讲述了怎样能使我成为一台“通用机器”来解决任何数学难题。

从那时起，我在体积和脑容量方面迅速成长。

到二十世纪四十年代，我已经长得像一间屋子那么大，我不知道是否还会长得更大。

然而，这个现实也使我的设计者很担心。

随着时间的推移，我被做的越来越小。

自二十世纪七十年代以来，我一直被用在办公室和家庭里，先是用作个人电脑，后来又做成便携式。

这些变化只有随着我的存储能力的不断提高才能成为可能。

最初是被存储到电子管，以后是晶体管上，后来是非常小的芯片上。

因此，我已经完全改变了我的形状。

随着我年龄越来越大，我也变得越来越小。

随着时间的推移，我的记忆能力发展的如此之快，就像一头大象一样，我从来不会忘记告诉我的任何事情！我的存储能力变得如此巨大，连我自己都不能相信！但是我总是孤孤单单地站在那里，直到二十世纪六十年代初，人们才给了我一个用网络联成的家庭。

我能够通过万维网和其他人分享我的知识。

从二十世纪七十年代起，我被开发出了很多新的用途。

我在通讯、金融和商业领域变得非常重要。

我还被放在机器人里面，被用来制作移动手机，并且用来帮助做医疗手术。

我还被放置在航空火箭里去探测月球和火星。

不管怎样，我的目标是给人类提供高质量的生活。

现在我充满了幸福感，因为我是人类忠实的朋友并时时给他们提供帮助。

Who Am I我是谁?Over time I have been changed quite a lot.经过一段时间我已经被改变了许多。

高一英语必修一Unit 3课文翻译Unit 3 Travel journalReadingJOURNEY DOWN THE MEKONG沿湄公河而下的旅程PART 1 THE DREAM AND THE PLAN第一部分梦想与计划My name is Wang Kun. Ever since middle school, my sister Wang Weiand I have dreamed about taking a great bike trip.我的名字叫王坤。

从高中起，我姐姐王薇和我就一直梦想作一次伟大的自行车旅行。

Two years ago she bought an expensive mountain bike and then she persuaded me to buy one.两年前，她买了一辆昂贵的山地自行车，然后还说服我买了一辆(山地车)。

Last year, she visited our cousins, Dao Wei and Yu Hang at their college in Kunming.去年她去看望了我们的表兄弟——在昆明读大学的刀卫和宇航。

They are Dai and grew up in western Y unnan Province near the Lancang River, the Chinese part of the river that is called the Mekong River in other countries.他们是傣族人，在云南省西部靠近澜沧江的地方长大，湄公河在中国境内的这一段叫澜沧江，在其他国家(境内)叫湄公河。

Wang Wei soon got them interested in cycling too.很快，王薇使表兄弟也对骑车旅游产生了兴趣。

After graduating from college, we finally got the chance to take a bike trip.大学毕业以后，我们终于有了机会骑自行车旅行。

Unit 3 On the moveReadingSelf-driving cars—destination known?自动驾驶汽车----目的地已知吗?Mr Zhang casually glances at the empty driver's seat and says, "Destination Grand Hotel. Family mode. Start." The car responds immediately, easing smoothly into the busy traffic and avoiding obstacles on the road. Inside the car, the family have chosen their entertainment from a pop-up display panel, ready for the journey ahead. This imagined scene provides a likely future reality for self-driving cars, also known as autonomous vehicles(A Vs).张先生漫不经心地看了-眼空荡荡的驾驶座，说道:“目的地格兰酒店。

家庭模式。

出发。

”汽车立即响应，平稳驶入繁忙的车流，避开路上的障碍。

车里面，一家人已经在弹出式显示面板上选好了娱乐项目，为前方的旅途作好准备。

这个想象中的场景展示了自动驾驶汽车，也叫自主汽车，一种可能的未来的现实。

However, before this evolution in transport becomes a revolution, it must be fully understood how self-driving cars work. Put simply, self-driving cars must "see" and "behave" appropriately to be safe on the road. They do this through various hardware and deep-learning AI. Cameras as well as sensors like radar and lidar capture a variety of data from the external environment. Once the data is sent to the AI system, the "brain" of the car, it is analysed and put together like a puzzle so that the self-driving car can "see" its surroundings and determine its position. Meanwhile, the Al system identifies patterns from the data and learns from them. An action plan is then created to instruct the car how to "behave" in real time: stay in the lane, move into another one, speed up or slow down. Next, the necessary mechanical controls, such as the accelerator and brakes, are activated by the AI system, allowing the car to move in line with the action plan.然而，在这种交通方式的变革成为一场革命之前，必须充分了解自动驾驶汽车的工作原理。

Unit 3A HangingA HANGINGGeorge Orwell1. It was in Burma, a sodden morning of the rains. We were waiting outside the condemned cells, a row of sheds fronted with double bars, like small animal cages. Each cell measured about ten feet by ten and was quite bare within except for a plank bed and a pot for drinking water. In some of them brown silent men were squatting at the inner bars, with their blankets draped round them. These were the condemned men, due to be hanged within the next week or two.Detailed Reading2. One prisoner had been brought out of his cell. He was a Hindu, a puny wisp of a man, with a shaven head and vague liquid eyes. Six tall Indian warders were guarding him and getting him ready for the gallows. Two of them stood by with rifles and fixed bayonets, while the others handcuffed him, passed a chain through his handcuffs and fixed it to their belts, and lashed his arms tightly to his sides. They crowded very close about him, with their hands always on him in a careful, caressing grip, as though all the while feeling him to make sure he was there. But he stood quite unresisting, yielding his arms limply to the ropes, as though he hardly noticed what was happening.3. Eight o'clock struck and a bugle call floated from the distant barracks. The superintendent of the jail, who was standing apart from the rest of us, moodily prodding the gravel with his stick, raised his head at the sound. "For God's sake hurry up, Francis," he said irritably. "The man ought to have been dead by this time. Aren't you ready yet?"4. Francis, the head jailer, a fat Dravidian in a white drill suit and gold spectacles, waved his black hand. "Yes sir, yes sir," he bubbled. "All is satisfactorily prepared. The hangman is waiting. We shall proceed."5. "Well, quick march, then. The prisoners can't get their breakfast till this job's over."6. We set out for the gallows. Two warders marched on either side of the prisoner, with their rifles at the slope; two others marched close against him, gripping him by arm and shoulder, as though at once pushing and supporting him. The rest of us, magistrates and the like, followed behind.7. It was about forty yards to the gallows. I watched the bare brown back of the prisoner marching in front of me. He walked clumsily with his bound arms, but quite steadily. At each step his muscles slid neatly into place, the lock of hair on his scalp danced up and down, his feet printed themselves on the wet gravel. And once, in spite of the men whogripped him by each shoulder, he stepped slightly aside to avoid a puddle on the path.8. It is curious, but till that moment I had never realized what it means to destroy a healthy, conscious man. When I saw the prisoner step aside to avoid the puddle I saw the mystery, the unspeakable wrongness, of cutting a life short when it is in full tide. This man was not dying, he was alive just as we are alive. All the organs of his body were working -- bowels digesting food, skin renewing itself, nails growing, tissues forming -- all toiling away in solemn foolery. His nails would still be growing when he stood on the drop, when he was falling through the air with a tenth of a second to live. His eyes saw the yellow gravel and the gray walls, and his brain still remembered, foresaw, reasoned -- reasoned even about puddles. He and we were a party of men walking together, seeing, hearing, feeling, understanding the same world; and in two minutes, with a sudden snap, one of us would be gone -- one mind less, one world less.9. The gallows stood in a small yard. The hangman, a gray-haired convict in the white uniform of the prison, was waiting beside his machine. He greeted us with a servile crouch as we entered. At a word from Francis the two warders, gripping the prisoner more closely than ever, half led half pushed him to the gallows and helped him clumsily up the ladder. Then the hangman climbed up and fixed the rope around the prisoner's neck.10. We stood waiting, five yards away. The warders had formed a rough circle round the gallows. And then, when the noose was fixed, the prisoner began crying out to his god. It was a high, reiterated cry of "Ram! Ram! Ram! Ram!" not urgent and fearful like a prayer or a cry for help, but steady, rhythmical, almost like the tolling of a bell.11. The hangman climbed down and stood ready, holding the lever. Minutes seemed to pass. The steady crying from the prisoner went on and on, "Ram! Ram! Ram!" never faltering for an instant. The superintendent, his head on his chest, was slowly poking the ground with his stick; perhaps he was counting the cries, allowing the prisoner a fixed number -- fifty, perhaps, or a hundred. Everyone had changed color. The Indians had gone gray like bad coffee, and one or two of the bayonets were wavering.12. Suddenly the superintendent made up his mind. Throwing up his head he made a swift motion with his stick. "Chalo!" he shouted almost fiercely.13. There was a clanking noise, and then dead silence. The prisoner had vanished, and the rope was twisting on itself. We went round the gallows to inspect the prisoner's body. He was dangling with his toes pointing straight downward. Very slowly revolving, as dead as a stone.14. The superintendent reached out with his stick and poked the bare brown body; it oscillated slightly. "He's all right," said the superintendent. He backed out from under the gallows, and blew out a deep breath. The moody look had gone out of his face quite suddenly. He glanced at his wrist watch. "Eight minutes past eight. Well, that's all for this morning, thank God."15. The warders unfixed bayonets and marched away. We walked out of the gallows yard, past the condemned cells with their waiting prisoners, into the big central yard of the prison. The convicts were already receiving their breakfast. They squatted in long rows, each man holding a tin pannikin, while two warders with buckets march round ladling out rice; it seemed quite a homely, jolly scene, after the hanging. An enormous relief had come upon us now that the job was done. One felt an impulse to sing, to break into a run, to snigger. All at once everyone began chattering gaily.16. The Eurasian boy walking beside me nodded toward the way we had come, with a knowing smile, "Do you know sir, our friend (he meant the dead man) when he heard his appeal had been dismissed, he pissed on the floor of his cell. From fright. Kindly take one of my cigarettes, sir. Do you not admire my new silver case, sir? Classy European style."17. Several people laughed -- at what, nobody seemed certain.18. Francis was walking by the superintendent, talking garrulously, "Well, sir, all has passed off with the utmost satisfactoriness. It was all finished -- flick! Like that. It is not always so -- oah no! I have known cases where the doctor was obliged to go beneath the gallows and pull the prisoner's legs to ensure decease. Most disagreeable."19. "Wriggling about, eh? That's bad," said the superintendent.20. "Ach, sir, it is worse when they become refractory! One man, I recall, clung to the bars of his cage when we went to take him out. You will scarcely credit, sir, that it took six warders to dislodge him, three pulling at each leg."21. I found that I was laughing quite loudly. Everyone was laughing. Even the superintendent grinned in a tolerant way. "You'd better all come and have a drink," he said quite genially. "I've got a bottle of whiskey in the car. We could do with it."22. We went through the big double gates of the prison into the road. "Pulling at his legs!" exclaimed a Burmese magistrate suddenly, and burst into a loud chuckling. We all began laughing again. At that moment Francis' anecdote seemed extraordinarily funny. We all had a drink together, native and European alike, quite amicably. The dead man was a hundred yards away.1. 那是发生在缅甸的事情。