Technology Quotes In Fahrenheit 451 Novels & Stories

It’s ninety eight degrees faienheight, my guess normal. “How much is normal temperature, Halie?” “What do you mean how much? Thirty seven.” “Hmm, so then ninety eight-” “Ninety eight, did you just say ninety eight? Halie shrieks. Jax pulls the thermometer from my hand reading it before placing his hand against the wolf’s head. “It’s fine.” he mutters. “Ninety eight isn’t fine you dimwit.” “It’s not celcius.” “Is that Jax?” A male voice enquires and before Halie could answer, Jaxon ends the call.

"Did you say 'ten'?" "I said I will take all of them," I repeated cleanly, my voice steady, calm, and completely serious. "Every diesel thermal blower, every infrared panel, every propane greenhouse heater, every spare heating element, every digital thermostat, and every heavy-duty copper connection hose sitting in your warehouses across all three states." The room went dead silent.

Julian whispered into the dark room, his voice hoarse and steady. He slammed the mechanical plunger down. A sharp, hollow clack echoed through the apartment, followed immediately by the fierce, violent hiss of ignited thermite. A blinding, ultra-white flash erupted inside the orange canister as the chemical compound ignited, reaching temperatures exceeding four thousand degrees Fahrenheit in less than a second.

"No solar gain." Cale made a writing motion. Elion grabbed the notebook from the floor. He handed it to Cale. Cale’s hand was shaking so badly he could barely hold the pen. He wrote two words. Hypothermia. Imminent. Elion stared at the jagged letters. "We need heat," Elion said. "I can... I can burn books. In the sink." Cale looked at the stack of books. He looked at Elion. He tapped his chest.

“You’ve said so much, but I still don’t understand what this ‘system’ is.” I turned back to the camera and flashed a sweet smile. “Babes, now let’s try 180 degrees Fahrenheit!” With that, right in front of her, I turned the temperature dial three notches to the right. It turned from 150 degrees Fahrenheit to 180 degrees Fahrenheit. The digital display emitted a cheerful “beep.” Rena let out an inhuman wail. Every muscle in her body tensed instantly, as if she had been struck by an invisible sledgehammer. All that came out of her mouth was a broken, stuttering plea. “I... please...”

Fire is energy. Cold is the absence of energy. To make something cold, you don't add "coldness." You take the heat away. Jack Sterling stood before the blast door, his back to the inferno. The air temperature on the catwalk was passing 300 degrees Fahrenheit. His hair was singing. He placed his palm on the lock mechanism. "I am the heat sink," Jack muttered. He opened the floodgates of his Entropy channels. But instead of pushing power out, he pulled it in.

I want to check her temperature and assess her if I need to call a doctor. I returned to the bedroom and put the thermometer in her mouth. After a few seconds, I pulled it out. She is sizzling hot. Forty degree celsius! I need to call a doctor! I was about to leave but I felt that she grabbed my sleeves. I looked at her but she was still unconscious. “Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me.” She mumbled.

The ventilation system sent in air that had been filtered several times, and the temperature held steady at a comfortable 75 degrees Fahrenheit. I brought a sizzling premium steak to the table and poured a glass of wine I had let breathe. I looked up at the screen and watched Julian and Jessica stumble around in the dark like headless chicken, so frightened they could only huddle together and tremble. I raised my glass and toasted at the screen from afar. "Good morning, Julian. Hell's free trial has only just begun!"

Could his 1,600,000-dollar safehouse truly withstand what was coming? The flames roared higher, filling the room with oppressive heat. He glanced at the thermostat, which read 32.6°C. It was hot enough to make him sweat. Outside, a white hell was already devouring the city. Relief washed over him. The defenses held. He dialed back the fire as there was no need to roast himself alive. Sleep could wait. He wanted to keep watching, to witness this moment, to see the beginning of the end, to behold the Frostfall in all its glory.

"They aren't generating a heat signature, Audrey. They’re consuming it. Every joule of energy we’ve pumped into the atmosphere is being sucked into that hull. The temperature in the Northern Quad is dropping ten degrees every minute." Audrey stood on the forward deck of the Spire, her bronze-etched skin pulsing with a frantic, violet light. She could feel the "Command-Code" before it even reached the city’s processors. It was a rhythmic, cold broadcast that felt like a needle pressing against the back of her skull. It wasn't an invitation to talk; it was a "System Format."