answer:Конечно, вот несколько примеров алгоритмов с оценкой временной сложности по Big O notation: 1. Пример алгоритма с константной сложностью O(1): ```python def print_first_element(lst): print(lst[0]) ``` В данном случае, независимо от размера списка, всегда будет выполнена только одна операция вывода первого элемента списка. Поэтому временная сложность этого алгоритма составляет O(1). 2. Пример алгоритма с линейной сложностью O(n): ```python def find_max(lst): max_num = lst[0] for num in lst: if num > max_num: max_num = num return max_num ``` В этом алгоритме происходит однократный проход по списку длиной n, чтобы найти максимальный элемент. Поэтому его временная сложность O(n). 3. Пример алгоритма с квадратичной сложностью O(n^2): ```python def selection_sort(lst): n = len(lst) for i in range(n): min_index = i for j in range(i+1, n): if lst[j] < lst[min_index]: min_index = j lst[i], lst[min_index] = lst[min_index], lst[i] return lst ``` Этот алгоритм сортировки выбором имеет два вложенных цикла, каждый из которых проходит по n элементам списка. Таким образом, количество операций равно n * n = n^2, и временная сложность составляет O(n^2). Надеюсь, эти примеры помогут вам лучше понять, как оценивать временную сложность алгоритмов на Python.

answer:The sun peaked over the horizon, painting the zombie-plagued landscape with hues of orange and blood-tinted red. As the first rays tickled his resilient (and quite chiseled) face, 10K, the sniper with a dead-eye for the undead, unleashed an almighty yawn that sent a nearby squirrel scampering for dear life. With the precision of a master and the focus of a Zen monk in the apocalypse, 10K ticked off the first item on his morning checklist: "1. Answer Nature’s Call – 'Cause even Z-whackers gotta go!" After a relieving visit to the rickety, graffiti-laden outhouse (adorned with crude drawings of the Z's he'd so artfully dispatched), he unrolled the next scroll in his mental checklist. Popping joints and elongating muscles, he performed an acrobat's stretch that would make a contortionist do a double take. Feeling limber, and quite honestly a little stiff from yesterday’s un-dead weight lifting, it was time for "2. Combat Cleansing." He approached a bucket filled with the finest post-apocalyptic spa treatment – mud, gloopy and luscious, harvested from the premium zombie-free swamps of Newmerica. He hoisted it lovingly upon an obliging tree branch with the grace of a dancer performing a pas de chat. Stripping away the remnants of yesterday's skirmishes, he flung his clothes on a nearby branch, providing the wilderness with a scandalous display of his rear-end assets to which even the full moon would say, "Dayum!" With a tug on the rope, as though ringing the bell at the end of the world's weirdest dinner service, down came the sludge of Mother Nature's affection. It cascaded over his toned physique, each muscle rippling with anticipation of a good, squishy scrub. Grinning ear to ear, he gargled the earthy potion, giving the morning a throaty growl in return. Feeling refreshed and earthily exfoliated, it was time for "3. Graveyard Grin." Picking up a bone hand-crafted into a toothbrush because clearly, ivory is out and femur is in, he squeezed some fresh bug innards onto his bristles. Minty fresh it was not, but zombie repellent it surely was. As he smiled at his reflection in the grime-covered mirror, the glass fractured, unable to handle the sheer intensity of his pearly-ish whites. Finally, "4. Catch of the Day." Gracefully, he perched by the serene pond which doubled as his apocalypse aquarium. Disturbing the peace with a flatulent symphony, the ripple effect was instant – fish, momentarily stupefied by the gaseous anomaly, bobbed to the surface. 10K collected his prize, a look of satisfaction plastered across his face like a fisherman's badge of unspoken honor. And thus, with the checklist complete, 10K's morning routine heralded another day in Z Nation's twisted reality – a snapshot of serenity amidst the chaos of chomping jaws and decaying flesh. With a fish under his arm and a day full of possibilities, he strode into the fray, ready to tally more Z's as his adventure continued unabated.

answer:Title: 10K’s Apocalyptic Spa Day The morning sun hadn't even had a chance to yawn and stretch its golden fingers across the wasteland before 10K was already on his feet. The birds were chirping, or rather, what passed for birds in the apocalypse. He had a checklist, carefully composed and scrawled on the back of what once was a cereal box, which he adhered to religiously. Checklist Item #1: Honor Nature's Call. Strutting to the outhouse with the grace of a gunslinger, 10K eyed the wooden temple of relief. Closing the door behind him (marked by a lopsided crescent moon), he took his time for nature's earliest morning ritual. Once done, he ticked off the first item with a smile. Checklist Item #2: Limber up for the Day's Zombie-Slaying. Emerging like a mailman from his post, 10K arched into a series of stretches that would make a contortionist envious. His silhouette against the rising sun was a testament to the daily grind of survival, each stretch a ballet of muscles chiseling his frame into the lean, mean zombie-killing machine fans knew and loved. Checklist Item #3: Bathe Like a Wartime Warrior. The shower routine was unconventional – borderline otherworldly. He sauntered to a crudely rigged bucket perched atop a barren tree limb. The bucket, filled to the brim with thick, viscous mud, swayed gently in the breeze. 10K disrobed, tossing his clothes onto a nearby branch which sagged under the weight of apocalypse-worn fabrics and leather. Even in these times, one couldn't help but admire his battle-honed physique, a tapestry of narrow hips and broad shoulders, with armpits that held the musk of a man who'd survived more than his fair share of undead scuffles. A sharp tug on the rope sent the mud cascading upon him in a brown deluge. He beamed, scrubbing himself vigorously with the Earth's natural cleanser, even playfully gargling a mouthful to the horrified but amused birds. They chirped disapprovingly; he winked in return. Checklist Item #4: Dental Hygiene, Post-Apocalypse Style. Post-mud bath, 10K trotted to his makeshift vanity: a mirror shard stabbing out of a wooden stump. His toothbrush, fashioned from sturdy bone and apocalypse ingenuity, met a dollop of bug guts, nature's fluoride. As he brushed, he admired the interplay of dirt and grit on his teeth. Smiling wide, the mirror cowered in fright and split its gaze. One more thing to check off, he thought, pleased. Checklist Item #5: Final Rinse and Dinner Catch. With minty-fresh (bug guts fresh) breath, he padded to the pond's edge. Submerged to his waist, he exhaled a bubble trail climaxing in a noxious blast. The scent could strip paint, yet it only made 10K's grin wider. The surface roiled and as fish bobbed up like apples on Halloween, he snatched his prize; a stunned trout, his gills flapping in confusion and slight admiration. Dinner was served, checklist completed, another day in Z Nation begun. As 10K trekked back to camp, fish in hand, and the day's agenda already plotting its course in his mind, a chuckle escaped him. Even in a world ravaged by undead hordes, there was room for the morning absurdities of life—his life— living proof that humanity still had a fighting chance, one quirky ritual at a time.

answer:Привет! Как я могу помочь вам сегодня?