Da Vinci documentary dispels common myths about Leonardo. “He was, on the contrary, an extremely rational man whose boundless curiosity enabled him to draw conclusions others overlooked. Da Vinci also wasn’t a polymath — a jack-of-all-trades — so much as he was an interdisciplinarian, someone who saw the fields of art, mathematics, geology, physics, and chemistry not as separate but complementary, each contributing to a more complete understanding of reality.”
People: Betweenness vs eigenvalue in networks. Accenture life trends in 2025 (PDF).
Tech: A 708GB picture of the moon. EU “risks on the horizon”. Following ships with AIS systems - leads to nice data viz (along with open source tools). Robots in jails. Digital zombies.
Art: Antilibraries. Jules Vernes technocratic worldmaking.
AI: The 3 AI use cases: Gods, interns, and cogs. SynthID, to ID LLM-produced texts. Robert Downey Jr against deep fakes. Meta AI and US defence.
roc.camera offers verification that an image is not AI generated. AI and skills at work.
“I’m a pessimist because of intelligence, but an optimist because of will.” —Antonio Gramsci
The Currency of Connection
In a world where memory has become the new currency, humanity found itself adrift in a sea of nostalgia. When you pay for your morning coffee at Café Aether, the barista doesn't ask for cash or card; instead, she plugs a sleek device into your temple, extracting a cherished memory like a thief in the night. You leave with a lukewarm cappuccino and a mildly unsettling sense that your childhood birthday party is now a part of the barista’s extensive collection, mingling with her own memories of a pet goldfish that once contemplated the meaning of life in a bowl the size of a thimble.
Julian, a memory broker, operated out of a cramped room above the café, a space cluttered with old vinyl records, strange artifacts, and a peculiar assortment of memories that even he found hard to explain—like the time he accidentally discovered the secret to eternal youth while trying to microwave a burrito. His business model relied on a peculiar twist: he offered clients a chance to relive their best memories, but with a catch. They couldn’t just enjoy the memories; they had to share them with others, turning personal moments into public spectacles.
One day, an enigmatic woman named Mira walked into Julian's office, her eyes gleaming with a hunger for something far beyond the mundane. "I want to trade memories," she said, her voice smooth, like honey sliding down a staircase. "But not just any memories. I want to feel the weight of a stranger’s sorrow as vividly as my own joy."
Julian raised an eyebrow, his brain attempting to process the request as efficiently as a computer running on dial-up. "You want to feel the sadness of a stranger? That’s... unconventional." He paused, considering the implications of a memory that was less a snapshot and more a kaleidoscope of human experience. He could already picture the emotional fallout: a cacophony of laughter and tears, a montage of joy and despair. It was a recipe for existential indigestion.
"Think of it as a way to empathize," she continued, leaning forward, her hair catching the light like an accident waiting to happen. "We live in a world where everyone is a stranger to someone else. What if I told you that true connection lies in experiencing those hidden sorrows?”
Julian pondered this, his thoughts spiraling like a rollercoaster designed by an architect who had only ever seen blueprints of funhouses. If empathy could truly be manufactured, what would that make of humanity? Would people become more connected, or merely more confused—like trying to assemble IKEA furniture without the instruction manual and a blindfold?
After a moment, he agreed, albeit with a caveat that would’ve made any lawyer proud. "Alright, but we do this right. We’ll trade three joys for one sorrow. A fair exchange in the economy of feelings.”
When it was done, Mira’s laughter echoed through the room, mingling with the bittersweet melodies of Julian’s own memories. She felt the weight of grief she had never known, while he experienced her unbridled joy—the kind that makes you want to dance in the rain, even if it’s just a metaphorical drizzle.
As they exchanged their experiences, the café below buzzed with patrons sipping on their pasts, unaware that every memory shared was a thread in the tapestry of their collective existence. Julian watched as Mira, glowing with a newfound understanding, left the room, her smile a reminder that perhaps the most valuable currency in this memory-driven world was not the memories themselves, but the connections forged in their exchange.
And in that moment, Julian realized something profound: sometimes, the most valuable memories are not the ones we cling to but those we dare to share—like the last piece of a puzzle that unexpectedly completes the picture of who we are.
*Footnote: If you ever find yourself trading memories, just remember: some experiences are better left in the past, preferably under a very heavy rock.*