“Big Tobacco companies intentionally designed UPF to hack the physiological structures of our brains. These formulation strategies were quickly adopted throughout the UPF industry, with the goal of driving consumption, and defendants’ profits, at all costs...At the same time, Big Tobacco repurposed marketing strategies designed to sell cigarettes to children and minorities, and aggressively marketed UPF to these groups.” The case states that the US food industry now spends about $2 billion marketing UPFs to children; and that “UPFs meet all the scientific criteria that were used to determine that tobacco products are addictive.”
People: Learning from photographing one’s life. Frictionless conformity. Sellouts on TikTok // the new pornographers. Obelisks in your stomach. The case against being a generalist - or its opposite.
Tech: (fake) Nuclear reactor at home, on in a F1 car. Nuclear batteries (betavolt, and more). And SMRs. And planes.
Random: More trees on earth than stars in the milky way. DIY seismometer.
Security: VW data leaks of 800k EV. United Airlines and airtags. 38C3 - and hacking a satellite - and infrastructure.
AI: Copyright and AI, a UK viewpoint. AI companions. AI coming for business schools. OpenAI and GDPR. Is AI-generated poetry better. Changing manager roles. TinyStories. LLM personality traits. Surprising LLM-powered compression (vs Brotli). NVIDIA’s citizen dev device (digits). Korea AI Act.
Despite 96% of C-suite executives expecting AI to boost productivity, the study reveals that, 77% of employees using AI say it has added to their workload and created challenges in achieving the expected productivity gains. Not only is AI increasing the workloads of full-time employees, it’s hampering productivity and contributing to employee burnout. - Forbes
# Echoes of a Digital Storm
The rain fell in a rhythm that matched the low hum of the city, a gentle reminder that even in a world filled with electric dreams, nature still had its say. Max, a freelance data analyst, shuffled through layers of encrypted files in the depths of his cluttered workspace, the kind where chaos and creativity danced a tango that would confuse even the most disciplined of minds. He’d been hired to analyze the fallout from a recent data breach at a major automotive company, which had left the private GPS coordinates of 800,000 electric vehicle owners dangling in the digital breeze like laundry on a sunny day.
The breach was not just a minor slip; it was a veritable Pandora's box of vulnerabilities, exposing the sensitive lives of politicians and police officers. Why, Max wondered, did their data get stored in an unsecured Amazon cloud? It was as if someone had left the door wide open and invited a swarm of data-hungry mosquitoes to feast on the sweet nectar of personal information. *Ah, modern technology,* he thought, *always one step away from a data disaster.*¹
As he sifted through the mess, he couldn’t help but marvel at the rise of artificial intelligence in the workplace. Executives were buzzing about productivity like bees in a flower garden, while employees felt more like the flowers—overworked and wilting under the weight of expectations. The irony wasn’t lost on him: the very technology designed to ease burdens was now heaping them on his fellow workers. “If only AI could take over this data breach,” he muttered, “I’d gladly accept a raise in exchange for my sanity.”
Yet amid the storm of AI and electric vehicles, a curious thought struck him. What if the very technology that had caused this chaos could be harnessed for something good? A flicker of nostalgia washed over him as he recalled his childhood fascination with photography. He’d once believed that capturing moments might preserve them against the relentless tide of time. *Oh, the absurdity of trying to immortalize the ephemeral, like trying to keep smoke in a jar!*
Suddenly, his phone buzzed, pulling him from his reverie. A notification popped up about a new project in the works at a local tech hub. They were developing a nuclear battery that could last up to fifty years, a mini marvel of modern ingenuity. He chuckled at the thought of a battery that might outlive him—perhaps the next generation of devices would run on radioactive decay while he struggled to keep his phone charged through the day. Would they even bother with conventional batteries when the world could be powered by tiny nuclear reactors? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying, a testament to how far humanity had come and how far it might fall if it weren't careful.
Max leaned back in his chair, pondering the future. The way he saw it, the world was like one of those nuclear-powered cars that had been discussed in hushed tones among racing enthusiasts: full of potential yet fraught with peril. The idea was sound, but the execution? That was a different beast altogether, especially when the public's perception weighed more than the actual safety measures put in place.
As he clicked through the files, he noticed a familiar name in the list of affected individuals—an artist he once admired, now facing the pressure of being a brand in a world that demanded constant self-promotion. Creativity had become a commodity, and authenticity was often sacrificed at the altar of visibility. Max sighed; he understood the plight, having seen friends struggle to balance their art with the need to survive in a market that seemed to devour the very essence of what made their work special.
With a sense of urgency, he realized he needed to act. Harnessing his generalist skills—an ability to connect dots others might overlook—he decided to organize a community event. With artists, tech enthusiasts, and data experts, he envisioned a space where they could discuss not just the breaches but the solutions. Perhaps they could even create a project that would use AI and nuclear batteries to power devices that would help preserve memories, ensuring that the art of everyday life wasn’t lost to the chaos of the digital age.
And as the raindrops continued their gentle serenade outside, Max smiled, knowing that while the future was uncertain, it was still full of possibilities. After all, if the world could manage to balance the weight of its own absurdity, surely it could find a way to embrace its chaotic beauty.
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¹ It’s worth noting that the phrase "digital breeze" is a metaphorical stretch; one can hardly compare data to wind without invoking the specter of an existential crisis over lost packets.