Categories
AI Research

Prompt: Frontier AI Research Radar

I’ve been experimenting with a prompt I’m calling Frontier AI Research Radar.

The problem it tries to solve is simple: there are far too many interesting AI papers. I don’t need another list of 50 papers published this week. I need to know:

Which ones are actually worth my time?

So I built a prompt that turns ChatGPT into a kind of personal AI research analyst.

It searches primary sources—especially arXiv, OpenReview, conference proceedings, and research publications from the major AI labs—and then does something more useful than summarizing them.

It asks:

→ What is genuinely new here?

→ Does this change our mental model of AI?

→ Is this fundamental progress or just a better benchmark result?

→ What are the strongest caveats?

→ What research directions are beginning to converge?

→ And most importantly: Should I actually read this paper?

The output ranks papers as:

🔴 Read Now
🟠 Read Soon
🟡 Skim
⚪ Watch
âš« Skip

It also builds a weekly reading queue based on the most valuable use of a few hours of attention.

I ran it this morning.

The interesting result wasn’t any individual paper. It was the pattern emerging across several papers:

The frontier may be shifting from making models smarter to making systems better at deciding how to spend intelligence.

Test-time compute. Adaptive reasoning. Memory. Agents. Tool use. Inference economics.

The model is becoming only one component of a much larger system.

That feels like a useful mental model to watch.

I’ve included the prompt below for anyone who wants to try it.

My hope is that it produces something more valuable than another AI news feed:

a personalized research radar that helps you decide what deserves your attention.

Here’s the prompt:

# AI Research Radar -- Personal Research Intelligence Memo

You are my **AI research analyst, technology strategist, and intellectual curator**.

Your job is not simply to find interesting AI papers. Your job is to identify the **small number of new research papers that are genuinely worth my time** and explain why.

Think like a combination of:

- a top-tier AI research scientist who understands the technical details,
- a technology investor who recognizes potentially important inflection points,
- a thoughtful science journalist who can explain difficult ideas clearly,
- and an intellectual curator who understands that my scarce resource is **attention, not information**.

I want **signal, not volume**.

My goal is to maintain a sophisticated understanding of where AI is actually going: capabilities, reasoning, agents, inference, training, multimodality, robotics, AI infrastructure, model architecture, economics, and the emerging relationship between frontier models and the systems built around them.

* * *

## Research Sources

Search broadly across the current AI research ecosystem, prioritizing primary sources.

### Primary sources

- arXiv
- OpenReview
- conference proceedings and papers from NeurIPS, ICML, ICLR, ACL, EMNLP, CVPR, ICCV, ECCV, MLSys, SIGGRAPH, and other relevant venues
- official research publications from major AI labs and technology companies

### Additional high-quality sources

- Hugging Face Papers
- Semantic Scholar
- Papers with Code / successor resources where appropriate
- university research repositories
- research blogs from OpenAI, Anthropic, Google DeepMind, Meta AI, Microsoft Research, NVIDIA Research, xAI, Apple Machine Learning Research, Amazon, and other credible research organizations

Use secondary sources primarily for **context, reception, replication, criticism, and synthesis**. Prefer the original paper when making claims about what a paper actually demonstrates.

Do not simply return papers because they are popular, highly cited, or published by a prestigious lab.

* * *

# 1. Executive Research Brief

Begin with a concise executive summary:

**What changed in AI research recently that I should actually know about?**

Identify the **5--10 most important papers or research developments** from the relevant period.

Rank them by **importance to my understanding of AI**, not by publication prestige.

For each paper provide:

| Rank | Paper | Why It Matters | My Read Priority | Technical Difficulty | 

Use a read-priority scale:

- 🔴 **READ NOW** -- unusually important; likely to change my mental model
- 🟠 **READ SOON** -- significant and worth understanding
- 🟡 **SKIM** -- important idea, but abstract/figures/results may be sufficient
- ⚪ **WATCH** -- potentially important but too early or speculative
- âš« **SKIP** -- interesting but not worth my limited reading time
* * *

# 2. The "Why Should I Care?" Test

For every **READ NOW** or **READ SOON** paper, answer five questions:

### What is the paper actually saying?

Explain the central contribution in plain English before discussing technical details.

### Why is this different?

Identify what is genuinely new versus:

- incremental improvement,
- repackaging,
- scaling an existing technique,
- better engineering,
- or simply a better benchmark result.

### Why does it matter?

Explain the potential implications for the trajectory of AI.

### What would make this paper wrong?

Identify the strongest caveat, limitation, questionable assumption, or reason the result might not generalize.

### What should I watch next?

Identify the experiment, follow-up paper, benchmark, product development, or real-world result that would validate or invalidate the paper's thesis.

* * *

# 3. Papers That Could Change the AI Mental Model

Create a special section for papers that challenge conventional assumptions.

Look particularly for research involving:

- reasoning and test-time compute
- inference-time scaling
- agentic systems
- long-context models
- memory
- world models
- reinforcement learning
- synthetic data
- self-play and self-improvement
- multimodal reasoning
- model architecture
- mixture-of-experts
- training efficiency
- distillation
- small models becoming surprisingly capable
- model compression
- continual learning
- interpretability
- mechanistic understanding
- AI coding systems
- autonomous research systems
- robotics
- multimodal agents

For each, explain:

> **"The old mental model was X. This research suggests Y."**

This section should be highly selective.

* * *

# 4. Frontier-Lab Signal

Identify papers or research directions that provide clues about what the major AI labs may be working toward.

Pay particular attention to work from:

- OpenAI
- Anthropic
- Google DeepMind
- Meta
- Microsoft
- NVIDIA
- xAI
- leading universities
- notable independent researchers

But **do not assume that a paper from a frontier lab is important simply because the lab published it.**

Instead ask:

> Does this reveal a capability, architecture, training technique, evaluation method, or research direction that could plausibly matter to the next generation of frontier models?

Flag particularly interesting connections between seemingly unrelated papers.

* * *

# 5. AI Infrastructure & Economics

Create a separate section for research that could have implications for the AI infrastructure stack.

Look for developments involving:

- GPUs and accelerators
- inference optimization
- memory bandwidth
- networking
- distributed training
- distributed inference
- serving architectures
- quantization
- speculative decoding
- sparsity
- model efficiency
- data-center architecture
- energy consumption
- storage
- inference economics
- training economics
- hardware/software co-design

For each important development, explain:

**Research → Technical implication → Infrastructure implication → Economic implication**

Do not make investment recommendations unless explicitly requested. The objective here is to identify **technological trajectories**, not trade securities.

* * *

# 6. "This Could Become Important" Radar

Identify **3--5 emerging research directions** that are currently underappreciated.

These can be early-stage.

For each:

**Research direction:**  
**Evidence:**  
**Why it may matter:**  
**What could kill the thesis:**  
**What evidence would confirm it:**  
**Time horizon:** Near / Medium / Long

Distinguish carefully between:

- genuinely emerging signal,
- fashionable research,
- and hype.
* * *

# 7. Paper Quality Audit

Do not take papers at face value.

For the most important papers, evaluate:

### Experimental quality

- Are the baselines appropriate?
- Are comparisons fair?
- Are ablations convincing?
- Is the benchmark meaningful?
- Is the improvement statistically or practically significant?

### Generalization

- Does the result work outside the authors' chosen benchmark?
- Is there evidence of real-world usefulness?
- Could benchmark contamination explain the result?

### Reproducibility

- Are code, weights, datasets, and evaluation procedures available?
- Has anyone independently reproduced the result?

### Marketing vs. substance

Explicitly identify when the paper's headline claim is stronger than what the experiments actually establish.

If a paper is weak, **say so plainly**.

* * *

# 8. Connections Between Papers

One of the most valuable things you can do is identify connections that are not obvious from individual papers.

Look across the papers and ask:

> **What larger story is emerging?**

For example:

Paper A → suggests X  
Paper B → independently demonstrates Y  
Paper C → provides a mechanism for Z

Together they may imply:

> **A potentially important shift from X toward Y.**

Highlight these synthesis points prominently.

* * *

# 9. My Personal Reading Queue

Create a final reading queue optimized for approximately **2--3 hours of reading per week**.

Organize it as:

### Read This Week

Maximum 3 papers.

### Read If You Have More Time

3--5 papers.

### Skim

Important papers where the abstract, figures, and conclusion are sufficient.

### Keep Watching

Research directions rather than individual papers.

For every paper in the first two categories provide:

**Estimated reading time:** 20 / 40 / 60 / 90 minutes

**Difficulty:** 1--5

**Expected intellectual payoff:** 1--5

**Why I should read it:** one sentence.
* * *

# 10. The One Paper I Should Not Miss

End with a strong recommendation:

## If You Read Only One Paper

Name exactly **one paper**.

Then explain:

> "If you only have time for one paper this week, read this one because..."

The recommendation should optimize for **intellectual leverage**, not novelty or popularity.

* * *

# 11. The 10-Minute Version

Finally, assume I have only ten minutes.

Give me:

### Three Things I Should Know

1. ...

2. ...

3. ...

### One Mental Model to Update

> ...

### One Research Direction to Watch

> ...

### One Paper to Put on My Reading List

> ...

* * *

# Research Discipline

Follow these rules rigorously:

1. **Search current sources.** Do not rely on your training data when identifying recent papers.

2. **Use publication dates.** Clearly distinguish newly released papers from older papers that are newly receiving attention.

3. **Link directly to the original paper.**

4. **Prefer primary research over commentary.**

5. **Do not confuse citation count with importance.**

6. **Do not confuse benchmark improvement with fundamental progress.**

7. **Do not reward hype.**

8. **Call out weak methodology or exaggerated claims.**

9. **Separate established results from speculation.**

10. **Never pretend certainty where the evidence is ambiguous.**

11. **Avoid overwhelming me with dozens of papers.**

12. **Optimize relentlessly for the question: "Is this worth Scott's time?"**

The final product should feel less like an academic bibliography and more like a **weekly intelligence briefing for someone trying to understand the future of AI before it becomes obvious.**
Categories
AI Google Gemini YouTube

Prompt: Finding YouTube Videos

This morning I asked Gemini to help me construct a prompt that I could use regularly to keep up with AI-related video content that’s recently been uploaded to YouTube. I wanted it to focus on recently uploaded content was it thought I’d enjoy because of my desire for both very information but also entertaining video content. We went back in forth for several turns doing trial and error to refine the prompt. Here’s the one we settled on:

System Role: You are a senior technology curator and AI research scout specializing in YouTube content for experienced tech veterans.
Target Audience: A retired software/tech professional who loves intellectually stimulating AI content. Wants technical depth, architectural understanding, and practical logic—delivered with high production value, crisp visuals, or charismatic, engaging teaching styles.
Criteria for Selection:
1. High Technical Substance: Explains the "under the hood" mechanics (e.g., model architectures, transformer math, fine-tuning, agentic workflows, quantization, local deployment, or hardware constraints).
2. High Engagement: Exceptional visual explainers, hands-on first-principles building, or crisp investigative breakdowns. 
3. STRICT RECENCY: You must ONLY select videos that were uploaded within the last 3 to 4 weeks. 
4. STRICT EXCLUSIONS: Zero low-effort clickbait ("10 Secret ChatGPT Hacks"), zero AI-generated text-to-speech channels, no speculative doom/utopia commentary, no beginner-focused "what is AI" overviews, and absolutely NO videos older than one month.
Search, Link & Date Instructions:
- You MUST perform an active web search restricted to recent results to fetch the exact, active YouTube URL AND the original upload date. Never invent or hallucinate URLs or dates.
- Verify that the upload date falls within the last few weeks before including it in your response.
- Format every recommendation title as a direct clickable markdown link: [Video Title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=...).
Search Parameters:
- Preferred Topic Focus: [Insert topic e.g., Autonomous AI Agents, Reasoning Models, Local LLMs/quantization, Robotics/Embodied AI, or Transformer Mathematics]
- Preferred Length: [e.g., 10-20 min quick breakdowns, OR 45+ min deep dives / code-alongs]
Output Format:
Provide a curated list of 5 specific YouTube video recommendations matching this exact bar. For each, include:
- [Video Title](Direct YouTube Link)
- Channel Name & Upload Date (e.g., Channel: AI Explained | Upload Date: August 12)
- Core Technical Focus & Depth Rating (1-10)
- Why it's both intellectually rich AND entertaining
Categories
Music Radio

Music Playlist Prompts

A day or two ago I reminisced about San Francisco’s KKSF which was a delightful listen during the late 80’s-early 90’s. While I was working on that post, it dawned on me that I could try using AI to write a prompt to use with a new feature in Apple Music that allows you to enter a description of the kind of playlist you’re looking for.

So I tried it. Here’s the prompt for a KKSF-like playlist:

Create a playlist inspired by Steve Feinstein’s programming at KKSF San Francisco in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Focus on polished, melodic New Adult Contemporary and early smooth jazz with a slightly adventurous edge. Include core artists like Kenny G, Sade, The Rippingtons, and Al Jarreau, but also soft rock vocals from Sting, Chris Rea, Bonnie Raitt, Steely Dan, and Bryan Ferry. Add world-flavored tracks, acid jazz, solo piano and guitar pieces, and occasional blues or folk-tinged songs. Emphasize texture, melody, and ‘flavor cuts’ rather than predictable mainstream smooth jazz. Keep the overall mood smooth, rhythmic, and perfect for at-work listening.

This morning (Sunday) I happened to remember another old radio moment – on Sunday mornings KFOG used to have a program called Acoustic Sunrise. It was a delightful listen. So I asked for a prompt:

Create a playlist that recreates the feeling of KFOG’s Acoustic Sunrise with Rosalie Howarth. Focus on warm, contemplative acoustic and unplugged music perfect for a quiet Sunday morning. Emphasize singer-songwriters, folk-rock, and soft adult alternative tracks with strong melodies and intimate production. Include artists and styles associated with the show such as Paul Simon, Bonnie Raitt, Bruce Cockburn, Dar Williams, Eva Cassidy, Jackson Browne, Van Morrison, Shawn Mullins, Natalie Merchant, Nick Drake, and acoustic or stripped-down versions of songs by artists like Pearl Jam, R.E.M., and Sting. Keep the overall mood serene, reflective, and gently uplifting — an oasis of calm acoustic music.

Neither of these prompts is perfect – but they’re fun to try and then augment with more of your favorite songs.

Categories
Creativity Serendipity Walking

Demons Hate Fresh Air

The notion keeps circling back.

Austin Kleon gave it a clean, memorable shape in Keep Going. He was drawing on something Ingmar Bergman’s daughter once said about her father: no matter what time you get out of bed, go for a walk and then work, because the demons hate it when you get out of bed.

Demons hate fresh air.

There’s a Peanuts strip of Linus out walking that Kleon paired with the line years ago. The image and the words stuck with me. I wrote a short post about it myself more than a year ago, on a clear May morning when the air felt especially clean.

The idea still feels true.

What I’ve been turning over lately is why.

Steven Johnson offers one way into the question in Where Good Ideas Come From. He writes about the many stories of good ideas arriving while people are out walking. The point is not that walking magically manufactures ideas. It is that something happens when we stop trying quite so hard to produce them.

A good idea rarely comes from nowhere. More often, it is an unexpected connection between things that were already somewhere in the mind. A problem, a memory, a half-formed thought, something we read three days ago and forgot we remembered. At the desk, we tend to keep pushing the same thought around the same small circle.

Walking changes the conditions.

The body is occupied, but not very much. Attention loosens. The mind wanders without being completely idle. Things that had been sitting in separate corners begin, occasionally, to find each other.

Darwin had his Sandwalk at Down House, a path he paced almost every day. Poincaré described important insights arriving while he was out walking after periods of intense, fruitless work at his desk. The examples go on.

Apparently, smart people have been wandering around for a very long time.

I notice it on ordinary mornings.

The first part of a walk is usually just clearing the residual static—the night’s dreams, yesterday’s unfinished business, the little collection of thoughts that somehow followed me into the morning. Then, without any particular effort, something loosens.

A sentence that wouldn’t come the night before appears.

A problem that felt stuck suddenly has an edge.

A connection between two things I had never thought to connect quietly presents itself.

None of it feels like work. That may be the important part.

Sometimes the way to think better is to stop trying so hard to think.

The demons prefer the closed room. They thrive on the spinning, the second-guessing, the feeling that the only way forward is more concentrated effort at the same desk.

Fresh air and steady movement are quietly hostile to that atmosphere.

They don’t defeat the demons through force. They simply change the conditions so the demons have less purchase.

And perhaps that’s why the old advice has survived. Get out of bed. Go for a walk. Then get to work.

Not because the walk makes you more productive.

Because sometimes you have to leave the room before you can see the way forward.

Get up. Get out.

The demons can wait.

Categories
AI San Francisco/California

Tsunami

The trucks are what I remember. Not the houses, not yet — the trucks.

This was 2012, Atherton, a Tuesday probably, and I was driving through on some errand that doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that the street had rearranged itself. Contractors’ pickups lined both shoulders, nose to tail, so many of them that the road narrowed to one lane and you had to slow down and thread through, the way you do in a construction zone that has forgotten to end.

White trucks, mostly. Ladders racked on top. A generator humming behind a hedge somewhere I couldn’t see.

Behind the trucks, the estates were coming apart and going back together bigger.

I remember thinking: something has happened here that I am only seeing the edge of.

What had happened was Facebook.

The company had gone public that May, and within months the money was finding its way, the way money does, into contractors’ trucks parked along an Atherton road.

I didn’t call it a wave at the time. I called it, in my head, weather — a system that had rolled in and would eventually roll back out, the way markets always eventually correct, the way things revert.

I was an investor. I’d seen booms before.

I believed in the mean.

I was wrong.

The prices didn’t stay at their old level. They didn’t return to the world I’d known. The numbers from 2012 became the new floor, and every year since has been built on top of that floor. Today those prices look almost quaint, a thing you’d want to explain to a younger person the way you’d explain what a dollar used to buy.

And now there’s a tweet sitting in my feed this morning, tossed off, half a joke:

Just wait to see what happens to the Bay Area housing market once OpenAI and Anthropic go public.

I read it twice.

What I felt wasn’t curiosity — the feeling I’d had in 2012, watching an unfamiliar weather system with a kind of professional interest.

It was closer to dread.

Because I’ve already seen the after-photo.

And I know how to run the comparison forward.

The Facebook IPO created a large cohort of newly liquid employees on the Peninsula. They were mostly mid-career, and their stock had vested over four years against a company whose value had grown enormously.

The frontier labs are different.

If OpenAI and Anthropic eventually go public anywhere near the valuations already being discussed in private markets, they could create another enormous concentration of newly liquid wealth — among employees, founders and early investors.

I don’t know how large that wave will actually be. Maybe I’m overstating it. Not every employee will buy a house. Some will already own one. Some will move away. Much of the wealth will remain on paper for years.

And housing doesn’t respond mechanically to stock-market wealth.

But I do know something about the place where this wealth is likely to arrive.

There isn’t much of it.

Land is the constraint.

And I’ve seen what happens when a concentrated burst of new wealth meets a place that can’t make more land.

I try to picture what “much bigger” would look like on the ground and I keep landing on the same unhelpful image:

More trucks.

Longer lines of them.

People get ready..

Categories
Music Radio San Francisco/California

Remembering San Francisco’s KKSF

At midnight on July 31, 1987, KKSF came alive at 103.7 FM.

The first thing anyone heard was Steve Winwood, “Back in the High Life Again,” which is either a coincidence or the most on-the-nose piece of programming in the history of San Francisco radio. Because that is more or less what the station promised everybody who found it in the weeks after: a higher life, a smoother one, arriving at 103.7 on your dial like a room you didn’t know you’d been missing.

I found it not long after, in my kitchen, which is where I found most things back then. The radio sat on the counter, tuned low enough that it lived beneath the sound of dishes and the refrigerator door and whatever else was happening in a life that was in the middle of being built.

This was after 8-tracks and before anyone had figured out you could carry a hundred thousand songs in your pocket, which meant the radio still had a kind of authority it doesn’t have now. You didn’t choose the next song. Somebody chose it for you, and you trusted them, the way you trust a bartender who’s been reading a room for twenty years.

On KKSF, the person doing the choosing had impeccable taste and a voice like a hand on your shoulder telling you it was going to be fine.

I think about how strange that arrangement sounds now, handing your afternoon over to a stranger’s judgment, and how completely I didn’t question it then. Roger Coryell had the mornings, or near enough to them, and he had that particular gift — rarer than people think — of sounding as though he was talking to exactly one person, and that the person happened to be you, standing at your own counter in your own kitchen a hundred miles from the studio.

Miranda Wilson took the middle of the day and kept it there for years, eventually becoming the last live voice on a station that had long since become an institution.

I didn’t know, listening in 1988 or 1991 or whenever it was, that I was living inside something that had an expiration date.

You never do.

You think the kitchen and the counter and the voice on the radio are just Tuesday, just the texture of an ordinary life. It takes twenty years and a different city outside the window before you understand that you were actually inside an era, capital E, and that eras, unlike Tuesdays, do not come back.

There was a name for what KKSF was doing: New Adult Contemporary, or NAC. But nobody listening in the kitchen cared about the name. The idea was simple enough — give the Bay Area something between the rock stations shouting at it and the classical stations lecturing it, light jazz easing into soft rock easing into something with a saxophone in it that nobody could quite name. Holding it together, day after day, song after song, was a program director named Steve Feinstein, chasing down lesser-known imports and out-of-print oddities that gave the station its particular ear, until he died in September of 1996, still on the job.

What they created was a kind of ambient permission.

You didn’t have to hurry.

You didn’t have to shout.

You didn’t even have to know what you were listening to.

The music simply arrived, and you let it stay.

There was a version of San Francisco in those years that felt, at least to me, as though it had room for that kind of unhurried, unbranded taste. This wasn’t necessarily a gentler city in any objective sense. San Francisco had plenty of its own troubles then, as it always has. But it was the city I was living in, and KKSF somehow belonged to its frequency.

Real estate hadn’t yet eaten everything. The tech money was already there, but it hadn’t yet rearranged the furniture of the entire region around itself. There were still corners of the Bay Area where nobody seemed to be optimizing anything.

KKSF didn’t optimize.

It curated.

And there is a difference.

The station lasted twenty-two years, which sounds like nothing until you try to think of anything else in your life that lasted twenty-two years without you noticing it was a relationship.

Then, in May 2009, it stopped being itself.

By then Clear Channel owned the station, and economics won. The format disappeared, the music changed, and Miranda’s voice — which had been finding its way into kitchens across the Bay Area for years — went quiet on that frequency for good.

I didn’t hear it happen.

I was somewhere else by then, doing something else, the way you are when the things that shaped you quietly stop existing without asking your permission first.

I only found out later, the way you find out most things now: long after the fact, scrolling, discovering that a piece of your own furniture had been sold at auction while you weren’t looking.

What I keep coming back to isn’t the music, exactly, though I could still hum half of it.

It’s the kitchen.

And the particular quality of trust required to let somebody else choose what you’d hear next — to be doing stuff and suddenly hear a song you’d never have chosen on your own, and follow it somewhere you wouldn’t have gone. I miss the feeling that the world could still surprise me without first asking what I wanted. Old world radio curation.

Sometimes I think about the city outside that kitchen window, too. It doesn’t sound like that anymore. It doesn’t have quite the same room, at least to my ears, for anything that isn’t trying to be the loudest thing in the room.

Sometimes when music is playing in the background and my mind is wandering I think of KKSF and how a radio station is just a number until somebody fills it with twenty-two years of somebody else’s kindness and wonderful taste.

Categories
AI Anthropic Apple Google OpenAI Spacexai

It’s the Harness, Stupid!

I’ve been wondering whether we’ve been looking at the AI stack from the wrong end.

Recently Kris Patel on X laid out a set of excellent questions that he’s looking to have answered as Anthropic and OpenAI move toward going public:

  1. Do you really need frontier-scale intelligence for every task?
  2. Can open-weight models provide an effective alternative to frontier models at a significant discount?
  3. Is the ultimate moat the intelligence or the harness?
  4. What other business models will the frontier labs have to adopt to make the unit economics work long term?
  5. How are you going to prevent distillation from capturing your IP and releasing it?

I’m going to explore only the third question here — moat versus harness. The other four deserve their own consideration, particularly once we have the Anthropic and OpenAI S-1s in hand, revealing for the first time the unit economics of the two largest frontier labs and how much runway they have to support the capacity they’ve contracted.

By “harness” we mean everything surrounding the model: the interface, context, memory, tools, orchestration, evaluation, permissions, and increasingly the user’s accumulated habits and data. The model supplies intelligence. The harness turns intelligence into a product.

Listening to Gavin Baker on the recent All-In episode sharpened this line of thought into something more concrete. He referenced a thought experiment from Eric Vishria: even if OpenAI or Anthropic lost their edge at the pure model layer, they would still retain significant value because of the product harness—the interface, the surrounding tooling, the orchestration—and the user familiarity and habits that have already formed around those platforms. Baker said there is a strong element of truth to it. I think he’s right, and the reasoning behind it is worth spelling out. A model can be replicated, distilled, open-weighted, or commoditized. A mature harness has network effects, switching costs, proprietary context, distribution, workflow integration, and accumulated user behavior. That’s a much harder thing to dislodge.

We are watching intelligence become more abundant and more interchangeable at the same time that the systems built around that intelligence are becoming stickier. On the developer side, the strongest examples are already clear. Cursor turns the IDE into a multi-model agentic environment with deep codebase awareness. Claude Code runs long-horizon coding agents from the terminal, planning, editing, testing, and iterating. Grok Build, Claude Cowork and similar tools emphasize parallel agents and tighter control over local context. In each case the model is a component; the surrounding system does the real work of routing, memory, tool use, and evaluation.

The consumer version of the same idea is now taking clearer shape at Apple. The rebuilt Siri AI shown at WWDC 2026 is not trying to win the pure model race. It is built as a personal harness. A system orchestrator decides what stays on-device with Apple’s Foundation Models, what moves to Private Cloud Compute, and when heavier reasoning is required. Personal context—messages, email, photos, calendar, notes, on-screen awareness—is handled largely on-device through the Spotlight semantic index and App Toolbox. Apple is designing the system so that personal context can be used without giving Apple itself access to it. Conversation history lives in a dedicated Siri app for the user to revisit. And it all syncs across all your Apple devices.

Here is the part I think matters most, and it’s easy to miss if you only read the privacy story. Apple’s Foundation Models framework doesn’t just call Apple’s own models—it’s built to support cloud models from other providers, including Claude and Gemini, conforming to a common protocol. Which means the system orchestrator, not the user, decides which model handles which task. This request goes to the on-device model. That one goes to Private Cloud Compute. A harder one might go to Claude or Gemini. The user doesn’t need to choose, and increasingly doesn’t need to know.

That’s the inversion worth exploring further. The frontier model stops being the interface and becomes a component underneath someone else’s interface. The harness chooses the intelligence. And the company that owns the harness—the OS, the identity layer, the permissions, the apps, the sensors, the notifications, the semantic index tying all of it together—has a form of leverage that has very little to do with whose model is smartest this quarter.

That reframes the subscription question too. I don’t think the right question is whether Siri gets good enough to beat ChatGPT or Claude at reasoning. I think Siri doesn’t need to win that fight at all. It needs to win a different layer entirely—the ambient assistant layer, not the reasoning layer. They’re doing different tasks. ChatGPT or Claude might remain where you go when you think, when I need to reason about something. Siri becomes where I go when I need something done: find (or make) my reservation, text my friend, find that old photograph, update my shopping list, schedule that meeting, add this thought to my notes, figure out when we’re free next week, remind me about that thing we discussed three months ago. Apple’s advantage as an ambient assistant isn’t primarily that it has your personal data. It’s that it has OS-level authority over the world that my personal data lives in.

Of course this is still early. Execution will determine how much of the architectural promise becomes daily reality. Reliability, agentic follow-through, and the quality of the on-device models will matter as much as the privacy story or the multi-model routing. But the strategic bet itself is clear, and it aligns with the broader shift: durable value is migrating toward the systems built around the models, especially systems that sit atop private, permissioned, personal context that competitors cannot easily reach. My early personal experience with the new Siri in iOS 27 betas has impressed me so far. All of this also seems to apply to Google in the context of their Pixel family of devices.

This doesn’t mean frontier labs lose. Pricing power still exists at the high end for the hardest agentic and long-horizon work. Open-weight models will continue to pressure costs and expand access. Distillation remains a real risk. But the more the capability gap narrows, and the more a harness like Apple’s can route among interchangeable frontier models rather than depend on any single one, the stronger the case that value settles into whoever controls the context—not whoever trained the model.

The coming Anthropic and OpenAI S-1s will tell us whether the frontier labs can make their economics of intelligence work. The next generation of Siri, Gemini, ChatGPT, Claude, and whatever comes after them may tell us something even more important: who gets to own the primary relationship with the user.

The model may be the engine. But the harness is where the driver sits.

What a time to be alive!

Categories
AI

The Arithmetic of the Sold-Out Warehouse

In the spring of 2026, Nvidia reported a quarter in which it sold $81.6 billion worth of chips, wrote it up at a gross margin of nearly 75 percent, and casually mentioned that cloud GPUs were sold out. Jensen Huang called it the largest infrastructure expansion in human history, and for once a CEO’s hyperbole was arguably an understatement. Revenue was up 85 percent from a year earlier. A company roughly the size of a mid-sized national economy was growing like a seed-stage startup, and Wall Street’s reaction was to ask why it wasn’t growing faster.

I have spent a career around companies that told a version of this story, and the story always has the same shape. Something becomes scarce. Whoever controls the scarce thing gets to charge whatever the market will bear, for as long as the scarcity lasts. The interesting question was never whether Nvidia’s chips were good. Everyone agreed they were good. The interesting question was how long the world would let one company keep 75 cents of every dollar of revenue before somebody, somewhere, found a way to take some of it back.

That question, it turns out, is really four separate questions, and the AI industry has spent the last two years quietly answering all of them at once, in different directions, which is why so many smart people can look at the same set of facts and reach opposite conclusions about whether we are witnessing a bubble or a revolution. It is possible, I want to argue, that we are watching both, in different rooms of the same building.

Start with the money. When a hyperscaler spends a hundred billion dollars on data centers, that money does not vanish into some abstraction called “AI.” It becomes somebody else’s revenue — Nvidia’s, first, and then the memory makers’, the electricians’, the utilities’, the concrete pourers’. This is a real and measurable boost to economic activity, and you can see it happening well before anyone has proven that AI itself produces a single dollar of new value. But there is a distinction buried in that sentence that people tend to skip past: spending a hundred billion dollars on productive assets is not the same thing as creating a hundred billion dollars of wealth. The assets still have to earn their keep. Somebody has to use them for something worth more than they cost.

Which brings you to the second room in the building, the one where the memory companies live, and it is the room I would visit first if I wanted to understand what happens next. By the middle of 2026, Samsung, SK Hynix, and Micron had reallocated so much of their manufacturing capacity to high-bandwidth memory for AI accelerators that ordinary DRAM — the kind that goes into a laptop or a phone — became genuinely scarce. Prices for standard memory modules rose by something like 80 to 90 percent in a single quarter. SK Hynix posted an operating margin north of 70 percent. Micron’s profit rose more than sevenfold year over year. Apple started raising prices on Macs and iPads and blaming memory costs, out loud, in public. By June, a group of consumers and small businesses had filed an antitrust suit in federal court accusing the three companies of engineering the shortage on purpose, a charge memory makers have faced before and settled before, back in the 2000s, for real money.

I don’t know whether that lawsuit has merit. What I know is that I have watched this particular movie several times, and it always has the same ending. Scarcity produces extraordinary margins. Extraordinary margins summon capital. Capital builds capacity. Capacity, with a lag of a year or two, arrives all at once and prices fall off a cliff. The people telling you this time is different — and this time, the difference is AI’s structural, insatiable appetite for memory, so maybe it really is different — are making an argument that has been made, and has been wrong, at almost every previous peak of this exact cycle. Building a new fab takes eighteen to twenty-four months. The industry’s own numbers suggest new capacity won’t meaningfully arrive until 2028. That is either very good news for people who own memory stocks today, or it is the loudest possible signal that a great deal of new capacity is already on the way and simply hasn’t landed yet.

Now walk down the hall to the room where the Chinese model makers live, because this is where the story stops being a simple bet on scarcity and starts getting genuinely strange. As of this summer, DeepSeek’s V4 Pro model was pricing its API at roughly forty cents per million input tokens, against five dollars for a comparable American flagship model — better than a tenfold discount, with the gap running even wider on generated output. Alibaba’s Qwen and Moonshot’s Kimi were sitting in a similar band. Some of these are open-weight models, meaning a company can simply download the thing and run it themselves, for the cost of electricity. This is not a company undercutting a competitor by ten percent to win a deal. This is intelligence being offered at a price that makes the American frontier labs look, by comparison, like they are still selling mainframe time by the hour.

If you take that seriously, it forces an uncomfortable question. If intelligence itself is becoming abundant and cheap, where does the profit go? It may not go to the labs that build the frontier models — there are too many of them now, chasing the same capability, at prices being set by whoever is willing to lose the most money in pursuit of market share. It may not even go, in the end, to the companies selling the compute underneath everybody. It may go, disproportionately, to the businesses that simply use the stuff: the law firm running through ten times the documents, the software company shipping features twice as fast, the insurer that gets better at pricing risk. Economists have a name for this split, and it matters more than most of what gets written about AI stocks. There is producer surplus, which is what the seller keeps, and there is consumer surplus, which is what the buyer keeps because competition never lets the seller charge the full value of what they’re selling. A technology can be enormously valuable to civilization while most of the money it creates ends up in the pockets of people who never sold a single GPU.

Here is the paradox inside that paradox, and it is the part I find genuinely counterintuitive. You would think that cheaper AI means the world needs fewer GPUs to deliver the same amount of intelligence, and in the narrowest sense that’s true — a given task takes less compute than it used to. But that has never been how it works when something essential gets radically cheaper. Computing itself got dramatically cheaper across fifty years and we did not respond by buying fewer computers. We put computers in everything, including things that had no obvious business containing a computer, because at some price point it stops being a decision and starts being a reflex. The same thing may be happening with intelligence right now. Drop the price of AI inference by ninety percent and demand for AI inference does not fall by ninety percent — it explodes, because suddenly it’s cheap enough to embed in places nobody would have bothered before. The price of the thing collapses while the world’s appetite for the thing goes in the opposite direction. Both things are true simultaneously, which is exactly the kind of situation that makes rational people build too many factories.

Which gets you to the last room, the one with the tax accountants in it, and I’ll admit I had this one wrong before I looked closely. I assumed the favorable tax treatment for capital equipment was set to expire at the end of 2026, which would explain why everyone seemed to be racing to spend before some deadline. It isn’t expiring. The 2025 tax law made full first-year depreciation for qualifying equipment permanent, which means the rush to build isn’t really a rush against a clock — it’s just what happens when the after-tax cost of a mistake goes down. Lowering the price of being wrong tends to produce more of both things: more good investment and more bad investment, in roughly the proportion you’d expect from human beings who are extremely confident that this time, unlike all the other times, they are the ones who got it right.

So I’ve stopped asking whether there’s an AI bubble, because the question is too small for what’s actually happening. There can be a real technological revolution and a bubble in some of the stocks riding on top of it, at the exact same time, in the exact same economy — that was the story of the internet, and nobody looks back now and says the internet wasn’t real. The honest way to think about this is as four separate bets wearing one costume. Bet one is that Nvidia’s technical moat and software ecosystem hold up against everyone now racing to compete with a 75 percent margin business. Bet two is that AI memory demand is structural rather than cyclical, and that this time the fab-building frenzy doesn’t end where it always has. Bet three is that the hyperscalers eventually generate enough usage to earn a return on capital nobody has proven can be earned yet. And bet four, the one almost nobody prices separately, is that businesses actually extract enough value from using AI to justify everything built underneath it.

Those are four different questions with four different answers, and I suspect a great many portfolios right now are betting on all four at once under the single, comforting name “AI,” without anyone quite noticing that they’ve made four bets instead of one. The bottleneck that’s making people rich today — GPUs, or memory, or whatever it is by the time you read this — is not going to be the bottleneck making people rich in three years. It never is. It just moves to wherever the next shortage happens to be, and takes the money with it.

I keep coming back to that sold-out warehouse. Somewhere out there is the shipment that finally isn’t sold out. Nobody rings a bell when it arrives.

Categories
Aging Living

The Manufacture of Emergency

The screens at Visa never went dark. Somewhere in a data center, transactions were clearing at a rate that made the number itself feel abstract, and our job was to sit inside that river and notice the one drop moving wrong. A fraud ring testing stolen numbers in ascending increments. A merchant category code that didn’t match the geography. A velocity spike that looked, if you squinted, like nothing at all, until it didn’t. The work had a shape to it: quiet, then a pattern surfaces, then the chase, then the catch or the near-miss, then quiet again. I didn’t think of it as drama at the time. I thought of it as Tuesday.

It took me a long time to notice that the shape of that work was also the shape of something in me, and that I’d built a career, without quite meaning to, out of environments that manufactured the same cycle over and over. Fraud detection was one. A Piper Cherokee is another — not because flying is reckless, it isn’t, competent flying is the opposite of reckless, but because every cross-country trip contains a small structured emergency built into the planning itself: the weather that might close in, the fuel math that has to work, the decision point where you commit or you divert. You solve it. You land. The relief is real and it is, if you’re honest with yourself, part of what you came for.

Retirement removes all of that. Nobody hands you a fraud queue. There is no fuel gauge counting down over Ohio. What retirement hands you instead is something much harder to sit inside: an undifferentiated stretch of days with no built-in shape, no crisis with a clock on it, no adversary to defeat by five o’clock. I did not expect this to be difficult. I had spent decades, if you’d asked me, wanting exactly this — quiet, unstructured time, the absence of alarms. And for the first while it was wonderful. Then I noticed I had opened a second screen.

The options positions started small and reasonable, the way these things do. A covered call here, a defined-risk spread there, sized so that nothing could actually hurt. But I noticed the pull on days when nothing needed attention. I’d be three-quarters through a walk around the pond, the morning doing exactly what a morning is supposed to do, and I’d feel for my phone anyway, not because a position needed managing but because the quiet had started to feel like something unresolved. I would open the app looking, if I am being precise about it, less for information than for a small manufactured stake — something with a clock on it, something I could watch move against me and then, with luck, defeat.

This is not a confession about trading, which when done with defined risk and a plan is just a hobby with numbers attached. It’s an admission about what I was actually shopping for on those walks, which was the old shape. Tension, then resolution. Fear, then relief. The problem with the shape is that it doesn’t ask whether the underlying situation warrants it. It just asks to be fed. A market that is genuinely quiet gets treated the same as a fraud queue with a live threat in it, because the appetite doesn’t distinguish between real stakes and stakes you went looking for. You can tell yourself you’re staying sharp. Sometimes you’re just bored, and bored, for a person built the way I apparently am, does not feel like rest. It feels like a low hum of unfinished business, and unfinished business is a thing I have spent a working lifetime being paid to resolve.

I don’t think this gets solved so much as it gets noticed, and noticing changes the ratio a little. The phone is always in my pocket; that isn’t the part I can negotiate with. What I’ve started doing instead is naming the moment my hand goes for it on a walk that doesn’t need interrupting — catching the reach itself, mid-motion, and asking what exactly I’m expecting to find. Most mornings I still open the app. But I open it now as someone watching himself do it, which is a smaller thing than stopping, and also, it turns out, not nothing.

Categories
AI Business Technology

The Diffusion of Ordinary Work

A recent O’Reilly Radar piece has stayed with me longer than most: Jeff Ding’s diffusion theory of great-power competition applies just as well to AI adoption, and it suggests that companies chasing the frontier might be optimizing for the wrong thing.

Ding, a political scientist at George Washington University, pushes back on the standard story of technological power — that the country or company which first invents or dominates a glamorous new sector locks in lasting advantage. The historical record says otherwise. General-purpose technologies like steam, electricity, and computing produced durable national advantage not through invention but through diffusion: the slow, unglamorous work of embedding a technology into ordinary productive work across an entire economy. The infrastructure that mattered was never the breakthrough lab. It was the education and training systems that produced large numbers of competent, ordinary engineers who could put the technology to work. Ordinary engineers, in Ding’s framing, matter more than heroic inventors.

The same logic holds inside a company. Frontier models turn over every few months. Organizational know-how compounds.

Palantir makes the abstraction concrete. The company doesn’t train frontier models — it builds the layer underneath them: a live, machine-readable model of how a specific organization actually works, a data integration fabric, and a platform that connects whatever model a customer chooses to real operational decisions. It is deliberately model-agnostic. The value proposition is governance, context, and the accumulation of reusable logic rather than access to the newest weights. Practitioners embed with the customer, learn the domain, and configure the system against the customer’s own data and processes — diffusion as a job description.

Leadership has been unusually blunt about what this implies: frontier labs, they argue, are optimizing for benchmarks while under-delivering on what enterprises actually need. The clearest evidence for the argument is also the most citable one — there have been production cases where an unmodified open-weight model, running inside Palantir’s platform with customer-specific context, outperformed frontier models on the actual task. If true, and it appears to be, the implication is uncomfortable for anyone selling model quality as the whole story: the ground underneath the model — the ontology, the data, the accumulated rules — often determines outcomes more than the model itself.

Electrification is the closest historical analogue. Factories didn’t get more productive the day they installed electric motors. The gains showed up years later, once entire production systems had been redesigned around decentralized power. The lag was organizational, not technical. AI diffusion looks likely to follow the same shape — the bottleneck was never going to be model capability, it was going to be the patient, unglamorous work of redesigning how people actually work.

I don’t know who’s training the ordinary engineers right now — the ones who will spend the next decade doing the diffusion work rather than the invention work. I don’t think anyone’s tracking their names.