Categories
AI Business Software

Ice Rinks

Nobody in the Valley thinks about ice rinks.

That line sat with me longer than the rest of a conversation between Patrick Collison and Amjad Masad. Collison runs Stripe. Masad runs Replit. Someone asked, more or less, where Collison would look if he were starting over. He did not name an AI lab. He named the software nobody fashionable wants to touch.

I have heard versions of this advice for years. Vertical SaaS. Boring industries. Schlep blindness. What felt new was the timing. The distance from an idea to the first dollar has roughly halved. On Stripe’s numbers, the time to reach a million, ten million, even a hundred million in recurring revenue is about half what it was in the last SaaS boom. Twenty percent of new startups now charge a customer inside thirty days, up from eight percent in 2020. New business creation on the platform nearly doubled in a year, a bigger jump than the pandemic spike.

When building the thing was the scarce skill, the programmer won. When a working product can be stood up quickly, the scarce skill is knowing why the old thing is still tolerated. The domain expert gets the edge. A teacher who understood schools built MagicSchool on Replit and rode it toward a company later described as worth half a billion dollars. The insight was the teacher’s. The tools closed the gap.

Collison’s map has three drawers.

Categories
AI

The Geometry of Speed

We are surprised when witnessing something move faster than our intuition expects. We are inherently wired to understand slow, compounding growth. We expect the long, grinding years of the plateau—the quiet periods where nothing seems to happen before a sudden breakthrough.

I was looking at a chart Patrick Collison shared this morning, and it challenged that very intuition. It’s a simple, stark visualization: AI model intelligence relative to the formation date of the lab that built it.

If you trace the lines for Google and OpenAI on the right side of the graph, you see the history we’ve all lived through. Thousands of days—more than a decade of quiet, methodical, often unglamorous research—before their trend lines finally bend and shoot upward. It is a geometry of patience. It’s the visual representation of laying bricks, one by one, year by year, until you have a foundation sturdy enough to support the weight of a revolution.

And then, on the far left of the chart, there is a red line. MSL. The team behind Meta’s new Muse Spark model, released today.

The red line doesn’t curve. It doesn’t slope. It simply strikes straight up, like a lightning bolt in reverse.

In roughly 200 days since formation, this new effort achieved a level of capability that took the early pioneers thousands of days to reach. Collison noted how much he loves seeing things done quickly, and it’s hard not to share that specific, visceral thrill of seeing the boundaries pushed so aggressively.

I find myself thinking about the architecture of speed and what it means for the rest of us.

We spend so much of our lives absorbing the lesson that “good things take time.” We are taught that the crucible of meaningful work requires a long, slow simmer. And mostly, that remains true. The compound interest of human experience is real, and wisdom is rarely rushed.

Yet, every once in a while, a new paradigm emerges that doesn’t just accelerate the timeline—it collapses it entirely.

The pioneers cut the agonizingly slow path through the jungle, taking the brunt of the time, the friction, and the missteps. The ones who follow—like xAI, Anthropic, and now MSL—don’t have to clear the brush from scratch. They can look at the map, pave the road, and simply drive.

What does it mean for our own mental models when the timeline from “formation” to “frontier” shrinks from five thousand days to a few hundred?

It is a jarring reminder that the past pace of performance is not a law of physics.

I think about my own assumptions—how often I assume a project, a habit, or a societal shift will take a while, simply because similar things took a while in the past. We anchor our expectations to old geometry.

Meta’s release of Muse Spark is a technical feat, certainly. But the chart itself holds a broader, more human lesson. It’s a visual prompt to constantly re-evaluate our assumptions about how long the impossible is supposed to take.

The future doesn’t always arrive on a comfortable, predictable schedule. Sometimes, it just shows up unannounced, demanding we adjust our stride to keep up.