Claude Academy is now live.
Whether you're figuring out what AI is or already using Claude every day, there's a path that meets you where you are. The courses and tutorials are free and open to anyone at https://t.co/WRiSRAvK6l
Every GPU running Claude and ChatGPT is built from billions of these. A MOSFET is just a voltage-controlled switch - raise the gate voltage, current flows. Drop it, current stops.
That's it. That's the entire foundation of modern computing. No moving parts, no chemistry, just a thin layer of silicon responding to an electric field. Trillion-parameter AI models are nothing more than this switch flipping on and off at 3 gigahertz.
10 minutes. Bookmark & watch today. One transistor. Infinite scale.
Yesterdayโs eclipse stopped roughly 10ยฒโฐ J of solar energy from reaching Earth.
Thatโs ~1 year of global electricity generation!
1,400 W/mยฒ of sunlight
ร 10ยนยณ mยฒ (Moon-sized shadow)
ร ~3 hours (Time Shadow Crossed Earth)
โ 10ยฒโฐ J
The Sun outputs energy on an absurd scale.
Here's my conversation with Khabib Nurmagomedov (@TeamKhabib), one of the greatest fighters of all time.
It was truly an honor to get to train with him, to have this deep conversation, and to get to know him over the past few months.
We did this conversation entirely in Russian. It's translated and dubbed into English. Both language audio tracks and subtitles are available on YouTube. Here on X, I'm posting the English & Russian language versions as seperate videos. The translation & dubbing was a huge amount of work (which I deeply care about) with humans & AI collaborating. Thanks to the amazing team at @ElevenLabs for their help.
Good luck to Islam Makhachev, Khabib & team this weekend at UFC 330!
And as I've said in the video, I'm truly grateful for all of you, for your support all these years. I love you all โค๏ธ
Timestamps:
0:00 - Introduction
1:35 - Why Dagestan produces so many great fighters
11:41 - History of Dagestan warrior culture
21:02 - Hard training in the mountains of Dagestan
24:53 - The trap of fame, money, and power
35:34 - The key to Khabib's dominance
46:47 - Discipline and hard work
59:15 - Street fights in Dagestan
1:12:56 - Khabib's top pressure
1:18:40 - Khabib vs Conor McGregor
1:31:25 - Khabib's toughest fight
1:39:12 - Greatest MMA fighters of all time
1:56:57 - Coaching
2:02:30 - Daniel Cormier
2:06:48 - Islam Makhachev
2:16:46 - Dana White
2:20:16 - Joe Rogan
2:22:31 - Ali Abdelaziz
2:25:08 - Football
2:32:23 - Messi vs Ronaldo
2:50:23 - Dubai
2:54:14 - God
3:01:57 - Advice for young people
๐ฆAI companies are bulk-buying rare books, scanning them through high-speed machines that cut the spines off, and shredding the originals. A service called ISBNdb facilitates orders of up to a million books and keeps buyers anonymous. Pre-2022 books are premium because they're free of AI-generated text. A federal judge ruled the practice is fair use because eliminating the original means only one copy exists at a time. Anthropic hired the former head of Google Books partnerships to obtain "all the books in the world."
My Take
This got to me. A bookseller told 404 Media that rare books with almost no surviving copies are being fed into this pipeline. Books that survived wars, fires, and centuries of handling are being shredded so an AI can learn to write a better marketing email.
ISBNdb's website literally says "'AI company destroys two million books' is not a headline that generates sympathy," and they still built an entire business around making it happen quietly. They offer NDAs as a feature. They coach clients to call it "digital preservation."
I've covered AI companies scraping the internet, torrenting libraries, and stealing music. This is worse because it's irreversible. You can re-upload a website. You can reprint a bestseller. You can't replace the last three copies of an 18th-century botanical text once someone shreds them for training data. And the judge said it's legal. So it's going to accelerate.
"We shred rare books and offer NDAs so nobody finds out" is a legitimate business model in 2026. What a timeline.
Hedgie๐ค
Comment made my day ๐
Moonshot fan: I love moonshot
Salim: great , share with friends
Moonshot fan: are you kidding me. That is my compitative advantage ๐
https://t.co/z6p3tuq7si
A 33-year-old woman at MIT wrote the code that ran inside the Apollo 11 lunar lander, and 20 seconds before Neil Armstrong touched the moon, her program made a decision the astronauts didn't know was happening that was the only reason the mission didn't crash.
Her name was Margaret Hamilton.
She led the team writing every line of code that would fly humans to the moon and back. The part almost nobody knows is that she had to fight to be allowed to do the work at all.
Code in 1965 was not treated as real work.
Rockets were serious. Circuits were serious. Writing code was something the men at NASA thought secretaries could do on the side. Hamilton was told this to her face more than once.
So she started calling what her team did "software engineering."
She used the phrase on purpose. In meetings. In memos. To force people to treat it as a discipline instead of a chore. Colleagues laughed at her the first few times she said it out loud.
That phrase is now the name of the biggest engineering profession on earth.
The story of what her code did on July 20, 1969 is the one every kid should be taught.
Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin were 3 minutes from touching down when the computer inside the lunar module started flashing an alarm.
1202.
Then again. Then 1201. Five alarms in four minutes. The computer was telling the astronauts it could not finish everything it had been asked to do.
The computer they were flying with had less memory than a modern microwave.
Someone on the checklist had left a switch in the wrong position, and a radar the astronauts did not even need right then was flooding the computer with data. It was eating around 13% of the machine's brain at the exact moment every second mattered.
In almost any other system, that overload would have frozen the machine.
A frozen machine 30,000 feet above the moon means a crash. It means two dead astronauts and a third one orbiting alone above them, waiting for a signal that would never come.
Hamilton's code did something else.
She had built the software with a rule almost nobody in her field was using at the time. When the machine ran out of room, it would not treat every task as equally important. It would look at the list of jobs it had been asked to do, throw out the ones that could wait, and keep running only the ones keeping the crew alive.
The radar was the low priority job.
The landing was the highest.
So the computer did what she had told it to do. It dumped the radar. It kept flying. The alarm was not a failure. It was the machine reporting that it was handling the overload exactly the way she had designed it to.
Down in Houston, a 24-year-old engineer named Jack Garman recognized the alarm from a test his team had run months earlier. He shouted "Go" to the flight controller. The controller shouted it up to the crew. The landing kept going.
Armstrong touched the surface with 25 seconds of fuel left.
The part that gets lost in every retelling is why Hamilton had built that safety net in the first place.
NASA had not asked for it.
She had added it on her own, years earlier, because her 4-year-old daughter Lauren had once crashed the simulator by pressing a button during a test. The button was one the astronauts had been told they would never press.
Hamilton wanted the code to survive that button press anyway.
Her bosses told her it was a waste of time. Astronauts do not make mistakes.
She insisted. The safety net went in.
Two years later, on the way to the moon, an astronaut left a switch in the wrong position. The exact class of mistake she had been told would never happen.
There is a photograph of her from that period.
She is standing next to a stack of paper as tall as she is. Every page in that stack is the code her team wrote for the mission. She is smiling at the camera like she knows something the rest of the aerospace industry has not figured out yet.
In 2016, Barack Obama put the Presidential Medal of Freedom around her neck and said the astronauts did not have much time, but thankfully, they had Margaret Hamilton.
Every autopilot in every plane you have ever flown on uses a version of what she invented. Every pacemaker. Every self driving car. Every satellite in orbit.
The idea that a machine should know which job matters most and drop the rest when it runs out of room is now the foundation of almost every safety system on the planet.
She wrote it because a 4 year old crashed a simulator and nobody else thought it was worth fixing.
The men in the room laughed at her for calling it engineering.
Then her code was the only thing in the sky that did not fail.
A Persian scholar finished a single math book in 9th century Baghdad that quietly became the foundation for every line of code running on Earth today.
I started reading about him at midnight and could not believe how many things in my daily life trace back to one man.
His name was Muhammad ibn Musa al-Khwarizmi. The book is called The Compendious Book on Calculation by Completion and Balancing.
Every time you say the word algebra, you are saying his book title. Every time someone says the word algorithm, they are saying his name. Both English words come from him. Both are Latin transliterations of Arabic and of his own identity. The man did not just contribute to mathematics. He named it.
Here is the part almost nobody tells you.
Al-Khwarizmi was born around 780 CE in Khwarazm, in what is now Uzbekistan. He moved to Baghdad and worked at a research institution called the House of Wisdom, which during the Islamic Golden Age was the single most important center of learning on the planet. The caliph al-Mamun hired the best mathematicians, astronomers, and philosophers from across three continents and put them in one building with one job. Translate, study, and produce new knowledge.
Al-Khwarizmi finished his book on algebra around 820 CE. The Arabic title contained the word al-jabr, which referred to one of the two operations he used to solve equations. When the book was translated into Latin in the 12th century, the Latin world did not have a word for what he had built. So they kept his Arabic word. Al-jabr became algebra. The discipline was named after a single Arabic word in the title of a single book by a single man.
The deeper insight is what he actually changed about how humans think.
Before al-Khwarizmi, mathematical problems were solved geometrically. You drew shapes. You measured them. You compared areas. The Greeks had built an entire mathematical tradition on visual proofs and physical constructions. It was beautiful and limited. You could not solve a problem you could not draw.
Al-Khwarizmi did something nobody had done before him at this scale. He said you could solve any problem using abstract symbols and rules. You did not need a shape. You needed a procedure. You moved terms across the equation. You cancelled like terms on both sides. You isolated the unknown. He invented the idea that mathematics is a manipulation of symbols according to rules, not a study of physical figures.
That single shift made everything that came afterward possible. Calculus. Differential equations. Linear algebra. Quantum mechanics. None of it works if math is locked inside geometry. He pulled it out.
The second thing he did is the one that changed how the world counted forever. He took the Hindu numeral system from Indian mathematics, refined it, and wrote a book introducing it to the Arab world. That system included the concept of zero as a placeholder, and a positional notation where the value of a digit depends on its location. Roman numerals could not do complex calculation. Hindu-Arabic numerals could.
When his book on numerals was translated into Latin as Algoritmi de numero Indorum, the word Algoritmi was just the Latin spelling of his own name. Europeans started calling the new method "doing algorism," then "running an algorithm." The word for the most important concept in computer science is literally his name in Latin.
The third thing he did is the part that should haunt anyone who works in tech.
His method of solving problems was systematic. Step one, do this. Step two, check that. Step three, if condition A, then do X, otherwise do Y. He wrote down procedures that could be followed by anyone, anywhere, who knew how to read. The procedure did not depend on intuition or genius. It worked because the steps worked.
That is exactly what an algorithm is. A finite, deterministic procedure for solving a problem. He did not just give us the word. He gave us the entire concept of programming a thousand years before there was anything to program.
When Alan Turing built the first abstract model of computation in 1936, when John von Neumann designed the first stored-program computer in 1945, when every engineer at Google, OpenAI, Anthropic, and DeepMind writes code in 2026, they are working in a paradigm that started with one man in Baghdad twelve centuries ago.
The strangest part is what happens when you walk into any tech office in San Francisco or Bangalore or Lahore today. Engineers say the words algebra and algorithm hundreds of times a day. They do not know whose name they are saying. Almost nobody can spell al-Khwarizmi correctly on the first try.
His original Arabic manuscript is preserved at Oxford. His book on Hindu numerals survives only in Latin translation. The Latin version was the textbook that taught medieval Europe how to count.
The man who built the foundation of the AI revolution did not live to see a calculator. He died around 850 CE, a thousand years before the first electric current was sent through a wire. The civilization he built mathematics for collapsed. The library he wrote in burned. His own grave is unmarked.
But every algorithm running on every machine on Earth right now still answers to his name.
She was rejected 15 times, dismissed as unruly, and largely written out of the conversation. Then the science proved she was right โ and changed everything we thought we knew about life itself.
In 1966, a twenty-eight-year-old biologist named Lynn Margulis sat down and wrote a paper that contradicted one of the most fundamental assumptions in all of science.
She was not a tenured professor. She was not working at a prestigious research institution. She was a young mother of two, recently divorced, completing her PhD while raising her sons largely on her own. The scientific establishment had no particular category for her and no particular interest in what she was proposing.
She proposed it anyway.
Her idea was this: that the story of evolution told through competition and conquest was incomplete. That somewhere in the deep history of life on Earth โ billions of years ago, long before anything with a spine had appeared โ something had happened that was not a battle but a merger. Two separate organisms, each unable to survive alone, had come together and become something neither could have been independently.
The mitochondria in every one of your cells โ the structures that convert food into energy, the engine that powers every thought you are having right now โ were once free-living bacteria. They did not evolve gradually inside cells. They moved in. They formed a partnership so deep and so permanent that over billions of years they became indistinguishable from the cell itself.
She called the theory endosymbiosis. She called the process symbiogenesis. What she was really saying was that cooperation, not just competition, was one of the engines of evolution โ that life's greatest leaps forward had sometimes come not from one organism defeating another, but from two organisms becoming one.
Fifteen scientific journals rejected the paper before it was published in 1967.
Fifteen.
To understand what she was working against, you need to understand the scientific culture of the 1960s. Neo-Darwinism โ the synthesis of Darwin's evolution with Mendelian genetics โ was the reigning framework, and it was defended with the particular intensity of a field that had recently achieved hard-won consensus. The idea that a bacterium had simply moved inside another cell and stayed there, permanently, was considered not just wrong but somewhat absurd. Evolution happened through random mutation and natural selection, slowly, over generations. Not through dramatic mergers. Not through cooperation.
The reviewers who rejected her paper used words like speculative and insufficiently rigorous. One described the idea as the sort of thing that was interesting to think about but impossible to prove.
She was also described, more than once, as unruly.
It was the specific word that followed women who challenged scientific consensus โ not wrong, not misguided, but unruly, as though the problem were her manner rather than her method.
She had been exceptional from the beginning in ways that made people uncomfortable. Born Lynn Petra Alexander in Chicago on March 5, 1938, she entered the University of Chicago at sixteen โ intellectually restless, reading at a level that outpaced her coursework, drawn to the questions at the edges of what science had settled. At nineteen she married a young astronomer named Carl Sagan, who would go on to become one of the most famous scientists of the twentieth century. She would later say, without particular bitterness, that during their marriage she was primarily considered someone's wife rather than someone in her own right.
They divorced in 1964. She raised their sons โ including Dorion Sagan, who would become her longtime collaborator โ while completing her doctorate in genetics from the University of California, Berkeley. She did the work that would change biology while managing the entire domestic architecture of a life that offered her very little structural support.
When molecular biology caught up with her theory in the 1970s โ when DNA sequencing technology became sophisticated enough to actually test what she had proposed โ the results were unambiguous. Mitochondria contained their own DNA. That DNA was bacterial. The evidence was not suggestive. It was definitive.
The fifteen journals that had rejected her paper were now looking at proof.
The scientific establishment did what establishments eventually do when reality forces their hand โ it incorporated her theory, celebrated it as a cornerstone of modern evolutionary biology, and credited her in terms that ranged from gracious to slightly grudging depending on who was doing the crediting. E.O. Wilson, the legendary sociobiologist, called her the most successful synthetic thinker in modern biology. Richard Dawkins โ who disagreed with her on multiple other scientific questions โ praised her sheer courage in holding to the endosymbiotic theory through years of institutional resistance until the evidence made denial impossible.
Science magazine, the most prestigious journal in American science, called her science's unruly earth mother.
They still couldn't let go of the word.
She was elected to the National Academy of Sciences in 1983. She received the National Medal of Science in 1999 from President Clinton โ the highest scientific honor the United States government bestows. She collaborated with British scientist James Lovelock on the Gaia hypothesis โ the provocative and still-debated theory that Earth itself, its atmosphere and oceans and living systems, functions as a single self-regulating organism maintaining the conditions necessary for life. It was another idea that the mainstream received with raised eyebrows, and another idea that has proven more durable than its critics expected.
She wrote books with her son Dorion that translated complex scientific concepts for general readers โ believing that science belonged to everyone and that the story of life was too extraordinary to be locked inside academic journals. She co-founded a publishing imprint. She taught at the University of Massachusetts Amherst for decades and trained a generation of scientists who carried her framework into fields she never lived to see it reach.
She died on November 22, 2011, from a hemorrhagic stroke. She was seventy-three years old.
What she left behind was a redrawn map of life itself.
Every complex cell on Earth โ every cell in your body, every cell in every plant, every cell in every animal that has ever lived โ is a collaboration. It contains within it the descendants of bacteria that chose, billions of years ago, to stop competing and start cooperating. The boundary between self and other is not where we thought it was. It never was.
Lynn Margulis saw that when almost no one else did.
Fifteen journals said no.
The universe had been saying yes for two billion years.