A Danish engineer dropped out of university in 1979, wrote a Pascal compiler so fast it made Borland a hundred-million-dollar company, then built the language that became the backbone of Microsoft's entire software ecosystem, then built TypeScript, which became the number one language on GitHub in 2025 and most developers who use his work every day have never heard his name.
His name is Anders Hejlsberg.
He was born in Copenhagen in 1960, started studying engineering at the Technical University of Denmark in 1979, and left before finishing his degree because he was already building something more interesting than anything his courses could offer.
He had access to a minicomputer at his high school, one of the first in Denmark to have one. He taught himself machine code, Algol, and Pascal.
By the time he was supposed to be finishing his degree, he had already written a Pascal compiler from scratch for the Nascom-2 microcomputer. He released it under the name Blue Label Pascal.
A small Danish software company called PolyData picked it up. Borland, the American developer tools company, found it and saw immediately what they had. They licensed the compiler, brought Hejlsberg to California, and in November 1983 released it as Turbo Pascal.
The price was $49.95. At the time, most Pascal compilers cost hundreds of dollars and ran slowly. Turbo Pascal was cheap and compiled code so fast that developers could not believe it was real. One reviewer read the speed claims on the box, assumed they were marketing fiction, tested it, and then wrote that he had never seen anything like it.
The product sold over one million copies. Borland became a serious company almost overnight, and Hejlsberg was the reason.
He kept building. He became chief architect of Delphi in 1995, Borland's rapid application development environment built on Object Pascal. Delphi let Windows developers build full graphical applications faster than anything else available.
It dominated enterprise Windows development through the mid-1990s. Teams that used it could ship in weeks what their competitors took months to build.
Microsoft noticed. In 1996 they made him an offer. He left Borland and joined Microsoft, and the project they handed him was the one that would define the next decade of enterprise software.
He designed C#.
Released in 2000 alongside the .NET Framework, C# was built to be modern in ways Java was not. Clean object orientation. Garbage collection. Strong typing.
A syntax familiar enough that Java and C++ developers could pick it up quickly but designed without the legacy decisions those languages had accumulated over decades. Hejlsberg later said one of his goals was to make the language feel inevitable, as if every decision was the only sensible one.
It worked. C# became the primary language of Microsoft's entire development platform. It powers enterprise applications, game development through Unity, cloud services on Azure, and Windows applications across hundreds of millions of machines. Around 6.2 million developers write C# professionally today.
Then he did it again.
By 2010, JavaScript had become unavoidable. Every web application ran on it. But JavaScript had been designed in ten days in 1995 for simple browser scripting, not for building complex systems with large teams. As codebases grew to hundreds of thousands of lines, the lack of a type system meant bugs that a compiler would have caught in any other language were only discovered in production.
Hejlsberg saw the problem clearly and spent two years designing a solution.
TypeScript launched in 2012 as an open-source typed superset of JavaScript. You write TypeScript, and it compiles down to plain JavaScript. The type system catches errors before the code runs. Large teams can work on the same codebase without breaking each other's code. Every major JavaScript framework adopted it. Google, Airbnb, Slack, and Microsoft all moved their codebases to TypeScript.
In August 2025, TypeScript overtook Python and JavaScript to become the number one language on GitHub by monthly contributors.
He is 65 years old. He is still at Microsoft as a Technical Fellow. He is still working on TypeScript.
Four languages. Four decades. Turbo Pascal made developer tools affordable and fast. Delphi made Windows application development accessible. C# became the backbone of enterprise software. TypeScript became the dominant language of the modern web.
Most of the developers using his work right now are too young to know what Turbo Pascal was. They learned to code in languages that borrowed from C#. They write TypeScript every day without knowing who designed it.
He dropped out of university in 1979 to build a compiler.
He has not stopped since.
IN 1986 MIT FILMED A LECTURE THAT OPENS BY TELLING YOU COMPUTER SCIENCE IS NOT A SCIENCE AND HAS ALMOST NOTHING TO DO WITH COMPUTERS
72 minutes from Hal Abelson and Gerald Sussman, the lecture an entire generation of engineers calls the one that rewired how they think.
-> The line that lands: computer science is about computers the way astronomy is about telescopes. The tool was never the point.
The real subject was always one thing -- controlling complexity. Everything else is detail.
Forty years later it reads like a prophecy. AI writes the syntax now. What's left is exactly what they taught: taming complexity nobody can hold in their head.
The language was never the skill -> the thinking was. This is where you learn it.
Most people chase the newest framework. The ones who watched this think on a level frameworks can't touch.
Bookmark & Watch today it, this one's a legend ↓
Un desarrollador chino llamado tw93 se hartó de que sus aplicaciones de escritorio le devoraran la RAM y el disco.
Abría Slack y desaparecían cientos de megabytes. Abría Discord, Notion o cualquier otra app y pasaba lo mismo. ¿La razón? Casi todas son lo mismo por dentro: un sitio web empaquetado con una copia completa del motor de Chrome (Electron).
Decidió que tenía que haber una forma mejor.
En 2022 empezó a construir Pake. Usó Rust + Tauri, que en vez de incluir un navegador completo, aprovecha el WebView nativo del sistema operativo.
El resultado fue brutal:
- Slack con Pake → 8 MB (en vez de 524 MB)
- Discord con Pake → 9 MB (en vez de 265 MB)
- ChatGPT con Pake → 9 MB (en vez de 260 MB)
Cuatro años después, su repositorio tiene más de 51.000 estrellas en GitHub. Tiene builds listos para Grok, ChatGPT, Gemini, Discord, YouTube, Twitter y muchos más. Todo bajo los 10 MB, ligero, rápido y gratis.
Y lo mejor: con un solo comando puedes convertir cualquier página web en una aplicación de escritorio nativa.
No fundó una startup. No levantó inversión. Solo resolvió un problema que molestaba a millones de personas.
A veces el cambio real lo hace una sola persona que se cansa de las cosas como están.
Esta brutal, repo en los comentarios 👇
A DEVELOPER PROVED YOU CAN FIND THE EXACT COMMIT THAT BROKE YOUR CODE IN A HISTORY OF 10,000 -- IN ABOUT 13 STEPS, AUTOMATICALLY..
33 minutes from a Google engineer on git bisect: the built-in command that binary-searches your entire history to hunt down the one commit that introduced a bug.
-> The moment it lands, "When did this break?" stops being an afternoon of guessing. You hand git a good commit, a bad one, and a test and it finds the culprit while you watch.
Most people debug a regression by reading diffs by hand, blaming the obvious file, and hoping. Bisect doesn't hope. It cuts the search in half, then in half again, until only the guilty commit is left standing.
Reading history by hand was never the skill -> letting git do the binary search for you is. And when an AI agent dumps hundreds of commits into your repo and one quietly breaks production, bisect is what finds the needle without you reading a single line.
The bug isn't hiding. It's sitting in one exact commit. Most people just never learned to make git point at it.
Bookmark & Watch it today ↓
A French engineer who lives quietly in Paris has spent 30 years writing software that the entire internet now runs on without knowing his name.
He wrote the code that streams every YouTube video, every Netflix show, every TikTok clip. He wrote the code that runs the virtual servers underneath AWS, Google Cloud, and Microsoft Azure. He calculated more digits of pi than anyone in history. He has no Twitter. He has no marketing. He just keeps shipping.
His name is Fabrice Bellard.
Here is the story, because almost nobody outside the systems programming world knows what one man has built.
Fabrice was born in 1972 in Grenoble, France. He studied at École Polytechnique, the top French engineering school. He never went to Silicon Valley. He never built a startup empire. He just wrote code.
In 2000 he started a project called FFmpeg, an open-source multimedia framework for encoding, decoding, and streaming video. He was 28. The project did one thing nobody else had done well. It handled every video and audio format that existed, in one library, on every operating system. He led it himself for years.
Today FFmpeg is the invisible engine of the internet. YouTube uses it. Netflix uses it. VLC uses it. Chrome and Firefox use parts of it. Every Android phone, every iPhone, every smart TV, every video editing tool you have ever touched runs FFmpeg somewhere underneath. If you have watched a video on a screen in the last 20 years, Fabrice's code processed it.
He was not done.
In 2003 he started QEMU, a machine emulator and virtualizer. He wrote it solo until version 0.7.1 in 2005. QEMU lets you run any operating system on any other operating system. It became the foundation of modern virtualization. KVM, the Linux kernel hypervisor, runs on top of QEMU. Every major cloud provider, AWS, Google Cloud, Microsoft Azure, IBM Cloud, runs virtual machines on infrastructure built around it. The Quick Emulator is the most cited piece of cloud infrastructure code on Earth.
He kept going.
In 2001 he won the International Obfuscated C Code Contest with a small C compiler that grew into TCC, the Tiny C Compiler. TCC can compile and boot a Linux kernel from source in under 15 seconds. In 2004 he calculated the most digits of pi ever computed at the time, using a personal desktop computer and an algorithm he derived himself called Bellard's formula. In 2011 he wrote a complete PC emulator in pure JavaScript that runs Linux in your browser, a project called JSLinux that engineers still cannot believe is real.
In 2019 he released QuickJS, a small but complete JavaScript engine that fits where V8 cannot. In 2021 he released NNCP, a neural network based lossless data compressor that immediately took the lead on the Large Text Compression Benchmark.
Then he turned his attention to large language models. He built TextSynth Server, a web server with a REST API for running LLMs locally. He released ts_zip and ts_sms, compression utilities that use language models to compress text and short messages at ratios traditional algorithms cannot reach. He released TSAC, a very low bitrate audio compression system. In December 2025 he released Micro QuickJS, a new JavaScript engine for microcontrollers, separate from QuickJS, designed for environments with almost no memory.
Fabrice co-founded a telecom company called Amarisoft in 2012, where he serves as CTO. Amarisoft builds 4G and 5G base station software used by carriers and labs around the world. He has been running it for over a decade while continuing to ship personal projects from his own home page at bellard dot org
He has no Twitter. He has no Instagram. He gives almost no interviews. His personal website is a flat list of projects with no styling, no fonts, no marketing copy. Just titles and links.
A quiet French engineer who never moved to Silicon Valley wrote the code that quietly runs the internet.
He is still shipping.
난 게임을 즐겨하지 않는데 이런건 진짜 유익함
만원으로 데이터 센터의 복잡한 구조와 컴퓨터 인프라를 이해하는 스팀게임 : Data Center
빈 방에서 시작해서
랙 구매 → 서버 장착 → 모든 케이블을 직접 손으로 하나하나 연결해야함
실제 데이터 센터처럼 고객 트래픽을 처리하는 시뮬레이션 게임
출시 48시간 만에 180개가 넘는 리뷰가 달렸고, 플레이어들은 “최근 본 시뮬레이션 게임 중 가장 몰입감 있다”, “컴퓨팅 인프라를 이해하는 데 최고”라는 평가를 하고 있습니다.
I think every software engineer should watch this series... this, in MY opinion is a GREAT way to start understanding your code and what it actually does.
https://t.co/lDzvrWgjJp
A British biologist looked at 200,000 years of human history and found that the entire reason humans broke out of poverty was not intelligence, not language, not even agriculture, but one mechanism so simple a 6-year-old could explain it.
His name is Matt Ridley.
He is a zoologist by training, an evolutionary biologist by career, and in 2010 he wrote a book called The Rational Optimist that quietly argued the most important fact about human progress had been hiding in plain sight for the entire history of economics.
Naval Ravikant has been telling people to read everything Ridley has ever written for the last 15 years. The reason is the argument inside this one book.
For 200,000 years, anatomically modern humans walked around with the same brain you have right now. Same skull size. Same neural architecture. Same raw capacity for language, planning, and abstract thought.
For roughly 190,000 of those years, almost nothing happened. Generation after generation lived and died inside the same Stone Age toolkit their great-great-grandparents had used. Then somewhere around 50,000 years ago, the line on the chart of human progress started to tick upward. Then it bent. Then it exploded.
The question Ridley spent years on was the only question that mattered. What changed.
It was not the brain. The brain had been the same for 190,000 years. It was not language, which had existed long before the takeoff. It was not even agriculture, which arrived only 10,000 years ago and was actually preceded by the upward bend, not the cause of it.
What changed was that humans started trading with strangers.
This sounds too small to be the answer. Ridley argues that it is the answer to almost everything. The moment one human exchanged a useful object with another human from a different group, something happened that no other species on earth had ever done.
Two ideas that had developed in isolation came into contact. The flint knapper learned what the spear maker had figured out. The fisherman from the coast learned what the hunter from the forest had figured out. The two pieces of knowledge fused into something neither side could have produced alone.
Ridley calls this ideas having sex. The phrase sounds frivolous and it is meant to. The point is that ideas, like genes, get better when they combine with other ideas from different lineages.
An idea sitting inside one head, no matter how brilliant the head, eventually hits a ceiling. The same idea exposed to ten thousand other ideas does something genes do under sexual reproduction. It mixes. It recombines. It produces offspring nobody planned.
The cleanest proof of this argument is the most uncomfortable case study in the book. Tasmania.
Around 10,000 years ago, rising sea levels cut Tasmania off from mainland Australia. A population of roughly 4,000 humans was now isolated on an island, with no possibility of contact with the rest of humanity. They had the same brains. The same language. The same starting toolkit as their cousins 150 kilometers north. The natural experiment was now running.
What happened next is something no economist or geneticist had ever predicted.
The mainland Australians kept inventing. Boomerangs. Spear-throwers. Fishing nets. Bone needles for sewing fitted clothes. Watercraft with paddles. Their technology compounded slowly across the centuries.
The Tasmanians went the other way. They did not just fail to invent the new tools their cousins were developing. They started losing the tools they already had. Fishing was abandoned within a few thousand years. Bone tools disappeared. Fitted clothing disappeared. They forgot how to make fire from scratch and started carrying lit firebrands from camp to camp instead, relighting their fires from a neighbor's whenever their own went out.
By the time European explorers arrived in the 17th century, the Tasmanians had the simplest toolkit of any human society ever recorded. Their material culture had gone backward for 8,000 years.
The archaeologist Rhys Jones called it a slow strangulation of the mind.
Joseph Henrich at Harvard later proved with formal mathematical models that there was nothing wrong with Tasmanian brains. There was something wrong with their network. A toolkit requires a critical mass of people exchanging skills to maintain itself.
The act of teaching a skill is imperfect. Every generation loses a small percentage of what the last generation knew. If your population is large enough and trading widely enough, those losses get caught and corrected by someone else who still remembers.
If your population shrinks below a certain threshold and stops mixing with outsiders, the small losses compound until entire technologies disappear.
This is the part that should haunt anyone reading this in 2026.
Intelligence is not a property of the individual brain. Intelligence is a property of the network the brain is connected to. A genius in isolation will produce less than a mediocre thinker inside a dense exchange of other mediocre thinkers.
The thing your ancestors needed in order to break out of 190,000 years of stagnation was not better brains. It was better connections between brains they already had.
The implication for any individual is direct and uncomfortable. If you are smart and isolated, you will be outproduced by people half as smart who are connected.
The most successful people in any field are almost never the smartest people in it. They are the ones positioned at the intersection of the most idea flows. They are reading more authors than their competitors. They are talking to more people from more disciplines. They are in the rooms where ideas from different lineages bump into each other.
Ridley ends the book on the line that sounds optimistic but is actually a warning its this "The future will be invented by people who connect ideas, not by people who guard them."
A man spends 50 years teaching at MIT.
He knows his time is running out.
So he records one last lecture — everything he knows, distilled into a single hour.
He died 5 months later.
This is that lecture.
The most important hour you'll watch this week. 👇
Bookmark it for later
En The Office, a los guionistas se les pidió que crearan la escena inicial más disparatada de la serie para este episodio, para que la gente no cambiara de canal justo después del Super Bowl.
Una idea inicial, descabellada, era que Jim perdiera a Pam en una partida de póker, inspirada en una película francesa.
Pero en su lugar, se les ocurrió un episodio de simulacro de incendio.
La broma de los gatos fue elaborada y costosa.
Utilizaron dos gatos reales idénticos (uno lanzado hacia arriba y el otro dejado caer) con entrenadores en el techo.
Se hizo una réplica de peluche personalizada de 12.000 dólares como respaldo.
Ningún animal sufrió daño alguno; los entrenadores limitaron las tomas para proteger la carrera de los gatos.
El rodaje del simulacro de incendio duró un día y medio debido a toda la comedia física y las acrobacias. El pánico genuino del reparto ayudó, ya que el caos fue más intenso de lo esperado.
Fue el episodio más visto de la serie.
@ReloadedJairo Técnicamente es gracias a que se trata de un sistema de control de versiones distribuido. El antiguo CSV, Subversion, Perforce o Azure DevOps Server no lo soportan porque son centralizados.
Liftoff.
The Artemis II mission launched from @NASAKennedy at 6:35pm ET (2235 UTC), propelling four astronauts on a journey around the Moon.
Artemis II will pave the way for future Moon landings, as well as the next giant leap — astronauts on Mars.
Hoy es el día ideal para recordar la mejor entradilla de la historia de la televisión: James Burke en el lanzamiento de la Voyager 2, en 1977. Sin trucos. Cronómetro, paciencia y sólo una oportunidad para conseguir el plano perfecto. #nasa#artemis#connections
No sé quién es el autor, pero me pareció correcto:
"Si Cthulhu puede ser invocado por humanos que están muy por debajo de él, ¿por qué los humanos no pueden ser invocados por hormigas? La respuesta es que deberían serlo.
Bueno, si un montón de hormigas formaran un círculo en mi casa, ciertamente lo notaría, trataría de averiguar de dónde vienen todas, y posiblemente causaría una gran destrucción en ese sitio.
Por eso saber y pronunciar correctamente el nombre verdadero es tan importante para el ritual. Imagina lo imposible que sería no ir a echar un vistazo si el círculo de hormigas empezara a cantar tu nombre.
Y te dicen, no puedes irte porque dibujamos una línea hecha de pequeños cristales, ahora tienes que hacernos un favor.
Y tú piensas, veamos a dónde va esto y dices: "Este... oh! sí, me tienes... ¿cuál es el favor?"
y normalmente el favor es algo como, "mata a esta hormiga por nosotros" o "dame un montón de azúcar" y tú dices... ¿vale? y lo haces, porque por qué no, no es difícil para ti y vaya que esta va a ser una historia de la hostia para contar, estas putas hormigas cantando tu nombre y queriendo una cucharada de azúcar o lo que sea.
Y A VECES te piden cosas que realmente no puedes hacer, una de ellas, ella dice, "amo a esta hormiga pero no me presta atención, hazme importante para ella" y tú dices... ¿eh? ¿cómo? Así que simplemente matas a todas las hormigas de la colonia excepto a estas dos, y ¡ta-da! ¡problema resuelto! y la primera hormiga esta como *susurro horrorizado* "¿Qué he hecho?"