Nvidia has been the undisputed king of the artificial intelligence chip market for the better part of a decade. Its processors have powered everything from chatbot training to real-time language translation, image generation and the backbones of massive AI companies. If you were building anything remotely powerful in AI, you were paying Nvidia for the privilege. But that near-religious dependence on Nvidia may have just been cracked wide open by the one company with enough silicon, capital and audacity to do it: Google. Until now, Google’s Tensor Processing Units, its custom AI chips built in-house, were kept locked away behind

The Octopus interceptor drone (read AI Drone Hunters) didn’t appear because Ukraine wanted another flashy prototype. It appeared because the entire logic of air defence broke down under the weight of numbers. When Russia began sending waves of Shahed-136 loitering munitions into Ukrainian airspace, the threat wasn’t technological sophistication. It was economics. The Shahed is a crude delta-wing drone with a simple piston engine and a GPS navigation system, but its cost, typically between twenty and fifty thousand dollars, made it catastrophically efficient. Every launch forced Ukraine to choose between protecting its infrastructure or burning through scarce Patriot and NASAMS

In November 2025, a nuclear startup called Valar Atomics flipped the switch on a moment we weren’t supposed to reach this soon: cold criticality at Los Alamos. That’s engineer-speak for “the reactor went live”, without melting anyone’s face off. No mushroom clouds, no Chernobyl flashbacks. Just quiet validation that a tiny, helium-cooled reactor stuffed with TRISO fuel can achieve a self‑sustaining chain reaction in a lab built for war. This isn’t just some DOE science fair moment. It marks the dawn of a new age in nuclear, modular, decentralised, faster than regulators can blink. A venture‑backed race to install microreactors across the world, not in megaprojects

When China’s COMAC C919 finally entered commercial service, the headlines wrote themselves. A proud moment. A state-backed machine. An airliner that would end China’s dependence on Airbus and Boeing, at least on paper. But two years in, the numbers are quietly telling another story. This isn’t a plane roaring into the global market. It’s a protected prototype with ambitions larger than its track record. The average C919 clocks just 5.2 flying hours per day. That’s three hours shy of what a mature narrowbody like the A320neo routinely handles. It’s not flying less because it’s inefficient. It’s flying less because it

Precision airstrikes were once the exclusive domain of state militaries, wielding million-dollar platforms and laser-guided payloads. Now, the ability to carry out targeted destruction is being handed to anyone with a soldering kit, a backpack, and an internet connection. Loitering munitions, “kamikaze drones” in public parlance, are no longer anomalies. They’re infrastructure. And we’re only witnessing their first form. Despite the headlines, this is not a new phenomenon. The roots trace back to Cold War SEAD missions, where anti-radiation drones like the Harpy were engineered to bait and kill radar arrays without risking human pilots. The leap came not from

The military-industrial complex has been coasting. For decades, legacy giants like Lockheed Martin, Raytheon, and Northrop Grumman have engineered slow, expensive, and often over-engineered weapons systems under contracts that reward delay more than performance. Enter Anduril, not with a whisper, but with a war chest and a factory blueprint. In just a few years, it has gone from outsider startup to the Pentagon’s unexpected favourite. And the reason isn’t just faster drones or cheaper missiles. It’s structural. Ideological. Almost religious. Founded in 2017 by Palmer Luckey, better known to the public as the ousted Oculus wunderkind, Anduril was born from the