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Let’s talk NuScale Power. Nuclear. The word alone conjures images of glowing green goo and politicians sweating under hot lights. Fluor’s been quietly amassing a stake in this start-up, and now they’re cashing in. $1.35 BILLION for 71 million shares. It’s a beautiful, terrifying dance with the atom. They already raked in $605 million last year, and they’re promising another influx soon. It’s like they’re selling pieces of the future to keep the lights on today. Frankly, it feels… unsustainable. But who am I to judge? I’m just a guy staring into the abyss of the market, and the abyss is apparently buying Fluor stock.

The argument, distilled to its essence, posits that the current pricing models – predicated on the number of ‘seats’ or access points – will become obsolete. The logic, superficially compelling, suggests that intelligent agents, capable of performing the functions previously assigned to human operators, will diminish the demand for these licenses. This, however, overlooks a fundamental principle of temporal economies: adaptation. The form of exchange may alter, shifting from a count of users to a measurement of consumed resources, but the underlying imperative – the allocation of value – remains constant.

And Ancora Holdings, those self-appointed arbiters of fate, demand a severing of the connection, a rejection of the merger. They hold a fragment of Warner Bros. Discovery, a paltry $200 million, yet presume to dictate its destiny, dismissing Netflix’s offer as…inferior. Inferior! As if a valuation could capture the soul of an enterprise, the weight of its narratives. They favor, instead, the predatory advance of Paramount Skydance, a rival whose ambition seems…unfettered by morality.

Generally, you want the big players. The ones who’ve seen it all before and can probably navigate the chaos without completely collapsing. It’s not about finding the good companies, it’s about finding the ones that are most likely to survive the inevitable mess. Three of them, apparently. Here we go. Don’t blame me if this all goes south.

This Nice company, it appears, has been sufferin’ a bit of a downturn, losin’ fifteen percent of its value before today’s excitement. Folks were worryin’ that this “AI” business would disrupt everything. But the CEO, Scott Russell, he announced that this “AI ARR” – whatever that is – had increased by sixty-six percent. And get this – every single one of their deals over a million dollars now includes this “AI.” Seems the market’s suddenly decided AI isn’t a threat, but a tonic. A right convenient change of heart, wouldn’t you say?

This account, the final in a series, attempts to trace the contours of Palantir’s ambition. Not as a financial prospectus—those are filled with the usual assurances—but as a study in belief. A belief that the future is not merely shaped by technology, but inhabited by it. A strange, almost mystical conviction, in an age that has largely abandoned such things.

American Express, you see, is not merely a financial institution; it is a lineage, a story woven from the threads of aspiration and calculated risk. Unlike its brethren, Visa and Mastercard, who operate as intermediaries, as distant relatives collecting tolls on the highways of commerce, American Express holds the cards, both literally and figuratively. Those others merely facilitate the dance; American Express is the dance, the music, the very floor beneath their feet. They don’t simply process transactions; they cultivate relationships, they foster a sense of belonging, a quiet understanding that to possess an American Express card is to enter a realm of discreet privilege.

Mr. Tepper, a man not averse to a profitable venture, has elected to lighten his holdings in Nvidia, the purveyor of those ingenious chips that now animate the digital realm. Not that he finds fault with the company itself – far from it. But even the most ardent admirer of innovation must occasionally acknowledge the law of diminishing returns, or, more bluntly, the possibility that a good thing may become… overvalued. To hold on, when prudence dictates otherwise, is a folly reserved for those who mistake luck for skill.

Its prominence in this current hysteria stems from its role as a supplier of storage for the artificial intelligence bubble. These devices, it is said, are crucial for the storage of the vast quantities of data required to train these digital mimics. One pictures endless server farms, humming with the futility of it all. A modern Tower of Babel, built not of stone, but of silicon.