usdaed

Many speak of the power required to fuel these digital minds, of the vast data centers consuming energy like leviathans. But this, I suspect, is a distraction, a focusing upon the visible symptom rather than the deeper malady. The true constraint lies not in the ability to process information, but in the ability to retain it. For what is thought without memory? A fleeting phantom, a whisper lost in the wind. And to produce this memory, this essential substrate of the new age, requires not magic, but the diligent application of human ingenuity, and, of course, capital.

This is not a clamor for the fleeting advantage, but a quiet repositioning. Reports, gleaned from the dutiful filings with the Securities and Exchange Commission – those bureaucratic tablets recording the transactions of the powerful – reveal a steady increase in holdings by entities claiming the mantle of “smart money,” beginning in the latter months of the previous year.

But, bless their hearts, they didn’t just sit there and wait for the dust to settle. They’ve been churnin’ and buildin’, addin’ new features and acquirin’ other companies. And now, they’re dabblin’ in this here “artificial intelligence” – claimin’ it’ll help their customers figure out what their own customers are up to. Seems a bit like lookin’ in a mirror to find yourself, if you ask me, but these young whippersnappers swear by it.

Let us consider, if you will, the spectacle of modern man, so eager to entrust his future to machines, yet so often neglecting the fundamental necessities of existence. Data centers, those temples of the digital age, consume power at a prodigious rate, and this appetite, as the International Energy Agency assures us, is poised to double by the decade’s end. Where, pray tell, is this power to come from? Not, it seems, from the whims of the wind, nor the caprice of the sun, but from a source far more reliable, and dare I say, more dignified: the atom.

The recent exuberance surrounding entities such as Nvidia has, predictably, inflated valuations to dizzying heights. One might be forgiven for suspecting a collective delusion, a fever dream fueled by the promise of untold riches. But let us not dismiss the possibility of genuine progress entirely. The question, as always, is discerning the signal from the noise.

Compared to the frankly alarming ascent of the past three years – an event that defied both logic and several established principles of financial physics – this relative calm has led some to wonder if the party’s over. Should one hold, sell, or perhaps invest in a slightly more predictable enterprise, like, say, a company that manufactures self-folding laundry? (The engineering challenges are considerable, naturally, but the potential market is… substantial.) I posit that there’s one thing Nvidia will do in 2026 that could, with a degree of improbability that shouldn’t be underestimated, reignite the upward trajectory.

From a modest beginning—$8.5 million—to a fleeting $144.2 million, the numbers swell, divorced from the slow, organic growth of things that endure. Two sites in North Dakota, holding 286 MW of power, a temporary fortress against the relentless tide. Fifteen years of contracted payments—$16 billion—mostly flowing toward CoreWeave, another name whispered on the wind. A delicate arrangement, built on the shifting sands of technological dependence.

The shares, naturally, have been subject to the usual manic fluctuations. Down 88% from its peak – a precipitous fall, even by the standards of this speculative age – yet somehow managing a 144% surge over the last three years, despite a recent dip. A performance that suggests either genius or sheer luck, and one is never quite certain which. The question, of course, is whether a modest investment today might, in a quarter of a century, blossom into a sum large enough to warrant a small island in the Aegean.

Yet, there is a persistent current in his pronouncements, a tendency towards eventual realization that defies simple dismissal. Optimus, then, is not merely a machine, but a question posed to the coming years. It stands two-armed, two-legged, a torso bearing the weight of expectation. Not as a replacement, mind you, but as a willing servant for the tedious, the perilous – tasks that dull the human spirit and fray the sinews. A price, they say, between twenty and thirty thousand dollars. A sum that feels both substantial and strangely… hopeful.