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The current contest involves four aspirants, each a labyrinthine consortium of ambition and capital. Orbital Reef, a project of Blue Origin and the ubiquitous Amazon, proposes a continuation of the present, a familiar pattern of expansion and consolidation. Starlab, a more international effort, backed by a coalition of interests – Hilton, Janus Henderson, even the enigmatic Palantir – envisions a single, monolithic structure, a sort of orbital palace. Then there are the singular ventures: Axiom Space and Vast, each attempting a more incremental approach, building, as it were, a room at a time. It is as if they are constructing not stations, but fragments of a dream.

It was supposed to be the metaverse. The future. Mark Zuckerberg, beaming in a digital avatar, promising… well, something. It never quite took off, did it? Which, in retrospect, wasn’t entirely surprising. People have enough reality, thank you very much. And the losses… oh, the losses. Nearly $80 billion since 2020. Another $6 billion last quarter. It’s like watching someone repeatedly throw good money after bad, and then wondering if you should intervene. Which, of course, you shouldn’t. But you do worry.

The question before us is this: for a modest sum – a mere fifteen hundred units of currency – which path offers the greater prospect, or perhaps, the lesser certainty of ruin? Let us dissect these offerings, and attempt to discern which warrants the investor’s trust, however provisional that trust may be.

Units of Cryptocurrency Lost: 12. Hours Spent Watching Charts: 9. Number of Panicked Texts to Friends: 24. But I digress. Let’s talk about Microsoft, Nvidia, and Broadcom. They’ve all had a bit of a wobble recently, which, frankly, feels like a gift. A slightly terrifying gift, but a gift nonetheless.

Mid-capitalization stocks, those entities occupying the ambiguous zone between aspiration and solidity, have begun to accrue a peculiar gravity. They are neither the dazzling, yet often illusory, promise of the smaller concerns, nor the cumbersome weight of the established giants. They present, perhaps, a more…reasonable expectation of return. A modest, yet persistent, unfolding. The current disposition of interest rates, poised to descend – a phenomenon predicted by the late Professor Alistair Finch in his apocryphal treatise, The Calculus of Decline – further enhances their appeal.

They’ve concocted a brew called tirzepatide – a terribly long word, isn’t it? – sold as Mounjaro for those with a sugar-balancing problem, and then as Zepbound for those who’ve decided they’ve had quite enough of themselves. It’s a potion that seems to shrink people, and people, it turns out, are rather keen on shrinking. Demand has been positively frantic, even outstripping the factory’s ability to bubble it up quickly enough. Novo Nordisk, a rival potion-maker, has a similar brew, but we won’t dwell on them. They’re rather dull, really.

I’ve been casting a discerning eye over the usual suspects, and have alighted upon two rather solid specimens from the S&P 500. Companies with a history, a backbone, and – crucially – a willingness to share the spoils. Let’s not be vulgar about it, but a little reward for shareholders is always good form.

For years, Buffett brought in Todd Combs and Ted Weschler, two hedge fund guys, presumably to sprinkle some magic dust on Berkshire’s portfolio. A bit like bringing in a specialist to fix a leaky faucet when you’re perfectly capable of getting water everywhere yourself. Combs is gone now, vanished into the ether. I figured Weschler would be the one holding the reins, you know, the stock-picking brain. Turns out, I was wrong. And honestly? I’m not even that surprised. Being right all the time is… exhausting.

Broadcom (AVGO 2.99%), a name that echoes through the corridors of technological progress, has experienced a peculiar deceleration. It does not falter, precisely, but rather occupies a space of…suspended momentum. Yet, within this seeming stagnation lies a potential – a growth trajectory predicated on the insatiable demand for processing power. The company has become adept at the manufacture of components for data centers, those vast, humming repositories of information. But its true function, its ultimate purpose, is shifting.

The misfortunes of ULA, a joint venture of Boeing and Lockheed Martin, are, whilst regrettable, proving most advantageous. Their Vulcan Centaur, intended as a successor to the Atlas V, has, alas, demonstrated a distressing tendency to shed components during flight – a circumstance which, one imagines, causes no small consternation amongst those responsible for ensuring its proper functioning. The Space Force, with a prudence most admirable, has suspended launches until such deficiencies are rectified, leaving SpaceX in a position of considerable, and carefully cultivated, advantage.