Some young people in this city are making a lot of money. So much that it’s hard to conceptualize. You can’t explain it unless you’re in it, and once you’re in it, you lose your sense of reality.
It’s all paper money. Fast and loose. Our generation’s gold rush. Enterprising young men throwing themselves at the digital god that spins out cash, hoping to skim just a little for themselves. Hoping to be 25 and retire when ***** gets acquired. Hoping to be 27 and anointed as a data lead at TBD for $5M a year. Wondering when the headhunters from Ant will start knocking at their door.
How could I even begin to describe it to you? I can’t. It’s not good, and it’s not bad. It just is.
Is it a bubble? That’s the question we’re all wondering. Some say that this is all fleeting. To mine this city for all its worth and head for the hills. Some believe it’s all in the hands of the Shoggoth now. They will bow their heads and wait. Until then, everyone seems to agree there’s still plenty of juice to squeeze.
So nose to the grindstone, young man. Nose to the grindstone. Your job is far from finished. Your work has just begun.
It’s intoxicating and anxiety-inducing. It’s inspiring and demoralizing. It’s a tragedy of contradictions. But it’s your life.
Asians and Strivers and Neolabs and Evals and Arctercyx and Gorpcore and Open Weight and RL and Vejas and Balboa and Prod and Stanford and OpenAI and and and.
It’s all just words and numbers on a screen anyway. What is the money good for? You’re still going to pay $6.5K for a 2-bed. You’re still going to get dinner with your friends at Thai Spice on Friday night.
Somewhere inside the onion, if you peel back all the layers, there is purpose. But most of the days there is none. There is greed. There is hill climbing, bench maxxing, and a bunch of other words King James wouldn’t have recognized.
What’s left when it’s all done? When the boys from Plano West, TJ, and Harker have had their way with this city? Dare I say the world?
There may be nothing left. But there will be rubble. And from that rubble we will share our stories. Of the “good old days.” “How good were they actually?” we will wonder. And no one will quite know.