If you’ve followed my posts over the years, you know my appetite for U.S. produced films—especially in the Sci-Fi genre–– has all but waned; it’s been a steady diet of reheated sequels, overcooked plots, and character development so thin you can slip them under a door. For that, I can get the same emotional dullness from the evening news.
But Falloutis a breath of fresh, irradiated air. It’s a wild fusion of post-apocalyptic science fiction, western grit, mid-century nostalgia, and the stunning aesthetic similar of Simon Stålenhag. Think WOOL (Silo Series), by Hugh Howey, meets Asteroid City, with a dose of retro-futurism.
Adapted from the popular video game, the series opens in 1950s California at a picture-perfect birthday party—mid-century modern vibes and all—when suddenly, nuclear war breaks out. Fast forward to a devastated Earth where subsurface elites (pre-apocalypse California survivors) live in interconnected underground vaults. The plot kicks off with a trade between Vault 32 and Vault 33: one fertile man for a supply of crops, due to a blight that has wiped out Vault 32’s harvest. Naturally, everything spirals from there.
No spoilers, but the heroine from Vault 33 heads to the surface in search of her father—and that’s when things really get interesting.
While the characters span a colorful range, it’s the set design that steals the show for me. As a longtime fan of Simon Stålenhag, I found myself constantly pausing to take in the detail—each frame like a page from one of his eerie, beautiful picture novellas I love flipping through in the comfort of my living room, listening toBrian Eno.
Baby Boomers (born roughly 1946–1964) — especially those born in the mid-1950s to early 1960s — have witnessed the most dramatic arc of technological change over a lifetime, from pre-digital to post-digital society.
1. Born into an Analog World
Black-and-white TV with 3 channels.
No microwave ovens, calculators, or home air conditioning.
Most transportation was mechanical — no GPS, No Power Steering, ABS brakes, or automatic transmissions in most cars.
2. Lived Through the Digital Revolution
Saw the birth of computers (mainframes → desktops → laptops → smartphones).
Witnessed the entire Internet era from dial-up to fiber optics.
First to use remote controls, VCRs, CDs, DVDs, MP3s, and now streaming and cloud services.
Lived through the rise of AI, machine learning, and robotics — from science fiction to reality.
3. Experienced a Medical and Scientific Leap
From polio vaccines to mRNA COVID vaccines.
Saw the mapping of the human genome, the rise of IVF, and CRISPR gene editing.
Saw space exploration evolve: Moon landings, space shuttles, Mars rovers, private spaceflight, and telescopes like Hubble and James Webb.
Very cool concept. As a former Marine Biologist and now Sci-Fi writer, The CudaJet blends the best of both worlds for me.
One thing I’m particularly curious about is the noise factor. Depending on the decibel level, it could be more than just a minor distraction—it could interfere significantly with both diver awareness and marine life communication. As a free diver (which is what these videos appear to show), hearing is not just important—it’s essential. Unlike scuba divers, we aren’t tethered to surface buoys or dive flags, so boaters often have no idea we’re in the water. Our ears become our first line of defense. Hearing the distant hum of an engine alerts us to danger before we even think about surfacing. Interference with that ability—especially if the device introduces even subtle continuous noise—could compromise safety. At the same time, underwater acoustics are everything for marine life.
Many species—dolphins, whales, fish, even shrimp—depend on a clear soundscape (Biophony) for navigation, communication, hunting, and mating. Introducing novel sounds into their environment, especially if sustained or within sensitive frequency ranges, can have unintended ecological consequences. I’d love to know more about how those issues were taken into consideration by the developers; something that I think would help in their marketing if they show an sincere interest in it.
The intersection of tech and the underwater world has so much potential and hats off to the developers—but it’s also a sound-sensitive space, in more ways than one. As an aside, I’d love to try one of these to see for myself, but as an experienced diver, I’d want fins on–– for you might just fid yourself far away from your set point and a long swim against currents in the event of an outage.Show less
When President John F. Kennedy stood before the nation in 1962 and declared that we would go to the Moon—not because it was easy, but because it was hard—he lit a fire that carried a generation into the stars. It was bold. Audacious. A promise that seemed impossible… until it wasn’t. Today, that spirit is alive again—but this time, it’s not coming from the Oval Office. It’s rising from the dust at Starbase Texas with Elon Musk.
As a kid, I’d lie in bed with a flashlight tucked under the covers, devouring Sci-Fi Pulp Fiction novellas long past bedtime. Back then, those glowing pages were portals—each word a beam of light teleporting visions straight into my mind. I saw moon bases, rocket ports, and human settlements scattered across the solar system. Those futures felt far-off but inevitable—like watching the first glint of dawn and knowing full daylight would follow. Not knowing then, I realized later that science Fiction is fact waiting to happen.
Now, that imagined future is solidifying into steel and launch pads on the Gulf Coast. Starbase, Texas—once a stretch of quiet shoreline—is transforming into the first entirely new city in decades, and more than that, it’s becoming the cradle of space colonization. Not just another launch site, but a functional city with its eyes pointed skyward. What once was fiction whispered to a child by flashlight is now a blueprint being built in daylight.
Most Americans haven’t quite absorbed this shift yet. The scale of it—what it means to have regular rockets, self-landing boosters, orbital refueling, and crews preparing to build on other worlds—still hovers just outside the public consciousness. But make no mistake: history will point to this moment and say, this is when it began. Not with flags planted in dust, but with concrete poured Texas and Florida, with dreams launched on reusable wings.
And Elon has managed to develop what feels like alien technology—without raiding the vaults of Area 51 or unsealing some forgotten Pentagon file. No secret spacecraft reverse-engineered from crash sites. No whispered hand-me-downs from shadowy defense contractors. Just the sheer force of vision, engineering, and iteration. It’s almost more unbelievable that way.
What we’re witnessing isn’t the result of hidden knowledge—it’s the result of someone who seems to think like an alien. A mind unbound by convention. While the aerospace establishment took baby steps, Elon sprinted past them, leapfrogging entire generations of tech. He didn’t wait for permission. He didn’t wait for NASA to go first. He moved fast, broke what needed breaking, and built a new space industry from the molten core of ambition.
In a way, Elon is our own alien developer—not from another planet, but from another mindset. He didn’t arrive in a saucer; he arrived with software updates and stainless steel prototypes. He doesn’t hide behind secrecy—he invites the world to watch. He tweets engineering problems. He launches Starships like we used to launch dreams.
The spacecraft we imagined hidden away in desert bunkers? He’s landing them upright on drone ships, catching them with chopsticks, naming them after science fiction AIs, and prepping them for Mars. And doing it all in plain sight.
Starbase, Texas, is not the endgame—it’s the launchpad for a civilization becoming interplanetary. A century from now, schoolchildren might look back and say: It didn’t come from aliens. It came from us. From a man who thought like no one else, and dared to build the future while the rest of the world waited for it to arrive.
This should be the most important 40 minutes shown in every classroom—a powerful antidote to the scrolling addiction that’s hijacking a generation’s focus, purpose, and potential.
Apple, for decades, stood as the modern paragon of disruptive innovation—the company that made us feel the future before it arrived. But lately, it seems Apple is trading in its greatest asset: creative momentum.
There’s a haunting symmetry between Apple’s current trajectory and the slow declines of once-mighty giants like Kodak and RIM. They too were titans. And like Apple today, they too began to prioritize maintaining temporary employee happiness over cultivating meaningful, creative urgency.
You’ve no doubt built a powerful ecosystem, but Apple has not invented anything explosively new since the Mac and the iPhone. The wearables, services, and accessories that followed are refinements—excellent, profitable, elegant—but not the kind of future-defining leaps Apple once made us believe in. The company that redefined “what’s next” has settled into “what’s slightly better.”
Creativity at its best comes from the hunger to solve problems, to make something essential. But when too much internal focus is spent on keeping people comfortable instead of inspired, you get happiness without invention. It’s a fog of satisfaction, not a fire.
As a user, observer, and former admirer of Apple’s creative heartbeat, I urge you to reconsider the direction. Look at what Jony Ive and OpenAI are poised to build—perhaps unintentionally—but they’re circling an idea Bill Joy once envisioned: an optimized OS seamlessly built into every device from toasters to cars— OS optimum for that specific device , all using a unified telemetry. One only needs to look at the ecoDESIGN of coral or sponges— all made up of individual units that communicate as one— the device itself. That is where things are heading. Apple could lead there. Or be led.
You now stand at a junction. You can switch tracks and rocket forward—rekindle invention not by coddling comfort but by stoking challenge—or you can pull off into the yard, satisfied with polishing the rails while faster trains slip by.
The legacy of Steve Jobs wasn’t just about products; it was about possibility. What future is Apple building today that will astonish the world in 2030?
Once upon a time, the world looked to you for dreams. Your stories lit up the dark. You taught us to hope, to fight, to love bigger than we ever thought we could. You drew us into the theaters–Heck! My first real job, at fifteen, was that of being an usher at the Algonquin Theater in Manasquan, NJ, wearing a suit several sizes too big, where my pants were belted up around my rib cage and I could stick my hand out the fly to collect tickets. I didn’t care, I loved watching the movies, over and over again. I know a part of my love for storytelling had its roots watching the dreams that came out of Hollywood, but somewhere along the way, you started recycling the dream.
Let’s be clear: the issue isn’t foreign productions undercutting you with cheaper labor or tax incentives. This isn’t about money—this is about meaning. While you’re too busy crunching box office projections, pushing agendas or polishing another paint-by-numbers sequel to a storyline so predicable, so superficial, the rest of the world is blistering by you, telling stories that feel alive.
Look around. South Korea delivers genre-bending tales that slip between social commentary and character drama without blinking. Scandinavian series dig deep into human darkness and come back with something honest. Indian filmmakers are blending myth and modernity with unapologetic flair. Even small indie studios are crafting intimate, resonant stories that travel the globe without a cape or a sequel.
What do you offer in return?
Another reboot. Another origin story. Another climax telegraphed halfway through Act One. Your scripts seem to be engineered by advertisers, your characters one ticket stub short of an influencer, your endings are a fast food big meal to placate the mindless couch polyps–– It’s not just predictable—it’s anesthetic.
The real loss is that you’ve trained audiences to expect less and you truly think we are stupid and are less. And now, those same audiences are quietly, steadily, turning to other voices. Not because they’re louder, but because they’re real. I would rather slug through an Amazon Prime series interrupted by brainwashing commercials than go see a Hollywood dumpster fire.
We know the risk is higher when a story doesn’t follow the template. But that’s what made you great in the first place. You took risks. You shattered norms. You redefined what cinema could do. So why now are you so afraid of silence, of slowness, of substance? You used to bulldoze through the walls of social pressure—now you’re just another face in line, submitting to pat-downs for the soulless dystopian junk you helped create.
Hollywood, the world still wants stories. But now, it’s learning to look elsewhere.
Wake up. Or keep fading into your own formula. You are so hell bent on protecting Intellectual Properties, thinking that A.I. is your greatest threat. Your greatest threat is not seeing that A.I. is your greatest asset.
Sincerely, A Storyteller Who Still Believes in Magic—Just Not Yours Anymore.
PostMortem
If you’re hunting for storylines, give me a ring—I’ve got enough to defibrillate the flatline diagnosis you’re mistaking for cinema.
Isaac Asimov’s The Robots of Dawn presents a vision of intelligent, humanoid robots integrated into society, raising questions about ethics, autonomy, and the boundaries between human and machine. Fast-forward to today, and we see real-world counterparts emerging in unexpected ways.
The, now, $1,000.00 Roomba, once seen as a novelty, now quietly symbolizes the normalization of domestic automation. For just a few hundred dollars, people can own a robot that navigates their homes, mapping spaces and cleaning autonomously — a concept that once seemed futuristic.
Tesla’s Optimus represents the next leap — a humanoid robot designed to perform complex physical tasks. This marks a shift from specialized automation to general-purpose robots capable of integrating into human environments. Recently, Tesla CEO Elon Musk made a startling claim that humanoid robots will surpass the human population by 2040, possibly over 10 billion robots. Sound preposterous? At first, but robots are not necessarily these metal and plastic devices, they come in the form of software (Alexa, Siri, Gemini, Grok, ChatGTP) or just an arm on a stand to make fries or flip burgers, clean up trash along roadsides, or carry things, clean, cook, pay your bills, etc. If you think this way, 10 billion might be conservative.
Meanwhile, in research labs and startup workshops, countless other robotic innovations are quietly taking shape — from automated delivery systems to caregiving assistants to military-grade drones. These developments, often overlooked until they reach mass adoption, can feel like a sudden wave of change.
Then there is the military side of Robotics, and it looks disturbing. I cannot help but think of SkyNet, from the original Terminator. With Sci-Fi just being fact before it happens, this is something that actually worries me.
There are so many current Robotic developments occurring in the Military from robotic dogs with mounted machine guns, to legions of robots that can fight 24 x 7 to flying drones that hover and observe while others close in on a human target for detainment or termination.
The phrase “When did that happen?” captures this societal dissonance — the sense that technology often feels like it’s arriving overnight, even when it’s been brewing for years. Just as Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World depicted a society reshaped by science, we are witnessing an accelerating transformation that challenges our understanding of labor, privacy, and social dynamics.
So lets come back to the softer side and hope that Isaac Asimov’s Three Rules of Robotics hold true:
A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.
But my bet is on the Adult Industry. Why? Well, the Adult Industry was the first industry to become profitable on the Internet. The Adult Industry has often been an early adopter — and sometimes the driving force — behind emerging technologies: The adult industry pioneered secure credit card transactions on the internet, driving early e-commerce innovation. Adult content creators were early adopters of VR technology, pushing hardware development and immersive experiences.
introducing Arya by Realbotix. While Ayra is marketed as a companion robot, her capabilities naturally extend to intimate scenarios. For individuals with social anxiety, physical disabilities, or those seeking companionship without emotional complexities, Ayra represents a deeply personalized solution. Although her current mobility is limited to a rolling platform, I don’t think it will be two many gens away from walking on her own.
Some may find this offensive, and like all emerging technologies there will always be the warped, the squeaky wheel that leaves a bad rep on this advancement. However, my thoughts are that what is lacking in the most advanced cutting edge of Robotics is the intimacy factor and I am not referring to sex, but the bedside manner. If history repeats itself, the Adult trade’s early adoption of Ayra-like robots could lead to breakthroughs in AI personality development, conversational depth, and emotional simulation. Over time, these advancements could reshape not only intimacy but also caregiving, mental health support, and social companionship. that can be adopted in the Healthcare industry for Healthcare, In-house care, Hospitals and Hospice.
There are certain pieces of music that trigger a person’s opiate receptors–– a channel opened–– only they can hear. For me, the performance of, In this Shirt by The Irrepressibles is just that… This performance is a collision of art and music, together of which are greater than the sum of its parts. This combination or artistic expression transcends space and time–– they do not merely coexist–– they intertwine, amplifying each other in a way that is both emerssive and transformative. This entanglement of color, vibrates like a chord creating a cosmic symphony where every living being, regardless of their location and form throughout the universe, perceives this moment in unison; sparking, perhaps, a universal consciousness, if even for a nanosecond.
I’ve always been a strong proponent of A.I. seeing its potential much like the calculator controversy in the mid-70s. Back then, calculators were briefly banned from U.S. schools because the Board of Education feared they’d dumb down Americans’ proficiency in math and science. Of course, the use of calculators led to landing rovers on Mars. Sure, for every mouse trap there will always be a smarter mouse and someone will bend it for ill-usage, but to change that perception, how about altering its underlying abbreviation to ““Assisted” Intelligence.
That said, there’s no way I’m downloading the DeekSeek app onto my iPhone—just as I wouldn’t stroll up to a bear and slap it on the ear. That is a singularity I fear will suck the life-blood from us all. (Images created using Grok -2)
Growing up in the 1950s, the idea of a future without flying cars seemed unthinkable. It was certain we’d see them in our lifetimes. Back then, images of flying cars leaped off the pages of pulp fiction, igniting dreams of airborne highways cluttered with assorted crafts, zipping along on raised avenues. Over the years, countless prototypes have emerged, yet most relied on fixed-wing designs that failed to revolutionize transportation.
Enter the Skyrider X1. At last, the concept of flying cars has become a reality. However, the true game-changer isn’t just the Skyrider X1 itself; it’s the infrastructure enabling its use—designated sites for liftoff and landing. This critical piece of the puzzle has long hindered the industry, which often focused too heavily on the product while neglecting the logistics necessary to support it.
Finally, someone has embraced the principles of Moshe F. Rubenstein’s The Minding Organization: identifying a purpose, assembling the right team, and working backward from the goal to achieve that vision. It’s a strategic approach that’s turning science fiction into everyday life.
David Nadas 