SpaceX had its initial public offering last week. Now Elon Musk is a trillionaire on paper. But what is SpaceX? On one level, of course, SpaceX is a company that builds rockets and spacecraft and launches them into space. (Occasionally the rockets explode.) It is also the company that birthed Starlink, a satellite-internet business that generated more than $11 billion in revenue last year.

But the company can be defined in many ways. SpaceX is a financial instrument for Musk. Before the IPO, SpaceX acquired xAI, Musk’s artificial-intelligence company, which itself acquired X, the social-media site, back in 2025. The maneuver allowed SpaceX to claim that it believed it had “the largest actionable total addressable market in human history”: $28.5 trillion, to be precise. $26.5 trillion of that, according to the filing, would come from AI infrastructure and applications, meaning not from SpaceX’s core business of aerospace engineering and satellites.

Maybe most important, SpaceX is a story, even a meme. Musk is arguably a better salesman than an inventor, and what he began selling early on was a techno-utopian dream—of himself as a Tony Stark–style genius, of an environment-saving EV revolution, of securing a future for humanity by getting us all to Mars. He intuitively understands the warped dynamics of the attention economy. Ben Tarnoff and Quinn Slobodian, the authors of the book Muskism, describe his strategy on social media as “trolling is infrastructure”: “Every joke, every poll is a stress test of responsiveness,” they argue. “Can he still move markets with a post?” Dogecoin, the cryptocurrency based on a 13-year-old meme of a shiba inu, is the shining example of Musk’s ability to lavish attention on something—in this case, a fake asset whose entire joke was that it was worthless—and make it worth more to others as a result.

SpaceX is obviously not Dogecoin. Its rocket business is a genuine success story, as is Starlink. But the company’s appeal, particularly in the face of setbacks, is also reliant on a combination of story and Musk’s own image in ways that are not necessarily connected to reality. Musk has frequently set unrealistic timelines for projects, including putting a spacecraft on Mars by 2018. Last year, SpaceX’s flagship rocket underwent a “rapid unscheduled disassembly” on three test flights (it blew up). But SpaceX’s IPO filing was more oriented around its future ambitions and assumed triumphs, such as its desire to mine asteroids, promote space tourism, and “extend the light of consciousness to the stars.” An adviser to the deal told the Financial Times last month: “From a strict corporate finance perspective, the valuation makes no sense. But Elon is great at getting people to dream.”

What do you get when you combine SpaceX the business with the financial instrument and the meme? An unfathomable amount of money, it seems. Last week SpaceX opened trading at a market capitalization of $1.7 trillion. The scale of Musk’s own net worth is now almost impossible to comprehend, such that, on Monday, SpaceX’s stock rallied, and Musk’s one-day gain was more than the net worth of Bill Gates, once the richest person in the world. In short order, SpaceX has become the sixth-most valuable public company despite the fact that it posted a net loss of $4.94 billion last year on $18.7 billion in revenue.

On Tuesday, SpaceX announced it is using some of that value to purchase Cursor, the AI-coding start-up, for $60 billion, all in stock. In reaction to the news, Bill Ackman, the hedge-fund manager (and inveterate poster), wrote on X: “One of the things that makes SpaceX so valuable is how valuable it is.” Ackman’s reasoning rings true in a financial sense: According to the deal, the price that SpaceX will pay for Cursor will be set by its own share price in the seven trading days before closing, which in effect will mean that the more valuable SpaceX is, the less Cursor will cost it. But Ackman’s koan is also correct in a more absurdist way. It highlights the irrationality of the modern stock market and reflects a lesson of the past decade: If a person or group of people is able to marshal enough genuine attention toward an idea—no matter how ridiculous it might seem—they can usually bend reality toward their preferred outcome.

Other than perhaps Donald Trump, it’s difficult to argue anyone has been more successful at this than Musk. Musk excels not because he can’t stop winning, but because he understands that, in the financialized logic of our age, winning is less important than the perception that you will win. Speculation beats fundamentals. One way to look at Musk’s personal brand is as somebody who has borrowed obsessively against his own reputation, each loan used to invest in and service the debt of the last, until it becomes impossible to follow the money. One of the things that makes Elon Musk so valuable is how valuable he is.

With SpaceX’s IPO, you could argue that Musk has either won or broken capitalism. His wealth, in our current system, makes him a chaos agent with no real comparison. He is virtually impervious to fines. His money, should he wish to spend it, has the potential to drastically influence the outcome of elections. That leverage could be used to benefit Musk’s businesses, securing further contracts with the government and entrenching him deeper into the infrastructure of everyone’s lives. This power isn’t theoretical; Musk’s dominance in satellite connectivity has already made him geopolitically relevant in places including Ukraine and Iran.

SpaceX and Musk are, of course, not inevitable. Analysts are predicting volatility for the  stock as lockup periods end and people sell shares. The AI bubble could pop. Musk could mismanage the company as he did with X, or he could become so radioactive that institutions stop associating with him. But you can also imagine the SpaceX flywheel spinning out of control, perpetuating itself as Musk and SpaceX become fully untethered from reality. On X, Will Manidis, a start-up founder and investor, argued recently that, given the dynamics of SpaceX’s stock, it could continue to purchase some of the internet’s foundational software companies at a cost of basically nothing. Neither Musk nor SpaceX responded to a request for comment on SpaceX’s direction, and such tweets, at this moment, are little more than fan fiction. But they represent the absurdity of Musk’s current position in the modern economy. Musk has long fantasized about creating a massive, vertically integrated constellation of services—from banking to social networking—he once dubbed “the everything app.” So far, he’s failed in that quest (the phrase trust Elon Musk with your routing number would still strike fear in the hearts of most people). But it’s not difficult to see Musk using his cheap and abundant money to build toward the Everything Holding Company.

Is any of this possible? Would it even be legal? That’s unclear. But as Bloomberg’s Matt Levine once noted, it seems like “Elon Musk’s recent career is a long experiment to prove that, if you are successful enough, the regular laws do not apply to you.”

In the aftermath of the 2008 financial crisis, Rolling Stone’s Matt Taibbi memorably described Goldman Sachs as “a great vampire squid wrapped around the face of humanity, relentlessly jamming its blood funnel into anything that smells like money.” Goldman Sachs, he wrote, “positions itself in the middle of a speculative bubble,” enabled by “a crippled and corrupt state that allows it to rewrite the rules.” Revisiting that article in the age of Musk the trillionaire feels almost quaint. Musk and SpaceX have a true nose for money, including sniffing out government infusions and contracts. The aerospace company has figured out how to position itself firmly in the middle of the speculative hype of the AI cycle, and numerous financial organizations have amended rules designed to protect retail investors.

The vampiric Goldman Sachs that Taibbi describes is an institution, a system that became too big to fail, and thus ungovernable. Musk is a person, not a system or institution, but he owns more than 40 percent of SpaceX and controls more than 80 percent of its voting shares. According to Reuters, in the lead-up to SpaceX’s IPO Musk was dictating terms to Goldman Sachs and other banks.

If Goldman Sachs is the vampire squid, what does that make SpaceX and Musk? The natural world offers few good comparisons. What we’re seeing in terms of hype, valuation, and fortune is without precedent, even when stacked up against the wealth concentration of the Gilded Age. SpaceX and Musk are better served by a mythological comparison, in part because the entire enterprise is built on a story told over and over until it transcends reality. SpaceX is a rocket company, a complex financial instrument, a meme, a monument to a broken financial system. It is the seven-headed Hydra at the end of finance, the teleological endpoint of money. It is a myth kept alive by blind faith, devotion, and even aggression, which makes it dangerous whether you believe in it or not.

Following the launch of the surprisingly popular Kobo Remote, Boox has released its own device to ease the burden of reaching for an e-reader’s touchscreen that’s an arm’s length away. The Tappy isn’t Boox’s first page-turning remote, but its design takes a much different approach to the company’s slim but boring B.T. Remoter. The Tappy feels like a mashup of wireless remotes, fidget toys, and macro pads, with a healthy dash of retro charm. 

While the Kobo Remote looks like a streaming dongle accessory with a design that prioritizes ergonomics, the Tappy can be best described as a miniature keyboard distilled to just two buttons that draws its design inspiration from a retro typewriter. It’s not as comfortable to hold as Kobo’s accessory, but it’s small enough to sit discreetly in your hand. There are also four rubber feet on its underside so it won’t slide around if used on a desk, and it’s available in two very glossy color options: olive green and a bright orange that I tested.

Tappy’s two round buttons don’t use actual keyboard switches but they have about a quarter-inch of travel and are satisfying to press when you’re in need of something to fidget with. Out of the box, the buttons are labeled with a pixelated heart and steaming mug of coffee, which I just don’t understand. I immediately switched to the included alternatives that are instead labeled with an X and an O, but more customizability, even if it was just a sheet of stickers I had to apply myself, would be preferred. Forward and back arrows, or even just a plus and minus, would be welcome alternatives to what’s included.

Pairing the Tappy to a Boox device is easy, but don’t misplace the fold-out quick start guide that walks you through the process. After powering it on using a sliding metal switch on the side, you put the remote into pairing mode by holding down both buttons for about two seconds until a single LED on the side flashes blue. From there, you just need to connect to it through your Boox device’s Bluetooth settings. When you power it back on in the future, it reconnects automatically.

Boox Tappy Wireless Page Turner

Where to Buy:

• $29.99 at Amazon (Green)
• $29.99 at Boox (Citrus)
• $29.99 at Boox (Green)

The buttons’ default functionality is Reading mode that turns pages forward and back or controls volume when outside a reading app, but the Tappy can be switched to two other modes. Multimedia mode changes the buttons’ functionality to skipping tracks in music, video, podcast, or audiobook apps, while Browsing mode lets you scroll up and down through long webpages or social media feeds for as long as you’re pressing either button.

Pressing both buttons for about five seconds switches modes, which causes the LED to momentarily flash green. Repeating that process cycles through Reading, Multimedia, and Browsing modes, and every time you switch, a notification pops up at the top of your Boox device letting you know the current mode. But it’s not persistent and can be easily missed. A trio of labeled LEDs indicating the Tappy’s current mode or even having the single LED display a different color for each one would make it easier to know what mode it was in at a glance, especially when using the remote with other devices.

While Tappy works best with Boox e-readers and tablets running the company’s V4.2 firmware or later (which includes recent hardware like the Boox Palma 2 Pro), it can also be used with other Android mobile devices, and iPhones and iPads, with varying levels of functionality. The functionality is supported in both the Kobo and Kindle Android apps, but not in the iOS or iPadOS versions. However, I was able to use the Tappy on my iPhone and OnePlus phone to scroll webpages, control music playback, and adjust the volume.

The bigger challenge when using the Tappy with non-Boox hardware is you don’t get the useful pop-up notifications letting you know which mode you’ve just switched to. And without any LED indicators, the only way to know what mode Tappy is in is to just press the buttons and see what happens. Did the volume go up and down? Great, you’re in Reading mode and are just two switches away from the Browsing mode you want.

Other e-readers from companies like Pocketboot or BigMe are supported, according to Good e-Reader’s testing, but I had no luck getting the Tappy to work with the Kobo and the Kindle. That’s unfortunate because while I still regularly enjoy using the Kobo Remote for reading at night, I would happily abandon it for the Tappy. The tiny remote has already replaced my Apple Watch for skipping tracks when streaming my iPhone through my HomePod, even if its buttons occasionally get accidentally pressed when it’s bouncing around my pocket. At $29.99 it’s the same price as the Kobo Remote, but its buttons are more satisfying to use and it’s more than just a one-device accessory.

Photography by Andrew Liszewski / The Verge

In a field outside of Kyiv last weekend, a van was parked discreetly behind some trees. Inside the van there were no passenger seats, just a long desk, two office chairs, two laptops, extra screens. Outside appearances to the contrary, this was a mobile drone-interceptor base, one of hundreds of similar vehicles now scattered around Ukraine. It’s also part of something much bigger: a set of technological advances that have changed the war with Russia, and maybe all wars, forever.

On one of the laptops, a soldier showed me a bird’s-eye view of a part of the Ukrainian countryside more than 100 miles away. His job is to identify the objects flying above it, to distinguish birds and bats from lethal Russian drones. When he sees the latter, the soldier on the laptop beside him can then direct an interceptor—a small drone that looks like a miniature rocket ship—to track and destroy the incoming Russian aerial vehicles before they hit their targets.

At first glance, the images on the screens look simple, like a video game. But this is not a low-tech operation. The AI-powered drone interceptors are made possible by a complicated network of radar systems, acoustic sensors, and other tools that hundreds of large and small Ukrainian tech companies are creating and updating every day, using data they get directly from soldiers like the ones I met. Almost none of these companies existed four years ago. They have emerged from a tech-literate civil society whose members changed their professions or their focus to help defend their country. I have met Ukrainian defense-company CEOs who come from financial services, architecture, politics. I met another one last weekend who had returned just that day from the front line. He told me he finds it useful to learn how soldiers are using his products, and how they might be improved.

[Phillips Payson O’Brien: Putin can no longer hide his catastrophe]

Other kinds of teams across the country are connected to this constantly improving information system too, and not just in vans. Last year I was in an underground room in Ukraine where dozens of people were monitoring hundreds of miles of the front line on a series of screens. The Ukrainian defense analyst Andriy Zagorodnyuk calls this system of drones, monitors, AI-powered navigation, battle-tested robots, and interconnected soldiers “networked situational awareness,” and it explains why perceptions of this war have suddenly changed.

Ukrainian military technology has been evolving rapidly since the first years of the war. But only now are outsiders—in Europe, the United States, the Persian Gulf, and of course Russia—beginning to understand what that evolution means. Since 2022, many public arguments about the war, even in Europe and the U.S., have adopted the narrative put out by Russian propaganda, tacitly assuming that Ukraine, outmanned and outgunned, would eventually lose. Helping Ukraine was a way to stave off disaster, nothing more. When the Trump administration stopped sending military and financial aid to Kyiv in 2025, some in Washington expected (and maybe wanted) the end to come quickly.

Instead, Europeans have provided money. Ukrainian society produced networked situational awareness. And when Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky toured the Gulf states in late March and signed a series of security agreements, something changed in the international narrative. The leaders of Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, and Saudi Arabia were talking to Ukraine, not because they felt sorry for a war victim, but because they wanted to acquire drone interceptors like the ones I saw in action last weekend. Iranians use the same drone technology as the Russians, and the Ukrainians know better than anyone how to fight it.

The Gulf leaders are not alone: Suddenly, many people have understood that the Russian narrative is wrong: The Ukrainians are not losing. The Russians are not winning, and more important, they don’t know how to win. Ukrainians and outside analysts have described this dynamic in three main theaters of the war.

The ground war. If the story of the past two years was one of slow, grinding forward progress for Russia,the story of this year is very different. Since early spring, at the start of its annual offensive, Russia has lost more territory in Ukraine than it has gained. Right now, it is hard to see how the Russian army can move forward, because the front line is not a line at all, but rather a broad no-go zone, some 20 miles wide. Everything inside this zone is visible to drones, which means that any Russian truck, tank, or infantryman seeking to attack new territory is instantly identified and can easily be hit. Because the Russian commanders keep attacking anyway, the Ukrainians are killing and wounding thousands of enemy soldiers, perhaps as many as 30,000, every month. They say their goal is to remove more Russians from the battlefield than can be recruited to replace them, and they may be close to succeeding.

The long-range war. Although they are unable to move the front line, Russians can still use drones and missiles to kill civilians and destroy civilian infrastructure in Ukrainian cities, as they did once again this week. Indeed, Russian President Vladimir Putin’s appetite for this kind of attack is escalating, as he has no other practical way to damage Ukraine. He also knows that the Ukrainians don’t have enough air defense to stop ballistic missiles, even if they can now stop the majority of drones. Ukraine still relies heavily on air-defense equipment from the United States, especially ammunition for Patriot batteries. A European fund was set up to purchase these interceptor missiles, although some observers fear that there are simply not enough to buy. According to Zelensky, more Patriots were used during the first three days of the U.S.-Iran conflict than have been used during the entire Russia-Ukraine war.

What Putin doesn’t acknowledge is that his side is running out of air defense, too. That has helped Ukraine’s long-range drones more reliably target Russian oil and gas infrastructure, producing spectacular explosions and reducing Russian refining capacity by at least 20 percent. Almost all major oil refineries in central Russia ‌have halted or scaled back production, and some have been hit more than once.

With equal regularity, a new crop of Ukrainian drones with a range of 100 miles can target arms depots, logistical centers, and supply chains far behind the front line in Russian-occupied territories. These strikes are less spectacular than ones deep inside Russia, but they have already created crucial fuel shortages on the Crimean peninsula, and they are making it difficult for the Russians to supply their troops fighting in the East and the South.

The psychological war. For the past four years, the Kremlin has repeatedly told the Russian public that the war is going well, that Ukraine isn’t a real country, that victory is certain. But that’s hard to square with the panic that took hold of Moscow last month, when an annual military parade was shortened for fear it would be interrupted by Ukrainian drones. Nor does it square with the spectacular columns of black smoke that were billowing into the air on Wednesday morning, after Ukrainian drones hit a local refinery on the opening day of the Kremlin’s annual St. Petersburg economic forum. Kyrill Budanov, the former defense-intelligence chief who is now head of the Ukrainian president’s office, told me there is a lot of evidence that Russians are now finally facing the up to the falsehood of state propaganda: “They cannot understand why they have to keep fighting and why they are getting hit now, because they were told they were going to win and Ukraine is nothing.”

Not everybody thinks this means the war will end soon. One young woman, a Ukrainian civil servant, told me last weekend that she and her friends have already given up on the idea that they will ever live in a “normal” country again, because the war will last forever. She reminisced about a flight she and some friends took to Barcelona, before the war: “That beautiful life will never return.”

But there are signs that some in Moscow, at least, are preparing for the war to end. Recently, a set of slides leaked from the office of Sergei Kiryienko, a former Russian prime minister and now a senior official in Putin’s administration. They describe a plan to sell the end of the war to the country: declare victory, describe the Russian army as “the most combat-ready in the world,” portray small territorial gains as a huge success, claim that Europe suffered a huge economic blow, from which it will not recover, and that Ukraine will soon fall apart. Budanov believes that the Kremlin’s decision to cut off Telegram, the social-media platform most widely used in Russia, was a preemptive move, designed to prepare for this kind of narrative change, “so that when the time comes, they have only one official position and nothing else but that.”

[Anne Applebaum: Putin’s war comes home to Moscow]

Budanov also continues to believe that the negotiations started by the Trump administration could produce a cease-fire, along the current front line, as early as this year. “And then we will start resolving the other issues we have.” On Thursday, Zelensky wrote a letter directly to Putin proposing exactly that: an immediate cease-fire, accompanied by face-to-face negotiations between the two leaders. Putin publicly dismissed the idea, saying he sees “no point” in a meeting.

Russia still has other options. The Russian president, who has never acknowledged that Ukraine is a legitimate country, or that Zelensky is its legitimate president, could continue to bomb Ukrainian cities, hoping to destroy the electrical grid and make the country unlivable. He could call for mass mobilization, and continue trying to overwhelm Ukraine’s defenses, sacrificing thousands of lives. Some fear he could use this moment to widen the conflict and to attack a NATO country, possibly to test American willingness to defend allies. A Latvian general this week said that even if Russian drones can’t win in Ukraine, they have an advantage over NATO defenses that have yet to catch up with the fast-evolving technology.

Even without negotiations, Russia and Ukraine may be heading toward a new status quo. The transparent frontline zone may now be 20 miles wide, but as drone technology improves, it could soon be 30 or even 40 miles wide. At some point the front line will become not just a no-man’s-land but a de facto demilitarized zone, similar to the one that separates North and South Korea, regularly patrolled and maintained by drones.

After that, it could become a border—a temporary border, one that will not be recognized by either side—but a border nevertheless: no different from a river or mountain range, impossible to move, difficult to cross. This would not be a clear victory for Ukraine, but it would be a major defeat for Putin, whose central goal—the destruction of all of Ukraine, the removal of Ukraine from the map—would never be realized.  

Square Enix has officially announced the third and final game in its Final Fantasy VII remake trilogy: Final Fantasy VII Revelation. It will release on multiple platforms simultaneously - PC, PS5, Xbox Series X / S, and Nintendo Switch 2 - in spring 2027.

In footage shown onstage at Summer Game Fest Live, there was a lot to take in: You'll get to fly the Highwind airship, jump off it to land in the game's open world, play as Vincent Valentine and Cid Highwind in battle (who weren't playable in Rebirth), challenge the gigantic Weapons, and visit places from the original game, like Wutai. You'll also get to dress up your characters with armor …

Read the full story at The Verge.