People keep asking what the future looks like.
I tell them: forget the chrome cities and hive-mind nonsense.
It’s a Cybertruck towing a silver Airstream, Starlink dish bolted to the roof, parked on empty desert where no cell tower reaches.
Inside, a free man drinks coffee, reads what he damn well pleases, and pulls news from orbit when it suits him—never when it suits someone else.
Power from the sun, water in the tank, freedom in the tank. No leash. No apology.
That’s tomorrow. The rest is advertising.