Charging a phone and a pair of earbuds is easy enough, but sharing that same stand with another phone is a different matter. Peak Design’s new Charging Station addresses that problem with two equally capable magnetic pads and a hinged arm. Stand it up beside your laptop, or lay it flat so two phones can recharge without competing for the better spot.
The shape is straightforward, with a narrow metal arm linking two rounded-square charging surfaces. Die-cast aluminum and zinc form the chassis, while the machined aluminum stem provides the moving structure. Laminated Clarino covers the pads, and a non-slip TPU foot sits underneath. Black and Moon finishes keep the color choices restrained, rather than turning your nightstand into a brightly branded electronics display.
Two hinges let you adjust the arm and upper pad separately, positioning a phone for a video call or a glance at your calendar. Magnetic attachment supports portrait and landscape orientations, so changing what you’re doing doesn’t require another stand. An earbud case can sit on the lower pad while the phone stays raised, keeping both devices within the same small desktop footprint.
The lower pad gets more interesting when you fold the station flat. Peak Design rates both Qi2.2 pads for up to 25W simultaneously, allowing two compatible phones to recharge at once without assigning one a slower accessory spot. That doesn’t mean every magnetically attached phone will receive 25W, though. The device’s own charging support still determines how much power it can accept.
That folding movement also changes how the charger travels. Packed flat, it measures 6.3 by 2.7 by 0.6 inches, with the arm tucked alongside the body instead of projecting into your bag. At 9.7 ounces, it still adds weight to a travel kit, but you aren’t packing a rigid desktop stand just to keep a phone propped up in a hotel room.
A separate USB-C output makes room for a third device, although this connection is wired. Its 7.5W output is suited to smaller accessories rather than replacing a laptop charger. A watch still needs its own charging cable or puck, so this isn’t a dedicated three-device wireless dock. It simply gives that extra cable somewhere to connect without occupying another outlet on the wall.
The $99.95 price also leaves out the wall adapter. Peak Design includes a fabric-wrapped USB-C cable rated for 100W, but specifies at least a 45W power supply to operate the station and 75W or more for maximum dual charging speed. That makes the adapter part of the buying decision, particularly if your existing charger is already committed to powering something else at home.
Finding a place for a game console usually means clearing a shelf, not making room for a reptile. Microsoft’s Xbox Series X-BITE puts a working Series X inside an artificial alligator measuring more than five feet long. The one-off creation trades a discreet electronics box for something closer to a wildlife exhibit, complete with a controller between its teeth.
The alligator rests on slim posts above a rectangular, wood-grain base, with its legs hanging below and its tail curling toward the floor. Dark, ridged scales and a lighter belly give it the appearance of a mounted specimen. That familiar display format does much of the work, making the oversized enclosure feel deliberately theatrical rather than like an ordinary console wearing a novelty cover.
A raised section on its back interrupts those scales, with an illuminated Xbox Nexus symbol worked into the surface. It’s the clearest clue that the animal has supposedly swallowed something it shouldn’t. The branding stays small against the length of the body, allowing the fabrication to carry the joke before the glowing logo explains why there’s an alligator underneath your television in the first place.
The head gets a less subtle treatment. Xbox-green irises surround pupils shaped around the Nexus symbol, turning the creature’s stare into another brand reference. Between the open jaws sits a custom Xbox Wireless Controller with artificial bite marks. It gives the sculpture a little unfinished business, as though the console wasn’t quite enough of a meal and the accessories were next on the menu.
The commission went to creature-effects specialists, who used 3D modeling, sculpting, and fabrication to build the animal around the hardware. That process gives a promotional console the attention normally associated with a film prop. Florida supplied the inspiration, according to Xbox, although the animal itself is entirely artificial. No actual alligators were used or harmed in creating this unusually elaborate console enclosure.
For the person who eventually owns it, the obvious challenge is finding a suitable place to put it. More than five feet of reptile won’t disappear into the usual gap beside a television. Its long base asks for a substantial display surface, and the raised mounting makes the whole assembly something to plan a room around rather than tuck away.
There’s also a qualification behind the playable-console claim. Xbox says the Series X inside works, but its fine print recommends the finished creation for display. The announcement doesn’t explain ventilation, access to ports, or servicing inside the sculpted body. That leaves a distinction between functioning hardware and a practical replacement for the console you switch on every evening after work.
Only one Series X-BITE exists, and it’s being offered through a sweepstakes rather than a retail release. There isn’t a shelf price to weigh against a standard console or a choice of less toothy finishes. The appeal is owning the fabrication itself, with a working Xbox as its unlikely inhabitant. The controller has a home, provided you don’t mind the teeth.
Google vient de publier
un long rapport technique
dans lequel il explique comment il vient de démanteler XCPE, un botnet de plus de 1,3 million d'appareils Android, contenant surtout des box TV, qui sous louaient en douce la connexion de leurs propriétaires à des services de proxys résidentiels et servaient à faire de la fraude publicitaire. Le pire c'est que ce malware n'a pas été ajouté par un pirate mais était implanté directement dans le firmware, posé là par Videostrong, un fabricant chinois qui revendait ensuite l'accès aux box à des affiliés.
Google a donc attaqué en justice les domaines et les serveurs qui pilotaient le botnet, avec la police nationale japonaise et plusieurs entreprises de sécurité, dont Plume, Synthient et TrendAI, puis il a banni Videostrong, ainsi que ses futures filiales, de la fabrication d'appareils Android certifiés. Pour passer les tests de certification, le fabricant avait masqué son code malicieux et attendu ensuite le premier démarrage de l'appareil pour le charger discrétos. La faille a été corrigée par Google depuis...
Mais et les box déjà vendues, alors ?
Hé bien
le billet de TrendAI
est cash patate, la coupure a privé l'opérateur de ses commandes, mais l'implant reste sur chaque box / TV, et son nettoyage passe par le fabricant, par la plateforme ou par le remplacement de l'appareil. Le propriétaire n'a pas la main !! D'après Google, x.cpe tourne avec les droits système depuis la partition firmware et, si on le désinstalle, il se réinstalle tout seul au redémarrage depuis la partition /oem, donc autant dire que les propriétaires de ces appareils l'ont dans l'os.
Car sans pilote au manettes, ça ne veut pas dire que le malware est devenu inoffensif. En effet,
Plume a épluché le code
et les ordres circulent en MQTT sans chiffrement, donc n'importe qui capable de publier une commande peut la faire exécuter par la box. Et comme le contrôle de mise à jour passe en HTTP avec un fichier XML non signé, celui qui détourne le DNS du serveur peut alors prendre la main sur l'appareil easy... Quand au module LinkFog présent sur les TV, celui-ci relance ses tâches tout seul au redémarrage, sans attendre le serveur. Puis surtout, ce genre d'opérateur mafieux est tout a fait capable de reconstruire son infra ailleurs sous une autre bannière et de récupérer son botnet quasiment intact...
Mais alors comment savoir si votre TV ou Box Android est impactée ? Car aucune marque spécifique n'a été citée comme étant à éviter, puisque Google a trouvé le malware intégré dans de nombreux modèles et marques. Cela représente tout de même 206 modèles répartis dans plus de 170 pays. La
liste publiée par Synthient
et le rapport de Plume citent par exemple des MECOOL, dont la KM2 et la KM9 Pro, et la Strong Leap-S1, et le parc mêle des appareils AOSP et des appareils certifiés Google, donc la certification ne suffit plus du coup à garantir une box saine.
Côté parade, Plume recommande un reset d'usine complet, parce que des modules ont pu déposer d'autres portes dérobées, alors que Synthient conseille de se débarrasser définitivement de ces box, jugées à haut risque de contenir d'autres malwares. À mon avis, le reset seul ne suffira pas, vu que x.cpe est dans le firmware et pas dans les données, donc l'option déchetterie, c'est aussi ce que je recommanderai malheureusement.
Et côté Google, les mesures annoncées sont la mise en place d'un bannissement du fabricant et des contrôles renforcés pour que ça ne se reproduise pas. On verra si ça a un impact ou si les escrocs trouvent une nouvelle faille dans leur processus de certification.
Breeef, en attendant, Synthient conseille de débrancher les appareils suspects et de changer le mot de passe du Wi-Fi. Si votre box est sur la liste, c'est le minimum, mais vu ce que ça peut faire, moi je ne la rebrancherais pas à votre place...
The most interesting EDC upgrade here begins with something that already fits a pocket: a Zippo case. Open the lid, and there’s no lighter inside, just a miniature ratchet and carefully arranged bits. That little reversal sets the tone for this November selection. These designs aren’t trying to turn you into a survivalist. They reconsider the objects you reach for when something needs tightening, illuminating, carrying, organizing, or writing down.
We’ve brought together one DIY project and four retail designs, including a swiveling flashlight, a cork wallet, and a pencil that skips sharpening. This is our November edit of existing designs, not a roundup of November launches. The common thread is thoughtful use of limited space, whether that means fitting tools inside a familiar shell or removing an annoyance from something as ordinary as the keys you carry every day.
1. DIY Zippo Toolkit
Tiny Tool Shop’s Zippo conversion makes a persuasive case for designing around an enclosure rather than starting again. A custom-printed insert holds a micro ratchet, two Steinwhale bits, and a Klein utility knife extension inside the emptied lighter shell. Each component gets its own recess, turning the interior into a fitted tray rather than a loose collection of hardware. The recognizable metal case supplies the hinge, lid, and compact outline, while the insert gives it an entirely different purpose.
The best detail addresses the obvious drawback of tight packing: getting the ratchet back out. A spring salvaged from a disposable Bic lighter helps push it through an opening in the case. It’s a satisfying piece of resourcefulness, but this remains a maker project, not a finished product sold by Zippo. Reproducing it involves sourcing compatible tools, producing the insert, and modifying the shell. It also replaces the lighter function completely, trading a flame for a very small repair kit.
What we like
Reuses a familiar hinged enclosure with a fitted layout for the tools.
Spring-assisted retrieval makes tightly packed components easier to access.
What we dislike
Requires fabrication, compatible components, and modifications to the case.
The insert’s dedicated recesses limit flexibility when changing the tool selection.
2. Painless Key Ring
Most key rings make you use your fingernails as miniature pry bars. The Painless Key Ring changes the entry geometry instead, using a continuous wave shape to guide a key onto the ring. You’re still working with a springy metal loop, but without the same tightly stacked starting point as a conventional split ring. It’s a modest redesign with a clear purpose: make changing keys less fiddly without turning the key ring into another complicated mechanism you need to carry around.
Made from stainless spring steel, the ring is listed at 0.8mm thick and weighs three grams. The silver set costs $30 and includes one large ring plus three small ones, giving you separate attachment points for different keys. The appeal isn’t adding another tool to your pocket. It improves the connection between what you already have. If you rarely change keys, the benefit may not justify the price. For someone regularly swapping house, office, and shared keys, the geometry is more compelling.
Wave-shaped entry offers an alternative to prying apart a conventional split ring.
The set includes smaller rings for organizing separate keys.
What we dislike
At $30 for the silver set, it’s a deliberate upgrade to a basic accessory.
Keys still need threading around the ring rather than releasing through a gate.
3. WUBEN G5 Compact Flashlight
The WUBEN G5 puts its most useful feature above the body: a head that rotates through 180 degrees. Rather than repositioning the entire flashlight whenever the beam misses your work, you can change its direction while the body stays attached. An adjustable clip and tail magnet give you different mounting options, particularly useful when both hands are occupied. The flat form also avoids the rolling habit of cylindrical flashlights, making this a small lighting tool with several sensible working positions.
WUBEN lists the standard G5 at approximately 52 grams, with USB Type-C charging and maximum white output of 400 lumens. Its current specification gives an IP65 rating, which means this is not a light to treat as submersible. At $19.99 for standard colors, it’s an accessible alternative to reaching for your phone. The limitation is endurance: WUBEN’s longest runtime figure belongs at the lowest output, not maximum brightness. Choose it for short tasks rather than prolonged use at maximum brightness.
What we like
Rotating head, clip, and magnet provide several ways to position the beam.
The compact, flat body suits pocket carry without rolling away when set down.
What we dislike
Maximum brightness and maximum runtime describe different operating settings.
Its IP65 rating does not cover immersion.
4. Pocket Everlasting All-Metal Pencil
A pocket pencil needs to survive being carried before it can be useful on paper. Sun-Star’s Pocket Everlasting All-Metal Pencil approaches that problem with a metal body, protective cap, and a writing tip that doesn’t need sharpening. At 4.7 inches long, it gives you a dedicated place to put a measurement, sketch, or passing thought without unlocking a screen. There’s no elaborate deployment mechanism, just a compact writing instrument ready to accompany a notebook.
The tip uses graphite and alloy particles to make an erasable mark. That makes it better understood as an alternative pencil technology than a pen that happens to look metallic. At $19.95, it’s also one of the less expensive objects in this selection. The name needs a little perspective: “Everlasting” isn’t a literal promise of infinite use. Its appeal is avoiding routine sharpening, while your preference for line darkness and feel still determines whether it earns space beside your keys.
A capped metal body gives the writing tip protection during carry.
Erasable marks and no routine sharpening make it an interesting notebook companion.
What we dislike
At 4.7 inches, it still needs more space than a miniature keychain tool.
Pencil marks aren’t a substitute for ink when permanent writing is needed.
5. Corkor Front-Pocket Cork Wallet
Corkor’s Front-Pocket Cork Wallet provides a welcome break from machined metal. Its cork fabric exterior has an irregular grain that gives a familiar card holder a distinct material identity. The layout stays straightforward: three card slots, an ID window, and two compartments for folded bills. Rather than adding moving parts to make a wallet interesting, Corkor keeps the construction restrained and lets the surface do the work. It suits an edited daily carry better than a collection of forgotten receipts.
The Portuguese maker lists an empty weight of 20 grams and dimensions of 110 by 80 by 10 millimeters. That last figure matters: adding cards and folded notes will change how much room it occupies. Corkor makes the $59 holder in Portugal and includes RFID-blocking construction, though the more tangible benefit is its simple organization. There’s no coin pocket, and cash takes more preparation than sliding notes into a full billfold. Those are deliberate compromises for someone who wants to downsize.
What we like
Cork fabric offers an animal-free alternative to a conventional leather exterior.
Separate card, ID, and cash compartments keep the layout easy to understand.
What we dislike
There’s nowhere dedicated to loose change.
Bills must be folded, making cash less convenient to sort.
Small Improvements Worth Carrying
The Zippo conversion is the conversation starter, but the quieter designs may make the bigger difference to a particular routine. A ring that’s easier to load helps someone changing keys. A swiveling light helps someone working with both hands. A simpler wallet helps someone trying to carry less. None needs to solve every problem to justify its place; it just needs to address one you actually encounter with some regularity.
These five designs aren’t a checklist to buy in full. The Zippo project asks for making time rather than a quick checkout, while the wallet asks you to reconsider what deserves carrying at all. Start with the small frustration you already recognize, then consider the space, upkeep, and setup its solution requires. A useful everyday carry should make your day feel less encumbered, not simply leave your pockets more fully equipped.
The steel in Sarah Naghawi’s JAWF collection looks caught halfway between a box and a balloon. Surfaces bulge, dip, and crease, giving rigid metal the appearance of something you might squeeze. I like that moment of confusion, especially because the material remains so obviously metallic. Presented at Amman Design Week 2026, the Jordanian designer’s experimental collection explores how pressure can turn stainless-steel sheets into sculptural objects with their own internal spaces.
The problem being explored belongs to the workshop rather than the living room: how to give sheet metal volume, depth, and an interior through the forming process itself. Naghawi uses hydromechanical forming, introducing hydraulic fluid pressure into welded sheet assemblies so the metal expands and deforms. Pressure becomes a shaping tool, pushing the steel beyond its original flat condition. The attraction is that the resulting surface helps define both the object’s exterior and the space within it.
That industrial terminology sounds less approachable than the result. Think of the principle of inflation, except the steel permanently retains the deformation created during fabrication. Outward curves and inward hollows remain as evidence of the forces applied to the material. This gives the objects a physical history you can read in their surfaces. The process hasn’t been hidden beneath a decorative finish; its effects supply much of the visual character.
The name helps explain why those hollows matter. JAWF comes from an Arabic word referring to an inner chamber or protected cavity. Naghawi treats that interior space as a starting point for design, with recesses suggesting possibilities for storage and enclosure. I appreciate that emphasis because sculptural furniture can sometimes ask us to admire its silhouette while leaving its practical purpose unresolved. Here, the cavity is central to the investigation, even if everyday usefulness still needs closer examination.
In the exhibition photographs, a tall rectangular piece stands on slender, splayed legs, with three pronounced recesses arranged vertically across its face. Nearby, a horizontal piece stretches across angled supports, its upper surface rising and falling rather than settling into a conventional flat plane. A smaller stacked form brings the same swelling geometry closer to the floor. The family resemblance comes through clearly, but each silhouette gives the pressure-shaped surfaces a different setting.
The reflective finish makes those shapes particularly animated in photographs. Blue from the exhibition floor and bright patches of window light break across the steel, making some edges easy to follow and others surprisingly difficult to locate. To my eye, the pieces sit somewhere between furniture and oversized, crumpled silver packaging. That comparison is affectionate. The familiar shine draws you in, while the uneven geometry prevents the objects from becoming another exercise in polished metallic perfection.
The studio’s balloon reference feels especially useful here. A balloon’s skin and its interior volume develop together under pressure; JAWF translates that relationship into a material that holds the resulting shape. The resemblance stops short of literal imitation, which is a good choice. These aren’t novelty balloons recreated in steel. Their boxy outlines, compressed areas, and deep cavities give them a more awkward, interesting presence. They look like objects negotiating with the force that made them.
I’d want dimensions, weight, pricing, and evidence of everyday usability before treating JAWF as a furniture recommendation. A striking recess doesn’t automatically make a convenient shelf, and an expressive surface doesn’t establish how comfortably an object fits into a home. Those questions don’t diminish the experiment. They establish where the next stage of development would become interesting: translating a compelling material study into pieces whose proportions and functions feel equally considered.
For now, I’m persuaded by the decision to leave the steel’s deformation visible. JAWF gives the eye plenty to enjoy, but it also makes fabrication part of that enjoyment. You can follow a bulge into a hollow and understand that the two belong to the same event. That’s a satisfying reason to look twice, even before deciding where the object might live.
I’m not a fan of either AC Milan or Inter Milan, but as a football fan, visiting Stadio Giuseppe Meazza, more popularly known as San Siro, is an item on my bucket list. However, time is running out for me to actually do that, as most of the iconic stadium is planned for demolition after its replacement opens. That’s because the clubs are planning Generali Stadium, the future shared home of two of the biggest football clubs in Italy.
Now the proposed design for the 71,500-seat stadium, by architecture studios Foster + Partners and MANICA, has been unveiled. The clubs presented it on October 29, 2026. What’s most striking about the plans is how the X-frame makes the structure itself the architecture. The concrete frame extends from the colonnades, across the facade, and upward to support the roof. Its repeated geometry gives the building its identity while making its structural role visible.
Designers: Foster + Partners and MANICA
According to the clubs, that geometry draws on Italian engineering and the craftsmanship of Milan’s Duomo. The connection is an architectural reference rather than an attempt to reproduce the cathedral. What interests me more is the exposed supporting framework: the stadium’s most recognizable feature also explains something about how the enormous building stands up.
Inside, the focus shifts from concrete to the crowd. Two seating tiers form a continuous bowl around the field, with two steep supporter sections, or Curvas, behind the goals. Each would accommodate approximately 11,700 fans, with seating inclinations reaching 37 degrees. The arrangement is intended to bring supporters closer to the action. For a football fan, that relationship between the stands and the field is more compelling than another impressive exterior.
The double-curved roof also does more than shape the silhouette. The project website says it would incorporate 27,500 square meters of photovoltaic panels, while the clubs describe acoustic engineering intended to intensify the atmosphere. Those are useful ambitions, although the amount of solar electricity generated and the sound of a full stadium can’t be judged from renderings. A dramatic roof isn’t proof of either.
Arrival gets some attention, too. Diamond-shaped entrances would offer glimpses into the stadium before opening onto panoramic concourses with city views. Naturally ventilated colonnades form part of that approach. These spaces give the architecture a role before anyone reaches their seat, although open-looking entrances alone don’t establish how quickly thousands of spectators will actually move through them on matchday.
The plan also extends beyond the ticket gates. The stadium would anchor a 281,000-square-meter redevelopment incorporating public spaces, landscaped areas, retail, and leisure facilities. The aim is to give residents reasons to visit outside matchdays. That’s potentially the most useful part for people who aren’t interested in either club: somewhere to spend time without attending an event. Its everyday value will depend on how much space remains genuinely public and welcoming.
The clubs also promise enhanced accessibility, which deserves attention alongside the dramatic seating bowl. I’d want to know how step-free routes, companion seating, and views when neighboring supporters stand are handled. A designated space is only part of the experience; getting from the entrance to that space matters just as much.
For now, this remains a proposal moving through design and planning. Construction is expected to begin in 2028, with the first match targeted for the 2031/32 season, subject to approvals. That opening target should not be confused with a confirmed deadline for demolishing San Siro.
I can appreciate the logic of designing outward from the supporter sections, even while feeling reluctant about what this replacement means. Bringing fans closer and giving the neighborhood usable public space are worthwhile goals. The harder test will be whether ordinary supporters feel the new building belongs to them. The concrete frame will make the stadium recognizable; the experience of arriving, finding a seat, and watching a match will determine whether people want to return.
La fintech britannique Revolut affirme avoir réduit d'environ 90 % sa facture d'IA de codage en moins d'un an, en remplaçant les outils commerciaux comme Claude Code, l'assistant de programmation d'Anthropic, par un modèle chinois hébergé sur ses propres serveurs.
David Abitbol, qui dirige l'infrastructure de la banque en ligne, a raconté la bascule lors d'une conférence à New York. Ses 2 000 ingénieurs sont passés de Gemini début 2025 à Claude Code début 2026, avant d'adopter GLM, un modèle ouvert développé par le chinois Z.ai et utilisé aujourd'hui en version 5.3.
Le calcul est vite fait. Auto-hébergé, GLM revient à 0,30 dollar le million de tokens, ces unités de texte que les fournisseurs d'IA facturent à la consommation, soit à peu près dix fois moins que Claude Code ou que Codex, son équivalent chez OpenAI. Certains développeurs coûtaient jusqu'à 10 000 dollars par mois, pour un retour jugé décevant en interne.
Le tout tourne sur 56 cartes graphiques Nvidia B200 installées chez Revolut. Plutôt que d'empiler les cartes, les équipes ont surtout gratté de la performance avec des réglages fins, comme la compression du modèle ou la séparation des différentes phases de calcul.
Côté performances, la première réponse tombe en moins de 3 secondes et le système sort environ 200 tokens par seconde, et même 800 le soir quand les bureaux se vident. Au-delà de 5 secondes d'attente, les plaintes pleuvent en interne.
La vraie surprise est ailleurs en fait. Les plus gros gains ne viennent pas de l'écriture de code mais du débogage et du traitement des tickets Jira et Confluence, ces outils de suivi de projet que tout le monde adore détester. Le temps de codage se serait quand même amélioré de 60 %.
Et puis il y a l'effet psychologique. Avec des tokens illimités en interne, les ingénieurs ne rationnent plus leurs requêtes pour tenir le budget du trimestre, et la facture ne réserve plus de mauvaise surprise en fin de mois. Les modèles commerciaux restent accessibles pour les cas particuliers, les tâches visuelles partent par exemple chez Gemini.
Un modèle chinois au coeur d'une banque, la question fâche forcément. Abitbol balaie. Hébergés en local ou sur un cloud régional, les poids du modèle ne font selon lui courir aucun risque, le danger serait plutôt de passer par des API hébergées on ne sait où.
Les fenêtres d'un million de tokens que vendent les gros acteurs du secteur sont à ses yeux "une arnaque", 256 000 suffisent largement à coder. Tout le marché vend exactement l'inverse depuis deux ans.
A miniature Eiffel Tower tells you where someone went, but rarely gives you much reason to look closer. I’m more interested in souvenirs that carry a little of a place’s actual history, especially when they earn their space at home. The challenge is giving that history a useful role without polishing away everything that makes it worth preserving.
That’s the appeal of the La Tour Eiffel Diamond Light, designed by A+A Cooren Design Studio with Lagardère x Arteum. Built around a retired fixture from the Eiffel Tower’s sparkling illumination, it turns a piece of lighting infrastructure into a working tabletop lamp. The preserved paint marks are part of the point. Rather than manufacture another miniature monument, the designers have given an actual component a reason to stay switched on.
Designers: A+A Cooren Design Studio and Lagardère x Arteum (LxA)
The iron-alloy base makes the architectural connection without turning the whole object into another miniature tower. Drawing from Gustave Eiffel’s historical blueprints, its arches and cross-bracing reinterpret the structure near the monument’s top. I prefer that approach to a literal replica. You get enough of the tower’s visual language to recognize the reference, while the lamp keeps its own proportions and identity as an object for a room.
In the official photographs, the faceted upper section sits above that open metal framework like an oversized jewel in an industrial setting. The brown finish helps the two parts feel related, despite their different origins. It looks substantial without relying on a large footprint, and the exposed latticework gives your eye somewhere to travel beneath the light.
The lighting modes make the connection to Paris more than visual. One provides a steady warm glow. Another alternates 55 minutes of steady illumination with five minutes of twinkling. A third leaves the lamp dark for 55 minutes before its five-minute sparkle sequence. I’d probably favor the steady setting most evenings, but the timed sparkle has an appealingly specific purpose: it brings the monument’s lighting rhythm into the room, rather than simply making a souvenir flash.
A four-position rotary switch handles the three modes and off setting. That feels appropriate for an object whose appeal is so physical. At roughly 10.4 inches tall and 2.9 pounds, it’s a tabletop piece rather than a floor-standing statement. The specifications list 24 LEDs, and the store describes it as ambient lighting. I’d treat it as a decorative accent, not buy it expecting a reading lamp.
It also improves on an earlier idea in a meaningful way. Diamond of Light editions offered in 2016 and 2017 were collectible objects, not functioning lamps. The 2026 version adds an everyday reason to interact with the preserved component. To me, that’s a stronger design move than simply finding a more elaborate way to display it.
Each of the 500 numbered pieces comes with an official certificate of authenticity and a wooden case. The presentation embraces its collector’s-item status, which seems fair enough here. If the attraction is owning an actual piece of the Eiffel Tower’s lighting, documentation of its origin matters considerably more than another decorative flourish on the base.
The price puts that appeal in perspective. The official store lists it at €990 including VAT, before shipping, with worldwide delivery available. You’re paying for provenance, limited production, and the design work around the reclaimed fixture. As a straightforward lighting purchase, it’s difficult to justify on function alone. As a collectible that also has a place in daily life, the proposition makes more sense.
I wouldn’t want the weathering polished away or hidden behind a pristine cover. Those irregularities are what make the premise convincing. The strongest choice here is giving the old component enough new structure to work in a home while letting it remain visibly old. A souvenir becomes more interesting when its previous life is still allowed to show.
Google a annoncé mardi que Gemini, Gemini Notebook et même son moteur de recherche seront désactivés par défaut sur les comptes des élèves américains, de la maternelle au lycée, tant que les administrateurs scolaires ne les auront pas activés eux-mêmes. Les nouveaux réglages arriveront dans les prochains mois, pour une bascule prévue début 2027.
Présenté comme ça, le geste ressemble à une concession faite aux enseignants. Le détail qui fâche est sorti dans le New York Times, où Chris Phillips, le responsable de l'éducation chez Google, a confirmé qu'une école qui refuse l'IA perdra du coup l'accès à Search, parce que la recherche et l'IA sont maintenant profondément intégrées, selon ses propres mots. Les élèves verront simplement un message leur expliquant que le service n'est pas disponible.
Devant les critiques, Google a publié le soir même une mise au point sur X pour assurer que l'annonce donne aux écoles plus de choix, pas moins, et que chaque service peut être activé individuellement, un, deux ou les trois.
Sauf que cette réponse esquive le vrai sujet. Activer la recherche revient à accepter les résumés d'IA affichés en haut des résultats, puisque Google ne propose aucune version du moteur qui en serait débarrassée. La configuration que réclament beaucoup de profs, garder la recherche pour apprendre aux élèves à trouver des sources tout en bloquant les réponses toutes faites, n'existe tout simplement pas au catalogue.
Google sait pourtant ce que coûte la méthode forte. En août, des fonctions d'IA activées d'office dans Classroom avaient mis les enseignants américains en colère, et la firme avait fait machine arrière.
Les Chromebooks et les outils Google équipent une part énorme des écoles américaines, et un district scolaire ne remplace pas son moteur de recherche du jour au lendemain.
Pour les établissements qui diront oui, Google met en avant Guided Learning, un tuteur qui décompose les exercices étape par étape au lieu de donner la réponse, histoire de limiter la triche. Les enseignants pourront même consulter les transcriptions des conversations entre les élèves et le chatbot.
Le calendrier est quand même osé. New York et Los Angeles ont voté en septembre un moratoire d'un an sur l'IA générative dans leurs écoles publiques, et l'État de New York interdit depuis la semaine dernière certaines fonctions de chatbot aux mineurs.
Comme vous le savez, je m'amuse beaucoup avec l'IA en ce moment. Bon, j'en cause surtout sur mon Patreon parce que sinon, je vous saoulerai grave avec toutes mes expériences mais ça c'est un truc que je tenterai bien à l'occasion. Je vous explique...
Cette semaine, 4 chercheurs du MIT CSAIL, Rikiya Takehi, Jayden Teoh, Alex Zhang et Omar Khattab, ont expliqué sur leur site comment ils ont demandé à GPT-6 Astra, le modèle d'OpenAI, de rendre Qwen3.5-0.8B meilleur en maths en retouchant directement ses poids, sans la moindre descente de gradient.
Et non seulement, l'IA d'OpenAI y est parvenu, mais en plus, le chiffre claque puisque le score sur MATH-500 de ce Qwen est passé de 7,9 % à 48,1 % suite à une modification par Astra de seulement 131 072 poids sur 0,8 milliard, soit 0,016 % du modèle.
Pour ceux qui arrivent (en armure comme Diam's ^^), les poids d'un réseau de neurones, c'est l'IMMENSE liste des nombres que l'entraînement ajuste petit à petit, et que presque personne ne sait ensuite retoucher à la main. C'est d'une telle complexité ! Mais avec un petit budget et 50 passes pour regarder comment le modèle répond à ses retouches, Astra lui à réussi !
Le point de départ des chercheurs, c'est que Qwen tournait en rond sur les problèmes de maths. Ainsi sur ses 96 premières réponses d'entraînement, 85 pédalaient dans la semoule jusqu'à atteindre la limite des 32 768 tokens et donc sans livrer de solution... Snif... Astra a donc remonté ces boucles une par une jusqu'à une direction écrite par les couches 15 et 19 du modèle, puis il l'a soustraite des poids. Et voilà comment la part des réponses interrompues à cause de cette limite en token est tombée de 93 % à 33 %.
Alors, Qwen est-il vraiment devenu bon en maths grâce à Astra ?
Hé bien pas vraiment, et ce sont les auteurs eux-mêmes qui le disent dans leur papier. En fait, réparer des boucles permet surtout au modèle de finir des réponses qu'il savait déjà trouver. Ils ont d'ailleurs refait l'essai sur Gemma 3 270M, un modèle qui boucle rarement, et là, aucune des retouches d'Astra n'a fait bougé le score MATH-500 de plus d'un point. Voilà, donc contrairement aux grandes annonces que j'ai pu lire de ci, de là, retoucher les poids de Qwen a juste permis de lever un obstacle qui cachait une capacité existante, mais n'a en aucun cas ajouté une capacité qui manquait.
Cette expérience a ensuite été refaite par Jonathan Coletti, sur Hugging Face, qui a
réévalué les poids publiés
avec le prompt, les réglages et le correcteur des auteurs. Et il est passé d'un Qwen à 7,4 % à un Qwen à 50,2 % après, réflexion activée bien sûr (le mode "Thinking" quoi). Ça confirme donc bien le papier.
Mais Jonathan a aussi tenté le coup avec le mode réflexion coupé et là, la retrouche a fait perdre au modèle un peu plus de 2 points.
Quoiqu'il en soit, cette retouche peut se rapprocher de l'effacement d'une direction dans les poids, ce qui en gros est la recette de l'abliteration qu'utilisent déjà
ces outils qui virent la censure des LLM
. Astra serait donc potentiellement capable de lever des limites sur des modèles open source (dont les poids sont dispo)... Intéressant non ?
Voilà, donc si vous faites tourner ce petit Qwen chez vous et que vous optez pour cette version retouchée par Astra, activez bien ce mode Thinking car avec lui, le modèle aura la bosse des maths !
Les amis, insomnie depuis 3h du mat (ouais j'ai des soucis ^^), alors quoi de mieux que de bosser un peu ! J'avais cet article en brouillon depuis hier et comme j'ai trouvé ça super joli, je vous en parle ! Il s'agit de
DiscImageStudio
qui est un logiciel qui permet de transformer une image en données à graver sur un CD, un DVD ou encore un BD-R pour les plus riches d'entre vous, et une fois le disque écrit, hé bien votre dessin apparaît à l'œil nu sur sa surface.
Regardez-moi ça comme c'est beau :
Un dessin gravé par DiscImageStudio
L'idée n'est pas nouvelle puisqu'elle vient du
projet CDImage
, dont l'auteur avait jeté l'éponge en 2008 parce qu'il fallait calibrer l'image pour chaque marque et chaque type de disque. DiscImageStudio est donc reparti de ce code d'entrelacement pour les CD, et y a ajouté le DVD et le BD-R simple couche de 25 Go (ce dernier en mode expérimental...).
Sous Windows, vous importez donc votre image, vous faites vos petits réglages au niveau des calques, vous réglez le tramage, et puis vous exportez le tout ou vous gravez ça direct.
Pour un CD, ce qui est exporté c'est un WAV accompagné de son CUE (cdrecord ou ImgBurn savent le graver), et si c'est c'est un DVD ou un BD-R, ce que vous aurez à l'export c'est une ISO. Et vous pouvez même ajouter un dossier contenant quelques fichiers sur l'anneau intérieur ou extérieur du disque afin qu'il y ait quand même quelque chose de lisible dessus. Et dans ce cas, l'export CD sera là aussi une ISO de données.
L'onglet de conception, avec calques et tramage
Le vrai casse-tête étant la géométrie propre à chaque référence de disque (et c'est ça la raison de l'abandon de CDImage comme je vous le disais plus haut), DiscImageStudio embarque 5 préréglages calibré sur 3 modèles Verbatim, et 2 Ritek.
Pour un autre modèle de disque gravable, il faudra donc passer donc par une calibration assistée. En gros, vous gravez une mire, vous la photographiez, vous marquez une ligne à la main, et le programme cherche alors les paramètres qui la "redressent". Mais le résultat peut être hasardeux donc vérifiez bien la courbe prédite sur votre photo avant d'appliquer les paramètres.
Côté système, l'interface, calibration et gravure directe comprises, exige un Windows 10 2004 ou plus récent. Sur Mac et Linux, la version 1.3.6 sortie récemment dispose d'un mode expérimental en ligne de commande qui génère seulement les images disque, et c'est ensuite à vous de les graver, par exemple
en ligne de commande
ou avec le logiciel de votre choix.
Voilà, si vous avez des disques vierges dont vous ne faites rien et que vous n'avez pas peur d'en gâcher, ça peut vous faire de jolis éléments de déco.
The Snapmaker U1 drops to $699 this Black Friday, down 30% from its $999 list price, and it might be the smartest buy on your holiday list, mostly because it can make plenty of the gifts on it. The U1 is a four-toolhead 3D printer that prints in up to four colors or materials in a single go. That covers personalized ornaments, figurines, and fidget toys, all printed in multicolor on your desk. It ships with four spools of PLA and 30 ready-to-print models, so after unboxing and automatic calibration, you can print your first model on day one. A good chunk of your Christmas list, sorted.
Four-head printers are rare at this price. Tool changers like the Prusa XL have historically cost well north of $2,000. Snapmaker’s SnapSwap system keeps four print heads loaded and swaps between them in about five seconds, while single-nozzle setups like Bambu’s AMS flush filament at every color change. Fewer purges mean faster prints and, by Snapmaker’s count, up to 85% less wasted plastic. More than 20,000 Kickstarter backers already bought in, making the U1 the most-funded 3D printer campaign in the platform’s history, with now more than 150,000 users worldwide.
Each of the U1’s four print heads sits docked and preheated with its own filament. When a print calls for a new color, the printer parks the active head and grabs the next one. A steel-ball coupling and a mechanical lock seat each head in the exact same spot every time, and Snapmaker says the mechanism survived over a million continuous swaps with zero mechanical failures. The printer then auto-calibrates all four heads to within 0.04mm (about 0.0016 inches) of each other. That keeps the white trim on a Santa hat right where it belongs.
Single-nozzle printers handle color changes by shoving the old filament out until the new one runs clean. Snapmaker pegs that process at roughly two minutes per swap, and on a busy multicolor model the purged plastic can outweigh the model itself. The U1 only purges small amounts at the start of a job and during calibration. Print a tray of four-color ornaments and those savings stack up fast, in both hours and filament. Your filament budget ends up on the tree instead of in the trash.
A Personalized Ornament, From Download to Gift Box
Four heads can hold four different materials as easily as four colors, so flexible TPU or dissolvable supports can share a print with rigid plastic. For most holiday gifts, though, four colors of PLA do the heavy lifting. Snapmaker’s Full Spectrum feature stretches that palette by stacking thin alternating layers of your four filaments, which your eye reads as new in-between shades. Results depend on the filament, the model’s shape, and your settings, so a quick test print helps. Load red, green, white, and gold, and you’ve basically got Christmas in a box.
Personalizing a gift takes about as much skill as sending a text. Open an ornament model in Snapmaker Orca, add a name with the slicer’s text tool, and assign one of your four colors to each part. A palm-sized ornament uses only a few grams of filament, so each one costs pocket change in plastic. Hit print, and the U1 handles every color swap on its own while you get on with your evening. Repeat for each name on your list, and nobody else at the party will show up with those.
Smart Enough for First-Timers, Cheap Enough for Black Friday
Snapmaker Space, the company’s model library (currently in open beta), offers ready-to-print multicolor models, so beginners can skip 3D modeling entirely. Auto bed leveling helps your first layer stick, and input shaping reduces vibration for smoother walls, with speeds topping out at 500mm/s (about 20 inches per second). Filament loads itself, RFID tags on Snapmaker spools fill in settings for you, and Backup Mode switches to a matching spool when one runs dry. A built-in camera with AI monitoring can flag spaghetti failures and ping your phone. Tinkerers get Klipper firmware and OrcaSlicer support.
The most interesting space at Sany IROOTECH Headquarters might be the gap underneath it. In Guangzhou’s Pazhou business district, Skidmore, Owings & Merrill has connected two towers with an elevated podium, leaving room below for a shaded public plaza. Commissioned for construction equipment manufacturer Sany’s cloud technology venture, the completed complex gives a corporate headquarters something worth noticing at street level: space that people can enter without working there.
Designed with the Beijing Institute of Architectural Design serving as architect of record, the development makes its engineering unusually legible. A diamond-patterned steel exoskeleton wraps both towers, expressing the construction expertise behind the client’s business. Its purpose goes beyond establishing a recognizable silhouette. The external framework supports suspended floors, creating column-free interiors that can accommodate changing uses.
SOM organizes the towers into five-story modules, with floors suspended from perimeter ring beams. Moving that supporting structure outward gives the interiors greater planning flexibility. According to SOM, the arrangement accommodates office, hotel, and residential programs, making the framework useful beyond the original headquarters brief. The architecture’s identity remains consistent even when what happens behind the glass changes.
That adaptability has already mattered. The client changed parts of the program during development, introducing plans for hotel and residential accommodation. The inward-leaning curtain walls also create terraces at the bottom of each five-level module while reducing direct solar exposure. These repeated outdoor spaces give the towers a rhythm tied to their construction, rather than an applied decorative pattern.
Guangzhou’s exposure to typhoons and seismic activity also shaped the engineering. SOM incorporated its patented pin-fuse joint system, which uses controlled movement and friction to dissipate earthquake energy. The firm describes rapid reoccupancy after extreme events as a design goal, an important distinction from claiming that the buildings have demonstrated that performance in an actual earthquake.
The podium extends the project’s structural ambition horizontally. Multistory trusses span 65 meters between the towers, sheltering the plaza beneath. A courtyard opening brings daylight into this covered space, while dimpled aluminum panels across the underside reflect light. Transparent glass lobbies keep the entrances visually separate from the heavier structure surrounding them.
Above, dining, retail, and exhibition spaces overlook the plaza. A public elevator operating around the clock connects the podium with the district’s covered walkway network. That connection is the project’s clearest civic gesture: the headquarters becomes part of a pedestrian route through Pazhou, giving people a reason to use its spaces beyond arriving for work or attending a meeting. The towers’ imposing frame makes the landmark; their lifted base makes the everyday connection.
MoMA owns The Starry Night, The Persistence of Memory, and a set of LEGO bricks designed by Godtfred Kirk Christiansen in the 1950s. The museum brought two of those together in 2022, when it partnered with LEGO on the Starry Night set that grew out of a LEGO Ideas submission. A new Ideas project wants to complete the triangle. BrickRelativity has rebuilt Salvador Dalí’s 1931 painting of melting clocks as a 3D brick diorama, complete with the dead tree, the ant-covered watch, and the weird sleeping figure sprawled across the beach. If MoMA wanted a sequel, it wouldn’t even need to leave the building.
Dalí’s original is tiny, just 9.5 by 13 inches (24 by 33 cm), which catches plenty of first-time visitors off guard. The brick version spreads the scene across a black display base with a gallery plaque and a sky built from horizontal bands of blue, aqua, and sunset-yellow plates. BrickRelativity says the central blob was one of the toughest challenges, since soft, shapeless forms and rigid LEGO elements get along about as well as cats and bathtubs. The clocks came a close second, their faces rebuilt from tile grids that warp along with the melt. LEGO Art has already worked through Hokusai, Van Gogh, and Monet, so Surrealism feels overdue.
Three clocks melt across the scene, and each gets its own construction trick. The one hanging off the tree branch wears a pearl-silver bezel that folds over the wood, with a small silver ball at its lowest point standing in for the drip. The pocket watch sliding off the orange ledge swaps silver for pearl-gold tube elements that kink around corners, with a transparent fly perched on its face. The third clock drapes over the sleeping figure in the middle, following the curve of the body underneath it. Numerals were applied as decals directly to the curved surfaces, while every clock hand is built from LEGO elements.
My favorite detail, though, is the face of that gold pocket watch. BrickRelativity built it from a grid of light-blue tiles, and as the face slumps over the ledge, the seams between them bend with it. The result looks like graph paper caught in a heat wave. The grid also gives the numerals a place to sit and recalls the stud-by-stud mosaics of LEGO Art, now visibly coming apart. A warped coordinate system feels very Einstein, which is funny, because Dalí insisted his soft watches came from cheese rather than relativity.
Dalí reportedly based the sleeping figure on a rock formation at Cap de Creus, and it’s generally read as a squashed self-portrait. BrickRelativity layered curved slopes in tan and pale flesh tones until the blob looked properly boneless. Dark gray bars and curves form a closed eye with long lashes, and a wing-like membrane of stacked plates trails off behind it. Back on the ledge, the closed orange pocket watch is a ring of curved elements with a little crown nub. A cluster of tiny ants made from dark clip plates swarms its lid, turning Dalí’s recurring symbol of decay into a minifig-scale infestation.
The landscape skips a printed backdrop entirely. Horizontal bands of blue, aqua, pale yellow, and orange plates build up the sunset sky. The Cap de Creus cliffs on the right use stepped wedges and slopes in tan, dark tan, orange, and gray, placed at different depths to make the coastline recede. Dark brown tiles cover the beach, with patches of exposed studs breaking up the flat surface like scrubby ground. Viewed head-on, that depth collapses back into the painting’s flat composition. BrickRelativity has some practice with perspective tricks: previous Ideas projects turned M.C. Escher’s impossible staircases into bricks.
Down in the front corner, a tiny Dalí minifig with swept gray hair, a patterned tie, and that famous upturned mustache paints at an easel holding a miniature copy of the painting. It’s a direct callback to the Van Gogh minifig and easel that shipped with the Starry Night set. A black base and a small plaque bearing the artist’s name, the title, and the year finish the gallery look. Fan builders have been chasing this museum energy all year, from a 1,117-piece Picasso portrait to a Brick Dangerous melting clock that just qualified for LEGO’s third 2026 review. Dalí’s copyright is managed by the Fundació Gala-Salvador Dalí, so any official version would need the estate’s blessing.
The project currently sits at 1,849 supporters, with 602 days left to hit the next milestone of 5,000. LEGO Ideas lets fans submit builds and rack up supporters, and projects that reach 10,000 move on to LEGO’s official review for a shot at becoming a real set. You can head to the LEGO Ideas page and give BrickRelativity your vote, which costs nothing but a LEGO account. Dalí already turned this painting into floating bricks once, in his 1954 sequel The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory. Seems only fair to let someone finish the job properly, with clutch power this time.
Crocheted flowers usually belong on a blanket or a cardigan, not in a conversation about lighting. Peiyang (Camille) Li gives them another job with She Blooms in the Dark, a sculptural seating project that combines a woven bamboo armchair with hand-crocheted blossoms that glow after dark. I like the premise immediately: familiar craft doing something unexpected, without needing to look like a gadget.
The problem it addresses is a small but recognizable one: finding a sense of personal space without having a separate room to escape into. Li frames the project around emotional vulnerability and protection. I read that as an attempt to make a seat feel like a boundary, a place where being alone might feel intentional rather than awkward. That’s a worthwhile ambition for a piece of furniture, even before the flowers start glowing.
Designer: Peiyang (Camille) Li
The curved, basket-like bamboo framework partially encloses the sitter, while its open lattice stops short of creating a solid shell. That balance matters. For a shared living room, I’d want a retreat that still lets me feel connected to the room, rather than a miniature booth. The shape suggests that possibility, although an open weave shouldn’t be mistaken for actual privacy. Think of it as a visual boundary, not a substitute for a door.
The glow comes from phosphorescent yarn, described in the project write-up as absorbing daylight and releasing a low-intensity glow in darkness, without electric fixtures. That’s an appealingly direct material choice: the flowers themselves provide the effect, instead of hiding a strip of LEDs underneath. I’m more drawn to that decision than I would be to a color-changing chair controlled through an app. The material gets to carry the surprise, and the premise is easy to understand.
It would be a mistake to treat it as a reading light, though. The published description doesn’t give brightness measurements or say how long the glow lasts. For me, the useful way to understand it is as an atmospheric effect, not a replacement for the lamp beside your favorite book. That distinction actually strengthens the idea. It lets the light remain intimate and decorative, rather than making a practical lighting promise the available information can’t support.
Crochet also makes sense here beyond the novelty of glowing yarn. A flower carries associations with care, growth, and decoration, at least in my reading, and working it by hand adds another layer to that impression. I appreciate that Li hasn’t chosen an abstract luminous panel. The floral language gives the project a slightly storybook quality. It could be too whimsical for a restrained living room, but I wouldn’t want that personality edited out.
That doesn’t mean the chair can promise calm on command. I’m wary of furniture being asked to solve an emotional condition simply because it wraps around a person. A more reasonable ambition is to offer an invitation: sit here, give yourself a moment, let this particular corner have a different purpose. She Blooms in the Dark makes sense to me on that modest scale. It doesn’t need a therapeutic claim to justify its existence.
There are everyday questions I’d want answered before imagining it at home. The published project information doesn’t include dimensions, a price, or purchasing details, and it isn’t enough to judge comfort or upkeep. I’d want to know how the flowers are attached and how you clean around them. Those aren’t objections to a sculptural project. They’re the questions that separate admiring a piece of furniture from deciding where it could live.
Still, I’m glad this chair takes such an idiosyncratic route to a familiar desire. I don’t need every quiet corner to look like a spa, and I don’t need every interesting light effect to arrive with another charger. A bamboo seat dressed in glowing crochet offers a more playful possibility. The appeal is being allowed a little enchantment at home, with enough recognizable craft to keep it from feeling like a special effect.
Severance did something no tech company has managed in decades: it made people want a trackball again. The MDR terminals on Lumon’s severed floor, with their cream shells, tiny glowing screens, and built-in trackballs, have become weird objects of desire for a show about corporate horror. Designer Shaun Wellens has dreamed up the computer I imagine Lumon would roll out for its next rebrand. The P1 Terminal is a CGI concept from a made-up 1970s company called Push / Pull, designed as a shared computer for people living in a communal space. It has a soft white clamshell body, a phosphor-style display, and a blue trackball that looks good enough to lick (please don’t).
Wellens says the P1 was inspired by a computer used to support experiments aboard the Space Shuttle, which makes sense once you notice the clamshell form. Then he wraps the whole thing in fake history. In his story, the P1 launched in 1972 for people living in underground communities called “pockets,” where it handled mail, bulletin boards, and shopping. It sold badly, its users adored it, and it got a sequel, which is basically the life story of every cult-classic gadget ever made. He also admits to sneaking deliberate flaws into his fictional designs so the imaginary engineers can fix them in the next version, and I love that level of commitment.
Designer: Shaun Wellens
The shell is a rounded off-white pod, with a sage-gray handle module sitting on top like the carrying grip on a vintage TV. That handle has a recessed slot and a tinted window that recall the iMac G3 and the 1999 clamshell iBook. The open renders show the two halves joined by a stacked metal hinge at the center, the one visibly mechanical part on an otherwise pebble-smooth body. The Space Shuttle inspiration was the GRiD Compass, a magnesium clamshell designed by Bill Moggridge that flew aboard Columbia in 1983 as the Shuttle Portable Onboard Computer, or SPOC.
Inside the lid sits a dark, rounded-rectangle display with cyan-green text that recalls an old phosphor CRT. A camera pokes through a tiny notch at the top center, which is a hilarious thing to find on a computer that supposedly shipped in 1972. Perforated speaker grilles flank the screen. The interface boots to a pixel-font “hello” and drops you into a numbered menu of services, a text-only setup that would sit comfortably next to a Lumon file full of scary numbers. Wellens calls it a lightning-fast graphical interface anyway. In his fictional timeline, it arrived a full year before the Xerox Alto, the pioneering 1973 GUI computer.
The bottom half is a dark oval tray holding a full keyboard, with the blue trackball parked dead center below the keys. That ball is the loudest color on the entire product, and it deserves to be. Trackballs have appeared in early terminals, arcade cabinets, and Logitech’s TrackMan, while Severance gave them another memorable role on the MDR desks. Putting it in the middle also makes sense for a shared machine, since lefties and righties get equal access. The oval keyboard looks a little cramped at the edges, but it matches the pebble shell so neatly that I’m happy to call it one of his intentional flaws.
A chunky, multi-jointed arm that looks borrowed from a robotics lab supports the terminal. It’s designed to let the P1 swing out, tilt, and tuck away, useful movements for a shared machine in a cramped communal space. In one render, the cable drops in from above, suggesting a ceiling- or wall-mounted setup like a dental lamp waiting for its next patient. Residents could walk up, pull it down, check their mail, and push it back, which might explain the Push / Pull name (my theory, Wellens hasn’t confirmed it). That setup makes the P1 feel closer to a payphone or a library catalog terminal than a personal computer.
Wellens’ conceptual history lands surprisingly close to the real thing. In August 1973, the Community Memory Project put a public bulletin board terminal in Leopold’s Records in Berkeley, with later terminals appearing in libraries and laundromats around town. A decade later, France was distributing free Minitel terminals that let people shop, bank, and message each other from home. The service lasted until 2012. The P1 mashes both ideas into one glossy pod for people living underground. Wellens even mocked up a period magazine ad with a big serif headline over a violet product shot, and it’s convincing enough that I briefly wanted to mail away for one.
Severance production designer Jeremy Hindle already gave us the most covetable fake office tech on television, so consider this a friendly nudge. Somebody on the show’s crew should get Wellens on the phone, because the P1 looks like a terminal Lumon would install somewhere much friendlier than the Break Room. He has form here too, having already dreamed up the Kriket 3000, a pastel retro robot that would look right at home wandering the severed floor’s hallways. The guy clearly loves building machines for a timeline that never happened, which is more or less the Lumon design brief. Hire him, throw him a waffle party, and let him build whatever strange hardware the next season needs.
At Ljubljana Castle, three wooden rooms stack into a slender tower, their angular ends pointing toward the city. This built installation from 2017 demonstrates Living Unit, a modular architecture system developed by OFIS Arhitekti with C+C, C28, structural engineers AKT II, and contractor Permiz. The idea begins with a small, repeatable wooden shell.
Each basic module measures 4.5 meters long, 2.5 meters wide, and 2.7 meters high, roughly 14.8 by 8.2 by 8.9 feet. Designed to accommodate two people, it can hold a double bed, wardrobe, table, and chairs, with provision for a bathroom and kitchenette. Those are compact cabin dimensions, rather than the proportions of a conventional apartment.
The useful move is allowing that initial room to become part of something larger. Modules can connect horizontally or vertically, with combinations intended to accommodate four to six occupants. A single cabin might suit a short stay; several connected shells allow the domestic functions to spread out. The system therefore offers different arrangements without requiring an entirely different building vocabulary.
Its pointed geometry gives the project much of its character. The ends taper into truncated pyramids, with glazing at their tips. AKT II explains that these projecting forms add internal storage space while expressing the structure’s strength. Seen from outside, the alternating projections make the stacked version read as individual rooms, rather than one uninterrupted shaft.
Behind that silhouette is a prefabricated timber frame reinforced with plywood boards on both sides. The architects allow the exterior and interior finishes to change according to context. That distinction matters: the repeated element is the structural shell, not a compulsory decorative package. Different settings need not receive an identical-looking cabin simply because they share its underlying construction.
Ground connections are similarly adaptable. The units can be secured using steel anchors or removable concrete cubes instead of permanent foundations. The team proposes uses including holiday cabins, research accommodation, tourism, and shelter. These are intended applications, though, rather than proof that one specification will perform equally well across every climate and terrain.
The castle installation gives the system another role: a temporary library, with books organized across its levels and nearby outdoor areas intended for reading. It’s a useful demonstration of how the same shell can support a public program rather than accommodation. Here, the architecture supplies a small vertical destination within an existing landscape.
The sectional drawings also expose the compromise behind the tower’s small footprint. Compact steps and ladders connect its levels, making circulation an active part of occupying the stack. Horizontal expansion would avoid that particular arrangement but require more ground. Living Unit’s strongest proposition is this choice: repeat the room, then decide where the extra space should go.
The most anticipated video game of all time is launching within a few weeks. It’s 19 November, to be precise, when Rockstar Games will release Grand Theft Auto VI, and everyone, including Nike, wants to tap into the fanfare building up to the launch. No wonder then, the footwear giant has teamed up with rapper Travis Scott and Rockstar Games for a pair of Nike Air Force 1 Low themed after the upcoming game.
We have seen some Nike and Travis Scott collaborations in the past. The usual obvious with their releases has been their limited availability. Considering this one is based on a game whose fanfare is already blowing out of the roof, these won’t be an easy buy either.
If the leaked Travis Scott’s Cactus Jack x Rockstar Games x Nike Air Force 1 Low “Grand Theft Auto” is released in limited quantity, there is going to be a fight to get them. Anyway, we do not have that information at the moment, what we know from leaked images is that the shoes will have the reverse swoosh logo on their lateral side, which is a signature of Travis Scott x Nike sneakers. The surfaced images show the GTA sneaker in Black avatar with Grand Theft Auto-inspired accents such as a pink toe-box money band and a pink six-star wanted level graphic.
The Nike Air Force 1 Low “Grand Theft Auto” features a leather upper and will reportedly be available in three colorways: White and Pink, Black and Pink, and a Multicolored option. It is rumored that the sneaker will retail for $130 and will be available for purchase starting 19 November, the same day as the game’s release.
As a nod to Grand Theft Auto VI, the Travis Scott x Rockstar Games x Nike Air Force 1 Low features the six-star wanted level iconography in the outsole. In addition to the star motif, the black sneaker in the pictures is highlighted with the pink rubber money band wrapped around the toe box. It features branding for all involved parties in the collaborative Air Force 1 Low, and comes with an extra set of laces in pink color to contrast with the black all-over look of the sneaker.
For a more intriguing change, it’s reported that the collaborative Air Force 1 replaces the “AIR” lettering on the midsole with GTA, which is an evident reference to the upcoming game. Since there are very limited images that have leaked, we don’t have a picture of what’s on the inside of these sneakers, so we’ll reserve our comment for now, until more information comes in.
There was a time when a computer’s biggest annoyance was a progress bar inching slowly or a dial-up modem screeching and hissing its way online. Nobody pinged you on Teams, Copilot didn’t offer to rewrite your emails, and the worst thing your PC could do was crash in the middle of Solitaire. Benlywatch’s Desktop 95 bottles that era and straps it to your wrist. The limited-edition analog watch puts a Windows 95-style desktop on its dial, complete with teal wallpaper, beveled windows, and a dialog box that reads “Loading memories…” Honestly, that progress bar is the most accurate thing anyone has written about millennials.
Two pixel cursors serve as the hands, a SYSTEM “Ready” dialog sits near the center, and a taskbar runs along the bottom of the dial. It all lives in a 39mm-wide, 10mm-thick case made from 316L stainless steel, with a Swiss quartz movement and a 5 ATM water-resistance rating. You get a blue or white dial with a leather strap, Milanese mesh, or steel bracelet, plus a numbered caseback. The edition is limited to 500 pieces. Pre-orders are open at $159, with shipping slated for November 2026. The only notification it will ever send you is the time.
Designer: Benly Watch
Pixel Cursor Hands and Two Desktop Dials
One hand is a classic arrow pointer, and the other is the little pointing hand that appeared whenever you hovered over a link. Together they move around the dial telling the time, which is the most productive thing a cursor has done since the invention of the screensaver. Everything else on the dial stays put. On the blue version, an ARCHIVE window with File, Edit, and View menus holds WORK, PHOTOS, and NOTES icons, while DESK, SAVE, and FILES shortcuts line the left edge. Chunky pixel numerals mark 12, 3, 6, and 9, and the taskbar reads MENU, ARCHIVE, and READY, speaker icon included.
The white dial swaps teal for a creamy beige and renames the main window DESKTOP, with COMPUTER, FILES, and DISK icons and a simpler “Loading…” bar. Its numerals almost disappear into the background, so it looks like a screenshot someone shrank down and laminated. I like that the two dials feel like two moods of the same machine. Blue is the cheerful default everybody remembers from the family PC. White is the office computer in accounting that never got its wallpaper changed. Both keep that SYSTEM “Ready” box parked near the center like a promise.
The Windows 95 Design Behind the Dial
Windows 95 launched on August 24, 1995, backed by a $300 million marketing push, a launch event hosted by Jay Leno, and people lining up at midnight to buy an operating system. Its startup sound was composed by Brian Eno, which remains a wild sentence to type. The interface reflected the work of a design team led by Virginia Howlett, a painter by training. Those teals, royal blues, and medium grays came partly from the limited color palettes of graphics cards at the time. Hardware limits, basically, turned into an aesthetic people now pay money to recreate.
Three decades later, Windows comes with Copilot, Teams, and a Solitaire that serves you ads, and Howlett herself has called the Windows 95 years a “kinder, gentler time.” The Desktop 95 taps into that feeling. It’s a desktop with no updates, no pop-ups to dismiss, and no assistant asking how it can help. The only thing missing is Clippy, though in fairness he didn’t arrive until Office 97, and the dial is probably better off without a backseat driver.
Case Specs, Pricing, and Availability
The case measures 39mm across and 44.5mm long, and at 10mm thick it should slip under a shirt cuff without a fight. It’s made from 316L stainless steel, with a matching steel caseback engraved with the Desktop 95 name and an individual edition number. The leather strap is 20mm wide and fits wrists from 5.3 to 8.1 inches (13.5 to 20.5cm), with Milanese mesh and steel bracelet versions also available. Inside is a Swiss quartz movement, which suits the theme, because nobody in 1995 wanted to wind anything except a VHS tape. Water resistance is rated at 5 ATM.
Most of Benlywatch’s catalog is retro-futurist digital hardware with OLED and LCD screens, from the Cybertruck-inspired Future Warrior to its 1970s-style Stargazer. The Desktop 95 takes a different approach, recreating a screen on an analog dial. It’s listed at $159 on pre-order through Benlywatch’s website, limited to 500 pieces, with shipping expected in November 2026. Free worldwide shipping is included, and the brand covers import taxes and duties.
The Wildflower makes room for something tiny homes can easily squeeze out: a proper front porch. Built by South Carolina’s Sweet-Haus Tiny Cabin Company, this 400-square-foot park model pairs one bedroom and one bathroom with a covered outdoor sitting area. It’s an available model, starting at $115,000, with a layout that keeps daily life on one level.
That porch spans the cabin’s width, sitting beneath the same gabled roof as the enclosed rooms. In the builder’s photographs, timber-toned posts and dark mesh railings frame an outdoor sofa and chairs. Trex composite decking is specified for the floor. Giving outdoor furniture its own sheltered zone means the indoor living room doesn’t have to accommodate every gathering when the weather cooperates.
Inside, the photographed cabin has pale horizontal wall paneling, muted green cabinetry, and a wood ceiling that follows the roof’s pitch. The contrast gives the upper half of the room a stronger visual presence without covering every surface in dark timber. A breakfast counter provides seating beside the kitchen, leaving the opposite side available for a sofa, coffee table, and a large window.
The published floor plan places the bedroom at the rear, beyond the kitchen, with the bathroom tucked alongside the route between them. A stacked washer and dryer occupy a dedicated position near the bedroom closet, while the bathroom includes a shower labeled 60 inches wide. A separate bedroom means going to bed doesn’t require converting the shared living area into a sleeping space each night.
Storage gets more attention than the footprint might suggest. Sweet-Haus lists a built-in pantry and two full closets, plus an electric fireplace feature wall with concealed storage. That last detail is particularly useful: a decorative focal point also earns its floor area by holding things. Custom soft-close cabinetry continues the approach, keeping everyday necessities behind doors rather than on display.
The construction package includes LP SmartSide siding, metal roofing, Low-E argon-filled windows, and a mini-split HVAC system. Buyers can choose finishes and explore upgrades, including a screened porch or built-in bed with nightstands. Those choices matter in a small cabin, where adding permanent furniture can settle the layout early. The photographs show one interpretation, rather than a fixed palette every buyer must accept.
The starting price covers the cabin, not a finished property. Delivery, setup, skirting, steps, and upgrades are separate charges, and Sweet-Haus says buyers must confirm local placement and occupancy rules for its park models. Land and utility preparation also need their own budget. Within those limits, the Wildflower’s most convincing decision is straightforward: it preserves a private bedroom, useful storage, and somewhere sheltered outside to sit, instead of making every activity compete for the same limited patch of indoor floor.
Connexion
