Crazy footage from yesterday in the Nineveh Governorate of Northern Iraq, close to the Kurdish-majority city of Erbil, showing an American Low-Cost Uncrewed Combat Attack System (LUCAS), a copycat of the Iranian Shahed-136, striking a building utilized by Iraq’s Iranian-backed Popular Mobilization Forces (PMF).

Before the Assyrian Christian Genocide of 1915 an Assyrian Christian woman from Tkhuma, Hakkari (present-day Turkey)—one of the last generations to live freely in her ancestral homeland. Between 1914 and 1924, more than 70% of the Assyrian Christians of Hakkari were systematically killed. The survivors were forced into exile, fleeing to the Nineveh Plains, Urmia, and beyond—ending an Assyrian presence in Hakkari that had endured for thousands of years. But Hakkari was only one part of a much larger tragedy. Across the Ottoman Empire—in Mosul, Urmia, Siirt, Diyarbakir, Adana, Mardin, Tur Abdin and Beirut—entire regions were devastated Eyewitnesses spoke of rivers running red and wells filled with bodies. Villages were burned. Churches were desecrated. In the spring of 1915, a storm of violence swept across the empire. This was not random. This was not temporary. This was systematic destruction. The Christian Assyrians, Armenians, Greeks, and Maronites—ancient peoples rooted in faith, language, and identity—were targeted for annihilation. For the Assyrians, this catastrophe is remembered as Seyfo/Sayfo—the Year of the Sword. Families like the woman in this photograph were torn apart: • Fathers executed • Mothers violated • Children taken, orphaned, or left to die along endless death marches. Entire communities vanished. Historians estimate that over 3.5 million Assyrians, Armenians, Greeks, and Maronites were killed. Today, more than a century later… The memory lives on. The pain remains. The voices still echo. We remember.

Nieves María Josefa Vázquez Peteira is one of the oldest active drivers in Spain. At 102, she lives in Santalla de Rioaveso, located in the Galician municipality of Cospeito (Lugo). She obtained her driver's license out of pure necessity in the 1990s at the age of 69. Since then, she has been driving her trusted Citroën ZX almost daily.

In the nineteenth century, travelers reportedly discovered a strange abandoned village hidden far from major towns. Homes stood empty. Cooking utensils remained inside kitchens, personal belongings were still scattered across rooms, and food was reportedly left behind. Yet the villagers were gone. There were no clear signs of a battle, no obvious disaster, and no convincing evidence explaining where everyone had disappeared. Searchers looked through nearby forests and roads, hoping to find clues. Nothing solved the mystery. Some believed the villagers had fled because of disease or danger. Others suspected conflict, migration, or something never recorded by history. The truth remains uncertain. What happened to everyone? To this day, the mystery continues to fascinate people because the village appeared to be abandoned without a clear explanation.

Ernst Eduard Kummer, one of the great algebraists of the nineteenth century, had a strange weakness that made his students both amused and bewildered — he was terrible at arithmetic. In the classroom, where one would expect flawless calculations, Kummer often found himself pausing mid-problem, turning to his students for help with even the simplest numbers. One day, while teaching, he arrived at what seemed like an easy step. “Seven times nine,” he began confidently. Then his voice faltered. “Seven times nine is… er… ah… ah… seven times nine is…” The room grew quiet. Students exchanged glances. Finally, a voice from the front row broke the silence. “Sixty-one,” the student said. Relieved, Kummer nodded and wrote 61 on the blackboard. But before the chalk could settle, another student quickly stood up. “Sir, it should be sixty-nine.” Kummer turned, slightly puzzled but entirely serious. “Come, come, gentlemen,” he said, raising his hand. “It can’t be both. It must be one or the other.” He tried to reason it out logically. “The product cannot be 61,” he said, “because 61 is a prime number. It cannot be 65, because 65 is divisible by 5. It cannot be 67, for it too is prime. And 69 is clearly too large…” He paused, thinking carefully, then concluded with quiet satisfaction: “Only 63 is left.” And just like that, through pure reasoning rather than calculation, Kummer arrived at the correct answer — reminding everyone in the room that while arithmetic may fail you, deep mathematical thinking rarely does.

NVIDIA CEO Jensen Huang was stunned by what Elon Musk's team pulled off. "What Elon and the team achieved is singular. It has never been done before." Building a massive AI supercomputer is usually measured in years. Yet 100,000 GPUs were brought online and running in just 19 days. Not months. Not years. Nineteen days. It's the kind of execution speed that rewrites expectations for what large-scale engineering teams can accomplish.

"What Elon and the team achieved is singular. It has never been done before." Building a massive AI supercomputer is usually measured in years. Yet 100,000 GPUs were brought online and running in just 19 days. Not months. Not years. Nineteen days

NVIDIA CEO Jensen Huang was stunned by what Elon Musk's team pulled off. "What Elon and the team achieved is singular. It has never been done before." Building a massive AI supercomputer is usually measured in years. Yet 100,000 GPUs were brought online and running in just 19 days. Not months. Not years. Nineteen days. It's the kind of execution speed that rewrites expectations for what large-scale engineering teams can accomplish.

”The instrument (the telescreen, it was called) could be dimmed, but there was no way of shutting it off completely.” George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four. Two months left before the UK government requires all content on British citizens' mobile devices to be scanned. Piccadilly Circus, London: Nineteen Eighty-Four was supposed to be a warning, not an instruction manual.