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Articles by Daniel Voss
Daniel Voss, Author at Fortune Herald
A sitcom set inside a venture capital firm has been released free on YouTube, in what its makers believe is the world’s first sitcom written by a human and produced entirely using AI. The pilot episode of No Big Deal can be watched here. The series was written and created by Andrew Dickinson, who worked as an angel investor and investment manager before turning to comedy. It was produced by ModeLabs.ai, a UK AI studio.
Former angel investor makes venture capital sitcom using AI production
A sitcom set inside a venture capital firm has been released free on YouTube, in what its makers believe is the world’s first sitcom written by a human and produced entirely using AI. The pilot episode of No Big Deal can be watched here. The series was written and created by Andrew Dickinson, who worked as an angel investor and investment manager before turning to comedy. It was produced by ModeLabs.ai, a UK AI studio.
The definitive sign someone has done real inner work isn’t how calm they seem in conflict, it’s how quickly they can name what just happened to them without making it the other person’s fault
A friend of mine sat across from me at a café in Stockbridge last autumn, stirring a flat white she hadn’t touched, and said: I think I was activated by what she said about my job, and I made it about her tone because that was easier than admitting I felt small. The sentence took her about eight seconds. She wasn’t crying, wasn’t performing insight, wasn’t waiting for me to congratulate her for the awareness. She was just naming what had happened to her, in her, that morning.
I’m 38 and I just figured out that the approval I spent my twenties chasing was from people who were structurally incapable of giving it, and the chase itself was the proof, not the path
Roughly one in five adults reports having a parent they describe as emotionally unavailable, and a smaller but significant subset of those adults will spend most of their working lives trying to win approval from someone in that category. The numbers vary depending on which longitudinal study you read, but the pattern is consistent across cultures: the harder a parent is to please, the more likely the child is to keep trying to please them well into middle age. The chase outlives the household.
People who keep apologising for things that aren’t their fault aren’t being humble. They learned that getting in front of blame was faster than waiting to find out whether it was coming
Research cited by YourTango found that nearly half of all children in the United States are exposed to at least one social or family experience that can lead to traumatic stress and impact their healthy development. Half. That number sits in the back of the mind once you’ve seen it, because it reframes a behaviour most people read as a personality quirk: the chronic, reflexive sorry, offered for things the speaker did not cause and could not have caused.
I’m 38 and I noticed last week that I have been waiting for someone to tell me I’m allowed to rest, and the person I have been waiting for is me, and I have apparently been holding out on myself for about twenty years
A 2023 survey of high-functioning professionals found that the majority who scored highest on burnout markers also scored highest on the belief that rest had to be earned. Knowing rest is good, it turns out, is almost entirely uncorrelated with taking it. The literature on self-compassion suggests the gap between knowing and doing isn’t laziness or poor time management. It’s something closer to a missing signature.
The people who say I don’t really get angry aren’t more even-tempered, they’ve just routed their anger into productivity, cleaning, and overcommitment so reliably that they no longer recognize it when it’s happening
You finish a difficult email, close the laptop, and within ninety seconds you’re scrubbing the kitchen sink with the kind of focus usually reserved for surgery. The grout suddenly matters. The drawer that has been chaotic for two years needs to be sorted tonight. By the time the partner walks in and asks how the meeting went, the answer is genuinely, sincerely fine, all good — and the sink is gleaming. That sequence is so familiar to so many people that we’ve stopped reading it as anything.
I’m 34 and I just noticed that I’ve been describing my own life to friends in the same tone I’d use to describe someone else’s, and that distance turned out to be the actual problem, not the events I was describing
Halfway through the sentence I heard it. The tone. Measured, tidy, a little wry, the voice you’d use for a documentary about someone else’s bad week. I was telling a friend about something difficult that had happened to me, and I was narrating it like a stranger. That’s when it landed. I’d been doing this for years. Most of the advice about emotional wellbeing assumes the problem is that people feel their lives too intensely and need tools to calm down.
The people who answer ‘I don’t mind, whatever you want’ aren’t being easygoing. They’re running a private calculation that having a preference has cost them more than it has ever earned them
Sarah is standing in the cereal aisle of a Tesco in Edinburgh, holding two boxes, while her partner waits at the end of the aisle scrolling his phone. She has a clear preference. She wants the one on the left. What she says, when he glances up, is "I don’t mind, whatever you want." She puts the box on the right into the trolley. Her shoulders drop about an inch as she does it, the way a person exhales after defusing something. Sarah isn’t easygoing. She’s running a calculation.
There’s a specific loneliness that belongs to warm, well-liked people, and it isn’t caused by isolation. It’s caused by being so reliably fine that nobody ever thinks to ask whether you actually are
The standard story about loneliness is that it happens to people who lack social connection — the shy, the withdrawn, the person eating alone. That story is wrong, or at least incomplete in a way that matters. Some of the loneliest people in any room are the ones everyone is gravitating toward. They are the warm ones, the liked ones, the reliable ones. And the thing making them lonely isn’t a shortage of company. It’s being seen incorrectly, for years, by people who genuinely love them.
The people who can’t accept help without immediately offering something in return aren’t generous. They’re running an internal ledger that was installed the first time receiving something came with strings, and the ledger has never once gone quiet
Reciprocity is supposed to be a virtue. Balanced give-and-take is how healthy relationships function, and a person who returns kindness with kindness is usually called generous. That’s the common story, and it’s only half true. There’s a version of this behaviour that looks identical from the outside but runs on completely different machinery underneath. It isn’t generosity.
Not everyone who says they’re fine is lying. Some people genuinely cannot locate the word for what they’re feeling because nobody ever sat with them long enough to help them name it, and fine became the only vocabulary they trust
The woman across from her therapist says she’s fine. It’s the fourth time this session. The therapist waits, the clock ticks, and the woman looks down at her hands as if the answer might be written on her knuckles. She wants to say something more accurate. She cannot find the shape of it. Fine arrives first, the way it always arrives first, and by the time she thinks to reach past it the moment has already closed.
Some people aren’t the planner in every friend group because they like control. They became the planner because they noticed, early and painfully, that when they didn’t initiate, nobody did, and being forgotten felt worse than doing all the work
The person who plans every dinner, every birthday, every group trip did not inherit a love of spreadsheets. They inherited a fear of being forgotten. What looks from the outside like a personality trait, maybe even a slightly controlling one, is often a strategy built in childhood by someone who learned that if they stopped reaching, the phone stopped ringing. This is one of those patterns that hides in plain sight because it produces competent, generous, likeable adults.
There’s a specific kind of adult who apologizes for crying even when they’re alone, and it isn’t sensitivity, it’s the residue of a childhood where emotion was something you were expected to clean up before anyone saw the mess
I’ve started noticing a particular tell in adults who grew up being told their feelings were a bit much. It’s small, almost too small to mention. They apologise when they cry alone. Not to anyone in particular. There’s nobody in the room. Maybe a dog asleep down the hall. And still, the first full sentence that surfaces isn’t about whatever set the tears off — it’s sorry, sorry, I’m being ridiculous. An apology to an invisible audience.
I’m in my thirties and I finally understand that the friendships I lost weren’t lost because I changed. They were lost because I stopped performing the version of me that made the relationship possible, and nobody told me that was what had been holding it
I was three sentences into a story I’d told maybe a hundred times — the one about the terrible houseshare in my second year, the one that always got a laugh at the right beat — when I caught myself watching my own face in the reflection of the pub window. I was doing the voices. I was leaning forward at the punchline.
I used to think I had commitment issues and then I noticed the pattern wasn’t about commitment at all. It was about the specific moment someone started treating me like I was guaranteed, and I realized the thing I was afraid of wasn’t staying. It was bein
She was telling a story I’d heard her tell before, and halfway through she turned to me at the table and said, “Daniel already knows this part.” Not unkindly. Just casually, the way you’d reference a fact about the weather. And I felt the floor drop out. It took me the rest of the evening to figure out why. She hadn’t done anything wrong. The sentence was true — I did already know that part. But something in the phrasing landed like a verdict. I had been filed. Learned.
There’s a version of loneliness that only arrives inside a crowded room full of people who like you, and it comes from the slow realization that what they like is a performance you can no longer remember choosing to start
The loneliest people in most social circles aren’t the ones standing at the edges. They’re the ones at the centre. This is a counterintuitive claim, and most loneliness research still doesn’t fully account for it. The standard model treats loneliness as a deficit of connection. More people, more contact, less pain.
I’m in my 30s and I recently realized that every relationship I called easy was actually just a relationship where I did all the adjusting. Easy never meant compatible. It meant I had become so skilled at reshaping myself that friction disappeared, and I
Last year, sitting in a restaurant in Edinburgh, my partner at the time said something that should have been unremarkable. She asked where I wanted to eat next weekend. I opened my mouth to say “wherever you like,” and something stopped me. Not insight, exactly. More like a glitch. I realized I had no idea what I actually wanted. Not just about restaurants. About anything.
I’m in my 30s and the thing I understand now that I couldn’t at 22 is that the people I was most desperate to impress were the ones least capable of seeing me clearly. The approval I chased hardest was always from people who didn’t have the emotional equi
My father was a GP in a small town in rural New South Wales, and he was excellent at his job. Patients loved him. He could read a room, defuse anxiety, deliver bad news with steadiness. But at home, he was quieter. More contained. For years, I interpreted that containment as a kind of verdict on me. I thought if I could just be smarter, funnier, more accomplished, the warmth would come.
Not everyone who keeps their personal life private is guarded. Some people tried sharing openly once, watched it become currency in someone else’s conversation, and simply adjusted the distribution list permanently.
Privacy is not the absence of openness. It’s often what remains after openness was punished. We tend to treat private people as though they arrived that way, fully formed, with some personality setting dialled toward secrecy. The cultural assumption runs deep: if someone doesn’t share freely, they must be emotionally unavailable, guarded, perhaps even hiding something. We’ve built an entire vocabulary around this. Avoidant. Closed off. Walled up. But that framing misses something important.
People who grew up watching their parents stay together unhappily often become adults who are simultaneously terrified of commitment and terrified of leaving. They inherited the architecture of endurance without ever being shown what it was supposed to pr
She’s been sitting in the car for eleven minutes. The engine is off. The lights in his apartment are on, and she can see the blue flicker of a television through the curtains. Her phone shows two missed calls from him, both from the last half hour. She should go in. She knows this. She also knows that the moment she opens that door, something in her chest will tighten in a way she can’t explain to anyone, least of all to him. So she sits. One hand on the keys, one hand on the door handle.
I’m in my 30s and I just understood something about my father that therapy never gave me. He didn’t withhold affection because he didn’t feel it. He withheld it because in the world he came from, the moment you showed someone how much they meant to you wa
My father would stand at the kitchen door when I came home from school, arms folded, watching me drop my bag by the hallway table. He’d ask about my day in the same flat tone he used to ask if I’d locked the gate. And then he’d walk back to his study. No hand on the shoulder. No warmth in the voice. Just the factual confirmation that I had arrived and was intact. For years I read that as indifference. I was wrong. When I was sick at fourteen, he slept in the hallway outside my room for three nights.
Why Anthropic is locking in 3.5 gigawatts of compute years before it comes online
Anthropic has reportedly signed a major compute expansion deal with Google and Broadcom, adding 3.5 gigawatts of processing capacity set to come online in 2027. The agreement represents the AI lab’s largest infrastructure commitment to date and arrives amid a tripling of its annualized revenue.
Why Waymo chose Lyft over Uber in Nashville — and what it reveals about the robotaxi power shift
Waymo’s decision to partner with Lyft in Nashville, its first collaboration with the ride-hailing company, is more than a market expansion story. It’s the clearest signal yet that Waymo is deliberately constructing a supplier model in which ride-hailing platforms compete for the privilege of distributing its autonomous rides. The Nashville deal reveals a company that has recognized its core leverage.
8 things people in their 30s quietly stop doing that everyone in their 20s thinks are essential
Most of what people in their 20s treat as non-negotiable turns out to be a phase dressed up as a personality. The period from roughly 18 to the late 20s is defined by exploration, instability, and the gradual assumption of adult roles — what researchers call emerging adulthood. What feels permanent at 24 is often just the scaffolding you needed before the actual structure went up. The conventional wisdom says your 30s are when you settle down, as though the decade is about resignation.
OpenAI veterans launch $100M VC fund Zero Shot, already flagging AI trends they say are technically unfeasible
The people who built AI’s foundational models are now deciding which companies get to build on top of them. Zero Shot, a new venture capital fund founded by former OpenAI engineers and product leaders, has closed its first funding toward a $100 million target — and its founding partners are already wielding their insider knowledge to declare entire startup categories technically unfeasible. The fund isn’t just another entrant in the AI venture gold rush.
I’m in my 30s and I recently noticed that the people I resent most aren’t the ones who hurt me. They’re the ones who saw exactly what was happening, had the standing to say something, and chose their own comfort over my safety. The betrayal that actually
Last winter, walking my border collie through Holyrood Park on one of those Edinburgh mornings where the cold sits in your chest, I found myself running through a mental list. Not of people who’d been cruel to me — I’d made peace with most of that years ago. The list was shorter and more specific: people who had watched it happen. A teacher who’d seen the dynamic and redirected the conversation. A friend who admitted, years later, that they’d known the whole time.
The one dataset that could predict AI job displacement barely exists — and nobody is collecting it
Of the thousands of job categories tracked by the US government, almost none have reliable data on the one variable that would actually predict whether AI eliminates positions or creates them. That variable is price elasticity: the measure of how demand shifts when costs drop. According to analysis from MIT Technology Review, this dataset barely exists. Nobody is collecting it.
There was a moment in my late twenties when I realized every close friendship I’d lost wasn’t a relationship that ended. It was a version of myself that could only exist around those specific people, and the grief was never about them leaving. It was abou
You’re sitting on the floor of your new apartment, the one with the better light and the shorter commute, and you open a group chat that hasn’t had a message in eleven months. You scroll past a photo from someone’s birthday, a blurry shot of four people leaning into the frame, and you feel something drop in your chest. Not longing for those people, exactly. Longing for the person you were when that photo was taken. The one who laughed that way, who ordered that drink, who told that kind of joke.
Compliance startup Delve removed from Y Combinator portfolio after anonymous whistleblower posts spark investor exodus
Compliance startup Delve has been removed from Y Combinator’s portfolio following weeks of escalating allegations about its business practices. The company’s COO Selin Kocalar announced on X that the company and Y Combinator had separated — a rare and significant move from the accelerator, which has backed over 4,000 companies and seldom publicly cuts ties with portfolio startups.
$2B chasing Anthropic, $600M of OpenAI unsold: how secondary markets are repricing the AI race
The secondary market for private company shares doesn’t just reflect investor sentiment — it prices the future before the future arrives. And right now, that market is delivering a verdict on the AI race that should unsettle OpenAI’s backers: Anthropic is being repriced as the preferred bet, while OpenAI, the category’s supposed frontrunner, is experiencing a buyer drought. This isn’t a temporary wobble in market sentiment.
There’s a specific kind of tiredness that has nothing to do with sleep. It comes from years of translating yourself into a version that other people could handle, and the exhaustion lives in the gap between who you are and who you’ve been performing so co
Fatigue is usually framed as a resource problem. You didn’t sleep enough, you worked too many hours, you forgot to eat lunch. The fix is more rest, better boundaries, a holiday. But there’s a category of tiredness that no amount of sleep can touch, because the thing draining you isn’t activity. It’s the sustained act of being someone you’re not at work, performed so fluently and for so long that the performance calcified into what you call your professional identity.
SpaceX, Amazon, and Google want data centers in orbit — four engineering barriers stand in the way
The race to build data centers in orbit isn’t really about computing in space. It’s about who controls the next era of computing on Earth. SpaceX has filed an application with the US Federal Communications Commission to launch a constellation of orbital data centers. Google is reportedly planning a test constellation of data-crunching satellites. Amazon, already dominant in cloud infrastructure and increasingly active in launch services, is positioning itself for the same frontier.
Frugal AI wants to break the global compute hierarchy before it becomes permanent
In India’s southern Karnataka state, the Indigenous Soliga tribe has no written script, limited internet connectivity, and a long history of outsiders extracting resources — including data — from their land. Last year, a nonprofit called the Saving Voices Project built them a speech AI system. It runs on a Raspberry Pi costing under $50, works entirely offline, and keeps every byte of voice data on community-owned devices. No cloud. No Big Tech dependency. No data leaving the village.
ICE confirms it deployed Paragon spyware inside the United States for drug trafficking cases
ICE is actively using commercial spyware to surveil people on U.S. soil. The agency has confirmed it deployed Paragon Solutions’ surveillance tool in drug trafficking investigations inside the United States — a disclosure that raises immediate constitutional questions about warrantless access to encrypted personal devices, the absence of independent oversight, and the potential for mission creep against the very communities these tools have already been used to target abroad.
Gig workers in 50+ countries are filming themselves doing chores to train humanoid robots for $15 an hour
A new gig economy is emerging in living rooms and kitchens across more than 50 countries: workers filming themselves doing laundry, washing dishes, and folding clothes — not for social media, but to teach humanoid robots how to navigate the physical world.
I’m 34 and I just realized I’ve been performing competence at work for seven years because somewhere along the way I confused being impressive with being safe, and the exhaustion I thought was burnout was actually the weight of never once letting anyone s
Performing competence is one of the most socially rewarded forms of self-erasure available to a professional adult. Three weeks ago, during a morning walk with my border collie near our usual route in Edinburgh, my partner asked me a simple question about a new software tool I’d been tasked with learning at work. I caught myself instinctively pivoting to what I already knew about a related tool rather than admitting I hadn’t started yet. To my partner. On a walk. With the dog.
I’m 34 and I recently caught myself apologizing to a chair I bumped into, and my colleague laughed, but I didn’t because I understood exactly where that reflex came from. When you grow up in a house where taking up space was a problem, you spend the rest
Sometime in late 2024, walking through our shared office kitchen in Edinburgh, I bumped into the back of a wooden chair that was pushed slightly out from the table. “Sorry,” I said. Not under my breath. Out loud. To the chair. My colleague heard it and laughed. I didn’t. Not because I lacked a sense of humour about it, but because in the half-second between contact and apology, I had felt something older than logic fire through me. A reflex that predated this kitchen, this city, this version of myself.
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