I’ve always been well-liked. At least, I think that’s the case. I have friends, a spouse, a job, a college degree. I exercise. I get haircuts regularly.  And yet lately I’ve felt unrealized—incomplete, almost. Everywhere I look on social media, I’m surrounded by extremely attractive, superbly groomed men and women who eat meals that are not only healthy but impeccably plated. My clothes seem tired, wrinkled, bereft of accessories. And my vacation photos—Christ, my vacation photos.  -- Confessions of an Instagram Influencer  for Bloomberg Businessweek.       
       
     
 Before entering the cleanroom in D1D, as Intel calls its 17 million-cubic-foot microprocessor factory in Hillsboro, Oregon, it’s a good idea to carefully wash your hands and face. You should probably also empty your bladder. There are no bathrooms in the cleanroom. Makeup, perfume, and cosmetics are forbidden. Writing instruments are allowed, as long as they’re special sterile pens; paper, which sheds microscopic particles, is absolutely banned. If you want to write on something, you’ll have to use what is known in the industry as “high-performance documentation material,” a paperlike product that doesn’t release fibers.  After you put on a hairnet, your next stop is the gowning station, inside a pressurized room that sits between the outside world and the cleanroom itself. A hard breeze, sent by a cleaning system that takes up the equivalent of four and a half football fields, hits you as you walk in, removing stray matter—dust, lint, dog hairs, bacteria. You put on pre-gown gloves, then a white bodysuit with a hood and surgical-style mouth cover, followed by a second pair of gloves, a second pair of shoe covers, and safety glasses. None of these measures are for your safety; they protect the chips from you.  -- How Intel Makes Chip  in Bloomberg Businessweek.
       
     
 Lately he’d been thinking about what should come next. What, he’d been asking, is the next great computation platform? What comes after the smartphone? Zuckerberg believed that the answer was headsets that provide “immersive 3-D experiences”—movies and television, naturally, but also games, lectures, and business meetings. These headsets would eventually scan our brains, then transmit our thoughts to our friends the way we share baby pictures on Facebook today. “Eventually I think we’re going to have technology where we can communicate our full sensory experience and emotions to someone through thought,” he told me in an interview in his office. Then he added, helpfully, “There’s a lot of interesting research into that, where people have some band on their head…. You can look into it if you’re interested.”  It sounded a little bit insane, but Zuckerberg wasn’t joking. “There are certain things in the future that you know will happen,” he continued. “The real challenge is figuring out what’s possible now and how exactly do you make it.”  --From  It's All in the Eyes  in Vanity Fair
       
     
 Jordan Kretchmer remembers what Travis Kalanick was like before Uber was Uber.  Kretchmer was a 25-year-old college dropout with a lot of ideas, and Kalanick had even more. He was in his early thirties, an engineer who talked like a sales guy, smart as hell and high on life. He wore a cowboy hat and referred to himself as the Wolf, after the cold-blooded, coolly rational fixer played by Harvey Keitel in  Pulp Fiction . He was tireless—always on the move, always thirsty.  --From  What Makes Uber Run  in Fast Company.