That explosive headline recently spread like wildfire after a meeting between Bill Gates and Goldman Sachs executives. [Logo ]( [[icon]About Us]( âBill Gates says AI is poised to destroy Amazon.â
That explosive headline recently spread like wildfire after a meeting between Bill Gates and Goldman Sachs executives. We called in a 40-year pioneer in the field of AI to get to the bottom of [this developing story.]( [Video preview](
It would be wise to listen to what [this AI expert has]( to say. After all, he invented systems that helped him predict 1987âs Black Monday, the dotcom boom, and Great Recession. Itâs why major investment banks like Goldman Sachs, Citigroup and Credit Suisse entrusted him with hundreds of millions of dollars. Charles also called the rise of Apple and then Google, acquiring large stakes in each company. In [this short interview]( he reveals how AI is on track to become 205,000 times more powerful than it is today. So the race is on to control AI, before it controls us. And with artificial intelligence set to generate $22.1 trillion in new wealth every year by 2030, he warns our future could be one of âhavesâ and âhave nots.â However, heâs convinced a little-known AI firm could help ensure you are one of the âhavesâ to be rewarded with generational wealth. Itâs the result of a mysterious project from two of Silicon Valleyâs most secretive billionaires. Their AI firm could easily soar 2,500% in value in the coming years. Then 5,000% over the next decade. But long term, this AI pioneer believes it could become âThe Next Microsoft.â [Click here for a private airingâ¦]( To Your Success, [Signature]
John Daly
Investigative Journalist Dorian Gray glanced at the picture, and suddenly an uncontrollable feeling of hatred for Basil Hallward came over him, as though it had been suggested to him by the image on the canvas, whispered into his ear by those grinning lips. The mad passions of a hunted animal stirred within him, and he loathed the man who was seated at the table, more than in his whole life he had ever loathed anything. He glanced wildly around. Something glimmered on the top of the painted chest that faced him. His eye fell on it. He knew what it was. It was a knife that he had brought up, some days before, to cut a piece of cord, and had forgotten to take away with him. He moved slowly towards it, passing Hallward as he did so. As soon as he got behind him, he seized it and turned round. Hallward stirred in his chair as if he was going to rise. He rushed at him and dug the knife into the great vein that is behind the ear, crushing the manâs head down on the table and stabbing again and again. There was a stifled groan and the horrible sound of some one choking with blood. Three times the outstretched arms shot up convulsively, waving grotesque, stiff-fingered hands in the air. He stabbed him twice more, but the man did not move. Something began to trickle on the floor. He waited for a moment, still pressing the head down. Then he threw the knife on the table, and listened. He could hear nothing, but the drip, drip on the threadbare carpet. He opened the door and went out on the landing. The house was absolutely quiet. No one was about. For a few seconds he stood bending over the balustrade and peering down into the black seething well of darkness. Then he took out the key and returned to the room, locking himself in as he did so. The thing was still seated in the chair, straining over the table with bowed head, and humped back, and long fantastic arms. Had it not been for the red jagged tear in the neck and the clotted black pool that was slowly widening on the table, one would have said that the man was simply asleep. How quickly it had all been done! He felt strangely calm, and walking over to the window, opened it and stepped out on the balcony. The wind had blown the fog away, and the sky was like a monstrous peacockâs tail, starred with myriads of golden eyes. He looked down and saw the policeman going his rounds and flashing the long beam of his lantern on the doors of the silent houses. The crimson spot of a prowling hansom gleamed at the corner and then vanished. A woman in a fluttering shawl was creeping slowly by the railings, staggering as she went. Now and then she stopped and peered back. Once, she began to sing in a hoarse voice. The policeman strolled over and said something to her. She stumbled away, laughing. A bitter blast swept across the square. The gas-lamps flickered and became blue, and the leafless trees shook their black iron branches to and fro. He shivered and went back, closing the window behind him.
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