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Human history is something like 200,000 years old, which means we’ve had a lot of time to come up with really bad ideas.
Bloodletting. “Dynamic ticket pricing.” Invading Russia in the winter. The McLobster. You get the picture; they’ve not all been winners.
Around the turn of the 2010s, another brilliant-at-the-time idea popped into our disproportionally large prefrontal cortexes. Maybe, this niggling went, the cavemen actually had it better than we do?
This idea — which, if you consider it for more than 10 seconds, is obviously wrong, since cavemen lived in a world that had sabertooth tigers but not microwaves and walk-in urgent cares — nevertheless took off. The “Paleo diet” exploded in popularity. Fitness bros started doing Crossfit and other strength-centric ancestral exercises and overenthusiastically donated their blood to mimic the acquisition of Stone Age wounds. Being a nice parent got rebranded, favorably, as “caveman parenting.” Kevin Roose wrote an entire piece about the benefits of pooping like a caveman. These were dark times.
Fads come and go, and we’ve mostly course corrected since then. Yuval Noah Harari, whose 2014 bestseller Sapiens made him a superstar and contributed to the belief that Stone Ages humans were happier, has since been taken down a notch by fact-checkers. The Crossfit guy got canceled, high-intensity interval training is out, and “sculpt” — not a word one usually associates with cavemen — is in. We’ve at last decided that toe-shoes, meant to get us closer to our barefoot ancestors, are “stupid” and must be stopped.
Some vestiges of Stone Age mania remain, though many of the trends have moderated and become more reasonable. The Paleo diet peaked in 2013, but it’s not gone completely away; there is renewed interest, as one would expect, every January. Still, much of the diet’s foundational science — that we need to eat the foods our bodies were “optimized” to eat during the Stone Age, before the evils wrought by the agricultural revolution and its diabolical offspring: processed sugars and carbohydrates — has been debunked.
Eating whole and sustainable foods, though, isn’t going away. The “pegan diet” (from “Paleo” and “vegan”) is “like the Paleo diet,” one dietitian nutritionist has explained, in that it focuses on foods that “early humans would have hunted or gathered. But the twist is that most of your daily food intake will be plants.” Many researchers say this is the more accurate ancient diet anyway, not to mention far better for the planet. You don’t even need to justify the meal plan by saying our Neolithic forefathers did it: It’s a good idea because it’s a smart and ethical way of eating to address problems that exist in our modern world.
The extreme, macho deprivations of the early 2010s caveman trend have also had their edges sanded off. Interest in “living off the grid” has fallen since its 2013/2014 highs, but the comparatively comfy “van life” has slowly grown. People still crave an escape from the blinking, beeping demands of modern life — there is currently an 18-month-long waitlist to be shut in a completely dark, scantly furnished room in Oregon with no TV or phone, and it costs $250 a night — but that has more to do with the anxieties and demands of contemporary life than misplaced beliefs about the superiority of cavemen living. Unplugging every now and then is a good thing, even at its most literal, but not specifically because it makes us more like Ötzi the Iceman.
It seems clear in retrospect why we wanted so badly to live like cavemen: Modern life is hard. There's consumption fatigue that comes from having 62 different Oreo varieties on the shelf in the grocery store and we want someone to take over decision-making (even if that decision required an at-home meat locker). We are so time-pressed that a scientific blessing for quick workouts and winging-it parenting is very enticing. We may also sense that nature is in peril and so we long for the days when we hadn't destroyed so much of it. Every generation yearns for a “better, simpler time" but, as Gillian Osbourne at The New Inquiry wrote back in 2014, "our gazing at the oil wars and rising sea levels of today have provoked collective sighs for deep, and distant, ecological histories."
Of course, while the caveman lifestyle may have spoken to real needs, it was impossibly, laughably selective in picking what it elevated to importance. We were supposed to eat like cavemen because our bodies are genetically similar to early humans’ but no one proposed treating infections with Stone Age first-aid, even if the same principle applied.
With a healthy perspective and accurate science, ancient ways of living can still be productive sources of inspiration. But let’s not bring everything back. Because you know what else is technically an ancient and natural idea? Cannibalism.
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The spinoff of Lawrence Livermore National Lab has a new 10-point plan to get onto the grid by the 2030s.
One of fusion energy’s newest startups, Inertia Enterprises, is betting that the fastest route to commercial fusion runs through one of the field’s oldest ideas. The company, which raised a $450 million Series A earlier this year, plans to build a power plant based on the laser-driven fusion system pioneered at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory’s — the only tech yet to have produced more energy from a fusion reaction than it took to initiate it. Now, Inertia has shared its commercialization roadmap exclusively with Heatmap, detailing the 10 near-term capabilities it must demonstrate before this landmark experiment can become a grid-scale power plant by the mid-2030s.
The roadmap offers a route from the national lab’s impressive but commercially impractical fusion demonstrations to an economical power plant capable of producing electricity for the grid. At its core are a set of milestones — mostly aimed at developing cheap, mass-manufacturable components — that Inertia says it must clear before those individual systems can be integrated into a working plant. This road is not necessarily linear, however, as various teams will likely be working on many of these goals simultaneously.
At least the physics of Inertia’s approach are already proven, the startup’s CEO Jeff Lawson told me, pointing to the fusion experiments at Lawrence Livermore’s National Ignition Facility as a proof-of-concept. The lab’s demonstration of net energy gain caps more than six decades and $30 billion (in 2026 dollars) of U.S. fusion research. The remaining challenges, he argued, are all engineering-related, requiring “elbow grease, hard work, and smart people” rather than breakthroughs in fusion science.
"It seems to us like a startup or a commercial company of any variety should be focused on commercializing a proven scientific result, as opposed to actually trying to demonstrate the basic science to begin with," Lawson told me. Basic science, he argues, is better left to national labs and universities, where researchers can pursue "unbounded problems" that don’t align with the expectations and timelines of venture-backed startups.
Indeed, no fusion startup has yet achieved scientific breakeven, the milestone Lawrence Livermore first hit in 2022, and has since repeated numerous times. But leading players such as Commonwealth Fusion Systems and Helion Energy maintain that it’s only a matter of time before they validate the physics behind their own reactor designs, which they claim will be highly cost-competitive.
Lawson, on the other hand, readily acknowledged that Lawrence Livermore’s tech is uneconomical in its current form. His bet is simply that the more predictable path to a commercial reactor is to drive down the cost of the lab’s validated fusion approach, known as inertial confinement. This system relies on high-powered lasers firing at a millimeter-scale pellet of fusion fuel, compressing it to extreme temperatures and pressures until the atoms fuse. Today, the National Ignition Facility makes each individual fusion target by hand, a workable solution given that it only uses about a dozen per year.
That production model, however, isn’t remotely plausible for a grid-scale power plant. Because each fusion reaction lasts just a fraction of a billionth of a second, a commercial facility must fire its lasers at a fresh target about 10 times per second to generate continuous electricity — requiring the production of hundreds of millions of targets each year.
Scaling production to roughly a million pellets per day and making them inexpensive enough for commercial operation without compromising the strength or precision required for fusion ignition is central to Inertia’s roadmap. That includes goals five, seven, eight and nine — industrializing the manufacturing of the carbon shells that hold the fusion fuel, making the thin films that hold those carbon shells both durable and cheap, scaling up and automating fusion target assembly, and speeding up how fast targets are filled with the requisite deuterium-tritium fuel.
The other central focus of the roadmap is the laser system, which will ultimately consist of 1,000 individual units operating in concert to compress and heat the fusion fuel. Key priorities include reducing the system’s cost (goal two), dramatically increasing its firing cadence (goal three), and bolstering its durability to withstand high-intensity operations (goal four). Goal six also complements these efforts, calling for the development of a control system capable of tracking moving fusion targets to precisely align each laser shot.
Goals one and 10 bookend the journey with some broader milestones. The first focuses on increasing the fusion target’s energy gain — the ratio of fusion energy produced to laser energy delivered — to more than 25 times ignition. Today, the National Ignition Facility’s best-performing laser shot has yielded a gain of just over four times what it took to start the reaction. Goal 10 then zooms out to the ultimate objective: integrating all these technologies into a commercially viable power plant that can deliver either electricity or industrial heat to end customers.
To reach that point, Inertia has embarked on an industrial engineering hiring spree, recruiting folks with experience taking complex hardware systems from prototype to mass production, “not unlike the processes that are used in the semiconductor or consumer electronics world,” Lawson explained. The company has been making progress on its component development goals since the beginning of the year, he told me, and expects to announce the successful demonstration of a few of these milestones in the coming months. Lawson ultimately expects Inertia to complete the core components of its laser and target manufacturing systems by the middle of next year.
The team will spend the next two to three years integrating these individual pieces into two fully operational subsystems, a prototype laser system and a target manufacturing line. Around 2030, the company will begin combining those subsystems into a first-of-a-kind fusion power plant, which will also serve as the proving ground for the target chamber, tritium fuel breeding system, and power conversion system that turns fusion heat into electricity. By the middle of the next decade, Inertia aims to be generating power from this first plant, setting the stage for the company to build and connect additional grid-scale commercial power plants.
There are plenty of engineering trade-offs that the company will have to solve for. Take the decision around how to size the target chamber, for example. “If you make it bigger, your walls have an easier time and survive longer, but it’s more expensive. If you make it smaller, your walls have a tougher time because they’re closer to all the heat and energy that the fusion reaction is creating, but now your power plant costs less to build.”
But to Lawson, this represents exactly the type of problem Inertia was built to solve: complex engineering issues that come to the fore once scientists have demonstrated the fundamental physics are sound. He thinks other fusion companies may someday reach this stage, as well — though he’s unwilling to hazard a guess on exactly what approach or startup is best positioned to do so.
“There have been generations of scientists who’ve made their predictions about fusion energy and gotten it wrong,” he told me. “I’m not going to pretend to be smarter than them. All I’m here to say is, just knowing that one did work, we can commercialize it.”