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The Great Compression Part 2: The Intelligence Trap

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On June 17th, the U.S. Air Force handed Anduril Industries a contract for its FQ-44 autonomous combat drone, making it the first new entrant to win a U.S. fighter aircraft program since the 1970s. The Silicon Valley startup beat Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, and Boeing – companies that between them have defined American air power for generations – to the target. Anduril, a defense technology firm founded in 2017, did not win on relationship or on legacy: it won on AI-native architecture.

The shift this represents is psychological as much as commercial. Defense procurement is arguably the most bureaucratic, relationship-driven, clearance-protected industry on earth. If AI-native vertical integration can break this barrier, anything is now open for re-negotiation.

The Great Compression Part Two: The Intelligence Trap

The compression of the human intermediary layer across the economy – the subject of this series’ opening piece – raises a question that is both philosophical and financial: if the old middlemen are disappearing, and if the AI models replacing them are themselves becoming commodities, where does value go?

What made the Air Force announcement structurally significant was a detail that went largely unnoticed: the service deliberately separated the drone hardware from its AI software, specifying that the intelligence layer could be upgraded or replaced independently of the platform. By doing so, the Air Force drew a line that the market is still catching up to – and then immediately complicated it. The aircraft is the delivery vehicle. The intelligence tier is what matters, except that intelligence is also commoditizing fast.

The commoditization signal had already arrived earlier this month, when Google cut the price of its AI plan by nearly 40% overnight. OpenAI is reportedly considering steep token-price cuts as competition with Anthropic intensifies. The models themselves are beginning to resemble a capital-intensive utility more than a premium software business. As intelligence becomes cheaper, the investment question shifts to what models cannot easily access: proprietary data, regulated workflows, institutional trust, and the systems that turn AI output into real-world action.

The answer, in the most durable cases, is proprietary domain data combined with deep sector integration. Anduril is not a defense company that adopted technology: it’s a technology company that chose defense as its vertical. Palmer Luckey, who sold Oculus to Meta when he was just 21, founded Anduril alongside veterans of Palantir with a specific thesis: Silicon Valley had abandoned defense, leaving a widening gap between what the military needed and what the traditional primes could deliver.

Where Lockheed and Boeing run bid-led organizations optimized for cost-plus contracting cycles measured in decades, Anduril built a product-first company that moves at software speed, focused on cheap, autonomous, attritable systems designed to be deployed and lost without catastrophic cost. The competitive edge that results has nothing to do with which model runs underneath it. It is purpose-built architecture, mission-specific design, and the kind of deep operational embedding that no generalist technology company can shortcut and no traditional prime can easily imitate.

Palantir built the same competitive edge a decade earlier, at the intelligence level. Their forward-deployed engineers embedded themselves inside classified environments, building proprietary data structures around defense and intelligence that competitors cannot access, let alone replicate. The model is almost beside the point. What matters is the institutional trust above it and the data structure underneath it.

The same logic plays out in banking, and the psyche shift there is equally striking. JPMorgan Chase is not an obvious candidate for AI leadership – a 150-year-old Wall Street institution steeped in regulatory obligation and institutional conservatism. Yet it has become arguably the most digitally aggressive major bank outside the fintech world, spending north of $17 billion annually on technology and deploying AI across trading, risk, legal document review, and client services. JPMorgan’s AI advantage over any fintech competitor is not compute – it is 150 years of proprietary transaction data, credit history, and market intelligence, combined with the institutional will to deploy it at scale. Many large banks sit on comparable reserves; few have built the machine to turn them into a competitive weapon. The model commoditizes; the data does not – but only in the hands of someone with the commitment to exploit it.

The pattern across defense, banking, and every sector where this is playing out is consistent: the prize migrates to whoever owns the scarce position that generic models cannot substitute for. Right now the prize sits with domain data and deep sector integration. What’s forming above it is agentic orchestration – systems that coordinate networks of specialized AI agents across high-stakes workflows: routing battlefield targeting decisions, flagging fraud across millions of simultaneous transactions, managing the exception-handling that no single model can resolve alone. Palantir’s AIP platform is the most mature example of this emerging tier, and it is no coincidence that the same company that mastered domain-specific data is now positioning for that orchestration tier. Salesforce’s Agentforce is building toward the same position from the enterprise side. The race for this trophy is not yet decided, but the companies that already own those domain data advantages are the natural favorites to own the control plane above them.

The stack, in other words, keeps moving upward. Value migrates to the next bottleneck, then the next. And below all of it – the models, the sectors, the orchestration layer – something has to hold the weight. Every control plane needs a floor. What that floor looks like, who owns it, and why it may be the most durable investment thesis of the AI era is the subject of the next piece.

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The Great Compression Part 1: The End of the Middlemen

Elevator Boys of GenAI

In the 1920s, every office building had an elevator boy. Although automated elevators already existed, people found the idea of riding in a driverless box dangling by steel cables terrifying, and delegated the role to a uniformed human they trusted, accepting the necessity to pay for the privilege. Over the years, people got used to elevator buttons, but the force of habit and the preference for human touch kept the profession flourishing for years.

The operators were so confident in their indispensability that they went one step too far: in 1945, a New York strike brought the city to a grinding halt, costing it hundreds of millions of dollars. That was the final straw, leading to a massive push to upgrade to automated systems. Within a short while, the job ceased to exist, entering the history books as the only major job category to be completely wiped out from the U.S. Census purely due to automation. The only one so far, that is.

Elevator boys were the cleanest definition of a middleman: someone who exists not because they create value, but because of information asymmetry or transaction friction. The history of modern commerce is largely a history of those “toll booth” trades, and of the technologies that remove them one by one.

Newspapers were once the only viable printed information channel, using their middleman position to bundle content with ads and classifieds, fattening their revenues. People accepted it because nothing else existed – but then the Internet broke their business model. Craigslist alone did more damage to newspaper economics than any editorial failure ever could; Twitter and Facebook finished the job. Today the newspaper is a diminished thing, sustained largely by institutional inertia and nostalgia.

Real estate agents had an informational moat – access to listings, knowledge of comparable sales, relationships with buyers – which was valuable in a world without Zillow. Once that information became freely available, their commission became very hard to justify. The agent survived by clinging to the execution layer, but that too is shrinking.

Here is where the story gets interesting. The companies that dismantled the old middlemen wasted no time building new ones. Uber eliminated the taxi dispatcher and the phone-in booking system, then inserted itself between driver and passenger for a fat slice of every fare. DoorDash did the same between restaurant and customer. Expedia aggregated what travel agents used to know and charged airlines and hotels for access to their own customers. These were genuine technological improvements, but the business model was identical to what they replaced: find a friction point, own it, and extract rent from both sides. The market rewarded them handsomely for this, for a while. Then the next wave arrived.

Generative AI is driving a change of extraordinary scale and speed. We cannot assess the impact of the tsunami from inside it, but we can see the fish floating belly-up, and extrapolate. The agentic economy is eliminating many roles that just a couple of years ago seemed staple of our service-based economy. AI agents will (if they haven’t yet) replace secretaries, clerks of all kinds, brokers, advisors, recruiters, customer service representatives, paralegals – and the buck won’t stop there.

What is happening now to companies like Capgemini, Accenture, and McKinsey is structurally identical to what happened to newspaper classified departments and taxi dispatchers. AI agents do not merely reduce friction – they eliminate the information asymmetry that made the intermediary necessary in the first place. A system embedded inside an enterprise does not need a consultant to explain what it is doing. It does it, iterates, and reports back.

OpenAI and Anthropic understood this early, which is why both recently announced joint ventures – in a parade lockstep – to deploy engineers directly inside corporate clients. OpenAI has built an elite, highly technical consulting wing – a multi-billion dollar venture backed by TPG, Brookfield, Bain Capital and others. Anthropic teamed up with alternative asset titans like Blackstone, Hellman & Friedman, and Goldman Sachs to form a dedicated AI services company. AI labs are moving fast into services and deployment because model commoditization is a risk, and because adoption bottlenecks hurt revenue growth.

The Big Four are seemingly fine for now, touting alliances with the AI leaders, helping them scale AI implementation across their enterprise clients. However, professional consultants are clearly the next elevator boys, hanging by the thread of the “human in the loop” habit. The only chunk of the consulting business that is accelerating involves embedding the AI revolution into enterprises – and very soon, Anthropic and OpenAI will not require the help of PwC or Deloitte for that. They are the owners of the technology: why would they pay a toll for a booth on their own road?

The irony is pointed: the companies building the technology that makes middlemen obsolete are inserting themselves as the new middlemen between the AI model and the enterprise. But even this layer is temporary. Once AI agents can deploy themselves, even that layer compresses. The OpenAI and Anthropic JV story is the last gasp of the middleman era.

The real and durable beneficiaries of the AI economy are not the model builders. Raw intelligence, reasoning, and pattern-matching are no longer rare, expensive breakthroughs – they are becoming cheap, standardized, and universally accessible. Core AI technology is turning into a commodity, just like electricity once did – and the value moves both up and down the stack.

“Up the stack” is a constantly moving target. Right now, it sits in hyper-specific vertical applications – defense, aerospace, finance, and medicine – where proprietary data, regulatory compliance, and domain expertise create durable moats. It also lives in the integration layer: the software plumbing that turns raw AI reasoning into auditable, legally compliant enterprise actions.

In the near term, value will shift further to agentic orchestration – the “Agent Overlords” that coordinate swarms of specialized AI agents, manage workflows, handle exceptions, and maintain oversight across complex business processes. These control planes will become the new scarce and valuable layer, much as operating systems and databases once did. What comes after that is harder to predict, but the pattern is clear: as each layer commoditizes, the economic prize moves to the next bottleneck.

“Down the stack” is the physical layer underpinning everything, and that’s where the true moat is. Every agentic transaction, every automated workflow, every AI-mediated business relationship runs on cloud compute, which runs on power, which runs on tangible assets unlikely to be replaceable for at least the next decade. After a century of disruption, humanity has come full circle: the “boring” material world – acres, bricks, pipes, wires, water, and power – has once again become the real source of scarcity and enduring value.

OpenAI and Anthropic are the last of the middlemen: brilliant, richly capitalized, yet ultimately dependent on infrastructure they do not own. What sits beneath them is not a new intermediary – it is bedrock.

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