To cover COMPUTEX 2026, I found myself staying in the Grand Hilai Taipei, a 5-star hotel right beside the Taipei Nangang Exhibition Center (TaiNEX), the historical home of the annual conference. I can’t help but think of The Grand Budapest Hotel, a Wes Anderson flick about a similarly decadent hotel. But it’s not the plush hotel rooms, the hospitable staff, or the Romanesque public sauna that has me thinking of the iconic 2014 film. Rather, it’s the man of the hour himself, NVIDIA’s Jensen Huang, the king of today’s AI.

In The Grand Budapest Hotel, Ralph Fiennes plays Monsieur Gustave, the eponymous hotel’s flamboyant concierge. Always the life of the party, Gustave blends seamlessly into the hotel’s luxurious pink decor as he cavorts willy-nilly with the elder clientele. While the film flings Gustave around a thrilling chase for a deceased friend’s inheritance, the film’s subtext is one of politics, mistrust, and war. Around the hotel, the world haplessly descends into the geopolitical turmoil that brought about the Second World War. And yet, Gustave remains indifferent, content as he is to be atop his lofty pulpit while luxuriating in L’Air de Panache.

The amicable Gustave as he lures you in.

Jensen Huang, clad in his trademark leather jacket, is our story’s Monsieur Gustave. Much like Gustave, Huang revels in the fanfare around him. In COMPUTEX, he’s a hero adored by the masses. Wherever he goes, fans bend over backwards to take a selfie. His merchandise (and yes, it exists), touting AI-generated versions of him, is constantly sold out. It’s a stark contrast to the world and all its doom-and-gloom for a future bloated with AI.

The silence behind the applause

Before the official start of COMPUTEX, Huang conducted his own keynote speech for NVIDIA. If you’ve been to one of his keynotes in the past, you’ll hardly recognize what it’s become. There’s no more talks of realistic graphics or faster gaming performance. It’s all about AI.

Most of his time was dedicated to Vera Rubin, a multi-rack AI supercomputer destined to power the future’s data centers. Amid the drone of technical jargon (almost bordering on technobabble), I was quietly asking myself what I was doing here. Meanwhile, beside me, an enthusiastic woman clapped with as much fervor as if Huang was the second coming of Christ himself. Even if Huang could hear her individual applause (and he most certainly didn’t), he couldn’t have seen her Googling frantically what a multi-rack AI supercomputer was.

NVIDIA’s Vera Rubin

After what felt like forever on the Vera Rubin, Huang finally talked about a consumer-ready product: the new RTX Spark laptops. Admittedly, my interest was piqued. After all, it’s supposed to be the next evolution of PCs. Cue: more applause.

Although, the subtext here is as loud as the clamor. Though it’s certainly impressive that a single RTX Spark notebook can deliver 1 petaflop of AI performance and 192GB of unified memory, this next big thing is not for you and me. No one wanted to talk about the price of these things; not a single OEM, not even Huang himself.

All the hype is on productivity and profitability. It will make more work and more money… but not for you. If anything, you’ll probably end up worse.

The price of progress

Building a PC these days can bankrupt you just as easily as visiting an American hospital. A decent stick of RAM is no longer as accessible as it was a few years ago. And it’s all thanks to AI.

Touting them as humanity’s next evolution, the world’s biggest tech companies want you, a regular consumer, to believe that the technology is coming to your home. But first, they need acres of real estate for data centers. Several states in America have already relegated land to put up these centers, much to the chagrin of their residents. Despite assurances that newer ones can more effectively balance the load on the grid, these same data centers need a lot of space, power, and water. All three of which are coming from the communities surrounding them. At the time of this writing, some state governments are pushing back against the incoming infrastructure, perhaps realizing the mistake of unimpeded data center developments. The outside world is slowly turning on AI, but it’s not a global crackdown.

These stickers are getting more expensive.

And that’s before the effect of these data centers on regular consumer technology. Besides all that land, they need a horde of silicon. That’s why NVIDIA has stopped positioning itself as a GPU company, and that’s why all the chips just disappeared. All those data centers are buying up the world’s stock of chips. It’s all a matter of supply and demand at that point; scarcity drives prices up, and we’re left to pick up the pieces. The GPU that was supposed to go to your new PC is now inside a data center somewhere in the States.

Even if you don’t live near a data center, you’re still not safe. Companies, especially in the Western world, believe that AI can replace human workers, leading to mass layoffs. To be clear, while AI can help with productivity when used as a tool, a full replacement isn’t the most feasible option yet. In fact, according to Fortune, AI is just a convenient scapegoat when companies simply want to cut labor expenses by any means necessary.

And yet, the party goes on. Huang is adamant that you are on the ground floor of a revolution that will change the world. But, sorry, bucko; that elevator is going up without you.

The mask falls

As tempting as it is to pick on a single target, the NVIDIA CEO wasn’t the only Monsieur Gustave gallivanting around COMPUTEX. Qualcomm’s Cristiano Amon had his own keynote speech to herald the annual conference. But, opposed to decadence of Huang’s optimism, Amon lets his mask fall just a tiny bit.

To his credit, Amon didn’t extol Qualcomm’s developments exclusively. Rather, he spoke of the overall effects of AI on our world. It’s, of course, the usual optimistic accoutrements of harder, better, faster, stronger for society. Eventually, his excitement gets the best of him and lets slip some shadier effects.

“6G will turn us all into walking cameras,” he said, talking about how AI will affect connectivity.

Now, to be fair, radio frequency sensing isn’t new technology. It’s already been possible to detect objects using only radio signals. 6G, bolstered by AI, will expand this to cover a much wider area for more possible uses.

Amon himself admits that it was a controversial statement. But perhaps, he doesn’t know (or care) about any potential invasions of privacy. He remains ever-so-confident that the use of 6G for surveillance will ultimately help with public safety and infrastructure.

All I can think of is The Dark Knight‘s Lucius Fox doing the moral thing and shutting off Batman’s mass surveillance system after finding the Joker.

It’s a tiny slip, but it speak volumes. Your privacy is a sacrifice that they’re willing to take.

As if that’s not enough, Amon signs off on his diatribe with a succinct “resistance is futile,” talking to those who still oppose AI.

An odd way to start off a celebration of AI, isn’t it? Traditionally, that phrase is one oft used by villainous characters, but that’s just par for the course in today’s AI-infested world. Peter Thiel, one of the moguls of AI, infamously named his company Palantir, the same malevolent surveillance tool used by Sauron in The Lord of the Rings. For some, masks don’t really exist.

The other concierge

Speaking as someone who keeps his finger on the pulse of AI more on the Western side of the world, it’s strange to see a different side of the coin. Huang and Amon are icons. You can’t last two seconds without seeing a single mention of AI somewhere on the show floor. There’s a palpable electricity when talking about the potential of AI.

And to be fair, when I talked to a few developers and engineers, I can feel the optimism. One talked about a voice assistant that would suggest better gift ideas for her spouse based on their history. Another one passionately talked about how much gaming has been better with DLSS 4.5. They truly believe that AI can work to their (and our) benefit, and I believe them. Underneath the smarminess of tech billionaires are ordinary people who found ways to better society. That’s where the conversation about AI should start.

But that’s not what the people want. The people want the parties, the glitz and the glamor. And all these billionaires desperately want to be the next Steve Jobs, the next Great Gatsby. And everyone else wants someone to hate.

In Taiwan, it’s not easy to hate a Monsieur Gustave that wants to make you feel welcome. It’s much easier to come for a monster taking your land, your jobs, and your money.

In Taiwan, Monsieur Gustave can have his parties, his adoring friends, and his fancy leather jacket. But in the rest of the world, he finds in himself the caretaker of an entirely different hotel, The Shining’s Overlook Hotel. Beneath Monsieur Gustave is Jack Torrance, and he’s always been the caretaker.

“Here’s Jensen!”

The other concierge.

I have spent the better part of the last few weeks grappling with multiple emotions.

I feel silly referencing this but as a “feel” type, my days are guided by vibe and mood. It’s been a challenge trying to reconcile and make sense of everything.

Thankfully, the Xiaomi 17T Pro presented an unexpected outlet.

So no, this isn’t exactly a review of the Xiaomi 17T Pro. This is yours truly, once again, processing feelings through a telephoto essay.

The “T” is for Telephoto

When being briefed about Xiaomi’s latest device, my favorite part was when a guest photographer jokingly attached the T in the Xiaomi 17T series to “telephoto.”

It’s not official or anything. But in this case, it made perfect sense.

My relationship with Xiaomi’s T series has always been a little complicated. For a while it felt like it was searching for an identity. One year it was positioned as a performance-focused device. Then it became an all-rounder. 

Now, one of its biggest highlights is a dedicated 115mm equivalent telephoto camera. The reality is that it might actually be all of those things at once.

For this piece, however, I ignored almost everything else. I shot almost exclusively at 115mm.

No elaborate test plan, no checklist of scenarios, and no mission to prove a point. I simply carried the phone everywhere and photographed whatever caught my attention.

At first, I thought I was testing a camera. Eventually, I realized the camera was teaching me something instead.

Chasing

When the year started, I was certain about something. Or perhaps someone.

The conversations were easy. The banter felt natural. The possibility of something more lingered quietly in the background.

After a few genuine attempts, reality eventually became clear. This wasn’t going where I secretly hoped it would. I felt defeated.

But apparently, I wasn’t done learning yet.

One thing I quickly discovered about shooting at 115mm is that distance changes how you approach a subject.

You cannot simply stand where you are and expect every shot to work. Sometimes you move. Sometimes you wait. And sometimes you accept that a moment isn’t yours to capture.

The Xiaomi 17T Pro’s telephoto camera made those adjustments feel surprisingly natural. The focal length compressed scenes beautifully while still allowing me to isolate subjects from busy surroundings.

More importantly, it encouraged patience. Not every frame needed to be forced.

Blind projection

Waiting in the wings was another lesson entirely.

As a photographer, there are moments when something catches your attention immediately. A shape. A silhouette. A person. A scene.

From a distance, it looks compelling.

The problem is that distance leaves room for imagination. Sometimes too much room. You think you know what you’re looking at. But you don’t.

The more I used the 115mm lens, the more I appreciated how it could pull distant subjects closer while still leaving context around them. It gave me a cleaner view of things that initially felt obscured.

Yet photography has limits. A lens can reveal details. It cannot reveal meaning. That part still requires understanding what’s actually in front of you.

Generative longing

After some quiet reflection, I realized that much of what occupied my attention wasn’t reality at all. It was possibility. Potential.

Stories constructed from incomplete information. As it turns out, people aren’t the only subjects we do this to. Photographers do it all the time.

We imagine a frame before it exists. Then we convince ourselves the next corner might hold something extraordinary. And we chase moments that never arrive.

Sometimes they do. Most of the time they don’t.

The Xiaomi 17T Pro encouraged a different approach.

Instead of hunting for specific shots, I found myself roaming freely. Walking more. Observing more. Adjusting my position constantly to find a better composition.

After a few days, I stopped thinking about the lens itself and started understanding the space around me.

I knew how far to stand, what would fit into frame, and when a moment was worth waiting for.

The telephoto camera became less about zooming in and more about understanding my position relative to a scene.

And that’s when things started getting interesting.

Close without crossing

Something unexpected happened while reviewing this gallery. There are more people here than in any collection of sample photos I’ve ever taken. 

Normally, I avoid photographing people. I’ve always worried it feels intrusive. The telephoto lens changed that.

The extra reach allowed me to observe moments without disrupting them. Most of the people here aren’t looking at the camera. Many are turned away entirely. They’re simply existing within their own space.

And perhaps that’s what fascinated me most.

After spending so much time chasing, projecting, and attaching meaning to things that only existed in my head, I found myself approaching photography differently.

There was no grand pursuit. No dramatic realization. No need to manufacture scenarios. I simply paid attention.

Telephoto photography is often associated with distance. Over the last few weeks, however, it taught me something else.

Distance and closeness are not always opposites.

Sometimes maintaining a little distance is what allows a moment to remain exactly what it is. Sometimes stepping back helps you see more clearly. 

And sometimes the people, places, and experiences that matter most are not the ones furthest away. They’re already within view.

Shooting at 115mm taught me that keeping a little distance can be its own way of staying close.

Maybe that’s what this gallery ultimately became. Not a collection of subjects I couldn’t reach. Not proof of anything.

Just a record of moments I was fortunate enough to witness.

In the Philippines, we’ve been trained to treat a stable internet connection like a miracle.

We pay our bills on time, hoping the “fiber-fast” gods smile upon us so we can work and study, or even stay connected from the comfort of our homes.

But as I found out in the past two weeks after I came from vacation, Converge ICT Solutions doesn’t see you as a loyal customer with a guaranteed service.

To them, you might just be a “slot” in a box; one that can be unplugged the moment it’s convenient for the system.

On May 1, at 11:30 AM, my internet just… died. There were no outage. Just that dreaded blinking red LOS (Loss of Signal) light.

We’ve all been there, right? You restart the modem, you wait, you use your mobile data, and you hope it’s just a temporary glitch. I didn’t know then that I hadn’t just lost my connection. I had been replaced.

Port-snatchers in the telephone room

The next morning, a repair crew showed up at my condominium. After checking the lines inside my unit, we went out to the hallway to check the telephone room where the NAP box is located.

This is the central hub for our floor, and I’ve been plugged into it for over a year now. I was there first. But when the technicians opened that box, they told me something so ridiculous I thought it was a prank.

My fiber line had been pulled out of its assigned slot. In its place, a newer subscriber — someone who had likely just signed up — was plugged in. I dreaded the fact that my connection wasn’t broken. It was manually removed.

It’s like paying for a reserved parking space in your own building for a year, only to come home and find the building manager gave it to a new tenant because they didn’t want to find a new spot.

In the world of Converge, your seniority and your contract mean nothing if there’s a new installation to be finished.

The “QA” trap where logic dies

This is where it gets truly frustrating. A second repair team came by a few days later and confirmed the situation. They saw the problem, and they knew exactly how to fix it by simply swapping the wires back.

They actually tried to help. But then came the “QA” (Quality Assurance) roadblock. The team told me they couldn’t leave me connected because they needed to “investigate” first.

Even though everyone knew my line was removed to make room for someone else, the “process” became more important than the customer.

It was a total circus. The technicians knew what was wrong but weren’t allowed to fix it. Meanwhile, the office claimed they were investigating while I sat in the dark. To top it off, the automated system kept closing my tickets because I wasn’t “responding” to their automated messages, even though the only response I wanted was a working connection.

I wasn’t a resident in their eyes. I was just an inconvenience in their workflow.

Scary reality of the empty slot

After I started talking about this, I realized I wasn’t alone. I heard stories from other people who had their lines “reassigned” or “swapped” just to get a new installation done quickly.

It’s a scary thought: if a NAP box is full, it seems easier for a technician to just unplug an old client to hook up a new one. It makes the company’s “new activations” look great on paper, while those of us who have been paying for years are suddenly erased from the system.

The most frightening part? As I write this, I am still offline. Despite the technicians seeing with their own eyes that my port was taken, the red light is still blinking.

To add insult to injury, the system already closed my ticket through an automated notice, even though the problem is very much unresolved. I am still waiting for “QA” to finish an investigation into a problem that has an obvious physical fix.

Even with continuous attempts to escalate the issue properly, they were still unable to address the issue.

It makes you realize how powerless you are once you’re stuck inside their machine. We’re not really paying for data. We’re paying for a commitment that seems as thin as a fiber wire.

Next time your LOS light starts blinking red, ask yourself: Is my line actually broken, or did they just give my slot to someone else?