The New
American Dream

My father came to America with nothing. No connections. No safety net. No guarantee that anything would work out. What he had was a belief, one that has pulled millions of people across oceans and borders for generations, that the United States of America is the single best place on Earth for a person to go from nothing to something, if they are willing to learn and willing to work.

That belief is not naive. It is the founding thesis of this country. America was built by people who bet on themselves: immigrants, pioneers, inventors, and risk-takers who looked at an uncertain future and decided to build rather than wait. The American Dream was never a guarantee of comfort. It was a guarantee of possibility. The promise was not that you would succeed. The promise was that you would be free to try.

For decades, the vehicle for that promise was clear: get an education, get a degree, get a job, climb the ladder. It was a formula. It worked. And for a long time, it worked well enough that questioning it seemed unnecessary. Generations of families organized their entire lives around this sequence. Parents saved for college funds. Students took on debt with the faith that a diploma would open doors. Employers used degrees as shorthand for competence. The system was imperfect, but it was legible. Everyone understood the rules.

But something has shifted. The formula is breaking down. The doors that degrees used to open are closing, or leading to rooms that look nothing like what was promised. The ladder has rungs missing. And an entire generation of young Americans is standing at the threshold of adulthood, looking at a path their parents walked confidently, and feeling the ground shift beneath their feet.

In its place, something new is emerging, something that may be even more powerful, more accessible, and more aligned with the original spirit of that American promise than anything that came before it. Not a new formula. A new freedom. The freedom to build.

This essay is about that shift. It is about why the next generation of American founders will not come from venture-backed accelerators in San Francisco. They will come from dorm rooms, high school classrooms, community colleges, and kitchen tables. They will be students. And they will build the future.

The social contract between higher education and the American workforce is fracturing. For the first time in modern history, a majority of Americans are questioning whether a college degree is worth the investment. This is not a fringe opinion held by contrarians on the internet. It is a tectonic shift in how an entire society thinks about the relationship between education and economic opportunity.

Among those aged 18 to 34, the very people the system is supposed to serve, the decline in confidence has been among the steepest. They are watching tuition costs soar while the economic premium of a degree shrinks. They are entering a job market where entry-level postings have declined roughly 35% since January 2023. They are graduating into a world where the degree on their wall feels less like a golden ticket and more like an expensive receipt.

The economics tell a brutal story. Americans now owe $1.84 trillion in student loan debt, a number so large it has lost its capacity to shock. Behind that figure are 44.6 million individual borrowers, many of whom are making monthly payments on a promise that has not materialized. The average undergraduate leaves school with $29,300 in debt. For graduate students, the numbers are staggering: $69,000 for a master’s degree, $140,000 for law school, $200,000 for medical school. And as of late 2025, 9.57% of student loans are 90 or more days delinquent, up from just 0.53% a year prior. Nearly one in ten borrowers cannot keep up with payments on an investment that was supposed to be the safest bet they would ever make.

Meanwhile, something interesting is happening on the other side of the equation. Workers aged 25 to 34 who do not have a degree have seen their wages increase over the past decade. The trades are booming. Alternative credentials are gaining legitimacy. The market is beginning to price in what young people already feel intuitively: the value of a traditional four-year degree is not what it used to be.

To be clear, this is not an argument against education. Education is the foundation of everything that follows in this essay. The ability to think critically, to write clearly, to solve problems systematically, to understand history and science and human nature: these skills have never been more valuable. But there is a critical difference between education and credentialing. The value of learning how to think, how to build, how to solve problems. That has never been higher. The value of a piece of paper that signals you sat in enough classrooms? That is in free fall.

The young people who recognize this distinction earliest will have an enormous advantage. Not because they reject education, but because they refuse to let a credential be the ceiling of their ambition. They understand that the most valuable education in 2026 is not the one that ends with a diploma ceremony. It is the one that ends with a product, a customer, a business: something real that they built with their own hands and minds.

The old formula said: learn, then earn. The new formula says: learn by earning. Build while you study. Ship while you learn. The classroom and the marketplace are no longer sequential experiences. For the most ambitious students, they are becoming the same thing.

While confidence in the traditional path erodes, a parallel force is accelerating the urgency. Artificial intelligence is not coming for jobs in the abstract, theoretical future that futurists have warned about for decades. It is reshaping the labor market right now, in real time, and the people feeling it first and hardest are the youngest workers, the very cohort that was told their degrees would protect them.

This fear is not irrational. It is grounded in data that is becoming impossible to ignore. Goldman Sachs analysis found that employment for workers aged 22 to 25 in AI-exposed roles fell 6% between late 2022 and mid-2025. Young software developers, the very people who were supposed to be building the technology, saw nearly a 20% decline in employment over that period. Cornell University research found that U.S. companies adopting AI reduced junior hiring by approximately 13%.

A landmark August 2025 study from Stanford, led by economist Erik Brynjolfsson, confirmed these trends with unprecedented precision. Analyzing high-frequency payroll records from millions of American workers through ADP, the largest payroll software firm in the United States, the study found a 13% relative decline in employment for early-career workers in the most AI-exposed jobs since the widespread adoption of generative AI tools. The impact was described as “significant and disproportionate,” concentrated specifically among workers aged 22 to 25 in white-collar fields like software engineering and customer service. Meanwhile, employment for older, more experienced workers in the same occupations remained stable or grew by 6% to 9%.

The message from the Stanford research is unambiguous: of all demographic cohorts in the labor market, recent graduates are being hit the hardest and taking the longest to find work. This is not a temporary blip caused by economic cycles or hiring freezes. It is a structural shift in how companies value entry-level labor when AI can perform many of the tasks those roles were designed around.

The implications are staggering, and they cut in two directions. For organizations, the hollowing out of junior roles creates a long-term crisis: without entry-level positions providing foundational experience, companies risk a permanent shortage of senior talent. You cannot grow experienced workers if you never hire inexperienced ones. But for the young people being squeezed out of the traditional pipeline, the implications are personal and immediate. The path from degree to desk job to career (the path their parents walked, the path their professors described, the path their student loans were supposed to fund) is narrowing with every quarterly earnings call that celebrates headcount reduction through AI adoption.

But here is the part of the story that most commentators miss. History teaches us, with remarkable consistency, what happens when traditional employment paths narrow: entrepreneurship surges. It happened after the 2008 financial crisis. It happened during COVID-19, when new business applications exploded to record levels as millions of Americans, forced out of traditional employment, discovered they could build something on their own. And it is happening again now.

In 2025, Americans filed 5.62 million new business applications, an 8.2% increase over 2024, which was itself a record-setting year. Since the start of 2026, applications are up 25.5% over the same period last year. These are not abstract economic indicators. Each application represents a person who looked at the traditional job market, looked at the tools available to them, and made a decision: I will build my own path.

But this time is fundamentally different from every previous cycle of displacement-driven entrepreneurship. This time, the same force that is displacing jobs is simultaneously handing displaced people the most powerful set of building tools in human history. The technology that closes one door opens a thousand others. And that paradox, that AI is both the problem and the solution, is the engine that will drive the largest wave of new company creation the world has ever seen.

There is a profound irony at the heart of the AI revolution: the technology that threatens to eliminate entry-level jobs is the same technology that makes it possible for a single person to build what used to require an entire company. For decades, starting a real business (not a side project, but a genuine, scalable enterprise) required capital, connections, and a team. You needed developers to build your product, designers to make it look professional, lawyers to incorporate, accountants to manage your books, marketers to find customers, and customer service representatives to keep them. The minimum viable team for a minimum viable product was five to ten people and a six-figure budget. That world is gone.

But the vision goes further than groups of 20. Naval Ravikant has been predicting the rise of the one-person business for years: a model where a single individual, armed with the right leverage, can build scalable enterprises with no staff, no funding, and minimal overhead. When Naval first articulated this vision in 2018, it was aspirational. Interesting as a thought experiment, but impractical for most people. In 2026, it is operational. It is happening. Real people are building real companies, generating real revenue, with teams of one.

Marc Andreessen, co-founder of Andreessen Horowitz and one of the most influential voices in technology, has predicted a boom in solo billion-dollar startups enabled by AI. He describes a future of “single-person unicorns”: individuals who can access tools that match the capabilities of entire teams. Sam Altman, CEO of OpenAI, has echoed this vision, calling this “the best time ever in the history of technology to start a company” and affirming his belief that AI will enable solopreneur-run billion-dollar businesses. This is not science fiction. This is the current trajectory, described by the people who are building the technology.

Consider, concretely, what AI enables a single founder to do today. Market research that used to take a consulting firm three months and $50,000 can be conducted in an afternoon. A functional software prototype that would have required a development team and six months of work can be built in a weekend. Marketing copy, design assets, financial models, legal documents, pitch decks, business plans: all of these can be generated, refined, and deployed by one person with the right prompts and the right tools. Customer service can be automated. Inventory can be managed algorithmically. Data can be analyzed at scale. Competitors can be tracked in real time.

The numbers are staggering. Startups with budgets under $50,000 can now ship production-grade applications that previously required $200,000 or more in development spend. Most small businesses can launch AI-powered operations for under $5,000 or $20 to $100 per month per user using off-the-shelf tools. The cost per unit of AI inference is declining at an estimated 5x to 10x per year. What was expensive last year is cheap this year and will be nearly free next year. The marginal cost of starting a real business has collapsed toward zero.

Naval Ravikant’s framework for wealth creation has never been more relevant: the formula is specific knowledge, plus accountability, plus leverage. Specific knowledge is what you know that others do not: the unique intersection of your skills, experience, and curiosity. Accountability is the willingness to put your name on something and own the outcome. And leverage is what multiplies your effort beyond what one person could normally achieve.

AI is the greatest leverage amplifier in human history. It does not replace specific knowledge. It amplifies it. A student who understands automotive repair and AI can build something that neither a pure technologist nor a pure mechanic could create alone. A student who understands education and AI can build learning tools that no edtech company staffed entirely by engineers could imagine. The specific knowledge lives in the founder. The AI provides the leverage to turn that knowledge into a product, a company, a movement.

And who is most naturally positioned to take advantage of this new reality? Not the executive with 20 years of institutional habits to unlearn. Not the middle manager who has never built anything from scratch. Not the consultant who has spent a career advising others rather than shipping. The people best positioned are those who have grown up with these tools, who see AI as a natural extension of their capabilities rather than a threat to their identity, who have low overhead, high energy, and nothing to lose.

Students.

The data tells a story that the traditional institutions have been slow to recognize: young people are not just interested in entrepreneurship as a career option among many. They are gravitating toward it as a primary identity, a way of being in the world that feels more authentic and more promising than any alternative the traditional economy is offering them.

Half. Not 10%. Not a motivated minority. Half of all young Americans want to build something of their own. And the gap between intention and action is narrowing rapidly. One in five Gen Z and Millennial founders say they were students before starting their businesses, compared with just 3% of Gen X and Baby Boomer founders. That is not an incremental shift. It is a generational transformation in when people start building.

Forty percent of Gen Z self-identify as entrepreneurs. Not as aspiring entrepreneurs, not as people who might start a business someday, but as entrepreneurs right now, regardless of whether they have launched a company yet. The identity precedes the action. They see themselves as builders first, and they are looking for the tools and communities to make that identity real.

More than 80% of Gen Z entrepreneurs describe their businesses as purpose-driven. This is a generation that wants to build things that matter, not just things that make money. They are motivated by impact as much as income. When asked why they want to start businesses, the top answers are being their own boss (49%) and pursuing a passion (42%). Financial independence is a goal, but it is intertwined with autonomy and meaning in a way that previous generations did not articulate as clearly.

The Creator Economy Pipeline

To understand why this generation thinks like founders, you have to understand the creator economy. Eighty-three percent of Gen Z consider themselves “creators,” according to YouTube’s Culture and Trends Report. They have grown up building audiences, creating content, and monetizing their skills online. The creator economy is now a $250 billion industry, projected to hit $480 billion by 2027. Social commerce is expected to reach $2.9 trillion by 2026.

This is the pipeline that no business school curriculum accounts for. A 17-year-old who builds a following on TikTok or YouTube has already learned the fundamentals of marketing, audience development, content strategy, and brand building. They have learned to iterate based on feedback. They have learned that consistency compounds. They have learned to ship. The step from creator to founder is not a leap. It is a natural extension of skills they have been developing since middle school.

The data confirms the pipeline is real: the percentage of entrepreneurs who started their venture as a side hustle increased from 27% in 2022 to 44% in 2023. Gen Z earns an average of $102 per hour through online side hustles, five times higher than average earnings for young professionals in traditional roles. Nearly 80% of Gen Z professionals utilize AI tools for over half of their work tasks. They are already building. They just need someone to show them that what they are doing has a name, a framework, and a future.

The Cultural Shift

There is a cultural revolution happening beneath the surface of the statistics. Social media has made entrepreneurship aspirational in a way it has never been in human history. Young people are watching founders build in public, share their revenue numbers, document their failures and breakthroughs in real time. The founder archetype has shifted from a distant, mysterious figure in a corner office, someone who went to Stanford Business School and raised $10 million from a Sand Hill Road VC, to someone who looks like them, talks like them, and started from exactly where they are.

Alex Hormozi, who built a portfolio of companies generating over $200 million annually, resonates so deeply with this generation because he strips away the gatekeeping. His message is radical in its simplicity: you do not need permission. You do not need a perfect plan. You do not need to come from the right background or have the right connections. You need to start. And the tools to start have never been more accessible.

The Proof of Concept

The Thiel Fellowship has been proving this thesis for over a decade. Peter Thiel’s program offers $200,000 to individuals aged 22 or younger to drop out of school and build. The results are extraordinary: 290 fellows have created over $750 billion in value. The program has produced more than 11 unicorn companies worth over $100 billion combined. Vitalik Buterin, who received the fellowship in 2014, co-founded Ethereum, a platform that has created trillions in value and redefined decentralized finance. Dylan Field, a 2012 fellow, built Figma into a $10 billion design platform. The cofounders of Mercor, an AI hiring platform, were all Thiel Fellows and grew their company to a $2 billion valuation by early 2026.

And Y Combinator, the most prestigious startup accelerator in the world, is seeing the same trend. The median age of YC founders dropped from 30 in 2022 to 24 in the summer 2025 cohort. The world’s top startup investors are not just accepting younger founders. They are actively seeking them. When there is a major technology platform shift like AI, the balance of power between youth and experience shifts decisively in favor of youth. The people who grew up with the new technology have an intuition for it that no amount of experience can replicate.

If student founders represent the demand side of this equation (a massive, growing population of young people who want to build), then a new model of education represents the supply side. And nowhere is the future of that supply side more visible than at Alpha School.

Alpha School has fundamentally reimagined what education can look like when you remove the artificial constraints of the industrial age. Using an AI-driven platform rooted in learning science, students master a full year of academic material in roughly 20 to 22 hours of instruction, completing their core academics in just two hours per day. This is not a watered-down curriculum or a shortcut. Alpha students who have been in the system for two or more years consistently rank in the top 1% nationally on standardized tests. They are not sacrificing academic rigor for entrepreneurial exposure. They are excelling at both, because the model is designed to make that possible.

The remaining hours of each day are devoted to a life skills curriculum that includes 24 distinct competencies: leadership, teamwork, grit, public speaking, coding, financial literacy, and, critically, entrepreneurship. At Alpha, 8-year-olds launch startups. Ten-year-olds give TED-style talks. Twelve-year-olds tackle Harvard Business School case studies. This is not a gimmick or an enrichment program bolted onto a traditional school. It is the core of the educational model, built from first principles around the question: what do young people actually need to thrive in the 21st century?

Alpha’s staffing model is equally revolutionary. They hire two types of people: exceptional traditional teachers who are thrilled to stop lecturing and grading quizzes, and high-achieving individuals from outside education (former coaches, athletes, Olympians, and entrepreneurs) who serve as role models and mentors. The message to students is unmistakable: the adults in your life are not just academics. They are doers. They are builders. And you can be too.

Alpha School is a leading indicator of where all education is heading. But it is not the only signal. Across the country, universities are launching entrepreneurship programs, community colleges are partnering with local accelerators, and high schools are experimenting with project-based learning that looks more like startup development than traditional coursework. The institutions that are paying attention understand that the value proposition of education is shifting from credential delivery to capability building.

The question is not whether AI-powered, entrepreneurship-focused education will become mainstream. The question is how fast, and who will lead the transition. The institutions that move first, the universities, community colleges, high schools, and launchpads that recognize this shift and build infrastructure to support it, will define the next generation of American opportunity. The ones that cling to the old model will find themselves increasingly irrelevant to the students they are supposed to serve.

Tony Robbins, Dean Graziosi, and AI educator Igor Pogany recognized this gap and launched the AI Advantage Summit in April 2026, a free global virtual event designed to help entrepreneurs understand and practically apply artificial intelligence. The fact that one of the world’s most recognizable performance coaches is now dedicating major resources to AI entrepreneurship education tells you everything about where the market is heading. The demand is real. The infrastructure to meet it is only beginning to be built.

Any one of the trends described in this essay would be significant on its own. A decline in confidence in higher education would reshape how young people think about their futures. AI-driven job displacement would create urgency around alternative economic paths. The collapse in startup costs would lower barriers to entry. A cultural shift toward founder identity would change what young people aspire to become. New educational models would demonstrate that students can build real things while they learn.

But these are not isolated trends. They are converging, simultaneously and right now, into the largest untapped market in entrepreneurship education that has ever existed. Understanding the convergence is the key to understanding why this moment is different from anything that has come before.

The Six Forces

Force 1: Declining confidence in the traditional degree-to-job pipeline. Thirty-two percent of Americans have lost confidence in higher education. Forty-nine percent of Gen Z believes AI has diminished the value of their degree. The enrollment cliff is here, with a 13% projected decline in traditional-age college students by 2041. The old path is not just losing appeal. It is losing participants.

Force 2: AI-driven job displacement hitting youngest workers hardest. Entry-level postings are down 35%. The Stanford study shows a 13% relative decline in early-career employment in AI-exposed fields. Eighty-nine percent of 2026 graduates fear AI will replace their roles before they can fill them. The urgency is not abstract. It is personal for an entire generation.

Force 3: AI as a building tool collapsing the cost and complexity of starting a business. Development costs are down 80%. A production-grade application that required $200,000 can now be built for under $50,000. Off-the-shelf AI tools cost $20 to $100 per month. The marginal cost of starting a real business has collapsed toward zero, and it keeps falling.

Force 4: A cultural shift toward founder identity among young people. Fifty percent of students aged 16 to 25 want to start a business. Forty percent of Gen Z self-identify as entrepreneurs. The creator economy has trained an entire generation in the fundamentals of building audiences and monetizing skills. The pipeline from creator to founder is wide open.

Force 5: New educational models proving that students can build while they learn. Alpha School students rank in the top 1% academically while launching startups at age 8. Y Combinator’s median founder age has dropped from 30 to 24. The Thiel Fellowship has created over $750 billion in value from founders under 22. The evidence is overwhelming: youth is not a limitation. It is an advantage.

Force 6: Record business formation rates confirming the entrepreneurial impulse is already in motion. 5.62 million new business applications in 2025. A 25.5% increase in early 2026 over the same period last year. The entrepreneurial wave is not coming. It is here. The question is whether we will build the infrastructure to support it.

The White Space

And yet, almost no one is building for this market. The existing entrepreneurship ecosystem (accelerators, incubators, venture capital firms) is designed for people who have already graduated, already raised capital, already built teams. Y Combinator does not accept high school students. Most accelerators require incorporated companies with revenue. The entire infrastructure of startup support assumes that the founder is a 28-year-old with a few years of work experience and a network of potential investors.

The content landscape is equally mismatched. The most popular entrepreneurship content, from podcasts to YouTube channels to bestselling books, is aimed at experienced operators. The advice assumes you have savings, a professional network, and the ability to go full-time on your idea. For a 19-year-old in a dorm room with $500 in their bank account and a full course load, most of this content is aspirational at best and irrelevant at worst.

The educational institutions that should be leading the charge are, with notable exceptions, still teaching the old formula. Business schools are teaching case studies about companies that were founded before their students were born. Entrepreneurship courses are teaching how to write business plans instead of how to build products. Computer science departments are preparing students for jobs at big tech companies that are cutting junior hiring by 13% per year.

There is a massive gap between the demand for student-focused entrepreneurship education and the supply of practical, AI-native programs that meet students where they actually are, with limited time, limited money, unlimited curiosity, and access to the most powerful building tools in human history. That gap is not a problem. It is the opportunity of a generation.

What students need is not another motivational speech about following their passion. They have heard that speech. They have watched the TED talk. They have read the Instagram caption. What they need is radically practical: real tools, used by real founders, to solve real problems, demonstrated by someone who has actually done it.

They need to see AI used in a real business, not as a theoretical concept in a lecture hall, but as the engine of a functioning company. They need to see a founder who used ChatGPT to write their first sales email, who used an AI design tool to create their logo, who used automation to manage their customer pipeline, who used data analysis to identify their market. They need to see someone who started from where they are, not someone who started from a Stanford dorm room with a venture capitalist parent, and built something real.

They need frameworks, not fantasies. A framework for validating an idea in a weekend. A framework for building a minimum viable product with AI tools in 30 days. A framework for finding their first 10 customers. A framework for going from side project to real revenue. Frameworks that are specific enough to follow and flexible enough to adapt to any domain, any background, any starting point.

They need programs that are free or low-cost, because the students with the most to gain from entrepreneurship are often the ones with the least to spend on education about it. The irony of a $10,000 entrepreneurship bootcamp is painful: the people who could benefit most cannot afford it, and the people who can afford it often do not need it. Access cannot be gated by ability to pay. The mission demands a different economic model.

They need communities, because entrepreneurship is lonely and the dropout rate for founders who lack support is staggering. A student who tries to build a startup alone, in a dorm room, without anyone who understands what they are going through, is fighting on two fronts: against the market and against isolation. Communities change the equation. When you are surrounded by other people who are building, the difficulty does not decrease, but the loneliness does. And in the early days of a startup, loneliness kills more ventures than competition ever will.

They need mentors who have built things, not theorists who have studied things. There is an unbridgeable gap between someone who has written a book about entrepreneurship and someone who has lived it, who has felt the terror of missing payroll, the euphoria of the first sale, the gut-punch of a product that nobody wants, and the quiet satisfaction of iterating until something clicks. Students can tell the difference. They gravitate toward authenticity because they have grown up in a world saturated with performance.

And they need a platform that grows with them, from first idea to first customer to first hire to first revenue milestone. Not a one-time workshop. Not a single presentation. A sustained ecosystem that meets them wherever they are in their journey and provides the next tool, the next framework, the next connection they need to keep moving forward.

This is not about creating the next billion-dollar company, though some of these students will. It is about something much larger and more important: equipping an entire generation with the skills, tools, and mindset to create their own economic futures. It is about restoring the promise that brought my father to this country: that with knowledge and effort, anyone can build something from nothing. That promise is not dead. It is being reborn in a new form, powered by new tools, and waiting to be claimed by the generation bold enough to reach for it.

The future belongs to those who build it. That has always been true. What is new, and genuinely unprecedented in human history, is that “those who build it” no longer need to be wealthy, well-connected, or decades into their careers. They can be 19 and sitting in a university library. They can be 16 and working on a laptop at the kitchen table. They can be a first-generation college student at a community college who has never met a venture capitalist. They can be anyone, anywhere, with an idea and the willingness to learn.

The student founder era is not a prediction. It is already underway. Five and a half million new businesses were formed last year. The youngest generation of workers is more entrepreneurial than any that came before them. The median age of founders at the world’s most prestigious accelerator has dropped by six years in three years. AI is eliminating excuses and amplifying effort. The question is no longer whether this wave will hit. It is whether we will be ready for it.

The leaders and thinkers who see the future most clearly (Naval Ravikant, Marc Andreessen, Peter Diamandis, Alex Hormozi, Sam Altman, Ray Kurzweil, Tony Robbins) are all pointing in the same direction. Small teams. Individual founders. AI-powered leverage. The democratization of building. The collapse of barriers. The rise of the solo entrepreneur. They are describing a world that is already emerging, and the people who will inherit that world are sitting in classrooms right now.

Somewhere right now, a student is staring at a problem and wondering if they could build something to solve it. They do not have a team. They do not have funding. They do not have a business degree or a LinkedIn network full of investors. But they have curiosity. They have AI. They have the most powerful entrepreneurial toolkit ever assembled at their fingertips. And they have something that no amount of experience can manufacture: the audacity to believe they can figure it out.

They just need someone to show them it is possible. They need a roadmap drawn by someone who has walked the path, not just studied the map. They need a community of peers who are building alongside them. They need proof that someone who looks like them, who started from where they are, who faced the same doubts and constraints and skepticism, has already done it.

The American Dream is not dying. It is being reborn. And the people who will carry it forward are not waiting for permission. They are not waiting for the job market to recover, or for their degree to pay off, or for someone to hand them an opportunity. They are building. Right now. Today. With nothing but an idea, an internet connection, and the most powerful technology humans have ever created.

That is the movement. That is the mission. And it starts now.