A young genius, a stolen legacy. Picture this: it's 1921, Idaho. A fourteen-year-old kid named Philo Farnsworth is working a potato field when lightning strikes—not literally, but intellectually. He realizes something radical: what if you could break down images into scannable lines and transmit them through the air? He sketches it out right there in the dirt between potato rows.

He builds it. He gets it working. Television. The technology that would reshape human civilization.

Fifty years later? He's nearly broke, watching the world—corporations, networks, billionaires—rake in fortunes off his invention. The man who saw the future died watching everyone else get rich from it.

It's a brutal story about who gets to own innovation, who captures the value, and who gets left behind. Sounds familiar in any space where creators fight to control their own work.