Could this be the end of the boomerang generation? In their upcoming book, The Metropolitan Revolution, Bruce Katz and Jennifer Bradley track how America’s young adults are hitting the road, moving out of their parents’ homes, leaving marginal jobs, and crossing state lines for better employment opportunities. Census data reveal that young people are increasingly more mobile and willing to uproot themselves to new cities, very often in new states, in search of jobs. But forget New York City or San Francisco. This generation is taking up in hubs like Houston and Denver, where industries like consulting and solar energy are flourishing—setting up a shift in America’s power centers. Below, see the top 10 cities of the future.

Metro Area                Avg. Migration*

^{*Average annual net migration of 25- to 34-year-olds, 2009–11.}

In an effort to identify and locate the most pivotal of American history’s overlooked moments, Andrew Carroll has traveled to all 50 states, amassed two dozen file cabinets of research, and even attracted the suspicions of the FBI.

The result is Here Is Where: Discovering America’s Great Forgotten History, a 457-page book documenting his four-year journey to bring attention to uncelebrated stories “that reverberate nationally” and the sites where they occurred.

In 2009 the Washington, D.C.–based author set out to track down these little-known landmarks. For months at a time, he crisscrossed the country in an erratic route he likens to a Jackson Pollock painting. Among his many trips, he has traveled to Hawaii’s farthest inhabited island, owned by a family of Scottish ranchers, where the Japanese landed during World War II; he has located the Rigby, Idaho, farm where a young Philo Farnsworth first found inspiration that led to the invention of the electric television; and he paid tribute to the North Carolina highway where legendary African-American heavyweight boxer Jack Johnson died in a car crash.

Geologists are not generally all that excitable. After all, developments in their field generally take place over millions of years. But when scientists began scouring the Atlantic off southeast Brazil in 2011, they suspected that they were on to something—
and something very big, at that.

Two years—and half a dozen deep-sea expeditions later—the geological world is abuzz. Brazilian marine geologists are poring over the rubble dredged up from the undersea excavations in the so-called Rio Grande Elevation, and the research done by a Japanese exploration vessel, which deployed a mini, three-man submarine to comb the same waters before sailing on to Rio.

So what did the rubble reveal?

YOU’VE HEARD of his black cod with miso that’ll make your eyes roll back into your head. Now Nobu Matsuhisa—the culinary legend who brought Japanese-Peruvian fusion to a well-heeled crowd with 25 restaurants around the world—is entering the hotelier game. Las Vegas’s newest destination, the Nobu Hotel, is nestled inside Caesars Palace just steps away from a sleek, inviting new Nobu restaurant.

A chef’s hotel? It’s not as odd as it sounds. Like everything else found in Sin City, this is 100 percent natural.

Longtime Nobu restaurant partners Robert De Niro and film producer Meir Teper teamed up with the chef to develop Nobu Hotel in what was previously Caesars Palace’s Centurion tower. The hotel’s soft launch was in February, but its lavish Vegas-style grand opening party was thrown at the end of April. The entrance is so discreet, set a few steps below Nobu Way, that people not aware of its existence (and this included many guests staying in regular ol’ Caesars when I visited in early April) would be surprised to discover Japanese minimalism inside opulent ancient Roman environs.

Years after Boeing committed to using lithium-ion batteries in its 787 Dreamliner, other airplane makers developing advanced new jets have rejected the technology as too risky. As Boeing executives found themselves on the defensive this week at a National Transportation Board inquiry into their choice of batteries, it has become clear that other planemakers are not surprised that the lithium-ion batteries had problems serious enough to cause the grounding of the entire 787 fleet for more than three months.

A whole batch of new airplanes that will be flying soon have rejected lithium-ion batteries in favor of the older and well proven nickel-cadmium technology. These include the 787’s direct competitor, the Airbus A350, which will be making its first flight this summer. (Airbus initially chose lithium-ion batteries but dropped them when Boeing’s problems became clear.) Two other new passenger jets, the 110-130 seat Bombardier C-series, made in Canada, and the 90-seat Japanese Mitsubishi Regional Jet, have also gone with the older, safer option.

 “We looked at the technology and decided that lithium-ion batteries were not ready, not stable enough, to be used on our airplane,” Bombardier spokesman Marc Duchesne told The Daily Beast. Mitsubishi president Teruaki Kawai told The New York Times that he regarded lithium-ion batteries as “Too dangerous. The technology isn’t mature enough for a plane like ours.”

Growing up in a port, you look outward. The low elephant grief of ships’ horns was the soundtrack of my Bristolian childhood. We were proud of our seafaring roots: my parents named my brother Mathew after the ship in which John Cabot sailed away from our city to discover the North American mainland (or so it was said: we weren’t having any of that Viking explorer nonsense).

Saxon settlers founded Bristol 1,000 years ago on the banks of the Avon in the southwest of England, although Romans had been there before them, as today’s arrow-straight roads reveal. The modern city is a riot of stone, unlike London, which is brick built. On either side of the gleaming cobbles of King Street, half-timber Tudor trows (inns) shoulder up to multistory car parks, the kind of historical overlap typical of this most organic of urban centers. On the elegant 19th-century streets of the Clifton neighborhood, neoclassical mansions exude the confidence of mercantile wealth built on sugar and slavery, as do the names of the streets—Whiteladies Road, Blackboy Hill—while around the Hotwells Spa, where slavers’ wives once enjoyed the waters, developers have moved in to renovate the Georgian townhouses.

If a single image represents Bristol, it is the Clifton Suspension Bridge, a soaring half hoop spanning the Avon. Initially funded by a wine merchant (a nice Bristolian touch, that), the bridge was eventually designed by a 24-year-old named Isambard Kingdom Brunel. All he wanted to do was build a bridge that held up, but in the process Brunel created a piece of beauty to rival the Pont Neuf. Incidentally, the tidal range of the Avon—a whopping 43 feet, the second highest in the world—meant that when ships were grounded at low tide, the crew were obliged to tie every last thing down, hence the still-current expression “shipshape and Bristol fashion.”