Anthropic, the lab behind the Claude AI, published a report saying that last month more than 80% of the new code in its own software was written by its AI, not its engineers. A year ago that number was tiny. It calls this an early sign of AI starting to improve AI, and says it would be willing to slow down, but only if its rivals slow down too, and only if everyone can actually check that the others did.
Why care: this is the first big AI company to show its own internal numbers and say, out loud, "this is moving fast enough that we may need a brake." The catch is that "we'll pause if everyone pauses" has no referee yet, and the figures are the company's own. It still set the tone for the whole day.
Anthropic published a report, When AI builds itself, putting a number on something the field has only gestured at: in May, more than 80% of the code merged into Anthropic's production codebase was written by Claude, up from low single digits before Claude Code shipped in February 2025. Counting scripts and throwaway experiments, leadership puts it past 90%. Engineers merged roughly 8× more code per day than in 2024, a figure the company itself flags as quantity, not quality.
The quality line is the one to sit with. Anthropic dates Claude's output as "somewhat worse than human-written code at Anthropic in late 2025, is roughly at parity today, and we expect it to be strictly better within the year." Two step-changes drove the curve: Claude Code's launch, and the 2026 shift to letting it work autonomously.
Then the ask. Anthropic frames this as early evidence of recursive self-improvement and says it would consider slowing down, but only together, and only if it can be checked:
If such systems existed, we expect that we would slow down or temporarily pause, if other developers at or near the frontier also did so in a verifiable manner.
That's a coordination proposal, not a moratorium. No unilateral commitment, no named threshold, no enforcement; the institute's actual work is to build the verification machinery that would let labs across several countries confirm everyone really stopped. The 80% and 8× numbers are self-reported and unaudited, and "lines merged" measures volume over worth. But a frontier lab putting its own production metrics on the table and saying "we may need a brake" is the day's center of gravity.
The Financial Times reports that the NSA is using an Anthropic AI called Mythos, one the company keeps off the market because it's frighteningly good at finding holes in software, to go on the offensive in cyber operations, with Anthropic staff helping run it. The odd twist: a few months ago the US government had flagged Anthropic itself as a security risk, lumping it in with banned Chinese firms.
Why care: it's reporting based on unnamed sources, not a confirmed program, so hold it loosely. But if it's right, it's a new kind of arrangement, a private AI lab's most dangerous model plugged straight into a spy agency, and nobody's written the rules for it.
Per Financial Times reporting, the NSA is using Mythos, an Anthropic cyber model the company has kept off the market because it's too good at finding and chaining software exploits, for offensive operations, with roughly half a dozen Anthropic engineers embedded at the agency to stand it up. Both the NSA and Anthropic declined to comment.
The detail that makes it sting: in March, the administration tagged Anthropic as a supply-chain risk alongside Huawei and ZTE, a designation Anthropic is fighting in court. The same model judged too dangerous to release, run by the same company judged too risky to trust, is reportedly inside the country's signals-intelligence shop doing vulnerability discovery at scale.
This is anonymous-sourced reporting, not a confirmed program, and "offensive" here means finding and chaining bugs, which isn't the same as live operations against targets. Treat the specifics as allegations. But the shape is plausible and it matters: a withheld frontier model, embedded engineers, and a state cyber agency is a new kind of public-private arrangement, and nobody has written the rules for it.
ChatGPT used to remember only the facts you explicitly told it to save. Now, with an update called "Dreaming," it quietly reviews your past chats in the background and builds a running picture of you, and it even updates itself: "planning a trip to Singapore" becomes "went to Singapore" once you're back. OpenAI says it now remembers facts about twice as accurately as before, and runs cheaply enough to give everyone, not just paying users. It's reaching US Plus and Pro accounts first.
Why care: a more useful assistant, but worth poking at the settings. Deleting a chat doesn't erase what ChatGPT learned from it, and the page that's supposed to show what it remembers admits it might not show everything.
The old ChatGPT memory was a list of facts you told it to keep. The new system, Dreaming V3, is a background process: it reads across your whole history offline and synthesizes a structured profile, then injects it at the system-prompt layer. It also self-corrects. "You're going to Singapore in July" rewrites itself to "you went to Singapore in July 2026" with no prompt from you.
OpenAI's own numbers: factual recall climbs from 41.5% (the 2024 saved-memories baseline) to 82.8% on Dreaming V3, with the background synthesis running about 5× cheaper than before. That cost drop is the real unlock. It's what makes always-on memory affordable below the paid tiers, not just for Plus and Pro. Rollout started June 4 for US Plus and Pro, with Free, Go, and international to follow.
The honest caveats sit on the data side. The numbers are internal and unpublished. And there are gaps between the mental model and the behavior: the Memory Summary page says outright it may not show everything retained, deleting a chat doesn't delete the memory derived from it, and switching off saved memories doesn't touch the separate "improve the model for everyone" setting. Genuinely useful, worth reading the toggles closely.
The leaders of OpenAI, Anthropic, Google DeepMind, and Microsoft's AI group signed an open letter asking Congress to require companies that sell made-to-order DNA to check what's being ordered and who's ordering it. Their worry: AI is getting good enough to walk a bad actor through dangerous biology that used to need a PhD, and right now the screening that would catch a suspicious order is optional.
Why care: it's unusual to see the people building a technology ask to be regulated because of it. The fix is mundane on purpose, check the order, check the buyer, keep records, and there's already a bipartisan bill it could ride.
An open letter to Congress, organized by the Institute for Progress and the Foundation for American Innovation, wants mandatory screening built into the synthetic-biology supply chain: every seller of synthetic DNA and RNA, and the gear to make it, would have to screen the sequences ordered, verify who's buying, and keep records. The signatures are the story: Altman, Amodei, Hassabis, and Microsoft AI's Mustafa Suleyman, alongside Meta's Alexandr Wang, Stripe's Patrick Collison, Y Combinator's Paul Graham, Lawrence Lessig, and Twist Bioscience's CEO.
Their argument, in the letter's words:
AI systems now outperform PhD-level virologists on questions about highly technical laboratory procedures.
The fix they want is deliberately unglamorous. Screening is voluntary today, so a bad actor just routes an order to a provider that doesn't bother; mandatory screening plus know-your-customer plus recordkeeping closes that gap. There's a live vehicle, the bipartisan Biosecurity Modernization and Innovation Act (S. 3741, Cotton and Klobuchar), and Twist's presence means at least one company that would be regulated is asking for it. The "outperforms virologists" line is the signatories' own framing, not a cited study, and screening tools have themselves been shown to miss engineered sequences, so this is a floor, not a cure.
Three things landed this week that all point the same way. Anthropic let companies aim its AI at their own code, and it turned up over 10,000 serious flaws in a month. University researchers built a proof-of-concept computer worm that uses AI to read brand-new security warnings and rewrite its own attack on the fly. And Anthropic released a free toolkit for using AI to find and patch bugs.
Why care: finding the holes is becoming cheap and automatic, for defenders and attackers alike. The slow step is now the fix: testing it, announcing it, shipping it. The thing the researchers warn about is a world with no gap at all between "a hole is found" and "a hole is used."
A cluster of work this week says the same thing from three directions: the hard part of security has flipped from finding bugs to fixing them.
Put together: discovery is getting cheap and automatable on both sides of the fence, and the side that has to validate, disclose, and ship a patch is the slow one. The worm is a preprint run against a defenseless network, and the Glasswing counts are self-reported from a controlled program. But "zero lag between discovery and exploitation" is the world these three are sketching, and only one of them is hypothetical.
Cloudflare, which sits in front of a big chunk of the internet, says that for the first time most web traffic comes from bots and AI "agents," not humans, about 57% to 43%. Just three months ago its CEO thought that wouldn't happen until 2027. The cause is AI software doing things on people's behalf, and his prediction for what's next is that websites will start charging bots to visit.
Why care: it's counting requests, not time spent, so humans still rule the parts you actually look at. But it sets up a real fight over who pays to reach the open web now that machines are most of the crowd.
Cloudflare's Matthew Prince says the line has crossed: by the network's own Radar data, bots and AI agents now make up about 57% of global HTTP requests, against ~43% human. In March, at SXSW, Prince was projecting that crossover for 2027. It arrived in roughly three months. He pins the jump on agentic traffic, software acting for users, outgrowing old-style crawlers, and his read of what comes next is blunt: "it's going to be pay to crawl."
Read the unit carefully. This is request count, not time-on-site or bandwidth, where humans still dominate, and Cloudflare sees a Cloudflare-shaped slice of the internet that skews toward sites which attract automated traffic. Prince called the figure preliminary. Even discounted, the direction sets up the fight already forming over who pays to reach the open web, and on what terms. A separate Cloudflare report this year put 94% of login attempts as bot-driven.
Three new studies say roughly the same thing: businesses are pouring money into AI and struggling to show it paid off. Bain found about 40% of companies that measured savings got far less than they hoped, and most are raising their AI budgets anyway. BCG found the bottleneck isn't the tools, it's that companies don't redesign how the work actually gets done. And the OECD found AI isn't wiping out jobs across the board, though young workers in exposed roles are feeling it.
Why care: the gap isn't because the AI is bad, it's because plugging it in without changing the work doesn't pay. Spending more on the tech without fixing the process just digs the hole deeper.
Three data drops this week line up too cleanly to ignore: the money going into enterprise AI is outrunning what comes back.
| Source | Finding |
|---|---|
| Bain (951 firms) | ~40% that measured savings landed at 0–10% returns against an 11–20% target; 90% of those are raising AI budgets anyway |
| BCG (11,749 workers) | Strategy clarity moves measurable impact by ~25 points; better tools alone, ~5; 66% who save time get no guidance on reusing it |
| OECD | No sign of broad AI-driven job loss, but youth (20–30) unemployment in AI-exposed roles rose ~3 points in 2025 |
Bain's framing is the sharp one: a circular bet with a structural leak, where firms fund the next wave of AI from savings the last wave never actually delivered. The throughline across all three is that the binding constraint isn't model quality, it's organizational: workflow redesign, data plumbing, and knowing what to do with the hour you just freed up. These are self-reported surveys measuring respondent-defined "impact," across different units (firms, workers, sectors), so read them as direction, not a sum. The direction is consistent.
Apple approved an AI assistant called Poke to work directly inside the iPhone's Messages app, the first time it's allowed an outside AI into that space. Poke already works over WhatsApp and texts, handling things like your calendar, email, and flight check-ins. To get in, it had to promise it could hand you off to a real human, say clearly that it's an AI, and follow Apple's rules.
Why care: Apple guards iMessage tightly, so letting someone else's AI in, before it's even finished its own, is a notable crack in the wall. Every other AI company will now want the same spot.
Apple approved Poke, from the Interaction Company (co-founded by Marvin von Hagen), as the first third-party AI agent allowed to operate inside Messages for Business, meaning you can talk to a non-Apple AI right in the native iMessage thread. Messages for Business has existed for years as a channel for airlines and retailers to reach their own customers; opening it to a standalone consumer agent is the category break.
Poke already runs on SMS, WhatsApp, and Telegram, handling calendar, email, flight check-ins, smart-home control and the like. To clear Apple's bar it had to prove it could hand off to a live human, identify itself as AI, and conform to Apple's UI rules; Apple bills it per user, at a rate von Hagen says is "significantly lower than Meta AI." It promptly buckled under launch-day demand. The precedent is what matters: Apple opened a lane into its tightest surface before shipping its own answer, and every other agent maker just watched the door move.
Cognition, which makes an AI software engineer called Devin, made an unusual promise to big customers: if Devin doesn't deliver as much value as you paid for over the year, Cognition will cover the difference, up to $10 million. It measures "value" by estimating how long a human would have taken to do the work Devin did.
Why care: everyone in AI claims their tool saves time; almost nobody backs it with money. Read the fine print, since Cognition is the one doing the measuring, but it's a sign the hype is being asked to show receipts.
Cognition put a number behind the productivity pitch everyone makes and nobody guarantees. For enterprise annual contracts, if Devin delivers less value than the customer paid, Cognition funds the gap in usage credits, up to $10M. "Value" is estimated by an agent that scores each finished session against how long a human engineer would have taken, priced at a standard global rate, counting only sessions that actually shipped something useful.
The mechanism is doing real rhetorical work, moving Devin from "pay and hope" to the vendor eating the downside. Read the fine print, though. Cognition defines and measures the metric, with no outside audit; the make-good lands near contract end, so the customer carries the variance all year; and the $10M reads as a pool, not a clear per-customer floor. Still, in a week of surveys showing AI returns underwhelming (see the reckoning above), a vendor staking its own money on measured hours is a different sales conversation.
Nvidia put out Nemotron 3 Ultra, a large AI model whose guts are open for anyone to download and build on, with an unusually big memory for long tasks. The clever bit: it's built to run especially fast on Nvidia's newest chips, by Nvidia's own measurements several times quicker than rival open models.
Why care: free, capable models push the whole field forward and lower costs for builders. Just remember the speed claims come from Nvidia, testing on Nvidia hardware, so wait for outside verdicts.
Three days after Jensen Huang name-dropped it at Computex, Nvidia put Nemotron 3 Ultra out for real, with weights, a technical report, and an API. It's a 550B-parameter mixture-of-experts model with 55B active (10:1 sparsity), a hybrid Mamba-2 plus attention stack, a 1M-token context, under the permissive OpenMDW-1.1 license.
The wedge is hardware. It's trained NVFP4-native for Blackwell, and Nvidia's own throughput numbers put it at 5.9× a comparable GLM model and 4.8× a Kimi model at 8K-in/64K-out, which is to say it runs fastest on the chips Nvidia sells. On evals it posts SWE-bench Verified 71.9 and a 9th-of-89 spot on Artificial Analysis's composite, strong for open weights but below the proprietary frontier. Every speed multiple here is Nvidia's, on Nvidia's hardware, against Nvidia's chosen baselines, so wait for outside runs. But a fully open 550B with a million-token window and a real technical report is a genuine release, not a slide.
Supabase, which gives apps a ready-made database, raised $500 million at a $10.5 billion valuation, roughly double its worth seven months ago. Why the jump? When people use AI tools to build apps, the AI keeps choosing Supabase to store the data. The company says the number of databases on its platform grew 600% in a year, and that the AI coding tool Claude Code is its single biggest source of new ones.
Why care: it's a concrete sign of how much real building is now done by AI assistants. You can see it in the plumbing they reach for.
Supabase closed a $500M Series F at a $10.5B valuation, GIC leading, roughly doubling its mark from about seven months ago. The reason it gives is the interesting part: agents now spin up most of the databases on the platform, and it names Claude Code as its single largest source of new databases in 2026. Supabase reports 600% year-over-year growth in databases and a user base that more than doubled since the last round.
When an LLM scaffolds an app, it needs a backend it can provision in one call, and Supabase has become the default target for that reflex. The growth figures are self-reported, so discount the exact percentages. But "600% more databases, most created by agents" is a cleaner read on the vibe-coding wave than another model benchmark. It's the infrastructure exhaust of all those agents actually running.
Two national moves landed the same day. The US and Japan announced a $1 billion joint project to use AI for science, tying together a dozen national labs on each side. And Canada launched a five-year plan, "AI for All," promising a public AI supercomputer, training for a million students, and big growth and job targets.
Why care: countries are starting to treat AI computing power like roads or electricity, something a nation wants to own rather than rent. The dollar targets are political promises, so take the totals with salt, but the shift is real.
Two national bets landed the same day. The US and Japan announced a $1B joint research program ($500M each, over five years) under the Genesis Mission, pairing twelve DOE national labs with twelve Japanese institutions (RIKEN, the University of Tokyo, KEK) and anchoring on the Fugaku supercomputer. Japan is the first country into Genesis, and the structure is the tell: bilateral, compute-linked, institution-paired, not a multilateral treaty.
Hours earlier, Canada's Mark Carney launched "AI for All," a five-year strategy targeting $200B in added growth and 250,000 jobs, built around a public AI supercomputer and sovereign cloud, a literacy push for a million students, and twelve bilateral partnerships with allies. Both sets of headline numbers are government projections with no disclosed methodology, so treat the totals as ambition. The pattern under them is real: states now treat frontier compute as national infrastructure, and they're lining up "democratic AI" blocs around it.
British regulators are forcing Google to give news sites and other publishers a way to opt out of having their work fed into Google's AI-written search answers, with a simple switch in Google's own tools. If they stay in, Google has to credit and link them. It starts in the UK, then goes worldwide.
Why care: publishers have watched AI summaries answer questions using their work while taking away the click. This is the first time a regulator has handed them an actual off-switch.
The UK's Competition and Markets Authority is making Google offer publishers a real opt-out from generative search (AI Overviews, AI Mode, and AI Overviews in Discover) through a toggle in Search Console, with linked attribution required when a publisher's content is used and they stay in. The CMA calls it a first: a regulator compelling a functional opt-out from AI ingestion in search, rather than leaving it to robots.txt etiquette or private licensing. Google confirmed compliance June 3.
It starts as a UK pilot with a subset of publishers, then goes global, which is what gives a domestic ruling international reach. The limit worth noting: this covers appearing in AI search features, not training-data use, and there's no stated deadline or stick if the global rollout drags. For anyone who watched publishers lose the "summarize my page and keep the click" fight, it's the first regulator-built lever pointing the other way.
Wired found that Meta has already slipped three face-recognition components into its Meta AI app, tied to an unreleased feature for its Ray-Ban smart glasses that would quietly tell the wearer when they're looking at someone they've met before. Meta says it hasn't switched the feature on, and that the face data stays on your phone.
Why care: Meta shut down Facebook's face recognition back in 2021, so this is a U-turn, and because the pieces are already on people's phones, it could be turned on with a normal app update. Glasses that look like regular glasses can scan a stranger's face without them ever knowing.
A Wired investigation found three face-recognition models already shipped inside the Meta AI app (50M+ downloads), wired to an unreleased Ray-Ban feature internally called NameTag, since rebranded Connections. They form a pipeline: detect a face the glasses capture, crop it, convert it to a biometric faceprint, then match locally on the wearer's phone to flag when they're looking at someone they've seen before. Core pieces have been present since at least January.
Meta says nothing has shipped to consumers and no rollout decision is made, and a security researcher confirmed no biometric data is currently leaving the phone. Two things still matter. Meta killed Facebook's face-recognition system in 2021, so this is a reversal. And the infrastructure already living on devices means a feature this consequential could switch on with a software update, no new hardware, from glasses that look like ordinary eyewear, which is exactly what makes passive recognition different from pointing a phone. "On-device only" answers where the faceprint sits, not whether the person being scanned ever agreed to it.
A large US study found that nearly 19% of kids and young adults aged 12–21, about 8 million, have used AI chatbots for emotional support when they're stressed or sad, up from about 1 in 8 the year before. Most who do it haven't told anyone, and the great majority say it helped.
Why care: a free, always-awake, non-judgmental listener is genuinely appealing to a struggling teen. But these bots aren't built or checked for mental-health care, most kids use them in secret, and in tests they've handled crisis moments badly. That's a lot of vulnerable people leaning on something nobody is watching.
A nationally representative survey in JAMA Pediatrics (fielded November 2025) finds 19.2% of US 12-to-21-year-olds, about 8.2 million people, have turned to AI chatbots for support when stressed, angry, or sad, up from roughly one in eight in 2024. Among users, 42.8% do it at least monthly, 63.3% have never told anyone, and 91.7% rate the advice helpful.
Weigh that last number against the rest: the study is a single snapshot, can't track outcomes, and never measured whether the advice was any good, while separate testing of two dozen chatbots found none handled suicide-risk prompts adequately. The combination that should worry you isn't any one figure, it's their product: large scale, fast growth, near-total secrecy, no clinical oversight, and a regulatory vacuum. The kids most likely to swap a person for a chatbot are the ones with the least slack to absorb a bad answer.
More than 1,500 mathematicians, including some of the most famous names in the field and several winners of its highest honor, signed a statement called the Leiden Declaration warning about AI in math. Their fear is specific: AI can now write arguments that look like correct proofs but are subtly wrong, and unlike most science, math has no experiment to catch the mistake. Only other mathematicians, reading line by line, can. If enough convincing-but-wrong proofs slip into journals, the whole record gets harder to trust.
They're not asking to ban AI. They want papers to disclose which tools were used, humans to stay on the hook for whether a proof is actually right, and journals to set clear rules. The global body that represents mathematicians officially backed it.
Why care: it's an early, organized example of a serious field saying "useful, but here are the lines" before AI reshapes it. Most professions haven't gotten that far.
The Leiden Declaration on AI and Mathematics is the field's first coordinated stance on what AI is doing to proof culture, and it carries real weight: 1,599 signatories, an official endorsement from the International Mathematical Union, and names like Terence Tao and Fields Medalists Peter Scholze and Maryna Viazovska. It grew out of a 2025 Lorentz Center conference and eight months of drafting, convened by Eindhoven's Jim Portegies.
The worry isn't generic AI doom; it's structural to math. There's no lab to check a theorem against, only other mathematicians reading carefully:
Current automated techniques can produce plausible but unreliable (or even incorrect) arguments which are difficult to distinguish from correct mathematical proofs.
If fluent-but-wrong proofs start passing peer review, the error-correction system that keeps the literature trustworthy quietly breaks. It's not a ban. The declaration accepts AI as a "research assistant" used "honestly and competently," and explicitly welcomes formal-verification tools. What it asks for is norms, pitched at four audiences:
It's a normative statement, not evidence; it asserts the flood of plausible-wrong proofs rather than counting cases. But when the IMU and the discipline's most decorated names sign the same page, the line they're drawing is the news.
For robots to learn housework, they need to watch humans do it, lots of it. In China, companies are hiring everyday people to wear cameras and wrist sensors while they fold laundry, cook, and tidy up, then using that footage to train robots. One company, JD.com, wants 10 million hours of it and pays around $3 an hour. There's even a neighborhood set up just for this.
Why care: the "magic" of a capable robot is really millions of hours of cheap human demonstration. Whoever collects the most of it, cheapest, gets ahead, and it's worth seeing who's actually doing that work.
Rest of World reports the unglamorous layer under the humanoid-robot hype: tens of thousands of ordinary workers, stay-at-home parents, care workers, farmhands, wearing head cameras and wrist sensors while they fold clothes, cook, and sort shoes, generating first-person video-plus-motion data to train robots. JD.com alone is targeting 100,000 employees and 500,000 outside workers over two years for 10 million hours of it. Pay runs about 20 yuan ($3) an hour, and there's a purpose-built "data-collection neighborhood" in Suqian.
Embodied AI is starved for exactly this pairing: what hands do, seen from the doer's eyes, in real kitchens and on real lines. Whoever assembles it cheapest and at the most scale builds an input advantage that's hard to copy without the workforce density and coordination to match. The JD figures are stated targets, not audited output, and the $3 rate is one residential example. But it's a concrete picture of where robot "intelligence" actually comes from, and who's underpaid to make it.
A new company called Flourish raised $500 million, with about $50 million from Jeff Bezos, to copy a trick from the brain. Your brain runs on roughly 20 watts, less than a dim bulb; a single AI chip burns 600-plus. Flourish thinks that if it can crack the brain's basic computing recipe, AI could run on around 50 watts instead of in giant power-hungry data centers.
Why care: AI's appetite for electricity is becoming one of its hardest limits. If this works even partway, it changes what's possible, though for now it's a big bet with no results yet, not a finished product.
A startup called Flourish raised $500M at a $2.5B valuation to chase the brain's "core algorithm," the wager that cortical columns are a repeatable computational unit you can reverse-engineer, and that doing so yields AI running on roughly 50 watts instead of racks of 600-watt accelerators. Jeff Bezos put in about $50M and reportedly grew the stake; Lux Capital and GV are in. The founders include Thomas Reardon, the Columbia neuroscientist who built Microsoft's first browser in a past life, plus ex-Amazon Alexa leadership.
The pitch leans on a gap: a fruit fly's neural net is orders of magnitude more efficient than a transformer, and a human brain runs on ~20 watts against a single training chip's 600-plus. Close even part of that and AI's energy ceiling, the thing quietly capping how far the buildout can scale, moves. It's a pre-revenue lab with a hypothesis, no peer-reviewed results, and a forward valuation, so file under bet, not breakthrough. But it's the most interesting bet on the board today: not a bigger model, a different substrate.

Today the field crossed a line it's been approaching for a while: AI stopped being only a tool and became a participant in its own progress. Anthropic put a number on it, Claude writing 80% of Anthropic's code, and did something stranger than boast: it asked for a brake, a way to pause if rivals pause too. OpenAI's own policy blueprint, quietly, flags the same "early signs of recursive self-improvement." When the two leading labs both say the loop is starting, that's not marketing, or not only.
The rest of the day is the distance between that acceleration and everything meant to keep up with it. AI now finds security holes faster than anyone can patch them, and the same capability shows up weaponized: a spy agency reportedly running a model its maker won't sell, a research worm that rewrites its own attacks from this morning's advisories. The people building all of it signed a letter begging Congress to lock down mail-order DNA before the models make it trivial. Bots quietly passed humans as most of web traffic. And the money is plainly ahead of the value, with companies spending more on AI than they get back, then budgeting more.
Underneath the self-improvement story, two items puncture it. China is paying people $3 an hour to film themselves folding laundry so robots can learn. Bezos is funding a hunt to run AI on 50 watts, because right now it can't. The machine that builds itself still runs on cheap human hours and brute-force electricity. It's improving fast. It hasn't escaped what it's made of.

Pick a question above, or type your own. The badger answers from this issue's own words.
The real badger's napping off the dig, so this one's AI. It can be wrong, so check the sources.