The Enhanced Games fit right in with the rest of 2026’s longevity vibes

<div data-chronoton-summary="

  • Drugs are the point: The inaugural Enhanced Games, held in Las Vegas this Sunday, openly encourages its 42 athletes to use performance-enhancing drugs — provided they’re FDA-approved and medically supervised — with $1 million on offer for world records broken.
  • FDA-approved doesn’t mean risk-free: Anabolic steroids, growth hormones, and other permitted substances carry serious health risks, including liver tumors, diabetes, and vision problems.
  • It fits the moment perfectly: From peptide clinics to optimized embryos, the Enhanced Games reflect a broader cultural obsession with pushing past human limits — one where just being human isn’t enough anymore

” data-chronoton-post-id=”1137753″ data-chronoton-expand-collapse=”1″ data-chronoton-analytics-enabled=”1″>

This Sunday, a group of 42 athletes will gather in Las Vegas to compete in a somewhat unusual sporting competition. Participants in the inaugural Enhanced Games are being encouraged to take performance-enhancing drugs. The goal is to “push the boundaries of human performance.”

The games’ organizers have said that competitors will only be taking substances that have been approved by the US Food and Drug Administration, and that they are all being medically monitored and supervised. But they have also said they expect to see world records broken—and are offering substantial prizes to athletes who succeed in doing so.

As you might expect, the event is generating a mix of curiosity, excitement, and condemnation from various quarters. To me, it feels like very much a reflection of where we are today—an era of peptide-crazed looksmaxxing in which consumers are being encouraged to get thinner than ever, optimize for longevity, and have their “best baby.” It’s 2026, and if you’re not enhancing, what are you even doing?

So, these games. They’ll feature competitions in four categories: swimming, track and field, weightlifting, and strongman (which also involves lifting weights). Many of the competitors already hold national and world records, and some are Olympic medalists. They’ve been paid a salary and will compete for prizes from a $25 million pot. The money has been a major draw for at least some of the athletes.

Another draw is the opportunity to openly experiment with drugs that might boost their performance. In the world of elite sport, every microsecond and every millimeter counts. Athletes—most of whom arguably have genetics on their side already—follow meticulous diet, training, and recovery protocols and wear specially designed gear that allows them to reach for those performance bests.

But within most sporting communities, there are limits. The World Anti-Doping Agency—an international outfit that fights the use of drugs in sports—maintains a lengthy list of “non-approved substances” that are banned in international sporting events. It features many anabolic steroids (which can build muscle), hormones (such as those that stimulate testosterone production or increase the ability of blood to carry oxygen), growth factors (which can stimulate muscle growth and repair, among other things), and more.

Some of these substances have been FDA approved to treat health disorders. And that means they can be used by participants in the Enhanced Games, according to the organization’s rules.

I’ll briefly point out the obvious here—just because a drug has been approved by the FDA doesn’t mean it’s totally safe for everyone and anyone. The risks associated with use of anabolic steroids, for example, include high blood pressure, acne, depression, and liver tumors. Growth hormone use can cause weak muscles, affect vision, and even lead to diabetes.

“Technological doping,” or using improved equipment to gain advantage, has also been supported by the games’ organizers. Last year, participating swimmer Kristian Gkolomeev was reported to have broken a record in a 50-meter freestyle time trial while wearing a polyurethane “super” swimsuit. Such suits have been banned for use in the Olympics since a slew of record-breaking performances in 2008 and 2009. Back then, the swimming governing body ruled that they gave athletes an unfair advantage. But hey, this is the Enhanced Games, where the word “unfair” seems to have a completely different meaning.

Can we expect more records to be broken on Sunday? Maybe. In addition to prize money for winning an event, any athlete who manages to beat a record stands to win up to $1 million, the sum also awarded to Gkolomeev last year following his time trial. But those performances won’t be recognized by official sporting bodies.

Plenty of concerns have been raised about these games. Some argue that they are unsafe and promote risky drug use. Others see them as a “clown show,” and a slap in the face to “clean” athletes who train hard without the use of prohibited drugs. World Athletics president Sebastian Coe has said that anyone who takes part is “moronic,” and World Aquatics, which oversees international competitions in water sports, has banned Enhanced Games participants from its events and activities.

But. The games—and the participating athletes—will still get a huge amount of attention. As a result, so will performance-enhancing drugs. Enhanced, the company behind the games, also runs an online store. There, you can buy a $52 T-shirt emblazoned with the message “I am Enhanced.”

There is also a range of prescription drugs on offer, including peptides “to support recovery, vitality, and longevity.” One of these is a growth hormone that the FDA approved in 1997 for the treatment of children with “growth failure.” The compounded version offered on the Enhanced website, which is not FDA approved, is marketed for longevity, supporting deep sleep and “overall wellness and vitality.” (“Marketed” is the key word here. The drug has, again, not been approved for that purpose.)

It all fits very well with the zeitgeist. Sure, we don’t yet have any drugs that are designed to extend human lifespan. But the search for anti-aging drugs is getting more attention—and funding—than ever. People, particularly women, are seemingly not allowed to visibly age anymore—we have filters and facelifts for that now. The idea that “death is wrong” is gaining acceptance.

And self-experimentation is rife. “Biohacking” was shortlisted for Collins Dictionary’s Word of the Year in 2025. Peptides are everywhere, despite all the unknowns surrounding their safety and effectiveness. So are longevity clinics, despite the fact that most are selling unproven treatments. US states like Montana are making it easier for people to get hold of unapproved “therapies.”

Companies are even offering would-be parents the option to choose the potential future children expected to live longest. Yep—you can supposedly optimize your embryos now, too.

In this climate, the Enhanced Games don’t feel so radical. They feel entirely fitting for our era of questionable optimization despite the risks —an era when, apparently, being human is no longer enough.

Google I/O showed how the path for AI-driven science is shifting

<div data-chronoton-summary="

  • Singularity rhetoric meets real-world tools: Google DeepMind CEO Demis Hassabis declared we’re in the “foothills of the singularity” — after showing off a hurricane forecasting tool. The gap between that grand vision and current successes captures a genuine tension inside AI science right now.
  • Specialized systems are losing the spotlight: Nobel Prize-winning AlphaFold transformed biology, but Google appears to be quietly shifting resources toward general-purpose AI agents — including having AlphaFold co-creator John Jumper work on AI coding.
  • Agentic AI is making real scientific moves: An OpenAI general reasoning model just disproved a significant mathematics conjecture, suggesting that AI doesn’t need to be purpose-built for science to meaningfully advance it.
  • Google is hedging its language, if not its bets: The company calls one of its agentic systems “AI Co-Scientist” rather than “AI Scientist” — a deliberate choice — but if Hassabis is right about where this is heading, that distinction may not hold for long.

” data-chronoton-post-id=”1137813″ data-chronoton-expand-collapse=”1″ data-chronoton-analytics-enabled=”1″>

During Tuesday’s Google I/O keynote, Demis Hassabis, the CEO of Google DeepMind, proclaimed that we are currently “standing in the foothills of the singularity.” It was a striking statement—the singularity is the theoretical future moment when AI rapidly exceeds human intelligence and dramatically transforms the world. But what struck me as I listened in the audience was the context in which he said those words. 

He was on stage to close out the session with a segment on scientific AI, the centerpiece of which was a video detailing how the company’s weather prediction software provided an advance alert about Hurricane Melissa’s catastrophic landfall in Jamaica last year—and potentially saved lives. If that software, called WeatherNext, helped anyone escape the storm or better fortify their home, that’s an enormous and meaningful achievement. But it’s hardly evidence of an impending singularity.

The juxtaposition of Hassabis’ lofty rhetoric with the real-world results of WeatherNext highlighted the tension between two very different approaches to AI for science. The first focuses on AI tools, like WeatherNext, that are designed and trained to solve specific scientific problems. The second is agentic, LLM-based systems that could one day execute cutting-edge research projects without human involvement.

This second vision powers a great deal of AI enthusiasm right now, including recent excitement around recursive self-improvement, or the idea that AI systems could eventually become the primary drivers of AI advancement—a process that would get faster and faster as the AI systems grow smarter. And agentic systems are now making real research contributions, sometimes with limited human guidance.

Just this week, Pushmeet Kohli, Google Cloud’s chief scientist, published a piece in a special AI and science issue of the journal Daedalus, writing: “We are moving toward AI that doesn’t just facilitate science but begins to do science.” With autonomous AI scientists on the horizon, it’s harder to justify massive efforts to develop super-specialized tools—even one like AlphaFold, for which DeepMind scientists won a Nobel Prize, or a potentially life-saving system like WeatherNext. It also heralds a far stranger future for science, in which humans and AI systems collaborate as peers—or AI even makes scientific progress on its own.

To be clear, Google does not appear to be abandoning its work on specialized AI for science tools. AlphaGenome and AlphaEarth Foundations, which are trained for genetics and Earth science applications respectively, were released last summer, and the newest version of WeatherNext came out in November.

What’s more, such tools remain extremely popular among scientists. Last year, for instance, Google reported that protein structure predictions from AlphaFold have been used by over three million researchers worldwide. And Isomorphic Labs, a Google subsidiary that aims to use AlphaFold and related technologies to develop new drugs, just raised a $2 billion Series B funding round.

But there are concrete signs of realignment, in both enthusiasm and resources. Last month, the Los Angeles Times reported that Google fellow John Jumper, who won the Nobel for AlphaFold, is now working on AI coding, not on science-specific AI tools. It’s not surprising that Google is assigning its best minds to the coding problem, as the company has recently taken a reputational hit because its coding tools don’t currently stand up to those offered by Anthropic and OpenAI. But it may also signal a prioritization of agentic science on Google’s part, as coding abilities are key to the success of some of those systems. 

Across the industry, agentic researcher systems are showing real potential. This week, OpenAI announced that one of their models had disproved an important mathematics conjecture—perhaps the most meaningful contribution that generative AI has made to mathematics so far, according to some mathematicians.

Importantly, the model used by OpenAI is not specialized for solving mathematical problems, or even for research; according to the company, it’s a general-purpose reasoning model in the vein of GPT-5.5. If general agents can make independent contributions to mathematical research, they might soon be able to do the same in science (though the fact that ideas in science must be verified experimentally makes it a tougher domain for AI).

Google is certainly devoting a lot of attention toward an agent-driven scientific future. The big scientific announcement at I/O was the new Gemini for Science package, which unites several of the company’s LLM-based scientific systems under one brand.

This includes the hypothesis-generating AI Co-Scientist and algorithm-optimizing AlphaEvolve, which are still not publicly available—but as Google is now allowing any researcher to apply for access to Gemini for Science, they may soon see wider adoption in the scientific community. Scientists who were involved in early testing are enthusiastic about their potential: Gary Peltz, a Stanford geneticist, compared using the AI Co-Scientist to “consulting the oracle of Delphi” in a Nature Medicine article.

Gemini for Science isn’t incompatible with specialized tools; to the contrary, agentic systems can be designed to call on such tools when they might be useful. And no agentic system can predict the structure that a protein will fold into without AlphaFold’s help (at least not yet). But the company seems to be shifting its public image—and at least some resources and personnel, such as Jumper—away from specifically developing those kinds of tools. Though it has only been five years since AlphaFold solved the protein-folding problem, both the technology and the discourse have quickly moved beyond that once-revolutionary achievement.

Google has been careful to position this new set of scientific agents as an accelerant for human scientists, rather than a replacement for them—the choice of the name AI Co-Scientist as opposed to AI Scientist, for instance, appears quite deliberate. Hassabis uses that same human-centric framing when he talks about changes in the landscape of scientific AI. “For the next decade or so, we should think about AI as this amazing tool to help scientists,” Hassabis said in an interview published in the Daedalus issue. “Beyond that timeframe, it is hard to say with any certainty, but perhaps these systems will become more like collaborators.”

But no one can be an effective scientific collaborator without also being a skilled scientist in their own right. And if Hassabis is anywhere near the mark when he talks about the “foothills of the singularity,” then AI scientists could eventually exceed the capabilities of their human counterparts.

In a discussion with the journalist Mike Allen at I/O, Hassabis spoke of how he was initially inspired to pursue AI when he observed how progress in physics had stagnated since the 1970s; he wondered whether the human mind had reached its limits in that domain, and if AI could help to overcome that barrier. Superhuman agentic scientists would certainly fit that bill. We might not ever get anywhere near there, but Google seems to be aiming itself toward that summit.

Tech researchers are suing the Trump administration over the future of online safety

<div data-chronoton-summary="

  • Researchers are fighting back: The Coalition for Independent Technology Research is suing the Trump administration over visa restrictions targeting foreign-born researchers who study content moderation and online safety, arguing the policy is unconstitutional and chills free speech.
  • A deliberately broad crackdown: The policy, announced by Secretary of State Marco Rubio, claims to target individuals that facilitate “foreign censorship.” But the lawsuit alleges that this is vague enough that anyone in fact-checking or online safety could theoretically face travel bans or deportation.
  • Real people, real consequences: As one example of the real consequences of chilling effects, online safety expert Eirliani Abdul Rahman left the US for Germany, describing the climate of government action and shifting tech company policies as untenable for her to continue her work safely or effectively
  • ,

  • The stakes go beyond researchers: The outcome could affect what the public learns about AI and social media risks; it was independent research quantifying the extent of Grok’s generation of millions of sexualized images of children that triggered government investigations worldwide.

” data-chronoton-post-id=”1137632″ data-chronoton-expand-collapse=”1″ data-chronoton-analytics-enabled=”1″>

Since its earliest days back in office, the Trump administration has been going after researchers who study and try to counter hate speech, harassment, propaganda, and disinformation online. 

Now, some of those researchers are fighting back. Last week their lawsuit—which could have global repercussions for online safety and free speech—made its first appearance in court

This fight started a year ago, when US Secretary of State Marco Rubio announced on X what he called a “visa restriction policy” against “foreign officials and other persons” who were “complicit in censoring Americans.” Since then, a handful of foreign officials and researchers have been barred from travel to the US, and in theory, anyone working in fact-checking or online trust and safety more broadly could face the same restrictions. 

Still, the exact implications of Rubio’s announcement are unclear—purposefully so, argues Carrie DeCell, a lawyer representing the researchers. “This policy is expansive and incredibly vague, and the chilling effects are correspondingly enormous,” DeCell said outside the courthouse in Washington, DC, on May 13.  

The case has been brought by the Coalition for Independent Technology Research (CITR), an advocacy organization for tech researchers. It is suing Rubio, former US secretary of homeland security Kristi Noem, and former US attorney general Pam Bondi and asking the court to strike down the policy as unconstitutional. In their complaint, the plaintiffs say the policy violates the speech and due process rights of foreign-born tech researchers and workers whose “work supports greater moderation of content on the [tech] platforms.”

CITR is represented by Columbia University’s Knight First Amendment Institute and the legal nonprofit Protect Democracy. DeCell, a senior staff attorney at the Knight Institute, tells MIT Technology Review that they’re in court because the Trump administration is effectively “using immigration law to punish people for expressing views that it disagrees with.” 


This story is part of MIT Technology Review’s “America Undone” series, examining how the foundations of US success in science and innovation are currently under threat. You can read the rest here.


Most immediately, the plaintiffs are asking the government to halt these visa restrictions while the case proceeds. Zachariah Lindsey, the assistant US attorney representing Rubio and the other defendants, argued in last week’s hearing that the government is not targeting speech but, rather, “conduct [that] is assisting or facilitating foreign government censorship of free speech.” At the end of the week, the government filed a motion to dismiss the case.

The judge has yet to rule on either motion, and his questions so far appeared to focus on parsing what (and who) is actually affected by the State Department’s announcements, as well as other procedural issues. 

The outcome of the case may ultimately affect how much the public knows about the risks of social media and AI, says Nicole Schneidman, head of Protect Democracy’s technology and data governance team. The workers bringing this suit, she says, “serve a really, really important function in educating the public, holding tech companies accountable, doing research on the ramifications that advanced technology has on our society.” 

“A political witch hunt”

CITR’s lawsuit is the latest salvo in a yearslong battle over how the internet should be moderated, and by whom—a question that has become increasingly political and entangled in allegations of censorship. 

For years, Trump and his allies have claimed to be victims of a vast conspiracy between government agencies, civil society groups, academics, and Big Tech platforms to specifically censor conservative voices online. According to this narrative, a so-called “censorship-industrial complex” helped the Biden administration subvert First Amendment protections on speech by allegedly outsourcing censorship to these groups.

The State Department claims Rubio was able to implement the immigration policy because the Immigration and Nationality Act authorizes him to “render inadmissible any alien whose entry into the United States ‘would have potentially serious adverse foreign policy consequences for the United States.’” Before the current Trump administration, the statute was rarely invoked, and when it was, it was typically with more limited, specific criteria, rather than its current application against anyone who has participated in alleged censorship—an action that has no legal definition. 

The administration first deployed the policy in July 2025, when Rubio issued a statement announcing the revocation of visas for Alexandre de Moraes, the lead justice on the Brazilian Supreme Federal Court, and “his allies on the court” who were involved in prosecuting Jair Bolsonaro, Brazil’s former president. The prosecution was a “political witch hunt,” said Rubio, calling it evidence of a “censorship complex so sweeping that it not only violates basic rights of Brazilians, but also … targets Americans.”

Then, in early December, the State Department issued instructions to embassies to reject H-1B visa applications from individuals who had worked specifically in fact-checking, online trust and safety, and mis- or disinformation research, as Reuters first reported. 

A few weeks later, on December 23, the agency announced visa restrictions for five Europeans whom it accused of censoring Americans. This included two CITR members: Imran Ahmed, founder and CEO of the Center for Countering Digital Hate, which documents hate speech on social media platforms, and Clare Melford, cofounder of the Global Disinformation Index, which ranks websites according to how often they publish hate speech and disinformation. Also banned were the former European Union commissioner Thierry Breton, a key architect of the European Union’s Digital Services Act (which the State Department has called “Orwellian” and an example of censorship), and Josephine Ballon and Anna-Lena von Hodenberg, co-CEOs of HateAid, a German nonprofit that fights online hate speech. 

Ahmed, who lives in the US with his American wife and child, quickly filed his own lawsuit to stave off deportation and halt the policy. A preliminary injunction preventing his detention and deportation is in place as the lawsuit continues. 

The Department of Homeland Security referred questions from MIT Technology Review to the State Department, which referred “specific questions” to the Department of Justice, while also writing that “the Trump Administration believes that aliens who are or were involved or complicit in censoring American citizens must face appropriate consequences. An American visa is a privilege not a right.” The Department of Justice did not respond to a request for comment. 

“A gut punch”

Now, more tech researchers are fighting back. 

CITR represents 500 individual and institutional members in 47 countries; 40 are based in the United States, including around 30 noncitizens. The organization argues that US-based tech researchers are experiencing a widespread chilling effect and are having to change or reframe what they’re studying so that it’s less explicitly (or less obviously) about content moderation or countering disinformation. Alternatively, some are leaving the US altogether, or making plans to do so, in order to safely carry out their work. 

CITR member Eirliani Abdul Rahman, a Singaporean online safety expert and a founding member of Twitter’s Trust and Safety Council, is one of these individuals. Her experience was included, though described anonymously, in CITR’s initial legal complaint. 

Back in December 2022, shortly after Elon Musk purchased Twitter, Abdul Rahman and two other Trust and Safety Council members publicly resigned. They spoke out against “red lines” the new owner had crossed, including his reinstatement of accounts that had previously been banned, and noted the marked increase in hate speech on the platform. 

Musk disbanded the council days later, but first he retweeted a post that tagged Abdul Rahman and the others and said: “You all belong in jail.” This led to a level of online harassment, doxxing, and death threats that she had never before experienced. “I was trained as an economist, and I could just see line graphs form in my head of the stochastic jump in what happened,” Abdul Rahman says, referring to the way the dangerous attention spiked after Musk effectively endorsed the other user’s provocation. 

This experience inspired her to pursue a new area of research: using quantitative methods to study and hopefully stop social media harassment “in real time,” she says. 

“The ones that are most harassed are people [who] have historically been marginalized,” she adds. “Most of us know about this already, like it’s intuitive. But until you quantify it, sometimes it’s just not seen and taken seriously.”   

But then Trump was reelected, making the work feel untenable. The US quickly became “a funding desert” for scientific research, she says, with federal support for any research perceived by conservatives to focus on mis/disinformation getting cut. At the same time, tech companies shifted their positions on content moderation to align with the president’s, meaning that her research would be unlikely to have any practical implications: “There’s simply no guardrails around social media anymore,” she says. 

Fast-forward to December 2025, and the travel bans on the five Europeans felt like “a gut punch to the stomach,” Abdul Rahman says. She and Ahmed had both testified earlier in the year before the UK Parliament on the role social media played in spreading false claims about the supposed Muslim identity of a murderer who had killed three British girls; this online activity contributed to violent anti-immigrant and Islamophobic riots across the country in the summer of 2024. 

The targeting of Ahmed and the other Europeans “was the last straw” for Abdul Rahman. Soon after, she left the US for a six-year fellowship in Germany aimed at supporting “international academic freedom”—coincidentally arriving in the country on the same day CITR filed its lawsuit. 

“My body just calmed down,” Abdul Rahman says of landing in Germany. “I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night … always wondering about the next executive order and how it pertained to my situation.”

Abdul Rahman believes this legal battle has implications that reach beyond CITR members and their families. It “pertains to all immigrants in the US to protect our First Amendment rights,” she says.

Additionally, whether fact-checkers, online trust and safety workers, and tech researchers can continue to do their work has a broader impact on anyone who uses the internet. 

Earlier this year, for example, Ahmed’s Center for Countering Digital Hate published widely cited research that Grok’s image-editing feature had generated an estimated 3 million sexualized images, including 23,000 images of children, in an 11-day period. This led to government investigations, lawsuits, and even temporary bans for Grok’s parent company, xAI, across the United States and world. 

“The threats have really sharpened”

MIT Technology Review has reported extensively on this right-wing war on supposed censorship; one of our stories revealing that State Department leadership requested communications records from a now-shuttered office focused on countering foreign disinformation has been included as an exhibit in the CITR lawsuit. This request sought insight into communications with a slew of individuals some far-right activists allege are involved in the “censorship-industrial complex,” including journalists, the German foreign minister, and numerous researchers studying disinformation and hate speech (including Medford, Ahmed, and their organizations).

DeCell tells us that over the past year and a half, there have been more lawsuits against the Trump administration regarding free speech—because “the threats have really sharpened,” she says.

Last year, the Knight Institute sued Rubio on behalf of of university faculty and students who have been arrested, detained, and deported for their pro-Palestinian speech; this past January, a judge ruled that the administration’s deportation policy was unconstitutional. The risk to free speech rights is “palpable” when the government “decides to target people specifically with the threat of rounding them off the streets, throwing them into a detention center, and then potentially deporting them from this country,” DeCell says. 

Though Abdul Rahman is safely abroad for now, she says she’s watching the CITR lawsuit closely. Ultimately, she says, she believes it will determine whether researchers will be able to continue to do their work, “which is to take social media platforms to account,” she says—“making sure there’s actual accountability and independent oversight is critical to protecting our democracies.” 

Climate tech companies are pivoting to critical minerals

We’re over a year into the second Trump administration here in the US, and support for climate causes is weak. But climate tech companies are finding ways to survive and even thrive in this new environment, including by focusing on potential benefits outside decarbonization.

Suddenly, it feels like every climate tech company has a story to tell about topics that are politically in vogue: data centers, energy abundance, or critical minerals. In my newest story, I covered Boston Metal’s latest funding round. Largely known for its efforts to produce steel with lower greenhouse gas emissions, the company raised $75 million from new and existing investors to help support its critical metals business.

Focusing on metals like niobium and tantalum won’t have the massive climate benefit that cleaner steel would, but it could generate the cash the company needs to keep going. It’s a strategy I’m noticing more as these tough industries like steel look ever tougher to succeed in with limited federal support in the US.  

Boston Metal’s molten oxide electrolysis technology uses electricity to produce metals.

I covered the startup last year, when it announced a major milestone for its steel business, running its pilot reactor in Massachusetts and producing a literal ton of material.

Now the company’s focus has shifted, and it is going all-in on making other metals, from niobium and tantalum (used in aircraft engines and high-end steel alloys) to chromium and vanadium.

The steel industry is a difficult one: It operates at a massive scale, and the product doesn’t command too high a price. Focusing on other metals, especially ones the US government deems critical, could be a way to stay afloat, maybe even long enough to meaningfully cut emissions from the steel industry. 

“By deploying in the critical metals industry where we can go very fast, we generate the resources to continue with the development of steel,” says Tadeu Carneiro, CEO of Boston Metal.

Other companies are also hoping critical materials could help their business models.

California-based Brimstone has a new process to make cement—another heavily polluting industry that’s proving difficult to decarbonize. The company uses a new starting material to help cut down on carbon dioxide emissions. In addition to cement, it makes supplementary cementitious materials that can be added into concrete as well as smelter-grade alumina.

Last year, the US Department of Energy canceled $1.3 billion in funding that had been set aside for cement-related projects. Brimstone saw one of its awards canceled, as did Sublime Systems, another cement startup I’ve covered a lot over the years.

At the time, a Brimstone representative told me that the company saw the cancellation as a “misunderstanding” and said the facility the funding had been designated for would make not only cement, but also alumina, which would support US aluminum production.

Today, the company’s website prominently highlights that it produces critical minerals in addition to cement.

Some carbon dioxide removal companies are hoping to hop on the critical minerals train, too, aiming to work with the mining industry. Others are pitching that they can help mining operations operate more efficiently or serve as cleanup for active or abandoned mine sites.

All of this is part of a much broader messaging shift. Everyone from politicians to heads of energy companies is talking less about climate.

It’s a trend that makes me nervous, even if I understand the impulse. I worry that if we keep too quiet on climate, companies might lose the plot and make choices that won’t help cut emissions. But for some, leaning into a different priority or pushing a different message could help them stay in business long enough to make a difference. We’ll all have to wait to see how it all pans out.

This article is from The Spark, MIT Technology Review’s weekly climate newsletter. To receive it in your inbox every Wednesday, sign up here

Anthropic’s Code with Claude showed off coding’s future—whether you like it or not

The vibes were strong at Code with Claude, Anthropic’s two-day event for software developers in London that kicked off on May 19, the same day as Google’s I/O in Palo Alto. (A coincidence, not a flex, Anthropic staffers assured me.)

“Who here has shipped a pull request in the last week that was completely written by Claude?” Jeremy Hadfield, an engineer at Anthropic, asked from the main stage. Almost half the people in the packed room—many sitting with laptops on their knees, coding or prompting as they watched the talks—raised their hands.

Pull requests are fixes or updates to existing software that are submitted for review before they go live. They are the bread and butter of software development, the chunks of code that most professional developers spend their lives writing—or did until now.

“Who here has shipped a pull request that was completely written by Claude where they did not read the code at all?” Hadfield asked next. Nervous laughter. Most of the hands stayed up.

It’s not news that LLM-powered tools like Anthropic’s Claude Code and OpenAI’s Codex have upended the way software gets made. Top tech companies now like to boast of how little code their developers write by hand. (“Most software at Anthropic is now written by Claude,” Hadfield said. “Claude has written most of the code in Claude Code.”) OpenAI, Google, and Microsoft make similar claims. Many others wish they could.

Even so, it is striking how normal this new paradigm already seems, and how fast it has set in. This was the second year that Anthropic has put on developer events, which also run in San Francisco and Tokyo. This time last year, the company had just released Claude 4. It could code, kind of. But with Anthropic’s latest string of updates—especially Claude 4.6 and then 4.7, released in February and April—Claude Code is a tool that more and more developers seem happy to hand their work off to.   

An 8-bit character with a chef's hat in a pixel kitchen flips food in a fry pan over a pixel stove
Let Claude cook.
ANTHROPIC (GRAPHIC) / WILL DOUGLAS HEAVEN (PHOTO)

Anthropic says its goal is to push automation as far as it will go. Instead of using AI to generate code and then having humans clean it up and fix the mistakes, it wants Claude to check and correct its own work. “The default isn’t ‘I’m going to prompt Claude’—the default is now ‘I’m going to have Claude prompt itself,’” Boris Cherny, who heads Claude Code, said in the opening keynote.

If all goes well, human developers shouldn’t even see the error messages when something doesn’t work. That will all be handled by Claude, which will test and tweak, test and tweak, until everything runs as it should. As Ravi Trivedi, an engineer at Anthropic, put it in another talk: “The key principle is getting out of Claude’s way. We like to say: ‘Let it cook.’”

Trivedi presented a new feature in Claude Code, announced two weeks ago, which Anthropic calls dreaming. Claude Code agents write notes to themselves, recording and saving useful information about specific tasks. When another coding agent later starts to work on the same code, it can use the notes to get up to speed faster and learn from any errors that previous agents may have made.

Dreaming is a system that Claude Code uses to read through all these notes and consolidate the information they contain, spotting patterns and common issues across different tasks. In theory, dreaming should help Claude Code learn about a particular code base and get better and better at working on it.

Success stories

Code with Claude is an event aimed at developers. As well as product showcases and hands-on workshops from Anthropic, there were how-tos from a range of companies that had reshaped their software development teams around Claude Code, including Spotify and Delivery Hero as well as Lovable, Base44, and Monday.com—three startups vibe-coding apps that help people vibe-code apps.

There were no signs of unease at Code with Claude. Everybody I met wanted in.

And yet outside the conference there have been a number of reports that many coders are starting to question this bright new future. Some gripe in online forums like Reddit and Hacker News that AI coding tools are being pushed by managers chasing productivity gains, when in practice the technology makes software development harder because of all the extra code developers now have to review. “The only people I’ve heard saying that generated code is fine are those who don’t read it,” a user called pron posted on Hacker News last week. 

Others claim that their coding abilities have fallen off as they hand more tasks to AI. And researchers have warned that AI tools can produce unsafe code that will make software more vulnerable to attacks.  

I sat down with Claude engineering lead Katelyn Lesse and Claude product lead Angela Jiang and asked them what they made of the concerns that a sudden flood of code generated (and shipped) without proper human oversight was kicking serious security and maintenance problems down the road.

“All of the old software development best practices still apply. They’ve applied this entire time,” said Lesse. “I think there are a lot of people and teams that may have lost sight of them in this moment.” 

And yet as Anthropic and others push for greater automation and tools like Claude Code improve, the temptation increases to offload more and more tasks, including oversight. Lesse told me that some of the technical managers at Anthropic are exhausted by keeping up with all the code their teams now produce. “Part of things happening so much more quickly is just managing your time,” she said.

“I think that right now Claude is probably as good as a midlevel engineer at writing code,” she added. You still need expert engineers to design a system and troubleshoot harder problems, she said, “But over time we want Claude to get better and better at all different types of engineering.”

Jiang agreed: “I think the absolute end state we’re trying to get to is Claude basically being able to build itself.”

Green steel startup Boston Metal is doubling down on critical metals

<div data-chronoton-summary="

  • Boston Metal has raised $75 million after a rough stretch that included an industrial incident and laying off 71 employees earlier this year.
  • The company is shifting focus to critical metals like niobium, tantalum, and chromium, which command higher prices and could help prove its technology before returning to steel.
  • Its commercial facility in Brazil, delayed by an electrolyte leak in January, is now being repaired and is expected to start up in September 2026.
  • The round includes support from Tata Steel, one of the world’s largest steelmakers, bringing Boston Metal’s total funding to over $500 million.

” data-chronoton-post-id=”1137523″ data-chronoton-expand-collapse=”1″ data-chronoton-analytics-enabled=”1″>

The startup Boston Metal has raised a $75 million funding round to produce critical metals, MIT Technology Review can exclusively report.  

The company has been known largely for its efforts to clean up steel production, an industry that’s responsible for about 8% of global greenhouse emissions today. With the additional money, the new focus could help it survive at a time when support for industrial decarbonization has been waning in the US.

In addition to steel, Boston Metal has also worked to use its technology with other metals, and a subsidiary (Boston Metal do Brasil) is setting up a commercial facility in Brazil to produce niobium, tantalum, and tin. The funding will help support that facility’s operation as well as future efforts to produce critical metals like vanadium, nickel, and chromium, says CEO Tadeu Carneiro. The funding comes after the company faced cash-flow problems following an industrial accident at the Brazil facility earlier this year.

Boston Metal’s core technology is called molten oxide electrolysis (MOE). It involves running electric current through a reactor filled with ore dissolved in a molten electrolyte. The electricity heats everything up to about 1,600 °C (3,000 °F) and drives chemical reactions that separate the desired metal (or metals) from the ore. The metal gathers at the bottom of the reactor, where it can be siphoned off.

In early 2025, Boston Metal completed the largest run of its pilot industrial cell in Woburn, Massachusetts, producing about a ton of steel.

But the focus is currently on making other metals, which are more valuable and can command a higher price. The company’s Brazilian subsidiary is working to test and start up an industrial-scale plant that takes in a low-grade material and makes a mixture of critical metals. Niobium, for example, is used in some steel alloys, as well as in alloys used to make jet engines and the superconducting magnets of MRI scanners. Tantalum is used in aerospace applications like rocket nozzles and turbine blades, as well as medical devices and electronics.

Construction on the Brazil plant kicked off in 2024 and took about 18 months, but the company ran into some challenges that delayed official startup.

In January there was an issue with the plant’s refractory system, the equipment that insulates the reactor and prevents corrosion. That caused electrolyte to leak. Operators shut down the system and removed the metal, and there weren’t any injuries or environmental issues, Carneiro says.

But the leak did interfere with the timeline for the plant’s opening, which meant the company missed a milestone and lost out on funding that had been committed. It restructured and laid off 71 employees in April.

This new funding will help support the plant moving forward. “Because of this delay, we had a big stress in our cash flow, so the investors came very strong to support us,” Carneiro says. Boston Metal is repairing the facility in Brazil now, and it should be ready to start up in September 2026, he adds.  

The funding will also help support other critical metals projects, Carneiro says. The company plans to eventually deploy a US plant to produce chromium, a metal the country imports nearly all its supply of today. 

Boston Metal has now raised over $500 million in total. The latest round of funding includes support from existing investors and from the massive Indian steel company Tata Steel Unlimited.

Making a higher-value critical metal now could help Boston Metal prove its technology and pave the way for future steel projects, says Seaver Wang, director of climate and energy at the Breakthrough Institute. “Nobody wants to pay a green premium for steel—hence niobium,” he adds.

Colossal Biosciences is growing chickens in a 3D-printed artificial eggshell

<div data-chronoton-summary="

  • Artificial eggshell, not artificial egg: Colossal Biosciences has grown baby chicks inside 3D-printed plastic containers coated with a silicone-based membrane that mimics an eggshell’s oxygen exchange — a meaningful step, but scientists say the company is overselling it.
  • The moa is one target: Colossal’s goal is resurrecting the giant moa, a 12-foot flightless bird hunted to extinction — which would require genetically rewriting thousands of DNA letters and scaling up the artificial eggs to the size of a salad spinner.
  • Scientists are skeptical: Researchers have been growing birds in artificial containers since 1998 and say Colossal’s claims of a first-ever breakthrough are overblown — a familiar pattern for a company that last year also faced widespread rejection of its “dire wolf” resurrection claim.

” data-chronoton-post-id=”1137471″ data-chronoton-expand-collapse=”1″ data-chronoton-analytics-enabled=”1″>

The baby chicks were shifting and starting to pip—or trying to hatch. But not from an egg. 

Instead, these chickens were growing inside transparent 3D-printed plastic cups at the Dallas headquarters of Colossal Biosciences.

The biotech company today claimed it has developed a “fully artificial egg” as part of its effort to resurrect extinct avian species, including birds like the dodo and the giant moa.

But “artificial eggshell” would probably be a better description for the invention. It’s an oval-shaped printed lattice, coated inside with a special silicone-based membrane that lets in oxygen, just as a real eggshell does. 

To generate birds, Colossal took recently laid chicken eggs and carefully poured their contents into the artificial shells, where they continued growing. A window on top lets researchers peek inside.  

“To see them all moving around in their artificial eggs was absolutely mind blowing,” says Andrew Pask, the company’s chief biology officer. “You really feel you can grow life outside of the womb.”

Colossal was founded in 2021 with plans to use gene editing and reproductive technology to restore extinct species, including the woolly mammoth. It’s since raised more than $800 million toward what it now terms the “scalable and controllable” creation of animals.

According to Pask, the egg technology could help conserve at-risk bird species. It could also play a role in a project to re-create the extinct giant moa, a flightless 12-foot-tall bird that once lived in New Zealand and laid four-liter eggs, larger than those of any living bird.

But Colossal may be able build one that’s big enough. The company provided a photograph of a prototype 3D-printed egg so large that staff have started to call it the “salad spinner.”

The moa went extinct after canoes carrying the ancestors of the Maori arrived on New Zealand’s South Island about 750 years ago. Archeological sites showcase the birds’ bones alongside stone cutting tools—clear evidence that they were hunted.

To be clear—Colossal isn’t close to re-creating the moa. Before that could happen, scientists would need to study DNA data from old moa bones and insert thousands of genetic changes into the genome of an existing bird, something that’s still technically difficult to do—with or without an artificial egg.

artificial womb for chicken embryos

COLOSSAL BIOSCIENCES

Some scientists also think Colossal is taking too much credit for its artificial eggshell, which it announced in a thundering YouTube video intoning that the company has solved the “impossible question of which came first, the chicken or the egg.”

The video is pure Hollywood—it’s meant to be funny and exciting. But Colossal has a habit of antagonizing scientists by making false and exaggerated claims. Last year, for instance, the company said it had re-created the extinct dire wolf—a claim widely rejected by experts. 

This time, Colossal’s fluffed-up assertion of having created the “first-ever shell-less incubation system” is what’s raising hackles among the small flock of scientists who’ve been working on the technology for years. 

“Clearly an overstatement,” says Katsuya Obara, at the University of Tsukuba in Japan, who in 2024 hatched chickens from beneath transparent plastic film. “The technology here is essentially a modification of existing methods.”

In fact, Obara notes, growing birds in artificial containers goes all the way back to 1998, when another Japanese group managed to do it with quail.

What may be an advance by Colossal is the special membrane, which lets the embryo access more oxygen. Previous systems required scientists to supplement the gas—something that may not have been good for the chicks, as often some of them would fail to hatch. 

The work on the artificial eggshell was carried out in Dallas by Colossal’s exogenous development team, or Exo Dev. That group is also trying to develop artificial wombs for mammals, starting with marsupials.

“We’re looking at every single facet of what’s happening during a mammalian pregnancy to unpack exactly how we then go about recapitulating that,” says Pask.

For that team, an artificial eggshell is a relatively quick and easy technical win. That’s because chickens are already an example of ex utero development. After an egg is laid, a small embryo sitting on top of the yolk starts growing, drawing nutrients from the yolk, the white, and even the shell, which provides calcium. (Colossal says it has to add ground-up calcium to the artificial eggs.)

looking down into the artificial egg shell to see a developing chick embryo and its vascular structure

COLOSSAL BIOSCIENCES

In order to create a moa, Colossal will have to genetically alter another type of bird, changing potentially thousands of DNA letters. But so far, chickens are the only bird species that can be genetically engineered. And that’s via a tricky process of editing stem cells that produce egg and sperm. Scientists have to add or delete DNA letters from these cells and then inject them back into an egg. The resulting bird will carry the genetic changes in its gonads—and then be able to pass them on. 

Pask says Colossal’s idea is that it could modify avian stem cells enough to produce moa-like sperm or eggs. But then you might have the odd situation of a chicken laying an egg with a moa embryo inside it. “You would have chickens making moa egg and moa sperm. But it’s still a chicken egg,” he says.

Helen Sang, a professor emeritus at the Roslin Institute in the United Kingdom, says she’s not sure a moa embryo could survive on the yolk of a chicken egg, given evolutionary differences. “There are significant challenges to overcome to grow an embryo of a different species in artificial eggs,” says Sang.

Just one of those is the huge size discrepancy. The amount of yolk in a chicken egg would hardly be enough to support the much larger moa chick. Yet Pask says that is exactly where the artificial egg will come in handy.

He says it may be possible to use a fine needle to slowly “put 50 yolks together to make that yolk mass much larger.”

“The chicken egg isn’t going to be big enough to support the growth of the moa through to term, to when it would normally hatch, but that’s when you could then take that egg, put it into the artificial egg environment, and then scale it up in size,” he says.

So far, Pask says, the artificial egg is working well for chickens—almost too well. “We hatched 26 chickens and then [our CEO] asked us to put the brakes on. We have too many chickens running around.”

Inside Anduril and Meta’s quest to make smart glasses for warfare

<div data-chronoton-summary="

  • Optimizing the “human as a weapons system”: Anduril is building smart glasses that let soldiers order drone strikes through eye-tracking and voice commands.
  • Two different bets: The company is pursuing both a $159 million Army contract and a self-funded helmet-headset combo called EagleEye. The latter is something the military never asked for, but Anduril is confident the Army will eventually prefer it.
  • The attention problem: Soldiers already drowning in information could reject the technology if it demands more mental bandwidth than it saves. And a smart glasses system tasked with identifying threats and recommending strikes would introduce massive new risks of mistakes.
  • A high bar, years away: The system must survive dust, explosions, and limited connectivity. The Army won’t even put a prototype into production until 2028, if it picks one at all.

” data-chronoton-post-id=”1137412″ data-chronoton-expand-collapse=”1″ data-chronoton-analytics-enabled=”1″>

The defense-tech company Anduril has shared new details about the augmented-reality headset for the military it’s prototyping with Meta, including a vision for ordering drone strikes via eye-tracking and voice commands.

Quay Barnett, who leads the efforts as a vice president at Anduril following a career in the Army’s Special Operations Command, says his fundamental goal is to optimize “the human as a weapons system.” The vision is undoubtedly cyborg-inspired: Barnett wants drones and soldiers to see together, share information seamlessly, and make decisions as one. 

Anduril actually has two such projects in the works. The first is the Army’s Soldier Born Mission Command, or SBMC, for which the company won a $159 million prototyping contract last year to work with Meta on augmented-reality glasses to attach to existing military helmets. But Anduril has also embarked on a self-funded side quest, announced in October, to design its own helmet and headset combo called EagleEye. This is something the military has not asked for, but Anduril insists it will prefer it and purchase it in the end.

So far, both systems are years away. The Army isn’t expected to move its top choice for the SBMC program into production until 2028, if it picks one at all (the previous lead for the effort, Microsoft, was set to receive a $22 billion production contract that was ultimately cancelled when the glasses didn’t prove viable). But Barnett told MIT Technology Review about where both Anduril’s prototypes are headed.

Depending on the situation, the glasses for either prototype will overlay certain information onto a soldier’s field of view. This might be as simple as a compass or as complex as an entire map of the area, information about where nearby drones are flying, or AI-driven recognition of a target like a truck. 

The soldier would then speak to the interface in plain language—for example, to order an evacuation for someone who’s been injured or to plan a route taking into account which areas are off limits. A large language model—Anduril is in tests with Google’s Gemini, Meta’s Llama, and even Anthropic’s Claude, despite the company’s conflict with the Pentagon—will be used to help translate a soldier’s speech into commands the software can follow. And the engine for it all will be Anduril’s software Lattice, which incorporates data from lots of different military hardware into one picture. The Army announced in March that it would spend $20 billion to integrate Lattice with essentially its entire infrastructure.

Barnett’s team is designing the headset to carry out multi-step tasks. A soldier might send a drone to surveil an area and instruct it to come back once it’s found something that looks like an artillery unit; then the system would recommend courses of action, like sending a nearby drone to strike, that would have to be approved by the normal chain of command. Leading the system through this, if all goes to plan, might not even require speech; the soldier could instead communicate through tracked eye movements and subtle taps.

That’s the idea, anyway. It’s worked on early prototypes, Barnett says, but there aren’t yet versions ready for the Army to test at scale. The component parts began arriving in March. Because of federal military contracting rules, these parts—unlike Meta’s commercial smart glasses—required new supply chains that don’t rely on Chinese companies.

It’s a lot for soldiers already bogged down in information overload, says Jonathan Wong, a former US Marine who works as a senior policy researcher at RAND on Army efforts to buy new tech. Both smart glasses projects aim to create a clean interface that presents only the right information at the right time. But it’s a product that soldiers will reject if it costs more of their attention than it saves. “How much mental bandwidth do you have to be both aware of your surroundings and to operate this technology in a way that makes you and your whole unit better?” he says.

Wong recalls that as a platoon commander, for example, he had a radio that operated on three different channels at once. “The moment that two people were on different channels talking at the same time, I immediately couldn’t comprehend anything that either one of them was trying to tell me, and I was probably not aware of my own surroundings,” he says. “I think there are limits to what you can take in.”

Ideally, Barnett says, smart glasses can ease that information overload. Anduril’s approach is to get creative with ways the user can access necessary information quickly. Voice commands and eye tracking are a piece of that strategy. But even if it’s all technically feasible, it might take years of field testing to know if the system is actually useful for soldiers, Wong says. 

Such a system would mark a major escalation in how closely soldiers rely on imperfect AI systems. While computer vision models used to identify objects have long been employed by militaries, and chatbots have recently entered decision-making during the war in Iran, these technologies have not yet made their way to most frontline soldiers. A smart glasses system tasked with identifying threats and recommending strikes would introduce massive new risks of errors. 

Anduril is not the only one competing to develop smart goggles for combat. Rivet, which specializes in wearable sensors for the military, received a $195 million prototyping contract the same time, and in March the Israeli defense-tech company Elbit received its own $120 million contract. This all comes after Microsoft lost its role leading the Army’s smart glasses effort, following a Pentagon audit that found the Army wasn’t properly testing the glasses, a mistake that could have wasted $22 billion.

For both Anduril’s prototypes, the company is testing a new system for digital night vision, which uses electronic sensors and algorithms to boost low levels of light. It’s been a promised technology for decades but has tended to work too slowly for practical use and produce grainy images. Anduril says it has found improvements over previous prototypes through techniques rooted in both new generative AI and older machine learning. 

Much of the other hardware for both projects is being built by Meta, including the displays and the waveguides that send visuals to the user’s eye without blocking the view. That might be a surprise to anyone who knows the backstory: In 2017, Facebook (now Meta) ousted Anduril founder Palmer Luckey following an internal conflict involving his support for Donald Trump. The two are now back in the augmented-reality business together, while Mark Zuckerberg has also adopted a friendlier posture toward the second Trump administration.

For the Army initiative, this suite of smart glasses, night vision, and sensors will be attached to the helmets and other gear soldiers already wear, with a separate battery pack. The EagleEye version will instead incorporate the tech into the helmet itself. Even if the Army doesn’t prefer EagleEye in the end, Barnett says, Anduril will attempt to sell the system to foreign militaries.

Multiple challenges must still be overcome. Unlike Meta’s Ray-Ban glasses, the prototypes have to operate in an environment full of dust, explosions, and smoke. Adding the computing power and battery life they need also means more weight for soldiers already carrying upwards of 100 pounds. Then the technology has to work in environments without ubiquitous 5G cell connections; powerful computer vision and AI models will need to run locally on the device.

For the Army to want to buy it at scale, “it’s got to work, and it’s got to be pretty seamless,” Wong says. “It’s a high bar.”

What to expect from Google this week

This story originally appeared in The Algorithm, our weekly newsletter on AI. To get stories like this in your inbox first, sign up here.

When Google opens its doors tomorrow for its annual developer conference, I/O, it will do so as a clear third place in the foundation model race. A year ago, at Google I/O 2025, the situation looked very different: The company was still riding high from the launch of Gemini 2.5 Pro that March, and distinguishing among the top-tier large language models often felt like a subjective splitting of hairs. 

But a foundation model’s reputation these days rests largely on its coding capabilities, and for months Google’s coding tools have been outgunned by Anthropic’s Claude Code and OpenAI’s Codex. Those systems are so dramatically superior to Google’s own offerings that the company has reportedly had to allow some engineers at DeepMind, its AI division, to use Claude for their work—lest they fall farther behind.

So when I arrive at the conference in Mountain View, California tomorrow, I’ll certainly be on the lookout for any efforts Google is making to claw its way back into frontrunner position. But I’m also eager to see new developments in areas where Google shapes the cutting edge, such as AI for science. The company’s moves there might receive less attention, but they will be no less consequential. 

Here are three things I’ll be paying particular attention to over the next two days.

An attempted coding comeback

Google is taking its AI coding crisis seriously. According to reporting from The Information, there’s a new AI coding team at DeepMind. And the Los Angeles Times has reported that John Jumper, who shared a 2024 Nobel Prize in chemistry with DeepMind CEO Demis Hassabis for their work on the protein structure prediction software AlphaFold, is lending his talents to the efforts. I would be surprised if we don’t see a major new coding release at I/O, perhaps in the form of an update to the company’s Antigravity agentic coding platform.

That said, we shouldn’t expect anything transformative here. Googlers have access to models and products that are substantially ahead of those released to the public, yet they were still reportedly fighting over who got access to Claude Code last month. Unless the company has made astonishing progress since then, Google probably won’t make it back to the coding frontier in the next two days.

Science and health

Coding might be Google DeepMind’s weakness, but science is its conspicuous strength. It is the only frontier AI company to have earned a Nobel Prize. And as LLMs have come to dominate the AI-for-science landscape, Google has only solidified its lead. Last year, the company released multiple scientific AI tools, including the AI co-scientist, which formulates hypotheses and research plans in response to user questions and has been described as an “oracle” by one Stanford scientist, and AlphaEvolve, a system that iteratively discovers new solutions for mathematical and computational problems. If any new scientific tools are announced at I/O, they’ll be worth noting.

I’ll also be paying close attention to any moves Google makes in health and medicine. Google is doing some of the best research out there on LLM-based health tools, but OpenAI has defined the health AI conversation since the release of ChatGPT Health in January. Google has announced that it will be making its AI-powered Health Coach publicly available tomorrow, but promotional material suggests that the tool is geared more toward providing advice on topics such as fitness and diet than to addressing users’ medical concerns. Is this another area where Google has fallen behind, or is the company exercising appropriate caution in a high-stakes domain? 

The drama

While Google fans congregate down in Mountain View, roughly 30 miles north in Oakland the Elon Musk v. Sam Altman trial will be wrapping up. The past few months have seen more than their fair share of AI CEO drama—before the trial, the animosity between Altman and Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei took center stage as Anthropic and OpenAI worked to negotiate deals with the US Department of Defense. But DeepMind’s Hassabis has, for the most part, steered clear of such drama. He effectively presents himself as a Nobel Prize-winning nerd, and if he has written screeds about any of his peers, they haven’t been leaked to the press or appeared in legal discovery.

That’s not to say that Google is controversy free. Last month, a group of 600 employees, many of whom work for DeepMind, sent a letter to CEO Sundar Pichai protesting an impending DoD deal. Google signed that deal the next day. Hassabis, Pichai, and all the other big names will surely do their best to skirt these and other touchy subjects while on stage, but controversies will worm their way in regardless. It will be interesting to see whether Google can maintain its veneer of neutrality.

Here’s why Elon Musk lost his suit against OpenAI

On Monday, the jury in Musk v. Altman dealt Elon Musk a major blow—reaching a unanimous advisory verdict that he had sued OpenAI too late and, as a result, his claims are barred by the applicable statutes of limitations. US District Judge Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers immediately accepted it. 

Musk announced on X that he will be appealing the decision. “The judge & jury never actually ruled on the merits of the case, just on a calendar technicality,” he wrote.

OpenAI was cofounded by Musk and a group of researchers in 2015 as a nonprofit with a mission to develop AI for the benefit of humanity, unconstrained by a need to generate financial returns. Musk donated $38 million to the company during its early days, allegedly on the basis that OpenAI CEO Sam Altman and president Greg Brockman had promised to keep the company a nonprofit committed to the mission.   

Musk brought two claims against OpenAI. First, he argued that Altman and Brockman breached the charitable trust he created through his donations by breaking their promise to keep the company a nonprofit and creating a for-profit subsidiary that ballooned over the years. Second, he argued that Altman and Brockman unjustly enriched themselves at Musk’s expense. He sued OpenAI in 2024. 

Musk asked the court to unwind a 2025 restructuring that converted OpenAI’s for-profit subsidiary into a public benefit corporation and to remove Altman and Brockman from their roles.

OpenAI argued that the time for Musk to sue the company had run out before he brought the case. The statute of limitations on the breach of charitable trust claim is three years, while the statute of limitations on the unjust enrichment claim is two years. This means that Musk should have discovered, or had reason to discover, Altman and Brockman’s alleged breach of charitable trust no earlier than 2021 and their alleged unjust enrichment no earlier than 2022. 

While Musk argued he discovered that Altman and Brockman had broken their promise only in 2022, OpenAI claimed that Musk had reason to think this well before 2021. 

Musk told the jury that he has gone through “three phases” in his beliefs about OpenAI: In phase one, he was “enthusiastically supportive” of the company. In phase two, “I started to lose confidence that they were telling me the truth,” he said. In phase three, “I’m sure they’re looting the nonprofit.” 

Here’s a deeper dive into a timeline of the events as testified in the trial. You can read my dispatches from all three weeks of the trial here and here and here

2017: Musk proposes creating a for-profit subsidiary

In 2017, two years after OpenAI was founded, Musk and the other cofounders tried to create a for-profit subsidiary to raise enough capital to build artificial general intelligence—powerful AI that can compete with humans on most cognitive tasks. They fought a bitter power battle over who would get to control the entity. Musk also proposed merging OpenAI with his electric-car company, Tesla. 

During the trial, OpenAI’s lawyers pressed Musk on these discussions, suggesting that Musk knew in 2017 about Altman and Brockman’s plans to pivot the company—even participating in such plans—and had reason to sue then.

“I was not opposed to there being a small for-profit that provides funding to the nonprofit,” Musk told the jury, “as long as the tail didn’t wag the dog.” 

2019: OpenAI creates a for-profit subsidiary with capped profits

In 2019, OpenAI created a for-profit subsidiary, under which employees and investors would receive a capped return on their investment. At the same time, the company secured a $1 billion investment from Microsoft. OpenAI argued that Musk again had reason to sue the company then. 

But Musk testified that he didn’t think the move was violating the nonprofit’s mission. “If you’ve got a capped-profit situation, it hasn’t violated the nonprofit’s goal,” Musk told the jury earlier in the trial. “There was no basis for me to file a lawsuit at that time.”

2020: Microsoft snags an exclusive license 

In 2020, when Microsoft secured an exclusive license to OpenAI’s GPT-3 model, Musk posted on X: “This does seem like the opposite of open. OpenAI is essentially captured by Microsoft.” OpenAI once again argued that Musk had reason to sue then. 

But Musk testified that after reading the post, Altman reassured him that “OpenAI was staying on the mission as a nonprofit.” Musk said although he was skeptical, he still had no reason to sue the company at that point.

2022: Microsoft prepares to invest $10 billion in OpenAI

It was only in 2022, Musk testified, that he discovered OpenAI had abandoned its nonprofit mission. At that time, Microsoft was preparing to invest $10 billion in OpenAI—a deal that closed in 2023. 

“I was disturbed to see OpenAI with a $20B valuation,” Musk texted Altman after reading the news. “This is a bait and switch.”

Musk told the jury this was the moment that made him realize “the for-profit is the tail wagging the dog.” He thought Microsoft would give $10 billion only if it expected “a very big financial return.” He argued that this was the point he realized “OpenAI had become, for all intents and purposes, a for-profit company with a $20 billion valuation.” 

“The 2023 deal was different,” Steven Molo, one of Musk’s lawyers, hammered home during his closing argument.

The jury sides with OpenAI

It was up to the jury to decide whether the evidence supported Musk’s claim that he first realized in 2023 that OpenAI was no longer a nonprofit committed to its mission. In the verdict announced today, they found Musk did in fact have reason to think that he was being misled by Altman and Brockman before 2021. They did not address whether he was in fact misled. 

Courts often decide cases on procedural grounds like statutes of limitations when they can, because it can be the cleaner way to resolve a case than to grapple with its merits.

Musk has said he will appeal the decision to the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, a federal appellate court that reviews decisions from district courts in California and other states.