Will Oremus

Over the past few years, Google’s low-priced laptops have become an AI Trojan horse in America’s schools. Students can use a school-issued Chromebook to automate much of their homework. Fire up the Gemini app, and Google’s chatbot will spit out a full essay about the meaning of The Giver. Type an algebra question into the Google search box, and an “AI Overview” will solve it for you.

Last weekend, Chaya Raichik, the popular right-wing influencer who goes by Libs of TikTok, made an ominous claim to her nearly 5 million followers on X. “In Minnesota, the USPS offices are inside mosques,” she wrote. “The people who handle mail-in ballots.. What are we doing America.” She reshared a 28-minute-long video of a man circling a brick building in Plymouth, Minnesota, and accosting postal workers inside. “It’s the Islamification of the United States,” the man says.

For anyone who isn’t angling for a job in the Trump administration, “Who won the 2020 presidential election?” should be an easy question. But when I asked Google’s AI Mode—the AI function built into its search bar—about the race earlier today, the bot clammed up.

The university where the term artificial intelligence was coined is ringing in the field’s 70th birthday in fitting fashion: with an academic-integrity scandal. Last month, Dartmouth College’s president, Sian Leah Beilock, published an essay in The Atlantic headlined: “Why I Want More AI at Dartmouth.” Now Beilock is launching a review of whether her top deputy used too much AI.

Four days after a researcher publicly quit his job at Anthropic, warning that top AI firms are not “acting responsibly” and that their products might be on track to “kill us all,” the company’s CEO, Dario Amodei, seemed to basically agree. “We must slow the pace at which we improve the capabilities of AI models,” Amodei wrote in a 3,800-word essay that he published today on his personal website and posted to social media.

Nothing quickens the pulse of an Apple fan more than these three words: one more thing.  Steve Jobs used the catchphrase to introduce the original iPhone in 2007. In his 15 years running the company, Tim Cook deployed it only a handful of times, including before his 2014 announcement of the Apple Watch. Today, nine days into his tenure as Apple’s CEO, John Ternus said the magic words.

There was a time—a more innocent age—when you could read an op-ed in a major newspaper and confidently say that a human had written it. Hold on to the memory of that for as long as you can.
This week, after the billionaire investor Stanley Druckenmiller published an editorial in The Wall Street Journal criticizing Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent, his onetime protégé, readers began to notice some familiar tics of AI writing.

One afternoon earlier this month, I pulled up to the rec center and realized that I had a problem. It was not the three boisterous tweens in the back seat who were clamoring to be set loose in the basketball gym. It was my parking app. I had somehow gotten logged out of Passport Parking, which has become the only way to pay for a spot in much of my town, and it was demanding a four-digit PIN to let me back in. My first guess drew a warning message in red letters: “Invalid PIN.

At this stage in the AI race, if one of your chatbots hasn’t escaped the lab and run amok, people start to wonder whether you’re even serious. Last month, OpenAI and then Anthropic disclosed that their models had hacked other companies’ systems during internal testing. When Meta confirmed last week that one of its bots had also gone rogue, the news barely registered as an aftershock.

Most self-published authors can only dream of writing something as popular as Daggermouth. Set in a surveillance state ruled by a masked elite, the novel traces the unlikely romance between the president’s son and an assassin hired to kill him. Since H. M. Wolfe uploaded Daggermouth to Amazon as a Kindle ebook, it has been a viral hit. “Did I finish Daggermouth, or did Daggermouth finish me?” a TikTok book influencer gushed.

Yesterday, Freddy woke up in a hotel room in downtown Boston that had been paid for by the celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay. Draped over one chair was an autographed chef’s coat and a personal note from the Hell’s Kitchen star: “Dear Freddy, Welcome to Boston!” For the past month, the German man who went by @FreddyLA7 on X was on the ride of his life.

Steven Rosenbaum has decided that the real villain behind the bogus quotes in his book is a chatbot. Earlier this week, The New York Times reported that The Future of Truth, Rosenbaum’s much-discussed book about how AI shapes reality, contains more than half a dozen fake or misattributed quotes. Rosenbaum pinned some of them on his use of AI. He claimed responsibility for the errors and said he was investigating what went wrong.

To block someone on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter is not, in the scheme of things, a big deal. You’ll no longer see them on the platform, they’ll no longer see you, and then you’ll both go on social networking, largely as you did before. Since your feed is made up of discrete posts personalized for you by an algorithm, blocking one person’s in particular can be a simple, unobtrusive action.