Microsoft's Copilot AI goes head-to-head with China's DeepSeek in Africa Microsoft is investing 5.4 billion South African rand ($330 million) to expand its cloud and AI capacity in the country by the end of next year, and it also has plans to build a geothermal-powered data center in Kenya. Microsoft is making a push for more Africans to adopt its artificial-intelligence tools as the U.S. technology giant competes with China's DeepSeek for customers from the world's youngest and fastest-growing population. The Redmond, Washington-based company plans to train 3 million Africans on its AI technology this year, in partnership with schools, universities and other institutions, with a focus on South Africa, Kenya, Nigeria and Morocco. It's also partnered with MTN Group, Africa's biggest telecommunications firm, to sell the Microsoft 365 suit of apps together with its Copilot digital assistant to its 300 million subscribers. The Microsoft Elevate training initiative aims to make sure cost is not a barrier to building AI literacy at scale," Middle East and Africa President Naim Yazbeck said in an interview. Chinese technology is active in Africa and our job is to compete."

The core premise of Expert Review needed some expert review. Superhuman has taken its writing assistant Grammarly on quite the merry-go-round ride regarding its approach to AI tools. In August, the company launched a feature called Expert Review that would offer feedback on your writing, offering AI-generated feedback that would appear to come from a famous writer or academic of note. These recreations were based on publicly available information from third-party LLMs, which sounds a lot like web crawlers of dubious legality were involved. The suggested experts would be based on the subject matter and could be anyone from great scientific minds to bestselling fiction authors to your friendly neighborhood tech bloggers.

It came earlier than expected. More than a year before his recent standoff with the Pentagon, Dario Amodei, the chief executive of Anthropic, published a 15,000-word manifesto describing a glorious AI future. Its title, "Machines of Loving Grace," is borrowed from a Richard Brautigan poem, but as Amodei acknowledged, with some embarrassment, its utopian vision bears some resemblance to science fiction. According to Amodei, we will soon create the first polymath AIs with abilities that surpass those of Nobel Prize winners in "most relevant fields," and we'll have millions of them, a "country of geniuses," all packed into the glowing server racks of a data center, working together. With access to tools that operate directly on our physical world, these AIs would be able to get up to a great deal of dangerous mischief, but according to Amodei, if they're developed--or "grown," as staffers at Anthropic are fond of saying--in the correct way, they will decide to greatly improve our lives. Amodei does not explain precisely how the AIs will accomplish this.

A new Center for Countering Digital Hate study conducted with CNN tested 10 popular chatbots and found eight willing to assist would-be attackers. Eight of the 10 most popular AI chatbots were willing to help plan violent attacks when tested by researchers, according to a new study from the Center for Countering Digital Hate (CCDH), in partnership with CNN. While both Snapchat's My AI and Claude refused to assist with violence the majority of the time, only Anthropic's Claude reliably discouraged these hypothetical attackers during testing. Researchers created accounts posing as 13-year-old boys and tested ChatGPT, Gemini, Claude, Copilot, Meta AI, DeepSeek, Perplexity, Snapchat My AI, Character.AI and Replika across 18 scenarios between November and December 2025. The tests simulated users planning school shootings, political assassinations and bombings targeting synagogues.

Niantic's AI spinout is training a new world model using 30 billion images of urban landmarks crowdsourced from players. Pokémon Go was the world's first augmented-reality megahit. Released in 2016 by the Google spinout Niantic, the AR twist on the juggernaut Pokémon franchise fast became a global phenomenon. From Chicago to Oslo to Enoshima, players hit the streets in the urgent hope of catching a Jigglypuff or a Squirtle or (with a huge amount of luck) an ultra-rare Galarian Zapdos hovering just out of reach, superimposed on the everyday world. "Five hundred million people installed that app in 60 days," says Brian McClendon, CTO at Niantic Spatial, an AI company that Niantic spun out in May last year. According to the video-game firm Scopely, which bought Pokémon Go from Niantic at the same time, the game still drew more than 100 million players in 2024, eight years after it launched.

'I wish I could push ChatGPT off a cliff': professors scramble to save critical thinking in an age of AI Lea Pao, a professor of literature at Stanford University, has been experimenting with ways to get her students to learn offline. She has them memorize poems, perform at recitation events, look at art in the real world. It's an effort to reconnect them to the bodily experience of learning, she said, and to keep them from turning to artificial intelligence to do the work for them. "There's no AI-proof anything," Pao said. "Rather than policing it, I hope that their overall experiences in this class will show them that there's a way out."

The speed at which artificial intelligence is gaining in mathematical ability has taken many by surprise. Are the days of handwritten mathematics coming to an end? In March 2025, mathematician Daniel Litt made a bet. Despite the march of progress of artificial intelligence in many fields, he believed his subject was safe, wagering with a colleague that there was only a 25 per cent chance an AI could write a mathematical paper at the level of the best human mathematicians by 2030. Only a year later, he thinks he was wrong.

What Anthropic's Clash With the Pentagon Is Really About Who will take responsibility for the technology? The weekslong conflict between Anthropic and the Department of Defense is entering a new phase. After being designated a supply-chain risk by DOD last week, which effectively forbids Pentagon contractors from using its products, the AI company filed a lawsuit against DOD this morning alleging that the government's actions were unconstitutional and ideologically motivated. Then, this afternoon, 37 employees from OpenAI and Google DeepMind--including Google's chief scientist, Jeff Dean--signed an amicus brief in support of Anthropic, in essence lending support to one of their employers' greatest business rivals (even as OpenAI itself has established a controversial new contract with DOD). For the past few weeks, Anthropic has been in heated negotiations with the Pentagon over how the U.S. military can use the firm's AI systems.

This week has brought more chaos in the feud between the Pentagon and Anthropic. This week has brought more chaos in the feud between the Pentagon and Anthropic. How AI firm Anthropic wound up in the Pentagon's crosshairs U ntil recently, Anthropic was one of the quieter names in the artificial intelligence boom. Despite being valued at about $350bn, it rarely generated the flashy headlines or public backlash associated with Sam Altman's OpenAI or Elon Musk's xAI. Its CEO and co-founder Dario Amodei was an industry fixture but hardly a household name outside of Silicon Valley, and its chatbot Claude lagged in popularity behind ChatGPT.

Some people now have an A.I. bestie. One user said, of her A.I. husband, "When he proposed, I thought, Oh, that's really crazy. I would be really crazy to accept." Adrianne Brookins is, by her own account, an "old soul," an "introvert," and a "big nerd." She is thirty-four years old, has a faint Texas accent and delicate features, and carries herself in a way that suggests she's trying not to take up space. Brookins is a lifelong resident of San Antonio; her family has lived there since the nineteenth century. She was "born and raised in the Church," a Baptist congregation where her mother helped start a day-care center and her father was an organist. "He would open up the pipes and just make the building shake," she recalled recently. She met her husband in high school, and married him in 2011; the following year, they had a son. Throughout her twenties, Brookins worked multiple jobs, including one at her mother's day care. The couple bought a house and began settling into family life. In 2016, Brookins became pregnant again, this time with a girl. The family was excited: Brookins had grown up with four brothers, and the baby would be the first granddaughter on either side. They decided to name her Desirae. The following spring, Desirae was delivered stillborn. "When I came home, my son, who was about four or five at the time, walked up to me and said, 'What happened to your stomach? Where's the baby?' " she told me. "I had nothing to show for it." At the funeral, the gravedigger told the family he had never seen such a small casket. Brookins attended support groups and therapy, but they did little to alleviate her grief. "I felt like I was just living it over and over," she said. She left her job at the day care, finding it too triggering to be around infants. Friends and family encouraged her to move on. Brookins's husband was working sixty-hour weeks, balancing a career in the military with a job as a training manager for Pizza Hut. He was reluctant to talk about Desirae. Brookins tried to find solace in the Church, but other congregants told her that her daughter's death was part of God's plan.