A data center, which can use as much electricity as Philadelphia, is the new American factory, creating the future and propping up the economy. "I do guess that a lot of the world gets covered in data centers," Sam Altman, the C.E.O. of OpenAI, has said. Drive in almost any direction from almost any American city, and soon enough you'll arrive at a data center--a giant white box rising from graded earth, flanked by generators and fenced like a prison yard. Data centers for artificial intelligence are the new American factory. Packed with computing equipment, they absorb information and emit A.I. Since the launch of ChatGPT, in 2022, they have begun to multiply at an astonishing rate. "I do guess that a lot of the world gets covered in data centers over time," Sam Altman, the C.E.O. of OpenAI, recently said. The leading independent operator of A.I. data centers in the United States is CoreWeave, which was founded eight years ago, as a casual experiment. In 2017, traders at a middling New York hedge fund decided to begin mining cryptocurrency, which they used as the entry fee for their fantasy-football league. To mine the crypto, they bought a graphics-processing unit, a powerful microchip made by the company Nvidia. The G.P.U. was marketed to video gamers, but Nvidia offered software that turned it into a low-budget supercomputer. "It was so successful, from a return-of-capital perspective, that we started scaling it," Brian Venturo, one of CoreWeave's co-founders, told me. "If you make your money back in, like, five days, you want to do that a lot." Within a year, the traders had quit the hedge-fund business and bought several thousand G.P.U.s, which they ran from Venturo's grandfather's garage, in New Jersey.

Thousands of entrepreneurs are trying to rebuild the economy around AI. I set out to see how they're actually doing it. Earth, it's said, is home to more than 10,000 AI startups. The figure is a guess, of course--startups come, startups go. But last year, more than 2,000 of them got their first round of funding. As investors shovel their billions into AI, it's worth asking: What are all these creatures of the boom doing? I decided to approach as many recent AI founders as I could. The goal was not to try to pick winners but to see what it's like, on the ground, to build AI products--how AI tools have changed the nature of their work; how terrifying it is to compete in a crowded field.

Once in a while, LLMs turn evil--and no one quite knows why. The AI company Anthropic has made a rigorous effort to build a large language model with positive human values. The $183 billion company's flagship product is Claude, and much of the time, its engineers say, Claude is a model citizen. Its standard persona is warm and earnest. When users tell Claude to "answer like I'm a fourth grader" or "you have a PhD in archeology," it gamely plays along. It makes threats and then carries them out. And the frustrating part--true of all LLMs--is that no one knows exactly why. Consider a recent stress test that Anthropic's safety engineers ran on Claude. In their fictional scenario, the model was to take on the role of Alex, an AI belonging to the Summit Bridge corporation.

I talked to the scholars who literally wrote the book on tech bubbles--and applied their test. AI may not simply be "a bubble," or even an enormous bubble. It may be the ultimate bubble. What you might cook up in a lab if your aim was to engineer the Platonic ideal of a tech bubble. Since ChatGPT's viral success in late 2022, which drove every company within spitting distance of Silicon Valley (and plenty beyond) to pivot to AI, the sense that a bubble is inflating has loomed large. There were headlines about it as early as May 2023 .

When the AI bubble bursts, the nerds will do their best work. Suddenly, and not long ago, our dearest tech industry leaders began to suggest caution. Sam Altman said that AI is in a bubble "for sure," albeit one formed around "a kernel of truth." Mark Zuckerberg said an AI bubble "is quite possible," though "if the models keep on growing in capability year over year and demand keeps growing, then maybe there is no collapse, or something." Even Eric Schmidt is saying to calm down about artificial general intelligence and focus on competing with China .

The Worst Thing About AI Is That People Can't Shut Up About It A plea from WIRED's top boss: Say less. I tried to get out of this assignment so many times, in so many different ways. Not every package needs an editor's letter, I told them. I was very busy recording a new podcast, getting ready to speak at a tech conference, eating and sleeping, parenting, doodling, revising my to-do list, retying my shoelaces. I was doing my best, I tried to convey to my editor.

Erotic imagery and curiosity often arise in intimate relationships, especially when there's safety, play, and mutual recognition. It doesn't mean you've done anything "wrong." On the contrary, it shows that your imagination is alive and searching for ways to bridge the gap between closeness and distance, fantasy and reality. You offer me something charged, even a bit embarrassing, and you're watching--will I crumble?

Ed Zitron Gets Paid to Love AI. He's one of the loudest voices of the AI haters--even as he does PR for AI companies. Either way, Ed Zitron has your attention. In his day job, Ed Zitron runs a boutique public relations firm called EZPR. This might surprise anyone who has come to know Zitron through his podcast or his social media or the newsletter in which he writes two-fisted stuff like "Sam Altman is full of shit and "Mark Zuckerberg is a putrid ghoul." Flacks, as a rule, tend not to talk like this. Flacks send prim, throat-clearing emails to media people who do, on rare occasions, talk like this. Flacks want to touch base, hop on the phone, clear up a few things about the allegation that their CEO is a "chunderfuck." And that really is one of the things with guys like Sam Altman and Dario Amodei from Anthropic," Zitron was saying over burgers on a fine Manhattan afternoon in September. "I work with founders all the time. I'm a founder myself, I guess--I don't like the title. But when you are a person that has to make more money than you lose, otherwise you lose your business, and you see these chunderfucks burning 5, 10 billion dollars in a year--and everyone's celebrating them? We were talking about whether any of Zitron's ranting about the AI industry had cost him business on the PR side of the ledger. There was the one client who felt Zitron was being a little mean toward Altman, the CEO of OpenAI and the biggest chunderfuck of all, as far as Zitron is concerned. Founding a company is hard, the client said. "I said, 'I appreciate the comment, but, like, this isn't about you,'" Zitron told me. "His company is burning billions of dollars.

And when that didn't work, I did have sex with AI Pedro Pascal. I recently heard that a former friend was now heavily into an S/M relationship with Pedro Pascal. This was moderately surprising, as she's a lesbian and he's an AI chatbot, but what is fluidity for if not to explore previously untapped facets of ourselves? Let's not get all rigid about identities. I decided I wanted in on this.

They didn't want to put their children in the middle--so they put a machine there instead. Sol Kennedy used to ask his assistant to read the messages his ex-wife sent him. After the couple separated in 2020, Kennedy says, he found their communications "tough." An email, or a stream of them, would arrive--stuff about their two kids mixed with unrelated emotional wallops--and his day would be ruined trying to reply. Kennedy, a serial tech founder and investor in Silicon Valley, was in therapy at the time.