WIRED goes on location--and on camera--with the cult hit. On March 16, 2026, at 5:45 pm in a leafy suburb of Atlanta called Sandy Springs, police pound on the door of a neglected French Country-style mansion, rifles at the ready, bodycams rolling. Minutes earlier, a distress call came from someone claiming to be hiding from a gunman in the mansion's downstairs bathroom. The dispatcher heard a gunshot ring out in the distance, then the line disconnected. "Open the door!" an officer yells. A calm young man with a mullet and woolly eyebrows steps out, hands raised. The police ask him who else is in the house. "Just my friends," he replies, as seven other young people, men and women, silently file out behind him, less evidently relaxed. They remain outside while two officers search the house. Inside the mansion there are no immediate signs of a massacre, but the decor alone arouses suspicion. All of the windows are frosted over, so only a chilly light leaks in. The place is a mess, and the walls are adorned with lurid, seemingly AI-generated art: a frowning baby holding an assault rifle, a rubber ducky bobbing in a mug of what looks like black coffee, a lidless and levitating eyeball crying into a martini glass. The rooms are painted primary colors, grass green and cherry red, like a kindergarten class. A vape dangles from a doorframe by a chain, suspended at mouth level. The pantry is practically empty. The bedroom is a dormitory featuring seven identical twin beds. No one is hiding in the bathroom. The call, it seems, was a prank. The police return to the driveway and ask, "What is it that you guys are doing here?" "We're just livestreaming," says a man in a camo hat named Matt. "You guys don't have any firearms or anything inside the house?" There are guns in the house, Matt says, for self-defense. Fans of their livestream can be obsessive, he explains, and tend to have perverse ideas about jokes. The officer asks to see their weapons, and they go downstairs. The room is cluttered with ergonomic swivel chairs, desks strewn with takeout containers and energy drinks, two flatscreen TVs, and a dozen computer monitors.

At 21, Speed has pushed the limits of streaming by transforming a distinctly solo format into a global group chat. His song for this year's World Cup is becoming the tournament's unofficial anthem. Streamer IShowSpeed is a huge soccer fan who plans to bring this year's World Cup to his millions of followers. In the days leading up to the 2026 World Cup, the streamer IShowSpeed--one of the most watched people on the planet, who occasionally moonlights as a rapper--released the music video " World Cup (Champions)," a song about flexing national pride where he mentions all 48 teams. As with everything the 21-year-old born Darren Watkins Jr. does, the video was instantly everywhere. The song racked up over 7 million views on YouTube in under 24 hours. The internet rushed to christen it as the anthem of the tournament, even though the World Cup already has one. FIFA, following a ridiculous outpouring from fans and perhaps realizing the massive instant exposure he could bring, added the song to its official album.

Throughout his time as Russian President, Vladimir Putin has been alert to the power of visual imagery. The first time I interviewed him in 2001, an aide swooped in just before the cameras went live and snatched away the small water glasses on the table in front of us. Why did you do that? We wouldn't want anyone to think they were for vodka, came the reply. And anyway, we can't risk a glass spilling live on TV.

A new James Bond is about to make his debut - not on the big screen, but in a video game. It presents Bond before he's earned his 00 status, offering a fresh take on a character that's seen continual reinvention for more than six decades. The new game arrives at a moment of transition for the franchise, with no actor yet confirmed as the next cinematic Bond following Daniel Craig's final appearance in No Time to Die in 2021. The casting process for the live action film has only just officially started, about 15 months since Amazon MGM Studios took control of the Bond franchise. Gibson's portrayal focuses on a more vulnerable, less experienced version of the character.

Plus: Trump has postponed an AI order due to overregulation fears. Anthropic's Code with Claude showed off coding's future--whether you like it or not At Anthropic's developer event in London this week, Code with Claude, attendees were asked if they'd shipped code written entirely by Claude. Almost half the room raised their hands. Many admitted they hadn't even read the code before pushing it live. As tools like Claude Code get better, more and more developers are happy to hand their work off to AI. Anthropic says it wants to push automation as far as it will go. But not everyone is convinced that's the right approach.

The viral short dramas are increasingly being created entirely with AI, with hundreds of new shows spun up each day. In a dimly lit bedroom, a frightened young woman is thrown onto a bed by a tall, muscular man. He grabs her hand, and flame-like vines crawl across her body, fusing with her flesh. A dragon-shaped tattoo appears across her chest. "Two months," the man says. "Give me an heir, or I will eat you."

Loud eaters and phones nearly spoiled my cinema trip - and it's not just me The cinema lights are low and you're cocooned in your seat, ready for the film to transport you to another world. But just as you settle in, you're jolted back to reality. Audience members around you are scrolling on their phones, talking and munching loudly. Cinemas do clearly ask everyone not to disturb those around them - through the use of adverts, announcements and signs - but is behaviour in getting worse? I experienced disruption a few weeks ago while watching Ryan Gosling's sci-fi movie, Project Hail Mary, at a cinema in London.

A viral red carpet moment shone light on a group of hunky Instagram influencers--and the followers who are too horny to care that they're not real. With his deep brown eyes, wide grin, and almost comically chiseled body, Jae Young Joon is the platonic ideal of a hunky male influencer. On Instagram, where he has more than 320,000 followers, he regularly posts himself trying on sheet masks at home, enjoying soju and karaoke with his friends, or posing in front of the Ferris wheel at Coachella . Occasionally, he'll promote his music, including his recent LP Pressure Release which features a BDSM-inspired album cover, his back muscles rippling underneath a harness and chains. It's an impressive online presence, and Jae's fans eat it up: his comments are filled with fire and heart-eye emoji and people praising his music.

Meta's flailing virtual reality social experience is being discontinued in June. It's part of Meta's broader moves to slim down the business that became its namesake. Pour one out from your digital bottle, because Meta is shutting down the virtual reality experience of Horizon Worlds. Meta sent an email blast to Horizon Worlds users today stating that the social VR world will officially end on its Quest VR headsets; starting March 31, Horizon Worlds will no longer be in the Quest store. Some Horizon-specific perks, including Meta Credits, avatars, and some digital clothes and in-world purchases, will also be removed.

Should we be impressed or worried by China's humanoid robot display? - video China's dancing robots: how worried should we be? Dancing humanoid robots took centre stage on Monday during the annual China Media Group's Spring Festival Gala, China's most-watched official television broadcast. They lunged and backflipped (landing on their knees), they spun around and jumped. The display was impressive, but prompted some to wonder: if robots can now dance and perform martial arts, what else can they do? Experts have mixed opinions, with some saying the robots had limitations and that the display should be viewed through a lens of state propaganda.