As Elon Musk has embraced Donald Trump and various far-right conspiracy theories, he has left behind an aghast cohort of Tesla owners who suddenly feel embarrassed by their own cars. Many of them are now publicly displaying their dismay at Musk on their vehicles. Sales of anti-Musk stickers have boomed since the world's richest man declared his support for Trump and helped propel him to victory in the US presidential election, as owners of Teslas, the car brand headed by Musk, try to distance themselves from the South African-born multibillionaire. The day after the election was the biggest day ever," said Matt Hiller, a Hawaii-based aquarium worker who sells a range of stickers online that denounce Musk. "People saw a billionaire supervillain buy his way into the administration and it rubbed them the wrong way." Hiller started the sticker range last year after deciding against buying a Tesla due to Musk's "amplifying of horrible people and silencing of others" on X, formerly Twitter, another of his companies. Several hundred stickers a day are now being sold, primarily to Tesla owners, Hiller said, bearing texts such as "Anti Elon Tesla Club" or "I Bought This Before Elon Went Crazy", or a picture of Musk in clown makeup with the words "Space Clown". "People keep telling me that they feel they can drive their Teslas again with these stickers," said Hiller, who has had to set aside part of his house to accommodate the growing operation. Hiller devises slogans such as "Elon Ate My Cat", a reference to a debunked falsehood about migrants eating pets in Ohio, that are then sold on Etsy and Amazon. It's a relief really to see they are awake," he said of the surging demand.

On the evening of 9 August 1956, a couple of hundred people squeezed into a student union lounge for a concert recital at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, about 130 miles outside Chicago. Student performances didn't usually attract so many people, but this was an exceptional case, the debut of the Illiac Suite: String Quartet No 4, that a member of the chemistry faculty, Lejaren Hiller Jr, had devised with the school's one and only computer, the Illiac I. Decades before today's artificial intelligence pop stars, Auto-Tune and deepfake compositions was Hiller's piece, described by the New York Times in his 1994 obituary as "the first substantial piece of music composed on a computer" – and indeed by a computer. One of the four musicians who performed the piece that night was George Andrix, a violist and composition student at the university. Now 89, Andrix remembers an auditorium packed with people "who showed up to see what this monster of a computer could do." The Illiac I, short for Illinois Automatic Computer, was the first supercomputer to be housed by an academic institution.