GameStop has built up a stake of 5% in eBay and is offering to acquire the company at $125 a share. GameStop has built up a stake of 5% in eBay and is offering to acquire the company at $125 a share. GameStop's $55.5bn bid for eBay rejected as'neither credible nor attractive' Online marketplace takes into account uncertainty around US video games retailer's financing proposal The board of eBay has rejected the US video games retailer GameStop's surprise $55.5bn bid (£41bn) for the online marketplace, describing the proposal as "neither credible nor attractive". Earlier this month, GameStop made an unsolicited bid for eBay, publishing a letter on its website outlining a half-cash, half-stock proposal. This was despite the US games company - which became a global household name during the meme stock craze of 2021 - being worth far less than its takeover target.

GameStop's CEO said he could turn eBay into something worth hundreds of billions of dollars. GameStop's CEO said he could turn eBay into something worth hundreds of billions of dollars. GameStop makes $55.5bn takeover offer for eBay Video game retailer's CEO warns that unsolicited bid could turn hostile if it is rebuffed by resale site's board US video games retailer GameStop has offered to buy eBay for $55.5bn (£41bn) in an unsolicited bid that its boss warned could turn hostile if the proposal is rebuffed by eBay's board. GameStop, which has quietly accumulated a 5% stake in eBay, said it was willing to pay $125 a share, split 50-50 between cash and stock. It is an ambitious move by the games company, which catapulted to fame during the meme-stock craze of 2021 but is worth far less than its takeover target.

This story appears in the June 2026 print edition. While some stories from this issue are not yet available to read online, you can explore more from the magazine . Get our editors' guide to what matters in the world, delivered to your inbox every weekday. The courtship between Silicon Valley and MAGA was consummated on June 6, 2024, in San Francisco's Pacific Heights neighborhood, on a street known as "Billionaires' Row," at the 22,000-square-foot, $45 million French-limestone mansion of a venture capitalist named David Sacks. Along with Chamath Palihapitiya, a fellow venture capitalist and a colleague on the podcast, Sacks hosted a fundraiser for Donald Trump. He knew that other technology titans were coming around to the ex-president but remained in the closet. "And I think that this event is going to break the ice on that," Sacks said on the podcast the week before the fundraiser. "And maybe it'll create a preference cascade, where all of a sudden it becomes acceptable to acknowledge the truth." Check out more from this issue and find your next story to read. A few years earlier, Sacks had described the January 6, 2021, riot at the U.S. Capitol as an "insurrection" and pronounced Trump "disqualified" from ever again holding national office. "What Trump did was absolutely outrageous, and I think it brought him to an ignominious end in American politics," he said on the podcast a few days after the event. "He will pay for it in the history books, if not in a court of law." Palihapitiya was more colloquial, calling Trump "a complete piece-of-shit fucking scumbag." These might seem like tricky positions to climb down from--but the path that leads from scathing denunciation through gradual accommodation to sycophantic embrace of Trump is a well-worn pilgrimage trail. The journey is less wearisome for self-mortifiers who never considered democracy (a word seldom spoken on the podcast) all that important in the first place.

The poster child of the AI boom, valued at $850bn, needs to show strategic discipline after'casting its net too wide' If OpenAI is going to float this year, it has to get serious about its business model. The wow factor around the US company - the poster child of an AI industry boom that has stoked fears of a stock market bubble - has been long established, but when will the profits come? The developer of ChatGPT is one of the biggest startups in the world and is now valued at $850bn (£645bn). Meanwhile, it is reportedly spending $600bn on infrastructure (the amount it invests in datacentres and chips to power its AI models) by 2030. At least this is a reduction on an initial estimate of $1.4tn .

After the rise (and fall) of reservation scalping, DoorDash and a host of apps are fighting to book you a seat at the country's most exclusive restaurants. At The Eighty-Six in Manhattan, exclusivity is the point. The luxe, 11-table steakhouse is the sort of place that lavishes caviar and aged mimolette cheese on its potatoes, and crows that your market-price duck was raised by one Dr. Taylor Swift has reportedly dined there in a Miu Miu skirt. Reservations are a scarce commodity that the restaurant, and New York law forbids you from selling one. "Access is the main asset," wrote food writer Helen Rosner in a recent New Yorker review of The Eighty-Six. "The product is the door, and what a door!

Two Literal Crypto Bros Built a Real Estate Empire. In 2019, two Canadian brothers blew into Detroit with an irresistible pitch: For $50, almost anyone could become a property owner. When houses decayed and the city intervened, the blame games began. A fire broke out at 10410 Cadieux in March 2025, burning a hole in the roof. The smell hit me first: damp brick, stagnant water, mold, and bleach. I was partway down a flight of wooden stairs that led to the basement of a 1920s duplex in east Detroit, Michigan. Leading the way was Cornell Dorris, a tenant in the building for nearly a decade. Dorris is in his early forties, has two daughters who visit on weekends, and makes a living smoking meat and cooking for events. As my eyes adjusted, I made out rodent droppings and a black puddle that spread across the basement floor. "Anytime it rains, the water comes down," Dorris said. The air was unnaturally heavy, and I felt a nagging urge to leave. Dorris doesn't have a typical landlord. Almost four years ago, his building was acquired by a startup called RealToken, or RealT.

As the legal war over how to regulate prediction markets rages on, financial institutions are embracing the industry anyway. When Troy Dixon first suggested incorporating prediction markets into the electronic trading platform where he works, he was met with incredulity. "People told us we were crazy," Dixon, Tradeweb's cohead of global markets, tells WIRED. But after the company announced it was partnering with Kalshi in February, Dixon says, the mood changed dramatically. "We've been inundated with calls," he says.

An AI crash could bring down the economy. Some in the tech world think that's the price of progress. The tech billionaire Hemant Taneja admits that AI is a bubble. In fact, he welcomes it: "Bubbles are good," Taneja, the CEO of General Catalyst, a venture-capital firm, told me in an email. If AI comes crashing down, it will lead to "some spectacular failures," he said--companies will go under and people will lose their jobs--but that's a price worth paying for "enduring companies that change the world forever."

The Boston startup uses AI to translate and verify legacy software for defense contractors, arguing modernization can't come at the cost of new bugs. Code Metal, a Boston-based startup that uses AI to write code and translate it into other programming languages, just closed a $125 million Series B funding round from new and existing investors. The news comes just a few months after the startup raised $36 million in series A financing led by Accel. Code Metal is part of a new wave of startups aiming to modernize the tech industry by using AI to generate code and translate it across programming languages. One of the questions that persists about AI-assisted code, though, is whether the output is any good--and what the consequences might be if it's not.

Gay men have long been rumored to run Silicon Valley. No one can say exactly when, or if, gay men started running Silicon Valley. They seem to have dominated its upper ranks at least the past five years, maybe more. On platforms like X, the clues are there: whispers of private-island retreats, tech executives going "gay for clout," and the suggestion that a "seed round" is not, strictly speaking, a financial term. It is an idea so taken for granted, in fact, that when I call up a well-connected hedge fund manager to ask his thoughts about what is sometimes referred to in industry circles as the "gay tech mafia," he audibly yawns. "This has always been the case." It had been the case, the hedge funder says, back in 2012, when he was raising money from a venture capitalist whose office was staffed with dozens of "attractive, strong young men," all of whom were "under 30" and looked as though they had freshly decamped from "the high school debate club." "They were all sleeping with each other and starting companies," he says. And it is absolutely the case now, he adds, when gay men are running influential companies in Silicon Valley and maintain entire social calendars with scarcely a straight man, much less a woman, in sight. "Of course the gay tech mafia exists," he continues. "This is not some Illuminati conspiracy theory. And you do not have to be gay to join. They like straight guys who sleep with them even more." Ever since I started covering Silicon Valley in 2017, I've heard variations of this rumor--that "gays," as an AI founder named Emmett Chen-Ran has quipped, "run this joint." On its face, a gay tech mafia seemed too dumb to warrant actual investigative inquiry.