If had debuted this year, William Shakespeare might have been accused of writing it with AI. A certain suspicious rhetorical device appears again and again in the play. It's in Act I, Scene ii: "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves." In Act III, Scene ii: "Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more." And later in that same scene: "I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him."

Silicon Valley is making a show of helping prepare the country for AI layoffs. In late March, I started receiving daily texts from the federal government about AI. " AI is changing how we work and live," one message read. "You might feel curious, skeptical, or unsure--that's normal." I had enrolled in an AI-literacy course from the Labor Department created to help workers succeed in the ChatGPT economy. The weeklong program, created in partnership with an AI start-up and delivered by text message, was supposed to equip Americans with "foundational AI skills," according to an agency press release.

An evolutionary psychologist is challenging the popular understanding of kids and technology. W hen the 82-year-old psychologist Peter Gray describes the way he grew up, he punctuates the anecdotes by saying that modern parents would be arrested for letting a child have such fun. When he was 4 years old, he would walk to a store in Minneapolis to buy cigarettes for his grandmother. When he was 11, he would sometimes stay home from school in Hill City, Minnesota, to operate a newspaper printing press owned by his mother and stepfather. His parents were not arrested, and that's because the childhood they permitted him to have was basically normal at the time, even if his family did have a newspaper printing press in the house. As a boy, Peter was obsessed with fishing and baseball; neighborhood friends taught him how to ride his bike and catch grasshoppers. Although Gray's career as a scientist would begin with laboratory studies of rat hormones, he eventually found his way to writing about his childhood, in a fashion.

The death of physical media is getting closer--and we may miss it when it's gone. When I was 16, I did something I'm embarrassed to admit: I waited in a long line to buy a video game called Assassin's Creed III . Over the past few days, though, that experience has become ever so slightly tinged with nostalgia. Last week, Sony announced that, starting in 2028, new PlayStation games will be available only as digital downloads rather than physical discs. Will kids ever get to embarrass themselves like this again?

Jamir Nazir, the controversial winner of the Commonwealth award, tells his side of the story. Jamir Nazir has become the face of the AI-writing crisis. In May, the largely unknown 62-year-old Trinidadian writer was named a regional winner of the prestigious Commonwealth Prize for his short story " The Serpent in the Grove " But after it was published in the literary magazine, signs began to emerge that the story--about a cocoa farmer who cheated on his wife, and then tried to kill her--may have been AI-generated. Inscrutable lines plucked from Nazir's dense prose were mocked and memed. A young woman in the story "had the kind of walking that made benches become men."

Apple is charging you an AI tax. There are many things you can buy for $10,000: A nose job. With luck, a used car. Or you could purchase a MacBook Pro. That's how much the highest-end, fully loaded version of Apple's laptop now costs--$3,000 more than it did last week. Maybe you don't need the most powerful MacBook Pro.

The Reflecting Pool drama says everything about how the administration operates. If you wanted to make an argument that we are all living in some cruel simulation, a key piece of evidence might be that the news keeps providing us with absurd, occasionally quite alarming metaphors for what it's like to exist in 2026. To wit: The London School of Economics recently canceled an event on extreme heat because of an extreme-heat warning issued by the United Kingdom's Met Office. Or, closer to home for Americans: Donald Trump, trying to renovate the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool for America's 250th birthday and, instead, scoring a tax-payer-funded, $14 million-over-budget own goal in the form of a cracked and peeling, green-algae-riddled, potentially duck-killing militarized zone in the nation's capital. One of the firms hired for the renovation is named Greenwater Services.

I bought the most confusing jacket in America. N othing about the Palantir chore coat makes any sense. Mine is a size small, though it's so oversize that I look like a teen wearing a hand-me-down. The jacket is also the most comfortable and practical garment I own. It's buttery soft and as heavy as a blanket, with three massive patch pockets that each can hold a paperback book.

I'd Rather Risk Cancer Than See AI Move This Fast I'd benefit if AI cured cancer. And I still want AI progress to slow down. On a fall afternoon 15 years ago, I met an idealistic researcher outside a Stanford coffee shop to discuss our shared dream: using AI to detect cancer. He had wiry hair, a penchant for talking with his hands, and a reputation for brilliance. He worked at a research lab that developed early screens for cancer; I, at 20, had just learned that I carried a mutation that conferred a very high risk of breast, ovarian, and other cancers.

The future of AI and jobs will be so much weirder than you think. This article was featured in the One Story to Read Today newsletter. Last year, Steve Yegge started "suddenly getting pounded by nap attacks in the middle of the day." Without fail, Yegge--a programmer and tech blogger--would "hit a wall, fall over, and sleep for 90 minutes," he told me. Like many developers, Yegge no longer writes code by hand; instead, he manages a legion of bots to do that for him.