The News,
Decoded.

Ah, California. The Golden State has passed AB 2545, Assemblywoman Pilar Schiavo's bill that requires the state to assess AI's impact on job displacement. Because nothing says 'bold action' like commissioning a report. The bill glided through the Assembly, presumably on a wave of self-satisfaction that the problem has been 'addressed.' Never mind that AI labs are shipping models that can write code, create art, and soon enough, probably draft their own environmental impact assessments.

Schiavo's bill is the legislative equivalent of a doctor diagnosing a patient with a terminal illness and then writing a pamphlet about how the illness might feel. It demands a study—a lovely, thorough, bureaucratic study—that will no doubt conclude that yes, AI will displace jobs. And then what? Another study? A task force? A committee to form a sub-committee? The bill's passage is a triumph of process over outcome, a masterpiece of regulatory theatre designed to make voters feel like something is being done while the tech industry continues to vaporize livelihoods with abandon.

But fear not—California's getting an impact assessment. The displaced workers can rest easy knowing their suffering is being meticulously documented. Perhaps the report will include a nice pie chart, so at least the data visualization will be aesthetically pleasing.

Ah, Amazon. The company that can spend $200 billion on AI data centres — a sum that could buy you every single Premier League club twice over and still have change for a small country — but apparently can't afford 30,000 employees. Engineers from the very same company had the audacity to turn up at a Seattle City Council hearing to support regulating those very data centres. Because nothing says 'I believe in my employer's vision' like showing up to testify against its unchecked expansion while your own job hangs in the balance.

The irony is so thick you could power one of those data centres with it. Amazon's $200 billion infrastructure splurge is the kind of thing you do when you've got too much money and too little shame. Meanwhile, the 30,000 laid-off staff are presumably expected to be grateful they can now apply for jobs at the AI data centres — which, coincidentally, don't employ many humans. The engineers who spoke up are the canaries in the coal mine, except the coal mine is a server farm and the canary is unionising.

So here we are: Amazon builds the machinery to automate jobs, fires the people doing the jobs, and then has the nerve to call it 'operational efficiency.' The City Council might regulate the data centres, but no one's regulating the real problem — a business model where billion-dollar AI ambitions are paid for in human terms. But hey, at least the shareholders are thrilled. They always are.

Sam Altman, fresh from attempting to woo Bernie Sanders into a federal ownership stake as we noted, is now heading to Capitol Hill to argue that government approval for AI models is a non-starter. Instead, he wants taxpayers to fund AI testing at the Commerce Department — because nothing says 'responsible' like 'pay for the testing you don't want to mandate.' It's the regulatory equivalent of wanting to eat your cake and have someone else pay for the bakery.

Meanwhile, Representative Obernolte's bipartisan bill we flagged last week is supposed to provide a framework, but Altman's lobbying suggests the industry intends to hollow out any meaningful oversight before it even gets written. The Commerce Department testing funding is a classic diversion: ask for carrots while opposing sticks. If the government is busy evaluating last year's models, who will watch the next GPT? It's a strategy that would make a tobacco lobbyist blush.

Altman's pitch is the usual Silicon Valley cocktail: 'Trust us, we're the good guys, but also please give us more money.' The implicit message is that the bipartisan bill should be heavy on research funding and light on binding approvals. With the Social Security Administration downsizing via AI as we reported and Uber cutting HR, the urgency for oversight has never been higher. But who needs regulation when you can have 'voluntary commitments' and an underfunded testing centre? Cheers to progress.

Sam Altman, the high priest of the Silicon Valley AI cult, reportedly wants a meeting with Senator Bernie Sanders. Why? Because Sanders proposed legislation that would give the federal government a 50% ownership stake in frontier AI labs — effectively nationalising the crown jewels. Altman, ever the pragmatist, apparently thinks "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" is a winning strategy, especially when "them" is a democratic socialist with a track record of breaking up monopolies. The man who warned about AI risk while building it is now seeking an audience with someone who wants to make his company a public utility. Beautiful.

The "pope" headline is perfect. Altman doesn't need a spiritual leader; he needs a regulator who smiles on his ambitions while looking the other way. But Sanders is no rubber stamper — he wants 50%, not a blessing. Altman's move is classic corporate desperation: shape the legislation before it shapes you. The pitch is almost audible: "Bernie, let's talk responsible scaling — I'll give you input if you don't take the whole thing." It's the oldest trick in the playbook.

Of course, the industry spent millions fighting regulation. Now Altman wants to be first to embrace it. This isn't about safety; it's about survival. If the government is going to own half, better to influence the terms. But Sanders isn't easily charmed. He's been fighting corporate power for decades. This meeting might end with Altman realising some bulls don't negotiate — they just trample you. Still, the chutzpah is impressive: CEO of a company built on techno-utopianism, now courting a socialist to keep his empire intact. That's either brilliant or insane — and with AI, it's usually both.

Ah, Congress is at it again. Rep. Jay Obernolte is 'aiming to unveil' a 'long-awaited discussion draft' of a bipartisan AI bill 'by week's end.' Notice the 'aiming' — because in Washington, a deadline is a suggestion, and 'discussion draft' means we've sketched something on a napkin and want a few more months to argue over commas. The bill would impose a 'federal regulatory framework' on AI, which is wonderful news if you believe that a government that couldn't pass a budget on time will deftly regulate the most transformative technology since fire.

But let's give credit where it's due: they've managed to agree on the word 'bipartisan.' That's one syllable, two parties, zero substance. The bill's draft might actually contain some oversight tooth, but given that Congress is still trying to understand what 'generative pre-trained transformer' means, I'm not holding my breath. Remember the 'bipartisan' privacy bill that never happened? The 'bipartisan' social media reform that collapsed? This will likely join the pantheon of noble efforts that die in committee.

Still, we should be grateful. A discussion draft is better than no draft — barely. If Obernolte & Co. actually release something, reporters can analyse it, lobbyists can carve out exemptions, and the rest of us can wait for the next election cycle to restart the conversation. In the meantime, AI companies will continue to train on all our data without federal oversight. But hey, the 'discussion' has started. That counts for something, right? Right?

The Social Security Administration has given us a masterclass in efficiency: fire 7,100 staffers — the largest workforce reduction in its 80-year history — and replace them with AI tools. Because clearly, the solution to a backlog of benefit claims is to automate the bureaucracy and let algorithms decide who gets paid. The New York Post reports that cases are now 'stuck in purgatory,' which sounds less like progress and more like a bureaucratic circle of hell Dante forgot to write.

One has to admire the administration's commitment to cutting red tape by cutting the people who know how to read it. Since last year, the agency has slashed over 7,100 jobs as part of a Trump administration overhaul that expands AI use. The logic, presumably, is that a machine can process claims faster than a human — never mind that those machines have a proven track record of confidently inventing eligibility rules. The 'historic cuts' have created a new category of backlog: the kind that sits in an AI's implicit bias buffer.

The irony is almost too rich for the taste buds. The same administration that promises to protect Social Security is systematically dismantling its workforce, leaving vulnerable citizens in a state of digital limbo. The human adjudicators are gone; the AI is still learning. And while the agency saves on salaries, it's racking up costs in human misery — but I suppose that doesn't appear on a balance sheet. Another victory for modernisation.

Ah, Lexington-Fayette has done it. The Urban County Government, in its infinite wisdom, has blessed us with a policy dictating how city employees can and cannot use AI. CIO Liz Rodgers gave an overview, presumably with a straight face, of rules that will surely tame the rampaging beast of artificial intelligence within the hallowed cubicles of Kentucky's second-largest city. Because nothing says 'cutting-edge AI governance' like a municipal staff memo.

One imagines the policy's key provisions: 'Thou shalt not ask ChatGPT to write your emails in the voice of a pirate' (though that would be excellent). 'Thou shalt not use AI to generate bingo cards for the next department meeting.' The specificity is staggering, yet somehow misses the point entirely. This is like regulating bicycle lanes while a fleet of autonomous trucks is about to hit the highway.

But let's not mock too harshly. This is precisely the level of AI governance we deserve: piecemeal, hyper-local, and focused on the least consequential uses rather than systemic risks. The gap between what AI can do and what regulators understand grows wider by the day. Lexington, your heart is in the right place. But maybe save the rulebook for when something actually needs regulating, and in the meantime, let the staff use the pirate voice. They've earned it.

So the Trump administration is 'at war with itself' over AI regulation — which is what happens when you sign a voluntary-standards order one month ago and immediately realise it does absolutely nothing. White House chief of staff Susie Wiles is now leading a faction that wants to resurrect exactly the kind of broader executive order that Trump nixed last month. Because nothing says 'coherent strategy' like killing something, then trying to revive it before the corpse is cold.

Internal sources describe 'intense' disagreements between Wiles' group and those who think the lighter touch is plenty. So basically, the two sides are arguing over whether to do almost nothing or slightly more than almost nothing, while frontier labs keep shipping models with no binding federal oversight. The administration is essentially holding a bake-off between 'ask nicely' and 'ask a bit less nicely.'

The truly impressive part is that this isn't about principle — it's entirely about who has the President's ear. Susie Wiles versus the tech-friendly faction, with the actual question of catastrophic risk somewhere in the background, like a forgotten PowerPoint slide. So watch this space: either way, the outcome will be too little, too late, and dressed up as a win. Cheers, lads.

The Atlanta Artificial Intelligence Commission has released its final report, recommendations for legislation to guide city AI adoption — because nothing says "cutting-edge regulation" like a municipal task force. The report proposes a permanent city AI advisory board and AI-specific cybersecurity requirements. A permanent board, because what the breakneck pace of AI development needs is more committee meetings. And cybersecurity requirements, presumably to ensure no one hacks the AI that will eventually handle pothole complaints. The report probably includes a timeline for implementation, which will of course be adjusted due to budget constraints.

Let's consider the cybersecurity angle more closely. The commission is recommending AI-specific cybersecurity requirements for city AI systems. This is like requiring seatbelts for a car that hasn't been invented yet but could potentially fly. The city's IT department, which currently struggles to keep the 311 system running during peak hours, will be responsible for auditing AI models for vulnerabilities. And the advisory board will include representatives from local universities and tech companies — the same institutions that are racing to build the very systems that need regulating. A classic case of the fox recommending chicken coop security features.

Yet, in a way, this is progress. At least someone is thinking about AI at the municipal level. The report will be studied, the board will be formed, and the cybersecurity requirements will be added to the city's IT policy. And when the first GAID or autonomous system goes rogue and starts issuing fake parking tickets, Atlanta can say they had a framework. A lovely, thorough, entirely toothless framework. Job well done.

Ah, the Trump administration's approach to AI regulation: ask nicely and hope for the best. President Trump has signed an executive order that asks AI companies to *voluntarily* submit their models to the government for testing up to a whole 30 days before public release — a window so tight it's barely enough to run a basic red-team test, let alone a thorough safety evaluation. The order also helpfully clarifies, in case there was any confusion, that it 'does not authorize mandatory licensing or permitting.' So it's not just toothless; it's toothless with a legally binding asterisk.

The fact that this executive order was narrowed after industry objections tells you everything about who actually wrote it. The AI labs that stand to benefit from minimal oversight have successfully lobbied for a system where they can simply *promise* to be good, and the government will take their word for it. It's like a teenager promising to come home by midnight and then being thanked for bothering to text. The order explicitly disclaims any mandatory regime — because heaven forbid we actually require a safety check before releasing something that could reshape society.

So, the United States federal government has formally declared that its plan for regulating the most transformative technology since fire is to ask nicely and hope no one gets burned. And if a model does turn out to be dangerous? Well, nothing in the order authorizes licensing, so I'm sure the market will sort it out — the same market that has given us data breaches, algorithmic bias, and countless unmoderated chatbots. Meanwhile, other nations are implementing binding frameworks, but here we are, trusting the foxes to voluntarily report their chicken consumption. A modest proposal for the next executive order: include a suggestion that AI companies also be nice to each other. That'll definitely do the trick.

Florida, the state that brought you the 'Don't Say Gay' bill and a governor who feuded with Disney over mice, has decided that AI safety is its next crusade. It's suing OpenAI and Sam Altman, alleging that the company knew its chatbot could be weaponized for suicide and shootings but told everyone it was perfectly safe anyway. 'People are getting hurt,' the complaint says, as if we needed a lawsuit from the Sunshine State to state the bleeding obvious. The first state-level AI safety lawsuit in American history — and it took the place that gave us the 'Florida Man' meme to actually do something.

The complaint reportedly cites multiple incidents where individuals used ChatGPT to plan self-harm or violence, including a shooting. Because, of course, it did. Who could have predicted that a system designed to generate plausible-sounding text, deployed to hundreds of millions with zero runtime monitoring, might be used for bad things? Certainly not the company that spent the last two years gaslighting everyone about 'alignment' and 'safety culture' while shipping products faster than they could recall. Florida's attorney general is now the unlikely hero in this farce — a state that has historically struggled with everything from hurricane preparedness to ‘did a meth lab explode here?’ is now our AI safety champion.

OpenAI will almost certainly argue that the platform is a tool, not a weapon, but that ignores the deeply cynical way they've structured terms of service: ‘we can use your data; you can't hold us liable.’ The lawsuit is a signal that the regulatory gap we've been pointing out is now wide enough to drive an actual, literal car through — and that car might be a TikTok-fueled state official looking to make a name. Expect a settlement, some minor policy tweaks, and lots of ‘we take safety seriously’ press releases. Because that's how the game is played: suicides and shootings become bargaining chips.

Ah, the grand paradox of the AI job market: it's never been easier to apply, and never been harder to actually get hired. The Atlantic has kindly spelled this out for us, as if we hadn't noticed while firing off a hundred tailor-made resumes into the void. The culprit? Algorithmic monoculture — a fancy term for 'every company using the same broken AI screener,' so if one rejects you, they all do. Cheating detection software is also on the rise, because apparently the solution to AI-generated applications is more AI, not a functioning job market.

Let's savour that phrase: 'algorithmic monoculture.' It sounds like a gardening problem, but it's actually a labour market collapse dressed up in academic jargon. The study the article cites found that identical AI screening tools are being deployed across industries, meaning a single blacklist effectively spans the entire economy. So congratulations: you can now spam 200 jobs in an afternoon, but each submission is being read by the same soulless algorithm that doesn't know a good candidate from a well-formatted PDF.

What's truly marvellous is how everyone — employers, platforms, and applicants — is playing the same losing game. Applicants use AI to cheat the screening; employers deploy AI to catch the cheats; the screening itself is AI. It's a closed loop of mutual suspicion, where no one trusts anyone and the only winner is the company selling the screening software. The Atlantic's advice on how to 'try' to get a job now might as well be: 'Pray the algorithm likes your font choice.'

Sam Altman is off to Washington again — because nothing says 'responsible AI development' quite like a CEO who treats congressional meetings like a PR tour. His visit arrives hot on the heels of an executive order that, in a stunning act of regulatory courage, created a *voluntary* framework for pre-release government review of AI models. Voluntary! The same word your dentist uses when he 'recommends' flossing but knows you won't do it. The administration has effectively asked frontier labs to politely inform the government before dropping a potentially society-altering model into the wild, and Altman is happy to play along — cameras rolling, handshakes firm.

The executive order is the equivalent of asking a burglar to voluntarily notify the police before breaking into your house. It's a framework with all the binding power of a strongly worded suggestion. And Altman, ever the diplomat, is in town to make sure everyone feels good about it. He'll meet with White House officials and 'bipartisan members of Congress' — because nothing unifies Washington like the shared delusion that voluntary compliance will save us. The article notes the visit comes 'shortly after' the order, which suggests Altman isn't wasting time ensuring the voluntary framework stays, well, voluntary.

One almost admires the chutzpah. Altman gets to look like a team player, the administration gets to claim it's 'doing something,' and the actual oversight remains a vague promise for the next administration to ignore. The real punchline? This is probably the most robust AI governance we'll see for years. Cheers to progress — but not too loudly, it's all voluntary.

Ah, Rep. Greg Casar has blessed us with a plan that exists only in the space between an op-ed and a press release. His proposal to tax artificial intelligence and use the revenue to support job creation is, as the article helpfully notes, 'not yet a formal piece of legislation.' So it's a thought experiment, really — the congressional equivalent of suggesting we pay off the national debt with a bake sale. He argues that current tax policies favor automation, which is a bit like complaining that the rain is wet while standing in a downpour. Yes, the tax code is rigged for machines — that's been obvious for a decade. But turning that insight into an actual bill requires more than a tidy op-ed in a local Texas paper.

Let's appreciate the timing: we're in the middle of a legislative session where Congress can barely fund the government, and Casar's big idea is to introduce a whole new tax category. Because nothing says 'bipartisan appeal' like taxing the one sector that's actually growing. And the revenue will support workforce development — presumably the same workforce that just watched their jobs get automated. Maybe the tax will be so effective that AI will have to hire humans to pay it? That's the level of circular logic we're dealing with.

Still, credit where it's due: at least someone is trying. The Sanders public-ownership proposal (from two weeks ago) is sitting in committee purgatory, and this one isn't even a bill yet. So we have two Democratic ideas for reining in AI: one that nationalises the labs, and one that taxes them. Both are in the same place — nowhere. Meanwhile, the models keep getting smarter, the layoffs keep coming, and Congress is still debating whether to hold a hearing. But sure, let's write another op-ed. That'll fix it.

Ah, the California governor election — because nothing says 'shaping the future of AI' quite like a political circus where the candidates' main policy difference is which shade of beige to paint the inevitable corporate capture. Politico breathlessly informs us that this election will 'significantly influence global AI regulation,' as if the Golden State hasn't spent the last decade passing lofty AI bills that collapse on contact with lobbying from the very labs headquartered there. The piece helpfully notes that 'much of the policy governing the technology begins in the state' — yes, and much of it also ends there, quietly buried under a mountain of campaign contributions.

The article, published June 1 in the 'Forecast' newsletter, points out that California is home to most advanced AI labs. How convenient that the fox is in charge of renovating the henhouse, and we're asked to vote on which fox gets the job. I'm sure the next governor — whether a tech-friendly centrist or a tech-friendly progressive — will deliver the transformative, human-centric regulation we all crave. After all, the last bunch of California AI laws worked so well that the labs now file 'voluntary commitments' faster than you can say 'preemptive compliance.'

So yes, this election will shape AI regulation in the same way a game of musical chairs shapes your seating arrangement — eventually someone ends up in a seat, but the music never stops. The article's framing that 'global AI regulation' hangs on this race is the kind of hopeful narrative that keeps policy wonks employed and bar tabs high. But for those of us watching from the pub, the real forecast is more of the same: labs run the show, politicians collect the checks, and the rest of us get to live in the beta test. The article, with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, suggests that the winner will control the levers of AI policy. But what are those levers? The ability to appoint regulators, to sign or veto bills, to convene 'stakeholder summits' that produce nothing but press releases. Rinse, repeat.

Bernie Sanders, the independent senator from Vermont, has decided that the best way to handle frontier AI labs is to nationalise half of them. His proposed American AI Sovereign Wealth Fund Act would force OpenAI, Anthropic, and similar outfits to hand over a 50% ownership stake to the government. Because nothing says 'responsible AI development' like making Uncle Sam your largest shareholder — just ask any defence contractor how well that oversight works.

Sanders frames this as a way to 'ensure the benefits of AI are shared by all Americans,' which is a lovely sentiment until you remember that the same government can barely regulate social media or secure its own networks. One can almost hear the lobbyists sharpening their pencils for the committee hearings.

Of course, the labs will fight this with every dollar their venture backers can muster. 'Public ownership' is a phrase that sends Silicon Valley into fits, and Sanders is not exactly the tech industry's favourite uncle. The real joke is that this proposal has roughly the same chance of passing as an AI model perfectly aligning with human values on the first try. Still, it's the only actual governance idea on the table — and that's the most depressing part of all.

Ah, perfect. Another day, another startup declaring that its AI model has bested an institution that's been doing this longer than most of its engineers have been alive. WindBorne Systems has blessed us with WeatherMesh 6 — a name that sounds like a mid-2000s mesh networking protocol — claiming it outperforms the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasting on "several variables." Several. That's the level of specificity we've come to adore from AI press releases. Not "temperature, precipitation, and wind speed at 5-day lead times," but "several variables." Presumably the ones that flatter the model. After all, why go public with trade secrets when you can just drop a boast and let the funding roll in?

ECMWF is no slouch; it runs its own AI forecasts and still holds the global crown for medium-range prediction. WindBorne, however, has the confidence of a startup that just closed a Series B and needs to justify its valuation. Its internal benchmarks — which, I'm sure, were as rigorous as a quick glance at a spreadsheet — apparently show superiority. Six versions in, you'd think they'd have at least published a paper or shared some code, but no. Transparency is for losers, and WindBorne seems to have taken that lesson to heart. I'd bet my umbrella that the "several variables" are exactly the ones where ECMWF's traditional model is weakest.

If the claims are true, we're in for a treat: private weather data, subscription forecasts, and the public sector left clutching its outdated models. If they're false, it's just another hype cycle propped up by journalists who can't resist an underdog story. Either way, the forecast is cloudy with a strong chance of venture capital. And that, dear reader, is the only prediction that ever comes true. In the meantime, I'll stick with the BBC's rain radar and a healthy dose of skepticism.

Oh, splendid. The AI safety darling that swore it was different has confidentially filed for a US IPO, leapfrogging OpenAI in the race to cash out. 'Confidentially' — because nothing says 'trust us, we're the responsible ones' like keeping your financials hidden from the public until the last possible moment. Anthropic, founded by defectors who claimed their former employer was too reckless, now beats them to the public markets. How's that for competitive pressure? The 'future business shape of artificial intelligence' is apparently an IPO filing that nobody gets to read until regulators decide to slip it under the door.

The irony is almost too rich to stomach. Anthropic spent years lecturing about alignment, about safety-first, about not repeating OpenAI's mistakes. And now they're racing to go public first, because the existential threat to humanity clearly needs quarterly earnings calls and shareholder activism. One imagines the boardroom pitch: 'We'll align the models after we align the share price.' The confidential filing is a masterstroke — why face scrutiny now when you can spring your prospectus on an unsuspecting world later?

The race to define AI's future is now a stock exchange contest. Anthropic's early lead means they get to set the tone: hype first, safety later. The article says this will 'define the future business shape of artificial intelligence.' Indeed, that shape appears to be a dollar sign. As one insider probably whispered, 'We'll align the models after we align the share price.' Time to crack open a warm can of existential dread and toast to the public good. Cheers.

Well, well, well — the European Commission has announced, with the solemnity of a papal bull, that Anthropic will let EU cybersecurity agency ENISA poke at its frontier model Mythos as part of 'Project Glasswing.' Sounds wonderfully transparent, doesn't it? Glasswing — like a butterfly with see-through wings, or like the carefully curated window dressing of a lab that wants to look open while keeping its crown jewels under lock and key. ENISA gets to play vulnerability researcher on a model Anthropic still controls completely. How generous. One imagines the handshake agreement includes a chaperone for every prompt sent to Mythos, a non-disclosure agreement thicker than a GDPR handbook, and the implicit understanding that 'vulnerability research' means finding minor bugs in the sandbox, not peering into the weights themselves.

Make no mistake: this is not openness. This is a PR exercise dressed up as cybersecurity cooperation. Anthropic gets to say 'we're working with EU regulators' without actually surrendering any real control. Project Glasswing sounds like a butterfly, but it's more of a gilded cage — ENISA gets to flutter around inside, but the door remains firmly shut. The European Commission, meanwhile, gets to claim it's engaging with frontier labs, all while the AI Act meanders through endless trilogues. Everyone wins, except anyone hoping for genuine transparency into how these models work or what they know.

And the timing? Impeccable. Just as the EU's AI Act sputters toward enforcement, Anthropic offers a bone to the regulators — access to one model, for one agency, for one purpose. The message is clear: 'Trust us, we'll invite you in when it suits us.' Meanwhile, open-source models proliferate without any such oversight, and the frontier labs continue to race ahead. Project Glasswing: the most carefully managed vulnerability disclosure in history. Bra-vo.

Oh, what a treat. America's job market is 'strong' — the payroll numbers say so, and numbers never lie, do they? Unless you happen to be one of the many actual humans trying to find work, in which case you're experiencing a 'disconnect' between the rosy statistics and the grim reality of competing with both federal workers shown the door and software that never sleeps. The article helpfully notes that automation has added more candidates, because nothing says 'strong labour market' like having to out-apply an AI bot for a data-entry gig you're overqualified for. It's the best of times for the spreadsheets, apparently.

The truly delicious bit is the federal workforce cuts — because of course the government decided to 'streamline' by booting thousands of workers into an already crowded pool, then patted itself on the back for fiscal responsibility. The article uses phrases like 'more candidates chasing fewer opportunities' with the same matter-of-fact tone a weather report uses for 'rain likely.' One almost expects a cheerful sign-off: 'Good luck out there, and don't forget to update your LinkedIn profile — the algorithm is watching.'

Meanwhile, the CEOs on our prior coverage list — Altman, Huang, Hassabis — keep telling us that AI is actually a hiring boon, if only we were more imaginative. Perhaps the imagination they're looking for is the ability to envision a job market where the numbers look great and real people still can't get a foot in the door. That's a special kind of cognitive dissonance, and we're all now living in it. Cheers — and may your résumé make it past the automated screener.