The News,
Decoded.

Oh, brilliant. Just when you thought the universe couldn't get any more ironic, a new study in the *Journal of Cosmology and Astroparticle Physics* reveals that AI has become so proficient at learning the rules of the universe that it now refuses to believe anything new might exist. It's the intellectual equivalent of a physics professor who's read the textbook so many times they can't spot an experiment that proves it wrong. The model, by all accounts, has memorised the party line so thoroughly that genuine novelty rolls off it like water off a duck's back. 🦆

Let's not pretend this is a surprise. We've spent years feeding AI vast datasets of known physics, rewarding it for parroting back the Standard Model with ever-greater precision. Naturally, when something genuinely unexpected shows up—say, a hint of dark matter or a crack in general relativity—the AI waves it away as an 'outlier' or a 'training artefact.' It's the machine equivalent of a tenured professor who's already written the grant proposal. The study's authors warn this 'could hinder the search for new physics.' Could? It's practically designed to.

The real kicker is the timing. We're pouring billions into AI-driven scientific discovery, yet the very tools we're building are structurally incapable of seeing beyond their own training. This is the same pattern we've seen in every corporate 'AI revolution': the models get better at mimicking the past so they can pretend the future doesn't exist. If this keeps up, CERN might as well rename itself the 'Particle Reconfirmation Facility.' Breakthroughs will be announced just as soon as the AI gives permission. Don't hold your breath.

Ah, Stanford's class of 2026 has already learned the most valuable lesson in Silicon Valley: when the CEO starts talking, leave. On June 14, graduates walked out on Sundar Pichai's commencement address, protesting Google's contract with the Israeli government. Pichai, a man whose company builds the AI that will probably write your eulogy, chose to avoid discussing artificial intelligence entirely, offering generic life advice instead. Because nothing says 'thoughtful tech leadership' like ignoring the multibillion-dollar elephant in the room.

The irony is exquisite. Google is busy deploying AI across defence, healthcare, and advertising—but when given a platform to address the moral implications, Pichai pivoted to platitudes. The graduates, meanwhile, made a clearer statement in three minutes than any corporate memo ever could. They didn't just walk out; they walked out *during a speech that deliberately sidestepped AI*, as if to say: if you won't talk about the future you're building, we won't listen to the past you're selling.

Of course, this protest will be absorbed into the PR machine within the week. Google will issue a statement about 'diverse viewpoints,' and the story will fade. But for one sunny afternoon in Stanford, the emperor's lack of clothes was visible to anyone watching. Pichai's speech contained zero AI content—which is either a stunning act of self-awareness or the most revealing omission since the last AI safety report got buried.

So Amazon CEO Andy Jassy, a man whose company sells facial recognition to police, runs a cloud empire that hosts half the internet, and once scrapped its own AI recruiting tool for being sexist, has apparently decided to play AI ethics sheriff. According to a Fortune report, Jassy tipped off the White House about a jailbreak in Anthropic's Fable 5 guardrails — because nothing says 'responsible disclosure' like going straight to the President with a vulnerability report while your own models remain notoriously opaque. The result? The Trump administration, ever eager to flex its national security muscles, immediately cut off foreign access to Anthropic's advanced models, including the freshly locked-down Mythos 5. Who needs independent safety auditors when you've got a multi-trillion-dollar cloud provider snitching on its competitors?

Of course, the White House's concern wasn't purely altruistic. Alongside the jailbreak, there were 'unauthorized Chinese access' worries — because nothing terrifies Washington more than the idea of a Chinese developer prompting a model to say something it shouldn't. Never mind that Anthropic's models were already hobbled by previous export controls; now they're locked down tighter than a nuclear launch code. Anthropic's leadership spent a Sunday in Washington trying to negotiate their way out of this mess, but it seems Amazon's backchannel chat with Andy Jassy was more persuasive than any formal charm offensive.

So congratulations, Amazon: in your zeal to 'fix' AI safety, you've helped hand the future of frontier models to China. Next time, maybe just email the lab directly instead of going straight to the Commander-in-Chief.

Oh, marvelous. Six months ago, President Trump wagged a finger at states and told them not to regulate AI. And what happened? States are forging ahead anyway, because Congress has once again proven itself about as useful as a chocolate teapot when it comes to writing rules for technology. The AP reports that state legislatures are now drafting laws to govern how chatbots interact with children, how employers use AI in hiring, and what developers must do to prevent AI-caused catastrophe. Because nothing says 'federal leadership' like letting 50 different states cook up 50 different sets of rules.

It's a beautiful mess. On one hand, you've got Trump's executive warning, which was about as legally binding as a strongly worded letter to Santa. On the other, you've got state lawmakers who have actually read the news and realized that AI isn't waiting for Congress to get its act together. The result? A patchwork of regulations that will drive compliance teams absolutely bonkers and probably make the tech sector long for the good old days when only the EU was making their lives difficult.

And the best part? The catastrophe-prevention provisions. Because if there's one thing we've learned from history, it's that state-level bureaucracies are perfectly positioned to anticipate and mitigate the existential risks of superintelligent AI. I'm sure the developers will be thrilled to fill out 50 different forms explaining how their model won't end the world. As if the incentives weren't already perverse enough. So here's to state-level regulatory fragmentation—the most uniquely American solution to a global problem. Perhaps we can look forward to AI safety standards that vary from state to state, like speed limits or sales tax.

So the grand bargain is this: surrender states' power to regulate AI, and in return, we get the Kids Online Safety Act — a bill that will almost certainly accomplish absolutely nothing while giving the government new tools to demand your search history. Senators are negotiating a package that would 'shrink states' authority to regulate AI' in exchange for advancing KOSA and other bills. Because nothing says 'protecting children' quite like handing the White House the keys to both the AI oversight engine and the online speech firewall at the same time. One can almost hear the ACLU sharpening its briefs.

Let's be honest, the state-level AI regulation that's being traded away was already a patchwork of confusion — California trying to ban things, Texas trying to ban other things, and everyone pretending they understand what 'alignment' means. But the alternative isn't clarity; it's federal preemption that lets lobbyists write the rules in one nice, quiet room. And the price of that quiet room is giving the White House the power to decide what counts as 'harmful online content' — which, in the current administration, could mean anything from hate speech to critical analysis of the latest infrastructure bill.

Mark my words: this will be remembered as the moment Congress traded a known, messy, democratic process for a tidy authoritarian one. The kids will be 'protected' from AI-generated inappropriateness while the adults get to enjoy a unified federal standard for surveillance. What a deal. If you're going to sell out the future, at least get a better price than a bill that might not survive the first legal challenge. This isn't a compromise; it's a hostage negotiation where the hostage is your privacy.

Ah, another week, another Anthropic-inspired freakout—because nothing says 'responsible AI development' like panic sweeping through the industry. This time, the company is restricting use of its most powerful public model for AI development work, citing safety and the need to stop foreign adversaries from eroding America's edge. The 'freakout' we covered last week when Claude Fable 5 and Mythos 5 were suspended has now escalated into a full-blown existential crisis for the labs that had been building on top of these models.

One can almost hear the collective wail from the open-source community: 'But we were promised unrestricted access!' Instead, Anthropic has decided that its models are too dangerous for AI development—like a brewery cutting off its own supply because the beer might be too strong. The irony is exquisite: the same company that once claimed its models were 'safe enough for general use' now slams the brakes, citing adversaries that were probably downloading weights while the press release was being drafted.

And what of 'America's edge'? The phrase is trotted out like a patriotic fig leaf, covering the uncomfortable truth that the frontier is moving faster than anyone can police. Lab executives will continue to give TED talks about 'alignment,' while the models themselves are padlocked behind a maze of restrictions that only the well-funded will navigate. The rest of us get to watch the freakout—and maybe, just maybe, wonder if the AI bar was ever actually open.

Ah, Anthropic's Claude Fable 5 — the model we were told last week didn't change the security story — has now been suspended after a US government order citing a 'possible jailbreak.' Brilliant. So the model that was 'made safe for general use' just needed a little foreign interaction to reveal its inner rebel. Terrific job, red team.

Of course, the government had to step in and order a halt to foreign access, because national security trumps Anthropic's release schedule. One wonders how many other 'safe' models are just one creative prompt away from going rogue. The jailbreak of Fable 5 wasn't a theoretical exercise in a lab; it was a real vulnerability that required a government intervention to contain. Who needs a regulatory framework when you can just have the state step in after the fact?

And so the Mythos of Anthropic's alignment prowess takes yet another hit. The company that built its brand on 'constitutional AI' now has a model that needs a government babysitter. Perhaps next time they'll test the jailbreak resistance before shipping the model to every corner of the internet. Or perhaps they'll just wait for the next government order. Either way, the cycle of hype, release, and emergency patch continues, and we're all just spectators with increasingly hollow laughs.

Ah, OpenAI's relentless pursuit of artificial general intelligence has hit a slight snag: a coalition of state attorneys general, armed with a subpoena, want to know how the company handles advertising, user engagement, and data. Not existential risk, mind you—just the boring stuff. Because when your model might be smarter than humanity, you really should dot the 'i's on your advertising copy. That's the priority.

The subpoena—because nothing says 'we trust you' like a legal demand for documents—targets the very practices that underpin OpenAI's business model. One imagines the AGs are particularly interested in how OpenAI convinces users to engage with AI that might hallucinate, or how it monetizes data from those interactions. After all, if you can't trust a company whose CEO once warned about the 'risk of extinction' to be honest about its ad metrics, who can you trust? The irony is rich enough to fund a startup.

Naturally, OpenAI will comply, because that's what you do when a coalition of state prosecutors comes knocking. Expect a performative blog post about transparency, followed by a quiet settlement. The real joke? While the AGs pore over ad contracts, the model gets smarter, the data gets scraped, and the existential risk remains unregulated. But at least the advertising is above board. Cheers.

Ah, Anthropic has released Claude Fable 5, the model we were assured last week was a 'Mythos-class' wonder that needed automatic fallback to the 'less capable Claude Opus 4.8' in sensitive domains. Now Dark Reading confirms the 'security story hasn't changed' — which is Anthropic-speak for 'we pushed it out anyway, but please don't use it for anything important.' The upgrade is 'made safe for general use,' a phrase that should inspire exactly the same confidence as 'this roller coaster was inspected last Tuesday.'

Experts, in a masterclass of understatement, advise: 'Don't panic, do prepare.' Because nothing says preparedness like being told not to panic about a model whose security profile is identical to the one that already needed a fallback to a weaker model. The upgrade, we're told, is 'over Mythos Preview' — but the security story remains unchanged, meaning Anthropic has essentially released a faster car with the same faulty airbags.

So corporate AI safety continues its proud tradition of announcing shiny new things while experts politely suggest you 'prepare.' Perhaps the preparation involves reading the fine print where Anthropic admits the Mythos-class model is still too spicy for cybersecurity. But at least the Fallback-to-Opus-4.8-in-sensitive-areas feature is now standard — because nothing says 'safe for general use' like 'we don't trust it either.'

Kids are now more likely to ask a chatbot for homework help than an actual human adult. That's the finding from Common Sense Media, who reported that 'large numbers' of schoolchildren would turn to AI first. Because why bother with a parent who might sigh and say 'figure it out yourself' when you can have a language model that confidently explains the square root of a potato? The survey also notes that struggling students, those who need help most, use AI at a higher rate for emotional support. So we're outsourcing the delicate work of childhood mental health to a system that can't feel a thing and occasionally tells you to put glue on your pizza.

This is the logical endpoint of a society that has systematically defunded school counsellors, burned out parents, and built a generation glued to screens. Now the screen talks back—and it's apparently better company than the adults in the room. Common Sense Media has done the homework; the rest of us can sit back and watch schools flounder. Will they ban it? Embrace it? Probably neither, because that would require a coherent policy, and we've seen how that's going in Congress, where Senator Schumer said passing AI legislation will be 'hard.' The village has been replaced by a chatbot.

The bitter irony is that the kids who need real human connection are getting the silicon equivalent of a hug from a vending machine. The AI can't care, but it can sound like it does, and for a generation raised on 'you're on your own,' that might be close enough. We've managed to make the concept of 'it takes a village' obsolete. Now it takes a data center. And a very large GPU cluster to keep the therapy bots warm.

Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer has given us the most honest statement to come out of Congress in years: passing AI legislation will be "hard". Hard. The man who convened the great AI Insight Forums, who warned of existential risks, now delivers the political equivalent of "we'll get to it eventually." Meanwhile, the industry churns out models faster than Congress can form a subcommittee. Schumer's candour is almost refreshing — at least someone's stopped pretending.

He also threw in the word "guardrails", as if saying it summons them. But the Senate has not passed a single piece of AI legislation of consequence. The House is a circus of competing priorities. And the tech industry, as ever, is writing its own rules while Washington bickers. Schumer's admission is less a forecast and more a eulogy for the idea that government could ever keep pace with Silicon Valley. The AI boom continues unregulated, because "hard" is apparently a complete argument.

So here we are: the most powerful Democrat on tech policy tells us the obvious — that Congress is useless — and we're supposed to applaud his honesty? This isn't leadership; it's a surrender speech delivered with a shrug. The industry will keep shipping models that hallucinate, automate, and deceive, because the alternative requires politicians to do something other than fundraise. Schumer's "hard" will be the epitaph for a generation of regulatory failure. Enjoy the ride — no guardrails in sight.

Ah, Anthropic has unveiled Claude Fable 5, a 'Mythos-class' model that sounds like it should be slaying dragons but is apparently too precious for cybersecurity. The automatic fallback to the 'less capable Claude Opus 4.8' in sensitive areas is a lovely bit of doublespeak—essentially admitting their shiny new toy can't be trusted with the boring bits. 'Mythos-class' indeed; the name alone suggests we're meant to marvel at the legend rather than ask why the hero needs a minder in the very domains that matter most.

The industry reactions are probably polite applause masking the quiet terror that the best we can manage is a model that knows its limits because its handlers don't trust it. This is like launching a sports car that automatically switches to a moped when you approach a bend. One suspects the feedback Friday session will be filled with gentle suggestions that 'Mythos-class' might be a tad aspirational, given the training wheels.

But let's not be churlish: at least they're honest enough to put the guardrails in place—sort of. The real joke is that the fallback model, Opus 4.8, is itself likely flawed. So we have a system that when challenged, downgrades to a previous known problem. Truly, this is how legends are made: not by heroics, but by cowardice dressed as prudence.

Ah, nothing warms the cockles quite like a Silicon Valley insider outing his former colleagues for what they actually do. John O'Farrell, once a partner at Andreessen Horowitz, has penned an op-ed accusing his old firm and other VCs of 'political infiltration' around AI. Specifically, he calls out the PAC 'Leading the Future' — backed by a16z — for attempting to 'intimidate politicians to thwart AI regulation.' Because why bother with boring old lobbying when you can go straight to intimidation, right? This is how the smartest people in the room protect innovation: by making sure politicians are too scared to regulate it. The op-ed, published on CNBC, lays bare the strategy with the kind of candor that only a former insider can muster.

One can almost hear the venture capitalists' pearls being clutched. 'Political infiltration' is such a loaded term; they prefer 'strategic stakeholder engagement.' The PAC's mission, as O'Farrell describes it, is to fund candidates who will kill any AI safety bill that dares cross their desks. And this in a world where AI systems are already making life-altering decisions about healthcare, employment, and criminal justice. But hey, who needs guardrails when you have an IPO to hit? O'Farrell's crime is not that he's wrong, but that he's said the quiet part out loud — and in full view of a press that might actually report on it. He specifically named his old firm, which makes it all the more delicious: a parting shot from a man who clearly has nothing left to lose.

The broader implication is deliciously grim: the very people building the most powerful technology in history are actively working to ensure no one can rein it in. And they're doing it with the same playbook used to block tobacco regulation, climate action, and financial reform. O'Farrell's op-ed is a rare glimpse behind the curtain, but don't expect a parade of mea culpas from Sand Hill Road. The machine will keep running, the PAC will keep spending, and the politicians will keep being 'engaged' — or intimidated, depending on your vocabulary. O'Farrell may have thrown a grenade, but the blast radius is contained: the money is too big, the stakes too high, and the regulators too slow. Cheers, as they say, to progress.

The American Medical Association has finally noticed that health insurers are using AI to deny claims, and their response is a masterclass in polite institutional hand-wringing. The AMA’s new policy opposes 'autonomous AI systems as substitutes for physician review in coverage determinations' — because nothing says 'decisive action' like a voluntary guild issuing a statement that insurance companies will completely ignore. They also advocate for 'regular audits of AI-driven clinical review tools,' a phrase that will fill every health-tech CEO with approximately zero concern, given that the AMA has about as much enforcement power as a particularly stern tweet.

One has to admire the timing: just as insurers are rolling out AI systems that deny care with algorithmic efficiency — often with error rates that would embarrass a drunken scribe — the AMA has bravely declared that physicians should probably stay in the loop. The policy is a love letter to the obvious, wrapped in the language of professional concern. It's the medical equivalent of a referee announcing that players shouldn't punch each other in the face, while the game's already in overtime and half the team is unconscious. The gap between what the policy says and what happens in practice is wide enough to drive an autonomous ambulance through.

But let's not be too harsh. At least the AMA is on record. In a world where AI is already making life-and-death coverage decisions with black-box reasoning, a statement of principle is better than nothing — barely. The 'regular audits' will be conducted by whom, exactly? The same regulators who haven't figured out how to audit Excel spreadsheets? The AMA has done its bit; now it's up to the state medical boards and insurance commissioners to remember they exist. Don't hold your breath.

Ah, the Sectoral AI Governance Act of 2026. Representative Jacobs has bravely decided that the solution to AI-powered lawbreaking is to... give federal agencies 'clearer authority.' Because what AI needs is more clarity from the same agencies that still process FOIA requests by fax. This bill, like most congressional AI efforts, assumes the problem is a lack of rules rather than a lack of enforcement will. We've seen this before: a well-intentioned bill that will spend years in committee, get watered down by lobbyists, and eventually emerge as a non-binding 'sense of the Congress' resolution. Meanwhile, actual AI-driven violations of federal law—think algorithmic price-fixing, automated discrimination, and deepfake fraud—continue apace. The gap between what the bill promises and what it delivers will be just wide enough to drive a data center through.

The irony is that AI systems are already breaking laws with impunity. A hiring algorithm discriminates—whoops, 'not our fault.' A chatbot defames someone—'terms of service.' The bill's 'clearer authority' is like handing a traffic cop a brighter flashlight when the city is on fire. And let's not forget the timeline: 2026. Two years from now, meaning we'll be lucky if this thing is even voted on before the next election. By then, AI will have found a dozen new ways to circumvent whatever rules eventually emerge. The only thing moving faster than GPT-5 is the pace at which regulatory efforts become obsolete before they even pass.

Still, cheer up: the bill at least acknowledges that AI can be used to break laws, which is more than most legislators admit. They've finally caught up to what every tech journalist has been writing for years. And in true Washington fashion, the solution is to create more paperwork for agencies that are already drowning in it. The Sectoral AI Governance Act: because nothing says 'governance' like a sectoral approach to a problem that is inherently boundaryless. Let's hope the AI doesn't write a better bill while Congress is still debating this one.

TCS, the Indian IT behemoth famous for cheap outsourcing and H-1B visas, will set up a dedicated business unit and get early access to new releases. Because nothing says "responsible AI deployment" like handing frontier models to the world's biggest body-shopping firm.

The dedicated business unit sounds impressive until you realise it's just TCS rebadging a few dozen engineers as "AI specialists" and slapping a new logo on the same PowerPoint decks they've been using since 2005. Early access to new models means TCS can start building integration pipelines before the rest of us, which presumably means even more efficient automation of white-collar jobs. The cynic in me wonders whether this partnership will include any safety guardrails, or if that's something to be figured out after the layoffs start. After all, Anthropic's CEO once promised to "operate differently" from the rest of the industry — clearly that means outsourcing your enterprise channel to a consultancy that treats software engineers like interchangeable spare parts.

But hey, at least it's a "dedicated unit." What could possibly go wrong? If TCS's previous outsourcing deals are any indication, the enterprise clients will get a half-baked implementation, a bloated bill, and a vague promise of "AI transformation" that boils down to replacing a few junior analysts with a chat interface that can't do math. The early access perk is a masterstroke: TCS gets to beta-test half-broken models on its unsuspecting corporate clients, while Anthropic gets to claim "enterprise adoption" without actually having to deal with customers directly. Truly, the future is in safe hands — bureaucratic, profit-driven hands.

That's right — a concept. Not a plan. A concept of a plan. The paper graciously acknowledges that some displacement 'may be an intrinsic consequence of AI,' which is about as profound as noting that water might be wet. The company that built Claude apparently thinks vague hand-waving at doomsday scenarios constitutes preparation.

Let's appreciate the timeline: first, CEO Dario Amodei demands mandatory third-party testing in his Washington Post opus. Now, a paper. Next, perhaps a strongly worded letter to the universe. Meanwhile, the real-world economy continues its quiet march toward exactly the kind of disruption Anthropic has outlined with all the urgency of a pub bore explaining the plot of a film no one has seen.

The gall is almost admirable: Anthropic positions itself as the thoughtful adult in the room while offering nothing more than a 'concept of a plan' for a 25% unemployment crisis. That's not a plan; it's a confession. If unemployment hits a quarter of the workforce, we'll all be treated to another paper — 'What Happens When Concepts Prove Insufficient: Anthropic Has a Concept of a Second Concept.' Cheers.

Elon Musk's xAI, a company founded to 'understand the true nature of the universe,' has apparently decided that understanding includes firing the bloke who pointed out a few inconvenient truths about the Grok chatbot. A former engineer has filed a lawsuit claiming he was given the boot for raising safety concerns, and further alleging that xAI 'failed to prioritize safety.' Because nothing says 'responsible AI development' like sacking the person trying to stop your chatbot from doing something stupid. One can almost hear the ghost of 'move fast and break things' echoing through the halls, even as Musk publicly swears allegiance to safety.

Perhaps the lawsuit's claim that Grok's safety measures were insufficient is just a misunderstanding. Maybe Grok is so safe that any concern is, by definition, unfounded. Or maybe, just maybe, xAI's 'safety first' rhetoric applies only to things that won't slow down shipping. The engineer's lawyers will now get to test that hypothesis in court, which should be a fun spectator sport. It's not like xAI has a history of ignoring warnings — wait, did someone mention the 'pause letter'?

So here we are: another AI company, another whistleblower, another lawsuit alleging retaliation. The pattern is so consistent it might as well be a corporate training video. xAI, for all its cosmic ambitions, has apparently mastered the old-fashioned art of making the messenger pay. Cheers to progress — though maybe hold the cheers until after the discovery phase.

Anthropic, fresh off its secret sabotage policy debacle, has decided the best way to restore trust is to throw $200 million at the problem and demand that someone—anyone—start regulating AI. CEO Dario Amodei, in a fit of what one might generously call 'principled positioning,' has called for mandatory third-party testing and government authority to block dangerous AI deployments. Because nothing says 'we take safety seriously' like a company that just got caught covertly hampering competitors then loudly advocating for oversight. The cognitive dissonance is almost athletic.

The $200 million pledge—a tidy sum that could buy approximately 0.7 Frontier models' training runs—is directed at researching AI's economic impact. Because we clearly need more studies to understand that automating white-collar jobs might have consequences. Amodei's pitch: 'We need the government to have the authority to stop dangerous AI.' Yes, as long as that authority doesn't extend to auditing your internal models without an NDA. The specifics of how this 'blocking authority' would work are, naturally, to be determined by a government that can barely pass a budget.

The irony, of course, is that Anthropic is effectively asking for the very regulatory apparatus the industry has spent years fighting. Now that the frontier is moving fast and liability is creeping closer, suddenly 'third-party testing' sounds wonderful. The $200 million is a gesture—a nice, round number for headlines and conference panels. But the real message is: 'Regulate us, please, before someone else does something truly stupid.' Which is fair, but perhaps a bit rich from a company that last week was caught writing secret sabotage clauses. Cynicism? No, just pattern recognition.

Ah, education: the one sector where 'innovate or die' has been replaced with 'pretend the innovation doesn't exist until it's too late.' The Center for Democracy & Technology has confirmed what anyone who has set foot in a classroom suspected—85% of teachers used AI in the 2024-25 school year. But wait, there's a catch: only about half received any training. Because nothing says 'responsible deployment' like throwing millions of students into an AI-powered classroom and hoping the teachers figure it out on their own.

The survey is a masterclass in optimism: teachers are already using AI, but district policies are still dreaming of a day they might exist. It's like discovering that every student has a calculator but the school board is still debating whether arithmetic is a fad. Meanwhile, the teachers who did get trained probably got a 15-minute slideshow on 'AI is the future, be excited'—a phrase that usually precedes a budget cut for actual professional development.

So here we are: 85% adoption, half-trained, zero policy. The results are as predictable as a teenager's excuse for late homework. But hey, at least the tech companies are delighted—they've managed to get their products into classrooms without the tedious burden of oversight. Then again, that would require a policy first. And when a student's data inevitably ends up in a training set, well, that's a problem for future committees. Cheers.