This is today’s edition of The Download, our weekday newsletter that provides a daily dose of what’s going on in the world of technology.

We still don’t know how people are really using AI

AI companies like Anthropic and OpenAI regularly publish reports on how people are using their products. But they only release the data they want us to see, AI researchers say, and there’s no independent source to corroborate it.

A new research project called the AI Observatory aims to fill in the gap. Its analysis shows many more sensitive behaviors than are captured in reports from major AI companies, which focus more on work than on personal use.

The researchers also found significant differences between models. People were more likely to turn to Anthropic for coding, Gemini for social and roleplay uses, and ChatGPT for homework assistance. Here’s what the AI Observatory reveals about how people use AI.

—Eileen Guo

What Flock’s defenders are missing

Flock Safety, the police-tech giant known for its network of some 120,000 automatic license plate readers around the US, recently announced changes to its platform. The updates are meant to prevent officers from using it for illegal or illegitimate purposes, including stalking.

Amid all this, there have recently been several arguments defending Flock: If these cameras help solve crime, is it as big a deal? On a good day they might help catch a kidnapper, and if not, they’re simply snapping pictures of my car that nobody will bother to look at. 

But this all skips over a more important question: What kind of crime-fighting system has Flock chosen to build? Its network works the way it does because of decisions about what information to collect, who can search it, how long to keep it, and how widely to share it. Those decisions set the terms of the bargain between security and civil liberties.

Find out what a narrower Flock system could look like.

—James O’Donnell

This story is from The Algorithm, our weekly AI newsletter. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Monday.

The must-reads

I’ve combed the internet to find you today’s most fun/important/scary/fascinating stories about technology.

1 A child privacy trial starting today could change Meta forever
More than half of the states in the US have joined the lawsuit. (CNBC)
+ They say Meta deliberately designed addictive social networks. (Guardian)
+ And want changes including ending “like” counts and infinite scroll. (BBC)
+ Four of them are demanding $1.4 trillion in damages. (WP $)

2 Nvidia has committed up to $105 billion to OpenAI’s Ohio data center
It’s slated to cost up to $500 billion and come online in 2028. (CNBC)
+ OpenAI will lease the eight-gigawatt site for 20 years. (NYT $)
+ How virtual power plants could provide energy for data centers. (MIT Technology Review)
 
3 Tesla is set to launch Cybercab robotaxi rides in Austin this month
The rollout could begin with employee rides on public roads. (Information $)
+ The EVs will then enter Tesla’s robotaxi service ‌a few days later. (Reuters $)
+ The Tesla Semi could also be a big deal for EVs. (MIT Technology Review)
 
4 Unitree has unveiled a humanoid it claims is faster than any human
The new “Superman” robot can cover 12.66 meters in a second. (Gizmodo)
+ It arrives ahead of the Chinese company’s IPO on Wednesday. (Reuters $)
+ US robot startups are struggling with new China restrictions. (Rest of World)
 
5 A tracked rare book shipment led to Amazon’s AI training operation
Amazon scans and destroys books at the facility to train AI. (404 Media $)
+ Rare books provide unique, high-quality training data. (Ars Technica)
+ But feeding them to AI risks creating a cultural void. (New Scientist $)
 
6 China wants its data to shape what the world’s AI knows
Beijing is distributing datasets reflecting “mainstream Chinese values.” (NYT $)
+ What’s next for Chinese open-source AI? (MIT Technology Review)
 
7 An AI studio wants to become the HBO of adult content
Rogue’s AI video tool produces uncensored adult content. (Wired $)
+ AI is creating new risks for porn actors. (MIT Technology Review)

8 Women are being left behind in the AI jobs boom
They accounted for just 26% of new AI hires last year. (Axios)

9 AI has revealed new clues to how breast cancer progresses
The findings could help predict how tumours will develop. (Independent)
 
10 An unearthed video suggests Apple is adding cameras to AirPods
It shows AirPods identifying a book using visual intelligence. (Gizmodo)

Quote of the day

It is a black hole; it absorbs energy and personality and then re-presents it as spectacle.” 

—Writer Carmen Hermosillo made a prescient observation about life online in a 1994 essay, quoted by the Guardian in a story on warnings we ignored about the digital age.

One More Thing

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TERRY RATZLAFF

Is this the electric grid of the future?

When a slow-moving blizzard hit Nebraska, nearly 10% of Lincoln Electric System’s 150,000 customers lost power. CEO Emeka Anyanwu watched the outage map as crews battled the storm. Yet a spring blizzard like this is the least of his problems.

What will happen soon—not only at Lincoln Electric but for all electric utilities—is a challenge of a different order. In the industry, they call it the “trilemma”: the seemingly intractable problem of balancing reliability, affordability, and sustainability.

Electricity demand is surging, driven in part by AI, while the industry attempts to transition from power generated with fossil fuels to power generated from renewable sources like solar and wind. Lincoln Electric offers a lens through which to examine those challenges.

Explore the challenges of building the grid of the future.

—Andrew Blum

We can still have nice things

A place for comfort, fun, and distraction to brighten up your day. (Got any ideas? Drop me a line.)

+ Chinese engineers have built the world’s first true all-material printer.
+ Discover how you truly feel about artificial intelligence by completing the AI Compass quiz.
+ Get a sense of the space’s extraordinary size with this interactive scale of the universe tool.
+ Enjoy a fresh look at “Breaking Bad” in this modified scene showing Walter White’s hat growing proportionally to his ego.

Read more

AI companies like Anthropic and OpenAI regularly publish reports on how people are using products like Claude and ChatGPT, but they only release the data they want us to see, AI researchers say. 

“There is no independent source to corroborate it,” says Anka Reuel, a computer science PhD candidate at the Stanford Trustworthy AI Research (STAIR) Lab. 

Reuel is co-lead of a new research project, called the AI Observatory, that aims to fill the gap. It’s a public platform that aggregated and analyzed real AI conversations with popular models like Claude and Gemini that were collected with users’ consent through seven existing datasets. The intent is to provide independent sources of information that can help researchers and policymakers assess how people are using generative AI. Highly consequential decisions about AI’s benefits and risks are currently being made on the basis of very limited data, says Reuel. 

The AI Observatory found that AI use differs significantly across models and has changed over time. Its research shows many more sensitive behaviors than are captured in reports from major AI companies, which they say focus more on work than on personal use. 

The Anthropic Economic Index is one of the best-known and most widely cited sources of AI usage data, but it has blind spots. As its name suggests, it focuses on work- and productivity-related uses of Claude AI—filtering out conversations that are unrelated to these uses. 

When the AI Observatory researchers applied Anthropic’s methods to their dataset, they found that nearly half the conversations—48%—would have been filtered out. Those non-work-related conversations were more likely to involve health and relationships (44.2% versus 31.2% in Anthropic’s analysis), adult or illicit topics (7.9% versus 2.1%), harassment and hate (27.5% versus 5.66%), and sexual content (16.7% versus 2.4%). (OpenAI’s 2025 report on ChatGPT, similarly, found that only 30% of consumer use was related to work.)

Anthropic has released separate blog posts on how people use Claude for support or companionship, and even to generate CSAM, but “having [the AI Observatory’s] bird’s-eye-view analysis” rather than leaving that information “sectioned off into a separate report” helps researchers understand the different uses more consistently, says David Widder, an assistant professor at the University of Texas at Austin, who researches how people interact with AI systems and is not involved with the AI Observatory. 

The datasets the AI Observatory looked at include conversations that took place between 2023 and 2025, and it found differences both in how people were using AI and how various AI platforms responded. 

Conversations within WildChat, one of the largest and most detailed datasets included in the AI Observatory’s study, got longer and more elaborate over time, as indicated by growing numbers of prompt tokens, response tokens, and conversation turns. 

There was also significantly more small talk over time. That suggests that AI companionship was increasing; meanwhile, the AI assistants’ self-disclosure (i.e., admitting to being a chatbot) decreased. 

Additionally, exchanges that the researchers labeled as sensitive—meaning ones with potentially harmful or restricted content, including sexual harassment and hate speech—became less frequent. That might suggest that platforms were generally deploying more effective safeguards. 

The AI Observatory also found that topics, interaction styles, conversation structures, and the likelihood and type of sensitive use cases differed from one model to another. 

For example, the researchers found that people used Grok and Gemini more frequently for information retrieval. Grok, in particular, was especially popular for information on news and politics, but it was also where misinformation tended to concentrate. (This is consistent with other research that has shown how readily misinformation proliferates on Grok. xAI did not respond to a request for comment.) 

Meanwhile, people were more likely to turn to Anthropic for coding, Gemini for social and roleplay uses, and ChatGPT for homework assistance. 

There were even differences between different versions of the same model. Researchers found that people had shorter conversations with ChatGPT when it was powered by GPT-3.5, and longer and more iterative ones with GPT-4o—which makes sense given that that version became known for leading to emotional addiction. 

Companies’ reports, however, didn’t tend to capture these nuances between or even within their own models. “No single company report tells the whole story,” says Shayne Longpre, a recent PhD graduate from the MIT Media Lab who co-led the research with Reuel. 

To create the AI Observatory, Reuel and researchers from MIT, Stanford, the Data Provenance Initiative, and other institutions aggregated 85,633 conversational turns (that is, the user prompt and corresponding AI response) across 24,521 conversations from seven real-world datasets collected in previous research. These conversations came from 5,000 users interacting with 52 different models, including ChatGPT, Gemini, Claude, and Grok, between 2023 and 2025. 

But these conversations are a drop in the proverbial bucket compared with the data that the big labs themselves have access to. The latest Anthropic Economic AI Index, for example, is based on analysis of 1 million Claude conversations; OpenAI’s report on how people are using ChatGPT analyzed 1.5 million conversations.  

An Anthropic representative said the company’s published research reflects its research teams’ specific questions and interests and that it’s important to support external independent research. OpenAI did not respond to requests for comment. 

The fact that the AI Observatory’s dataset draws from voluntarily provided sources means it’s probably underrepresenting sensitive uses, which people may be less likely to share. Thus, the researchers caution that its findings are not indicative of all AI use. 

The project’s work, though, broadens access for the research community. AI companies don’t typically share their chat data for analysis, which means their reports tend to focus on the findings that paint them in the best light, independent researchers like Reuel and Widder say. 

“When we want to ask, for example: is Anthropic’s general-purpose AI system … used mostly for good or mostly for bad … we don’t have a way of answering that question because that information is proprietary,” explains Widder.

The AI Observatory’s data will be available to researchers for analysis, and the team hopes to expand its datasets over time. Ideally, Reuel says, the AI companies would share their data with independent researchers—in ways that protect user privacy, of course. But as it currently stands, she says, anyone making decisions based on AI usage data risks “completely operating in the wild and making these really consequential decisions without knowing what’s actually happening beyond those company narratives.”   

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When the four astronauts on board NASA’s Artemis II swung around the moon earlier this year, they set a new record for the farthest humans have ever ventured from Earth, surpassing the distance set by Apollo 13 in 1972 by some 4,000 miles. 

While no space mission can live up to the historic touchdown of Apollo 11—a spectacle that 20% of the world population watched live—Artemis II still attracted massive public interest. It drew tens of millions of viewers and inspired outpourings of “moon joy,” a term coined spontaneously during the mission that became a viral sensation. 

The expedition is only the first in a planned series of ambitious missions. The Artemis program aims to establish a human base on the south pole of the moon, operated by the US and its international and commercial partners, during the 2030s. China and Russia have teamed up to build their own crewed lunar base in the same region and on a similar timeline. Meanwhile, companies like Blue Origin and SpaceX hope to lock down the burgeoning extraterrestrial tourism market by flying civilian astronauts on private missions, with the long-term dream of taking them to the moon—or even Mars. 

But some overarching questions about this new era of space exploration linger, including perhaps the most existential one of all: What’s the point? Launching humans into space is dangerous and expensive, and it’s unclear whether it can deliver a better return on investment than we’d get if we were to send robots in our stead to make scientific discoveries or to conduct commercial activities, such as mining.

Since the dawn of human spaceflight, this line of questioning has been met with countless answers. We go to space for geopolitical prestige, manifest destiny, spiritual fulfillment, scientific curiosity, and, increasingly, business opportunities. 

In the wake of Artemis II, a slew of new books suggest that these justifications are subsumed by one unifying fact: Humans have itchy feet, and we are simply wired to roam. No matter the merits of any single rationale for sending people to space, they are all downstream of the basic evolutionary instinct to expand and adapt, which may not require much rational explanation at all. 

Indeed, in her new book, The Ultraview Effect, the space anthropologist Deana L. Weibel frames human space exploration as an extension of our ancient compulsion to embark on pilgrimages, often facing perilous obstacles, in order to experience revelations about our universe. Eiman Jahangir, who recounts his journey to space with Blue Origin in A Heart for Space, is one of a growing number of these new-age civilian space pilgrims. And in his memoir Dinner with an Astronaut, coauthored with writer Victoria Bruce, former NASA astronaut Leroy Chiao concludes that people simply “need to know what’s on the other side.” 

“We go into space because we want to explore,” Weibel told me. “We want to see what it’s like to walk on another world.”

book cover
The Ultraview Effect: What We Can Learn from Astronauts About Awe, Humility, and Exploring the Unknown
Deana L. Weibel
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS, 2026
book cover
A Heart for Space: An Astronaut’s Guide to Achieving the Impossible
Eiman Jahangir
FOREFRONT BOOKS, 2026
book cover
Dinner with an Astronaut: Serving Space Stories: Past, Present and Future
Leroy Chiao with Victoria Bruce
HANOVER SQUARE PRESS, 2026

This simple motivation for human spaceflight is usually framed as aspirational: Explore new places, break new ground, adapt environments to suit our needs. But as our presence in space expands, we are bound to bring along the same human foibles that have stymied us on Earth. Frontiers like the moon and Mars will no longer be some hazy dreamlands onto which we can project our hopes, values, and favorite visions from science fiction. They will be workspaces for astronauts, places of commerce, military domains, tourist destinations, and heritage sites.

How we deal with all that is, literally, up in the air. At the moment, a relatively small group of players in human spaceflight have an outsize role in determining the path forward, with SpaceX CEO Elon Musk standing as the most conspicuous example. But shrugging off the drive to leave Earth as an itch for exploration and domination that only nation-states and the ultrarich can scratch won’t cut it any more. Now is the time for everyone who cares about space exploration, no matter their backgrounds, to advocate for their own visions of our off-Earth future—before it is decided for them. 

The new space race

During the Apollo era, the justification for blasting astronauts into space was clear-cut: brinkmanship. As Cold War tensions peaked in the 1960s, the United States and the Soviet Union had every reason to demonstrate their technological prowess through human spaceflight. 

To be sure, the feat of sending humans to the moon inspired millions of people, many of whom went on to work in science and engineering. Chiao credits his own career as an astronaut to the Apollo 11 landing, which he watched, riveted, as an eight-year-old child in Wichita, Kansas. Decades later, he flew three space shuttle missions and served as commander of the International Space Station.

But while early milestones were met with giddy excitement, the space race was fundamentally animated by an implicit threat. Whichever nation proved superior in space could easily trade nuclear warheads for the astronauts it was launching on rockets that were essentially modified missiles. 

Fortunately, we are no longer on the brink of nuclear war <knock on wood>. NASA is, however, making an overt case that America is embroiled in a new space race, this time with China. Whereas the US and the USSR used spaceflight as a symbolic proxy for global technological dominance, Chiao told me in an interview that the new first-place prize could be uncontested access to valuable resources such as water, which could be sourced from ice patches on the south pole of the moon. 

Space law prohibits any nation from owning part of the moon, but these aging rules are about to endure road testing. Both the US and China plan to establish bases on the lunar south pole designed to support human crews for long periods. These outposts will inevitably be powered by nuclear reactors, so safety will require exclusion zones around them. 

The desire to spread our species beyond the planet is about more than technocratic bragging rights. It’s also ancient, primal, and perhaps unstoppable.

As a result, there could be a first-mover advantage to setting up shop on the most resource-rich patches of the moon, even if a nation never officially owns them. This is all speculative at the moment, and many skeptics in the legal, political, financial, and public spheres have cast doubt on the idea that a thriving market for space resources will materialize—at least in the near term.

Still, the rough contours of a human spaceflight economy—reaching to the surface of the moon and perhaps beyond—are beginning to take shape, and governments aren’t the only ones with plans to capitalize. Musk ultimately wants SpaceX to launch millions of civilians into orbit and eventually establish a permanent settlement on Mars. Whether or not those grand visions pan out, the company continues to make moves toward space tourism. Meanwhile, Blue Origin, the company founded by Jeff Bezos, has ferried more than 80 civilians on brief flights into suborbital space, including Star Trek icon William Shatner; pop star Katy Perry; and Jahangir, a cardiologist whose book describes the realization of a lifelong dream.  

Jahangir, who was born in Iran and grew up in Tennessee, worked tirelessly for years to qualify as an astronaut with NASA but never made the cut. He finally got his chance to leave Earth after winning a raffle for a seat on Blue Origin’s New Shepard–26 mission, which achieved a 10-minute flight to an altitude of 65 miles in August 2024.

For Jahangir, the flight was the ultimate pilgrimage. “To get to those ten minutes took forty years of dreaming and twenty years of hustling,” he writes in his memoir. “It was not the future I expected, growing up with plans to be a NASA astronaut, but it was the future I was given, and one I am grateful for.”

While these forays are personally fulfilling, from a business standpoint the core purpose of space tourism is, as ever, to turn a profit. And there are signs of some public discomfort with the increasing commodification of human spaceflight. Take, for example, the intense backlash to the all-­female Blue Origin mission that flew celebrity passengers like Perry, journalist Gayle King, Bezos’s now-wife Lauren Sánchez Bezos, and several others in April 2025. The attempt to brand the mission as a feminist milestone was mercilessly mocked online, hinting that questions about who gets to go to space, how they get there, and what they take away from the experience may inspire more acrimony and debate as these flights become increasingly common.

Expansionism of all sorts

Space visionaries are currently testing next-generation rockets, drawing up blueprints for moon bases, and racing to claim a stake in the future of human spaceflight. But the desire to spread our species beyond the planet is about more than technocratic bragging rights. It’s also ancient, primal, and perhaps unstoppable. And that isn’t a bad thing—harnessed properly, it could have benefits for our lives not just in space but on Earth. 

Weibel, who studies pilgrimages through an anthropological lens, points to the deep roots of our human yearning to voyage to a hallowed spot and be transformed. For decades, she has chronicled the stories of pilgrims who seek out the Black Madonna statue in the village of Rocamadour in southwestern France. The sculpture sits in a chapel built into a cliff, so visitors experience a sense of vertigo intermixed with spiritual wonder. 

Weibel’s “ultraview effect” is the cosmic version of this sensation—a spin on the overview effect, a term coined by the space philosopher Frank White to describe the revelatory experience of viewing Earth from orbit. The ultraview effect turns the astronautic gaze in the other direction, out into the incomprehensible immensity of the universe. Spacefarers report a feeling that is awesome and sublime in the old senses of those words: Their wonder is tempered by alienation, incomprehension, and what the 18th-century philosopher Edmund Burke termed “delightful horror.”

“These moments of wonder or strangeness, such as the ultraview effect,” are “when we realize the extent of the vast mysteries we are not equipped to understand,” Weibel writes. 

As if to make her point, at a NASA briefing in April, Reid Wiseman, the commander of Artemis II, recalled seeing the moon eclipse the sun from lunar space and telling a crewmate that he didn’t think “humanity has evolved to the point of being able to comprehend what we are looking at right now.” 

The story that initially inspired The Ultraview Effect came from the same distant location, the far side of the moon—though it occurred decades ago. Weibel recounts her conversations with “Zack,” an Apollo command module pilot whose name was changed for anonymity. Turning away from the moon, Zack gazed out into the dizzying endlessness of space, with all the lights on his spacecraft switched off so he was “dark-adjusted.” But the takeaway was the same. “It changed my view of infinity,” Zack told Weibel. “Infinity is just something beyond what we can contemplate. So that changes your outlook on everything.”

Even without full immersion into darkness, suborbital passengers on commercial flights have reported a touch of what might be described as the ultraview effect. For instance, Shatner was clearly rattled after his Blue Origin flight in 2021. He described Earth’s skies as a “comforter of blue” and our planet as “mother” and “life,” but looking away from our world, he saw only a “black ugliness.” 

“Was that death?” he asked. “Is that the way death is?”

Likewise, Jahangir was struck by the contrast between the classic overview effect and its ultraview corollary. Earth “was brighter than anything I had imagined,” he writes in A Heart for Space. “Then I shifted my gaze up just slightly and saw the vastness and darkness of space. It was the blackest black I have ever seen, like staring into an inkwell. I just gazed, unable to comprehend what was before me and knowing that our atmosphere, our Earth, is home—a home we should protect at all costs.”

These anecdotes transcend any practical argument for human spaceflight: The constant jockeying for “top dog” status, the allure of unfathomable revenue, or the spinoff technologies that could lead to scientific breakthroughs. Pull off those layers and you have the hero’s journey. Across eras and cultures, some people simply feel the need to chase the horizon. Often, pilgrims in history and legend never return home. But when they do, they tend to bring back wisdom and guidance for a better world. 

For Elon Musk, the hero’s journey means expanding human life to Mars and beyond, to find a permanent presence among the stars. As Weibel explains, this idea is not new. For centuries, space visionaries have cast human space exploration as the final phase of our maturation as a species, a sentiment the Russian rocketry pioneer Konstantin Tsiolkovsky summed up by declaring, “Earth is the cradle of humanity, but one cannot live in a cradle forever.” 

The dream of an interstellar Earthling diaspora, one that could guarantee our continuation as a species, is hugely appealing, both as grist for science fiction and as a road map for our human future. But for Chiao, who is stoic on these matters, deliverance in space is a mirage. 

“It’s important to develop a way to deflect asteroids and develop a way to have humans sustainably live on a place like Mars, but to me, at some point we end,” he told me. “I know it sounds a bit odd, but there’s some comfort in that knowledge. We’re not in this race to save ourselves. There seems to be order in the universe, and probably every group of intelligent life has its own cycle. It’s okay to be extinct.”

In that scenario, our robotic spacecraft may outlive us. Even now, they are our most daring emissaries: They can surf the sun, explore hostile planets, and even break into the interstellar frontier. But while these spacecraft are our scouts, many people will always prefer to see themselves in space. “People identify when there’s a human out there doing it,” Chiao told me. “We’re just thrilled and amazed to see what comes back from these robotic probes, but I think you need both.”

Weibel points out that during the Apollo era, robotic spacecraft took pictures of Earth from lunar orbit. But it wasn’t until Bill Anders, an astronaut on board Apollo 8, snapped the famous “Earthrise” shot that the otherworldly view really hit home for the public. Similar shots from the Artemis II astronauts went viral, including a picture of Christina Koch gazing through the spacecraft window at Earth.

There are lots of reasons for humans to stay grounded, from the dangerous nature of spaceflight to the medical complications of long-term radiation exposure to the gargantuan expense. But it is unlikely we will stay put on Earth, even if we never make it far—for the same reason our ancestors crossed deserts, oceans, and mountains.

“Knowing somebody’s been there and can tell us about it when they come back—that’s a whole other level of it that makes it more compelling,” Weibel told me. “I’m not 100% sure why,” she adds, “but we trust witness testimony.” 

Becky Ferreira is a science reporter based in upstate New York and the author of First Contact: The Story of Our Obsession with Aliens

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The AI industry’s boldest promise right now is that AI will soon improve itself, with almost no need for human oversight. LLMs can already write code, generate synthetic data for training, and optimize the computer chips they run on. Forecasts of explosive AI progress predict that what researchers call recursive self-improvement is on the horizon. 

But a new study suggests that it might take a while for us to get there. The researchers behind it found that AI agents are not yet capable of conducting open-ended AI research—free-form investigations that have no clear-cut answers and require judgment and taste, which may be integral to building self-improving AI.

A multi-institution group of researchers, led by Peter Kirgis and Sayash Kapoor at Princeton University, found that AI agents could solve the engineering problems necessary to do AI research but lacked the judgment and creativity to produce original research at the caliber of  papers accepted by a top machine-learning conference. The gap suggests that some of the hyped-up timelines for automating AI research may be running ahead of the evidence.

Most existing research on how agents can automate AI research evaluates their ability to complete narrow tasks with checkable answers, such as solving engineering problems or post-training small language models against a benchmark. But making progress in AI research also requires open-ended thinking—choosing a set of hypotheses, deciding what evidence would settle a question, or knowing when to start over. 

To test agents on those kinds of skills, the researchers in the study proposed a new method of evaluation called “shadow evaluation,” which requires the AI to answer a research question from a high-quality unpublished paper. 

The researchers asked Anthropic’s Claude Opus 4.8, running on open-source software called OpenClaw, to tackle such questions, in this case from two papers submitted to the prestigious machine-learning conference NeurIPS 2026. 

The first question was whether a large language model’s “personas,” which determine its behavior, can be controlled by editing the model’s weights (the billions of numbers that store everything it learns during training). The other asked how to design a detector that points out when a model that makes predictions based on spreadsheet data has become unreliable. Because the papers had not been made public, the agents could not memorize the answers from their training data or find them online. 

The agents were given six days, $3,000 in Anthropic API credits, a GPU budget to run the experiments, their own virtual computers, and access to the open web to produce a research paper worthy of publication at a top-tier AI conference. The papers’ original authors graded the agents’ papers as they would evaluate one submitted to a conference.

Those authors rejected both papers. 

The agents were capable of all the engineering required to conduct the research, the human scientists found. The agents reviewed the literature, ran hundreds of experiments, and compiled the results. 

“On the other hand, the agents were unambiguously bad at carrying out the research itself,” says Kapoor. They ran bizarre experiments (in some cases testing their hypotheses on tiny synthetic datasets), struggled to write intelligibly about their work, and made no novel contribution to their fields. “The papers were nowhere close to the mark when it came to being at the quality of a top AI conference,” he says. 

That’s because the agents struggled to muster the creativity and judgment necessary for conducting research. They didn’t do enough to explore different ideas, and they committed to unpromising approaches too quickly. Though the agents developed novel and ambitious hypotheses resembling those that the original authors themselves started with, they rejected them on the basis of very limited data. And they couldn’t backtrack from failing approaches. They could make small pivots but could not fundamentally rethink their approach or try new ones from scratch. 

The agents also failed to incorporate feedback from subagents or external AI reviewing tools. Instead of revising their methodology, the agents narrowed their claims and added caveats. They also couldn’t effectively use resources, such as tokens, compute, and time. And they couldn’t follow instructions about things like how much time to spend on different phases of the research or how long their paper could be.

For all their failures, the agents didn’t engage in the misbehavior that researchers call “reward hacking,” hiding or misrepresenting experiments or data. Although subagents, or helper AIs that the main agent spawns to handle pieces of the work, occasionally hallucinated or misrepresented the results, these were caught by the orchestrator agent, the lead AI supervising the project. 

The reason AI models are good at research engineering but not at open-ended research may come down to how they’re trained, says Kapoor. Models get good at whatever they can be drilled on in a training regime called reinforcement learning, which is easier to apply to tasks whose success can be checked automatically. “But it’s harder to create environments to train these models when the task itself is open-ended,” he says.

Kapoor says the team is now conducting the experiment with Mythos, Anthropic’s most advanced model, which launched in April. It was subsequently required by the Trump administration to meet various safety restrictions and is now available only to approved organizations. Anthropic did not respond to a request for comment.

There are some limitations to the study. It covered just two research papers, and the original authors knew the papers they were grading were generated by AI agents, which could have colored their evaluations. And the researchers had substantial discretion in designing and executing the study, meaning that their preexisting beliefs and biases could have slipped into the results. Evaluations of open-ended research trade some objectivity for a much richer test than any benchmarks can offer.

Still, the results may temper the claims that recursive self-improvement is on the horizon. In June, Anthropic published a blog post titled “When AI Builds Itself,” charting its progress toward models that speed up their own development. In July, OpenAI advertised the fact that its new model GPT-5.6 Sol had helped post-train a smaller model, saving researchers weeks of work.

The new finding may echo what AI companies are finding internally, regardless of their most optimistic public statements. Anthropic cofounder Jack Clark wrote in his newsletter Import AI that it rhymes with what the company found when it tried to automate some aspects of AI safety research. 

“There’s a certain absence of valuable, intuitive creativity in today’s AI systems, and though they’re extraordinarily capable engineers they seem to have a certain property of rote, formulaic thinking that might prevent them [from] being good researchers,” he wrote. He called AI systems’ lack of creativity a “bearish signal on short recursive self-improvement timelines.” 

AI companies do have every incentive to develop AI systems that can rapidly accelerate their own progress, just as they did to make the models better at coding. OpenAI has made building an automated AI researcher an explicit goal, and Anthropic identifies self-improving AI as the industry’s next milestone. 

“If there is investment and then conscious effort toward this direction, I feel like there would be interesting progress, even if it’s failing currently,” says Najoung Kim, a professor of linguistics and computer science at Boston University who researches how AI agents can automate AI research but did not work on the study. On the other hand, it’s possible that AI progress may be bifurcated. AI systems might race ahead on narrow tasks—the kind that can be scored—while advancing slowly on open-ended research. 

The big open question, then, is how crucial open-ended research is to recursive self-improvement—whether AI systems can grind their way there without it, simply by improving on the narrower tasks. “If we look back to the biggest advances in the field, the invention of transformers or the invention of big new architectures that allowed us to make a lot of AI progress—all of those did require creative leaps,” says Kapoor. 

“That said, others have this hypothesis that all of what we need for transformative AI, in particular for recursive self-improvement, is already there.” That would include making a model train faster and boosting its benchmark scores.

“That’s frankly the trillion-dollar question right now,” he says.

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Building an AI Creative Director: From Ideas to Finished Content With Claude by Social Media Examiner

Struggling to create consistent content across platforms without a creative team? Want to build an AI-powered system in Claude that drafts threads, newsletters, video scripts, and carousels from a single source? In this article, you’ll discover how to build an AI creative director using Claude that transforms voice journaling into multiple forms of content that […]

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