This February, the company released Bard’s successor, Gemini, a chatbot that could generate images and act as a voice-operated digital assistant. Users quickly realized that the system refused to generate images of white people in most instances and drew inaccurate depictions of historical figures.With each mishap, tech industry insiders have criticized the company for dropping the ball. But in interviews, financial analysts said Google needed to move quickly to keep up with its rivals, even if it meant growing pains.Google “doesn’t have a choice right now,” Thomas Monteiro, a Google analyst at Investing.com, said in an interview. “Companies need to move really fast, even if that includes skipping a few steps along the way. The user experience will just have to catch up.”

What if getting a (design) job were human-centered?How might we reconsider this system of collecting a pool of resumes and dwindling them down to a few dozen potential candidates? With so many qualified individuals in the job market, from new grads to seasoned professionals, there has to be a fit somewhere.Call me an idealist — I am.In an ideal world, somehow the complexity of what makes a person unique could be captured and understood easily and quickly without any technological translators. But until then, a resume and a portfolio will have to do, in addition to the pre-screening interviews and design challenges. Without diving into a speculative design fiction, what if getting a (design) job were human-centered? How might the system be a bit more personal, yet still efficient enough to give the hundreds of qualified job seekers a chance in a span of weeks or months?

despite our human-centered mantra, the system of getting a job is anything but human-centered.For the sake of efficiency, consistency is key. Resumes should have some consistent nature to them so HR knows what the heck they’re looking at and the software can accurately pick out whose qualified. Even portfolios fall prey to these expectations for new grads and transitional job seekers. Go through enough examples of resumes and portfolios and they can begin to blur together. Yet, if I’m following a standard, how do I stand out when a lot of us are in the same boat?

There are a lot of competing messages about masculinity, and the only people willing to discuss it with the men going through it tend to be those pushing a regressive version of masculinity. A man that really does want to be more open emotionally or who is creative or is less ambitious can either be labeled as “less manly” or will be told to stop complaining because others have had it much worse for much longer.

As a young AFAB [assigned-female-at-birth] person who was always running away from the idea of growing up as a woman, I found the cultural marketing of manhood very appealing. I saw it as something that allowed you to have robust adventures, fix everyday things, engage in complex cultural conversations and carry yourself with an easy confidence. Of course, when I left the small town I grew up in and met more men, I found that my previous ideas about manliness were, to put it generously, misaligned.

Tennis is an elegant and simple sport. Players stand on opposite sides of a rectangle, divided by a net that can’t be crossed. The gameplay is full of invisible geometry: Viewers might trace parabolas, angles, and lines depending on how the players move and where they hit the ball. It’s an ideal representation of conflict, a perfect stage for pitting one competitor against another, so it’s no wonder that the game comes to stand in for all sorts of different things off the court.

The “Battle of Sexes” match in 1973, between Billie Jean King and then-retired Bobby Riggs, has since been mythologized as a turning point for women’s sports. If the social allegory of the Ashe-Graeber match was subtextual, the one in this spectacle—which ended in a decisive victory for King over the cartoonishly chauvinistic Riggs—was glaringly explicit. At a time when women’s liberation was becoming a force that threw all sorts of conventions into question, and plenty of people were for or against the gains of the movement, seeing the debate represented by a game of tennis surely had a comforting appeal. For those with more regressive beliefs, rooting for Bobby was certainly easier than really articulating a justification for maintaining massive pay disparities between men and women, both within and outside of professional tennis.

Within their love triangle, tension arises with the dawning recognition that in a one-on-one sport, there’s always another person who doesn’t have a place on the court. Save for the night they meet, when Tashi induces Art and Patrick to kiss each other for her entertainment, the three of them rarely engage with one another at the same time: Someone is always watching from the stands, whether literally or metaphorically.

During Patrick and Tashi’s brief romance, a post-coital conversation seamlessly transitions into a discussion about Patrick’s poor performance as a pro, and eventually becomes a referendum on why their relationship doesn’t work. Confused, and trying to make sense of it all as their banter swiftly changes definitions, Patrick asks: “Are we still talking about tennis?” “We’re always talking about tennis,” Tashi replies. Frustrated, Patrick tersely retorts: “Can we not?”

As the linguists George Lakoff and Mark Johnson argue in their 1980 book,Metaphors We Live By, “Our ordinary conceptual system, in terms of which we both think and act, is fundamentally metaphorical in nature.” In other words, we’re always talking about things in terms of other things—even if it’s not always as obvious as it is in Challengers. Metaphors are more than just a poetic device; they’re fundamental to the way language is structured.

No matter what issue is at stake, or how grand it may be, it can always be reduced to an individual’s performance on the court.

While Patrick is still dating Tashi, and Art is transparently trying to steal his best friend’s girl, Patrick playfully accuses Art of playing “percentage tennis”—a patient strategy of hitting low-risk shots and waiting for your opponent to mess up

Art asks for Tashi’s permission to retire once the season is over. Art knows that this would be the end of their professional relationship—he would no longer be able to play dutiful pupil to Tashi. But it might also be the end of whatever spark animated their love in the first place, as you can’t play “good fucking tennis” in retirement. Tashi says she will leave Art if he doesn’t beat Patrick in the final. Tired of playing, but unable to escape the game, Art curls up in his wife’s lap and cries.

The cover immediately sets Ways of Seeing apart from its contemporaries, the book itself begins on the cover. Rather than creating a conventionally appealing cover, Hollis chose to bypass this tradition entirely, instead placing the text and an image from the start of the first chapter straight onto the front, just beneath the title and authors name. This directness has a link with the television series, mimicking how the first episode began with no preamble or title sequence, Berger got started immediately, drawing the audience in with his message rather than any distractions.

Another link to Berger’s presenting style is Hollis’ choice of typeface, bold Univers 65 is used for the body copy throughout, in an attempt to achieve something of the captivating quality of Berger’s voice.

The layout also employs large indents rather than paragraph breaks, something of a Hollis trademark. But this mirrors how Berger had presented on television, there was little time wasted with atmospheric filler shots or long gaps in speech, the message was key and continuous.

The key reason that Ways of Seeing has become iconic as a piece of book design is how it dealt with text and image: the two are integrated, where an image is mentioned in the text it also appears there. Captions are avoided where possible. When unavoidable they are in a lighter weight of type and run horizontally, so as not to disrupt the text. Images are often set at the same width as the lines of text, or indented by the same amount, this democratises the text and image relationship. Occasionally works of art are cropped to show only the pertinent details. All of these features are a big departure from the art books of the time which usually featured glorified full page colour images, often in a glossy ‘colour plate’ section in the middle, completely distanced from where the text refers to them.

Design is not used for prettifying, or to create appeal, rather it is used for elucidating, to spread his message or get his point across as clearly as possible. Be it a point about art and politics, art and gender, the ethics of advertising, the human experiences of a rural GP, or economic migrants in Germany — the design is always appropriate to what Berger wants to say, but does so economically without redundancy.

Even in Portraits: John Berger on Artists published by Verso in 2015, Berger insisted on black and white reproductions, arguing that: “glossy colour reproductions in the consumerist world of today tend to reduce what they show to items in a luxury brochure for millionaires. Whereas black-and-white reproductions are simple memoranda.”

the images in the book “illustrate the essentially dialectical relationship between text and image in Berger’s work: the pattern in which an image shapes a text, which then goes on to shape how we understand that image.”

witter’s main constraint is encouraging concision. It’s hard to dwell on word choice when you have so little space to work with. Twitter’s conversational tone also helps here—I can just write like I talk, and any fancy words would seem out of place. And of course, I can’t tweak fonts and margins, which cuts off a distraction vector.

each idea has to be wrapped in a little atomic package. I find this helpful for figuring out the boundaries between my thoughts and clarifying the discrete units of an argument.

a thread is linear! No indenting allowed. This forces a brisk straightline through the argument, instead of getting mired in the fine points of the sub-sub-sub-arguments of the first idea.

I think Twitter is useless for persuading a skeptical reader; there’s simply not space for providing enough detail and context.

I prefer to use Twitter as a way to workshop ideas with sympathetic parties who already have enough context to share my excitement about the ideas.

Overall, it seems that we want constraints that help keep us on track with fluid thought, but don’t rule out too many interesting possibilities. Considering both of these criteria together is a subtle balancing act, and I don’t see easy answers.

low barrier to finishing. On Twitter, a single sentence is a completely acceptable unit of publication. Anything beyond that is sort of a bonus. In contrast, most of my blog posts go unpublished because I fear they’re not complete, or not good enough in some dimension. These unpublished drafts are obviously far more complete than a single tweet, but because they’re on a blog, they don’t feel “done,” and it’s hard to overcome the fear of sharing.

This seems like a crucial part of sketching tools: when you make a sketch, it should be understood that your idea is immature, and feel safe to share it in that state. There’s a time and a place for polished, deeply thorough artifacts… and it’s not Twitter! Everyone knows you just did a quick sketch.

I believe that quantity leads to quality. The students who make more pots in ceramics class improve faster than the students who obsess over making a single perfect pot. A tool with a built-in low barrier to finishing makes it easier to overcome the fear, do more work, and share it at an earlier stage.

For me, Twitter does an oddly good job at simulating the thrilling creative energy of a whiteboarding session. People pop in and out of the conversation offering insights; trees and sub-trees form riffing off of earlier points.

I’m curious to think more about the constraints/freedoms afforded by different kinds of creative tools, and whether we could get more clever with those constraints to enable new kinds of sketching. I’m especially curious about kinds of sketching which are only possible thanks to computers, and couldn’t have been done with paper and pen.

At Netflix, we have such a diverse population of shows in 183 countries around the world. We’re really trying to serve up lots of stories people haven’t heard before. When you go into our environment, you’re like, “Ooh, what is that?” You’re almost kind of afraid to touch it, because you’re like, “Well, I don’t want to waste my time.”That level of discovery is literally, I’m not bullshitting you, man, that’s the thing that keeps me up at night. How do I help figure out how to help people discover things, with enough evidence that they trust it? And when they click on it, they love it, and then they immediately ping their best friend, “Have you seen this documentary? It’s amazing.” And she tells her friends, and then that entire viral loop starts.

The discovery engine is very temporal. Member number 237308 could have been into [reality TV] because she or he just had a breakup. Now they just met somebody, so all of a sudden it shifts to rom-coms.Now that person that they met loves to travel. So [they might get into] travel documentaries. And now that person that they’re with, they may have a kid, so they might want more kids’ shows. So, it’s very dangerous for us to ever kind of say, “This is what you like. You have a cat. You must like cat documentaries.”

We don’t see each other, obviously, and I don’t want to social network on Netflix. But knowing other humans exist there is part of it.You answered the question absolutely perfectly. Not only because it’s your truth, but that’s what everyone says! That connection part. So another thing that goes back to your previous question, when you’re asking me what’s on my mind? It’s that. How do I help make sure that when you’re in that discovery loop, you still feel that you’re connected to others.I’m not trying to be the Goth kids on campus who are like, “I don’t care about what’s popular.” But I’m also not trying to be the super poppy kids who are always chasing trends. There’s something in between which is, “Oh, hey, I haven’t heard about that, and I kind of want to be up on it.”

I am looking forward to seeing what Apple does with this and then figuring out more, how are people going to use it? Then I think that we should have a real discussion about how Netflix does it.But to just port Netflix over? No. It’s got to make sure that it’s using the power of the system as much as humanly possible so that it’s really making that an immersive experience. I don’t want to put resources toward that right now.

The design team here at Netflix, we played a really big hand in how that worked because we had to design the back-end tool. What people don’t know about our team is 30% of our organization is actually designing and developing the software tools that we use to make the movies. We had to design a tool that allowed the teams to understand both what extra footage to shoot and how that might branch. When the Black Mirror team was trying to figure out how to make this narrative work, the software we provided really made that easier.

Copywriting, tax preparation, customer service, and many other tasks are or will soon be heavily automated. I can see the beginnings in areas like software development and contract law. Generally, tasks that involve reading, analyzing, and synthesizing information, and then generating content based on it, seem ripe for replacement by language models.

Anyone who makes a living through  delicate and varied movements guided by situation specific know-how can expect to work for much longer than five more years. Thus, electricians, gardeners, plumbers, jewelry makers, hair stylists, as well as those who repair ironwork or make stained glass might find their handiwork contributing to our society for many more years to come

Finally, I expect there to be jobs where humans are preferred to AIs even if the AIs can do the job equally well, or perhaps even if they can do it better. This will apply to jobs where something is gained from the very fact that a human is doing it—likely because it involves the consumer feeling like they have a relationship with the human worker as a human. Jobs that might fall into this category include counselors, doulas, caretakers for the elderly, babysitters, preschool teachers, priests and religious leaders, even sex workers—much has been made of AI girlfriends, but I still expect that a large percentage of buyers of in-person sexual services will have a strong preference for humans. Some have called these jobs “nostalgic jobs.”

It does seem that, overall, unemployment makes people sadder, sicker, and more anxious. But it isn’t clear if this is an inherent fact of unemployment, or a contingent one. It is difficult to isolate the pure psychological effects of being unemployed, because at present these are confounded with the financial effects—if you lose your job, you have less money—which produce stress that would not exist in the context of, say, universal basic income. It is also confounded with the “shame” aspect of being fired or laid off—of not working when you really feel you should be working—as opposed to the context where essentially all workers have been displaced.

One study that gets around the “shame” confounder of unemployment is “A Forced Vacation? The Stress of Being Temporarily Laid Off During a Pandemic” by Scott Schieman, Quan Mai, and Ryu Won Kang. This study looked at Canadian workers who were temporarily laid off several months into the COVID-19 pandemic. They first assumed that such a disruption would increase psychological distress, but instead found that the self-reported wellbeing was more in line with the “forced vacation hypothesis,” suggesting that temporarily laid-off workers might initially experience lower distress due to the unique circumstances of the pandemic.

By May 2020, the distress gap observed in April had vanished, indicating that being temporarily laid off was not associated with higher distress during these months. The interviews revealed that many workers viewed being left without work as a “forced vacation,” appreciating the break from work-related stress and valuing the time for self-care and family. The widespread nature of layoffs normalized the experience, reducing personal blame and fostering a sense of shared experience. Financial strain was mitigated by government support, personal savings, and reduced spending, which buffered against potential distress.

The study suggests that the context and available support systems can significantly alter the psychological outcomes of unemployment—which seems promising for AGI-induced unemployment.

From the studies on plant closures and pandemic layoffs, it seems that shame plays a role in making people unhappy after unemployment, which implies that they might be happier in full automation-induced unemployment, since it would be near-universal and not signify any personal failing.

A final piece that reveals a societal-psychological aspect to how much work is deemed necessary is that the amount has changed over time! The number of hours that people have worked has declined over the past 150 years. Work hours tend to decline as a country gets richer. It seems odd to assume that the current accepted amount of work of roughly 40 hours a week is the optimal amount. The 8-hour work day, weekends, time off—hard-fought and won by the labor movement!—seem to have been triumphs for human health and well-being. Why should we assume that stopping here is right? Why should we assume that less work was better in the past, but less work now would be worse?

Removing the shame that accompanies unemployment by removing the sense that one ought to be working seems one way to make people happier during unemployment. Another is what they do with their free time. Regardless of how one enters unemployment, one still confronts empty and often unstructured time.

One paper, titled “Having Too Little or Too Much Time Is Linked to Lower Subjective Well-Being” by Marissa A. Sharif, Cassie Mogilner, and Hal E. Hershfield tried to explore whether it was possible to have “too much” leisure time.

The paper concluded that it is possible to have too little discretionary time, but also possible to have too much, and that moderate amounts of discretionary time seemed best for subjective well-being. More time could be better, or at least not meaningfully worse, provided it was spent on “social” or “productive” leisure activities. This suggests that how people fare psychologically with their post-AGI unemployment will depend heavily on how they use their time, not how much of it there is

Automation-induced unemployment could feel like retiring depending on how total it is. If essentially no one is working, and no one feels like they should be working, it might be more akin to retirement, in that it would lack the shameful element of feeling set apart from one’s peers.

Women provide another view on whether formal work is good for happiness. Women are, for the most part, relatively recent entrants to the formal labor market. In the U.S., 18% of women were in the formal labor force in 1890. In 2016, 57% were. Has labor force participation made them happier? By some accounts: no. A paper that looked at subjective well-being for U.S. women from the General Social Survey between the 1970s and 2000s—a time when labor force participation was climbing—found both relative and absolute declines in female happiness.

I think women’s work and AI is a relatively optimistic story. Women have been able to automate unpleasant tasks via technological advances, while the more meaningful aspects of their work seem less likely to be automated away.  When not participating in the formal labor market, women overwhelmingly fill their time with childcare and housework. The time needed to do housework has declined over time due to tools like washing machines, dryers, and dishwashers. These tools might serve as early analogous examples of the future effects of AI: reducing unwanted and burdensome work to free up time for other tasks deemed more necessary or enjoyable.

it seems less likely that AIs will so thoroughly automate childcare and child-rearing because this “work” is so much more about the relationship between the parties involved. Like therapy, childcare and teaching seems likely to be one of the forms of work where a preference for a human worker will persist the longest.

In the early modern era, landed gentry and similar were essentially unemployed. Perhaps they did some minor administration of their tenants, some dabbled in politics or were dragged into military projects, but compared to most formal workers they seem to have worked relatively few hours. They filled the remainder of their time with intricate social rituals like balls and parties, hobbies like hunting, studying literature, and philosophy, producing and consuming art, writing letters, and spending time with friends and family. We don’t have much real well-being survey data from this group, but, hedonically, they seem to have been fine. Perhaps they suffered from some ennui, but if we were informed that the great mass of humanity was going to enter their position, I don’t think people would be particularly worried.

I sometimes wonder if there is some implicit classism in people’s worries about unemployment: the rich will know how to use their time well, but the poor will need to be kept busy.

Although a trained therapist might be able to counsel my friends or family through their troubles better, I still do it, because there is value in me being the one to do so. We can think of this as the relational reason for doing something others can do better. I write because sometimes I enjoy it, and sometimes I think it betters me. I know others do so better, but I don’t care—at least not all the time. The reasons for this are part hedonic and part virtue or morality.  A renowned AI researcher once told me that he is practicing for post-AGI by taking up activities that he is not particularly good at: jiu-jitsu, surfing, and so on, and savoring the doing even without excellence. This is how we can prepare for our future where we will have to do things from joy rather than need, where we will no longer be the best at them, but will still have to choose how to fill our days.

In the past, I’ve only seen coverage of Edits focus on four things:How this is a popular form of content that is only being created more and moreHow those who create Edits have the ability to make clips take on an entirely new meaning and provoke strong emotions in viewers How they’re geared towards TV, film, and music – as that’s the realm of culture this form of media originated And lastly, the debate around Edits in terms of copyright and/or other infringementsBut today, we’re covering how the power of TikTok Edits is far greater than just those observations. Because as this person stated, “You can convince people of anything if you put it in a TikTok with a catchy sound.”

Edits now play an integral role in how people get introduced to topics and how they continue to keep up with them. While Edits have had various evolutions, in their current form, they can be defined as “compilation videos, typically set to music, that convey a narrative about a person, place, thing, or cultural topic.”

I Saw the TV Glow is such a uniquely, devastatingly queer story. Two queer kids trapped in suburbia. Both of them sensing something isn’t quite right with their lives. Both of them knowing that wrongness could kill them. One of them getting out, trying on new names, new places, new ways of being. Trying to claw her way to fully understanding herself, trying to grasp the true reality of her existence. Succeeding. Going back to help the other, to try so desperately to rescue an old friend, to show the path forward. Being called crazy. Because, to someone who hasn’t gotten out, even trying seems crazy. Feels crazy. Looks, on the surface, like dying. And to have that other queer kid be so terrified of the internal revolution that is accepting himself that he inadvertently stays buried. Stays in a situation that will suffocate him. Choke the life out of him. Choke the joy out of him. Have him so terrified of possibly being crazy that he, instead, lives with a repression so extreme, it quite literally is killing him. And still, still, he apologizes for it. Apologizes over and over and over, to people who don’t see him. Who never have. Who never will. Because it’s better than being crazy. Because it’s safer than digging his way out. Killing the image everyone sees to rise again as something free and true and authentic.

Established publishers seeking relief from the whims of social-media platforms and a brutal advertising environment found in product recommendations steady growth and receptive audiences, especially as e-commerce became a more dominant mode of shopping. Today, these businesses are materially significant — in a 2023 survey, 41 percent of surveyed media companies said that e-commerce accounted for more than a fifth of their revenue, which few can afford to lose. It is a relatively new way in which publishers have become reacquainted — after social-media traffic disappeared and “pivots to video” completed their rotations — with queasy feelings of dependence on massive tech companies, from Facebook and Google to Amazon and, well, Google.

Time magazine announced a brand called Time Stamped, “a project to make perplexing choices less perplexing by supplying our readers with trusted reviews and common sense information,” with “a rigorous process for testing products, analyzing companies,” and making recommendations. In early 2024, the Associated Press announced its own recommendation site, AP Buyline, as an “initiative designed to simplify complex consumer-made decisions by providing its audience with reliable evaluations and straightforward insights,” based on “a thorough method of testing items, evaluating companies and suggesting choices.” Both sites currently recommend money-related products and services, including credit cards, debt-consolidation loans, and insurance policies, categories that can command very high commissions; the AP reportedly plans to expand to home products, beauty, and fashion this month.

Time Stamped and AP Buyline share strikingly similar designs, layouts, and sensibilities. Their content is broadly informative but timid about making strong judgments or comparisons — an AP Buyline article about “The Best Capital One Credit Cards for 2024” heartily recommends nine of them. The writer credited for the article can also be found on Time Stamped writing about Chase credit cards, banks, and rental-car insurance. On both sites, if you look for it, you’ll also find a similar disclaimer. For Time: The information presented here is created independently from the TIME editorial staff. For the AP: AP Buyline’s content is created independently of The Associated Press newsroom. By independently, both companies mean that their product-recommendation sites are operated by a company called Taboola.

Over the years, Taboola, which is best understood as an advertising company, became a major player in affiliate marketing, too, through its acquisition of Skimlinks, a popular service for adding affiliate tags to content. In 2023, it started pitching a product called Taboola Turnkey Commerce, which claims to offer the benefits of starting a product-recommendation sub-brand minus the hassle of actually building an operation.

As her site has disappeared from view on Google, Navarro has been keeping an eye on popular search terms to see what’s showing up in its place. Legacy publishers seem to be part of Google’s plan, but a recent emphasis on what the company calls “perspectives” could also be in play. Reddit content is getting high placement as it contains a lot of conversations about products from actual customers and users. As its visibility in Google has increased, though, so has the prevalence of search-adjacent Reddit spam. Since the update has started rolling out, Navarro says, she has “seen a lot of generic review sites” getting ranked with credible-sounding names, .org domains, and content ripped straight from Amazon reviews.

“You can search all day and learn nothing,” she says. “It’s like trying to find information inside of Walmart.”

For now, Navarro is unimpressed with these AI experiments. “It’s just shut-up-and-buy,” she says — if you’re doing this search in the first place, you’re probably looking for a bit more information. In its emphasis on aggregation, its reliance on outside sources of authority, and its preference for positive comparison and recommendation over criticism, it also feels familiar: “Google is the affiliate site now.”

Johnson asked Hansen to figure out whether the lab had made a mistake. Detecting trace levels of chemicals was her specialty: She had recently written a doctoral dissertation about tiny particles in the atmosphere.

Hansen didn’t want to share her results until she was certain that they were correct, so she and her team spent several weeks analyzing more blood, often in time-consuming overnight tests. All the samples appeared to be contaminated. When Hansen used a more precise method, liquid chromatography, the results left little doubt that the chemical in the Red Cross blood was PFOS. Hansen now felt obligated to update her boss. Johnson was a towering, bearded man, and she liked him: He seemed to trust her expertise, and he found something to laugh about in most conversations. But, when she shared her findings, his response was cryptic. “This changes everything,” he said. Before she could ask him what he meant, he went into his office and closed the door.

In the middle of this testing, Johnson suddenly announced that he would be taking early retirement. After he packed up his office and left, Hansen felt adrift. She was so new to corporate life that her office clothes — pleated pants and dress shirts — still felt like a costume. Johnson had always guided her research, and he hadn’t told Hansen what she should do next. She reminded herself of what he had said — that the chemical wasn’t harmful in factory workers. But she couldn’t be sure that it was harmless.

Hansen’s bosses never told her that PFOS was toxic. In the weeks after Johnson left 3M, however, she felt that she was under a new level of scrutiny. One of her superiors suggested that her equipment might be contaminated, so she cleaned the mass spectrometer and then the entire lab. Her results didn’t change. Another encouraged her to repeatedly analyze her syringes, bags and test tubes, in case they had tainted the blood. (They had not.) Her managers were less concerned about PFOS, it seemed to Hansen, than about the chance that she was wrong.

Hansen doubted herself. She was 28 and had only recently earned her Ph.D. But she continued her experiments, if only to respond to the questions of her managers. 3M bought three additional mass spectrometers, which each cost more than a car, and Hansen used them to test more blood samples. In late 1997, her new boss, Bacon, even had her fly out to the company that manufactured the machines, so that she could repeat her tests there. She studied the blood of hundreds of people from more than a dozen blood banks in various states. Each sample contained PFOS. The chemical seemed to be everywhere.

After the war, 3M hired some Manhattan Project chemists and began mass-producing chains of carbon atoms bonded to fluorine atoms. The resulting chemicals proved to be astonishingly versatile, in part because they resist oil, water and heat. They are also incredibly long-lasting, earning them the moniker “forever chemicals.”

One afternoon in 1998, a trim 3M epidemiologist named Geary Olsen arrived with several vials of blood and asked her to test them. The next morning, she read the results to him and several colleagues — positive for PFOS. As Hansen remembers it, Olsen looked triumphant. “Those samples came from my horse,” he said — and his horse certainly wasn’t eating at McDonald’s or trotting on Scotchgarded carpets. Hansen felt that he was trying to humiliate her. (Olsen did not respond to requests for comment.) What Hansen wanted to know was how PFOS was making its way into animals.

PFOS, a man-made chemical produced by her employer, really was in human blood, practically everywhere. Hansen’s team found it in Swedish blood samples from 1957 and 1971. After that, her lab analyzed blood that had been collected before 3M created PFOS. It tested negative. Apparently, fluorochemicals had entered human blood after the company started selling products that contained them. They had leached out of 3M’s sprays, coatings and factories — and into all of us.

Almost as soon as Hansen placed her first transparency on the projector, the attendees began interrogating her: Why did she do this research? Who directed her to do it? Whom did she inform of the results? The executives seemed to view her diligence as a betrayal: Her data could be damaging to the company. She remembers defending herself, mentioning Newmark’s similar work in the ’70s and trying, unsuccessfully, to direct the conversation back to her research. While the executives talked over her, Hansen noticed that DeSimone’s eyes had closed and that his chin was resting on his dress shirt. The CEO appeared to have fallen asleep. (DeSimone died in 2017. A company spokesperson did not answer my questions about the meeting.)

In 2002, when 3M announced that it would be replacing PFOS with another fluorochemical, PFBS, Hansen knew that it, too, would remain in the environment indefinitely. Still, she decided not to involve herself. She skipped over articles about the chemicals in scientific journals and newspapers, where they were starting to be linked to possible developmental, immune system and liver problems.

In the 2016 book “Secrecy at Work,” two management theorists, Jana Costas and Christopher Grey, argue that there is nothing inherently wrong or harmful about keeping secrets. Trade secrets, for example, are protected by federal and state law on the grounds that they promote innovation and contribute to the economy. The authors draw on a large body of sociological research to illustrate the many ways that information can be concealed. An organization can compartmentalize a secret by slicing it into smaller components, preventing any one person from piecing together the whole. Managers who don’t want to disclose sensitive information may employ “stone-faced silence.” Secret-keepers can form a kind of tribe, dependent on one another’s continued discretion; in this way, even the existence of a secret can be kept secret. Such techniques become pernicious, Costas and Grey write, when a company keeps a dark secret, a secret about wrongdoing.

Hansen’s superiors had given her the same explanation that they gave journalists, she finally said — that factory workers were fine, so people with lower levels would be, too. Her specialty was the detection of chemicals, not their harms. “You’ve got literally the medical director of 3M saying, ‘We studied this, there are no effects,’” she told me. “I wasn’t about to challenge that.” Her income had helped to support a family of five. Perhaps, I wondered aloud, she hadn’t really wanted to know whether her company was poisoning the public.

Jim Johnson, who is now an 81-year-old widower, lives with several dogs in a pale-yellow house in North Dakota. When I first called him, he said that he had begun researching PFOS in the ’70s. “I did a lot of the very original work on it,” he told me. He said that when he saw the chemical’s structure he understood “within 20 minutes” that it would not break down in nature. Shortly thereafter, one of his experiments revealed that PFOS was binding to proteins in the body, causing the chemical to accumulate over time. He told me that he also looked for PFOS in an informal test of blood from the general population, around the late ’70s, and was not surprised when he found it there.

Johnson said that he eventually tired of arguing with the few colleagues with whom he could speak openly about PFOS. “It was time,” he said. So he hired an outside lab to look for the chemical in the blood of 3M workers, knowing that it would also test blood bank samples for comparison — the first domino in a chain that would ultimately take the compound off the market. Oddly, he compared the head of the lab to a vending machine. “He gave me what I paid for,” Johnson said. “I knew what would happen.” Then Johnson tasked Hansen with something that he had long avoided: going beyond his initial experiments and meticulously documenting the chemical’s ubiquity. While Hansen took the heat, he took early retirement. Johnson described Hansen as though she were a vending machine, too. “She did what she was supposed to do with the tools I left her,” he said.

I pointed out that Hansen had suffered professionally and personally, and that she now feels those experiences tainted her career. “I didn’t say I was a nice guy,” Johnson replied, and laughed. After four hours, we were nearing the bottom of our bottomless coffees.

Average levels of PFOS are falling, but nearly all people have at least one forever chemical in their blood, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. “When you have a contaminated site, you can clean it up,” Elsie Sunderland, an environmental chemist at Harvard University, told me. “When you ubiquitously introduce a toxicant at a global scale, so that it’s detectable in everyone ... we’re reducing public health on an incredibly large scale.” Once everyone’s blood is contaminated, there is no control group with which to compare, making it difficult to establish responsibility.

At least 45% of U.S. tap water is estimated to contain one or more forever chemicals, and one drinking water expert told me that the cost of removing them all would likely reach $100 billion.

n 2022, 3M said that it would stop making PFAS and would “work to discontinue the use of PFAS across its product portfolio,” by the end of 2025 — a pledge that it called “another example of how we are positioning 3M for continued sustainable growth.” But it acknowledged that more than 16,000 of its products still contained PFAS.

My biggest benefit from writing my own tool set is that I can build the tools that exactly conform to my workflows, rather than constructing my workflows around the tools available to me. This means the tools can truly be an extension of the way my brain thinks and organizes information about the world around me.

I think it’s easy to underestimate the extent to which our tools can constrain our thinking, if the way they work goes against the way we work. Conversely, great tools that parallel our minds can multiply our creativity and productivity, by removing the invisible friction of translating between our mental models and the models around which the tools are built.

I don’t think everyone needs to go out and build their own productivity tools from the ground-up. But I do think that it’s important to think of the tools you use to organize your life as extensions of your mind and yourself, rather than trivial utilities to fill the gaps in your life.

Remember, you can ask it much more complex questions than Google (best GPU under $1000) vs "I have a budget of $1000 and want a GPU for gaming. I like to play x, y and z and it has to be compatible with my system that has the following specs". If you turn on Pro mode it'll even clarify your query if need be.

The thing these companies are doing, crucially, is extracting money from technologically unsophisticated companies and funnelling it into VC pockets. Silicon Valley bubbles are frequently incestuous. You make an HR platform and you sell it to other tech companies. You do sales analytics for tech companies. You make a bank that caters to only tech companies. The problem is that your customers all have the same risk profile as you - if interest rates go up and funding dries up you're all fucked at once. You're all just passing VC dollars back and forth.