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New Yorkers have known for a long time that going to a game or concert at Madison Square Garden meant surrendering some privacy. That, as you watched the show, the Garden in a real sense watched you.

Owner James Dolan has watchlists of basketball fans who dared criticize his management. He keeps a close eye on his other venues too, including Radio City Music Hall and The Sphere in Las Vegas.

For this story, WIRED goes deep inside the security operation that allegedly tracked a trans woman, lawyers, protesters, and more. We spoke with seven current and former employees of Dolan’s security service, and we reviewed some of their confidential internal reports and Signal group chat messages.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story and watch or listen to the accompanying episode from @PabloTorreFindsOut.

🎨: @bypatrikas

The news business isn’t just any business — it serves a vital role in our democracy, recognized by the First Amendment. But media outlets can’t serve that role if they’re bankrupt. And as a result, news readers often find themselves blocked by paywalls from reading important stories about government business.

"That experience is particularly frustrating for readers who are unable to access the groundbreaking investigative reports outlets like Wired magazine have been publishing, particularly over the first couple months of the Trump administration," the Freedom of the Press Foundation release reads. "Fortunately, Wired has a solution — it’s going to stop paywalling articles that are primarily based on public records obtained through the Freedom of Information Act."

Access to journalism based on public records is more important than ever at this moment, with government websites and records disappearing, DOGE doing its best to operate outside the public’s view, and the National Archive in disarray.

We’re excited to be the first publication to partner with @freedomofthepressfoundation to offer this for our new coverage. And if you want to support our journalism directly, you can do so by tapping the 🔗 in bio to subscribe.

The news business isn’t just any business — it serves a vital role in our democracy, recognized by the First Amendment. But media outlets can’t serve that role if they’re bankrupt. And as a result, news readers often find themselves blocked by paywalls from reading important stories about government business.

"That experience is particularly frustrating for readers who are unable to access the groundbreaking investigative reports outlets like Wired magazine have been publishing, particularly over the first couple months of the Trump administration," the Freedom of the Press Foundation release reads. "Fortunately, Wired has a solution — it’s going to stop paywalling articles that are primarily based on public records obtained through the Freedom of Information Act."

Access to journalism based on public records is more important than ever at this moment, with government websites and records disappearing, DOGE doing its best to operate outside the public’s view, and the National Archive in disarray.

We’re excited to be the first publication to partner with @freedomofthepressfoundation to offer this for our new coverage. And if you want to support our journalism directly, you can do so by tapping the 🔗 in bio to subscribe.

The news business isn’t just any business — it serves a vital role in our democracy, recognized by the First Amendment. But media outlets can’t serve that role if they’re bankrupt. And as a result, news readers often find themselves blocked by paywalls from reading important stories about government business.

"That experience is particularly frustrating for readers who are unable to access the groundbreaking investigative reports outlets like Wired magazine have been publishing, particularly over the first couple months of the Trump administration," the Freedom of the Press Foundation release reads. "Fortunately, Wired has a solution — it’s going to stop paywalling articles that are primarily based on public records obtained through the Freedom of Information Act."

Access to journalism based on public records is more important than ever at this moment, with government websites and records disappearing, DOGE doing its best to operate outside the public’s view, and the National Archive in disarray.

We’re excited to be the first publication to partner with @freedomofthepressfoundation to offer this for our new coverage. And if you want to support our journalism directly, you can do so by tapping the 🔗 in bio to subscribe.

Hacker twins Muneeb and Sohaib Akhter were arrested in December last year. Sohaib was convicted in May while Muneeb had entered a plea deal but has tried to recant his guilty plea in handwritten notes to the judge. Both are awaiting sentencing.

Via @arstechnica.

Elon Musk suffered the worst defeat possible in his legal battle against OpenAI as a federal jury and a judge ruled he waited too long to bring his claims against the AI startup and its top executives, Sam Altman and Greg Brockman.

The jury’s decision was a nonbinding recommendation sent to US district judge Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers, though she immediately accepted it on Monday as her own, making it final.

Musk’s lead trial attorney, Steven Molo, told the judge that “our intention is to appeal.”

The nine-member panel delivered the unanimous verdict in an Oakland, California courtroom on Monday after deliberating for under two hours. They found that statutes of limitations expired well before Musk filed his lawsuit in 2024. Musk had hoped to persuade the jury that Altman and Brockman, with the help of Microsoft’s cash, transformed OpenAI into an enormous company well beyond what was envisioned when the three of them and others founded it as a nonprofit nearly 11 years ago.

Because the jury found the case wasn’t filed on time, it didn’t weigh in on Musk’s three claims, including breach of charitable trust, unjust enrichment, and, against Microsoft, aiding and abetting.

Musk, Altman, and Brockman were not present as the jury presented its verdict. Attorneys for Musk and OpenAI were not immediately available for comment.

But William Savitt, an attorney for OpenAI, had said last week that Musk’s lawsuit and the ensuing trial had been a “gloriously” played out "pageant of hypocrisy.” Musk, under court order not to tweet during the trial, has said little about it in recent weeks.

Despite the disappointing semifinal result for Musk, the trial appears to have tarnished the public image of OpenAI and its top executives. New details emerged about Brockman’s wealth and Altman’s alleged history of dishonesty. Both were also pulled away from their day-to-day work for tens, if not hundreds, of hours to conduct depositions, prepare to testify, sit on the witness stand, and show face in court.

This is a developing story. Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

It only took 30 minutes after stores opened at 9 am local time at London’s Carnaby Street before police were called. In New York, fights broke out amid rumors of a stabbing in the line. At locations around the world, police had to assist staff as the vast majority of customers left empty-handed as most of the shops had fewer than 200 watches available. Deals were done within queues as scalpers flipped watches for profit. Within minutes of the first sales, the plastic watches were hitting eBay for thousands of dollars.

This is not a description of what happened during the Swatch x Audemars Piguet Royal Pop launch on Saturday May 16, this is an account of the 2022 MoonSwatch launch. But a carbon copy of this chaos and mayhem ensued as Swatch stores opened worldwide to sell their extremely limited numbers of Royal Pop pocket watches.

Responding to widespread criticism of how Swatch handled the 2022 MoonSwatch launch, Nick Hayek Jr., chief executive of Swatch Group, told WIRED at the time: “We knew for sure this would be a success, because the product is beautiful, provocative, high quality, and the price is fantastic... But what happened … I think nobody in the world could have expected that. It was really crazy.”

Hayek's defence was essentially that Swatch could not be held accountable for disturbances so severe some stores were forced to shut for 10 days to let the pandemonium play out, simply because the group could never have predicted the ferocious public reaction to an affordable version of an iconic luxury timepiece coming on sale. No such excuse can be offered this time for the calamitous Royal Pop launch that took place this weekend.

Tap the 🔗 in bio for the full article.

For as long as Silicon Valley has been selling a frictionless tomorrow, we ordinary people have been its passive shoppers—scrolling the App Store, hoping someone has gone to the trouble of building whatever we need. Enter AI and its democratizing sidekick: vibe coding. If the promise is real, suddenly we can build our own apps, as niche and trifling as we please, with zero programming skills. We merely gesture toward whatever irks us and a constellation of large language models, code generators, and development environments will click their heels.

Where some vibe code résumé reviewers and inventory trackers and automated assistants, WIRED contributor Chris Colin had a different target in mind. Over the past couple years he had grown particularly fixated, personally and professionally, on what the policy world calls sludge: the rising tide of tiny administrative obligations that increasingly seems to define modern existence—and corrode our ability to get anything done. The hassle of dealing with insurance, or connecting that insurance to your doctor, or staying on top of airline miles, or navigating your kid’s school portal. The steps required to dispute a charge, or unsubscribe from a streaming service you forgot you had. Each of these feels like its own discrete assault on our time.

Those hassles aren’t just accidental byproducts of complexity; they’re often features. A confusing portal, a dropped call, a process just opaque enough to discourage follow-through. At scale, they function less like bugs than like policy. The app Chris Colin envisioned would expose this phenomenon, make the cumulative weight of these obligations a little harder to ignore.

But Colin isn’t a coder, and he doesn't have a technical background. Could he really build the app he imagined?

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

🎨: @yannsheep

For as long as Silicon Valley has been selling a frictionless tomorrow, we ordinary people have been its passive shoppers—scrolling the App Store, hoping someone has gone to the trouble of building whatever we need. Enter AI and its democratizing sidekick: vibe coding. If the promise is real, suddenly we can build our own apps, as niche and trifling as we please, with zero programming skills. We merely gesture toward whatever irks us and a constellation of large language models, code generators, and development environments will click their heels.

Where some vibe code résumé reviewers and inventory trackers and automated assistants, WIRED contributor Chris Colin had a different target in mind. Over the past couple years he had grown particularly fixated, personally and professionally, on what the policy world calls sludge: the rising tide of tiny administrative obligations that increasingly seems to define modern existence—and corrode our ability to get anything done. The hassle of dealing with insurance, or connecting that insurance to your doctor, or staying on top of airline miles, or navigating your kid’s school portal. The steps required to dispute a charge, or unsubscribe from a streaming service you forgot you had. Each of these feels like its own discrete assault on our time.

Those hassles aren’t just accidental byproducts of complexity; they’re often features. A confusing portal, a dropped call, a process just opaque enough to discourage follow-through. At scale, they function less like bugs than like policy. The app Chris Colin envisioned would expose this phenomenon, make the cumulative weight of these obligations a little harder to ignore.

But Colin isn’t a coder, and he doesn't have a technical background. Could he really build the app he imagined?

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

🎨: @yannsheep

For as long as Silicon Valley has been selling a frictionless tomorrow, we ordinary people have been its passive shoppers—scrolling the App Store, hoping someone has gone to the trouble of building whatever we need. Enter AI and its democratizing sidekick: vibe coding. If the promise is real, suddenly we can build our own apps, as niche and trifling as we please, with zero programming skills. We merely gesture toward whatever irks us and a constellation of large language models, code generators, and development environments will click their heels.

Where some vibe code résumé reviewers and inventory trackers and automated assistants, WIRED contributor Chris Colin had a different target in mind. Over the past couple years he had grown particularly fixated, personally and professionally, on what the policy world calls sludge: the rising tide of tiny administrative obligations that increasingly seems to define modern existence—and corrode our ability to get anything done. The hassle of dealing with insurance, or connecting that insurance to your doctor, or staying on top of airline miles, or navigating your kid’s school portal. The steps required to dispute a charge, or unsubscribe from a streaming service you forgot you had. Each of these feels like its own discrete assault on our time.

Those hassles aren’t just accidental byproducts of complexity; they’re often features. A confusing portal, a dropped call, a process just opaque enough to discourage follow-through. At scale, they function less like bugs than like policy. The app Chris Colin envisioned would expose this phenomenon, make the cumulative weight of these obligations a little harder to ignore.

But Colin isn’t a coder, and he doesn't have a technical background. Could he really build the app he imagined?

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

🎨: @yannsheep

For as long as Silicon Valley has been selling a frictionless tomorrow, we ordinary people have been its passive shoppers—scrolling the App Store, hoping someone has gone to the trouble of building whatever we need. Enter AI and its democratizing sidekick: vibe coding. If the promise is real, suddenly we can build our own apps, as niche and trifling as we please, with zero programming skills. We merely gesture toward whatever irks us and a constellation of large language models, code generators, and development environments will click their heels.

Where some vibe code résumé reviewers and inventory trackers and automated assistants, WIRED contributor Chris Colin had a different target in mind. Over the past couple years he had grown particularly fixated, personally and professionally, on what the policy world calls sludge: the rising tide of tiny administrative obligations that increasingly seems to define modern existence—and corrode our ability to get anything done. The hassle of dealing with insurance, or connecting that insurance to your doctor, or staying on top of airline miles, or navigating your kid’s school portal. The steps required to dispute a charge, or unsubscribe from a streaming service you forgot you had. Each of these feels like its own discrete assault on our time.

Those hassles aren’t just accidental byproducts of complexity; they’re often features. A confusing portal, a dropped call, a process just opaque enough to discourage follow-through. At scale, they function less like bugs than like policy. The app Chris Colin envisioned would expose this phenomenon, make the cumulative weight of these obligations a little harder to ignore.

But Colin isn’t a coder, and he doesn't have a technical background. Could he really build the app he imagined?

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

🎨: @yannsheep

For as long as Silicon Valley has been selling a frictionless tomorrow, we ordinary people have been its passive shoppers—scrolling the App Store, hoping someone has gone to the trouble of building whatever we need. Enter AI and its democratizing sidekick: vibe coding. If the promise is real, suddenly we can build our own apps, as niche and trifling as we please, with zero programming skills. We merely gesture toward whatever irks us and a constellation of large language models, code generators, and development environments will click their heels.

Where some vibe code résumé reviewers and inventory trackers and automated assistants, WIRED contributor Chris Colin had a different target in mind. Over the past couple years he had grown particularly fixated, personally and professionally, on what the policy world calls sludge: the rising tide of tiny administrative obligations that increasingly seems to define modern existence—and corrode our ability to get anything done. The hassle of dealing with insurance, or connecting that insurance to your doctor, or staying on top of airline miles, or navigating your kid’s school portal. The steps required to dispute a charge, or unsubscribe from a streaming service you forgot you had. Each of these feels like its own discrete assault on our time.

Those hassles aren’t just accidental byproducts of complexity; they’re often features. A confusing portal, a dropped call, a process just opaque enough to discourage follow-through. At scale, they function less like bugs than like policy. The app Chris Colin envisioned would expose this phenomenon, make the cumulative weight of these obligations a little harder to ignore.

But Colin isn’t a coder, and he doesn't have a technical background. Could he really build the app he imagined?

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

🎨: @yannsheep

For as long as Silicon Valley has been selling a frictionless tomorrow, we ordinary people have been its passive shoppers—scrolling the App Store, hoping someone has gone to the trouble of building whatever we need. Enter AI and its democratizing sidekick: vibe coding. If the promise is real, suddenly we can build our own apps, as niche and trifling as we please, with zero programming skills. We merely gesture toward whatever irks us and a constellation of large language models, code generators, and development environments will click their heels.

Where some vibe code résumé reviewers and inventory trackers and automated assistants, WIRED contributor Chris Colin had a different target in mind. Over the past couple years he had grown particularly fixated, personally and professionally, on what the policy world calls sludge: the rising tide of tiny administrative obligations that increasingly seems to define modern existence—and corrode our ability to get anything done. The hassle of dealing with insurance, or connecting that insurance to your doctor, or staying on top of airline miles, or navigating your kid’s school portal. The steps required to dispute a charge, or unsubscribe from a streaming service you forgot you had. Each of these feels like its own discrete assault on our time.

Those hassles aren’t just accidental byproducts of complexity; they’re often features. A confusing portal, a dropped call, a process just opaque enough to discourage follow-through. At scale, they function less like bugs than like policy. The app Chris Colin envisioned would expose this phenomenon, make the cumulative weight of these obligations a little harder to ignore.

But Colin isn’t a coder, and he doesn't have a technical background. Could he really build the app he imagined?

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

🎨: @yannsheep

For as long as Silicon Valley has been selling a frictionless tomorrow, we ordinary people have been its passive shoppers—scrolling the App Store, hoping someone has gone to the trouble of building whatever we need. Enter AI and its democratizing sidekick: vibe coding. If the promise is real, suddenly we can build our own apps, as niche and trifling as we please, with zero programming skills. We merely gesture toward whatever irks us and a constellation of large language models, code generators, and development environments will click their heels.

Where some vibe code résumé reviewers and inventory trackers and automated assistants, WIRED contributor Chris Colin had a different target in mind. Over the past couple years he had grown particularly fixated, personally and professionally, on what the policy world calls sludge: the rising tide of tiny administrative obligations that increasingly seems to define modern existence—and corrode our ability to get anything done. The hassle of dealing with insurance, or connecting that insurance to your doctor, or staying on top of airline miles, or navigating your kid’s school portal. The steps required to dispute a charge, or unsubscribe from a streaming service you forgot you had. Each of these feels like its own discrete assault on our time.

Those hassles aren’t just accidental byproducts of complexity; they’re often features. A confusing portal, a dropped call, a process just opaque enough to discourage follow-through. At scale, they function less like bugs than like policy. The app Chris Colin envisioned would expose this phenomenon, make the cumulative weight of these obligations a little harder to ignore.

But Colin isn’t a coder, and he doesn't have a technical background. Could he really build the app he imagined?

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

🎨: @yannsheep

For as long as Silicon Valley has been selling a frictionless tomorrow, we ordinary people have been its passive shoppers—scrolling the App Store, hoping someone has gone to the trouble of building whatever we need. Enter AI and its democratizing sidekick: vibe coding. If the promise is real, suddenly we can build our own apps, as niche and trifling as we please, with zero programming skills. We merely gesture toward whatever irks us and a constellation of large language models, code generators, and development environments will click their heels.

Where some vibe code résumé reviewers and inventory trackers and automated assistants, WIRED contributor Chris Colin had a different target in mind. Over the past couple years he had grown particularly fixated, personally and professionally, on what the policy world calls sludge: the rising tide of tiny administrative obligations that increasingly seems to define modern existence—and corrode our ability to get anything done. The hassle of dealing with insurance, or connecting that insurance to your doctor, or staying on top of airline miles, or navigating your kid’s school portal. The steps required to dispute a charge, or unsubscribe from a streaming service you forgot you had. Each of these feels like its own discrete assault on our time.

Those hassles aren’t just accidental byproducts of complexity; they’re often features. A confusing portal, a dropped call, a process just opaque enough to discourage follow-through. At scale, they function less like bugs than like policy. The app Chris Colin envisioned would expose this phenomenon, make the cumulative weight of these obligations a little harder to ignore.

But Colin isn’t a coder, and he doesn't have a technical background. Could he really build the app he imagined?

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

🎨: @yannsheep

For as long as Silicon Valley has been selling a frictionless tomorrow, we ordinary people have been its passive shoppers—scrolling the App Store, hoping someone has gone to the trouble of building whatever we need. Enter AI and its democratizing sidekick: vibe coding. If the promise is real, suddenly we can build our own apps, as niche and trifling as we please, with zero programming skills. We merely gesture toward whatever irks us and a constellation of large language models, code generators, and development environments will click their heels.

Where some vibe code résumé reviewers and inventory trackers and automated assistants, WIRED contributor Chris Colin had a different target in mind. Over the past couple years he had grown particularly fixated, personally and professionally, on what the policy world calls sludge: the rising tide of tiny administrative obligations that increasingly seems to define modern existence—and corrode our ability to get anything done. The hassle of dealing with insurance, or connecting that insurance to your doctor, or staying on top of airline miles, or navigating your kid’s school portal. The steps required to dispute a charge, or unsubscribe from a streaming service you forgot you had. Each of these feels like its own discrete assault on our time.

Those hassles aren’t just accidental byproducts of complexity; they’re often features. A confusing portal, a dropped call, a process just opaque enough to discourage follow-through. At scale, they function less like bugs than like policy. The app Chris Colin envisioned would expose this phenomenon, make the cumulative weight of these obligations a little harder to ignore.

But Colin isn’t a coder, and he doesn't have a technical background. Could he really build the app he imagined?

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

🎨: @yannsheep

The owner of a company that trained paramilitary ICE agents testified that he was involved in at least four lethal shootings, according to a 2021 deposition related to a lawsuit reviewed by WIRED.

David S. Norman, the founder and proprietor of law enforcement training firm TruKinetics LLC, served as a Phoenix Police officer from the late 1990s until his retirement in 2020. Prior to founding TruKinetics the same year, according to records reviewed by WIRED, Norman was involved in six shootings while on duty that left four people dead and two more wounded. In every instance, the Phoenix Police Department said Norman fired on an armed suspect and exchanged volleys of gunfire in at least two of the shootings.

TruKinetics received $27,748 for a year-long contract to run a mandatory 40-hour training course that certain members of Department of Homeland Security Special Response Teams receive annually at Fort Benning in Georgia, according to government procurement records reviewed by WIRED. At least 700 SRT agents from the Customs and Border Protection’s Office of Field Operations, ICE’s Homeland Security Investigations division, and ICE’s Enforcement and Removal Office units pass through Fort Benning for annual training.

In an interview with WIRED, Norman says that his company conducted sessions with the Special Response Team from Arizona’s Homeland Security Investigations office.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

The owner of a company that trained paramilitary ICE agents testified that he was involved in at least four lethal shootings, according to a 2021 deposition related to a lawsuit reviewed by WIRED.

David S. Norman, the founder and proprietor of law enforcement training firm TruKinetics LLC, served as a Phoenix Police officer from the late 1990s until his retirement in 2020. Prior to founding TruKinetics the same year, according to records reviewed by WIRED, Norman was involved in six shootings while on duty that left four people dead and two more wounded. In every instance, the Phoenix Police Department said Norman fired on an armed suspect and exchanged volleys of gunfire in at least two of the shootings.

TruKinetics received $27,748 for a year-long contract to run a mandatory 40-hour training course that certain members of Department of Homeland Security Special Response Teams receive annually at Fort Benning in Georgia, according to government procurement records reviewed by WIRED. At least 700 SRT agents from the Customs and Border Protection’s Office of Field Operations, ICE’s Homeland Security Investigations division, and ICE’s Enforcement and Removal Office units pass through Fort Benning for annual training.

In an interview with WIRED, Norman says that his company conducted sessions with the Special Response Team from Arizona’s Homeland Security Investigations office.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

The owner of a company that trained paramilitary ICE agents testified that he was involved in at least four lethal shootings, according to a 2021 deposition related to a lawsuit reviewed by WIRED.

David S. Norman, the founder and proprietor of law enforcement training firm TruKinetics LLC, served as a Phoenix Police officer from the late 1990s until his retirement in 2020. Prior to founding TruKinetics the same year, according to records reviewed by WIRED, Norman was involved in six shootings while on duty that left four people dead and two more wounded. In every instance, the Phoenix Police Department said Norman fired on an armed suspect and exchanged volleys of gunfire in at least two of the shootings.

TruKinetics received $27,748 for a year-long contract to run a mandatory 40-hour training course that certain members of Department of Homeland Security Special Response Teams receive annually at Fort Benning in Georgia, according to government procurement records reviewed by WIRED. At least 700 SRT agents from the Customs and Border Protection’s Office of Field Operations, ICE’s Homeland Security Investigations division, and ICE’s Enforcement and Removal Office units pass through Fort Benning for annual training.

In an interview with WIRED, Norman says that his company conducted sessions with the Special Response Team from Arizona’s Homeland Security Investigations office.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

The owner of a company that trained paramilitary ICE agents testified that he was involved in at least four lethal shootings, according to a 2021 deposition related to a lawsuit reviewed by WIRED.

David S. Norman, the founder and proprietor of law enforcement training firm TruKinetics LLC, served as a Phoenix Police officer from the late 1990s until his retirement in 2020. Prior to founding TruKinetics the same year, according to records reviewed by WIRED, Norman was involved in six shootings while on duty that left four people dead and two more wounded. In every instance, the Phoenix Police Department said Norman fired on an armed suspect and exchanged volleys of gunfire in at least two of the shootings.

TruKinetics received $27,748 for a year-long contract to run a mandatory 40-hour training course that certain members of Department of Homeland Security Special Response Teams receive annually at Fort Benning in Georgia, according to government procurement records reviewed by WIRED. At least 700 SRT agents from the Customs and Border Protection’s Office of Field Operations, ICE’s Homeland Security Investigations division, and ICE’s Enforcement and Removal Office units pass through Fort Benning for annual training.

In an interview with WIRED, Norman says that his company conducted sessions with the Special Response Team from Arizona’s Homeland Security Investigations office.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

On April 28, just before noon, Win White logged onto X and posted a series of messages to his 65,000 followers who, until that moment, were mostly unaware of his past as an OnlyFans creator.

“I’m asking humbly that we all refrain from sharing content from before. If you see it, save it … cool,” he wrote. “I know where I’ve been and I think I’m entitled to a life after that at least.”

That morning White, 29, had received several DMs about an old clip of him making rounds. Though he has done his best to separate his old life from his new one—last year he deleted his OnlyFans account and the separate X account where he posted content—it often has a habit of catching up with him. “All that work that I did for OnlyFans, I did out in California. I don’t really talk about it on this page. So I panicked,” White tells WIRED.

Still, he had a hunch how his request might be received, and how nasty the responses could get. “From the moment that I sent the tweet I knew that this isn’t something that everybody is going to adhere to. I don’t expect any type of respect.”

The reactions, which ranged from empathetic to mostly mocking, maligned White for his past choices. “You were desperate then so deal with the now,” one X user commented. As more people piled on, the ordeal ignited an intense discussion around the boundaries of consent and the ethics of consumption.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

On April 28, just before noon, Win White logged onto X and posted a series of messages to his 65,000 followers who, until that moment, were mostly unaware of his past as an OnlyFans creator.

“I’m asking humbly that we all refrain from sharing content from before. If you see it, save it … cool,” he wrote. “I know where I’ve been and I think I’m entitled to a life after that at least.”

That morning White, 29, had received several DMs about an old clip of him making rounds. Though he has done his best to separate his old life from his new one—last year he deleted his OnlyFans account and the separate X account where he posted content—it often has a habit of catching up with him. “All that work that I did for OnlyFans, I did out in California. I don’t really talk about it on this page. So I panicked,” White tells WIRED.

Still, he had a hunch how his request might be received, and how nasty the responses could get. “From the moment that I sent the tweet I knew that this isn’t something that everybody is going to adhere to. I don’t expect any type of respect.”

The reactions, which ranged from empathetic to mostly mocking, maligned White for his past choices. “You were desperate then so deal with the now,” one X user commented. As more people piled on, the ordeal ignited an intense discussion around the boundaries of consent and the ethics of consumption.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

On April 28, just before noon, Win White logged onto X and posted a series of messages to his 65,000 followers who, until that moment, were mostly unaware of his past as an OnlyFans creator.

“I’m asking humbly that we all refrain from sharing content from before. If you see it, save it … cool,” he wrote. “I know where I’ve been and I think I’m entitled to a life after that at least.”

That morning White, 29, had received several DMs about an old clip of him making rounds. Though he has done his best to separate his old life from his new one—last year he deleted his OnlyFans account and the separate X account where he posted content—it often has a habit of catching up with him. “All that work that I did for OnlyFans, I did out in California. I don’t really talk about it on this page. So I panicked,” White tells WIRED.

Still, he had a hunch how his request might be received, and how nasty the responses could get. “From the moment that I sent the tweet I knew that this isn’t something that everybody is going to adhere to. I don’t expect any type of respect.”

The reactions, which ranged from empathetic to mostly mocking, maligned White for his past choices. “You were desperate then so deal with the now,” one X user commented. As more people piled on, the ordeal ignited an intense discussion around the boundaries of consent and the ethics of consumption.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

On April 28, just before noon, Win White logged onto X and posted a series of messages to his 65,000 followers who, until that moment, were mostly unaware of his past as an OnlyFans creator.

“I’m asking humbly that we all refrain from sharing content from before. If you see it, save it … cool,” he wrote. “I know where I’ve been and I think I’m entitled to a life after that at least.”

That morning White, 29, had received several DMs about an old clip of him making rounds. Though he has done his best to separate his old life from his new one—last year he deleted his OnlyFans account and the separate X account where he posted content—it often has a habit of catching up with him. “All that work that I did for OnlyFans, I did out in California. I don’t really talk about it on this page. So I panicked,” White tells WIRED.

Still, he had a hunch how his request might be received, and how nasty the responses could get. “From the moment that I sent the tweet I knew that this isn’t something that everybody is going to adhere to. I don’t expect any type of respect.”

The reactions, which ranged from empathetic to mostly mocking, maligned White for his past choices. “You were desperate then so deal with the now,” one X user commented. As more people piled on, the ordeal ignited an intense discussion around the boundaries of consent and the ethics of consumption.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

On April 28, just before noon, Win White logged onto X and posted a series of messages to his 65,000 followers who, until that moment, were mostly unaware of his past as an OnlyFans creator.

“I’m asking humbly that we all refrain from sharing content from before. If you see it, save it … cool,” he wrote. “I know where I’ve been and I think I’m entitled to a life after that at least.”

That morning White, 29, had received several DMs about an old clip of him making rounds. Though he has done his best to separate his old life from his new one—last year he deleted his OnlyFans account and the separate X account where he posted content—it often has a habit of catching up with him. “All that work that I did for OnlyFans, I did out in California. I don’t really talk about it on this page. So I panicked,” White tells WIRED.

Still, he had a hunch how his request might be received, and how nasty the responses could get. “From the moment that I sent the tweet I knew that this isn’t something that everybody is going to adhere to. I don’t expect any type of respect.”

The reactions, which ranged from empathetic to mostly mocking, maligned White for his past choices. “You were desperate then so deal with the now,” one X user commented. As more people piled on, the ordeal ignited an intense discussion around the boundaries of consent and the ethics of consumption.

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Mira the cat is perfect and has never done anything wrong. She also loves walking on laptop keys.

You might think that walking on laptops is an example of Mira doing something wrong. She disagrees. And, in any case, she’s helped her owner, Jason Pot, learn a lot about how our computers work because of this. Every time she walks across our keyboards, she triggers some new, confusing keyboard shortcut. Leaving him to wonder how she did it, but then he finds out the keyboard shortcut by Googling around. Here's what he learned.

Has your pet made a tech discovery? Share your stories in the comments.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

Mira the cat is perfect and has never done anything wrong. She also loves walking on laptop keys.

You might think that walking on laptops is an example of Mira doing something wrong. She disagrees. And, in any case, she’s helped her owner, Jason Pot, learn a lot about how our computers work because of this. Every time she walks across our keyboards, she triggers some new, confusing keyboard shortcut. Leaving him to wonder how she did it, but then he finds out the keyboard shortcut by Googling around. Here's what he learned.

Has your pet made a tech discovery? Share your stories in the comments.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

Mira the cat is perfect and has never done anything wrong. She also loves walking on laptop keys.

You might think that walking on laptops is an example of Mira doing something wrong. She disagrees. And, in any case, she’s helped her owner, Jason Pot, learn a lot about how our computers work because of this. Every time she walks across our keyboards, she triggers some new, confusing keyboard shortcut. Leaving him to wonder how she did it, but then he finds out the keyboard shortcut by Googling around. Here's what he learned.

Has your pet made a tech discovery? Share your stories in the comments.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

Mira the cat is perfect and has never done anything wrong. She also loves walking on laptop keys.

You might think that walking on laptops is an example of Mira doing something wrong. She disagrees. And, in any case, she’s helped her owner, Jason Pot, learn a lot about how our computers work because of this. Every time she walks across our keyboards, she triggers some new, confusing keyboard shortcut. Leaving him to wonder how she did it, but then he finds out the keyboard shortcut by Googling around. Here's what he learned.

Has your pet made a tech discovery? Share your stories in the comments.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

Mira the cat is perfect and has never done anything wrong. She also loves walking on laptop keys.

You might think that walking on laptops is an example of Mira doing something wrong. She disagrees. And, in any case, she’s helped her owner, Jason Pot, learn a lot about how our computers work because of this. Every time she walks across our keyboards, she triggers some new, confusing keyboard shortcut. Leaving him to wonder how she did it, but then he finds out the keyboard shortcut by Googling around. Here's what he learned.

Has your pet made a tech discovery? Share your stories in the comments.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

Mira the cat is perfect and has never done anything wrong. She also loves walking on laptop keys.

You might think that walking on laptops is an example of Mira doing something wrong. She disagrees. And, in any case, she’s helped her owner, Jason Pot, learn a lot about how our computers work because of this. Every time she walks across our keyboards, she triggers some new, confusing keyboard shortcut. Leaving him to wonder how she did it, but then he finds out the keyboard shortcut by Googling around. Here's what he learned.

Has your pet made a tech discovery? Share your stories in the comments.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

Mira the cat is perfect and has never done anything wrong. She also loves walking on laptop keys.

You might think that walking on laptops is an example of Mira doing something wrong. She disagrees. And, in any case, she’s helped her owner, Jason Pot, learn a lot about how our computers work because of this. Every time she walks across our keyboards, she triggers some new, confusing keyboard shortcut. Leaving him to wonder how she did it, but then he finds out the keyboard shortcut by Googling around. Here's what he learned.

Has your pet made a tech discovery? Share your stories in the comments.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

Mira the cat is perfect and has never done anything wrong. She also loves walking on laptop keys.

You might think that walking on laptops is an example of Mira doing something wrong. She disagrees. And, in any case, she’s helped her owner, Jason Pot, learn a lot about how our computers work because of this. Every time she walks across our keyboards, she triggers some new, confusing keyboard shortcut. Leaving him to wonder how she did it, but then he finds out the keyboard shortcut by Googling around. Here's what he learned.

Has your pet made a tech discovery? Share your stories in the comments.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

OpenAI told staff on Friday that it would reorganize the company as part of an ongoing effort to unify its product offerings, WIRED has learned. OpenAI cofounder and president Greg Brockman will now lead the company’s product strategy, in addition to his work on AI infrastructure, OpenAI confirms to WIRED. Brockman was previously assigned to oversee OpenAI products on an interim basis while CEO of AGI deployment, Fidji Simo, was on medical leave; the change is now official.

“We’re consolidating our product efforts to execute with maximum focus toward the agentic future, to win across both consumer and enterprise,” Brockman said in a memo to staff seen by WIRED. Brockman added that OpenAI’s products are naturally converging, and that the company has decided to merge ChatGPT and Codex into one unified experience.

OpenAI says it’s folding ChatGPT, its AI coding agent Codex, and its developer-facing API into one core product team. The company says that Codex is increasingly powering its consumer and enterprise offerings, which are gaining the ability to perform digital tasks autonomously on behalf of users.

Two other OpenAI leaders are also taking on larger roles at the company as part of the changes. OpenAI’s head of Codex, Thibault Sottiaux, has been tapped to lead the core product and platform across consumer, enterprise, and developer surfaces. Sottiaux was a key leader in building Codex into one of the company’s fastest-growing products of all time. OpenAI’s longtime head of ChatGPT, Nick Turley, is moving to a new role at the company that aims to revamp enterprise products. OpenAI says Turley will continue his work on ChatGPT, which he has helped grow to more than 900 million weekly active users since he took over in 2022.

The changes are the latest shakeup for OpenAI as leadership aims to refocus the company on a few key product areas, including ChatGPT, Codex, and its forthcoming “everything app.”

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María de Jesús Estrada Juárez came to the US from Mexico in 1998 at 15 years old. Later, she was a recipient of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA), the policy meant to protect undocumented immigrants who arrived in the country as minors from deportation. When Estrada Juárez applied for a family-based green card in 2025, she thought she was doing everything right.

Instead, she was detained at her green card interview in Sacramento, California, and deported to Mexico. Similar stories have played out across the country since President Donald Trump retook office. Last year, White House deputy chief of staff for policy and homeland security adviser Stephen Miller and then DHS secretary Kristi Noem set a quota of 3,000 arrests per day, and ICE has hired 12,000 new agents to supercharge the agency’s efforts.

But in practice, the emphasis on detaining and deporting as many people as possible has meant that even immigrants in the US with legal status have been caught up in the blitz, thrown into a system where they may be moved out of the state, or the country, before they’re able to seek legal help. Immigration officers have appeared at immigration court hearings and green card interviews across the country, arresting people who are otherwise complying with the immigration process.

On March 23, a federal judge ruled that Estrada Juárez’s deportation was unlawful, and she was able to return to the US on March 31. Estrada Juárez shared her experience with WIRED.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

María de Jesús Estrada Juárez came to the US from Mexico in 1998 at 15 years old. Later, she was a recipient of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA), the policy meant to protect undocumented immigrants who arrived in the country as minors from deportation. When Estrada Juárez applied for a family-based green card in 2025, she thought she was doing everything right.

Instead, she was detained at her green card interview in Sacramento, California, and deported to Mexico. Similar stories have played out across the country since President Donald Trump retook office. Last year, White House deputy chief of staff for policy and homeland security adviser Stephen Miller and then DHS secretary Kristi Noem set a quota of 3,000 arrests per day, and ICE has hired 12,000 new agents to supercharge the agency’s efforts.

But in practice, the emphasis on detaining and deporting as many people as possible has meant that even immigrants in the US with legal status have been caught up in the blitz, thrown into a system where they may be moved out of the state, or the country, before they’re able to seek legal help. Immigration officers have appeared at immigration court hearings and green card interviews across the country, arresting people who are otherwise complying with the immigration process.

On March 23, a federal judge ruled that Estrada Juárez’s deportation was unlawful, and she was able to return to the US on March 31. Estrada Juárez shared her experience with WIRED.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

María de Jesús Estrada Juárez came to the US from Mexico in 1998 at 15 years old. Later, she was a recipient of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA), the policy meant to protect undocumented immigrants who arrived in the country as minors from deportation. When Estrada Juárez applied for a family-based green card in 2025, she thought she was doing everything right.

Instead, she was detained at her green card interview in Sacramento, California, and deported to Mexico. Similar stories have played out across the country since President Donald Trump retook office. Last year, White House deputy chief of staff for policy and homeland security adviser Stephen Miller and then DHS secretary Kristi Noem set a quota of 3,000 arrests per day, and ICE has hired 12,000 new agents to supercharge the agency’s efforts.

But in practice, the emphasis on detaining and deporting as many people as possible has meant that even immigrants in the US with legal status have been caught up in the blitz, thrown into a system where they may be moved out of the state, or the country, before they’re able to seek legal help. Immigration officers have appeared at immigration court hearings and green card interviews across the country, arresting people who are otherwise complying with the immigration process.

On March 23, a federal judge ruled that Estrada Juárez’s deportation was unlawful, and she was able to return to the US on March 31. Estrada Juárez shared her experience with WIRED.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

María de Jesús Estrada Juárez came to the US from Mexico in 1998 at 15 years old. Later, she was a recipient of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA), the policy meant to protect undocumented immigrants who arrived in the country as minors from deportation. When Estrada Juárez applied for a family-based green card in 2025, she thought she was doing everything right.

Instead, she was detained at her green card interview in Sacramento, California, and deported to Mexico. Similar stories have played out across the country since President Donald Trump retook office. Last year, White House deputy chief of staff for policy and homeland security adviser Stephen Miller and then DHS secretary Kristi Noem set a quota of 3,000 arrests per day, and ICE has hired 12,000 new agents to supercharge the agency’s efforts.

But in practice, the emphasis on detaining and deporting as many people as possible has meant that even immigrants in the US with legal status have been caught up in the blitz, thrown into a system where they may be moved out of the state, or the country, before they’re able to seek legal help. Immigration officers have appeared at immigration court hearings and green card interviews across the country, arresting people who are otherwise complying with the immigration process.

On March 23, a federal judge ruled that Estrada Juárez’s deportation was unlawful, and she was able to return to the US on March 31. Estrada Juárez shared her experience with WIRED.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

María de Jesús Estrada Juárez came to the US from Mexico in 1998 at 15 years old. Later, she was a recipient of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA), the policy meant to protect undocumented immigrants who arrived in the country as minors from deportation. When Estrada Juárez applied for a family-based green card in 2025, she thought she was doing everything right.

Instead, she was detained at her green card interview in Sacramento, California, and deported to Mexico. Similar stories have played out across the country since President Donald Trump retook office. Last year, White House deputy chief of staff for policy and homeland security adviser Stephen Miller and then DHS secretary Kristi Noem set a quota of 3,000 arrests per day, and ICE has hired 12,000 new agents to supercharge the agency’s efforts.

But in practice, the emphasis on detaining and deporting as many people as possible has meant that even immigrants in the US with legal status have been caught up in the blitz, thrown into a system where they may be moved out of the state, or the country, before they’re able to seek legal help. Immigration officers have appeared at immigration court hearings and green card interviews across the country, arresting people who are otherwise complying with the immigration process.

On March 23, a federal judge ruled that Estrada Juárez’s deportation was unlawful, and she was able to return to the US on March 31. Estrada Juárez shared her experience with WIRED.

Tap the 🔗 in bio to read the full story.

On Friday, May 15, on the final day of his state visit to China, US president Donald Trump was given a rare tour of the Zhongnanhai walled compound in Beijing by Xi Jinping. Once a residence for Chinese emperors, it now houses the leadership of the Communist Party of China and the equivalent of China’s cabinet.

But how rare? As Trump admired the centuries-old trees and roses, the US president asked his Chinese counterpart via an interpreter whether any other world leaders had been given such a tour.

"Very rarely," President Xi said, speaking through an interpreter, in a translation provided by the Reuters news agency. "At first, we usually didn’t hold diplomatic events here. Even after ​we started having ​some, it’s ⁠still extremely rare.” Then he added, “For example, Putin has been here."

Russian president Vladimir Putin visited the compound last year, as did Alexander Lukashenko, the authoritarian president of Belarus. Meanwhile, Trump’s predecessors Barack Obama, George W. Bush and Richard Nixon have all been within Zhongnanhai.

The incident highlights the tensions underlying Trump’s now-concluded visit. While Trump painted his trip as an “incredible visit,” and Xi hailed a “new positioning” of relations, concrete details on policy or trade deals are scarce. Major issues still loom large around the US-Israeli war with Iran—China is the world’s largest buyer of Iranian oil and Iran’s biggest trade partner—and Taiwan.

Trump has said multiple deals have been struck including China buying US oil and 200 Boeing jets, but the latter deal has not been confirmed by China.

Meanwhile the future of Nvidia’s H200 chips in China is just as murky, with no update provided on whether future sales will be permitted or, as is the current situation, China will continue to favor homegrown tech instead.