In order to place boots on the Moon’s surface, Nasa requires a lander. The American space organization has enlisted two private firms to construct them: SpaceX, founded by Elon Musk, whose lunar variant of the Starship rocket will reach a height of 35 meters, and Blue Origin, established by Jeff Bezos, whose Blue Moon Mark 2 vehicle is smaller yet equally ambitious.
“Fidesz’s governance needs to end, they’ve taken so much and the nation is suffering,” claims Eva, who thinks 90% of the market’s patrons still support them. “Tisza backers only focus on Orbán’s negative aspects,” Andrea counters. “If you observe the city, they’ve renovated six schools and constructed new facilities at the hospital.” While that might be accurate, Eva contends that many public tenders in Hungary are plagued by corruption.
A suspect was taken into custody after allegedly launching a Molotov cocktail at the residence of OpenAI CEO Sam Altman and subsequently threatening to set fire to the artificial intelligence firm’s headquarters in San Francisco on Friday, according to authorities.
An OpenAI representative verified the incident in an official statement and remarked, “Fortunately, no injuries occurred.”
The San Francisco Police Department reported on X that officers responded to a blaze at Altman’s North Beach home after an individual threw an “explosive incendiary device” at around 4 a.m. The device ignited a fire on an outer gate and the suspect fled the scene on foot.
Approximately an hour later, officers were alerted to a man making arson threats at the AI company’s office, identifying him as the same suspect involved in the incident at Altman’s residence, per the report. The 20-year-old male suspect was apprehended, with charges pending.
“We are very grateful for the prompt response from SFPD and the city’s assistance in ensuring the safety of our employees,” OpenAI stated. “The suspect is in custody, and we are cooperating with law enforcement in their investigation.”
In a recent blog entry, Altman spoke about the attack and included a family photo, admitting he “underestimated the influence of words and narratives.” He described the past few years as “extremely intense, chaotic, and high-pressure,” urging for a de-escalation in “the rhetoric and tactics” within the AI sector.
“Much of the criticism aimed at our industry arises from genuine worries regarding the incredibly high stakes of this technology. This concern is entirely valid, and we welcome constructive criticism and healthy debate,” Altman expressed. “I resonate with the sentiments against technology and acknowledge that it isn’t always beneficial for everyone. However, I firmly believe that technological advancements can lead to an extraordinarily positive future for all families.”
This episode occurs during a notably contentious period for Altman and OpenAI.
In February, the organization faced backlash for finalizing an agreement with the Department of Defense after the Pentagon cut ties with AI competitor Anthropic. Activists utilized chalk to leave messages at both companies’ offices, including calls for OpenAI employees to protest the agreement.
OpenAI and Anthropic are competing for dominance in the large language model market. Their combined valuation exceeds $1 trillion in the private sector, and both companies are aiming for potential IPOs this year, despite losing billions of dollars.
In a forthcoming trial expected to begin later this month, Elon Musk is suing OpenAI and Altman, asserting that the CEO “carefully manipulated” him into contributing $38 million on the condition that OpenAI would stay a nonprofit entity. Musk, who co-founded OpenAI with Altman in 2015, is seeking to have Altman removed from his CEO position as part of the legal action.
–CNBC’s Ashley Capoot contributed to this report
WATCH: Elon Musk seeks removal of OpenAI CEO Sam Altman through litigation
A group of Californians filed suit this week against Sutter Health and MemorialCare, alleging an AI transcription tool recorded them without permission, in breach of state and federal law.
The proposed class-action complaint, submitted Wednesday in federal court in San Francisco, says that within the last six months the plaintiffs obtained medical treatment at various Sutter and MemorialCare facilities.
During those visits, clinicians employed Abridge AI. According to the complaint, this system “collected and processed their private physician–patient conversations. Plaintiffs did not receive clear notice that their medical discussions would be recorded by an artificial intelligence platform, transmitted beyond the clinical environment, or handled by third-party systems.”
The complaint further alleges those recordings “contained personally identifiable medical information, including, but not limited to, medical histories, symptoms, diagnoses, medications, treatment discussions, and other sensitive health disclosures made during confidential medical consultations.”
In recent years, Abridge’s software and AI tools have been rapidly rolled out across major health care providers nationwide, including Kaiser Permanente, the Mayo Clinic, Duke Health, and many others.
Two distinct arms seem to begin from roughly the same spot at the crust-mantle boundary. One arm angles northeastward toward the Yellowstone caldera, while the other extends toward the Snake River Plain. The split between them produces the volcano-free zone lying between those two features.
The researchers concluded that, regardless of other factors supplying molten material, the routes to the surface were likely controlled by stresses in the crust. Those stresses depend on both the crust’s existing structures (mapped largely via seismic data) and broader processes occurring in the underlying mantle. Consequently, the model incorporated basic geological details, established physical processes, and some historical context about how that section of crust developed.
This brings the Farallon plate back into the picture. Its remnants, pushed beneath the North American plate, continue to sink and move through the mantle. The researchers infer that this motion drives a general eastward flow of material through the viscous mantle. Just east of Yellowstone, however, that flow encounters the older margin of the North American plate, where the crust is thicker and denser than the portion of the continent laid down by the Farallon plate.
That thicker crust forces the mantle flow to bend downward. The change in flow generates a range of stresses in the crust, most notably compression between the older and newer sections of the North American plate and a downward drag on the older block. Local stresses are further increased because the material that erupted to form the Snake River Plain is denser than much of the surrounding rock, producing strain on nearby rocks as it attempts to sink.
Welcome to Open Tab, your weekly summary of news, gossip, and stories that have been open in my browser for the week. Last week we discussed the surprising array of hot sauces included in the Artemis II mission.
Among the various sensational disclosures in this week’s New Yorker piece on OpenAI CEO Sam Altman (specifically: frequent deception) was a detail I can’t shake off. “Altman broke from his ‘war room’ at six o’clock every evening to enjoy a round of Negronis,” Ronan Farrow noted. Negronis…every night? Someone should introduce this man to a variety of cocktails. Also noteworthy: Danny Meyer’s upcoming book, What Could Possibly Go Right?, releases in late September. What should we anticipate? Insights on business, hospitality, the grind culture, and more. How will this differ from his previous works? Great question.
In addition this week: A harsh critique of Travis Kelce and Patrick Mahomes’ restaurant has gone viral, Philz Coffee has removed Pride flags from multiple locations, the predictive significance of pizza restaurant location data, and grocery stores that are hosting raves.
Nicole Rose was not pleased that her martini took 45 minutes to arrive during her recent visit to 1587 Prime, a Kansas City eatery owned by Chiefs teammates Travis Kelce and Patrick Mahomes. “We ordered $15 steak sauces,” she expresses, clearly upset, in a now viral TikTok. “They did not arrive. They were forgotten.” The grievances continue, but I’ll spare you the details: She spent $650 on a standard steak dinner with what seems like subpar service.
Not to play the cynic (famous last words), but what did we expect? Dining at a celebrity’s establishment is essentially like visiting a themed restaurant where the motif revolves around fame. As a representative for the restaurant mentioned to me months ago, Kelce and Mahomes’ actual involvement in the restaurant is quite limited.
This week, The New York Times questioned whether wokeness has left us worse off. It’s a fascinating discussion about how liberal aesthetics function in practice…yada yada yada I am a pretentious gay guy, you understand. It’s certainly not for me to declare whether woke is finished, or if we might be, conversely, “So back.” But one fact is clear: The prominent liberalism of the early 2020s is fading. The latest blow for the woke? The San Francisco-established coffee chain Philz Coffee, which declared this week it will be removing Pride flags from all its shops—eight weeks ahead of Pride Month, no less!!! Is this the unavoidable outcome of the chain’s acquisition by private equity last year? Are we doomed to witness Philz decline like many concepts supported by PE?
According to a statement from the CEO shared with the San Francisco Chronicle, which reported on this story, Philz’s “longstanding support of the LGBTQIA+ community remains intact.” A kind sentiment, but let’s see some action, Philz!
Yes, you can catch up on the news. Or you might keep an eye on the pizza establishments near the Pentagon. That is the premise behind Pentagon Pizza Report, an account on X that monitors activity at pizza places in close proximity to the Pentagon. Increased activity? Something is definitely going on. But wait, there’s more: Pizza joints might not be the only indicator of global turmoil. Gay bars, it seems, are also a predictor of military and governmental overtime.
Inflation increased in March due to the Iran conflict raising gasoline and other costs for consumers.
The consumer price index, a vital inflation indicator, surged 3.3% in March from the previous year, as reported by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics on Friday. That’s up from 2.4% in February.
The release of March data marks the first CPI report since the onset of the Iran conflict on Feb. 28, highlighting the financial consequences for consumers during the initial month of hostilities in the Middle East.
While the U.S. and Iran reached a two-week ceasefire late Tuesday, economists indicated that the inflationary consequences of the conflict will likely take several weeks or months to resolve — and that a drawn-out conflict could elevate consumer prices across categories, including food, airfare, and manufactured goods.
“Inflation is a concern and it’s only going to intensify,” stated Mark Zandi, chief economist at Moody’s. “Clearly, the situation in Iran is causing significant harm.”
“We were tentatively hopeful about inflation at the start of this year,” with pressures such as those from tariffs easing, said Thomas Ryan, a North America economist at Capital Economics.
“Essentially, we’re in a wait-and-see mode right now, just to assess the impact of the energy price shock,” Ryan noted. “If it proves to be lasting, we become increasingly worried about leakage” into other consumer spending areas, he added.
The inflationary spike due to the Iran conflict complicates the Federal Reserve’s task of setting interest rate policy.
During the March meeting, central bank officials indicated they anticipate cutting interest rates once this year, although some mentioned that it may become necessary to increase borrowing costs if the Iran conflict results in sustained inflationary pressures.
Fed officials also expressed the need to stay “nimble” as they assessed the war’s impact on inflation, which persists above the central bank’s 2% target.
“Inflation is significantly above acceptable levels for both consumers and the Federal Reserve — and that situation won’t improve, at least in the coming months,” Zandi mentioned.
The recent surge in energy prices is largely attributed to oil.
Iran has effectively restricted maritime traffic through the Strait of Hormuz, a crucial route for transporting approximately one-fifth of the global oil supply. The blockade appears to remain largely intact even after the ceasefire, according to reports.
Oil prices — as tracked by Brent crude oil, a global pricing standard — surged to $118 per barrel by March’s conclusion, up from around $70 per barrel prior to the onset of conflict. Prices have since trended down, yet remain high at approximately $96 as of Friday.
“There’s optimism now, as we have a two-week ceasefire and we hope it lasts,” stated Joe Seydl, a senior markets economist at J.P. Morgan Private Bank. “Otherwise, we may be facing the most significant oil supply shock in the post-World War II era.”
Products made from oil — including gasoline, diesel, and jet fuel — have also seen sharp increases.
Retail gasoline prices jumped 18.9% over the past year, according to the CPI data.
Consumers were paying an average of $4.12 per gallon as of Monday, according to the U.S. Energy Information Administration’s most recent weekly statistics — a rise from around $2.94 prior to the conflict.
This rise above $4 per gallon marks the first occasion the national average price has exceeded that threshold since 2022, when Russia’s invasion of Ukraine caused prices to spike, as demonstrated by EIA data.
Concurrently, rising oil prices are affecting other sectors of household budgeting as well.
For instance, airlines are increasing ticket prices,raising baggage fees, introducing fuel surcharges and reducing flight schedules to mitigate the impact of the Iran conflict — actions that collectively heighten costs for travelers.
Airlines are taking these steps to counteract rising jet fuel expenses, which constitute one of their biggest operational costs.
Airfares increased by 14.9% over the past year, according to CPI figures.
The increase is particularly striking for international travel: For instance, an average round-trip economy fare from the U.S. to Rome rose to $1,165 as of March 30, up from $846 on Feb. 23, according to the latest weekly flight statistics compiled by Kayak, a travel search engine. A round-trip ticket to Hong Kong climbed to $1,403 from $1,042 during the same time frame.
If jet fuel prices continue at their current levels for a full year, airlines would need to raise ticket prices by roughly $50 for each one-way fare, or about 17%, analysts from Deutsche Bank mentioned in a report on Tuesday.
Food prices are another segment that might experience upward pressure due to escalating oil prices, economists noted.
For instance, a rise in diesel costs influences the transportation expenses tied to delivering food to grocery stores. Additionally, fertilizer is a key export through the Strait of Hormuz, posing a threat to increase prices for farmers and consumers.
Food prices have risen by 2.7% over the last year, per CPI figures. Specific categories like beef and coffee have witnessed even steeper price hikes due to unique situations affecting supply.
Americans may also see heightened costs for items purchased through e-commerce platforms. Amazon plans to implement a 3.5% fuel and logistics surcharge for third-party sellers in the U.S. and Canada starting April 17. Other shipping companies like United Parcel Service and FedEx have also enforced increased fuel surcharges since the beginning of the Iran conflict.
Some inflationary pressures from energy costs may take months to impact supply chains and reach consumers, according to Ryan from Capital Economics. The effect “could be quite widespread,” he stated.
Ultimately, the full inflationary repercussions will hinge on the circumstances of the conflict.
If hostilities cease by late April and the Strait of Hormuz begins to reopen, CPI inflation would probably reduce “fairly rapidly,” according to Ryan. He predicts it will peak around 4% and decline to 3% by the end of 2026.
Conversely, an extended conflict would sustain high inflation and increases the likelihood of broader pass-through to goods and services, he cautioned.
Even if oil tankers resume passage through the Strait of Hormuz, normalcy may take time to restore, economists warn.
For instance, damage from attacks on energy facilities in the Middle East will require time for repairs, they noted.
Seydl, from J.P. Morgan Private Bank, used the term “up like a rocket and down like a feather” to characterize the anticipated price trends, indicating that prices for gasoline and other household budgeting areas tend to rise swiftly following a shock, but decrease slowly.
There’s also likely to be a persistent “risk premium” on oil prices once the conflict concludes, Seydl pointed out. “Investors are aware that this scenario could happen again,” he remarked.
Increased ancillary airline costs, such as baggage fees, may also prove to be long-lasting, particularly if demand stays robust, analysts suggested.
Is it the Department of Defense or the Department of War? The Gulf of Mexico or the Gulf of America? A vaccine—or a “personalized neoantigen treatment”?
That’s the Trump-era language dilemma confronting Moderna, the creator of the covid-19 vaccine whose ambitions for advanced mRNA vaccines targeting flu and emerging pathogens have been thwarted by vaccine skeptics within the federal government. Terminated contracts and unsupportive regulators have brought the Massachusetts-based biotech company to a tipping point. Last year, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., leading the Department of Health and Human Services, focused on mRNA, withdrawing support for numerous initiatives—including a $776 million allocation to Moderna for a bird flu vaccine. By January, the firm was cautioning it might need to halt late-stage endeavors to create vaccines against infections entirely.
This escalates the stakes for another segment of Moderna’s research. In collaboration with Merck, it has been applying its mRNA technology to eliminate tumors using a highly promising procedure referred to as cancer vacc—
“It’s not a vaccine,” a Merck representative interjected before I could articulate the V-word. “It’s a personalized neoantigen therapy.”
Oh, but it is a vaccine. And here’s the process. Moderna analyzes a patient’s cancer cells to identify the most abnormal, distinctive molecules present on their surface. It then encloses the genetic information for those molecules, known as neoantigens, into an injection. The patient’s immune system is instructed: Destroy any cells exhibiting those undesirable surface markers.
Mechanically, it resembles the covid-19 vaccines. The distinct aspect, of course, is that the patient is being immunized against cancer, not a virus.
And it appears to be a potential breakthrough. This year, Moderna and Merck demonstrated that such injections reduced by half the likelihood that patients with the most lethal form of skin cancer would die from a recurrence post-surgery.
In its formal statements, such as regulatory documentation, Moderna has not referred to the injection as a cancer vaccine since 2023. That was when it partnered with Merck and rebranded the technology as personalized neoantigen therapy or INT. Moderna’s CEO remarked at the time that the name change was to “better capture the intent of the initiative.” (BioNTech, the European vaccine manufacturer also engaged in cancer research, has adjusted its terminology as well, transitioning from “neoantigen vaccine” in 2021 to “mRNA cancer immunotherapies” in its latest report.)
The rationale for framing it as a therapy is that patients already have cancer—therefore, it serves as treatment rather than a preventive strategy. But the ulterior motive is evident: to separate vital innovation from vaccine-related anxieties that have been exacerbated by high-ranking US officials. “Vaccines may be perceived negatively nowadays, but we still have faith in the science and in leveraging our immune system to not only combat infections but hopefully also to defeat … cancers,” Kyle Holen, head of Moderna’s cancer initiative, stated last summer during BIO 2025, a significant biotech event in Boston.
Not everyone appreciates the linguistic games. Consider Ryan Sullivan, a doctor at Massachusetts General Hospital who has enrolled patients in Moderna’s trials. He is concerned that the shift raises issues regarding whether trial participants are adequately informed. “There is some apprehension that certain patients might refuse to treat their cancer because it is labeled a vaccine,” Sullivan expressed to me. “However, I also believed it was crucial, as many of my peers did, to name it what it truly is.”
But is it worthwhile to fight over terminology? Lillian Siu, an oncologist at the Princess Margaret Cancer Centre in Toronto, who has contributed to safety evaluations for the new injections, observes US politics from a distance. She considers the name alteration permissible “if it ensures the research can proceed.”
Holen conveyed to me that the physicians expressing dissatisfaction with Moderna were primarily driven by a desire to support vaccines—which are indisputably among the most significant public health advancements ever. They wanted the company to hold firm.
However, that’s not what is occurring. When Moderna’s latest findings were published in February, the main text of the paper made no mention of the term “vaccine.” It only appeared in the footnotes—cited in the titles of earlier papers and patents.
All of this may indicate that Kennedy’s approach is effective. His agencies often seem to spotlight mRNA vaccines as a source of public anxiety, obstruct their dissemination, diminish their value for businesses, and marginalize their advocates.
Nevertheless, Moderna’s approach may also be paying off. At least thus far, the government hasn’t commented much on the company’s cancer vacc— I mean, its personalized neoantigen therapy.
This article initially appeared in The Checkup, MIT Technology Review’s weekly biotech newsletter. To receive it in your inbox every Thursday and access articles like this ahead of others, sign up here.
This is the latest edition of The Download, our weekday newsletter delivering a daily update on the technology landscape.
—Constellations is a narrative by Jeff VanderMeer, the renowned author of the celebrated and bestselling Southern Reach trilogy.
A spacecraft has landed in an inhospitable environment. The only remaining survivors are three crew members and the ship’s artificial intelligence.
Little is present on this world other than snowy deserts. However, alien relics are scattered nearby, featuring 13 domes arranged across the land. Connected by cables running through metal posts, the domes create a network of routes—the sole chance for sustaining life.
As the crew journeys through the frozen wasteland, they uncover the remnants of numerous astronauts from unidentified species who have previously traversed this route. Is their path a gateway to rescue, or a universal snare?
<a href="https://www.technologyreview.com/2026/04/10/1135106/jeff-vandermeer-constellations-science-fiction/?utm_source=the_download&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=the_download.unpaid.engagement&utm_term=<Discover the rest of this narrative in its entirety.
This tale is featured in the upcoming issue of our print magazine, filled with articles showcasing nature. <a href="https://www.technologyreview.com/subscribe?utm_source=the_download&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=the_download.unpaid.engagement&utm_term=<Subscribe now to access the complete issue when it arrives on Wednesday, April 22.
The essential reads
I’ve searched the web to bring you today’s most entertaining/critical/terrifying/captivating stories related to technology.
1 OpenAI has collaborated with Anthropic to halt an AI launch due to security concerns
Only a select group of partners will receive its new cybersecurity solution. (Axios)
+ Anthropic mentioned just yesterday that its latest AI is too perilous for public access. (NBC News)
+ Leading models might not be publicly available in the future. (Bloomberg $)
+ The US has called bank CEOs to discuss potential risks. (FT $)
2 Florida is looking into OpenAI concerning its alleged involvement in a shooting
ChatGPT might have assisted an individual in planning a mass shooting in Florida. (WSJ $)
+ OpenAI has supported a legislation that would limit AI liability in cases of death. (Wired $)
+ The family of one victim intends to sue the company. (Guardian)
+ Debates are arising over AI’s role in delusions. (MIT Technology Review)
3 Volkswagen is moving away from EV production in favor of more gasoline vehicles
The automaker will cease production of its primary electric vehicle in the US. (NYT $)
+ Instead, it will focus on developing a new SUV. (Ars Technica)
+ Western automakers are pulling back from electric vehicles. (Guardian)
4 Elon Musk’s xAI has filed a lawsuit against Colorado regarding an AI anti-discrimination law
This is the first state-level legislation of its type. (Bloomberg $)
+ xAI claims it will compel the company to “advocate for the state’s ideological positions.” (FT $)
5 A fifth of US workers report AI now performs some tasks in their job
The poll revealed that half of US adults engaged with AI in the previous week. (NBC News)
+ Lacking data could reveal insights into AI’s impact on jobs. (MIT Technology Review)
6 Google DeepMind’s CEO aims to automate the design of drugs
He aspires to create AI capable of curing every disease. (The Economist)
+ One scientist is employing AI to search for antibiotics. (MIT Technology Review)
7 China’s Unitree is debuting a viral robot internationally
R1, its most affordable humanoid, will start selling outside of China next week. (SCMP)
+ Gig workers are teaching humanoids at home. (MIT Technology Review)
8 An investigation involving Artemis II astronauts could transform space medicine
Cells from their bodies will model the impacts of space travel. (WP $)
9 A pro-Iran meme campaign is targeting Trump with AI Lego animations
The videos have accumulated millions of views. (Wired $)
+ You can learn to appreciate AI produced content. (MIT Technology Review)
10 Short breaks could reverse 10 years of social media brain effects
Research indicates that a two-week break could yield significant benefits. (WP $)
Quote of the day
—Florida Attorney General James Uthmeier elucidates on X the rationale behind his investigation into OpenAI.
One Last Thing
For quite a while, people have been referred to as “users.” Frequently, it’s the appropriate term to describe those who utilize software. Yet, “users” also lacks specificity and can refer to nearly everyone. It can encompass almost any grand concept or overarching vision.
We engage with—and are engaged by—computers, platforms, and companies. The term “user” implies these exchanges are distinctly transactional, though they often feel quite personal. Is it time for a more human-centric language? <a href="https://www.technologyreview.com/2024/04/19/1090872/ai-users-people-terms/?utm_source=the_download&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=the_download.unpaid.engagement&utm_term=<Explore the complete narrative.
—Taylor Majewski
We had crash-landed on the planet. Home was far away. The spaceship was irreparable, and the distress signal was inoperative. Alongside me, only the astrogator, part of the captain, and the ship’s AI remained.
The environment outside was hostile to most life forms. We were cramped in the lifeboat, which was nonfunctional yet still contained air. Powerful storms lashed against our fragile shelter, although we knew from previous data that many regions were calm. Our only option left was to venture out, if we wished to survive. The captain entrusted me with the only weapon. She instructed the astrogator to carry some tools that wouldn’t overly burden him.
The planet featured little besides snow-covered deserts. However, alien artifacts were located in a nearby region. Our team of explorers found some solace in this surprising discovery, despite our original destination elsewhere. The significant systems failure had no clear cause, and landing on this planet had become our sole alternative.
The artifacts manifested as 13 domes, scattered across the treacherous landscape. These domes were interconnected by cables just below shoulder height, strung through the tops of metal poles at irregular distances. Whether intentional or otherwise, the cables and poles created a network linking the domes.
Before our instruments failed, the AI had indicated that the domes emitted a heat signature. The cables vibrated under our touch in a manner that hinted at warmth ahead. It took some time to adjust to this sensation.
The shortest route between the domes was a thousand miles long, and the longest stretched to 10 thousand miles. Our suit technology was reliable: A suit could purify water, produce food, generate oxygen. It could also induce various states of near hibernation while motors in the legs propelled us forward. For the captain, the suit would counterbalance her leg loss and alleviate her discomfort. We estimated we could reach the nearest path and trail it to the nearest dome … and that was our only hope. If the dome provided life support or merely a means to replenish our suits, we might survive. Otherwise, death awaited us.
Our survival expectations diminished upon reaching the path, where we discovered the lifeless remains of spacefarers scattered along the route. Various forms, entombed in their suits. Their huddled figures beneath the snow radiated a calmness that was starkly discordant with their fate. Yet when I wiped the frost off the faceplates, we witnessed the extent of their agony.
Walking among so much death was hard to articulate. So many deceased first contacts.
We no longer needed to contemplate the systems failure. Spacecraft came here to crash, and sentient beings arrived to perish, for reasons unknown. We couldn’t assume our fate would differ, adjusting our expectations accordingly. The AI’s motivational words about bravery brought little solace. The multitude of the lost in the icy landscape was overwhelming.
Here lay the grim agents of countless spacefaring species we had never encountered before.
The sheer number of corpses and their chaotic arrangement hindered our journey toward the dome. The AI calculated our chances of survival at below 50% for the first time. We would perish in our suits as the motors pushed us onward. We would become desiccated, existing in a fading clarity of thought that left us weak and dim-witted until the light extinguished. Nevertheless, we had no alternative. Thus, even in places where the dead were piled high in their suits, we pressed forward, over and through them, heading for the dome.
What awaited us there, as I’ve mentioned, remained unknown. Yet, we traversed a region of the galaxy where ancient civilizations had perished millions of years ago. We had initially aimed for a significant site, an ancient city on a moon devoid of atmosphere, amidst a starry wilderness.
While our emotions fluctuated, a prevailing professional awe and curiosity about the deceased eventually enveloped us. This stimulated much discussion over the comms. We had stumbled upon a discovery for the ages; yet our satisfaction was tinged with sorrow. Even if we survived longer than anticipated, we would never return home, never see our friends or family again. The AI might persist after our demise, but I doubted it found any joy in being the one to report our discovery centuries later. To whom would it report?
Here lay the grim agents of countless spacefaring species we had never encountered before. Their suits displayed an astonishing variety, although our assessment was brief. Some even appeared to consist of scales and other biological materials from their planets, providing us with further clues to their origins.
The burial of the suits beneath snow and the unavailability of anything save for a screaming face or faces, frequently warped by time and ice, hindered gathering any usable data. This complication was exacerbated in instances where the suit was part of the organism and where they didn’t require any “artificial skin,” as the AI termed it, to withstand harsh conditions. That many had perished despite seeming well-equipped for the planet’s environment sobered us up, even before our suits dispensed medications to improve our mental states.
As time passed, each face seemed to reflect a facet of our shared stress and horror at the gravity of our plight. Eventually, the overwhelming amount of detail became too much for us, eliciting extreme discomfort. The captain noted that even one instance of alien contact could trigger various psychological and physiological issues, including anxiety, stress, and fatigue. Here, we were continually confronting the alien dead of what appeared to be an infinite array of civilizations.
We ceased recording. We redoubled our efforts to slog toward the nearest dome.
The captain’s medication unit had malfunctioned, but the AI devised a method to assist her by deactivating the heating element in specific panels of her suit. Some parts of her would soon succumb to the cold, but this system would enable her to survive with a degree of comfort.
I must confess, we were merely relieved that the screaming had ceased and welcomed her guidance.
For an extended period, as we toiled in our spacesuits on that planet—traversing the path, beleaguered by snowstorms—we could not grasp why we encountered so many deceased astronauts of numerous unknown alien types, yet no spaceships. During moments of clear visibility, our line of sight extended uninterrupted for 500 miles. Where were the crash sites?
But one day we stumbled upon an antenna protruding from the surface. Clumsy efforts at excavation soon unveiled that beneath this antenna lay a vast dead spacecraft of an unfamiliar design. The gash that had exposed it to the elements had laid bare its unique structure, creating the illusion that the snow had poured out of it to form the landscape instead of infiltrating and accumulating inside over time.
Aspects of the spaceship’s surface suggested it might have been composed of some ultra-durable wood or a similar material. Ascending halfway to peer into the inner compartments, we all sensed the peculiarity of the dimensions and proportions of the living quarters. There was no trace of the inhabitants. Perhaps, I suggested, they had made their way to the domes. Perhaps they had even reached the domes. I tried, but could not, suppress hope in my voice.
However, the captain instructed the AI to conduct a materials analysis. The “snow” in this area was found to be tainted with ash and tiny bits of bone. The AI estimated that over 70% of the white surrounding us consisted of the remnants of vertebrate sentient life and remains of suits. The status of invertebrates remained uncertain. A thaw might not only release the drip, drip of water but also produce a shushing sound indicative of bone particles in the mix. I envisioned there might even be a clink of small items that had not been reduced by the intense heat that generated the ash.
The astrogator had insisted on delving deeper into the ship, with the notion that some recognizable similarity between technologies might result in finding a component or components to repair our ship. The rest of us humorously entertained this delusion for clear reasons. But upon his return, he held in his hands ovals of snow hardly larger than the circle formed by a thumb and finger. Many bore soft indentations, similar to those found in reptilian afterbirth from eggs. A ghostly cilia-like tread was evident along the undersides of these objects.
The astrogator found no technological components of use to us. Instead, he uncovered that the species piloting the spacecraft had been so dissimilar to us that they were safely contained in suits the size of eggs. Much of what had spilled into or out of the gash constituted the bodies of the crew, numbering in the hundreds of thousands. Their suits had proven inadequate for the conditions. They had perished en masse attempting to flee their ship.
The AI theorized that it had been a generation ship, possibly escaping a planet orbiting a dying star. If we questioned how the AI had arrived at this conclusion, it was because we wished it were untrue.
The captain fell silent upon receiving this alarming information and did not communicate with us for more than 100 miles of continued travel.
As we departed that site, unsure of exactly what we had traversed, we also realized that because the spaceship was completely buried under snow, it had been sinking into the sediment for days, months, or years. We understood then that our ship might not be discernible from the horizon if we retraced our steps. The already grim chances of rescue through visual identification of a crash site from above would be lost to us over time, even as the network of cables remained perpetually visible to the horizon. We now viewed the planet as a trap. But of what type?
We couldn’t be certain, but in the absence of the captain’s voice, it might have been the AI that proposed the idea of the planet’s being “duplicitous.” The wording unsettled us, as there was a duplicity in addressing the planet as the subject of the statement. A sphere revolving around a sun in deep space could not exhibit foresight or intentionality or any attributes of sentience.
The AI meant whoever or whatever generated the conditions on the planet that permitted spacecraft to become ensnared and the occupants placed in a dire situation with no options. However, I distinctly recall the AI articulating the phrase “the planet.” In addition to being inaccurate, this indicated that the AI possessed no analysis that might aid us in understanding the agency and motivations impacting us.
Yet in a sense, the AI merely expressed a feeling I had harbored for several miles: that an overlay existed on the planet’s surface, an area or space or distinct landscape inaccessible to us. This overlay had also been unavailable to any previous astronauts who had perished here. This area or space or unique landscape hosted an abundance of the usual desirable things: a breathable atmosphere, and ample food and water.
While we grappled with the path through the snow and the storms that continued raging, others might have observed us but opted to ignore us for reasons or perhaps merely for their own safety. For hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, as explorers had succumbed here in merciless and horrendous manners, there thrived a lavish feast for the senses, as excessive as it was ancient and eternal.
I cannot convey how profoundly the AI’s words affected us, causing our mouths to water at the thought of genuine food and pure, unrecycled water, and of a freedom unencumbered by suits and breathing devices. Even at our intended destination, we would have spent most of our time aboard a small space station. This monotony would only be interrupted by the grueling act of reaching an unbreathable surface strewn with ancient ruins of jagged black stone.
This vision that engulfed us functioned not solely as a tantalizing illusion. It terrified us so thoroughly that we couldn’t contain it within our thoughts. It continued to overwhelm us like an unrelenting wave.
We clashed for the first time, with the astrogator expressing the desire to return to the destroyed spacecraft and search nearby areas for parts, while the captain broke her silence to command us to keep advancing toward the closest dome. The AI, which had guided us to this point, seized the captain’s silence and remained silent thereafter.
For each of us, those endless white plains devoid of significant elevation, reduced to merely the metal wire and metal posts, became a repetition that drained the mind and spirit.
As I gazed out across the expanse of white, I couldn’t help but envision the impressions of shapes in the wind, as if unseen entities hurried by, swept away by gusts, unable to find a foothold, carried for hundreds of miles before being thrown to the ground.
However, we did not surrender.
About halfway to the nearest dome, amidst a storm that diminished our progress bit by bit and rendered our line of sight nonexistent, we encountered a peculiar scene.
Six astronaut suits lay scattered across and around the metal cable. With swirling snow, it took us several minutes, even with our robust headlamps, to discern the nature of the blockage. The six suits had been designed for a humanoid species that likely possessed torsos resembling nine-foot-long slabs, with six appendages, three serving for locomotion. Their heads bloomed outwards like thick fans. All helmets were shattered, revealing the skeletons of a different intelligent species, no larger than 40 or 50 pounds, possibly warm-blooded. There were no signs of the original inhabitants.
Following a brief analysis curtailed by the conditions, we theorized that the warm-blooded species had worn breathable skin suits that, as they deteriorated, forced these intruders to seek sanctuary. All they could find were these six deceased astronauts. Due to the absence of any trace of the original occupants, the AI proposed the theory that this smaller species had consumed every remnant of what lay within the suits.
Then they too had succumbed, and eventually, the AI speculated, something smaller would inhabit those bodies, then something even smaller within them, and further downward—
At this juncture, the captain attempted a soft reboot of the AI using a coded query. We could hear the concern in her voice.
Yet the AI persisted unfazed, suggesting that we might find this to be a widespread phenomenon. It could be indicative of a system’s capability to break down and process organic matter that had not coexisted with the devourer for millions of years. Most who attempted such feeding likely perished soon after, poisoned by alien flesh.
The astrogator began muttering to himself within his suit, disconnected from the comms, as if he no longer believed we functioned as a team. No amount of reprimand from the captain seemed to alter his stance.
In the captain’s terse reprimand, I sensed that her pain levels had once again surged.
The AI commenced speaking to us in bizarre alien voices at mile 700, as we battled through the snowstorm to maintain our grip on the cables and hence the path. The AI warbled and chirped and howled and hummed and clucked. It spoke in tones reminiscent of fossilized choruses of creatures, grand and harmonious. And in timbres akin to dry grass ignited by the sun. And in voices that echoed the dissolution of all things, darkness in the blinding white that instilled dread in me.
Initially, we suspected the AI had lost its mind. Then we thought it might be channeling voices from the dome, 300 miles ahead. Ultimately, the AI managed to convey to us that these were the voices of deceased astronauts we had encountered periodically. Frozen and motionless. The suits varied in many shapes and sizes. The voices of the dead projected through the AI, and nothing could impede them.
We preferred to believe that the AI had begun malfunctioning. We didn’t linger on a response. The captain requested the AI to execute a self-shutdown and quietly recited the numbers in the correct sequence. We understood the loss accompanying this action, yet we realized that failing to deactivate the AI could result in it becoming harmful to us, beyond the psychological turmoil from what it had just shared.
Shortly thereafter, the AI silenced its own voice, and all that emanated from it were the sounds of the others.
A little later, the AI ceased to speak entirely.
The snow began to betray us, as the storms formed different kinds of ice. Often, our arms grew weary, our legs stiffened, and we needed to rest more frequently. We learned to accept the solid crunch that could bear our weight. We began to reject the feather-light freshness that felt effortless beneath our feet but could give way as easily as air. In some areas, slick purple-hued ice welled up in sluggish layers as if something half-alive. In others, we discovered strange elevated islands, with harsh curls and curves suggesting that two continental shelves had collided in that space.
As we acclimated to these conditions, and as conditions deteriorated yet we still adapted, we began to feel an illusion of skill, one that temporarily lifted the spirits of the astrogator. The sounds through the comms of our efforts, the deeper breathing, the occasional muffled exclamation, entranced us in this regard. We felt as if we were becoming adept at managing the snow. We started to believe that if we could only reach the dome, salvation awaited us.
However, this rise in morale paralleled rather than intersected with thoughts of our ultimate survival.
We lost track of the remaining distance without the AI to inform us. Nor did the captain, in her agony, think to give updates. But from the distance ahead came visions beyond comprehension: three gigantic astronauts spaced 50 miles apart. Bigger than most starships, each body lay sprawled across an area vaster than several fields and in markedly different conditions.
The first had been grievously burned and was thus unrecoverable, even for salvage. The astronaut had crawled or dragged itself along for some distance. It had left a long smear of black and red across that expanse. The alien species remained unknown to us, but five appendages were sunk into the ground, seemingly in anguish. The cranium had previously housed three eyes, and the faceplate bore a crack resembling a meteor strike. The body appeared bloated, the suit’s fabric gray with a flickering green that came and went, linked to photosensitive dermal cells. The way the flesh occupied space, exhibiting traits more akin to plant than animal, left us unable to study it further.
The second was a tangle of limbs, implying a defensive stance. Debris from conflict fanned out to the side in a bewildering spectacle. The suit exhibited a surprising level of integrity, but shared a similar crack in the faceplate with no trace of a body within. The remains of multitudes of other deceased astronauts of different sizes and shapes, who had sought refuge or sustenance and then become ensnared or simply … surrendered. As the AI had foreseen, we confronted bodies once more providing sustenance and shelter for other bodies.
I felt like a parasite beholding a deity. Or was the scale even more absurd?
This condition was not immediately obvious to us, only becoming clear after we had struggled for an hour to reach the shattered faceplate and the entryway that extended like a fractured archway before us.
Despite the abundance of remains within and the challenges in traversing them to explore, the captain ordered a thorough reconnaissance. Her pulse readings exhibited a thready quality. At times, I felt, as did the astrogator when we engaged in private comms, that the captain had begun echoing sentiments akin to the AI’s obsessions. Nevertheless, we complied with the order, hoping that some internal calculation on the captain’s part suggested this was our only path to survival.
What did we anticipate finding in the lifeless body of a once-intelligent giant? Food? Oxygen? Some explanation for the cause of death? To distract ourselves from thoughts of our own demise by taking refuge within a death so immense that we could hardly grasp it?
I felt like a parasite beholding a deity. Or was the scale even more ludicrous? I struggled to visualize how the body must have contorted as it pitched forward onto that icy ground. My grasp on my own thoughts wavered.
Increasing pressure surged through my skull as I contemplated that sight. We were in the midst of something no one of my kind had ever experienced. We might be the only ones, ever. I gained a clearer understanding of the AI’s breakdown and the captain’s unraveling. My sharpness dulled, taking my calm with it.
It was impossible to ascertain how long the astronaut had struggled before dying. Unless, perhaps, somewhere within that fallen figure lay some trace of life that we would never uncover.
The storms receded, rose again, then receded once more.
The third enormous astronaut emanated light and vitality, shining across the snowy wasteland like a beacon. For a fleeting moment, I believed we had pierced through the invisible layer and could perceive what lay beyond the veil. We would enjoy comforts far beyond anything available on our damaged spaceship, even when it was fit to traverse galactic space. No recycled urine would serve as our water. There would be no faint odor of sweat creeping into our suits as the ventilation system faltered. Our liquid nourishment would not taste stale or moldy.
As we drew closer, the suit seemed to stretch nearly to the horizon, creating an effect of foreshortening through the left foot. Our remaining instrumentation indicated that the suit remained intact. The pressure suggested a kind of air circulated within its sealed boundaries.
We climbed with renewed vitality, the prospect of refuge so close invigorating us. Each of us rallied one another with such fervor that it made me somewhat fearful. What awaited us beyond this euphoric state of mind but a plunge?
Upon reaching the helmet plate, we found not a face or skull within, but rather a stunning abundance of healthy growth that rendered us speechless. None of us could fully comprehend what we observed, except that it resembled an ecosystem—resplendent with vibrant greens and blues, interspersed with other hues. It might mirror a terrarium filled with moss and exotic plants. There could have been some sense of life stirring among those plants, akin to jewel-like amphibians or even tiny, elusive sapphire birds. We could not smell or taste or hear what lay behind the faceplate. We could not experience it in those senses, yet somehow we each envisioned enough to find solace and reassurance in it.
The astrogator suggested he might create an opening in the plate or elsewhere on the body to allow us entry, and then seal the surface so that not too much air or vitality would escape. This workaround might require an hour or two, due to the delicate nature of what lay within. But it was feasible.
The captain considered the astrogator’s proposal and then acquiesced. The weather had begun to turn hazardous again. The necessity to begin immediately needed no further mention. With the correct pressure exerted, we would gain some degree of refuge from which to recuperate for a final push to the dome. It could be the difference between life and death, as the astrogator commented. If the atmosphere proved breathable, we might even find a solution to alleviate the captain’s pain.
I unclipped the astrogator’s equipment from his waist and hurled it off the massive astronaut, watching it soar through the air and embed itself in the snow. Then I employed my weapon to incinerate it where it lay. After that, I discarded my weapon into the snow as well, ensuring the feathery layer would cover it and conceal it indefinitely.
We were a team, and I had aided my team while demonstrating that I posed no threat—although I recognized the astrogator and the captain might not perceive it that way. I stood on the faceplate that we could no longer open with the dwindling tools at our disposal, as they both yelled at me through the comms. Their words were inconsequential. They chastised me for something that had already occurred and that they had no ability to prevent. I chose not to explain but instead began my descent to the ground, allowing us to once again grasp the metal rope and make our way to the dome.
Will you follow, I called out to them from the ground, as I noticed they remained on the heights. There was no response, but when they observed me taking up the rope, they descended to grab the rope as well.
I then waited, allowing them to catch up.
The captain passed away shortly thereafter. The pain was too intense, or the injuries she sustained too critical. I had sensed for some time that she would never reach the dome, but there was no merit in stressing that to her. Nothing she had done until her last moments required her removal from command. Her final words echoed our ship’s name and conveyed her love to someone who would pass away of old age even if we found a way to escape this place and return home. Yet the astrogator assured her he would carry those words forward.
Then we left her by the marker indicating we had 100 miles remaining to the dome. We understood that the snow would cover her for burial, just as it had done for all the others.
That in this frozen abyss, the persistence of life in that form, an oasis amid desolation, could be regarded as a miracle.
As the astrogator followed me down the rope line, he shouted for an explanation. The captain’s death warranted it for him for some reason. The captain had not deserved my betrayal. The captain would not find rest until I told him why.
You have to believe in ghosts, I replied.
The astrogator did not respond, indicating he rejected my reply.
The reason I took the tools and destroyed them is that the wind revealed something it hadn’t communicated to the captain or the astrogator. The wind had never spoken to me previously, so I accepted its message. That the astronaut inside the suit still existed, though immobilized. That what we perceived on the outside and identified as an ecosystem, as separate “plants” and “animals,” instead constituted a composite life-form, and to breach the suit or slice through it at a leg would have been a transgression.
That in this frozen wasteland, the endurance of life in that manner, an oasis amidst void, could be deemed a miracle.
I would not extinguish that. I could not permit that to be extinguished. Yet I also recalled how I felt gazing at that vast and alien expanse behind the faceplate. So serene, so soothing, engulfed in a depth of emotion I could not articulate. Would I replace that sensation with the experience of viewing all those explorers deceased within the other vast suit? Even as I become one of them?
Because the planet had already shared its rules, the consequences, and the ultimate outcome. There are no odds so dreadful that they could not be faced, in a myriad of ways, in this environment.
So I trudged onward, and the astrogator cursed me repeatedly, berating my upbringing and questioning how I could have passed the psychological assessments while secretly believing the same of him at various times during our expedition.
Observe how beautiful the snow is, now falling, I remarked to him over the comms. Observe how precise and geometric this line we are traversing across this expanse.
He did not reply, but later asserted that he no longer believed in the path at all, and by his calculations, he would reach the dome faster if he abandoned it and struck out independently.
I could not prevent the astrogator’s departure, nor did I wish to, so I watched him shrink into a smaller figure against the white expanse until the white consumed him and I was left alone.
I have been walking for a long time, communing with the dead. Here, against an arch of sky that appears no different from what lies directly ahead of me.
Jeff VanderMeer is the author of the critically acclaimed, bestselling Southern Reach series, translated into 38 languages. His short fiction has appeared in Vulture, Slate, New York Magazine, Black Clock, Interzone, American Fantastic Tales (Library of America), and many others.
