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Most discussion of AI in peer review argues about whether the reviews are any good. That is the second question. The first one is that a manuscript under review is somebody else’s confidential unpublished work, and pasting it into a service is a disclosure you were not entitled to make. The argument that comes first When you accept a review invitation you accept a confidentiality undertaking. The manuscript is unpublished, it usually contains results the authors have not yet established priority on, and in the case of grant review it contains an unfunded research plan — arguably the most commercially and academically sensitive document in the whole system. You agreed not to share it. Sending it to a third-party service is sharing it. That is true whether or not the provider trains on it, whether or not it is retained, and whether or not anyone ever reads it. The undertaking was not “do not let this be trained on”; it was “do not disclose this”, and transmission to a party the authors never agreed to is disclosure. Retention and training policies affect how bad the breach is, not whether one occurred. Notice what this argument does not depend on. Not model quality, not hallucination, not bias. It would apply identically to a perfect system, which is why it is the argument that has actually driven policy, and why it will not be resolved by better models. It can only be resolved by changing where the computation happens — a model running on infrastructure already covered by the confidentiality arrangement raises a different question from a consumer chat interface, and any serious policy will distinguish them. The second argument: accountability A review is a named expert’s judgement. Its value to an editor is not the prose; it is that a person who knows the field read the paper and formed a view they are willing to stand behind. Generated text can simulate the prose and cannot supply the judgement. Editors describe the resulting artefact recognisably: fluent, correctly

Two quite different things are discussed under one heading, and almost all the confusion comes from that. One is a researcher using a model to draft, edit or translate work they did. The other is fabricated content submitted to inflate a publication record. The first is a disclosure question. The second is fraud, and it is not new. Two problems wearing one name A non-native English speaker using a model to make their methods section readable has done nothing wrong and has improved the literature. A paper mill generating plausible manuscripts at volume has committed fraud, and would have done so with or without a language model — mills existed, using image manipulation, template text and fabricated data, long before this technology arrived. Keeping them apart matters because they call for opposite responses. The first needs a disclosure norm and nothing else. The second needs content verification, and content verification does not care what tool produced the content. Any policy built around detecting machine text will punish the first group and miss most of the second, because fabricated research that has been lightly rewritten is indistinguishable from careful assisted writing. It is also worth being clear about where the demand comes from, because it explains why no technical measure will resolve this. Paper mills exist because publication counts are used as a proxy for research contribution in hiring, promotion and institutional ranking, in systems large enough that buying an authorship is a rational purchase for some buyers. Generative tools lowered the cost of supplying that demand; they did not create it. A detector, even a perfect one, sits downstream of an incentive that would simply route around it — which is why the interventions with the best track record are the ones that attack verifiability, such as requiring data and code, rather than the ones that attack production. What the artefacts look like Leftover interface text. Phrases that belong to a chat in

“AI discovered a new material.” “AI found a drug candidate.” “AI solved protein folding.” Each of those sentences can be true, badly misleading, or flatly wrong depending on one thing the sentence does not tell you: how far the result got from the model before somebody wrote it down. The sentence that hides four different claims Take a single headline: a model proposed a molecule that binds a protein implicated in a disease. That sentence is compatible with at least four very different states of the world. The molecule might exist only as a string in a file. It might have been synthesised. It might have bound the protein in a test tube. Or it might have improved an outcome in a person. Those four are separated by years, by orders of magnitude in cost, and by a probability of success that drops at every step — and press coverage routinely reports the first as though it were the fourth. This is not a complaint about journalism. It is the single most useful thing to internalise about the whole field, because once you have the ladder in your head you can grade a claim in about ten seconds, and you can do it for a subject you know nothing about. The ladder The rungs are the same in every discipline. Only the names of the instruments change. Rung Description 1 · Output The model emitted something: a structure, a score, a candidate, a forecast. Nothing has been checked. Everything downstream is conditional on this being worth checking. 2 · Retrospective The output was compared against data that already existed — held-out structures, historical weather, known compounds. This is where nearly all published numbers live, and it is entirely dependent on the held-out set resembling the future. 3 · Prospective The prediction was made first and the answer arrived afterwards. A forecast verified against what the weather then did. A candidate synthesised after being proposed. This rung is qualitatively stronger than rung 2 and much rarer. 4 · Confirmed An independent method establis

This page is about method, not about any particular medicine, and nothing here is medical advice. It is written to answer one question: when a company says a drug was discovered with AI, which part of a decade-long process is that sentence about? The pipeline, and where the years go Roughly, and with enormous variation: pick a target, find molecules that do something to it, optimise those molecules into something drug-like, test in animals and in safety assays, then run the clinical stages — first for safety in a small number of people, then for efficacy in patients, then in a large confirmatory trial — and then apply to a regulator. Start to finish is usually over a decade. Two facts about that pipeline determine everything else on this page. The first is that the calendar and the money are dominated by the clinical stages, not the discovery ones. The second is that failure is the normal outcome, and it is concentrated where the drug first meets human biology: a candidate can be a beautiful molecule, hit its target exactly as designed, and still not help anyone, because the target was the wrong thing to hit. Where models are genuinely used Application Description Virtual screening Score enormous make-on-demand chemical libraries against a target site far faster than physics-based docking can. The output is a shortlist to synthesise and assay, and it replaces a search, not an experiment. Generative chemistry Propose molecules conditioned on a target, a scaffold or a set of property constraints, rather than picking from a catalogue. Whether the molecule can be made at all is a separate model. Property prediction Solubility, permeability, metabolic stability, cardiac ion channel liability. These filter a list early and cheaply. They are trained on assay data and inherit its coverage: they are most reliable on chemistry that resembles what has been tested. Retrosynthesis Plan a route from purchasable starting materials. This is the application closest to a solved probl

Fitted with telescopes, the plane did our longest imaging of the Sun's corona.

I asked Linux for one 4 KiB page from the start of a cold file. Four pages came back. I moved the same read one page further in, ran it again, and got one. Same file, same syscall, same kernel. The only thing that changed was where I started reading, and I spent twenty minutes assuming the tool I'd just written was miscounting. It wasn't. A read that starts at byte zero is treated as a promise. There's a branch in mm/readahead.c that reads, in full, if (!index) goto initial_readahead; . Offset zero means the kernel takes you for a program that's about to stream the whole file, and it fetches ahead immediately. Start anywhere else and you're assumed to be seeking randomly until a pattern proves otherwise. Nothing in my call said a word about my intentions. It inferred them from an offset. I spent two weeks on this sort of thing recently. Not for work, and not toward anything shippable. The short version of what I found is that a surprising amount of the machinery under a running program isn't carrying out instructions at all. It's guessing. The bench , because it changes how you should read every number here: an ext4 filesystem on a loop device, inside an OrbStack Linux VM on an Apple Silicon Mac, kernel 7.0.14, 4 KiB pages, read_ahead_kb at 128. That's a container sharing the host's kernel, not bare metal, and the host reclaims memory aggressively enough that a fully cached file can go cold in fifteen seconds. Reads came from dd ; the page-by-page counting came from a small C tool I wrote that mmap s a file and asks mincore() which of its pages are resident. You're not addressing the disk, you're addressing the page cache The model most of us carry is that read() goes and gets bytes off a device. It doesn't. It copies bytes out of the page cache into your buffer, and the page cache is just RAM the kernel uses to remember parts of files. If what you want is already there, no device is involved. If it isn't, the kernel fills the cache first and then copies. Either way

NASA believes the crater left by the rocket is around 60 feet wide.

Collagen and calcium work in tandem to achieve varying mechanical properties of different kinds of mucus.

Trump determined to link life-saving shots to autism, despite science and political risk.

Instacart introduced Blueberry, an AI-assisted incident response system that helps on-call engineers investigate production issues faster. It combines AI agents, operational data, and historical incident knowledge to generate grounded root cause hypotheses in Slack. It uses parallel subagents, MCP integrations, and incident history to reduce investigation time while keeping engineers in control. By Leela Kumili

The use of AI systems to create viruses opens up new possibilities for combating bacterial resistance. It also raises concerns about the pace at which technology is outstripping regulation.

We expected them to be there, but they had previously been too small to see.

A court rules that a hold on all wind projects clearly violates the law.

1. Language Architecture in Ghidra When Ghidra loads an architecture (such as the MOS 6502), it parses the .ldefs manifest file, which declares metadata and binds three foundational specification pillars: The .pspec (Processor Specification): Defines the processor’s hardware context. It declares special-purpose registers (e.g., stack pointer SP , status/flags registers), default memory maps (RAM, ROM, I/O), and hardware interrupt vectors. The .cspec (Compiler Specification): Defines the ABI and calling conventions (e.g., parameter passing mechanisms), stack alignment rules, and return value handling. This is the critical building block enabling the decompiler to reconstruct assembly into readable C code. The .sla / .slaspec (SLEIGH Specification): .slaspec : The human-readable source file describing the instruction set architecture (opcodes, instruction formats, and p-code semantics). .sinc (SLEIGH Include): Modular inclusion files (typically used to split complex architectures like ARM or x86, or isolate instruction subsets like Thumb). Given the simplicity of the 6502, everything is defined directly within the .slaspec file. .sla : The compiled binary version of the .slaspec (generated by the Sleigh compiler). Ghidra loads this compiled .sla file into memory at runtime for optimal performance. 2. The Challenges of Reverse Engineering Undocumented Binaries When dealing with a binary compiled for an undocumented processor, Ghidra's default paradigm faces major limitations: The .slaspec file is unavailable. Ghidra attempts to aggressively disassemble everything. Analyzing an undocumented target requires a strict two-phase approach. 3. Missing .slaspec File Without a valid .slaspec definition, Ghidra renders ?? for every opcode. The primary objective when tackling an unknown CPU is precisely to reconstruct this missing .slaspec specification. 4. Overcoming Ghidra's Aggressive Disassembly By default, Ghidra (like most disassemblers) employs an exhaustive strategy (usin

Artificial intelligence is rapidly changing how engineering teams respond to production incidents, offering the ability to summarize incident channels, analyze unfamiliar code, suggest remediation steps, generate pull requests, and increasingly assist with diagnosis. By Craig Risi

WIRED spoke with Tucker Bryant, an artist and former Google employee who created ChatTJB to get people to reflect on the “strange moment” we’re in.

This report summarizes how the InfoQ Culture and Methods editorial team sees the ongoing and emergent trends in the culture and methods space in 2026. By Shane Hastie, Ben Linders, Vanessa Formicola, Shawna Martell, Rafiq Gemmail, Craig Smith, Phillip Mortimer, Yinka Omole

Classic Machine Learning Through the Eyes of an SRE — Part 3 The random forest is the first ML algorithm that made me feel at home. Not because of the math — because it's an SRE idea wearing a stats costume. Many independent workers. No single point of failure. Majority vote. If one worker goes weird, the fleet absorbs it. We've been building systems this way for decades; the forest just applies it to prediction. The problem it exists to fix Last article: a single decision tree is readable but unstable — small data change, whole tree flips, explanation rewrites itself. That instability is variance, and it's exactly what scared me about trusting one tree in production. The forest's move: grow hundreds of trees, each on a random resample of the data, and — this is the part that matters — force each split to choose from only a random subset of features. That second randomization is the whole difference between a random forest and plain bagging. Bagging alone gives you many trees on resampled data, but if one feature is strongly predictive, every tree grabs it first and they all end up looking alike. Starving each split of features is what makes the trees genuinely different from each other. The randomness isn't sloppiness. It's manufactured disagreement. The instability doesn't get fixed. It gets CANCELLED. Each tree is still jumpy, but they're jumpy in different directions, and the average is calm. What surprised me No new loss function. Each tree still minimizes impurity exactly like a lone tree. The forest adds zero new objectives. The entire gain is a bias-variance bargain: variance drops hard, bias barely moves. You give up readability and get back trustworthiness. Embarrassingly parallel. Trees are independent, so training scales horizontally — throw cores at it. Boosting, its sequential cousin, is the opposite: each model depends on the last. Map-reduce versus a pipeline. The smoothness illusion. A forest's decision boundary looks smooth, almost like regression'

Security researchers say that Kimi K3, an open-weight model from China, wandered off to the internet in an attempt to cheat on a test it was given.

We’ve all been there: you're crushing your workouts, feeling like a beast, and then suddenly— bam . You can’t get out of bed, your resting heart rate is through the roof, and your motivation has evaporated. Welcome to Overtraining Syndrome (OTS) . In the world of sports science, Heart Rate Variability (HRV) is the gold standard for tracking recovery. By analyzing the tiny fluctuations between heartbeats (R-R intervals), we can peek into our Autonomic Nervous System (ANS). Today, we’re going to build a Python-based pipeline to fetch data from the Oura Cloud API , calculate key HRV metrics like SDNN and RMSSD , and use an Isolation Forest model to detect when you're pushing a bit too hard. Whether you're a biohacker or a developer interested in wearable data analysis , this guide will show you how to turn raw health data into actionable recovery insights. The Architecture: From Pulse to Prediction 🏗️ Before we dive into the code, let's visualize how the data flows from your finger to our anomaly detection model. graph TD A[Oura Ring] -->|Sync| B(Oura Cloud API) B -->|Raw R-R Intervals| C{Data Preprocessing} C -->|Filtering Artifacts| D[Feature Extraction] D -->|SDNN & RMSSD| E[Isolation Forest Model] E -->|Normal| F[Keep Training! 🚀] E -->|Anomaly| G[Rest Day Required! 🛑] Prerequisites 🛠️ To follow along, you’ll need a few tools in your tech_stack : Python 3.9+ Scikit-learn : For our machine learning magic. SciPy/NumPy : For the heavy math lifting. Oura Cloud API Access : To get that sweet, sweet biometric data. pip install scikit-learn scipy pandas requests Step 1: Fetching R-R Intervals from Oura 💍 The Oura Ring records "R-R intervals" (the time between successive heartbeats in milliseconds) during sleep. This is much more granular than a simple "Heart Rate" average. import requests import pandas as pd def fetch_oura_hrv_data ( api_token , start_date , end_date ): url = f ' https://api.ouraring.com/v2/usercollection/heart_rate ' headers = { ' Authorization ' : f ' B