Published June 5, 2025 10:00am EDT close Don’t be so quick to click that Google calendar invite. It could be a hacker’s trap Cybercriminals are sending fake meeting invitations that seem legitimate. NEWYou can now listen to Fox News articles! Americans’ personal data is now spread across more digital platforms than ever. From online shopping habits to fitness tracking logs, personal information ends up in hundreds of company databases. While most people worry about social media leaks or email hacks, a far less visible threat comes from data brokers.I still find it hard to believe that companies like this are allowed to operate with so little legal scrutiny. These firms trade in personal information without our knowledge or consent. What baffles me even more is that they aren’t serious about protecting the one thing that is central to their business model: data. Just last year, we saw news of a massive data breach at a data broker called National Public Data, which exposed 2.7 billion records. And now another data broker, LexisNexis, a major name in the industry, has reported a significant breach that exposed sensitive information from more than 364,000 people. A hacker at work (Kurt "CyberGuy" Knutsson)LexisNexis breach went undetected for months after holiday hackLexisNexis filed a notice with the Maine attorney general revealing that a hacker accessed consumer data through a third-party software development platform. The breach happened on Dec. 25, 2024, but the company only discovered it months later. LexisNexis was alerted on April 1, 2025, by an unnamed individual who claimed to have found sensitive files. It remains unclear whether this person was responsible for the breach or merely came across the exposed data.MASSIVE DATA BREACH EXPOSES 184 MILLION PASSWORDS AND LOGINSA spokesperson for LexisNexis confirmed that the hacker gained access to the company’s GitHub account. This is a platform commonly used by developers to store and collaborate on code. Security guidelines repeatedly warn against storing sensitive information in such repositories; however, mistakes such as exposed access tokens and personal data files continue to occur.The stolen data varies from person to person but includes full names, birthdates, phone numbers, mailing and email addresses, Social Security numbers and driver's license numbers. LexisNexis has not confirmed whether it received any ransom demand or had further contact with the attacker. An individual working on their laptop (Kurt "CyberGuy" Knutsson)Why the LexisNexis hack is a bigger threat than you realizeLexisNexis isn’t a household name for most people, but it plays a major role in how personal data is harvested and used behind the scenes. The company pulls information from a wide range of sources, compiling detailed profiles that help other businesses assess risk and detect fraud. Its clients include banks, insurance companies and government agencies.In 2023, the New York Times reported that several car manufacturers had been sharing driving data with LexisNexis without notifying vehicle owners. That information was then sold to insurance companies, which used it to adjust premiums based on individual driving behavior. The story made one thing clear. LexisNexis has access to a staggering amount of personal detail, even from people who have never willingly engaged with the company.Law enforcement also uses LexisNexis tools to dig up information on suspects. These systems offer access to phone records, home addresses and other historical data. While such tools might assist in investigations, they also highlight a serious issue. When this much sensitive information is concentrated in one place, it becomes a single point of failure. And as the recent breach shows, that failure is no longer hypothetical. A hacker at work (Kurt "CyberGuy" Knutsson)7 expert tips to protect your personal data after a data broker breachKeeping your personal data safe online can feel overwhelming, but a few practical steps can make a big difference in protecting your privacy and reducing your digital footprint. Here are 7 effective ways to take control of your information and keep it out of the wrong hands:1. Remove your data from the internet: The most effective way to take control of your data and avoid data brokers from selling it is to opt for data removal services. While no service promises to remove all your data from the internet, having a removal service is great if you want to constantly monitor and automate the process of removing your information from hundreds of sites continuously over a longer period of time. Check out my top picks for data removal services here.Get a free scan to find out if your personal information is already out on the web.2. Review privacy settings: Take a few minutes to explore the privacy and security settings on the services you use. For example, limit who can see your social media posts, disable unnecessary location-sharing on your phone and consider turning off ad personalization on accounts like Google and Facebook. Most browsers let you block third-party cookies or clear tracking data. The FTC suggests comparing the privacy notices of different sites and apps and choosing ones that let you opt out of sharing when possible.3. Use privacy-friendly tools: Install browser extensions or plugins that block ads and trackers (such as uBlock Origin or Privacy Badger). You might switch to a more private search engine (like DuckDuckGo or Brave) that doesn’t log your queries. Consider using a browser’s "incognito" or private mode when you don’t want your history saved, and regularly clear your cookies and cache. Even small habits, like logging out of accounts when not in use or using a password manager, make you less trackable.GET FOX BUSINESS ON THE GO BY CLICKING HERE4. Beware of phishing links and use strong antivirus software: Scammers may try to get access to your financial details and other important data using phishing links. The best way to safeguard yourself from malicious links is to have antivirus software installed on all your devices. This protection can also alert you to phishing emails and ransomware scams, keeping your personal information and digital assets safe. Get my picks for the best 2025 antivirus protection winners for your Windows, Mac, Android and iOS devices.5. Be cautious with personal data: Think twice before sharing extra details. Don’t fill out online surveys or quizzes that ask for personal or financial information unless you trust the source. Create separate email addresses for sign-ups (so marketing emails don’t go to your main inbox). Only download apps from official stores and check app permissions.6. Opt out of data broker lists: Many data brokers offer ways to opt out or delete your information, though it can be a tedious process. For example, there are sites like Privacy Rights Clearinghouse or the Whitepages opt-out page that list popular brokers and their opt-out procedures. The FTC’s consumer guide, "Your Guide to Protecting Your Privacy Online," includes tips on opting out of targeted ads and removing yourself from people-search databases. Keep in mind you may have to repeat this every few months.7. Be wary of mailbox communications: Bad actors may also try to scam you through snail mail. The data leak gives them access to your address. They may impersonate people or brands you know and use themes that require urgent attention, such as missed deliveries, account suspensions and security alerts.Kurt’s key takeawayFor many, the LexisNexis breach may be the first time they realize just how much of their data is in circulation. Unlike a social media platform or a bank, there is no clear customer relationship with a data broker, and that makes it harder to demand transparency. This incident should prompt serious discussion around what kind of oversight is necessary in industries that operate in the shadows. A more informed public and stronger regulation may be the only things standing between personal data and permanent exposure.CLICK HERE TO GET THE FOX NEWS APPShould companies be allowed to sell your personal information without your consent? Let us know by writing us atCyberguy.com/Contact.For more of my tech tips and security alerts, subscribe to my free CyberGuy Report Newsletter by heading to Cyberguy.com/Newsletter.Ask Kurt a question or let us know what stories you'd like us to cover.Follow Kurt on his social channels:Answers to the most-asked CyberGuy questions:New from Kurt:Copyright 2025 CyberGuy.com. All rights reserved. Kurt "CyberGuy" Knutsson is an award-winning tech journalist who has a deep love of technology, gear and gadgets that make life better with his contributions for Fox News & FOX Business beginning mornings on "FOX & Friends." Got a tech question? Get Kurt’s free CyberGuy Newsletter, share your voice, a story idea or comment at CyberGuy.com.

Once again, Sam Altman wants to show you the future. The CEO of OpenAI is standing on a sparse stage in San Francisco, preparing to reveal his next move to an attentive crowd. “We needed some way for identifying, authenticating humans in the age of AGI,” Altman explains, referring to artificial general intelligence. “We wanted a way to make sure that humans stayed special and central.” The solution Altman came up with is looming behind him. It’s a white sphere about the size of a beach ball, with a camera at its center. The company that makes it, known as Tools for Humanity, calls this mysterious device the Orb. Stare into the heart of the plastic-and-silicon globe and it will map the unique furrows and ciliary zones of your iris. Seconds later, you’ll receive inviolable proof of your humanity: a 12,800-digit binary number, known as an iris code, sent to an app on your phone. At the same time, a packet of cryptocurrency called Worldcoin, worth approximately $42, will be transferred to your digital wallet—your reward for becoming a “verified human.” Altman co-founded Tools for Humanity in 2019 as part of a suite of companies he believed would reshape the world. Once the tech he was developing at OpenAI passed a certain level of intelligence, he reasoned, it would mark the end of one era on the Internet and the beginning of another, in which AI became so advanced, so human-like, that you would no longer be able to tell whether what you read, saw, or heard online came from a real person. When that happened, Altman imagined, we would need a new kind of online infrastructure: a human-verification layer for the Internet, to distinguish real people from the proliferating number of bots and AI “agents.”And so Tools for Humanity set out to build a global “proof-of-humanity” network. It aims to verify 50 million people by the end of 2025; ultimately its goal is to sign up every single human being on the planet. The free crypto serves as both an incentive for users to sign up, and also an entry point into what the company hopes will become the world’s largest financial network, through which it believes “double-digit percentages of the global economy” will eventually flow. Even for Altman, these missions are audacious. “If this really works, it’s like a fundamental piece of infrastructure for the world,” Altman tells TIME in a video interview from the passenger seat of a car a few days before his April 30 keynote address.Internal hardware of the Orb in mid-assembly in March. Davide Monteleone for TIMEThe project’s goal is to solve a problem partly of Altman’s own making. In the near future, he and other tech leaders say, advanced AIs will be imbued with agency: the ability to not just respond to human prompting, but to take actions independently in the world. This will enable the creation of AI coworkers that can drop into your company and begin solving problems; AI tutors that can adapt their teaching style to students’ preferences; even AI doctors that can diagnose routine cases and handle scheduling or logistics. The arrival of these virtual agents, their venture capitalist backers predict, will turbocharge our productivity and unleash an age of material abundance.But AI agents will also have cascading consequences for the human experience online. “As AI systems become harder to distinguish from people, websites may face difficult trade-offs,” says a recent paper by researchers from 25 different universities, nonprofits, and tech companies, including OpenAI. “There is a significant risk that digital institutions will be unprepared for a time when AI-powered agents, including those leveraged by malicious actors, overwhelm other activity online.” On social-media platforms like X and Facebook, bot-driven accounts are amassing billions of views on AI-generated content. In April, the foundation that runs Wikipedia disclosed that AI bots scraping their site were making the encyclopedia too costly to sustainably run. Later the same month, researchers from the University of Zurich found that AI-generated comments on the subreddit /r/ChangeMyView were up to six times more successful than human-written ones at persuading unknowing users to change their minds.  Photograph by Davide Monteleone for TIMEBuy a copy of the Orb issue hereThe arrival of agents won’t only threaten our ability to distinguish between authentic and AI content online. It will also challenge the Internet’s core business model, online advertising, which relies on the assumption that ads are being viewed by humans. “The Internet will change very drastically sometime in the next 12 to 24 months,” says Tools for Humanity CEO Alex Blania. “So we have to succeed, or I’m not sure what else would happen.”For four years, Blania’s team has been testing the Orb’s hardware abroad. Now the U.S. rollout has arrived. Over the next 12 months, 7,500 Orbs will be arriving in dozens of American cities, in locations like gas stations, bodegas, and flagship stores in Los Angeles, Austin, and Miami. The project’s founders and fans hope the Orb’s U.S. debut will kickstart a new phase of growth. The San Francisco keynote was titled: “At Last.” It’s not clear the public appetite matches the exultant branding. Tools for Humanity has “verified” just 12 million humans since mid 2023, a pace Blania concedes is well behind schedule. Few online platforms currently support the so-called “World ID” that the Orb bestows upon its visitors, leaving little to entice users to give up their biometrics beyond the lure of free crypto. Even Altman isn’t sure whether the whole thing can work. “I can see [how] this becomes a fairly mainstream thing in a few years,” he says. “Or I can see that it’s still only used by a small subset of people who think about the world in a certain way.” Blania (left) and Altman debut the Orb at World’s U.S. launch in San Francisco on April 30, 2025. Jason Henry—The New York Times/ReduxYet as the Internet becomes overrun with AI, the creators of this strange new piece of hardware are betting that everybody in the world will soon want—or need—to visit an Orb. The biometric code it creates, they predict, will become a new type of digital passport, without which you might be denied passage to the Internet of the future, from dating apps to government services. In a best-case scenario, World ID could be a privacy-preserving way to fortify the Internet against an AI-driven deluge of fake or deceptive content. It could also enable the distribution of universal basic income (UBI)—a policy that Altman has previously touted—as AI automation transforms the global economy. To examine what this new technology might mean, I reported from three continents, interviewed 10 Tools for Humanity executives and investors, reviewed hundreds of pages of company documents, and “verified” my own humanity. The Internet will inevitably need some kind of proof-of-humanity system in the near future, says Divya Siddarth, founder of the nonprofit Collective Intelligence Project. The real question, she argues, is whether such a system will be centralized—“a big security nightmare that enables a lot of surveillance”—or privacy-preserving, as the Orb claims to be. Questions remain about Tools for Humanity’s corporate structure, its yoking to an unstable cryptocurrency, and what power it would concentrate in the hands of its owners if successful. Yet it’s also one of the only attempts to solve what many see as an increasingly urgent problem. “There are some issues with it,” Siddarth says of World ID. “But you can’t preserve the Internet in amber. Something in this direction is necessary.”In March, I met Blania at Tools for Humanity’s San Francisco headquarters, where a large screen displays the number of weekly “Orb verifications” by country. A few days earlier, the CEO had attended a $1 million-per-head dinner at Mar-a-Lago with President Donald Trump, whom he credits with clearing the way for the company’s U.S. launch by relaxing crypto regulations. “Given Sam is a very high profile target,” Blania says, “we just decided that we would let other companies fight that fight, and enter the U.S. once the air is clear.” As a kid growing up in Germany, Blania was a little different than his peers. “Other kids were, like, drinking a lot, or doing a lot of parties, and I was just building a lot of things that could potentially blow up,” he recalls. At the California Institute of Technology, where he was pursuing research for a masters degree, he spent many evenings reading the blogs of startup gurus like Paul Graham and Altman. Then, in 2019, Blania received an email from Max Novendstern, an entrepreneur who had been kicking around a concept with Altman to build a global cryptocurrency network. They were looking for technical minds to help with the project. Over cappuccinos, Altman told Blania he was certain about three things. First, smarter-than-human AI was not only possible, but inevitable—and it would soon mean you could no longer assume that anything you read, saw, or heard on the Internet was human-created. Second, cryptocurrency and other decentralized technologies would be a massive force for change in the world. And third, scale was essential to any crypto network’s value. The Orb is tested on a calibration rig, surrounded by checkerboard targets to ensure precision in iris detection. Davide Monteleone for TIMEThe goal of Worldcoin, as the project was initially called, was to combine those three insights. Altman took a lesson from PayPal, the company co-founded by his mentor Peter Thiel. Of its initial funding, PayPal spent less than $10 million actually building its app—but pumped an additional $70 million or so into a referral program, whereby new users and the person who invited them would each receive $10 in credit. The referral program helped make PayPal a leading payment platform. Altman thought a version of that strategy would propel Worldcoin to similar heights. He wanted to create a new cryptocurrency and give it to users as a reward for signing up. The more people who joined the system, the higher the token’s value would theoretically rise. Since 2019, the project has raised $244 million from investors like Coinbase and the venture capital firm Andreessen Horowitz. That money paid for the $50 million cost of designing the Orb, plus maintaining the software it runs on. The total market value of all Worldcoins in existence, however, is far higher—around $12 billion. That number is a bit misleading: most of those coins are not in circulation and Worldcoin’s price has fluctuated wildly. Still, it allows the company to reward users for signing up at no cost to itself. The main lure for investors is the crypto upside. Some 75% of all Worldcoins are set aside for humans to claim when they sign up, or as referral bonuses. The remaining 25% are split between Tools for Humanity’s backers and staff, including Blania and Altman. “I’m really excited to make a lot of money,” ” Blania says.From the beginning, Altman was thinking about the consequences of the AI revolution he intended to unleash. (On May 21, he announced plans to team up with famed former Apple designer Jony Ive on a new AI personal device.) A future in which advanced AI could perform most tasks more effectively than humans would bring a wave of unemployment and economic dislocation, he reasoned. Some kind of wealth redistribution might be necessary. In 2016, he partially funded a study of basic income, which gave $1,000 per-month handouts to low-income individuals in Illinois and Texas. But there was no single financial system that would allow money to be sent to everybody in the world. Nor was there a way to stop an individual human from claiming their share twice—or to identify a sophisticated AI pretending to be human and pocketing some cash of its own. In 2023, Tools for Humanity raised the possibility of using the network to redistribute the profits of AI labs that were able to automate human labor. “As AI advances,” it said, “fairly distributing access and some of the created value through UBI will play an increasingly vital role in counteracting the concentration of economic power.”Blania was taken by the pitch, and agreed to join the project as a co-founder. “Most people told us we were very stupid or crazy or insane, including Silicon Valley investors,” Blania says. At least until ChatGPT came out in 2022, transforming OpenAI into one of the world’s most famous tech companies and kickstarting a market bull-run. “Things suddenly started to make more and more sense to the external world,” Blania says of the vision to develop a global “proof-of-humanity” network. “You have to imagine a world in which you will have very smart and competent systems somehow flying through the Internet with different goals and ideas of what they want to do, and us having no idea anymore what we’re dealing with.”After our interview, Blania’s head of communications ushers me over to a circular wooden structure where eight Orbs face one another. The scene feels like a cross between an Apple Store and a ceremonial altar. “Do you want to get verified?” she asks. Putting aside my reservations for the purposes of research, I download the World App and follow its prompts. I flash a QR code at the Orb, then gaze into it. A minute or so later, my phone buzzes with confirmation: I’ve been issued my own personal World ID and some Worldcoin.The first thing the Orb does is check if you’re human, using a neural network that takes input from various sensors, including an infrared camera and a thermometer. Davide Monteleone for TIMEWhile I stared into the Orb, several complex procedures had taken place at once. A neural network took inputs from multiple sensors—an infrared camera, a thermometer—to confirm I was a living human. Simultaneously, a telephoto lens zoomed in on my iris, capturing the physical traits within that distinguish me from every other human on Earth. It then converted that image into an iris code: a numerical abstraction of my unique biometric data. Then the Orb checked to see if my iris code matched any it had seen before, using a technique allowing encrypted data to be compared without revealing the underlying information. Before the Orb deleted my data, it turned my iris code into several derivative codes—none of which on its own can be linked back to the original—encrypted them, deleted the only copies of the decryption keys, and sent each one to a different secure server, so that future users’ iris codes can be checked for uniqueness against mine. If I were to use my World ID to access a website, that site would learn nothing about me except that I’m human. The Orb is open-source, so outside experts can examine its code and verify the company’s privacy claims. “I did a colonoscopy on this company and these technologies before I agreed to join,” says Trevor Traina, a Trump donor and former U.S. ambassador to Austria who now serves as Tools for Humanity’s chief business officer. “It is the most privacy-preserving technology on the planet.”Only weeks later, when researching what would happen if I wanted to delete my data, do I discover that Tools for Humanity’s privacy claims rest on what feels like a sleight of hand. The company argues that in modifying your iris code, it has “effectively anonymized” your biometric data. If you ask Tools for Humanity to delete your iris codes, they will delete the one stored on your phone, but not the derivatives. Those, they argue, are no longer your personal data at all. But if I were to return to an Orb after deleting my data, it would still recognize those codes as uniquely mine. Once you look into the Orb, a piece of your identity remains in the system forever. If users could truly delete that data, the premise of one ID per human would collapse, Tools for Humanity’s chief privacy officer Damien Kieran tells me when I call seeking an explanation. People could delete and sign up for new World IDs after being suspended from a platform. Or claim their Worldcoin tokens, sell them, delete their data, and cash in again. This argument fell flat with European Union regulators in Germany, who recently declared that the Orb posed “fundamental data protection issues” and ordered the company to allow European users to fully delete even their anonymized data. (Tools for Humanity has appealed; the regulator is now reassessing the decision.) “Just like any other technology service, users cannot delete data that is not personal data,” Kieran said in a statement. “If a person could delete anonymized data that can’t be linked to them by World or any third party, it would allow bad actors to circumvent the security and safety that World ID is working to bring to every human.”On a balmy afternoon this spring, I climb a flight of stairs up to a room above a restaurant in an outer suburb of Seoul. Five elderly South Koreans tap on their phones as they wait to be “verified” by the two Orbs in the center of the room. “We don’t really know how to distinguish between AI and humans anymore,” an attendant in a company t-shirt explains in Korean, gesturing toward the spheres. “We need a way to verify that we’re human and not AI. So how do we do that? Well, humans have irises, but AI doesn’t.”The attendant ushers an elderly woman over to an Orb. It bleeps. “Open your eyes,” a disembodied voice says in English. The woman stares into the camera. Seconds later, she checks her phone and sees that a packet of Worldcoin worth 75,000 Korean won (about $54) has landed in her digital wallet. Congratulations, the app tells her. You are now a verified human.A visitor views the Orbs in Seoul on April 14, 2025. Taemin Ha for TIMETools for Humanity aims to “verify” 1 million Koreans over the next year. Taemin Ha for TIMEA couple dozen Orbs have been available in South Korea since 2023, verifying roughly 55,000 people. Now Tools for Humanity is redoubling its efforts there. At an event in a traditional wooden hanok house in central Seoul, an executive announces that 250 Orbs will soon be dispersed around the country—with the aim of verifying 1 million Koreans in the next 12 months. South Korea has high levels of smartphone usage, crypto and AI adoption, and Internet access, while average wages are modest enough for the free Worldcoin on offer to still be an enticing draw—all of which makes it fertile testing ground for the company’s ambitious global expansion. Yet things seem off to a slow start. In a retail space I visited in central Seoul, Tools for Humanity had constructed a wooden structure with eight Orbs facing each other. Locals and tourists wander past looking bemused; few volunteer themselves up. Most who do tell me they are crypto enthusiasts who came intentionally, driven more by the spirit of early adoption than the free coins. The next day, I visit a coffee shop in central Seoul where a chrome Orb sits unassumingly in one corner. Wu Ruijun, a 20-year-old student from China, strikes up a conversation with the barista, who doubles as the Orb’s operator. Wu was invited here by a friend who said both could claim free cryptocurrency if he signed up. The barista speeds him through the process. Wu accepts the privacy disclosure without reading it, and widens his eyes for the Orb. Soon he’s verified. “I wasn’t told anything about the privacy policy,” he says on his way out. “I just came for the money.”As Altman’s car winds through San Francisco, I ask about the vision he laid out in 2019: that AI would make it harder for us to trust each other online. To my surprise, he rejects the framing. “I’m much more [about] like: what is the good we can create, rather than the bad we can stop?” he says. “It’s not like, ‘Oh, we’ve got to avoid the bot overrun’ or whatever. It’s just that we can do a lot of special things for humans.” It’s an answer that may reflect how his role has changed over the years. Altman is now the chief public cheerleader of a $300 billion company that’s touting the transformative utility of AI agents. The rise of agents, he and others say, will be a boon for our quality of life—like having an assistant on hand who can answer your most pressing questions, carry out mundane tasks, and help you develop new skills. It’s an optimistic vision that may well pan out. But it doesn’t quite fit with the prophecies of AI-enabled infopocalypse that Tools for Humanity was founded upon.Altman waves away a question about the influence he and other investors stand to gain if their vision is realized. Most holders, he assumes, will have already started selling their tokens—too early, he adds. “What I think would be bad is if an early crew had a lot of control over the protocol,” he says, “and that’s where I think the commitment to decentralization is so cool.” Altman is referring to the World Protocol, the underlying technology upon which the Orb, Worldcoin, and World ID all rely. Tools for Humanity is developing it, but has committed to giving control to its users over time—a process they say will prevent power from being concentrated in the hands of a few executives or investors. Tools for Humanity would remain a for-profit company, and could levy fees on platforms that use World ID, but other companies would be able to compete for customers by building alternative apps—or even alternative Orbs. The plan draws on ideas that animated the crypto ecosystem in the late 2010s and early 2020s, when evangelists for emerging blockchain technologies argued that the centralization of power—especially in large so-called “Web 2.0” tech companies—was responsible for many of the problems plaguing the modern Internet. Just as decentralized cryptocurrencies could reform a financial system controlled by economic elites, so too would it be possible to create decentralized organizations, run by their members instead of CEOs. How such a system might work in practice remains unclear. “Building a community-based governance system,” Tools for Humanity says in a 2023 white paper, “represents perhaps the most formidable challenge of the entire project.”Altman has a pattern of making idealistic promises that shift over time. He founded OpenAI as a nonprofit in 2015, with a mission to develop AGI safely and for the benefit of all humanity. To raise money, OpenAI restructured itself as a for-profit company in 2019, but with overall control still in the hands of its nonprofit board. Last year, Altman proposed yet another restructure—one which would dilute the board’s control and allow more profits to flow to shareholders. Why, I ask, should the public trust Tools for Humanity’s commitment to freely surrender influence and power? “I think you will just see the continued decentralization via the protocol,” he says. “The value here is going to live in the network, and the network will be owned and governed by a lot of people.” Altman talks less about universal basic income these days. He recently mused about an alternative, which he called “universal basic compute.” Instead of AI companies redistributing their profits, he seemed to suggest, they could instead give everyone in the world fair access to super-powerful AI. Blania tells me he recently “made the decision to stop talking” about UBI at Tools for Humanity. “UBI is one potential answer,” he says. “Just giving [people] access to the latest [AI] models and having them learn faster and better is another.” Says Altman: “I still don’t know what the right answer is. I believe we should do a better job of distribution of resources than we currently do.” When I probe the question of why people should trust him, Altman gets irritated. “I understand that you hate AI, and that’s fine,” he says. “If you want to frame it as the downside of AI is that there’s going to be a proliferation of very convincing AI systems that are pretending to be human, and we need ways to know what is really human-authorized versus not, then yeah, I think you can call that a downside of AI. It’s not how I would naturally frame it.” The phrase human-authorized hints at a tension between World ID and OpenAI’s plans for AI agents. An Internet where a World ID is required to access most services might impede the usefulness of the agents that OpenAI and others are developing. So Tools for Humanity is building a system that would allow users to delegate their World ID to an agent, allowing the bot to take actions online on their behalf, according to Tiago Sada, the company’s chief product officer. “We’ve built everything in a way that can be very easily delegatable to an agent,” Sada says. It’s a measure that would allow humans to be held accountable for the actions of their AIs. But it suggests that Tools for Humanity’s mission may be shifting beyond simply proving humanity, and toward becoming the infrastructure that enables AI agents to proliferate with human authorization. World ID doesn’t tell you whether a piece of content is AI-generated or human-generated; all it tells you is whether the account that posted it is a human or a bot. Even in a world where everybody had a World ID, our online spaces might still be filled with AI-generated text, images, and videos.As I say goodbye to Altman, I’m left feeling conflicted about his project. If the Internet is going to be transformed by AI agents, then some kind of proof-of-humanity system will almost certainly be necessary. Yet if the Orb becomes a piece of Internet infrastructure, it could give Altman—a beneficiary of the proliferation of AI content—significant influence over a leading defense mechanism against it. People might have no choice but to participate in the network in order to access social media or online services.I thought of an encounter I witnessed in Seoul. In the room above the restaurant, Cho Jeong-yeon, 75, watched her friend get verified by an Orb. Cho had been invited to do the same, but demurred. The reward wasn’t enough for her to surrender a part of her identity. “Your iris is uniquely yours, and we don’t really know how it might be used,” she says. “Seeing the machine made me think: are we becoming machines instead of humans now? Everything is changing, and we don’t know how it’ll all turn out.”—With reporting by Stephen Kim/Seoul. This story was supported by Tarbell Grants.Correction, May 30The original version of this story misstated the market capitalization of Worldcoin if all coins were in circulation. It is $12 billion, not $1.2 billion.

The ways roads are used, with ever larger and heavier vehicles, have dramatic consequences on the environment – and electric cars are not the answer Today, there is an average of 37 tonnes of road per inhabitant of the planet. The weight of the road network alone accounts for a third of all construction worldwide, and has grown exponentially in the 20th century. There is 10 times more bitumen, in mass, than there are living animals. Yet growth in the mass of roads does not automatically correspond to population growth, or translate into increased length of road networks. In wealthier countries, the number of metres of road per inhabitant has actually fallen over the last century. In the United States, for instance, between 1905 and 2015 the length of the network increased by a factor of 1.75 and the population by a factor of 3.8, compared with 21 for the mass of roads. Roads have become wider and, above all, much thicker. To understand the evolution of these parameters, and their environmental impact, it is helpful to trace the different stages in the life of the motorway.  Until the early 20th century, roads were used for various modes of transport, including horses, bicycles, pedestrians and trams; as a result of the construction of railways, road traffic even declined in some European countries in the 19th century. The main novelty brought by the motorway was that they would be reserved for motorised traffic. In several languages, the word itself – autostrada, autobahn, autoroute or motorway – speaks of this exclusivity.  Roman roads varied from simple corduroy roads, made by placing logs perpendicular to the direction of the road over a low or swampy area, to paved roads, as this engraving from Jean Rondelet’s 19th‑century Traité Théorique et Pratique de l’Art de Bâtir shows. Using deep roadbeds of tamped rubble as an underlying layer to ensure that they kept dry, major roads were often stone-paved, metalled, cambered for drainage and flanked by footpaths, bridleways and drainage ditches Like any major piece of infrastructure, motorways became the subject of ideological discourse, long before any shovel hit the ground; politicians underlined their role in the service of the nation, how they would contribute to progress, development, the economy, modernity and even civilisation. The inauguration ceremony for the construction of the first autostrada took place in March 1923, presided over by Italy’s prime minister Benito Mussolini. The second major motorway programme was announced by the Nazi government in 1933, with a national network planned to be around 7,000 kilometres long. In his 2017 book Driving Modernity: Technology, Experts, Politics, and Fascist Motorways, 1922–1943, historian Massimo Moraglio shows how both programmes were used as propaganda tools by the regimes, most notably at the international road congresses in Milan in 1926 and Munich in 1934. In the European postwar era, the notion of the ‘civilising’ effect of roads persevered. In 1962, Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, then‑secretary of state for finances and later president of France, argued that expanded motorways would bring ‘progress, activity and life’. This discourse soon butted up against the realities of how motorways affected individuals and communities. In his 2011 book Fighting Traffic: The Dawn of the Motor Age in the American City, Peter D Norton explores the history of resistance to the imposition of motorised traffic in North American cities. Until the 1920s, there was a perception that cars were dangerous newcomers, and that other street and road uses – especially walking – were more legitimate. Cars were associated with speed and danger; restrictions on motorists, especially speed limits, were routine.  Built between 1962 and 1970, the Westway was London’s first urban motorway, elevated above the city to use less land. Construction workers are seen stressing the longitudinal soffit cables inside the box section of the deck units to achieve the bearing capacity necessary to carry the weight of traffic Credit: Heritage Image Partnership Ltd / Alamy To gain domination over cities, motor vehicles had to win priority over other street uses. Rather than restricting the flow of vehicles to minimise the risk of road accidents, a specific infrastructure was dedicated to them: both inner‑city roads and motorways. Cutting through the landscape, the motorway had, by definition, to be inaccessible by any other means of transport than motorised vehicle. To guarantee the fluidity of traffic, the construction of imposing bridges, tunnels and interchanges is necessary, particularly at junctions with other roads, railways or canals. This prioritisation of one type of user inevitably impacts journeys for others; as space is fragmented, short journeys are lengthened for those trying to navigate space by foot or bicycle.  Enabling cars to drive at around 110–140km/h on motorways, as modern motorways do, directly impacts their design, with major environmental effects: the gradient has to be gentle (4 per cent), the curves long (1.5km in radius) and the lanes wide, to allow vehicles to overtake each other safely. As much terrain around the world is not naturally suited to these requirements, the earthworks are considerable: in France, the construction of a metre of highway requires moving some 100m3 of earth, and when the soil is soft, full of clay or peat, it is made firmer with hydraulic lime and cement before the highway’s first sub‑layers are laid. This material cost reinforces the criticisms levelled in the 1960s, by the likes of Jane Jacobs and Lewis Mumford, at urban planning that prioritised the personal motor vehicle. When roads are widened to accommodate more traffic, buildings are sliced and demolished, as happened in Dhaka’s Bhasantek Road in 2021 Credit: Dhaka Tribune Once built, the motorway is never inert. Motorway projects today generally anticipate future expansion (from 2×2 to 2×3 to 2×4 lanes), and include a large median strip of 12m between the lanes, with a view to adding new ones. Increases in speed and vehicle sizes have also translated into wider lanes, from 2.5m in 1945 to 3.5m today. The average contemporary motorway footprint is therefore 100 square metres per linear metre. Indeed, although the construction of a road is supposed to reduce congestion, it also generates new traffic and, therefore, new congestion. This is the principle of ‘induced traffic’: the provision of extra road capacity results in a greater volume of traffic. The Katy Freeway in Texas famously illustrates this dynamic. Built as a regular six‑lane highway in the 1960s, it was called the second worst bottleneck in the nation by 2004, wasting 25 million hours a year of commuter time. In 2011, the state of Texas invested US$2.8 billion to fix this problem, widening the road to a staggering total of 26 lanes. By 2014, the morning and afternoon traffic had both increased again. The vicious circle based on the induced traffic has been empirically demonstrated in most countries: traffic has continued to increase and congestion remains unresolved, leading to ever-increasing emissions. In the EU, transport is the only sector where greenhouse gas emissions have increased in the past three decades, rising 33.5 per cent between 1990 and 2019. Transport accounts for around a fifth of global CO₂ emissions today, with three quarters of this figure linked to road transport. Houston’s Katy Freeway is one of the world’s widest motorways, with 26 lanes. Its last expansion, in 2008, was initially hailed as a success, but within five years, peak travel times were longer than before the expansion – a direct illustration of the principle of induced traffic Credit: Smiley N Pool / Houston Chronicle / Getty Like other large transport infrastructures such as ports and airports, motorways are designed for the largest and heaviest vehicles. Engineers, road administrations and politicians have known since the 1950s that one truck represents millions of cars: the impact of a vehicle on the roadway is exponential to its weight – an online ‘road damage calculator’ allows you to compare the damage done by different types of vehicles to the road. Over the years, heavier and heavier trucks have been authorised to operate on roads: from 8‑tonne trucks in 1945 to 44 tonnes nowadays. The European Parliament adopted a revised directive on 12 March 2024 authorising mega‑trucks to travel on European roads; they can measure up to 25 metres and weigh up to 60 tonnes, compared with the previous limits of 18.75 metres and 44 tonnes. This is a political and economic choice with considerable material effects: thickness, rigidity of sub‑bases and consolidation of soil and subsoil with lime and cement. Altogether, motorways are 10 times thicker than large roads from the late 19th century. In France, it takes an average of 30 tonnes of sand and aggregate to build one linear metre of motorway, 100 times more than cement and bitumen.  The material history of road networks is a history of quarrying and environmental damage. The traces of roads can also be seen in rivers emptied of their sediment, the notches of quarries in the hills and the furrows of dredgers extracting sand from the seabed. This material extraction, arguably the most significant in human history, has dramatic ecological consequences for rivers, groundwater tables, the rise of sea levels and saltwater in farmlands, as well as biodiversity. As sand is ubiquitous and very cheap, the history of roads is also the history of a local extractivism and environmental conflicts around the world.  Shoving and rutting is the bulging and rippling of the pavement surface. Once built, roads require extensive maintenance – the heavier the vehicles, the quicker the damage. From pothole repair to the full resurfacing of a road, maintenance contributes to keeping road users safe Credit: Yakov Oskanov / Alamy Once roads are built and extended, they need to be maintained to support the circulation of lorries and, by extension, commodities. This stage is becoming increasingly important as rail freight, which used to be important in countries such as France and the UK, is declining, accounting for no more than 10 per cent of the transport of commodities. Engineers might judge that a motorway is destined to last 20 years or so, but this prognosis will be significantly reduced with heavy traffic. The same applies to the thousands of motorway bridges: in the UK, nearly half of the 9,000 highway bridges are in poor condition; in France, 7 per cent of the 12,000 bridges are in danger of collapsing, as did Genoa’s Morandi bridge in 2018. If only light vehicles drove on it, this infrastructure would last much longer. This puts into perspective governments’ insistence on ‘greening’ the transport sector by targeting CO2 emissions alone, typically by promoting the use of electric vehicles (EVs). Public policies prioritising EVs do nothing to change the mass of roads or the issue of their maintenance – even if lorries were to run on clean air, massive quarrying would still be necessary. A similar argument plays out with regard to canals and ports, which have been constantly widened and deepened for decades to accommodate ever-larger oil tankers or container ships. The simple operation of these infrastructures, dimensioned for the circulation of commodities and not humans, requires permanent dredging of large volumes. The environmental problem of large transport infrastructure goes beyond the type of energy used: it is, at its root, free and globalised trade. ‘The material life cycle of motorways is relentless: constructing, maintaining, widening, thickening, repairing’ As both a material and ideological object, the motorway fixes certain political choices in the landscape. Millions of kilometres of road continue to be asphalted, widened and thickened around the world to favour cars and lorries. In France, more than 80 per cent of today’s sand and aggregate extraction is used for civil engineering works – the rest goes to buildings. Even if no more buildings, roads or other infrastructures were to be built, phenomenal quantities of sand and aggregates would still need to be extracted in order to maintain existing road networks. The material life cycle of motorways is relentless: constructing, maintaining, widening, thickening, repairing, adding new structures such as wildlife crossings, more maintaining.  Rising traffic levels are always deemed positive by governments for a country’s economy and development. As Christopher Wells shows in his 2014 book Car Country: An Environmental History, car use becomes necessary in an environment where everything has been planned for the car, from the location of public services and supermarkets to residential and office areas. Similarly, when an entire economy is based on globalised trade and just‑in‑time logistics (to the point that many service economies could not produce their own personal protective equipment in the midst of a pandemic), the lorry and the container ship become vital.  The final stage in the life of a piece of motorway infrastructure is dismantling. Like the other stages, this one is not a natural outcome but the fruit of political choices – which should be democratic – regarding how we wish to use existing roads. Dismantling, which is essential if we are to put an end to the global extractivism of sand and aggregates, does not mean destruction: if bicycles and pedestrians were to use them instead, maintenance would be minimal. This final stage requires a paradigm shift away from the eternal adaptation to increasing traffic. Replacing cars and lorries with public transport and rail freight would be a first step. But above all, a different political and spatial organisation of economic activities is necessary, and ultimately, an end to globalised, just-in-time trade and logistics. In 1978, a row of cars parked at a shopping centre in Connecticut was buried under a thick layer of gooey asphalt. The Ghost Parking Lot, one of the first projects by James Wines’ practice SITE, became a playground for skateboarders until it was removed in 2003. Images of this lumpy landscape serve as allegories of the damage caused by reliance on the automobile Credit: Project by SITE Lead image: Some road damage is beyond repair, as when a landslide caused a large chunk of the Gothenburg–Oslo motorway to collapse in 2023. Such dramatic events remind us of both the fragility of these seemingly robust infrastructures, and the damage that extensive construction does to the planet. Credit: Hanna Brunlöf Windell / TT / Shutterstock 2025-06-03 Reuben J Brown Share

House of the Future | 1956 Photograph Exhibited at the 1956 Ideal Home Exhibition in London, the House of the Future by Alison and Peter Smithson is a visionary prototype that challenges conventions of domesticity. Set within the context of post-war Britain, a period marked by austerity and emerging optimism, the project explored the intersection of technology, material innovation, and evolving social dynamics. The Smithsons, already recognized for their theoretical rigor and critical stance toward mainstream modernism, sought to push the boundaries of domestic architecture. In the House of the Future, they offered not merely a dwelling but a speculative environment that engaged with the promise and anxieties of the atomic age. House of the Future Technical Information Architects: Alison and Peter Smithson Location: Ideal Home Exhibition, London, United Kingdom Client: Daily Mail Ideal Home Exhibition  Gross Area: 90 m2 | 970 Sq. Ft. Construction Year: 1956 Photographs: Canadian Centre for Architecture and Unknown Photographer The House of the Future should be a serious attempt to visualize the future of our daily living in the light of modern knowledge and available materials. – Alison and Peter Smithson 1 House of the Future Photographs 1956 Photograph © Klaas Vermaas | 1956 Photograph 1956 Photograph 1956 Photograph 1956 Photograph 1956 Photograph 1956 Photograph 1956 Photograph Design Intent and Spatial Organization At the heart of the House of the Future lies a radical rethinking of spatial organization. Departing from conventional room hierarchies, the design promotes an open, fluid environment. Walls dissolve into curved partitions and adjustable elements, allowing for flexible reinterpretation of domestic spaces. Sleeping, dining, and social areas are loosely demarcated, creating a dynamic continuity that anticipates the contemporary concept of adaptable, multi-functional living. Circulation is conceived as an experiential sequence rather than a rigid path. Visitors enter through an air-lock-like vestibule, an explicit nod to the futuristic theme, and are drawn into an environment that eschews right angles and conventional thresholds. The Smithsons’ emphasis on flexibility and continuous movement within the house reflects their belief that domestic architecture must accommodate the evolving rhythms of life. Materiality, Technology, and the Future Materiality in the House of the Future embodies the optimism of the era. Plastics and synthetic finishes dominate the interior, forming seamless surfaces that evoke a sense of sterility and futility. Often associated with industrial production, these materials signaled a departure from traditional domestic textures. The smooth, malleable surfaces of the house reinforce the Smithsons’ embrace of prefabrication and modularity. Technological integration is a key theme. The design includes built-in appliances and concealed mechanical systems, hinting at a utopian and disquieting automated lifestyle. Bathrooms, kitchens, and sleeping pods are incorporated as interchangeable modules, underscoring the house as a system rather than a static structure. In doing so, the Smithsons prefigured later discourses on the “smart home” and the seamless integration of technology into daily life. This material and technological strategy reflects a critical understanding of domestic labor and convenience. The house’s self-contained gadgets and synthetic surfaces suggest a future in which maintenance and domestic chores are minimized, freeing inhabitants to engage with broader cultural and social pursuits. Legacy and Influence The House of the Future’s influence resonates far beyond its exhibition. It prefigured the radical experimentation of groups like Archigram and the metabolist visions of the 1960s. Its modular approach and embrace of technology also foreshadowed the high-tech movement’s fascination with flexibility and systems thinking. While the project was ephemeral, a temporary installation at a trade fair, its theoretical provocations endure. It questioned how architecture could not only house but also anticipate and shape new living forms. Moreover, it crystallized the Smithsons’ ongoing interrogation of architecture’s social role, from their later brutalist housing schemes to urban design theories. In retrospect, the House of the Future is less of a resolved design proposal and more of an architectural manifesto. It embodies a critical tension: the optimism of technological progress and the need for architecture to respond to human adaptability and social evolution. As we confront contemporary challenges like climate crisis, digital living, and shifting social paradigms, the Smithsons’ speculative experiment remains an evocative reminder that the architecture of tomorrow must be as thoughtful and provocative as the House of the Future. House of the Future Plans Axonometric View | © Alison and Peter Smithson via CCA Floor Plan | © Alison and Peter Smithson, via CCA Floor Plan | © Alison and Peter Smithson, via CCA Section | © Alison and Peter Smithson, via CCA Section | © Alison and Peter Smithson, via CCA Section | © Alison and Peter Smithson, via CCA Section | © Alison and Peter Smithson, via CCA Section | © Alison and Peter Smithson, via CCA House of the Future Image Gallery About Alison and Peter Smithson Alison and Peter Smithson were British architects and influential thinkers who emerged in the mid-20th century, celebrated for their critical reimagining of modern architecture. Their work, including projects like the House of the Future, the Robin Hood Gardens housing complex, and the Upper Lawn Solar Pavilion, consistently challenged conventional notions of domesticity, urbanism, and materiality. Central to their practice was a belief in architecture’s capacity to shape social life, emphasizing adaptability, flexibility, and the dynamic interactions between buildings and their users. They were pivotal in bridging the gap between post-war modernism and the experimental architectural movements of the 1960s and 1970s. Credits and Additional Notes Banham, Reyner. Theory and Design in the First Machine Age. MIT Press, 1960. Forty, Adrian. Words and Buildings: A Vocabulary of Modern Architecture. Thames & Hudson, 2000. Smithson, Alison, and Peter Smithson. The Charged Void: Architecture. Monacelli Press, 2001. OASE Journal. “Houses of the Future: 1956 and Beyond.” OASE 75, 2007. Vidler, Anthony. Histories of the Immediate Present: Inventing Architectural Modernism. MIT Press, 2008. Canadian Centre for Architecture (CCA). “House of the Future.”

Few companies in the history of capitalism have amassed as much wealth and influence as Meta.A global superpower in the information space, Meta — the parent company of Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp, and Threads — has a market cap of $1.68 trillion at the time of writing, which for a rough sense of scale is more than the gross domestic product of Spain.In spite of its immense influence, none of its internal algorithms can be scrutinized by public watchdogs. Its host country, the United States, has largely turned a blind eye to its dealings in exchange for free use of Meta's vast surveillance capabilities.That lack of oversight coupled with Meta's near-omnipresence as a social utility has had devastating consequences throughout the world, manifesting in crises like the genocide of Muslims in Myanmar, or the systemic suppression of Palestinian rights organizations.How do you uncover the harms caused by one of the most powerful companies on earth? In the case of public violence, the evidence isn't hard to trace. However, Meta's unprecedented corporate dynasty also creates less obvious harms, which scores of scholars, researchers, and journalists are devoting entire careers to uncovering.One prominent group of said investigators is GLAAD, the Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation, which recently released its annual report on social media safety, privacy, and expression for LGBTQ people.The report notes that Meta has undergone a "particularly extreme" ideological shift over the past year, adding harmful exceptions to its content moderation policies while disproportionately suppressing LGBTQ users and their content. The tech giant has also failed to give LGBTQ users sovereignty over their own personal data, which it collects, analyzes, and wields to generate huge profits.While Meta collects all of our data — from which it draws over 95 percent of its revenue — the practice is particularly harmful to LGBTQ users, who then have to contend with algorithmic biases, non-consensual outing, harassment, and in some countries state oppression."It's a dangerous time, certainly for trans people, who as a minority have been so ridiculously maligned, but also a dangerous time for gay people, openly bi[sexual] people, people who are different in any way," says Sarah Roberts, a UCLA professor and Director of the Center for Critical Internet Inquiry.To address these shortcomings and the dangers they introduce, GLAAD made a number of recommendations. One key suggestion was to improve moderation "by providing training for all content moderators focused on LGBTQ safety, privacy and expression." The media advocacy group doesn't mince words, adding that "AI systems should be used to flag for human review, not for automated removals."However, it doesn't look like Meta got the message.Weeks after GLAAD issued its findings, internal Meta documents leaked to NPR revealed the company's plan to hand 90 percent of its privacy and integrity reviews over to "artificial intelligence."This will impact nearly every new feature introduced to its platforms, where human moderators would typically evaluate new features for risks to privacy and safety, and the wellbeing of user groups like minors, immigrants, and LGBTQ people.Meta's internal risk assessment is an already opaque process, and Roberts notes that government attempts at risk oversight, like the EU's Digital Services Act, are likewise a labyrinth of filings which are largely dictated by the social media companies themselves. AI, chock full of biases and prone to errors — as admitted by Meta's own AI chief — is certain to make the situation even worse.Earlier this week, meanwhile, the Wall Street Journal revealed Meta's plans to fully automate advertising via the company's generative AI software, which will allow advertisers to "fully create and target ads" directly, with no human in the loop.This includes hyper-personalized ads, writes the WSJ, "so that users see different versions of the same ad in real time, based on factors such as geolocation."Data hoarders like Meta — which track you even when you're not using its platforms — have long been able to profile LGBTQ users based on gender identify and sexual orientation, including those who aren't publicly out.Removing any human from these already sinister practices serves to streamline operations and distance Meta from its own actions — "we didn't out gay users living under an oppressive government," the company can say, "even if our AI did." It's no coincidence that Meta had already disbanded its "Responsible AI" team as early as 2023.At the root of these decisions — Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg's right wing turn notwithstanding — is the calculated drive to maximize revenue."If there's no reason to rigorously moderate harmful content, then why pay so many content moderators? Why engage researchers to look into the circulation of this kind of content?" observes Roberts. "There ends up being a real cost savings there.""One of the things I've always said is that content moderation of social media is not primarily about protecting people, it's about brand management," she told Futurism. "It's about the platform managing its brand in order to make the most hospitable environment for advertisers."Sometimes these corporate priorities line up with progressive causes, like LGBTQ user safety or voter registration. But when they don't, Roberts notes, "dollars are dollars.""We are looking at multibillion-dollar companies, the most capitalized companies in the world, who have operated with impunity for many, many years," she said. "How do you convince them that they should care, when other powerful sectors are telling them the opposite?"Share This Article

In the centre of the building, a ceremonial room is a calming space that invites community meetings and healing.   TEXT Elsa Lam PHOTOS doublespace photography Fifty years ago, four grandmothers founded the organization Anduhyaun—Ojibwe for “Our Home”—to respond to the needs of the city’s Indigenous women. The organization used a city-owned heritage house in the Annex to offer shelter to women and children suffering from the traumas of violence and homelessness. Last year, they moved to a building designed by LGA Architectural Partners.  The architects took the organization’s name to heart, aiming to provide not just basic shelter, but a place of nurture and grounding. The organization’s long-time executive director, Blanche Meawassige, told the designers that the building needed to feel like it was alive. “From Blanche, we understood that a shelter is a place where rehabilitation—growth and healing—begins,” says architect Brock James, partner at LGA. “Yes, it’s a roof over your head and safety, but it’s also where that spiritual part starts; it has to be about growth and life.” A curved ceiling-to-wall transition brings a unique quality to the bedrooms This thinking shows in the bedrooms, 16 of which are compact, single-occupancy rooms and two of which are designed for families with up to three kids. (Some rooms can also be interconnected, to accommodate larger families or to provide a physical link between friends.) Each room has its own bathroom, a wooden desk, adjustable lighting, and a curved ceiling-to-wall transition that reflects daylight through the space. The curve, says James, “makes the room very ‘here’. It’s only here. It’s not generic.” Curved, tiled walls define the circulation areas on the ground floor Curves recur on the main floor, where seafoam-coloured tiles sweep along flowing walls, adding to the building’s sense of aliveness and alluding to Indigenous teachings about water. The curves lead to a large communal kitchen and a central ceremonial space, currently known as Nookomis, or “grandmother.” The interior of Nookomis, the building’s main ceremonial space Many details illustrate LGA’s commitment to creating specialness with economical means. Nookomis, for instance, is clad with cedar shingles that came in pre-cut profiles. (“It’s just a matter of coming up with a pattern, which I did in my living room during the pandemic,” says James.) The burgundy walls of Nookomis’s interior are made, in part, with a simple foam in a custom colour. (“It’s a straightforward product that’s not good if you were touching it—but up high, controlling the sound, it works.”) A skylight caps the space, like a full moon casting a soft glow from above. Meawassige originally asked for the outside of the building to be anonymous, but later decided that the Indigeneity of the interior should be expressed outside, too. The architects created a design with a similarly elevated attention to detail. They achieved a high level of airtightness in the envelope, and composed a façade made out of standard Vicwest metal, applied in a pattern that ensures that the 300-mm width of the panels would stay intact, with no cuts.   “Good design, an elevated section, beautiful tiles: it’s things like that that makes it feel like somebody cares,” says James. “When I think about aesthetics, we can have lots of stories about them, but I know that it’s communicating that Anduhyaun cares. This is their building, and it’s emoting that they care.”  As appeared in the June 2025 issue of Canadian Architect magazine  The post Our Home, Toronto, Ontario appeared first on Canadian Architect.

Today, like most days, I made a trip to the post office to ship out my Poshmark sales. But what I'm shipping out looks a little different than it might have a few months ago. Of the seven packages I'm handing off, only one contains an item I'd consider "nice." Alongside that Fendi top are six pieces from fast-fashion brands—ultra cheap stuff I ordered from Chinese retailers like Shein and Temu that, until recently, I never expected to actually sell, given that someone could buy the same item new at, well, Shein and Temu prices. But since the United States' new tariff structure went into effect (primarily the elimination of the de minimus exemption), consumers have been forced to adjust to a reality in which they can't easily source everything from toothbrush holders to micro-trendy outfits from an low price Chinese retail giant, to say nothing of concerns over how much more they could be paying for pricier items like autos and appliances made with foreign parts or manufactured overseas. In this period of uncertainty, resale apps may be filling the void. My own Poshmark sales are up compared to the month before the tariffs went into effect, with a notable rise in sales of basic, cheap stuff. Curious, I talked to a few experts to see if my experiences were indicative of a broader trend—one that could mean good things (well, relatively speaking) for resale buyers and sellers alike.The vibe on the resale apps in the wake of tariffsThe rollout of the tariffs has been confusing and disjointed. It was (and still is) hard to predict when consumers will see price increases on foreign-made electronics, cars, and other goods, or on products assembled in the U.S. but made with imported parts. But from the start, it has been obvious that goods from China in particular were about to cost a whole lot more—including the volumes of stuff shipped directly to consumers from the likes of Temu and Shein, the latter of which is famous for uploading 10,000 new styles to its site every day (and for charging unbelievably low prices for all of them). Months ago, when the tariffs were first announced, people started wondering if they should start stocking up (and on what), whether they were importing cheap clothes from Shein or bracing for higher prices on more substantial goods like smartphones. I've bought more than my share of junk from Shein, though I know it is not exactly a sustainable or environmentally friendly choice. To make myself feel better about that, I've always listed the clothes on resale apps once I'm done with them. To be clear, these are cheaply made garments—you don't buy your capsule wardrobe on Shein; Shein is where you shop for micro-trends (styles that are currently all over your Instagram and Pinterest feed, but which won't be in two months) or basics like tank tops that you can use and abuse. Prior to the tariffs rolling out, it was inconceivable that anyone would pay me $9 (plus shipping) for a pre-worn, cheaply-made dress or workout set that I had only paid $15 for in the first place—but that's what started happening. In the past month, I've still sold clothing and accessories made by Adidas, Gucci, Skims, Ralph Lauren, Marc Jacobs, Reebok, and Givenchy, but those tend to be one-off sales. My Shein resales for the last four weeks absolutely dwarf them. I also sold a few electronics items—an Apple Watch and facial micro-current device—I had listed in my Poshmark shop months earlier. Could I chalk up all of these sales to tariffs, and to anxiety about impending price increases on electronics? My Shein sales this month vs. everything else Credit: Lindsey Ellefson Certainly I'm not alone in noticing it this trend. A Poshmark spokesperson tells me, "We’ve seen an increase in sales of internationally-made items, especially from brands that have announced price hikes due to high tariffs. Despite rising prices, demand for fast fashion remains strong as consumers seek trendy, affordable styles. Buying those pieces secondhand lets them stay on-trend while keeping clothing in circulation."In addition to Shein and Temu, higher-priced brands that publicly announced tariff-related price increases have also seen resale spikes, with sales of Columbia button-down shirts surging by 61% month over month, and sales of Hermès sandals up 27%. Buying used Hermès sandals is one thing—not all of us have $840 laying around to spend on designer slides to ring in the summer. But a Columbia button-down? That's the kind of item I'm used to finding at Marshall's for maybe $30—but people now seem to be flocking to buy them used, worried that even cheap shirts will become relatively priceier due to tariffs. Meanwhile, Poshmark reports sales on consumer electronics have increased as well: The week of April 27, resales of Sony products were up 22% month over month, and Apple products were up 21%. The times seem to be changing, and they're doing it in a hurry.What tariffs means for resale shoppersI am not only a resale seller, but a resale shopper, and the uncertainty around tariffs has made me a lot more discerning with what I'm buying new. Part of this is just that I'm now paying more attention. I love the leisure and athletic wear made by SET Active. I own a lot of it, and I have never before considered selling any of it because it lasts so long and maintains its shape so well. Until recently, I have also never paid much attention to where it is made: While SET Active designs its products in California, its active fabrics are all made in China. Prices haven't gone up on the official website yet, but in preparation for a time when they might, I've already started shopping the brand on Poshmark and Depop. It's not the worst thing in the world; buying used is both cheaper and more sustainable. I've always been an avid purchaser of resale goods—I've just never had to do it so strategically before. (I've found it easier to give up Shein altogether—I can manage fine without the $4 tank tops I've been putting through absolute hell the past few summers—but my Poshmark customers have proven more reluctant to resist the allure of fast fashion, even used.)I'm not alone in being more strategic with my resale purchases. Financial experts are noticing the same thing. "In the wake of the announcement and implementation of the tariffs, people have been looking for cheaper alternatives to the more expensive imported goods," says Aaron Razon, a personal finance expert at Couponsnake, "especially as many domestic products not only fall short in meeting the demand for certain products, but lack the variety and style that imported goods offer. [Domestic products] are also not exactly the cost-effective option consumers are looking for, and this is one of the major reasons interest in resale platforms [has] been on the increase."Bill London, an international business attorney, points out that in addition to causing prices to rise, tariffs have resulted in potential shipping delays, a fact that has also contributed to, "a surge in second-hand fast fashion interest." Six months ago, if you needed a certain kind of dress for, say, a themed bachelorette party, you could order it from Shein for $20, safe in the knowledge that you'd probably never wear it again. Today, its price could be closer to $30 or $40, and you might face delays in receiving it. The appeal of fast fashion was always in the low cost and convenience, provided you had 10 to 14 days to wait for the thing to arrive from China. Now, it just makes more sense to buy that dress from someone in the U.S. who likewise didn't see themselves rewearing it, —and now, they're selling it for roughly the same $20 they originally paid. For the buyer, it's still a relative deal, and it'll even arrive sooner. It's not just fast fashionBrands beyond Shein and Temu are seeing a lift. As the Poshmark rep pointed out, resales on select high-end brands are up, too. Buying used luxury goods has always been a smart financial decision (certainly it's a practice I've been dedicated to for a long time), but with manufacturing and importation costs an ever-murkier question, it's more sensible than ever. A spokesperson for Vestiaire Collective, a designer resale platform, tells me that U.S. buyers are increasingly able to see the duties applied to their purchases from Europe and Asia at checkout, and that the company has been working to beef up its American foothold for years. That effort is now paying off in a big way thanks to tariffs: In 2022, VC acquired Tradesey to increase its selection of pre-owned fashion offering for U.S. buyers, and it ramped up associated brand marketing the following year. VC also curates a list of goods that are ready to ship from New York City, making it easier for American buyers to identify items that can easily come to them domestically, no tariffs or duties required. Consequently, the brand rep says VC has, "seen a shift of more U.S. buyers buying from U.S. sellers" lately. Personally, I've noticed people buying from me lately, in particular, is workout attire. With the cost of everything going up, it might seem more of a stretch to pop into Lululemon to buy a new pair of leggings for over $100. Meanwhile, the trusty Shein alternative is now more money than its worth. It's this class of in-between necessities—things you don't need to survive, but may be a nice-to-have for your particular interests or lifestyle—that is a source of personal economic woe, and where resale can fill the gap. Whether you need new workout gear, a one-time wear outfit, a few basic pieces, or even a designer handbag, the reality of the post-tariff world is that you're almost certainly better off looking on resale apps before even considering buying new. (You certainly have options—I've assembled a rundown of my own favorite resale apps, including the goods you're most likely to find on each.)What this trend means for resellersI remain shocked that people who presumably would have once ordered their workout sets and summer shorts off Shein are filling the fast-fashion void by purchasing mine, but take it from me: If you have ever considered selling your old clothes or housewares, but figured what you have to offer is too basic, cheap, or plentiful to make the effort worth it, this is your moment. I used to have cheap goods and fast fashion listed on my resale accounts only because it helped keep my number of available listings up, which contributed to my profiles' reputation and lured in buyers for the pricier objects I actually expected to sell. Now, though, it's the cheap stuff that is really moving, and making me money. I've started reevaluating my closet and reconsidering what meets my threshold for "worth it" to list. Post-tariffs, everything is worth it to list. As London puts it, "The tariffs have altered the way in which people do their shopping." It's still pretty early into the great American tariff experiment, but some brands commissioned surveys early on this year to see how people were planning to deal with cost increases and found that a major chunk of consumers indeed expected to rely more on resale. ThredUp, another online resale platform, found that 59% of consumers reported that if apparel got more expensive, they'd look to more affordable options, like secondhand buying, and consumers planned to spend 34% of their apparel budget on secondhand items this year. And those figures are a lot higher for Millennials and Gen Z buyers: They reported planning to spend almost half their clothing budget on resale. Data from Smartly, an online shopping rewards app, also shows that 50% of survey respondents planned to consider resale goods in the face of rising costs. This means that even for casual resellers or those new to the concept entirely, there are a lot of new prospective buyers, which can translate directly to quick sales. At a time when the cost of necessary goods is rising right alongside those in-between necessities, you can make extra cash by selling what you already have. In general, my sales are way up month over month since tariffs went into effect in early May Credit: Lindsey Ellefson Will the resale spike last?I've been buying and selling on resale apps for years and have always had success finding cool stuff to buy as fast as I could get rid of my old clothing, accessories, and electronics. While I've definitely noticed a spike in my sales lately, that's not to say there wasn't demand before the tariffs were announced. If you're new to buying or selling on an app, don't worry that the bubble will burst and you'll have invested a bunch of time in listing your wares for nothing—even if and when the moment passes, reselling can still be a reliable way to make a little extra cash. (In the meantime, if you have a lot to sell and want to maximize your profits, download a cross-lister like Vendoo, which helps you easily list the same product across multiple marketplaces.)Some experts do expect that things could cool down in the nearer term. "Whether the trend persists depends on a number of things, such as how long the tariffs are in effect and how buyers respond to costs," London says. "The resale market for the products is likely to continue expanding if the tariffs are maintained. The demand might plateau or divert towards quality goods or eco-friendly goods when buyers adapt." Razon, meanwhile, thinks resale apps will continue to thrive, but that the interest in procuring cheaply-made things, like fast fashion, may wane. "Resale platforms have been on the good end of the recent tariff increases, especially with consumers looking for cheaper alternatives to imported goods," he says. "The truth is—though it may take consumers time to realize it—they will eventually come to appreciate better-quality goods. There is a great chance that consumers' interest in these lesser-quality goods will wear off as soon as they begin to adjust to the new economic reality."That is to say, list your Shein, Temu, and Aliexpress stuff now while people are still mourning its loss, but also consider those more familiar brands that may also soon see price hikes. Take stock of your closet and do a bit of research to see where all your potential stock is made. Just like I'm worried my beloved SET Active attire is going to go up in price because it's made in China, consumers may soon find themselves wanting to source cheaper stuff from Nike, Adidas, Lululemon, Levi's, and more, as all of those companies manufacture a lot of their clothing overseas. The resale platforms themselves are already anticipating that their digital products are going to get more valuable and stay valuable through (and beyond) the tariff era. Manish Chandra, Poshmark's founder and CEO, says, "As the landscape of tariffs and imports evolves, we believe the secondhand marketplace will become an increasingly valuable and cost-effective resource for American consumers. By shopping from Poshmark closets or starting their own, consumers are supporting sustainability and helping strengthen the American economy." In other words, buying resale is another way of buying American, even if everything you're buying was made in India or China.

Lyse Martel is a Berlin-based “Color, Materials, and Finish” (CMF) designer and strategist in the mobility and consumer electronics industries. Her work combines craftsmanship and emerging technology to shape design strategy, drive material innovation, and create new sensory experiences. Lyse is fascinated by design’s power to shape how people feel and act. She believes design can foster emotional connection and wellbeing at a time when AI and automation are making their way into many new consumer product experiences, from the car to the living room. Below, Martel explores the emotional dimension of circular design and how the CMF field is evolving to meet the global challenges of circularity and sustainability. Fast Company: Please introduce yourself to our readers.Lyse MartelLyse Martel: I’m Lyse Martel, a CMF designer and design strategist, working primarily in automotive and consumer electronics. CMF, which stands for Color, Materials, and Finish, is about how a product looks, feels, and connects emotionally. So my work focuses on those elements as well as on strategy, brand identity, and sustainability. Although I mainly work in automotive and consumer electronics, CMF can apply to many different areas. Over the years I’ve worked with brands like Bang & Olufsen, Hopium, and NIO. And most recently I was directing a circular design project at Volkswagen Group—designing for circularity from the start with a large team of designers from different disciplines. How did you find your way into this field? It was step by step. My love for design was always there, even before I knew what to call it. It was shaped by my family’s craftsmanship, as well as my own curiosity for shapes, textures, colors, and sensory experiences. On my father’s side, I grew up around a lot of woodworking and carpentry. And on my mother’s side are generations of tailors. So that gave me an appreciation for textiles and textures and detailing and crafts. And I’ve always loved illustration and drawing and building small architectures with natural elements—everything that could involve materials and aesthetics. And I think that brought me to materiality and storytelling and eventually to CMF design. Were you able to find an educational path that encouraged your interests? I went to a specialized high school for applied arts and design, where I grew immensely as a creative person, and had a teacher who supported me and saw my potential with conceptual thinking. At university another teacher encouraged me to apply to a design internship in the automotive sector in Paris, and that’s how I formally entered the CMF design field. I was immediately drawn to the innovation and complexity of using material and color to shape the brand identity for a mobility project. [Photo: Lyse Martel]How do you stay on top of trends in color and material?Much of it is intuitive, but we also learn to connect the dots and see trends. I’m very much inspired by psychology and by what’s going on in the world—anything that could possibly impact human experiences and emotions. I’m paying attention to developments in architecture, interiors, digital and physical design, and material innovation. I’m also looking at global trends that have nothing to do with the design industry, including culture and the natural world. Nature plays a big role because you can look at how light interacts, how materials evolve with time, the functioning of ecosystems, and agriculture. I’m also very interested in how CMF design intersects with concepts like wellbeing and happiness, so I follow influential practitioners like Ivy Ross from Google, and Susan Magsamen, who works on neuroaesthetics, and Carol Gilligan, the psychologist and philosopher. Could you share more about neuroaesthetics? Neuroaesthetics looks at how design makes people feel: how beauty and art and design influence our brain, and how things like color, textures, light, and sound make us react cognitively or emotionally. We know that certain visual experiences will calm or excite us, while others make us feel uncomfortable. Designers can leverage those insights to create more meaningful and intuitive interactions. I’ve always been fascinated by how design makes people feel, and neuroaesthetics gives us the scientific reasoning behind those ideas. For instance, when I’m working with color and material for a car interior, I can decide to craft a more calming atmosphere with natural materials, or use soft lighting or a color gradient that can guide the user’s eye. I can think about how textures and tactility will influence the user’s feeling of comfort, or their perception of product quality or durability. When it comes to sustainability, there are a lot of materials that may not be readily acceptable to a user. In that case it can be helpful to lean into the authenticity of that material, perhaps by making it warmer or softer, or relating it to nature through colors or grain. So if we can somehow elevate or upscale the experience with that material, then we can start to shift the mindset to embrace sustainable materials or choices. Earlier you mentioned your work in circular design. Could you share more about that? Circular design is rethinking how we create and use products. It means designing for longevity, adaptability, and regeneration. We seek out the right materials, we design for easy reuse and repair, and we try to ensure that the product stays in circulation for as long as possible. Longevity is the number one criteria, because the longer you use a product, the less impact it has in terms of greenhouse gas emissions and other waste metrics. With circularity do you encounter pushback from industries that simply need consumers to keep buying more stuff? It does clash with short-term profit models, so it’s not easy for businesses to embrace it completely. But there is momentum for circular design, which is driven by consumer expectations, tighter regulations, and a growing recognition that resource efficiency is also smart business. I’ve seen mobility and consumer electronics firms try out concepts like modularity, repairability, and designing with disassembly in mind. Neuroaesthetics seems to be a strategy for tapping into people’s innate preferences for certain colors, materials, and finishes. But could also instigate behavior change, by tapping into the emotional layer of circularity? Absolutely, it can be surprisingly comforting, even if the materials are unexpected. When designing a circular product, you’re often working with waste, like a polymer that’s meant to circulate between cars. The challenge is making that material feel good, both emotionally and physically. What works is embracing the material’s character, maybe it has a soft texture or a slight irregularity, like a grain or uneven thread. Or it comes in a natural color that feels ultra-fresh. These little details shift the focus from what it is to how it makes you feel. You might not even realize it’s recycled plastic, but it just feels right. Sometimes, a car interior can feel like a cozy cabin, all because of the right textures and tones. That emotional layer is what really connects circularity.How could neuroaesthetics help make people comfortable with something new, like self-driving cars? It’s really about how shapes, colors and textures support the digital experience; all the micro-details working together to help the user feel at ease. I’ve been testing self-driving vehicles recently, and it’s surprising how much the environment impacts your reaction. In one case, the layout was minimal, with just the right number of buttons, and that simplicity helped me relax. But I also tested a car that was entirely gray, and it felt dull and dated. Light tones or soft gradients, something that evokes a sunrise or sunset, can go a long way in making the space feel more inviting.With automation, trust becomes a key part of the brief. How easily will someone understand what’s happening? Are they okay letting go of the wheel? That’s where CMF design needs to be fully integrated. I have to work closely with the interior and UX designers so that everything speaks the same language. If I propose a soft, natural palette and the shapes are cold or aggressive, it creates a disconnect.[AI Image: courtesy Lyse Martel]Can you share how you use AI in your work, or how AI factors into the CMF design process? It’s part of my creative process in that it helps me visualize materials, colors, and sensory experiences I’m considering for a project. It’s a great way to communicate an idea visually, and also to put it out there so someone else can pick it up and build on it. So for me, it’s really a tool that helps us be more precise in how we express and share ideas.There are also really promising use cases in circular design, where AI can help us map local resources and integrate them more intelligently into products. For example, there’s a lot of bamboo in China, linen in the north of France, or paper waste around Berlin. So what can we do with that knowledge? We can see where materials are available, but also think about how to reduce waste, predict life cycles, or imagine new reuse scenarios. Anything that involves localizing or optimizing can be supported by AI.And as the digital world increasingly shapes the physical one, I think there’s real potential in using these new, hyper-sensory AI-generated visuals to inspire physical experiences. Neuroaesthetics helps us design for emotion, and AI can help translate those emotional cues into visual concepts that, when made real, feel meaningful and multi-sensory. Do you ever get any pushback for the decisions that you or your team might make as CMF designers? Sometimes there’s a strong reaction to a particular color or material choice. I remember working on a concept car called Eve, developed with a strong focus on emerging markets and innovative design languages. I proposed an exterior in a rose gold tone, which could be read as pink. That sparked some discomfort in the room. I think it challenged certain expectations of what a car should look like, especially in Western automotive culture. But in China, rose gold is often associated with refinement and quality. It’s not seen as gendered in the same way. So for me, it was an opportunity to bring a fresh, culturally relevant aesthetic into the project. I understood the hesitation, but that’s part of the role. Sometimes CMF invites us to gently shift the visual language and open up new emotional possibilities.[Image: Felix Godard Design]Are there certain colors and finishes that are timeless and others that are more transitory? In the last decade we used a lot of neutrals, like beige and gray. Many brands also decided to shape themselves around their core colors—“our black,” “our white,” etc. And they would build up from there to include more exciting colors into their identity. Today I see those approaches being challenged. Gen Z is coming in and they have other ideas about what’s fresh. In the past few years we saw a lot of yellows. Recently, dark reds have been popping up everywhere, and they’re a powerful, timeless choice that adds richness and sophistication. These colors grab attention and can work well, but we need to be mindful of their relevance for long-term products.I believe there is still a need for that core timelessness. You might use black as a core color, but you might tint it blue to make it more interesting or less intense. When I was at Bang & Olufsen, we often discussed how to stand out from typical black consumer electronics. For a more lifestyle-oriented, subtle design in the home, why not use gray?[Image: courtesy NIO]Are you ever surprised when a particular color takes off? The latest Pantone color of the year is a brown-beige shade, which honestly surprised me. I’ve used warm grays before when I wanted to give a product a cozier, inviting feel, but this one doesn’t feel as fresh to me. I’m not sure it resonates with the moment in the same way other trends do. I love when a heritage brand takes an unexpected turn, like the paper company GF Smith, which recently rebranded with vibrant, poppy colors and introduced a bespoke, rounded sans-serif typeface, GF Smith Homie. I like to see they are brushing off the history to embrace different values and just be human. They want to stand for inclusivity, so they’re going to speak up about that and make sure it’s seen in the brand.Where do you draw creative inspiration? It’s really what makes me burn, what is calling my heart. I also need to talk to people—not only creatives, but people from all walks of life. I enjoy traveling through my city and looking at how people live. I learn a lot simply from riding the train, overhearing conversations, and observing how the mood changes with the seasons. I also read the news and check out certain magazines. There’s one I like, Imagine5, that focuses on how to make sustainability joyful. It explores that from all angles and it’s very accessible. You don’t have to be a sustainability expert to enjoy it. [Image: courtesy NIO]Could you share some of the projects you’ve worked on that you’re most proud of? I joined the global smart EV brand NIO in its early stages, when the brand vision was still taking shape, and contributed to the initial direction of color, materials, and finishes as part of the design team. The objective was to align with their vision of “Blue Sky Coming,” so we had to come up with progressive aesthetics and human-centered design, which later evolved into design principles. Shaping that brand was extremely rich for me in terms of learning and collaborating with so many talented designers. I also led a couple of projects – one was the previously mentioned concept car called Eve. I had the opportunity to introduce more natural materials and different colors that were not commonly used in the automotive space.Introducing new aesthetics became an important theme for my later work with Bang & Olufsen, which was about connecting the dots between sound and material and design. And then more recently, the circularity project I’ve been leading for Volkswagen Group is really close to my heart. The brief was to introduce longevity, adaptability, and recyclability across all design touch points for Volkswagen. To that end we provided creative direction that considered everything from exterior design, interior, user experience, and materiality.It was an interesting challenge to find the emotional layer of circularity, while staying on brand for Volkswagen. Circularity has a lot of very technical aspects, but as designers we can make circularity tangible. How do you deal with mistakes or failure in the creative process? I view mistakes or failure as an opportunity to test more, to rethink, and to reframe. If a design doesn’t work, how can we regroup and find a solution that’s way more interesting and beyond the obvious? In the creative process there can be a lot of fear associated with going against the grain. What I’ve noticed is that if we stay in that fear space, we close ourselves off to opportunities. It’s important to be in an open space of creativity and curiosity. Allow mistakes and failure to happen. When there is joy in the process and a strong intuition, you produce better results in the end. What advice would you give to aspiring designers, but also anyone who wants to enter the world you inhabit? Great design comes from a constantly growing and inspired mind. Stay curious and know that inspiration comes from everywhere. Embrace your uniqueness, but also be able to evolve from that. Be open to change and to new perspectives. There will be tough feedback and creative disagreements, but the important thing is how you receive those situations. Maintain a mindset of abundance and try to see the positive in anything you do. Finally, as creatives it’s important for us to take time alone to recharge, to reflect, and to work on our magic. When you’re feeling well and thriving individually, your creativity also does. At that point it’s crucial to rejoin the collective, where you have a chance to collaborate and experience the diversity of perspectives that fuels creativity. It can be a tough road for aspiring designers, but I would encourage them to proceed with care and openness, and to leave their fears behind. 

Cosmology of Kyoto is a first-person horror exploration game where players navigate a deeply haunted yet surprisingly educational terrain. Originally released in 1993, Cosmology of Kyoto and its disturbing depictions of suffering have since become a cult classic. Roger Ebert, known hater, loved the game so much that he spent weeks playing it. Despite its acclaim, though, the game was a commercial failure and never got a sequel. At least, that’s what many people believed until now. In 2023, a game called TRIPITAKA 玄奘三蔵求法の旅 was listed on Yahoo Japan. The game was sold for $300 to an unknown party who, despite embarking on a bidding war that culminated in hundreds of dollars, didn’t really share anything publicly about it. The transaction was originally noticed by Mark Buckner, who brought it up in a discussion between fans about the original eerie Japanese game. Though diehard aficionados had a suspicion that the Cosmology developers had considered a follow-up, concrete evidence of it was scant. The only apparent mention of a sequel lied in the resumes of two Cosmology producers, Hiroshi Ōnishi and Mori Kōichi. Fans also spotted mention of it in an old website for a 1999 museum exhibition on the Silk Road. Though it was a work of fiction, Cosmology was rooted in the history of 10th century Japan and provided players with an in-game encyclopedia. It would make sense for a potential sequel to have enough an educational focus worthy of a museum exhibition. Despite these rumblings, it was unclear if the game had ever been published, or how far into production it got. Knowledge of the auction prompted video game academic Bruno de Figueiredo to track down the auction winner. The hope was that whoever bought it might share a copy of the game online. After all, up until this point, few knew what this game was and its mere existence lay in doubt. But if it did exist, then it was obviously significant from a historical perspective. Fans would be eager to play it. But getting collectors to share copies of rare games is tricky. If a game is widely accessible, then it’s no longer rare. Holding on to a copy ensures that it retains its aura as a prized possession. Hoarding also means that the value of a game won’t drop — in fact, it might rise. Not all collectors see their possessions as commodities, though. Holding on to a culturally significant game might be motivated by the desire to preserve it for future generations, which is relevant in instances where a copy of a game is still sealed. Uploading a game that you did not develop is also likely to be legally dubious. In this case, the owner declined to share the game in a form that others could play. The collector did however upload an hour’s worth of footage on YouTube. The game was called TRIPITAKA, and though it did not outright classify itself as a sequel, the art style, historical focus, and slightly unnerving vibe placed TRIPITAKA in a similar realm as Cosmology of Kyoto. Fans considered it a spiritual successor. Cosmology itself had been developed with the help of Japanese museums. For some, it was enough to get more of a game they loved. Even if they couldn’t personally control the gameplay, the TRIPITAKA video was lengthy enough to give a sense of what the experience would be like. Others were enraged: Couldn’t the collector see how important this game was? “I cannot understate just how disgusted I am that this piece of culture and art (that I am a huge fan of) isn’t being preserved and spread for the enjoyment of others,” one commenter on YouTube wrote. “Shame on you.” Undeterred by this roadblock, Bruno de Figueiredo continued his pursuit of TRIPITAKA. In 2025, his efforts bore fruit. On X, the expert on obscure Japanese games revealed that he had finally convinced the collector to share the game online after “years of appeals.” Figueiredo has since uploaded a playable ISO of the game online alongside a full three-hour playthrough of a game that had once been considered lost media. Figuerido did not respond to a request for comment. In a blog post, he emphasized the significance of this find by stating that “the importance of this footage could hardly be overstated.” He continued: I am delighted to have played a minor role in the unraveling of this thirty year old mystery, and can hardly contain my enthusiasm, as I now find myself equipped with sufficient information to produce a full post concerning a game about which I could not have written more than a sentence, just last year. Figuerido refers to TRIPITAKA as one of the rarest games ever made, and it’s true inasmuch as there appears to be only one known copy of it. Value and rarity are also fluid concepts that are ultimately determined by interested audiences. At the same time, TRIPITAKA’s fate and availability is shockingly ordinary when you consider how poorly the gaming industry preserves its own history. If the lack of care is evident with significant games that have arguable merit, it’s doubly true for average games. This is how a game with mixed reviews from twenty years ago suddenly starts commanding hundreds of dollars on resale sites; the scarcity happens because nobody felt a game was worth holding on to. “There are many extremely rare (and even lost) games for personal computers which, unlike consoles, don’t have any central control over who can publish a game, or what the minimum number of manufactured units needs to be,” says Frank Cifaldi, founder of the Video Game History foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to preserving video games. Cifaldi notes that games in the 80s and 90s in particular, some of which were self-published and never got widespread circulation to begin with, are particularly prone to the type of obscurity that can lead to only a single copy of a game. “I would further suspect that there were many games and multimedia objects from Japan during this era that are just as rare, but we don’t hear about them because of their lack of historical significance in the West,” Cifaldi says. “I would bet good money that if you surveyed the collection at the Game Preservation Society in Japan, you’d come up with dozens of ‘only known copies’ of 1980s microcomputer games.”

Gironda Residence | © Simone Bossi Located just steps from Piazza del Popolo in Ravenna, the Renaissance-era Casa Guaccimanni holds centuries of architectural and historical weight. Constructed in the fifteenth century for the Venetian podestà Nicolò Giustinian, the building evolved through noble ownership and later became home to Vittorio and Alessandro Guaccimanni, sons of Risorgimento figure Luigi Guaccimanni. Architecturally, the structure is characterized by a tripartite plan with a central corridor flanked by large rooms, an interior courtyard with a double loggia, and decorative elements spanning Renaissance to Neoclassical periods. Once concealed beneath plaster, its frescoed veranda and exposed wooden ceilings speak to a layered history of intervention, concealment, and rediscovery. Gironda Residence in Casa Guaccimanni Technical Information Architects1-13: Giovanni Mecozzi Architetti Location: Casa Guaccimanni, Via Armando Diaz, Ravenna, Italy Client: Emanuela Docimo Project Years: 2022 – 2024 Original Structure: 15th Century Photographs: © Andrea Sestito, © Simone Bossi, © Omar Sartor The new and the old never touch, but gently brush against each other, maintaining a distance capable of generating tension. – Giovanni Mecozzi Gironda Residence in Casa Guaccimanni Photographs © Omar Sartor © Andrea Sestito © Andrea Sestito © Andrea Sestito © Omar Sartor © Simone Bossi © Simone Bossi © Simone Bossi © Omar Sartor © Omar Sartor © Omar Sartor © Andrea Sestito © Omar Sartor Design Intent: Reversibility and Temporal Tension The recent architectural project by Giovanni Mecozzi Architetti centers on the noble floor of the palazzo, reinterpreted as a contemporary residence named Gironda. Rather than imposing a new visual regime onto the historic shell, the intervention operates with restraint, foregrounding the building’s original character while establishing new spatial and material conditions. At the core of the project lies a design philosophy rooted in reversibility. Mecozzi’s intervention resists permanence. The furnishings and spatial devices introduced into the historic rooms are self-supporting and detached from the structure. No new element makes physical contact with the floors, ceilings, or walls, preserving the integrity of the original surfaces. This strategy avoids irreversible alterations and allows the architecture to remain temporally flexible. Architect Giovanni Mecozzi articulates this approach succinctly: “The new and the old never touch, but gently brush against each other, maintaining a distance capable of generating tension.” This spatial tension is not decorative but conceptual, prompting occupants to consider the relationship between historical continuity and contemporary transformation. The design does not attempt to erase time but rather exposes its layers through careful juxtaposition. The project draws conceptual and chromatic inspiration from Ravenna’s early Christian and Byzantine mosaics. Rather than replicate ornamental motifs, Mecozzi extracts abstract qualities such as color, luminosity, and surface texture, integrating them as subtle spatial references throughout the residence. Gironda Residence Material Strategy Access to the residence is organized through a longitudinal hallway that bisects the plan, connecting a balcony on the north façade with a loggia overlooking the garden to the south. This corridor becomes a spine for circulation and orientation, punctuated by entries into five main rooms: the kitchen, veranda, and three independent suites. Each suite functions as a self-contained spatial environment. The original large rooms have been reimagined with integrated volumes housing diverse domestic functions: bathrooms, saunas, walk-in closets, reading nooks, and home cinemas. These new programmatic layers are embedded within freestanding furniture structures, which operate more as inhabitable objects than architectural partitions. Color becomes an operative tool for spatial differentiation. The three principal suites, the Gold Room, the Blue Room, and the Green Room, are introduced chromatically through thresholds that face the main corridor. This prelude of color sets the tone for each room’s unique interior experience. Within, glossy glass tiles, gilded surfaces, and a reduced palette of materials establish a scenographic yet restrained environment. The flooring, a Venetian terrazzo installed during earlier restoration work in the 2000s, has been retained. Its beveled borders and rounded corners respond to the proportions of each room, reinforcing a visual continuity that binds the new interventions with the inherited context. In contrast to the historical envelope, the furniture and spatial devices employ a language of monochromatic forms and minimal detailing, occasionally verging on neoplastic abstraction. This tension between old ornament and new abstraction is one of the project’s defining features. Furnishings curated by Atelier Biagetti, known for their theatrical and ironic sensibility, further enrich the atmosphere. These pieces do not mimic the historical setting but create moments of visual friction and playful ambiguity, enhancing the multi-temporal character of the interiors. Architectural Significance and Cultural Dialogue The Gironda residence exemplifies a growing discourse in contemporary architecture around adaptive reuse that neither mimics nor erases the past. Rather than treating heritage as a constraint or an aesthetic to be curated, Mecozzi engages it as an active agent in spatial transformation. The project is a case study in reversible architecture, where temporality is embedded in the design, not just its historical references. This intervention prompts broader questions about the role of preservation in contemporary practice. Can architectural interventions occupy historic contexts without becoming parasitic or nostalgic? Mecozzi’s project suggests that they can adopt a posture of critical distance and conceptual clarity. Gironda does not attempt to restore Casa Guaccimanni to a previous state or impose a singular vision of modernity. Instead, it crafts a dialogue between past and present, structured through spatial strategies, material choices, and chromatic cues. In doing so, it opens a new chapter in the building’s ongoing life, one that is fully contemporary yet deeply rooted in architectural memory. Gironda Residence in Casa Guaccimanni Plans Floor Plan | © Giovanni Mecozzi Architetti Golden Room Layout | © Giovanni Mecozzi Architetti Door Detail | © Giovanni Mecozzi Architetti Gironda Residence in Casa Guaccimanni Image Gallery About Giovanni Mecozzi Giovanni Mecozzi is an Italian architect based in Ravenna, Italy, and the founder of Giovanni Mecozzi Architetti (GMA), a multidisciplinary studio specializing in architecture, interior design, and landscape projects. After graduating from the University of Ferrara with an architecture degree, Mecozzi gained international experience working in Spain, including collaborating with Mendaro Arquitectos in Madrid. Upon returning to Italy, he co-founded GMA, focusing on projects emphasizing the relationship between architecture, the client, and the context, with a particular interest in renovating and transforming historical buildings.  Credits and Additional Notes Design Team: Giovanni Mecozzi, Cecilia Verdini, Filippo Minghetti Construction: Edilcostruzioni (Leoni Andrea) Electrical Systems: Elektra Service (Andrea Baiardi) Mechanical and Hydraulic Systems: Nuova OLP Structural Alterations: Not applicable (intervention is fully reversible) Custom Furniture: Idea Legno (Paolo Berdondini) Curtains and Fabrics: Selezione Arredamenti, Ravenna Lighting: Viabizzuno (via Tutto Luce, Cesena) Resin Coatings and Flooring: Kerakoll Rugs and Carpeting: Centro Moquette, Rimini Bathroom Furnishings: Salaroli, Ravenna Furniture, Artwork, and Design Objects Selected by: Atelier Biagetti (Milan) Furniture Designers: Alberto Biagetti and Laura Baldassarri