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Remember the feel of that moment: Across continents, people were panicking about the new technology, and the OpenAI CEO was on a charm offensive, aiming to soothe nerves from Washington to Brussels.

The meeting, held in an ornate conference room on the fourth floor of the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, lasted a little over an hour. Altman politely shook everyone’s hand before we settled around the wooden table.

One scene from the meeting was particularly memorable: Altman had promised publicly that his technology would become the most powerful in the history of the world. But for several minutes, we watched in awkward silence as his assistant fidgeted with the HDMI cable, unable to project onto

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the screen the “demo” of the new model the CEO was there to show us. I found this very funny. So did many of my colleagues, who giggled quietly. Unfortunately, the humor seemed lost on the CEO, who betrayed no visible emotion during the meeting.

When the screen was finally working, Altman pulled up a lengthy YouTube video—Vladimir Putin speaking Russian at a press conference (I also thought this was an amusing choice, given the setting)—and showed us how the website could instantly translate the speech into English and summarize

its contents. It was impressive. Then he told a story about his business partner’s wife: she had spent months talking to stumped doctors about her symptoms before one query in the app diagnosed her mystery illness.

The intent of these parlor tricks was to make us feel special and to inspire confidence, or perhaps even pride—to welcome us into an exclusive club, the privileged few being afforded a special peak at a marvelous future, one that Altman and his buddies were cooking up in their offices in