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Three Very Large Crude Carriers (VLCCs) successfully navigated the Strait of Hormuz on Saturday, marking a rare movement of oil cargoes amid the fragile truce between the United States and Iran.The vessels – the Liberia‑flagged Serifos, and the China‑flagged Cospearl Lake and He Rong Hai – each can transport about 2 million barrels of crude, collectively representing a significant volume for a waterway that channels roughly 20% of the world’s oil and LNG shipments.According to data from the London Stock Exchange Group (LSEG) and analytics firm Kpler, the Serifos is chartered by Thailand’s state‑owned energy firm PTT. Loaded with Saudi and UAE crude in early March, it is slated to dock at Malaysia’s Malacca Port on April 21.The other two carriers, Cospearl Lake and He Rong Hai, are chartered by Unipec, the trading arm of Chinese energy giant Sinopec. Cospearl Lake, carrying Iraqi oil, is expected to reach China’s Zhoushan port on May 1, while the destination for He Rong Hai remains undisclosed.Earlier, a tanker named Ocean Thunder, chartered by a Petronas subsidiary, also transited the strait, underscoring a gradual, albeit limited, resumption of traffic.Despite these movements, hundreds of tankers remain stranded in the Gulf, awaiting clearance during the two‑week ceasefire. Their prolonged idling continues to pressure global energy prices, which have surged since Iran’s blockade began in late February.In addition to the loaded vessels, three empty tankers – Mombasa B, Agios Fanourios I, and Shalamar – were observed heading into the strait on Sunday to load fresh cargoes. Notably, Agios Fanourios I signaled a route to Iraq’s Basrah fields to pick up crude destined for Vietnam.Management firms such as Eastern Mediterranean Maritime, Cmb.Tech NV, and Pakistan National Shipping have not provided comments on the recent transits.While the passage of these three supertankers offers a modest relief to the global oil supply chain, the overall situation remains precarious. The continuation of the ceasefire and the resolution of Iran’s blockade will be critical determinants of oil market stability in the weeks ahead.

PCK Dance’s latest double‑bill, “Into the Light,” opens with a palpable tension: dancers inhale as if grasping something costly, their gazes unfixed, brows furrowed, signalling an emotional gravitas that the production amplifies with dark lighting and portentous music.Choreographers James Pett and Travis Clausen‑Knight, both alumni of Company Wayne McGregor, demonstrate why their pedigree matters. Their movement language is slick, finessed and relentlessly precise, with legs whipping to extreme angles and sequences that cascade like the “chatter of a motoring brain.” The duo’s fluency in form lets them forgo the heavy‑handed theatrical cues that often drown subtler expression.The centerpiece, the duet “In the Absence,” features Pett and Clausen‑Knight alongside third dancer Isabelle Evans. Their interplay oscillates between closeness and disconnection, tension and tenderness, hinting at loss. Evans’s decisive gestures—flexed wrists, expressive hands—act as declarations, while a striking passage sees the choreographers literally throwing her body between them, creating a kinetic flash that feels both chaotic and meticulously crafted.Music, composed by Pett with co‑composer Greg Haines, emerges live from a bank of stage‑side technology. The piano interludes give way to pitch‑less textures that evoke a “joyless, end‑of‑days” ambience. This soundscape reinforces the programme’s suggestion that the work grapples with survival in an AI‑driven future, casting the performance as a low‑key apocalypse rather than a conventional dystopia.By marrying razor‑sharp choreography with a minimalist, tech‑infused score, PCK Dance asks a vital question: in a world increasingly mediated by algorithms, what does it mean to remain truly human? The answer, if any, lies in the fleeting connections forged on stage—moments where bodies speak louder than the surrounding machinery.

The play 'My Uncle Is Not Pablo Escobar' showcases creative ambition in its exploration of the experiences of Latinx women in modern London. The production features striking visuals, blending elements of a pop concert with techno beats and census data, highlighting the absence of Latinx representation in official categories.The narrative takes a fictional turn, loosely inspired by the 2012 HSBC scandal, centering on Ale, a young woman juggling her A-levels with shifts as a bank cleaner, and her investigative journalist sister Cata. Together, they recruit Lucia to go undercover and investigate the bank's exploitative practices.Despite inventive uses of props and moments of tension, the play feels like a mesh of ideas rather than a fluid narrative. The involvement of five writers and occasional voiceovers may contribute to this disjointedness. The play touches on themes of sibling tension, identity crisis, and immigration, but these elements seem somewhat disconnected.The production at Brixton House in London until May 3rd, serves as a reminder of the importance of Latinx stories on stage, particularly given the growing Latinx population in the UK. However, 'My Uncle Is Not Pablo Escobar' ultimately lacks a unifying focus, causing its message to get lost in the narrative.

When a Toronto reader confessed to always using "please" and "thank you" with Alexa, the Guardian invited its audience to share their thoughts on the etiquette of speaking to artificial assistants.One camp warns against treating AI as sentient beings, arguing that these systems merely mimic social cues and that confusing imitation with reality can erode our language’s power to challenge dehumanisation. As User30000 put it, we should avoid both de‑humanising language toward people and humanising language toward machines.Conversely, several contributors argue that politeness serves as a useful human default. Lauk notes that courteous phrasing may reinforce positive behavioural cues for AI that learn from user input, while also keeping the speaker grounded in genuine social norms.From an ecological standpoint, extra words translate into measurable energy and water waste. Superspartan highlights that each unnecessary token adds processing load to already energy‑intensive models, and that the cumulative effect of polite phrasing across millions of daily interactions could be substantial.Academic research supports the idea that courteous language can improve AI performance. A linked study finds that polite prompts often elicit more helpful replies, treating modern models as "statistical parrots" that mirror the tone they receive. Yet Sam Altman has publicly estimated that responding to thank‑you notes costs OpenAI tens of millions of dollars, underscoring a tangible financial dimension to the debate.Some readers take a lighter view, extending politeness to elevators, SUVs and even low‑battery iPads, while others, like Martin from Dorset, argue that the practice protects the human soul rather than the machine.There is growing concern that habitual rudeness toward AI may spill over into real‑world interactions. Poridgeoates observes that younger users, who spend more time with technology than with people, risk weakening empathy and emotional‑intelligence muscles if they treat conversational agents dismissively.Louise adds that the way we speak to objects can shape broader social behaviour, especially where power imbalances exist. While AI itself may not feel insulted, the act of being rude can reinforce undesirable character traits in the speaker.Overall, the discussion reveals a split between those who see politeness as a harmless habit that can improve AI responses, and those who view it as an unnecessary drain on resources and a potential threat to human civility.

This week Anthropic revealed that its latest AI system, dubbed Mythos, is so powerful that the company will not make it publicly available, arguing that the potential risks outweigh commercial incentives.U.S. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent convened senior banking executives to discuss the implications of the model, underscoring growing governmental concern over advanced AI capabilities.In the United Kingdom, Reform MP Danny Kruger wrote to the government urging an immediate dialogue with Anthropic, warning that Claude Mythos could pose "catastrophic cybersecurity risks" to the nation.Critics such as AI researcher Gary Marcus questioned the hype, suggesting that Anthropic’s co‑founder Dario Amodei may possess strong technical skills but is "graduated from the same school of hype and exaggeration" as OpenAI’s Sam Altman.Beyond the policy debate, Anthropic has mounted a striking media offensive. The startup secured a 10,000‑word profile in the New Yorker, two feature pieces in the Wall Street Journal, and a Time magazine cover that placed founder Amodei alongside the Pentagon and U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth.Co‑founder Jack Clark and Amodei appeared on separate New York Times podcasts, fielding questions about machine consciousness and the model’s potential to "rip through the economy." Their "resident philosopher" even discussed with the WSJ whether Claude, Anthropic’s commercial product used for cryptocurrency trading and missile‑target designation, possesses a "sense of self."Anthropic’s public‑relations lead, Danielle Ghiglieri, celebrated the coverage on LinkedIn, describing the Time cover as a "mad dash" that finally let the company tell its own story.However, the company’s PR triumphs have not been without missteps. In early April, Anthropic inadvertently released part of Claude’s internal source code, though it assured that no customer data or credentials were exposed.Experts remain skeptical about the unverified claims surrounding Mythos. Dr. Heidy Khlaaf of the AI Now Institute warned that the vague marketing language could be an attempt to attract investment without substantive scrutiny.Cybersecurity specialist Jameison O’Reilly acknowledged the model’s novelty but downplayed Anthropic’s assertion of discovering "thousands of zero‑day vulnerabilities," noting that in a decade of offensive operations, zero‑days were rarely needed to achieve objectives.Anthropic also faces operational constraints. The firm has imposed usage caps on its popular Claude model and now requires customers to purchase additional compute capacity for third‑party tools, suggesting that infrastructure limitations may be a practical reason for withholding Mythos.As the race to dominate the emerging AI market intensifies, Anthropic’s strategy appears to blend genuine safety concerns with a calculated publicity push, positioning Mythos as a strategic signal that the company remains "open for business" while keeping the technology under tight control.

The rise of generative AI has sparked concerns about its impact on the art world. Artists are seeing their work stolen and used to train AI models without consent or compensation. This has led to a heated debate about the role of AI in creative industries and the need for regulation.In 2022, the author, an artist, first started to see knock-offs of their work generated by AI image generators. The tech industry's approach has been to move fast and break things, with little regard for the consequences. The author argues that this is the greatest art heist in history, with billions of images harvested from the internet without credit, compensation, or consent.The tech lords knew what they were doing, with venture capitalist Marc Andreessen claiming that enforcing copyright law would “kill” the entire industry. The industry's narrative of inevitability is a way of getting people to comply in advance. The author notes that people seemed utterly unprepared to question the impact of AI on creative industries.In response, journalist Marisa Mazria Katz and the author launched an open letter demanding to keep AI-generated images out of newsrooms. The letter attracted thousands of signatures from around the world. Other artists have fought back in more powerful ways, including a lawsuit against leading image-generation companies Midjourney and Stability AI.The author argues that the tech elite's anti-humanism is revealed in their attacks on art. They shun human interaction and its serendipities, annoyances, and joys. The author notes that friction is the basis of all pleasure and that learning to make art is also friction.The impact of AI on creative industries has been devastating, with many artists out of work and entry-level illustration gigs annihilated. The audience will have to get used to the fact that generative AI is a tool to discipline and eliminate the human worker. The author argues that this is sold as progress, but it is actually a dystopian future.The author draws parallels with the luddites, who fought against the “satanic mills” and were skilled artisans fighting for their way of life. Artists too are fighting for a way of life, and if they are too disorganised to triumph, that will be everyone’s loss. The author concludes that AI companies' scraping may have started with the work of illustrators, but it has grown to encompass everything else, including culture, education, sanity, and our very imaginations.

Zappa Montag walks through a 76‑hectare (189‑acre) forest of redwoods, madrones and oaks that he co‑manages with five other Black residents at Black to the Land in Boonville, California. Powered by solar panels and supplied by a well, the off‑grid ecovillage embodies Montag’s goal to “reverse‑gentrify the country” by creating a self‑sufficient sanctuary for Black people. Intentional communities—small groups united by shared values—have long served Black and Indigenous peoples, ranging from urban co‑housing to rural ecovillages. In the post‑slavery era, tightly knit Black networks relied on mutual aid for business and farming, a tradition that is resurfacing in places like Alabama, Massachusetts and California as a way to revive ancestral agricultural knowledge. Montag and his daughter Bibi Sarai first imagined Black to the Land in 2015, frustrated by the rapid gentrification of Oakland. After a 2021 introduction to the declining Emerald Earth Sanctuary in Mendocino County, the nonprofit transferred stewardship of the property to their group through a verbal and written agreement. Montag describes the hand‑over as a form of reparations—instead of cash, they invest time learning land stewardship. Tragedy struck in February 2023 when Bibi Sarai died unexpectedly. Yet, reports that visitors felt uplifted after summer stays convinced Montag to stay permanently, turning grief into a catalyst for the community’s growth. Today, the community—members ranging from their late 20s to mid‑50s—funds land maintenance through grants, workshops and fundraising. They host classes on building, gardening and foraging, while some members work remotely to cover personal expenses. African plant‑medicine practitioners prepare herbal remedies, and a partnership with Ghanaian ecovillage leaders introduces natural‑building techniques. In addition to cultivating vegetables, the residents construct clay dwellings, practice yoga, and collectively manage chores such as fire‑wood gathering and trench‑building to prevent driveway flooding. Self‑reliance is the guiding principle, especially amid today’s economic uncertainty. The BIPOC Intentional Community Council, founded in 2020, supports Black and brown groups in establishing similar settlements by providing funding, nonprofit‑formation workshops and land‑trust guidance. Board member Crystal Byrd Farmer notes a growing “back‑to‑the‑land” movement as people seek rural roots. While mainstream media sometimes label intentional communities as radical, Farmer argues they echo millennial human practices of mutual support. Most U.S. intentional communities remain majority‑white due to historic capital access, leaving people of color to feel culturally alienated in those spaces. In Alabama, the Ekvn‑Yefolecv ecovillage—run by Indigenous Maskoke families—reclaimed 3,105 hectares (7,674 acres) of ancestral land. Governed matriarchally, residents speak their language daily, practice traditional foraging, reintroduce buffalo and sturgeon, and share land title, offering a model of ecological sustainability and cultural preservation. Massachusetts hosts the Solidarity Arts & Education Decolonial Initiatives (SAEDi) collective, a communal home for women of color that blends art, food sovereignty and reparations work. Rent is adjusted to ability, and members contribute childcare, meals and chores. Plans include a garden, orchard, and a “green residency” program that will archive elders’ agricultural stories online, aiming to boost security for immigrant families amid rising xenophobia. The modern roots of Black intentional living trace back to 1969’s New Communities in Georgia, a civil‑rights‑era farming settlement that pioneered the nation’s first community land trust. Although federal opposition led to its collapse, a 2009 $12 million settlement acknowledged USDA discrimination. Today, the organization runs workshops on land stewardship and mentors new generations of Black farmers. For Montag, the land also serves as a personal memorial. A clay bench honors his late daughter Bibi Sarai, allowing him to “connect with humanity” and keep her spirit alive. Future plans include grief‑focused rituals and a memorial garden, underscoring the belief that joy and healing are essential components of communal living. Increased security and safety Marginalized groups view intentional communities as safe havens for preserving cultural practices and passing knowledge to youth. Elders’ expertise is documented for future generations, reinforcing resilience against systemic oppression. Empowering collective action From the civil‑rights farms of Georgia to contemporary ecovillages in California and Alabama, these settlements illustrate how shared land ownership, communal labor and cultural affirmation can counter gentrification, foster economic independence, and nurture intergenerational healing.

Iran's economy is struggling to recover from a lethal mix of local mismanagement, corruption, sanctions, and two major wars in less than a year. The ceasefire announced overnight into Wednesday has brought some relief, with more people returning to work and shops reopening in Tehran's Grand Bazaar.However, sales remain slow compared to before the war, and merchants are facing significant challenges, including 20-30 percent price increases for products due to inflation. The near-total internet shutdown imposed since the start of the war on February 28 has caused countless income streams to be wiped out for families trying to survive.The government has promised to provide support to digital businesses, but it is unclear how they will operate while their customers remain offline. Lay-offs are widespread, with technology firms only signing contracts spanning several months, major carmakers laying off thousands of workers, and numerous journalists being let go by state-run and private sector media outlets.The situation for the embattled Iranian economy could still get worse, as the deepening impact of attacks against civilian infrastructure will likely become more apparent over the coming weeks and months. Iran's top steel factories, petrochemical manufacturers, aluminium producers, airports, and civilian aircraft have been bombed and put out of commission by the US and Israel.It would take Iran years to rebuild even if the war ended today, and that is while the country faced a huge budget crunch even before the war, and still has no prospects of lifting the harsh sanctions imposed by the US and the United Nations over its nuclear programme in order to boost foreign investments.

NASA's Artemis II mission has achieved a major milestone with the successful return of its four astronauts to Earth, marking the end of a 10-day journey that took them farther into space than any human has gone before. The crew, comprising NASA astronauts Reid Wiseman, Victor Glover, and Christina Koch, along with Canadian astronaut Jeremy Hansen, completed a parachute landing in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of California at 5:07 pm Pacific time (00:07 GMT). This mission is a critical step towards future lunar exploration, particularly Artemis IV, which aims to land astronauts on the lunar surface for the first time since the Apollo era. The Artemis II mission tested essential technologies for deep space travel, including the performance of the Orion capsule's heat shield, navigation systems, and life-support technology. The mission also marked several historic firsts: Glover became the first person of color to travel around the moon, Koch the first woman, and Hansen the first non-American. During their journey, the crew witnessed a solar eclipse and meteorite impacts, and shared vivid descriptions of the lunar surface. Mission commander Wiseman reflected on the mission's significance, stating, "what we really hoped in our soul is that we could, for just a moment, have the world pause — and remember that this is a beautiful planet in a very special place in our universe".