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This week, openai launchedwhat its chief executive, Sam Altman, called “the smartest model in the world”—a generative-AI program whose capabilities are supposedly far greater, and more closely approximate how humans think, than those of any such software preceding it. The start-up has been building toward this moment since September 12, a day that, in OpenAI’s telling, set the world on a new path toward superintelligence.

That was when the company previewed early versions of a series of AI models, known as o1, constructed with novel methods that the start-up believes will propel its programs to unseen heights. Mark Chen, then OpenAI’s vice president of research, told me a few days later that o1 is fundamentally different from the standard ChatGPT because it can “reason,” a hallmark of human intelligence. Shortly thereafter, Altman pronounced “the dawn of the Intelligence Age,” in which AI helps humankind fix the climate and colonize space. As of yesterday afternoon, the start-up has released the first complete version of o1, with fully fledged reasoning powers, to the public. (The Atlantic recently entered into a corporate partnership with OpenAI.)

On the surface, the start-up’s latest rhetoric sounds just like hype the company has built its $157 billion valuation on. Nobody on the outside knows exactly how OpenAI makes its chatbot technology, and o1 is its most secretive release yet. The mystique draws interest and investment. “It’s a magic trick,” Emily M. Bender, a computational linguist at the University of Washington and prominent critic of the AI industry, recently told me. An average user of o1 might not notice much of a difference between it and the default models powering ChatGPT, such as GPT-4o, another supposedly major update released in May. Although OpenAI marketed that product by invoking its lofty mission—“advancing AI technology and ensuring it is accessible and beneficial to everyone,” as though chatbots were medicine or food—GPT-4o hardly transformed the world.

But with o1, something has shifted. Several independent researchers, while less ecstatic, told me that the program is a notable departure from older models, representing “a completely different ballgame” and “genuine improvement.” Even if these models’ capacities prove not much greater than their predecessors’, the stakes for OpenAI are. The company has recently dealt with a wave of controversies and high-profile departures, and model improvement in the AI industry overall has slowed. Products from different companies have become indistinguishable—ChatGPT has much in common with Anthropic’s Claude, Google’s Gemini, xAI’s Grok—and firms are under mounting pressure to justify the technology’s tremendous costs. Every competitor is scrambling to figure out new ways to advance their products.

Over the past several months, I’ve been trying to discern how OpenAI perceives the future of generative AI. Stretching back to this spring, when OpenAI was eager to promote its efforts around so-called multimodal AI, which works across text, images, and other types of media, I’ve had multiple conversations with OpenAI employees, conducted interviews with external computer and cognitive scientists, and pored over the start-up’s research and announcements. The release of o1, in particular, has provided the clearest glimpse yet at what sort of synthetic “intelligence” the start-up and companies following its lead believe they are building.

The company has been unusually direct that the o1 series is the future: Chen, who has since been promoted to senior vice president of research, told me that OpenAI is now focused on this “new paradigm,” and Altman later wrote that the company is “prioritizing” o1 and its successors. The company believes, or wants its users and investors to believe, that it has found some fresh magic. The GPT era is giving way to the reasoning era.

Last spring, i met mark chen in the renovated mayonnaise factory that now houses OpenAI’s San Francisco headquarters. We had first spoken a few weeks earlier, over Zoom. At the time, he led a team tasked with tearing down “the big roadblocks” standing between OpenAI and artificial general intelligence—a technology smart enough to match or exceed humanity’s brainpower. I wanted to ask him about an idea that had been a driving force behind the entire generative-AI revolution up to that point: the power of prediction.

The large language models powering ChatGPT and other such chatbots “learn” by ingesting unfathomable volumes of text, determining statistical relationships between words and phrases, and using those patterns to predict what word is most likely to come next in a sentence. These programs have improved as they’ve grown—taking on more training data, more computer processors, more electricity—and the most advanced, such as GPT-4o, are now able to draft work memos and write short stories, solve puzzles and summarize spreadsheets. Researchers have extended the premise beyond text: Today’s AI models also predict the grid of adjacent colors that cohere into an image, or the series of frames that blur into a film.

The claim is not just that prediction yields useful products. Chen claims that “prediction leads to understanding”—that to complete a story or paint a portrait, an AI model actually has to discern something fundamental about plot and personality, facial expressions and color theory. Chen noted that a program he designed a few years ago to predict the next pixel in a gridwas able to distinguish dogs, cats, planes, and other sorts of objects. Even earlier, a program that OpenAI trained to predict text in Amazon reviews was able to determine whether a review was positive or negative.

Today’s state-of-the-art models seem to have networks of code that consistently correspond to certain topics, ideas, or entities. In one now-famous example, Anthropic shared research showing that an advanced version of its large language model, Claude, had formed such a network related to the Golden Gate Bridge. That research further suggested that AI models can develop an internal representation of such concepts, and organize their internal “neurons” accordingly—a step that seems to go beyond mere pattern recognition. Claude had a combination of “neurons” that would light up similarly in response to descriptions, mentions, and images of the San Francisco landmark. “This is why everyone’s so bullish on prediction,” Chen told me: In mapping the relationships between words and images, and then forecasting what should logically follow in a sequence of text or pixels, generative AI seems to have demonstrated the ability to understand content.

The pinnacle of the prediction hypothesis might be Sora, a video-generating model that OpenAI announced in February and which conjures clips, more or less, by predicting and outputting a sequence of frames. Bill Peebles and Tim Brooks, Sora’s lead researchers, told me that they hope Sora will create realistic videos by simulating environments and the people moving through them. (Brooks has since left to work on video-generating models at Google DeepMind.) For instance, producing a video of a soccer match might require not just rendering a ball bouncing off cleats, but developing models of physics, tactics, and players’ thought processes. “As long as you can get every piece of information in the world into these models, that should be sufficient for them to build models of physics, for them to learn how to reason like humans,” Peebles told me. Prediction would thus give rise to intelligence. More pragmatically, multimodality may also be simply about the pursuit of data—expanding from all the text on the web to all the photos and videos, as well.