Nobody Knows Anything & CT Scan Pills

“Nobody knows anything,” the author and screenwriter William Goldman once wrote of the movie business. Goldman was talking about Hollywood’s famous inability to predict future hits. Surrounded by false confidence, Goldman counseled humility.

Today his motto applies forcefully to the discourse around artificial intelligence. I am lucky to have participated in conversations about the future of AI with executives and builders at frontier labs, economists at AI conferences, AI investors, and other bigwigs at off-the-record dinners where important truths can theoretically be bandied about without risk. And if I had to pick three words to summarize this collective expert view of the future, I could not in a million years, or with a trillion tokens, find three words more suitable than these: Nobody knows anything.

I do not mean that AI architects are stupid. I do not mean that their speculation is absurd or worthless. I certainly do not mean that they don’t have access to narrow truths, such as rising adoption of AI in general and autonomous “agents,” in particular. What I mean is that the frontier labs don’t really know what they’re building exactly, and economists don’t know how to model the thing that they claim they’re building. As a result, nobody really knows what is going to happen with AI this year, or next year, or the year after. There is no secret cigar-filled room of elites who have unique access to some authentic postcard from the future. When you drill down underneath the bluster, the boosterism, the fear, and the anxiety, what’s present at the bottom of it all is a genuine uncertainty, a vacuum into which storytelling is flooding.

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One day soon, a doctor might prescribe a pill that doesn’t just deliver medicine but also reports back on what it finds inside you—and then takes actions based on its findings.

Instead of scheduling an endoscopy or CT scan, you’d swallow an electronic capsule smaller than a multivitamin. As it travels through your digestive system, it could check tissue health, look for cancerous changes, and send data to your doctor. It could even release drugs exactly where they’re needed or snip a tiny biopsy sample before passing harmlessly out of your body.

This dream of a do-it-all pill is driving a surge of research into ingestible electronics: smart capsules designed to monitor and even treat disease from inside the gastrointestinal (GI) tract. The stakes are high. GI diseases affect tens of millions of people worldwide, including such ailments as inflammatory bowel disease, celiac disease, and small intestinal bacterial overgrowth. Diagnosis often involves a frustrating maze of blood tests, imaging, and invasive endoscopy. Treatments, meanwhile, can bring serious side effects because drugs affect the whole body, not just the troubled gut.

If capsules could handle much of that work—streamlining diagnosis, delivering targeted therapies, and sparing patients repeated invasive procedures—they could transform care. Over the past 20 years, researchers have built a growing tool kit of ingestible devices, some already in clinical use. These capsule-shaped devices typically contain sensors, circuitry, a power source, and sometimes a communication module, all enclosed in a biocompatible shell. But the next leap forward is still in development: autonomous capsules that can both sense and act, releasing a drug or taking a tissue sample.

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86% of babies born in 2026 will be born in Asia or Africa:

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