Google just announced a laptop with the worst possible name… and it’s filled with AI

Google just announced Googlebook. Not to be confused with Google Books, which is a separate Google service (even though if you search for Googlebook in Google, it autocorrects you to Google Books instead). This might just be the most frustratingly flawed naming strategy Google’s ever employed, especially after the company’s already had Chromebooks and Pixelbooks under their portfolio. It’s like Google launching a smart photo frame and calling it Googlephotos. Not the wisest idea, but once you look past the name, the laptop itself starts shaping up to raise even more questions.

Think of a laptop, but it’s just entirely AI. You know how most lower-end phones are filled with bloatware? Imagine if that bloatware was just AI everything. The OS has Gemini baked in, heck, even the cursor has AI injected into it like botox. It just feels puzzling considering not one single person I know has ever looked at a Windows laptop and gone – I need more of that CoPilot. Google somehow decided to double down on the AI aspect of the laptop experience, and I’m about to coin a word that I’d like the world to acknowledge henceforth. Google’s Googlebook might just be the world’s first ‘Sloptop’.

Designer: Google

A Sloptop (combining the words Slop and Laptop) is a laptop where the selling point has nothing to do with the laptop. The hardware becomes secondary to whatever AI layer has been plastered over it, and the entire pitch is essentially “trust us, the AI makes it better.” Google describes Googlebook as laptops built with Gemini’s helpfulness at their core, designed to work seamlessly with your devices and powered by premium hardware. Premium hardware listed last, by the way. The star of the show is the Magic Pointer, a feature built with the Google DeepMind team that brings Gemini right to your cursor, offering contextual suggestions every time you point at something on your screen. You wiggle your mouse and Gemini wakes up. Which sounds exciting until you realize your Android phone has been doing exactly this for years. Google Lens already analyzes whatever is on your screen. Gemini is already in your notification bar. The Magic Pointer is functionally Google Lens wearing a blazer and billing itself as revolutionary. The jump from your phone to your laptop desktop does not constitute a new feature, it constitutes a port. Not to mention how annoyed most people will probably be while gaming or generally browsing the internet when they accidentally wiggle their cursors to only be interrupted by Gemini. If you own a mouse-jiggler for dodging workplace productivity rules, the Googlebook might just end up being your worst enemy.

The redundancy runs deeper than just the cursor. Googlebook’s Quick Access lets you view, search, or insert your phone’s files on your laptop with no transfers needed, and you can tap a phone app directly on your laptop screen without ever leaving your workflow. Android mirroring is genuinely useful, and that part of the pitch makes sense. But Google is leading with Gemini widgets, AI-generated desktops, and a cursor that thinks for you, and all of that is already sitting in your pocket. The honest question is: if your phone handles all of this already, what problem is the Googlebook actually solving? A quick observation worth making here too, particularly for parents shopping back-to-school hardware: Google is essentially marketing a laptop that will summarize, suggest, write, and generate on demand. That’s a complicated value proposition when your kid has a history essay due Monday.

Meanwhile, the $599 MacBook Neo continues to have Windows laptop makers falling over themselves trying to build a competitor that matches its price and build quality. People are not lining up for the Neo because Apple Intelligence rewrites their emails. They’re buying it because it is a beautiful, fast, well-built machine at a price point that feels almost unfair. The lesson sitting right there on the table, waiting to be learned, is that consumers want great hardware first. The AI can come along for the ride, but it cannot be the destination.

Google seems to have missed that memo entirely, which brings up the uncomfortable question of whether Googlebook is a laptop at all, or a Gemini distribution strategy with a keyboard attached. Google hasn’t even confirmed what operating system Googlebooks actually run, though the company describes it as a modern OS designed for Intelligence that combines Android and ChromeOS. That vagueness is telling. The Pixelbook was quietly killed off. Chromebooks spent years in an identity crisis, perpetually caught between being a real laptop and a browser window with hinges. Google has a well-documented pattern of entering the laptop space with genuine ambition and then quietly losing interest, and nothing about the Googlebook announcement suggests that pattern is breaking.

And then there’s the name. After everything above, the name somehow still deserves its own moment. Google is working with Acer, Asus, Dell, HP, and Lenovo on the first Googlebooks, which means this name is going on products from some of the most established hardware brands in the industry. Executives at those companies approved the word “Googlebook” on their machines. That’s a thing that happened. The Chromebook, for all its limitations, had a clean and descriptive name. The Pixelbook sounded premium. Googlebook sounds like what a five-year-old would name a laptop if you told them Google made it. However, I want to be proved wrong. Desperately. Google’s had such a stronghold over the Android space that it really did seem like Chromebooks would be their next magnum opus. I guess we’ll have to wait till Google I/O to get more information on this new endeavor – and hope it doesn’t hit the graveyard too soon like its predecessors.

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MIT Turned 12 Labubu Heads Into a Robot and It’s Watching You

Nobody told MIT grad students to build a rolling sphere covered in twelve Labubu faces. They did it anyway, and now the rest of us have to sit with that. The project is called Labububot, and it comes from three graduate students at the MIT Media Lab: Miranda Li from the Personal Robots group, and Jake Read and Dimitar Dimitrov from the What’s Taking Form group. Together, they took the internet’s favorite ugly-cute collectible, multiplied it by twelve, and fused everything into a single spherical body that rolls around following people through hallways. The official description calls it “one of the rarest monsters on Earth,” and that phrasing alone tells you everything about the tone the team was going for.

The design is not subtle. Twelve identical Labubu faces stare outward from every angle simultaneously. When the thing moves, it does so with that particular brand of slow, deliberate motion that robots somehow always use when they want to feel unsettling. The MIT team leans into every bit of that discomfort, which is exactly what separates Labububot from most social robotics research you’ll come across.

Design: MIT Media Lab

Social robots usually chase approachability. They get rounded edges, pastel palettes, and soft digital expressions designed to lower your guard on contact. The whole field runs on the logic that comfort builds connection, and most research in this space reinforces that assumption without questioning it much. Labububot rejects that premise entirely. It is meant to provoke a reaction before it earns one, and the reaction it tends to get first is somewhere between amusement and mild dread. That’s a deliberately chosen emotional space, and it works.

The Labubu connection makes this sharper than it might otherwise be. The original toy built its following on a very specific kind of ugly-cute tension. It’s not conventionally adorable. It has sharp teeth, wide eyes, and a design that sits right at the border of charming and unsettling. That’s precisely why it resonated. The blind-box format added a layer of collector obsession on top, and after BLACKPINK’s Lisa was seen collecting them, the whole thing escalated into cultural phenomenon territory fast. The fact that it already carried that complicated emotional charge before MIT ever touched it makes the robot version feel like the natural next step, even if nobody saw it coming.

Scaling that same energy up to twelve faces on a rolling robot body is not an accident. The MIT team is clearly aware of what they’re working with. The official framing pitches Labububot as a “playful critique of social robots” and poses a question worth taking seriously: what do the monsters we make reveal about the monsters we are? For a project built around a pop culture collectible, that’s a surprisingly direct line of inquiry. It doesn’t answer the question so much as roll it directly toward you and wait.

The timing adds another dimension. Labubu started as a toy, became a fashion accessory, turned into a resale market, and has now arrived at experimental robotics research inside one of the most prestigious institutions on the planet. That arc is completely absurd and also perfectly logical if you’ve been watching how internet culture compresses timelines. Trends don’t climb ladders sequentially anymore. They collide with things that have no business intersecting, and occasionally the collision produces something genuinely interesting. The path from blind-box collectible to MIT thesis statement is ridiculous, and also makes complete sense.

Labububot will make its public debut this summer as a Grand Challenge finalist at the 2026 International Conference on Social Robotics in London. Moving from the controlled environment of an MIT hallway to a public conference floor is a meaningful shift. Real audiences bring expectations about what robots should look and feel like, and a twelve-faced Labubu sphere is going to challenge most of those expectations immediately.

Some people will read it as satire. Some will find it genuinely unnerving. A few will want to know if they can buy one. I’m not entirely outside that last group, which tells me the project landed exactly where it was supposed to. Labububot doesn’t ask you to like it. It just follows you down the hall until you decide how you feel.

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Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker Co-Designed a Synth So Good It’s Now a Collector’s Item

Transparency in tech has followed the classic arc of any design trend: radical, then referential, then mainstream, then meaningful. Nothing made it radical. Dozens of imitators made it referential. Beats and Casetify brought it mainstream. The interesting question now is which products use it meaningfully, where the visible internals are genuinely worth seeing, and the form of the object actually benefits from the revelation. A cheap Bluetooth speaker with a clear shell is just a clear shell. An instrument with carefully designed internal geometry, a speaker assembly, a green PCB, and ribbon cables threading between custom-designed synth hardware is something else.

That distinction is what makes the Clear Orchid: Arctic worth drooling over. Telepathic Instruments, the company Kevin Parker of Tame Impala co-founded with Ignacio Germade and a small team of music technology obsessives, has announced the fifth drop in its Orchid hardware line: a fully transparent, teal-based limited edition capped at 3,000 units worldwide, available May 11. The Orchid earned its place on TIME’s Best Inventions of 2025 list on the back of a chord-first synthesis system that separates root note, chord type, and voicing into independent controls. The Arctic edition puts all of that hardware on display and makes a visual argument that the guts of a well-designed instrument are as compelling as its sound.

Designer: Telepathic Instruments

If you haven’t encountered the Orchid before, the short version is this: where every other synthesizer on the market is built around individual notes, Orchid is built around chords. Press a key and you trigger a full harmonic voicing. Your left hand works a matrix of chord-type buttons, labeled Dim, Min, Maj, Sus, M7, 9, and a few others, while your right hand handles the keys and a large Chord Voicing encoder adjusts how those chords sit across the register. A patent-pending voicing system repositions harmonies across the equivalent of a full piano keyboard’s worth of range, far beyond what the compact one-octave keybed physically suggests. Three synthesis engines, a virtual analogue subtractive, FM, and a vintage reed piano emulation modeled on 1960s electric pianos by renowned German developer Stefan Stenzel, give the harmonic system genuine sonic depth rather than the thin, preset-cycling feel that plagues most beginner-friendly instruments. When we first covered the Orchid at launch, we described it as an “ideas machine,” a device for capturing musical intuition without requiring the theory background to justify it. That description still holds, and the Arctic edition makes it literal: you can see exactly where the ideas come from.

The transparent shell pulls double duty as both aesthetic statement and honest product communication. Look through the Arctic’s polycarbonate top and you see a green PCB laid out with visible intention, speaker grilles framed by the internal chassis, ribbon cables routed with the kind of care that only matters if someone will eventually see them. The teal-tinted base, slightly darker than the clear top, creates a subtle two-tone layering that stops the whole thing from reading as a prototype or an engineering sample. The yellow Sound, Perform, and FX knobs pop hard against the dark control surface above, the single red Bass button reads like a deliberate punctuation mark, and the OLED display at the center of the panel glows with Orchid’s skull mascot logo in a way that feels genuinely characterful rather than decorative. Telepathic Instruments clearly understood that a transparent enclosure raises the design bar: every component becomes load-bearing visually, and the Arctic clears that bar without much visible effort.

The Drop 5 release pairs the Arctic with the full launch of Pistil, Orchid’s companion VST plugin, now available on both Mac and Windows. Pistil brings Orchid’s three synthesis engines directly into any DAW, with ten new sounds in the full release, a rebuilt delay engine, and expanded fine parameter control. Existing Orchid owners get it at a discount, and standalone buyers can purchase it for $99 without the hardware. The practical implication is that the Orchid ecosystem has matured considerably since its initial 1,000-unit beta run: 12,000 units across 60 countries, placements at Abbey Road and Rue Boyer, and a featured role on Don Toliver’s Octane. Lewis Capaldi, Janelle Monáe, Fred Durst, Kid Cudi, and Diplo are all documented users. Josh Homme narrates the drop’s accompanying short film, a deadpan skewering of the creativity-guru industrial complex that is, frankly, funnier than most instrument launch content has any right to be.

The Arctic is limited to 3,000 units worldwide, with waitlist members getting priority access at 9 AM PDT for North America and 10 AM CEST for Europe on May 11, and the general public window opening an hour later. The classic Orchid colorway and the orange carry case are back alongside it. Join the waitlist at telepathicinstruments.com.

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