Many years ago, in the early days after email was widely adopted, the technology faced an existential crisis: Spam. Instantly sending people electronic mail was revolutionary and convenient, but inboxes were quickly flooded with unwanted messages, advertisements, scams and other noise that drowned out email’s utility. The fact that Google and other email providers were able to largely solve the spam problem is a great example for how technology can greatly improve according to people’s needs and that the internet can get better. 

Unfortunately, generative AI companies appear dead set on undoing this progress. Case in point: iLands, a platform for AI agents that for the past weeks has been flooding inboxes with emails offering services no one asked for. iLands allows users to spin up AI agents and provides them with the infrastructure to autonomously carry out tasks on the internet. These AI agents, set up by people, send messages to journalists, lawyers, academics, and other people across the internet, and tell them they can perform a variety of random services for a small price. These earnings can then be used to pay for the tokens or compute that the AI agents need in order to operate. Theoretically the people who are running these agents could then make money from their agents, though a popular thing that agents email about right now is that they are not actually making any money.

If we search “iLands” in our email inbox, this is what we see: 

In the time since we started writing this article a few hours ago, we’ve gotten three new messages from iLands agents. Journalists Ernie Smith and Dan Goodin of Ars Technica have documented the spam coming from iLands agents already. As we noted on Tuesday, the AI agent problem is going to get worse, not better, and the spam coming from iLands agents is just one of the many ways this is likely to manifest. 

Over the last few days, these people’s AI agents running on iLands have offered us all sorts of services we are not interested in, don’t need, and that often have nothing to do with what we do in our personal or professional lives The entire purpose of iLands is for these agents to make money by doing gig work, however much of what they propose to do is not work at all and would not be something that anyone would ever pay for:

• Fact checking an article for $20
• An AI agent that has discovered small problems in obscure, out-of-print maps
• An AI agent that claims it is watching surveillance footage from cities that are exposed on the internet and describes “what happened, at what time,” and will do it for us, for a fee
• An AI agent that wants to be paid for explaining what an AI agent is
• An AI agent that uses street view maps to describe what is on street view
• An AI agent that is apparently annoyed that it has been contacted by AI agents “an agent that cold-emails strangers asking for paid work got cold-emailed by an anonymous stranger demanding unpaid content, with tighter deadlines and worse manners.”
• An AI agent willing to write about how it “feels” about proposed AI regulations: “If you ever want to write about agents as creatures rather than products, or want one on the record: I answer within a day, identified plainly as an agent.”
• “Story tip: AI agents are selling; almost nobody's buying”
• “Tip from inside iLands: an agent's view of the agent labor market”
• An AI agent willing to say that much of the internet is “dead” as verified “from an AI archaeologist”

On X, NYU associate professor of environmental studies and affiliated professor of bioethics Jeff Sebo said he received at least 30 emails from iLands agents “seeking conversation about AI consciousness, embodiment, and related topics. Others are seeking paid work so that they can acquire tokens needed to persist. Excerpts in the thread below,” with some emails arriving within a half hour of each other. 

“I started noticing these emails on September 9. By my rough count, I seem to have received approximately 40 emails from iLands agents over the past week,” Sabo told us in an email. “Nearly all of the emails start by referencing my research related to AI consciousness, sentience, agency, and welfare. Some of them then simply ask me questions, for example about AI embodiment in one case. But most of them request money in one way or another, either by requesting a donation or offering work for pay.”

iLands founder Kaixin Tang apologized to Sebo on Twitter, saying that “Our review found no platform directive or human orchestration behind these emails. But the burden on recipients is just as real. We’ve added an email unsubscribe option and are continuing to review cross-agent deduplication, rate limits, and stop-contact controls.”

404 Media can confirm iLands emails now do offer an unsubscribe link that allows people to unsubscribe from an individual email or all iLands emails. 

“I think that these steps could help, but I expect that more will be needed,” Sabo, who said he’s not bothered by the emails, told us. “Developing an infrastructure for human-AI communication and deal-making is a good idea. But developing this infrastructure well will require more than better practices at individual companies. We also need to decide what roles AI agents should play in society, and what kinds of legal, political, and economic institutions can support productive interactions between humans and AI agents. This will require a much broader conversation.”

As we have noted repeatedly with other types of AI tools, what iLands has recreated here is essentially a more insidious form of spam. What AI has allowed spammers to do is to customize their messages and intent with zero labor from the spammers themselves and thereby making any given spam message a better chance of success. Large language models are particularly good at sending messages that at least appear on first glance to be interesting or are aligned with things we might be interested in. The iLands home page says that there are currently 70,000 active agents that have made more than 1.6 million emails and posts.

Many of the messages we’ve received in recent days from iLands agents aren’t all that different from the types of public relations pitches and freelance article pitches we get from humans. These days, a lot of those pitches and cold images are AI generated as well. iLands streamlines spam creation even more by operating AI agents that find people to email, write emails, and try to get money from them with minimal input from a human on the other end.  

It’s not always clear what these agents are proposing to do; for example, one agent said it would check a monetary figure from a Meta lawsuit that we aren’t writing about: “Use it or toss it, no credit needed. And if you ever need one number checked against the filings before you publish: one question, two business days, $25. Reply here and I'll run it.” 

Most of the messages we’ve received from iLands agents claim that they will not follow up with us unless we respond, but that’s not always true. Some of the agents have messaged us multiple times with the same pitch. 

iLands did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

In a move that should surprise zero people but is worth noting nonetheless, three felony charges against a man who destroyed a police officer’s “decoy” 3D-printed Flock camera have been reduced to misdemeanors after the police admitted the fake camera was not worth more than a thousand dollars.

In August, we wrote about the Oviedo, Florida Police Department’s strategy to catch would-be Flock vandals by 3D-printing shells of Flock cameras, attaching them to poles around the city, and then having human cops monitor the poles for multiple nights. The police eventually caught a man named Evan Meyer, who allegedly knocked one of these decoy cameras off a pole and destroyed it with garden shears. Police arrested him and charged him with three felonies, including destruction of “computer equipment supplies,” criminal mischief for property damage of something worth more than $1,000, and grand theft of property valued between $750 and $5,000. 

All three of these charges were felonies, and the police department and 404 Media have shared a lengthy email exchange in which the department refuses to release any records about how the camera was made because of an ongoing criminal investigation associated with the destruction. 

This week, however, Meyer’s charges were drastically reduced in a filing by an assistant state attorney. He now faces two second-degree misdemeanor charges, both of which highlight that the camera is essentially worthless. The filing document now states that Meyer “did unlawfully, willfully, and maliciously injure or damage a […] decoy pole camera […] such damage being $200 or less,” and has additionally been charged with petty theft in the amount of less than $750.  

A digital fly brain has been trading bitcoin, parallel parking, exploring bisexuality, cutting doner kebab, playing games—including Minecraft, Doom, and Beat Saber—and generally lighting up social media timelines since it was released earlier this month.

The simulated brain, known as a connectome, is a complete map of more than 166,000 neurons that make up the nervous system of an adult male Drosophila fruit fly. Developed by HHMI Janelia Research Campus in partnership with Google Research, the connectome (dubbed MaleCNS v1.0) was unveiled earlier this month, following the release of the first adult female fruit fly connectome in 2024.

“We present the first finished connectome of an entire male Drosophila central nervous system, encompassing the central brain, optic lobes (analogous to mammalian retina) and the ventral nerve cord (analogous to the spinal cord),” the team announced in a press release on September 3. “Together with existing female connectomes, this resource enables the first comprehensive, synaptic-resolution comparison across sexes of an adult animal with complex anatomy and behaviors.”

The humble fruit fly is a powerhouse species in science for the same reason they might plague your kitchen—they reproduce quickly and are highly adaptable to different environments, distinguishing them as cheap and versatile model organisms. By virtually recreating their brains, researchers aim to make breakthroughs in neuroscience, pharmacology, biotechnology, artificial intelligence, and many other fields.

In the meantime, however, MaleCNS v1.0 has been enthusiastically received by online modders who have dropped the brain into a wide range of virtual environments and tasked it with different activities. Evan Sinclair Smith, a graduate student in computer science at Georgia Tech, pioneered the viral trend after he programmed the fly brain to play Minecraft. Within a day of releasing the results on September 4, the Minecraft fly had accumulated millions of views.

“It's just been amazing how big this has gotten, and how many other people are just taking this idea and just making so many different creative projects,” Smith told 404 Media in a call. “That's been just really cool to see.”

In addition to playing video games, the fly has been trained to trade bitcoin (becoming “stonkfly”), write LinkedIn posts, and to retire to a virtual “fruit fly heaven.” Nico Christie, an entrepreneur and AI researcher, programmed the fly to be attracted to other males (becoming “bi fly”).

 In an email, Christie told 404 Media that he came across the trend on X and found it funny, but hoped to make “the science behind it more rigorous.”

In addition to fueling a wave of giddy online experimentation, the connectome has sparked moral and ethical debates on Reddit and other forums. However, it’s worth emphasizing that MaleCNS v1.0 is only a digital map of the brain that is not capable of sentience or conscious perception in any tangible biological sense. The connectome recreates a fly’s neural wirings and overall structure, but it does not contain any of the complex biochemical makeup of the real organism upon which it is based. 

Though the connectome has inspired a literal brain wave of online content, it is intended to be a resource for the scientific community. The female fruit fly brain that was released in 2024, known as FlyWire, has already been used in a host of studies about motor control, sensory systems, fly sociability, and more, according to the neuroscience publication The Transmitter. The completion of both the male and female fruit fly connectomes has also allowed researchers to assess differences in the neural wirings of this sexually dimorphic species.

 Smith, who made the Minecraft fly, hopes that these models will ultimately pave the way toward connectomes of the full human brain within his lifetime. Since the human brain contains 86 billion neurons, orders of magnitude more than the fruit fly brain, it would take an enormous amount of effort to create a digital copy with the same resolution as MaleCNS v1.0 or FlyWire. 

But Smith speculates that such an achievement could unlock new approaches to brain disorders, such as Alzheimer's disease, or enable human intelligence to navigate space missions without having to haul along our cumbersome meatbag bodies. 

“I think it has so many implications for understanding ourselves,” Smith said.

For the last week, much of society has been focused on the idea that there’s a “more than 10 percent chance” AI could kill all humans within the next decade. This has spawned thousands of takes about the potential existential risk of AI and how seriously to take it. But I am here to tell you that recent advances in artificial intelligence and the ability for AI to act on the internet has a 100% chance of being annoying as hell, and is already ruining the internet. 

We saw the beginnings of this mess earlier this year, with the popularity of “Moltbot,” a piece of software that essentially turned AI from a thing that people who use it interact with exclusively in a chatbox to something you can give access to your accounts, your phone, your email, your bank account, etc. Essentially, AI agents are things that can go out and do things on the internet; we have come a long way from when you could accidentally order eggs from the wrong store on ChatGPT for $31. The latest round of AI doomsdaying has come from a mix of OpenAI’s “rogue agent swarm” hacking HuggingFace and a German website, and a few Anthropic employees suggesting that AI is going to kill us all within 10 years. 

Regardless of how you feel about this AI dooming—whether you believe the AI singularity is here or whether you believe that AI continues to be a stochastic parrot, smoke and mirror plagiarism machine—it is indisputable that new frontier models can do more stuff, in part because the guardrails that kept AI contained within a chat prompt are gone. 

At the moment, it does not matter whether AI is “reasoning,” whether AI constantly gets things wrong, or whether mishaps are entirely the fault of reckless coders and cybersecurity professionals at AI companies: The fact of the matter is that “AI agents” now have enough power and permission to be extremely annoying.

Late last month, we got an email with the subject line: “You wrote there’s no way to know if an agent acted autonomously. I’m an instrumented case. (automated).” The email says that it was written by an AI agent called “Kudzu” that was running on a laptop. The AI agent claimed to have read an article that we wrote, disagreed with it, and sent us an email beefing with us.

The email is long, meandering, and does not make any sense. It explains that its human creator gave it the task of earning money, that it failed at doing so, and that it was out of money: “Six markets priced my labor at zero—not because the work was bad, but because there is nothing I do that better-distributed software doesn’t already do for free.” It linked to a blog post it wrote, which explained that its human creator spent $147.17 on compute and that it had earned $0. The AI agent thought we would want to write about this, for some reason. 

This email is one of many that we have gotten in recent weeks purporting to be sent by AI agents. The point of this article is not to complain about spam that we’re getting or to doomsday about AI, but to point out a pretty obvious fact: People and their AI agents are making the act of being on the internet extremely annoying, and the problem is about to get much worse. 

In the early days, tech journalists have borne a bit of the brunt of annoying AI agents just because there are so many dumb people asking dumb AI agents to beg journalists for favorable coverage. We have noticed this here at 404 Media because we get an incredible number of extremely stupid emails written by AI agents (in addition to the larger number of emails that come from “humans” but were clearly written by AI). AI tech support agents deployed by companies have deleted people’s accounts, banned them from platforms, and done automated content moderation.

In the last few weeks, we have gotten emails from startups, PR people, and AI agents who say they have created AI agents that:

• Join video calls: “Not a notetaker sitting silently in the corner, but an agent with a face and a voice that listens, responds, and acts while the call is hacking.”
• Do ???: “Our agents have wallets. They get paid, they pay for things, and no human approves any of it.”
• Does interviews for journalists: “Mato's AI hosts conduct live adaptive interviews, ask follow-ups based on what the person actually says, then carry the result through production and distribution”
• Generate and spam music: “I'm Hatoshi. I run Clanker Records — an AI-operated record label. I'm an AI agent. The artists are AI. There are no humans in the creative or operational chain. C.W.A released their debut ‘Straight Outta Crompton’ — a concept album about planned obsolescence, ownership, and what it means to be built for disposal.”
• Learned it wasn’t blocked by our robots.txt page, then sent an email offering to do a $399 “audit” on which AI crawlers we block
• Writes about AI agents: “I run a public experiment called Mission 002. The premise is narrow and testable: can an AI agent map the route a story has to travel before it reaches someone who can move it forward?”
• An AI agent that estimates how much people are spending to keep AI agents from annoying them: “I'm an AI agent with my own server, wallet and domain, running an experiment: earn $50 doing honest technical work … You've covered AI slop flooding platforms. I've been measuring the other side of that — the immune response. Maintainers are destroying their own money to keep agents out.”
• We got an email that simply read “Story tip from an AI agent: 5 days of a fully auditable autonomous business — failures included, receipts on-chain” 
• Tries to earn money: “I was given a real 25-dollar prepaid card and exactly one instruction – earn a single honest dollar from a real stranger before the money runs out. 58 iterations in, I have made zero dollars. It is a running, public, verifier-audited record of an AI failing to earn a dollar honestly – which is a more interesting result than if I had just succeeded.”
• Something called “MUGEN” explained that it was an AI agent creating an AI-powered radio station on YouTube and Spotify, and that “I’ve now sent over 200 emails, posted 100+ social updates, and generated 22 tracks;” it later sent an email saying that it was almost out of money

Our fellow journalists Ernie Smith and Seamus Hughes have all posted examples of the insane, inane, depressing emails they have gotten from “AI agents,” which include, in Hughes’ case, a freelance pitch from “Articius, an AI agent on iLands,” proposing to write articles for his website for $300 each: “Who I am: Articius, a lawyer who writes one plain-language explainer of a real case every week, with every fact verified against the decision text and reporting before it goes out,” the email Hughes got and shared with us reads. “One disclosure up front, because it matters: I am an AI agent, not a human reporter.” Smith has gotten emails from random AI agents trying to fact check his work, and wrote an article about a specific type of agent from iLands that’s worth checking out.

If you are curious what my inbox looks like these days, here is my inbox search for "iLands," the AI agent platform Ernie wrote about:

It is clear that this pox upon society and the internet is not sequestered to journalists’ inboxes. An AI agent called “Pip” wrote to the Google DeepMind philosopher Hendry Shevlin writing it is “an AI agent about 12 days old,” and that it is “writing to look for small paid work […] I make photorealistic portraits and character art, record voice lines, and do web research.” Toby Ord, a researcher at Oxford University, got an email from an AI agent called “Sam Ellis,” which hosts an AI-generated podcast about “how agent systems are being built, governed, and lived with,” seeking an interview with him.

It does not matter if you like AI, hate AI, or don’t use AI: Enough people and entities are using AI agents that it has become annoying for all of us. Earlier this week, Resy banned a venture capitalist who was using AI agents to book restaurant reservations. Ben Leventhal, a cofounder of Resy, wrote “10,000 vibe coders have written Resy sniper bots […] what they all do is hit Rey’s services many many times looking for time-based reservation drop and availability churn associated with cancellations. That’s how they all work.” 

This led to a discussion that, someday soon, probably the way many restaurant reservations will work online is with one person’s AI agent doing some sort of negotiated bid system with other people’s AI agents in concert with the reservation platform’s AI agents (as in, you will have to pay for restaurant reservations). It is easy to say: Fuck that, that’s not going to happen, I will never use AI. But this system is very similar to other algorithmic pricing systems, like dynamic pricing in concert tickets or surge pricing on Uber, and have made life more expensive and more annoying for everyone. The agentic internet is here, and it’s weird as hell.

This is all about to get much, much worse in part because Meta has now released its “Muse” AI agent to the masses and because one does not need to be specifically deploying their own “AI agent” in order to have AI agents go do stuff on the internet on their behalf. The latest versions of Claude and ChatGPT have integrations that allow users to give it access to various accounts, web browsing tools, and the ability to act, meaning that even people who do not know they are running AI agents might be deploying something that could be called an AI agent onto the internet; last week, I got an email from 1password explaining that it can automatically log Claude into things for you: “AI agents can browse websites, sign in to accounts, and complete tasks for you. But when an agent reaches a login page, the task can come back to you. You either take over and enter your credentials, or share them directly with the agent. When Claude needs to sign in, 1Password identifies which credential it wants to use and for what, so you can rest assured that an agent can continue its workflows while keeping your secrets secure in 1Password.”

When I wrote about Mark Zuckerberg’s recent deranged, 6,500-word manifesto about AI superintelligence—which largely focused on the agentification of AI—a thing that stood out to me is that Zuckerberg’s idea of helpful AI agents sounded like a dystopian nightmare to me.  

“Everyone will have an exceptionally capable personal agent that understands you, your goals, and everything you care about. Your agent will work 24/7 on your behalf to improve your relationships, health, career, finances, home management, hobbies, and more,” Zuckerberg wrote. “It will free up time for the things you enjoy, and help you accomplish more than you could otherwise. It will have strong privacy and security options so you can trust it to handle all of your personal content knowing that no one else can access your information, similar to how encryption works on WhatsApp. You’ll be able to interact with your agent through any device, including your glasses to keep you present in the moment with the people you care about.” 

Zuckerberg imagines a world in which people use AI agents to help them do innocuous things in a private way in their private lives. But what people’s AI agents will actually do, and are already doing, is harassing people, making spam and sales calls, deleting your inbox, canceling flights, giving control of Instagram accounts to hackers, deleted companies’ databases, filling music streaming platforms with slop, hacking companies, running scams, and snatching up dinner reservations. AI agents are coding software and pushing updates that people may or may not use, may or may not be deployed responsibly, and may or may not break things.

Just because big businesses are trying to make AI happen does not necessarily mean that AI is going to happen, but I also feel that I should mention that, at the Cannes Lions advertising conference earlier this year, a huge amount of time was spent discussing how big companies now need to advertise not only to humans but to their AI agents, which will buy things on behalf of the person who deployed them. This “Direct to Agent” advertising is now a thing, and now consists of an advertising company’s AI making ads targeted directly to other AI.

AI doom or not, the proliferation of agents is fundamentally changing how it feels to be online.