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“X is the future state of unlimited interactivity—centered in audio, video, messaging, payments/banking—creating a global marketplace for ideas, goods, services, and opportunities. Powered by AI, X will connect us all in ways we’re just beginning to imagine.” — Linda Yaccarino, CEO of Twitter, which has now rebranded to X.

Here at the Louvre, we’re proud of our storied 230 years of history, and rightfully so. But we don’t rest on our considerable laurels. We’re constantly innovating, disrupting, and activizationizing words that signify things in a dynamic and optimal way, unlocking new synergies that provide users with a transformative experience that will recalibrate their very perceptions of quantum possibility—to the nth degree.

Issue 49 of the Nautilus print edition combines some of the best content from our March and April 2023 online issues. It includes contributions from emergency physician and writer Clayton Dalton,  science journalist Rachel E. Gross,  astrophysicist Sean Raymond, author Danna Staaf, and more. This issue also features a new illustration by Sam Chivers.

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Rob Delaney said, “My melodious voice? My broad shoulders and dancer’s undulating buttocks? I decide how those are used!”

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In 1963, the summer I turned 11, my mother had a gig evaluating Peace Corps programs in Egypt and Ethiopia. My younger brother and I spent most of that summer in France. We were first in Paris with my mother before she left for North Africa, then with my father and his girlfriend in a tiny town on the Mediterranean. (In the middle of our six-week sojourn there, the girlfriend ran off to marry a Czech she’d met, but that’s another story.) In Paris, I saw American tourists striding around in their shorts and sandals, cameras slung around their necks, staking out positions in cathedrals and museums. I listened to my mother’s commentary on what she considered their boorishness and... Read more

Daniel Brock Johnson’s second book of poetry, Shadow Act: An Elegy for Journalist James Foley, is a representation of the relationship between two friends. On the one hand, the journalist James Foley. On the other, the poet. It’s as if the two men were bound together so deeply and eerily that their lives are each other’s shadows. Foley’s adventures—he is eventually murdered abroad—may seem utterly opposite to the quieter life of the poet, but the letters the two men exchange—some of which drive the poetry in this collection—are only part of the revelation that Foley’s hunger for the scene of action, the war zone, the story is drenched in a longing for peace. Just as the poet’s peace reposes at the edge of all the violence and turmoil of our times. Worked out over poems that vary dramatically in shape and style, and that move from the terse and lyrical to the long-lined and prosaic call of grief, this collection is a dazzling display.

[CHERYL and ADAM sit on a designer couch in their West Village apartment that they can afford even though they don’t really seem to work. SARA enters.]

SARA: Steve broke up with me!

ADAM: Aw, sweetie, there are plenty of fish in the sea.

CHERYL (gesticulating with a Bop It): Which makes it statistically unlikely you’ll ever find your perfect match.

SARA and ADAM (hands on hips, smiling): Cheryl!

[CHERYL and SUSAN shop for lavish dresses even though it’s not really clear whether they have jobs that pay them enough to afford this lifestyle. DAVE enters.]

DAVE: Well, it’s over. Jill said she never wants to see me again!

SUSAN: It’s not you; it’s her.