From the street, the only indication I've found Physical Intelligence's headquarters in San Francisco is a pi symbol that's a slightly different color than the rest of the door. When I walk in, I'm immediately confronted with activity. There's no reception desk, no gleaming logo in fluorescent lights. Inside, the space is a giant concrete box made slightly less austere by a haphazard sprawl of long blonde-wood tables. Some are clearly meant for lunch, dotted with Girl Scout cookie boxes, jars of Vegemite (someone here is Australian), and small wire baskets stuffed with one too many condiments. The rest of the tables tell a different story entirely. Many more of them are laden with monitors, spare robotics parts, tangles of black wire, and fully assembled robotic arms in various states of attempting to master the mundane. During my visit, one arm is folding a pair of black pants, or trying to. It's not going well. Another is attempting to turn a shirt inside out with the kind of...
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