• Cooley is joining a sudden rush of law firms creating their own AI technology, with help from Legora.
• Cooley Go Lab is an online portal built to help startups with routine contract review and drafting.
• The portal will be available exclusively to founders in Y Combinator's summer cohort to start.

Law firms know more clients are asking chatbots for advice before ever calling a lawyer. So legal giant Cooley is building technology that it hopes founders will use instead.

Cooley plans to give select startups access to Cooley Go Lab, an online portal where founders can upload files and ask questions about their documents, Matt Bartus, global cochair of Cooley's emerging companies and venture capital practice, told Business Insider.

To build it, Cooley teamed up with Legora, a fast-growing legal technology startup that sells to law firms and corporate legal departments. Last year, Legora entered a new line of business with what it calls "portals" — white-labeled workspaces where law firms and their clients can work together on legal matters.

Cooley Go Lab is aimed at catching a common startup problem early, Bartus said. Founders often handle routine contracts themselves to avoid outside counsel's hourly rates. That can leave startups with a trail of messy agreements that their first in-house lawyer has to unwind later.

Legora founder Max Junestrand knows the problem well. When he started the company at age 23, he said he used an early version of ChatGPT to rewrite contracts. Junestrand, a software engineer, not a lawyer, said he let some early contracts include an unlimited liability clause — a provision that can leave a company exposed to damages far beyond the value of the deal.

"When our general counsel started, she freaked out," he said.

Cooley is now trying to give the next crop of founders a way to use artificial intelligence to move faster, but with a law firm's guardrails around it.

Cooley Go Lab will have a limited rollout to start. It will be available first to startups in Y Combinator's summer cohort.

Much has changed for startups since Legora's turn in the famed startup accelerator. Teams can write code and release technology faster with coding agents. They are signing customers and growing revenue earlier, and the hottest companies seem to be raising funding nonstop. But moving faster also means legal work that once came later in a startup's life is being pulled closer to the beginning.

At Y Combinator, partner Gustaf Alströmer is seeing that shift play out in real time. In the last batch, a record 14 startups reached $1 million in annual recurring revenue — the amount of revenue a company expects to collect over a year. Alströmer said giving founders access to tools like Cooley Go Lab could help them keep that pace without creating contract-slop.

The portal includes features that review documents like nondisclosure and contractor agreements and flag issues for founders to consider. The tool also draws on Cooley Go, the firm's central hub of standard startup forms, templates, and guidance.

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em

Law firms like Cooley are facing a new reality. The better the frontier models get at legal work, the more founders and in-house lawyers may decide they can handle situations themselves rather than send them to outside counsel. Anthropic is trying to make that easier with new tools built for contract review and drafting.

Law firms are now figuring out how to stay relevant as more legal work becomes software-enabled. Some are building their own tech. Kirkland & Ellis has tapped Palantir to help it build tools to manage parts of the firm's private funds practice, while Freshfields is working with Anthropic on software that could eventually be sold to other law firms. Harvey, a leader in legal technology, says it's getting into training custom models for law firms.

Taken together, the moves point to a new attitude spreading across Big Law: If clients are going to use artificial intelligence anyway, law firms want to shape how they use it.

Bartus doesn't seem especially concerned about losing business to in-house legal departments. Cooley has been on a hot streak. Profits rose 6.7% to $922 million last fiscal year. The firm also scored a fair use win for Meta in a copyright case involving its model Llama last year, and it advised Jony Ive's hardware startup Io in a $6.5 billion sale to OpenAI.

Bartus is confident that companies will continue to depend on law firms for the important work. Cooley Go Lab, he said, is meant to help founders handle routine legal work more cleanly, not replace lawyers.

Cooley says the tool is not protected by attorney-client privilege, so founders will need to be careful about what they upload because those materials could be turned over in litigation.

"If you want actual legal advice," he said, "you need to talk to a lawyer."

• In October, Sam Altman said "erotica for adults" was coming to ChatGPT.
• Now those plans are reportedly being mothballed.
• It's fine for young startups and even mature companies to try out new ideas. But OpenAI and Altman are trying out a lot.

Last fall, Sam Altman told us he was about to bring spicy chat — "erotica for adults," in his words — to ChatGPT.

That never happened, and now it looks like it never will: Altman's OpenAI has put those plans on hold "indefinitely," per the Financial Times.

This is Altman's second big walkback in the last few days. Earlier this week, the company canned Sora, the briefly popular video app it rolled out last fall. I've asked the company for comment.

Both retreats are supposed to be part of a new push at OpenAI to focus the company's efforts on things that could make money today, as it preps for an IPO at the same time it faces real competition from the likes of Google and Anthropic.

So all this starting and stopping could be viewed as necessary growing pains at a fast-growing tech company — ones that won't mean anything in the long run, if it delivers on its world-changing ambitions.

Not only that, but Altman told us we should expect this sort of stuff. "Please expect a very high rate of change from us," he wrote last fall, after hearing from content owners who were outraged to find their stuff on Sora without their permission. "We will make some good decisions and some missteps, but we will take feedback and try to fix the missteps very quickly."

It's not that companies aren't allowed to make wrong turns and head up dead ends as they grow up, and even once they're fully mature. That kind of pivoting is celebrated in tech (and is why very few people are mad that Mark Zuckerberg has stopped telling us the metaverse is the future, or that Google once bought Motorola and decided that was a bad idea a couple years later.)

But "move fast and break things" lands differently when the company doing the moving and breaking isn't running a photo app or playing around with crypto.

Instead, OpenAI and its competitors say they're leading us into a world where everything — the way we live and work (or don't work) and fight wars and everything else — will change in fundamental ways.

And investors have bought this pitch, which means our economy now seems yoked to all this — which means all of us are yoked to it, even if we never touch a chatbot.

Which makes me slightly queasy to see Sam Altman promise dirty chats in October, and then walk away from the plan less than six months later.

Not because dirty chat is obviously absurd. Lots of people in AI think romantic or sexual chatbot conversations are a real use case and could be a real business.

But the reasons it might be a bad idea for OpenAI were pretty obvious from the start. It's a giant, heavily scrutinized company that wants to be treated as central and indispensable, and it's only going to get more scrutiny.

If those objections only became real after Altman floated the idea in public, that's not charming startup experimentation. It's a sign that OpenAI is still making itself up as it goes. And that would be easier to shrug off if the rest of us weren't already being told to build our lives, jobs, and businesses around what OpenAI says comes next.

• Goodbye, Sora!
• I loved you at first — it was so much fun making silly videos of my friends.
• After a few days, I got bored and moved on. Apparently so did everyone else.

Goodnight, sweet Sora. You were a wonderful tool for trolling my friends, but you burned too bright (and used too much compute) to stay around in this harsh world.

For a brief moment, I absolutely loved Sora. I loved making silly videos of my friends and me. I loved that I could use my friend's face to put them in ridiculous situations, like falling over while roller-skating at their desk, experiencing gastric distress, or singing in a ska band.

I was addicted to making these, churning them out, often starting a new one while waiting for the previous one to render, and sometimes hitting the hourly limit that OpenAI had to impose after some people (oops) were burning through all that free compute. I drained my phone battery by midday.

But a few days after its initial launch, the small handful of my friends and colleagues who had any interest in joining had already joined. None of my normal friends who didn't work in tech or media had any interest in this at all and found it fairly unpleasant.

Also, I couldn't help notice that on the feed of videos, there seemed to be very few women using the app, or at least allowing others to make videos featuring their likenesses. That makes sense; women's experience on the internet has rightfully informed them that it would be a very bad idea to allow strangers to make videos with your face. What I discovered was that Sora had a pervert problem: Although nudity or sexual content was banned, people were making non-nude fetish content like feet videos with random women's likenesses.

Now, OpenAI announced on Tuesday that it will be shutting down Sora, its stand-alone video generation app, and its deal with Disney is dead. An OpenAI spokesperson told Business Insider that the company is focusing its resources on other parts of the business. It seems that Sora was one of the "side quests" that was a distraction and a drain on compute.

Sora became a bore-a

Eventually, my friends all seemed to get bored with the app. As I do at most parties, I stuck around longer than everyone else, but eventually I, too, found that the novelty had worn off. I rarely opened the app after the second week.

This was, I imagine, a problem: making videos of yourself is fun, but watching videos that strangers make of themselves is not fun. The idea of a social feed of AI-generated videos is simply not something that people are interested in. Around the same time, Meta also tried this with an app of AI videos, and it was even more boring.

The last few years have taught us that humans — myself included — have a nearly endless capacity to watch an algorithmic feed of vertical short-form videos. However, it seems clear that this only applies to human-made content: videos of people putting on makeup, dancing in their kitchens, lip-syncing, debating, whatever. A social feed of AI video simply doesn't work.

I am not sure that OpenAI was truly trying to create a successful social video feed; it seems more likely that this was a small experimental effort that ran its course and they're moving on.

I'll miss Sora in the way I miss something like ChatRoulette or BeReal: It was really fun for a short time, and then not at all, and I have zero desire to ever revisit.

Rest in peace, Sora — and thanks for the stupid memories.