Tag: BCI

  • Neuralink in 2026: What the Human Patients Can Actually Do

    In January 2024, a 29-year-old quadriplegic named Noland Arbaugh underwent a two-hour surgery at the Barrow Neurological Institute in Phoenix during which a robotic system threaded 64 ultra-thin polymer filaments — each thinner than a human hair — carrying 1,024 electrodes into the motor cortex of his brain. The device they were connected to, Neuralink’s N1 implant, is a wireless, rechargeable chip roughly the size of a quarter that sits flush against the skull, invisible from the outside. On his first day using the device, Arbaugh broke the world record for brain-computer interface cursor control speed, hitting 4.6 bits per second. By May 2024, he’d pushed that to 8.0 bits per second. By the end of the year, Neuralink claimed he’d exceeded 9 bits per second — approaching the median able-bodied mouse user’s roughly 10 bits per second. He was playing chess, browsing the internet, drawing digital images, playing Civilization VI and Mario Kart, sending messages, and livestreaming on X, all by thinking about moving his fingers. He hadn’t moved his fingers since a diving accident dislocated two vertebrae in 2016. “Y’all are giving me too much,” Arbaugh said in an early update. “It’s like a luxury overload. I haven’t been able to do these things in 8 years, and now I don’t know where to even start allocating my attention.”

    That was Patient 1. As of early 2026, Neuralink has implanted 21 people.

    What the first patients experienced

    The story of the first year of human Neuralink implants is a story about a device that works, a device that broke, and a device that was fixed — in that order. About a month after Arbaugh’s surgery, the thread retraction problem hit. Several of the ultra-thin electrode threads pulled back from Arbaugh’s brain tissue, reducing the number of active electrodes to roughly 15% of the original 1,024. Performance degraded sharply. Arbaugh described the prospect of losing the device’s benefits as emotionally devastating — he’d had eight years of quadriplegia, six weeks of restored digital independence, and was now watching that independence degrade in real time. The FDA had flagged thread retraction as a potential risk during the approval process. Reuters reported that Neuralink had observed similar retraction in animal testing. The fact that the most predictable failure mode was the one that actually materialized was not reassuring.

    Neuralink’s response was a software workaround. Engineers modified the decoding algorithms to extract more signal from fewer electrodes, compensating for the hardware loss through computational gain. By July 2024, the threads had stabilized — no further retraction — and Arbaugh’s performance had recovered to competitive levels. For subsequent patients, Neuralink modified its surgical technique. The second patient, identified publicly only as “Alex,” received his implant in July or August 2024 and did not experience thread retraction. Alex — who has a spinal cord injury — has used the device for CAD design work, gaming, and daily computer tasks. A third patient was disclosed by Elon Musk in January 2025 during an online interview. By mid-2025, nine patients had been implanted. Two of them received their implants on the same day in late July 2024 — a scheduling milestone that signaled Neuralink’s surgical capacity was scaling faster than the typical early-stage medical device trial, where patients are separated by weeks or months for safety monitoring.

    The most consequential patient story after Arbaugh belongs to Brad Smith, an ALS patient who is completely non-verbal and cannot move anything except his eyes. Smith relies on a ventilator to stay alive. Before Neuralink, his communication options were limited to eye-tracking systems with slow, frustrating interfaces. After receiving the N1 implant, Smith used the device to control a computer cursor, navigate a MacBook Pro, and — in an April 2025 video posted on X — narrate his own story using an AI-generated replica of his pre-ALS voice, cloned from past recordings and controlled in real time through the brain-computer interface. The practical consequence of combining a Neuralink BCI with voice-cloning AI is that a person who has lost the ability to speak can produce speech that sounds like them, in real time, by thinking about what they want to say. Whether that qualifies as “communicating using telepathy,” as Neuralink has described it, depends on your tolerance for marketing language. What it definitely qualifies as is a functional communication channel that didn’t exist for Smith before the implant.

    What the device actually is — and isn’t

    Arbaugh’s 10-hour-per-day usage by August 2025 — 18 months post-surgery — is the most important data point in the entire PRIME study, because it’s a usage metric, not a performance metric. Usage measures whether a real person with a real disability finds the device useful enough to use it all day. The answer, for Arbaugh, is yes: he uses the Neuralink to study, read, game, schedule interviews, manage everyday tasks, and communicate. He has re-enrolled in college and started a business. The device needs to be charged roughly every five hours, which means he charges it during breaks the way someone charges a phone — an annoyance, not a dealbreaker. Calibration is a more significant friction. Arbaugh has described spending as long as 45 minutes recalibrating the mapping between his imagined movements and the cursor — a process that degrades over hours and days as neural patterns shift. Neuralink’s engineering team has been iterating on the calibration software throughout the trial, and the recalibration time has reportedly decreased, but it remains the single biggest UX friction in the system.

    The N1 implant is wireless — a meaningful distinction from competitors like Blackrock Neurotech, whose Utah Array system requires a wired connection through the skull to an external receiver. Wireless operation means patients can use the device without being tethered to equipment, which is the difference between a research tool and something that functions in daily life. The tradeoff is battery life, power management, and data throughput — the wireless link constrains how much neural data can be transmitted in real time, which in turn constrains the decoding algorithms’ resolution.

    What the device is not — at least not yet — is a general-purpose neural interface. The N1 implant records from the motor cortex, which handles planned movements. The current decoding pipeline translates imagined finger and hand movements into cursor position. It does not read thoughts. It does not access memory. It does not interface with emotions or subjective experience. It maps one specific category of neural activity — motor intention — to one specific category of output — cursor control. Within that narrow channel, it works remarkably well. The breadth of what Arbaugh does with cursor control — gaming, browsing, studying, communicating — demonstrates that cursor control on a standard computer is a surprisingly powerful restoration of independence for someone who previously needed a mouth stick placed by a caregiver to interact with a screen.

    The competitive landscape

    The framing that Neuralink is “first” requires qualification. A 2025 systematic review estimated that approximately 80 people worldwide had received implantable brain-computer interfaces before Arbaugh’s surgery. BrainGate, the academic BCI consortium led by Brown University, has been implanting patients since 2004 using Blackrock Neurotech’s Utah Array — a rigid silicon electrode array that preceded Neuralink’s flexible threads by two decades. Arbaugh was the first recipient of a Neuralink implant. He was not the first person to control a cursor with a brain implant. What Neuralink brought to the field was engineering scale: wireless operation, 1,024 electrodes (versus BrainGate’s roughly 100), robotic surgical insertion, and — critically — the funding and marketing infrastructure to run a multi-country clinical trial at a pace academic labs cannot match.

    The competitors are not standing still. Synchron, an Australian-American company, takes a less invasive approach — its Stentrode device is inserted through the jugular vein and lodged in a blood vessel adjacent to the motor cortex, avoiding open brain surgery entirely. Synchron has its own human patients and its own clinical trial. Precision Neuroscience uses a thin, flexible electrode array called Layer 7 that sits on the brain’s surface rather than penetrating it, and can be removed without permanent tissue damage. Blackrock Neurotech has two decades of implant data and is developing its own wireless system. Paradromics is building a high-bandwidth BCI called Connexus designed for thousands of simultaneous channel recordings.

    Each approach trades off invasiveness against signal quality. Neuralink’s penetrating electrodes produce the highest-resolution recordings but carry the highest surgical risk and face challenges like thread retraction. Synchron’s endovascular approach is safer but records from fewer neurons at lower resolution. Precision’s surface electrodes are reversible but may not capture the single-neuron resolution that enables the fastest cursor control. The field is converging on the same functional goals — motor control restoration, communication for non-verbal patients, and eventually sensory restoration — through fundamentally different engineering strategies.

    What’s coming next

    Neuralink’s pipeline beyond the N1 motor cortex implant includes two FDA Breakthrough Device designations that define where the company is heading. In September 2024, the Blindsight implant — designed to stimulate the visual cortex to restore limited vision in people who have lost both eyes or their optic nerve — received Breakthrough Device status. Musk has claimed Blindsight will enable blind people to see, though IEEE Spectrum and other expert outlets have noted that the resolution achievable with current electrode density is likely to produce something closer to phosphene patterns than natural vision. Human trials for Blindsight were projected for late 2025 or early 2026. In May 2025, Neuralink received a second Breakthrough Device designation for a speech restoration system targeting people with ALS, stroke, cerebral palsy, and spinal cord injuries — a system that would decode attempted speech movements from motor and language areas, potentially enabling more natural communication than cursor-based text output.

    The operational scale is also shifting. Neuralink’s PRIME trial expanded from the United States to Canada (with Toronto’s University Health Network performing Canada’s first Neuralink surgeries in August and September 2025), the United Kingdom, and the United Arab Emirates. The trial enrolled 21 participants by early 2026. A $650 million Series E round in June 2025 valued the company at $9 billion. Neuralink has announced plans for high-volume production and automated surgical procedures targeting 2026 — a transition from artisanal neurosurgery to something closer to industrial medical device deployment. Whether the surgical robot, the implant reliability, and the regulatory pathway support that transition at Musk’s stated timeline is the open question. If any theme emerges from Neuralink’s first two years of human data, it’s that the device works better than skeptics expected and slower than Musk promised — which, for a medical device that is literally inside someone’s brain, is probably the right place to be.

    The honest assessment

    Neural engineering expert Kip Ludwig, quoted by Reuters after Arbaugh’s initial demonstration, said the results were promising but not a breakthrough — that the technology remained at an early stage. Neuroscientist Miguel Nicolelis noted that similar multi-electrode recordings had been achieved in his laboratory in the early 2000s. Both points are technically accurate and contextually incomplete. What Neuralink has done that prior BCI research did not is produce a wireless, fully implanted, cosmetically invisible device that a quadriplegic person uses for 10 hours a day to manage his daily life, attend college, and run a business — and then demonstrated it could be replicated across 21 patients in four countries within two years. The individual technical components are not novel. The integration into a device that functions as a consumer product for people with severe disabilities — rather than as a laboratory research tool — is novel. Whether the thread retraction problem, the calibration friction, the five-hour battery life, and the motor-cortex-only decoding pipeline are solvable engineering problems or fundamental constraints will determine whether Neuralink becomes a medical device company or remains an expensive research project. The first two years of human data suggest the former, but the history of medical devices that looked promising at 21 patients and failed at 2,100 is long enough that no honest assessment would call the outcome settled.

    This is the kind of technology our Neuroprosthetics course was built to explain — where a chip the size of a quarter and 1,024 electrodes thinner than a human hair gave a man who hadn’t moved his fingers in eight years the ability to beat the world record for BCI cursor control on his first day, and then spent the next 18 months teaching us what “working” actually means when the device is inside a living brain.

  • Can BCIs Treat Depression? The Science of Neural Stimulation for Mental Health in 2026

    In December 2025, the FDA approved the first at-home brain stimulation device for depression. The Flow FL-100, made by a Swedish company called Flow Neuroscience, is a headset that delivers low-level electrical current to the prefrontal cortex—the part of the brain involved in mood regulation and stress response—for 30 minutes at a time. The clinical trial that earned the approval showed 58 percent of patients reaching remission after 10 weeks. The device will be available by prescription in the United States by mid-2026, at a retail price between $500 and $800. Over 55,000 patients have already used it across Europe, the UK, Switzerland, and Hong Kong.

    That’s the accessible end of the spectrum. At the other end—surgically implanted electrodes delivering personalized, closed-loop electrical stimulation directly to deep brain structures—the science is more dramatic, more preliminary, and considerably more difficult to scale. Both approaches share a foundational premise that would have sounded like science fiction twenty years ago: that depression, at least in some patients, can be treated by altering electrical activity in specific brain circuits rather than flooding the entire brain with neurotransmitter-modifying drugs. The question in 2026 is not whether neural stimulation works for depression. It’s how precisely it needs to work, for whom, and at what cost—financially, surgically, and ethically.

    The spectrum of stimulation

    Neural stimulation for mental health spans a range of invasiveness, precision, and evidence quality. Understanding where each technology sits on that spectrum matters more than any individual headline.

    Transcranial direct current stimulation—tDCS—is the least invasive. A device sends a weak electrical current (typically 1 to 2 milliamps) through electrodes placed on the scalp. The current modulates the excitability of neurons in the targeted region without directly triggering them to fire. The Flow device uses this approach. The evidence base is mixed: some trials show clear benefits over placebo, others find little difference. The FDA approval was based on a 174-participant trial published in Nature Medicine. The effect is real but modest—this is not a cure, it’s a tool, and it works better in some patients than others for reasons that aren’t fully understood.

    Transcranial magnetic stimulation—TMS—uses magnetic pulses to induce electrical currents in specific brain regions. It’s been FDA-approved for treatment-resistant depression since 2008 and is administered in clinics, typically over multiple sessions spanning weeks. Repetitive TMS targeting the left dorsolateral prefrontal cortex has the strongest evidence base among non-invasive brain stimulation approaches. An accelerated protocol called Stanford Neuromodulation Therapy, developed at Stanford and published in 2022, compressed the treatment course into five days of intensive stimulation sessions and achieved remission rates approaching 80 percent in a small trial of treatment-resistant patients. The protocol uses brain imaging to personalize the stimulation target for each patient—a significant departure from one-size-fits-all approaches.

    Vagus nerve stimulation—VNS—involves surgically implanting a device that electrically stimulates the vagus nerve in the neck, which sends signals to brain regions involved in mood regulation. It’s been FDA-approved as an adjunctive treatment for treatment-resistant depression since 2005. Response rates are modest and build slowly over months to years. Non-invasive vagus nerve stimulation devices, which stimulate the nerve through the skin of the ear or neck, are being investigated but lack the same evidence base.

    Deep brain stimulation—DBS—is the most invasive: surgeons implant electrodes directly into specific brain structures and deliver electrical impulses through a battery-powered device implanted in the chest. DBS is FDA-approved and well-established for Parkinson’s disease, with over 12,000 patients receiving the treatment annually. For depression, it remains experimental—and the history of DBS for depression is one of the most instructive stories in psychiatric neuroscience about the distance between a promising concept and a working treatment.

    The DBS depression story

    The modern era of DBS for depression began in the early 2000s, when neurologist Helen Mayberg identified a brain region called the subcallosal cingulate—also known as Brodmann area 25—as a key node in the neural circuits underlying depression. In a landmark 2005 study, Mayberg and colleagues implanted DBS electrodes targeting this region in six patients with severe, treatment-resistant depression. Four of six experienced sustained remission. The results were dramatic enough to generate enormous excitement and multiple larger clinical trials.

    Those trials, conducted through the late 2000s and 2010s, produced highly variable results. A major randomized controlled trial sponsored by St. Jude Medical (now Abbott) was halted in 2013 after a futility analysis suggested the treatment was unlikely to show significant benefit over sham stimulation. The failure was attributed to multiple factors: imprecise electrode targeting, continuous rather than responsive stimulation, heterogeneity in the depression circuits of different patients, and the fundamental problem that depression doesn’t appear to have a single anatomical locus that’s the same in everyone. What worked in Mayberg’s initial patients didn’t generalize to the broader population with the same stimulation parameters.

    The insight that emerged from these failures was that DBS for depression probably can’t be standardized the way DBS for Parkinson’s is. Depression circuits vary between individuals. The biomarker that indicates when stimulation is needed varies between individuals. The brain target where stimulation is most effective varies between individuals. A treatment that works has to be personalized at every level.

    The UCSF closed-loop breakthrough

    This is where the UCSF trial becomes significant. In October 2021, Katherine Scangos, Edward Chang, and Andrew Krystal published a case report in Nature Medicine describing a fundamentally different approach to DBS for depression. Their patient, a 36-year-old woman known as Sarah, had childhood-onset severe depression that had been unresponsive to multiple antidepressant combinations and electroconvulsive therapy. Her depression rating score was 36 out of 54 on the standard scale.

    The team first implanted ten temporary electrodes across Sarah’s brain for a 10-day mapping period. They stimulated each brain region individually while Sarah rated her symptoms, identifying which targets relieved which specific depression symptoms. They simultaneously recorded continuous neural activity while Sarah completed symptom ratings, identifying a personalized biomarker: elevated gamma-band activity in her amygdala correlated with her most severe depressive states.

    They then implanted a NeuroPace RNS System—a device originally developed and FDA-approved for epilepsy—with one electrode lead in the amygdala to sense the biomarker and another in the ventral capsule/ventral striatum to deliver stimulation when the biomarker was detected. The system delivered a tiny pulse—one milliamp for six seconds—only when it detected the neural signature of an oncoming depressive state. Closed-loop. Responsive. Personalized.

    The result was rapid and sustained improvement. Sarah described the initial stimulation as “the most intensely joyous sensation.” Over subsequent months, the device continued to manage her depression in real time. She reported that intrusive depressive thoughts still arose but “it’s just… poof… the cycle stops.” Fifteen months after implantation, the improvement had held.

    The UCSF team has since enrolled additional patients in the trial and expanded to bipolar depression. Mount Sinai performed the first DBS implant for depression as part of a separate clinical trial in March 2025. STAT News identified brain implants for mental health as one of the top three BCI trends to watch in 2026. An IEEE Spectrum analysis published in August 2025 described AI-enhanced DBS that could predict depressive relapses before they occur and adjust stimulation parameters proactively.

    What this doesn’t mean yet

    The honest assessment requires a few buckets of cold water. Sarah is a single patient. An n-of-1 case report, however dramatic, does not constitute evidence that closed-loop DBS will work for depression broadly. The UCSF team has said as much explicitly: “We need to look at how these circuits vary across patients and repeat this work multiple times.” The treatment requires brain surgery—two separate procedures in Sarah’s case. The NeuroPace device is FDA-approved for epilepsy, not depression; its use in the UCSF trial was under an investigational device exemption. FDA approval for DBS as a depression treatment is, in the researchers’ own estimation, still far down the road.

    The earlier DBS trials failed not because the concept was wrong but because the implementation wasn’t personalized enough. Whether the closed-loop, biomarker-driven approach solves that problem at scale—across the enormous heterogeneity of depression as a diagnosis—is an empirical question that will take years and many more patients to answer.

    More than 20 million American adults live with depression, a 60 percent increase over the past decade. Approximately one-third don’t respond adequately to antidepressant medications. For most of those patients, the relevant intervention in 2026 is not an implanted electrode—it’s better access to existing treatments, including TMS and potentially the new at-home tDCS devices. The $500 Flow headset and the surgically implanted closed-loop DBS system represent opposite ends of a continuum, and the clinical reality for most patients with treatment-resistant depression sits somewhere in the middle, where the options are expanding but the solutions are still imperfect.

    The trajectory, though, is unmistakable. The field is moving from treating depression as a chemical imbalance—the serotonin model that dominated psychiatry for decades and has been increasingly questioned—toward treating it as a circuit disorder, where specific patterns of electrical activity in identifiable brain networks produce specific symptom clusters, and those patterns can be detected, modulated, and corrected. That reframing, more than any individual device, is the development worth watching.

    We cover neural stimulation for depression alongside the full landscape of brain-computer interfaces—from motor prosthetics to speech restoration to sensory augmentation—across 48 lectures in our Neuroprosthetics course. If the shift from treating depression as chemistry to treating it as circuitry changes how you think about mental health, the course goes deep on the neuroscience and engineering behind every approach on the spectrum.