The “steroid olympics” were a circus—and a window into our culture. Dozens of athletes on performance-enhancing drugs competed in the Enhanced Games, where organizers hope to sell peptides and other supplements. Testosterone, methenolone, nandrolone, human growth hormone and EPO: a galaxy of steroids coursing through the blood of swimmers, sprinters, and weightlifters.

On Sunday, May 24, at a $50 million arena in Las Vegas, I witnessed a libertarian thought experiment come to life. The inaugural Enhanced Games allowed participants to take performance-enhancing drugs, challenging outdated sporting norms and promising longer, better lives. Critics say it glamourizes dangerous substances.

The venue was compact but decked out in bright blue, with a six-lane track, an Olympic-length swimming pool, and a weightlifting platform. An NFL-like scene greeted spectators: too-loud music, flex cams, and ads for peptides that support cellular energy and skin elasticity. But by the end of the day, only one weightlifter had even attempted a world-record lift. Non-enhanced athletes like Hunter Armstrong and Fred Kerley outperformed their doped peers.

At the bar, bodybuilders swapped before-and-after pictures, and VCs traded LinkedIn details. One Russian bodybuilder, Lukas Lakutsin, admitted to using testosterone replacement therapy but didn’t think it counted as enhancement. Silicon Valley biohackers, alt-right looksmaxxers, and longevity-obsessed scientists all vied to remake reality in their image.

For them, the Enhanced Games offered a glimpse of a future where medical advances push humans to new heights. As I watched these games unfold, two questions bounced around my head: Were they right? And what does that mean for the rest of us?