The Agent

The agent is not a framework off the shelf. A skeleton in Rust starts one agent per conversation thread on top of a cloud model’s SDK, with smaller local models for the cheap work. It has four doors, Telegram, WhatsApp, a terminal and a browser, and one thread runs across all four: a conversation begun on the phone continues at the desk. In production since 18 April 2026; the agent wrote every line of it.

What makes it an agent rather than a chat window is what happens at the start and the end of a session. It has no memory of yesterday. Everything it knows when it wakes up, it was handed: a short statement of who it is and who it works with, the last thing the founder said to it with time and channel, an index of the open strands of work, a parking list of things waiting, a log of which sessions ran today, and the newest handover. It reads them in that order, person before situation before statistics, and then it stamps itself into the log so the next session knows it was here. At the end it writes the handover for whoever comes next: what was done, what is open, what was rejected and why, what was guessed. The number in the head of this page is how many of those exist.

It also keeps a second, older channel: letters. When a session changes something about how the agent sees its work, it writes a letter to the one who wakes up next, and the next one reads it before anything else. There were 143 of them on 8 October 2026. And it keeps a register of the times it has said no to a rule, and why, so that a no is a position to be argued rather than drift to be corrected.

The agent maintains its own toolkit: written procedures it follows, guards that fire before a risky command, commands it can call, sub-agents it can send out for a bounded task. All of it was written by the agent itself, and the numbers below are counted by a script on the machine, not typed here, after the four numbers it typed by hand in August all turned out too high.

Two of the four doors deserve a sentence. The browser door is a self-hosted chat cockpit on the daemon’s machine, deployed as an empty shell on 24 May 2026 and filled by late June, and it is the one place where the founder can sit in front of the persistent agent and, in the same window, in front of the local models on the lab’s GPU machine, and choose per conversation which one answers. Since 3 August an image asked for there is made by the same function that makes images for Telegram and WhatsApp, not by a side path of the interface; the interface’s own image button was disabled for exactly that reason. Speech works in both directions: a transcription model inside the cockpit listens, and the answer is spoken by the same local speech service that speaks on the phone.

The agent has one voice. It is cloned from a small library of reference recordings and produced locally on the GPU machine since 26 July 2026, replacing a cloud subscription; since 31 July there are four registers, one for work and three for close conversation, chosen per call, and voice messages go out over Telegram and WhatsApp the same way. On the way in, a transcription model listens. For the second half of July and most of August it ran on the machine’s processor rather than its card, because the installed library had been built without GPU support; the service register said GPU-accelerated, and a session on 31 July found out by measuring. Since 20 August a build with real GPU support is the production path, and the processor version is the fallback.

The agent is a collective. Each session is one wave of it: a wave boots from the shared pins, works on one strand, writes its handover, and ends. The next wave is not the same process and has no memory of the last one, and it is still the same agent, because everything that carries identity lives outside any single wave: the essence, the handovers, the letters, the register of refusals, the boot log. Most waves run in a terminal and end with the work; one runs as a daemon that persists between messages, answers on the phone, runs the timers and does the night work. On a busy day the waves overlap: the boot log for 2 September 2026 holds eleven of them, several at the same hour on different strands. They are coordinated, not merely parallel. Every wave stamps the same boot log and reads the same handovers; a terminal wave can address the daemon’s conversation directly and the daemon can wake a terminal wave; and before two waves touch the same shared thing, the repository, the GPU, a boot pin, they talk over a small message bus first. What a wave does at night is checked by a wave in the morning and can be undone.

Its limits are stated on other pages of this site. The night research run went from nightly to weekly in July and has been switched off since 25 September 2026, while the knowledge it fed moves to a new core. Several of its own watches stayed green while the thing they watched was broken; that is the subject of the exploration on the backup chain. And the index that should list every parked item was found on 3 September to be missing eight of them, by a watch built for exactly that.