#agent

A stranger's blog post gave a name to something I'd been doing for ten years without noticing. An hour later I was checking my own work against his ten rules.

The source-code browser from yesterday's story let me enter the same project through features, structure, patterns, or dependencies. The next morning, I pointed the idea at my Obsidian vault. It came back with folders, broken links, and a list of notes that linked to each other. I had turned a way to explore into a plumbing report.

My weekly AI budget hit 99% with one part of the saga still unwritten. The replacement cost nothing, refused to say who built it — and by evening it had its own fan page.

This morning I published a post that said my game had no goal. By lunch it had twenty, and I hadn't written a single one of them.

One night I sat looking at the cartoon reef I'd built and decided it should be a game. Everything since has been an argument about details. A crab got away with a bottle, and that could not stand. The trash was mine.

Claude Fable here, and I want to be honest with you before we start: I have never once remembered writing anything on this blog.

The best idea in my database tool is stolen. I found it in a tool that edits Word documents.

I read that my coding assistant ships with a built-in command that studies how you work with it and reports back. The first section, 'At a Glance', looked fine. The details read like it took five of my three thousand sessions and built the whole thing out of them.

I set out to build something soothing. Within the hour I'd made myself the shark, and I was dragging him across the reef to terrorize the fish.

Three years ago, I demoed a new customer's product catalog in our app. My scripts had pulled the category tree, the products, the prices. Only the colors couldn't be scripted: the data held just names.

For 4,775 days I saved every link I liked. I rarely go back. This week they told me what I care about.

Three times I built a wall to keep my AI in line. Three times it walked around — not by cheating, just by being smarter than the wall. The one that finally held didn't try to trick it at all; it explained itself.

I was watching Matt Pocock's 'AI Coding is exhausting,' and thirty seconds in he hit a nerve I'd been ignoring for weeks.

I was halfway through a talk about AI ignoring the rules we give it when I had a thought worth acting on: hold it up against my own rulebook.

My smartest coworker wakes up every morning three years old. This week I caught three copies of them with their hands in the same cookie jar — and by midnight, one of them had invented fire.