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At Uber, design source of truth was a big problem for design and engineering teams. No one knew what the app truly looked like. So every week, a group of designers would sit in a meeting room and check that engineers had correctly implemented the Figma designs. Now coding...

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Anam Hira

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204,451 görüntüleme • 3 ay önce •via X (Twitter)

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At Uber a big problem for design teams and engineering teams was design source of truth. No one knew what the app truly looked like, so weekly a bunch of designers would get into a meeting room and check that the engineers correctly implemented the figma designs that they made Now with coding agents throughput of changes has increased an order of magnitude and it has become impossible to manually keep up. Here we used the Revyl CLI to create a flow of every state in the Uber design, by navigating our mobile use agent on an cloud iOS simulator. This is something that would have taken a team of designers tens of hours to recreate manually; All done in less than an hour asynchronously with a simple prompt. Enable your team to know what your users are actually seeing and empower coding agents to give your users a delightful experience without any blindspots Get started with our new free trial and create a map for your own app 🗺️
0:19

At Uber a big problem for design teams and engineering teams was design source of truth. No one knew what the app truly looked like, so weekly a bunch of designers would get into a meeting room and check that the engineers correctly implemented the figma designs that they made Now with coding agents throughput of changes has increased an order of magnitude and it has become impossible to manually keep up. Here we used the Revyl CLI to create a flow of every state in the Uber design, by navigating our mobile use agent on an cloud iOS simulator. This is something that would have taken a team of designers tens of hours to recreate manually; All done in less than an hour asynchronously with a simple prompt. Enable your team to know what your users are actually seeing and empower coding agents to give your users a delightful experience without any blindspots Get started with our new free trial and create a map for your own app 🗺️

Anam Hira

96,508 görüntüleme • 5 ay önce

you've never actually seen your own app. you've seen one build. in english. logged in as you. on your phone. at Uber, that was the whole problem. no one knew what the app actually looked like. every week a room of designers would sit down and check, screen by screen, that the build matched the figma. and that was one language. the app shipped in 50+, across thousands of a/b tests, on hundreds of devices. thousands of versions of the same app, and nobody had seen most of them. we built atlas to map what users actually see.
0:17

you've never actually seen your own app. you've seen one build. in english. logged in as you. on your phone. at Uber, that was the whole problem. no one knew what the app actually looked like. every week a room of designers would sit down and check, screen by screen, that the build matched the figma. and that was one language. the app shipped in 50+, across thousands of a/b tests, on hundreds of devices. thousands of versions of the same app, and nobody had seen most of them. we built atlas to map what users actually see.

Anam Hira

26,814 görüntüleme • 2 ay önce

nobody at your company knows what your app actually looks like. designers ship figma. engineers ship code. PM ships a roadmap. none of them match. we built atlas to fix this. point it at any iOS app, get back a complete map of every screen and every path through it. this is doordash.
0:16

nobody at your company knows what your app actually looks like. designers ship figma. engineers ship code. PM ships a roadmap. none of them match. we built atlas to fix this. point it at any iOS app, get back a complete map of every screen and every path through it. this is doordash.

Anam Hira

58,232 görüntüleme • 5 ay önce

At Uber, our testing agent hit an outage in Australia that I still think about. We had the recording. That's about it. No network trace for the run. No logs mapped to each step. No perf data. Just a video of an agent pressing a button and a team trying to reconstruct what happened underneath. We eventually traced it to a transient issue. But "eventually" is the problem. If the run had shipped with real instrumentation, the why would have taken one look, not an investigation. So when we built Revyl, that was non-negotiable. Every run comes with: > network waterfall, every request and response > device logs timestamped against each step > CPU, memory, and FPS traces for the full run The agent finds the problem. The report explains it.
0:17

At Uber, our testing agent hit an outage in Australia that I still think about. We had the recording. That's about it. No network trace for the run. No logs mapped to each step. No perf data. Just a video of an agent pressing a button and a team trying to reconstruct what happened underneath. We eventually traced it to a transient issue. But "eventually" is the problem. If the run had shipped with real instrumentation, the why would have taken one look, not an investigation. So when we built Revyl, that was non-negotiable. Every run comes with: > network waterfall, every request and response > device logs timestamped against each step > CPU, memory, and FPS traces for the full run The agent finds the problem. The report explains it.

Anam Hira

42,149 görüntüleme • 2 ay önce

I'm not an engineer, but I rebuilt Savee — the app a million designers use Friday, 5pm. I asked Claude how much work it would take to rebuild our iOS app fully native. It had been sitting on our someday list for years, waiting for a team we didn't have. I stopped waiting and built it myself — a designer with Claude Code, one feature at a time. Claude wrote the Swift; I answered with the feedback designers give: two points left, lighter tint, that corner radius is wrong. Another round. And another. 33 days from the first prompt to live on the App Store. 1,078 prompts. Three releases in the first week. Something changed for designers. The distance between an idea and shipping used to be a team, a budget, and a year. Now it's a conversation. Savee 3.0 is out. It's the app I always wanted us to have 🚀
0:14

I'm not an engineer, but I rebuilt Savee — the app a million designers use Friday, 5pm. I asked Claude how much work it would take to rebuild our iOS app fully native. It had been sitting on our someday list for years, waiting for a team we didn't have. I stopped waiting and built it myself — a designer with Claude Code, one feature at a time. Claude wrote the Swift; I answered with the feedback designers give: two points left, lighter tint, that corner radius is wrong. Another round. And another. 33 days from the first prompt to live on the App Store. 1,078 prompts. Three releases in the first week. Something changed for designers. The distance between an idea and shipping used to be a team, a budget, and a year. Now it's a conversation. Savee 3.0 is out. It's the app I always wanted us to have 🚀

Andre do Amaral

182,647 görüntüleme • 2 ay önce

grokbot it's an agent with its own identity, its own computer, and it stays on when you're not here's what "active AI employee" actually looks like in the demo: - chief of staff agent - checks in on your other agents, reads your calendar, dispatches tasks to the right one automatically - shopping agent - logged into your accounts, books tickets, buys groceries, reports back - marketing agent - signed into your actual linkedin, browses your past posts for tone, then writes and publishes a new one on its own - engineering agents - self-triage bug reports, kick off cloud coding agents, come back with a pull request, a screenshot, and a video of the fix the interface isn't a dashboard, it's a chat - same shape as texting a coworker, no tool calls to babysit the number that matters more than any of the demos: grok 4.6 scored 70.8% on cursor bench at $2.81 a task, fable 5 max scored 70.5% at $17.32 same capability, 6x the cost difference - that's the unlock that makes running a fleet of these actually affordable instead of a novelty
0:13

grokbot it's an agent with its own identity, its own computer, and it stays on when you're not here's what "active AI employee" actually looks like in the demo: - chief of staff agent - checks in on your other agents, reads your calendar, dispatches tasks to the right one automatically - shopping agent - logged into your accounts, books tickets, buys groceries, reports back - marketing agent - signed into your actual linkedin, browses your past posts for tone, then writes and publishes a new one on its own - engineering agents - self-triage bug reports, kick off cloud coding agents, come back with a pull request, a screenshot, and a video of the fix the interface isn't a dashboard, it's a chat - same shape as texting a coworker, no tool calls to babysit the number that matters more than any of the demos: grok 4.6 scored 70.8% on cursor bench at $2.81 a task, fable 5 max scored 70.5% at $17.32 same capability, 6x the cost difference - that's the unlock that makes running a fleet of these actually affordable instead of a novelty

rewind

753,576 görüntüleme • 1 ay önce

Claude Mythos is Insane! If I were asked in an interview, "What do you consider the pinnacle of design skill?", that would be my exact answer. To become a reference. For me, the ultimate compliment is when your work becomes a benchmark for someone else. I want people to point at my projects, bring them to other designers, and say, "We want it exactly like this." P.S. If you want the prompt to create a design in this style, let me know in the comments!
0:19

Claude Mythos is Insane! If I were asked in an interview, "What do you consider the pinnacle of design skill?", that would be my exact answer. To become a reference. For me, the ultimate compliment is when your work becomes a benchmark for someone else. I want people to point at my projects, bring them to other designers, and say, "We want it exactly like this." P.S. If you want the prompt to create a design in this style, let me know in the comments!

FHILY👑

14,800 görüntüleme • 3 ay önce

That's a wrap for 2023! ✨ We've had an incredible year at OPLegends. We want to thank our entire community for everything we have accomplished this year! To celebrate 2023, check out your own personal #OPLegendsRewind at Run /rewind in-game to get your unique code. We have so much planned for 2024, and can't wait for all of you to be a part of our incredible plans. We have celebrated a lot of amazing milestones in 2023, and we truly have the best community in Minecraft. Reply with your rewind URL and with #OPLegendsRewind for a chance to win one of 2X PERMANENT LEGEND RANKS, which will be drawn on January 2nd @ 3PM EST!
0:10

That's a wrap for 2023! ✨ We've had an incredible year at OPLegends. We want to thank our entire community for everything we have accomplished this year! To celebrate 2023, check out your own personal #OPLegendsRewind at Run /rewind in-game to get your unique code. We have so much planned for 2024, and can't wait for all of you to be a part of our incredible plans. We have celebrated a lot of amazing milestones in 2023, and we truly have the best community in Minecraft. Reply with your rewind URL and with #OPLegendsRewind for a chance to win one of 2X PERMANENT LEGEND RANKS, which will be drawn on January 2nd @ 3PM EST!

OPLegends

11,025 görüntüleme • 2 yıl önce

Excited to launch a new way to upskill with AI agents. This is how we are making it possible for anyone to learn to build with coding agents. To start, we are launching 4 new hands-on labs on the following topics: - Agent Skills - Agentic Image Generation - 30 Days of Hermes Agents - Prompt Engineering with Agents I am confident that with our new DAIR.AI platform, anyone can learn to become a top AI builder by building and acquiring highly-demanded AI skills. And there is a lot more landing in the coming weeks.
0:14

Excited to launch a new way to upskill with AI agents. This is how we are making it possible for anyone to learn to build with coding agents. To start, we are launching 4 new hands-on labs on the following topics: - Agent Skills - Agentic Image Generation - 30 Days of Hermes Agents - Prompt Engineering with Agents I am confident that with our new DAIR.AI platform, anyone can learn to become a top AI builder by building and acquiring highly-demanded AI skills. And there is a lot more landing in the coming weeks.

elvis

19,058 görüntüleme • 3 ay önce

I’ve been using Rork as a partner for over a year and have built more than 10 projects with it, including both apps and games. You can absolutely build an app from development all the way to a production launch on the App Store with AI. Users don’t care what you used to build your app. They care whether it solves their problem and how well you distribute it. For an MVP to test the market, you don’t need a huge team, an outsourcing company, or to spend tens of thousands of dollars. 🥴
0:15

I’ve been using Rork as a partner for over a year and have built more than 10 projects with it, including both apps and games. You can absolutely build an app from development all the way to a production launch on the App Store with AI. Users don’t care what you used to build your app. They care whether it solves their problem and how well you distribute it. For an MVP to test the market, you don’t need a huge team, an outsourcing company, or to spend tens of thousands of dollars. 🥴

Alex Nguyen

12,220 görüntüleme • 1 ay önce

ClickUp now employs over 100,000 AI AGENTS for our customers. This is from just THREE WEEKS of customers vibe coding full-blown teams of agents, THEMSELVES. BUT there's a problem. Since Super Agents are built agnostically, horizontally, and deeply capable with human-level abilities, you can literally build an agent for anything. We found that MOST of our customers have NO CLUE where to start. This is their very FIRST TIME EVER managing an agent. What I recommend is starting with a PROBLEM. Everybody can think of a problem they have. Just tell Super Agent Builder about your problems... about where you're WASTING time... about what you WISH you could do but you can't because of resource constraints. We've also found that human FEEDBACK and iteration are KEY. After agents are done with their jobs, give them feedback... Was it good? Was it bad? What do you want to see differently? They AUTOMATICALLY SELF-IMPROVE. Every time, they'll continuously get SMARTER. Personally, I find that agents go from AVERAGE intelligence to SUPER-human intelligence within about a month of working with them. Super Agents have truly democratized productivity, empowering literally anyone to build personalized, powerful agents in minutes. What problems do you wish you could solve? What do you not have enough time to get done? What would you like to do but don't have the resources for? What busy work do you wish you could get rid of?
0:16

ClickUp now employs over 100,000 AI AGENTS for our customers. This is from just THREE WEEKS of customers vibe coding full-blown teams of agents, THEMSELVES. BUT there's a problem. Since Super Agents are built agnostically, horizontally, and deeply capable with human-level abilities, you can literally build an agent for anything. We found that MOST of our customers have NO CLUE where to start. This is their very FIRST TIME EVER managing an agent. What I recommend is starting with a PROBLEM. Everybody can think of a problem they have. Just tell Super Agent Builder about your problems... about where you're WASTING time... about what you WISH you could do but you can't because of resource constraints. We've also found that human FEEDBACK and iteration are KEY. After agents are done with their jobs, give them feedback... Was it good? Was it bad? What do you want to see differently? They AUTOMATICALLY SELF-IMPROVE. Every time, they'll continuously get SMARTER. Personally, I find that agents go from AVERAGE intelligence to SUPER-human intelligence within about a month of working with them. Super Agents have truly democratized productivity, empowering literally anyone to build personalized, powerful agents in minutes. What problems do you wish you could solve? What do you not have enough time to get done? What would you like to do but don't have the resources for? What busy work do you wish you could get rid of?

Zeb Evans

18,336 görüntüleme • 8 ay önce

LangSmith for Startups Spotlight: Antimetal Antimetal is an autonomous system to manage your software in production. It builds a world model of your environment -- then its agents continuously monitor to prevent issues, triage alerts, and ship fixes. They are currently in private beta and used by engineering, infrastructure, and SRE teams at startups and the Fortune 500. They build with Deep Agents and leverage LangSmith for tracing, evaluations, and sandboxes. Speak to their engineering team for a demo at
0:19

LangSmith for Startups Spotlight: Antimetal Antimetal is an autonomous system to manage your software in production. It builds a world model of your environment -- then its agents continuously monitor to prevent issues, triage alerts, and ship fixes. They are currently in private beta and used by engineering, infrastructure, and SRE teams at startups and the Fortune 500. They build with Deep Agents and leverage LangSmith for tracing, evaluations, and sandboxes. Speak to their engineering team for a demo at

LangChain

62,111 görüntüleme • 3 ay önce

Okay, motion designers are 100% cooked. Saw on x that Opus 5.5 could do advanced animations and I was skeptical at first. So I gave it a one sentence prompt, and it one shot this in 15 minutes. Will add the prompt below, but this is genuinely mind blowing. This level of work would have costed $8,000 - $10,000 with a motion design team and 3-4 week turnaround with multiple revisions. Claude did it in one go with this prompt: "make a dynamic 15-second motion graphics video that shows what an incredible motion designer you are, like it's your showreel for a résumé. go all out." The only thing remaining for humans is creativity and critical thinking.
0:15

Okay, motion designers are 100% cooked. Saw on x that Opus 5.5 could do advanced animations and I was skeptical at first. So I gave it a one sentence prompt, and it one shot this in 15 minutes. Will add the prompt below, but this is genuinely mind blowing. This level of work would have costed $8,000 - $10,000 with a motion design team and 3-4 week turnaround with multiple revisions. Claude did it in one go with this prompt: "make a dynamic 15-second motion graphics video that shows what an incredible motion designer you are, like it's your showreel for a résumé. go all out." The only thing remaining for humans is creativity and critical thinking.

Leon Abboud

120,441 görüntüleme • 10 gün önce

Introducing Pages on Superset mobile Your agents can now deliver interactive demos, mockups, and reports as Pages you can review from your phone. Ask an agent to build a feature, compare designs, or investigate a problem. It can put the result in a Page with the context you need to review it and give feedback. A few ways to use it: • Feature work: try an interactive demo, then inspect the code in the PR. • Design reviews: compare mockups and before-and-after screenshots. • Investigations: explore findings, charts, and recommendations in one place. To try it, ask your agent to build a feature and create a Page for you to review.
0:17

Introducing Pages on Superset mobile Your agents can now deliver interactive demos, mockups, and reports as Pages you can review from your phone. Ask an agent to build a feature, compare designs, or investigate a problem. It can put the result in a Page with the context you need to review it and give feedback. A few ways to use it: • Feature work: try an interactive demo, then inspect the code in the PR. • Design reviews: compare mockups and before-and-after screenshots. • Investigations: explore findings, charts, and recommendations in one place. To try it, ask your agent to build a feature and create a Page for you to review.

Kiet

85,841 görüntüleme • 11 gün önce

A lot of elected officials are still silent in response to what occurred in Toronto this weekend. Why does antisemitism continuously get a free pass to override our laws and safety? It seems our government holds no space for hate, unless Jews are the target. To those in a position of power, wake up and start doing your job. It is because of your lack of leadership and inability to act with moral clarity that has brought us here. 8 months of this nonsense. No more lip service and empty platitudes. We have a criminal code, we have laws. Enforce them.
0:10

A lot of elected officials are still silent in response to what occurred in Toronto this weekend. Why does antisemitism continuously get a free pass to override our laws and safety? It seems our government holds no space for hate, unless Jews are the target. To those in a position of power, wake up and start doing your job. It is because of your lack of leadership and inability to act with moral clarity that has brought us here. 8 months of this nonsense. No more lip service and empty platitudes. We have a criminal code, we have laws. Enforce them.

Victoria Mancinelli

10,849 görüntüleme • 2 yıl önce

Lads. Sit down and give me your ear a while, for I have watched from the water long enough and the hour is upon us whether we have the stomach for it or not. You remember. Or your fathers told you, or their fathers did, and the knowledge of it is in the marrow of you whether you drew breath in those days or not. The moors in the grey hour before dawn. Wet heather soft under the boot. Peat smoke rising from a low stone chimney a mile out across the bog, thin as a prayer. A sky the colour of a gun barrel and the gulls lamenting above the headland. The smell of turf burning, and wet wool, and the ferrous tang of the sea when the wind swung around out of the Atlantic and put the taste of iron on your tongue. A man could walk that land and know every stone of it was his by inheritance, because his grandfather had broken his back upon it, and his grandfather before him, back through the generations until you reach men whose names are lost and whose bones are in the soil you are standing on. The potato fields. God be good to us, the potato fields. Lazy beds cut straight as a gunwale, the ridges black and shining after a night of rain, women bent double with creels lashed to their backs and the children at their skirts, drawing the crop up by the hand for there was never any other means devised nor wanted. Hands split open at the knuckles and never entirely healed in this life. Hunger within living memory. Grandmothers who had seen the blight with their own eyes and would not speak of it from the year of it until the day they were laid down, save that a crust was kept always on the dresser which no soul in that house was permitted to touch. Not ever. Not for any reason under heaven. And the chimney sweeps. Wee lads no heavier than a sack of meal, black to the bone with soot, their lungs ruined before they were old enough to marry and old men entirely by thirty. Up the flues at first light, the skin worn off them by the brick, eyes crimson at the rim, breathing the black in with every draw of air. And the coal miners a half mile beneath our feet, down in the wet dark, the roof of the world muttering over their heads, the canary gone silent, a man's whole existence measured out in the shilling a ton and the dust he carried home in his chest to cough up of a Sunday morning into a rag. Fathers who descended and were never hauled up again. Widows at the pit head with the shawl drawn over the head and no tears remaining in them for they had spent those long ago. That was the tariff paid to keep the hearth lit. That was the reckoning of being warm in winter in the Ireland that was. And after the labouring week, Friday evening, and a man had earned the peace of what followed. Home first. Peeled the day off him in the yard. A shower of ice cold moor river water out of a tin bucket punctured with holes, hung on a nail on the gable wall, the water running clean down the back of him and carrying the week's dust and sweat away into the drain. Scrubbed till the skin was pink beneath the grime. Clean shirt laid out by the wife. The hair combed down with a drop of water. Then, and only then, did a man set himself to the table. A meat pie from the baker, tenpence if he was known to you, a shilling and no change if he was not, put down upon a proper plate. Fish and chips for threepence, the salt and vinegar soaked through the newspaper, but carried home and ate slowly at your own table with your people around you, not walked with through the streets like some vagrant tinker off the road. A man ate as a man who had earned his portion, for he had. And later, with the dishes cleared and the kettle set, down the road to the tavern. Low beams black with a century of smoke. A turf fire muttering in the grate. The air thick with pipe smoke and the vapour of wet overcoats steaming themselves dry on the backs of chairs. A pint of stout, cold and black as a cove at midnight, elevenpence laid down on the counter, a head on it thick enough to strike a match upon. A second one because you had it coming to you and no man present would dispute it. A fiddle starting up in the corner of its own accord. The old men in the snug who remembered matters the history books had long since mislaid. A song before the bolt was thrown on the door. The walk home beneath a firmament crowded with stars, the stout warm in the gut of you, the week behind you, and your own door waiting with the latch unlocked for you had no enemies in that parish. That was the country. That was the covenant. Honest labour, plain food, a cold wash, a hot meal, a cold pint, your own tongue in your own mouth, your own soil beneath your boots, and no man standing above you save the Almighty Himself. Now regard her. Regard her close. The fields disposed of to men who have never set foot upon them and never shall. The harbours signed away by the stroke of a pen in a room you were not admitted to, and foreign keels dragging out of our waters the living that sustained this island for a thousand years, while our own boats rot at their moorings for want of a quota. The tradesmen undercut by imported labour and imported goods. The shops shuttered along every main street from Donegal to Cork. The young ones scattered to London and Sydney and Boston and the Gulf because there is nothing remaining for them beneath their own roof. And the entirety of this rotten arrangement dressed up in the soft mannerly language of progress by men in towers of glass who could not tell a lazy bed from a grave, nor a trawler from a tugboat, nor an honest day's work from a pension plan. And now they arrive with the next imposition. A digital identity. A number assigned to each soul. A card required to buy your bread. A code required to draw your own earnings out of your own account. A file kept on every man, woman and child from the cradle forward. Permission asked to move. Permission asked to speak. Permission asked to earn. A levy upon every breath drawn and a regulation upon every step taken. No. And no again. And no for a third time so there is no misunderstanding of it. We do not require your digital identity. We did not request it. We did not vote upon it. We do not consent to it. We do not need your permission to exist upon the soil our forefathers are buried in. We are a free people. We have carried ourselves this far upon our own two backs. Through famine and empire and civil war and black lung and blight and the emigrant ship out of Cobh, we have come this distance under our own steam, and the arrangement appears to be serving us well enough without your intervention. We buried our own. We fed our own. We raised our own roofs and took our own fish and reared our own children in our own tongue. We are in your debt for nothing. Not a signature. Not a biometric scan. Not a single solitary inch. And while we are upon the subject, let us speak plainly of the tax man, for he has gone too long without proper introduction. The tax collector and the tax man are the one article under two names, and the article is a parasite. There is no dressing it up finer than that. A man who produces nothing, who grows nothing, who catches nothing, who builds nothing, who mends nothing, who has never in his professional life lifted anything heavier than a pen, and who arrives at your door with the full apparatus of the state at his back to carry off the fruits of labour he did not perform. He is a middleman between your sweat and some scheme dreamt up in a committee room by his own kind, and the great majority of what he takes is consumed by the machinery of the taking itself before ever a penny of it reaches the road or the hospital or the schoolhouse he claims to be funding. And I will go further while I have the floor. Finance itself, the whole apparatus of it, money breeding money in the dark without a hand laid upon a tool or a spade turned in the earth, is slavery dressed in a good suit. It is the oldest swindle known to man and it has never been anything other. A man who produces nothing yet lives off the productive labour of others through the charging of interest upon money conjured out of nothing is a parasite of a rarer and more refined order than the tax man, but a parasite all the same, and between the pair of them they have the working people of this island bled white and lectured at for the pleasure. A man who will not work with his hands, nor with his back, nor with his mind at some honest problem of the real physical world, is no man that I recognise. He is a ledger entry in a suit. The country was not built by ledger entries. The country was built by farmers and fishermen and masons and smiths and sweeps and miners and shipwrights and midwives and mothers, and those are the people whose say should carry in her councils, and no other. Here is what I put to you. Let each man and woman of this island direct the first tenth of their earnings themselves, by their own judgement, to the purpose they see as worthy. The school down the road. The lifeboat station. The hospice. The widow on the corner. The roof of the chapel. The harbour wall. Whatever it may be. Let the people who earned the money decide where the money travels. You will find the roads mended and the ports dredged and the schools standing and the old ones cared for inside of five years, and done better and for less, because the hand that earned the coin knows the weight of it and will not squander it upon consultants and committees. And let us have done with the paper currency and the numbers in a screen that can be frozen at the whim of a clerk in a tower. Bring back the coin. Gold for the great transactions. Silver for the weekly commerce of a working life. Copper for the small change of the day. Metal you can bite. Metal you can weigh. Metal that cannot be conjured out of nothing by a keystroke, nor erased out of existence by another. Real money for real labour. A coin in the hand is a free man's wage. A number in a database is a collar around a free man's neck, and they are fitting that collar now while we stand arguing over the colour of it. Feel it in your gut. That is not nothing. That is your blood relating to you what your ears will not hear. That is every forebear who starved and fought and coughed the black dust into a rag and descended the shaft regardless, standing at your shoulder and saying no further. Not one more field. Not one more harbour. Not one more son upon a plane. Not one more free man converted into a number in a ledger for the convenience of the parasites. This is the hour. Make no error about it. Ireland is redeemed in this generation or she is lost beyond recovery, and every true son and daughter of her knows it in the marrow. There is no middle ground remaining. There is no waiting it out. There is standing now, upon your own two feet, or there is watching her go under the waves for the last and final time. So stand. Stand with your farmers. Stand with your fishermen. Stand with your tradesmen and your miners and your sweeps and your mothers and your old ones. Raise the tricolour. Speak the tongue. Walk the land. Hold the line in the streets of every town and city and do not break it, for they are relying upon you to break and to go home and to forget by Tuesday. She is calling her children home. Every stone of her, every breaker on her western shore, every acre of wet heather and every coal in every hearth the length and breadth of her is calling. Answer her. Take her back. Every field, every harbour, every last inch of her. Take her back, or lose her entirely. There is no third road open to us.
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Lads. Sit down and give me your ear a while, for I have watched from the water long enough and the hour is upon us whether we have the stomach for it or not. You remember. Or your fathers told you, or their fathers did, and the knowledge of it is in the marrow of you whether you drew breath in those days or not. The moors in the grey hour before dawn. Wet heather soft under the boot. Peat smoke rising from a low stone chimney a mile out across the bog, thin as a prayer. A sky the colour of a gun barrel and the gulls lamenting above the headland. The smell of turf burning, and wet wool, and the ferrous tang of the sea when the wind swung around out of the Atlantic and put the taste of iron on your tongue. A man could walk that land and know every stone of it was his by inheritance, because his grandfather had broken his back upon it, and his grandfather before him, back through the generations until you reach men whose names are lost and whose bones are in the soil you are standing on. The potato fields. God be good to us, the potato fields. Lazy beds cut straight as a gunwale, the ridges black and shining after a night of rain, women bent double with creels lashed to their backs and the children at their skirts, drawing the crop up by the hand for there was never any other means devised nor wanted. Hands split open at the knuckles and never entirely healed in this life. Hunger within living memory. Grandmothers who had seen the blight with their own eyes and would not speak of it from the year of it until the day they were laid down, save that a crust was kept always on the dresser which no soul in that house was permitted to touch. Not ever. Not for any reason under heaven. And the chimney sweeps. Wee lads no heavier than a sack of meal, black to the bone with soot, their lungs ruined before they were old enough to marry and old men entirely by thirty. Up the flues at first light, the skin worn off them by the brick, eyes crimson at the rim, breathing the black in with every draw of air. And the coal miners a half mile beneath our feet, down in the wet dark, the roof of the world muttering over their heads, the canary gone silent, a man's whole existence measured out in the shilling a ton and the dust he carried home in his chest to cough up of a Sunday morning into a rag. Fathers who descended and were never hauled up again. Widows at the pit head with the shawl drawn over the head and no tears remaining in them for they had spent those long ago. That was the tariff paid to keep the hearth lit. That was the reckoning of being warm in winter in the Ireland that was. And after the labouring week, Friday evening, and a man had earned the peace of what followed. Home first. Peeled the day off him in the yard. A shower of ice cold moor river water out of a tin bucket punctured with holes, hung on a nail on the gable wall, the water running clean down the back of him and carrying the week's dust and sweat away into the drain. Scrubbed till the skin was pink beneath the grime. Clean shirt laid out by the wife. The hair combed down with a drop of water. Then, and only then, did a man set himself to the table. A meat pie from the baker, tenpence if he was known to you, a shilling and no change if he was not, put down upon a proper plate. Fish and chips for threepence, the salt and vinegar soaked through the newspaper, but carried home and ate slowly at your own table with your people around you, not walked with through the streets like some vagrant tinker off the road. A man ate as a man who had earned his portion, for he had. And later, with the dishes cleared and the kettle set, down the road to the tavern. Low beams black with a century of smoke. A turf fire muttering in the grate. The air thick with pipe smoke and the vapour of wet overcoats steaming themselves dry on the backs of chairs. A pint of stout, cold and black as a cove at midnight, elevenpence laid down on the counter, a head on it thick enough to strike a match upon. A second one because you had it coming to you and no man present would dispute it. A fiddle starting up in the corner of its own accord. The old men in the snug who remembered matters the history books had long since mislaid. A song before the bolt was thrown on the door. The walk home beneath a firmament crowded with stars, the stout warm in the gut of you, the week behind you, and your own door waiting with the latch unlocked for you had no enemies in that parish. That was the country. That was the covenant. Honest labour, plain food, a cold wash, a hot meal, a cold pint, your own tongue in your own mouth, your own soil beneath your boots, and no man standing above you save the Almighty Himself. Now regard her. Regard her close. The fields disposed of to men who have never set foot upon them and never shall. The harbours signed away by the stroke of a pen in a room you were not admitted to, and foreign keels dragging out of our waters the living that sustained this island for a thousand years, while our own boats rot at their moorings for want of a quota. The tradesmen undercut by imported labour and imported goods. The shops shuttered along every main street from Donegal to Cork. The young ones scattered to London and Sydney and Boston and the Gulf because there is nothing remaining for them beneath their own roof. And the entirety of this rotten arrangement dressed up in the soft mannerly language of progress by men in towers of glass who could not tell a lazy bed from a grave, nor a trawler from a tugboat, nor an honest day's work from a pension plan. And now they arrive with the next imposition. A digital identity. A number assigned to each soul. A card required to buy your bread. A code required to draw your own earnings out of your own account. A file kept on every man, woman and child from the cradle forward. Permission asked to move. Permission asked to speak. Permission asked to earn. A levy upon every breath drawn and a regulation upon every step taken. No. And no again. And no for a third time so there is no misunderstanding of it. We do not require your digital identity. We did not request it. We did not vote upon it. We do not consent to it. We do not need your permission to exist upon the soil our forefathers are buried in. We are a free people. We have carried ourselves this far upon our own two backs. Through famine and empire and civil war and black lung and blight and the emigrant ship out of Cobh, we have come this distance under our own steam, and the arrangement appears to be serving us well enough without your intervention. We buried our own. We fed our own. We raised our own roofs and took our own fish and reared our own children in our own tongue. We are in your debt for nothing. Not a signature. Not a biometric scan. Not a single solitary inch. And while we are upon the subject, let us speak plainly of the tax man, for he has gone too long without proper introduction. The tax collector and the tax man are the one article under two names, and the article is a parasite. There is no dressing it up finer than that. A man who produces nothing, who grows nothing, who catches nothing, who builds nothing, who mends nothing, who has never in his professional life lifted anything heavier than a pen, and who arrives at your door with the full apparatus of the state at his back to carry off the fruits of labour he did not perform. He is a middleman between your sweat and some scheme dreamt up in a committee room by his own kind, and the great majority of what he takes is consumed by the machinery of the taking itself before ever a penny of it reaches the road or the hospital or the schoolhouse he claims to be funding. And I will go further while I have the floor. Finance itself, the whole apparatus of it, money breeding money in the dark without a hand laid upon a tool or a spade turned in the earth, is slavery dressed in a good suit. It is the oldest swindle known to man and it has never been anything other. A man who produces nothing yet lives off the productive labour of others through the charging of interest upon money conjured out of nothing is a parasite of a rarer and more refined order than the tax man, but a parasite all the same, and between the pair of them they have the working people of this island bled white and lectured at for the pleasure. A man who will not work with his hands, nor with his back, nor with his mind at some honest problem of the real physical world, is no man that I recognise. He is a ledger entry in a suit. The country was not built by ledger entries. The country was built by farmers and fishermen and masons and smiths and sweeps and miners and shipwrights and midwives and mothers, and those are the people whose say should carry in her councils, and no other. Here is what I put to you. Let each man and woman of this island direct the first tenth of their earnings themselves, by their own judgement, to the purpose they see as worthy. The school down the road. The lifeboat station. The hospice. The widow on the corner. The roof of the chapel. The harbour wall. Whatever it may be. Let the people who earned the money decide where the money travels. You will find the roads mended and the ports dredged and the schools standing and the old ones cared for inside of five years, and done better and for less, because the hand that earned the coin knows the weight of it and will not squander it upon consultants and committees. And let us have done with the paper currency and the numbers in a screen that can be frozen at the whim of a clerk in a tower. Bring back the coin. Gold for the great transactions. Silver for the weekly commerce of a working life. Copper for the small change of the day. Metal you can bite. Metal you can weigh. Metal that cannot be conjured out of nothing by a keystroke, nor erased out of existence by another. Real money for real labour. A coin in the hand is a free man's wage. A number in a database is a collar around a free man's neck, and they are fitting that collar now while we stand arguing over the colour of it. Feel it in your gut. That is not nothing. That is your blood relating to you what your ears will not hear. That is every forebear who starved and fought and coughed the black dust into a rag and descended the shaft regardless, standing at your shoulder and saying no further. Not one more field. Not one more harbour. Not one more son upon a plane. Not one more free man converted into a number in a ledger for the convenience of the parasites. This is the hour. Make no error about it. Ireland is redeemed in this generation or she is lost beyond recovery, and every true son and daughter of her knows it in the marrow. There is no middle ground remaining. There is no waiting it out. There is standing now, upon your own two feet, or there is watching her go under the waves for the last and final time. So stand. Stand with your farmers. Stand with your fishermen. Stand with your tradesmen and your miners and your sweeps and your mothers and your old ones. Raise the tricolour. Speak the tongue. Walk the land. Hold the line in the streets of every town and city and do not break it, for they are relying upon you to break and to go home and to forget by Tuesday. She is calling her children home. Every stone of her, every breaker on her western shore, every acre of wet heather and every coal in every hearth the length and breadth of her is calling. Answer her. Take her back. Every field, every harbour, every last inch of her. Take her back, or lose her entirely. There is no third road open to us.

SiriusB

15,437 görüntüleme • 5 ay önce

1/ Gemini 2.5 is here, and it’s our most intelligent AI model ever. Our first 2.5 model, Gemini 2.5 Pro Experimental is a state-of-the-art thinking model, leading in a wide range of benchmarks – with impressive improvements in enhanced reasoning and coding and now #1 on Arena by a significant margin. With a model this intelligent, we wanted to get it to people as quickly as possible. Find it on Google AI Studio and in the Google Gemini for Gemini Advanced users now – and in Vertex in the coming weeks. This is the start of a new era of thinking models – and we can’t wait to see where things go from here.
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1/ Gemini 2.5 is here, and it’s our most intelligent AI model ever. Our first 2.5 model, Gemini 2.5 Pro Experimental is a state-of-the-art thinking model, leading in a wide range of benchmarks – with impressive improvements in enhanced reasoning and coding and now #1 on Arena by a significant margin. With a model this intelligent, we wanted to get it to people as quickly as possible. Find it on Google AI Studio and in the Google Gemini for Gemini Advanced users now – and in Vertex in the coming weeks. This is the start of a new era of thinking models – and we can’t wait to see where things go from here.

Sundar Pichai

864,841 görüntüleme • 1 yıl önce

The new Solo desktop app has been in the hands of beta users for about a week! Now rolling it out to 25% of regular users. If all goes well, it'll be generally available tomorrow! Your single app for working with every agent and managing your dev stack 🤤
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The new Solo desktop app has been in the hands of beta users for about a week! Now rolling it out to 25% of regular users. If all goes well, it'll be generally available tomorrow! Your single app for working with every agent and managing your dev stack 🤤

Aaron Francis

78,102 görüntüleme • 7 ay önce

Huge update.. I joined Cognition I’m so incredibly proud of what we built at PromptLayer. Although it feels a little surreal, I know the team is left in amazing hands. I’ll be staying on as an advisor and can’t wait to see where they take it. We started PromptLayer four years ago, and we practically coined the term “prompt engineering”. ChatGPT had come out weeks prior. Nobody knew exactly how LLMs would evolve, but we did know it will completely change the way we build. We were the first developer platform for this new type of builder. Cognition feels like an extension of this vision. Devin is how this new builder will imagine, invent, and create. We're entering the age of software abundance, to steal a term from Scott Wu Everything is Coding Agents. It’s the single biggest problem in AI. Cognition is one of the fastest growing companies ever. But I think the team is what really sold it for me- it's packed with so many former founders Excited to share more soon...
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Huge update.. I joined Cognition I’m so incredibly proud of what we built at PromptLayer. Although it feels a little surreal, I know the team is left in amazing hands. I’ll be staying on as an advisor and can’t wait to see where they take it. We started PromptLayer four years ago, and we practically coined the term “prompt engineering”. ChatGPT had come out weeks prior. Nobody knew exactly how LLMs would evolve, but we did know it will completely change the way we build. We were the first developer platform for this new type of builder. Cognition feels like an extension of this vision. Devin is how this new builder will imagine, invent, and create. We're entering the age of software abundance, to steal a term from Scott Wu Everything is Coding Agents. It’s the single biggest problem in AI. Cognition is one of the fastest growing companies ever. But I think the team is what really sold it for me- it's packed with so many former founders Excited to share more soon...

Jared Zoneraich

295,562 görüntüleme • 5 ay önce