people who text us, mostly.
a wiki of you looks like whatever your life looks like. eight real shapes — names changed, structures kept. iris-demo is the one you can open today; the others are coming as users opt in.
a novel-in-progress, kept quiet.
character bibles, scene cards, a grief-as-room concept entry, and a profile page tying it together. the agent helps her track who knows what across the draft.
a company brain.
customers, decisions, postmortems, and the thirty-page product spec. every chat with claude starts knowing the company. she stopped re-explaining herself.
a body, finally documented.
medications, dosages, flare timelines, what specialists said, and what helped. the agent compiles a one-pager before each appointment.
a literature review that holds.
papers, quotes, claims-and-counterclaims, threads back to her thesis. the mindmap shows which arguments she's read three times and never once cited.
the household, a living doc.
school schedules, kid allergies, sitter notes, the wifi password. when the agent suggests a meal plan, it already knows who hates onions.
a portfolio of taste.
references, color stories, type lists, projects with backlinks to inspirations. the agent knows which type ladder he reaches for first — selected pages publish to his domain, the rest stay in the back room.
a private practice journal.
cases anonymized, reading notes, a running glossary of their own thinking. the agent never sees identifying details — strict redaction in the workflow.
a memoir, on the slow plan.
people, places, the airplane he rebuilt, every job in order. the agent texts him a question once a week and the wiki grows by itself.