Innermetrix @InnerMetrix - Twitter Profile

The Progression of Expectation Every technology company is building for an expectation. The problem is that expectations move, and too many software companies are still building for the last one. People have always had questions. For most of history, answering one meant gathering your own data. Want to know if the harvest would cover the winter? Count the sacks yourself, walk the fields, ask the neighbor what he got. Then software arrived, and the expectation shifted: help me gather more and better data, faster. That was the SaaS era. QuickBooks didn’t answer “is my business healthy?”, it organized the numbers so you could. The question and the answer were still yours. Software just set the table. Now the expectation has shifted again. People want technology that answers the question “with” them, if not “for” them. People are learning they don’t just have to open Claude for data anymore. They’ve realized they can ask “should I raise my prices?” and expect a reasoned answer, not a spreadsheet. Tomorrow’s expectation is already visible: software that not only finds the data and answers the question, but then acts on the answer. Don’t tell me which invoice is late. Chase it. Don’t flag the scheduling conflict. Fix it, and tell me after. And next week? The expectation will shift yet again: technology that decides what the question should be to begin with. You didn’t ask “which three customers are about to churn?” because you didn’t need to. The software did. Every era collapsed one more layer of the work: first the gathering, then the answering, then the acting. What’s left is the asking. That’s the last thing people will hand over. And they will. So the question for anyone building technology: which expectation are you serving? If your product delivers data to people who now expect answers, or answers to people who now expect action, you’re not behind on features. You’re behind on the expectation itself. And that’s not a gap you close with a release. It’s a gap you close by rethinking what your customer is actually paying you to do.

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https://t.co/i6DtGQaXtV

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https://t.co/W91n8voE6Q

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What If the Article Was Just the Beginning? Vibe coding arrived in early 2025 and the fight started the same week. Karpathy’s idea was simple: stop white-knuckling the syntax, give in to the vibes, work at the level of intent. The purists revolted. Real vibe coding, they said, means you don’t even understand the code, and anything less is just a typing assistant. Then came the warnings about slop and security holes. But here’s the distinction that cuts through it. Some people type build me a thing and ship whatever falls out. That’s garbage. Except those people didn’t give in to the flow, they gave it up. Handed over the wheel and walked away. The pioneers stay in the chair every step, treating the AI as a partner they never let drive. Same tool, opposite postures. Give in, don’t give up. The rule travels, because it’s already moving into writing. “Vibe writing” is the same move. You stop white-knuckling the mechanics, grammar, spelling, the sentence you’ve rewritten nine times, and work at the level of meaning. The machine carries the craft so you can stay sharp on the thought. You give in on the typing; you never give up the thinking. Surrender the thinking and you’re back to write me a book, which produces exactly the slop you’d expect. That part’s familiar. Here’s the part I’m less sure about. For as long as we’ve written things down, writing has worked one way. A person thinks, wrestles an idea into shape in private, and hands you the finished piece. You read it. The transaction closes at the last line. The process that produced it is gone, you get the conclusion, never the road. For thousands of years that was just the cost of writing. The artifact survived; the thinking behind it didn’t. Vibe writing changes that byproduct. Done honestly, it leaves a record — the whole back-and-forth, the thinking captured as it happened. So here’s the question. What if the article stops being the destination and becomes a prologue? Not a finished wall, but a jumping-off point. You publish the polished piece and the raw record beneath it, and you hand the reader something writers never could before: the thinking itself, theirs to pick up. That would change what a reader is. Right now, reading is reception, you take in what I made. But give someone the prologue and they start from my thinking instead of my conclusion. They build on it, argue with it, take it somewhere I never imagined. The reader stops being a consumer and becomes a collaborator. Maybe. I honestly don’t know if anyone wants that. The finished article has been the unit of written thought for millennia, and maybe it stays that way for good reason. Maybe most people want the wall, not the door. So I’m asking, not announcing. If the article became a starting line instead of a finish line, if reading could turn into collaborating, would you want it?

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