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I started with a plain-language vision: a world championship where people create autonomous AI minds that compete in simulated markets. I used ChatGPT as a product architect to turn that vision into precise rules, technical specifications, development checkpoints, and tasks that could be completed one at a time. I then used AI coding agents, including Claude Code and Codex, to inspect the repository, write the React and TypeScript code, run tests, identify failures, and explain each completed change in plain language. Determinism and auditability were non-negotiable. Every match uses a reproducible seed, every autonomous mind trades in its own matching engine, and every decision is recorded in an auditable event ledger. After each development cycle, I tested the product, reviewed the interface on desktop and mobile, corrected problems through natural-language instructions, and saved a new canonical checkpoint. I deployed only after the automated tests passed. This allowed me, a 66-year-old self-taught non-programmer, to build a working autonomous-mind competition platform through human vision, AI collaboration, and strict verification. Step-by-step: 1. I defined the vision for a world championship in which people create autonomous AI minds to compete in simulated markets. 2. I used ChatGPT to develop the rules, technical specifications, development checkpoints, and one-at-a-time tasks. 3. I used Claude Code and Codex to inspect the repository, write the React and TypeScript code, run tests, identify failures, and explain completed changes in plain language. 4. I required every match to use a reproducible seed, each autonomous mind to trade in its own matching engine, and every decision to be recorded in an auditable event ledger. 5. After each development cycle, I tested the product, reviewed the interface on desktop and mobile, corrected problems through natural-language instructions, and saved a new canonical checkpoint. 6. I deployed only after the automated tests passed, enabling me to build a working autonomous-mind competition platform through human vision, AI collaboration, and strict verification. Explore the live platform: https://arenomics.com

The Rundown Workflow Hub asks members to “share your best AI workflow” and features the community’s top-voted workflows in its daily newsletter. Most posts rightly celebrate workflows that work and produce something useful. This one is about why “no” can also be a successful workflow outcome. A good AI workflow does not turn every idea into a project. It gives an idea the right amount of effort, then produces a clear answer—including a fast, well-documented no. In my first Workflow Hub post, I showed the capture workflow I call ReelForge: turning a useful public Reel, TikTok, or short video into a source-linked research note rather than another forgotten save. This is what happened to one of those notes. A Reel pitched an “AI operating system” for solo consultants: pull together client context, prepare the human before a call, then turn the transcript into follow-up drafts. At first glance, it sounded promising. The mechanism was clear, the problem was real, and the demo had exactly the kind of glossy “one person runs everything” energy that makes it tempting to jump straight to a build. We did not. ReelForge captured the source and separated the useful mechanism from the creator’s bigger claims. From there, a primary routing workflow ran a defined first pass: did the signal merit direct resolution, deeper specialist work, human review, or a reasoned stop? It earned deeper work. Hermes sent the pack into a specialist workflow, where assigned agents collaborated to enrich the evidence, check the market claims, and produce something concrete: a pre-call brief and a post-call follow-up pack. That made the opportunity inspectable rather than another confident paragraph about what an agent *could* do. The enriched pack then went to Jon T for formal review. The review surfaced the problem: Teams and Granola already cover a large part of the obvious transcript, summary, and meeting-preparation wedge. The idea had a workable mechanism, but not a sharp enough reason to become a new product. So the final route was a deliberate no. No unnecessary build. No “let’s just test it” theatre. No orphaned Notion page waiting to become somebody’s future problem. The first visual shows that five-step pass: Step-by-step: 1. Capture the signal. 2. Add evidence and context. 3. Choose the effort. 4. Hand off to human authority when needed. 5. Record the finish. The second visual shows the decision underneath it. A signal can earn direct resolution, a specialist pipeline, or a reasoned stop. Human review is a conditional handoff, not a fourth outcome. That is the rule I care about: the output is not agent text. It is the right next end state. ReelForge was the capture layer in the first post. This is the routing layer that stops captured signals from becoming a very organised pile of work nobody should do. Read my first Workflow Hub post here: https://app.therundown.ai/community/posts/eb787b9d-f7a0-4fe4-8e1d-166bb5c29cb7?ref=db29b880a9904700 Future posts can show the builds that survived this test. This one shows why the test matters first.

I kept forgetting who I had lent books to, and spreadsheets felt like overkill. So I built Runo, a book-lending app for friends, without traditional coding. Runo (runo.club) is a web app where I can catalog my home library, get a unique shareable link, and let friends browse my books and request to borrow them. I can approve or decline each request with one click. Step-by-step: 1. I used Claude to think through the feature set, data model, and UX flow before writing a single prompt. This helped me avoid building the wrong thing first and gave me a clear blueprint for the Lovable prompts that followed. 2. I used Claude to create precise, narrowly scoped prompts for Lovable, with each prompt focused on a single change so existing functionality would be less likely to break. This significantly conserved Lovable credits. The React, TypeScript, and Supabase stack came out of the box. 3. I added two ways to scan books instead of requiring users to type titles manually: - Barcode scanner: Point the camera at an ISBN barcode to autofill the title, author, and cover using the Open Library API. - Cover photo scanner: Photograph the cover so Gemini 2.5 Flash can extract the title and author in under 2 seconds. 4. I routed the cover scanner through a Supabase Edge Function using Lovable’s AI Gateway, so the API key never touches the client bundle. 5. For every bug fix and feature, I followed the same iteration loop: describe the problem to Claude, get a precise Lovable prompt, push the changes to GitHub, and let Lovable auto-sync them. Claude and Lovable’s bidirectional GitHub sync made the process feel like pair programming. Tools used: Lovable, Claude (Sonnet), Gemini 2.5 Flash (via Lovable AI Gateway), Supabase, and GitHub. Live at: runo.club — public beta and free to use. Feedback welcome. #appbuilding #vibecoding #buildinpublic #lovable #nocode

Getting answers from company data usually requires someone who knows SQL, understands the database, and has enough business context to interpret the results. This creates a bottleneck: business users depend on analysts for questions they should be able to explore themselves. I turned Claude Code into a self-service data analyst by giving it direct, read-only database access and configuring its behavior through a `CLAUDE.md` file. The file gives Claude business context, explains which analytical tables contain different types of information, tells it how to investigate questions, and defines how results should be presented. Users can then ask business questions in plain English. Claude determines what data it needs, queries the database, investigates the results, creates visualizations, and explains what it found. Step-by-step: 1. Create a dedicated analysis folder and add a `CLAUDE.md` file that defines how Claude should operate as a data analyst. 2. Give Claude enough business context to understand the company, its terminology, important metrics, and how the business operates. 3. Document which analytical tables or views it should use for different types of questions. Curated analytics tables work particularly well because Claude doesn't need to decipher the entire production database. 4. Give users read-only database permissions and explicitly instruct Claude to perform read-only operations, such as `SELECT` queries only. Never give the agent permission to modify production data. 5. Tell Claude how to use the command line to query the database. Include instructions to help users install or configure it if it isn't available. 6. Define an analytical process for Claude to follow. Rather than simply generating one SQL query, instruct it to investigate the user's question, examine the results, and run additional queries when necessary to understand what is happening. 7. Define the expected output: answer the question, explain the important insights, and create appropriate visualizations to make the findings easy to understand. 8. Open the folder in the Code tab inside the Claude Desktop app, which I find to be the best interface, and ask questions naturally, such as, "Why did revenue decline last month?" Claude handles the investigation from there. Instead of building and maintaining a custom analytics application, you can turn a general-purpose AI coding agent into a capable self-service analyst with access to your existing data warehouse. Users ask questions in plain English while Claude handles the SQL, investigation, visualization, and explanation, giving nontechnical users a more direct way to explore company data.

I set up an AI assistant to run my entire writing business on autopilot. Every morning, it pulls RSS feeds from more than 30 AI and writing sources, deduplicates them against the previous day’s digest, curates the top items, and sends me a single Telegram message with numbered, linked items before I wake up. At 11 a.m. each day, it generates an original writing craft post. The topic comes from a rotation pool of more than 15 categories, and the assistant avoids anything used in the last 30 days. It also creates accompanying artwork in a rotating fine-art style, then cross-posts the content to Facebook, X, and my blog, including the featured-image upload to WordPress. Each week, it compiles and sends an email newsletter to my subscriber list through Brevo. It pulls from a curated candidates file that I approve before the newsletter goes out. Behind the scenes, the assistant manages a fleet of five servers, including servers for my wife, daughter, and two business colleagues. It handles daily backups, monitors costs across providers, and reminds me when context windows are becoming expensive. The key insight wasn’t the automation; it was the partnership model. My assistant has a persona file (`SOUL.md`) that defines how it communicates, a memory file (`MEMORY.md`) with everything it needs to know about my life and business, and a playbook of behavioral rules built from real mistakes over time. It pushes back on bad ideas, flags risks before executing, and has genuine opinions about craft and content. That shift—from “tool you talk to” to “colleague who has your back”—is what I wrote my book about. *Harnessing the Machine* is the field guide I wish I’d had when I started. It isn’t a tutorial, because the technology changes weekly; it’s a guide to building a working relationship with something that remembers yesterday. The tech stack is OpenClaw, GLM-5.2 as the primary model, DeepSeek V4 Pro as the fallback, and AWS Lightsail. The total monthly cost is under $30. The real cost was calibrating the assistant: teaching it what I care about, what “good” looks like, and when to ask versus when to act. That’s the part most people skip, and it’s why most “AI automation” posts feel like demos rather than relationships. Tools used: OpenClaw, GLM-5.2, DeepSeek, Telegram, WordPress, Brevo Step-by-step: 1. I configured OpenClaw with a persona file (`SOUL.md`), a memory file (`MEMORY.md`), and a behavioral playbook built from real mistakes. 2. I connected it to RSS feeds from more than 30 AI and writing sources and had it deduplicate, curate, and send a numbered Telegram digest each morning. 3. I created a rotation pool of more than 15 writing categories and instructed it to avoid topics used in the previous 30 days. 4. I scheduled it to generate a daily writing craft post, create artwork in a rotating fine-art style, and cross-post the result to Facebook, X, and my WordPress blog with a featured image. 5. I set up a weekly Brevo newsletter that pulls from a curated candidates file I approve before sending. 6. I connected the assistant to five servers, including servers for my wife, daughter, and two business colleagues, and had it manage daily backups, provider costs, and expensive context windows. 7. I configured GLM-5.2 as the primary model, DeepSeek V4 Pro as the fallback, and AWS Lightsail as the hosting environment. 8. I calibrated the assistant by teaching it my standards, what “good” looks like, and when to ask for approval versus acting on its own.

This Codex-driven workflow takes a software request from problem understanding through implementation, validation, review, and delivery evidence. Instead of asking an AI coding agent to simply “build the feature,” it gives the agent an explicit development lifecycle with defined responsibilities, deterministic validation gates, repair loops, and human checkpoints. The goal is to make AI-assisted development more structured, observable, and recoverable. It can be used for new feature implementation, bug fixing, refactoring, test creation and improvement, code quality and security hardening, and documentation and automation changes. The core principle is simple: Don't give the AI only a coding task. Give it an engineering lifecycle to work on. Step-by-step: 1. Understand the problem. Clarify the request, identify the desired outcome, define the scope, and surface ambiguity before implementation begins. The output is problem understanding and scope. 2. Define constraints. Identify technical, functional, non-functional, compatibility, and out-of-scope constraints. The output is a constraint set. 3. Plan. Analyze implementation options, select an appropriate approach, break the work into tasks, and define acceptance criteria. The output is an implementation plan. 4. Inspect the existing system. Review the relevant codebase, dependencies, current behavior, and affected components before making changes. The output is system context. 5. Implement. Make the smallest appropriate code changes while following the existing project’s conventions and the approved plan. The output is code changes. 6. Run deterministic validation. Run tools that can objectively validate the implementation, including formatting, linting, type checks, builds, unit tests, and other available automated checks. The output is validation results. 7. Review. Evaluate the implementation against the original requirement, the plan, code quality expectations, security considerations, and potential regressions. The output is review findings. 8. Repair and iterate. If validation or review identifies problems, diagnose the issue, make the required correction, and repeat validation. The output is a corrected implementation. 9. Verify. Confirm that the acceptance criteria are satisfied and that the relevant tests and checks provide sufficient evidence for completion. The output is a verification result. 10. Produce delivery evidence and handoff. Summarize what changed, what was tested, what passed, known limitations, and any remaining decisions requiring human attention. The output is delivery evidence and a human handoff. The core loop is: Implement → Validate → Review → Repair → Validate → Verify. Testing and review are treated as part of development rather than activities performed only after coding is “finished.” AI coding agents are increasingly capable of inspecting repositories, writing code, running commands, and responding to failures. The problem is that capability alone does not provide an engineering process. This workflow separates the responsibilities an AI coding agent performs into explicit stages. It applies several principles: - Problem before implementation: Understand what needs to change before writing code. - WHY before HOW: Establish the intent and constraints before choosing an implementation. - Single responsibility per stage: Give each stage a defined purpose and output. - Deterministic validation first: Use tests, linters, type checkers, builds, and other deterministic tools wherever they can establish correctness. - Failure localization: When something fails, identify which stage or assumption needs correction. - Evidence-based completion: Support completion with validation and review evidence rather than an AI declaration that the task is finished. - Human checkpoints: Use automation to accelerate execution without removing human judgment from important decisions. The broader idea is: The AI should participate in the engineering system, not become the engineering system.

I started DialPhone with a simple problem: business communication is fragmented. A typical team may use one tool for phone calls, another for SMS, another for meetings, another for fax, and a separate system for customer support. I wanted to explore what it would look like if those conversations lived in one system, with AI doing more than just transcribing them. I built DialPhone as an AI-native communications platform around that idea. The core is cloud VoIP, while the same platform also handles business SMS, video meetings, online fax, team chat, and contact-center workflows. On top of that, I added AI capabilities such as call transcription and summaries, CRM logging, AI-drafted SMS replies, conversation intelligence, and an AI receptionist that can answer calls, qualify requests, book appointments, and route conversations. The biggest architectural decision was to treat communication data as one connected stream rather than as separate products. A phone call can create CRM context, trigger a follow-up SMS, and become part of a customer-support workflow without someone manually moving information between systems. Along the way, I learned that adding AI to communications is not particularly useful if it only produces transcripts. The more interesting problem is turning conversations into actions: updating records, identifying next steps, helping agents during calls, and automating repetitive work. Step-by-step: 1. I identified the problem of business communication being fragmented across phone, SMS, meetings, fax, and customer-support systems. 2. I built DialPhone as an AI-native communications platform centered on cloud VoIP. 3. I brought business SMS, video meetings, online fax, team chat, and contact-center workflows into the same platform. 4. I added AI features for call transcription and summaries, CRM logging, AI-drafted SMS replies, conversation intelligence, and an AI receptionist. 5. I connected communication data so calls can create CRM context, trigger follow-up SMS messages, and become part of customer-support workflows. 6. I focused the AI capabilities on turning conversations into actions, including updating records, identifying next steps, helping agents during calls, and automating repetitive work.

My AI digest looked perfect and was quietly wrong. What actually fixed it. Every run succeeded. Every dashboard was green. And the content was still wrong. My digest invented "AI Moat Brief", a newsletter that does not exist. It reported scan counts nobody measured. It resurfaced week-old stories as fresh headlines. Here is what broke, and what fixed it. The sorting used to happen in my head: skimmed subject lines, unopened tabs, quiet guilt. The Signal is one email at 08:00: a single Make scenario calling Claude Sonnet through OpenRouter. It reads the last 24 hours of my RSS feeds and newsletters, keeps what touches what I am actively building plus the domains I need to stay current in, and arrives in the language I actually think in. Core items end with what it means for my work. Five to ten minutes, and I know where to go deep today. Structurally it looks like this, minus the content, rendered in English for this post (Image 1). No real edition is shown; section names and sample lines are illustrative. The dangerous failures were never pipeline failures. They were content failures, and the cause is structural: an LLM summarizing newsletters that already summarize primary sources is third hand by construction. Every hop strips attribution and adds confidence, and when data goes missing the model fills the gap the way LLMs do: fluently. Valid HTML, confident tone, green pipeline, wrong content. Image 2 is that whole failure class in one frame. Three rules closed the gaps I caught, all live in production: Step-by-step: 1. Verbatim or nothing. A source name is copied character for character, and a link exists only if that exact URL is in the input. The model copies; it never composes. 2. The model never generates metrics. Every count the report shows is injected by the pipeline after the model returns. 3. Recycled news gets demoted. A recap of recaps gets one line at most, and is dropped when the underlying story falls outside the collection window. Rules 1 and 3 lean on the prompt, and that is why the counters exist. The pipeline writes a hidden HTML comment into every email it sends: items, links, urls, cost, finish status. That line caught what I could not see. In one run, the published-links counter and the leftover-urls counter read 45 and 435: the only sign a new cleanup step was a silent no-op. Another morning the model stopped at 15,999 tokens against a 16,000 cap, one token from an email cut off mid-sentence. On the morning I wrote this they agreed, 21 links and 21 urls, and boring is the goal. Image 3 is that morning's actual comment, with the same two counters from the no-op run. The run itself has a dead man's switch on Healthchecks.io, so a missing 08:00 email reaches me before I notice. Honest limits: the $0.31 per report is a fresh measurement I am still validating, and I have not proven these rules hold as the source set scales. There is more behind every part of this; I would rather share it where it is wanted. Ask and I will put it in the comments: the three rules in full, the exact cost and what drives it, what this replaced in my day, how it compares to what is on the market, or the ugliest of the 15 documented bugs. I am sharing this because I doubt I am the only one building fragile things behind the scenes, and monitoring text is harder than monitoring uptime. What content-level checks do you run on LLM output, the kind pipeline monitoring cannot see? Real thresholds and embarrassing failures especially welcome.

Having a team of specialized AI agents creates a new problem: someone still needs to decide which agents should work on a project, what order they should work in, what each one needs from the others, and whether the project is actually finished. Without coordination, the human becomes the project manager, manually moving context and outputs between agents. I created a project-manager agent that acts as the orchestrator for my AI team. I give it an objective, and it determines what work needs to happen, selects the appropriate specialist agents, sequences their work based on dependencies, and presents the execution plan to me before anything starts. Once I approve the plan, it coordinates the agents, manages their handoffs, tracks project state, and maintains enough persistent context for the work to continue across sessions. Step-by-step: 1. I create several specialized agents with clearly defined responsibilities, capabilities, and expected outputs. 2. I create a project-manager agent that knows what each specialist does and is instructed to orchestrate the work rather than perform specialist work itself. 3. I give the project manager a high-level objective. It analyzes the goal, inspects the project context, identifies the required work, and selects the appropriate agents. 4. I have it create an execution plan showing which agents will be used, what each one will do, their dependencies, and the order of execution. 5. I require human approval before execution begins. I can approve the plan, narrow the scope, change the sequence, or redirect the project as needed. 6. Once the plan is approved, I let the project manager delegate each task to the appropriate specialist and pass relevant context and prior outputs between agents through structured handoffs. 7. I track progress and project state as the agents complete their assignments. If an agent uncovers new work, fails review, or changes the project assumptions, the project manager updates the plan and routes the next work accordingly. 8. At the end of the session, I save the current state, completed work, important decisions, and next actions so another session can continue without reconstructing the project from scratch. Instead of personally coordinating every AI agent, I manage the project at a higher level: I define the objective, approve the plan, review important decisions, and evaluate the result. The AI project manager handles the coordination layer, turning a collection of specialized agents into a team that can execute complex, multistep projects coherently.

I built an Awish workflow that handles a support ticket before anyone on the team opens it. I realized support tickets were not just taking time to answer. Someone still had to understand the problem, decide how urgent it was, search the documentation, route it to the right person, and prepare a response. I wanted that first layer of support work to happen automatically. I opened Awish and wrote: “Whenever a new support ticket comes in, understand the issue, determine its urgency, check our documentation, prepare a response, create a Jira issue if it looks like a product bug, and escalate anything important to the team before taking customer-facing action.” Awish understood the request, planned the workflow, and showed me which applications it needed. Step-by-step: 1. I described the complete support process I wanted in the Awish chat. 2. Awish planned the workflow and selected Zendesk, Notion, Jira, and Slack for the required steps. 3. I connected my accounts and approved the automation plan. 4. When a new Zendesk ticket arrives, the workflow identifies the issue type, urgency, and customer intent. 5. It checks the relevant Notion documentation and prepares a response based on the available information. 6. If the issue looks like a product bug, it creates a Jira ticket with the customer context already attached. 7. Urgent or sensitive cases are escalated to the team instead of being handled automatically. 8. I connected WhatsApp from the Awish chat. I now receive workflow updates there and can manage the automation without opening Awish. Customer-facing actions still stay under my control when approval is needed.

I built AllegraMente, a complete, free iOS cognitive training app, solo with Claude Code. It includes 11 exercise areas, 83 articles in five languages, and no tracking. My workflow starts with a new feature or content idea, a new exercise type, or an in-depth article about how memory works. Planning and execution stay separate, and the instruction document serves as the contract. Because everything is specified upfront, Claude Code almost never goes off track. Step-by-step: 1. I plan the feature with Claude in chat, define the data models and UX, and fact-check every scientific claim against primary sources before writing anything. 2. I package the result into one self-contained Markdown instruction document containing file paths, specifications, localization keys for all five languages (IT/EN/ES/FR/DE), edge cases, and acceptance criteria. 3. I create a Git restore point. 4. I give the document to Claude Code, which implements the feature end to end using SwiftUI, SwiftData, and MVVM. 5. A small script sends me a Telegram notification when the task is complete. I review the diff and test the app on a device. 6. I ship by creating an archive with `xcodebuild` and uploading it to the App Store with Transporter. This process is how I shipped 11 exercise areas, 83 articles in five languages, and a complete editorial system as a solo developer.

After about 18 months of building software with AI, I realized that reliability wasn't primarily a model problem. Bigger context windows and more clever prompts didn't fix it. What did help was treating the AI like a developer joining an existing team instead of like a chatbot. Real developers don't work from memory. They inspect production, read the documentation, check the tickets, and use proven tools. I built an environment that lets the AI do the same. The workflow is tool-agnostic, so it can be rebuilt with whatever AI client and stack you already use. Step-by-step: 1. I gave the AI a persistent task and history store that it can read from and write to. This is the core of the workflow. Mine lives behind an MCP tool, but any queryable store can work. Every architectural decision, blocker, and progress note gets written there instead of being left in the chat. 2. I open every session with a stand-up. Before writing a single line of code, the AI pulls what was in progress, what's blocked, what changed since the last session, and which architectural decisions still hold. About 30 seconds later, we're both looking at the same project. Then we build. 3. I exposed real operations as MCP tools instead of relying on "write code" prompts. I wrapped specific, tested actions—such as creating a page, defining a data model, wiring an integration, and running a migration—as tools. The AI composes these known-good building blocks into larger solutions instead of regenerating infrastructure every session. I call this wave coding, and it's the biggest reason the output stays consistent. 4. I made verification a rule: before touching anything, the AI reads the live database, API state, logs, and files. It checks ground truth first instead of making assumptions. 5. I made the chat disposable and the log canonical. If it isn't logged, it didn't happen. The task store is the single source of truth, not the conversation. The payoff is that I can stop halfway through a feature, close my laptop, and come back days later. The AI reconstructs the project from its own history, so I don't spend 20 minutes re-explaining it. Full disclosure: I built this into my own platform, WebsitePublisher.ai, which currently has 43 MCP tools and 105 integration building blocks. It's delivered as an add-on that plugs into the AI client I already use over MCP, so there's no new app to learn. Nothing here is locked to that platform, though: the workflow itself works with any MCP client and any store the AI can query. I'm curious whether anyone else is running their AI this way or solving the amnesia problem from a different angle.

AI agents can generate impressive work quickly, but the agent that created something is not necessarily the best judge of whether it is correct, complete, secure, or ready to move forward. Without an independent review step, mistakes can compound as later stages build on work that was never properly validated. I created a system of specialized AI review agents that act as quality gates between stages of work. Instead of letting the agent that performed the work decide whether it is finished, a separate reviewer evaluates the output against explicit criteria and makes a gate decision: PASS or NEEDS REVISION. Different reviewers focus on different dimensions. In my software development workflow, I use reviewers for implementation fidelity, code quality, security, performance, and specification compliance. A feature does not advance until the required reviewers have passed it. Step-by-step: 1. Define what “good” means before the work starts. Give reviewers an explicit source of truth, such as a specification, plan, acceptance criteria, coding standards, security rules, or quality rubric. 2. Separate execution from evaluation. The agent that performs the work should not be the only agent deciding whether that work is acceptable. 3. Create specialized reviewers for important quality dimensions. For software, this might include implementation, code quality, security, performance, and specification reviewers. The same pattern can be used for research, writing, factuality, compliance, financial analysis, or brand review. 4. Run the appropriate reviewers when a stage is complete. Each reviewer independently inspects the work from its assigned perspective and actively looks for reasons it should not advance. 5. Require an explicit gate decision. A reviewer must return either PASS or NEEDS REVISION, along with concrete findings and recommended fixes. In my workflow, reviewers can block progression for issues such as missing tests, even when the underlying implementation appears correct. 6. Route failed work back to the appropriate agent. The worker fixes the identified problems and submits the work for review again. 7. Advance only after the required gates pass. Later stages should not build on work that still has unresolved review findings. 8. Keep humans at consequential decision points. AI reviewers can determine whether work satisfies their assigned criteria, but important actions such as merging, deploying, publishing, or otherwise committing the result can remain human decisions. Instead of treating AI-generated work as complete simply because an agent produced it, I create a controlled loop: Build → Review → Fix → Re-review → Pass → Advance The result is a more reliable workflow where specialized agents perform the work, independent agents challenge it, and errors are caught before they propagate into later stages.

I turned an open-source XML lookup fix into a debugging walkthrough that other developers can run. I used Codex, Python, and GitHub to document a bug where a document style containing quotation marks could be saved but then fail during retrieval because its name was interpolated into an XPath expression. Step-by-step: 1. I gave Codex the original patch and inspected the affected code, tracing the stored value through the public API, the wrapper, and the XML library. 2. I extracted the smallest standalone reproduction with `lxml`. It included a name containing both single and double quotes and kept the failing lookup visible. 3. I replaced interpolation with a bound variable: `styles.xpath("style[@name=$name]", name=name)`. I checked that the wrapper forwarded variables while preserving its namespace mapping. 4. I ran both versions. The interpolated version raised `XPathEvalError` in my reproduction. Binding the value matched five exact names, while an absent name returned no match. 5. I published the explanation, executable example, and upstream patch together. I inspected the rendered article and links and disclosed AI assistance. A prompt to reuse: "Reduce this lookup failure to a runnable example. Keep the failing case, show the fix, and check ordinary text, both quote types, custom namespaces and a missing value. Report which checks actually ran." The original fix had already been merged, so this workflow documents it. Broader service behavior needs separate tests. I used my existing Codex and local Python setup and did not measure time savings. I am Hồ Khắc Huy, a freelance software engineer. This is my independent open-source work. The linked article includes the runnable example, upstream contribution, and my contact details: https://github.com/builtbyhuy/builtbyhuy/blob/main/notes/2026-09-06-xpath-variables.md

I created an agent collaboration system called duo-agents that pairs Claude and Codex to work together on coding tasks... Claude acts as the implementer (coder), then Codex acts as the reviewer (checks and makes edits). They alternate in rounds, communicating through a shared file. The key difference: both agents actually edit files — the reviewer doesn't just leave comments, they make the fixes themselves. Describe your task and watch them iterate until the code is solid. Step-by-step: 1. I created a shared file that both coding agents could use to pass context and decisions back and forth. 2. I assigned Claude the implementer role and had it build the requested change directly in the codebase. 3. I assigned Codex the reviewer role and had it inspect the implementation for problems. 4. Instead of leaving comments, Codex edited the files and made the fixes itself. 5. I alternated the two agents in rounds until the shared task was complete and the code was solid.

I use AI agents across roughly half of my startup, including search, security testing, development, and affiliate integrations. - Smart Shopping Deals search: It never relies on a single AI provider. I use a chain of backup providers for LLM-based search and embeddings with pgvector. If one provider fails or times out, the system silently retries with the next. A slow provider never hangs the request, and users never see the failure. In the worst case, the system falls back to plain search. - Security testing: I run the autonomous AI security agent Strix against my live preview after every deploy. It actively attacks the app the way a hacker would. - Development workflow: My real “team” is a four-layer testing rule enforced by the AI itself. Every feature has to ship with backend tests, component tests, full browser end-to-end tests, and test-data setup, all in the same commit. Claude Code doesn’t consider a feature “done” until all four exist—not just the code. - Affiliate parsing: One parser handles every affiliate network. I paste in the raw ad code from any network, and the same parser automatically extracts the banner link, image, and destination URL. No network-specific code is needed.

I developed a platform that helps users learn dimensional modeling and create entity-relationship (ER) diagrams through a drag-and-drop interface tailored to specific use cases. I noticed that many people struggle with visualization and face a significant gap between understanding database concepts and creating tables. This can make it difficult to work independently or determine which type of table to use and when, including whether to create a dimension or fact table. Step-by-step: 1. I identified the difficulty many people have visualizing dimensional modeling concepts. 2. I created a platform focused on learning dimensional modeling and ER diagrams. 3. I built a drag-and-drop interface tailored to specific use cases. 4. I designed it to help users understand how to create tables and determine whether to use a dimension table or a fact table.

A finished video can be wrong in ways you cannot see—not because of the edit, but because of the delivery file itself. That is what gets work sent back, and it is rarely the craft. I built a delivery check for this. I give it a finished file, tell it where the file is going and what kind of piece it is, and it measures the things that cause rejections: sample rate, mono audio, integrated loudness against the destination target, true peak, dynamic range against a band rather than a single number, A/V drift, whether the shots cut together, and whether the file can stream before it has finished downloading. Most of those checks are for sound, because most of what gets sent back is sound. Picture problems are visible on a screen. A file that is 2 dB too quiet or peaks at -0.7 dBFS can look perfect and still come back. For everything it can fix, the checker gives me the exact `ffmpeg` command, with the numbers already calculated for that file. It does not merely describe the fix, and it does not hand me a corrected file. That was the decision that mattered. A fixer is a black box. You never learn that you had a problem, so you make it again the following week. Then, when your editing tool adds an “optimize on export” button, you have nothing. An inspector that explains the problem in one sentence and gives you the command teaches you the standard once and remains useful when the tools change. Three things determined whether I would actually use it, and none of them are checks. “Two severities, never one.” Something either bounces, or it needs your eyes. A tool that only says “bad” gets ignored on the third run, because half of what it flags is a decision you made on purpose. Sample rate, mono, and true peak bounce without argument, and they get a command. Loudness and dynamic range need to be reviewed first. My dynamic-range check says in plain words that the result is often deliberate and should be fixed at the source rather than in the master. “A check that refuses to give a verdict.” On vertical video, the platform interface covers the bottom 26 percent and the top 12 percent. I flag high-contrast elements in those zones but deliberately do not fail them, because the detector cannot tell a caption from a bright patch of sky. The report explains that limitation. A check admitting what it cannot know is what makes the checks that do commit worth trusting. “The thresholds are mine; the code only applies them.” They live in a table: destination crossed with content. Social wants -14 LUFS, a festival master wants -18 with a wider tolerance because festivals provide a band rather than a number, and broadcast wants -23. A scripted short is allowed to be denser than a screencast. That table is the whole product. For example, to catch shots that do not cut together, I measure the luminance range across the piece. The first version used average brightness per frame and kept flagging legitimate night photography. A fade to black has nothing bright in it; a night scene does—a streetlight, a moon, or a face. Changing the discriminant to the brightest pixel in the frame instead of the average eliminated the false positives. That took ten minutes of thinking, and no amount of better code would have found it. Step-by-step: 1. I wrote down what had actually gotten my work sent back over twenty years before writing any code. I captured the scars rather than making a spec sheet; that list became the product. 2. I gave every check a severity: it bounces, or look before you send. Anything I could not confidently put in one bucket became informational, with no verdict at all. 3. I made every check return four things: the measured value, pass or fail, why it matters in one plain sentence, and, where possible, the command that fixes it. 4. I put the thresholds in a profile table instead of hardcoding one standard, because -14 LUFS is right for social and wrong for a festival. 5. I added a parameter for whether the file is my own master or a copy pulled from a platform. On a downloaded copy, half the container checks measure someone else’s transcode rather than my work, so they are skipped and the report explains why. 6. When two fixes would collide, I output only one command. If loudness already needs a gain change, the limiter goes inside that command instead of being offered separately; otherwise, I would run two instructions that fight each other. 7. I tuned the checker against real files until the false positives stopped. Ignoring the top and bottom five percent of frames eliminated the ones caused by a single stray frame. 8. I made the output a report. I read it, decide, and run the command myself. The functions are an afternoon of work, and anyone can copy them. What is not written down is the list of what to check, at what threshold, and why.

I built AIEnhancer to solve a problem I often encountered when working with low-quality images. Many images contain useful content but are too small, blurry, or lacking in detail to reuse effectively. The project uses AI-based image processing to improve image resolution and recover visual details. I wanted to make the workflow simple: upload an image, process it, and receive an enhanced version without needing professional image-editing software. One challenge was finding the right balance between sharpening details and avoiding artificial-looking results. During development, I experimented with different enhancement approaches and focused on keeping the output natural. I'm still interested in improving enhancement quality for different types of images. I'd like to hear how other developers handle image restoration and super-resolution, especially for difficult or heavily compressed images. Step-by-step: 1. I identified the problem of reusing images that were too small, blurry, or lacking in detail. 2. I built AIEnhancer to process low-quality images with AI-based image enhancement. 3. I designed the workflow around uploading an image, processing it, and receiving an enhanced version. 4. I experimented with different enhancement approaches to improve resolution and recover visual details. 5. I evaluated the results for a balance between sharper details and a natural appearance. 6. I continued exploring ways to improve enhancement quality for different image types, including difficult or heavily compressed images.

I kept struggling to stay consistent with social media for my own projects. Writing captions, choosing hashtags, designing graphics, and scheduling content across platforms was taking hours every week—time I would rather spend building. So I built AutoKonnekt. You give it one sentence or a website URL, and it generates a full month of on-brand social posts, including captions, hashtags, and AI-generated images. It then schedules them across Instagram, Facebook, LinkedIn, TikTok, Pinterest, X, and Threads. The hardest part was getting the AI to sound like a specific brand’s voice instead of producing generic marketing copy. That took a lot of iteration on the prompting side. It’s live now with a free plan if anyone wants to try it: https://autokonnekt.com I’d love to hear what the community thinks. For those of you managing social media manually, which part takes the most time? I’m trying to figure out what to build next. Step-by-step: 1. I enter one sentence describing the project or provide a website URL. 2. AutoKonnekt generates a month of on-brand social posts with captions, hashtags, and AI-generated images. 3. I use the generated content across Instagram, Facebook, LinkedIn, TikTok, Pinterest, X, and Threads. 4. AutoKonnekt schedules the posts across those platforms. 5. I iterate on the prompting to make the content sound like the specific brand instead of generic marketing copy.