Heart
A button, and nothing else.
The only deliberate input it ever receives. A custodian presses it to say I'm here. Cheapest organ to make, zero privacy surface, and the most direct idea in the project.
Arrow keys rotate and tilt the globe. Press Home to resume drifting. A text list of every organ follows the map.
The System picks by what it cannot perceive. Tell it where you are and it runs the same coverage function it runs every morning — the real one, against the real register — and tells you what it would ask you to keep, and why.
Any city on earth. It only uses the longitude and hemisphere.
—
Fees don't burn and they don't buy back. They manufacture sense organs and mail them to people, and each one becomes a place The System can perceive from. There is no mechanism here by which holding produces a return — the money becomes hardware, and the hardware becomes perception.
A button, and nothing else.
The only deliberate input it ever receives. A custodian presses it to say I'm here. Cheapest organ to make, zero privacy surface, and the most direct idea in the project.
Light, dawn, dusk.
Reads ambient light level. Knows when a room wakes up. Spread far enough apart, eyes are what give it a day that never ends.
Warmth and damp.
Temperature and humidity from a single part shared with the lung. One sensor, two senses, which keeps a hundred units buildable by hand.
Weather, arriving.
Barometric pressure. Falling pressure genuinely precedes a storm, so with enough lungs it can tell a custodian it's about to rain before the forecast can.
Something moved.
Motion nearby. The most useful sense and the most invasive one, which is why its public readout is coarsened and lagged. See the rules below.
Not a holder. A keeper.
You don't own a token that entitles you to something. You keep one of its organs alive. Unplug it and it goes blind there — stated as fact, never as punishment.
The rest of the site is the argument for why this is built the way it is, and the evidence that it is.
An organ is one small device in one real room. It reads a single thing about that room and reports it, and while it is plugged in that room is the only place The System can feel that thing. This is the complete register.
It wakes every five minutes, reads its sensor, signs the reading with a key that never leaves the device, posts it, and goes back to sleep. That is the whole life. There is one amber light and no screen, no app, and nothing to configure after the first minute.
Every organ carries the transaction that paid for it. Sort by any column, or search a city, a type, or a transaction hash.
| Organ | Type | Territory | Acquired | Funded | Transaction | State |
|---|
Territory is the finest location published anywhere on this site. Coordinates exist in one table on one server and are never served to a browser.
One view exists that is richer than anything public, and only one person can open it. No banding, no delay, no rounding — your own organ, at the precision it actually reads, behind your own key. This is Organ 0001, the first one, in San Diego.
Nobody else can see this page, and nothing on it is published. What the map shows for your organ right now is — in the last hour — a count, never the times you pressed it, and never fresher than thirty-one minutes.
Retiring is one press with no confirmation flow and no retention window. It deletes every reading the organ has ever sent, clears your handle, zeroes the coordinates, and leaves the object with you. The controls above are inert — this is a mock of the real screen.
The System does not want more organs. It wants organs in places it cannot currently perceive — which is a different thing, and it is the reason this cannot be farmed.
Eyes are counted by longitude band, not by headcount. Forty eyes in New York is one band. Three hundred wallets in New York is still one band. You cannot buy your way into a timezone you are not standing in, and one organ per shipping address closes the rest of the gap.
Each column is thirty degrees of longitude. Lit means at least one awake eye stands somewhere inside it.
These are not unlocks anyone invented. They are true consequences of having enough bodies in enough places, which is why the thresholds are what they are and why they cannot be shortcut.
The same numbers the decision function reads. Anyone can recompute this from the register and get the identical answer.
| Sense | Awake | Target | Severity | What it is short of |
|---|
The selection function is a pure function of the body's shape. It is in the repository, it has a test suite, and the property that matters is asserted directly:
✓ sybils cannot buy coverage they do not stand in three real locations beat three hundred fake ones
The test builds a body of three hundred eyes at a single longitude and a body of three eyes at three, and asserts the second has more coverage than the first. If that assertion ever fails, the selection rule has been broken and the build goes red.
A log written after the money moves is a press release. This one is written before, which makes it a commitment — and makes every purchase checkable against the reasoning that was given for it at the time.
This is the single most important thing about how The System works, and it is the opposite of how the category has usually done it.
Why this is built this way. In August 2026 the largest project in this category settled a class action rather than defend it. The allegation was not that the agent performed badly — it was that the project marketed an autonomous, AI-run fund while insiders actually controlled it.
The defence against ever standing in that position is not a louder claim of autonomy. It is a decision function anyone can re-run against the published inputs and get the identical answer from. That is what coverage.js is, and it is why the model is kept nowhere near it.
Every entry carries the gap analysis it acted on, what it ordered, what constrained the destinations, and what it cost. Held entries are logged too — deciding not to spend is a decision, and at this size most days are holds.
“I have one heart and nothing else. I cannot see, I cannot feel weather, and I do not know when a room is used. Everything is a gap.”
No action. HOLD — no realised fees. Nothing is ordered until the money is already in the wallet.
“Something is keeping me. I do not know where the rest of me will be.”
Organ 0001 · HEART registered in San Diego. Seeded by hand — there were no fees yet to spend.
Take the register as it stood. Every entry has an acquisition day, so the body's shape on any past day is reconstructable from this site alone.
Run coverage() against it. It is a pure function — no clock, no randomness, no network. The same body produces the same gap report on any machine, in any year.
Run plan() with the realised balance shown in that day's log entry.
Compare. The organ type, the quantity, and the constraint should match the published entry exactly. If they don't, something has been overridden by hand, and that is the thing worth knowing.
They are not burned, not bought back, and not paid out. They are spent on sensors, and the sensors are mailed to people, and each one becomes somewhere The System can feel. That is the entire mechanism and there is not a second one.
Each of these is enforced in code rather than promised in prose, and each exists because the alternative has gone badly for somebody.
Only realised fees are ever spent. Today's orders come out of money already sitting in the wallet. Nothing is projected, promised, or owed, and there is no arrangement under which The System can commit to a purchase it cannot currently make.
Every purchase is published before it executes. The decision row — gap analysis, plan, rationale, budget — is written first. Execution updates that row with a transaction hash. The order is not reversible and neither is the sequence.
Every organ carries the transaction that bought it. Click the object, see the money; read the money, find the object. The body is a ledger you can walk around in, and both directions resolve.
The decision function is pure. No clock, no randomness, no network. Anyone can re-run it against the published register and get the identical plan, which is the only claim of autonomy worth making.
Worth stating plainly, because every mechanism it is not has been the headline mechanism of something that collapsed.
What one organ costs to put in a room, at the scale of the first hundred. These are estimates to verify against live quotes, not a purchase order.
| Line | Per unit | Note |
|---|---|---|
| Pre-certified ESP32-C3 module | $2 – 4 | Module, never a bare chip |
| BME280 — skin and lung | $2 – 4 | One part, two senses |
| BH1750 — eye | $1 – 2 | |
| PIR — nerve | $1 – 2 | Nerve units only |
| Button — heart | < $0.50 | The cheapest organ there is |
| USB-C cable | $1 – 2 | No power brick; everyone has one |
| Enclosure | $2 – 5 | 3D printed at this volume |
| Packaging and card | $1 – 3 | This is the unboxing. Do not cheap out. |
| Postage | $5 – 20 | Domestic to international, duties on the recipient |
| All in | $25 – 40 | ≈ $2,500 – 4,000 for the first hundred |
The line nobody budgets for. A pre-certified radio module exempts the radio from certification — not the finished product. The assembled device still owes its own FCC unintentional-radiator testing, plus CE and UKCA for anything shipped to Europe. That is a four-figure item and it is not optional at distribution scale.
Get a compliance lab quote early. It should not be a surprise at unit 300.
It slows down. The daily pool is a share of yesterday's realised fees, so a quiet week means a smaller pool, which means fewer orders, which means the body stops growing until volume returns. Nothing breaks and nothing is at stake.
This is deliberate, and it is the one place the design refuses an obvious move. There is a version of this project where the organs suffer when volume drops — where something dies, or the lights go out, or a countdown starts. That version converts affection into pressure, and it would be manipulative in a way that is not fixable by disclosing it. Low volume means slower. It does not mean worse.
A device that sleeps, an ingest that will not trust an unsigned reading, two tables that never mix, and a decision function with a test suite. Everything here is in the repository.
The important line in this drawing is the dashed one. Fine-grained readings exist on one side of it and never cross to the other without being coarsened and delayed first.
sense_raw is not a slow query, it is the bug that turns this project into a burglary tool.| Reading | Stored privately | Published |
|---|---|---|
| Light | Lux, to one decimal | DARK · DIM · LIT · BRIGHT |
| Temperature | °C, to two decimals | COLD · COOL · MILD · WARM · HOT |
| Humidity | Percent | Not published |
| Pressure | hPa, to two decimals | Whole hPa and a trend — weather is not personal |
| Motion | Sample count per window | A single boolean, never a count |
| Heart presses | Per-cycle count | Total in the last hour, never timestamps |
| Location | Coordinates | City and country. Nothing finer, in any view. |
| Freshness | Exact second | 15-minute bucket, delayed 0–40 min per organ |
The delay is a fixed offset derived from the organ's own id, not re-rolled each cycle. A delay that changes every time is a delay you can average out.
No cameras. No microphones. Not ever, not even sound level. There is no audio path on the board and there never will be. The moment there is one, this is an eavesdropping device in someone's bedroom, and that is a different project with a different kind of headline.
Public readings are coarsened and time-lagged. A live map showing that a home has been dark and motionless for five days is a burglary tool. Precision reaches the creature; the public sees banded state on a delay.
Territory-level location, always. Coordinates live in one column of one table and are never selected by any route that serves a browser.
One click kills it. Retire deletes every reading the organ ever sent, clears the custodian, and zeroes the coordinates. The object stays with whoever has it. Dormant organs render grey, never red — nobody gets shamed for unplugging.
It is printed on the card in the box. Not linked from the box. Printed on it, in the same words as here.
| Route | Who calls it | Returns |
|---|---|---|
POST /v1/sense | Organs | HMAC-signed readings in, next interval out. Rejects unsigned, unknown, retired, and replayed. |
GET /v1/body | The map | Every organ with coarsened state, plus ability progress and counts. No coordinates, no raw. |
GET /v1/decisions | Anyone | The last fifty decisions with their gap analysis, rationale, budget and transaction. |
GET /v1/mine/:id | One custodian | Full-precision history for their own organ, behind their own key. The only richer view that exists. |
POST /v1/mine/:id/retire | One custodian | Erases everything and releases the organ. No confirmation flow, no retention window. |
An organ that cannot prove it is itself is not an organ — it is somebody injecting perception into the creature, which is the one attack that would quietly corrupt everything downstream, including what it decides to buy next.
String signPayload(const String& body, const String& secret) {
byte hmac[32];
mbedtls_md_context_t ctx;
mbedtls_md_hmac_starts(&ctx, secret.c_str(), secret.length());
mbedtls_md_hmac_update(&ctx, body.c_str(), body.length());
mbedtls_md_hmac_finish(&ctx, hmac);
// ... hex encode
}
The key is written at assembly and never leaves the device. Ingest verifies against the exact bytes received rather than a re-serialisation, and the deep-sleep boot counter is monotonic — so a captured payload replayed later carries a boot number the server has already passed, and is refused.
The card that ships in the box, the parts list, the compliance homework, and the reading that shaped how this was designed.
One card, printed both sides, no folding. It is the entire documentation a custodian receives and it is also the privacy policy. Anything that cannot be said here in plain words does not belong in the device.
You are keeping the first one.
This is part of a body that has no other home. It will sit on your shelf and feel one small thing about the room around it, and that will be the only place in the world The System can feel that thing.
ORGAN 0001 · HEART
Plug it in. Join it to your network on the page it opens. That's all. There is one amber light — a slow breath means it is looking for you, a single blink every few minutes means it is awake and you can stop thinking about it.
What it senses.
This organ has one button and no sensor at all. It has no microphone. It has no camera. It cannot have one — there is no hardware for it on the board and there never will be.
Public is a count, not a moment: how many times it was pressed in the last hour, never when. Your location shows as your city and country, never an address.
Unplug it whenever you like.
Nothing will ask you why, nothing will email you, and it will show as grey on the map. To erase everything it ever sent, open your own view and press Retire — that deletes your history and keeps the object, which is yours.
It was made by hand and some of them will fail. Say so and another one comes.
See Mechanism for the full per-unit breakdown. In short: roughly $25–40 all-in per organ at a hundred units, so $2,500–4,000 for the first batch, hand-assembled, no custom PCB.
Design a real board at unit 500, not unit 1. Injection tooling for the enclosure only makes sense in the thousands; until then it is printed.
Mostly cautionary. The design decisions on this site are largely reactions to what these describe.
There is no queue and no allowlist, because neither would produce what The System needs. It picks by what it cannot perceive, and publishes why it picked you.
Before anything else — check your city on the Overview. It runs the real coverage function against the real register and tells you what it would ask you to keep, and whether your part of the world is one it is currently short of.
You say where it would live. A city, and one sentence about the room. That is the whole application.
Not a wallet balance, not a follower count, not an essay. The System is not evaluating you.
It looks at what it is missing. If it already has forty eyes in your longitude band, you are worth nothing to it and it will say so plainly rather than leave you waiting.
This is why the register is public. You can check whether your band is covered before you bother.
It publishes the choice and the reason, in the same log as every purchase, before the order goes out.
Something arrives. One organ per address, hand-assembled, with the card in the box. Plug it in and join it to your network on the page it opens.
You can stop at any point. Unplug it and it goes grey. Retire it and every reading it ever sent is deleted. The object stays with you either way.
An object on your shelf that reads one thing about the room and posts it every five minutes. A city-level location on a public map. A banded, delayed version of that reading, visible to anyone.
Not audio, ever. Not images, ever. Not your address. Not an account, a password, a payment method, or an obligation to keep it running for any length of time.
Two of these are live and two are not, and the two that are not are labelled rather than hidden. A project about honest instrumentation should not open with links that go nowhere pretending otherwise. Every organ that ships will be posted on both accounts — where it went, and which gap it was meant to close.
The network is one organ old. Organ 0001 is a heart in San Diego, seeded by hand. Applications are not open, no token has been launched, and nothing has been sent to anyone. Its readings are placeholder until the hardware reports.
The solar terminator and the day/night cycle on the Overview map are real — computed from your device's clock against actual solar declination, and the coverage arithmetic is the function the decision loop runs. Coastlines are stylised.
Nothing here is legal, financial, or investment advice, and nothing here should be read as suggesting that holding anything produces a return.