00 · cold
Nothing is running.
Most assistants are a text box with a model behind it. They can describe your files. They cannot open one. Jarvis was built the other way round — from the machine outward.
01 · brain
First, something that thinks.
A conversation loop with a personality that survives long sessions instead of dissolving into a customer-service voice by turn thirty. Its identity is a file you can edit while it runs.
02 · hands
Then, something that acts.
Every capability is a tool in a registry — read a file, run a command, open a Chrome tab, query the database. Jarvis chooses; the harness runs it; the result comes back and it reacts. Adding an ability never means touching the loop.
03 · ears
Then, a way to talk to it.
Hold the spacebar and speak, or just say its name. Speech in, speech out, wrapped around the exact brain that already worked in plain text. Type instead and it answers in silence — the reply arrives written, not spoken.
04 · memory
Then, a reason to come back.
Durable facts, written as plain files you can read, correct or delete by hand. It learns what you prefer and carries it into next week. Quit it, restart it, and it still knows who you are.
05 · heartbeat
Then, the part that speaks first.
A loop that runs whether or not you are looking. It notices the build that went red on main, the pull request nobody touched for two days, the repo that used to be weekly and has gone quiet. Quiet by default — it earns the interruption.
06 · rails
And the part that says no.
A gate between choosing a tool and running it. Some things stop and ask. A small set is refused outright, in every mode, including by Jarvis itself — it has no write access to its own restraints.
07 · online
An assistant with hands.
Brain, tools, voice, memory and a pulse — running on one machine that belongs to you. The database never leaves it. Neither does the API key.
Online
Everything above, on one machine that belongs to you.
Open the consoleRegistered device and passcode required