Your living record. The things you keep having to find, in one place any AI can read. You own it.
They ask it, or they wait for you.
It knows your life, or it guesses.
It reads yours, or it invents you.
You are the only copy.
Every day I get bombarded by questions. My wife wants to know if the water bill was paid. My accountant wants to know if we had any deductible expenses this month. The airline wants to know if I’d like an aisle seat. My doctor’s office wants to know if I prefer mornings or afternoons.
Now software asks too. The hotel’s agent wants to know if anyone in my family has a food allergy. The pharmacy’s agent wants to know which insurance to bill. And my own agents don’t just ask. They book, renew, file and buy in my name. To do that, they have to know my life.
Everyone wants a piece, and I’m the bottleneck. Hours every week go to it.
So I answer the same questions over and over, and every company keeps its own copy of my answers. Those copies go stale the moment something changes, and I can’t see or fix any of them. The AI assistants are worse. They fill the gaps from whatever I’ve pasted in or whatever they can find, and where they know nothing, they guess.
What if I didn’t have to be in the middle? What if, once, I set up one living copy of my life that keeps itself current, and gave out some or all of it, seat by seat?
I own it. I control it. And I see who used it, for what, and when.