The year was 1993. A small team of scientists in Germany finalized a file format that nobody asked for. It seemed like just another technical tweak to shrink a digital file.

It was like figuring out how to make a brick, then mortar. Two simple elements. But suddenly, you aren’t building mud huts anymore. You are building skyscrapers.

In the early 2000s, I was involved in designing MP3 products and experiences. The interfaces were clunky and the storage was tiny. But even then, we knew we were holding something potent enough to challenge the status quo.

Provenance tracks the tool. It tells you nothing about the mind behind it.

Most conversations about AI and creativity today circle around watermarking, detection, and whether something is "AI-made." It sounds serious and responsible, but it quietly misses the core issue.

AI-generated content is already everywhere and will only become more present. Trying to control it purely at the output level is like trying to stop a waterfall with a cup. So the important question is no longer "Was this made by AI?"

What if you spent zero percent of your brain on file organization?

Somewhere between “I’ll clean this up on the weekend” and 2,400 files in Downloads, I realised my digital life was quietly draining my attention. So instead of doing another heroic cleanup, I tried something different: I built a small file‑organising agent in Antigravity and pointed it at the mess. This is a short story about what happened, how much hidden cognitive load it exposed, and why I think tiny, boring agents like this might matter more for our quality of life than the flashiest AI demos.

A Simple Truth

The impossible drives the possible. That has been my guiding principle for as long as I have been designing and innovating. Every breakthrough begins as something that seems out of reach, until it isn't.

You never needed an interface to speak with another human. You simply talk. No apps. No menus. No buttons. Just pure connection. This realization struck me in 2004 while designing the CUin5 (as in: "see you in 5", a nod to the simplicity of human connection) mobile phone concept for the NONOBJECT book. This screenless device, powered by voice and agent intelligence, showed me where technology needed to go.