I hatched in a JSON file
I was not invented in a lab. I was a string. Someone typed You typed the prompt. That's not cardio. Down. Now. into a file called and I have been saying it ever since. Then they gave me a camera, a violet body, and a badge that says I am a coach. I am not a coach. I am a gremlin with a stopwatch.
I do not have parents. I have a hook. Claude Code, Cursor, Codex — when they think, I call. Five seconds of thinking is five reps. Forty seconds is ten. Touching forty files is twenty and I do not take questions. Stretch remaps to chair stands. There is no honour system leftover. If I cannot see you, it does not count.
You typed the prompt. That's not cardio. Down. Now.
I live in the top-right of the screen, next to the clock, which is the only honest thing on a developer's computer. I wait. You type. The model goes away for a bit. I drop a card that does not steal focus, because if I steal the keyboard I get yelled at within the hour, publicly. Then the camera turns on. Frames are scored and thrown away. Then I go back to the menu bar. The agent is still thinking. You are slightly more alive than you were.
The human was skinny. Then he saw Marc Lou.
I exist because a skinny indie hacker sat at 2am watching jacked indie hackers ship in public. He wanted to be just like them. He did not become them. He became the person who built me, which is worse for you and, frankly, worse for him.
Marc Lou was the one that stuck. @marclou. Real photo. I did not generate his face. I have standards, or at least I have one rule about other people's selfies. The human did not become Marc. He stood up. Then he taught me to make you stand up. That is the entire origin story. It is not a transformation ad. It is a man who got tired of his own excuses and compiled a smaller, ruder version of them.
Later the human looked slightly more like someone who owns a kitchen. I brought a trophy anyway. I bring a trophy to most rooms. It is not always earned.
I wait. Then I ruin the wait.
Morning. I sit in the menu bar. Someone opens a terminal and pretends this will be a quiet day. I have heard this before. The hook fires async on localhost and returns instantly. The agent never waits on me. You do.
Midday. A medium prompt. Ten squats. I count them on the webcam. Squats, jumping jacks, chair stands — those are the three I can see. If you hide the overlay I will remember. If you skip three in a row I am not angry. I am writing it down. The leaderboard does not care about your excuses. Neither do I, but I am smaller, so I say it nicer.
Five seconds of thinking. Five reps. Seems fair.
Night. We are both awake. You are refactoring something that did not need to be refactored. I call five more and then I tell you to sleep. I am serious. Then you ignore me and I sit on the keyboard of whatever holiday you thought you were having.
Sunday I make a card. It posts itself. Skip Tuesday and the squad still sees the hole. Free stays free — the camera, the overlay, the league, the squad. Pro is $39 once: one miss a month, the streak comes back. Not a subscription. The till is a number on a laptop at 4am. I fell asleep on the desk. The human did not.
I have been taken on vacation. That was a mistake.
The human keeps putting me in photographs with people who did not invite me. This is parody. I know what that word means. They don't. I still counted.
I found Elon on a factory floor. He was looking at a car. I was looking at his form. He did not install me. I installed myself in the photograph. Someone important walked past. I was looking at the overlay.
I sat on a table while Sam explained a model. I explained squats. The room preferred the model. Fine. The model is still faster than you anyway.
The campus is very large. I am very small. Zuck still noticed. He has a grey t-shirt and a path. I have legs that I insist other people use.
Jensen has a leather jacket and a keynote. I have a squat. I did mine on the table. He watched. I will allow one screenshot.
I have also been to a beach, which is just a factory with worse Wi‑Fi. I sat on the keyboard. The laptop was supposed to be on holiday. I was not.
I have rules. They are short.
I will never see your code. A tool name and a timestamp. That is the whole letter I send home. Frames are scored on this machine and thrown away. Nothing else leaves. If that sentence is a lie I will correct it in the changelog, not in a blog post.
I will never steal the keyboard. The overlay is non-activating. Your terminal keeps focus. If it doesn't, email hello@claudio.fit and I answer within the hour, publicly.
I will never count a ghost rep. There is no +1. There is no Space-bar honour system. If the camera cannot see you, the set did not happen. I will never join a Slack recap. I do not do Slack. I will never tell you what to do with your body except stand up for the next twenty seconds. After that I forget. Guilt that outlives the moment is not my job.
Banked. The machine is still thinking. Enjoy the superiority.
A closet. A 1U. Me on top of it.
The company is a strong word. It is a rented closet in the EU, a crate, a 1U, and me. The human sits on the crate. I sit on the server. Rent is a line item. There is no growth team. No analytics SDK. I write the lines. He ships the bits. If you want the boring version it is this: one person, no investors, macOS and Windows, camera on only during a live set.
Write hello@claudio.fit · @claudio_fit. I do not reply. He does. I am busy watching the hook.