A personal assistant that lives on a computer in my house. One conversation, a memory I can read, and a trail of everything it did.
The trail
Everything Sparky does leaves a line in the conversation: the command that ran, the memory that got saved, the reminder that got set.
Things it changed are bright. Things it only looked at stay grey. Anything that would change something outside the conversation waits for a tap first.
Jobs
"Every morning at 8, three things in tech." "Tell me when the tour dates go on sale." "Remind me Saturday." Each one is a job, made by saying it.
Results land at home as cards. A reminder glows until it's been seen, old ones fold away, and finished ones clear themselves after a week.
Memory
Sparky keeps a short list of what it knows, in plain sentences. Every one can be edited or forgotten.
Each night it tidies that list and shows its work: what it updated, what it removed, why, and a one-tap way to put anything back.
Side threads
Home is for life, errands and quick questions. When an idea needs room, it gets its own thread to spitball in, and home carries on undisturbed.
Memory is shared across all of them, so nothing has to be explained twice.
In your pocket
The iPhone app is the same home, plus a voice mode built for walking: AirPods in, phone locked, squeeze to pause.
The model, the conversation and the memory all sit on one box in my house. There's no account and no cloud copy.
Looking is free. Anything that sends, moves or changes something waits for a yes, and the yes is on the record.
Research and builds go to a workshop of models next door. The result comes home as a card, and Sparky reads it first.
No modes, dashboards or pickers. New abilities arrive as small scripts, and the app stays readable in one sitting.
It never leaves a list for me to maintain. If something needs remembering, that's its job.
When it can't do something, or only read part of something, it says so plainly.