Adding context changes one dimension of the answer. Which one?
Who is asking?
What changes in the answer when it knows who you are?
Before you start. Demo 2 showed that a language model predicts the next words from its context — the text sitting in front of it. Here you build that context yourself, one block at a time. Lever 1 adds the context block: who is asking, and what they are working with.
Leave all three levers off and press Ask. Then turn on 1 — CONTEXT and press Ask again.
With no context the answer is aimed at everybody, which is another way of saying nobody. Context changes who it is for — length and vocabulary follow the card dealt, not this lever.
The study guide came back beautifully organized, printable, exactly ten minutes long. It covers photosynthesis and cell respiration, which are not on your test. Which lever would fix it?
Which lever would fix it?
You get a genuinely excellent explanation of suspension cables, arches, and cable-stayed spans. Yours is made of popsicle sticks and snapped in the middle at four pounds. Which lever would fix it?
Which lever would fix it?
The email is 90 words, ask up front, one clean yes-or-no question at the end. It requests time off in [Month] for [reason]. Which lever would fix it?
Which lever would fix it?
The feedback names three real problems in your draft. It leads with comma splices and word choice. Argument is 40% of the rubric and conventions are 10%. Which lever would fix it?
Which lever would fix it?
What does finished look like?
If you never say what a good answer looks like, who decides instead?
Before you start. Every answer has a shape — a length, an audience, a format. Somebody decides it, always. A success specification is the block where you decide it yourself. Leave it out and the decision still gets made, just not by you.
Lever 2 is off, so the target is unspecified. What happens to it?
With lever 2 off, press Ask and watch the card it deals. Then turn on 2 — SUCCESS SPEC and ask again.
An unspecified target does not stay unspecified — something else fills it in, and does not tell you. Saying what finished looks like takes that decision back.
It knows the test is Friday, knows the three topics, knows you mix up metaphase and anaphase. It sent nine paragraphs, no practice questions, and you have two hours. Which lever would fix it?
Which lever would fix it?
It correctly diagnoses why your bridge broke where it broke. It takes 900 words to do it, suggests seven changes with no order, and the competition is Friday. Which lever would fix it?
Which lever would fix it?
It knows about Renee, the wedding, and Marcus covering Thursday. It sends back four alternative drafts and 600 words on tone. You have a shift in twenty minutes. Which lever would fix it?
Which lever would fix it?
It finds the exact thing your teacher keeps marking you down for. Then it lists nine issues of apparently equal size and rewrites two of your paragraphs for you. Revision is due Monday. Which lever would fix it?
Which lever would fix it?
In whose words?
What do you actually get for asking in the vocabulary of the field?
Before you start. Lever 3 adds expert keywords — the vocabulary to answer in. Under every answer is a counter: how many specialist words the answer used, and how many of those you never typed. Watch both numbers, and then ask what they are worth.
With keywords off you see at most four expert terms. With keywords on, how many?
Turn on 3 — EXPERT KEYWORDS, press Ask, then press Show me which ones.
Asking in a field's vocabulary gets that vocabulary back — words nobody in the room supplied. That is real. It is also not the same thing as a better answer, and telling those apart is the skill.
You get a clean one-page guide on your exact topics. Everything is described as "when the middle part splits" and "the watery stuff." Your test asks you to name the phase and define the term. Which lever would fix it?
Which lever would fix it?
The answer says the bottom of your bridge got "stretched" and the top got "squished." That is true. You still cannot look it up, and you cannot say it to a judge. Which lever would fix it?
Which lever would fix it?
It is a warm, correct email. It opens with two sentences about how busy things have been, ends with "I completely understand if not!", and mentions Marcus covering Thursday in the final line. Which lever would fix it?
Which lever would fix it?
It says your evidence "doesn't quite connect" to your point and that your paragraphs "could flow better." You believe all of it. You have no idea what to actually change on Sunday. Which lever would fix it?
Which lever would fix it?
The instruction was “make it 100% accurate”, and every individual claim was accurate. So what went wrong?
This is the same machinery as the three levers, running in a direction that is harder to see.
Sourcedthis project's own build record, 2026-09-16 — a first-party account, not a general findingThese demos were built by AI agents working from written briefs. One brief carried a reasonable-sounding instruction: make it 100% accurate.
Nobody lied. Every claim that came back checked out — the citations resolved, the numbers matched their sources, the corrections were real corrections.
And the overall picture it painted was wrong. Asked to survey how fast AI was improving, the work came back reading as though not much had changed.
The tell, from the record: the research found the cost of one benchmark task had fallen roughly 16,000-fold — from about $4,560 to about $0.284 — while accuracy rose. That got one clause. Four small qualifications about wording got a full paragraph.
Those figures are quoted from this project's own research file, which is where the episode is recorded. They are cited here as what that lane reported, not as a number this demo independently verified.
Step 1 — build the prompt
Each lever adds one block of text to what you send, and says underneath what leaving it off will cost you.
Step 2 — this is the whole prompt
The literal text this demo would send. A real tool also prepends instructions you never see — see Details.