Corporate parables, tech industry satire, and sharp commentary on the humans behind the code.
There is a hotel in the John Wick universe that caters exclusively to assassins. The only rule: no business on the premises. Tech conferences, Slack communities, and industry events run on the same lie. And the person who reads the room outlasts every fighter in it.
Twelve seats. Unelected. Unaccountable. The John Wick High Table is fiction. The professional version — setting your tools, interview process, and career trajectory without consulting you — is a Tuesday. First in The Continental Rules series.
In the fourth century BC, a shoemaker told the greatest painter in Greece how to paint. From that moment, the word ultracrepidarian was born. A moral fable about Dunning-Kruger, the Peter Principle, and the question I keep avoiding: how often am I the shoemaker without knowing it?
A learning comedy — the clinical case of a company whose immune system attacks its own cure: it advertises for a superhero, then rejects the one who shows up as “overqualified.” Why hiring gets sick, and how to read a rejection letter that contradicts its own evidence.
The Human Code finale. Six awards travel to six species at the Engineering Excellence Awards, and the camera finally pulls back: the predators were never the organism under study. The habitat is. Which species does your building select for — and which are you becoming?
Episode 6 of Human Code. Praesentia vacua attends every meeting, nods at every update, and decides nothing. You can't observe this species directly — only the hole it leaves: the drift, the six-week-old access request, and Sync #7. The empty chair would cost less.
Episode 5 of Human Code — the one with teeth. Fiducia disponibilis acquires your trust faster than anyone you've ever met, keeps it in RAM, and never writes it to disk. One ordinary Tuesday, the migration begins. The host wasn't ended. The host was deprecated.
Episode 4 of Human Code. Pica creditrix absorbs your ideas in private and presents them in public, 48 hours later, on slide seven, under the pronoun 'we'. The damage isn't the stolen thought — it's the silence that follows. Welcome to the food chain.
