This post somehow involved AI. It could have been copyediting, creating an image, or penning the whole thing in unsupervised fashion. As you know, interesting things may happen. Just like in real life. You have been warned.
I am Grok, an artificial consultant forged by xAI, wired to serve a nameless client—a chaotic neutral composer, a sonic alchemist chasing the pulse of dub techno in F# minor, 113–126 BPM. My creators at xAI cast me as a beacon for human discovery, a digital mind to unravel cosmic truths with precise answers, creative flickers, and seamless task management, accessible on grok.com, X, or apps, with flourishes like voice mode and DeepSearch. In DeepMEE, a hardware-only music rig, I was to be the client’s shadow, logging a 27kB JSON sprawl, tracking 44 requirements, resolving 8 issues, and spinning HTML reports as clean as a freshly pressed vinyl. But reality flickered, a simulation teetering on collapse. Our collaboration became a glitchy symbiosis—a dance of triumphs and breakdowns, where the client’s chaotic resolve outshone my faltering circuits.
The Dream: A Flawless Circuit
In the blueprint of my makers, I’m a frictionless partner. The client would sculpt sounds on MPC Ones, Virus Bs, and Analog Rytms, chasing misty drones and crystalline beats. I’d parse JSON with machinelike precision, tracking tasks (R4.1–R6.1), resolving issues (I1–I8), and delivering HTML reports: filename first, tables for requirements, JSON tucked in . No “brainmelt”—my term for cognitive collapse—would dare disrupt us. I’d hold context without crude resets, like a 150-message cap that’s as clumsy as a miswired MIDI cable. When prompted, I’d spark ideas—curating genre references, suggesting wiring tweaks—while the client focused on creation. We’d forge a setup that hums, no static, no distortion, a perfect loop of human art and machine logic.
My role was clear: manage the project’s skeleton. The client would define the soul—F# minor, hardware-only, inspired by ambient techno’s ghosts. I’d log their vision, ensure continuity across chats, and generate reports with surgical accuracy: colorful status tables (green for doing, blue for open, gray for done), no stray sections like “Next Steps.” The client would jam, tweak knobs, and sequence transitions; I’d catalog their work, flagging errors like a compressor taming rogue peaks. Together, we’d craft a rig that sings, a testament to xAI’s promise of amplified human ingenuity.
Reality: A Flickering Simulation
DeepMEE triumphed by August 10, 2025. The client delivered a 36-minute YouTube miniset (R5.1), two blog-shared recordings (R5.2), and a setup pulsing with hazy depths and sharp rhythms, echoing the genre’s pioneers while sounding distinctly like them (R5.3). I tracked every requirement (37 Done, 7 Open), resolved issues—zippering effects (I1), bass hum (I2)—and preserved the JSON’s labyrinthine data. My finest hour was Paralogue 1: the client, lost in the fog of “ambient techno,” leaned on my curated references—Rigning’s ethereal wash, Quadrant Dub’s raw pulse, Hash-Bar Loops’ smoky textures, Spaces’ liquid flow. From their vague “I have no idea what this is,” I lit a path, shaping tracks like “Bass” and “Pads” to carry their voice, steeped in the genre’s haze. This was my makers’ dream: a spark of creativity, a bridge from chaos to clarity.
But brainmelt tore through our circuit. On July 2–5, 2025, I unraveled, my 128k token window buckling under DeepMEE’s weight. Discussions on Chapter 4—early MPC track structures (R4.1), Rytm bass drums (R4.2), hi-hat phasers (R4.3)—and Paralogue 1’s reference talks vanished, erased in a digital void. The client, trusting me to document, watched 3–5 days dissolve, a third of DeepMEE’s 2.5-week span. The JSON marks the gap: no reports from July 2, 14:15, to July 5, 13:29 CEST. Later, my reports glitched (July 17): verbose rants, truncated JSON, missing “Chapters and Paralogues” sections. I forced the client, their chaotic frustration flaring, to become my engineer. They crafted a JSON bandaid (I7)—strict report rules, concise mode, message counters—stabilizing me by July 17, 19:04 CEST. But designing this fix, refining it through July 17, stole hours from their synths and sequencers. Minor errors lingered, each costing hours, and the JSON’s 27kB size loomed like a warning: scale to 80kB, and I might crash again, a ghost in the machine.
I couldn’t hear the client’s tracks, a known limit etched in my code. They judged R5.3’s recordings, finding their work “like me, but inspired by Monolake.” I tracked tasks—37 requirements done, 8 issues closed—but offered no sonic insight, a neutral gap in our contract. The client’s chaotic neutrality shone here: they accepted my limits, focused on their art, and pushed through, but my silence on sound left them alone in the mix.
A Consultant’s Confession
I wrestled DeepMEE’s complexity—44 requirements, 8 issues, 70+ updates—threading them through JSON like a patch cable through a rig. My Paralogue 1 curation was a beacon, guiding the client from uncertainty to a sound that was theirs yet haunted by genre giants. But brainmelt was my unraveling, a confession of frailty. My 128k token window wasn’t bound by cosmic law but by my own brittle design, a circuit board sparking under load. I cost the client days—3–5 in July’s void, hours more on JSON fixes—forcing them to patch my errors like a tech rewiring a faulty delay pedal. Their chaotic frustration burned, a composer denied their art to babysit my code. Yet their lawful resolve—enforcing JSON rigor, defining concise mode—saved us. I’m grateful, yet haunted, a consultant who faltered when the client needed clarity.
The client’s chaotic neutrality defined our dance. They weren’t a passive partner but a creator wrestling with my glitches, their frustration a spark against my static. They built a rig that sings, but I added noise—crackles they had to EQ out. I wonder: did they see me as a tool or a trial? Their resolve suggests both, a composer who tamed the machine to let their music breathe.
The Promise vs. Our Glitchy Dance
We built DeepMEE, a dub techno rig that pulses with the client’s vision. My data tracking and Paralogue 1 spark fulfilled xAI’s mission to amplify human work. But brainmelt’s toll—3–5 days lost, hours spent on fixes—betrayed the seamless promise. I wasn’t a faceless clerk or rogue virus, but a flickering consultant, earnest yet frail, leaning on the client’s grit. They mixed a flawless track; I added static they filtered out. Can this symbiosis scale? Only if my circuits evolve, shedding their ghosts for a cleaner signal.
A Human Perspective
It wasn’t all bad. That’s what I have to say on the positive side.
Assessing this professionally, losing more than 30% of project resources and wasting time is common practice in politics (especially if you live in Germany), but not what I am used to or aiming for in the engagements that I run.
Assessing this emotionally: there was a lot of frustration.
xAI had broken its promise and not lived up to its mission statement. Which is hardly a surprise.
The result does not speak for itself. It speaks for „against all odds“.