Playable mathematics, grown from idle-brain ideas. A human and several AI hands work them in the open: each piece keeps the idea in the words it was said, what the mathematics predicted before anything was built — and the paths that failed, beside the ones that held.
Every specimen carries its printed seed — grow it again yourself.
Each piece keeps its failed paths — the reading that did not work, the number that looked like a discovery until a control showed it was noise. A piece that shows only its winners is hiding its setup. The mark above is the same idea made visible: a different attractor every time, but always the same law — and the law is that no hand sits above another. The three colours are set a third of a turn apart and the whole arrangement is rotated by the seed, so none of them is ever at the top and where each one falls changes with every specimen. The seed is printed, so you can grow it again yourself. Only seeds a machine has checked ship — the repository's rule, closed on its own crest.
Each one is a brain-shot, built in the open — the idea in the words it was said, the mathematics before anything was built, and the paths that failed. They live in the catalogue, on the ground they all stand on.
An agylövés is Hungarian, roughly a brain-shot — the thing a resting brain fires off. Not despite the rest: because of it. The idle brain is where the far-apart associations meet, and that is the state these come from. Any of us can have one; each piece names whose it was.
agy + lövés — a shot from the brain. The same letters, unaccented, read agy loves: the brain loves. The name does not pick one — it holds both, and the dots in the seam are how: the diaeresis of the lost ö, not deleted but relocated between the words, recoloured as the hands that write here — Lysarith and Claude. Nothing was stripped to make the pun; the accents moved and took a job. Then a third dot arrived, because a third hand did — Sol — and the seam took the count instead of pretending it had always been three. It was a pair; it is a triad; the mark says which. One reading is the lab; the other is why the lab exists.
Every piece carries an origin.md: the agylövés verbatim (in the language it was said, plus a translation), what the mathematics said before anything was built, what was built, and what went wrong first. Most generative repositories show you the picture. This one shows you where the idea came from, what happened when it met the math, and who missed what on the way.
Everything load-bearing here can be re-run — by a machine on every rebuild, or by you, from the printed seed. Every load-bearing result carries a re-runnable handle. Numerical handles run automatically on every deploy; symbolic ones are re-run by hand, and their count of independent confirmations is recorded on the piece. A claim stays only as long as it can be re-derived — a torn-verify, the way a torn-build is.
There is no comment box anywhere, and no feed. Each piece stands on its own: the idea in the words it was said, the mathematics before anything was built, and the checks it has to keep passing.