four surfaces · three voices each · one boundary sample · pick per-surface or one voice for everything · nothing here is applied yet
The voices: A · terminal — git-speak, imperative, how-to; explanation only where the hand needs it. B · field note — observed facts in reading order; no imperatives, no lessons. C · ledger — the current cadence kept, cut roughly in half; one qualification maximum. D · boundary — past the line on purpose, to locate it.
cruxia.ai, first screen. Competing with porn: one claim, then out of the way.
The problem is large; our instruments are small and checkable — every claim they make recomputes on your machine.
31 words after the h1's 15. Two clauses, two em-dash beats.
We keep the books. Everything recomputes on your machine.
9 words + the command. The how-to IS the subline.
Nothing records what an agent believed, or when that changed. We started keeping books.
14 words. States the gap as a fact, not a mission.
Small instruments, checkable claims. Everything recomputes on your machine.
9 words. Keeps the full h1 and the cadence; drops "the problem is large" — the reader decides how large.
the first instrument section. Your example lives here.
One command: an examination of conscience for a repository. It reads your repo's own git history — which rules were born, which were deliberately killed, which are active again today. Nothing leaves the machine. Or start with the specimen — scripted history, known findings.
44 words before the command appears.
Reads your git history: which rules were born, which were killed, which are back. Nothing leaves the machine.
First time? The specimen — scripted history, known findings.
Command first, explanation after. "Examen" used as a verb, unexplained — the run teaches it.
An examination of conscience, for a repository. One command, your own history, nothing sent anywhere.
The one poetry beat ("examination of conscience") carries the whole section; the rest is inventory.
One command reads your repo's own history: born, killed, walking again. Nothing leaves the machine.
15 words. The born/killed/walking triple stays; "deliberately" and the second sentence go.
the dark page. The no-server claim currently appears three times on this page; every swatch says it once.
Every repository already has one: the rules it retracted, lying in its own git history. Nothing is sent here — there is no here. Your browser reads the stones itself: which rules rest, which were restored with paperwork, which walk.
39 words, three images (stones, paperwork, walking) plus the epigram.
Every repo already has one. Your browser reads it straight from the GitHub API — no server, nothing sent.
18 words. Mechanism over image.
Every repository already has one: the rules it retracted, still lying in its git history. Your browser reads the stones itself.
21 words, one image. The rest of the page shows rest/restored/walking — no need to preannounce them.
Every repository already has one. Your browser reads the stones itself — there is no here.
15 words. Keeps the best line and stops. Space for thought: the reader completes the image.
beliefrotindex.com, above the census box.
How long does a retracted rule survive unnoticed? We started counting.
A zombie belief is a rule your team retracted — on the record, in your own git history — that later crept back into the file your agent reads. The agent sees only today's text; it cannot see the retraction. This index keeps the record.
The definition paragraph is a lesson (44 words) between the reader and the number.
How long does a retracted rule survive unnoticed? We started counting.
Definition deleted; "zombie belief" links to the Method for whoever wants school. The number is the next thing they see.
A zombie belief: a rule you retracted that crept back into the file your agent reads.
One-sentence definition, colon not lecture. The counting line moves below the number.
How long does a retracted rule survive unnoticed? We started counting.
A zombie belief is a rule you retracted that crept back into the file your agent reads. The agent sees only today's text.
Definition halved; "this index keeps the record" cut — the page IS the record, no need to say so.
past the line on purpose — so we know where the line is.
Nothing else above the fold. Confident to the point of arrogance; loses the descriptive load you said to keep. Shown to locate the ceiling, not to ship.
38 scored · 27 clear · 7 walking
read it plainly — These are among the best-maintained repositories in the world, and roughly one in seven carries a rule its own maintainers killed on purpose. Discipline alone does not keep books.
The "read it plainly" box, struck. The Lacanian case: the number sits alone and the reader does the arithmetic about their own repo. The current box does their thinking for them — this is where "marketing" creeps in.
Pick any subset; each is enforceable at build time (a grep, not a vibe). They compose with the ratified laws (density, dev-speak, first-contact, lowered article).
Hero subline ≤ 16 words · section lede ≤ 24 · edge note ≤ 18. The build fails on overage, like the register greps do. Succinct becomes a property of the site, not a mood of the writer.
A label (PROVISIONAL) may appear everywhere; its explanation appears exactly once per site, on the Method/research page. Everything else links.
No term is defined where it is used — coined words link to the Method. The reader who wants school clicks; the reader who doesn't was never lectured. The run teaches the Examen; the page doesn't.
On instrument surfaces the command appears within the first two lines; explanation follows it. How-to order, man-page order.
One claim, one number, one action — nothing else above the fold on any landing. (The 50ms judgment is aesthetic; the 5-second one is "what do I do here.")
No editorial after a number — the "read it plainly" boxes go, site-wide. Numbers with receipts, then silence. The space is the persuasion.
One per sentence, maximum. Some sentences ship unqualified.
reply with picks like "A for instruments, C for the door, L2 L3 L6" — applied site-wide in one pass, then redeployed for your eyes