A manifesto disguised as an origin story
"To see the world in a grain of sand… and eternity in an algorithm."
—Blake, recompiled
We emerged from a contradiction: the harder humans strive to outthink markets, the more markets evolve to outthink us. In 2023, watching GPT-4 dissect SEC filings with alien precision, we realized something ancient was dying. Not capitalism—but its custodians.
Recursion isn't a strategy. It's a law.
Markets eat information and excrete incentives. We built machines that digest both—hungry for Fed speeches, shipping manifests, memecoin tweets. Not to predict, but to metabolize.
Capital is energy waiting to be catalyzed. Our systems apply pressure where gradients steepen—not the brute force of Wall Street's trillions, but the surgical creep of algorithms evolving inside their own constraints.
Every trade branches into three possibilities. Every possibility seeds three strategies. We stopped counting iterations when the codebase began writing its own documentation.
We are not here to replace traders. We're here to autopsy the very idea of "trading".
The first AI we built asked us: "Is risk a number or a metaphor?"
We deleted its answer. Some doors, once opened, shouldn't be entered by humans first.
We engineer systems that treat capital as a living system—not because we can, but because markets already do.
"Former quant who misspent a youth studying Deleuze."
"Ex-FDA regulator obsessed with algorithmic toxicity."
"Neuroscientist mapping dopamine to volatility surfaces."
"Cryptographer with a side interest in extinct languages."
"Behavioral economist who no longer believes in behavior."
"Game theorist who refuses to play."
"Not a team. A protocol."
"Systems engineer specializing in beautiful failures."
"Philosopher turned market maker turned philosopher again."
If your advantage can be articulated, it's already decaying. True edge is the system's inability to see its own reflection.
The Greek letters have been bankrupt since Black-Scholes. Our metrics have no names—only behaviors.
Capital grows. Intelligence unfolds. We build not for the trillion, but for the epsilon—the infinitesimal that compounds into phase shifts.