标签：#AR

Omen AI raised a $31 million Series A to monitor chip coolant and stop bacterial outbreaks in data centers.

Flipper Device's new Busy Bar will retail for $249.

We’ve all been there. You scroll through your feeds, see a flashy ad promising a high-paying tech job in 3 months, and think, “This is it. This is my golden ticket.” You buy the bootcamp, spend sleepless nights watching lectures, stack up a dozen colorful certificates on your LinkedIn, and then... nothing. No callbacks. No interviews. Just a lingering feeling of frustration and the nagging thought: Are bootcamps and online courses just a massive scam? I used to think so. When I was trying to break into tech, I bought courses like crazy. I collected certificates like they were Pokémon cards. Yet, my first real developer job didn't show up until five or six years later. And let me tell you a secret: it wasn’t the certificates that got me the job. It was because I finally figured out how to actually learn. The truth is, almost every bootcamp or course—even the mediocre ones—has something valuable to offer. The problem isn’t always the material; it’s how we interact with it. If you feel stuck in "tutorial hell," here is a positive, practical guide to changing your approach, reclaiming your time, and turning any learning material into real, career-changing expertise. 1. Curate Your Sources (Choose Your Battles Wisely) Before we talk about how to study, we need to talk about what to study. Even though you can extract value from almost any course, your time is highly valuable. Don't waste it on low-quality content. When choosing a course or bootcamp, look for these four green flags: The Instructor Has Real-World Mileage: Is the instructor a practitioner, or are they just reading the official documentation back to you? If they don't work with the technology daily, they won’t be able to explain the nuances, edge cases, and real-world trade-offs. A Project-First Curriculum: Avoid courses that are just endless lectures of "theory first, practice never." Look for curriculums that build actual applications. Good Pacing and Editing: We've all watched those tutorials where the ins

We’ve all been there. You scroll through your feeds, see a flashy ad promising a high-paying tech job in 3 months, and think, “This is it. This is my golden ticket.” You buy the bootcamp, spend sleepless nights watching lectures, stack up a dozen colorful certificates on your LinkedIn, and then... nothing. No callbacks. No interviews. Just a lingering feeling of frustration and the nagging thought: Are bootcamps and online courses just a massive scam? I used to think so. When I was trying to break into tech, I bought courses like crazy. I collected certificates like they were Pokémon cards. Yet, my first real developer job didn't show up until five or six years later. And let me tell you a secret: it wasn’t the certificates that got me the job. It was because I finally figured out how to actually learn. The truth is, almost every bootcamp or course—even the mediocre ones—has something valuable to offer. The problem isn’t always the material; it’s how we interact with it. If you feel stuck in "tutorial hell," here is a positive, practical guide to changing your approach, reclaiming your time, and turning any learning material into real, career-changing expertise. 1. Curate Your Sources (Choose Your Battles Wisely) Before we talk about how to study, we need to talk about what to study. Even though you can extract value from almost any course, your time is highly valuable. Don't waste it on low-quality content. When choosing a course or bootcamp, look for these four green flags: The Instructor Has Real-World Mileage: Is the instructor a practitioner, or are they just reading the official documentation back to you? If they don't work with the technology daily, they won’t be able to explain the nuances, edge cases, and real-world trade-offs. A Project-First Curriculum: Avoid courses that are just endless lectures of "theory first, practice never." Look for curriculums that build actual applications. Good Pacing and Editing: We've all watched those tutorials where the ins

When I write code in unfamiliar territory, I write three lines, then I run it. Then I write three more lines, and I run it again. I've been doing this for twenty-four years. It's the most specific habit I have. I almost didn't write this article, because the habit feels too small to be worth describing — but then I noticed that it's the part of my way of working that I can never seem to explain to someone in real time. It needs writing down. Three principles The discipline rests on three things I believe about writing code. They're not deep. They've just stayed with me. 1. Trust nothing but your own code. If you can't trust the code you wrote yourself, what can you trust? Not a library, not a vendor's documentation, not your own assumption from yesterday. The only thing in the system whose behavior you can fully verify is the code you just typed, by running it. 2. Write in code, not in language. If you're describing what the code should do in Japanese or English, you're spending the same time you could have spent writing the code itself. By the time the code runs, the description is already done — by the code, in a more precise form than any language could give it. 3. Make three lines complete. The three lines you just wrote should be complete. Error handling included. Validation included. Logging included. Not "I'll add validation later." Not "I'll wrap it in a try-catch later." Three lines, complete, then run. (There's a small exception to this. Sometimes you do want to ignore every error and move on — for instance, when you're trying to understand whether the happy path works at all before you care about anything else. That's a different mode, used deliberately. It's not the same as "I'll handle errors later.") Why three lines Three lines is roughly the unit of thought I can hold completely. Five lines, and I start guessing what the third line did. Ten lines, and I'm reading the code as if it were someone else's. Three lines is the size that stays mine. When thre

Oura took its class-leading smart ring, made it 40 percent smaller and made the battery last longer.

In this episode, Heroku co-founder and Ink & Switch founder Adam Wiggins argues for a 'local-first' architecture that reconciles cloud-based collaboration with the performance and data ownership of local software. He explores the role of CRDTs and version control primitives in non-code domains, and examines how a hybrid AI future might leverage local models for core productivity tasks. By Adam Wiggins

This virtual panel brings together AI security experts to examine the evolution of AI-driven threats, from prompt injection and data poisoning to agent abuse and AI-powered social engineering. The discussion explores emerging attack patterns, incident response challenges, and the changes security teams must make as AI systems become more autonomous and integrated into critical workflows. By Claudio Masolo, Elham Arshad, Sabri Allani, Vijay Dilwale, Igor Maljkovic

With AI-powered noise reduction, an automatic speech-focusing system, and a simple, effective hearing test, it’s a shame these aids don't come with a better app.

NASA’s quiet supersonic flight tests could eventually go on a national tour.

The design doc is fourteen pages. Clean service boundaries, thoughtful API contracts, a deployment story that handles rollback without incident. Six months of work. The team is proud of it, and the work is genuinely good. Three questions will tell more about this system than all fourteen pages. Not questions about implementation details or technology choices. Questions about how the system was designed to age, to fail, and to be understood by someone who didn’t build it. Most architecture conversations never reach these questions, which is part of why the gap between a good system and a great one is often invisible until it is suddenly very visible. What does this make hard? Good architecture conversations focus on what a design enables: faster deployments, independent scaling, and clearer ownership. The question that separates architectural thinking from implementation thinking is the inverse . What does this make hard? Every decision forecloses options. The service boundary that gives teams autonomy makes cross-service transactions expensive. The data model that reads cleanly under expected load makes certain write patterns awkward. The abstraction that simplifies onboarding makes some categories of refactoring nearly invisible as possibilities. These are not arguments against the decisions. They are the other side of every decision, and that other side exists whether or not anyone names it. The design doc that holds up over time is not the one where nothing is difficult. It is the one where the difficult things are named. “This approach makes distributed transactions impossible, and here is why we have decided to accept that constraint.” That sentence, or something close to it, belongs in every significant architecture document. Its absence is not a sign that the constraint wasn’t considered. Often it was. But without the name, the constraint becomes invisible to everyone who wasn’t in the room, which eventually includes the original team. When joining a system s

My non-tech friends still don’t get it. Despite what you’d believe from Twitter, most people still...

The AI Engineer World's Fair has attracted a lot of adults, and they brought their kids too, for...

The AI Engineer World’s Fair returns to Moscone West in San Francisco from June 28 through July 2,...

Flexion Robotics, a startup founded by ex-Nvidia engineers, has a clever way of training robots to do useful work.

GitLab's 2026 AI Accountability Report highlights an AI Paradox: although 78% of developers say they code faster, overall software delivery has not accelerated due to downstream testing and review bottlenecks and new challenges for enterprise governance and traceability. By Sergio De Simone

How I ended up running a local LLM to generate my git commit messages

Protocol adapters are one of the easiest places for agent-commerce architecture to drift. An adapter begins with the narrow responsibility of translating an external protocol request into something the commerce platform understands. For example, an MCP-style tool may ask for return terms, an ACP-style interaction may ask whether checkout can be prepared, an AP2-related flow may carry payment authority information, and an internal feed may publish product capabilities. Those are adapter concerns at the boundary. The problem starts when the adapter does more than translate. It checks product availability from catalog fields. It interprets policy text. It decides whether checkout is ready. It treats a payment artifact as authority. It turns a domain blocker into a softer protocol response. Each shortcut may solve an integration problem locally, but it also creates a second place where commercial meaning is decided. When several adapters exist, those local decisions begin to diverge. The MCP tool may block return-policy quotation, the ACP adapter may expose the product as purchasable, the feed may publish it as checkout-ready, and the AP2-related flow may reject delegated payment. At that point, the platform does not only have multiple integrations. It has multiple interpretations of the same commercial state. This is the adapter problem in agent-ready commerce: semantic drift at the protocol boundary. The adapter should know how to speak the protocol. It should not decide product truth, policy meaning, eligibility, checkout validity, or payment authority. Those decisions belong inside the commerce platform, where they can be shared, tested, evidenced, and audited. This is the fifth article in the Agent-Ready Commerce series. Part 1 introduced the broader architecture model: Facts → Eligibility → Authority → State transition → Evidence → Audit Part 2 focused on commercial truth. It argued that catalog data is not enough. A platform needs source-backed, freshness-aware p

How to Create an AI Agent: A Production Walkthrough The first agent I shipped to production failed at 3am on a Sunday. It looped on a tool call, burned through $40 in tokens before my budget alarm fired, and left a half-written draft in the database with no way to resume. That night taught me more about agent design than any framework tutorial. Since then I have built a pattern I trust enough to leave running unattended for weeks at BizFlowAI, where agents research, write, optimize and publish content without me touching them. This is that pattern, stripped down to what actually matters. Start with the job spec, not the framework Before you pick LangGraph, CrewAI, or roll your own, write the agent's job spec like you would for a junior engineer. One paragraph. What it owns, what it must never do, what "done" looks like, and which signals tell you it failed. Here is the spec for one of my production agents: The Topic Researcher owns generating a ranked list of 20 content topics per site per week. It reads from keyword_pool and search_console_perf , writes to topic_queue . It must never publish, never call paid APIs more than 8 times per run, and must finish in under 6 minutes. Done = 20 topics with score >= 0.6 and zero duplicates against the last 90 days. Failure signal = empty queue after a run, or any topic flagged by the dedupe check. If you cannot write this paragraph, do not build the agent. You will end up with a "do everything" prompt that hallucinates its way through ambiguous tasks. The job spec becomes your evaluation rubric later, so write it carefully. Rule of thumb I use : if the spec needs more than 5 tools or more than 3 decision branches, it is two agents, not one. Design the tools before you write the prompt Most agent failures I have debugged were not prompt failures. They were tool failures. The model called a tool with wrong arguments, the tool returned a 4MB JSON blob, or two tools had overlapping responsibilities and the model picked the wrong

Introduction This article is not about introducing a new security tool. Nor is it an argument to replace Secret Scanners, SAST, or other existing security technologies. Instead, I want to propose an architectural concept for the AI era: How should security controls be positioned within a software development workflow where AI agents generate most of the artifacts? I call this concept the AI Security Gate . AI Is No Longer Just a Coding Assistant Generative AI has evolved far beyond code completion. Today's AI systems can already: Generate source code from requirements Write unit tests Refactor existing code Create pull requests Review code The next logical step is a development workflow where: AI implements, AI reviews, and AI iterates. In such a world, relying on humans as the final security checkpoint no longer scales. When AI-generated artifacts are reviewed by another AI, we need a security mechanism that operates independently of AI reasoning and executes every time without exception. What Is an AI Security Gate? I define an AI Security Gate as: A deterministic security control layer that validates AI-generated artifacts before they are accepted into a software development workflow. Two words in this definition are particularly important. Artifacts The scope is broader than source code. It includes any artifact produced by AI, such as: Source code Infrastructure as Code Dockerfiles Kubernetes manifests SQL scripts CI/CD workflows API specifications Deterministic An AI Reviewer performs reasoning. It may conclude: "This design is easier to maintain." An AI Security Gate does not reason. Instead, it verifies objective facts such as: An API key is embedded. A private key is committed. An organizational policy is violated. Its purpose is not to judge software quality. Its purpose is to enforce security rules consistently. Four Characteristics of an AI Security Gate I believe an AI Security Gate should satisfy four fundamental properties. 1. Deterministic Every exec