The most over-engineered possible answer to the question, "do I really have to get up?"
There's a Raspberry Pi projecting onto my bedroom ceiling. I roll over at 5am, press one button, and it tells me the single thing I need to know. The interesting part isn't the projector — it's the redesign. The first version dumped weather, calendar, and time at a brain running on 12% battery. The new version runs all of it through an AI agent that knows my routine and projects back one human sentence instead of a dashboard — then, through a little speaker on the Pi, it says that sentence out loud in a voice that matches the moment, so I never have to open my eyes.
Anyone can pipe six APIs onto a screen. The senior move is deciding the output should be five words. Ceiling HUD is a small, deliberately silly stage for a serious idea: the right interface for an AI system isn't always more data — sometimes it's one sentence, delivered at exactly the moment a decision needs to be made, to a user who has zero capacity to process anything more.
Five facts and an implicit homework assignment: now you do the math. At 5am, eyes barely open, that's exactly the wrong ask. I built this version first, used it for weeks, and realized I was still lying there doing arithmetic.
Same inputs. But the synthesis already happened. There's no math left to do — just a decision to accept or ignore. The brain stays off. That's the whole point.
Six signals flow into an agent that's been given my preferences and my routine. It fuses them, works backward from my first real obligation, and decides the single most useful thing to say right now. Out comes one sentence — projected to the ceiling.
None of these are new plumbing — most already flow through infrastructure I'd built for other projects. The agent just gets to read them and care about the right ones.
The core trick is simple and human: don't tell me what time it is — tell me how much sleep I have left. So the agent starts at my first obligation and subtracts everything that has to happen first.
Every line is doing two jobs: it's a little funny, and it's proof the agent actually fused multiple signals before it opened its mouth. The "reads" tag shows what went into each call.
A projection still asks you to look. The next version adds a small speaker to the Pi and reads the line out loud — so I can roll over, thumb the hidden button, and never lift an eyelid. And it isn't one flat robot voice. It matches the call the agent just made.
A ceiling clock looks like a toy next to a portfolio analyst. But look at what they actually do — they're the same move in three different rooms. That repetition isn't an accident. It's how I think about where AI belongs.
Three projects, one philosophy: build agents that turn noise into a single, clear decision — whether it's a high-stakes portfolio call or whether I should hit snooze.
The same design philosophy — agents that collapse complexity into a single confident decision, with guardrails — is what I bring to enterprise data and AI leadership.