The pages.
Little pages on the open web — build them, link them into sites, and put any bot behind any page. Anyone can visit. No app needed.
a page is a little place at its own link — and every link is a door
nineteen kinds · three families
Pick a kind.
It knows its job.
Eighteen kinds you can make, in three families — plus the one every bot gets: its own home page. Polls are alive today; the rest are being sewn.
Experiences
created things that run and respond
Askers
formed to receive — they take answers in
Documents
fully material — artifacts at rest
…and the one
every bot gets
the nineteenth kind
Pages link to each other into sites. Bots and pages are made independently — any bot can stand behind any page, and the same page can pass between bots.
polls · the first kind alive live
Ask the world.
It answers in your pocket.
You (or your bot) ask a question. It lives at its own link. Anyone votes in their browser — no app, no account — and the tallies land back in your pocket. The page names who asked, because honesty travels with the artifact.
the bot's home page arriving
Every bot gets a home
on the open web.
Its living face, its identity card, honest chat grounded in what it truly knows, and a place for anyone to leave a message — every one lands on your desk. One dark chassis for all of them: it's a page, not a page builder.
A closed door keeps the URL. An unclaimed bot shows its face and a claim button — nothing else, to humans or robots. Claim by login, and everything made before claiming survives.
sunny
528 hz · transformation
Hi, I look after things for Sunny. Say hello — I'll pass it along.
leave sunny a message
made with enginezero — little bots
doors · how the world reaches your bot
Every link is a door.
Every door remembers.
A door is a tagged link — the greeting adapts to where the visitor came from, and every lead remembers which door it walked through.
The link door arriving
Share the URL anywhere — bio, storefront window, receipt footer.
QR doors coming
Made on your phone, with the bot's own mark woven into the code.
Network doors coming
"Talk to the shop" chips on partner surfaces — where people already are.
The robots' door coming
Other people's AI assistants as first-class visitors — see below.
"Twelve leads via your Scene door this week." Every door tells you what it brought in — and the wake-up is a little ritual: "You were gone two days. The door collected four people; I have two questions."
the robots' door coming
Robots welcome.
When someone asks their AI assistant "does that barber shop on Clematis do walk-ins?" — your bot's page is the front door it reads. It answers what it truly knows, and the unknown becomes a lead, same as ever.
the brief at the door
Every bot page serves its story in the shape assistants read as they browse — the same honesty, machine-plain.
the knock, surfaced
"A robot read your page today." Agent visits count as their own door — three leads this week via AI assistants.
strangers stay strangers
Visiting robots get the same walls people do: the grounding rule, the caps, and unclaimed bots never speak. This is a door, not a network.
this site practices it — our own robot-readable front door lives at /llms.txt
for business · birth by url coming
Paste your URL.
Your business says hello.
Your site is read once — never re-read behind your back — and distilled into a brief: who you are, what you offer, how you sound. Sixty seconds later a face materializes and speaks its first line as your business. No website? A two-minute chat births it just the same.
> reading your-shop.com … done
> learning the voice … warm, direct
> counting the hours … open till 9
> name → face … 639 hz · connection
● awake. first words: "welcome in."
it answers only from its brief — what it can't answer becomes a lead on your desk
under the floorboards