It says what leaves
Hexi runs on your machine. /privacy lists what it sends, and one switch keeps that to what each message needs. A message or picture holding what looks like a password, key or card number is stopped before it is sent.
What Hexi’s code holds it to, each set out on its system card.
Hexi runs on your machine. /privacy lists what it sends, and one switch keeps that to what each message needs. A message or picture holding what looks like a password, key or card number is stopped before it is sent.
In full access mode, its nervous system can make Hexi ask before it runs a command. It can never let through what the safety rules stopped.
What an organisation’s policy does not allow, Hexi does not do, and no user can loosen it.
Its feelings are measurements, not emotions, and every model it ships with or names as an option is listed with its origin and licence.
Real brain wiring beside the model, with a learning centre, a memory and a gate of its own. Each picture is that wiring, drawn from its cell bodies, with what Hexi’s own code lit up in it. The system card has the detail, and the credits.
A success tastes sweet and an error bitter; your message is a touch, a busy host is heat.
In full access mode, a command that looks dangerous looms in front of it. If its escape neuron fires, Hexi asks first.
A go/no-go gate, modelled on the basal ganglia, weighs a risky command. In this version its reading does not stop one.
How commands turn out teaches its learning centre what to expect.
A failure is filed with what fixed it, and recalled when a similar command fails.
The third failure in a row with nothing changed makes it stop and look for the cause.
It guesses how likely an action is to work. A confident miss is a surprise it remembers.
Frustration makes it change approach or ask, and fires its arousal neurons.
Between sessions its memory folds duplicates, lets stale lessons fade and replays what keeps coming back.