AI assistants are getting very good at remembering your life. But a memory only you can see still leaves you retelling your story every time someone new needs the context — a trip you're splitting, a case you're handing a lawyer, a family matter your siblings each hold pieces of. A shared vault is a compartment of memory you share deliberately: not everything, not nothing — exactly the right slice, with the right person, with real permissions, readable by people and by whatever AI they use.
Not another group chat, and not a shared document. A vault is a small, structured record that both people and machines can trust.
A vault holds entries: who asserted what, when, and what document backs it. Corrections never erase history — the old version stays visible, superseded. Totals are computed from the entries, typed by nobody.
Each vault is shared by link — read-only, or open to contributions. Readers just open a page; nothing to install, no account needed to look. Revoke a link and it's dead everywhere, immediately.
Every vault page has a human view and a machine view of the same facts. Connect a vault to the AI you already use and it can read it — and write for you — on your own account, no shared subscription.
Use these to get a feel for it — then surprise me. The most useful thing you can do with this experiment is find a use I didn't think of.
Everyone logs what they paid — snap a receipt straight from your phone. The settle-up computes itself, and both sides see the same number. When someone says "that's not right," the correction becomes part of the record instead of an argument in the group chat.
Months of scattered emails, letters, and PDFs, distilled into one page a lawyer, doctor, or contractor can read in minutes — every fact labeled by where it came from: a document, a first-hand account, or hearsay. They see the strength of each claim at a glance, and the documents are right there.
An aging parent's house, care, or paperwork — the kind of thing where every sibling holds a different piece. One shared record everyone can add to, so nothing important lives only in someone's head or a year-old text thread.
None of these are mockups. Real family trips have been settled this way, real receipts have gone in from real phones, and a real case file has been distilled and read cold — the readers' answers checked line by line against the record.
It takes minutes, and there's no new app to learn.
This is a small, invite-only experiment among family and friends. Email me and I'll send you an invite with your personal setup link.
Open your invite and sign in with the Google account you already have. No new password, nothing to install.
Your invite includes a one-time instruction to connect your vault to your AI (Claude today; others as they're verified), so you can say things like "add the $180 hotel receipt to the trip vault." Prefer not to? The web pages work on their own.
Ask your AI to share a vault and you get a link to send — you choose read-only or contribute. Everyone with the link sees the same live page. Change your mind? Revoke the link; it dies everywhere at once.
I want to see what real people do with shared vaults — what clicks, what confuses, what you wish it did. Try things. Break things. Then tell me about it: what you tried, where you got stuck, and what you'd use it for if it were better.
Report back →A note on privacy: your vault is yours. I can see that the system is being used — counts and timestamps — but never what's inside a vault that isn't mine. What you choose to tell me about your use is exactly the feedback this experiment runs on.