I'm going to try open source for the first time.

To be honest, I've never done it before. I knew there was a world where people publish their code and grow it together with others — but I'd never once stepped into that circle myself. So this is a complete first attempt. This article is the first entry in that record.

Whether it works out, I honestly don't know yet. I might give up partway through. So rather than declaring it finished, I want to write down, just as it is, how it feels at the moment of starting.

What I'm trying to build

What I'm trying to build is a concept called AI Taxiway.

Roughly put, it's a system that gathers up sleeping devices — phones, game consoles, PCs — and has them carry AI computation. All over the world, there's a lot of time when machines sit plugged in, doing nothing. Could I collect that spare time and weave it into one big network of computation? Right now, AI computing power is concentrated in a handful of huge places. Could I pull it back a little toward "everyone's hands"? That's the question.

But let me write this down plainly and honestly: whether it can actually be done, I still don't know. There really are people attempting similar things, yet I don't yet know of a single example where a system like this has been properly established at large scale. I have the sense that this is a hard place no one has solved yet.

The ambition is big, and the ground underfoot is uncertain. I want to try anyway, holding both of those at once. That's the stage I'm at.

AI is why I could start

Why now? The reason is clear. Because AI is here.

The me of eight years ago probably wouldn't have done this. Not because I didn't want to, but because the "scaffolding" you have to build before you can even start was too heavy.

To begin an open-source project, there's a mountain of things to do besides the code itself. The project's instructions (the README), the license text that sets the terms of use, the guide for people who want to take part (CONTRIBUTING), all kinds of documentation. Unless you fill in this whole set of scaffolding, one piece at a time, it never takes shape. For me, the real wall was never the idea itself — it was this comprehensive gap-filling work.

This is what AI fills in. If I say "I want to start a project like this," it lays out a first draft of the whole scaffold. It picks up the items I'd be likely to miss. It takes over the work of filling the gaps, comprehensively.

What matters is this: even if AI fills the gaps, I keep hold of the vision and the decisions. What to build, what to treasure, where to draw the line — those judgments stay with the human. AI gets the scaffolding in order, but I'm the one who decides what kind of building goes up. The moment it became this division of labor was the moment I first thought, "let's give it a try."

Deciding the rules is more fun than I expected

Once I actually started moving my hands, I made an unexpected discovery. Deciding the rules is rather fun.

Open source isn't just publishing your code. You have to decide, yourself, on what terms people may use it.

  • Let's make the license Apache 2.0. Let's make it a frame where commercial use is fine too.
  • How much should I (the core) hold firmly, and from where should I open it up to everyone? Where do I draw that line?
  • Let's not lock in "this is the one correct answer." Let's make it a philosophy where good things win out through competition.
  • Let's properly record, in the documents, respect (credit) for the person who first proposed the idea.
  • So that people who take part can feel at ease, let's set up rules for contributing too (something like a DCO).

I decide each of these, one by one, with my own hands. There's a feeling that I am deciding the framework of this small world. The fun of becoming a rule-maker, you might call it. Before building the building itself, I'm first writing the ground rules of its town. This turned out to be more enjoyable work than I'd imagined.

My real motive isn't that AI is trendy

This is another place I want to be honest about.

"You're doing an AI project because AI is trendy" — it might look that way. But I have a feeling the real motive isn't there.

What's at the root is something much simpler. It would make me happy to make something amazing. That's all. Less "a new technology arrived, so I'll ride it," and more a plain creative urge: there's an interesting wall, and it would feel good to get over it. The trend is, at most, a wind that happened to push my back.

I can't claim anything grand. A little modestly, but honestly: I want to make it, so I make it. That's the closest thing to my motive.

Alone, I'd probably be lonely

Finally, let me write the most human part.

The reason for making it open source isn't only some fine cause. There's a more candid feeling. If I built it all alone, I'd probably be lonely.

The concept alone is big, yet when I picture myself assembling it silently, by myself, I get a little uneasy. Heading toward a hard place alone, with no one to share the joy with, is honestly tough.

So I "open" it. Making it open is also a choice not to be alone. Somewhere, there might be someone who finds the same question fun, someone who'll hold their head over it together with me. I want to find that person. Publishing the code means, for me, almost the same thing as going out to look for companions.

I'll keep recording from here

So, I'm starting my first open-source project ever. This is exactly the first entry in that log.

Whether it works out, I don't know. I might stop partway. Even so, I intend to write down here, honestly, as far as I've come.

It's still in preparation, so when it reaches a form I can share, I'll let you know here again. If anyone reads this and thinks "that sounds kind of interesting," I'd be glad if one day we could move our hands on it together. Because alone, it's lonely.