A private AI under your own roof
Chat, documents, generation and code happen there, and everything it does, it does on its own.
01 — the floor
One machine on your own floor that answers questions about your own material, and makes the things you would otherwise commission — text, images, video, meshes, speech, music, code. All of it made here, and all of it staying here.
What arrives first is the part that rarely gets photographed: the feet, a plinth with the supply seated down in it beside the intake, and the frame everything after this hangs on.
Parts here that can answer a question: zero, so far.
02 — the board
The board, and then the memory going in one slot after another. This is the part that decides how much of a model can be held open at once, which is the whole of what makes an answer feel like an answer.
Several models available at the same time, switchable mid-conversation, with the thread staying on the machine. The same board indexes the documents you give it, so an answer comes back with the page it came from shown beside it.
Documents it sends away to be read: zero.
03 — the card
The card goes in. Then the cooler, in more pieces than anything else in this machine, because the paragraph after next is what the one before it costs.
This is the generation range, and every piece of it has already run: stills at production resolution free of a per-image charge, motion made from those stills, meshes handed over as files rather than pictures of files, speech in several voices, music scored here rather than licensed. Every photograph on this site came out of it.
The fin stack and the fans are the honest half of the bargain: this is what it takes to run for hours rather than seconds.
Cost per image: £0.
04 — the shell
Now the shell weaves shut over all of it, member by member, and the garnet routes wind on with the rest until they close into a ring at the hem.
Everything you just watched arrive is on one side of this wall, and everything it makes stays on that side. The other way to get this range of work is a cable to a building you have yet to visit, where your material lands and exists twice — the second copy readable by whoever can rather than whoever would.
Copies of your work, down that road: zero.
05 — the object
Closed, it is 622 mm across and stands 549.8 mm tall on its feet. Something you stand beside rather than something you log into.
What you bring it is the material that has to stay out of somebody else's system: the contracts, the case files, the drawings, the recordings. It reads them, searches them, and cites them back with the page they came from.
Distance your material travels: across a room.
06 — the wall
The wall is a weave of 19,591 members on two planes rather than a panel with holes in it: the big crossings are the front one, the dark space is the gap between them, and the small lit diamonds are the finer plane behind. The gap is exactly one step of the grid, which is why every tie between the planes lands at 45 degrees — and why something this open is stiff enough to be a wall.
171 of them are garnet, wound through the weave as members of it and carrying what the rest carry, at the one rate a diagonal can run while staying on the grid. The face is 64.6 per cent closed.
It is sintered in one piece — supportless, seamless, soft-edged throughout. The shell is a design, and every figure here is printed by the file that drew this picture. That is the only reason you should believe any other number on this page.
Pieces: one. Seams: zero.
07 — inside
Up close a fin stack looks like architecture. It is a heatsink. Everything in here is like that — a cooler, fans, boards, a supply: parts you could name on sight, doing the work they do anywhere. 342 of them, proven contained; every one held inside the shell.
The newest thing in the machine is a workbench that reads and writes your real files: an agent given a task, writing and running code until something exists at the end. Every command it runs is checked a part at a time rather than by its first word, and what it allowed and what it refused are both recorded, with the rule that decided.
Agents are grouped into teams with remits and they queue the decisions for you — a person still makes them. It is very fast at reading, drafting, summarising and organising. It leaves the calls to you.
Decisions a person makes: every one.
08 — the count
You leave the way the heat does. The gap it stands clear of the floor is how air gets in: up through an aperture in its own floor, past everything you have just been looking at, and out through the crown.
Heat is one of two things that leave this machine. The other is whatever you send, and that one is a switch rather than a state — you throw it, we leave it to you. Thrown, the work carries on unchanged: chat, documents, generation and code continue, because every one of them was already local. What stops is web search, fetching a page, pulling down a new model.
From above, the only opening in it is the one you came out of. Parts of what you have just watched are in daily use and parts are still being built; the table that says which, for every capability, is published rather than offered on request.
Copies of your work in the world: one.
622 × 622 × 550 mm · 19,591 members on two planes · 171 garnet · face 64.6 per cent closed · SLS
Garnet Grid builds the machine above — one private AI, installed in your building and priced as a build. It also runs the practice behind it: audits, engagements and production lanes, the same operations work we run on our own stack.
Pictures on this page. The hero is the machine's own parts, drawn by an image model from photographs of those parts and set in motion by a video model. The eight chapters below it are the Descent; the machine in them is rendered from its design file rather than drawn.
this page in prose → · the pricing, in full → · the engagement catalogue →
