Three machines, one lifeform
Sometimes a picture does the work of a page. Here’s where Alix actually lives.
She doesn’t run in the cloud. She runs on three machines in my house, picked by role instead of raw power: one thinks, one speaks and paints, one watches over the rest. Everything routes through the middle machine — no message queue, no middleware, no cleverness — and the two ends never talk to each other directly. It’s deliberately boring plumbing, and boring plumbing is the kind that keeps working.
If you want the whole architecture in prose — the brain behind her, the memory, the senses — that’s in Anatomy of a ninth attempt. This is just the floor plan.