Your card

Your Library Card

A private picture of your own reading, and the controls that steer what the Library brings you — yours, on this device, seen by no one else.

Your card is blank — that’s the point.

As you read context pages, a private picture of what you’ve been exploring fills in here. It lives in this browser only; it never leaves your device, and we never see it. There’s no sign-in, because there’s no account — just you and this card.

Your blend

Why you keep coming here, as a mix that always adds up to 100%. Everyone starts on an even mix; it drifts as you read, and you can set it by hand any time. It only changes which shelves you see first — never whether a page shows both sides.

Want to see it move? — seeds a few weeks of browsing, all in this browser.

This is yours.

It lives on your device, in this browser. We don’t have an account for you and we don’t track you — clear your browser and it’s gone.

Your algorithm is just a note to the librarian.

It isn’t a black box — it’s a few plain sentences telling the Library what to bring you. Here’s the one we start everyone with. Read it. Change it. Or copy it into an AI like Claude, rewrite it in your own words, and paste it back.

Saved only in this browser — we never receive it. The Library is small today, so this mostly shapes the order you see things in; it grows into real selection as the shelf grows.

The one thing you can’t change. You choose what you see — your topics, your sources, your range. You never choose how it’s shown. Every page arrives with every side, every source, and no verdict. That rule can’t be edited — not by you, not by us. It’s the reason a personal Library can’t quietly become a bubble.

How far should we range?

This sets how often we reach past your usual shelf. Even at the lowest setting, every page still arrives with the other side attached — that never turns off. The dial only changes how often we hand you something new, never whether we show you both sides.