We are living through a moment in which technology and wealth are more deeply entangled than ever before. It is now commonplace to watch a single application, platform, or protocol create vast fortunes—sometimes overnight. The mythology of this transformation has become familiar: a founder builds something out of code and belief, accrues capital and influence, and eventually confronts the moral weight of having more than nearly anyone else in history. Some seek redemption through philanthropy. Others embrace effective altruism or sign pledges to give it all away. Still others attempt to reshape industries, cities, or even civilization itself.

As the way we live, furnish, and care for our homes changes, so must the infrastructure that supports those choices. The next domestic platform will have to be an ecosystem that helps people make better decisions about where and how they live. This paper outlines how that ecosystem will generate revenue while remaining accessible, ethical, and aligned with the long-term value of both the home and the member.

The home is the most intimate and materially complex environment in most people’s lives. It’s where objects accumulate meaning, where services intersect with identity, and where long-term value — emotional, cultural, and financial — is built. For all its significance, the economy of the home remains underdeveloped and structurally ignored by modern technology. We plan, buy, renovate, maintain, and personalize our homes through a patchwork of tools and services — but no unified system exists to guide that activity. No infrastructure coordinates the relationships between the things we live with, the services we rely on, and the evolving needs of each household over time. There is no graph that understands our home as a whole.

The home is a primary organizer of our lives. Every decision about layout, furniture, lighting, or material affects how we move, rest, work, and relate to one another. Despite its centrality, the home remains one of the most opaque, underserved, and fragmented domains in the digital landscape. We navigate the design and management of domestic space through disconnected tools: search engines, design software, spreadsheets, ecommerce platforms, and personal intuition. None of these systems understand the home as a space, nor the person as a changing agent within it. They lack memory. They lack context. They lack vision.

Over the past several decades, our tools for organizing the world around us have become more powerful, more connected, and more abstract. And yet, as our systems for communication, consumption, and coordination have become increasingly digital, many of the most important dimensions of life—our homes, our neighborhoods, our shared spaces—remain stubbornly fragmented. Community, once rooted in proximity and shared ritual, has become harder to define and harder still to sustain. In this context, we find ourselves asking anew: What is community? What draws people together? And how might we design systems that support not only individual agency, but collective continuity?

Most digital tools today require users to bend to their logic — navigating icons, digging through menus, and managing fragmented apps just to complete a simple task. Agentic AI upends this paradigm. It replaces passive interfaces with active partnership: a system that listens, learns, remembers, and evolves alongside its user. Rather than navigating a rigid UI, members engage in an ongoing dialogue — not with a faceless other, but with a reflective extension of themselves. The result is a model of intelligence that feels more like intuition than interface.

Over the past few years, there has been significant discussion about how artificial intelligence will impact every aspect of our lives. These questions have taken on a new dimension with advances in Large Language Models that have been trained on virtually every bit of information available on the internet and that can now approximate human intelligence, at least in the context of a chatbot. The capacity offered by such models has come to extend beyond dialogue and information gathering to image and video generation based on text prompts. Such still and moving images have attained an extraordinary degree of life-like accuracy.

The home is perhaps the most personal space in our lives — a sanctuary of routines, memories, and meaning. Yet behind even the smallest domestic decision lies a vast and often invisible global network. The chair in your living room may have been designed in Italy, assembled in Vietnam, upholstered with leather from Argentina, and shipped through a port in Singapore before it reached you. The wall paint, the mattress, the fridge — each draws from distributed systems of production, regulation, logistics, marketing, and cultural translation. Domestic life, despite its intimacy, is increasingly orchestrated by forces that stretch across continents and time zones.

In the long arc of technological progress, certain domains have been consistently prioritized. Industry, commerce, entertainment, and enterprise have all seen sweeping innovation. From cloud infrastructure to mobile computing, generative AI to logistics automation, vast intellectual and financial capital has been invested to model, optimize, and scale these systems.

Artificial intelligence is most often celebrated for what it can do in digital space—its speed, its capacity to analyze vast data, and its ability to generate, automate, and predict. Our approach has always been from the opposite direction: as a means of engaging more deeply with the physical world. From the beginning, our focus has been on how intelligence might support the built environment, domestic life, and the daily rituals that define how we live—how it might make homes more livable, transitions more graceful, choices more grounded, and futures more thoughtfully planned.

No matter who we are or where we live, our lives are shaped by a series of transitions— most of them anchored to the places we call home. We all start somewhere: a first apartment, a shared space, a chance to define a life on our own terms. Eventually, many of us move in with a partner, invest in a home, renovate a kitchen, plant a garden, raise a family. Over time, we navigate the less glamorous realities—maintenance, repairs, lost receipts, unexpected emergencies. We age. Our parents age. We help them downsize. We wrestle with what to keep and what to leave behind. And eventually, we consider how to preserve what matters—for ourselves, for those we love, and for the next generation.

We live in a world shaped by things. They surround us, support us, express us. They reflect our histories, tastes, identities, and ambitions. And yet, for all their importance, the systems we use to understand, acquire, and care for things remain profoundly limited. They are fragmented across platforms, obscured by algorithms, and constrained by a logic of consumption that too often treats objects as disposable, interchangeable, or merely fashionable. What we lack is not more access to things—but a better way to relate to them.

Home matters more than ever. Home is where we raise our families, celebrate life’s milestones, rest after long days, and find a sense of identity and belonging. It’s also where many of us spend the majority of our time—and money. Yet despite its central role in our lives, managing a home is often harder than it should be. Whether you’re planning a move, decorating a nursery, fixing a leaky pipe, or caring for aging parents, it can feel like you’re navigating a maze without a map. We believe it’s time for something better: a way to bring more intelligence, ease, and meaning into the way we live. That’s why we’re building the Large World Model for Domestic Life.