localhost:3000 and the Power of the Hive Mind

A gathering of 11 "internet friends" reminded me that building with AI is better when you aren't doing it alone

I got a lot of great ideas and feedback. I took a ton of notes. It all took about 15 minutes.

Initially, I felt a little bad about taking up the entire brain trust’s time for my nitty-gritty tech issues. I assumed everyone would go back to their individual coding projects for the rest of the afternoon.

But what happened instead was: Someone else volunteered to go next.

And then, one by one, every single person in the room demo’ed their vibe coded apps. Everyone stayed crowded around the couch and nearby table, locked in. We saw personal pet projects. iPhone apps still in TestFlight. Civic activation ideas. New wave database managers. Each demo included a generous amount of discussion that felt like a mix between sharing feedback in a writing club and offering business advice through mentoring.

By 4 p.m., the beers came out of the fridge, but the demos continued.

All in, this impromptu show-and-tell lasted nearly 4 hours. We had to escort people out of the space at 5.

Like many of us, I’ve spent most of the past six years working remotely since the pandemic began in 2020. For me, this shift coincided with a few major life changes. In April 2020, I had my first baby and entered “new mom mode” at the exact moment the world was shutting down. Around the same time, I left a long-time job to pursue a more entrepreneurial path.

The timing amplified what can already be a lonely period. New parenthood often comes with a search for community, but the pandemic made it far harder to find. Many new parents left cities for the suburbs, and the normal ways of meeting peers disappeared overnight.

Because I also stepped away from traditional employment at the same time, the past six years have unfolded without two of the structures many people rely on for connection: A physical workplace with colleagues, and a stable circle of fellow new parents moving through the same stage of life together.

I suspect that we have lingering after-effects from the pandemic that we need to unwind.

One small thing I noticed yesterday: When I got up to go and get my routine second coffee of the morning, I idly asked out loud if anyone else wanted anything. Much to my surprise, three other people stood up immediately and put their coats on. We walked there and back together, all four of us.

I tried not to be weird about it. But the truth is that was the first time in five years that I’d gone on a coffee run with a group.

While I relate in theory to the limitless possibilities that AI unlocks, this myth breaks down for me pretty quickly when reality hits.

Since I run an AI learning lab, it’s my job to keep up so that I can teach it back to others. But the rate of AI is moving too fast for a single human to keep up.

As a solo operator, I have a deeply human problem: The more trainings I book, the less time I have to learn the next thing. The opportunity cost of teaching the last thing back is that I miss out on learning the thing that’s coming around the bend next.

Collaborative and synergetic builder brainstorms like the one we hosted yesterday remind me why it’s important to get outside of your solo bubble and insert yourself into more rooms. (Ideally, in person.)

While it’s certainly true that it’s possible for more of us to operate independently and autonomously now, it would be a grave mistake to let humans individually grapple with the thorny ethical, technical, and existential topics of AI adoption, while working alone in our shoebox offices.

Sometimes you really do just need another human to look over your shoulder and talk through a problem with you.

I’m hoping that we’ll be able to convene more small-group sessions like localhost:3000 in the future. If this is the sort of thing that you’d be interested in joining as a builder (or hosting at your office), drop a line to bethany@buildfirst.ai, and let’s make some magic happen.

Special thanks to Louise Macfadyen for co-hosting localhost:3000 with me, and to Fred Benenson, for letting us borrow his studio for the day.

I got a lot of great ideas and feedback. I took a ton of notes. It all took about 15 minutes.

Initially, I felt a little bad about taking up the entire brain trust’s time for my nitty-gritty tech issues. I assumed everyone would go back to their individual coding projects for the rest of the afternoon.

But what happened instead was: Someone else volunteered to go next.

And then, one by one, every single person in the room demo’ed their vibe coded apps. Everyone stayed crowded around the couch and nearby table, locked in. We saw personal pet projects. iPhone apps still in TestFlight. Civic activation ideas. New wave database managers. Each demo included a generous amount of discussion that felt like a mix between sharing feedback in a writing club and offering business advice through mentoring.

By 4 p.m., the beers came out of the fridge, but the demos continued.

All in, this impromptu show-and-tell lasted nearly 4 hours. We had to escort people out of the space at 5.

Like many of us, I’ve spent most of the past six years working remotely since the pandemic began in 2020. For me, this shift coincided with a few major life changes. In April 2020, I had my first baby and entered “new mom mode” at the exact moment the world was shutting down. Around the same time, I left a long-time job to pursue a more entrepreneurial path.

The timing amplified what can already be a lonely period. New parenthood often comes with a search for community, but the pandemic made it far harder to find. Many new parents left cities for the suburbs, and the normal ways of meeting peers disappeared overnight.

Because I also stepped away from traditional employment at the same time, the past six years have unfolded without two of the structures many people rely on for connection: A physical workplace with colleagues, and a stable circle of fellow new parents moving through the same stage of life together.

I suspect that we have lingering after-effects from the pandemic that we need to unwind.

One small thing I noticed yesterday: When I got up to go and get my routine second coffee of the morning, I idly asked out loud if anyone else wanted anything. Much to my surprise, three other people stood up immediately and put their coats on. We walked there and back together, all four of us.

I tried not to be weird about it. But the truth is that was the first time in five years that I’d gone on a coffee run with a group.

While I relate in theory to the limitless possibilities that AI unlocks, this myth breaks down for me pretty quickly when reality hits.

Since I run an AI learning lab, it’s my job to keep up so that I can teach it back to others. But the rate of AI is moving too fast for a single human to keep up.

As a solo operator, I have a deeply human problem: The more trainings I book, the less time I have to learn the next thing. The opportunity cost of teaching the last thing back is that I miss out on learning the thing that’s coming around the bend next.

Collaborative and synergetic builder brainstorms like the one we hosted yesterday remind me why it’s important to get outside of your solo bubble and insert yourself into more rooms. (Ideally, in person.)

While it’s certainly true that it’s possible for more of us to operate independently and autonomously now, it would be a grave mistake to let humans individually grapple with the thorny ethical, technical, and existential topics of AI adoption, while working alone in our shoebox offices.

Sometimes you really do just need another human to look over your shoulder and talk through a problem with you.

I’m hoping that we’ll be able to convene more small-group sessions like localhost:3000 in the future. If this is the sort of thing that you’d be interested in joining as a builder (or hosting at your office), drop a line to bethany@buildfirst.ai, and let’s make some magic happen.

Special thanks to Louise Macfadyen for co-hosting localhost:3000 with me, and to Fred Benenson, for letting us borrow his studio for the day.