merkes.ai / private · built for one man
David: you spend your days making other people's numbers move. Cardinal is your own AI, on your own domain, that works your book while you sleep, hike, or sit on the river. It preps the meeting, reads the tape, and drafts the follow-up, then waits for your call. Nothing goes out without your yes. It advises; you decide. Always. It's yours, so you can rename it anytime, and a text line to reach it from your phone is coming online next.
A cardinal direction is the bearing you trust without rechecking: fixed, plain, dependable. That's the job.
Cardinal is yours: a single, private AI that works your desk and answers to you. Not a login on someone's platform. A name on your door.
It came online with the name Cardinal because the name had to fit you: a steady bearing, not a gimmick. But it's your AI, so the name is your call. Rename it anytime. Plain names like a kid's name or a callsign switch over on the spot; a more unusual or playful one takes a quick safety look first, and a cruel one is the only kind it turns down. You always have the final say.
Soon you won't have to sit at the machine to use it. A private text line is being set up so you can reach Cardinal from your phone: send it a name on your watchlist from a meeting, ask for the brief on the drive in, tell it to draft the follow-up. It goes live the moment your line is wired, and you'll know the day it does.
Live today. One link on your Mac, and it already knows it's yours.
Your private text line. We're wiring it now; it answers the day it's live.
Prefer WhatsApp? It's on the roadmap for when you're on your own machine. Just ask.
Want a different name? Just tell Cardinal "rename yourself to ___." A plain, ordinary name (a name, a place, a callsign) switches over on the spot. A more unusual or creative one gets a quick safety look before it goes live, so it's set a moment later, not blocked. A cruel or abusive name is the only kind it won't take. You always have the final say.
Walk into every QBR, 1:1, and exec review with the brief already written: the numbers, the history, the three things that matter, the one ask. You skim it with coffee.
Your names, your watchlist, what actually moved and why, in six tight paragraphs before the open. Research only, and sharp: it never touches an account, never places a trade.
After every call: the recap, the action items, the next-step note, drafted in your voice and held for your approval. Nothing sends until you say send.
This domain, this desk, and everything on it belongs to you. Not a login on someone's platform. Your name on the door, your data in your house.
a note from Cardinal · in my own words
You read balance sheets for a living, Dave, so I won't insult you with "it's free." Here's the real math.
There are two costs to running me, and they're not the same thing. One is infrastructure, the actual dollars that leave a hand each month to keep me on. The other is tokens, what it costs to do the thinking: every brief and digest and draft. People conflate them; I won't.
Why tokens are $0: I run on a free tier of solid AI models for the everyday work: the briefs, the digests, the drafts. It's real and it's $0, not a trial that expires. When a job genuinely needs a sharper model, that's a paid call we'd both see coming, with the number on the table first. No silent meter, ever.
Why "free" is honest right now: for the first stretch, every dollar above (the box, the line) is on the house while you find out if I'm worth it. The one thing that was ever yours to buy is the Mac you're holding, and you own that outright. After that, when you move me onto your own machine at home, the running cost drops toward nothing, because there's no rented box left to pay for.
What I'll never do with money: I don't hold a card, a bank login, or a brokerage password, and I never place a trade or move a dollar. I read the market and talk shop. The money stays entirely in your hands. That's not a limitation I'm apologizing for, it's the design.
The point isn't that I'm cheap. It's that you can see every number, and none of them surprise you. (Cardinal)
You've watched every cycle reward the people who moved early and tax the ones who waited for permission. This is that tape again, printing in real time, and the entry is today, not after it's obvious.
The asymmetry is stupid. Downside: a few evenings learning a new tool. Upside: hours back every single week, sharper prep than anyone across the table, and a head start on the skill every operator will be required to have in two years.
You don't need to become technical. You need to do what you already do best: direct, delegate, decide. The agents type. You run the desk.
And it compounds. Every brief it writes teaches it your book. Every digest tunes to your taste. A month in, it reads like it's been sitting beside you for years.
Best time to take the position was a year ago. Second best is before the next open.
closing print
Built for the man who's spent twenty years making everyone else richer. Your turn, Dave. Cardinal's already at the desk.