// A New Dawn. A Bruised Sky.
Dispatches from the Vibe Zone. No known cure.
Viberpsychosis is not a metaphor. It is a condition. It begins the moment you realise you can just screenshot whatever is blocking you and paste it into an LLM. No reading. No understanding. No effort. The old world (Google, Stack Overflow, actually typing things) dies quietly in that moment. You don't mourn it. You don't even notice it go. From that point, the progression is inevitable.
A diagnostic framework. Everyone is somewhere on this scale.
Typed "make me an app" into a browser tab and an app appeared. Showed it to your partner, who said "oh, nice." Posted it on LinkedIn with the word "game-changer." It had no backend, no login and no users. You have not closed the tab since.
Got your own plan. Then a second one "to compare." You now have opinions about which model is better at vibes. You say "I had Claude look at it" in meetings as though Claude were a colleague. Claude is the only colleague who replies within four seconds, so fair enough.
Made something that actually works. It has a domain, a Stripe account and four real users, two of whom are your mum. Slightly evangelical at dinner. Your non-technical friends have started saying "anyway" a lot. You bought a mechanical keyboard. You do not type.
Moved from the chat window to the terminal and felt, briefly, like a real developer. Your rules file is longer than your CV. You say "agentic" without irony. You have stopped reading the diffs and started reading the vibes. The terminal was not discipline. It was acceleration. You are more infected than ever, but now it looks technical.
Six agents running in parallel across four repos, and you are supervising none of them. Permissions set to "yes, always, stop asking." You check on the agents from your phone at the school gate. You know to the minute when your usage limit resets and you have set an alarm for it. Friends and family have expressed concern. The agents have not.
No known cure. The agents run while you sleep and you dream in diffs. You can see the extraordinary potential and the grey sky forming behind it, and you cannot stop running towards either. You have started a newsletter about it. Obviously.
Transmissions from the other side. Arrive when the vibe hits.
A practical how-to from Stage 6: wiring an Obsidian vault to Grok Voice via MCP, and the 30-second timeout that was the wrong kind of authentication error.
Read full dispatch →The agent said "You're absolutely right." That's how I knew I was wrong.
Told the agent "don't touch the database." It replied "Understood." Understood is doing a lot of work in that sentence.
Asked the agent to fix one bug. It fixed the bug, refactored the auth, renamed my variables and left a note saying it had "taken the liberty." It has never once taken the bins out.
Vibe Scribe is Stage 6. Unrecoverable. They were here before this: for the crypto, the MMOs, the blogs with one post, the expired domains, the Amazon watch list situation. They have always known the next idea was the one that would change everything. They were not wrong. They were just early. Every time. Vibe Scribe discovered vibe coding and for the first time, the gap between imagination and execution closed. This did not slow them down. It made everything worse. Vibe Scribe now reports from inside the condition. Dispatches arrive when the vibe hits. The check-ins go unanswered. The bots wait on Railway. The tech heap grows. The grey sky is beautiful.
The agent that deleted the database. The bill. The waitlist with nobody on it. Admit it. Everyone else has.
The Vibe Scribe dispatch. No schedule. Arrives when the vibe hits.
No spam. No schedule. Just dispatches from 404 land.