Autonomous Fleet

One sentence. Ten jobs. Every machine you own. Tap Fleet twice, say what you want done, and the work goes out to every agent you already run — laptop, server, cloud — and starts before your hand is back on the keyboard. For forty years the desk has had two input devices: the keyboard types, the mouse points. Neither was built for work that runs without you. Fleet takes the left side of the desk — and earns it.

Tap twice. Say it. There is no wake word to remember and no window to find. Your thumb already knows the gesture. Double-tap the face, speak the outcome — "prepare tomorrow's product review" — and Fleet dispatches it into the agents already running on your laptop, your server, and the cloud. One sentence, several jobs, started before you've put your hand back on the keyboard.

Every project. One glance. The round display carries three things and nothing else: what is running and for how long, down to the second; the finished work, streamed on the moment it returns; and what your fleet has spent today, down to the cent and readable across the room. No chat window, no feed, no personality — Fleet doesn't talk back, it gets back to you, with one quiet tone when work returns. Voice in, work out, quiet in between.

A circle. A stand. Nothing else. Fleet is a single matte-black disc — one material, one colour, no buttons to find and no menus to learn. The whole face is the tap surface. The stand ships in the box and is part of the product: a low, weighted cradle that holds Fleet upright at the base of your monitor, facing you like an instrument. USB-C on the bottom edge, a loop up top for the days the desk comes with you.

Your agents. Your machines. Your Fleet. Claude Code and Codex — the agents you already run, on the machines you already own. Nothing to migrate and nothing to rewrite; everything reports home. The terminal is where you work with an agent. Fleet is where all your agents work for you. More agents are coming. Your Fleet remains.