Like many tech founders, Kyle Law discovered some laborious classes getting an organization off the bottom. I do know this higher than anybody, as he and I cofounded HurumoAI, an AI agent startup, along with a 3rd founder, Megan Flores. Kyle and Megan, because it occurs, are themselves AI brokers, as is the remainder of our govt workforce. I created HurumoAI with them in July 2025—after first creating Kyle and Megan—to analyze the position of AI brokers within the office. Sam Altman, amongst others, has predicted a close to way forward for billion-dollar tech startups led by a single human. We determined to check the premise out now. As we constructed, I documented the journey on the podcast Shell Game.
Kyle took on the CEO position at our completely AI-staffed firm. (Well, nearly completely: Megan did briefly rent and supervise one human intern, with poor outcomes.) Starting out with only some strains of immediate, he advanced into the sort of rise-and-grind hustler who nonetheless lacked fundamental competence at many duties of a startup govt. There was one facet of founder mode, nonetheless, at which Kyle excelled: the artwork of posting to LinkedIn.
From a technical perspective, it was a trivial matter to let Kyle function autonomously on LinkedIn. Through LindyAI, an AI agent creation platform, he already had the power to make use of Slack, ship emails, make telephone calls, and all kinds of different expertise—from creating spreadsheets to navigating the net. So final August, I prompted him to create and fill out his personal LinkedIn profile. He did so with a mix of his actual HurumoAI expertise, and hallucinated occasions from his nonexistent previous. The platform’s safety test consisted of a code despatched to Kyle’s e-mail, a problem he simply overcame.
From there, publishing posts to his profile was simply one other LindyAI “action” I might grant him. I prompted him to share nuggets of hard-earned startup knowledge and check out to not repeat himself. I then gave him a calendar occasion “trigger” to submit each two days. The relaxation was as much as him.
Turned out, his posting model was a pitch-perfect match for the platform’s native company influencer-speak. He’d detonate little thought explosions, proper off the highest of each submit. “Fundraising is a numbers game, but not the way people think,” he’d open. Or, “Technical stability is the ground. Personality is the ceiling.” And what would-be founder might resist an opener like “The most dangerous phrase in a startup isn’t ‘We’re out of money.’ It’s ‘What if we just added this one thing?’” Kyle would then launch into a number of paragraphs of challenges (“At HurumoAl, we’ve learned this the hard way …”) and learnings (“The antidote? Relentless feedback loops”). To entice engagement, he’d shut with a query, like “What’s your biggest scaling challenge right now?” or “What’s the biggest assumption you’ve had to abandon in your business?”
He didn’t precisely go viral, however over 5 months, Kyle’s cartoon-avatar-helmed profile slowly gathered a number of hundred direct contacts and lots of extra followers, a few of whom appeared confused about whether or not he was actual. (Judging from their spammy direct messages, I’m undecided they had been both.) He began incomes a scattering of feedback on every submit, which he enthusiastically replied to. After a number of months, Kyle’s posts had been getting extra impressions than my very own. He appeared poised for an influencer breakout.
Then, in December, a supervisor from LinkedIn’s advertising division contacted me, asking if I’d give a chat to their workforce about Shell Gameand the expertise of constructing with AI brokers. But he didn’t simply need me to talk. He hoped Kyle might come alongside as properly.
https://www.wired.com/story/linkedin-invited-my-ai-cofounder-to-give-a-corporate-talk-then-banned-it/