Tell it how you work. It builds a web application that does the job and keeps doing it for you. Nothing to install and nobody to hire.
The usual way
You know how the job gets done. It's in your head, a spreadsheet and about forty emails.
So you ring a software company. They say twelve weeks and twenty grand. Then they ask you to send them a spec.
You haven't got a spec. You've got a way of working you picked up over years and never wrote down, because why would you. So you put the phone down and carry on doing it by hand.
The genie way
You talk to Genie the way you'd talk to someone starting on Monday. You tell it what the job is. It asks you the sort of thing a sharp new starter asks.
While you're answering, it's building. By the time you stop talking there is a working web application on the screen, with a proper address you can send to anyone. The records you keep, the screens to look at them, buttons that go off and do the work and a list of anything waiting on your say so.
That is how the small ones go. A bigger job takes longer, and it tells you where it is up to while it works.
Then you send someone the link.
The bit nobody else does
Writing the thing is maybe a fifth of the work. The rest is deciding what to build, checking it, putting it somewhere, keeping it standing and fixing it on a Saturday. That is the part you were never offered separately, and it is the part that decides whether you still have a working thing in two years.
A gym
Who is a member, what they pay and chasing whoever went a week past due.
A builder
The foreman files the day from his phone. Anything unsafe goes straight to the boss.
A courier
Twenty vans and when each one is due a service, with a month of warning.
A restaurant
Eight suppliers, what you ordered against what turned up and a shout when a price creeps.
A dog groomer
Bookings, which dog belongs to who and who needs the extra half hour.
A school
Notes home to parents by class and who has actually opened them.
A letting agent
Twelve holiday houses, same day changeovers and which job the handyman still owes you.
A beef farmer
Two hundred cattle, every medicine and whether an animal can be sold yet.
The bit that surprised us
He said he has to write down every medicine an animal gets and how long before that animal can be sold. That was all he said about it.
What came back had a screen on it called In withdrawal, do not send to slaughter. It had also written itself a rule: never say an animal is clear to sell while a medicine is still in its waiting period. And another one saying that if it doesn't know how long the waiting period is, ask the farmer instead of guessing.
Nobody told it any of that. It read one sentence about paperwork and worked out what it meant for the animal.
Every message tells you what it cost, right underneath the reply. Most of them are a fraction of a penny. Those eight up there cost between ten and seventeen cents each to build.
Those are real figures from real builds, not a price list. A bigger job, or one that needs more care taken over it, takes longer and costs more.
There is no subscription and nothing monthly. You put credit on the account, ten dollars at the smallest, and spend it as you go. What you do not use stays there. If somebody gave you a code, use that instead and there is nothing to pay.
You pick which AI model does the thinking from a list of sixteen, with the price beside each one. A cheap one for the easy questions. The expensive one when it matters.
Say it in a sentence. Genie will ask you the rest.
Make a wishFree to sign up. You put a bit of credit on to get going, ten dollars is plenty, and it goes down a fraction of a penny at a time.