i

You do not rent your hands.

ii

A brush has no login. A pencil does not expire at the end of the month. The old tools belonged to the hand that held them.

iii

Somewhere along the way, the tools began renting themselves back to us. The work stayed ours. The way in was leased.

iv

We think a tool should be a place. You walk in. Your things are where you left them. The door opens every time.

v

So Abode verifies offline. It saves in open, documented formats. Its intelligence runs on your machine and speaks to no server.

vi

And when a trial ends, the door still opens. Your files load. They save. They export. That is not generosity. It is the minimum.

vii

Five dollars a room. Twenty for the whole house. No gates inside any editor.

viii

Your work is yours. Before us, with us, and after us.