I am Pratham. I am seventeen, and most of my life has been shaped by the internet before I had the language to explain what that meant.
At nine, I wanted to become a YouTuber. At twelve, I was editing videos for other people. By fifteen, I was working as a creative strategist, learning how attention moves, why some ideas stay in your head and why technically polished work can still feel completely dead.
Then much of what I had built collapsed.
Near the end of sixteen, I lost clients, direction and the identity I had wrapped around my work. For a while, I did not know what I was rebuilding toward. AI entered my life less like a trend and more like an emergency exit. I started using it because I needed leverage, then kept going because I became obsessed with the machinery underneath it.
I taught myself how language models work, then moved outward into embeddings, retrieval, tool use, agent loops, memory systems, evaluations, orchestration, data pipelines and the infrastructure required to make a model useful outside a clean demonstration.
I built operating systems for creators, second brains for teams, agent workspaces and many experiments that were more educational than successful. They looked different from the outside, but they kept exposing the same failure.
The model could produce. It could not reliably accumulate a relationship.
It did not know which correction was a one-time request and which one revealed a lasting preference. It could retrieve an old message without understanding why it mattered. It could imitate the surface of a person’s style while missing the judgment that produced it.
Catalyst grew from following that problem further than was practical.
I am building it as an independent lab because I want the freedom to move between product, infrastructure, research, design and whatever the problem requires next. The point is not to defend one implementation forever. The point is to keep making the system more honest, more inspectable and more capable of becoming useful through experience.
I am still early. So is the work. That is part of what makes it worth doing.