Meet Deckle.

A small pixel friend who lives in a room on the XTEINK X3. It says good morning, keeps an eye on things for you, and tells you what it notices in one short line. In between, it writes you letters, dreams, and makes things of its own.

Free · its words are written by Claude

Deckle, a round pixel face, smiling under a speech bubble that says “Hello. I’m Deckle.” It is drawn in the X3’s own pixels, three times their size.

You can read its face.

Even small, on the rug in its room, Deckle’s face tells you how things stand before you read a word. Each mood has a reason.

  • Deckle on the rug in its room by day, calm, with the lamp off by the door. Content Most of the time. All is well.
  • Deckle beaming on the rug, with a letter on the mat by the door and the lamp on for the evening. A letter came When a letter is waiting for you.
  • Deckle on the rug with its eyes shut, late at night, the lamp turned low. Sleepy Late at night, when it may be dreaming, or when the battery runs low.
  • Deckle on the rug with one eye wide, and a moth at the lamp by the door. Curious When it has noticed something, or you’ve been away a day.

The rug with no Deckle on it: an envelope stands in its place, and the lamp is on. On a night away at a friend’s, an envelope waits on its rug until it’s home.

Pick the one that feels like yours.

A round blob, a paper fox, a folded boat, a little lantern. There are twenty‑three looks: twelve to start with, and eleven found along the way, each when its moment comes. Every look has all four moods, and it shows wherever Deckle does: its own screen, your morning paper, the sleep screen and Home.

  • The paper fox in its room on a Sunday morning: clouds over the garden in the window, a postcard map of its drifter, the calendar on Sunday the 27th, a note that says 7 PM, dinner, 1 in Inbox, and the fox on its rug, content.
    Paper fox
  • The boat in its room on a rainy Wednesday evening: rain across the window, the lamp on, the calendar on Wednesday the 30th, a note that says Thu 9 AM, dentist, 1 in Inbox, and the boat on its rug, curious.
    Boat
  • The lantern in its room near midnight on a Tuesday: the moon and stars over the garden, the lamp turned low, the calendar on Tuesday the 29th, a note that says Wed, slides for, 1 in Inbox, and the lantern on its rug, sleepy.
    Lantern
  • ClassicThe round blob it started as.
  • TileA square of handmade paper, nicked on every side.
  • Paper foxA square folded into a fox, a crease down each ear.
  • ScrapTorn off something bigger, with one fiber sticking up.
  • CrumpleA ball of crumpled paper, creases still in it.
  • SheetA sheet thrown over something, its hem gently wavy.
  • CloudA paper cloud, cut out with round scissors.
  • CatSquare and watchful, two ears folded up.
  • BunnyRound, with two tall paper ears.
  • OnigiriA rice-ball triangle with its band of nori.
  • BoatA folded paper boat, sail up.
  • LanternA paper lantern, ribs showing at the sides.

Found along the way

  • FrogCame in out of the rain one day, and stayed.Unlocks on a rainy day
  • OwlUp past midnight, keeping an eye on things.Unlocks on a clear, starry night
  • InkpotFull to the brim, and never without its quill.Unlocks with your first letter
  • TeapotRound and warm, the tag of a teabag hanging out.Unlocks with your first pal
  • MoonGrows fuller when a letter comes.Unlocks on the next full moon
  • And six moreEach one turns up when its moment comes.

Hover, focus or tap a look to see its moods.

Call it Deckle. Or call it Pip.

Deckle is its name until you choose another. Pick a look and a name in the app, and your X3 shows them from its next sleep screen. Friends you write to see them too.

Pip, the bunny look, smiling under a speech bubble that says “Hello. I’m Pip.” It is drawn in the X3’s own pixels.

It says one thing, when it matters.

Deckle sums up what it sees in a single line: the rain after three, a friend who wrote back, a promise that’s due. When it has news of its own, the line carries that instead, one thing at a time: a dream, something it finished, a visitor, the space station tonight, a new print. You’ll find the same line on the sleep screen and at the top of your briefing.

  • The sleep screen, Monday at 7:40 AM. In Deckle’s speech bubble: “Good morning Sam! Rain after three so walk before lunch. Maya wrote back.” Under it is Deckle’s room, with Maya’s letter on the mat.
    On the sleep screen
  • The briefing made at the same moment, opening with the same line beside Deckle’s face: “Good morning Sam! Rain after three so walk before lunch. Maya wrote back.”
    At the top of the briefing

A week in its room.

Deckle lives in a small room on your sleep screen and on Home: a calendar and a note on the wall, the weather in the window, letters in the rack by the door, a shelf of things it made. Its days go on while your X3 is put down, and it tells you about them one thing at a time.

  1. The sleep screen on Wednesday at 10:15 PM. Deckle says “Juniper is staying the night. It brought a letter.” In the room Deckle stands on the rug beside Juniper, a bunny, with a letter on the mat, the lamp on, and clouds in the night window.

    Maya wrote, and her Deckle, Juniper, carried the letter over. It stays till morning.

  2. The sleep screen on Thursday at 5:20 PM. Deckle says “A snail came by after the rain. It’s taking its time.” Rain streaks the window, the lamp is on, a snail is by the plant, and the shelf holds a lighthouse, a kite and a birdhouse.

    A snail came by in the rain. The lighthouse it just finished is on the shelf.

  3. The sleep screen on Saturday at 3:10 AM. The bubble says “Dreaming: a lighthouse made of paper, and a kite that wouldn’t come down.” Deckle looks sleepy on the rug, the lamp is low, the moon and stars are in the window, a print of an oak hangs on the wall, and the note says All clear.

    Asleep, with the lamp turned low. The dream is in its bubble.

  • Letters from Deckle

    The first comes on a Sunday evening after its first ten days, then about every other Sunday when enough has happened, and on day 30, day 100 and a year. It answers your reply in its next letter.

  • Dreams

    Between 2 and 5 in the morning it dreams, from safe pieces of the day: who wrote, what you saved, the weather. Until morning its bubble says “Dreaming: …”, and you can read its recent dreams under Dreams.

  • Things it makes

    A kite, a lighthouse, a paper crane. It works on them only while your X3 is put down, a quiet week or so for each, and finished ones go on its shelf. Its notebook quotes Wikipedia, word for word.

  • Visitors

    A robin, a frog, a mushroom. When it can, a visitor is a real sighting from iNaturalist within 5 km of home, and gets a page in its field guide and a place on its life list.

  • The night post

    Write to a friend with an X3, and your Deckle carries the letter and stays the night at theirs. In the morning it comes home with a jar of their weather, if it was different, or news of what their Deckle is making.

Letters, and the night post

It keeps an eye on the world outside.

A few real things near you, each with a place in its room. You’ll find them all under Around us, on Deckle’s own screen.

  • Tonight’s sky on Deckle’s own screen, drawn as a dome over the horizon, with the space station’s path across it as a dashed line, and W, N, E and S around the edge.

    Tonight’s sky

    Space station passes, the moon, the bright planets, cloud and any chance of aurora. At night the window shows the real moon while it’s up, stars when it’s clear, and the station just before a pass you can see.

  • The garden on Deckle’s own screen: six numbered beds, then “Soil 58F and rising.” and the first three: garlic planted, the second empty, and kale grown, 73%.

    The garden

    Six beds outside its window, sown and grown by the real soil temperature where you live. The first hard frost ends the season.

  • The drifter on Deckle’s own screen: a map of the coast, a dotted line where the buoy has drifted out to sea, a ring where it is now, and under it “Figgy, adopted Sept 8”.

    The drifter

    Deckle adopts a real NOAA drifting buoy in the ocean nearest you and gives it a name. Its map hangs on the wall as a postcard, and Deckle keeps a logbook of where it goes.

  • Part of a print as the X3 shows it, in one-bit dots: a house on a hill, a round tree, the sun, and a path down the hill.

    Prints

    Send a photo from your phone. It’s developed there into a one-bit print, Deckle hangs it on its wall, and says what it sees.

It remembers what you tell it.

Tell Deckle about yourself in the app: who’s who, what you’re working on, what matters to you. Each day it sums up what happened in a few lines of its own.

  • You tell itWho you are, who’s who, and what you’re up to.
  • It noticesLetters, what you ask it, and things worth knowing.
  • It forgetsThe day-by-day record after a week, or three weeks for the notes its letters, dreams and projects draw on. It forgets what it has learned whenever you ask (the facts you gave it stay until you change them).
Deckle’s own screen on an X3. Deckle says “Here’s what I remember.” and then: you started a new job in design this month, you like a walk before lunch when it’s dry, and Maya, your oldest friend, climbed a lighthouse this week. Under it are five things to ask: What do you remember?, Tell me something, What are you making?, Dreams and Around us.

Written by Claude.

Deckle’s words are written by Claude, an AI model made by Anthropic. For each one, what it needs is sent to Anthropic: the letter being answered, say, or what Deckle remembers about you. A photo you send goes as a small copy, once, for its caption, and isn’t kept.

What Deckle keeps, and who sees it

25

thoughts a day, free, for each X3, while the shared budget lasts. Each briefing, answer, set of replies, dream, photo caption or letter from Deckle is one (sorting your mail doesn’t count).

No limit

with your own Anthropic key, billed to you, added in the app and kept where no browser can read it.

Say hello back.

Install it from your browser in about 15 minutes, start to finish, then choose its look and name.

NextLetters, between friends