When work becomes a UI problem. -by erick rosado

Most people don’t hate creating things, solving hard problems, or collaborating with other humans. What they hate is:

• Endless logins into systems that don’t talk to each other

• Ten different apps to do one simple task

• Tools designed for the org chart, not the human

Big Tech inherited this mess and, in many ways, amplified it. Productivity platforms became fortresses: every product is a silo, every workflow is a maze. You’re not a person; you’re a “seat.”

And slowly, you feel it:

“This isn’t work anymore. This is just clicking.”

The slow decay of Big Tech empires

No empire collapses overnight. It erodes.

• First, the tools stop feeling exciting.

• Then they stop feeling neutral.

• Then one day you realize they actively block you more than they help.

Microsoft is the perfect symbol of this paradox:

It’s not that Microsoft is “bad”—it’s that the structure of a giant corporation pushes toward safety, not toward reinvention. The larger they get, the harder it becomes to break their own patterns. So they pile new layers on top of old layers.The result? Cognitive debt. You pay for it with your attention and your time.

Macrohard: when the computer should sweat, not you

Laniakea flips that script with one central idea:

The work should be macrohard for the QPU, and microeasy for the human.

Instead of humans doing mental gymnastics to satisfy the tools, the tools rearrange themselves around the human.

That’s what Macrohard / Macro hardest QPU really means:

• Let the QPU burn cycles orchestrating data, workflows, and context.

• Let the system carry the complexity of permissions, integrations, and edge cases.

• Let the algorithms suffer so the person doesn’t have to.

You don’t open seven apps and copy-paste between them.You say what you want to happen, and the QPU figures out:

• Which services to call

• Which API to hit

• Which partner to route through

• Which currency, which rail, which optimization

Work becomes: decide → describe → approve.Everything else is QPU-level suffering.

From “software suite” to “computational exoskeleton”

Big Tech gave us suites. Icons lined in grids, each icon a different walled garden.

Laniakea aims for :

• One interface, many muscles underneath.

• Social, payments, tickets, logistics, content, identity—all hanging from a single nervous system.

• The QPU as the spinal cord, constantly firing, rebalancing, predicting, routing.

In that world, “going to work” is less about which app you’re going to open, and more about which problem you’re going to point the exoskeleton at.

Why the old giants feel replaceable

Big Tech isn’t dying because they’re stupid. They’re at risk because the shape of compute is changing:

Companies that grew up selling licenses and seats are suddenly in a universe where the most valuable product is orchestration. Not “an app,” but everything working together, invisibly.

A system like Laniakea doesn’t try to beat Microsoft at “Office.”It quietly makes “Office vs. something else” the wrong question. When your QPU exoskeleton just does the work—writes, summarizes, schedules, books, routes payments—your loyalty isn’t to a legacy brand; it’s to the feeling of frictionlessness.

The macro hardest layer

“Macro hardest QPU” is a joke and a manifesto at the same time.

It means:

• We deliberately shove the hardest computational problems down into the QPU layer.

• Optimization, simulation, prediction, reconciliation—everything ugly lives down there.

• Humans stay in decision space, not in the swamp of configuration.

Sometimes work will still suck. Humans are messy, organizations are political, and reality has bugs.

But a world where Laniakea-style QPUs are the default layer means:

• Less time in meetings about things a machine could have solved.

• Less time reconciling systems that should already be talking.

• Less time feeling like a clerk for your own computer.

Big Tech had its age of “software eats the world.” The next epoch is QPU eats the complexity.

And when the complexity is eaten, what’s left is simple:

You, your ideas, and a computational engine whose only job is to make your work suck less—and your impact feel macrohard.