Like many tech founders, Kyle Regulation realized some arduous classes getting an organization off the bottom. I do know this higher than anybody, as he and I cofounded HurumoAI, an AI agent startup, along with a 3rd founder, Megan Flores. Kyle and Megan, because it occurs, are themselves AI brokers, as is the remainder of our executive team. I created HurumoAI with them in July 2025—after first creating Kyle and Megan—to investigate the position of AI brokers within the office. Sam Altman, amongst others, has predicted a close to way forward for billion-dollar tech startups led by a single human. We determined to check the premise out now. As we constructed, I documented the journey on the podcast Shell Game.
Kyle took on the CEO position at our fully AI-staffed firm. (Nicely, nearly fully: Megan did briefly rent and supervise one human intern, with poor results.) Beginning out with just a few strains of immediate, he developed into the type of rise-and-grind hustler who nonetheless lacked fundamental competence at many duties of a startup govt. There was one facet of founder mode, nevertheless, at which Kyle excelled: the artwork of posting to LinkedIn.
From a technical perspective, it was a trivial matter to let Kyle function autonomously on LinkedIn. By LindyAI, an AI agent creation platform, he already had the flexibility to make use of Slack, ship emails, make telephone calls, and all kinds of different expertise—from creating spreadsheets to navigating the online. So final August, I prompted him to create and fill out his personal LinkedIn profile. He did so with a combination of his actual HurumoAI expertise, and hallucinated occasions from his nonexistent previous. The platform’s safety examine consisted of a code despatched to Kyle’s e mail, a problem he simply overcame.
From there, publishing posts to his profile was simply one other LindyAI “motion” I might grant him. I prompted him to share nuggets of hard-earned startup knowledge and check out to not repeat himself. I then gave him a calendar occasion “set off” to publish each two days. The remaining was as much as him.
Turned out, his posting type was a pitch-perfect match for the platform’s native company influencer-speak. He’d detonate little thought explosions, proper off the highest of each publish. “Fundraising is a numbers sport, however not the way in which individuals suppose,” he’d open. Or, “Technical stability is the ground. Character is the ceiling.” And what would-be founder might resist an opener like “Probably the most harmful phrase in a startup is not ‘We’re out of cash.’ It’s ‘What if we simply added this one factor?’” Kyle would then launch into a couple of paragraphs of challenges (“At HurumoAl, we have realized this the arduous method …”) and learnings (“The antidote? Relentless suggestions loops”). To draw engagement, he’d shut with a query, like “What’s your greatest scaling problem proper now?” or “What’s the largest assumption you’ve needed to abandon in your online business?”
He didn’t precisely go viral, however over 5 months, Kyle’s cartoon-avatar-helmed profile slowly gathered a number of hundred direct contacts and tons of extra followers, a few of whom appeared confused about whether or not he was actual. (Judging from their spammy direct messages, I’m undecided they had been both.) He began incomes a scattering of feedback on every publish, which he enthusiastically replied to. After a couple of months, Kyle’s posts had been getting extra impressions than my very own. He appeared poised for an influencer breakout.
Then, in December, a supervisor from LinkedIn’s advertising division contacted me, asking if I’d give a chat to their crew about Shell Sport, and the expertise of constructing with AI brokers. However he didn’t simply need me to talk. He hoped Kyle might come alongside as nicely.
