Maria-Inés, standing, hands on her hips, in front of a neon sign that reads Don't average her.

I’m here to make AI worthy of your intelligence.

Because right now, it isn’t. Your method has a ® after it. Your judgement doesn’t, and that’s the part AI keeps getting wrong.

Send me a voice note

Tell me what only you can do. I’ll tell you honestly whether a day with me would change it.

Maria-Inés mid-sentence over coffee, hand raised, explaining

A woman's hand connecting and correcting decisions on a working page

It’s 10pm.

One of your members has the question she’d normally save for you. You’re asleep, so she opens ChatGPT and types: what would she say?

What comes back is clean, confident and wrong. Half of it is the opposite of what you teach. She believes it anyway.

At breakfast she sends you the screenshot, pleased with herself. Your thumbs type “oh no, no, dear, no.” You delete it, because she didn’t do anything wrong. You were asleep, and ChatGPT wasn’t.

That’s how years of your intelligence get sanded down to something anyone could produce, and handed to your own client.

Three women deep in conversation at a restaurant table

Maria-Inés in a burgundy blazer, turning toward the camera as the background streaks into motion

Four voice notes before your feet touch the floor.

March’s answer, recorded again outside the school gate. Halfway through, you notice you’re bored of your own voice. You’d never say that out loud.

Ninety brilliant minutes on the group call. Twenty on the office floor afterwards.
The folder from the last person you paid to “build you a system.” Beautiful. Untouched. It never learned how you decide.
And at 11pm, the sum you never say out loud: if I’m off for three months, who answers them?

“Nobody can do what I do.” It’s true. That’s the problem.

A woman in a dark blazer with an open notebook, a glass beside her, in low light

A hand-drawn thread from earphones to a voice waveform, labelled heard, noticed, usable

You were never behind on AI.
It has simply never met you.

ChatGPT, Claude, the custom GPT someone set up for you: they all had your words. None of them had your judgement: how you read a client, the question you always ask second, the moment you know she’s ready. So they guessed, and you could tell.

You have not truly tested AI until you have tested it with context. Real, deep information about you. Not a one-paragraph prompt someone else gave you.

Maria-Inés speaking on a stage in front of a wall-sized decision map

A black card embossed ENVISIONED in magenta, a thread running past it

A method that only works when you’re in the room can’t be certified, licensed or sold.

It’s a job, not an asset.

You can’t certify people in judgement that lives in one head. And you can’t sell a business whose most valuable asset drives home with the founder every night.

You don’t have to want out. You just deserve the option.

A neon sign in a night-time shop window reading Don't average her, a woman walking past

Picture a year from now.

The answer you gave in March is written down, in your words, somewhere you own. Your assistant can open it. Your AI can read it. The next time a member asks at 10pm, she gets your answer, and you find out at breakfast when she sends the screenshot: “this is exactly what you’d have said.”

You’re not on the floor after the group call, because you’re not carrying all of it alone. You love the work again.

And when a friend asks about your exit plan, you still laugh. This time it’s because you could, if you ever wanted to.

Before: AI is the thing that gets you wrong. You check every word, rewrite it from line one, and quietly decide it’s faster to do it yourself.
After: AI is the thing that sounds like you on your day off.

Maria-Inés at a doorway in a printed kimono, looking back over her shoulder

Codified in the City.

One day with me. In the Netherlands, in Vienna in October, or live on Zoom as Codified Live. We find what still lives only in your head, and we build one or two things from it before you leave. Yes, there’s lunch.

€5,500, or two payments of €2,750.

Book your day

Maria-Inés, close, chin on her hand, looking straight at you

Maria-Inés and two friends laughing outside a bar at night

I read people for a living.
Then I build what I read.

I’m not a 26-year-old who discovered AI last spring.

I grew up in Venezuela watching systems fail. Electricity, water, money, the lot. You learn early that the infrastructure nobody sees is the only thing that matters when it breaks. It’s also why a new tool has never once impressed me.

Twenty years in international development. Then a camera, pointed at women who could not see what I saw in them. Then this.

AI is a democratising force, and I was never going to let it go. Certainly not to the bro gurus.

I run Envisioned from the Netherlands, with my daughter and my Dutch partner, on the same system I’m selling you. That’s the point, isn’t it?

Send me a voice note on Instagram

Who gets to shape the intelligence shaping the world?

Don't average her.

AI didn’t create inequality. It inherited it. It learned from everything that was already written down, and most of what women know about running a business never was. It lived in the room, in the call, in the correction nobody recorded.

So the machine learned the average, and the average was never her.

The system says: technically correct. She says: absolutely not.

Or stay exactly where you are. It works. It’s worked for years.

Keep recording the same answer in the car. Keep being the only door everything comes through. Keep letting your members ask ChatGPT, which has never heard of you. And every year your method gets more valuable and stays exactly as unsellable, because it still drives home with you every night.

You’re not deciding whether to spend €5,500. You’re deciding whether what you built is a job or an asset.