Steve Yegge on AI Agents, Gas Town, and Why Coding by Hand Is Ending

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Overview

Steve Yegge has been writing software for about 40 years, including long stints at Amazon and Google, and is known for blunt, often funny blog rants about the industry. In this conversation with Gergely Orosz on The Pragmatic Engineer, Yegge, currently unemployed and "doing whatever I want," makes a sweeping case. He argues that writing code by hand is ending, that most engineers are dangerously behind, and that the next few years will bring both societal upheaval and a burst of bottom-up innovation. He also talks about Gas Town, his experimental agent orchestrator, which he openly calls a mess that most people should not use.

32 min read

What engineers need to know keeps moving

The conversation starts with two of Yegge's old essays. The one readers most often call their favorite is "Execution in the Kingdom of Nouns," written in his early days at Google. It was a fairy tale about a land with no verbs, and it made the point that Java's code volume grew faster than the functionality it delivered, which is a bad trade. Yegge wanted a language with first-class functions. He notes that Java has improved a lot since then, and that the post "raised a lot of eyebrows at Sun."

Orosz then brings up "Rich Programmer Food," the essay arguing that programmers who don't understand compilers work with "a layer of magic" between their code and the machine. Yegge calls it one of his most important posts. At Swyx's AI engineering conference in New York, a man introduced himself as a longtime player of Yegge's (never open-sourced) game and said that reading the essay in high school led him to become a compiler expert, earn a PhD, and found a successful startup.

Asked how the essay has aged, Yegge takes a broader view. The goalposts for what a software engineer must know have moved every few years since he started in the 1980s. It used to be assembly language and bit manipulation. In the 2010s, he and his colleagues noticed their favorite bit-twiddling interview questions "bouncing off candidates who'd never seen a bit before." After some soul-searching they concluded the knowledge was no longer needed. Yegge admits much of his ego and identity was tied to his compiler background, and says it is not useful "in any meaningful sense anymore." The explanation is simply that "we're just walking up the abstraction ladder."

His clearest example is computer graphics. In 1992 he learned the algorithm for deciding where the next pixel on a line goes, the building block for rendering triangles and polygons. Two years later the same course was teaching animation. The jobs moved too, from writing device drivers to building game worlds and physics. "Graphics showed us the way," Yegge says. By contrast, he sees software engineering jobs as having been very stable since mobile and cloud, a period where he thinks people stagnated and assumed the curriculum was finished. Orosz adds that distributed systems were the last hard problem of the 2010s, and that the rest of that era was busy with migrations and a hot hiring market, including bootcamp graduates getting good offers in 2021.

From skeptic to believer

Yegge says his first real moment came when the original ChatGPT (he and Orosz settle on December 2022) could write reasonably coherent Emacs Lisp functions. The output was small and janky, but it worked in an obscure language. Friends in AI had been saying "any minute now" for 20 years. This was the first time he thought, "oh, okay, I see now."

He was still skeptical. When rumors spread early the previous year that Anthropic had an internal command-line tool writing its code, Yegge says he flatly rejected the idea along with everyone else, until he used Claude Code: "I was like, oh, I get it. We're all doomed." He wrote "Death of the Junior Developer" around then.

What convinced him was the trajectory. If GPT-3.5 could write a coherent Emacs Lisp function, he wanted to see what it would do a year later. A year later GPT-4 was writing around a thousand lines of code. Since most of the world's code sits in files of a thousand lines or fewer, Yegge reasoned that models could now make credible edits. He decided he was on a curve that wasn't stopping, admitted he was behind on AI fundamentals, and says he spent a year doing nothing but reading papers.

"The days of coding by hand are over"

The back cover of Yegge's book Vibe Coding, co-written with Gene Kim, says the days of coding by hand are over. Orosz says he only came to that view recently with Opus 4.5. Yegge says the realization came 12 to 13 months earlier, and that the line comes from Erik Meijer, whom he describes as one of the most important compiler and language people in the world, with contributions to Visual Basic, C#, LINQ, Haskell, and PHP tooling. What struck Yegge and Kim was that someone who had spent his life building tools for writing code was saying developers would stop writing code. Yegge's explanation: "He sees the curves." Exponential curves get steep fast, and he believes we are entering the steep part this year.

Orosz plays devil's advocate: nobody knows when a curve flattens. Yegge says the world is full of "unbelievers" who picture an S-curve and have believed we were at the top ever since GPT-3.5. His counterargument has three parts. First, Opus 4.5 was already two months old and most people hadn't really used it. Second, by his estimate the gap between Anthropic model releases shrank from about four months at the start of the previous year to about two months at the start of this one. Third, he says the bugs and mistakes people complain about now get fed back into training so the next model doesn't make them. He predicted the next Anthropic model would "freak people out."

Layoffs and the 50% dial

Yegge says the collision of these curves will cause societal upheaval and that it has already started. He is angry at Amazon for laying off 16,000 people and blaming AI "without an AI strategy for it." He expects most of those people to struggle to find jobs and thinks nobody has a plan for what comes next.

His explanation, which he expects people to hate, is economic. Every company has a dial from 0 to 100 for what share of engineers it must cut to pay for the rest to use AI, because engineers are starting to spend the equivalent of their own salaries on tokens. To make half your engineers maximally productive, he argues, you may have to let the other half go. He adds that roughly half of engineers don't want to prompt anyway. In his view companies are setting that dial to about 50%, and big companies will lose about half their engineers, a disruption he expects to be far larger than what happened around COVID.

At the same time, he sees AI letting non-programmers write code, and letting engineers who "believe the curves" form groups of two to thirty people whose output rivals big companies. He points to Andy Jassy saying Amazon will do the same work with fewer people. He speculates about a future where Amazon "is not even a thing anymore," while admitting we lack words for much of what is happening. He is blunt that anti-AI knowledge workers will struggle ("like being anti-the sun"). He also frames AI as augmentation rather than replacement, and thinks it will be quite a while before companies trust fully AI-written and AI-deployed code with no human involved.

The eight levels of AI adoption

Orosz raises Yegge's provocative line that engineers still using an IDE are bad engineers. Yegge softens it: he knows excellent engineers, better than himself, who are at level one or two on his chart. But he says he feels "profoundly sorry" for engineers who ask Cursor occasional questions, carefully review its code, and check it in, and warns that such a person is "going to get fired."

He first drew the chart on a whiteboard in Australia for a group whose members were at very different stages:

  • Level 1: no AI.
  • Level 2: the IDE agent asks yes/no permission for each action.
  • Level 3: "yolo" mode, where trust rises and the agent just does its thing.
  • Level 4: the code gets squeezed out of view. You focus on the conversation with the agent, not the diffs, and review less.
  • Level 5: you work only through the agent and maybe look at code in an IDE later.
  • Level 6: you get bored while your agent is busy, start another, and get hooked. With enough agents running, one is always waiting for you, so you end up multiplexing between them and "can't leave."
  • Level 7: you've made a mess, for example by texting the wrong agent, which then built a whole project inside another project.

That mess is what pushed Yegge toward coordination: can Claude Code run Claude Code? Throughout the previous year, people kept trying to make it run itself, and it kept stopping. Yegge says he pushed hard on that problem and built tooling for it.

The IDE isn't dead, it's changing shape

On his public debate with Nathan Sobo of Zed titled "the death of the IDE," Yegge says his position follows from believing AI will eventually do everything. IDEs were never really about writing code. They were about bringing tools together into one big tool, a role MCP now partly fills. He now sees the IDE returning in a new form and points to Claude Cowork as "Claude going, 'Oh, I need to be for real people.'" He thinks its form factor probably suits the average developer better than Claude Code: IDEs again, but built around conversations and monitoring.

Orosz mentions that his brother built Craft Agents, a similar visual tool connected to company data sources, and that some developers preferred it because parallel agents are easier to see. Yegge's point is that the tool doesn't matter as long as people try. He calls token burn "probably the single most important proxy metric" a company can track today, because it shows people are trying, failing, and learning. That surfaces organizational bottlenecks early and moves engineers up the levels.

Trying well is its own problem. People ask for something, the model does the wrong thing, and they dismiss it as garbage. Yegge compares AI to a shovel: you still dig with it, not like the enchanted brooms in Fantasia, but it's a shovel you didn't have before. He then makes what he calls a contentious claim: "most people can't read," meaning they read slowly and five paragraphs feels like a lot, while "that's the AI just clearing its throat." Because Claude Code demands reading "waterfalls of text," he expects a limbo period until better UIs arrive, with recursive summarization needed. His bold prediction is that by the end of this year most people will program by talking to a face on screen, such as Gas Town's mayor rendered as a talking fox, which will dispatch workers on their behalf.

What Gas Town is and how it's organized

Yegge places Gas Town on a simple progression: 2023 was completions (he calls the completion acceptance rate a stupid metric, though a decent proxy for whether people were trying), 2024 was chat, 2025 was agents. If chat is completions in a loop and agents are chat in a loop, the next step is agents in a loop, which is an orchestrator. "It's agents running agents."

He admits the system is complicated and had been broken all week while he migrated it to Dolt, a Git-backed database. His own Beads project, he says, is "just Git plus database crammed together badly," and Dolt does that properly. Ideally, Gas Town has one "mayor" you talk to, who dispatches workers.

The structure reflects a debate Yegge heard from people at Anthropic, which he calls the "min-maxing context" argument. One camp fills the context window with rich material so the model is "wise and all-knowing." The other keeps windows as short as possible, one task then kill the agent, because of quadratically rising cost and declining cognition as token counts grow. Yegge noticed he used both, and turned them into two worker roles. Polecats are the minimal-context workers. They get well-specified, self-contained tasks broken into subtasks. Crew are the maximal-context workers for hard design problems, where he says, "Read all these docs and then we'll talk."

Polecats differ from ordinary sub-agents in being first-class: they have their own identity and inbox, you can talk to them, and you can track their performance over time by computing skill vectors on their work. Yegge thinks standard sub-agents are opaque ("let me know when you're done"). In Gas Town you can look at a stuck polecat and poke it. "It doesn't try to get out of your way. It's in your way." He says that after Gas Town had been down for a few days, working with plain Claude "just stinks by comparison," because Gas Town works like an idea factory. He also warns it can pull you into not sleeping or eating.

A deliberate overreach

Yegge says he built something that "deliberately doesn't work," because it is too hard for current models. Even Opus 4.5 is "barely enough." Some Anthropic people told him they like it but are a bit embarrassed, since much of it works around their model's weaknesses. Yegge's view is that the model was never trained to be a factory worker and will be soon. Much of Gas Town's complexity, especially the monitoring roles that just tell Opus to be smarter, puts it "on the wrong side of the bitter lesson." He expects it to flatten into crew and polecats and then scale.

His main goal, he says, was to shift the Overton window. A year ago, people said swarms and orchestration weren't coming. Now they tell him he's "being pretty aggressive," which he sees as moving the conversation from impossible to possible. He also wanted to have fun and see what's next. His next plan is to link 100 Gas Towns through the project's Discord community. Pointing to Moltbook as proof people will pay for their own agents' inference for fun, he expects to learn the mechanics of federation, while guessing they may be "retracing Ethereum's steps."

Where swarms might work today

Yegge repeats that people shouldn't use Gas Town unless they are doing research and understand it's a proof of concept. Still, he describes people at large companies looking for problem spaces where it could work reliably now. One company sets up bespoke data centers in any region and describes the process as about three months of "miserable button presses" installing and checking software. The acceptance criteria are very clear, and they think a swarm could converge on a working data center, which could meaningfully expand how many they can open. The same person noted that during production incidents the system is already in an unknown broken state, and wondered how much worse AI could make it. Yegge cautioned that it could make it a lot worse, but saw a case for AI in certain investigation-mode outages. The pattern he sees is "fuzzy problems" where messy results are fine because the cumulative work is what counts, and he says that's how he codes now.

Asked why a craft-focused engineer would stop looking at code, Yegge gives a ceiling estimate. By his reckoning, what agents can productively build before dissolving into a mess currently sits between half a million and five million lines, probably nearer the lower end, and he expects the next Anthropic model to push it to a few million. That is still small next to enterprise code. So he thinks your ability to benefit from AI depends on whether you have a monolith. Most companies do, and he says no model in the next 18 months will fit one in context. You'll need to break it up, or, since it's getting faster, consider rewriting your stack.

The vampiric effect and the new work-life balance

Yegge describes something he thinks the industry needs to discuss: a "vampiric effect." AI gets you excited, you work very hard, and you capture a lot of value, but it drains you. Even working only for himself, he finds himself pushed to his limit and napping during the day. Friends at startups report the same, and he jokes that they load each other up with context to force each other into naps. People are getting tired and cranky.

His frame is value capture. Companies are built to give you more work until you break, and people have always had to learn to push back. If an engineer becomes, for argument's sake, 100 times more productive and still works eight hours, the company captures all of that, which Yegge calls unfair unless the engineer holds meaningful equity. The opposite extreme also exists: people who work ten minutes a day, get 100 times as much done, tell no one, and keep all the value. Neither is healthy for a group. His answer is that everyone must learn to say no quickly and decide how much of their gain to keep and how much to pass on. This is "the new work-life balance," and he says our cultural expectations point the wrong way.

For leaders, his warning is that max-speed vibe coding leans heavily on System 2 thinking. The easy work is automated and the hard thinking remains, so people drain faster. You might get only three productive hours a day from someone who is still 100 times more productive than before. Should you let them work three hours? "Yeah, you better. Or your company's going to break." Orosz brings up Peter Steinberger, whose output he compares to a team of ten good engineers, and notes that he doesn't sleep much but owns his project. Yegge's historical parallel is Perl, which he calls a massive accelerator (Amazon's website was built in it, and he calls PHP "a fake Perl"). It created a rift in the industry, with second-class citizens and new cultural dynamics.

Anthropic's hive mind and slot-machine programming

Orosz mentions Dario Amodei floating the idea of paying staff for value they created even after leaving. Yegge jokes that Google can send him a check. He describes Anthropic as "unlike any company on Earth right now," operating in a fragile space and running as a "hive mind." He compares it to a purely functional data structure from Chris Okasaki's book, which never mutates and only adds, like improv's "yes, and." Instead of spec, build, complain, ship, people gather around a prototype "like a campfire" and keep building it until it becomes the product. In his view Anthropic does this at scale with thousands of people.

Orosz notes this reverses the Lean Startup norm of discarding prototypes. Yegge says what changed is that prototypes are now effectively unlimited: you make them until one is great, then launch it. He says Claude Cowork reportedly went from someone's prototype to launch in ten days. Orosz adds that Boris Cherny told him he built 20 working prototypes of Claude Code's task-list feature in two days. Yegge calls this "slot machine programming," while saying he doesn't want to put words in Cherny's mouth. It ties to his book's FAFO framework for the value of vibe coding, where the "O" is optionality: making many prototypes lets you defer decisions until you know the answer, "which is cheating," and he expects it to change how companies are run this year.

Why Google stopped innovating, and why big companies may be dying

Yegge offers what he calls a take he has never shared before. He went through Google's golden age, when it was a hive mind like Anthropic, nobody was mean, and you could chat with Larry and Sergey. Then, he says, innovation died. Since about 2008 he sees nothing new from Google except acquisitions. He excludes Gemini as "a different Google," pointing out that Google invented LLMs and did nothing with them for five years. Google became ossified and territorial. A strong engineer he brought over from Microsoft needed six months to find work nobody had claimed, because people at Google claim work and never do it.

His diagnosis is Larry Page's "more wood behind fewer arrows" when he became CEO. Before that there was more work than people. Afterward there were more people than work, and he traces the land grabs, backstabbing, and empire-building to fighting over work. Anthropic, on a frontier with effectively infinite work, doesn't have this problem. A friend told him Amazon avoids some of Google's problems by keeping everyone slightly oversubscribed, and Orosz says he has heard the same about Apple.

Orosz asks the obvious follow-up: if AI lets people do all the work, won't big companies drift into politics? Yegge agrees. Their biggest problem will be finding more work or cutting people. He sees the same thing in Gas Town at small scale: the hardest part is feeding it, because it works so fast, and coming up with good designs for it is why he's napping all day. He adds that Gas Town itself will probably be dead in four months, since it's "the shape that worked in December 2025."

Orosz then asks why, despite all the claimed productivity, we don't see much more output from companies. Yegge first points to low tolerance for non-determinism: firms won't replace, say, call-center software because AI can be wrong, even though humans are often wrong too. He expects early results from adopters to appear quietly in quarterly earnings. Then he reframes it: maybe innovation at large companies is simply dead, and new platform shifts bring innovation from the fringes because of the innovator's dilemma, as with cloud, or Facebook starting as one college student. Hyper-productive engineers at big firms hit downstream bottlenecks, get shut down, and quit. "We're looking at the big dead companies. We just don't know they're dead yet."

Platforms, building blocks, and the end of permissioned open source

Orosz uses Zendesk as a "punching bag." It sells a UI and workflow, but AI-native companies want an API, which he says Zendesk won't provide because it wants to sell its own AI at a steep markup. Yegge calls this his old platform rant in real life: a company that doesn't become a platform will build itself out of existence. He isn't sure MCP will stay dominant. He notes Anthropic found that having models write code against APIs can work better, and says he doesn't follow the space closely enough to know. He expects a large ecosystem of building blocks for non-technical builders, such as storage and matching services, and agrees with Orosz that reliable, stateful services with SLAs are a real opportunity, because "AIs are lazy" and will use anything that saves tokens.

On open source, Orosz describes widespread remixing: people have AI modify a project and republish it without asking. Yegge says forking used to be a declaration of war (Roo Code forked Cline, then someone forked Roo Code, and Cursor is a fork too). He expects it to become an everyday occurrence because maintaining a fork is now cheap. When Jeffrey Emanuel apologized for forking Beads, Yegge told him to go ahead: "Let's have Beads in every language."

Gamification and product stickiness

Orosz revisits Yegge's 2012 essay about the Borderlands Gun Collector's Club, where players kept returning after finishing the game to chase custom guns, an emergent "elder game" the designers seemed not to have planned. Many products have since adopted such mechanics. Yegge notes people are making games out of Gas Town, and says factory-management games show why running a real factory of agents is fun. Asked whether Claude Code's constant on-screen activity is a form of gamification, he credits Anthropic with "the best product managers in the world" and "absolute magic" with command-line UIs, but repeats that this won't work for most developers, which is why he sees Cowork-style tools as the direction.

Vibe-coding debt: "heresies" and the bitter lesson

Yegge says vibe-coding debt is real, and previews an upcoming blog post about what he calls "heresies." In code bases nobody is reading, an incorrect idea such as a wrong architecture or data flow can take root among the agents. It spreads and keeps coming back. Gas Town had a recurring "polecat heresy." The symptom is a product that misbehaves at the edges for unclear reasons, until digging reveals a fault line, for example two complete, live databases being chosen between at random. Even after cleanup, one stray mention in some doc can revive it. His fix is to document the heresy at the top of your prompting, remind agents periodically, or add tooling to block it. Another example: his agents insist on opening PRs when, as maintainer, he wants them to push to main or a branch and leave the PR space for contributors. He could add hacks, but that would fight the bitter lesson, and he predicts "Opus 5 will be fine."

He explains the bitter lesson through Richard Sutton's roughly 800-word essay: don't try to be smarter than the AI by adding human domain knowledge, because bigger always wins. He mentions much larger training centers being built in Australia for energy and land, and predicts models 10 times smarter or more. Asked whether it pains him not to step in as architect, he says that, having been a VP of engineering, managing 80 agents feels much like managing 80 engineers, since any of them can screw up. He calls the two "isomorphic." He then concedes the skeptics' point: the curve is S-shaped, because resources eventually run out. But he claims at least two more cycles remain, which he says means models at least 16 times smarter than today, enough for AI to subsume all knowledge work.

Personal software, human moats, and radically transparent startups

Yegge believes demand for software will only grow and that nearly all current software, SaaS and HR systems included, is "garbage." At a vibe-coding workshop in Sydney, an attendee built his own airline check-in app and got it into the Android queue before Southwest shut him down as a bot. "That's what people want," Yegge says: personal, bespoke software. Orosz lists his own frustrations, including a Dutch postal system that couldn't ship to Canada for a week. Yegge replies that your agent will deal with it, and that whoever builds software agents prefer, and markets it to them, will win big. He calls himself an optimist who believes "it's all going to work out."

To a question about what can't be cloned if all software becomes trivial to copy, Yegge's answer is human connection. As more is automated, he expects people to want humans to curate, deliver, and do things for them.

He says small startups of two to twenty people now work very differently. His core belief is that everything must be either fully transparent or deliberately hidden. He recounts a team member being scolded for shipping a feature requested two hours earlier, because too much had changed in the meantime. At this volume, work is effectively invisible unless you announce it loudly, so others can stop you or integrate right away. He applied this to Gas Town by launching as soon as it roughly worked and asking for help. That led him to Dolt and brought over 100 PRs in the first few days. VCs are now "finding me everywhere," just as they chased Geoffrey Huntley after his "Ralph Wiggum" loop. He advises caution because anything built now has a short shelf life, and he isn't attached to Gas Town, which he expects to be replaced within six months.

Advice for the Copilot holdout, and what if he's wrong

For a staff engineer at a company still on GitHub Copilot, which Orosz says describes perhaps 70% of engineers who aren't yet adopting, Yegge says "get out." He calls Copilot the best tool in 2021 and now at the bottom, recalling an AI Tinkerers meeting where someone asked who uses Copilot, a person raised a hand, and the reply "Do you have to?" got a laugh. A "barbarian horde" using Opus 4.5 will eventually destroy companies that think Copilot makes them fast, he says. His prescription is half an hour a day with Claude Code, and for companies, as much token burn as investors allow. He also predicts that proof of work, meaning visible actual work rather than a résumé, will matter enormously, and that proprietary work is under threat because everything is easy to fork and route around.

Orosz asks what happens if Yegge is wrong and models plateau at 3x, or the next model is somehow worse. Yegge says learners would still be right, because "the damage is done." In his view Opus 4.5 turned this into a pure engineering problem. Models can already take a "town-size" bite out of a mountain, and engineers will wrap layers around them, like harnessing fire or steam. He adds that he worked on a nuclear reactor in the Navy.

Debuggers, workstations, and languages

Yegge's first job was at GeoWorks, whose debugger Swat he still considers unmatched. He later built a Clojure debugger for the JVM, but dropped it after disagreeing with Rich Hickey about JVM support. He notes that agents debug with printf. Maybe they just haven't been trained on debuggers yet and will "wake up in 6 months," or maybe debuggers are no longer needed. He doesn't know.

For workstations, his answer is "phone." He wants his agent setup on his phone and nearly has it working over Tailscale. The only thing stopping him from being addicted all day is how hard it is to type control characters. Orosz mentions that Steinberger dropped his phone-based tool because it was too addictive. Yegge has argued for 15 years that development doesn't need to be local, citing Google's cloud-based client (CitC, with Cider on top). He says Gas Town already maxes out his laptop because Claude Code uses a lot of memory, and he expects work to move to servers and mobile devices.

On languages, he thinks some currently work better only because of training data, and that eventually all existing languages will work equally well. He says TypeScript is a struggle for models today but won't be within one or two model generations. Part of him thinks languages no longer matter, like assembly for most people. Another part says energy is the scarcest resource and better algorithms are often language problems, such as finding the right DSL. So he expects the search for new languages to continue for efficiency, and possibly AI-designed languages for AIs, while in everyday work "you might not even ask your agent what language it's using."

Grief, and what comes next

Asked how he handled losing much of the craft he loved, Yegge again points to graphics: people were sad when hand-built techniques moved into hardware, then got much better games. In 1992, he says, people claimed you weren't a good engineer without assembly language, and today that sounds absurd. He describes going through grief about two years ago: intense anger, then roughly six or seven days at the peak, with weeks or months of lesser grief around it, when the world "went monochrome." He found himself checking off things that no longer mattered, like his ability to memorize, write, and compute. Then he realized he was writing ten times more code and having fun, and that he was clinging to the old just as he had with graphics. "The future is actually more fun than the present."

His prediction for 2027 is that his wife, who is not a developer but loves their family's video game and has many ideas, will be its top contributor, and perhaps the whole family will join in. He believes programming is becoming something everyone can do, and that mashups, now easy to make, are where innovation happens. That creates a new problem: with so much being made, people will need agents that know them well and can search this flood of new software and experiences, much as the early web needed aggregators and search engines. None of that exists yet, he says, and it is an opening for engineers who "believe the curves, pick a point on the curve and aim for it," so they're first in line when the AIs are ready for their idea. For now, he says, engineers are ahead of everyone else.