If you maintain an AGENTS.md or a CLAUDE.md, this is worth a read. (bookmark it) 288 gold-test evaluated runs across Claude Code and Codex, 17 real tasks from 3 repositories, with context-injection strategy as the only variable. Correctness does not move on either agent. Equivalence testing bounds any effect to at most 10 to 15 percentage points. A failure-mode triage explains why. Agents fail on implementation skill, feature design, pattern selection and exact wiring, rather than on repository knowledge a markdown file could supply. A manipulation probe confirms it, since the real AGENTS.md never converted a near-miss into a pass on either agent. Borderline task difficulty is agent-specific with Spearman rho of 0.75, so single-agent studies draw tasks from different informative bands and reach opposite conclusions. That explains a lot of the contradictory prior evidence. Paper: Track more trending AI papers in our academy:

💡This new paper introduces SFGA, a statistics-first gating architecture for cost-aware SFT data procurement. Instead of sending every case to an LLM judge, SFGA starts with low-cost blind measurements across three intrinsic quality axes: 🔹 Diversity 🔹 Utility 🔹 Redundancy Each is evaluated together with confidence intervals. Only when evidence is weak, borderline, or conflicting does the system escalate to an adjudicative debate between a buy-advocate and a reject-advocate, resolved by a presiding verdict. And even after escalation, SFGA does not blindly trust the LLM judge. It audits the process through advocate swapping, explicitly measuring negativity skew and positional bias. The contribution is not a new estimator or debate algorithm, but the architecture itself: ✅ Cheap statistics first ✅ Confidence gating ✅ Selective escalation ✅ Bias auditing For AI data markets, this direction matters: LLM judges should be used where they add the most value — on cases that are genuinely ambiguous, costly, and worth debating. Paper:

THINGS MY PATIENTS TAUGHT ME — No. 5 I love my job. Some days I love it so much it feels illegal. A forty-six-year-old man came to me for a third opinion. Father of two, one of them brand new. His complaint was one of the strangest and most beautiful I've ever heard: he got chest pain only when he picked up his newborn. Not the treadmill at the gym. Not the stairs. Not carrying groceries. Only when he lifted his baby. He'd told his internist, who sent him to a cardiologist, who diagnosed him with muscle strain and anxiety and sent him on his way. Reasonable, on paper. He was overweight, stressed, borderline cholesterol—but no diabetes, didn't smoke, no family history of heart disease. Nothing screaming emergency. Except the pain wouldn't quit. It kept tapping him on the shoulder every time he reached for his child. His coworker—one of my patients—finally said, go see my guy. So I put him on the treadmill. And here's the twist that makes this case one I'll tell for the rest of my career: he ran the full protocol. All the way. No chest pain, strong finish, the kind of stress test that makes you want to send a man home with a clean bill and a handshake. But I waited. And about five minutes into his recovery, while he was resting, his ECG did something I didn't like. Just a whisper of something wrong. Nothing dramatic. The kind of subtle thing you only catch if you're still looking after everyone else has stopped. I sent him for a STAT CT angiogram. Ninety-nine percent blockage. Left Anterior Descending, right at the origin. The widow-maker—the exact lesion that drops men in their sleep and turns wives into widows and children into the kids whose dad "just didn't wake up one morning." We didn't send him home. We walked him straight to the cath lab and stented him that day. Think about how close this ran. If his coworker hadn't spoken up. If I'd read the clean treadmill and stopped watching. If I'd trusted the two prior opinions. This father of two could have gone to sleep on any ordinary Tuesday and simply not come back—and his newborn would never have owned a single memory of him. Instead, if he takes care of himself, he gets a whole life. He gets to be there. It was not his time. His wife called to thank me for saving her husband. I told her the truth: that I thanked them. Because this—this exact phone call—is the reason I get up and go to work. There is no professional satisfaction on earth that touches it. And I'll tell you why it lives so deep in me. My own uncle died exactly this way. He was fifty. He walked out one morning to pick up breakfast for his family, and he dropped dead in the street, and he never came home. No warning. No third opinion. No one still watching the monitor five minutes into rest. I can't bring my uncle back. I've made my peace with that, mostly. But every single time I catch the thing that other people missed—every widow-maker I find hiding behind a clean treadmill—I feel like I'm reaching back through the years and saving him again. I honor him with other men's mothers, other children's fathers. It's the only way I know how. So yes. I love my job. On the good days it doesn't feel like a job at all. It feels like the reason I was put here. Go hug the people who lift you. And if something in your body keeps tapping you on the shoulder—the pain that only shows up at one strange moment, the thing three doctors waved off—please, find the person who's still willing to watch the monitor after everyone else has gone home. #Grateful# #Medicine# #Miracles# Blessings, P.S. The pain only came when he lifted his baby. I've thought about that a hundred times. Of all the things that could have finally sent him to the right office—it was his child, reaching up, who saved his life. She'll never know she did it. Maybe someday he'll tell her.

Democracy is on trial in the coming Elections in the beautiful country of Honduras on November 30th. Will Maduro and his Narcoterrorists take over another country like they have taken over Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela? The man who is standing up for Democracy, and fighting against Maduro, is Tito Asfura, the Presidential Candidate of the National Party. Tito was the highly successful Mayor of Tegucigalpa where he brought running water to millions, and paved hundreds of kilometers of roads. His chief opponent is Rixi Moncada, who says Fidel Castro is her idol. Normally, the smart people of Honduras, would reject her, and elect Tito Asfura, but the Communists are trying to trick the people by running a third Candidate, Salvador Nasralla. Nasralla is no friend of Freedom. A borderline Communist, he helped Xiomara Castro by running as her Vice President. He won, and helped Castro win. Then he resigned, and is now pretending to be an anti-Communist only for the purposes of splitting Asfura’s vote. The people of Honduras must not be tricked again. The only real friend of Freedom in Honduras is Tito Asfura. Tito and I can work together to fight the Narcocommunists, and bring needed aid to the people of Honduras. I cannot work with Moncada and the Communists, and Nasralla is not a reliable partner for Freedom, and cannot be trusted. I hope the people of Honduras vote for Freedom and Democracy, and elect Tito Asfura, President!