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If you use GitHub Copilot, Claude, Cursor or any other AI coding assistant to write production code, the legal ownership of what you ship is less settled than your licence agreement implies. The US Copyright Office ruled in January 2025 that purely AI-generated material is not copyrightable, and that prompts alone do not provide sufficient human control to earn protection. Code you wrote with heavy AI assistance sits in an uncertain middle ground: it may be copyrightable, it may not, and no court has drawn the line for software. The answer-first version: you probably do not own copyright in the portions of your code that an AI wrote without substantial human direction, and you may not be able to prove where the boundary lies. This does not mean someone else owns it — it may be uncopyrightable altogether, like a phone book. But your employment contract, your client agreement and your open-source licence all assume you hold full copyright in your deliverables. That assumption is now an open question. The rule, plainly stated Purely AI-generated output is not copyrightable in the United States. This is not a prediction or a legal opinion; it is the stated position of the US Copyright Office, set out in its January 2025 report Copyright and Artificial Intelligence, Part 2: Copyrightability . The report received over 10,000 public comments and represents the Office’s most comprehensive statement on the subject. Its conclusions are clear: “material generated wholly by AI is not copyrightable”, and existing law is adequate to handle the question without new legislation. The nuance sits in the middle ground — which is exactly where most AI-assisted coding lives. What the Copyright Office said The report draws several lines. First, it confirms the long-standing requirement that copyright requires a human author. An AI system cannot be an author, regardless of how sophisticated its output. Second, it addresses prompts: “based on the functioning of current generally available

The Quest Begins (The "Why") Hey friend, picture this: you’re happily writing JavaScript, tossing objects around like confetti at a parade, and then you decide to give Rust a spin. You open the compiler, write a simple function that returns a slice of a vector, and boom— error[E0505]: cannot move out of … because it is borrowed . Your brain does a double‑take. “Wait, I didn’t even touch anything!” you mutter, staring at the screen like you just missed a plot twist in Inception . That moment was my dragon. I’d spent years trusting the garbage collector to clean up after me, and Rust’s ownership system felt like a strict sensei who wouldn’t let you leave the dojo until you bowed correctly. I was frustrated, curious, and honestly a little scared. But once I grasped the core ideas, the whole language started to click like a well‑oiled machine. So why does ownership matter? Because it gives you memory safety without a runtime garbage collector. No surprise pauses, no hidden allocations—just compile‑time guarantees that your program won’t dereference null or use‑after‑free. For a JS dev used to “it just works”, that’s a superpower worth earning. The Revelation (The Insight) The big surprise? Ownership isn’t just about who “owns” a value; it’s about how that value can be accessed, moved, or borrowed at any point in the program. Three rules govern everything: Each value has a single owner. When the owner goes out of scope, the value is dropped. You can either have one mutable reference or any number of immutable references to a value, but never both at the same time. Sounds simple, right? The gotcha is that Rust treats references as a separate kind of value with its own lifetime. If you try to store a reference beyond the lifetime of what it points to, the compiler says “nope”. This is where many JS devs stumble because in JavaScript a reference (or variable) just points to an object that lives as long as something else holds it—garbage collection decides when it’s gone. Le

On Tuesday, Warp introduced Warp Factories, a new infrastructure system designed to make building AI software factories as easy as possible.

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For years, the CMS ecosystem has largely followed the same formula. Install a CMS. Choose a theme. Install plugins. Customize some templates. Add an API when you need one. Then, eventually, try to connect everything to AI. But the way we build software has changed. Developers increasingly work alongside AI coding assistants. People are building websites by describing what they want instead of manually implementing every component. AI agents can now interact with external tools and services. APIs are becoming the foundation rather than an optional feature. Yet many traditional CMS architectures were designed for a world where a human administrator was the primary interface. That is the problem Basehim is trying to solve. Basehim is an open-source, modular, API-first PHP CMS built for developers, AI-assisted development, and the emerging world of AI agents. The goal isn't to replace every CMS. The goal is to provide a simpler foundation for people who want to build, customize, automate, and extend websites without being forced into a complicated infrastructure stack. The idea behind Basehim Basehim started with a fairly simple observation: The web is still full of ordinary PHP hosting. Millions of websites run on environments such as cPanel, Plesk, Apache, MySQL, and shared hosting. Yet many modern development tools increasingly assume that you have SSH access, Composer, Node.js, a build pipeline, background workers, containers, or a cloud deployment environment. Those tools are excellent when you need them. But they aren't always necessary for a CMS. Basehim takes a different approach. If your server can run modern PHP and MySQL or MariaDB, Basehim is designed to run there. You can upload the files, open the installer, configure the database, create the administrator account, and start building. There is no required Composer installation. There is no frontend build process. There is no daemon that has to remain running. There is no requirement for a public/ directory

Introduction Your program keeps creating objects. Every function call, every loop iteration, every parsed JSON response produces new ones. You don't manually delete most of them. You've never written a line of code that says "free this memory now." And yet your application doesn't immediately exhaust all available RAM and crash. So who cleans everything up? The answer is a garbage collector, a piece of the runtime that runs quietly in the background, deciding what your program no longer needs and reclaiming that memory for future use. Most developers interact with it only when something goes wrong: an unexpected pause, a memory leak, or an out-of-memory error that shouldn't be happening. Understanding how it actually works turns those confusing moments into solvable problems. And as a bonus, the core algorithm is simple enough to build yourself. We'll do that by the end of this article. -- 1. The Memory Problem Every time your program creates an object, the runtime allocates a chunk of memory to hold it. A string, a dictionary, a class instance: they all need memory, and that memory has to come from somewhere. The somewhere is a region called the heap , a pool of memory that the program draws from as it runs. When you create an object, the runtime finds a suitable slot in the heap and reserves it. When that object is no longer needed, that slot should be freed so it can be used for something else. In languages like C, you manage this manually. You allocate memory when you need it, and you free it when you're done. This gives you control, but it creates two classic failure modes. Free memory too early and you have a dangling pointer, a reference to memory that's now being used for something else. Forget to free it at all and you have a memory leak: the program slowly consumes more and more memory until it runs out. Automatic memory management exists to eliminate these failure modes. Instead of relying on the programmer to track every allocation and release, the runti

Baruch Sadogursky and Patrick Debois discuss why coding agents fail due to bloated context windows and stuffed prompts. They explain practical context engineering fixes, including lazy-loaded skills, versioned context artifacts, externalized memory banks, and LLM-as-a-judge evals. Software architects & engineering leaders will learn how to turn raw markdown files into reliable agentic workflows. By Patrick Debois, Baruch Sadogursky

Hey DEV Community! 👋 I'm Hoang , a Technical SEO Specialist and Web Builder. I'm fascinated by the intersection of search engines, web technology, and AI. While I don't come from a formal Software Engineering background, I’ve been heavily leveraging AI-assisted development (Vibe Coding) to build custom web applications, utility tools, and micro-platforms. 🛠️ What I'm currently working on: SEO & Entity Optimization: Deep diving into Schema markup, web infrastructure, and Knowledge Graphs. Building Micro-Tools: Creating custom PHP scripts, automated quiz systems, and web utilities powered by modern AI LLMs. Server Management: Migrating and optimizing web apps directly on Nginx setups for maximum performance. 💡 Why I'm here: I joined DEV.to to share my journey as a non-traditional developer using AI tools to bring ideas to life fast, learn from experienced engineers, and discuss technical SEO best practices. Looking forward to connecting, sharing ideas, and learning with everyone here! Feel free to say hi or drop a line below! 🚀

Part 1 of a series. Part 2 covers the full tool catalog. Part 3 covers ObjectScript skills. Part 4 covers benchmarking and measuring what actually improves. The Problem Hiding in the Comments Thomas Mazur's post "Frogs, Chickens, AI, and VS Code" on VS Code productivity — Peacock, scoped workspace files, Copilot Agent mode — drew a sharper problem in the comments. Pietro Di Leo and Mike.W pointed out that when you work server-side in VS Code, the isfs:// workspace most production IRIS shops use, Copilot can only see the files open in your editor . It cannot index the virtual filesystem. On a mature IRIS application with thousands of classes, the AI works through a keyhole. John Murray pointed people at a project I've been building — iris-agentic-dev — and noted no Developer Community article existed for it yet. So here it is: why the problem exists, how the tool addresses it, and how to get it running in about five minutes. Why the AI Can't See Your Namespace When you open an isfs:// workspace, your IRIS classes live on the server, not on disk. The VS Code ObjectScript extension streams them to you on demand via the Atelier API — open a class, it fetches it; save it, it writes back. This works beautifully for editing. AI assistants such as Copilot work differently. They need a picture of the code around the file you're editing. Who calls this method? What inherits from this class? What other code touches this global? On a local project, the assistant can scan the files to answer those questions. An isfs:// workspace materializes files only when you open them, so there is nothing complete to scan. For a new project with a handful of classes, that may be tolerable. For a production IRIS system — ten thousand classes, Ensemble productions, custom %Library subclasses, business logic accumulated across years of development — the AI becomes nearly useless for the hard questions. It can help you write a new method if you paste in the surrounding context yourself. It cannot

The problem AI agents like Claude Code and Codex write code fast. You run it, it works, you merge. A week later, there's a bug — and you realize you never actually understood the code you shipped. You just transcribed it. This is "vibe coding," and it's becoming the default way a lot of us write software now. What I built BuildIt is a set of hands-on courses where an AI agent proposes code changes like a normal diff — but you can't move to the next step until you explain, in an actual conversation with an AI tutor, why the change was made and what could go wrong. You also write the prompt yourself before the AI generates anything. No skipping. No checkbox you can fake. Real, compilable code from lesson one — not toy examples. 9 courses, 45 real shipped projects: Arduino STM32 (HAL) STM32 (LL) ESP32 Next.js Python React React Native Flutter How it works An AI agent proposes code (same diff screen you already know from Claude Code, Codex, Antigravity) BuildIt demands a line-by-line explanation before you can approve it An AI tutor verifies your understanding through real conversation Only then do you move to the next step Technical details The tutor AI runs entirely locally in your browser — your code never leaves your machine Credits-based pricing — unlock a course, it's yours even if you cancel later Built for teams too — share credits across an org, instill review habits from day one Why this matters AI will write more of our code over time, not less. That makes the ability to actually read and verify it more valuable, not less. BuildIt isn't trying to teach you to write code from scratch — it's trying to make sure you don't lose control of the code an AI writes for you. Would love feedback from anyone who's felt that "I merged this AI diff and don't actually understand it" moment. Try it here

The Quest Begins (The "Why") I still remember the first time I faced the “Next Greater Element” interview question. The array looked innocent enough, but every brute‑force attempt felt like I was hammering a nail with a sponge— O(n²) time, nested loops, and a sinking feeling that I was missing something elegant. I spent an hour sketching out the problem on a whiteboard, muttering, “There has to be a way to look ahead without looking back every single time.” That frustration is a rite of passage for many developers. We’re taught to think in terms of scanning left‑to‑right, but some array puzzles scream for a different perspective: we need to remember what we’ve seen in a way that lets us answer questions about the future elements instantly. Enter the monotonic stack—a deceptively simple data structure that turns those scary “look‑ahead” problems into straight‑line walks. The Revelation (The Insight) So what’s the secret sauce? A monotonic stack is just a stack that maintains its elements in strictly increasing or strictly decreasing order. Why does that help? Consider the Next Greater Element problem: for each index i , we want the first element to its right that’s larger than arr[i] . If we walk from left to right and keep a stack of indices whose next greater element we haven’t found yet, the stack will naturally be decreasing in value. Why decreasing? Imagine the stack holds indices [i₁, i₂, …, i_k] where arr[i₁] > arr[i₂] > … > arr[i_k] . When we encounter a new value arr[j] , any element on the stack that is smaller than arr[j] has just found its next greater element—namely arr[j] . We pop those indices, record the answer, and stop when we hit a value that’s not smaller (or the stack empties). Then we push j onto the stack. Because each index is pushed once and popped at most once , the total work is linear: O(n) . No nested loops, no repeated scans—just a single pass with a stack that does the heavy lifting. The same invariant works for other “first bigger/smal

AI jako partner, ne kalkulačka: člověk a AI při řešení Project Euler #185 srpna 2026 Co se stane, když člověk nepoužije umělou inteligenci pouze jako nástroj, který má dodat hotovou odpověď, ale jako partnera při řešení problému? Dnes jsme to vyzkoušeli na konkrétním problému z Project Euleru. Nechtěli jsme vytvořit nový algoritmus. Chtěli jsme zjistit, jak může vypadat skutečná spolupráce člověka a AI při hledání řešení. Experiment Vybrali jsme Project Euler #185 – Number Mind. Úloha obsahuje 22 šestnáctimístných sekvencí. U každé je uvedeno, kolik číslic je na správné pozici. Úkolem je najít unikátní šestnáctimístnou sekvenci, která splňuje všechna tato omezení. Na začátku jsme si stanovili jednoduché pravidlo: Nechceme pouze získat výsledek. Chceme společně hledat cestu k němu. První problém Naše první společná zkouška nedopadla podle očekávání. Ukázalo se, že jsme si pro experiment nezvolili ideální problém a postup. Místo toho, abychom se snažili chybu zakrýt, označili jsme první pokus jako neúspěšný a změnili postup. To se ukázalo jako důležitá součást experimentu. Chyba nebyla důvodem ukončit spolupráci. Byla informací pro další krok. Project Euler #185 U samotného problému jsme postupovali bez předem připraveného algoritmu. AI začala pracovat s kandidáty a jednotlivými řádky. Člověk průběžně sledoval strukturu problému a hledal jiný pohled. V určitém okamžiku přišel klíčový návrh: «„Nehledejme jen to, co je správně. Hledejme miny – čísla, která se nám nehodí.“» Tím se změnila orientace řešení. Místo hledání správných možností jsme začali systematicky vyřazovat možnosti, které nemohou být správné. Co přinesl člověk a co AI? Martin přinesl především: intuitivní pozorování, změnu perspektivy, rozhodování o směru dalšího řešení, pochybnosti a kontrolu jednotlivých kroků, myšlenku „min“. AI přinesla: rychlé zpracování velkého množství kombinací, strukturování hypotéz, systematické porovnávání, práci s omezeními, závěrečné ověření. Role se přitom během řešení nemě

The Quest Begins (The "Why") I still remember the first time I saw LeetCode 323 “Number of Connected Components in an Undirected Graph”. I stared at the adjacency list, thought “I’ll just run a DFS from every node”, and coded it up in ten minutes. The solution passed the easy tests, but when the hidden test cases hit a graph with 10⁵ nodes and 10⁵ edges, my DFS started to choke—stack overflows, repeated visits, and a sinking feeling that I was brute‑forcing a problem that deserved a smarter tool. That night, after a few too many coffees, I stumbled upon a tiny comment in a discussion thread: “Union‑Find can do this in almost O(1) per operation”. My curiosity sparked like a power‑up in a retro arcade game. I had to know why this seemingly simple data structure could turn a nightmare into a breeze. The Revelation (The Insight) At its heart, Union‑Find (aka Disjoint Set Union, DSU) maintains a collection of elements partitioned into disjoint subsets. It supports two operations: Find(x) – returns the representative (root) of the set containing x . Union(x, y) – merges the sets containing x and y . The magic lies in two simple heuristics: Path Compression – when we walk up the tree to find a root, we make every node on that path point directly to the root. Future finds become flat, almost constant‑time. Union by Rank/Size – we always attach the smaller tree under the root of the larger one, keeping the overall tree shallow. Why does this give us near‑O(1) amortized time? Think of each Find as paying a small “tax” to flatten the path. The tax is paid only a few times per node before it becomes a direct child of the root. Over a sequence of m operations, the total work is bounded by O(m α(n)) , where α is the inverse Ackermann function—so slow‑growing it’s practically a constant for any realistic n . In plain English: every time we climb up, we leave a shortcut behind. The next climber benefits from that shortcut, and the structure keeps getting better. It’s like building

The Quest Begins (The "Why") I still remember the first time I got hit with a sorting question in an interview. The interviewer slid a whiteboard marker across the table and said, “Sort this array of a million integers – and tell me why you chose your method.” My brain went straight to the trusty old bubble sort I’d learned in CS101. I started writing nested loops, feeling like Neo dodging bullets in slow motion, only to realize the runtime was creeping toward O(n²). After a few painful minutes, I could see the interviewer’s eyes glaze over – not because I was wrong, but because I was using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. That moment sparked a quest: What makes a sorting algorithm truly efficient, and how do I know when to reach for it? I dove into textbooks, blog posts, and late‑night YouTube deep dives. The answer kept pointing back to one algorithm that felt like discovering a hidden cheat code: Merge Sort . The Revelation (The Insight) So why does Merge Sort work so well? It’s not just about splitting and merging; it’s about guaranteeing that each level of recursion does a linear amount of work, no matter how the input is arranged. Think of an unsorted array as a messy pile of LEGO bricks. Merge Sort first divides the pile into two halves, then halves again, until each sub‑pile contains a single brick – which is, by definition, sorted. The magic happens in the merge step: we take two already‑sorted sub‑arrays and walk through them with two pointers, always picking the smaller front element and appending it to the result. Because each sub‑array is sorted, we never need to look back; we simply advance one pointer at a time. That walk is O(n) for the merge: each element is examined exactly once as it gets placed into the output array. Since we split the array log₂ n times (each level halves the size), we perform an O(n) merge at each of those log₂ n levels. Multiply them together and you get O(n log n) worst‑case time, with O(n) extra space for the temporary buffer

GitHub Code Quality is now generally available on GitHub Enterprise Cloud and GitHub Team. The service combines CodeQL analysis with AI-assisted detection of maintainability and reliability problems, then uses Copilot Autofix to suggest changes for review in pull requests, according to an announcement from GitHub. By Matt Saunders

The Quest Begins (The "Why") I was staring at a pull request that felt like a boss level in a retro arcade game—except there were no extra lives. The code was a massive if/else if/else chain that decided how to handle different JSON payloads coming from a third‑party API. Each branch did almost the same thing: validate a few fields, map them to our internal model, then call a service. The only thing that changed was the shape of the incoming object. Every time a new endpoint was added, a developer had to copy‑paste the whole block, tweak a few field names, and pray they didn’t miss a comma. Reviewing it felt like watching someone try to solve a Rubik’s cube by rotating random faces—you could get lucky, but most of the time you just made a bigger mess. I kept asking myself: Why are we writing the same logic over and over? The answer was hiding in plain sight: we weren’t seeing the pattern. The Revelation (The Insight) The breakthrough hit me while I was refactoring a tiny utility that turned a list of user IDs into a set. I realized I wasn’t writing a new algorithm each time—I was applying the same shape of solution: take an input, transform it, then feed it to a consistent consumer . In other words, the problem wasn’t “how do I handle payload X?” It was “how do I dispatch the right transformation based on a key?” That’s a classic dispatch table (or strategy pattern) problem. The “aha!” moment was when I looked at the chain and saw that each branch could be expressed as a function: function handleOrder ( payload ) { /* … */ } function handleRefund ( payload ) { /* … */ } function handleShipment ( payload ) { /* … */ } All of them shared the same signature: (payload) => Result . If I could map a discriminator (like payload.type ) to the correct function, the whole if/else monster would collapse into a single lookup. That’s the pattern top coders spot instantly: repetitive conditional logic → a table of behaviors . Once you see it, the code writes itself. Wielding the

So far in this mini-series, we've answered the biggest questions that confuse developers when they first encounter Design Patterns. We've learned: why SOLID isn't the final destination, why recurring design problems exist, why copying code doesn't create good design, what Design Patterns really are, how experienced engineers recognize them, and how every pattern can be understood through its Problem, Intent, Solution, and Consequences . Now it's time to answer one final question before we begin exploring the individual patterns. How should we learn Design Patterns so that we can actually use them in real-world software instead of just recognizing their names? The answer may surprise you. We're not going to learn Design Patterns the way they're usually taught. The Traditional Way of Learning Design Patterns Open almost any Design Patterns book or tutorial, and you'll often see something like this. Pattern Name ↓ Definition ↓ UML Diagram ↓ Code Example ↓ Advantages ↓ Disadvantages Technically, there's nothing wrong with this approach. But many developers finish reading the chapter and still wonder: "When would I ever use this?" That's because they learned the solution before understanding the problem. It's like learning how to use a fire extinguisher before understanding what kinds of fires it can safely put out. Knowledge without context is difficult to apply. The Way Experienced Engineers Learn Experienced engineers don't begin with the pattern. They begin with the software. They observe where the current design starts struggling. Only then do they search for a better design approach. Their thinking looks more like this. Business Requirement ↓ Design Challenge ↓ Current Design Starts Breaking ↓ Understand Why ↓ Explore Better Design ↓ Recognize a Design Pattern The pattern is never the starting point. It's the result of understanding the problem. The Learning Framework We'll Use Every pattern in this series will follow exactly the same structure. Business Problem ↓

The Quest Begins (The "Why") Honestly, I still remember the first time I tried to build an autocomplete widget for a side‑project. I had a list of 200 k product names, a simple filter that ran on every keystroke, and the UI felt like wading through molasses. Each keypress triggered a full scan of the list, and with a few users typing at once the browser would start to lag. I was stuck in a loop that felt like the infamous “boss fight” where you keep hitting the same pattern over and over, hoping for a different outcome. I kept asking myself: There has to be a smarter way. Why am I re‑checking the same prefixes again and again? If ten users type “tea”, why do I walk through the whole dictionary ten separate times? That question turned into a mini‑quest, and the treasure at the end was the trie data structure. The Revelation (The Insight) Look, the magic of a trie isn’t that it’s some exotic tree; it’s that it stores words by their shared prefixes . Imagine you have the words “cat”, “car”, “cart”, and “dog”. In a trie you’d have a root node, then a c branch that splits into a → t (for “cat”) and a → r → t (for “cart”), while “dog” lives on its own d → o → g path. Every common prefix is stored once , and you can walk down the tree following the characters of a query to land exactly at the node that represents all words with that prefix. Why does this give us O(L + K) time for autocomplete, where L is the length of the prefix and K is the number of results? Walking the trie follows the prefix character‑by‑character → O(L). From that node we just need to collect all words in its subtree. If we keep a list of words at each node (or run a DFS), we touch each result once → O(K). No extra work for words that don’t share the prefix. Contrast that with the naive filter approach: O(N × L) where N is the total dictionary size. For a large N, the trie is a game‑changer—it’s like switching from swinging a blunt sword to wielding a lightsaber that cuts through the prefix forest in

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Table of Contents Overview AI Didn't Remove the Skill, It Relocated the Skill Vibe Coding...