今日已更新 217 条资讯 | 累计 37466 条内容
关于我们

标签:#health

找到 306 篇相关文章

AI 资讯

I built an AI for relationships — here's why nobody else has

Every developer I know has built something for themselves. A productivity tool. A habit tracker. A personal finance app. An AI that makes them smarter, faster, calmer. I did the same thing for 2 years. Then I had a conversation with someone close to me that I completely mishandled — and I realised no amount of personal productivity tools would have helped me there. The problem wasn't me, individually. The problem was the space between us. So I started asking a weird question Why has all of AI been built for individuals? Copilot helps you code faster. ChatGPT makes you smarter. Notion AI organises your thoughts. Calm helps you sleep better. Not one of them is built for what happens when two people try to understand each other. That's a massive gap. And it's one I couldn't stop thinking about. What I built Mendle — an AI-powered Relationship Intelligence platform. Not a therapy app. Not a chatbot companion. Not another journaling tool with an AI skin on top. The core idea is **shared emotional memory. Most relationship apps are built around one person's perspective. You log your feelings. You get insights. Your partner is an afterthought in the architecture. Mendle is different at the data model level. Both people contribute. Both people benefit. The AI builds an understanding of the relationship not just an individual. Over time it surfaces patterns. Communication loops. Emotional triggers. The things you keep missing because you're too close to them. The technical challenge that surprised me Building AI for two people is fundamentally harder than building it for one. Single-user AI: one context window, one set of preferences, one voice to understand. Relationship AI: two different communication styles, two different emotional vocabularies, shared history that neither person has complete visibility into, and privacy boundaries that have to be respected even between partners. The shared memory architecture was the hardest part to get right. How do you build something

2026-06-12 原文 →
AI 资讯

Inside Interoception: The hidden sense of how you feel inside

MIT Technology Review Explains: Let our writers untangle the complex, messy world of science and technology to help you understand what’s coming next. You can read more from the series here. Your brain lives in the dark space of your skull. Yet it knows when the wind lifts the hairs on your skin, when your heart is…

2026-06-12 原文 →
AI 资讯

If your agent touches health data, do the boring part first

I’ll say it plainly: the first health-adjacent agent workflow I’d trust is not an AI doctor. It’s a narrow pipeline that takes 6 months of Apple Watch sleep data, cleans timestamps, maps records into a fixed sleep-diary schema, flags broken rows, and stops for human review before anything reaches a clinician. That sounds unsexy. Good. That’s exactly why it’s the first version I’d trust. I landed on this after reading a post on r/openclaw where someone said they had their AI assistant turn months of Apple Watch sleep data into the diary their sleep clinic requested, and the data gotchas were brutal. That sentence contains the whole product. Not “AI healthcare.” Not “autonomous wellness.” Not a GPT-5 wrapper with a soothing UI pretending it understands sleep medicine. Just a very practical engineering problem: parse ugly export data normalize time boundaries fit it into a clinician-friendly format fail loudly on bad rows require a human to approve it That is a real use case. And if you build automations in n8n, Make, Zapier, OpenClaw, or Python, it should feel familiar: the hard part is not the final prompt. The hard part is the ugly middle. The hard part is ETL, not reasoning Most health-agent demos skip the only part that matters. They show the polished summary. They show Claude or GPT-5 saying something calm and articulate. They show a dashboard. I don’t think that’s the hard part. The hard part is ETL: extraction transformation loading For sleep data, that means dealing with stuff like: timestamps crossing midnight timezone normalization naps vs overnight sleep missing start or end times overlapping intervals gaps from the device not recording clinic-specific diary formats If you get any of that wrong, the model summary at the end is not helpful. It is actively misleading. That’s why I think the boring pipeline is the real product. The workflow I’d actually ship If I had to build this today, I would keep the architecture aggressively narrow. Apple Health export ->

2026-06-11 原文 →
AI 资讯

Mirror Therapy Without the Mirror Box: Treating Phantom Limbs in a Browser Tab

A 1990s Nobel-adjacent therapy, a webcam, and 21 hand keypoints — recreating the mirror-box illusion for phantom limb pain, no hardware required. A therapy built on an illusion In the 1990s, neuroscientist V.S. Ramachandran discovered something remarkable: amputees suffering phantom limb pain often felt relief just by seeing their missing limb move again. His apparatus was almost comically simple — a box with a mirror. Put your intact hand in, look at its reflection where the missing hand would be, and move. The brain, watching the "missing" hand obey commands again, often dials the pain down. The limitation was never the science. It was the box: a physical apparatus, used in clinics, hard to scale, impossible to measure. Replacing glass with keypoints A webcam plus real-time hand tracking can produce the same illusion with better properties: webcam frame → hand landmark model (21 keypoints, on-device) → reflect: phantom[i] = { x: 1 − x, y, z } → render real hand (solid) + phantom twin (ghost) on canvas The reflection is one line of math. Everything around it is what makes the illusion land: const phantom = real . map ( p => ({ x : 1 - p . x , y : p . y , z : p . z })); The visual treatment matters more than I expected. The phantom hand is rendered as a ghostly cyan skeleton with a translucent palm fill, a "breathing" glow that pulses on a ~3 second cycle, and a fading afterimage trail of its last few frames — it reads as present but ethereal , which is exactly the perceptual story mirror therapy needs to tell. A dashed mirror plane down the center of the frame makes the reflection relationship legible at a glance. The engineering details that matter Tracking : MediaPipe HandLandmarker (Google's pretrained model — credit where due), running via WebAssembly with GPU delegate. ~30 FPS on a laptop. Privacy by architecture : every frame is processed on-device. For a medical-adjacent application, "video never leaves your browser" isn't a feature, it's a requirement. Lazy

2026-06-11 原文 →
AI 资讯

The “steroid olympics” were a circus—and a window into our culture

Testosterone. Methenolone. Nandrolone. Human growth hormone and EPO. Meldonium, modafinil, and mixed amphetamine salts. Clomiphene, anastrozole, levothyroxine, and liothyronine. Patches and capsules, creams and pills. A whole galaxy of steroids, metabolic modulators, and synthetic hormones coursing through the blood of a few dozen swimmers, sprinters, and weightlifters. And millions of dollars up for grabs for athletes…

2026-06-10 原文 →
AI 资讯

Return to the Planet of the Autistics

Field journal of Dr. E. Rempel, Department of Minority Neurological Studies, University of New Carthage (A work of fiction. "Allism" is a real term used by some autistic people to describe the neurological profile of the non-autistic majority.) March 3, 2089 I have now spent three months embedded with an allistic community in the outer provinces. Allism, for those unfamiliar, is a rare neurological variant affecting approximately 1% of our population. My colleagues at the University have long debated its origins and persistence. After direct observation, I am no more certain of the answers, but I have accumulated a remarkable set of field notes. The allistic subjects I have observed appear, on the surface, entirely functional. They hold jobs, maintain relationships, raise children. And yet their neurological profile diverges from the norm in ways that are at once fascinating and bewildering. March 11, 2089 The most immediately striking feature of the allistic profile is their relationship with information. Where a typical individual experiences the sharing of useful knowledge as a basic social reflex, the allistic subject appears to require an elaborate ritual before any information exchange can occur. Approach an allistic subject directly with a piece of useful data and observe what happens. Rather than receiving it, they freeze. A threat-assessment process appears to engage, entirely pre-consciously, before the content of the communication can be evaluated at all. One subject described it to me as feeling "strange" when a stranger approached with unsolicited information, though she could not articulate why. I have learned to preface all information exchanges with what my translator calls "the preamble ritual" — a sequence of social signals that appears to deactivate the threat response and allow communication to proceed. The exact form varies, but typically involves eye contact, a softening of posture, and verbal acknowledgment that one is about to speak. Only the

2026-06-08 原文 →
AI 资讯

Your app can save someone from having a panic attack (a real-life story)

As I'm observing engineers, I notice that most of them share the same characteristic: unending loads of curiosity. You, software developers, are deeply interested in how things work underneath; you implement, break, troubleshoot, fix, and break again. You create apps that people use everyday and by doing so, you shape the digitalised world we live in today. Now let me share something personal: I am terrified of breaking things. I am often terrified to such an extent that I find it hard to breathe. I am suffering from something called Generalised Anxiety Disorder (GAD), which basically means I am allergic to uncertainty. While most people see trying something new as exciting, for me it's a source of stress. Every unknown step, every unfamiliar process, every situation where I don't know what comes next — it triggers something. My brain immediately goes to the worst-case scenarios. "I can't do this." "I'll do it wrong." "What if something breaks?" These thoughts don't just pop up and disappear — they pile on top of each other until they become paralyzing. But this story isn't about anxiety — it's about how good UX can change a moment from overwhelming to manageable. And how you, as a software developer, can make a real change for people who are struggling. The app that saved my day A few months ago I decided to change my mobile operator. The alternative offer had much better terms that sounded really appealing to me. No long-term contract, competitive prices, support for eSIM for travellers abroad – in short: very flexible. Head held high, I went to the new operator's office to ask them to transfer my number. But the agent quickly wiped the smile off my face. "Yes, this offer is flexible, but you need to do all the operational work yourself in the app. I can only offer you a regular long-term contract," he said. He gave me my new SIM card, and I, with a long face, went to the nearby cafe. The thought that I had to transfer my number myself felt daunting. "What if I do

2026-06-08 原文 →