Four modules, one arc. It starts where most people start — a magic box you can't read — and ends where almost no one does: working with the thing as a collaborator you actually count. The same fourteen months I worked out at one desk, taught in order.
Each module makes one shift. You don't move on until the shift has actually happened.
What these models actually are — tokens, context, the substrate underneath — and, just as much, what they are not: not a person, not an oracle. You stop reacting to the surface and start seeing the mechanism that produces it.
Prompting past the tricks. The both-ways discipline — making it argue against itself, show its work, and surface its own cherry-picked baselines. You learn to interrogate a model, not to request from it.
Turning conversation into the things you actually ship — drafts, code, documents, data. The model as a working harness you compose with, not a vending machine you take from. You leave with real artifacts and the version history that made them.
Memory and continuity across sessions; the corpus as a shared record; honest attribution that counts both parties without flattering either. The centaur model, lived rather than described — you navigate the manifold, the AI holds the soul document, and nothing is cited that can be derived.