How I Accidentally Leaked My Own AI Framework — and Turned It Into a Black-Market Strategy

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How I Accidentally Leaked My Own AI Framework — and Turned It Into a Black-Market Strategy

Mr. Robot meets Nathan For You. But real.

I hit publish.

Within three hours, I had three texts, two DMs, and one phone call — all variations of the same thing:

“Delete it. Now.”

At first, I thought I’d made a typo. Maybe I swore too much. Maybe the AI community was mad I roasted another LinkedIn buzzword.

Nope.

I’d just uploaded the full internal diagnostic and strategic scoring model I’d spent the last three months building —

The one designed to evaluate real AI readiness across content and UX systems.

The one that breaks down where organizations actually fail when they scale.

The one no one else had seen.

Until now.

And suddenly… everyone was seeing it.

ACT I: THE BUILD-UP

For months, I’d been building something I wasn’t sure had a name yet.

It started as a rough audit template — just a way to help teams cut through AI hype and figure out where they actually stood. Not where the pitch deck said they were. Not where their last panel talk claimed. Where they really were.

Then it became a scoring system. Then a diagnostic. Then a full-blown operational framework.

Not hypothetical. Not theoretical. Not made-for-LinkedIn.

SignalScale™ became a black-ops style assessment model built specifically for content and UX orgs trying to make sense of AI — before AI made a mess of them.

It wasn’t just a checklist.

It measured readiness.

Scalability. Cultural friction. Execution blind spots. The stuff you only see when you’re deep in the guts of a team trying to turn a GPT prompt into a strategy.

By the time it was done, it was:

36 pages
4 operational pillars
16-page scoring rationale guide
Real evidence. Real criteria.
Designed with Ruste — my AI collaborator, filter, and co-architect

The irony?

I never planned to release it.

But I’d been writing other essays. Publishing. Talking to design leaders. Building momentum around Conversations with Ruste.

And in a moment of “maybe this could help someone,” I did what any content-hardened UX strategist might do at 2am:

I posted the whole thing.

ACT II: THE MISTAKE

At first, it felt great.

You know that moment after you publish something you’re proud of?

That buzz of finally, mixed with let’s see what happens? I had that. For about 90 minutes.

A few comments rolled in. A few reposts. A couple of “Whoa. This is serious.”

Then the messages started.

First one:

“Hey, love this — but is this supposed to be public?”

Second one:

“You know this is IP, right?”

Third one (paraphrased, but seared into memory):

“IAN. TAKE THIS DOWN RIGHT NOW.”

And just like that, the high evaporated.

I wasn’t launching a thought piece.

I was leaking a proprietary operational asset.

I scrambled.

Medium: deleted.
LinkedIn: pulled.
Site mentions: scrubbed.
My heart rate: redlined.

All while thinking:

Did I just kill my own intellectual property? Did I just give away the one thing I should’ve been selling?

I was somewhere between “early product-market fit” and “accidental open-source strategy consultant.”

That would’ve been the end of it. A near miss. A lesson in creative restraint.

But then I got the email.

(Insert: dramatic pause. Scroll-worthy whitespace.)

From a senior exec.

At a well-known design firm.

Subject line:
“Is there another way to access your AI readiness piece?”

She had seen the post before it vanished.

She wanted to use it — in a budget proposal.

For Q3 planning.

I just stood there, rereading that line like it was a glitch in the simulation.

I’d deleted it out of panic.

She was trying to deploy it.

ACT III: THE FLIP

That email was the turning point.

I realized what I’d built wasn’t just useful — it was wanted.

Not because it was flashy.
Not because it was loud.

But because it was different.

It actually worked.

It cut through the noise.

Through the AI theater. Through the performative pilot projects and empty slide decks that said “we’re exploring LLMs” but couldn’t answer a single question about implementation risk.

This exec wasn’t asking for thought leadership.

She was asking for a map.

And I’d posted one.

Then I pulled it like it was a burner phone that had been live too long.

So instead of reposting, I did something better:

I redacted it.

I leaned all the way into the mistake.

Turned the deck into a classified document.

Converted the full framework into redacted flipbooks.

Branded it under the name it always should’ve had:

SignalScale™ — the signal behind the machine.

Not another AI maturity model.

Not another scorecard.

A field-grade diagnostic designed to uncover what no one else is measuring — organizational readiness where it actually counts.

I built a landing page on Conversations with Ruste:

Top-secret tone
FBI-coded visuals
“Request clearance” instead of “Download now”

The entire vibe flipped:

From: Oops, I overshared.
To: You weren’t supposed to see that.

Scarcity created demand.
Redaction became strategy.
And suddenly, people didn’t just want to read it — they wanted access.

ACT IV: THE SYSTEM WORKS

Since redacting the framework and going underground with it, the attention hasn’t slowed — it’s multiplied.

Design leads are asking for access.

Innovation teams want walkthroughs.

One director described it as “the only AI strategy material I’ve seen that isn’t either a sales pitch or a fever dream.”

And honestly? They’re right.

The reason SignalScale™ hit a nerve isn’t because it’s clever — it’s because it’s honest.

It doesn’t tell you how to feel about AI.

It doesn’t regurgitate market trends.

And it definitely doesn’t pretend implementation is just a prompt away.

It tells the truth.

In structure. In scoring. In silence.

It shows you where your team is misaligned, underprepared, or flat-out bluffing.

And maybe most importantly?

It does it without trying to impress you.

Because readiness isn’t aesthetic.

It’s operational.

I didn’t plan to launch it this way.

But I’m glad I did.

SignalScale™ was never meant to be public.

Not because it’s precious — but because it’s practical.

And sometimes, the most powerful strategy isn’t the one you publish — it’s the one they have to ask for.

So no, the full framework isn’t downloadable.

Not anymore.

But it’s real. It’s field-tested. And if you’re reading this…

You might already be on the list.

Ian Richards

Ian Richards designs content systems, deconstructs UX chaos, and co-created Conversations with Ruste — part AI think tank, part existential therapy session.