Atrium turns any TV with a browser into a walk-up surface. Scan the code on the glass and your screen is on the wall in ten seconds — no app, no dongle, no account. A colleague casts too and the wall splits politely. Leave, and the room remembers the project until you're back.
a live tour of the surface's states
The idle surface isn't dead air — it's a slow generative canvas with the room's name and the walk-up code composed into it. The TV is the onboarding.
Scan the QR on the idle screen. Your browser opens — no install, no account, no dongle bowl. One tap and you're on the wall, name attributed. Guests get a friendly auto-name; nothing is ever on the glass anonymously.
A second person casts while the first is still presenting — and instead of an input war, the wall splits itself. Both names on glass. A third makes it a grid. HDMI hardware physically can't copy this: their glass has one input. Ours has a canvas.
Every cast, layout, and pinned comment is an event in the canvas's log. End the meeting and it returns to ambient; resume Thursday and it's all there. Pull the TV's power mid-meeting — it reassembles itself, pins intact. Nothing lives only on the glass.
Every surface holds a persistent, authenticated socket — heartbeats, state replay, self-recovery. One console shows the whole building: who's live, what's casting, every heartbeat. Push an update to every screen from your chair. The demo is pulling the plug; the product is never getting a ticket about the third-floor room again.
Runs on screens you already own — any TV with a browser or a $60 stick. Your data in your Postgres.
Recall — opt-in meeting memory tied to the project, not the calendar. Someone taps Take notes, an unmistakable amber ring sits on the glass the whole time, and when the meeting ends the decisions and actions land on the canvas — anchored to the tiles they were made over, owned by the people who scanned in. It never speaks mid-meeting, and no capture path exists without the on-glass ring. The wall remembers; soon it follows up.