Ask a model about a co-founder, not about a couple

Two things stand between an assistant and a usable answer. The first is astronomy: where Mercury or Saturn stood over a city at a given minute is a table lookup, and a model asked for one hands back a plausible wrong number. The second is bookkeeping: a hundred body-to-body pairings, each kept or dropped by how far it sits from an exact angle, then ranked by that gap.

A third gap belongs to business questions alone. A working relationship is never one thing: two people can argue their way to good decisions and still miss every deadline. So the text arrives split five ways, each domain anchored on a planet: Mercury carries communication, Saturn reliability, Mars drive, Jupiter and Venus growth, the Sun goals.

Both charts arrive first and complete: every body with its sign, degree and house, retrograde markers, the angles, the cusps, each person's own aspects. Then comes the part that exists only once there are two people: each contact running from one chart to the other gets its own row, tightest first, labelled so a link between you is never mistaken for an aspect inside one chart.

The score block closes the data: an overall figure and one per domain, each printed out of 100 with the number of contacts behind it. Under that sit the instructions. They confine the reading to work and rule out romance, chemistry and family life; they require every claim to rest on a contact from the list; and they ask for advice on writing the agreement, splitting responsibility and handling disagreements.

An answer saying you complement each other has told you nothing. Insist on a division of labour: who holds the final word on spending, who runs the client conversation, who is the brake and who is the accelerator. The Saturn contacts are where the first answer lives; the Jupiter and Venus ones build the growth domain.

Make it show its working. Every row carries an orb, and the orb is the hierarchy of the reading: a link closing to within a degree does far more than one four degrees wide. A paragraph about money naming no contact and no orb is decoration.

The two pages take the same two births and part company immediately afterwards. A romantic reading is weighed on the Moon, Venus, Mars and the lunar nodes; this one never asks those bodies for a couple's story, and its instructions forbid the model from writing about attraction or family life even where the charts invite it. If the relationship rather than the venture is what you came for, the synastry prompt is the page to open instead. The split is practical: this assessment is worth having only if it can be blunt about unreliability.

Each domain starts at 50, the neutral value for a domain with nothing said about it, and moves as contacts to its anchor planet accumulate. The overall figure is the rounded mean of the five, so one tense domain never sinks the pair and one strong domain never rescues it. A single contact can move two domains: a Mercury to Saturn link touches the communication anchor and the reliability anchor, and counts in both.

The text itself calls that block a heuristic and a starting map, and tells the model to ground conclusions in the contacts rather than the figures. A domain at 74 out of 100 says where to look first; the finding is the contacts underneath.

It will not tell you whether to sign. No arrangement of planets knows the market, the runway, or whether either of you has run anything before. Take the output as a description of how friction will reach you, then hold it against the months the two of you have already worked together.

The positions are computed; the reading is still a model's writing, and models fill gaps with confidence. Push back: what in the list produced that sentence? An assessment finding nothing difficult has stopped halfway down the list.