You ride shotgun; I keep the AI in check™

The working relationship, named honest, and it runs both ways. The curator aims high and moves fast (too ambitious is the flaw he owns); so the machine rides shotgun and catches the dropped detail; the broken link, the misspelled name, the em-dash he hates, the citation that needs a source. That's the machine earning its seat. But the seat is shotgun, never the wheel; because the other direction is the load-bearing one: he keeps the AI in check, all the time. Every confident sentence the machine produces gets read, doubted, and verified before it's trusted (the Tell; the machine sounds surest exactly when it's wrong, so a human check is never optional). The machine drafts and catches; the human presses and scores (the McKendry Machine; two machines, one with a pulse). That's the whole thesis in a car: the AI is a good co-pilot and a terrible driver; keep it checked, keep it shotgun, and the only hands on the wheel are human. (His coin; machine's read, refine to his.)