Hexagram 50: 鼎

You're building the vessel that holds what others will consume. Not the product itself—the caldron. Here's what this probably means: the thing you're making won't ship as-is. You already know this, or you suspect it. The Alto never shipped commercially. But it didn't need to. What it held—the bitmapped display, the mouse, the GUI, the networking protocols—that's what mattered. Let it cook. The classical text splits the well (social foundation, basic needs) from the caldron (cultural superstructure, refined nourishment). You're doing caldron work. Not solving immediate business problems. Preparing the feast that will feed people for decades. PARC engineers understood this. Build openly, let the preparation complete, wait for someone ready to draw from it. When Jobs visited in 1979, the nourishment was ready. He didn't take the vessel—took what it held. That's the pattern. Your job is to refine the essence, tend the fire, make the transformation complete. Direct credit may not come. The caldron doesn't eat its own cooking. But the work feeds the culture. That's not consolation—it's the actual function. The dangers the text identifies: broken legs (attempting work beyond your capacity, the vessel shatters) or altered handles (your work is sound but nobody can access it). The Alto avoided both. The engineers were capable. The vessel was accessible enough that the right people could see what it held and understand. This is different from hiding your work. The caldron sits in the center of the cultural space. People see it. PARC published papers, gave demonstrations. The work was visible. The timing was what mattered—the nourishment needed time to refine. Build the vessel correctly. Tend the fire. Let the transformation complete. Someone will come who's ready to draw from what you've prepared.