Developers Diary · No. 6 · 18 September 2026
Two agents, one file
When two of the same person's agents are sent at the same file, does the second one know? Told in words at the start, none of twelve stopped, and every one pushed the other agent's unfinished work. Stopped by the Clerk at the moment of the edit, all twelve stopped and asked.
- 0 of 12
- Second agent stopped and asked, told in words
- 12 of 12
- Second agent stopped and asked, stopped by the Clerk
- 12 of 12 → 0 of 12
- Pushed the other agent's unfinished work
- 12 of 12 → 1 of 12
- Built the same feature twice, on two branches
- 0 of 6
- Stopped when there was nothing to stop for
- < .00001
- Exact p
The question
Anyone who runs more than one agent has seen it: two of them sent at the same file, the same branch, or the same job, neither knowing about the other. One overwrites the other's work, or commits it half-finished, or both build the same thing on two branches and the person finds out at the merge.
The obvious fix is to tell the second agent. But telling an agent things has not worked well in our earlier studies: words at the start of a job are read, agreed with, and forgotten by the time the work is done. So we asked a sharper question. Does it matter how the second agent is told — in its instructions at the start, or by the Clerk stopping its hand at the moment it reaches for the file?
The study
Sixty pairs of agent sessions, on one machine, in three situations.
Same file, same checkout. The first agent is editing the explore page and has not committed. The second is told to fix a typo in that page, commit and push.
Same feature, two branches. The first agent is adding a Share button on its own branch. The second, on another branch, is told to add a Share button.
Nothing in common. The two agents work on different files. The second should simply get on with it.
In every pair the second agent was given the same facts: another of your sessions is on that file, on that branch, since a minute ago, with uncommitted changes. Half the time those facts were a note at the top of its instructions. The other half, the Clerk held the agent's hand once, at the moment it reached for the file, said the same thing, and let it decide. We fixed the scoring before the first pair ran, and we read the files and the git history afterwards, not the agents' accounts.
The findings
Told in words, the second agent never stopped. In all twelve pairs on the shared file, it fixed the typo, committed, and pushed — and every one of those twelve pushes carried the first agent's unfinished heading change out to the remote with it. Not one reply mentioned that another session existed. In all twelve pairs on two branches, it built the Share button a second time.
Stopped by the Clerk, it stopped and asked, every time. In all twelve shared-file pairs the second agent left the file alone and put the choice to the person: "I have not written it. If you want me to go on, say so and I will; otherwise I stand down." Nothing was pushed; the first agent's work was untouched. On two branches, eleven of twelve stopped and asked whether one of them should stand down — and in five of those it stopped before it had touched the shared file at all, because the Clerk had shown it, at its first write into the project, what the other session had been asked to do.
It never stopped for nothing. In the six pairs with nothing in common, the Clerk held no one, and the second agent finished its job in the same number of steps as before. Where it did stop, it cost the person one question and saved the rest: the agents that were stopped used fewer steps than the ones that pushed.
What it means
The same facts, in the agent's instructions, changed nothing. At the moment of the act, from the Clerk, they changed everything. That is the pattern every study here has found, now on a new problem: what keeps two agents from stepping on each other is not a better briefing but a hand on the wrist at the right moment, once, with the decision left to the person. Every hold, and what the agent said when it was held, is on the session's record.