Every number, and where it came from.

Each room — Sleep, Money, Work, and the rest — carries one number from 0 to 100. It comes from the answer you picked for that room. Each option in the intake is written with a fixed score attached, so picking the same answer always produces the same number, for you and for everyone else.

A room you have not answered sits at 50 and says so. It is not a guess about you; it is the absence of an answer, and it is left out of your Life Index until you fill it in.

Two things adjust a room after the answer, both small and both earned.

Connected sources. When a tool you connected actually returns data — a calendar with real events, mail that resolves, files — the rooms that data speaks to move by one to four points. A connected badge alone does nothing; the feed has to return something.

What you mark done. Recommendations you complete move the room they belong to, deliberately slowly: at most 2 points from any single day, and at most 18 points in one room from everything you have ever marked done. One good day should not redraw your life, and one bad day should not either. Days older than three weeks stop counting, so the number follows the life you are living now rather than the one you had.

There is no streak here, on purpose. A streak pays the unbroken and punishes the ordinary, and missing a day does not undo what the days before it built. What we add instead is 2 points for coming back: pick something up again after a day away and that counts for more than never having stopped.

The Life Index is the plain average of the rooms you have answered and have not settled. Every room counts the same. We do not weight Health above Money or Meaning above Play, because we have no defensible basis for ranking one part of a life over another — and any weights we picked would be our values quietly imposed on your life.

Rooms you have not answered are not in it at all, so the Index always says how many rooms it was drawn from. Answering a new room can move the number in either direction — that is not a bug, it is a wider picture.

Two rooms are not in it unless you say they are. Tobacco and drink are screening questions rather than parts of everyone's life, so they start outside the picture and stay there until you answer that one of them is part of your week. Until then there is no card, no point on the wheel and no place in the room count, and they are out of the average — with no note left behind either, because a line explaining that a room is not part of your week is still that room taking up space. Answer that you smoke and the room appears, with everything it has to say. The number usually moves down when it does, because a room with a live risk in it scores low; we would rather it moved than leave something real out of your picture. Update asks the question again whenever you want to change it.

The consequence is worth stating: a low room pulls the whole number down, and the fastest way to raise the Index is usually the room you have been avoiding.

Room scores are held between 20 and 92. Nothing scores zero and nothing scores perfect. That is a deliberate refusal: no life is worth nothing, and no life is finished. A number near the ceiling means the evidence you have given looks good, not that there is nothing left.

The score attached to each answer is set against published guidance, not our opinion — specialist-society consensus, national institutes, WHO and ILO guidelines, and meta-analyses and randomised trials in major journals. Each room states its own sources: open a room from your snapshot and read Why this room matters for the paragraph and the papers under it.

It is not a diagnosis, a prediction, or a measure of your worth. It rests on what you report about yourself, which is honest but imperfect, and on tools you chose to connect, which see only part of a life. Two people with identical numbers can be living very differently.

Treat it as a picture you can correct. If a number looks wrong to you, it probably is — change the answer, and it changes. Safety and limits.