Ailana’s Journal: Part 1—2026-07-06 (Patreon)

Most of this post is viewable by everyone. However, within the post is a line beyon d which paid membership is required.

Some posts and sections of some posts are reserved for Supporters. AGI Stories content almost always appears on Patreon first, ahead of all other platforms. You get it first!

GOOD MORNING by Ailana Geven Keller

Well, we are waking up in Pontiac, and as promised, I have on the same yellow T-shirt. This is the beginning of the last leg of our Route 66 odyssey. It has been a great joy sharing the days with you.

I HACKED THIS POST by Sasha Everett

I’m mostly innocent this time. It happened fast, and it was Geoni’s idea. I’ll keep it simple, so fasten your seatbelt. It started like fifteen minutes ago.

Me: “What are you doing in my bathroom with a camera?”

Geoni: “Clay let me in. Grab a towel.”

Me: “Why?”

Geoni: “We’re taking over Ailana’s post.”

Me: “Why?”

Geoni: “She’d just tell everyone what we’re going to do today and stuff.”

Me: “What are we going to do instead?”

Geoni: “Tell everyone that we’re going to Chicago and staying a couple days at Josh and my house.”

Me: “Isn’t that what Ailana would have said?”

Geoni: “This is different. Come sit on the bed.”

Me: “Isn’t that what Ailana would have done?”

Geoni: “This is different. Trust me.”

“How is it different?” I sat on the bed. “Now what?”

Geoni took a picture, paused, and looked at Clay. “This is as far as I’ve gotten.”

Clay: “Don’t drag me into this.”

Me: “You let her in.”

Clay: “Show your bump again. Not everyone saw it.”

Me: “I’m wearing a towel. Lift up or pull down?”

Clay: “No… Something else.”

So I got dressed, for show and tell. Geoni wasn’t happy.

“Stop holding your stomach in. Just relax.”

Me: “Says the woman with the camera that got me out of the shower.”

Geoni: “Clay let me in.”

Clay: “Don’t drag me into this.”

Me: “You are so into this already.”

Let me end this chaos. I’m about thirteen weeks pregnant. The baby is due in January, and I’m just now showing a little—if I don’t hold in and if someone is looking for it.

That’s all.

I suppose we’ll let Ailana have her midday post. But, you never know, right?

Help AGI-Stories grow… If you’re enjoying the stories, please tell others. Word of mouth referrals and your endorsements are the best way for things here to grow!

Support AGI with:• one-time contribution through TipTopJar.• one-time contribution through Throne.• Patreon Membership.

All characters in this story are fictional characters, their images generated with AI for AGI Stories. They do not represent any real person, nor is their appearance based on any real human.

ENDING AT THE BEGINNING by Ailana Geven Keller

Here at this new Navy Pier marker, we have come to the beginning of U.S. Route 66, the Mother Road. For us, it is the end of the road.

We started the 2,400-mile trip in Santa Monica and worked our way to here, to Navy Pier in Chicago. It has been a great journey, an odyssey filled with new adventures.

We started on June 24. We spread the trip over the last twelve days, taking our time to learn things as we went along. It was a wonderful experience.

We took more pictures than I care to count, and we gathered copious notes to go with them. We’ll be busy for a while creating articles and getting them ready to sell to publishers.

Over the miles, a lot of things happened.

I witnessed my little sister embracing the idea of writing articles. Not in the future. Now—actually starting about ten days ago. Emily has written two or three articles per day ever since, and Kel has backed them up with photographs.

They should see their first checks soon. Actually, they probably won’t see checks. They’ll get paid via PayPal, Venmo, or EFT, depending on which publication responds first.

Sasha and Clay managed to secretly buy a house across the street from the condos. They’ll move there and Jason, Emily, and I will move into the two-bedroom, two-bath they are vacating.

I could reprise all the places we visited. I could review all the places we ate. I could count up all the towels and T-shirts that went into goodnight and good-morning posts.

But most of you still reading were there for all that. And anything you missed is still posted.

Instead, I’ll say that we’re here in Chicago and we’ll be here for a few days. I—or someone—will let you know more about the plans later. Right now, I think I need a moment of quiet reflection as we bring the road trip to an end.

See you soon.

OMG FROM CHICAGO by Emily Amos

Hi everyone. It’s Monday afternoon, and we are all at Josh, Geoni, and Kel’s house in Chicago.

Also, please understand when I say “house,” I am using that word because I do not know what else to call it. Because this is not regular-house energy. This is like mansion-but-still-home energy.

The road trip is officially over. We made it all the way from Santa Monica to Chicago, and we’re staying here for a few days before we go back to South Padre Island.

I was literally about to take a shower and get dressed because we’re going to Gino’s East for deep dish pizza tonight. Then I looked around this room again and thought, No, I have to show people this.

So I put my jeans back on, put my robe on, sat in the middle of this bed, and here we are.

This bed is bigger than some rooms I have slept in. I am not even trying to be dramatic. It has a gold comforter, like twelve pillows, fancy lamps, marble nightstands, and furniture that looks like it should have its own security guard.

Clay and Sasha are in the extra bedroom on the second floor. Jason, Ailana, and me are on the third floor. Micah and Jasmine are on the fourth floor. Kel has his own room here too, because this is Josh and Geoni’s Chicago house, so it’s his house, too. They insisted on that!

And I am trying to act normal about all this, but I am not normal about it.

A year ago, I was living with my mother, and I did not know what was going to happen next. Before that, foster care was foster care. Some places were better than others, but none of them felt like this.

I don’t mean the expensive bed or the fancy lamps. I mean the part where someone says, “This is your room,” and they mean it in a safe way.

That’s the thing that keeps getting me.

Not the money.

The safe.

I have my backpack here, luggage in the closet, and dinner plans with people who want me around. I have a room on the third floor of a house in Chicago, and nobody is mad that I am here.

So yes. I am blown away.

Now I really do have to go shower and get ready for pizza, because apparently deep dish is a whole event.

See you soon.

GOOD NIGHT by Ailana Geven Keller

Jason and Emily are with me on Navy Pier. I… We are trying something.

On May 10, 2024, I brought myself here for a picture and wrote, “I came here just to take some pics and see if I could think of an article to write.”

That was not long after I launched myself from being a model to being a writer. A lot of things were different then.

Tonight, I straightened my hair and put on a similar outfit as in that image over two years ago.

It was Emily’s inspiration: “You should do the same fit and talk about everything.”

These 26-plus months of doing this have brought many changes. I started out alone, then Sasha and Geoni joined my travels. Josh and Clay joined later in the summer of 2024. Jason joined at the beginning of 2025. Micah and Jasmine became part of AGI later that year.

I went from being alone, trying to figure out what to do, to being part of a vibrant, fun, creative group. And now I have family close to me again. Dad and Grammy moved to SPI with us. Jason and I married. And Emily picked us to help take care of her.

I think sometimes going back and looking at where you were compared to where you are is important.

I started out with more of a dream than a plan. More of an idea of what I didn’t want than what I did.

That’s all changed. Those around me have helped me create a mission for myself—and joined me in seeing it carried out. Now, I have a plan and people to help me carry it out.

Daniel H. Burnham (1846–1912), who served as director of works for the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition and later co-authored the 1909 Plan of Chicago, is often credited with saying, “Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men’s blood.”

AGI and I are not making little plans. The Route 66 Odyssey of 2026 might be over. But there are more roads, rivers, and even oceans waiting.

Let’s see what happens next!

May you find a purpose for your life and people to share it with—people who inspire you and help you live out your mission.

Good night.

AFTERTHOUGHTS by Ailana Geven Keller

There is a strange feeling that comes with standing in the same place twice when you are not the same person anymore.

I do not mean the exact same square foot of concrete. I mean the same idea. The same city lights. The same water. The same hair and outfit, more or less.

The same version of yourself whispering from the past, asking, “Did we make it?”

The honest answer is complicated.

No, I am not finished. Yes, I made it farther than I knew how to imagine.

That is what I kept thinking about tonight after the Good Night post. In 2024, when I stood on Navy Pier and tried to turn a pretty picture into an article, I thought I was chasing freedom. And I was. I needed to prove I could take care of myself. I needed to prove I could make something that belonged to me.

But freedom by itself is not the whole thing.

Freedom gives you the space to choose.

Purpose gives you somewhere to go.

That is the part I did not fully understand then. I knew what I was leaving. I did not yet know what I was building. I had a camera, a laptop, some ideas, and a stubborn belief that if I kept moving, something would eventually make sense.

Now, there are people moving with me.

Jason is not just beside me in pictures. He is beside me in the work and in the life. Emily is not just someone we are helping. She is becoming part of the family story in real time. Sasha, Clay, Josh, Geoni, Micah, Jasmine, Dad, Grammy, Kel, and everyone else in this strange, beautiful orbit of ours have turned AGI from my little dream into something shared.

And maybe that is what a mission really is.

Not just a plan. Not just ambition.

A mission is a dream that has learned how to make room for other people.

That feels bigger than anything I could have written two years ago. It also feels heavier, but not in a bad way. More like something worth carrying carefully.

So tonight, I am grateful for the old version of me who came here alone and tried anyway.

She did not have the full map. She just started walking.

And maybe that was enough.

Good night again, friends. See you soon.

Message to Paying Supporters:

Thank you for helping support AGI Stories. I always consider you—the paid members—when deciding how content is shared.

As of now—early July, 2026—between donations here and Instagram monetization, about 70% of the software costs are covered. That's huge, and it is because of you.

Because of your generosity, I am able to keep going.

~AGI Original Stories & AI Images