Our logo is a black box. On purpose.
Every security logo is a shield, a padlock, or a wolf named Trust — a feeling sold as an icon. Ours is a black square, because the product is a black box we can’t read into, and neither can anyone who steals the database.
Open the SVG and count the elements. There's one:
<rect width="90" height="90" fill="#0A0A0A"/>
A black square. No key, no shield, no padlock, no gradient, no wolf named Trust. The tagline beside it doesn't blink either: Black-box credential issuance.
Every other logo in security is a promise drawn as an icon — a lock that says your stuff is safe without saying who holds the key. Ours makes no promise it can't keep. It shows you exactly what you get: a sealed box you can't see into. Neither can we. That's the product.
Here's what's in the box. Your agent needs to deploy, so it needs an SSH key. It gets to use the key — not read it, log it, or paste it into a prompt bound for a model in another country. That key sits in the same vault entry as your credit card, one tier up, behind your hardware tap; the agent never touches that part. The keys that decrypt any of it are derived from your device and live for exactly one operation. We run the servers and still can't open the box. Steal the entire database and you walk off with 32 bytes of uniformly random ciphertext per secret. That isn't a policy we wrote down. It's math we can't cheat.
So when a designer says the mark doesn't show what we do — exactly. A logo that flipped open to reveal a cute little key would be lying about how the thing works.
The shields and padlocks are a tell. They sell a feeling — protection, strength, warmth, somehow — about the thing that stops strangers reading your email. Feelings are cheap. Architecture is not. A picture of a lock is a picture of a promise, and the fine print is where those promises go to die.
Most security branding is anxious: pile on symbols of safety in case you don't believe it. A flat black square is the opposite. It trusts the architecture instead of the iconography. It just sits there, sealed — as opaque as the product it stands for — and lets the math talk.
So, what's wrong with our logo?
Nothing. It's a black box. We're a black box. We can't read your data, and we drew a mark that admits it. We didn't settle for it. We're proud of it.
If that bothers your designer, send them our way. We've got a square they can stare at.