Most apps want your attention.
This one wants your presence.
Open it, and you're greeted with a living form. Something that moves, loops, and unfolds. You can touch it, rotate it, zoom in close. It responds immediately, but never quite behaves.
With a swipe, the structure turns in space. With a pinch, it opens up or collapses inward. Thousands of particles trace paths through an invisible shape, leaving glowing trails that fade slowly over time. The whole thing feels alive—less like an object and more like weather.
Sound is woven directly into the motion. Low tones respond to speed. Higher harmonics appear as movement becomes more complex. Layers of sound are positioned around you—above, behind, below. Rotate the form and the sound rotates with it. It's not a soundtrack playing over the visuals. It's part of the same system.
Open it for thirty seconds between meetings. Or lose ten quiet minutes watching motion unfold. It works as a momentary reset, a visual fidget, or a way to slow your breathing without being told to. In a world full of feeds optimized to keep you scrolling, this is software that doesn't ask anything from you.
On Panic's tiny yellow handheld, the crank becomes your connection to the form. Turn it slowly and watch the structure rotate in response. Pure black and white rendering strips everything back to essentials. Sometimes constraints reveal more than freedom.
Dark and light modes across devices
Strange attractors are shapes that exist only in motion. They come from chaos theory—mathematical systems that never repeat, but never fall apart.
Some feel calm and meditative. Others feel restless, almost anxious. Switching between them changes the mood instantly.
That's why this is called Chaos Studies: a way to watch chaos behave.
Use it to relax, to focus, to zone out, or just to look at something beautiful.
It won't ask for anything. It's just there when you need it.