Andy Saves the Day: Xeno Choreography

Xeno by Marc Kerstein—possibly my most-used app after the Jerx App—just got a major overhaul, adding a bunch of new functionality. I haven’t had a chance to dive into the latest updates yet, so I can’t speak to those, but I can speak to the app as it’s existed for years now.

At its core, Xeno lets you see what a spectator is viewing on their phone (or computer) on your own phone.

I’ve shared ideas for using Xeno in various places over the years, including:

Lucid ACAAN

The Project on Word Transmission

Delayed ESP

Call Me By Your Name

Over on the Facebook page for Xeno, someone asked this question:

“It does not make sense to me!”

Relax, sweetie. I got you. Let’s make this make sense.

Here’s exactly what I do:

  1. Pull out my phone and go into the Xeno app.

  2. As I’m doing this I say, “I’m going to have you look at a list of the most popular boys names.” (Or whatever the premise of the effect is.)

  3. I pause. “Actually, just bring it up on your phone. Go to [I tell them the URL].”

  4. If I need to pair by swiping (which you don’t really need to do anymore), I stand side-by-side with them, looking at their screen and talking about what we’re looking at while I swipe down at my side on my phone.

  5. The phone is now in my hand where it can hang casually during the performance. Or I can put it in my breast pocket where I can get a peek later. Or set it down somewhere. Or place it in my lap if we’re seated. Or pocket it and take it out later if I go in another room while they settle on something.

Notice, initially, you’re seemingly going to have them look at something on your phone.

Then you do something that feels more free and fair and say, “Actually, go ahead and bring it up on your phone.”

This justifies why you brought your phone out initially, but then gets it out of the way in a way adds an even greater lack of guile to the proceedings.

In casual situations, the phone can just be held in your hand at your side the rest of the interaction. That’s perfectly normal. Half the people you interact with during the day are holding a phone. No one cares. Or you can put it away and work a moment into your performance to get the peek. Either way is fine.

Notice how the sequence plays out:

At first, it seems like I’m going to have them look something up on my phone.
Then, in what feels like a freer, more open choice, I pivot:
“Actually, go ahead and bring it up on your phone.”

That shift does two things:

  1. It justifies why I pulled out my phone in the first place.

  2. It makes the whole interaction feel more fair—more hands-off, less guided.

And from there? In casual settings, it’s totally normal to have a phone in your hand. Half the people you talk to every day are holding a phone while they’re talking. No one thinks twice about it. I can keep it at my side, set it down, pocket it, or put it away and work a moment into my performance later to get the peek. Whatever works.


By the way, I know I’ve said this before, but reading Facebook groups for magic apps really makes me appreciate my situation here.

I get to chat with you all, explore ideas, dick around, write a book now and then. People email me to say nice things. Maybe share some ideas. Folks coming here expect they’ll actually have to read something and give it some thought. If I make a mistake, it’s usually easy to fix—even with a book, I can update it in the Digital Appendix. It’s all very chill. Cordial. Friendly.

But magic app creators? That’s a different world. You’re constantly worried about updates breaking the app, being questioned by people who didn’t read the instructions, or getting yelled at because there’s no Android version. Yeah, no thanks.

We passed the 10-year mark on this site recently. If I had started in magic by making apps, I wouldn’t have made it ten months. The people living in my apartment today would still be wondering what that faint pink hue in the living room is from where I took matters into my own hands and my brains splattered against the wall.