"Every good system needs a door for the thing it didn't predict. The trick is a door you can't walk through by accident."
You always need the unanticipated command
No matter how many typed kinds you build, reality will eventually hand you something you didn't foresee — a one-off fix, a debug session, a command that exists for exactly one situation. Pretend that never happens and you force people to smuggle their real work around the system, which is far worse than giving them an honest door.
So build the hatch — and keep it honest
The interactive terminal is that door. But it's built to be impossible to confuse: the host's color and label sit in the tab and terminal chrome, the stable id and current hostname are shown, along with the connection path and the session start time. You can always tell, at a glance, exactly which machine your keystrokes are going to. An escape hatch you can fall through blind isn't safety — it's a trapdoor.
The hatch is never disguised as automation
Nothing typed in the terminal silently becomes a durable fleet operation. That's the whole reason Interactive is its own risk class: so raw shell can't put on the costume of a safe, previewed kind and slip into the automated path. A command runs on the one machine you're looking at, driven by your hand — it doesn't fan out, and it doesn't promote itself.
Even the terminal has boundaries
Registering something as infrastructure — a NAS, say — grants a terminal to it without making it a fleet Mac. It gets a shell; it does not get power policy, probes, or campaign targeting. The terminal is a targeted human surface, not a backdoor that quietly extends fleet membership to anything you can SSH into.