twenty ais, zero memory·one wiki you own·plain markdown when you leave
every chat starts blank. you re-explain the project, the meds, your daughter's name, your taste in espresso, the shape of the thing you're building. the model is brilliant and forgetful, like a smart friend with no memory of yesterday.
we started with a simple grievance: we have twenty ai tools and none of them know us. each one a new performance of who we are. the more we used them, the more we felt like the data of our lives was scattered across other people's databases — chatgpt remembering one shard of us, claude another, gemini a third. nothing portable. nothing complete.
we wanted one place that knew us, that we owned, that any of these brilliant strangers could read from. so we made one.
the simplest thing that could work
a wiki. plain markdown. backlinks. tags. folders. an agent that asks you things, drafts pages, and waits for you to tap accept. nothing surprising, nothing magical — except that all your favorite ais now read from the same place. and when you leave, you walk out with the markdown.
three rules we don't break
your tap is the gate. the agent never writes without you. every change is a diff you can see, accept, edit, or ignore.
private by default. nothing is public unless you flip the switch on a specific page. no feed, no discover, no shared timeline.
portable, always. one tap, full export, plain files. we'd rather you stay because we're useful than because we trapped you.
"memory is what gives you a second chance to be yourself." — a note we keep above the desk
what we are not
not a social network. not a journal app with vibes. not a foundation model. not a tab you have to keep open. not a thing you have to remember to use — you text it when you have a thought, and it works the way friendship does, in pieces, over time.
if it works, you stop thinking about it. the agents you already love start sounding like they know you. that's the whole goal.