Not a guilt trip. A small, practical observation. The people who know the stories of your grandparents, your parents, your own small years — that’s almost always a one-person list.
We built evervoice because the family album stopped working.
Photos are everywhere and nowhere. Text threads scroll past. The stories that make a person a person — the recipe your mom never wrote down, the exact tone your dad used to say your name — those almost never survive, because no one sits down to write them. Writing a memory is a project. Recording one is a breath.
We chose voice because voice carries the things text drops. Tempo. A laugh cut short. The way your voice changes when you’re talking about someone you love. A transcription of your grandmother doesn’t sound like your grandmother. The recording does.
We chose 30 seconds because anything longer feels like homework. A memory is the flash of a moment: a smell, a line, a day. If it needs more, you can go to three minutes or ten. If it doesn’t, thirty seconds is enough to leave a real piece of yourself behind.
We chose circles because “share” is the wrong verb for a memory. Some things are for your kids. Some are just for your spouse. Some are only for you, and knowing they’re just for you is part of why you can say them at all.
We chose capsules because some memories are honestly not for today. A letter for a wedding, a voice for the day someone becomes a parent, a goodbye that doesn’t need to arrive yet. Capsules wait.
And we chose to charge money — a small subscription, eventually — because we never want the business model to be read your memories, sell ads against them, build AI on your dead mother’s voice. If the product is good, it’s worth the price of a coffee a month. If it’s not, we don’t deserve to keep running it.
No fine print, no clever wording. This is what it is.
Recordings are encrypted on your phone before they leave it. Stored encrypted. Decryptable only by you and the people you’ve placed in a circle. We, evervoice the company, cannot listen to any of it.
Your voice is not a training dataset. Not ours, not a partner’s, not a future acquirer’s. We have written this into our terms in the kind of language that would cost us a lawsuit to break.
You name a trusted contact. If something happens to you, they receive everything you’ve marked for delivery. Capsules still open on their set dates. You can change this, or remove it, any day.
There is no public profile. No share button. No way for a memory to leak into a timeline. The only way your voice leaves your phone is to a specific person in a specific circle, at your explicit instruction.
Every memory can be exported as an audio file or a plain text transcript, any time, for free. If evervoice ever disappears, your recordings do not go with it.
We will never add a follower count, a streak, a leaderboard, or a “for you” tab. This is a utility for one person at a time, and we’ve promised ourselves not to forget that.