A new kind of voice companion

The hundredth question, answered like the first

That's Right is a voice your parent can talk to anytime - one that knows their life, and tells you each evening how their day really went.

How it works

A few facts today. A whole life, in time.

The rest, it learns over time - with you

1

A quick first chat

You tell us about them: their family, the questions that keep returning, what reassures them. Ten minutes, no forms: just what you'd tell a friend stepping in to help.

2

They just talk to it

Your parent opens the app and speaks - "what year is it?", "is Maman still here?", "who comes on Sunday?" It answers calmly from what you've shared. Nothing to type.

3

You teach it, day by day

Each evening, a short note tells you what they asked and what went unanswered. A word back - "her sister is Claire, not Camille" — is all it takes. Bit by bit, the companion comes to know their life as you do.

4

You're never out of the loop

The days you can't visit are no longer blank. You know what's been on their mind and how the week has gone. Distance no longer means being in the dark.

The thread between you

One truth, kept by the people who love them.

The companion never invents. It speaks only from what your family has written downyes — a small, shared note of what’s true today. Update it from your phone, in a sentence, and the next time they ask, the answer is already right.

That's right - Family group chat
for John Berkowitz
This evening
That’s Right
Evening note on John’s day.
  • John asked twice when Marie is visiting.
  • John wasn’t sure whether he’d eaten lunch.
  • John worried several times about missing his doctor’s appointment.
A calm day otherwise — good spirits, a long walk this afternoon.
MarieM
It’s Marie — I’ll be there Sunday at noon. Tell John whenever he asks.
That’s Right
I’ll tell him whenever he asks — gently, every time.
ThomasT
John’s already had lunch — we ate together at one.
That’s Right
Noted. He’ll hear it calmly, next time he wonders.
SophieS
John hasn’t missed anything — Dr. Lambert is every Tuesday at three, like always. He had it right, he just needed to hear it.
That’s Right
Then I won’t correct him — I’ll just reassure him it’s on Tuesday, as always.
That’s Right
That’s everything for today. I’ll write again tomorrow evening.
TODAY’S OPEN QUESTIONS 0 / 3 answered
When is Marie visiting?Sunday, at noon.
Has John eaten today?Yes — they ate together at one.
Did John miss his doctor’s appointment?Every Tuesday at three — like always.already known · reassure
The note fills as you talk to it.
Scroll to follow a day ↓
The philosophy

Memory fades. The person doesn’t.

Work, distance, your own life — you can’t sit beside them all day. But you can guide their companion from your phone, whenever you have a minute. You stay in step with what’s really happening, not only what they remember to tell you.

Their pace, not ours.

No clinical language. No urgency. No quiz. Calm answers, as many times as it takes.

Voice, not screens.

Memory holds onto tone long after words. So we built for tone.

Orient, don’t correct.

When they don’t remember, we gently bring them back — never make them feel wrong.

Made of family.

It only knows what you’ve told it — your words, carried into the hours you can’t be there. And it shows you what’s really hard, not only what they say.

Private by construction

Their life is not a dataset.

No analytics. No advertising. No third-party trackers. The note your family keeps belongs to your family — stored in Europe, readable by you, and by no one else.

Read the full privacy policy →
Why this exists

For my father

My father has Alzheimer’s. The hardest part wasn’t the diagnosis — it was realizing how much of his day we couldn’t see. The questions he asked the walls when no one was home. The small confusions we only learned about too late to help.

So I built him a voice. One he can talk to anytime, that knows who he is, and answers him the way we would — patiently, every time. Each evening it tells us how his day really went, and each of us, wherever we are, can quietly make tomorrow’s answers a little more right.

It’s early, and it’s still mostly his. If you’re living something like this with someone you love, I’d like to hear from you.

If this is your story too.

Leave your email and I’ll send you an invite when a spot opens.

No newsletter. No marketing. Just one reply from me, when it’s your turn. iPhone only for now. French and English.

Dom

Thank you.

You’re on the list. I’ll write to you personally when a spot opens — nothing else.

Dom