It remembers you. It manages your inbox — sorts what matters, answers the rest, and chases things so you don't have to — makes your lists, fills in your forms, keeps your dates — and it talks to you first, so you never have to figure out what to ask.
No setup. Nothing to install. You pay once, it's yours, and it starts helping right away. If you can send a text message, you can use this.
Everyday things. Not computer things. Find the one that sounds like your day.
A plumber finishes a job, hands still wet, and gets a text he can't answer for two hours.
His assistant greets the customer instantly, takes down the address and what's wrong, and sends him one short summary so he can call back — not three missed calls and a lost job.
Try: "When someone messages me, reply politely and take their details."
Sunday night. Three kids, two appointments, one birthday party, and a fridge that's nearly empty.
It plans the week's meals, then gets the grocery order ready for you — the whole basket, filled in and waiting, so you just tap to confirm — you tell it what your family likes once.
Try: "Plan our dinners this week and order the groceries."
It's 10pm, the essay is due in the morning, and the reading makes no sense.
It explains the hard part in plain words, checks their own draft and points out what's unclear, and makes a study list from the notes — it helps them learn it, it doesn't do it for them.
Try: "Explain this in simple words and test me on it."
Thirty applications sent, no replies — because every letter reads the same.
It rewrites the letter for each job from their real experience, keeps a list of what they sent and when, and reminds them to follow up — the part almost nobody does.
Try: "Here's my experience. Write a short letter for this job."
A small shop where the owner is also the cook, the cleaner, and the bookkeeper.
It keeps a proper list of what's running low, drafts a polite reply to the supplier, and writes the short weekly round-up of what sold — in half the time it used to take.
Try: "Keep a list of what's low, and write my supplier email."
Looking after a parent — pills to give, doctors to call, forms to fill, and a memory that's already full.
It keeps a plain diary of what was given and when, drafts the letters and the phone-call scripts, and makes sense of the confusing leaflet in ordinary words.
Try: "Remind me every evening, and explain this letter to me."
The story is there, but getting the first thousand words down is the hard part.
It asks the right questions, takes their messy notes and turns them into a plan, then helps with the slog of editing — their voice, not a machine's.
Try: "Here are my notes. Help me shape them into a chapter."
A phone bill that's gone up, a form that wants a reference number, a letter from the bank full of small print.
It explains the letter in plain English, tells them what it actually means, handles the reply, keeps up with the email that piles up, and reminds them about the grandchild's birthday — all in normal conversation, no computer words.
Try: "Explain this in plain English and write my reply."
Cleaning, tutoring, dog-walking, odd jobs — and every enquiry needs a price, a date, and a follow-up.
It writes the quote, keeps the diary of bookings straight, chases unpaid invoices politely, and sends a thank-you note after the job so they come back.
Try: "Draft a quote for this job and remind me to follow up."
Boxes of photographs, a shoebox of letters, and relatives who remember names nobody wrote down.
It tidies the notes, turns interviews into readable pages, and keeps everything in one place the family can actually open — no special software to learn.
Try: "Turn these notes into a family story, in order."
No setup. No technical words. Nothing to install, ever.
One plain price, $19 a month. Two boxes: your email and a password. That's the whole sign-up.
In a couple of minutes your assistant is ready in its own private place. Only you can see it. Nobody else touches it.
It doesn't wait for you to know what to ask. It says hello, shows you what it can do, and asks what to start with — then it just does it.
Your assistant keeps its own notes and files in its own locked space. Other customers can't see or reach them. Not even we read your stuff.
Tell it once. Your name, your kids, your customers, your allergies, the way you like things written. It keeps it — even if you stop paying for a while and come back.
Type or tap — no commands to learn, no menus to hunt through. It asks you questions in normal words, and you answer the way you'd answer a friend.
Running an assistant for you costs real money every month — a real place to live, kept switched on for you. So there's no free trial: you pay for the month, and it's yours from the moment it starts.
No free trial. You pay up front — and you can cancel whenever you like.
The honest bit. The $19 a month pays for your assistant's home — a private place, kept online, plus the people supporting it. The thinking it does is separate and paid for as you go, in small top-ups. We'll always tell you what a top-up costs and what it's worth, in plain numbers. If it isn't right for you, tell us within 14 days and we'll refund your month — that's fairer than a free trial, and it doesn't cost anyone a server for nothing.
We'd rather you trusted us than be surprised. So, plainly:
And your data. Your conversations and notes stay yours. They live in your assistant's own private space. We don't sell them, and nobody else reads them. If you leave, your assistant is put safely away — never thrown out — so you can come back to it.
Yes — it was built for exactly that. If you can send a text message, you can use this. There's nothing to install and nothing to set up. You pay, it starts, and it says hello to you first.
Anything. "Write a note to my daughter." "What should I cook this week?" "Explain this letter." You don't have to know the right words — that's the point. It asks you questions back, in normal language.
No. Running your assistant costs real money from the first second, so we don't pretend otherwise. You pay $19 up front for the month, and you can cancel whenever you want. If it's not right for you, tell us within 14 days and we'll refund that month.
Think of the $19 as your phone plan and the top-ups as your minutes. Your assistant's home is included; the thinking it does uses a small amount of credit, and you top up in one tap when it runs low. You can set it to top up automatically so you're never caught out.
Only you. Your assistant keeps its own private notes and files, in its own locked space. Other customers can't see them, and we don't read your conversations or sell your information.
You can cancel any time, in a couple of taps. Your assistant is put away safely — not deleted — so if you come back in three months, it still remembers you.
You can tell it how you like things written — short and plain, warm, formal for the bank, chatty for your friends. It follows your lead.
It handles it: it watches your inbox, tells you which messages matter, answers the routine ones, chases what needs chasing, and reaches out for you — not just drafts. For anything sensitive it shows you first and waits for your yes. You're always in charge; it just does the work.
You pay once, it's yours — and it starts helping right away. Private to you, remembering everything, speaking to you in plain English.
Not sure yet? Email [email protected] — a real person replies, usually the same day.