A new kind of voice companion

You can’t be there every hour.
You can be there in every answer.

That’s Right is a voice your parent can talk to anytime — one that knows their life, answers their repeated questions with patience you don’t have to ration, and tells you each evening how the day really went.

How it works

It starts simple. It doesn’t stay that way.

One short conversation to begin. Then it learns their life, day by day — with you.

1

One short conversation.

You tell us about them — their days, their people, the questions that keep coming back. Twenty minutes, no forms. That becomes the companion’s first knowledge of who they are.

2

It starts modest. And honest.

On day one, it answers from what you shared and nothing else. When it doesn’t know, it never invents — it says so gently, and it tells you.

3

It learns their life, with you.

Every evening, a short note: what they asked, what worried them, what went unanswered. Reply in a sentence — by morning, it knows. Week by week, it grows around their real life.

4

You arrive already knowing.

When you visit, you know what’s been on their mind all week. You’re not catching up — you’re present. And on the days you can’t be there, you know exactly how the day went.

The thread between you

One truth, kept by the people who love them.

The companion never invents. It only knows what your family has written down — 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. A gentle day. A few things came up that I couldn’t answer on my own — I’ve left them here for whoever has a moment.
MarieM
It’s Marie — I’ll be there Sunday at noon. Tell Papa whenever he asks.
That’s Right
Lovely — I’ll let him know gently, every time he wonders.
ThomasT
His keys are on the hook by the kitchen door. And he’s definitely had lunch — we ate together at one today.
That’s Right
Both noted. I’ll point him to the hook and put his mind at ease about lunch.
SophieS
He took his evening pills with me, just now.
That’s Right
That’s everything answered — thank you all. I’ll write again tomorrow evening.
TODAY’S OPEN QUESTIONS 0 / 4 answered
When is Marie coming to visit?Sunday, at noon.
Where are his house keys?On the hook by the kitchen door.
Has he had lunch today?Yes — they ate together at one.
Did he take his evening pills?Taken, just now.
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