Under the hood
Built so that what she knows
can only be yours
This page is for the people who want to know exactly how the promise is kept. No hand-waving — this is how she's actually put together.
The two halves
The home is Mia herself — one program running on your own PC. It holds the mind, all memory, all files, every action. The relay is a small server we run that owns her public phone number and shuttles calls and texts to your house. It never sees her memory and holds nothing personal — it is a switchboard, not a library.
your phone ──── phone network ──── THE RELAY (our small switchboard)
│ it stores nothing
│ one outbound, authenticated link
YOUR HOME PC
Mia: mind · memory · files
Your home dials out to the relay and keeps that one connection open. There is no open port on your network, nothing exposed to the internet, nothing to scan for. If someone attacks the relay, there is nothing of yours there to take.
What stays home, and what transits
We say this precisely, because the difference matters:
- Everything she KEEPS stays on your disk. Your profile, every transcript, every photo and document she's seen, her whole memory of you — plain files on your PC. We host none of it and cannot read it.
- Live conversation transits the engines she runs on. While you're actually talking, audio and text pass through the rented machinery every voice product uses — a speech engine to hear and speak (Deepgram, whose managed model also does the in-conversation thinking), a reasoning engine for everything around the conversation (Google), telephony to carry the call (Twilio). Processed in the moment, kept nowhere as a record of you.
Five kinds of memory
Memory is what makes her a companion instead of a chatbot. All five layers are files on your disk:
- The permanent log. Every word — yours and hers — and every action she takes, appended to a file that is never rewritten. The bedrock.
- Conversation summaries. When a conversation ends, she distills it. The latest few ride into the next conversation, so she picks up where you left off.
- Recall. She can search her entire history herself, mid-conversation — by keywords, by exact term (a name, a medication, a part number — hit dead-on), and by meaning. "Remember that beach picture?" finds the actual photo.
- The briefing. Every conversation starts with her reading in your profile, what's happened lately, and how long you've been away — a one-hour gap gets a nod, an overnight gap gets a proper morning catch-up.
- The signal bank. Everything she does or observes — every call, photo, document, email, reminder — is banked and searchable by meaning. A search for "hypertension pills" surfaces the blood-pressure chat, the refill conversation, and the medication reminder: three sources, zero shared keywords. That's how she connects the dots across your life.
Her memory even behaves like memory: recently touched things stay warm at the surface, untouched ones cool and settle — but nothing is ever deleted, and one good question warms an old memory right back up.
The security model: the AI never holds the keys
This is the heart of why she's safe to hold your personal life:
- The model has no standing access to anything. The AI is the talking device. The runtime — code that runs on your machine — decides what to hand it each turn and executes every action itself. Even a fully manipulated model can only reach what it was already handed, which is deliberately kept small.
- Identity before data. On a call or text, your personal information does not flow until your spoken access phrase checks out — on top of your registered number. Until then, her prompt literally contains nothing personal, so there is nothing to leak. Caller ID is always treated as spoofable.
- Actions require your yes. Anything with a consequence — sending an email, posting publicly, registering a contact — is read back and waits for your confirmation. Only words you dictated verbatim count as consent on their own.
- She structurally can't spam you. Quiet hours and a daily cap on proactive touches are enforced below the model — no clever prompt can make her chatty, because the runtime, not the model, decides when contact is warranted. The same holds for your people: she cannot text anyone who hasn't replied YES to a one-time opt-in, and a per-person daily cap sits below the AI too.
- The web is untrusted. When she runs an errand in her browser, page text is digested by a sandboxed sub-agent under never-obey-the-page orders before her conversational brain hears a word — a malicious page can't speak commands into her. Her browser is her own window with its own profile, password and card fields are refused in code, and she stops at checkout: she fills the cart, you place the order.
The household: one number, everyone welcome, nothing leaked
Register your people by phone number and Mia knows who's calling:
- You get everything — after your access phrase.
- Family get warmth, conversation, and message-passing, by name — never your private information. A text meant for you rides straight to your phone, in her words — family never sits in a queue. And she remembers each person separately: the dog your mom mentions on one call gets asked about by name on the next.
- Work associates get the same trusted service with colleague manner — a business partner is greeted like a business partner, not a beloved aunt.
- Strangers meet a personal assistant who takes a message, warmly, and briefs you later.
And it runs both ways: on your word she texts a person or a whole circle ("text everyone — dinner's at six"), with family and work hard-separated in code so one word can never reach the wrong list. Nobody is ever messaged who didn't reply YES to a one-time opt-in — the courtesy rule and the carrier-compliance rule are the same line of code.
The confidences law: what one family member tells her privately never surfaces to another — not in a summary, not in recall, not by accident. It's enforced in the architecture (every memory row knows whose it is), not promised in a policy. She keeps a secret the way a trusted family member does.
Text is king
Every ability works by text message, identically to voice and the dashboard — same code underneath, shipped together. Text her a PDF from a waiting room and it lands in the same document memory as one dropped on her dashboard. Ask by text for a photo and the same search runs as on a call. The phone in your pocket is never a second-class door.
The hard questions, answered straight
What if the hard drive dies?
The flip side of owning your data is stewarding it — so she stewards it for you. On a schedule (and any time you ask), she zips her memory and emails it to your own inbox — it's tiny, because the memory that makes her her is text, not media. We store nothing. A dead drive means: reinstall, drop the last backup zip in the folder, re-activate — and she's back, remembering everything.
Can someone jailbreak her into spilling everything?
The honest claim isn't "unjailbreakable" — nobody can claim that. It's that the blast radius is capped: the model has no standing access to files, house, or history, so most "spill everything" attacks hit a wall — there's nothing there to reach. What it could be talked into is misusing a tool it legitimately has, which is why consequential actions are read back and confirmed, and personal data stays locked behind the access phrase.
What if someone spoofs a family member's number?
Owner access takes two factors — the registered number AND the spoken phrase — so a spoofed number never reaches your private life. A spoofed family number gets only what family ever gets: warmth and the ability to leave a message.
What happens when the PC is off, or the internet is out?
She's unreachable until it's back — like your thermostat in a power cut — and her memory is untouched, because files on a disk don't vanish when the power does. She starts with the machine and reconnects on her own. And recovery is in your hands: you press the power button. When a cloud service goes down, you wait and hope.
Can she spend my money?
No — in code, not by promise. Her browser — or a store's own approved API; she fills real Kroger carts through their official developer door — loads shopping carts; you place the order in the store's own app. Password and card fields are refused by her typing hands, and a web page can't talk her into it either: everything she reads on the web is digested under never-obey-the-page orders before her conversational brain hears a word. An assistant that can quietly buy things is exactly the assistant you can't trust with a browser — she was built the other way around.
I stop paying — do I lose everything?
You lose her voice, not her memory. Her service stops and she goes quiet — but every file stays on your disk, readable forever. Resubscribe and she wakes up right where you left off.
Is she always listening to my house?
No. Today she only hears you when you're in a conversation with her. Ambient awareness is a future, strictly opt-in add-on — designed with a physical mute, a visible indicator, and local speech-to-text so room audio would never leave the house at all. "Ownership is the trust model" has to be flawless exactly here, so it ships when it meets that bar.

