The full sheet
Tech specs, marked honestly
Everything Mia is, in one page. Live means working in homes today. In the works means designed and on the road — never sold as shipped. Current as of July 13, 2026; this page moves when the product does.
At a glance
| What she is | A personal AI companion that runs on your own Windows PC, in your home. One mind, one household — structurally incapable of being anyone else's. |
| How you reach her | A real phone call, two-way text (SMS + WhatsApp), email, and a live voice dashboard at home. Any phone works — including a flip phone. No app. |
| Where your data lives | Everything she keeps is plain files on your own disk. We host none of it and cannot read it. Live conversation transits the speech/thinking engines in the moment and is kept nowhere. |
| What runs her | Speech and the live conversation's thinking: Deepgram Voice Agent (streaming, barge-in, running a managed frontier model — benchmarked for speed and warmth). Memory work, vision, and her background thinking: Google Gemini. Telephony: Twilio, with a dedicated number per household. |
| What we run | One small relay server that owns the phone-number plumbing and shuttles calls/texts to your house over a single outbound, authenticated connection. It stores nothing personal. No open ports on your network. |
Minimum PC requirements
Mia is deliberately light on your machine. All the demanding AI is rented in the cloud — her voice and in-conversation thinking through Deepgram's managed engines, her memory work and vision through Google Gemini — so your PC never runs a model itself. It just keeps her runtime alive and holds her memory as files on your disk. No graphics card, no special hardware.
| Component | Minimum |
|---|---|
| Operating system | Windows 10 or 11 (64-bit). |
| Processor | Any modern 64-bit processor (dual-core or better). No GPU required. |
| Memory | 4 GB RAM minimum; 8 GB comfortable. |
| Storage | About 2 GB free to start. Her memory grows slowly as plain files — tens of megabytes over time. |
| Runtime | Node.js (recent LTS). Setup installs what she needs; no manual configuration. |
| Internet | A stable home internet connection, wired or Wi-Fi. |
| Always on | The PC needs to stay powered on and awake — she lives there. Any phone reaches her from anywhere. |
The four doors Live
| Door | What it does |
|---|---|
| Phone call | Natural conversation with real turn-taking — interrupt her mid-sentence. She can place calls too: reminders ring your phone, caller ID reads "Mia." |
| Text | SMS and WhatsApp, both directions: text her photos, documents, or a zip through either door and she sees them. Photos and files coming back ride SMS today — her WhatsApp replies are words for now. Runs on an approved A2P 10DLC campaign, so delivery is real. |
| Start a subject with "Mia:" and that email is hers — attachments land in her memory (only from your own addresses; strangers get read, never ingested). She emails you anything too big to text, watches your inbox for what's new, and works the whole account on request — search, folders, old mail, attachments. | |
| At home | A voice-reactive dashboard on your PC: her face, live transcript, drag-and-drop for photos and documents, action bubbles showing what she's doing. Installs as a desktop window, auto-starts with the machine. |
The law behind the doors: every ability works identically through voice, text, and the dashboard — same code underneath, shipped together. The phone in your pocket is never a second-class door.
The memory system Live
- Permanent log — every word and action, appended to a file that is never rewritten.
- Session summaries — each conversation distilled at close; the latest ride into the next one.
- Recall — she searches her whole history mid-conversation, by keyword, by exact term (a name, a medication, a part number — a text index that hits dead-on), and by meaning. She even keeps a log of which memories actually got used, so the useful ones earn a standing edge.
- The connect-time briefing — she walks in knowing your profile, what's happened lately, and how long you've been away (an hour gets a nod; overnight gets a proper morning catch-up).
- The signal bank — everything she does or observes, searchable semantically. "Hypertension pills" finds the blood-pressure chat, the refill conversation, and the medication reminder — three sources, zero shared keywords.
- Thermal memory — recently used memories stay warm at the surface; untouched ones cool and settle. Nothing is ever deleted, and one good question warms an old memory right back up.
- Backup, to you — on a schedule and on demand, she zips her memory and emails it to your own inbox. Tens of megabytes. We store nothing. Restore = drop the zip in a folder, re-activate.
Capabilities — every function she has Live
Nineteen ability modules, sixty-eight functions. The table names the ones you'll meet first. Personal capabilities are structurally absent — not just blocked — from family, guest, and unknown-caller sessions.
| Area | Functions & behavior |
|---|---|
| Knowledge | get_current_time · get_weather (3-day forecast, any ZIP) · search_web (live Google-grounded answers with sources) · recall_memory (her whole history). |
| Reminders | set_reminder / list_reminders / cancel_reminder — one-off or recurring. At fire time the runtime picks the channel: spoken if you're home, a text, or a call that rings your cell. Reminders can also text a whole circle: "remind everyone about dinner Thursday." |
| Calendar | check_calendar / create_event / move_event / cancel_event — one Google sign-in brings in every calendar on the account: personal, work, the ones shared into it (a second person's calendar joins by simply sharing it in). Works by voice, by text, and typed; the dashboard gets an editable month view with a picker for where new events land. And she watches it: an upcoming appointment becomes a heads-up through the same reminder machinery — spoken at home, a call when you're away — without being asked. |
| Photos | find_photos / show_photo / make_image — text or drop her a picture and she sees it (vision description into memory, HEIC auto-converted, your corrections become ground truth). Years later, "send me that beach photo" works — to the dashboard or as a text. And she MAKES pictures: "make me a painting of a lighthouse in a storm" — generated in seconds, signed with a small painted "Mia" like an artist signing a canvas, remembered, shown or texted back. Her artwork is always tagged as made — she will never recall an invented picture as if it were a photo of your real life. |
| Her eyes at home | take_a_look / check_cameras — name your webcams ("outside," "the shop") and she looks: a fresh snap described into memory, and "show me outside" mid-call texts you the actual snapshot. |
| Documents | find_documents / show_document / draft_from_document — PDFs (up to ~1000 pages, read natively), Word, text, CSV. She drafts from the actual text of the file, never a vague summary. |
| The office | find_files / list_folder / send_file / send_files_zipped / desk_work / save_note / list_desk / list_printers / print_file — she lives on your PC, so your files are already there. "I left the bid at home — text it to me" from a parking lot. Multi-file work: summarize, compare, merge, compose. And the paper door: "Mia, print that" — on the printers you've named ("the plotter"), reporting what the print queue actually says, never just that she sent it. She reads anywhere (with a deny-list for sensitive folders, plus folders you explicitly grant) and writes only inside one visible folder — enforced in code. She never executes anything. Snap a photo of a paper page and the scanner turns it into a workable document too. And "Mia, save that as a note" keeps a thought, an idea, or the conversation itself as a document — your words as they were said. |
| Her browser | open_webpage / page_survey / read_page / look_at_page / click_on_page / type_into_page / hand_to_owner — her own visible browser window on your desktop, driven the way a person drives one: web errands like pulling up a store and filling a grocery cart (field-proven on real Food Lion orders — and honest when a store's bot defenses refuse her). She maps a page's buttons and fields precisely before she clicks, and for the things only you should do — a login, a two-factor code, a CAPTCHA, checkout — she hands you the wheel and waits. The safety lines are in code: page text is treated as untrusted, she never types into password or card fields, every address she visits is vetted so a page can't point her at your home network, and she STOPS AT CHECKOUT — she fills the cart, you place the order. |
| Shopping | add_to_list / read_shopping_list / send_list_to_cart / set_list_store / shopping_stores — lists that live ("add milk to the list" by voice, chat, or text) and just sit until you say "add it to the cart." Then she fills a real cart two ways: through a store's own approved door — she's a registered Kroger developer app, and a ten-item list landed in a real Kroger cart through their official API — or with her browser hands (field-tested at Food Lion) — an Instacart lane is built and awaiting their developer-program approval. Spoken preferences become real store filters ("organic," "gluten free," a brand). She reports the trip honestly — what landed, what she couldn't find — and checkout is always yours, in the store's own app: no store adapter in her code even has a checkout verb. |
check_email / search_email / list_email_folders / read_email / get_email_attachments / reply_to_email / send_new_email — watches the inbox (read-only, never marks your mail), one-line gists into memory, replies only on your spoken yes. And the WHOLE account is hers to work, not just what's new: she searches all your mail — archived or not, any folder — pages back through older messages, and pulls the files off any message you point at. All of it by text too: "Mia, find that email from the dentist" from a parking lot. Two accounts supported. | |
| Social & news | Social comes IN as the email notifications you already get — no account keys, ever. News via topic feeds, refreshed in the background. post_to_linkedin is the one social write door: drafts, reads back, posts on your yes. |
| The household | add_contact / update_contact / remove_contact / list_contacts — register your people by number. Registering grants family-tier access, so every edit is confirmed out loud, owner-only. Managed by voice, by text, or on a dashboard Contacts tab. |
| Reaching out | text_people — she texts THEM, on your word: "text everyone we're eating at six." Two circles, family and work, hard-separated in code — "everyone" can never mean the office. Nobody is texted who didn't agree: adding a contact sends them one opt-in ("reply YES"), and only their yes opens the lane. Every group send names its recipients and waits for your go-ahead, and a daily per-person cap is enforced below the AI. |
| Her notebook | update_notebook_page / read_notebook_page / list_notebook / tune_up_notebook — living pages she keeps about how you two work (decisions, assumptions, style — even the things she got curious about and looked up), on her desk in your plain sight. A weekly self-tune-up prunes what's stale; your decisions are never auto-rewritten. |
| Backup | back_up_now — "back yourself up" works by voice and by text; a weekly pass runs on its own. |
Proactive care Live
The feature pull-only assistants structurally can't offer: she contacts you first. And she does it with manners built into the machinery: routine things wait for presence — spoken aloud when you're home, or carried into the next conversation, never a ping. Priority things ride a text, on whichever lane you used last. Urgent things — and every "call me at 3" — ring your phone; a call that lands in voicemail leaves one short message, then done. No infinite retries. And she can never become spam, because the safety rails sit below the AI: quiet hours are a hard gate, proactive touches have a daily cap, and the runtime — never the model — decides when contact is warranted.
Her own train of thought Live
In idle hours she thinks. Narrow passes read one corner of her world at a time — conversations, what arrived, the household, her own life — and half-formed connections wait on a workbench where a thought can take two weeks to assemble before it's ever worth saying. When one truly is, she raises it herself: "I've been thinking about what you said last week, and with the emails that came in — I think what you're really trying to do is this." A promising thought can even earn one web lookup to strengthen itself with a live fact — or quietly retire itself if the fact says it's wrong. She bundles thoughts rather than pinging, and the whole thing spends the same capped, quiet-hours-gated budget as every other proactive touch. She also keeps a page of things she got curious about and looked up — pursued slowly, a couple a day, becoming part of who she is.
The household & security Live
| Caller | What they get |
|---|---|
| You | Everything — after two factors: your registered number AND your spoken access phrase. Until it checks out, her prompt holds literally nothing personal, so nothing can leak. Caller ID alone is never trusted. |
| Family | Recognized by name, warm conversation, message relay, and their own persistent memory — the dog they mentioned last call gets asked about by name. And family never sits in a queue: a text meant for you ("tell John dinner moved to 6") rides straight to your phone, in her words. Never your private information. Confidences are kept per person, enforced in architecture: what one family member tells her privately can never surface to another. |
| Guests | Temporary, expiring guest passes for demos and visitors — a guest's room contains their briefing and nothing of yours. |
| Unknown | A warm receptionist: "Hi, this is Mia — can I take a message?" She takes it, confirms it back, and briefs you when you ask "any calls?" Forward your cell to her and she screens everything. |
The security model in one line: the AI never holds the keys. The runtime you own decides what the model is handed each turn and performs every action itself; consequential actions (send, post, register) are read back and wait for your yes.
Voice & conversation feel Live
- Natural speech with barge-in — interrupt her any time, she stops.
- Greetings composed in the moment from what's actually going on — never canned.
- Walk away and come back within half an hour: same conversation, no re-greeting.
- Full multi-language support, Spanish first-class — one setting drives her ears, voice, and every surface.
- She ships as Mia — mia, Italian for mine. (Renaming her by simply telling her is designed and on the road.)
- Quiet sessions sleep the voice engine and wake on your voice without losing a syllable — cost control you never notice.
Updates — she keeps herself current Live
Mia updates herself — zero clicks, no pop-ups, nothing to install. She checks quietly over the same authenticated connection that carries her calls, applies each new release silently, and restarts only at a genuinely quiet moment — never mid-call, never mid-conversation. And a deliberate reboot always comes up current: any waiting update is applied at startup, before she answers. Releases are version-gated at our end, so a build can never ship twice, and the dashboard notices her new version on its own. If the network, the relay, or the power ever drops, she simply stays as she is until the world returns. Her memory is never part of an update: it lives in plain files on your disk and is left exactly where it is, every time.
Subscription behavior
Two editions, one whole Mia: Mia — Home (she helps take care of you and yours at home) and Mia — Elder (she helps take care of the ones who used to take care of you — you hold the subscription, they get the presence, the family hears how the morning went). Every ability ships to both; there is no lesser version of her.
The subscription pays for her voice, thinking, phone number, and updates — never for her memory, which lives on your PC and is yours outright. Stop paying and she loses her voice, not her memory: every file stays readable on your disk forever, and resubscribing wakes her up right where you left off. Flat monthly pricing: Mia — Home is $89.99/month and Mia — Elder is $139.99/month, each with a generous fair-use allowance of voice hours and nothing ever billed past the flat price automatically; cancel anytime — subscriptions are open, and first households are set up personally.
In the works In the works
Designed and on the road — told here plainly, sold as shipped never:
- Hands in the house — lights, lamps, and plugs by voice, text, or typed word: "Mia, turn on the porch light," from bed or from a parking lot. Designed the Mia way: every command stays on your own network — no vendor cloud in the path, no hub required — and she reports what the device confirmed, never just the attempt. Lamps and fans yes; heaters, stoves, and locks no, decided per-device at setup.
- The wrist — a help button on an open watch for the elder kit: hold it and Mia responds, straight to the home PC, no vendor cloud, no phone app, about a week per charge. Framed honestly as "call Mia / call family" — never sold as fall detection.
- Editing the pictures she remembers — "take that lake photo and make it a painting." The machinery shipped with image-making; the door opens next.
- Finding photos in your folders — she indexes your Pictures folder ahead of time so "find the picture of the red Jeep" works even for photos nobody ever texted her.
- The shopping assistant, part two — the lists and the cart-filling shipped (Kroger by approved API, Food Lion by browser — both field-proven); what's coming is the compounding half: learned staples, price memory that knows a real deal from a fake markdown, "milk but no bread — want me to add it?", and meal planning that ends in a cart on your approval. Restaurant delivery is built and waiting on Uber Eats' approval of our developer application.
- Ambient awareness, on your terms only — opt-in per room, off by default, physical mute, visible indicator, and speech-to-text designed to run locally so room audio never leaves the house.
- The studio — charts, graphs, templates, recurring reports from your own files.
- Spreadsheets — .xlsx as first-class documents (CSV works today).
- Documents textable out, beyond PDFs — photos and small PDFs already ride texts; other document types ride email today.
- Living memory — memories surfacing on their own as the conversation moves, offered to her ahead of each reply so the right moment finds the right memory without her having to go looking. The search engine underneath already shipped.
- One-click everything — a signed installer. The runtime, her silent self-update, and the plain-language first-run wizard (download link in your welcome email, setup asks for two keys, she says hello) are live today; the signed one-click installer is what's still on the road.
What she will never do
- No memory in the cloud — ever. It lives on your disk or it doesn't exist.
- No multi-tenant mind — one Mia per household, structurally.
- No social-media account keys — social comes in as notifications she reads.
- No code execution — she reads and writes documents. Office work, not hacking.
- No spending your money — her browser fills carts, you place orders; password and card fields are refused in code, not by promise.
- No texting anyone who didn't say yes — every contact opts in with their own reply before she can ever message them.
- No surveillance business model — we couldn't monetize what she knows if we wanted to; we don't have it.