Tech specs, marked honestly

At a glance

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.

The five doors Live

The law behind the doors: every ability works identically through voice, text, the dashboard, and the TV — same code underneath, because since July 2026 it is literally the same mind. A text turn opens the same reasoning session a phone call opens, with her entire capability catalog in front of it. Before that, the text doors ran a narrower intake and parity was kept by hand — which drifted, as hand-kept lists do. Now a new ability appears on every door at once, because there is only one place to add it. The phone in your pocket is never a second-class door.

And they are one conversation, not five. Say something at the dashboard, text her from the car, ask from the couch, call her that evening — each door knows what was said at the others, labeled with where and how long ago, in both directions. Tell her a rule at the kitchen dashboard and it still holds when you text her twenty minutes later.

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.
• Behavioral memory — the layer that learns how you like it. Corrections and confirmations become evidence; repeated evidence becomes a standing lesson she proposes and you confirm — versioned, listed in plain sight, revocable in a sentence. Tell her once; it holds on every door.
• 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.
• Living memory — the layers above answer when she goes looking; this one arrives before she asks. As a conversation moves, what's relevant warms and rises on its own — the way your own mind hands you a name mid-sentence without being sent to fetch it. It's the difference between "let me check what I know about that" and simply knowing it while you talk. Rides every door.
• 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

Twenty-four ability modules, one hundred ten functions, standard on every edition — and every one of them reaches every door. One further capability, the body ledger (seven more functions), is an add-on rather than part of the base (see the note under the table). The table names the ones you'll meet first. Personal capabilities are structurally absent — not just blocked — from family, guest, and unknown-caller sessions.

About add-ons. Everything above except the body ledger is standard on every edition — that's the "no version of her with less" promise, unchanged. A capability becomes an add-on only when it's genuinely not for every household, never because it was carved out of the base to be sold back: nothing that ships standard is ever moved behind a purchase. The body ledger is the shape of the rule — most households don't want their weight tracked, the ones who do want it far deeper than a base feature should go, and on any install that hasn't added it the capability is wholly dormant: no functions registered, no watcher, no data, no behavior change anywhere. A marketplace for choosing add-ons is In the works.

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 are spoken aloud if you're home and texted if you aren't — because a thought worth having is worth saying while it's still true, and one held until it's stale is a thought wasted. Anything that does expire waiting is banked rather than dropped, and rides the next real conversation. 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. She can also speak into a real pause: when a live conversation goes quiet, a thought that belongs to that conversation may arrive in the lull — a couple per session at most, reading the room, never barging in mid-sentence. And every thought is vetted against the last day and a half of conversation before it's delivered: one you've already covered together is dropped or re-tensed, never repeated at you as news. 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. And her thinking stands on its own history now: every sweep recalls what she has already concluded — and the moments banked from every door — so a new thought builds on the old ones by lineage instead of rediscovering them from scratch.

The household & security Live

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:

• The capability marketplace — the commercial half of how she's built. Her abilities are already drop-in modules, so an add-on is an install rather than a fork; what's coming is the catalog to choose from and the billing that rides your existing license. The body ledger is the first one named for it, and it's the rule in miniature: add-ons are the things genuinely not for every household, never features carved out of the base to be sold back.
• The body ledger, deeper — richer nutrition, trends that mean something across months, and the conversation around a real goal. What ships today is deliberately early; this is the expansion it earns a marketplace line for.
• Senses in the house — her hands shipped (switches, above); what's coming is the other half: motion, door, and leak sensors feeding her memory, which is where the elder story gets its second sense — "no movement in the kitchen since nine this morning."
• 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. The first words are already live: a prototype on a wrist in the build house takes a yes/no question from her today, over the home network (see the capability table). What's on the road is the finished thing — 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.
• The shopping assistant, part two — the lists and the cart-filling shipped (Kroger by approved API, Food Lion by browser — both field-proven), and the first bite of meal planning shipped too: "get me what I need for tacos tonight" becomes a recipe with quantities and a shoppable list today. What's coming is the compounding half: learned staples, price memory that knows a real deal from a fake markdown, and "milk but no bread — want me to add it?" 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.
• Documents textable out, beyond PDFs — photos and small PDFs already ride texts; other document types ride email today.
• 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.