Talk with your Twin
A real conversation — it answers in your voice, grounded in the memories you gave it. Citations, not guesses.
Tuning in
A living archive of you
Preserve your voice, your face, and your stories as a living Digital Twin the people who love you can talk with — captured a little at a time.
Private by design — your stories stay yours.
How it works
Answer gentle questions — by voice or by text — whenever a memory surfaces. No scripts, no rush. A little at a time, the way a life is actually told.
It captures your voice, your face, and the particular way you tell a story — the pauses, the turns of phrase, the warmth that makes it unmistakably you.
The people you love talk with your Twin, hear you answer in your own voice, and read the letters you left for the days you knew would come.
Twin Persona Calibration
Formulates deep, thoughtful narratives and draws creative analogies from your memory indexes. Speaks with structured elegance.
Features
A real conversation — it answers in your voice, grounded in the memories you gave it. Citations, not guesses.
Cloned from a few minutes of you. Yours to keep.
A likeness that looks back, warm and present.
Every memory, photo, and recording kept in one private place that grows with you.
Write to the days you know are coming — a birthday, a wedding, a quiet Tuesday.
Consent-scoped, hash-chained, yours alone.
Meet your Twin — built from your face, your voice, your stories.
A note on remembrance
The people we love don't have to become the past.
The promise beneath everything
Entrusting someone's voice and likeness asks for more than a checkbox. These are the commitments we hold ourselves to — plainly, and without exception.
Every recording, photo, and story is encrypted in transit and at rest. Access is yours to grant, one trusted person at a time.
This is your family's memory, not our asset. You hold the keys, you decide who may visit, and that authority never leaves you.
Take the full archive with you whenever you wish, or erase it for good. No dark patterns, no waiting period, no quiet copies kept.
We do not train public models on your loved one, sell their likeness, or hand data to advertisers. Privacy is the product, not a footnote.
Questions, answered plainly
Completely. iLive is a private AI presence — encrypted in transit and at rest — and you alone decide who may visit the archive. We never sell likenesses, never hand data to advertisers, and never train public models on your loved one. You can export the whole archive or delete it for good at any time, with no copies kept behind.
A Digital Twin is a living likeness of a real person — built from their own voice, face, and the stories they choose to share. Once it exists, loved ones can talk with it the way they would in a quiet conversation: ask a question, hear a familiar answer in a familiar voice. It is not a chatbot wearing a name. It is shaped entirely by one person, and it speaks only as they would.
Yes — that is the heart of it. You name the people who may visit and how the Twin should greet them. When the time comes, access passes to them gently, on the terms you set in advance. Nothing is left to chance, and nothing opens without your say-so.
A meaningful first version takes an afternoon — a guided session of speaking, a few photos, and a handful of stories. From there it deepens over time: the more moments you add, the more fully it sounds and feels like you. Most people return to it across weeks, not minutes.
It can hold a conversation in your voice, recall the stories you've given it, answer the questions your family tends to ask, and carry your warmth — a turn of phrase, an old joke, the way you'd reassure someone. It will not invent a life you didn't live; it stays faithful to what you've chosen to leave behind.
Start with a 7-day free trial — your card is verified but not charged until day 8. Paid plans unlock more space, voices, and stewardship. See the full breakdown on our pricing page.
Still wondering about something tender or specific? We answer every message personally. See full pricing
The right time is now
It takes one quiet afternoon to leave something that lasts — a voice, a face, and the stories only you can tell, kept ready for the people who will want them most.