Eviga exists to capture the voices of parents and grandparents — gently, on the channel they already use, before time takes them.
By 2030, one in six people on earth will be over sixty. They are the last generation to remember a childhood without screens, the analog letters and the rotary phones, the names of villages that no longer exist. They carry an entire layer of human experience that ends when they end.
Most of those stories will not be captured. Not because the families don't want them — they do, desperately — but because no one has built a tool that meets the elderly where they actually are. The journals require sitting down to write. The apps require downloading and learning. The Sunday phone call hangs up before the real questions ever get asked.
What we believe
That a voice is irreplaceable. A photograph captures a face. A letter captures a moment. A voice captures the cadence of a person — the way she paused, what made her laugh, the words she chose for things only she described that way. Nothing else preserves a life as completely.
That the format has to bend to the storyteller, not the other way around. Asking a 78-year-old to learn an app is asking her to perform youth at the cost of her stories. So we go where she is — to WhatsApp, the message thread she already has open with her grandchildren — and ask one question at a time.
That AI is the listener these stories deserve. Patient, never bored, never busy, awake at 3 a.m. when she remembers something. The AI doesn't replace the family — it gives the family the time and presence they wish they had.
That the artifact has to outlast everyone. A digital archive is not enough. Files corrupt. Platforms close. Passwords are lost. So we make a real, physical book — bound the way books were bound a century ago, on archival paper, with the voice itself stored permanently in EU servers and recallable forever via QR.
What we will not do
We will not sell her data. Ever. Not to advertisers, not to data brokers, not to research firms, not to "trusted partners." Her data is her data. Eviga uses it only to deliver the service. When she or you ask us to delete it, we delete it within 72 hours.
We will not make her sound like the AI. The temptation, when an AI writes a chapter, is to smooth it into corporate prose. We resist that. Her phrases stay her phrases. Her digressions stay digressions. The book is recognizably her — because it is her, gently shaped, never replaced.
We will not pressure her to engage. If she goes quiet, we wait. If she comes back after months, we pick up. Eviga is for stories told willingly, in her own time. A captured voice that didn't want to be captured isn't a memoir. It's a transcript.
We will not lose what we've captured. Voice files are mirrored across two EU regions. Print files are mastered to last 100+ years. The QR codes resolve to permanent URLs that we underwrite for the lifetime of the company — and beyond, through escrow arrangements with our hosting providers.
Where her data lives
Servers in Frankfurt, Germany. EU jurisdiction. GDPR-compliant by default and by design. Encrypted in transit (TLS 1.3) and at rest (AES-256). No data crosses to the US, ever. No analytics tracker on the page she sees. No cookies for advertising.
If you or she would like everything about her deleted, write to radera@myeviga.com from the email associated with the gift, and we'll erase every voice clip, transcript, draft chapter, and database record within 72 hours, and confirm in writing when it's done.
Why we're starting in Sweden
Because Stockholm is where we live. Because Sweden's digital maturity means the gift-giving adult children — the people who buy Eviga — are entirely comfortable buying online. And because no other product in this space has bothered to localize for Scandinavia: no mormor or morfar, no midsommar, no sommarstuga, no acknowledgment that the Swedish family vocabulary is structurally different from the English one.
We launched Eviga in Swedish, Danish, and English simultaneously. More languages are coming — German, Dutch, Spanish, Italian, then beyond. But the moat is the depth, not the breadth. A Swedish grandmother is asked Swedish questions about a Swedish life, with cultural references that make sense to her. An English-speaking grandmother gets the same care in her own context.
What you're funding, as a founding supporter
The first 50 people to back Eviga at £149 are funding the build itself. The hardcover printing partnership. The voice-file infrastructure. The Swedish, Danish, and English question banks. The dashboard you'll use to watch her book grow. The team that wakes up at 7 a.m. to make sure your mother's voice note from 11 p.m. last night was successfully saved.
If we don't launch by the date we promise — full refund. The £149 sits in Stripe, ringfenced, until we deliver. We're underwriting the risk because that's the deal: you trust us with something irreplaceable, and we trust you with something fragile in return.
— The Eviga team
Stockholm, 2026