Web MVP live · pre-seed in flight
The Ninth
A memoir instrument: first positive test until the child, at eighteen, reads what their mother wrote. The tool disappears; the record remains.
01 · The idea
The nine months and the eighteen years. A guided capture instrument: it knows the week, and what the mother will regret not recording. Everyone means to; almost no one finishes.
The family choir. One tap lands a grandparent on a web recorder: thirty seconds, into her inbox for approval. No contributor ever needs an account. A room, not a feed. The wedge.
The physical archive. The record ends in matter: an auto-laid photo book, a time-capsule kit, acid-free envelopes for hair, tooth, bracelet, QR-linked back. No competitor owns two of the three.
02 · The four surfaces
The phone is the instrument; the archive is the point.
03 · The prompts
150 prompts, fourteen sections, paced to the week, for a smart, exhausted mother. No exclamation marks. No emoji. Nothing Hallmark. Six:
№ 01written · 5 min · weeks 4–12
The day you found out.
Exactly as it happened. Do not clean it up.
№ 35audio · 90 sec · weeks 12–24
The heartbeat.
Record it: your child before they had a body.
№ 41written · 8 min · the great questions
What I want you to know about your father.
Write as if they are already gone.
№ 64audio · 90 sec · from grandfather
The song you sang to me when I couldn’t sleep.
Especially if your voice isn’t what it was.
№ 109photo · the long horizon
The first sleepover.
The empty bed, the first night. Just once.
№ 140written · 25 min · sealed
A letter to my child for the day I die.
Written at your most full.
Skip is first-class · prompts rewritable · library versioned