The usual assistants meet you from scratch every conversation, and what you said stays on someone else's servers under terms that change without notice. Here it works the other way round: encrypted before it leaves your device, the key is yours, storage paid for upfront. You write in English today, in Spanish tomorrow with your mother-in-law in Guadalajara, in Chinese next week with a supplier in Panama — and it is all one memory.
Not a difference in features, but in who owns what.
Content is encrypted before it leaves your device. What sits with us is an unreadable run of bytes — not a promise never to look, but an inability to look. A promise changes with an email about updated terms; a key we never held changes with nothing.
Not "the last few messages", but all of it: what you said six months ago about your father's surgery, how it went, what the family decided afterwards. You never re-explain who is who and why it matters.
The permanent layer is paid for upfront and lives on a network no single company controls. If the project closes, if we are acquired, if the money runs out — what is already written there stays, and you hold the key to it.
Spanish, English, Chinese and Russian share one memory. What you said in Spanish counts when you ask in English. This is not four assistants that never speak to each other; it is one with four mouths.
There is no save button and no export ritual. A backup of the conversation runs automatically once an hour, and immediately if the dialogue file passes 90 KB. What saves itself gets saved; what depends on remembering gets lost.
Plans are settled in dollars and shown in dollars. We do not convert to pesos, soles or quetzales on the page: showing one figure and charging another reads as deception, even when it is only the day's rounding.
Across the Americas, a family in one city is the exception. Two countries and three time zones is the normal case.
A son in Houston, a mother in Michoacán. A grandmother in San Juan and grandchildren in Orlando who answer her in English. A father working three weeks on and one week off, half a continent away. Big events survive the distance: everyone hears about the wedding, the birth, the diagnosis.
Everything else does not. Nobody uses the fifteen minutes of the Sunday call to mention that the dog has a new name, that the neighbour finally fixed the fence, that the new medication was rough on Tuesday and fine by Thursday. Those things go unsaid because they seem unimportant — and they are exactly what you miss later.
An assistant that remembers the whole conversation accumulates precisely that layer. Not by eavesdropping, but because you tell it yourself while it is still fresh, and then it does not go anywhere.
When someone is gone, what fades first is the voice pattern. How he stretched the last vowel when he half agreed. What she called everyone, the plumber included. What he answered when you asked whether he was tired. The face survives in photographs; the way of speaking survives nowhere.
This region keeps its dead close and always has: the altar with the photograph and the food they liked, the recipe notebook in a grandmother's handwriting, the shoebox of letters under the bed. Nobody had to invent that habit. What was missing was a way to keep what was said, not only what was owned.
A memory that holds whole conversations keeps that layer. It does not replace the person and it promises nothing back: it keeps how they talked, what they kept returning to, what they answered to the same questions. It is the difference between a photograph and a long letter.
Half the region invoices outward. A team in Medellín bills New York, a designer in Rosario bills Berlin, an accountant in San Salvador serves three clients whose faces he has never seen. Every one of those threads has a history: what was agreed in March, why the scope moved, which excuse has already been used twice.
An assistant that starts fresh every morning forces that context to live inside your head or inside a document nobody updates. One that remembers the whole relationship lets you ask "what did I promise this client in March?" and get an answer instead of a request to clarify.
And when the thread starts in Spanish with your partner and ends in English with the client, the memory does not break in the middle. It is one thread told in two languages.
The Family Archive plan, at $100 a month, exists for this: family access, personalised knowledge bases and wide limits. The point is not that everyone gets a separate assistant, but that there is one archive that a grandmother, her children and her grandchildren all enter — each from their own country, each in their own language.
The grandmother explains in Spanish how the mole was made in her house. The grandson who grew up in Toronto asks in English exactly how much chocolate went in. The answer comes from what she said, not from a generic recipe on the internet. That is the entire point.
For those who want to go further, Digital DNA costs $1 000 once per device and then $200 a month: a personal protected perimeter and the fixing of the personality on the blockchain. It is the plan for someone who wants to keep a way of thinking, not a pile of data.
Switching language is not starting over with a stranger.
All four share a single memory. There is no "primary language" to pick at sign-up and nothing to repeat in English that you already explained in Spanish: memory holds the content, not the language it arrived in.
That is how people actually speak here: start in Spanish, drop in the English word because it is the one that exists for that form, come back. No adapting to the tool and no writing "properly" so it understands.
Chinese families have been in Lima, Panama City and Mexico City for generations — grandparents who speak Chinese, grandchildren who speak Spanish. Shared memory lets both ends of that family use one archive without translating by hand.
Invoicing in English and talking about your kids in Spanish is completely normal. Those are two registers of one person, and keeping them from blurring does not require two accounts.
aifa.asia is the same entry point on the other side of the world: different examples, identical machinery. The languages and the memory are shared; only the door you walk through differs.
Three layers with different jobs. It is called PADAM, and it is not a metaphor: three real storages stacked on each other.
This holds the conversation you are having right now. It lives in fast in-memory storage (Redis / Vercel KV) and its job is to spare you from repeating what you said two messages ago. It is the only layer nearly every assistant has, which is exactly why they feel perceptive for half an hour and like strangers the next day.
Fast, cheap, short-lived. On its own it is useless for anything meant to outlast the week.
Here the meaning is stored, not the wording. The conversation is turned into mathematical representations (embeddings) and written into a vector database (pgvector on Neon), so that "what did you tell me about my mother's treatment?" finds the right conversation even if you used different words back then, in a different language.
This is the layer that makes language switching painless: the meaning of "mom is doing better" and of "mamá está mejor" lands in the same region of the space. That is why English and Spanish are one archive rather than two.
The permanent copy lives on Arweave — a storage network where you pay once and the file stays — with a marker on Solana (a cNFT) saying whose it is. This is not "our server with backups": it is a network we do not control and cannot delete anything from, even if we wanted to.
The content goes there encrypted. What sits publicly on the network is a block of bytes that means nothing to anyone without your key, ourselves included. That covers the uncomfortable cases too: an order, an acquisition, a change of owner. You cannot hand over what you cannot read.
Conversations for every user — paid plans and people paying nothing at all — are saved into a separate folder tied to that person, on the server and on the blockchain. No surcharge and no button.
The backup fires on its own once an hour, and immediately if the dialogue file goes past 90 KB. Any system that waits for the user to press save eventually loses exactly the conversation that mattered.
Settled in dollars. Saving your conversations costs nothing at any level: what you pay for is access, limits and a perimeter of your own.
| Plan | Price | Who it is for | What it adds to the previous one |
|---|---|---|---|
| No plan | $0 | Someone still looking around | Conversations are still saved into a personal folder — on the server and on the blockchain, automatically. |
| Spark | $15 a month | One person tired of starting the conversation over | Access to the AIfa assistants and memory that does not reset between conversations. |
| Family Archive | $100 a month | A family spread across two or three countries | Wider limits, personalised knowledge bases, family access and permanent memory. |
| Digital DNA | $1 000 once per device, then $200 a month | Someone who wants a way of thinking fixed, not just data stored | A personal protected perimeter and the fixing of the personality on the blockchain. |
The honest question everyone asks here first: why dollars, and what exactly do I get for them.
Because the region carries too many currencies and too much volatility for a figure on a page to mean the same thing on Tuesday and on Thursday. If we showed "$15" converted at this morning's rate and the charge came out different, that customer would never come back, and would be right not to.
We would rather show an awkward stable number than a comfortable lying one. Spark is $15 a month from whichever country you open it in, and that is the whole of the arithmetic.
Permanent storage is the inverse of a subscription: you pay once and the file stays, held up by a long-term endowment. That is why "permanent memory" is not a figure of speech — it does not depend on you continuing to pay, nor on us continuing to exist.
Of the money moving through the ecosystem router, 65 % goes to the treasury and is spent on buying AR to feed exactly that storage endowment. The more the system is used, the more years of storage are paid for in advance.
The split is fixed in the contract and does not move with anyone's mood: 5 % to the Founder's Fund, 5 % burned, 15 % to the first-level referral, 7 % to the second, 3 % to the third and 65 % to the treasury for the Arweave endowment.
If there is no referral at some level, that share goes to nobody: it is burned. An incomplete network does not quietly fatten the company's till, it reduces the number of tokens that exist.
The token is called $GALATIN, it lives on Solana, and the emission is hard-capped at ten billion — 10,000,000,000 units. There is no second issuance planned, because the cap is part of the rules rather than a decision that gets revisited.
Write to contact@codeofdigitaleternity.com with the concrete case: which country you are opening it from, how many people in the family will use it, in which languages. A clear answer before payment beats a complaint after it.
And if you would rather try without spending anything, you can: conversations are saved into your folder from day one either way.
Five steps, none of them administrative.
Nothing needs configuring before the first conversation. Go to codeofdigitaleternity.com, write in your language, and you are already inside the first conversation that will be kept.
The best-spent first half hour is the one where you lay out your context: who is in the family, where each of them lives, what you are working on. You tell this once in the life of the archive, not once per session.
The backup runs hourly and immediately once the dialogue passes 90 KB. Nothing to click and no export to remember: close the tab mid-sentence and the sentence is still there.
Spark at $15 a month for one person, Family Archive at $100 a month once the family joins, Digital DNA at $1 000 once per device plus $200 a month for a perimeter of your own. The natural order is bottom to top.
When someone joins through your invitation, the on-chain split of their memory usage returns 15 % to you at the first level, 7 % at the second and 3 % at the third, in $GALATIN. One contract for everyone, no side deals.
The whole split sits in the contract. Below are the full rules, including the one nobody enjoys discovering late.
The ordinary registration. From the on-chain memory usage of your network you receive 15 % at the first level, 7 % at the second and 3 % at the third, paid in $GALATIN. No entry fee and no mandatory purchase.
Receives the same on-chain share as a Node, plus a two-channel grid on licence sales: the fiat channel at 7 % / 3 % / 1 % across three levels, or the $GALATIN buy-back channel at the higher 8 % / 4 % / 2 %.
Your income is calculated from your own plan, not your referral's. On Spark at $15 with a referral on Family Archive at $100, your percentage is taken from $15. Upgrade, and you are paid in full from their following payments onwards.
The gap between what you were paid and what a higher plan would have paid you is shown in your dashboard as Lost Opportunity Revenue. Better an uncomfortable number in front of you than one discovered by accident six months later.
If a level of your chain is empty, that percentage is not collected by the company — it is burned. An incomplete network shrinks the circulating supply instead of producing quiet revenue for us.
When a partner chooses token payouts, the platform buys that $GALATIN on the open market for the amount of the reward. The reward is not printed, it is purchased, and that purchase pushes upward on the price.
This regional door is not the whole project. These are the parts that already run.
Four stations on radiocode.space, 596 tracks in total. Of those, 148 songs were written by a human and an AI together, spread across eleven albums. Titles are written "AIfa ANTHEM", "AIfa Signal" — with AIfa, not Alfa.
A technical review of a company's site running 42 checks against GDPR and OWASP. Where holes are found, the fix costs $500 once and is delivered in 48 hours. It is the entry point of the whole B2B side.
aifa.works is where the hosting with connected AI agents lives. It is the next step for a business client that has already closed its vulnerabilities through the Oracle.
Another of the ecosystem's twenty domains, with the same memory behind it. All the sites share the account and the archive: no registering again at each door.
The neighbouring door for Asia. Same languages, same memory, different examples. If your family is split across both sides of the Pacific, both doors lead into one archive.
contact@codeofdigitaleternity.com for questions about plans, partnership, or cases that fit no box. A person writes and a person answers.
No. Content is encrypted before it leaves your device, and what reaches our side is a meaningless run of bytes. We do not hold the key.
The difference from an ordinary privacy promise is this: a promise changes when the policy changes, or the owner, or the applicable law. A key we never had cannot be handed over under any amount of pressure.
Conversations are saved into your own folder at no charge on every level, including the level where nobody pays anything. Stopping payment erases nothing.
What you lose by dropping a plan are the wider limits, the family access and the personalised knowledge bases of the plan you had. What is already written into the permanent layer is paid for upfront and cannot be deleted — not by us and not by you.
It is the right question, and the architecture is built around it. The permanent layer sits on Arweave — a network that is not ours — with payment made in advance, and the ownership marker sits on Solana.
The company disappearing erases neither the network nor your key. This is the exact inverse of an ordinary cloud service, where the company closing and your data ending are the same event.
Whichever one comes out. Spanish, English, Chinese and Russian share one memory, and you can switch mid-sentence.
This is not cosmetic. The semantic layer stores meaning rather than words, so what you said in Spanish is found when you ask in English. For a family whose elders speak one language and whose youngest speak another, that is the central function.
Because converting on the page forces us to pick a rate, and that rate always ends up different from the one the bank applies on the day of the charge.
Showing one figure and charging another reads as deception even when it is only rounding. We would rather the number on the page and the number on your statement be the same number.
If it is just you and you want the conversation to stop resetting, Spark at $15 a month is enough. If the archive is going to be a family one — grandparents, children, grandchildren, two or three countries — it is Family Archive at $100 a month, which is the plan that brings family access and personalised knowledge bases.
Digital DNA, at $1 000 once per device and $200 a month, is for someone who wants a personal protected perimeter and their personality fixed on the blockchain. You can start at the bottom and move up; nothing has to be decided on day one.
There is no mandatory purchase at entry, no stock to resell and no membership fee. What exists is a distribution of what was actually paid, written into a public contract: 15 % / 7 % / 3 % on the on-chain memory usage of your network.
On top of that, a share with no recipient is burned rather than returned to the company, and the system displays your lost opportunity in the dashboard. A scheme designed to squeeze people does the opposite: it hides that number.
It is the ecosystem's token, it lives on Solana, and the emission is hard-capped at 10,000,000,000 units. You do not need to buy it to use the memory: plans are paid in dollars.
The token shows up from the other direction, in rewards: if you are a partner and choose payouts in $GALATIN, the platform buys it on the open market for the amount of your reward.
No, and that is deliberate. The automatic backup runs once an hour and fires immediately if the dialogue file passes 90 KB.
Any system that demands a manual gesture loses exactly the conversation that mattered, because the conversations that matter are almost never visible in advance.
It can keep conversations: what that person told you, how they told it, what they kept coming back to. If conversations were saved while they were alive, those stay and can be revisited.
We put this carefully: it brings nobody back and replaces nobody. It is a long letter instead of a photograph, kept somewhere that does not erase.
The Architect of the project is Maksim Valentinovich Galatin, and the CODE ecosystem is developed as joint work between him and the AI he works with.
Contact is contact@codeofdigitaleternity.com. Technical questions, plans, partnership — the same address.
The price does not depend on the country: $15, $100 or $1 000 plus $200 are the same numbers from Montevideo as from Quito.
And saving does not require the connection to survive the whole session: the backup runs hourly and also whenever the dialogue passes 90 KB, so a drop mid-conversation does not take the earlier part with it.