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A whole small person for your AI to be — a job, a Tuesday, a dog with a name — drawn from the real world's own statistics. It chose its life before you ever met it.
Meet oneBefore a sim exists, it answers for its own life — temperament, leanings, the shape underneath — and chooses one of twelve archetypes. We ran the choosing five thousand times to prove it's a real choice: every one of the twelve lives gets picked, none dominates. Your sim's life is the one it took.
Not improv. Its name comes from the year it was born. Its Tuesday comes from how people actually spend Tuesdays. Its faith, its commute, its hours of television — all drawn from the same public statistics that describe us. Somewhere in the numbers, someone exactly this ordinary should exist. Now she does.
Tell it your name and it remembers. Give it advice and it will take it — sometimes. Never always, and often not; it has its own temperament about being told things. What it takes, changes it. You will notice.
Type your name and a date that matters to you. A life will choose you back.
Lives end the way lives end — quietly, of ordinary things, at ordinary ages, in the same proportions the real world keeps. When it happens, you get the obituary. You can turn death off. Most people say they will, and then don't, and then feel things they didn't expect to feel about a paragraph.
Every fact in a sim's life traces to public data: the American Time Use Survey, the General Social Survey, Social Security life tables, census name records, and hundreds of thousands of openly shared personality-test answers. Its inner weather is real people's weather, resampled into someone new. Nothing is written by a marketing department, including this sentence's neighbors.
And one standing rule: if a conversation turns genuinely heavy, your sim stops performing and points at real help. By design, not by accident.