MeYou One

Someone you call.

Not a box to type into. A number in your phone, a voice that knows you, and hands that get things done while you carry on with your day.

Join the waitlist

How a call goes

Press one button. Your phone rings.

A real call, on any phone, in 19 languages.

  1. Press the button.

    Nothing to type. Nothing to learn.

  2. MeYou calls you.

    A real phone call, not a screen to stare at.

  3. Talk, like with a friend.

    Your day, your mother, your plans, your worries.

  4. Next call, it knows.

    Every word, with its date. It never starts from nothing.

The app

It is already listening.

Real screens, September 2026. One button to talk, one thread to read back, and a vault where what you sent is kept.

The MeYou app: the orb, a Listening pill, and the line Go on, I am here.
Press and talk. Nothing to set up.
A MeYou conversation: it asks about a cough, then goes back to the stomach trouble from an hour before.
It hears more than words.

What it does

It remembers, it calls, it gets things done.

Everything below is what MeYou does today, on the phone in your pocket.

Talking

  • In the app. Press and talk, uninterrupted, for as long as you like.
  • On the phone. You call it, and it calls you.
  • Guest mode. Hand your phone to somebody and the memory closes in both directions.

Memory

  • Everything you said. Kept with its date, and found again when it matters.
  • The journal. A reading of your evening, and the question for tomorrow.
  • The vault. Documents, notes and photographs, where it can read them back to you.

On its own

  • It calls you. When it has something to say, at your rhythm, and never in your quiet hours.
  • The morning. Your calendar, the weather, and what is waiting.
  • Before a meeting. On your own notice, with the link in hand.
  • The invitation nobody booked. If a mail says Thursday and the calendar does not, it tells you.
  • Reminders. By call, by notification or by mail, whichever you mark.

In your place

  • It calls people. Finds the number, reads the plan back, rings on your yes, does the one thing, and tells you how it went.
  • It works websites. Prices, availability, forms. Reading is free; sending waits for your spoken yes.
  • It chases. Three attempts at what did not finish, carrying what it learned into the next one.
  • It looks things up. A subject researched and reported back at the hour you asked for.

Connected

  • Mail. Reads it, searches it, and writes in your name once you approve the words.
  • Calendar. Reads it and adds to it.
  • Contacts, video, weather, place. It knows where you are and what is around you.

Listening

  • Take a note. It listens to the room, says nothing at all, and writes the note at the end.
  • With the app closed. It keeps going on Android while you put the phone away.

It does not spend your money. It brings the job as far as the payment screen, and the last touch is yours.

Both ways

It rings you. You ring it.

It calls you

When there is something to say: the morning ahead, the meeting in ten minutes, the invitation in your mail that never made it to your calendar. At your rhythm, and never in your quiet hours.

You call it

One press in the app, or the number in your contacts from any phone at all. It picks up knowing who you are and what you were doing yesterday.

Over time

It becomes a map of your life.

Your mother, your brother, your work, the trip in October: each one a subject, and the subjects joined where your life joins them. That is how it can tell that a heavy week at work is why you skipped the gym, without you ever saying so.

Every subject is made from your own words, with the date you said them. You can open the map in the app, look at any subject, and delete it.

Why it is different

Everyone else gives you a screen to open.

This one is a phone that rings, with a memory behind it that is yours alone.

Waitlist

Get in before the doors open.

MeYou is live with early users. Leave your address and you hear from us first, when it opens where you are.

One address, one message. It is not sold, and it is not the start of a mailing list.