An AI companion for your phone · Waitlist open

Talk to your phone. Nova kills the noise.

Say what you need and put your phone down. Nova works through the apps, the forms and the taps for you, and asks before it buys, books or sends anything in your name.

On the table, the phone keeps lighting up with things that eat your time: an email, 23 new notifications, a sale, your quarterly presentation in one minute. You say “Nova, handle these” and get on with your day, and Nova works through each one: it reads, sorts, answers and files, and waits for your yes before it sends, books or pays for anything.

Join the waitlistSee how it works

Seen from above in a dark room, a phone lies face down on a walnut table. Its screen is on, and the only light is what escapes around its edges.

Life, without the noise

Everything you want is on the other side of the noise.

Noise is everything between you and what you set out to do. The errands, the forms, the reminders, the forty taps between you and a finished task.

Don't manage the noise. Kill it. Say what you need. Nova works through your apps for you and asks before anything goes out in your name.

Today most of the noise comes through one object. It took a long time to get here.

A potter's hands centring wet clay on a wheelA painter's hand pressing a brush into thick paintA climber's chalked hand gripping a small edge of rock
A potter's hands centring wet clay on a wheel
Noise is everything between you and what you set out to do. The errands, the forms, the reminders, the forty taps between you and a finished task.
A painter's hand pressing a brush into thick paint
Don't manage the noise. Kill it. Say what you need. Nova works through your apps for you and asks before anything goes out in your name.
A climber's chalked hand gripping a small edge of rock
Today most of the noise comes through one object. It took a long time to get here.

Watch the distance close.

  1. Two hands release a pigeon from a loft door, a message capsule on its leg
    Two hands release a pigeon from a loft door, a message capsule on its leg.
    By wing, tied to a bird's leg.
  2. A gloved hand pushes a sealed letter through a brass door slot in the rain
    A gloved hand pushes a sealed letter through a brass door slot in the rain.
    By hand, door to door.
  3. A hand on a brass telegraph key
    A hand on a brass telegraph key.
    In dots and dashes down a wire.
  4. A woman holds a candlestick telephone earpiece to her ear
    A woman holds a candlestick telephone earpiece to her ear.
    Through an earpiece, to a voice you knew.
  5. A hand catches a curling fax page as it leaves the machine
    A hand catches a curling fax page as it leaves the machine.
    A page at a time, out of a machine.
  6. A man in a car holds a brick-sized early mobile phone to his ear
    A man in a car holds a brick-sized early mobile phone to his ear.
    From the front seat of a car.
  7. Hands on a beige keyboard at night beside a small modem
    Hands on a beige keyboard at night beside a small modem.
    Over a phone line that screeched first.
  8. Hands typing on a laptop balanced on knees on a night train
    Hands typing on a laptop balanced on knees on a night train.
    From a train, from anywhere.
  9. Two thumbs pressing the keys of a small mobile phone under a school desk
    Two thumbs pressing the keys of a small mobile phone under a school desk.
    With two thumbs, under the desk.
  10. A driver's hands on the wheel at night, an earphone cable running to his ear
    A driver's hands on the wheel at night, an earphone cable running to his ear.
    Out loud, eyes on the road.

Each one brought the world closer, and let more of its noise in.

Smartphone

2007. A keynote. Up on the screen, the phones of the day, each one with a keyboard fixed to its face, there whether you needed it or not.

From the back row of a dark hall, a huge screen shows three phones of the day side by side, each with a keyboard on its face
From the back row of a dark hall, a huge screen shows three phones of the day side by side, each with a keyboard on its face.

Then a phone with no keys at all. One sheet of glass that could become whatever you needed.

A worn keyboard phone lying on a desk
A worn keyboard phone lying on a desk.

Every phone on that screen had worked fine. Within a few years they were gone. When something better arrives, the old way gets left behind.

Since then they got thinner and faster, and we started calling them smart.

The keys went. The noise stayed. Every task still waits on your thumb: open, tap, type, scroll, confirm.

The glass covered in a day of thumbprints
The glass covered in a day of thumbprints.

They are phones.

With Nova, they finally become smart.

A hand holding a phone square to the camera over a kitchen table
A hand holding a phone square to the camera over a kitchen table

Two centuries of this, and it all ended up here.

And you still do every bit of it by hand.

Now the limit is your hands.

Nova takes the noise off your hands. You live your life and run it with your voice.

Try it. Say something to your phone.

This page only measures how loud you are, in your browser, while the button is on. Nothing leaves this tab.

No mic? Keep scrolling.

The same hand, open and empty, the phone face down on the table

Put the phone down. Nova has it.

Talk to Nova the way you'd talk to a person. It works through your apps screen by screen, the way you would, and gets it done.

Join the waitlist

Same moment, twice

The small grey frame is the moment with the noise. The full frame is the same moment with Nova. Blink between them any time.

01 of 03Between sets

You train. Nova builds the deck.

Anything you could do in an app, Nova can do while your hands are on the bar. It checks with you before it sends anything in your name.

She sits hunched on the bench typing on her phone with both thumbs

She sits hunched on the bench typing on her phone with both thumbs

Nova Your slides are ready. Fourteen of them, with the sales numbers on slide six. Want me to send them to the team?

You Send them.

Opened your call notes · Found the sales numbers in your email · Built the slides · Sent them when you said so

02 of 03The orange and the lime

Say it once. Ask for it later.

The idea you had on a walk, the promise you made at dinner, the way you explained something months ago. Nova remembers what you said, so your head doesn't have to.

A man at a kitchen table at night scrolling hard through his phone
The phone is gone; he holds an orange with a lime beside it

A man at a kitchen table at night scrolling hard through his phone

You Nova, how did I explain the tides to my niece? It was back in the spring.

Nova You used an orange for the Earth and a lime for the moon.

Nova You said the moon pulls the sea into a bulge on each side, and the Earth turns through both, so the beach gets two high tides a day.

03 of 03Before you ask

It speaks first, only when it counts.

Nova listens more than it talks. It speaks up for what you'd hate to miss, while there's still time, and asks before it buys, books or sends anything in your name.

A woman frozen by her front door, one shoe untied, eyes on her phone
Her phone in her pocket, her gym bag on her shoulder, keys in her hand, she opens the door

A woman frozen by her front door, one shoe untied, eyes on her phone

Nova Go now and you make the bus in fifteen minutes. Wait, and you miss it and the gym with it. Your route is ready.

Nova Your best friend's birthday is tomorrow. Want me to find him something? You'll see it before I buy.

Nova Your anniversary is in two weeks. Should I book a place, or plan the whole day?

You Plan the day.

Nova I'll bring you three options tonight. Nothing gets booked until you pick one.

A young man stands still and speaks quietly while a market crowd blurs around him

One voice

Two hundred voices. Nova hears one.

The rest is noise. Nova is locked to one voice, yours. It listens through your day and answers only to you.

Your voice leaves you as a ribbon of warm light and flies into a dark city of glass app screens: forms, lists, calendars, payment sheets. Every screen it passes fills itself in. It stops at three: it pays the rent once you say yes, moves the dentist to Friday and sends Mum the photos. Then it flies out to the end of the city, where the evening sun sits low between the last towers, and the light opens into a photograph of five friends laughing around a table on a terrace at golden hour.

A photograph of five friends laughing around a table on a terrace at golden hour. Nova has paid the rent, moved the dentist to Friday and sent Mum the photos.

You Nova, pay the rent, move the dentist to Friday and send Mum the photos.

Nova On it.

Nova The rent is ready: £1,250.00 to your landlord. Your yes?

You Yes.

  • Rent paid
  • Dentist moved to Friday
  • Photos sent to Mum

Nova does the rest, app by app.

Book, pay, reply, reschedule. Nova works through the same apps you would, by voice, and asks before anything goes out in your name. The time comes back to you.

Nova

Nova handled the noise. What's left is yours.

What Nova did

The slides for three o'clock
Nova
Sending them
Nova, after you said so
The route to the bus
Nova
How you explained the tides
Nova, when you asked
A present for your best friend
Nova, after you said yes
The anniversary plans
Nova, after you chose

What you did

The workout
You
The bus you made
You
The evening at the kitchen table
You
The walk to the stop
You
The time
Yours

Coming to your phone

Get Nova first.

Nova isn't out yet. Leave your email and we'll write once, the day it's ready. No noise.

We use your email for one thing: telling you when Nova is ready.

After the credits

A woman's relaxed hands on a meeting-room table, her slides with a bar chart up on the wall screen behind, a gym bag strap on the chairA woman's relaxed hands on a meeting-room table, her slides with a bar chart up on the wall screen behind, a gym bag strap on the chair

Nova Your slides are up on the screen. Good luck.