A letter that comes alive in your hands
How everything looks on 1 October 2025
Imagine opening your browser and seeing a calm prompt:
“Hi, record a message.”
A selfie?—Yes. The camera captures a warm, front-facing smile and asks you to turn your head slightly. On the screen, a 3-D “me” is already rotating—as though I’m looking at myself through clear glass.
I record my voice:
“Dear daughter, when you open this letter you’ll be eighteen …”
The sound wave pulses; the avatar leans forward a little, as if inhaling the words. For the backdrop I choose “family room”: a brick fireplace, empty frames. I drag in my parents’ old wedding photo and my daughter’s drawing—they slip into golden passe-partouts, and a candle on the table ignites a gentle light.
I press Create. Before the thrill even cools, a short link and QR code appear. Five minutes from a passing thought to a finished marvel.
What the recipient experiences
On her eighteenth birthday my daughter receives a QR postcard and points her camera. In a heartbeat a round living room unfolds; the fire in the hearth flickers. Out of thin air appears a familiar figure—Dad as he is today, alive, breathing:
“Hi, sweetheart …”
The warm voice trembles. My daughter swipes her finger: on the left, her childhood drawing; on the right, Grandma’s photo. Her heart lurches—she wants to reply. She taps the microphone icon and whispers:
“Dad, I got into university … thank you.”
The recording flies back into the capsule; a notification flares on my phone, and I hear her words.
Old phone? Perfect—if motion is too heavy, a bright panoramic photo loads instead, but the voice still plays. Even on a slow connection the capsule stretches open—perhaps with a single extra sigh—and the magic holds.
Why it touches us
- Stronger than any video. It isn’t a flat clip—it’s a living room with a talking companion.
- No special gear. Two photos, a microphone, imagination—nothing more.
- No fear of loss. The link lives for ninety-nine years; erase it with one click if you wish.
- Room to grow. Beneath the message awaits an Expand button: add a kitchen, a garden, invite friends—the letter becomes an entire world.
April 2026 — Step Two
- The avatar now speaks with moving lips, sparkling eyes, and a bright smile.
- Time-of-day shifts: morning ray, high noon, evening candle.
- Collective letter—several relatives record messages; avatars speak in turn.
- Guest lists, access windows, one-time keys—privacy under a microscope.
- “How many hearts you’ve warmed” timer shows the countries where your message is viewed.
- For remote areas—an autonomous player with an embedded key: the capsule stays nearby, even offline.
What’s next
This autumn we’ll give everyone the chance to preserve a voice, a look, a warmth—and pass them into the future. And in spring we’ll open the door to full-fledged SEOMA worlds-universes, where the capsule becomes the first room in a great house of memory and dreams.
I believe our present needs such a quiet miracle.
On 1 October a portal at least ninety-nine years long will open.
All that remains is to take the step.
Warmly,
Lazar