The Living Story Company
The Lighthouse
Landfall
Copperheart
Driftwood
My Robot Friend
In VR
The Lighthouse
Somebody has to keep the light on. This is the room you do it from: the hour becomes the note, on a computer in your building, with your name on it.
28 screens in one workspace, seventeen expressive studios, up to 173 tools you can send, seven ways to dress it, 31 sculpted objects, and 661 checks before a release. Every one of those numbers is read from the Lighthouse’s own code when this page is built.
On the computer in your office. The Lighthouse installs there and keeps its database there. The hour is heard on that machine, the note is written on it, and the file stays on its disk.
The record stays in your building.
That is the first fact about the Lighthouse, and you can watch it happen.
Five scenes of a Tuesday.
One day in the room, in the order it happens.
It stays in your building.
The Lighthouse is software you install, like a lamp you own. Your clients’ history sits on the machine in your office, your backups go where you choose, encrypted with a key that is yours, and every job an AI does is listed with where it runs: on this computer, or at a company you named.
Press record. Close the laptop. The note is waiting.
The ears are a listening program on your own computer and the brain a small model on the same machine. Both work with the internet off, so the hour stays in the room, and a closed lid is just a closed lid. The draft arrives in your document, with your sections and your wording.
Every sentence stands on a line of the hour.
Each line drawn from the session carries the transcript it came from, and you can follow any sentence back to the moment it was said. Risk, diagnosis and medical necessity arrive marked for your decision. Your signature is what makes it a record.
Send a tool. A receipt comes back.
Your client has a world of their own: an island, a voyage or a shore. Choose a tool here in one tap and it opens on their phone; when they use it, their world’s own record comes home to their card. Up to 173 tools are yours to send.
Every screen is a canvas. You arrange it.
Tiles you move, resize, put away and bring back; the whole room dressed in any of seven skins; a video room that is also a sand tray, with seventeen studios for the things that arrive before words.
Every room of the day, at full length, is kept on the whole page.
Twenty things a provider should know.
Each one read from the Lighthouse’s own code, and shown on the screen it lives in.
- The record stays in your building.
An installed copy listens only on the computer it runs on.
Sign-in is the door.An installed copy requires it, and an unclear setting stops the start rather than guessing.
Your AI can run on your own machine.Ollama, MLX builds included, on the computer in your office.
A cloud brain only when you choose it.A new practice starts in-house. The cloud is a setting you turn on.
When in doubt, words stay in.An unreadable setting is treated as in-house.
The Eraser goes first.Identifying details are removed before anything reaches a cloud and restored in the answer. You can ask to see what would be sent before it goes.
Every answer carries a receipt.Which brain answered, where it ran, and whether the words left the practice.
An AI read is an audited read.When a brain reads a client’s record, the audit log records it.
The audit log keeps the who and the what, and leaves the content out.Reads, writes, exports and sign-ins, exportable as CSV.
The Compliance Officer counts.Notes owed and notes needing attention, at the strictness you set: Soft, Standard or Critical.
- A signed note is locked.
A later change goes in as an addendum, in its own right.
The drafter is held to the transcript.It is told to use only what the transcript says.
Every sentence has an anchor.Each line of a draft points at the transcript line that supports it. A sentence with none is caught automatically.
- Group video on your own Mac.
A LiveKit server the Lighthouse runs on the practice’s machine.
Consent at the door.In a group, only members who agreed to your documents are transcribed. When the documents change, an earlier agreement lapses.
Booking on the practice’s clock.Free times are worked out from your own settings, and a time just taken is turned away with a 409.
Outside calendars come in, yours goes out.ICS feeds are read into the one calendar, a future event that vanishes from its feed is removed, and your calendar is served as a keyed .ics feed.
Blue leads a team.Keeper, Client Coordinator, Clinical Coordinator, Compliance Officer, Banker, Companion, and the members you add.
Backups travel encrypted.An offsite backup is sealed with your passphrase: scrypt, then X25519.
- Assign, and a receipt comes home.
A client pairs a phone to their own record. You send work to their world, and the receipt returns to the record.
Thirty-five days up the tower, with Jessy.
The Lighthouse has a course of its own, for you: five weeks, a day at a time. The first week it teaches itself, one thing a day; then the windows of the worlds your clients carry home; the last week is the lamp room. Jessy walks up with you, and on day ten she tells you who she is. In his words: “blue finally made herself into a girl.”
Blue works here too, and she has a team.
The same Blue your clients meet on Landfall, and the same one who climbs with you as Jessy. Her office is where you shape her: what she may say between your hours, and in which voice. Her team each has one job: the Keeper, the Client Coordinator, the Clinical Coordinator, the Compliance Officer, the Banker, the Companion, and the members you add in your own words.
Somebody has to keep the light on.
The worlds your clients walk into were built by a father who knew he was running out of time, for a child who was frightened. His time was short, so he built things that would answer in his place, and the promise he made was that something would always answer. You are the part of that promise a piece of software leaves to a person. This is the room you keep it from.
One seat for the therapist. One world for the person.
The Lighthouse is the provider’s. A world is the person’s.
$49.99
a month · the therapist. The whole workspace, installed on your own computer. A full refund in the first thirty days.
$19.99
a month · the person. Bought by the person, for the person. It pairs with a therapist's Lighthouse if they run one, and it works just as well on its own.
Three paired clients and the seat is half price. Five, and it is free.
A client who pairs their world with your Lighthouse pays down your seat.
Start when you are ready.
Tell us what you want to start with, and we set you up: the seat, a world, or both.
The whole Lighthouse, room by room.
Every chapter at full length is kept on its own page: the hour, the note, your building, their phone, your screen and its skins, the room, the studio, the Climb day by day, Blue’s office, the commercials, the quickstart films, and how it was made.