Your brain tunes out every notification within three days. Funes changes the delivery method before that happens. Today it's a push notification. Tomorrow it's a pigeon.
Every reminder app works the same way. They send you a notification. You dismiss it. You develop immunity within seventy-two hours. Every system assumes you are the same person who set it up. You are not. You have never been.
Thirteen days. Thirteen methods. The cycle resets. Thirteen does not divide evenly into seven. This is intentional.
A standard push notification to your phone. Tappable. Dismissable. Unforgettable, if you choose to remember.
Delivered to your professional email address with the subject line "A gentle nudge from someone who believes in you."
Your manager will be CC'd. We have found it helps.
A certified Funes Field Operative will attend your home during the night. You will not hear them. You will wake to find every north-facing surface covered.
The notes are written by hand. One of them will contain something you have not told anyone. We ask that you do not contact us about this particular note. It is part of the service.
Signal fires are lit on hills visible from your nearest window between 6:15 and 6:45 AM. The smoke forms letters.
If you live somewhere without hills, the hills will be provided. You may notice disturbed earth in the morning. This is normal and will settle.
A kettle of pigeons will arrive between 6:00 and 8:00 AM. Each bird carries one word of your reminder. They will wait until all birds are present and the full message can be read.
They are patient. They have nowhere else to be.
A push notification. Identical in appearance to Day 1.
It will arrive eleven seconds before you unlock your phone. You will check whether you unlocked your phone first. You did not. You will show this to someone you trust. They will look at it for a long time. They will not say anything useful.
He will not introduce himself. He will be somewhere near you and will speak your reminder once, quietly and clearly. The words will reach you from a comfortable and professional distance.
He will then be elsewhere. Your neighbours, if consulted, will have no memory of seeing anyone in the hall.
He has excellent posture.
A volume will appear on your shelf, between two books you cannot clearly remember acquiring. It contains only your reminders, in a font that does not appear in any catalogue. The edition predates your birth.
Stamped inside the front cover: a due date. The due date is today.
A courier arrives with a parcel of unremarkable weight. They require a signature.
The name pre-printed on the clipboard will be yours, but spelled in a way you have not encountered before and cannot now forget. Inside the parcel: your reminder, on a single card. The postmark is dated a week from now.
A rolled map of a city you do not recognise. The streets are named for your appointments. The districts are named for your habits. The river runs in the direction of your most avoided task.
The legend is in your own handwriting. You will have no memory of writing it.
If you follow the map, you will arrive somewhere. Your reminder will be on the door.
Nothing will be different about the mirror.
You will simply find, one morning, that your reflection has already read the reminder and is waiting for you to catch up. It will, if you watch carefully, give a small nod when you have understood.
Our support team cannot take questions about Day 11.
A person arrives with a green filing cabinet. They do not speak. They spend several hours cross-referencing documents you do not remember producing.
When they leave, everything is as it was. Your reminder is now filed under a category you could not have named before but immediately understand to be accurate.
You will be mid-sentence when it happens. The words will leave your mouth in your own voice. The person you are speaking to will notice nothing.
You will have complied before you understood that you were delivering it.
"I've tried every app. Every system. Notion, Things, Todoist, a whiteboard, a therapist who specialised in executive function. Funes is the first thing that has ever made me take my medication on time. I don't know how the Post-It notes got in. My door was locked."Priya S. — Product Manager, London
"The pigeons arrived at my office. All 47 of them. My colleagues thought it was a publicity stunt. I let them think that. I took my medication. I have not missed a dose in four months."Marcus T. — Freelance Developer, Berlin
"On Day 6 I checked my phone's notification log. The timestamp was real. I showed it to a friend who works in software. He looked at it for a long time and then changed the subject. I renewed my annual subscription that afternoon."Rachel O. — UX Researcher, Toronto
"The Gentleman visited on a Thursday. He wore a grey overcoat. He said: 'Your 3pm with Dr Harrow. The results are ready.' He was correct. I have not seen him since, but I have the sense that he is nearby. This has, surprisingly, improved my productivity."David F. — Architect, Edinburgh
"The book was between my copy of Borges and a book I could not account for. I read the book I could not account for first. It contained only a single sentence, repeated across four hundred pages, in diminishing typeface: You already know what you need to do. I found this more useful than I expected."Name withheld — Day 8 User
"I asked customer support what the note said - the one with the thing I hadn't told anyone. They replied: 'We don't write the notes.' I asked who did. They replied: 'We don't write the notes.' I have elected to treat this as reassuring."Tom A. — Journalist, Melbourne
Simple plans. Transparency guaranteed for the first seven days. After that, pricing remains the same but we cannot speak for everything else.