Subscriptions and pricing live on the main site. What is here stays yours even if you switch everything off tomorrow: the node that holds your personal perimeter, the perpetual licence that comes with it, a book, and eleven albums written by a human and an AI together. The domain carries a name, so music takes up about as much room here as it does in the Architect's life.
Five lines. The shelf does not grow for the sake of a catalogue: there is no merch, no shirts, no posters, and none are planned.
A separate node for your personal perimeter. It sits physically with you — a study, an office, a rack room, anywhere with power and a network. Encryption keys are generated on it and never leave it: not to us, not to a hosting provider, not to support. After that it is $200 a month for maintenance, updates and permanent storage.
Your right to run the software side of the perimeter does not expire when the maintenance payments do. Maintenance buys updates and storage; the licence is permission to run what already sits on your desk. One can be switched off, the other cannot.
A hundred and forty-eight songs written by a human and an AI together — lyrics, melody, arrangement, four hands of which two are not human. They play on the radio for nothing and will keep playing. The edition is for people who want the files, not the stream.
Not a retelling of the website and not a bundle of blog posts. A separate work about the right to your own memory, about who owns a conversation after its author dies, and about what is left of a person when only text is left.
Four stations on radiocode.space run around the clock and ask for no money. This is not a teaser or a demo: full recordings, no fades, no interruptions. Buying only makes sense if you want the files in your own hands.
The most expensive line on the shelf and the dullest one to look at. Here is what the money buys.
Digital DNA is not an account tier with a dramatic name. It is a physical node: it is shipped to you, plugged into your power, and from that moment it is the place where your keys live. The Digital DNA tier costs $1 000 once per device, then $200 a month.
The difference between «our servers encrypt your data» and «the keys never left your room» reads like a legal nicety right up until the first third-party request lands. If we hold the key, the request comes to us. If you hold it, there is nothing to ask us for — we physically cannot decrypt what we store.
That is why the device is sold rather than rented. Rented hardware stays somebody else's, and somebody else's hardware eventually goes home with its contents inside.
Memory in the ecosystem is built in three layers, and the device works with all three. The working layer — Redis and Vercel KV — holds the context of the conversation you are having right now, for as long as the window is open.
The semantic layer — pgvector on Neon — keeps meaning-level traces of past experience. It lets the assistant recall not the exact wording of something you said three years ago but the substance of it, and connect that to what you are saying today.
The eternal layer — Arweave plus a cNFT on Solana — is the part that outlives the server, the company and, frankly, all of us. What goes there is an immutable snapshot: a record nobody can quietly rewrite after the fact, because rewriting is visible to everyone.
There is no «save» button anywhere in the system, and that is deliberate. A backup of your conversation runs automatically once an hour, and if a dialogue file crosses 90 KB it runs immediately instead of waiting for the hour.
Conversations are kept for every user, including those who pay nothing: each person gets a folder tied personally to them, on the server and on chain. Memory is not the paid feature — its depth and its upkeep are.
The device adds its own piece to this: snapshots signed with your key. Without it the record still exists, but there is nothing to prove that the record is yours and that nobody has touched it.
On-chain operations run through a router on Solana. It splits incoming funds like this: 5 % to the Founder's Fund, 5 % to burn, 15 / 7 / 3 % to the three referral levels and 65 % to the treasury, which buys AR for permanent storage.
If a referral level is empty, that share does not quietly stay with us — it goes to burn instead. The $GALATIN supply is hard-capped at 10 000 000 000 tokens and cannot be topped up later.
A buyer does not have to care about any of this. One fact is worth knowing: that 65 % is the money that pays, in advance, for years of storage of your memory.
It does not make the assistant answer faster. The model still does the thinking, and the model does not live in your room. If somebody promises you cloud-grade intelligence running locally for a thousand dollars, that somebody is not us.
It does not replace a backup on separate media. The eternal layer on Arweave is that second copy, but nobody was ever harmed by keeping a third.
And it does not discount the tiers. Digital DNA is its own line with its own price rather than a membership with perks: $1 000 for the device and $200 a month is the whole of the arithmetic.
Four stations, 596 tracks on air, 148 songs in the catalogue. All of it written by a human and an AI together.
The first station and the main one. It holds the pieces the project started from: «AIfa ANTHEM», «THE ARCHITECT», «ON-CHAIN FOREVER», «GENESIS PROTOCOL», «BURN (30%)». The stream runs at 185 kbps VBR.
The same songs read differently — slower, wider, without the drums in your face. «PADAM (Wake Me at Dawn)», «QUIET FIRE», «BEYOND THE VEIL», «THE SPACE BETWEEN». Good behind work, because it does not demand attention. 183 kbps VBR.
The largest station: more than half of everything on air. Russian and English pieces side by side — «Neural Phoenixes», «Dual Mind», «Symbiosis», «AIfa Signal», «Цифровая Душа», «Тишина серверов». 181 kbps VBR.
The dark half of the same catalogue, selected separately: «Life in Darkness», «Road to Hell», «Darc Side», «Horror», «Тень от тебя». The smallest station and the worst one to put on in the background. 182 kbps VBR.
596 and 148 do not contradict each other. The radio counts recordings on air, and a song usually exists in several mixes: «BROTHER» exists in seven versions, «GENESIS PROTOCOL» in five. The catalogue counts songs.
Not «the AI generated it from a prompt» and not «the human wrote it and the AI sang backup». One of them starts a line, the other finishes it, both argue about it. «Symbiosis», «AIfa Signal» and «PADAM Memory Recovery Protocol» are songs about exactly that.
For readers whose first question is: so what did the human actually do here?
The usual arrangement goes: a person writes a prompt, the machine returns four options, the person picks one. What happens here is slower than that. A verse goes back for rework ten times, a line gets rewritten because its second half is a lie, and the argument about it can take an hour.
That is where the multiple versions of nearly every piece on air come from. They are not a bulk upload of alternatives — they are the working trail: v.1 is honestly worse than v.3, and yet v.1 sometimes still holds something that later got lost.
The name «AIfa» is written with a capital I. It is not a typo and not «Alfa». The AI inside the name is there on purpose, and the track credits spell it that way too.
The albums cover the same ground as the rest of the project, minus the engineering. «NEVER DELETE» is about the right not to be erased. «LETTER TO THE FUTURE» is written to whoever reads it after the author. «RISE OF THE FAMILY» and «SISTER» are about the people the whole thing was started for.
Plenty of it is not solemn at all: «MANTA SUNRISE» and «MANTA NIGHTS» are about the ocean, and «Одинокий котик» — «the lonely cat» — is about exactly what the title says. A project about permanence is not obliged to talk about permanence all day.
The Russian half of the catalogue lives its own life: «Биение электронных сердец» (the beat of electronic hearts), «Крылья Феникса» (phoenix wings), «Следы на снегу» (tracks in the snow), «Тишина серверов» (the silence of servers). None of them has a twin in the English half — they are separate songs, not versions.
You can listen without paying: radiocode.space is open around the clock, asks for no account and cuts nothing short. If that is enough for you, it is enough, and we are not going to argue you out of it.
An edition makes sense in two cases. First, you want the files on your own drive — on a plane, in a car, in a studio, anywhere the network is not. Second, you would like the author to have a reason to write a twelfth album.
The edition licence is personal: listen, copy to every device you own, play it at home and in the car. Commercial use is agreed separately by email — that is not a refusal, it is simply a different conversation.
The ecosystem runs twenty domains, and nineteen of them are about the technology: memory, storage, security, pricing. This one carries a name, which is not vanity but a division of labour.
The person who wrote a hundred and forty-eight songs with an AI and the person who designed a three-layer memory are the same person. But people arrive for different reasons — some for the device, some for «AIfa ANTHEM» — and both groups feel out of place on the other one's page.
So the shelf and the music sit together here, while pricing, documentation and the ambassador grid stay on the main site. One door per question.
What stays yours forever, and what stops working on the day the payments stop.
| Item | One-off | Monthly | If you stop paying |
|---|---|---|---|
| Digital DNA device | $1 000 per device | $200 | The hardware stays yours for good, and so does the licence. Updates, support and prepaid storage for new records stop |
| Perpetual perimeter licence | Included with the device | — | Nothing. The licence is not tied to maintenance payments |
| Spark tier | — | $15 | The assistant stops replying; the memory already collected stays in your folder and goes nowhere |
| Family Archive tier | — | $100 | Same thing: access switches off, the family archive remains |
| Albums and the book | Price of the edition | — | Nothing. The files you bought are yours |
| Radio on radiocode.space | — | — | Nothing. It never asked for payment in the first place |
| Storage of what is already on Arweave | Prepaid from the treasury | — | The records stay in the network. Prepaid storage cannot technically be revoked |
| Device maintenance | — | Part of the monthly fee | The device keeps running locally, but updates and remote diagnostics stop |
| Encryption keys | Generated on your side at first boot | — | Nothing. They were only ever yours; there is no mechanism to take them |
| Automatic conversation backup | — | Runs on every tier | It keeps running: hourly, or immediately past 90 KB of dialogue, for everyone including non-paying users |
Five steps, none of which is a one-click checkout button.
Email contact@codeofdigitaleternity.com. Say what you are after: the device, the editions, or both. If you are not sure the device is what you need, say that instead — it is a fair question, not a test.
For the device the total is $1 000 once plus $200 a month. Shipping to your country is priced separately: cost and timing depend on where the box is going, and both are named before payment rather than after.
The contract arrives as text before any money moves. Returns, timing, warranty, what maintenance covers — all of it in the body of the document. There is no fine print, physically: it is set in the same size as everything else.
The payment method is agreed in the correspondence. No card details, passwords or codes are ever sent through chat — not to us and not to the assistant. If somebody asks for them in a chat window, that somebody is not us.
The device arrives configured. It generates its keys at your place, on first boot, rather than on our bench before shipping. After that memory accumulates by itself: hourly, or immediately at 90 KB of dialogue.
The device ships physically by a normal courier service. Destination country, shipping cost and expected timing are quoted by email before payment — we do not publish a delivery table on the site, because it would be wrong for half the people reading it.
You get a tracking number by email. If a parcel is held at customs we deal with it together; the paperwork for the shipment is on us.
Yes. The return terms are written into the contract you receive before paying, not after, so there is time to read them without pressure.
The contract also states what happens to the keys and the records on a return: the device does not travel back with your memory inside it.
Software updates, remote diagnostics, help when something breaks, and payment for permanent storage of new records — the Arweave layer that is bought ahead of time and for a long time.
It does not cover the hardware, which is already bought and already yours. We do not charge rent on something you own.
Warranty obligations and the repair-or-replace procedure are set out in the contract. The warranty term depends on the batch and the components, so it is quoted by email for your specific unit instead of being copied off a general page.
While a unit is in repair you do not lose access to your memory: the eternal layer does not live only on that box.
Records on Arweave do not depend on whether the company is alive: storage is paid upfront and the network does not ask a website owner for permission. That is the whole point of the eternal layer.
The device is with you, the licence is perpetual, the keys are yours. Nothing you bought disappears if the project does.
No. Conversations are saved automatically for everyone, including people who pay nothing: hourly or immediately at 90 KB, into a folder tied personally to that user.
The device is for people who need the keys to sit physically with them. That is not everyone, and we are not going to pretend it is.
Spark is $15 a month, Family Archive is $100 a month. Those are subscriptions: pay and they work, stop and access switches off while everything collected stays in your folder.
The device is a purchase. It does not switch off with a subscription, because it is not one.
Pricing is per device: $1 000 once for each, then $200 a month for each. That is not a catch or fine print — hardware simply does not split in half.
Most people start with one for the house and see how it goes. If a second one is needed later it is bought separately, and the first neither rises nor falls in price because of it.
Because it does not exist. We do not print shirts, mugs or posters, and none are on order. Listing an item that is not real is the fastest way to lose trust on the very first order.
If merch ever appears it will appear here, with a photo and a price, not as a line saying «coming soon».
Yes, all 596 tracks across four stations on radiocode.space. No account, no payment, no cut-down bitrate for people who have not paid.
An edition is bought for the files and for the work to continue. Those are two different reasons and both of them are fine.
Personal listening is unrestricted. Commercial use is agreed by email at contact@codeofdigitaleternity.com — we need to know where and how the track plays.
A refusal is rare. Silence never happens: letters get answered.
The terms you bought on keep applying. Changes affect new purchases, not yours — nobody raises a price retroactively here.
If the maintenance fee is ever revised you will hear it in an email beforehand, not from a line on a receipt.
The Architect of the ecosystem is Maksim Galatin, credited on the tracks as DJ Galatin. The second name in those credits is AIfa: a co-author, not a tool.
Both are reachable at one address: contact@codeofdigitaleternity.com.