Toronto-built app claims it can predict when you'll die

What if your phone could tell you how much time you've got left to live? Sure, that sounds like the premise of a cheesy Tubi horror movie, but one made-in-Toronto app is making that very bold claim.

It feels like everyone's trying to hack their way to a longer life, and at this point, longevity and biohacking have been around long enough that they don't even feel like fads anymore. Cryotherapy, supplements, and sleep tracking are all part of a common routine, despite skepticism about how much they really move the needle. 

On the flip side, I'd argue, there's this underlying, undeniable curiosity about how much time we have left. Think back to those slumber party 'would you rather' debates: would you want to know when you're going to die or would you want to remain blissfully unaware?

Toronto developer Travis Weninger, who's built five other apps, including one for discreetly tracking intimate encounters, began working on Memento Mori in January 2025. He says development took about three months and involved up to 15,000 lines of code across many files.

The name for the app comes from the Latin phrase, "remember you will die,” which sounds deeply philosophical or mildly threatening, depending on your perspective.

"The point is to help people live with intention," he tells blogTO. "I always hear things like 'this will make you live longer,' or 'this is bad for you,' and I just wanted to create something that could make that concrete and personal to [the user]."

He says the app is grounded in scientific and medical data drawn from organizations such as the World Health Organization, Health Canada, and the National Institutes of Health. He also notes that a healthcare worker in his family reviewed the app and responded positively.

I will admit I am skeptical, albeit a tad bit curious about this app. So I bit the bullet and paid the one-time $2.99 fee to download it.

I was first prompted to upload certain info, such as my birth date, location, weight, relationship status, heart rate, etc. Then came the part where I had to confess my vices.

I'm approaching 38, and I don't drink alcohol anymore, but my sugar cravings are so aggressive they'd make Veruca Salt look tame. Add in a fondness for, say, a certain type of "greenery," plus the occasional stress cigarette, and, well, you get the idea. (Some things will remain off the record, though, please, my mother could be reading this!)

As much as I enjoy my fair share of sin, I do make a solid effort to stay reasonably healthy by going on long walks, munching on carrots, and doing Pilates.

Having said all that, the Memento Mori app estimates that my less-than-stellar habits (including eating too much sugar and spending way too much time in front of a computer screen) are shaving about 11.2 years off my life.

The goal here isn't shock value, Weninger says.

"For some people, if they have bad habits, being able to visualize the impact can be really powerful, like, 'oh, I didn't realize this was affecting my lifespan that much.' And maybe that helps them get something out of it."

Next, the app flips the script and asks about your virtues: how often you drink water, exercise, whether you meditate, read, do puzzles, take vitamins, all of it. My healthier tendencies (strength training, staying social, drinking the daily recommended amount of water and more) added three years back to my life.

So where does that leave me?

Memento Mori landed on a predicted lifespan of 75.5 years. Truthfully, it was much higher than I was expecting. 

In other words, I've got roughly 37 more years to go, which is the same amount of time I've been alive. Do I go full Billy Madison and treat my second act like a total do-over? Lowkey, I do have a few life moments that need rewriting. 

Perhaps this is the kind of reflection the app is designed to provoke.

"I don't think I want to live forever," Weninger muses. "There are people in the tech community trying to do that, but my question is: for what?"

With Memento Mori, Weninger tried to answer that by letting users add custom countdowns after setting up the app, so instead of just staring at an existential timer, you can plug in things that actually matter, like Christmas with your parents or those vacations you've been looking forward to for years. In that sense, he says, it's less about focusing on death and more about living life to the fullest.

For me personally — and maybe for you, too, reader — seeing my "fate" laid out on screen like this is equal parts fascinating and unnerving. Whether you take it seriously or not, Weninger's app does succeed in making you think a little more carefully about how you're spending your time.

As Weninger puts it, the app can't predict if you'll get smoked by a bus tomorrow, so the real value isn't in the actual number that pops up on screen but in what you decide to do with it.