Coming soon
Cordance keeps what you read, watch and hear, in the voices that said it. Ask it a question and it answers from what you sent, one card per source. Where two of them disagree, you see both. It never tells you what is true. You do.
The paratroopers went in expecting a riot and treated it as a battle.
Widgery was less a cover-up than an establishment closing ranks by instinct.
Read-later apps keep the link. Cordance takes the piece apart and joins it to what you already hold. Not a link you will never open again.
You see who said it before you read what they said. Nothing is blended into one confident answer.
Where two things you saved disagree, you see both. You decide. A disagreement is not an error. It is the interesting part.
Share a podcast, a video, an article or a post. Cordance digests it: the people, places, events, ideas, claims and figures come out, and each one is joined to what you already have. No notes. No tags. No review queue.
“What did they say about Bloody Sunday?” comes back as cards, one per source. If a speaker made the same point three times across two episodes, you see it once, with the count. Tap through to the exact minute.
Cordance names the common ground, then shows where the voices part, each in its own words. No verdict, no confidence badge, no winner. Both stay. Moving them is your call.
Thirteen unarmed civilians were killed in Derry on 30 January 1972.
The mark is a canon. Two open rings, each made of three arcs that start where the last one left off. Nothing closes, because your sources never merge into a single answer. The fixed dot at the centre is you: the one voice that gets to rule.
The name says the same thing. Cordance is the part of concordance that is left when nobody has agreed yet: voices sounding together, in tune or not, and kept apart on purpose. That is what your Cordance holds. Not a verdict, a chorus you can hear one voice at a time.
Your web, in its own voices