Most company histories are written to flatter the company. This one is worth reading for a less flattering reason: a cryonics provider's history is also its safety record. If we are asking you to trust an organization to hold a patient at -196°C for decades or longer, the only honest evidence is how it was built, who built it, and whether the structure was designed to survive the people who started it. So here is the actual record, without the gloss.
Tomorrow.bio began in 2019 with a question taken literally: if future medicine plausibly reverses some of today's causes of death, why should anyone be denied the chance to reach that future intact? Not a slogan, a question. The answer the founders arrived at was to offer human cryopreservation as a medical service, with written procedures, trained staff, and an institutional structure built to last. What started as a small team with a narrow mission has grown into one of the main cryonics providers in the world.
The idea came from a researcher who got tired of waiting
The company traces back to Dr. Emil Kendziorra, who spent years in cancer and longevity research before founding it. The frustration that pushed him out of the lab was specific: even when an early result looks promising, the path from result to patient is measured in decades, and many people simply run out of time waiting. Cryopreservation, in that light, is not a fantasy about immortality. It is a bridge across the gap between what medicine can do now and what it might do later. Not a guarantee, a chance. That distinction is the whole company, and we keep repeating it on purpose.
Building a cryonics company, though, takes more than a thesis. It takes someone who can make standby teams, logistics, vehicles, and cross-border legal paperwork actually function. That is where Fernando Azevedo Pinheiro joined as co-founder in 2020, bringing engineering and company-building experience to the operational side. You can read more about both of them in the founders.
The split that makes the whole thing durable
Here is the structural decision that matters most, and it is easy to miss. Tomorrow.bio, the company, provides the service: membership, the medical standby teams, the procedure. It does not, by itself, hold your patient forever. Long-term storage runs through the European Biostasis Foundation (EBF), a separate non-profit in Switzerland that maintains the dewars, runs the facility, and keeps patients stable for as long as needed. The facility sits in Rafz, Switzerland, and the dewars are vacuum-insulated steel, holding -196°C on liquid nitrogen alone rather than on a power supply.
That separation is not bureaucratic tidiness. Cryonics only works if the organization outlives normal business cycles, changes of leadership, and shifts in the market. A company can be acquired or wound down; a purpose-built non-profit foundation, with funding and governance designed for permanence, is meant to survive all of that. We treat the uncomfortable version of this question directly in what happens if the provider fails, and the broader design philosophy in building organizations meant to last. The honest summary: the structure exists precisely so that the failure of any one part does not end with a patient rewarming.
The early years were spent on the boring, load-bearing parts
Tomorrow.bio did not start at the scale it runs at today. The first years went into the unglamorous work that actually determines preservation quality: writing procedures, training personnel, and standing up a medical standby program. The reason is the clock. Cryopreservation is time-sensitive, and the race against cellular decay begins the instant the heart stops. Every minute between legal death and the start of cryoprotection costs structural fidelity, so the company built teams of trained specialists who can travel to a patient, stabilize the body, and prepare it for transport. We walk through exactly how that unfolds in what actually happens the moment you need us.
Once the procedures held, membership grew. People signed up from many countries. Today Tomorrow.bio has more than 800 members across more than 45 countries and over 200 cities, and maintains several patients, both human and animal, already in cryopreservation. In 2024 the company expanded to the United States, a country with a long-standing interest in cryonics, offering U.S. patients the same procedures and storage conditions available in Europe, with the exception of brain-only cryopreservation.
What has not changed, and why we keep saying it
Through all of that growth, one line has stayed fixed: cryopreservation is not a promise of revival. Nobody can revive a cryopreserved human today, and we say so in plain language in why revival is currently not possible. The service exists so that people who want the chance can choose it, with clear eyes about the odds.
The other constant is transparency, and it follows directly from the first. People arrive at cryonics with hard questions about ethics, legality, religion, and family, and the founders' view has always been that you deserve the full picture, costs and limitations included, before making a decision this personal. We even argue against ourselves in print. A provider confident only in its sales pitch hides the downside. A provider confident in its actual structure can afford to show you everything.
The most important fact in this company's history is not how fast it grew. It is that it was built to outlive the people who built it.
That is the through-line from 2019 to now: a narrow, repeatable mission, a deliberate split between a service company and a permanence-minded foundation, and a refusal to oversell. The rest of the field will keep moving, and so will we, but the part worth betting a life on is the part designed not to depend on any single year, market, or founder. More on our ongoing research and development here.