There is a fair question buried under any founder page: why should the people who started a company tell you about themselves? For most companies the answer is marketing. For a cryonics provider it is closer to due diligence. You are trusting an organization with a decision that cannot be undone, so the relevant facts about its founders are not their charisma but their incentives, their competence, and whether they are likely to still be doing this in twenty years. With that framing, here are the two people who built Tomorrow.bio, and the specific reason each one matters to a member.
Dr. Emil Kendziorra, the scientist who left the lab on purpose
Emil Kendziorra, CEO and co-founder, is German and graduated summa cum laude from the University of Göttingen. Emil Kendziorra, CEO and co-founder, is German, trained as a medical doctor, and graduated summa cum laude from the University of Göttingen. He spent several years in cancer research, drawn to it because he wanted to push longevity science forward, and left it for a blunt reason: the pace of academic progress frustrated him, because promising results so often arrive too late for the patients who need them. He had been a member of the U.S. provider Alcor for years, and concluded that Europe needed its own professional cryopreservation provider and that the field as a whole needed to move faster.
The detail worth weighing is what he did next. Having already founded and sold two companies, he could have started a third. Instead he has stated plainly that Tomorrow.bio is his life's work and that he has no intention of ever starting another company. For a service that only succeeds if the organization persists for decades, a founder who has publicly closed the exit door is a meaningful signal, not a slogan. Emil also sits on the board of the European Biostasis Foundation, the non-profit that runs the storage facility. That foundation was created by people with years of experience in biostasis; its board is self-amending, and under Swiss law its members receive no compensation for the role. The point of that arrangement is to remove the profit motive from the part of the system that has to last the longest, a design we explore in building organizations meant to last.
Fernando Azevedo Pinheiro, the engineer who makes the ambulance show up
Fernando Azevedo Pinheiro, COO and co-founder, is Brazilian and studied civil and industrial engineering at the Federal University of Santa Catarina. He began as a planning engineer, then moved to Rocket Internet's Latin America headquarters in São Paulo, holding manager and C-level roles, CEO and COO, across their portfolio companies, before co-founding two digital businesses of his own. After years in technology he wanted a project with a real and lasting impact, and when he met Emil in 2020 the idea of giving people a genuine choice about how long they live made immediate sense. He joined as co-founder and, like Emil, is in it for the long haul.
Why an operator matters as much as a scientist becomes obvious the moment you look at what cryopreservation actually requires. The best perfusion protocol in the world is worthless if the standby team cannot reach the patient in time, cross a border with the right paperwork, and run the cooling sequence under pressure. That protocol replaces the patient's blood with a cryoprotectant solution so the tissue vitrifies as it cools, setting into a glass-like state rather than forming ice. Turning the science into a team that actually arrives, with the logistics, vehicles, and procedures behind it, is an engineering and operations problem. That is the half of the company that determines whether the medicine ever gets a chance to work, and you can see it play out in what actually happens the moment you need us.
Why the pairing is the actual feature
The two roles are complementary in a way that is structural rather than decorative. Emil makes sure every procedure is evidence-based and as advanced as current science allows, and is candid where the science runs out, including saying outright that revival is currently not possible. Fernando makes sure the whole company runs: standby teams, logistics, partnerships, and growth into new countries. Neither half works alone. A brilliant protocol with no operational reach preserves nobody; flawless logistics around weak medicine preserves nobody well.
That division also explains the company's habit of arguing against itself. A founder who treats this as his last company, paired with one who has to make the hard logistics real every day, has little use for hype and every reason to be straight with you. The honesty is not a personality trait bolted on for the brand. It falls out of the incentives.
The relevant fact about these founders is not their resumes. It is that one has no intention of ever leaving, and the other spends his time making sure the medicine can actually reach you.
That is the partnership behind the company's history: scientific grounding on one side, operational durability on the other, and a shared bet that this is worth dedicating decades to. For a decision that has to hold up over a very long time, the people making it have arranged their own lives to hold up over the same span.