Dave Frank
Chief Content Officer
I remember when AI first started to hit the commercial markets and became available as a tool the general public could use. Most people attribute that moment to ChatGPT or other AI assistant software, but we had been experiencing it long before. Facial recognition and tagging in Google Photos, Grammarly edit suggestions, cute (but rudimentary) FaceTime filters—we didn’t consider these things AI, but they certainly were. Even way before that, AI was beginning to accelerate simple tasks at every stage.
The difference between then and now is that AI wasn’t inherently “fun.” It didn’t have a pre-built personality. It couldn’t tell jokes, set reminders, or do anything that would ultimately lead to its addictive nature or humanizing characteristics. Now, we can tell our AI companions the kinds of dispositions we prefer in them as work partners, how often to crack a joke, or to intellectually challenge us and broaden our minds.
But when does it stop being fun?
I recently bought a Mel Robbins book to read alongside a coworker. We planned to read on our own and then discuss it together in our little two-person book club. We were two humans, reading a book a human wrote, to have human conversations about it later. It felt nice to have this small thing to myself, something I could share with a friend.
One busy weekend, I looked for an audiobook version of the book so I could clean the house and get through a few chapters. I found what seemed to be an audiobook on one of the main streaming platforms. Turns out, it was a podcast that broke down the book chapter by chapter, discussing the ins and outs of what they thought the author was saying in the text. It was a typical podcast, with intros, greetings, disclaimers, conversation, and banter—very similar in essence to what my friend and I would be doing together after finishing the book.
Except for one big difference: the podcast was AI.
All of it. The dialogue? AI-generated scripts for a two-person podcast. The voices? AI speech models rendering the script. They even remembered to include all the little nuances like momentary interruptions between the hosts, affirmations, disagreements, etc. At one point, the male AI host tells the audience that if they want to skip the in-app ads, they can pay for a subscription to the podcast for ad-free listening.
This AI podcast had sponsorships. Wow.
An entire specific ecosystem of human interaction had been condensed into a singular AI-driven journey.
The reason I bring this up is because I personally see a very short fall between moments like this and a large portion of the population relying on AI for advice, companionship, empathy, and connection. I have no doubt in my mind that AI chat models are already being used by people in this way.
This progression of AI integration has occurred so rapidly, not just because of the advancements we’ve made in AI. It has occurred because it is easy. It’s easy to have AI give us advice. It’s easy for AI to proofread or give us feedback. It doesn’t require a greeting, catching up, awkward silences, or plans to meet again in the future.
Isolation is easy when we have a big hunk of nothing to keep us company.
Relationships—true, human relationships—are not easy. They require work, faith, dedication, time, energy, emotion. At times, they require the courage to even find them in the first place. I know that AI has its place in the world, and I certainly don’t see that changing anytime soon. But I sure hope its place in the world doesn’t solidify at the expense of our own.
Meet others, even when it’s awkward. Reach out, even when it’s hard. Fight, bicker, laugh, ignore, reconnect, break up, break the ice. These are the small intricacies we will slowly begin to sacrifice and find replacements for—but they are what make true human connection irreplaceable.
_________
Connect with someone who understands on WhiteFlag: a free, anonymous, peer support network. Now!
Your feedback matters!
Comments