Over the course of his track “Autonomous Delivery Robot,” the artist known as “grandson” rapidly enumerates several novel technologies fundamentally altering basic aspects of modern life. Autonomous delivery robots, self-driving cars in San Francisco, iris-scanners at the airport, and personalized ads at the self-checkout are among those named by the song’s desperate, seemingly paranoid narrator, each one presented in a tone that suggests they are as dehumanizing as they are inescapable.
Aurally reminiscent of some 90s pop-punk, the song may not be for everyone; however, grandson does have a point about how technological improvements, supposedly upgrading so many aspects of life, are perceived as banal and accepted as normal, even as they slowly erode our privacy, autonomy, and humanity. Even something as seemingly innocuous as an autonomous delivery robot can take a person’s job and has the potential to collect endless information on the individuals it passes on the street.
Yet, if grandson had waited just a little longer to release “Autonomous Delivery Robot,” he easily could have included another line concerning the conversation-transcribing necklace flashing on his girlfriend’s neck or the AI-transcription pin twinkling on his producer’s lapel.
For those unfamiliar with the emerging Silicon Valley fad that may soon reshape our professional and even private interactions, there are now several wearable devices, as well as apps that can run on one’s phone or laptop, that enable users to record, or at least transcribe, in-person conversations (or online ones depending on the product) and then take the data gathered and have artificial intelligence work its magic on them.
Descriptions on the websites of the companies selling these products present them as being able to help users “overcome the brain’s limitations,” enhance memory and focus, “stay engaged,” and “stay present,” at least in part by “making convos effortless.”
Users interviewed for an August article from the San Francisco Standard discussed how the devices, which they seem generally to use without consent, allow them to outsource busywork, be more “present” at meetings, better facilitate collaborations with AI assistants, and conduct neat little social experiments at parties.
In other words, the devices give technophiles a new toy that allows them surreptitiously to gather information on those around them and later geek out over what they collected, while also freeing those too lazy for normal adult functioning from the unthinkable burdens of remembering people’s names or paying attention during a “convo.”
Although for some this may sound appealing, the obvious downsides are legion as the devices, even if used by only a small handful of self-styled early adopters, ultimately put everyone in a constant state of having to evaluate everything they might say based on the possible consequences of their words being preserved indefinitely and potentially accessed later by the user, law enforcement, or a mob on social media. Even if company privacy policies boast of ensuring the privacy of wearers, it’s not as if law enforcement has never examined social media posts or smart home recordings.
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Among those interviewed for the San Francisco Standard article, some individuals have already admitted to self-censorship. Others reported observing people adapting their interactions with others to accommodate the AI accessories they assume are listening, by speaking in prompts that the wearables are likely to pick up.
Yet, as unappealing as this addition to our tech-dystopia may sound, proponents interviewed for the article seem to assume the devices will soon become the norm, consent to record will largely be assumed, and, like grandson’s autonomous delivery robot, the devices will ultimately be inescapable.
Daniel Nuccio is a doctoral student in biology and a regular contributor to the College Fix and the Brownstone Institute.
