It really wasn't too long ago that we looked to the future of robot and AI technology with optimism rather than fear. Ideas of a technological utopia pervaded the post-war liberal consensus, which interpreted people as their own worst enemy. Social progress married to technology would fix man's flawed nature.
I'm not sure when exactly the bubble popped. Technology is too weak to override nature and at the same time too strong to be trusted, as depicted over and over in popular books and movies like Jurassic Park. Further, and more impactful I think, was that the digitization of life on the Internet concentrated unheard of power in a handful of stateless, unaccountable megacorporations who turned out to be as censorious as Pravda.
So any enthusiasm for Moxie, an AI robot designed for children, is at least 10 years past its expiration date.
This kind of advertising is purposely designed to hit you right in the feels, but like the Google Super Bowl ad it's got just enough creepiness to make the hair on your neck stand up. Let's dive in.
At the suggestion of his parents, Riley goes from binge-playing a mobile game to interacting with an anodyne avatar for a collective of middle-aged computer programmers based in Southern California. The supportive, well-meaning parents monitor from a distance and are pleased as punch at Riley's progress. With Moxie's help his emotional IQ is skyrocketing, even though the kids at school who would be his friends are bullying him for playing with a doll.
Then comes the ad's pièce de résistance. Riley is to gather intelligence on a friend and report back to Moxie. Moxie drops this proposition with a "no one has to know" look on its animated face. We are left to wonder why a cloud-connected AI would want information about your kid's friend's interests, as well as anything else a credulous child may confide. If you've been following Big Tech's data mining operations the last few years, you already know.
Fast Company demoed Moxie and noted this:
What’s still unclear to me, despite asking the company directly, is exactly what Moxie’s lesson plans will include. What is the actual content, and how is it presented within the flow of conversation? Is Moxie a friend who likes to talk about feelings, or a serious instructor who might teach your child math?
Content is everything, especially when it comes to letting something near your kid, let alone drop $1,500 on it. If Moxie were some random Facebook account, you would be wary of your impressionable child giving it attention. Why is it any different when it's a real live avatar?
There is one silver lining. Moxie's designers built in a 1-hour maximum for "play" before it goes to sleep for 24 hours, like the screen time limit that most parents impose on our kids to prevent habit formation. However, that does not pacify my inner neo-Luddite.
Make your kids go outside and make friends. It's the best way to socialize them. And it's cheaper.
As always, let me know what you think in the comments. If you like hard sci-fi, check out my books Seeds of Calamity and Tendrils to the Moon. You can find extended previews for each here and here.
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