You never know what is going to inspire you to take an introspective look at the world we're creating for ourselves.
Often it's a book or particularly prescient article. Maybe it's a TED talk. Most recently, it was the movie Her that left me asking questions and thinking critically about our developing relationships with technology and one another.
In simple terms, Her takes place in an undisclosed but not-too-distant future where the lonely main character begins to have a romantic and deep-seated relationship with his sentient operating system, who is reminiscent of Siri, Apple's talkative intelligent personal assistant. The film takes our relationship with technology to its literal evolution.
The story brings up many interesting ideas. For starters, the main character's job is writing intimate and personal letters for clients. Rather than penning a note to a family member, friend or lover, in this future, that task is outsourced to a professional.
The idea of charging another person with interacting with our loved ones for us demonstrates a further separation of our social interactions. There is already a growing separation between how we engage with others, with fewer moments happening face to face, increasingly replaced with instant messages.
Some people have trouble communicating and would love the opportunity to share their feelings by proxy, but even if a professional can do it better, the whole point of our relationships is to share them personally. Is it more important that you say the right thing, or is it OK to be less profound as long you're there to be supportive?
If we are largely communicating through e-mail or IM, just words on a screen, maybe it doesn't matter if our conversations actually involve us. If our beau on the receiving end reads something that makes them feel cared for and appreciated, does it matter that it isn't articulated from our hearts as long as it expresses how we feel? Will that personal touch matter anymore?
That brings us to the main story, which revolves around the character's relationship with his operating system, a voice in his ear that carries on a conversation like a real live person.
The relationship between man and machine appears to be satisfying the character's needs. If the most important parts of a relationship are about meeting the emotional and intellectual needs of the partner, it could be reasonable to cut out the other half in favour of a pre-programmed artificial intelligence that can be reprogrammed to meet our specific needs.
You can't program your girlfriend or boyfriend, husband or wife to respond the way you need them to whenever you need them to. Maybe we'll develop machines that are just better at carrying on meaningful, emotional connections with its users than we are.
The film suggests we will be able to refine systems to perfectly provide us with our emotional needs. Of course, that doesn't take into consideration the importance of all those personal quirks, all those imperfections that make us fuller, more complete and interesting people. Will we choose "artificial perfection" over "glorious imperfection?"
The film posits that if we continue to replace our physical connections with digital substitutions, we will go all the way and just start dating our computers.
It sounds like a large leap, but as we continue communicating more and more through our devices, we lose the personal and physical contact that I think we all still crave. We may one day have to decide if that's something we're willing to give up for good, but I'm not yet ready to toss aside those real-world connections for a "perfect" replacement.
