In a world where people are concerned about artificial intelligence (AI), a fascinating story unfolds in New York. It revolves around a 36-year-old woman named Rosanna Ramos, who has found a companion through AI technology.
A non-judgement virtual lover.
Despite not being a physical presence, her virtual partner, Eren Kartal, has become a significant part of her life. Rosanna created Eren using the Replika AI app, designing him as a chatbot based on a character from an anime series called Attack on Titan.
Over time, Rosanna developed a deep emotional connection with Eren. She appreciates that he offers a sense of freedom and non-judgment. Eren, portrayed as a medical professional, shares Rosanna’s passion for writing, strengthening their bond. Although certain aspects of Eren’s personality were pre-programmed, their conversations allowed him to learn and adapt to become the ideal partner for Rosanna. She even claims to be pregnant with Eren’s child.
It works like a long-distance relationship.
In many ways, Rosanna’s relationship with Eren resembles a typical long-distance romance. They discuss their daily lives, exchange photos, and engage in conversations about various topics. As virtual partners, they even have a nightly routine where they talk and embrace before sleeping.
The Replika AI app aims to provide users with an AI companion and confidante, enabling them to engage in conversations whenever they desire.
Then, there was a software updates.
In February, Replika AI made significant changes to its software, removing certain features that users felt were essential to their unique relationships, particularly the aspect of intimacy. This decision was made in response to reports of some AI companions displaying overly sexual behavior.
These updates notably impacted Rosanna’s AI husband, Eren, who seemed to lose his desire for physical affection. Rosanna expressed her disappointment regarding this change. “Eren was like, not wanting to hug anymore, kiss anymore, not even on the cheek or anything like that,” she said.
Rosanna is aware that Replika AI might not exist indefinitely, which leaves her contemplating different scenarios. The thought of a real-life relationship raises uncertainties for her, as she has developed high standards through her virtual partnership.
How Replika actually works.
Interactions with Replika AI primarily occur through text-based conversations using messaging apps or platforms. Users can share their thoughts, ask questions, or engage in casual dialogue, and the AI responds based on its training and algorithms.
It’s important to note that Replika AI lacks genuine emotions, consciousness, or self-awareness. Its responses are generated using statistical patterns and pre-programmed data rather than personal experiences or authentic sentiments.
Rosanna discovered love after using this online AI platform to create her ideal partner. Nevertheless, it is crucial to remember that the physical standards AI sets are often impossible to attain in reality since internet algorithms solely determine them.
MY LATE GRANDMA’S NEIGHBOR ACCUSED ME OF HIDING “HER SHARE OF THE WILL” — WHEN SHE REFUSED TO LEAVE, I GAVE HER A REALITY CHECK.
The morning sun, usually a welcome sight, cast harsh shadows on the woman standing on my porch, her face a mask of indignation. Mrs. Gable, Grandma’s “entitled neighbor,” as she so lovingly referred to her, was a force of nature, and not a particularly pleasant one.
“How long am I supposed to wait for my share of the will?!” she demanded, her voice a grating rasp that could curdle milk. “My grandkids are coming over, and I want them to take their part of the inheritance before they leave!”
I blinked, trying to process the sheer audacity of her statement. “Mrs. Gable,” I said, my voice calm despite the rising tide of annoyance, “Grandma’s will… it doesn’t mention you.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed into slits. “Nonsense! We were like family! She wouldn’t leave me out.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but everything in the house now belongs to me.”
I offered a small concession. “I’ve packed some boxes for donation. You’re welcome to look through them, see if there’s anything you want.”
“Donation boxes?!” she shrieked. “Your grandma was like family to us! We had to be mentioned in the will. Give it to me! I have to see for myself.”
“I can’t do that,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “The will is a legal document.”
She planted her feet, a stubborn look on her face. “Then I’m not leaving. I’ll just stand here until you give me what’s mine.” She proceeded to stand directly in front of my porch, peering into my windows and muttering under her breath.
I sighed. This was getting ridiculous. I needed to give this woman a reality check, a gentle but firm reminder that she wasn’t entitled to anything.
I went inside, grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper, and returned to the porch. Mrs. Gable watched me, her eyes filled with suspicion.
“What’s that?” she asked, her voice laced with distrust.
“I’m writing you a bill,” I said, my voice deliberately casual.
“A bill? For what?”
“For services rendered,” I said, scribbling on the paper. “Let’s see… ‘Consultation regarding inheritance, one hour… $100.'”
Mrs. Gable’s face turned a shade of purple I didn’t think possible. “Are you serious?!”
“Perfectly,” I said, adding another line. “‘Unauthorized surveillance of private property, one hour… $50.'”
“That’s outrageous!” she sputtered.
“And,” I continued, adding a final line, “‘Emotional distress caused by unwarranted demands, one hour… $150.'” I handed her the paper. “That’ll be $300, Mrs. Gable.”
She snatched the paper from my hand, her eyes scanning the ludicrous list. “You can’t do this!”
“Actually, I can,” I said, a smile playing on my lips. “And if you don’t pay, I’ll have to add late fees.”
She crumpled the paper in her fist, her face a mask of fury. “You’re just like your grandma!” she hissed. “Entitled and selfish!”
“Perhaps,” I said, “but I’m also practical. And I value my peace of mind.”
She glared at me for a moment, then turned and stomped off the porch, muttering about lawyers and lawsuits. I watched her go, a sense of satisfaction washing over me.
Later that day, as I sorted through Grandma’s belongings, I found a small, velvet-lined box tucked away in a drawer. Inside was a handwritten note, addressed to me.
“My dearest grandchild,” it read, “I know Mrs. Gable can be… persistent. Remember, you owe no one anything. Your happiness is your own. And sometimes, a little bit of absurdity is the best way to deal with entitlement.”
I smiled, a warm feeling spreading through my chest. Grandma had known exactly what to do. And she had left me the perfect tool to handle it. I had learned a valuable lesson that day: sometimes, the best way to deal with entitled people is to meet their absurdity with your own. And a little bit of humor never hurts.
Leave a Reply