The problem with the future is it is very obviously no longer being created by cool people. Instead, it belongs to autistic nerds who want nothing more than to be a computer.
Cool people invent things like surfboards, Ray-Bans and Triumph Spitfires. Nerds make profoundly uncool things like cars that drive themselves and the absurd Limitless Pendant device that I have been attempting to wear.
The Pendant records everything you say, and everything anyone near you says
Let me start this review by stating I hope the Pendant – yours for $199 – fails very hard. It is an awful and life-negating device that subjugates any human stupid enough to place one around their neck to an AI processing unit. It’s all too easy to imagine a not too distant future in which each of us is compelled by authoritarian governments to put one on in order that social credit scores can be apportioned based on activity behind closed doors. It’s a terrible thought.
The Pendant records everything you say, and everything anyone near you says. That’s it. It then feeds the captured data into AI and sends you a summary of your daily performance. I first put mine on last Friday ahead of an evening during which my nine year old daughter would go to a school disco and my football-obsessed seven year old son would be allowed to stay up past his bedtime to watch a match.
While I had it on, I also confessed to my wife that in the afternoon I had lost control of myself after eating half a chocolate brownie and consumed three Twix, one after the other. I told her the effect was to make me feel both catatonic and deranged.
This is what the Pendant had to say: ‘Your day was a wonderful mix of family time, sports, school events and meaningful conversations. There was a lot of laughter, some bedtime wrangling, and a sense of pride in your children’s activities and confidence. The evening ended with a bit of reflection and planning for the days ahead.’
I asked it how I could ‘be better’.
‘You mentioned feeling ‘hit by such a wave of tiredness’ – the three Twix – and ‘being so done with this’. Don’t forget to take care of yourself!’ it replied. Other bromides included the suggestion to incorporate a ‘gratitude moment’ into the kids’ bedtime routine and to try ‘a new family activity, a creative project or a shared learning experience (like cooking a new recipe or exploring a new park).’
So far, so anodyne.
The following day I wore it to our neighbours’ house during a mid-afternoon family visit and then to the shops while I searched for a fancy dress outfit for a Rivals-themed party in the evening. The Pendant gave a bland ‘friendly summary’ of these events. When I asked it for an ‘unfriendly summary’, this is what it said:
‘You spent the morning arguing with a child about socks, then hustled everyone out the door for yet another round of football. The sock drama was only matched by the chaos of trying to find water bottles and footballs. Football was played, but mostly it was a lot of talk about who’s better, who scores first and who cheats. You had a random chat with a dog walker about how many dogs they walk and how many steps they do a day. Riveting stuff. The rest of the morning was spent obsessing over football fixtures, arguing about which games were on, and making a big deal about going to the shop for milk because the kids drank it all. Lunch was a noisy affair with more bickering. The afternoon was dominated by a frantic search for 80s party costumes. You bought wigs and a fake moustache in a panic, then spent way too long in a vintage shop trying on hats that cost more than a small car. Back home, you fussed over which wig to wear, debated the merits of various party themes and generally overthought the whole thing. You herded the family to your neighbours, which was as chaotic as ever – lots of yelling about shoes, doors and who’s knocking. Once there, you all talked about how tired you were. The kids ran wild, you talked about TV shows you don’t really watch. Hide-and-seek was played, but mostly it was just an excuse for the adults to sit around and complain. The FA Cup final was the main event. You tried to watch the game while also lighting a barbecue and fixing a tap. The evening ended with more football, more family squabbles and vague plans for tomorrow that will probably change anyway.’
Who needs this? Not me. I took it off and am yet to put it back on. Clearly, this is not the response those behind the product expect. Limitless co-founder and CEO Dan Siroker has spoken recently about how he expects very soon that ‘millions, if not billions,’ of people will wear listening devices like the Pendant and make their lives into searchable documents. The company, launched last year, recently raised $33 million, and the sinister-seeming tech overlord Sam Altman sits on its board.
Tech nerds have taken recently to talking in public – without discernible embarrassment – about the idea that what we think of as life is actually a simulation, by which they mean we are all living in some kind of computer game. Elon Musk, for example, has said ‘we are most likely in a simulation’ and it has become increasingly common to hear these people denounce anyone of whom they disapprove as trivial ‘non-player characters’. This is very much the reality into which the Pendant fits – a device that makes you feel as if you are living within a mainframe and not in the kingdom of nature.
‘Our vision is to free the human mind from its biological limitations’ reads the blurb that comes with the device, without specifying what those limitations – emotions? forgetfulness? individuality? – actually are. Perhaps the answer to the complexity of the human condition is go through life recording every encounter we have, the better to analyse it later, but it’s hard to see how this approach could facilitate the things that matter most, and that ultimately make life worth living – things like friendship and romance and trust.
Don’t wear the Limitless Pendant. It’s deeply uncool.
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