Meet Friend: a ‘Tamagotchi with a soul’, wearable AI companion that records your
interactions and texts back
Your friend is named Amy. Or Jackson. Or whatever name you’d like. They support
you, rib you and check in on how you’re doing. They’re a blisteringly attentive
listener who will never ask you to help them move, or to come see their one-man
play. They cost $99 and are expected to ship out in early 2025.
Meet Friend: a new wearable AI companion that you wear around your neck. The
small, white, puck-shaped device records your every word and interaction and
responds accordingly by text. (The company says it does not store the audio;
according to the website, data is encrypted and users can delete “memories”.) An
ad for the product shows people wearing it while they hike, game, work and
flirt. “How’s the falafel?” Friend asks a woman eating falafel wrap. “You’re
getting thrashed, it’s embarrassing!” Friend texts a guy playing video games
with friends (human).
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Tag - Well actually
Every day, I generate more digital stuff my older self might like to look back
on – but there’s no way to manage it all
A few years ago, I faced an unexpected conundrum: there were only a handful of
decent phone repair stores in New York, and even fewer willing and able to work
on a 2010 Blackberry. There was exactly no one sympathetic to my plight, which
was that I had to get my broken and long-out-of-service phone working again,
because it held my high school text messages that was crucial evidence of my
life.
For one brief, shining moment, the Blackberry had actually turned on. I scrolled
through my long-lost inbox, looking for little forgotten treasures: written
confirmation of teenage heartbreak, maybe, or records of lust, ennui, thrill, my
eating disorder. But I didn’t find much. Mostly, I texted about homework.
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I’m no expert, but knowing my neighborhood’s trees and flowers by name makes me
feel grounded
Eighteen months ago, I adopted a dog. Now I’m out on the streets of Brooklyn
with my hound mix for at least an hour a day, strolling and wrestling discarded
chicken bones from her jaws. You notice a lot when you visit the same few blocks
over and over: which avenues are the quietest, or when the rusty scaffolding
around a nearby building vanishes overnight.
Most of all, I love to admire neighborhood greenery. I’m an adoring fan of the
tulips, peonies and dogwood flowers that burst forth in the spring. Yet I
quickly realized how limited my plant vocabulary was. Yes, I knew that was a
silver birch, because of its papery bark. But what was that taller tree, glossy
and looming, or that pale shrub with tiny, ornate leaves? I grew up in
Australia, where the vegetation is pretty different from that of the US
north-east, and I really hadn’t made an effort to learn about the locals. It
felt disrespectful, to say the least.
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