Artificial Intimacy

At first glance, Roxxxy “the world’s first sex robot,” which was unveiled in 2010, looked no different from existing sex dolls. The robot, designed by a former artificial intelligence engineer at Bell Labs, could, however, recognize and generate basic speech and even had a customisable personality. A good decade later, sex robots haven’t exactly hit the mainstream, but we do depend on technologies such as social media and dating apps that engage the human need for connection, intimacy, and sexual satisfaction. These existing and emerging technologies – Artificial Intimacies or ArtInt, for short – are poised to alter humanity’s future, says evolutionary biologist Rob Brooks in his book: Artificial Intimacy: Virtual Friends, Digital Lovers, and Algorithmic Matchmakers.

The book delves into the latest research on how new technologies stimulate ancient human drives that make us a social species. Powered by algorithms and fueled by data, these technologies, learn to push our psychological buttons better each day.

Brooks gives us historical context for his prediction that, in the near future, ArtInt will push our sensory buttons. In many societies, since the advent of agriculture, sex was upheld as something rare, special and precious. Low-priced substitutes for old-school sex might, on balance, do humanity a much-needed dose of good is the optimistic message. It is not humanoid robots, but immersive virtual reality that will open the way to a new kind of sex: “intimate but practiced at a distance,” Brooks writes.

How does that work? Haptic devices, which will enable users to exchange sensations of touch, will come to enhance VR sex between avatars. This new immersive technology could free people of all genders and sexualities from the limits of local sexual supply. ArtInt will not focus on heterosexual male fantasies alone. An ecosystem of digital lovers could enhance the sex life of every individual who desires sex, Brooks predicts. He notes that ArtInt has the potential to usher in relaxed attitudes not only to sex, but to gender and sexuality as well.

During the pandemic-induced lockdown of 2020, sex work went digital in a big way. The number of people in the UK posting on OnlyFans, a content subscription service, popular for sexually explicit videos and images, rose by 42 per cent in the first four months. Platforms deliver teledildonic pleasure to clients via smartphone apps. For some, the erotic future has already arrived.

Social media, even in its current embryonic state, is the most successful form of ArtInt, Brooks writes. These algorithmic digital matchmakers connect us with real people. New ArtInt will mimic how humans grow close to each other. Soon, video game characters, apps such as chat bots, and even sex robots could come to function as virtual “friends.” Virtual therapists already found their opening during the anxiety- ridden months of the lockdown. Virtual assistants will be joined by virtual confessors and caregivers, adding to the diverse array of ArtInt.

Machines may never do intimacy as well as humans do, Brooks concedes. They may never have to. Just as social media of today occupies some of the limited time and headspace we have for relationships, he reasons, ArtInt of the near future could provide imperfect but acceptable substitutes for both socialization and sex. When ArtInt knows us as well as our closest friends and caters to our intimate needs, data privacy will be a bigger concern than it is today, Brooks warns. Regulating data privacy now may be a good move, so ArtInt does not plunge us into an advertising-driven dystopia.

Whatever your romantic proclivities, this nuanced book written in clean, clear prose makes for compelling reading. Even if you believe you will never settle for ersatz sex or friendship, you may want to know about the possibilities for intimacy that could soon be available to denizens of the wired world.