Humane's "Ai Pin" reveal.
The short length and candidness of the presentation about an ambitious and somewhat perplexing product were refreshing, at least. Imran Chaudhry and Bethany Bongiorno, along with others including Ken Kocienda of iOS- and Safari-building fame, decided years ago to part ways with Apple and do their own thing. Their publicity and personal posts have sometimes gently spurned the idea of the smartphone and other Apple staples like the Watch, Vision Pro, and the artfully camera-hiding "Dynamic Island."
Instead, they think (or at least purport to think) that the first step of the way forward is this palm-cradlable device which magnetically clasps your clothing or bag. It's been a while since nerds' desires for Star Trek's handheld tablets were satisfied, but "Humane" is the first company I've seen that's serious about doing something like a combination of the chest-worn communicator pin and the slightly more useful quick conversations with computers.
They embrace the term "artificial intelligence," which in this decade's popular sense seems to refer specifically to a program so familiar with so much data, and so sophisticaed that they can sort through it and return reliable, summarial answers to questions about it. Rather than "apps" or a pixel-based display, such programs, along with audible verbal output, form the core of the interface. Its other flashy power is the ability to locate your extended palm and project information onto it while interpreting your hand's movements as commands. The fact it's possible for many to tilt their head and blink in confusion at something like this, rather than gape in astonishment that it's even a real device, mainly indicates how rapidly personal technology has advanced.
But facts and cool aside, I spent most of the video observing an underlying combination of subtle amusement and being subtly off-put. Imran and Bethany work relaxedly through a list of features and demonstrate a few. Imran asks the pin how much protein is in a handful of almonds, receives an answer and tells it he's going to eat them, evidence of which the video does not provide.
It would have felt like two people chatting naturally if I detected at least a sliver of levity or even enthusiasm. The corners of Bethany's mouth do indeed sometimes curl upward as the other speaks, but it feels utterly a mark of prioriety. Combined with the lack of any glitzy intro, music, and plenty of room tone, the presentation feels like the opposite of an infomercial. If the man had spent that next minute actually consuming the almonds, I'd at least have suspected the masked presence of humour. But I don't recall even an attempted smile from Imran, who, amazingly, after dictating a message to tell a colleague he'd be joining him later, asks the pin to "make me sound more excited." The pin repeats the dictation, appending: "Can't wait!"
I think that moment is a distilled example of what I've felt since this company began talking about itself: a sense of deep cultural incompatibility that leaves me thinking "well, okay, I hope they enjoy themselves out there" as I would with any stranger I concluded would chafe or unsettle me over time.
When a company decides to employ only twelve minutes to reveal a high-priced product they sincerely believe represents a revolution, how does it happen that their short show-this-off list includes "makes you sound excited so you don't have to"? (And think of the funerals I can finally make it sound like I'm sympathetic about!) It feels, in some glorious yet lamentable glimmer of surprise, that we could, if he could hear it, sincerely tell Douglas Adams his off-the-wall comedic imaginings about remarkably-evolved yet stupidly-purposed technology did indeed appear outside of fiction.
Watching all this, I recalled considering whether "artificial intelligence" is indeed the appropriate term. "Intelligence" has always seemed broader to me than the analytical and summarizing powers of this modern sense of "AI," particularly because these programs uniformly seem to lack inspiration or creativity even when asked to be creative. Meanwhile, the folks at Apple (still over there making their scornable smartphones and watches with their scornable actual smiles) involve plenty of the technology, but have almost never used the term during a user-facing presentation. That says something about them: their front-line terminology relates to what users actually aim to do: take photos, make movies, play games, message each other, write, adjust the lights at home, develop and run programs, compose music, check the weather, and so on. An honestly-phrased goal of the average person probably isn't to "acquire and leverage artificial intelligence." That's more like an honestly-phrased goal of a personal tech company striving to serve those users. Humane's product could have been dubbed the "Companion Pin," the "Guide Pin," the "Communication Pin," "Insight Pin," or any of dozens more classically and universally meaningful names. Instead, Humane, Google, Microsoft and others choose to wear the term "AI" like it was also a pin.
But with Humane, that looming feeling deepens further with additional choices around language usage. In a TEDx talk, Imran used the word "compute" like a mass noun, as in "to hold compute in your hand." And according to his phrasing today, the programs aren't just AI, but "AIs." And the product is not called the "AI Pin," but the "Ai Pin."
That last detail finally flings that heretofore cracked door wide open, requiring a search for another appropriate term. What is Imran doing, aiming for the mainstream while being so deliberately linguistically weird, seemingly just for the sake of it? What is the term? "Linguistic pompousness?"
The fellow pronounces the product name. It's not pronounced "iPin" as it might be if it were Apple's, or the "Eh! Pin" as it might not be if it were an Apple Canada exclusive. It's pronounced "AI Pin" and it's spelled "Ai Pin." Even worse: on the site, it's spelled "ai pin."
Even more astoundingly: on that bright palm-projected display, this genuinely futuristic feature seemingly Humane's for the establishing, Imran's demo device prints the phrase "you're all caught up!" – not "You're all caught up!" with a capital "Y," as would befit something widely known as a sentence. They may someday fix this, but what they've done this morning is to show the world, in purpose and 4K, that this was their instinct.
I phrased it as a question whether "linguistic pompousness" is the correct term, because I'm only certain that I do not know what feeling, attitude or sensibility, or lack thereof, would cause people capable of doing so much so impressively to twist their spiked soil-tillers even beneath the wonderful and well-established fundamentals of language so depressingly. Along with the believable possibility the company is fuelled in part by lingering spite for Apple, and the remaining hole where its own passion and excitement has yet to indicate itself, I'm left unsure what sort of vision for the future these people could have. I can believe they have one, but I'm left with no positive impression that it's linked to happiness, appreciation for the world, or even a love of technology. It's remarkably bizarre to watch myself honestly type something like that. I think it might be a first.
What can I say? Whyever they're doing it, this is a small team attempting something distinct in a highly competitive age, and they deserve credit for that. Even if they don't live up to their own few years of hype, they've at least thrown a couple of cool ideas and functions into awareness. Programs that can summarize lots of data really well are cool, live-translating you into another language is cool, and a palm-projected display is cool. What they have is a start and a chosen style. And based on those… well, I dare say I hope they enjoy themselves out there.
And to that end, if they someday evolve to wonder what laughter is, they have the particular advantage of having invented something they can ask.