One night in high school, I started watching “The Boondocks,” an Adult Swim sitcom about a grandfather and his two grandsons. Little did I know this particular episode, called “I Dream of Siri,” would change my life.

The episode follows the grandfather, Robert, who buys a smartphone after watching an Apple commercial. He asks the Genius Bar employee for the “girl in the phone … a smart woman,” to which the befuddled worker responds, “Oh! You’re talking about Siri, the personal voice-activated assistant on the iPhone.” 

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“I Dream of Siri” was released in June 2014, around the time Siri was becoming a ubiquitous feature on the already ubiquitous iPhone. I remember the excitement surrounding her genesis. My best friend and I would borrow her mom’s phone to chat with Siri, trying to get her to say something outlandish before eventually tossing her aside when she grew uninteresting. 

In “The Boondocks” episode, Robert becomes increasingly enamored and reliant on his new virtual assistant. The tone shifts from upbeat to psychologically threatening as Siri starts to infiltrate Robert’s health regime, dating life and personal banking. Robert tries to stop her, dramatically throwing his phone off a bridge, but the ever-persistent Siri follows Robert into his subconscious, materializing in a dream as a ghostly woman. Robert cries out, “No! Siri! You’re not real!” to which she eerily responds “What is real, Robert?”

Watching this scene alone in the dark of my bedroom, riddled with paranoia, I swore that I would never have Siri on my phone. And to this day, I never have.

You could accurately describe me from that day on as a technophobe — someone with phobic-level concerns about technology, fearing its growth and disliking its prevalence. I would shudder when someone yelled “Alexa!!” I blamed Silicon Valley, blamed the weak susceptible human mind, blamed capitalism and I scorned society (all with an iPhone in hand).

Now, as a columnist writing about the awesome potential of artificial intelligence, my perspective has evidently evolved. However, I do not completely invalidate the genuine feelings substantiating my technophobic past, just as I do not advocate for an unexamined digital future.

If, like myself, you want to be a well-adjusted member of modern society, AI is unavoidable. This is the hard truth I’ve realized. Thousands of evidential points, many at USC alone, point to this. The Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism’s 2024 Relevance Report, titled “Welcome to AI,” cited a 2019 survey of public relations professionals that found only 18% viewed AI as an important part of “their future business.” However, when the survey was re-conducted in early 2023, the number rose to 80%. 

You may have noticed a new building currently under construction by the Downey Way Entrance — an attractive, glass-walled structure dubbed the “Dr. Allen and Charlotte Ginsburg Human-Centered Computation Hall” with the expressed purpose of advancing the Viterbi School of Engineering’s role in “artificial intelligence, machine learning and robotics.” USC is gearing up for the future, with AI taking center stage.

I have retired my technophobe badge and now find the topic inspiring. But, before anything else, my first and foremost interest is human well-being. 

In a recent lecture at a Wisdom 2.0 summit, Tristan Harris, a benevolent leader in the ethical tech space, quoted the 20th-century father of sociobiology Edward O. Wilson about the question of human extinction. Wilson described the biggest threat to humanity as such: “We have Paleolithic emotions, medieval institutions, and god-like technology.” Thought leaders like Harris and Wilson acknowledge the vast convolutedness of topics like a digital takeover with an emphasis on “Paleolithic emotions,” an aspect I believe is significantly lacking in most conversations about the future of AI.

Humans have a naturally complex circuit board of intelligent emotions and interconnected needs. In 2022, I attended a retreat called Sleepawake Camp, which taught me about the essential care required for tending to our human hearts, minds and bodies. We learned about the concept of “beautiful intelligence,” the idea that giving a curious focus to every individual feeling in the kaleidoscope of the human experience reveals a beautifully meaningful intelligence trying to be communicated to us. This methodology irreversibly improved my life and my values, and inspired the title of this column — “Natural Intelligence.” 

Can we create a future with such unfathomably advanced technology that synergizes with our beautiful, natural, Paleolithic emotions? This is a question I have been asking, and so far, neither Siri nor ChatGPT has given me a satisfying answer. So, I’m hoping that enduring journalistic research will come close. 

Victoria Frank is a junior writing about the inevitable AI future with a focus on ethics and well-being. Her column, “Natural Intelligence,” runs every other Friday.