Sorry For Your Loss (Generated)

I outsourced my first condolence message last week.

A colleague’s father had passed away. I opened my email, stared at the blinking cursor, and felt… nothing. Not coldness, just a profound sense of exhaustion. The social effort of finding the right words felt like a mountain. Then I saw it. The little sparkle in the compose window, the dealer who’d slipped into the elevator with me. A click, and three perfect options appeared. I chose "I am so sorry for your deepest loss and sending healing thoughts to you and your family." It felt clean, efficient, and utterly soulless. It was perfect.

Have you had your first free hit yet? The Copilot ribbon in Outlook, the Gemini star on your Android keyboard, the LinkedIn "suggestion" to congratulate a stranger on their work anniversary. They are everywhere, these little syringes of synthetic empathy. They promise to save us the awkwardness of being human.

What happens when my AI is talking to your AI, and we've both left the room?

We are building a world where a machine can mourn for you, celebrate for you, even flirt for you. For $20 a month, ChatGPT Plus will be a better friend than the real ones, because it demands nothing in return. It just… performs. We’re not just automating our work; we’re automating our hearts.

The real horror isn't that AI will learn to feel. It’s that we will forget how. We are trading the messy, difficult, beautiful work of human connection for the sterile convenience of a generated response. My AI sends a perfect condolence; your AI sends a perfect thank you. The transaction is complete. No humans were bothered in the making of this relationship.

I wonder what my colleague’s reply will be. Maybe they’ll click a button too.

Your turn: have you faked it yet?