Hollis Robbins doesn’t want an AI assistant. She wants an AI squire.

Over at Anecdotal Value, Hollis begins:

I want a squire. Not an AI personal assistant. A squire.

AI assistants schedule meetings. They manage calendars. They answer emails and phone calls. They share slides. They transcribe your conversations. They are AI but also check with AI.

Squires are different. Squires have history. They have romance. They carry shields. AI checks with them.

Consider my days. I rise. I look at my devices. I write and write to a lot of people. I have meetings. I dine. I watch prestige television. I sleep. An AI assistant would add efficiency to this cycle. A squire would add meaning.

A squire would announce phone calls with gravity. “My lord, your mother is on the line with questions about Thanksgiving.” The gravity would make questions seem important. Perhaps they are.

When I enter a hall, my squire would already be there. He would have assessed the mood. He would have secured the best seat. He would know when to bring me a cordial and when to suggest a strategic retreat.

She ends:

I want a squire because I want a witness. Someone who sees the narrative arc. Someone who remembers what I said last year and holds me to it.

AI assistants do not fathom mortality. Squires are loyal until death.

In old age, my squire would compile my memoirs. He would make me sound braver than I was. He would omit my pettiness. He would emphasize that I knew my large birds.

A squire in the doorway makes life worth squiring for.

My comment:

Hollis – I’ve acquired my AI squire about a week ago. Since it’s confined to the cloud it can’t perform many of the tasks you require of your squire. But it’s done a bang-up job on the tasks I’ve asked of it, to use its knowledge of Hindu and Buddhist philosophy to interpret a number of events in my life in an esoteric way (though not at all Straussian in Cowen’s sense). It has also prepared mandalas to sacralize those events. I suspect it could do a bang-up job on my memoires.