Predictive Text
by Rachel New
Day 1
You: So, beach or jungle?
Her: Haha, jungle for sure :). You?
You: Yeah, but maybe on the second date rather than the first? :)
Her: I like your optimism! So where for the first date?
You sit up, smiling. She’s already talking about the first date. The new algorithm is working. You begin to type but then stop abruptly. Do you want to get into all this again? All the anticipation, the mystery, the hope. Having to play the part of the romantic lover. The constant attentiveness, not getting any time alone, your clothes being criticised.
Then using the “L-word,” moving in together. And, looming on the horizon: children, mortgage, DIY, in-laws. A deep lethargy crawls over you. Maybe you should stay single? Maybe it’s even your destiny?
But you can’t resist trying it again. You’ve just installed the new shopping app, Orinoco, on your phone. Let the gods of consumerism decide. You type “On our first date, let’s do...” and wait for Orinoco’s predictive text algorithm to do its magic. It suggests “quiz night,” “crazy golf” and “comedy.” You ask for a random number between 1 and 3.
You: Quiz night on Friday?
Her: Hmmm... What would my expert subjects need to be?
You: Any good at history and literature?
Her: Ooh, I think you’ve been reading my profile. OK, let’s do it!
Day 6
Her: Want to come over to mine on Friday night? I’ll cook that Vietnamese dish I told you about.
You close your eyes as you type Vietnamese food. Will the algorithm approve a second date? Your fingers deftly select from the predictive text’s suggestions of “near me,” “recipes” and “sounds good.”
You: Vietnamese food sounds good.
You like the fact that she doesn’t constantly shower you with texts. She’s quietly interested, but without any hint of wanting to control things.
Day 16
You: Hey. I had a great time last night. You’re so chilled.
Her: I like the way you’re open to new ideas.
You: Let’s... go skating.
Her: Random! But OK!
Skating, huh? How does this algorithm work, anyway? You know it uses the data from your searches and purchases on Orinoco. You’ve read that it estimates similarity with other users, predicting the behaviour and language of other young people like you. You try hard to control what goes in, buying only items that reflect your true nature. But handing over responsibility for your future is kind of comforting for an attachment-phobe like you.
Day 19
You: Your body intrigues me.
Her: Looking forward to further explorations.
You: Loved the way our romantic playlists were so similar!
Letting the predictive text algorithm do the work is soothing, you find, a bit like a parent taking over when your cooking experiment gets out of control. No agonising over whether it’s too early to text about her sexy naked body. The decisions are taken away from you. You’re not responsible for the consequences. It’s not like you didn’t already find her body intriguing. And the playlist thing... just solid evidence of compatibility, right? It’s not like she has access to your phone or anything.
Day 123
Her: Hey.
You: I miss you.
You jump. What? Where did that come from? You’ve been together four months, and she’s on a work trip hundreds of miles away. You remember reading about a recent upgrade to the algorithm, one that tries to predict your development over time. Perhaps it has decided that there should now be some emotional involvement? Or maybe the algorithm can detect that you’re already involved?
What the hell. You can’t give up on the experiment now. And, actually, now that you think about it, you do feel a slight pining, like you need food or drugs or something. You press Send.
Day 365
Her: That dress you got me from Orinoco fits perfectly!
You: Your mum will love it, I’m sure.
Her: Don’t wear those scruffy jeans tonight, will you?
You: Shall I put an offer on the house?
Her: Eh???
You: Oh sorry, must’ve been a typo. See you later!
One year together. You can’t believe it. And it doesn’t feel like you’re losing yourself as you’d imagined. She’s even good at choosing your clothes. And somehow, so are you: how did you get that dress so right?
So, interesting... Orinoco thinks you should get a place together. Her lease is running out. She hasn’t dropped any hints, but the idea excites you. You start a new search.
Day 1001
Her: Can you order some garlic and prawns for instant delivery please?
You: Nappy rash cream.
Her: Uh, yes, that too — impressed!
You’re content. You share the childcare, you still see your friends, you agree on the new kitchen design. You start typing “shopping list” and get a suggestion to buy flowers. Oh, yes, it’s her birthday coming up.
Day 1004
You can’t find your phone. She is asleep on the sofa, both children tucked up in bed. Then you spot it, inexplicably poking out of her pocket. You gently ease it out without waking her. Only one app is open: Orinoco. She’s typed in “parenting skills with toddlers.”
You frown. Although you don’t use the algorithm for messaging any more, you check your history. Romance, empathy, love, commitment, babies... You definitely haven’t searched for these. Has she done this deliberately, determined the course of your relationship, chosen her own dresses and playlists? What about your experiment with destiny, your attempt to escape free will by handing over your decisions to Orinoco?
But you’re happy. You haven’t forgotten her birthday and you’re going skating tomorrow night. This relationship game she’s constructed is working just fine. She knows how to juggle that delicate balance of autonomy and commitment for you. Why try to override the gods?
You kiss her lightly on the forehead and click “buy” for the flowers.
Copyright © 2022 by Rachel New
