The first time I remember muttering to myself, “Christ, technology has gone too far,” was about ten years ago. It was rush hour on the London Underground and a youngish lad sat next to me was engrossed in his phone. So I glanced over to have a nose, as you do, and was alarmed to see he was watching Seven. That gruesome horror where Brad Pitt finds Gwyneth Paltrow’s head in a box – on his commute home, in a packed Tube carriage. Today, I had another one of those “Stop the ride! I’m going to be sick” moments after tumbling down an AI rabbit hole and landing in a circle of hell so bleak, that even Dante himself couldn’t have envisioned a pit so utterly soulless.
I’d been reading about Katie Price signing a six-figure deal to trademark her own AI avatar: a walking, talking, bouncing virtual version of her younger alter-ego, Jordan. This hyperrealistic chatbot even speaks in that harsh, flat-toned voice of hers. With nothing off limits, fans can ask the former Page 3 star anything their loin desires… Probably not tax advice though. After being declared bankrupt twice and forced to sell her so-called Mucky Mansion to keep HMRC at bay, she’s got to make a living somehow. No judgement here.
Out of curiosity I had a gander at Oh Chat – the platform hosting Jordan 2.0. I’ll do my best to describe it accurately, but if you’re of a delicate constitution, consider this your warning. You may want a photo of a puppy on standby to cleanse your mind after.
It is a virtual vending machine of onanistic fodder. A menu of fantasy women, all served up with enormous breasts and impossible cleavage, with names like Cheyenne or Lulu. Something for everyone – sporty women, curvy women, women on the young side. Blonde, brunette, tattooed, Black, White, Asian, Latina – each crafted with unnatural glowing perfection, gazing seductively at you.
Many of these simulations are real people, earning a bit on the side through their ‘digital twin’. Fair play to them for monetising sex without any contact whatsoever. But with no control over how their image is being manipulated, it doesn’t feel like progress. Quite the opposite, we could be placing girls at risk from a generation of boys who expect instant sexual gratification.
It’s a deeply unsettling blur of reality and pornified desire. There’s no emotional connection – just pixels and code, programmed to please. And if that turns you on, well… abandon all dignity ye who enter here.
