WESTWORLD—"'Scientists Years from Stepford-Quality Robots,' The Hartford Courant read, over a John Jurgensen story that got picked up by The Chicago Tribune, the Orlando Sentinel and the Fort Wayne, Ind. Journal Gazette a week after the remake, The Stepford Wives, opened in movie theaters nationwide.
"Jurgensen asks, 'So where’s the sociable 'bot designed to keep a lonely soul company on a Saturday night?'
"The distance between asking this question now, when technology to simulate such a creation is already available, and asking it in the time of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, is enormous."
The "now" in which that question was asked was October of 2004, and AVN's Rebecca Gray asked it—and this coming January, it will be answered in a way that only science-fiction authors and fans could truly imagine.
Say hello to Harmony, the "anatomically correct sex doll with a patented animatronic talking head with programmable personality and memory," according to an article in the San Diego Union-Tribune.
As those familiar with the sex doll industry might expect, Harmony's a product of the fertile mind and engineering genius of Abyss Creations' Matt McMullen, manufacturer of the original RealDoll, and now the CEO and creative director for Realbotix, an Abyss subsidiary.
"The whole idea of a sex-capable robot is very contemporary, now and edgy," McMullen said. "I get that. But Harmony is a sophisticated piece of machinery and her primary design is to carry on conversations," not unlike Apple's AI helper Siri. McMullen described Harmony as "a comforting conversation companion, albeit one capable of having sensual conversations and telling naughty jokes."
But the short video accompanying the article suggests far more than simple conversation, as Harmony is shown being able to wink, blink, move her eyes side-to-side, raise her eyebrows, open her mouth and make small, very human-like head movements that are easily interpreted as responding to human conversation. Its voice can even be programmed to have an accent.
"All of these come together to make it seem like she's alive," McMullen said. Add in the customizable app which comes with the robot and which its owner can use to "carry on an ongoing conversation and learn more about this character you've created, and she will learn more about you."
And for those who can't afford the super deluxe model, which is being retailed at about $10,000, McMullen will also be selling robotic heads with the same capabilities of Harmony that can be attached to the less mobile RealDolls (mostly $4,000-$6,000) and which, by use of the app, can have the same conversational abilities. Also, since Harmony's face is held to the frame by a series of magnets, the doll's face can be changed to any of a dozen different versions, all of which will move and talk however the original Harmony has been programmed to do.
"You can literally take her face off like Westworld, old Westworld," McMullen told the Union-Tribune, "and put a different face on; change the personality settings in your app, change the voice and essentially you've got a whole new character."
And for those who can't afford any of the dolls, McMullen has released the Harmony AI app for Android (sadly, Apple doesn't allow sexually themed apps, though a PG-rated iOS version will arrive at some point), which allows the user to create all of the human characteristics needed to bring an online avatar to "life."
"The user can choose the avatar’s physical features, personality features (shy, sensual, funny, talkative), moods, level of desire, voice style and even regional accent," the Union-Tribune noted. "It can also be adapted to recognize the voice of its owner."
But remember that robot rebellion in the original Westworld? McMullen assures that can't happen with Harmony.
"This is not designed to replace anyone or promote the objectification of women. Robots don’t have rights," he said. "Should my toaster be able to refuse to toast my bread? Should my Tesla be able to refuse to drive me to work every morning?"
McMullen doesn't actually answer those questions—we're guessing they're meant to be rhetorical—but we're also guessing that the app can be programmed to have Harmony refuse sex, if that's the game its programmer wants to play.
So where’s the sociable 'bot designed to keep a lonely soul company on a Saturday night? It's less than six months away and less than 100 miles down the road from Los Angeles.
