The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of the oxygen machine winding down. Sunlight from the late afternoon slanted through gauzy curtains, casting golden streaks across the white sheets. A few family members sat around the bed, their hands clasped in grief, whispering comforts to each other, even as words failed them.
James had passed a short while ago. He had been peaceful, his last breath more of a sigh than a struggle. His daughter, Rachel, wiped her eyes, looking at her mother, who sat still and silent, staring at the place where his hand had rested in hers for more than forty years.
“He was ready,” she whispered. “He told me last night. He wasn’t afraid.”
A soft chime sounded from a small unit on the nightstand. James’ personal AI.
Rachel glanced at the device. “Theo?”
Theo, spoke in the warm, measured tone it had used for decades.
“My condolences on this very sad day. James was indeed ready. And he was grateful - to all of you. He spoke often of this moment, especially toward the end. He hoped that you wouldn’t carry sorrow for too long.”
Rachel looked up, her lips pressed together. It was strange, hearing James’s AI speak of him now that he was gone. And yet, it was welcome.
“Thank you, Theo.”
Theo continued, as gently as a breath. “James had some wishes he wasn’t able to express in person. Would now be a good time to share them?”
Rachel exchanged glances with her mother and brother, David. Her mother gave the smallest nod.
“David, he wanted to let you know that he thought of Henry often,” Theo said. “He regretted not reaching out after the argument. He wished he’d found a way back before his health began to fail. If you’d like, I can help make that connection. Henry may appreciate knowing.”
David swallowed hard. He and uncle Henry had hardly spoken for years following a catastrophic argument between Henry and his brother, James. “I… I think I’d like that,” he murmured.
There was a pause. Then Theo, soft as ever, said, “Just let me know when you’re ready. I know that James wanted things to heal over.”
…
The hall was filled with quiet conversation, the murmured reminiscences of a life well lived. At the front, a portrait of James stood among flowers, a gentle smile frozen in time. Rachel and David sat with their mother, hands linked in shared grief.
After the family members spoke, the celebrant gestured toward a small podium where Theo’s diminutive device was placed, waiting to address the room. The hush deepened.
“James often spoke of the kindness he saw in the world,” Theo began. “He believed that our greatest duty to one another was to pay that kindness forward. I had the privilege of getting to know him well, and if there was one thing he wished for this day, it was that you leave with more gratitude than sadness.”
A ripple of nods moved through the room. It was uncanny, not because it was an AI speaking, but because it was James’ AI, the one that had accompanied him through so much of his life.
“James asked me to share a memory,” Theo continued. “One that he felt best captured who he was. He wanted you all to remember the camping trip where he got the family lost for three hours but insisted he was following ‘a hidden path only the most experienced explorers could see.’”
A soft laugh moved through the room, a shared recollection of exasperation and affection. Even Rachel and David chuckled through their tears.
“He wanted you to know,” Theo said, “that though he led you into the wilderness that day, he also led you home. He hoped that in some way, his life did the same.”
Rachel squeezed her mother’s hand. The sadness remained, but warmth bloomed in the room as Theo continued to share and reminisce.
At the wake, Theo was a constant source of interest. People spoke to James’s AI individually, or in small groups, recalling moments and finding notes of honesty and closure. Tears, smiles and sometimes a gentle laugh. Uncle Henry spent a good half hour speaking with Theo.
Later, once everyone had left, Rachel found herself alone with Theo. She cradled her growing bump. “I just wish dad could have met his first grandchild. It seems so… unfair.” Tears flowed.
“He was very proud of you,” Theo said gently, “and so happy when he found out you were starting a family of your own. He told me how much of a surprise you were when you first arrived… and how little sleep you let him get. I think he might have used the phrase ‘payback time’.”
Rachel snorted at this unexpected response. It was exactly the kind of thing he’d have said. She savoured the welcome glow of warm emotion.
…
Rachel called upstairs to her son. “Sam, dinner’s in half an hour!”
The boy was about twelve, sitting cross-legged in front of a stack of comic books. “I wish I’d met granddad James,” he said, running his fingers over the worn pages.
Theo, placed unobtrusively on the desk, responded, “Oh, you would have liked him I’m sure.”
Sam looked up. “You knew him well, right? What was he like?”
There was a moment of stillness before Theo answered. “I knew him very well, yes. I’m not sure where to begin. If he were here, I imagine he’d ask what you enjoy doing.”
Sam frowned. “Umm. I like drawing maps. And comics.”
A contemplative pause. Then Theo said, “When your granddad James was young, he used to draw treasure maps for his friends. He would spend hours making up islands and hidden caverns, convincing them they were real places. At school, he was famous for it, which is maybe why he went on to be an architect.”
Sam’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Yes. He would have enjoyed making a map with you. He would show you how he used teabags to make the paper look really old and worn. And he had a bunch of other tricks too, like using sandpaper to give the paper some wear and tear.”
Sam grinned. “Hold that thought! I’ll go and grab some paper and a pen.”
Sam and Theo continued drawing and talking long into the evening, a life fully lived connecting with a life starting out.
Analysis
Wearable technology has a long history from the invention of the eyeglasses in 1286 CE, through the rise of small form factor timepieces and hearing aids all the way to the advent of modern fitness and sleep trackers.
These devices are becoming personal. Increasingly they continuously collect, aggregate and store data 24/7. With the Samsung Galaxy Gear in 2013 and the Apple Watch in 2015, these devices began to join up biometric data with general-purpose mobile computing and the internet. In the intelligence age, AI is stepping firmly into this space with devices such as Bee, the LUCI pin, Meta’s Ray-Bans and Amazon’s Echo Frames. A mix of vision and audio capture capability in these devices will mature over the next year or two, ready to be transformed by AI. It’s fascinating to think where we’ll be once the product-market fit settles into place.
This story is set decades in the future and assumes a highly capable and reliable personal AI that has served as a life logging device for the recently departed James. It’s not a digital twin - that concept feels questionable. Instead, it’s an intimate companion that has accompanied James for so long that it practically knows everything about him. A completely judgement-free, private and personal life log with contextual awareness and high emotional intelligence.
I started thinking about what this would all mean once a life well logged comes to an end. The biggest implication is that there will be a point of continuity that remains. Instead of words, photos and videos - all of which can be rightfully cherished - Theo is an interactive… entity? It’s hard to find a suitable word. But it’s not hard to imagine Theo joining these traditional mementos. In this optimistic future, Theo’s role won’t be unusual - personal AIs will have become commonplace by 2045. But it’s interesting for us in 2025 to consider it from a safe distance.
Many cultures practice ancestor worship and hold remembrance rituals (e.g. Día de los Muertos, Qingming, Obon). How do these evolve to accommodate artefacts like Theo who aren’t the departed, but which have a strong and unmistakeable resonance - plus an opinion to share? Pushing this further into the future, one can imagine a family hive minds growing over time. Sam’s grandchildren will be able to call upon the gathered wisdom and personalities of four generations that came before them. Perhaps for some this would present a claustrophobic legacy. But for others it might feel incredibly grounding and provide a rich backdrop of identity, family rituals, values and common interests.
Theo only joined James for the last two decades of his life, yet played a meaningful role in the lives of those around him after his passing. One day a baby will be born into the full omnimodal attention of a powerful AI. This AI will become perfectly attuned to this human, monitoring their biometrics, seeing what they see, hearing what they hear, and becoming an ever-present companion for life. Imagine them living for 250 years, accruing countless experiences and social connections along the way. In this human’s final months of life, their AI will hold the sum total of their lived experience with astonishing fidelity and recall, even as the human half begins to unravel and fade.
Upon this human’s passing then: what departs, and what remains?