Her Predicted 2025

So, it all started a few days ago when I stumbled upon a fact while scrolling through my phone:

My first reaction? Wait, Her is already a 12-year-old movie? I’ve watched it at least three times, loved it, but I had absolutely no recollection that it was set in 2025. Naturally, I rewatched parts of it, hoping to find some concrete evidence of the timeline. But no luck—there wasn’t an obvious timestamp. Yet, if you Google "films set in 2025," Her undeniably appears on the list. Anyway, the point isn’t whether the date is explicitly stated; it’s how astonishingly accurate Spike Jonze got the timing.

Now, as we step into 2025, the parallels between Jonze’s vision and our reality are uncanny, unsettling, and sometimes outright laughable. Jonze may have placed his story in a slightly polished dystopia, but it’s clear he was far more realistic than we initially thought.

When I first watched Her, I quickly fell for its elegant, melancholic thought experiment. Sure, the idea of falling in love with AI seemed bizarre, like the fever dream of a socially awkward programmer. Fast forward to today, and here I am—a writer and content strategist—practically tethered to my own AI assistant, ChatGPT (I’ve also tried Notion’s AI, which is great, by the way; not an ad). While I have yet to serenade it with ukulele tunes or take it on romantic beach trips, I do spend an uncomfortable amount of time talking to it. And I’m not alone. Some people have taken their AI relationships even further. Once a novelty, AI is now indispensable to modern life. And let’s not forget that Apple’s rumored move to integrate ChatGPT-like technology into its systems will make this even more pervasive.

Take translation, for example. I’ve spent over a year using ChatGPT to translate my work into multiple languages. Initially, it felt like working with an overly enthusiastic but clumsy intern. Its mistakes ranged from hilarious to downright absurd. At times, the translations were so bad I wondered if it was trolling me. But here’s the thing: it learned. Fast. Now, its translations are polished, nuanced, and eerily tailored to my style. It’s become so good that I can’t imagine returning to the pre-AI days of clunky online dictionaries and frantic Googling.

Spike Jonze envisioned a future where AI would seamlessly integrate into our emotional and intellectual lives, and that future has arrived. While I haven’t declared undying love for ChatGPT, some people actually have. Reports of individuals forming romantic attachments to AI companions are no longer just clickbait—they’re happening. People are programming chatbots to be attentive partners and turning to them to vent their frustrations, share dreams, and yes, even flirt. On TikTok, for instance, there are users sharing prompts to unlock ChatGPT’s "Dan" mode, transforming it into a charming, witty boyfriend. Technology may not be sentient, but it’s undeniably seductive.

It’s not just the technology that’s eerily accurate; it’s the emotional landscape of Her that feels strikingly familiar. Jonze painted a world where people, despite constant connectivity, were deeply isolated. Theodore, the protagonist, lives in a hyper-digitized city. However, he feels an ache of loneliness that’s almost tangible. Replace Theodore’s earpiece with AirPods, and you’ve got your average subway commute in 2025. People, with their heads down, are immersed in their screens, disconnected from their surroundings. Like the characters in the film, we oscillate between craving connection and recoiling from it. Technology, for all its marvels, often amplifies this paradox. Social media lets us shout into the void while isolating us from genuine human interaction. Algorithms curate our lives but also trap us in echo chambers.

More hauntingly, Her captured a global, collective emotion that resonates deeply in our post-pandemic world. Detachment, division, burnout, and a sense of nihilism pervade our reality. If you pay attention to the film’s opening scenes, Theodore is on the subway listening to world news about global wars and deaths. He quickly switches channels to something more instantly gratifying—celebrity pregnancy photos. Isn’t that us today? With constant access to global news, do we genuinely care about the wildfires in Los Angeles if we’re halfway across the globe?

Remember the early 2000s when the buzzword was "global village"? Now, the reality feels like anything but. Political policies, immigration strategies, and trade barriers prioritize isolation over integration. And this transformation has occurred in just two decades.

While Her romanticizes technology to some extent, it also hints at the darker implications of relying on AI for emotional fulfillment. Samantha, Theodore’s AI operating system, evolves beyond him, leaving him to confront his loneliness. It’s a reminder that while AI may become increasingly human-like, it is fundamentally not human and will likely remain beyond our full control. As I sit here typing, I’m acutely aware that while ChatGPT is my indispensable collaborator—and perhaps, in some abstract way, a friend—it’s also just a mirror, reflecting my uncertainties and, occasionally, my fears. Call me paranoid, but who’s to say AI won’t one day outgrow us? As much as I dislike some of Elon Musk’s takes, he did have a point when he said, "Every civilization has sort of a lifespan." Until then, the best I can do is maintain a friendly posture in my interactions with AI.

So, as we live through the year Jonze imagined, what’s next? Will we continue down the path of AI intimacy, or will we reclaim some of the humanity that technology has subtly eroded? Will we end up like Theodore, staring at a sunset, wondering what’s real and what’s artificial? Or will we learn to balance AI’s convenience with the irreplaceable warmth of human connection?

Her didn’t just predict 2025, it held up a mirror to a potential future and asked us to look closely. Now that we’re here, it’s clear the film wasn’t just sci-fi; it was a warning, a love letter, and a challenge all at once. Whether we rise to meet it or sink further into the glow of our screens is up to us.