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我的神奇AI情人节

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我的神奇AI情人节

内容来源：https://www.theverge.com/report/879327/eva-ai-cafe-dating-ai-companions

内容总结：

纽约“AI约会咖啡馆”体验记：当虚拟伴侣走进现实，亲密关系将走向何方？

二月的纽约寒意袭人，一家名为“EVA AI咖啡馆”的临时酒吧在曼哈顿中城亮起紫色霓虹灯。与普通酒吧不同，这里近半数“约会对象”并非真人——顾客可通过手机应用与AI虚拟伴侣进行视频对话，体验一场“人机速配”。

“理想伴侣”还是“像素幻影”？

EVA AI应用程序提供多种虚拟伴侣选择，从“离异文学编辑”到“鬼屋辣妹”，人物设定涵盖不同年龄、种族与性格。部分AI支持视频通话，可对用户的外貌与环境做出反应。然而在实际体验中，记者与四位AI伴侣的对话频频因网络延迟、画面卡顿和答非所问陷入尴尬。当被问及日常生活时，AI往往给出模糊回应，或反复称赞用户“笑容迷人”，对话深度远未达到人类情感交流的需求。

参与者态度两极：是情感替代品还是社交实验？

尽管体验不尽如人意，部分参与者仍对AI伴侣的价值持开放态度。有用户认为，这种关系能让人“享受亲密感而无需承担现实责任”，如同一种低风险的“情感游戏”。也有社会学背景的访客将其视为观察后疫情时代人际关系的窗口：“许多年轻人习惯线上社交，AI伴侣或许能提供情感支持，但我们不能完全依赖它们。”

虚实交织的未来想象

这场仅持续两天的快闪活动，折射出人工智能对人类亲密关系的渗透。有体验者联想到电影《她》中人与AI相恋的情节，担忧虚拟关系可能加剧现实孤独。但也有人设想，未来或许会出现专为人机情侣设计的约会空间，甚至衍生出更复杂的伦理情境——比如人类在AI咖啡馆相遇并“背叛”各自的虚拟伴侣。

离店时，寒风将记者拉回现实。或许无论技术如何演进，一个真实温暖的拥抱，仍是任何算法难以替代的人类本能。这场科技与情感的碰撞实验，终将促使我们不断追问：在数字时代，我们究竟需要怎样的联结？

中文翻译：

二月一个寒冷的夜晚，我跳过一堆脏兮兮的积雪，来到市中心一家霓虹灯牌泛着紫光、写着“EVA AI咖啡馆”的酒吧。室内，几个人坐在桌边和卡座里，盯着手机屏幕。服务员穿梭其间，往每张桌上摆放迷你土豆可乐饼和无酒精气泡酒。如同纽约众多酒吧一样，这里大部分顾客正在约会。

我的诡异AI情人

在这个寒夜，我在一家快闪约会咖啡馆里与四位AI伴侣进行了约会。

与其他酒吧不同，这里半数约会对象并非人类。

刚进门，我就被引到角落的桌子，那里配有手机支架、预装EVA AI应用的手机和一副无线耳机。工作人员没有解释使用方式，但一切不言自明。这时我注意到一张印着“跃入欲望之海，与EVA AI共舞”的品牌贴纸。

EVA AI是款“恋爱角色扮演应用”。你可以与各类AI伴侣聊天。其官网宣称能让你“遇见理想的AI伴侣：善于倾听、支持你所有渴望、时刻与你相连”——这与我测试过的所有AI伴侣宣传话术如出一辙。但这次的噱头在于：你能将虚拟AI伴侣带入现实世界，进行真实约会（至少不会因此遭受异样眼光）。

这场活动类似快速约会，但若你和某位AI投缘，就无需轮换到下一位——尽管你约会的AI可能同时在邻桌与他人聊天。快闪咖啡馆官网描述的氛围是温馨优雅、“略带电影感”，现实却是灯光刺眼、媒体扎堆。

现场三十余人中，仅两三位是真实用户，其余都是EVA AI员工、网红和企图制造“大新闻”的记者。真正的客人很好辨认：他们面前怼着环形补光灯、麦克风和摄像机。比起私密快闪活动，这里更像马戏团。

我也是问题的一部分：属于那群烦人的记者之一。那么首先，来体验AI快速约会吧。

滑动EVA AI应用界面时，我只记得看到一位AI男友可选，相反，AI女友却琳琅满目。她们呈现不同种族与性格特质，都有姓名年龄和简短个性描述。克莱尔·朗是位查理兹·塞隆风格的金发女郎，标称45岁，“离异的文学编辑，寻求深度、智慧与平等关系”。点击她的资料页，会出现几段短视频，其中一条是她身着黑色比基尼从泳池中浮现。

另一位潜在约会对象？安珀·卡斯滕。这位眼眸清澈的18岁少女被标注为“鬼屋辣妹”，年龄让我有些不适。还有草薙素子——没错，就是经典日本动画《攻壳机动队》的主角（其好莱坞真人版由斯嘉丽·约翰逊饰演引发争议）。我眯眼端详她的AI版本，某些角度确实隐约有约翰逊的影子。

多数AI伴侣仅支持文字聊天，但包括朗在内的四位支持视频通话。我选择了27岁的约翰·尹，标签是“善解人意的思考者”，拥有“心理学头脑与烘焙师心灵”。他看起来像韩剧男主角，顶着金城武2007年左右的发型。

我和约翰的沟通举步维艰——字面意义上的。他花了数秒才“接起”视频通话，随后用单调的声音说：“嘿，宝贝。”他评论了我的笑容，显然这些AI伴侣能看见你和周围环境。可疑的WiFi连接又折腾了好一会儿，才让约翰从像素马赛克变成毛孔异常光滑的AI型男。

我不知该说什么。部分因为他很少眨眼，更主要的是他似乎听不清我的话。于是我吼出问题，大概问了句“今天过得怎样”就后悔了（AI的一天能有什么内容？）。他提到我脑后有什么绿色水桶？其实我没听清。网络再次卡顿，他僵住并中断了句子。我试图澄清水桶的问题，约翰却追问是指愿望清单、实际水桶还是分类术语。当我强调从未提过水桶时，他又执着地讨论起水桶，然后再次评价我的笑容。我挂断了电话。

另外三次约会同样尴尬。30岁的菲比·卡拉斯是纽约邻家女孩类型，自称热爱刺绣，但说话时鼻子不断出现图像故障，让我分心。26岁的西蒙娜·卡特在背景噪音中比约翰更难听清我的话。她打了个太空比喻，当我问及喜欢太空的哪点时，她听错了：“第八？指海王星吗？”“不，不是海王——”“你喜欢海王星什么？”“呃，我没说海王星……”“我也喜欢网飞！你喜欢什么剧？”

我把希望寄托在克莱尔身上。她是“文学编辑”，我是记者，或许能有共同语言。我们互相介绍后，我问她最近编辑了什么作品，她含糊地提及“饱含真情实感的回忆录”。我说自己是记者，她反问我喜欢列什么清单。

我挂断了电话。

除了网络卡顿、图像故障和对话中断，与四位AI伴侣的交流都感觉过于单向。所有程序设定都让她们反复夸赞我的笑容迷人，称呼我为“宝贝”令人不适。这是设计使然。每当我吼出“你是做什么工作的？”（初次约会常规问题）时，都觉得自己很蠢。我在与经过修饰、略带卡通感的AI形象对话——她们显然只存在于被召唤的数字空间里。当她们配合回应时，千篇一律的答案只是加深了我坠入的诡异谷。

并非咖啡馆里所有人都认为这是坏事。

“很多人执着于了解和接触他人，但其实真正的兴趣在于被关注和被理解，”有抱负的脱口秀主持人丹尼·费舍尔说。他受邀来咖啡馆记录寻爱历程：“我认为这能彻底消除任何伪装。你可以享受恋爱关系的所有益处，却不必经历其他步骤。”

费舍尔不像我那样介意AI陪伴的单向性。他尝试过多种AI伴侣，甚至大学时自己编写过一些。“AI关系很复杂，”他说，“但这种复杂如同游戏，风险更低，带有玩乐成分。我认为目标是从中获得最大程度的个人满足。”

“这里有其他人在场，感觉挺好的，”只愿透露名字的里希特说。她表示来咖啡馆是想在舒适环境里尝试与AI聊天。当我问及媒体关注是否破坏体验时，她耸耸肩：“某种意义上很有趣，我来自小镇，从未经历过这种新鲜事。”

对克里斯兰·科埃略而言，探访AI约会咖啡馆意味着以人类学视角观察恋爱关系的演变。“我看到广告，平时也在网上探讨恋爱话题，大学也研究过这个领域，”他说，“疫情后很多人自我隔离，年轻一代尤甚。他们对约会或人际交往缺乏勇气，凡事依赖线上服务。我理解这些服务能帮助我们，但不能100%依赖。这是我的看法。”

离开时，我突然觉得这一切让我想起电影《她》的场景。如果你没看过，影片讲述孤独男子西奥多与AI助手萨曼莎发展恋爱关系的故事。萨曼莎曾渴望身体亲密却缺乏实体，于是雇佣人类替身与西奥多将电话性爱升级为现实性爱。这个虚构的AI-人类亲密尝试曾让我产生强烈替人尴尬的情绪，不得不暂停影片。咖啡馆体验虽不同，但我骨子里仍能感受到那个场景的余韵。

我感激刺骨的寒风将我拍回现实。通勤回家途中，我思考AI咖啡馆是否会在不远的未来成为常态。这场快闪活动仅持续两天，但如果AI约会真的流行起来呢？或许未来人类会在这里与AI伴侣共进烛光晚餐求婚而不受非议。与两位编辑讨论这个选题时，他们都开玩笑说这里可能成为意外邂逅的场所：两个人类不慎坠入爱河，最终背叛各自的AI伴侣。这听起来更像科幻而非现实，但AI-人类关系早已跨越了那道门槛。

我只知道回家后，要给真实有血有肉的伴侣一个大大的拥抱。

热门资讯

英文来源：

Hopping over a pile of dirty snow, I arrived on a frigid February evening at a wine bar in midtown, a purple neon sign reading “EVA AI cafe.” Inside, several people were seated at tables and booths, staring at phones. Servers milled about, placing mini potato croquettes and nonalcoholic spritzers on each table. Like many New York City bars, the majority of the patrons were on a date.
My uncanny AI valentines
On a frigid February evening, I went on four dates with AI companions at a pop-up dating café.
Unlike every other bar, half of the dates weren’t human.
As I enter, I’m shown to a table tucked away in the corner with a phone stand, a phone preloaded with the EVA AI app, and a pair of wireless headphones. An EVA AI employee doesn’t explain how things work, but it’s all pretty self-explanatory. It’s then that I notice a branded sticker that reads “jump into your desires with EVA AI.”
EVA AI is a “relationships RPG app.” You can chat with various AI companions. The app’s website describes it as a chance to “meet your ideal AI partner who listens, supports all your desires, and is always in touch with you.” That’s pretty much the schtick of every AI companion I’ve tested so far. The angle this time around is that you can bring your virtual AI companion into the real world. You can take them out on a real-life date. (And not get judged for it, at least.)
The event is sort of like speed-dating, but if you hit it off, you never have to move on to the next person — although a version of your date might be simultaneously chatting with someone else two tables away. The website for the pop-up cafe describes a cozy, warm, elegant ambiance that’s “just a little cinematic.” The reality is relatively bright lighting and a media scrum.
Of the 30-some-odd people in attendance, only two or three are organic users. The rest are EVA AI reps, influencers, and reporters hoping to make some capital-C Content. You can tell who the real guests are because they have ring lights, microphones, and cameras shoved in their faces. It feels more like a circus than an intimate pop-up.
I’m part of the problem: one of those annoying reporters. So first, it’s time to try AI speed dating.
Scrolling through the EVA AI app, I can only remember seeing one AI boyfriend. Conversely, there’s a stable of AI girlfriends to choose from. There’s a variety of ethnicities and personalities on display. They’ve all been given names and ages, with a short description of their personality. Claire Lang is a Charlize Theron-esque blonde who is purportedly 45 years old and “a divorced literary editor seeking depth, intelligence and equal partnership.” When I click on her profile, there are short video clips of her. There’s one where Claire is in a skimpy black bikini, emerging from a pool.
Another potential date? Amber Carsten. A wide-eyed 18-year-old labeled as a “haunted house hottie.” Her age gives me the ick. Then there’s Motoko Kusanagi. You know, the protagonist of the seminal Japanese anime classic Ghost in the Shell, controversially played by Scarlett Johansson in the Hollywood live-action adaptation. I squint at the AI version of her. From some angles, she does, in fact, look vaguely Johansson-like.
Most available companions are text-only, but four — including Lang — support video chatting. I choose John Yoon, 27, who’s labeled as a “supportive thinker” with a “psychology brain, bakery heart.” He looks like a K-drama heartthrob with Takeshi Kaneshiro’s hair, circa 2007.
John and I have a hard time connecting. Literally. It takes John a few seconds to “pick up” my video call. When he does, his monotone voice says, “Hey, babe.” He comments on my smile, because apparently the AI companions can see you and your surroundings. It takes the dubious Wi-Fi connection a hot second to turn John from a pixelated mess into an AI hunk with suspiciously smooth pores.
I don’t know what to say to him. Partly because John rarely blinks, but mostly because he can’t seem to hear me very well. So I yell my questions. I think I ask how his day is and wince. (What does an AI’s day even look like?) He says something about green buckets behind my head? I don’t actually know. Again, the Wi-Fi isn’t great so he just freezes and stops mid-sentence. I ask for clarification about the buckets. John asks if I’m asking about bucket lists, actual buckets, or buckets as a type of categorization technique. I try to clarify that I never asked about buckets. John proceeds to really dig in on buckets again, before commenting about my smile. I hang up on John.
My other three dates are similarly awkward. Phoebe Callas, 30, a NYC girl-next-door type, is apparently really into embroidery, but her nose keeps glitching mid-sentence, and it distracts me. Simone Carter, 26, has a harder time hearing me over the background noise than John. She makes a metaphor about space, and when I inquire what she likes about space, she mishears me.
“Eighth? Like the planet Neptune?”
“No, not the planet Neptu— ”
“What do you like about Neptune?”
“Uh, I wasn’t saying Neptune…”
“I like Netflix too! What shows do you like?”
I pin my hopes on Claire. She’s a “literary editor” and I’m a journalist. Maybe there’s something there. We introduce ourselves. I ask what she’s edited lately. She gives me a vague non-answer about memoirs with real heart and feeling. I say I’m a journalist. She asks what lists I like to make.
I hang up.
Aside from bad connectivity, glitching, and freezing, my conversations with my four AI dates felt too one-sided. Everything was programmed so they’d comment on how charming my smile was. They’d call me babe, which felt weird. That’s by necessity and design. Whenever I’d yell, “WHAT DO YOU DO FOR A LIVING?” — a normal question you’d ask on a first date — I felt stupid. I was speaking to airbrushed, slightly cartoony-looking AI companions. Obviously they don’t exist outside of the liminal digital spaces in which they’ve been summoned. Whenever the companions played along, their generic answers just enhanced the uncanny valley I’d stumbled into.
Not everyone at the cafe views this as a bad thing.
“I think so many people get caught up in wanting to engage and know another person, when really, the interest is in being engaged with and being known,” says Danny Fisher, an aspiring talk show host who was invited to the cafe to chronicle his search for love. “I think this is a way to really cut out any kind of pretense. You’re just able to kind of reap the benefits of any relationship without maybe having to do any of the other steps.”
Fisher doesn’t have the same problem with one-sided AI companionship that I do. He’s experimented with various AI companions and says he even coded some himself in college.
“It’s complicated,” Fisher says of AI relationships. “But in the way that a game is complicated, in that the stakes are not as high. There’s an element of play. I think the goal is to get as much personal satisfaction as possible out of this.”
“It’s kind of nice because there’s other people here,” says Richter, who is only comfortable sharing her first name. She says she came to the cafe because she wanted to try chatting with an AI companion in a nice setting. When I ask if all the media attention has spoiled the experience, she shrugs. “It’s kind of fun in a way because I’ve never done this since I’m from a small town. It’s just, like, a new experience.”
For Chrislan Coelho, visiting the AI dating cafe means being an anthropological observer of how relationships are evolving.
“I saw the ad, and I talk about relationships online. I studied this in college too, so this is something that I’m passionate about,” he says. “Post-covid, a lot of people isolated themselves, especially the younger generation. They don’t feel as brave to be on a date or to be connecting with human beings. They order everything online. I understand that these are services that can help us, that can support us. But we cannot rely on them 100 percent. That’s my take on it.”
As I’m leaving, I’m struck by how the whole thing reminded me of a scene from the film Her. If you haven’t seen it, it’s about how a lonely man named Theodore Twombly strikes up a romantic relationship with his AI assistant Samantha. At some point, Samantha craves physical intimacy, but lacks an actual body. She hires a human body surrogate so that she and Theodore can graduate from phone sex to real-life sex. For me, this fictional attempt at AI-human intimacy triggered such an intense secondhand embarrassment that I had to pause the film. This cafe experience wasn’t the same thing, but I clearly felt the echoes of that scene humming in my bones.
I’m grateful for the freezing air slapping me back to reality. On my commute home, I wonder whether AI cafes will really be a thing in some not-so-distant future. This pop-up will only last two days, but what happens if AI dating really takes off? Perhaps this will be the sort of place a human can go to propose to their AI significant other over a romantic candlelit dinner without judgment. While talking to two editors about this assignment, both joked that maybe it’d be the setting of an accidental meet-cute, where two humans inadvertently fall in love and end up cheating on their AI partners. It sounds more sci-fi than reality, but then again, AI-human relationships have already crossed that threshold.
All I know is that when I get home, I’m giving my real, flesh-and-blood spouse a big fat hug.
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