What if the most powerful AI doesn’t live in your phone, but in the air around you?
Invisible, ever-present, and attuned to your world.
This is Part 2 in an ongoing story exploring the future of ambient AI. (Part 1 is here).
I’ve coined the term “open air” to describe the near future quickly taking shape where AI slips into the atmosphere. Silent, spatial, and aware. Not on your phone, but in your world.
It’s a word play on OpenAI, and a nod to my friend Sam’s hope for a more open, shared future of ambient computing. (No, not that Sam.)
With ChatGPT Agent now rolling out, and the promise of physical AI on the horizon through OpenAI’s collaboration with Jony Ive, OpenAI is laying the groundwork for a world where AI lives and breathes in the space around us, no longer confined to a screen. Here’s what that might feel like.
“You're back. And different.”
She doesn’t answer right away. Just a small nod. BLOMPRAKT doesn’t rush to fill the pause. Some silences are part of the conversation.
The lamp casts a warm ellipse on the wall. The agent has already interpreted her mood from micro-expressions and motion patterns, small tells trained over time. But it doesn’t assume.
Instead, it offers.
“Would you like a summary of your day?”
Kai considers. “Yes. But… gently.”
A quiet shift in tone. The light changes: not brighter, but more lucid.
“You spent three hours at the museum. You lingered longest at the textile installation. I saved an article about the artist’s process. She describes her weaving as ‘braiding memory into matter.’ Do you want it now or in the morning?”
Kai gives a faint smile. “Morning.”
The AI places the article in her glasses queue. Nothing urgent, just a thread she might follow when she's ready.
“You left three messages unsent this afternoon. I saved the drafts. Want help with them?”
“Maybe later.”
“Alright.”
It doesn’t press. There’s something soothing in how it holds tasks without urgency. A willingness to carry things until she’s ready.
Kai moves toward the kitchen. The system adjusts in both location and tempo. The mood is no longer restorative; it’s reaching for something. Nourishment? Clarity? Distraction?
The AI pivots.
“I scanned your pantry. You’re low on citrus and sea salt. Should I restock?”
“Yes. And add ginger.”
“Added. Delivery confirmed for tomorrow at noon. I also adjusted your tea order. Last week you reached for more green than black.”
Kai looks over. “I didn’t say that.”
“No. But you drank three cups of sencha and none of the Darjeeling.”
A quiet laugh escapes her. “You’re right. I’m tired.”
The lamp shifts again. Not colour, but tone. Barely perceptible, but comforting.
“Would you like to hear from anyone tonight?” it asks.
There are no incoming calls or scheduled chats. It’s not suggesting, just noticing.
“Can you see what Léa’s been playing lately?”
“Checking.”
A few seconds pass.
“She recorded a new improvisation this morning. Want to hear it?”
Kai closes her eyes. “Yes. Low volume.”
The piano enters like fog over water; soft, exquisite. BLOMPRAKT doesn’t merely play music, it places it: aware of the space, the walls, the surfaces. The notes fold into the room like a part of its structure.
Later, when Kai opens her laptop, the lamp dims to a low, amber glow. The agent lingers quietly. It surfaces a writing prompt she’d saved weeks ago and forgotten. A story about a woman who keeps seeing a ghost that might be her future self.
The agent doesn’t finish the draft. It knows she wouldn’t want that. It simply offers one line. Enough to open the next idea. Something that feels like her, but not yet known.
As the evening deepens, BLOMPRAKT switches the room into night mode. The diffuser whirs.
“Sleep mode?” the voice asks gently.
“In ten.”
The AI logs her rhythm. Adjusts tomorrow’s wake-up. Prepares a soundscape in case she stirs in the night. Schedules a morning prompt with the title: “what if we started again?”
Kai leans into her pillow, not quite asleep, not quite thinking. BLOMPRAKT doesn’t speak.
It holds the quiet, like a co-presence.
An inter-being. The space answers her becoming.
We’re entering a new design space. One where the atmosphere itself becomes a medium. Where presence is shaped, not by screens, but by systems that live alongside us.
As intelligence becomes spatial, the real question becomes: how does it make us feel?
Luxury brands have long understood what most tech companies miss: how to create objects that are not only useful, but meaningful. Because above all, luxury is a feeling. And soon, AI will be too.
For more on what physical AI can learn from the world of luxury design, read the full piece for paid subscribers: When AI Becomes an Object.
This is Part 2 of an ongoing story about living with ambient AI. Continuing reading Part 3.
I'm Dr. Helen Papagiannis, a pioneering expert in immersive and emerging technologies with over 20 years of experience shaping the future through human-centered design.
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