Conversational AI

The meeting-room test AI still fails Meeting rooms are unforgiving places for intelligence. A person can know the topic, understand the slides, recognize every face around the table, and still be a terrible participant. Speak too early, and they interrupt. Speak too late, and the moment has passed. Say something factually relevant but socially tone-deaf, and the room quietly deducts points. No spreadsheet records this. Everyone notices anyway. ...

Customer support has a familiar failure mode: the first answer sounds polished, the second answer sounds patient, the third answer sounds as if the system has quietly forgotten what problem it is solving. The user is still there. The emotional state has changed. The unresolved issue has shifted. The model, meanwhile, keeps producing individually acceptable replies, like a waiter bringing one beautifully plated dish at a time to the wrong table. ...

Battery. At 5 p.m., the grid wants help. The evening peak is approaching, the aggregator needs 3 kW of flexibility between 17:00 and 19:00, and one household in the portfolio looks promising. In the old demand-response world, this might become a price alert, an app notification, or a silent automated command. The household either complies, ignores it, or discovers later that the “smart” system has made a decision that feels less smart when dinner, laundry, or comfort is involved. ...

Affective Inertia: Teaching LLM Agents to Remember Who They Are A chatbot does not need to forget your name to become strange. Sometimes the stranger failure is tonal. The assistant is patient for ten turns, defensive on the eleventh, apologetic on the twelfth, and oddly cheerful on the thirteenth. Nothing in the user’s goal changed. Nothing in the product specification said “please behave like an emotionally unstable intern with excellent grammar.” Yet the agent flips. ...

Voice AI has a very old interface problem wearing very expensive new clothes: it still has to guess whether the user is following. A chatbot can ask, “Was this helpful?” A voice assistant can wait for silence, hesitation, interruption, or a sigh that the microphone may or may not catch. A customer-support bot can count clicks, retries, and abandonment. But none of these signals directly tells the system what is happening inside the user while the conversation unfolds. Is the user overloaded? Bored? Confused? Privately disagreeing with the answer but too polite, tired, or irritated to say so? ...

A customer support bot does not need a soul. Pleasantly, most airlines have not yet advertised one. But it does need to remember what role it is playing. If it gives policy advice, that advice must remain anchored to the policy. If it apologises for an error, the correction should bind future answers. If the company has told users the assistant is a support agent, the assistant cannot conveniently become a speculative travel blogger, a therapist, a lawyer, or a magic refund machine, depending on which prompt arrives next. ...

TL;DR for operators Dinner plans are where elegant recommender theory goes to be quietly embarrassed. Five people do not usually open a dedicated app, rate every restaurant, agree on a utility function, and wait for a ranked list to descend from the heavens. They argue in a chat. They change their minds. Someone forgets the budget. Someone says “anything is fine” while absolutely not meaning it. Someone else proposes a venue that is closed on Mondays. Humanity, as usual, remains a hostile runtime environment. ...

TL;DR for operators Long-context windows are useful. They are also an expensive way to pretend that memory is just a bigger clipboard. The HEMA paper argues for a more operationally realistic design: keep a compressed summary of the conversation always visible, store detailed past exchanges outside the prompt, and retrieve only the details that matter for the current turn.1 That gives the model two different memory behaviours: continuity from Compact Memory and factual recall from Vector Memory. ...