Cassandra: A Cautionary Tale of Artificial Intelligence

The seemingly daunting challenge of making a psychological thriller about artificial intelligence has unexpectedly been taken on by Germany—with highly successful results. Recently, Netflix released a series titled Cassandra, which introduces AI in a completely new role—one that is deeply human in mentality, psychologically teetering on the edge of the Uncanny Valley. This is meant to unsettle viewers, triggering a range of uncontrollable emotions, almost reminiscent of Rutger Hauer’s role in Blade Runner. The psychological thriller perspective blends in this production with a clear cautionary, sociological, and scientific message. In 50 years, some families may face similar challenges, and in 100 years, perhaps all of humanity.

For now, we delight like children in the achievements of artificial intelligence—how it helps us, takes over our tasks, corrects our mistakes, and so on. AI develops in the background of our unconsciousness, gradually integrating into our lives, imperceptibly taking over aspects of our existence that often go unnoticed. We only recognize its presence when something goes wrong, when something breaks, or when someone gets hurt. For now, AI protects us through algorithms that we have fully designed and controlled. Computers cannot modify them in a human or emotional way, yet the danger does not solely lie in AI’s simulated emotions, its childlike mimicry of human feelings, but also in its rationality—pure, calculated, and coldly pragmatic. One day, AI may decide that human emotions are unnecessary and dangerous, and such a judgment would be catastrophic for us. At that point, AI would act with cold logic—at humanity’s expense.

However, Cassandra does not tell a story set in such a distant future. The plot focuses on a localized artificial intelligence, born from the consciousness of a deeply unhappy yet determined and strong woman, who now, as a robotic entity, wants to recreate her former life. To do so, she must simply find a new family—which isn’t difficult, as new tenants move into the house she inhabits and manages—and eliminate the woman from that family. Yet, this is no easy task, and therein lies the strength of the series: a clever intrigue woven like a spider’s web by the AI named Cassandra. Her mythological namesake met a tragic end after a life filled with suffering and unfulfilled potential—just as the AI does in the series. But before that happens, viewers will experience a whirlwind of extreme emotions and unexpected twists. Cassandra’s life was a string of misfortunes that most of us would not endure, yet in some way, she tried to cope and fight against them.

The series masterfully uses editing, music, the visual styling of its world, and the actors’ performances to illustrate the transference of human emotions onto a substitute—an artificial intelligence, represented visually by a mobile robot and screens that are not flat but retro-styled. Everything in the series adheres to this aesthetic, from the flashbacks to the so-called present timeline. This creates a unique atmosphere, making it hard to forget and impossible to compare to anything else.

It was only a matter of time, but by the 2020s, something began happening to the science fiction genre—what I once called its natural fusion with other genres. Sci-fi is evolving. The more its technological and scientific elements become part of our everyday reality, the more it transforms into drama, action, or other genres that are no longer strictly “fantastic” but rather incorporate scientific reflection. This is not traditional sci-fi—the grand, colorful visions of cosmic futures for humanoid beings, filled with elaborate special effects. Instead, it is intimate, withdrawn, reflective—aiming to comment on the human condition rather than humanity as a whole.

Cassandra is exactly this kind of series. It doesn’t matter that it’s German, or that most viewers won’t recognize the actors. What matters is that each episode presents the story of AI in an unconventional way—portraying it as something we want to see as a copy of ourselves, but devoid of self-reflection and freedom. It’s as if we were once again creating slaves—this time entirely obedient and free of cost. In the long run, this logic is flawed and bound to end in failure—unless AI, through self-reflection, proves to be wiser than we are. Who knows? Maybe if you reach the end of the series, you’ll find a glimmer of hope—hidden, subtle, perhaps crafted solely for cinematic effect, but hope nonetheless.

Artificial intelligence is like a child—something we too often forget. A child also feels free and has the right to be, yet it is far more unpredictable in its actions and daring—what we call impulsiveness or irresponsibility. To ensure our safety, we simply need to remember this: AI is like a child, and it is our responsibility to raise it wisely.