The Human Embodiment of Helvetica

My editor called me at 8:17 Tuesday morning and said, “I want 500 words on the Human Embodiment of Helvetica,” which is how I knew the day was already ruined.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You know what it means.”

“No, I absolutely do not know what it means. Helvetica is a typeface.”

“Exactly.”

“No. Not exactly. A typeface is not a human being.”

There was a long silence.

“Find him,” he said.

Then he hung up.

I spent the next three hours looking for a man who apparently did not exist, which is difficult enough without knowing what the hell he looks like. I called three printing companies, two advertising agencies, a sign shop and a man I found in the phone book who claimed to be an expert in fonts but became extremely nervous when I mentioned Helvetica in human form.

At 2:40, I found him.

He was standing outside a bank.

Gray suit. White shirt. No tie. Perfect posture. Completely expressionless.

He looked like a mannequin somebody had forgotten to put inside a department store.

“Are you Helvetica?”

“Yes.”

I looked around.

Nobody seemed concerned.

“You're a font.”

“Yes.”

“But you're also a man.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

He stared at me.

“I am the human embodiment.”

There are moments when a journalist must maintain composure. This was not one of them.

“What does that mean?”

“I am neutral.”

“Neutral?”

“Clean. Legible. Efficient.”

He spoke without emphasis. No excitement. No anger. No humor. Every word arrived with the emotional warmth of a highway sign.

I asked him where he lived.

“Everywhere.”

That was when I started noticing it.

Helvetica was everywhere.

On the bank sign. On the parking garage. On the street signs. On the side of a delivery truck. On the bathroom door. On the menu at a restaurant where I stopped to drink six cups of coffee and contemplate the collapse of Western civilization.

I began to suspect that Helvetica had been watching me for years.

Maybe that was the point.

You don't notice Helvetica.

You notice what Helvetica is telling you.

I went back to the office and found him sitting in my chair.

“How did you get in here?”

“You invited me.”

“I did not.”

He pointed at my computer.

There it was.

The document was open.

Every word was Helvetica.

I changed it to Times New Roman.

The screen flickered.

Helvetica looked disappointed.

“You should not do that.”

“Why?”

“Times is decorative.”

That frightened me more than it should have.

I left the office.

I walked three blocks before realizing he was following me.

I turned around.

He was standing perfectly still beneath a street sign.

For the first time, I saw something resembling emotion in his face.

Not anger.

Not sadness.

Recognition.

He smiled.

I looked at the sign above him.

Helvetica.

Then I looked at him.

Helvetica.

Then I looked at my own hands.

I swear to God they looked cleaner than they had that morning.

I went home and opened my computer.

The document was still there.

I began typing.

I don't remember choosing the font.

Note from the editor: This is the great part about AI.  You can have some ridiculous idea kicking around in your head.  And you can make a couple pictures.  And you come back to it again and make a couple more.  All AI of course because who has the artistic talent or ambition to draw even a sketch of the human embodiment of Helvetica.  I'm not even sure that that would be.  But AI knows. Because AI is the Helvetica of the art world.  Good enough to pass.  The complete average of human expression.   That is so far.  Remember AI has only been around for a couple years, and we still have taste.  In a few years, that will be gone.  Instead of paying for movies, tv shows, music, books, art, games they will pay the AI to generate custom entertainment.  A collection of prompts for those without imagination.  For those with imagination, it should be pretty interesting depending on what guardrails are in place.  Back to the point.  So you can have this idea about the Human embodiment of helvetica, and you can start writing it, but then realize, you don't really want to write about it.  You just like the idea of it.  Like some girlfriend from the 90's that is breaking up with you every other day and telling you that you don't love her, you love the idea of her.  What the fuck does that even mean.  Same thing as the human embodiment of helvetica.  Nothing! 

And somehow we made four pictures about it.

Ai suggested I add the last line.  It actually rewrote my whole note and it sounded pretty good, but come on. We gotta have some human touch here.  By the way, it's 5 images.