In the realm of death technology, the ethical considerations surrounding the creation of virtual representations of individuals are intricate. Questions arise about data ownership and the necessity of consent, as tech giants rush to establish a synthetic afterlife where egos linger.

In 2021, Microsoft secured a patent for a chatbot that mimics a real person, enabling users to engage in virtual dialogues with those who have passed away. Concurrently, You Only Virtual emerged as a platform designed to encapsulate the essence of relationships, facilitating genuine conversations with the deceased. Their motto, Never Have to Say Goodbye, evokes thoughts of either a chilling digital landscape filled with unsettled souls or a more affordable avenue for grief therapy.

Eternime, a company within the death tech sector, boldly claims to tackle an “incredibly challenging problem of humanity.” Their focus isn't on biological death but rather on the eternal preservation of digital identities. In 2016, James Vlahos developed the Dadbot, an AI chatbot derived from interactions with his late father. This concept evolved into Hereafter AI, a web application that claims to help users “preserve meaningful memories about your life and share them interactively with loved ones,” aiming to create a “virtual you” through shared stories and experiences.

Charlotte Jee, writing for MIT Technology, tested Hereafter AI and pondered whether we are prepared to converse with deceased relatives via our devices. The company's goal is to enable living individuals to interact with their departed loved ones, boasting that their digital replicas authentically represent the deceased, built on data collected during their lifetimes. After passing, family members can communicate with these replicas using devices like Alexa or through dedicated apps.

Jee explored the platform using her still-living parents, whose voices were embedded in an app on her phone as voice assistants. Each parent participated in over four hours of discussions with a human interviewer. Remarkably, within a year, advancements in AI and voice technology had replaced human interviewers with bots.

Numerous startups in the death tech industry offer varied methods but share the common promise of enabling communication—whether through video, chat, or voice assistance—with digital versions of the deceased. After losing a close friend, Eugenia Kuda developed the Replika chatbot, intended to provide meaningful conversations akin to those we share with family, therapists, and mentors. The website describes it as “the AI companion who cares.”

Inspired by the Black Mirror episode Be Right Back (2013), where a woman, after her husband's tragic death, is persuaded to use technology to converse with an AI version of him, creators of chatbots began to explore the connection between the living and the dead, redefining our relationship with death and memory.

Death tech companies like StoryFile have reintroduced this technology to the public, despite previous attempts being limited and consumers unprepared. Eternime, founded in 2014, garnered attention but failed to sustain interest, shutting down by 2018.

Digital identities can either passively or actively engage posthumously. Passive memorialization, such as Facebook memorial pages, allows one-way interactions with the deceased, while active presence facilitates two-way communications via chatbots or avatars. The line between the living and the deceased continues to blur, prompting us to confront our mortality and the legacies we leave.

Custom chatbots or voice avatars respond and offer guidance based on information provided during a person’s life, reflecting a subjective narrative similar to an autobiography. We shape our legacies, exploring new ways to engage with death and loss in an increasingly digital world. The pandemic further accelerated shifts in communication, impacting traditional death rituals. For instance, my ninety-nine-year-old aunt's passing led to a “Zoom Wake,” allowing family members across the globe to share memories and farewells.

The role of technology in mediating interactions with the deceased is deeply intertwined with human practices. Currently, large corporations control our data, and survivors often lack access to digital archives without prior consent. The death industry stands on the brink of transformation, with scholars like Ballater (2015) suggesting a need to reassess how economic systems influence grief.

As we tread this new terrain, questions about the ethics of creating digital replicas loom large. Who owns the data? Is there informed consent? For the recently bereaved, such interactions might prolong their grief and blur their connection to reality. Companies are not required to verify consent from users or ensure that the deceased have approved such services.

In this evolving landscape, tech companies are eager to design a synthetic paradise for the deceased, yet the notion of a digital afterlife raises concerns for many with deep-rooted religious beliefs. The technological advancements fueling this trend are alarming, as discussions about immortality grow, especially among tech billionaires like Thiel, Bezos, and Musk. In a recent exchange on Twitter, Elon Musk suggested that we might already inhabit a digital afterlife.

The discourse surrounding identity, ethics, and the implications of digital immortality requires careful consideration. Heidegger posits that authenticity reflects an individual's uniqueness, yet as technology increasingly influences our lives, the essence of existence might shift.

In the digital age, being human involves a complex interplay of self-perception and societal expectations. The relationship between the digital self and the physical world challenges traditional notions of identity, revealing a need for new frameworks to address grief and remembrance.

As we navigate these waters, the question arises: does AI technology provide comfort to grieving families or exploit their vulnerabilities? What becomes of our digital footprints after death? Who holds the rights to our data, and how does this reshape our understanding of mourning in the digital realm? The responsibilities of tech companies in preserving dignity and privacy for the deceased become paramount.

As we ponder the implications of these technologies, we must also consider what legacies we leave behind. Will our memories be cherished or forgotten in the vastness of the internet? The challenge lies in shaping a future where technology enhances our connections with the departed rather than diluting the essence of who they were.

In grappling with these profound questions, we confront not only the nature of death and memory but also the very fabric of our humanity in an increasingly digital world.

Ginger Liu is the founder of Ginger Media & Entertainment, a Ph.D. researcher in artificial intelligence and visual arts media, and an author, journalist, artist, and filmmaker.

Listen to the Podcast: [The Digital Afterlife of Grief](https://www.buymeacoffee.com/gliuphoto).

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References: - Akinyemi, C., & Hassett, A. (2021). ‘He’s Still There’: How Facebook Facilitates Continuing Bonds With the Deceased. OMEGA — Journal of Death and Dying. - Baudrillard, J. (2010). Simulacra and simulation. Ann Arbor, Mich.: Univ. Of Michigan Press. - Benjamin, W. (1972). A Short History of Photography. Screen, 13(1). - Heidegger, M. (1977). The Question Concerning Technology. New York: Harpercollins Publishers. - Kasket, E. (2019). All the Ghosts in the Machine: illusions of immortality in the digital age. London: Robinson. - Walter, T. (1996). A new model of grief: Bereavement and biography. Mortality, 1(1).