Editor's Note
In the spring of 2024, two news stories about digital humans sparked heated discussions: one was the appearance of the digital likeness of Tang Xiao'ou, the late founder of SenseTime, a well-known artificial intelligence (AI) scientist, at the company's annual meeting; the other was Taiwanese musician Bao Xiaobai using AI technology to "resurrect" his deceased daughter. While netizens rejoiced at the chance to "reunite" with these two deceased individuals, they were also amazed by the lifelike digital humans. In fact, with the rapid development of AI technology in recent years, many people have high hopes for using AI to "revive" deceased loved ones.
However, can "digital departed" truly alleviate the pain of longing? What should we learn from death, a compulsory course in life? As the Qingming Festival approaches, the Chinese Science Bulletin interviewed "Wu Wuliu" (pseudonym Xiao Liang), who unexpectedly gained fame for uploading a video titled "Reviving Grandma with AI". His story may provide some answers.
Digital Human Tang Xiao'ou
The daughter of Digital Human Pack Little Bai is named "2."
In the wee hours of 2023, at 4 a.m., amidst the chilly embrace of the night, Xiao Liang lay alone on his bed in a rented apartment, staring at his phone screen for what felt like an eternity.
Playing on his phone was a short video sent by a file assistant, featuring an elderly lady with a head full of silver hair, her expression somewhat stiff. Speaking in the Hubei dialect, she seemed to be imparting some advice or words of wisdom to Xiao Liang. He responded with tears streaming down his face.
Just over two months ago, Xiao Liang's grandmother, who had raised him since childhood, passed away after a brief illness, reduced to ashes in just 15 days. Xiao Liang often found himself in a daze, unable to believe that his grandmother had truly left him, never to be seen again. At just 25 years old, Xiao Liang's parents had divorced when he was very young, leaving him to rely solely on his grandmother. In a sense, she was his only family in the world.
So, driven almost as if by madness, he tirelessly worked day and night to create a digital replica of his grandmother, attempting to "resurrect" her using AI technology. He then compiled the entire process into an 8-minute video and shared it on various media platforms, garnering over 700,000 views in just a few days.
The video went viral. But the essence of his grandmother remained frozen in those fleeting minutes.
Pain
His grandmother's passing was a nightmare from which Xiao Liang couldn't escape.
After graduating from university in 2020, Xiao Liang chose to stay in Shanghai and work as a visual designer for an internet company. The intensity of his work combined with the pandemic meant he hadn't returned to his hometown of Huanggang in Hubei for a full two years. During the Chinese New Year of 2023, Xiao Liang finally had the opportunity to reunite with his family. Laden with bags of gifts, he rushed to see his beloved grandmother.
Unfortunately, his grandmother had fallen ill and been hospitalized before his arrival, and her condition was dire.
What should have been a joyous Lunar New Year turned into a painful ordeal. For the final 15 days of his grandmother's life, Xiao Liang stayed faithfully by her side. He watched helplessly as his dearest was wheeled into the ICU, only to eventually become a box of cold ashes.
"During those 15 days, I hardly communicated with the outside world. Each day was suffocating and filled with anxiety," Xiao Liang faced matters of life and death for the first time. He felt like he had lost his ability to speak, with grief and helplessness taking turns assaulting his chest, but there was no one to confide in.
After his grandmother's funeral, at 3 a.m., Xiao Liang returned to Shanghai, throwing himself into work the next afternoon. It was the seventh day of the Lunar New Year, and the office was still steeped in the festive atmosphere, but Xiao Liang didn't mention anything about what had happened at home to anyone.
Xiao Liang was very close to his grandmother. He would call her every noon, mostly just to chat about various mundane matters. The fatigue from work would dissipate with each brief call.
He couldn't accept the reality that his grandmother, who had been by his side for over a decade, had suddenly passed away. Lost in a daze, Xiao Liang would instinctively dial his grandmother's phone number, only to snap back to reality when he heard the repetitive beeping — his grandmother was no longer there.
This futile calling ritual lasted for about a week. Gradually, Xiao Liang became somewhat numb, thinking he was getting better.
But the emotions he had painstakingly sorted through came crashing down again when a package arrived from home. One day, Xiao Liang received a package from his parents containing some of his grandmother's belongings. As he touched those familiar yet unfamiliar items, memories flooded back, making it difficult for him to even breathe.
Once again, Xiao Liang was engulfed in the whirlwind of sorrow. He longed to see his grandmother one more time, to express the words that had been stuck in his throat.
He suddenly remembered "Yaya" from "The Wandering Earth" and hurriedly grabbed his phone, discovering that the call recording feature was automatically enabled. This meant he had preserved the complete record of his conversations with his grandmother over the past two years. With familiar tones echoing in his ears, Xiao Liang saw a glimmer of hope.
As a visual designer, Xiao Liang had the skills to construct a digital representation of his grandmother. So, without sleep, he began crafting his grandmother's virtual image, determined to bid her a proper farewell.
Analgesics
Xiao Liang obtained a high-resolution photo of his grandmother from the funeral home, her only clear picture. He then carefully extracted her voice from the voice backups and used an AI voice cloning platform to re-synthesize it.
However, his grandmother spoke in dialect, and it seemed that the AI's learning capabilities were not yet sufficient to handle dialects. Despite many attempts, Xiao Liang was still not entirely satisfied with the synthesized result.
"Only what my grandmother actually said can be accurately replicated; anything she didn't say wouldn't be accurate," Xiao Liang explained. With work taking up his daytime hours, he could only dedicate his nights to crafting this dialogue. Thus, he endured two weeks of sleepless nights.
Finally, at around 4 a.m. one early morning, Xiao Liang completed the "life-and-death dialogue" with his grandmother. He instinctively wanted to share it with someone but didn't know who to send it to. So, he sent it to his own WeChat file assistant, pretending to open this "gift" from a second-person perspective.
In the dialogue, Xiao Liang asked his grandmother about the phone calls with his father and the Lunar New Year goods she had prepared for their long-awaited reunion. His grandmother laughed heartily, proudly mentioning that she had bought two jars of homemade rapeseed oil from a private seller in the countryside for 75 CNY each, and it smelled wonderful.
As time ticked by, Xiao Liang wanted to tell his grandmother all the things he hadn't had a chance to say. Like what vintage items he had bought for her recently, or how he obediently wore long johns as she advised. These conversations, repeated countless times between grandmother and grandson, Xiao Liang wanted to relive, time and time again, telling his beloved grandmother each and every one.
But how long could a two-minute AI video wait?
Gradually, the expression of "grandma" became increasingly lifeless, her responses fading. Xiao Liang's vision blurred as tears streamed down his face. Alone in the early hours, he clutched his phone, watching the two-minute video repeatedly, more than a dozen times. "That sense of loss, like you've worked hard on something but couldn't finish it." Grandma's voice and smile reappeared before Xiao Liang's eyes, and he found solace. Finally, he had the chance to say the words he didn't get to finish to his grandmother. In a way, this was a form of liberation.
But people eventually leave. Two minutes later, Xiao Liang, not getting a response, felt like he was slapped back into reality. The more anticipation there was at the beginning, the more disappointment there is now.
"So, this is just a painkiller, not a miraculous cure for the illness," Xiao Liang muttered to himself.
When pretending becomes real, real becomes pretend. The feeling of loss grew stronger. Xiao Liang suddenly understood something. He packaged the entire process, added his monologue, and made an 8-minute video, which he uploaded to the Bilibili platform. The video unexpectedly went viral.
However, watching the synthetic old lady in the video, Xiao Liang shook his head and said, "She's not grandma."
"AI is too perfect, so perfect that it doesn't seem human." Grandma was a poorly educated rural old lady, often shy and awkward in her speech and behavior. Her logic was incoherent, unlike the fluent and boastful AI.
That's precisely what Xiao Liang missed the most. Like many people's memories of their grandparents, Xiao Liang's grandmother was simple, gentle, playful like a child, and kind like an elder.
"Imperfection is also a manifestation of true personality. Arguments and boredom are often part of life, expressions of emotions that AI still struggles to understand and reflect. Its presentation is formulaic, scripted, unlike real people who are all unique," Xiao Liang said.
Although Xiao Liang was initially amazed by the computer's ability to simulate a human perspective, he also sensed a hint of distortion: a hidden arrogance beneath the expression logic.
Too perfect, yet too fake.
"Do you know about the Trisolarans in Liu Cixin's Three-Body Problem? Those seemingly advanced beings are actually completely transparent; they don't lie. But we humans do, we hide, we have flaws."
Xiao Liang remembered when he bought cotton shoes, an old teapot, and a small table for his grandmother. She always advised him not to spend money randomly, telling her grandson she lacked nothing. But she was secretly delighted.
The AI-generated grandmother wouldn't "deceive." Upon hearing that Xiao Liang bought gifts, she would just reply, "Okay, okay, okay."
The touching moments often come from the details. When life's details are missing, when personality flaws are absent, when the hidden emotions aren't there, human interactions lose their original essence.
Many believe that "digital immortality" could become addictive. Like the character Tu Hongyu in "The Wandering Earth," who fell into madness. Due to excessive longing for departed loved ones, they see "digital immortals" as a consolation, a lifeline to alleviate grief.
After doing all this, Xiao Liang's suppressed emotions were relieved, but soon he "woke up." After a brief moment of joy, he felt bewildered and lost.
"Dwelling on the past is not a long-term solution." Xiao Liang gradually emerged from the painkiller, realizing that he should cherish the present.
Life is absurd.
Xiao Liang's video went viral. Along with it came countless criticisms.
"Terror Valley" "Do you really love your grandmother?" "Let the departed rest in peace"... The most common criticism was the disapproval of the AI format. To many, the deceased should be respected, and using a synthesized image and voice based on some distortion to "recreate" them is disrespectful.
Xiao Liang expected these voices. By choosing to make the video public, he was prepared for ridicule and insults.
"But I don't care. What matters to me is how many people recognize the significance of what I did, how many people are moved by this video like I am." After the video was released, Xiao Liang received more approving responses from netizens backstage.
Under the pinned comment, a netizen shared their experience.
"My grandfather passed away less than a month ago. A few days ago, I made a blinking animation using his photo. Although the effect was a bit crude, seeing the person in the photo come back to life, my tears fell again." "I still haven't come out of the shock of suddenly losing a very good-natured but quick-tempered grandfather. If I could see the person I miss day and night reappear on the screen, blink, smile, and hear his voice and tone, that alone would give me immense comfort."
Similar stories were numerous. Xiao Liang also received many private messages, with people begging him to help create a video of their deceased loved ones, some even saying they were "willing to pay."
"They are all desperate, very desperate. I understand their feelings, but I don't charge a fee. I know they all come with high expectations, but due to technological and cost limitations, the result may not be ideal, which could disappoint them and cause secondary harm. I would feel guilty," Xiao Liang said.
"Demand," Xiao Liang realized for the first time, was widespread yet covert.
Many business-minded people approached him, such as funeral home owners and funeral product manufacturers. They wanted Xiao Liang to be a "consultant" and take their business online. Although it sounded a bit "off," Xiao Liang agreed and understood the importance of it "for those who are going through the pain of separation."
To help more netizens who reached out to him, Xiao Liang designed a WeChat public account called "AI Heart Companion." It is still in the testing phase, "without considering profit and without public promotion." He just wants to provide a "tree hole" for the disheartened, a place for those who have lost loved ones to find solace and ease their grief. But Xiao Liang is also consciously avoiding indulgence. As it stands, we still can't achieve true "digital immortality" with current technology. He believes that even if someday humanity can commemorate the departed in this way, caution is still necessary. Because no matter how powerful the technology, it can only mimic humans, unable to replicate the warmth of humanity.
This is also Xiao Liang's original intention for doing all this. "I hope people who watch this video can reflect on it. Even if from now on, they can call their family more often, take more photos, and conscientiously record every moment spent with them." His voice choked up.
Because even now, he blames himself; if only he could have found time to visit home more often in the past two years.
