Tell me a StoryFile.

One of the corniest things I've ever seen in my life was the Talking Mr. Lincoln exhibit at Disneyland. This was more than 50 years ago, so I'm a little vague on the details, but I do remember thinking it was a bit ridiculous and a bit embarrassing. (Not as ridiculous and embarrassing as It's a Small World, but still, it was no Matterhorn, no Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, no Mad Tea Party.)

I believe that Abe is still out there in Anaheim talking up a storm, but the current version is more teched up and "realistic" than the weird thing I saw way back in 1972. 

I hadn't thought of Talking Mr. Lincoln in a while, but he (it?) came to mind when I saw an article in the NY Times on Story File, a company that's part of the emerging grief tech industry. (The grief tech industry? Man, if that's not a topic for another day.)

StoryFile: Authentic Interactions is "an AI-powered video platform that allows users to create and train conversational AI interactions, making AI conversations feel more human."

Well, I'd say "authentic interactions" is a bit of a stretch, but what Story File does is create an avatar that you can make eye contact with and ask questions of.

The Times article focused on the Listro family of NYC. Peter Listro is 80, and he's dying. His wife Joan and son Matt, who's 39, got Peter to agree to be videod answering questions about his life. One of the reasons Matt wanted this done is so that his future children - Peter's hypothetical grandkids - would get to know something about their grandad.

The family was taking advantage of one offering in a growing field known as Grief Tech, which ranges from chatbots trained on the communications of a person who has died to a program that uses virtual reality to create a 3-D avatar of a deceased loved one — a remarkably lifelike presence. The Listros decided on something in between: StoryFile would create an avatar of Peter that could converse through a video screen, as if his family were reaching him by Zoom. (Source: NY Times)

Matt came up with the list of questions about his father's childhood; building his business success; what advice he would offer Matt on the day he introduced his husband to his father; what he would say to those twinkle in god's eye grandkids. There was also advice for Joan to move on through her grief. Peter spoke about how he wanted to be remembered.

In addition to the questions Matt asked, they had Peter say "Hello," "Hi," "I love you, too," "Bye." They also had him record the response "I don't have an answer for that right now." That answer would be used it someone asks AI video Peter a question that he hadn't recorded an answer to. Because the Listros had opted for real - authentic as it were - responses that Peter had given. A more advanced Story File option lets the avatar go freelance. It combs through a person's social media, emails, and any other background content, so that the loved one's avatar will supply an answer to a question that the person behind the avatar hadn't actually answered in real life. 

Look, I'd give anything to have a video of my father answering questions we had for him. Would that this had been a thing when he was sick and dying. But that was in the dark ages, grief tech wise. My father died in January 1971 (a year and a half before I saw the Talking Mr. Lincoln). I believe that my sibs and I would all get a kick out of hearing what my father had to say, as would his granddaughters. 

But I have such vivid memories of my father, that I really don't need a video. It would just be a nice to have. 

It would also be nice to have a video of my mother answering questions. To have a video of my husband.

Maybe because I had the two of them for so much longer, it's my father whose video I'd most like to see. 

Sigh...

But making eye contact and pretending it was an actual convo - as opposed to just a video recording of an interview - is to me a step too far.

Not that I blame the Listros. If this helps them work through their grief - and lets Matt introduce Peter Listro to those grandkids-to-come - I'm all for it. Whatever gets you through the night. And the days...

Having the avatar answer questions that weren't asked, however, is a bridge too far to me. Too creepy. Too weird.

As someone who - I'm sorry to admit - occasionally looks at AI generated answers, I know that AI doesn't always get it right. The information that comes back is out of date, misleading, contradictory, stupid, or just plain wrong.

Imagine asking the avatar of a late loved one about something and getting an answer that makes you feel terrible, that has you questioning that late loved one and your relationship with them. 

"I would have voted for Trump....If you'd brought a Black woman home, I would have disowned you...You sound like a moron...I always liked your brother better..." 

Be careful what you wish for when you're asking questions that the late lamented can't actually answer, and can't explain. That you can't do any follow up on.

A bit ridiculous, a bit embarrassing. And just plain god-awful.

A canned video is one thing. (Yay!) An AI'd up video that you can make eye conact with. (Not for me, but yay!) A freelance avatar. (NFW!) Seems to me that this use of grief tech can definitely cause more grief.