TW: suicide
My uncle Bill was a brilliant, well loved and respected man. He had a gold studded career, although my grandpa always believed he could’ve reached much further if he tried instead of settling. But I’m not sure that would have made him happy either.
On the early morning of 23rd October, 2020, a festive day in my religion, he committed suicide by jumping from the fourth floor of his building. Foul play was ruled out. Since the only people in the house were him, his wife, my cousin and grandmother. They found his slippers neatly arranged by the ledge that he jumped off of. His family only got to know that he had jumped when they heard the commotion outside.
It was a very long healing process. He was still young. A devastating loss for my family. And sometimes when I would sit in the drawing room of my house, I felt a strange chill. A gust of freezing air. Fleeting. Imaginary?
I felt something similar when my grandfather died five years ago.
I had always been extremely interested in AI. Having an engineering degree even today, I’d love to build a career out of it. That’s where our future is headed after all.
I found out about the website: thispersondoesnotexist.com through a youtube channel. A famous one where the guy was using this website to create a fake profile. I was oddly interested in how this thing works. Getting pulled deeper and deeper into this rabbit hole. Reading conspiracies about how apparently, AI was used to create oddly unsettling fake people portraits that were claimed to be ‘missing.’
And so, curious to know if there is any pattern to this, if I can make the algorithm repeat somehow, or maybe break- and create a terrifying portrait; I set out on a mission. Every day after work, I would spend hours, just clicking the ‘refresh’ button while I kept watching some series or playing anger inducing video games. I glanced once at the images, getting more and more fascinated by how realistic the images looked. It was hard for me to believe that these people actually were just a fictional character. A couple of times, I did manage to create something somewhat scary- due to a sinister morphing of background elements in the potrait. But nothing apart from that ever came out of my fruitless quest.
Until now.
I am staring at the dark wavy hair, bushy moustache and portruded nose of the man on my screen. The twinkling, wise eyes. With an uncanny resemblance to my father.
Uncle Bill.
Is it a coincidence? Perhaps after exhuming his ashes, and uploading his records to the computer, there is some strange intermixing? But…how? The program works by morphing images. Creating randomness. How could it create an exact potrait of my uncle?
My blood is running cold, my lungs not cooperative as I hyperventilate. I take a screenshot quickly, clearing the notifications immediately so I wouldn’t have to look at that screenshot ever again. Why did I even save it? Maybe so someone would believe me.
I clicked on refresh, just so Uncle Bill would stop staring at me when he really shouldn’t be. My community is superstitious. Suicide is the greatest sin, and the victim always, always has unfulfilled aspirations. Never ever good for a restful soul.
I heave a sigh of relief now, Uncle Bill’s face was gone. I lean against my couch, my breathing still heavy as I looked at my dog for a sign of life and comfort. She’s sleeping on the floor beside my feet, thanks to the heat.
I waited patiently for the page to refresh. My internet was painstakingly slow today. The new AI generated random potrait appeared in front of me, making the world around me cease to exist.
The long dark hair, brown eyes, the scar on the left eyebrow from when I had fallen down the staircase as a kid.
It’s my own potrait. And yet, I don’t recognise her.
This doesn’t mean anything…does it? Just a random AI. Just a random picture.
I would continue, but I have to check something. Just heard a strange sound, a loud banging from the roof. Will be back soon.
Hopefully.