The tweet hereafter: your social media “twin” can carry on after you kick the bucket

book cover of The Sweet Hereafter

The title of Hampson’s column is a play on words from this 1991 bestseller by Russell Banks, which takes place in a small town after a horrific bus accident kills most of its children. Canadian director Atom Egoyan made the movie version in 1997.

Sarah Hampson’s April 13 column in The Globe and Mail, brilliantly titled “The tweet hereafter”, gave me the creeps. Those social media innovators never stop thinking about how we can expand our online presence (and their wallets).

Hampson reports that a British service called LivesOn will soon be available. This AI tool will analyze your Twitter feed so it knows all your interests. It will also copy the idiosyncracies of your vocabulary, spelling, and syntax. In this way, it can create a virtual “twin” of you and fulfill the company’s tagline: “When your heart stops beating, you’ll keep tweeting.” All you need is an executor who agrees to keep your account alive after you die.

Facebook, always keeping up with the leading edge, already allows a personal page to be turned into a virtual memorial after you pass away. Such a page could simply be used as an online site for people to share tributes, memories, and photos of their dead friend or relative. But a service called makes it possible for you to create an inventory of scheduled messages that will be posted on specific dates after you kick the bucket. Could it comfort your loved ones to receive jokes, birthday wishes, or familiar nagging complaints from you until they, too, are gone?

I don’t think so. I think these “messages from beyond the grave” make a mockery of a person’s last months and moments of life and of the grieving process that their loved ones go through.

The emptiness that exists after someone you care about passes away is something you have to get used to over time. “Normal” reminders of a person who is no longer there—their clothing, personal items, photos, etc.—are painful; it’s a contradictory pain because though it’s difficult to see these reminders, it’s also hard to discard any of the dead person’s belongings. To do so finalizes the reality that they are gone, and it can seem disrespectful, too.

Soon after my coach George Gluppe died (a year ago), I put up a large photo of him on the bulletin board next to my desk. For a few weeks I couldn’t look at it. Now I like to see George’s smiling face to be reminded of all the times he was happy and carefree.

George Gluppe talking to a little girl

I love this iconic photo of George as an old man, taken by Warren McCulloch.

I don’t care how clever an AI program is at creating plausible personalized tweets; the idea that this “fake” digital creation could in any way replace a human being is repugnant to me. I’ll never forget that behind real social media messages (because already, not all are real), there is a living, breathing, emotional human being. And though I have fun exchanging witty messages with people on Facebook,  and appreciate the links, jokes, and information they share, I know I won’t develop a full relationship with anyone that I never meet in “real” life.

About nancytinarirunswrites

I used to be known as a competitive runner, but now I have a new life as a professional writer and editor. I'm even more obsessive about reading, writing, and editing than I was about running. Running has had a huge influence on my life, though, and runner's high does fuel creativity. Maybe that's why this blog evolved into being 95% about running, but through blogging I'm also learning about writing and online communication. I'm fascinated by how the Internet has changed work, learning, and relationships. I love to connect in new and random ways!
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1 Response to The tweet hereafter: your social media “twin” can carry on after you kick the bucket

  1. sharon says:

    I couldnt agree more Nancy. Cant believe its a year. I too love that picture of George

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