By Daniel Sieberg, Co-founder at GoodTrust

The Covid-19 global pandemic of 2020 brought degrees of loss and heartache into everyone’s lives in untold ways. The scale was beyond comprehension, whether you or your family were directly affected by it or if, like so many of us, you watched in horror as the daily news presented its drumbeat of infections, hospitalizations, and death.

As those tragic events unfolded during months of lockdowns and quarantine we grew more intimate with our digital worlds as they became a kind of sanctuary. We tapped into social media in new ways (albeit not always productive or healthy ones). We relied on online shopping for everything from toilet paper to oat milk to running shoes. We searched for medical information and health updates on a constant basis. And we clung to our personal devices like life preservers. The constant glow of our screens became the new campfire.

While these technological accessories and services provided something of a lifeline, they also forced us into a greater merger of an offline life and an online one. For so many of us it’s sometimes hard to know the difference anymore. We work more from home (or live more at work?), need constant connectivity and laptops for remote education and rely on telemedicine in countless forms.

The constant glow of our screens became the new campfire
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Our social circles are often managed online, the entertainment we love is streamed into our homes and we capture so much of our activities, interests and precious moments through mobile devices and apps. On average we each spend 6 hours and 42 minutes online each day.

But while we got used to the idea of living online, we now need to get used to the concept of dying online. There are an estimated 30 million dead people on Facebook today, yet that number is still relatively small considering the platform’s 2.7 billion monthly users. By 2100 there will be between 1.4 and 4.9 billion dead people on Facebook alone – likely more dead accounts than live ones.

Our social circles are often managed online
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In the spring of 2020 the devastating health crisis coupled with deaths in our immediate families got some of us thinking about what would happen to our digital lives if our analog ones ceased to exist. As a result, Rikard Steiber, a former Google executive, and a number of us former Googlers and others started a company called GoodTrust. We want to make it possible to act now on your own behalf – or someone else’s – to save everything that matters to you. It’s a more complex and challenging dilemma than we’d originally envisioned with the hurdles and obstacles only mounting in rapid fashion as the pace of innovation accelerates – and we want to help.

On average we each spend 6 hours and 42 minutes online each day
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We’re creating an online existence that feels, well, pretty good, in addition to our real life. Albeit not always authentic. But as we’re able to see our efforts and those of others presented to the world we’d like it to continue on this journey for as long as possible and maybe beyond. It’s time to solve this mounting digital dilemma by saving what matters to each of us.

There are an estimated 30 million dead people on Facebook today
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The GoodTrust platform allows anyone to carry out their digital afterlife wishes from memorializing a Facebook page to extracting photos from Google to shuttering subscription accounts like LinkedIn or Netflix. GoodTrust combines scalable technology with in-house experts to tackle both the decision-making process and the legal complexities. We don’t like ruminating on death because it feels depressing, but no matter what happens on the other side – whether it’s a multiverse or heaven or reincarnation – death comes for us all.

By 2100 there will be between 1.4 and 4.9 billion dead people on Facebook alone
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Yet just as each of our offline lives is unique so too can it be said about our online ones. The decisions you make will be up to you but in the absence of making those choices you may be left with a digital legacy that sacrifices reputation, finances and even relationships. The stakes are high, as your digital stuff like photos, emails, documents, and profiles are no less meaningful than those saved in the physical world.

The @MyGoodTrust platform allows anyone to carry out their digital afterlife wishes
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There are several critical aspects to consider from the role of tech companies (where I’ve worked for many years) to outdated privacy laws to emotional considerations with friends, family, and loved ones. But none of it is going away and there is a growing need for all parties involved to find better ways to work together and develop solutions. The tidal wave of this issue is hitting us now – even beyond the pandemic – as we shift so much of our lives to places we can’t even touch. There’s no going back. And we need to unlock a better way to help all of us better manage our last wishes – even if it’s in the so-called “virtual” world, the reasons it all matters to us are very real indeed.

Daniel Sieberg is Co-founder and content lead at GoodTrust and author of The Digital Diet: the four-step plan to break your tech addiction and regain balance in your life and a forthcoming book on the digital afterlife with Rikard Steiber.

The post Taking Control of Your Digital Afterlife appeared first on Tech Trends.

We explore some of the ways that our digital legacy can outlast our biological selves. From Holograms to implants and 3-D Printing with ashes, technology and design will play a much bigger role in how we deal with death and bereavement. Where does that leave our sense of identity and our relationships with our loved ones after they die?

When my grandmother passed away this year, I was devastated. She may have been in her late 80s, but her sunny personality and boundless energy made it seem like she’d would probably just live forever.

As someone who spends most of my time online, I’m unsettled by this idea of not being in control of my online persona once I die
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My grandma was what you’d call a “silver surfer.” From the moment she inherited her daughter’s old laptop, she embraced the internet like a digital native. It wasn’t long before we were helping her set up a Facebook profile which she used to happily spend hours sharing cute animals videos and writing us sweet messages ALWAYS WRITTEN ENTIRELY IN CAPS. I gave up explaining to her that this amounted to constant shouting. She liked it that way.

A few months after she’d passed away, I was a bit shocked to see her picture pop up in my notifications, reminding me that it was her birthday. I hadn’t forgotten, but it saddened me to imagine other family members whose grief was still very raw receiving similar messages. I had thought—perhaps naively—that since Facebook knew enough about my life and habits to bombard me with targeted advertisements it would also know my grandmother was no longer with us. But the bots didn’t have a clue.

Technology is currently challenging our conceptualization of what it means to live—and die
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I looked up the procedure to report a death to Facebook, and requested that her account be “memorialized.” This means that nobody can log in to the account again, but her posts remain visible to the people they were originally shared with, and friends and family can continue to share memories on her timeline. I wanted to digitally preserve the memory of my grandmother.

After making my request I almost immediately received a response from someone in Facebook’s community operations team asking me to send them her death certificate. Their response struck me as strange and insensitive—like I was making it up for some reason. Since I didn’t have that document (my grandmother lived in Brazil and I didn’t handle the funeral arrangements), I argued that they should be able to verify her passing through the evidence available on their own platform. Facebook eventually agreed, but I can’t say it was a particularly pleasant process.

Technology is currently challenging our conceptualization of what it means to live—and die. “The tech industry is not really up on death,” says Stacey Pitsillides, a design lecturer at the University of Greenwich who is a PhD candidate in the field of data contextualization in digital death. Since starting her research several years ago, Pitsillides says she’s witnessed a remarkable shift: People are becoming increasingly eager to immortalize personal experiences online, just as I had felt after my grandmother’s passing.

Our digital footprint already outlives our biological self
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This observation prompted her to set up Love After Death, a panel showcased at FutureFest in London to help people explore how technology is becoming integrated into new forms of creative expressions around death and dying. I met Pitsillides at FutureFest, a festival of ideas sponsored by innovation charity NESTA, to discuss the concept of digital legacies.

Technology is currently challenging our conceptualization of what it means to live—and die. Pitsillides believes that technology and design will play an increasingly important role in the process of mourning, which she calls “creative bereavement.” “By creating a bespoke legacy agreement, it merges the concept of a design agency with funeral director,” she said.

To illustrate this, Pitsillides started by taking me through a questionnaire that asked me things ranging from the practical (which loved ones should be informed of my death, and would I like to setup a database of music, art, or poetry to be used at my funeral?) to the weird and outlandish (would my friends like to do an online vigil through live webcasting where I could be present via hologram, and how about having a memorial implant or tattoo?)

But wait—holograms? Memorial implants? Was this for real?

In the future, yes.

Death by Design

“You could have a surface-level or below-skin digital tattoo that could be matched to that of a loved one,” Pitsillides explained. Using simple technologies, you could add content to these digital mementos throughout your life and then have them activated after your death. This activation could either be triggered by the executor of your will—over 19 US states have already put forward laws to recognize the deceased’s digital legacy as part of their estate—or we could evolve AI systems to recognize cues when this should happen. At that point, certain content could become available to the people you’d predetermined, depending on the stipulations you left in your digital will.

It’s basically the futuristic, high-tech version of wearing half of your lover’s heart-shaped locket. These tattoos and implants could even be programmed to trigger only in the context of certain events. For example, when walking past the special spot where a now-passed husband proposed to his wife, his widow’s digital tattoo could change color or bloom into the pattern of her favorite flower, and “their” song could start playing on her phone. Or a father could still “be there” to deliver the speech at his daughter’s wedding via hologram, or greet the arrival of his first grandchild with a pre-recorded message.

An increasingly popular service is using 3D printing to create personalized mementos for your friends and family using human ashes. While these memorialization usages are still conceptual, the technology itself is already fairly mature. For example, we already have technology that allows for smart epidermal electronics to collect and record information about users, reacting to this data in a wide variety of programmable ways: Think of IoT devices like Dexcom that continuously monitor glucose levels for diabetes patients, allowing them to track their blood sugar via apps linked to wearables like the Apple Watch. Instead of being focused on what our minds and bodies are doing in the present moment, these tactile technologies could help us build and enhance connections with people both during life and after death.

The ability to live forever through technology raises difficult questions such as whether it is our memories that make us who we are
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As more people embrace the idea that death in the digital age is not just about looking back at the past, they will begin to realize that it’s just as much about the future. We’re already seeing people grapple with this concept in terms of what happens to our bodies after we die. Nowadays your ashes can be turned into building blocks for a coral reef or a beautiful fireworks display, but there’s a whole other after-world emerging courtesy of technology. For example, an increasingly popular service is using 3D printing to create personalized mementos for your friends and family using human ashes.

The Talking Dead

Since such a large percentage of our lives and interactions are now conducted online, we are constantly forced to reassess our meaning of self and identity. Is our online identity the most accurate reflection of our true selves? And, if so, can it “live” independently from our physical bodies?

The answer is potentially yes. The connections we build and share can—now quite literally—take on a life of their own. For example, websites like LifeNaut offer services that allow you to create a “mind file” that supposedly enables future scenarios around reanimation through “downloading” your memories to a robot or clone vessel of some sort. We might not yet be at the stage where robotics and AI enable the Black Mirror scenario where life-like replicants of loved ones can be created from their social media profiles. But it’s no exaggeration to say that, for better or for worse, our digital footprint already outlives our biological self.

Since such a large percentage of our lives and interactions are now conducted online, we are constantly forced to reassess our meaning of self and identity
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“We are moving toward a society where the dead are not banished but remain present in our lives as sources of guidance, role models, and as an embodiment of particular values and life lessons,” Pitsillides said.

But is that what we really want? The ability to live forever through technology raises difficult questions such as whether it is our memories that make us who we are, whether our loved ones would accept this “new” version of us, and who should control consent to make these kinds of decisions after death. This kind of permanence may be appealing for some, but for others the possibility of a digital presence continuously and independently evolving is quite disturbing.

As more people embrace the idea that death in the digital age is not just about looking back at the past, they will begin to realize that it’s just as much about the future
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Most of us avoid thinking about our own mortality until it stares us in the face. As someone who spends most of my time online, I’m unsettled by this idea of not being in control of my online persona once I die—even if I wouldn’t be in a position to care, at that point. But having experienced the enduring joy that my grandmother’s Facebook memories have brought to our family, it makes me think that my digital legacy is something worth preserving. And now I have the first steps to know how to do just that.

Originally published in Quartz

How I learned to live forever https://t.co/i4h97zjNVS

— Quartz (@qz) October 7, 2016

Alice Bonasio is a VR Consultant and Tech Trends’ Editor in Chief. She also regularly writes for Fast Company, Ars Technica, Quartz, Wired and others. Connect with her on LinkedIn and follow @alicebonasio and @techtrends_tech on Twitter.

The post Can Tech Make You Live Forever? appeared first on Tech Trends.