I had my first real out-of-body experience in Riyadh a few weeks ago, and like many things these days, it was brought about by artificial intelligence.
I was there filming a series of video interviews. You know the drill: the lights, the cameras, the production team who get bored and watch the whole thing before they watch it, the presenters who pretend to be relaxed.
Having just finished our last conversation of the day, the production staff asked for a brief introduction to get into the top of this corner. no problem. I straightened my tie, peered into the lens barrel, and entered the front line.
And then the hammering began.
A small army of workers began dismantling the set around us, not figuratively hammering, but actual steel on steel. The hustle and bustle and activity around me is inspirational, but this was total chaos.
With each second take attempt, the noise got louder and louder, making it sound like they were filming inside a steel mill. In the end, the director gave up and said, “I’ll fix it later.”
In video, this often means, “We’ll ignore you. We hope the client is polite and doesn’t notice.” But this is not the age of AI.
A few days later, I received an edit link. I pressed play for industrial upheaval. Instead, I heard myself in Riyadh, soft-spoken and delivering the cleanest, smoothest intro of my life.
The dubbed intro was gentle. The pacing was perfect. I sounded like a version of me who’d slept eight hours, had a leisurely breakfast and spent the morning watching Harry Kane’s biggest goals for Tottenham.
However, that wasn’t me.
Well, that is It was Me, or a version of me. But it was assembled by machine. The production team fed audio from my previous interviews into an AI model and generated a new intro, complete with my voice.
I listened twice, half impressed, half horrified. It was like meeting identical twins who had graduated from school and now spoke with perfect clarity.
As an old “ink” (news industry term for print journalists), video is not my natural medium and I have struggled with delivering it on camera. A little more energy here, a little less Thames Estuary vowel there.
Perhaps another pair of glasses would help? Above all, don’t keep looking at your notes.
The computer deciphered it all at once. I finally sounded like the authoritative international television journalist I had always imagined myself to be.
This raises some troubling questions. If the synthetic version is better, why do we need the real thing?
We all worry about AI taking our jobs, but will it also take our voices away?
After the initial shock, I calmed down and started thinking about where else my new digital alter ego could be deployed. Dubai would be the perfect testing ground.
Imagine sending AI Frank to do all the things that the real Frank finds annoying. Corporate “fireside chats” in a room kept at near-arctic temperatures. The industry “summit” was attended by a handful of local hacks and bored publicists.
AI-Frank was perfectly tuned and able to glide through everything under the stage lights without stumbling or breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, the real me might be at McGettigan’s happy hour.
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There are endless possibilities. AI-Frank can join the Zoom meeting so I don’t have to. He was able to deliver a two-minute podcast clip every day with the calm assurance of a Wright-era BBC presenter.
He was even able to argue with the customer service center in Dubai on my behalf. Imagine being able to outsmart your opponents in a painful battle of attrition called service calls to HSBC.
Of course, this all leads to deeper questions that serious people in the technology industry usually like to discuss at conferences with titles like “AI and Humanity.”
However, a diary column is not the place to write about philosophical anxieties, so I will keep my contribution modest. If AI can create a better version of me, is it a threat to my identity or the greatest life hack of all time?
On the other hand, it’s unsettling to hear a machine say things I didn’t actually say in the exact same voice as me, but without hesitation, in a desert-throat voice. On the other hand, if an AI decides to improve me, who am I to resist?
Readers can rest assured that this column is written by the real me. I mean, I’m feeling a little stressed out, I’m not good at multitasking, and I keep struggling with technology.
But one day, if you hear a smooth, crisp, unflappable version of Frank Kane polished to perfection over the airwaves, make sure it’s actually me.
Or don’t bother. AI-Frank might be a better company.
Frank Kane is AGBI’s editor-in-chief and an award-winning business journalist. He is a consultant to the Ministry of Energy of Saudi Arabia.
