2. Echoes of the Heart
Amid the 19th-century buildings and the whimsical charm of Graz, Johanna was an anomaly—a 21-year-old with an ancient soul. She had grown up here, under the shadow of Schlossberg, a hill capped by an old clock tower that oversaw the town.
But Graz, like the rest of the world, was evolving. The elegant symphonies of traditional Styria were now drowned out by the relentless pings of notifications. The rolling waves of green hills were pixelated into rectangles of blue light. And Johanna, sensitive as she was, felt the weight of this change, not as a statistic or trend, but as a visceral tightening in her chest.
By 2031, technology had leached into the core of existence. People, instead of engaging in heartfelt conversations, would transmit emotions through sophisticated holographic emojis. Instead of seeking therapy or friendship, they chased points on their digital social scores. Big tech companies, with their sprawling campuses and glittering facades, promised connectivity, but delivered isolation. Algorithms silently steered emotions, inciting anger, jealousy, and hatred. Deepfakes blurred the lines between reality and falsehood, causing trust to wither.
Johanna worked at "NeuraNet," an emerging tech giant, which publicly championed well-being but covertly thrived on addiction. Their most popular app, Echo, was a sinister concoction. It amplified users' insecurities by subtly pushing negative, self-deprecating content. And as users spiraled downward, the app offered solace—a digital embrace that further chained them to the screen. The people were trapped in a new kind of Stockholm syndrome, in love with their virtual captor.
She had joined NeuraNet with dreams of making positive change from the inside. But the tentacles of corporate greed ensnared her too. And when she tried to voice her concerns, she was silenced by threats of job loss and public shaming.
One evening, after another harrowing day, Johanna sought refuge in the town library. In the midst of ancient manuscripts, she stumbled upon a text titled, "The Heart’s Echo." The pages were brittle, the ink faded, but its wisdom was timeless. The book spoke of humankind's eternal struggle with the mind, the ebb and flow of inner chaos and peace, and the perennial guidance of the soul.
According to the manuscript, the ancient inhabitants of Graz believed in a ritual called "Seelenverbindung" or "Soul Connection." During moments of societal discord, they would gather, holding hands, forming a human chain around the top of Schlossberg, breathing together. They believed that by syncing their heartbeats, they could heal collective anguish.
Inspired, Johanna felt a spark. She began secret meetings with like-minded colleagues. The group named themselves "The Echo Bearers." Their mission was to expose Echo's nefarious design and resurrect the ancient ritual to heal their fractured society.
Inside NeuraNet, Johanna found allies in the form of disillusioned developers and engineers. They lamented how their creation was being used to exploit rather than empower. One of them, Matthias, a brilliant coder with a knack for neural interfaces, proposed a daring plan.
"Why not hack into Echo itself? Use it to send subliminal messages that could reverse the damage?" he whispered during one of their secret meetings.
The group was skeptical. But as they debated, the idea began to crystallize. Instead of blatant messages which might backfire, they could subtly shift the content the users consumed. Positive affirmations, stories of human connection, and soulful music would gently influence the subconscious, nudging them towards self-awareness and empathy.
Night after night, the group met in secret, refining their hidden algorithm. It was a code so discreet it would work undetected, gradually altering the neural pathways of the users. They named it "Aurora", a new dawn for the digital age.
When the time was right, with Johanna and Matthias at the helm, they infiltrated the core of Echo, planting Aurora seamlessly into its matrix. As days turned into weeks, the effects became palpable.
Users found themselves pausing, questioning their screen time. Conversations began shifting from the virtual to the real. There was a renewed interest in art, nature, and human interaction.
As the Aurora algorithm began to affect the consciousness of Echo users, a specific visual kept recurring—a holographic image of Schlossberg at dawn, bathed in a soft golden hue. This wasn’t a glaring advertisement, but a gentle nudge, accompanied by the word "Seelenverbindung". It appeared randomly while scrolling or in between videos. Its enigmatic beauty evoked a deep sense of longing in those who viewed it.
Simultaneously, Echo started promoting old tales, poems, and songs about Graz's ancient traditions, especially the lore surrounding Schlossberg and the ritual of Seelenverbindung. This resurgence of cultural interest was spurred by Aurora’s subtle recommendations.
Intrigued, many started researching this age-old ritual. Local community groups formed, discussing the profound experience of Seelenverbindung. Graffiti of clasped hands encircling a hill began to appear across the city. These silent invitations were more potent than any call to action.
One evening, as the sun began its descent, a spontaneous gathering occurred at the base of Schlossberg. What started as a few dozen soon turned into hundreds, and by nightfall, thousands. The humming of the ancient melody, once sung by Johanna in defiance, now echoed as a harmonious chorus. Hand in hand, they formed a human chain, their heartbeats synchronizing with the rhythm of the Earth.
The experience was transformative. Participants described a profound sense of unity, an overwhelming feeling of being connected to something greater. As dawn broke, illuminating the sea of humanity around Schlossberg, it became evident that Seelenverbindung was more than just a ritual; it was a reawakening.
In the days that followed, similar gatherings were reported across the globe. The idea of reconnecting with one’s soul, with fellow humans, and with the world at large, had become a universal yearning.
The movement at Schlossberg wasn’t just the culmination of Aurora’s influence but the very essence of humanity's intrinsic need for genuine connection. The world had found its heartbeat again, in the shadows of a historic clock tower.
Humanitas et Machina: This series of fictional short stories aims to bring visions of hope in the face of humanity’s biggest challenges while also exploring the risks and potential of a future with AI. All stories are co-creations between man and machine. All images are AI generated. Find out more about the project.
I gave a fairly focused brief on this story. I chose the topic of mental health because I believe that our minds and consciousness are central to what makes us human and therefore a decline in mental health is a decline in the vibrancy and resilience of humanity. I asked for a story about how digital technology is leading to a decline in mental health and noted that tech companies are complicit despite pretending not to be. I specified that the story be set in Graz, Austria with a female main character.
The first version of the story did capture my interest and I was fairly pleased with it as a rough draft but it had a number of aspects that didn’t work. For example, I had asked for the story to be set 10 years in the future and yet it referenced the technology of today such as “retweets and emoticons”, so this had to be changed to feel slightly further into the near future.
Another issue was that similar to The Resonance Initiative story, the first version of this story had a very simplistic explanation of how the problem was solved. It essentially wrote that the lead character just held out her hands under the clock tower and whispered some sweet words to wake society up. So there was a lot of back and forth in the editing process to add more depth to this and create a compelling narrative, while still respecting the fictional nature of the story.
I also changed the name of the main character. The introductory story in this series had a main character called Elias, the next had Elizaveta, and then this one was originally called Elisa. This pattern of similar names continued later, with a severe lack of diversity in naming and so I had to manually rename some characters.
On reflection, I enjoyed the story and felt that it presented an intriguing perspective on the power of digital technology to influence our minds, while raising the question of whether this could be used for our individual and collective benefit if the humans behind it had a positive intent. Perhaps any form of digital manipulation is inherently likely to lead to unintended negative consequences but I feel the story opens an interesting question of whether the forces of digital manipulation could be flipped to point the other way.
For the image, I continued the oil painting style but this time I asked for an image of people holding hands under Schlossberg. Despite several attempts, this was a dismal failure as I couldn’t generate a single image that actually looked like Schlossberg in Graz, let alone with people in the scene. So I changed tack and asked for a scene of people in Graz on digital devices with holograms in the air. I think the final image actually fit the tone of the story well and although not intentional, the fact that several characters are holding more than one device is very fitting.
Onwards to next weeks story…