From ancient Persia's False Smerdis to AI-driven deepfakes, the art of deception evolves, challenging truth in an era of digital mimicry.
Once upon a time, in the vast and opulent Persian Empire, there unfolded a tale of deception so bold, it would leave the annals of history utterly bamboozled. This is the story of a cunning impersonator, a throne usurped, and a royal masquerade that almost fooled an empire.
The drama begins with Cambyses II, the mighty King of Persia, whose mood swings were as legendary as his conquests. Cambyses had a brother named Smerdis, a chap so similar in appearance to him that even their mother sometimes did a double-take. But alas, sibling rivalry took a dark turn when Cambyses, paranoid that Smerdis might snatch the royal crown from his head, decided to ensure his brother's permanent retirement. And just like that, Smerdis was out of the picture, secretly and silently.
Now, enter our protagonist– a Magian priest named Gaumata. This clever fellow had a striking resemblance to the late Smerdis. One fine day, presumably while enjoying his morning cup of wine (as was the custom), Gaumata had a lightbulb moment. "Why be a priest when you can be a king?" he thought.
With a plan as audacious as it was risky, Gaumata sprang into action. He began impersonating Smerdis, claiming that Cambyses had made a terrible mistake and that he, the true Smerdis, was alive and well, and totally ready to rule. The people, who hadn't seen Smerdis in a while (thanks to his brother's secretive nature), bought the story hook, line, and sinker. And just like that, Gaumata, the faux Smerdis, sat himself comfortably on the Persian throne, probably chuckling at his own audacity.
Meanwhile, Cambyses, upon hearing that his supposedly dead brother was miraculously ruling his empire, went from zero to furious real quick. But fate, with its twisted sense of humor, decided it was time for Cambyses to exit stage left – he met his end before he could confront the imposter.
For several months, Gaumata enjoyed the fruits of his deception, basking in royal luxury and issuing kingly decrees. But as they say, you can fool some people sometime, but you can't fool all the people all the time.
Enter Darius I, a sharp and ambitious nobleman with eyes on the prize. Suspecting something fishy about this sudden resurrection of Smerdis, Darius and a few fellow skeptics decided to do a little investigative work. After some snooping around, ancient Persian-style, they confirmed that the man on the throne was not the royal Smerdis but a Magian imposter!
In a plot twist worthy of a Persian soap opera, Darius and his band of noble conspirators stormed the palace. A dramatic confrontation ensued, and Gaumata's royal masquerade came to a sudden end. Darius, seizing the moment and the throne, declared himself the new king, promising a reign of truth, justice, and probably a lot less identity theft.
And thus concludes the tale of the False Smerdis, a story of royal deception that reminds us all: if you're going to steal a throne, maybe don't pick one that's so hotly contested.
The end, or as they say in ancient Persian tales, the end... for now.
As we weave from the ancient tale of the False Smerdis into the modern saga of AI and deepfakes, we find that the essence of deception remains unchanged, though the tools and scale have evolved dramatically. Just as Gaumata, the Magian priest, usurped a throne through impersonation, today's fraudsters are starting to use deepfake technology to craft even more convincing deceptions, manipulating not just appearances but voices, mannerisms, and the subtle details that compose the essence of identity.
The saga of deepfakes unfolds against a backdrop of rapid technological advancement. We saw early glimpses of this technology's potential in entertainment, such as the de-aged Luke Skywalker in 'The Mandalorian.' Yet, as AI became more accessible, thanks to platforms like ChatGPT, the seeds of a darker narrative were sown. The race among tech giants to advance these technologies further accelerated their reach and impact, igniting a series of ethical, social, and economic challenges.
The recent proliferation of AI has brought with it a Pandora's box of threats: socioeconomic divides deepen, economies wobble under the weight of disruption, and the specters of misinformation and algorithmic bias loom large. Deepfake technology, once a marvel of visual effects, has morphed into a weapon of deception, its misuse ranging from financial scams to personal humiliation.
Once upon about a week ago, in the neon-lit metropolis of Hong Kong, a finance worker at a renowned multinational firm sat down for a seemingly routine video conference call. Little did he know, this digital gathering was about to turn his world upside down, whisking him away into a $25 million deepfake debacle.
The call was a masterpiece of high-tech hoodwinking. As the worker dialed in, he saw familiar faces, heard familiar voices—all meticulously crafted illusions. Every participant, from the person posing as the company's UK-based chief financial officer to the other 'staff members,' was nothing more than a digital doppelganger, a deepfake deception.
Senior Superintendent Baron Chan Shun-ching painted the picture at a press briefing: a multi-person video conference where, unbeknownst to the worker, "everyone [he saw] was fake." Initially, the worker's suspicion was piqued by a message discussing the need for a secret transaction. It had all the hallmarks of a phishing email. But as the call progressed, his doubts dissolved. The deepfake recreations were so convincing that he believed he was amongst colleagues, leading him to authorize the remittance of a staggering $200 million Hong Kong dollars—roughly $25.6 million.
But this was no isolated incident. Hong Kong police revealed a sinister trend: fraudsters wielding deepfake technology like scimitars. In a flurry of cyber sleuthing, the police had nabbed six culprits linked to similar scams. They uncovered a web of deceit involving eight stolen Hong Kong identity cards, cunningly used to lodge 90 loan applications and create 54 bank accounts. In at least 20 instances, these criminals had even fooled facial recognition systems, using AI-generated deepfakes to mimic the rightful owners of the identity cards.
As the news rippled through the city, Baron Chan issued a stark warning: "In this age of AI, even a virtual gathering of familiar faces could be a masquerade of mischief. Stay vigilant, dear citizens, for the digital realm holds both wonders and wolves in disguise."
The shockwaves of this revelation rippled far beyond Hong Kong's shores. Across the globe, authorities stood on high alert, their eyes wide open to the dark allure of deepfake technology.
The recent spread of doctored, explicit images of American pop icon Taylor Swift served as a grim reminder of the technology's damaging potential, a digital wildfire that had blazed across social media platforms before being extinguished.
Similarly, the estate of George Carlin has filed a lawsuit against the media company behind a fake hourlong comedy special that purportedly uses artificial intelligence to recreate the late standup comic's style and material.
Micro-fingerprint technology, codewords among acquaintances, and rigorous validation processes are but the first steps in fortifying our digital fortress. But as we march into this uncertain future, it's clear that we stand on a precipice. The battle is not just against the deepfakes themselves but against the very notion of unverified digital content.
As AI continues to advance, the onus falls on developers, policymakers, and society at large to navigate these treacherous waters. The legacy of the False Smerdis reminds us that while the face of deception may change, the need for vigilance and integrity is eternal. And in this digital age, our greatest challenge is discerning the genuine from the meticulously crafted façade, ensuring that truth does not become the ultimate casualty in this era of unparalleled technological might.
The tale of the deepfake deception became a cautionary chronicle, a reminder that in the pixelated shadows of our online lives, not everything is as it seems. As for Hong Kong, Taylor Swift, and George Carlin, they're representatives are flipping every pixel and questioning every call, making sure that their next conference doesn't feature an unwanted AI cameo. And in doing so, we're sure that they will all live happily ever after... for now.
