Every Version of You by Grace Chan
“Maybe it was her poh-poh’s idealism, or her mother’s stoicism, that continues to buoy her forward, pushing past the markers laid out by society. Or maybe she feels a deep-seated duty to carry on the fight. Her grandmother and mother battled hard. For Tao-Yi to surrender her mind and body to Gaia, where her neural patterns would be tweaked and refined, would be another step away from them.”
In Grace Chan’s debut novel, Every Version of You (2022), emerging ideas around technology, AI and immersive digital experiences are pushed to the brink of their current reality into a hyper-realised alternate world where anything is possible.
Tao-Yi and her long-term boyfriend Navin are living in Melbourne CBD in the not-too-distant future. The year is 2087, and the world is trudging through the impact of ongoing climate change; temperatures soar as the air outside becomes unbreathable without the aid of oxygen masks. The Yarra River has all but dried up, and Tao-Yi can’t remember the last time she heard the sounds of birds.
For the most part, humans now live, work and socialise in an entirely digital world. Virtual reality technology has come in leaps and bounds, and the creation of the hyper-realistic world Gaia means humans can log in daily and live life as ‘normally’ as possible while the real world continues to fall into disarray.
It’s in the creation of this virtual online world that Chan has outdone herself. Most readers will be familiar with virtual reality as a fun gaming experience, and Chan takes this idea and showcases just how far this technology could develop. From ‘immi’ experiences (immersive digital experiences within the virtual world) described as being akin to interactive art exhibitions to the code that creates the sensations of spicy food or alcohol - this is incredibly detailed and richly imagined writing that really takes us into this alternative way of living:
“The food arrives almost as soon as her bottom hits the stool, a cloud of spicy warmth enveloping her head. She picks up her chopsticks and dives in…They sit, elbow to elbow, absorbing the aroma of fried shallots, the coolness of the night, the district lights reflecting off the canal. The chef stacks clean bowls in teetering towers on an overhead shelf, his motions eerily familiar.”
What seems like a utopia and the ultimate solution to humankind's problems slowly starts to crack under Tao-Yi’s analytical gaze. While Navin and her friends delight in how real everything feels, Tao-Yi can’t reconcile the knowledge that it’s not with how they’re currently opting to live a significant portion of their lives. Everything in Gaia is weightless, unblemished and picture-perfect, leaving Tao-Yi desperate to return to the real world, no matter how grimy it may be:
“They turned the corner. Unlike Bourke Street Mall, the upkeep of Elizabeth Street had been neglected. Instead of a porous composite surface, ancient asphalt undulated like frozen lava, warped by decades of harsh sun. Violently orange rust coated the tram lines, gouging a wound down the middle of the road.”
Flashing back between the present day and their early beginnings, we gain further insights into Tao-Yi and Navin’s relationship as they’ve grown together through the process of further emerging technologies. Shortly after they first met, Navin required a kidney replacement, for which he received a bionic organ that needs regular cleaning. Ongoing surgeries and the pain and trauma of failing health see Navin feeling more at home in Gaia than Tao-Yi.
When the latest update is announced - that scientists have successfully developed a process to upload a complete consciousness into Gaia full-time, essentially becoming immortal in a way - Navin is one of the first in the queue for the procedure.
His decision draws some of the frictions in their relationship sharply into the frame, as Tao-Yo must decide whether to stay in the real world or join everyone else permanently inside Gaia.
Chan presents a wealth of interesting questions and insights about a range of topics already part of vital conversations across society and the technology industry. To enter Gaia and obtain the tech required costs a lot of money; what happens to the marginalised within society who are unable to afford this? In uploading consciousness, what happens to those unable to give informed consent?
We’re often not left to ponder these questions for too long, as Chan provides her version of answers - and they’re pretty difficult to argue with. I won’t give too much away, but there’s a vital scene towards the end of the book where Tao-Yi has a run-in with a robot in the real world who’s been charged with caring for a group of small children. It’s an eye-opening moment that sent chills down my spine as we’re left to think, ‘Yes. This is exactly what would happen.’
Chan chases and attempts to draw all these threads together through the brilliant lens of Tao-Yi, her sensory experiences in the real and virtual worlds, and the cultural identity she’s desperately trying to hold onto. As a Chinese-Malaysian-Australian, Tao-Yi and her family have often existed in undocumented spaces - even the ‘all-knowing’ internet doesn’t have all the answers to the questions she has about her heritage:
“Tao-Yi hunched her shoulders and shook her head. She didn’t like this feeling - a feeling of being a small, lost child with nowhere to go. This was no longer home. Either it had mutated into something foreign, or she’d become the foreigner.”
Aside from the buzz of technology, Chan offers us a tender exploration of mother-daughter dynamics, family values and the struggle to keep those we love safe in a fluctuating world.
Using the exciting but somewhat uncertain springboard of virtual reality technology, Chan launches us into a world that seems perfect. Scratch below the code, however, and you’ll find a plethora of new philosophical and ethical questions and challenges that need to be weighed.
Calling us to question what identity really means if it can be copy-pasted into a computer, the ultimate conundrum Chan leaves us with is - would you?
Read our interview with Grace Chan here.
Elaine Mead is a freelance writer and book reviewer, currently residing in nipaluna (Hobart), Tasmania. She is passionate about the ways we can use literature to learn from our experiences to become more authentic versions of ourselves and obsessed with showing you photos of her Dachshund puppy. You can find her online under www.wordswithelaine.com.
