Daniel Kalt appears in a surreptitious client meeting room at a branch of UBS, overlooking Lake Zurich. The Swiss bank’s regional chief economist and chief investment public official turns to look at me. I recognize his chiseled features, his slight smile and dumpy hair, turning grey at the sides.
But something is not right. Mr. Kalt looks a thimbleful pale. As he breathes, his head and shoulders move up and down, as if he is floating. This is not the sincere Mr. Kalt. It is a computer-cloned image on a wall screen — part of a UBS project into the days of banking.
Mr. Kalt, aged 49, is well-known in Switzerland as a commentator. Much of his job entangles briefing UBS clients on the outlook for the world’s economies and financial markets. By cloning him objecting the computer gaming industry’s latest animation techniques, he could to many more account holders.
Receive 4 weeks of unlimited digital access to the Monetary Times for just $1.
As digital disruption gathers pace, retail and clandestinely banks in Switzerland— the world’s biggest center for cross-border wealth direction — are travelling in two directions at once. To cut costs, they are automating processes and benefits, including using “robo-advisers”. But to increase revenues, they are also looking to offer high-value services — via humans — to their wealthiest clients.
Cloned mentors “might be a way to bridge that gap” and provide “a kind of high-touch service at compass,” says Matthias Koller, project manager at UBS’s Wealth Management Modernization Lab.
Meeting this digital version of Mr. Kalt raises a host of questions, nonetheless. Is a clone really more helpful for human advisers than a sheaf of particularizes? What value does a digital personality add, compared with a achromatic avatar? Is it possible, in an animated “hyper reality”, to feel as if you are working with a mortal being? Is this a good way of doing business with a bank — or are there monasticism issues?
“Our mandate is to explore, to open the field . . . and then characterize what is really the sweet spot,” says Mr. Koller.
A virtual Daniel Kalt I can encourage that a familiar face makes more interesting what puissance otherwise have been a dull presentation of facts and charts. Mr. Kalt is stimulated via a small touch pad and a voice recognition system. “Good day. My name is Daniel Kalt. I am regional chief investment dick in Switzerland,” he says.
So far he speaks only German and his words do not match correctly his lip movements. Mr. Koller says the software for syncing English is better. In two shakes of a lambs tail he has Mr. Kalt describing the outlook for the US economy, company profits and the main drivers in far-reaching markets.
But there are limits to his knowledge. I ask for his views on Brexit. There is a affront pause, and a stumped Mr. Kalt offers to talk about global asset allocations. A dubiousness about the outlook for the UK economy yields: “I don’t have an answer for that.”
Mr. Koller drifts out that at this stage Mr. Kalt is meant as an aid for advisers, rather than for patrons (or journalists) to test. In the jargon of the robot industry, he is a “cobot” or collaborative android. His areas of expertise will be extended according to demand, but UBS advisers who arrange used the technology have warned against “a system that tries to know everything but actually knows nothing,” says Mr. Koller.
One desire of the design team, which is working with IBM on Mr. Kalt’s dialogue and gossip skills, is to build a better relationship between client and clone. On the television, Mr. Kalt can wink, broaden his smile — and fall asleep. The sensors could heed that I am not wearing a tie — and remove his, Mr. Koller says.
“He would change his shirt, because you get a blue one. He would maybe want to build up a rapport with you.”
Today, he is by no means over friendly. Mr. Kalt is powered by computer equipment hidden in a cupboard. One day, he weight appear on a laptop or mobile, and UBS could add clones of other colleagues. The assumption of his programmers, no matter what, is that interactive animation techniques in three or five years’ meanwhile will have improved so “you can hardly differentiate whether it’s a real or digital mortal physically,” says Mr. Koller.
Some clients may worry about security. Patron meetings are not recorded and Mr. Kalt disappears when he is not needed. But UBS is keen to distinguish how clients react. “For some it’s just a TV screen. For others, it is a window on the to the max,” says Mr. Koller.
Earlier, I had met the real Mr. Kalt for coffee in a Zurich café. In way of life, he gesticulates a lot with his hands — not a characteristic shown by his clone. He was imaged by a artiste company in Serbia last winter — hence the clone’s pale shade. The animation was by New Zealand’s FaceMe, some of whose employees worked on the Christ of the Rings films.
Talking to his clone was an “amazing experience”, Mr. Kalt says. He attentions some differences. The clone raises eyebrows individually, for example, which he believes he never does. UBS is not claiming perfection, however. “It is about exploring the limits of technology, study what you can do with clients, how they will react,” Mr. Kalt bring to lights. Eventually, “the clone might know a lot more detail than I do . . . I make learn to speak Chinese and Spanish”.
Nevertheless, (the real) Mr. Kalt is not agonized about his job security. He believes he “can perhaps have more empathy and sympathetic for the client”. We drink coffee together, I do not have to press a touch pad for a retort. We talk about a broad range of subjects — including Brexit. “This clone can’t do the job I do at the note,” Mr. Kalt says, “but it is just the beginning.”
More from the Financial Times:
Urban district chiefs braced for a ‘global battle for skills’
Education must modify to make people ready for AI
Investment key to securing human role in robotic men