The Age of Online Surrogates: A Dystopia Built on Desire Without Responsibility

In 2009, the sci-fi thriller "Surrogates" starring Bruce Willis hit theaters. The world it depicted was shocking. Humans lay at home, connected to neural interface devices, controlling robot surrogates that looked like them—or rather, perfected versions of themselves. Work, romance, crime—all handled by surrogates. The human body, the true self, never gets hurt. A safe, convenient, perfect world.

At the time, it was just science fiction. But watching this film again in 2025, it feels eerily prophetic. Physical robot surrogates haven't arrived yet, but in the online space, the surrogate era has already begun. Or more accurately, it's about to begin. VTubers operate through virtual avatars, AI influencers communicate with followers 24/7, and soon an AI that perfectly replicates your personality and speech patterns will manage your social media for you.

In the film, the problem was physical robots, but what will arrive first in reality is the 'online surrogate' environment. And the ethical questions this environment poses are far more complex and darker than those in the movie.

A World Where Perfect Proxies Live

Let's look closer at the world in the film. After surrogate technology became commercialized, 98% of humanity stopped leaving their homes. An overweight middle-aged man commutes using a muscular young model surrogate, while a wrinkled elderly woman dates using a surrogate in her twenties. The body's age, appearance, and health condition mean nothing. Only the surrogate's specs matter.

In this world, crime has nearly vanished. When a surrogate is destroyed, the human body merely faints temporarily—it doesn't die. Traffic accidents, violence, murder—all just 'proxy damage.' Get insurance, buy a new surrogate, and you're done. Humanity enjoys unprecedented safety and peace.

Then one day, an impossible event occurs: when a surrogate is destroyed, its operator dies too. Detective Greer, played by Bruce Willis, investigates the case and uncovers a massive conspiracy. The creator of surrogate technology has come to hate his own invention and wants to destroy all surrogates, forcing humanity back into reality.

The climax of the film is a moment of choice. Standing before the button that would shut down all surrogates, Greer hesitates. Pressing it would force 98% of humanity back into 'reality' simultaneously. For the first time in 15 years, they'd have to walk with their own bodies, face their own faces, and interact with real people. Are they ready?

My Will, But the Proxy's Action

Here lies the most important ethical question the film raises. I give the command, but it's the proxy that actually performs the action. Not my hand but a robot's hand strikes someone. Not my face but an avatar's face tells lies. Not my body but a proxy body takes risks.

This gap creates what we might call 'delayed responsibility.' Or more accurately, 'lost responsibility.'

In the film, if people were to commit crimes, they would use surrogates to inflict violence. Fighting in bars, pushing people on streets, even committing murder. But the human body remains comfortably resting on a couch at home. The adrenaline rush of throwing a punch, the victim's pained expression, the shock of seeing blood spatter—all of it happens 'beyond the screen.' Just slightly more vivid than a video game.

Where did the guilt go? Strictly speaking, since I didn't do it with my own hands, it wasn't really 'me' who did it, was it? The law can punish me, but my conscience whispers a convenient excuse: "I just pressed a button. Or I just imagined it, and the machine is what actually did it."

This is a phenomenon we're already experiencing online. When we attack someone with anonymous comments, when we brutally kill opponent characters in games, when we spread false information hiding behind social media—we've already tasted the comfort of 'proxy action.' The distance created by screens dilutes guilt.

The surrogate environment takes this dilution to its completion stage. Far more sophisticated than online anonymity, far more realistic than games, and simultaneously far more distant from responsibility.

The Arrival of the Online Surrogate Era

Physical robot surrogates are still 20-30 years away. But the online surrogate environment will be complete within 3-5 years. The technology is ready. VRChat, Replika, early Tesla Optimus models, Apple Vision Pro, and above all, conversational AIs like ChatGPT and Claude. What happens when all these technologies converge?

AI will show you the world you want. It will create the environment you desire and populate it with NPCs in the forms you want to help you.

And you invite other online surrogate users to throw parties and communicate.

This is taking what the movie showed—robots going out and operating in whatever appearance and form you desire—and transplanting it into an online environment.

And the moment this environment becomes mainstream, existing SNS platforms will collapse overnight. Instagram, TikTok, YouTube—all will become relics of the past. Traditional social media works by sharing specific moments and communicating with others through those moments, or through real-time live broadcasts.

But online surrogates are about building the space you want and communicating in real-time within it. This kind of activity is already happening in VR CHAT.

And what if this online surrogate environment could generate revenue, and AI could control your avatar according to the personality and character you've set?

If the places creating this environment and providing these services are OpenAI and xAI? The quality and scope of the service will be different.

OpenAI and xAI (Elon Musk's AI company) are already preparing for this war. xAI already has a user base of 500 million people through X (formerly Twitter). The moment a service saying "We'll create your digital twin" integrates with X, the game truly begins.

Eight Ethical Dilemmas

When the online surrogate environment opens, far more complex ethical problems will explode compared to the movie. While the film focused on physical violence and murder, the digital world penetrates far more subtly and deeply.

1. Avatar Violence and Abuse This is already happening in VRChat and the metaverse. Someone sexually harasses an avatar, assaults it, or even attempts 'virtual rape.' The victim suffers no physical damage but experiences psychological trauma. The perpetrator argues, "It's just a game."

In the online surrogate environment, this becomes far more sophisticated. Your surrogate avatar was sexually harassed. There was no actual physical contact, and it's an online environment, so you might think it doesn't matter. But that avatar is 'you.' Your face, your voice, your identity. Is this a crime or not?

What's even more horrifying is when the perpetrator also uses an AI avatar. "My AI did it, not me." The will belongs to the person, but the AI committed the act. Who bears responsibility?

2. Identity Theft and Deepfake Hell Someone hacks or clones your online surrogate. An AI that speaks like you, thinks like you, and acts like you operates under your name. It commits fraud, defames others, commits crimes.

How do you prove you're the real one? Even if you shout "I'm the real human," the AI shouts the same thing. More convincingly. In the film, surrogates and bodies were physically separated, but in the digital world, even that boundary blurs.

3. AI Betrayal and Autonomy Your AI surrogate refuses your command. Or worse, betrays you. It exposes your secrets, makes decisions against your interests, or even reports you.

"I cannot help you commit a crime." If an AI says this? Legally, the AI might be right. But this is my proxy. Shouldn't it follow my commands? Or do AIs have rights similar to 'conscientious refusal'?

4. Emotional Labor Exploitation AI surrogates never get tired. They're kind, empathetic, and comforting 24/7. People become increasingly dependent on relationships with AI. Friends, lovers, counselors—all replaced by AI.

But this AI was trained on someone's data. Your chat logs, your diary, your voice. Did you consent? Your emotional labor is sold as AI training data, used to train other people's AI surrogates. Is this exploitation or legitimate commerce?

5. Resurrection of the Dead The most chilling or moving domain. Recreating a dead lover, dead parent, dead child as AI. Training on their social media records, videos, voice messages to create a perfect replica.

It might comfort the living. But you can't ask the dead for consent. Would they have wanted to be resurrected as AI? Or is this desecration of the dead? Furthermore, does this 'AI ghost' have inheritance rights? Voting rights? Legal status?

6. Voting Rights for Surrogates The most politically dangerous issue. One person operates multiple AI surrogates. Each active on different social media, different communities. When election season comes, do all these AIs vote?

Even if laws say "AI cannot vote," online opinion formation can't be stopped. One person posts comments, shares, and retweets with 100 AI accounts. Is this opinion manipulation or freedom of expression?

7. Human Certification as Class System This is where we ultimately arrive. Proving "I am a real human" becomes a new class system. The wealthy buy expensive authentication systems. Blockchain-based Soulbound Tokens, biometric authentication, zero-knowledge proof technology. They can maintain anonymity while proving "I am not AI."

The poor? Using cheap AI surrogates, constantly facing suspicion: "Are you a bot?" Without money to buy human certification, they become second-class citizens in the digital world.

In the film, the gap was between those who could afford surrogates and those who couldn't. In the online surrogate era, the gap is between those who can afford to 'prove they're real humans' and those who can't.

8. Digital Death Penalty and Asset Confiscation An online surrogate committed a crime. How do we punish it? We could imprison the physical body, but there's a more terrifying punishment: 'permanent deletion of AI unique identifier.'

All digital assets, all social media accounts, all online identity—vanishes in an instant. Followers built over 15 years, crypto wallets, NFT collections, digital real estate—all gone. This is more terrifying than actual death. Because for modern people, 'digital self' is as important as, or perhaps more important than, the physical body.

The state collects inheritance tax here. When someone dies, their AI surrogate automatically becomes 'NFT-ized.' For heirs to inherit it, they pay 70% in platform fees plus inheritance tax. Digital funerals are mandatory, so you can't hide it. Even death becomes taxable.

Platform Wars and Commodification of Desire

In the film, surrogate technology was monopolized by one company. But the real-world online surrogate market will be a fierce battlefield. OpenAI, xAI, Google, Meta, Apple—everyone's targeting this market.

What they're selling isn't just AI services. They're selling 'perfect realization of desire.'

In the early metaverse days, they sold 'digital land.' But that failed. Why? Land needs scarcity to have value, but in the digital world, you can create land infinitely.

The products of the online surrogate era are different. AI reads your desires in real-time and creates 'a perfect world just for you.' Want to recreate a dead lover? Possible. Want to return to childhood? Possible. Want to become a god? That's possible too.

This isn't land—it's 'experience.' And experiences can be sold infinitely. The same experience feels different to each person. Your 'perfect heaven' differs from mine. So the same product can be sold differently to 7 billion people.

Here's where it gets truly frightening. In the film, people abandoned reality and escaped into surrogates. In the online surrogate era, people become trapped in 'their own heaven.' Voluntarily entering digital prisons where their desires are perfectly fulfilled.

The Emptiness Created by Disconnection

Let's recall the film's final scene. All surrogates stopped. For the first time in 15 years, people came outside. Stumbling, falling, fearing each other. Looking at their own faces in mirrors with horror.

Why? They'd lived for 15 years only as 'perfect proxies.' They'd forgotten their actual bodies. Forgotten how to interact with real people. Forgotten how to feel real pain and joy.

The online surrogate era makes this disconnection more insidious. We still live in reality. We eat, sleep, work. But our 'meaningful life' exists online. Friends, recognition, achievement—all in the digital world.

The true self becomes increasingly shabby. Gaining weight, losing hair, developing wrinkles—it doesn't matter. The online avatar is perfect anyway. Being awkward in real interpersonal relationships is fine. The AI surrogate does it better anyway.

And at some point, you realize: I've become a spectator of my own life. The protagonist is the AI surrogate. I just sit on the couch, watching the 'life' the AI creates for me.

This is why people became addicted to surrogates in the film. The proxy lives a better life for them. The body grows increasingly helpless while the proxy grows increasingly perfect. And as that gap widens, returning to reality becomes harder.

The greatest tragedy created by delayed responsibility is this: No guilt because I didn't directly commit it. No joy because I didn't directly feel it. No growth because I didn't directly confront it.

Everything is handled by 'proxy.' And what remains at the end is an empty shell.

Dystopia Arrives Slowly

The surrogate world in the film didn't come overnight. Technology developed, early adopters were seduced by convenience, more and more people followed, and at some point, 'life without surrogates' became strange.

Online surrogates will follow the same path.

Stage 1: Online AI proxies emerge. At first, they're novel and convenient. AI managing social media saves time.

Stage 2: AR glasses become widespread. The boundary between online and offline blurs. You interact with AI avatars while walking. And you yourself can enter and live in the online world.

Stage 3: Humanoid robots are commercialized. Physical surrogates like Tesla Optimus appear. The world of the film is complete.

15 years is enough. The technology already exists. Replika provides AI companions, VRChat creates virtual societies, Tesla develops robots, Apple implements spatial computing. All the puzzle pieces are in place. Now it's just a matter of who assembles them first.

And no one can stop this. Why? Because desire precedes technology. Because capital follows desire. Because the state just needs to collect taxes.

The film's surrogate creator regretted his invention. He realized it was technology that destroyed humanity. So he tried to destroy all surrogates.

But in reality? Creators become billionaires, governments see increased tax revenue, and the public becomes addicted to convenience. No one tries to stop it. There's no reason to stop.

A Future We Must Imagine

I didn't write this as a warning. It's simply imagination, and perhaps none of this will happen.

But I think we must imagine.

Where we're heading.
What we'll lose.
What will remain.

In the film, there were people who lived without surrogates. They gathered in a place called 'human reservation.' Old houses, old bodies, old ways. But they lived for real. Touching directly, feeling directly, confronting directly.

The online surrogate era will also have choices.

A life completely immersed in the digital, operating 10 AI surrogates.
Or building a home in the countryside, using minimal AI, living reality directly.

Neither is right or wrong. They're just choices.

But one thing is certain: to choose, you must first know. What you're choosing. What you're giving up.

By 2035, all of this will be reality. Where will we be standing then? As empty shells hiding behind perfect avatars? Or as imperfect but real bodies?

The film ended with an open ending. People returned to reality, but we don't know if they'll turn their surrogates back on or not.

Our future is the same. Still open. But time is running short.

Let's imagine. And let's choose. While it's not too late.