The invisible guide

It is 11.40 at night, and you are standing in the kitchen with a tin in your hand. Is it tomatoes or coconut milk? This is one of life's small questions that grow large when you cannot see.

The guide is Ridderrennet's hallmark. The person who lends you their eyes down a mountainside, calls the turns in the right order and crosses the finish line a wiser version of themselves. We even gave the training its own nickname, Beitostølen's Jedi Academy. So let it be said without reservation. No machine will take over that hand on the shoulder.

But let us be honest about the arithmetic. Ridderweek lasts one week. The year keeps another fifty-one. Life is mostly lived outside the tracks, in the kitchen, on the stairs, by the postbox, in front of forms that demand both your ID number and your peace of mind. There, a blind person has traditionally had two choices. Wait for help, or do without.

Now there is a third.

The volunteer army that got a night shift

In 2015, the Dane Hans Jørgen Wiberg, partially sighted himself, launched the app Be My Eyes. Blind users are connected with sighted volunteers via video, and people worldwide have signed up to serve. In the spring of 2023, the app got an AI addition, Be My AI, built on the engine behind ChatGPT. It describes a picture in seconds, around the clock, and when it falls short, it passes you on to a human being of flesh and blood.

Note the order. The machine does not replace the volunteers. It relieves them. The world's finest volunteer army got itself a night shift.

A day with eyes in your pocket

The post lands on the mat. It used to wait for a visit. Now you hold the phone over the envelope and get the verdict at once. A bill, an appointment, or yet another electricity offer bound straight for the recycling.

In front of the fridge stands the tin from earlier. You show it to the assistant and get your answer, often with a dinner suggestion thrown in. Christine Ha, the blind cook who won MasterChef in 2012 ahead of sighted rivals, got there on instinct, system and years of training. Those who come after her have a kitchen assistant that can see.

The letter from the council is written in solid officialese. You ask for a plain-language translation, the deadline in clear text, and a draft reply. In an unfamiliar city, the assistant reads the sign above your head, while the passers-by hurry on with their earphones firmly in.

I tried it myself

One evening last winter I ran the experiment in my own kitchen. Eyes shut, phone in hand with AI open, a random tin from the cupboard. I had the contents and the best-before date read out in seconds. Then I photographed a letter from a public agency and asked for the contents in three sentences. The assistant needed five seconds for what had taken me ten minutes. With my sight intact.

An evening with closed eyes is of course only a tourist visa to a reality other people live in all their lives. But the direction is impossible to mistake. Small things move from 'wait for help' to 'sorted on the spot'. And small things are rarely as small as they look.

An honest label

Because the assistant does get things wrong. It misreads numbers, misjudges pictures, and when it is unsure, it can serve up guesses with a confidence that would impress an estate agent. For someone who cannot check with a glance, that is a real risk. So the basic kit stands untouched. White cane, guide dog and people you trust. The app is an addition. Never a replacement.

In return, it manages something no human being can sustain. It is always there. Twenty small errands that used to be saved up until someone dropped by can now be dealt with as they come, without the feeling of being a nuisance. And here lies the real gain. Loneliness is not only about being alone. It is just as much about always having to ask. Every time you read your own post, cook your own dinner and understand your own decision letter, you win back a piece of yourself.

The best guide sets you free

Ask anyone in the tracks at Beitostølen what makes a good guide. The answer comes without a moment's thought. Someone who skis beside you, not in front of you. Someone who puts you in a position to do as much as possible yourself, and steps in when it truly matters. Success is not measured by how much you need the guide. It is measured by how much you manage.

We should hold the invisible guide in your pocket to exactly the same standard. As a tool that extends your reach. So that your energy can be spent where it belongs, on the people around you.

Next in the series. 'The super-resource codes the future'. Your keyboard was invented for a blind countess. It has become the rule in the history of technology.