Why Real-World Data Alone Won't Get Us to General-Purpose Robots - Prof Fan Shi, NUS

I was groomed to become one of his wives. This week on Disorder, the podcast that orders the Disorder, an Epstein survivor tells me her story and what justice looks like for her. I want to see action and I am demanding action. Do not just talk to talk, you need to start walking the walk now. It's one of the most powerful interviews I've ever done in over 20 years as a journalist. Search Disorder in your podcast app to listen right now. Hey, NBN listeners. We're running our 2026 new book's network audience survey. And we'd love just a few minutes of your time. NBN has been bringing you in-depth conversations with authors and scholars for over 15 years. We haven't done a comprehensive audience survey since 2022, and a lot has changed since then. It's time to hear from you again. Here's why we're asking you. We want to understand who's listening, what subjects and podcasts you love most, and where you'd like to see us grow. 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Thank you for inviting me. Could you start out by kind of explaining how this book came to be, talking a little bit about what it's about, and why you decided to write about this? Absolutely. So my dad disappeared when I was 12. I had just started eighth grade, and that was 1987. And it was September. From then on, I was always very conscious of the anniversary's coming up. But then in summer 2007, the sense of the anniversary approaching had a different quality, and I looked at the calendar and realized that we were coming up to the 20-year point. And it was like I snapped out of a fog. And the nature of the fog was the authorities are doing what they can. And all of these sort of placating type of things, like we'll let you know if there's more information. We'll reach out if we get new leads, that kind of thing. And I thought, are those people even still alive who are going to let us know if anything new comes up? And it was like this fog fell away, and I was electrified, incredibly agitated. And I just sort of looked at my life. And also the previous fall, a dear friend of my Brad Will had been killed by paramilitaries, by plain close police in Wohaka, Mexico. And it was devastating for me. We were close. It was a good friend. And I was very conscious in that time. I hadn't wanted Brad to go on that trip, but I knew that he did what mattered to him in his life. So as the months of me grieving this loss passed, that coincided with the 20th anniversary, like inching closer and closer. And I'd been asking myself, what am I doing with my life? So that question was really in the background. Like, I'm not happy. He hit my friend Brad lost his life doing what he cared about. But the fact was that I know he died doing exactly what he wanted to, like his life aligned with his values and his passions. And I wasn't certain that I could say the same thing about my life. So that was all in the background of my mind as this 20th anniversary came into, like, into view. And I thought, well, I'm kind of a writer. I worked for the Wall Street Journal's Personal Finance magazine. And I'd put out an alt weekly in New York with close friends for, I was there a few years, but there was like a year when it was me, my best friend Alex, and like, four people putting out that paper. And so I felt like I had some professional skills and that something I could do for my dad could involve storytelling. And, but I didn't know it was a book right away. I thought, like, I'll do, I'll do a magazine story. And someone connected me with like a small business magazine, and they wanted me to write a feature like, like top three ways a business partnership can go wrong. And I was like, yeah, if one of the business partners dies, that's it. And I just thought, I don't think this is, it's definitely not that magazine story. And, and then as I was starting to figure out who can I talk to and what can I do, even at the very beginning, it became clear to me that I was going to be wrestling with much, much, much more material than a long form magazine story could address. So then I realized it was going to be a book. You know, as you're talking one thing that came to me where I was thinking about, like in your book, you talk about this, like you're like, I'm not in that. I don't want to investigate, right? Like I kind of want to just, I want to tell the story. I want to honor my father, but I'm not investigating. And yet that did become part of what you were doing. And so can you talk a little bit about that, like kind of how you thought you were going to approach this. And then as you did, what transpired for you in the book? Looking back, I think attempting to make that distinction was, I can look at it now and say I was playing a word game because the work was investigation. But I do think that that distinction was important because even in 2007, we were seeing the beat. We didn't have the serial podcast yet, which I credit with kicking off the worst of the true crime phenomenon. But we did have like 48 hours and law and order and just like murder, murder, murder, murder, murder, everywhere you looked all over the television. And I didn't want to participate in anything true crimey. And so I think trying to make that distinction was about, how do I stay on the side of a line that feels like integrity to me? And this was going to be a long, you know, internal conversation. Like, what does that mean? What does it look like? But I think that initial resistance to I'm not a detective. I'm a journalist was about how do I work with this material in a way that's ethical, that feels okay to me, that doesn't feel icky. And now I know that last summer, I had a couple long phone calls with Detective Ed Brown. He was one of the lead detectives who worked when my dad first disappeared. And he said, you know, investigation is just trying to figure out the truth and trying to prove it. Like, that's what you did. But my earliest instincts were, I could do this in a way that feels gross. I could do this in a way that I feel good about for the rest of my life. And I need to try to find the lighthouse toward how to do this in a way that feels okay. Yeah, I think for me, one of the things that really sort of drew me in was this, you really trying to figure out who your dad was, right? Like, you, your dad disappeared when you were 12. And so you wrestle with like, who you saw your dad to be and what you, like kind of that, you're grieving throughout this process, as well as then kind of learning from others about who your dad was or people who didn't want to really talk about it. So can you talk a little bit about your dad, right? Like, who he was to you? Why this was so important to kind of tell his story and make sure that people remember. I think that the fundamental aspect of why it was so important, it's, it's almost hard to put into words, but I, I loved both my parents as a little kid and my world was so small. It was me, my sister, my mom and dad and both sets of grandparents and a couple cousins and I was the daddy's girl. And as we get older, I mean, I've had relationships in my life that I could write an entire multi volume books about. But when we're little, those initial relationships are just so core. And I just, I loved my dad. And it's not like, okay, you know, partner number four in 2003, I loved because of these 12 things. And I really, it's like, there's something so wordless about the parent child relationship, especially when it's, it's good. And you know, I had a good relationship with my dad. So I think that the drive to do all of this came from some primal place that, you know, we can glance at with words, we can scratch at it with words. And it's difficult to encapsulate it with words. And then it was challenging to figure out who was my dad. And I don't think I entirely went about it in the right way. Like I think I overemphasized working with the detectives. They didn't know him. They knew him in death. They knew him as part of their job. But also, I felt this huge, my family didn't want to talk about it. And that ebbed and flowed. I wound up having many detailed conversations with my uncle. But the whole project, which spanned from like that summer 2007 to when I was marking up my pages in a library last summer, that's 18 years. And now it's almost 19 with the book coming out. I felt this terrible worry and guilt about kicking things up for my family. So there's a way in which I avoided going to aggressively into the people who knew him better than the police ever could. Because there was a lot of resistance. And, you know, and sometimes like I would, I interviewed a couple family members and I'm a journalist. And I'm a question asker and I'm a question answerer. But I would have conversations with family members about dad. And I would get, well, he loved you girls very, very much. And he loved his wroughtwilers. And I would get these like beautiful, true, accurate statements that didn't take me too far past what I knew. So I still, I feel like I was grasping. And, you know, the ultimate vault of knowledge about my dad, my mom, we have a good relationship. And I'm never going to get everything I want to know about my dad. So that was kind of a non-starter. And also my mother did not want to participate and I wanted to respect her as much as possible. You know, there's a handful of like very brief pointed quotes from her in the book that I know she's okay with. And I make it very clear throughout the book that she's not okay with it. And, you know, she's not a participant in this. But that, she's a, she's a, I mean, she's a secret keeper. And I say that with complete respect. So I still feel like I, every now and then I've seen, I've seen a couple early reader comments like she didn't really figure out who her dad was. Maybe I didn't. But I could tell you he was German American. He did love his daughters very much. He struggled with his weight. He loved his German pastries. He loved his German sausages and in Baltimore, we got like a lot of German cuisine. So we had a delicatessen on Harfer Road in Hamilton. Like we would go to Mullers and he would pick up his German pastries and his German sausages. And the first like, you know, we German dogs. We had two ratwilers. He loved his Mercedes Benz. We had multiple. And I didn't see that as like, now I'm like, that was sort of a fancy car for the working class area we were from. But for him, it was just, well, of course, we have to have the high end German vehicle. So, you know, there are ways in which I can say lots and lots and lots of things about my dad. And then there are ways in which I still feel like I could only scratch the surface. And I, I guess what it is. Right. And I feel like, I mean, anyone who loses a parent or a loved one at a really young age can only get, right? It doesn't matter who you talk to, who you don't talk to. There's only so much. But I do feel like I love when you talk about his cameras and getting your mother finally gifting you them, right? Because I think there's also it might, you know, there's this like connection and this ways in which you can kind of continue that. I don't know, I don't know. Legacy is not the right word, but I'm using it because I can't think of a word right now for it. But right, there's that continuation of his kind of spirit, maybe that seems to come through in that kind of thing. I've got one of his cameras in the other room right now. I still use them. And that was such a profound shift because I had asked my mom for the cameras when I was like 20 or so. And she was like, no, and then one day she just gave them to me and I have treated them like, you know, the Mona Lisa or, you know, I treasure those cameras and I use them. I don't treasure them like something you keep in a museum. I put them to use because they're, you know, high quality machines that make art and and I love photography. And and it is a sense of like having an open dialogue with dad like he use these cameras and now I get to use these cameras. And I think that's really great. So you mentioned Baltimore, which is something I wanted to bring up because I think Baltimore in general, but especially during this time is really central to this story that you're telling this sort of, you know, to your world and your life. So can you talk a little bit about Baltimore, the Baltimore, you knew the Baltimore that kind of started to appear to everybody else, right in popular culture and popular media that you remember. Wow, that's a tough question. It's a tough question because I'm just one person who grew up in in that city and I haven't lived there now for a long time. But I will do my best. It's my favorite place. I don't know that I'll ever move back, but it remains my favorite place. It's Baltimore is to me. It symbolizes America in so many ways. It's still to I think it's still quite segregated. It's, you know, there's incredible poverty and incredible wealth. You know, John Hopkins is there. And also there's just there's so much poverty and it's one of those cities that at least in the past people sort of look down on it for not being New York or even Philadelphia or San Francisco. And I think the sort of culturally what happens kind of goes both ways like the outside world can say, well, it's just Baltimore. And then if you're there, you know, but the city can have like a chip on its shoulder about being being the underdog, but it's always been a place of like tremendous literature, art, music. I think culturally it's just a powerhouse and all sort of like television phenomena aside Baltimore has always held its own culturally incredible food. It's also it's a beautiful, beautiful city. It's a forested city. It's got so many trees. There's this one like there's a highway that goes. It's not a highway, but like a it's called I 83 the Jones Falls Expressway aka the JFX and it winds from downtown all the way up into Baltimore County and it's like a snake. And it used to be paved with this like old fashioned pavement. So if you've got your windows down, it just kind of makes this like sound. And it's a totally different quality from like the black asphalt. And I mean, I dream about driving on the JFX. It's got this fairy tale quality to me. And when you go from northern parkway onto the JFX South to go downtown. Sometimes in the summer, the trees are so overgrown that if your windows are open, like a trees are coming in through your windows. I feel like I'm failing with a capital F in capturing anything meaningful about my hometown city, but it's just extraordinarily rich culturally in in every conceivable way. And also a strange place. I think David's first book, David Simon's first book. It's called Homicide a Year on the Killing Street. To me, one of the ways in which that book stands up is he tells a number of stories of crimes in Baltimore that are just so weird. If they were fiction, you would just be like, this isn't believable. Like I can't remember her name. She I mentioned her in my book, but there's a lady who. She does the classic insurance scheme where she gets people to take out insurance policy. is magicism and she did it like 14 times. And it's just one of those places where strange things happen. And if you're in Baltimore, you just shrug because, well, of course, and if you're anywhere else, you're like, how's that real? But so it's like a-- it's like this fairy tale city to me in that way where it's its own world with its own laws of physics and reality. And I just think it's an incredibly special place. And I don't feel like I did any justice to it in all that rambling. I think you did. And I think you talk about-- because I do think it as a place, even though you didn't live there, you moved to New York in your 20s and then not gone back to Baltimore to live, you kind of talk about-- and also lived in DC for a while, you talk about that sort of relationship with something about Baltimore continues to pull you back to it. That comes up in the book, right? So I was thinking about and wondering about that. You mentioned David Simon. And so I think one thing that I think is really interesting is you talk about dealing with the justice system and the ways in which the justice system has not done its due diligence, right? I know maybe that's the best way to say it or not. But can you talk a little bit about that? Like growing up, but also as you're writing this book and as you're doing this work, thinking about what you kind of learn or what is cemented in you about how the justice system works or doesn't work? I think fundamentally that justice system doesn't work. And I just think that the justice system in America is so flawed. It's rotten to the core. And what I mean by that is people who are poor, people who are black, or otherwise people of color, people who have mental illnesses. Everyone who's in any way marginalized or vulnerable is disproportionately punished, harshly by our justice system. And then the people who are making the rules and enforcing the rules are flawed human beings. And so if we go into the death penalty corner, if someone gets put to death and then you find out five years later that a witness lied or someone else did it, you'd know there's no backsees. And it's just like, look, I've had a lot of experience with real violence in my life. I mean, in some ways, I'm more sheltered than some people and far, far, far less sheltered than others. No one has to tell me that they're dangerous people running around. It's not just my dad. I've had a lot of experiences with real violence. And there are people who shouldn't be running around with the general population. And at the same time, the idea that justice ultimately is we lock people in cages indefinitely and/or put them to death is sick to me. And there are many, many, many people who have written tremendous books about this, whether Angela Davis or Alex Vitale, or there's a lot of great literature and scholarship out there about the incarceration system of the United States. And I am not one of those experts. But in the situation of my own dad, even if someone was to go to jail, it doesn't bring my dad back. It doesn't give me my childhood back. And it just seems like such hollow comfort. And so figuring out how to work with this trauma in my life, in the realm of my own creativity and my professional skills, that was the way for me to get what I needed. Yeah, can you talk a little bit about that, like, dealing with, or how this may be helped you deal with some of this trauma, right? And how you had to maybe work to take care of yourself, when, I mean, you did, like you said, this is almost a two-decade process and writing this book, right? And so what you needed and what you needed to do to make sure that you were taking care of yourself in this process of going through this, which is, like, as you said, digging up a lot of your child-to-trauma and trauma in your life. I think there is an infinite capacity for repair in engaging deeply with our creativity. And my favorite thing about this book is that it built off of skills that I had started to build in my teens and 20s, you know, like back to the high school newspaper. And then when I fell into an editorial role at New York Prass, which was the alt-weekly competitor to the village voice, slowly, often by happenstance, you know, was it fate? Was it an accident? Who, you know, life is full of mysteries. But I was building these editorial skills. I was learning how to, at New York Prass, I learned how to write very quickly. I would write, like, a food column and a movie column. And, you know, I'd call them about activism. And I got to work with my dear friend, Jim Kinnipfel. He was the staff columnist there. And also a memoirist. His book, Slagjaw, is a fantastic memoir of him going blind from Rittenidas Pigmentosa. And Jim taught, he was the first person who taught me, you can take a tiny thing that happened in your life and you can always write 500 words about it. You can always, you can write 500 words about anything. I mean, he told me that probably offhand 25 years ago. And I think about that every day, especially if I feel blocked, I think, okay, Kate, you can write 500 words about anything, because it's true. And so I was building those skills. And then when I took on this project, having no idea how long it was going to take, how much it was going to involve, you know, dozens and dozens of obstacles, whether that was the first nonfiction proposal did not sell. I broke up with my first literary agent. The obstacles that, you know, in an individual's little life are pretty painful. And I kept going. And then as the work progressed, I was able to take these early skills and hone them and develop. And I found just the deepest, most beautiful pleasure in refining my skills as a writer and as an editor. Because writing, at least for me, writing a project like this, you don't just write it once. I probably, that book is 304 pages. I probably deleted 608 pages that didn't or twice that, who knows? Because I revise, revise, revise, revise, revise, relentlessly. And I don't know the mechanism, but there is tremendous. I found tremendous healing in taking the painful thing and taking the skills, like skills that I feel good about. You know, I don't need to be the best writer on planet earth or the best selling writer or like, but I've taken the talents I was born with and done something with them that I feel good about. And I'm going to keep refining those skills as long as I'm alive. And so that to me is life affirming. Like working on my professional skills and my creative skills is a way to say every day, I love my life. I love being alive. And then to take that sort of machine and put the horrible painful thing into it and say, what can I do with the horrible painful things in this machine of my creativity at that there's there's healing in that. Even if I don't understand why, that's that's my satisfaction in the book. Yes, throughout this process too, it seems like whether it is the process of writing the book or just sort of your process in life, you made relationships with people who kind of became father, some of them became father figures to you, right? You have relationships that you might not have ever had if you and some, you know, especially with some of the detectives, right? That you might never have had if you've gone down this. And it seems like they were rich and for fit like some of these are really rich and fulfilling. So can you talk a little bit about those some of those relationships that you really kind of highlight and talk about in this book and sort of in your life and, you know, the importance of those for you. Early, early on like 10 years, I really wanted, like I wanted to build a new family for myself. And now decades later, mixed results, I do think that we can't always make new [BLANK_AUDIO] families. And, you know, I'm a queer person. I think, you know, that I would have a lot of queer friends who would really strongly disagree with that. And like even get mad to hear me say that because the idea of like found family is so sort of fundamental in queer culture. But it hasn't always worked out for me. And blood family matters. Whether you have a lot of it, whether it works out for you, whether you have to walk away from it in whatever ways, there is something indelible about blood family. So if that doesn't give you everything you need, well, you do. Whether whether the results are mixed 10 out of 10 or, you know, not so great. You do, at least if you're me, have to go out into the world and try to find new relationships. And over the course of my life and of this work, I mean, I've met some incredible characters. And you're right that there are two of those detectives, Roger Nolan and Donald Warden were just lovely people. And we were only if the word closes accurate. I mean, that can mean so many different things. But we, it was just three or four years that that I engage with them a lot. But their empathy and care and intelligence will stick with me for the rest of my life. Roger Nolan passed in 2023 and Donald Warden is still going. Thank goodness. But then there were also people like my housemate Harold. There's like two Harold chapters. And Harold is very shy. I called him last summer and said the books basically done. Do you want to read it? And he said, no, I'm okay with whatever you said about me. And then he told me there's actually a film about him that like someone at what's it called? Micah, the Maryland college, Maryland, it's true college of the art. Someone made a movie about him and he said he has it on VHS and he's never watched it. So he said he trusts whatever I said. Although I mentioned this one phone call that's in the book and he said, Oh, no, you were on the phone. You weren't in my house. And that wound up going into the author's note because he insists that the way I tell that scene is wrong. Harold is wrong. Look, I've got my, I've got my agenda. Like I was in Baltimore that week. I went to see Detective Ed Brown at like noon and then I went to Harold's house afterward. But it's such a fascinating like the way memory works that Harold's like, what are you going to do? And I said, I'll figure out a way to put this in the book that we are having this argument. And it's in the author's note at the end. But he is such such a beautiful, beautiful character. He was a Volkswagen mechanic and I don't, I don't mean like, you know, 2010's GTI's. I mean like buses and Carmen Gias and buses and bugs painted, you know, beautiful colors. And he always had these incredible dogs and cats who, who were characters of their own. GIFSY the dog and Billy the cat or go with on the book, I think. And, and, you know, I feel like I got to memorialize even though he's still alive. That's not quite the right word. But, but give, give Harold kind of a permanent place in literature with the book. And he was kind of a dad figure when I lived with him. But he wasn't that much older than me. I mean like 20 some years, I think that that matters more when you're 21 and someone in their 40 sings ancient. But, like, and, you know, my best friend of 30 years Gordon Porterfield is all through that book. And he was very much a deliberate attempt to have a second dad. And that, that was, you know, very successful. He was a wacky genius, like lightning bolt of a man who gave me so much love and time and care and friendship from the time I met him when I was 15 to when he died in 2019. And yeah, yeah, I, I will say like there was like, there's some beauty in a lot of that stuff that comes through here. And that I really appreciate in the vulnerability. And I will since Harold still alive, good if shout out to Harold because I love that it was in the author's note. Like that whole discussion and thinking about memory and how memory kind of plays apart. And you, you are really vulnerable in parts of this. I really love how you talked about as you got older thinking of like how your relationship as a teenager with your mom and then thinking about like what your mother had to go through. Right? Like, so maybe my perception was a little different. And, and so can you talk about that? Like I'm wondering a little bit about like writing and being vulnerable and that writing and like we're these like choices where you were like, I am going to be vulnerable about X, Y, and Z. And I feel comfortable with that or with some of this kind of uncomfortable for you to kind of unpack and and put on the page. It was all uncomfortable. And I think that if you're going to do a book like this, specifically rooted in memoir, you know, the book is a hybrid of memoir and journalism. If you're going to do memoir, you got to be vulnerable. I really think that is part of the contract with the reader. And I don't think that has to mean hurting yourself. Or I don't think that has to mean hurting yourself. But I do think that if you are going to authentically engage with this beautiful art form, which is memoir, vulnerability is part of what you're signing up for. Why? Why even go down that path if you're going to play it safe? So the question wasn't, will I be vulnerable? The question was, how do I do it in a way that isn't like, you know, exposing a wrong nerve for the rest of my life in pages in ways that I'll regret and wish I could take it back? But how do I do it in a way that will resonate with the readers who connect with the book and that feels like an act of authenticity versus self-legilation or I think there are all kinds of ways to be vulnerable. And I just wanted to do it in a way that served the story and gave readers an opportunity to see themselves. Not everybody's going to see themselves in the story of a murdered parent, but I think that people can see themselves in, you know, someone who goes out and faces their fears, someone who goes out and does a hard thing, someone who, you know, encounters obstacles, falls down and gets up again. And so I think the vulnerability serves the book itself and also the potential connections with the readers who come, you know, wanting to get something for themselves out of a story. Yeah, I mean, there's co- there's complication in it too, right? It's not this like, let's go through and everything's happy fun times, right? There's a lot of complexity and messiness and complication that is life. And so I think there's that, like I just want to add to what you're still like for me, like that really helps too in reading this book and really thinking about that life isn't, we tell, we like to tell, we make sense of the world through stories, but that doesn't mean that our stories are always going to like have this perfect fairy tale and or even an ending, right? Like we might not find an ending. Oh, absolutely. So we, I mean, we could probably talk for a long time, but we've been talking for a while. So the book, so my final question is kind of this book is the book just came out. So we'll for, Wayne, then I'm going to ask you two questions. Like one, like, is what do you hope that people, and maybe this is part of how you answered? So I don't know if you have any more to add. What do you want people to take from this book? Like are there things that you really hope that people get from reading your book? The number one thing I would like people to get from the book is the idea that creativity is a way to work with pain in the sense of alchemy that whether you're a musician or a painter or a photographer, whatever, I think everyone has creativity and talent for creativity. But whatever whatever your art form is, that is there for you to work with the obstacles that you encounter in your life, that you can take the hard thing or the thing that you're afraid of and make art about it. And you're probably going to have a richer, more rewarding life if you do that. I love that. And so like the book is on now. So what self-promotion time? Like what is going on? going on with the book that you might want people to know about or anything else you're working on. But yeah, what do you want people to know? I'm very happy with the book. It's, you know, as we've discussed, it's heavily rooted in memoir. This is not straight true crime. I think that people who want a traditional true crime story may not like that book. And that's okay. There's all kinds of books out there for people to read. It is a solid hybrid of memoir and journalism, you know, that involves the crime that shaped my life. And another thing, I do a lot of audiobook reading. And so I was very invested in the narrator of the audiobook. Her name is Vivian Lianney. I think she did a fantastic job. And it's, I'm such an avid audiobook reader that when I started listening to her read the book, it just was the most incredible delight. She is a 10 out of 10 professional. This lady knows her stuff. And I've already seen a couple of reader reviews that say, I saw Vivian Lianney and I grabbed it. I didn't even like the book that much, but I would read her if she wrote the, like I read it or she read the phone book. And I wanted to have that kind of narrator that people would see her name and think, I don't even care if I like that book. I just want a couple hours with Vivian Lianney. And I think we got that. And so for audiobook readers, just know that as the author of the book, I totally, totally endorse the audiobook version with all my heart. And I'm so grateful for the care and time she put into it. And the books available, you know, bookshop.org, all the places online that you order your books. And if your independent bookseller doesn't have it, just ask them in and the order and I love the library. Read my book through the library. No author I know will ever be upset that someone read their book through the library. And especially in 2026, our libraries are such a pillar of everything good about the world. So support your local library system and ask them to carry my book if they don't already. Oh, I love that. I love that so much. Kate, thank you so much. Again, Kate Creen talking about her book, whatever happened to Eddie Creen. Thanks for talking with me on a new book's network. Thank you so much for having me.