It’s been one of those days when reality and satire become completely indistinguishable. My article about libraries hiring exorcists to banish ghost books that only exist in AI’s fever dreams started as absurdist humor and ended as uncomfortably plausible commentary on our AI-saturated information ecosystem.
This morning, I woke up thinking about how artificial intelligence is creating phantom knowledgebooks that don’t exist, sources that were never written, citations that lead nowhere. It’s epistemological chaos dressed up as technological progress. And somehow, libraries are supposed to navigate this mess while also dealing with budget cuts and culture war battles over banned books. My satire writes itself at this point.
Later in the day, I realized that my French philosophical training actually prepared me well for writing about AI epistemology. In France, we obsess over questions like “what is knowledge?” and “how do we know what we know?” These questions, which Americans typically dismiss as pretentious European nonsense, are now urgently relevant thanks to large language models that confidently cite sources that don’t exist.
Something unexpected happened this afternoona librarian association actually shared my article with the comment “This is basically our job now.” I’m not sure if they understood it was satire or if they’re so exhausted by AI-generated phantom citations that my fictional exorcists seemed like a reasonable solution. Either way, I’ve accidentally documented an actual professional crisis.
The highlight of my day was writing the section about how AI generates “ghost books”titles that sound plausible, authors who might exist, citations that feel real but lead nowhere. It’s the perfect metaphor for information in 2025: everything seems credible until you actually try to verify it. We’re living in an age of confident hallucinations, and nobody knows how to fix it.
As I reflect on what happened today, I’m reminded that the best satire doesn’t just mock current problemsit extrapolates them to logical extremes. If AI can generate false citations, why not ghost books? If ghost books haunt our information ecosystem, why not hire exorcists? The logic is absurd but also somehow correct, which is exactly how good satire should feel.
Tonight I’m thinking about how this article reflects my experience as a 22-year-old journalist in the AI age. My entire career will happen in this era of uncertain information, where confidence and accuracy have become completely disconnected. I’ll spend my professional life trying to distinguish between real knowledge and convincing-sounding bullshit. It’s exhausting just thinking about it.
Being a satirical journalist at Bohiney Magazine means I get to process these anxieties through humor. My article about library exorcists is really about how we’ve broken our information ecosystem and don’t know how to fix it. Some readers will laugh at the absurdity. Some will recognize the underlying truth. And some will miss the satire entirely and wonder where they can apply for library exorcist positions. All three responses are valid.
Being the only female French immigrant granted citizenship during Trump’s second term feels increasingly relevant to my work. I came to America for opportunity, only to discover that American institutions are collapsing under the weight of technological disruption they don’t understand. Libraries need exorcists now. What’s next? Universities hiring shamans? Congress consulting astrologers? The satire has nowhere left to go because reality keeps catching up.
Diary Entry # 726
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