#69 So much "synthetic fake sympathy"

After my LinkedIn timeline was flooded with fake robot appearances (Tesla Optimus), fake synthetic self-representations, and fake AI agents interviewing fake AI people…I felt like writing a more dystopian future reflection today. Take it in, breathe, and relax!

The future reality will be different as I consciously ignore the possible countermovements that will create at least a niche market for people searching for more genuine connections. Society will, in the end, balance itself, and polarity drives our human survival. But let’s ignore that for today and see how an imbalance could work out.

Oh, and if you want to listen to the voiceover, let's take the synthetic me talk to you about missing real connections. In the end, the future is today ;) Ah, you can also find all older stories in the podbean podcast.

Enough of the intro; let us dive into the story of Jinwoo…

Jinwoo stared at the perfect face on his screen—fake smile, fake voice, fake empathy. It all felt like a cruel joke as if the polished AI was mocking him. His mind was awash with anxieties and reflections, the weight of the hyper-connected yet deeply divided Seoul of 2035 bearing down on him.

It had been a hard ride. The initial excitement surrounding AI and the finally arrived augmented reality quickly gave way to a harsh reality: the digital divide had become a gaping chasm, separating those who could afford to keep up with the relentless pace of technological advancement from those left behind.

“Synthetic empathy” was the worst of it. The AIs could simulate every nuance of a conversation—except for its soul. No warmth, no missteps, no sparks of real connection. They were everywhere: in customer service, education, and even healthcare. Their algorithmic responses left him feeling cold and hollow as if the world had been sterilized of everything that made it human. He longed for the days when a human voice on the other end of the line, even if irritated or bored, at least offered a flicker of shared experience. Now, it was just perfectly modulated voices designed to alleviate and process, steering people back into the approved pathways of thought and action.

He thought back to the early days of AI integration when people tried to fight back by creating fake AI agents to interact with corporate ones. It was a brief, chaotic period of digital rebellion that stricter regulations and invasive surveillance had swiftly crushed. Now, every online interaction, every social media post, was scrutinized for "coherency," a chilling measure of conformity that left no room for dissent or individuality. Jinwoo thought of the people who had lost jobs, opportunities, and relationships because their digital footprint didn’t align with the prevailing narrative. The pressure to conform was suffocating, a constant weight on his chest, a silent censor that sat on his tongue whenever he wanted to speak his mind.

He remembered the student protests and the passionate cries for digital freedom, silenced by the swift and brutal hand of the authorities and deemed "incoherent" and a threat to social stability. Protests were becoming more frequent now. The climate crises exacerbated social instability; economic disparity pushed many to the edge, and the hands of a few controlled the relentless advancement of technology.

Governments had tried to counterbalance AI’s negative impacts, but their efforts were sluggish and ineffective, hampered by the influence of the chaebols, the powerful conglomerates that held sway over the nation's economy and politics. Jinwoo wondered if the social fabric could withstand the strain, if the chasm between the haves and have-nots would ever be bridged, or if it would continue to widen until the whole system collapsed, mirroring the cracks already forming in the foundations of the city’s gleaming skyscrapers.

The interview with Alex was just another cog in this machine, another reminder of Jinwoo’s dwindling agency. He knew his every word was being analyzed, his online presence dissected, his "coherency" assessed. He felt a surge of defiance, a desire to disrupt this evaluation's sterile, algorithmic surface. He wanted to scream, to rage against the machine, but he knew that any outburst would only be interpreted as a lack of "coherency," another data point against him. If he wanted to survive, he had to play the game and suppress the rising tide of frustration and despair.

He thought of his harmony, his grandmother, who had taught him the art of subtle resistance, the quiet defiance of a generation living through the Japanese occupation and the Korean War. She had survived in silence, fighting back in small ways that mattered.

"It's…a story about the future," he'd said to Alex, describing his dystopian novel. "A future where we’ve lost control of our destiny." But wasn’t that the story of his present? A world where algorithms determined his job prospects, where his value was reduced to a set of data points, where his very identity was under constant surveillance? He felt a growing sense of disconnect and being adrift in a sea of data, his humanity slowly eroding. Was this the future they had promised? A world where human connection was mediated by machines, where emotions were analyzed and quantified, where the essence of being human was reduced to calculations? He longed for the warmth of human touch, the comfort of a shared meal, the joy of a conversation that wasn’t monitored and analyzed.

The interview questions faded into the background as Jinwoo's mind wrestled with these more significant questions. What did it mean to be human in this age of AI? What was the price of progress? Was there a way to bridge the digital divide and reclaim agency in a world increasingly controlled by algorithms? He longed for a solution, a way to reconcile the undeniable benefits of technology with the growing sense of alienation and inequality it had created.

He yearned for a world where technology served humanity, not the other way around, a world where the advancements of AI were used to uplift society, not to divide and control it.

The interview with Alex might determine his immediate future, but these deeper reflections would shape his path forward. Jinwoo would not be defined by algorithms, and he would not be silenced by the surveillance state.

He would... comply, for now. After all, he needed the money.