More and more I am starting to wish I had gone ahead with the novel I had sketched out in the 1990s. The backdrop was a kind of post-imitative-AI collapse of trust in society, because it had become effortless to fake up, say, your least favorite political candidate talking about the merits of eating babies, so the various echo chambers bore a kind of ghastly fruit, each stance finding its own "evidence" for its beliefs, right down to the flat earth types. Paranoia runs rampant, and so on.
It looks like we're heading in that direction.