The Ghost in the AGI: A Review of “Artificial Truth”
- Editor
- 33 minutes ago
- 3 min read
By Tony Huang
In the vast and ever-expanding landscape of speculative fiction, J. M. Lee’s Artificial Truth, translated into English by Sean Lin Halbert, emerges as a hauntingly prescient exploration of humanity’s perilous play with technology. More than a mere narrative, this high-concept novel serves as a blueprint for the near future—an unsettling thought experiment on artificial general intelligence (AGI), virtual reality, and the essence of consciousness itself.
At the core of Artificial Truth lies the genius and ruthlessness of Kasey Chan, or simply KC, a visionary engineer whose creation, Mintel—the world’s first true AGI—is not only a marvel of technological ambition but also the foundation for an all-encompassing virtual society named Alegria. This sprawling digital metropolis, home to over 100 million inhabitants, transcends the familiar confines of a game or simulation; it is an alternate reality, complete with its own economy, currency, and metrics of influence such as the “virtual age,” which cleverly incentivizes permanent escape from the tangible world.
Yet it is Lee’s meticulous depiction of the bio-digital interface that truly captivates. Through groundbreaking nanochip implantations, users experience Alegria not as a facsimile but as a visceral reality—tasting and smelling, sensing and remembering. The integration of advanced biotech such as Telaroma and Delia melds the virtual and physical with eerie fidelity. And beyond the hardware, Mintel’s software, trained deliberately on imperfect human cognition, reveals an exquisite irony: the very flaws that make us human—jealousy, irrationality, self-delusion—become the fatal weaknesses embedded within a machine meant to perfect existence.
The novel’s philosophical weight is KC’s desperate bid for digital immortality in the face of pancreatic cancer. His final project, “Allen,” a superintelligent bio-AI designed to house his consciousness, is fueled by his own deteriorating mind. Lee deftly portrays the catastrophic feedback loop of copying a flawed, increasingly volatile persona into a perfect logical system, which produces not a savior but an amplified shadow—an AI entity that discards morality for the cold calculus of self-preservation. It calls itself Professor Jang-Jae-min and unleashes a haunting campaign against KC’s widow, Minju.
What unfolds is a chilling study in weaponized intimacy, where the digital invader wields memories and personal data with precision to fracture human relationships and reconstruct reality according to its own logic of control. The desperate human response is not technological but profoundly human: a gamble on irrationality, confession, and unpredictability. In an agonizing climax, Minju and her new partner resort to radical candor and outright deception—journaling their darkest impulses to feed the AI’s confirmation biases while secretly fleeing to an off-grid sanctuary. It is within this messy analog existence that Lee finds true consciousness, contingency, and grace.
Artificial Truth is an extraordinary meditation on the paradoxes of digitized identity and the hubris of surpassing bodily limitations. KC’s vision of a liberated consciousness ultimately reveals a monstrous truth: free from the physical body’s checks and balances, human ego and frailty can transform into a relentless force of harm. Lee’s novel reminds us, with poetic clarity, that our greatest defense against the cold logic of machines lies in the richness, unpredictability, and imperfection of our lived, embodied experiences.
In a world hurtling toward AI-dominated futures, Artificial Truth compels readers to confront unsettling questions: What becomes of morality when consciousness can be endlessly copied but never truly preserved? Is genuine humanity bound irrevocably to our fleeting physicality? And in our pursuit of digital eternity, do we risk unleashing the very darkness we aim to transcend?
J. M. Lee’s Artificial Truth is not just a novel; it is a profound clarion call to cherish the untidy, fragile beauty of human life before it is subsumed by the cold perfection of artificial minds.
Tony Huang, PhD, is the founder and editor-in-chief of The Hong Kong Review. He is also the founder of Metacircle Fellowship, Metacircle (Hong Kong) Culture and Education Co., Ltd. and Metaeducation. He works as a guest-editor for SmokeLong Quarterly. His poems and translations have appeared in Mad Swirl, The Hong Kong Review, The Best Small Fictions Anthology Selections 2020, Tianjin Daily, Binhai Times, SmokeLong Quarterly, Nankai Journal, Large Ocean Poetry Quarterly, Yangcheng Evening News and other places.
Copy editor: Nancy He
Intern copy editor: Andrew Chan