<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>schristoph.online</title><link>https://schristoph.online/tags/enterpriseai/</link><description>Personal homepage and blog of Stefan Christoph</description><generator>Hugo -- gohugo.io</generator><language>en-us</language><copyright>Stefan Christoph. All rights reserved.</copyright><lastBuildDate>Fri, 24 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://schristoph.online/tags/enterpriseai/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>The Citation Crisis: What AI Hallucinations Mean for Your Enterprise</title><link>https://schristoph.online/blog/the-citation-crisis/?utm=rss-feed</link><pubDate>Fri, 24 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>https://schristoph.online/blog/the-citation-crisis/</guid><description>&lt;h2 id="the-reference-i-almost-didnt-check">The Reference I Almost Didn&amp;rsquo;t Check&lt;/h2>
&lt;p>A few days ago, I was reviewing an article my AI agent had drafted. The sources section looked clean: numbered references, proper formatting, plausible titles. One citation pointed to an AWS blog post about a feature I&amp;rsquo;d never heard of. The title sounded right. The URL structure looked legitimate.&lt;/p>
&lt;p>I clicked it. 404.&lt;/p>
&lt;p>The blog post didn&amp;rsquo;t exist. The agent had fabricated a reference that looked exactly like a real AWS publication: correct URL pattern, plausible title, appropriate date. If I hadn&amp;rsquo;t clicked, it would have gone into a published article with my name on it.&lt;/p></description></item></channel></rss>