Chapter Five

Julia Chanter, self-described “micro-guru,” had just appeared on stage in the hotel’s main meeting room. Behind her, a large screen projected the "magnificent seven" of her social media handles: YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter, Tik Tok and LinkedIn. (A.K.A. Google, Meta, Meta, Snap, Elon Musk, China and Microsoft.)

Zenith Harris, founder of the TEWL annual conference, had just introduced Chanter, pointing out that her last appearance was at an essential and important climate/tech conference called the "Save the Earth from Fossil Fuels Conference” or SERFFS. The conference took place in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, where she led the audience in what she called a “pet symphony.” The so-called symphony entailed splitting the audience into four groups, each of which was asked to make a specific pet sound.  

One section was dogs. Another was cats. Another section was hamsters; they make chirpy type sound. Lions, which, of course, aren’t pets at all, comprised the last group, but they made such a powerful sound. Then she paced about the stage like a conductor, pointing to the sections as each emitted various cacophonous combinations. 

The whole thing was shared on her "magnificent seven" social media handles. Millions of humans and bots had viewed the whole experience. The performance racked up 40 million collective views across multiple platforms, which had earned her hundreds of dollars: the attention economy in full bloom.

The room where the conference was held was typically sterile. Vanilla cream-colored walls and softly lit chandeliers. Unlike most conferences or meeting rooms at your average Hilton or Hyatt, there were no rows of interlocking chairs. They had been removed and replaced with mid-century modern sofas, daybeds, Eames lounge chairs, faux-fur throws, and shag rugs. It looked like a Design Within Reach catalogue fucked an Ikea showroom. Conference attendees reclined on the couches and rugs, sipping espresso from the Italian machine Anders had shipped to Santa Barbara (paid for by VC money) for $10,000. 

Julia had developed a new experience for this TEWL conference. Today, she had divided the participants into male, female, and non-binary. She instructed them to laugh, and the instructions alone made the audience laugh heartily, but not wildly. She then blended the chortles and giggles into a “laugh symphony." According to Julia, laughter is the healthiest thing humans can do. It releases chemicals in the brain that simulate happiness. So it’s not only fun; it also increases life expectancy.

She would often say in her talks: “Don’t forget, even when laughing, always be optimizing for a longer life!” That also earned her 12,345 likes on Instagram. 

Besides, as Julia said with an edgy tone: “It can help you get laid. Or as the French say, 'On qui rit à moitié dans lit.’ One who laughs has a foot in the bed.” 

Julia ended her talk, and the audience smiled and applauded with self-important unanimity. She sunned herself in the adulation, pulled her cell phone from her jeans pocket, turned her back to the crowd, made a peace signal and puckered her lips. She snapped a selfie.  

Then she turned back to the crowd and smiled broadly. 

“Thank you all so much. If you enjoyed this, please like and follow me on the platform of your choice, and if you already follow me, please share today’s event,” she said. “Now, it’s my pleasure to introduce the next speaker.” 

Backstage in the green room, Enzo had a tiny microphone attached to the lapel of his blazer and a small battery pack and transmitter hooked onto the back of his belt loop. A young woman with a clipboard and headphones approached him and said: "Two minutes." 

Julia finished her introduction.

“It is my pleasure to introduce you to Dr. Vincenzo Cuore.” 

(We’ll spare you the introduction and go right to Enzo's speech.) 

Thank you very much for having me here today.

Thirty years ago, we celebrated the greatest innovation of all time: the World Wide Web. Its promise to affirm and extend the greatest attributes of the human condition was breathtaking. Diseases would be cured. Loneliness alleviated. Equality achieved.  

What we have, instead, is heartbreaking.

In fact, it is the most god-awful lie ever fucking told.  

Every single person in this room is a co-conspirator to what may be the greatest crime in human history. 

Greed is your operating system. Your killer apps breed hate, division, and pain among billions of users. Your digital tools have eradicated the best in us: kindness, goodwill, fellowship, and, yes, love. 

In your relentlessness to monetize every human interaction, you have catalyzed and unleashed the darkest of forces and created the greatest threat to our collective soul that has ever existed. 

You now know that you have conjured an existential danger to all of society. You also know that you will destroy the very people you know and love. Your parents, your spouses and families, and yes, even your children. 

You are now talking about how you can fix this. It's all jazz hands.

I’m here to tell you that you cannot fix this.  

It’s time to start again. To create a world where we read books to our children before bed. Every single parent here has taken their phones into their kids' rooms for bedtime.

We must create a world where we gaze into our lovers’ eyes for hours after making deep, passionate love.

Where we sit with family at dinner and talk about our history, about who we were, and how we became who we are. 

Look deeply into yourself and consider the possibility. There is only one way. 

Burn the servers. 

Rebuild this virtual prison labor camp you created and replace it with something better. 

Burn the servers. 

Develop a digital architecture that castigates those who seek to deceive, deride, and denigrate their fellow humans. 

Burn the servers. 

Forswear greed for goodness. Stock prices for solace. Humanity over dividends. 

Burn. The. Fucking. Servers.

Enzo quietly put the microphone on the stool and walked down the small staircase and back into the green room. 

Of the 200 titans, influencers, insta-famous figures, academics, and reporters, not a single person moved or spoke. Or considered applauding. No one in the audience looked at their phone. Or posed for a selfie for a social media platform. No one selected a filter for their perfectly curated virtual life or tapped a witty tweet that wasn’t really witty at all. For a moment, the moneyed tide of self-indulgence and importance had receded. 

The audience had an offline experience. 

However, the room was not the whole of the world’s reality anymore. Most reality occurred online. The Tech Eats World's Lunch conference was live streamed globally, albeit, with hardly any viewers. However, one important person was watching. She was sitting at her desk at one of the most famous legacy content providers in the world. A newspaper’s newsroom at The New York Times. 

Amanda Switzer usually attended the conference. This year, however, she couldn't make it. She had a new job: writing a weekly tech and society column for the online version of the paper. People in the rarefied circles of technology, wealth, and media used to say, “She’s important. She has 100,000 followers and I know every one of them.” She could talk to every opinion maker around the world at once from her keyboard or her phone.  She as referred to as a "one-woman wire service." 

When the speech ended, Amanda turned from her terminal in Times Square, picked up her phone, and pecked at the screen.  

MTC = More to Come.