Maybe it came true. 

I took a slightly different path, but the nerd hoards of which I would have proudly called myself a member two decades ago veered into a subculture that stretched their poindexterish mandate into something anti-social and disturbing.

The techbro aesthetic is geek chic, sure, but also, arguably, strays into a venge-fant antisocial  vibe that has in the last decade manifested as: rich, powerful and angry. And, worryingly, in charge of deeply complex systems now entrenched in our social fabric.

I lean into a stereotype on this, of course, but it’s difficult not to look at the slate of tech-billionaires shaping our politics, our societies, and the tone of our discourse with all the algorithmic subtlety of a sledgehammer and wonder if something went deeply wrong there.  

And herein I will point my finger routinely in that direction not as a point of blame but as a reminder of the small-hearted, big-brained men nudging us towards the cliff with a coldly calculated black box of dark emotions.

It is the whole basis of the advertising industry, after all, isn’t it?

Taking that as read, I was sitting here feeling glum about something I saw online: See, the algorithm, as we understand it is designed to do, subtly pushes us into sinkholes of content that bolster and affirm the ideas we already have swirling around in our heads, and whatever algorithm that has been assigned to me seemed to be working overtime and in increasingly-subtler ways.

A little reminder of my backstory: just over three years ago I parachuted out of a stable government IT job into semi-retirement and self-employment. The plan was to do some contracts, take on temp jobs, and fill the rest of my time with creative pursuits.

Right after I quit, the algorithm had picked up on my life plan and had decided to kick me in the tender parts: my feed seemed suddenly cluttered with office work commentary that didn’t outright scold me for changing my path, but definitely had the theme of “you made the wrong decision and cubicles are actually pretty great tho, huh?” 

I resisted. 

But every six months or so, those same feelings come back into my skull and I need to consciously look at the kind of content the algorithm has been throwing my direction.

Without fail it has once again, albeit subtly, shifted my content towards the pro-wage-work-themed stuff. 

This last week (as I write this) has been one of those resurgences, and my own personal employment mindset and professional demons aside, I find myself curiously examining the meta-idea here—and reminding all my readers, too—that behind the scenes an automated system is almost certainly working hard to shift your psychological state in one way or another.

Let that sink in.

What I hope is that humanity stays in vogue.

What I hope is that authenticity keeps its value.

What I hope is that we hold onto the tangible value of each other over the chased value of the illusion we’ve been promised.

Admitting we’ve been duped is not going to be easy.

Recently, I had a job that lasted for about six months. I took the job because in both the abstract and the literal words of the man who hired me it had the potential to be something grand and interesting and fulfilling. Promises were made. Dreams were forged. Idealism clutched onto my heart like a vice grip.

By the sixth month, having long since crossed the threshold of broken promises and failed dreams, all I had left was the taste of that idealism in the back of my throat. 

I left. It was difficult. It was right. It was gutting knowing that I had been duped by a system and a collection of people who had used my hope against me.

Technology has made us many promises and lit countless dreams. Have we been duped?

I don’t know for sure, but walking away from the idealism that it offers will always be the most difficult part of the journey.