Cyberphysical Brainrot
Senator Vickers stepped into the house and loosened his tie. He took a deep breath of the rosemary and garlic-infused roast chicken coming from the chicken. He felt his mouth begin to salivate as dinner approached.
"Hey there Silvano, how was your day," he said to his son, who sat in the lounge chair with his eyes glued to his phone.
There wasn't an audible response beyond a simple grunt.
"Did you move at all from that chair at all today?"
Another grunt. Was that a yes or a no?
"Hi Clayton dear," his wife said as she stepped out of the kitchen. "Dinner is ready."
"Silvano, put away your phone and wash your hands for dinner," Clayton commanded.
Yet Silvano's eyes remained glued to the vibrant, pulsating screen. His fingers tapped on it occasionally, entranced in an endless spiral of media in the NeuralTV app which had been going viral among teenagers. There were two small earbud-like cables that came out of his phone and attached to the sides of his head.
But it wasn't the phone usage that troubled Clayton the most. It was Silvano's general appearance. His skin had turned into a sickly grayish tone that seemed to be getting worse each day. His eyes were bloodshot and glazed over, with dark circles underneath his eyes.
"Silvano, come get dinner," Eleanor ordered.
The teenager stood up and began shuffling towards the kitchen without ever taking his eyes off his phone.
After Clayton recounted his day to the family, including updates on his political fueds, he looked over to his son. The boy's food sat there on the plate, untouched.
"You haven't touched your food Silvano," Eleanor noted gently. "Are you feeling alright."
Silvano flinched. "Yeah, I'm fine," he mumbled, his voice dry and strained.
He stabbed at his food with a trembling fork. Clayton watched uneasily as the fork began shaking. Silvano's hand shook so violently that the fork clattered against the pltae, sending food across the tablecloth.
A wave of nausea washed over him. His face contorted as he lurched forward, falling right into his plate.
"Silvano!" Eleanor rushed to his side.
His eyes had rolled back in his head as his body convulsed. His phone slipped out of his hands and crashed onto the floor with a thud. He let out of a guttural moan as his limbs flailed back and forth.
"What's happening!" Clayton shouted as he knelt beside his son.
But Silvano was unresponsive. His breathing grew shallow and erratic. Clayton felt his own breathing stagger as panic set into his heart.
The sterile white walls surrounded the senator as he anxiously waited for the doctors in the operating room. Silvano was laying on a bed inside, motionless. Wires and tubes snaked around his pale body. There was a rhythmic beeping from his heart monitor, filling the tense silence.
Dr. Kelsey entered the room. She was a renowned medical professional known for her sharp intellect in rare neurological cases.
"Senator Vickers," she began, her voice soft yet firm, "we've completed our series of tests on Silvano, including this detailed neural scan."
She cast a digital twin from the tablet in her hands to an overhead display. Silvano's brain appeared as a large three-dimensional object. The vibrant, intricate network of neurons he expected to see had been replaced by patches of darkness, like a creeping mold. Areas that should've pulsated with activity were eerily dim, almost lifeless.
The doctor annotated the darkened areas on her screen, with those areas mirrored on the overhead display.
"This is what we have begun to call digital encephalopathy. It's a form of neurological decay. We believe in Silvano's case, it was caused by a prolonged exposure to the NeuralTV neural interface."
"It's rotting his brain?" the senator asked, feeling his heart sink.
"In a matter of speaking, sure. The constant stimulation and the overwhelming influx of data causes the brain's neural pathways to degrade, like a fire that burns too much it extinguishes its own fuel too fast."
The senator closed his eyes, trying to process this devastating reality. His own son was a victim of the kinds of technology he had helped usher into the world. The guilt didn't sit well with him.
"Is there anything that you can do?" he asked, with a sense of desparation.
"We're still in the early stages of researching and undestanding this condition. But the primary treatment is to remove the source of the problem. Then, we hope the brain's natural plasticity will allow for a degree of recovery. Your son is still young, so should be able to bounce back."
The senator looked at his unconcious son with a deep melancholy in his heart. He knew he had to fight back, not just for his son but for all those who may soon also fall victim to this digital plague."
The chamber buzzed with a nervous energy, feeling more lively than usual. Senator Vicker stood before his colleagues with a newfound conviction as he addressed the Senate.
"Esteemed colleagues, I am not just a Senator but also a father. I am a father whose son now lies in a hospital bed, his mind ravaged by the very technology that has made our country so successful. I have seen firsthand the insidious grip that unchecked technology can destroy families and cause untold harms."
He paused, waiting for his words to sink in. The other senators shifted forward in their seats and the chamber had gone completely silent.
"I speak of these new neural media apps, and primarily of NeuralTV," his voice rose in intensity. "While these have been heralded by some as the next generation of media consumption and social connection, it's proven itself as a wolf in sheep's clothing. It preys on our children, our families, and our very minds."
He grabbed a printout of his son's brain and held it for everyone to see. With a bright red marker he had circled the blackened lesions and the atrophied areas as proof of the devastating effects.
"This is the cost of our unchecked obsession with technological innovation," he declared, his voice trembling. "This is the price we pay for our instant gratification. We have become slaves to the very tools that promised to liberate us.
"I propose an immediate ban on neural media apps. I proclaim we reclaim our minds and our freedom. I propose we reject a digital rot that will otherwise consume us all."
Slowly, tentatively, a ripple of applause broke out in the chamber. It grew louder and more fervent as more senators agreed. Senator Vickers felt his eyes get moist as he stood tall, a lone voice that he hoped could spark a rebellion against digital tyranny.
The news of his proposed ban spread like wildfire through the digital tubes of the city, particularly through neural media. Deepfake news anchors, with perfect smiles, reported on the unfolding drama. Social media was extremely critical, erupting with hashtags like #digitalfreedom and #banvickers.
But another kind of reaction was also brewing. A primal fear began to take hold among the millions of NeuralTV users. They were in a panic about losing their constant connection and their digital lifeline.
In the capitol's downtown, an unrest began to manifest. Dozens of teenagers huddled in the park, whispering amongst themselves and streaming their anxiety across the city to draw in even more in protest.
"Can they really take it all away from us?" asked one young girl as he nervously pulled on her pink hair. "It's become a part of me."
"He's just an old man who doesn't understand the new way of the world," shrugged a young boy with multiple piercings. "We won't let him win."
Like a slime mold acting on instinct, fueled by fear and anger, the group surged forward. As they passed each city block, the crowd only grew larger. Their initial discontent had turned into a maelstrom of rage.
Shop windows were shattered under the weight of hurled stones. The air grew fogged with angry shouts and destruction. Police sirens wailed in the distance. The riot was a primal scream which consumed the city.
Senator Vickers stood by the window of his office as his panoramic view of the city had turned into a scene of chaos. He could see plumes of smoke rising into the sky from several away. He expected they'd be coming up to the chamber soon.
The very people he was trying to protect were now tearing apart the city because of him, because they'd rather have digital addiction than liberty. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
His hand trembled as he reached for his phone, a tool that could be the public's salvation or destruction. He thought about Silvano, who was still lying in a bed as his mind succumbed to the digital rot.
He had tried to warn everyone. He thought of Dr. Kelsey's warnings. He had given them the evidence and pleaded for reason. His words fell on deaf ears. Now the city was paying the price for its endless hunger for their digital fix.
Clayton closed his eyes and felt nothing but helplessness. What could he do now? How could he stop this madness? The ban on neural media seemed like a futile gesture, a whisper against a hurricane.
He dedicated his life to serving the public, but now he felt a profound sense of failure and powerlessness.
The anarchy had not subsided by the evening either. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the ravaged city, the senator remained at the window. He continued to contemplate the beginnings of what would become a digital dystopia. The fate of the city hung in the balance and all they would be left with was a gnawing sense of despair.