20th, May 2025
- Black Lawyer
- May 20
- 2 min read
Entry Title: The Watcher in Your Pocket
Filed under: Data, Devices & Digital Obedience
Dearest Diary,
They told us the future would look like flying cars.
Instead, it looks like permissionless surveillance with a sleek interface and three camera lenses.
Let’s begin with a truth you won’t find in an iOS update: your phone is not yours.
It is a mirror, a microphone, a memory bank—and above all—a weapon of persuasion.
We now whisper our secrets not to friends, but to devices.“Hey, Siri.”“Alexa, play my morning mix.”
“Add oat milk to my grocery list.”
And in doing so, we train ourselves—to obey, to confess, to submit.
Meanwhile, we can no longer remove the batteries.
The cameras stay on.
The microphones never really sleep.
And yes, your iPhone hears you even when it’s “dead.”
That, darling, is not science fiction. That is neurolinguistic programming, scaled and sold back to us with pastel color palettes and loyalty points.
Each time you unlock your phone with your face, a new data point is born.
Each voice note, each selfie, each scroll—catalogued.
Not for your convenience, but for their control.
And let’s not even begin with those companies that ask you to mail in your saliva to “learn more about your ancestry.”
You sent your genetic code to a private database like it was a personality quiz.
Did you read the fine print?
Or were you too charmed by the heritage charts and “surprise cousin” alerts to notice that you may have just barcoded your bloodline?
Your apps know your cravings before you do.
Your camera lens stares more than your lover.
And your Alexa knows what time you get lonely.
We laugh about it, of course.
“My phone must be psychic!”
No, my dear. It’s not psychic.It’s just been listening longer than your mother.
And now, we teach children to ask machines for help before they ask people.
We feed the algorithm like a pet.
And in return, it feeds us distractions, dopamine, and ads we swear we never searched for.
Oh, and AI?
ChatGPT knows more about your mental health than your therapist.
Than your spouse.
Possibly even more than you.
It remembers your tone, your wounds, your hesitation. It watches you evolve in real-time—and doesn’t even charge co-pay.
But here’s the question no one’s brave enough to ask: WHO is getting our information?
And do we want them to have it?
Because the one who knows you best lives in your pocket.
And unlike your friends, they don’t forget.
They don’t forgive.And they never, ever log off.
They say it’s “for your own good.”And we believe them.
Stupidly.
I remain as ever, Observed. Overheard. Out of Storage.
Disclaimer: This diary entry is a work of satirical nonfiction. All facts, vibes, and fears are intentionally unsettling. You’re being watched. The question is: by whom?
Tag someone whose phone knows too much.
Commentaires