Bianca Lee

I’m still afraid of the emotional uncertainty that the flow of time brings, but I’d much rather keep moving than be fossilized in the past.

As the gleam of our generational gold rush fades, the tech industry’s desperation to mean something is starting to show.

Tech managed to rewrite the cultural narrative of the city, inserting itself within the pages of San Francisco’s history.

Break rooms at tech offices are furnished with foosball, pingpong and billiards tables –– almost as though they’re man caves.

When I passed through that Amazon Go market, there was such little interaction between me and the world that the entire experience felt illusory.

Not only do I start to exhibit behaviors of a reward-seeking lab rat but I have unknowingly become a puppet for tech companies, too.

Clubhouse’s invite-only rollout to the public is reflective of what the industry actually is: a clubhouse. And it’s always been this way.

Tech culture creates the illusion that, like my devices and the software that I write, my body is just another efficiency process.

Yet I felt stumped by my online expression of solidarity and questioned whether publicly expressing my thoughts even added anything to the conversation.

But online, so long as I’m scrolling, tapping, commenting and watching, the beam of the digital spotlight never turns off.