Digital Slavery: The Greatest Heist in History

I still remember the moment I realized I’d been robbed.

I was scrolling through my phone late one night when a targeted ad appeared for hiking boots—the exact model I’d been discussing with my friend over dinner. We hadn’t searched for them online. We’d only talked about them, with our phones sitting face-down on the table.

That’s when it hit me: I wasn’t just using my phone. My phone was using me.

My Life Under Surveillance

Like most people, I once believed I had nothing to hide. What did it matter if companies collected some data to show me relevant ads? It seemed like a fair trade for “free” services.

But the truth is far more invasive than I ever imagined

My phone records approximately 1.5 GB of data about me daily—equivalent to 750,000 pages of personal information. It knows when I wake up, my route to work, how long I spend in the bathroom, who I talk to, what makes me laugh, what makes me angry, and what keeps me awake at night.

I’ve calculated that for every “free” app on my phone, tech companies earn about $10 monthly from my data and attention. With 40 apps on my device, that’s $400 monthly—nearly $5,000 annually—extracted from my digital life without my meaningful consent or compensation.

Nothing digital is truly free. I’m not using these services—they’re using me.

The Algorithms Engineered to Control Me

What disturbs me most isn’t just the surveillance—it’s how these platforms deliberately manipulate my behavior.

Three months ago, I tracked my screen time for a week: 52 hours. That’s over seven hours daily—nearly half my waking life spent staring at screens. I was shocked, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. These apps are designed to be addictive.

The pull-to-refresh feature mimics slot machines. Notifications trigger dopamine releases that keep me checking my phone even when nothing important awaits. Infinite scroll removes natural stopping points. These aren’t accidents—they’re carefully engineered features to maximize my engagement regardless of its impact on my wellbeing.

I’ve noticed how my feed changes when I’m feeling low. The algorithm detects subtle shifts in my behavior and serves content designed to keep me scrolling rather than addressing what’s actually bothering me. When I’m angry, it shows me more outrage-inducing content. When I’m insecure, it shows me aspirational lifestyle content that makes me feel inadequate.

My emotions aren’t just being observed—they’re being weaponized for profit.

What They’ve Taken From Me

Last year, I posted a series of cooking videos that went modestly viral on a popular platform. My content generated over 2 million views and presumably thousands in advertising revenue. My cut? Absolutely nothing.

When I created a fundraiser for my community after a natural disaster, the platform took 5% of every donation. When I sold handmade items in their marketplace, they took 15% plus processing fees. When I built a following with years of consistent content, they changed the algorithm overnight, cutting my visibility by 80% unless I paid for promotion.

It’s not just my money they’ve taken. It’s my time, my creativity, my personal relationships, even my mental health. Studies show that excessive social media use correlates with increased anxiety, depression, and loneliness—all while tech executives limit their own children’s screen time.

The average person will spend over 7 years of their life on social media. That’s 7 years working as an unpaid content creator, data generator, and attention provider for trillion-dollar companies.

This extraction model is unprecedented in human history. Never before has so much been taken from so many to benefit so few.

My Digital Feudal Lords

When I step back and look at this system objectively, I see a modern form of feudalism. Like medieval peasants who worked land owned by lords, I create content on platforms I will never control. Like serfs who surrendered a portion of their harvest, I surrender my data and attention for the “privilege” of participation.

The wealth disparity is staggering. In the time it takes me to earn $100, the CEO of one major platform earns over $200,000. The richest 1% of tech shareholders control more than 90% of the wealth these platforms generate—wealth created largely from my data and billions of others like me.

What makes this system so insidious is how invisible it remains. Unlike traditional exploitation, there are no physical chains, no obvious signs of coercion. The walls of this digital prison are made of convenience, social pressure, and carefully crafted dependency.

Breaking My Chains

Six months ago, I’d resigned myself to this reality. What choice did I have? These platforms are where my friends gather, where opportunities arise, where modern life happens. Opting out seemed impossible.

Then I discovered Marpole AI—a fundamentally different approach to the digital economy.

Instead of extracting my data to benefit distant shareholders, it ensures I retain ownership and control of my digital self. When my knowledge helps others, I receive compensation. When my device contributes processing power, I earn rewards. When my attention engages with content, I share in the value created.

This isn’t just about technology—it’s about dignity. It’s about reclaiming what’s rightfully mine: the value of my digital existence.

I’ve come to understand that the greatest heist in history has been happening right under our noses. Our digital lives—our thoughts, behaviors, connections, and creative works—have been systematically harvested without fair compensation.

The choice before us is clear: remain digital serfs, or help build a more equitable alternative.

I’ve made my choice. What will yours be?