Conversation

Most of the non-paywalled web became unreadable about 2021.

Stuffed with bevel to bevel ads that even a #PiHole or #uBlock struggled to swat away, reading long-form content became a chore.

Just like television, where the volume on ads mysteriously doubled, web ads became shoutier, and animated, popping up over the real content payload, diverting reader attention, increasing cognitive load and raising blood pressure.

"Subscribe for an ad-free experience!", the sites beckoned. "We're really Nice Guys when you get to know us".

Except the subscriptions were still full of ads, just less shouty, and more targeted to the plus-addressed email you used to subscribe.

This had an unusual and unexpected effect.

It trained people to focus their attention on long-form content. Moulded their elastic, dopamine-addled brains to seek out the nuggets of pure and informational expression among the wasteland of attention-sucking weeds. Sharpening their retention, developing the stamina to persist while resisting distraction.

They were, unintentionally, growing grad student brains.

By 2026, doomscrollers had discovered arXiv, probably when WIRED stuffed one more ad in a profile of Martha Wells for the latest Murderbot and an Aussie sci-fi fan rage-tooted on the Fedi.

Suddenly, the Discourse shifted.

Why struggle through a 1000 word op ed with thirty seven ads for - I forget what they were because my brain ignored them - when you could read a 9k word review on the current state of #LLM evaluations, unencumbered by eyeball-seeking cruft?

Doomscrollers started on arXiv then instead of getting frustrated, moved to OpenReview, processing their thoughts on what they'd read not in the form of likes or emoji but as peer reviews.

The ad industry gasped one final choking breath, after having been denied access to arXiv or OpenReview.

#Tootfic #Microfic