Yesterday, I complained (eloquently, I think) about needing an app to breathe in public. But let’s go deeper because it’s not just that we’re tethered to our phones.

It’s that the phone is quietly making decisions for us.

What we buy. What we watch. What we read. Even what we worry about.

Every scroll feels personal, like the internet just gets*you. Oh, you were just thinking about new sneakers? Here are seventeen options, ranked, reviewed, and gently stalking you across platforms. You didn’t search for it but somehow, it found you. Magic. Or math.

As a social psychologist, I can’t not see the formula. Kurt Lewin told us behavior is a function of person and environment. But what happens when the environment is no longer neutral? When it’s curated, optimized, and constantly adapting to keep you engaged?

You don’t just exist in the environment anymore.

You are fed by it.

Your inbox fills based on what you clicked yesterday. Your ads reflect a version of you that may or may not still exist. Your streaming service insists you’ll love something because “people like you” did which is both comforting and mildly insulting.

Who exactly are these people like me? And why are they making so many decisions?

The unsettling part isn’t that algorithms are wrong. It’s that they’re often right enough to keep you from wandering. From choosing differently. From even realizing there was another option.

We like to think we’re in control curating our lives, making intentional choices. But increasingly, we’re selecting from a menu that was pre-selected for us.

Tap. Click. Open. Consume.

It feels like freedom.

It behaves like a formula.

And the scariest part? Most of the time, we don’t even notice we’re being calculated.