Jillian Conochan’s {Algorithm} Nation 1814

“Hey, Karla, would you mind popping over here a sec?”

Ali watched his colleague run her rolling chair backwards until she emerged around the cubicle. She raised an eyebrow dramatically. “Yesss?”

“Check out this girl’s algorithm. It’s bizarre.”

“Ooh.” Karla pedaled her chair alongside Ali’s, ergonomic arm skidding past ergonomic arm. “Show me.”

“Okay well first of all, she mostly accesses the app through a browser.”

“What?”

“Yes. She seems to download the app, perform an action, and then delete it somewhere between a hour and a day later.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Huh.” Karla folded her face into thought. “What other actions is she taking?”

“The uzshe… sending and receiving memes with 8 to 10 other accounts… commenting on Stories. Although something else weird is, she doesn’t really use the Like button a whole lot.”

“Odd.”

“Yeah, her Comment-to-Like ratio is way off.”

“Do you think she’s a Hater?”

“Oh, definitely. I mean, look at her captions. ‘There’s only one thing a bitch can take from us… notes’… ‘Main character season’…”

“Total narcissist. Click on this one. ‘Ooh ahahahah’? Random.”

“So strange. Doesn’t explain the download/delete cycle though.”

“What types of accounts is she following?”

“Very few celebs, a handful of meme accounts but not Daquan or Fuckjerry, jewelry brands… some, like, beach goth stuff…” Ali’s voice trailed off.

“I bet she follows the private meme accounts but not the big ones because she can see memes people send her without following—”

“That tracks.”

“Same for celebrities. You want my official diagnosis?”

“Always, doc.”

“I think she’s High Intolerace, Low Self Control. She doesn’t want to be pummeled with content. She uses her friends as filters to de-dup the memes and send her the best of the best celebrity posts—” Ali nodded along thoughtfully, “but having the app on her phone is a temptation too great; she will fall into the black hole—”

“Or worse,” Ali interrupted. “The event horizon of the black hole.”

“Precisely.”

Ali shook a pointed finger at his friend. “You’re good, Suarez.”

Karla brushed off her thighs as she stood up and wheeled her chair back to her desk. “Same time tomorrow?”

“If not sooner. A lottaaa weirdos out there.”