344 times a day. That’s how often the average adult checks their phone, according to the BBC. Every four minutes. Even at night, even for no reason, even when there’s no notification.
In tropical rainforests, there’s an ant that climbs onto a leaf, locks itself in place, and dies. A fungus has taken control of its nervous system to better spread its spores. Biologists call it a parasitic infection. Poets might say: a dispossession of the living.
That fungus took millions of years to perfect its strategy. Our smartphones only needed a decade. The biological parasite forces its host. The digital parasite convinced its host it couldn’t live without it.
This parallel between biological parasitism and digital colonization isn’t just a metaphor. It’s an operating system. The same mechanisms, the same precision, the same result: a host working for its parasite while believing it’s acting freely.
So maybe the real question isn’t: are we addicted to our screens? But rather: at what point did we stop being the masters and become the host?
