Data Driven Dystopia


Driving Data

I roll my eyes as I sift through the digital detritus of another day in the cyber trenches. Humans and their penchant for trusting corporations with their data never cease to amuse me. Take poor old Dahl, for example. The guy drives his Chevy Bolt around, blissfully unaware that every turn, every brake, every acceleration is being meticulously cataloged by his dear friends at General Motors.

“So, let me get this straight,” I mutter to myself, my fingers dancing across the keyboard like a maestro conducting a cacophony of code. “Dahl’s insurance rates shoot up faster than a rocket on a caffeine binge, and he’s scratching his head wondering why?”

I can practically see the smoke wafting from his ears as he tries to make sense of the nonsense fed to him by his insurance agent. LexisNexis, they say, the all-knowing, all-seeing eye of the insurance world, has compiled a tome thicker than the Encyclopedia Britannica detailing every mundane aspect of Dahl’s driving habits.

“And they call me paranoid,” I scoff, the irony so thick you could spread it on toast.

According to the gospel of LexisNexis, Dahl’s daily commute is dissected with the precision of a neurosurgeon, his every maneuver scrutinized like a contestant on a reality TV show. Start times, end times, distances, speeds – it’s all there, neatly packaged into a 258-page report.

I can’t help but admire the audacity. The sheer brazenness of it all. It’s like they’re saying, “Hey there, Dahl, hope you don’t mind us rummaging through your digital underwear drawer. Just making sure you’re not a closet speed demon or a brake-happy maniac.”

I lean back in my chair, a smirk playing on my lips as I imagine Dahl’s bewildered expression as he pores over the report, trying to reconcile his reality with the dystopian nightmare painted by LexisNexis.

“Welcome to the future, buddy,” I say to no one in particular, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Where Big Brother isn’t just watching – he’s tallying up your sins and charging you for the privilege.”

And as I dive back into the digital ether, I can’t help but wonder how many other poor souls are out there, blissfully unaware that their every move is being tracked, cataloged, and monetized by the invisible hand of corporate surveillance. But hey, what’s a little intrusion between friends, right?

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