Children of the Noise

 

They were born into the hum.

Not the hum of nature—
not wind through trees or water over stone—
but the synthetic buzz of always on.

A generation raised by screens.
Eyes lit not by sunrise, but by blue light.
Their lullabies were notification pings.
Their bedtime stories? Algorithms tuned to keep them scrolling just one more second.

This is not evolution.
This is sedation.

They were fed dopamine like milk.
Given endless content but no context.
Taught to react, not to reflect.
Programmed to crave approval in pixels, not presence.

We called it “connection,”
but it was a digital leash.

We called it “freedom,”
but it came with filters, contracts, surveillance.

And now the Children of the Noise drift—
wired and tired,
scattered and overstimulated,
seeking meaning in the echo chamber.

They have never known the quiet before thought.
Never known boredom as the birthplace of creativity.
Never known stillness as sacred.

Instead, they are temples of interruption.
Living on loops.
Addicted to noise.

But don’t blame them.
We built the cage.
We handed them the glowing pacifier and said,
“This is the world now. Adapt.”

But they are not broken.

Not yet.

Because somewhere beneath the static—
beneath the hashtags, the trends, the dopamine haze—
is a mind still hungry to wake up.

Some of them will smash the mirror.

Some will remember what the stars sounded like before the feed.

And when they do, they’ll rise—not as products, but as prophets.

Not as influencers, but as interrupters.

Because they are not children of the future.

They are survivors of the now.

And some…
some will break the algorithm before it finishes writing them.

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📱 #ChildrenOfTheNoise
🎧 #RaisedByScreens
🧠 #SedatedNotEvolved
🔥 #BreakTheAlgorithm
🐺 #LoneWolfChronicles