The algorithms’ milk is sweetened by fear. He suckles all day.
In the dark, the finger pointed my way looks blue as dissent, He trashes liberals on the mayor’s page, shares sensational headlines.
The algorithm urges other trolls to applaud him, and they do.
They’re rewarded with a platter, Served up by QANON conspiracists stuffed like prizes in cereal boxes, with calls for war and DIY bomb building videos .
There’s a white glow in the window of the house across the street, the whir of machines, the steady hum of mumbled mad ranting, and a shaky finger, colored by the azure glow of the algorithm, points in my direction.