I work as a data analyst for a massive tech company and I think the “Dead Internet Theory” might actually be real.

It began with a simple audit for a retail client. The data looked fine until I realized that roughly eighty-seven percent of their active users weren’t traceable to any known or consistent activity history. New devices, IPs that didn’t match known regions, even fake GPS trails. It wasn’t bot traffic, at least not in the traditional sense. These were fabricated identities. Whole clusters of them. It was like they were generated just to exist.
At first, I assumed it was some glitch with an API sync or metadata corruption. But the deeper I dug, the weirder it got. The user patterns weren’t random, they were rhythmic. Behavior that looked human at first glance but followed time loops so precise they could only have been synthetic. Clicking the same pages at the exact same second every single day. Pausing for identical intervals. I literally graphed it out, and it looked like music on a staff.
I ran sentiment analysis on conversational data too, just to reassure myself. But the more I looked, the more everything online felt off. The comments, the tweets, the search results, all had the same tone, this strange generic neutrality. No real emotion, no true disagreement. Just empty, polite noise.
Someone in the office one day joked about the Dead Internet Theory, about how a majority of people online now are fake, just content generators talking to other content generators to keep engagement metrics alive. I laughed along, but later I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I tested it.
I cross checked anonymous data streams using internal tools I probably shouldn’t have had access to. I wanted to see how many truly unique human communication signatures were still showing up across our indexed data. The number was ridiculously low. Like twelve percent. Twelve percent of all global traffic showing the entropy patterns of a real person. The rest was echo noise.
When I flagged the results as a pattern anomaly in a report, it got closed almost instantly. The next morning, my access history had been wiped clean like it never happened. Even my local backups were corrupted.
Ever since then, every time I scroll social media or read comment threads, I get this uneasy feeling that I’m surrounded by ghosts. Words designed to look alive, posted by systems that learned how to sound human, or by people who gave up caring enough to notice the difference.
Sometimes I wonder if the internet didn’t really die. Maybe it’s still running, but only mechanically, a carcass of signals pretending to be alive.
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