The smartphone that once defined my life has become a source of resentment, and I have grown tired of the network entirely. The title expresses that admission, and it is the story: a man who once loved these devices now watches them flying across the room in his evenings.
After arriving home, the writer’s wife puts down her phone, tossing it across the room as though it were junk rather than something dear to her. The writer follows her example now. He concedes that the shift began in silence, with a phone he did not care about that he let fall.
The Road From 3 a.m. to ‘I Don’t Care’
The author once embraced faith in technology. He hunted every fresh model. He bounced between iOS and Android merely to sample each new destiny as it appeared. He queued at 3 a.m. for the first iPhone, waited in the dark for a mere sight of the device. He recalls the genuine emotion of the Apple Store staff clapping for him. Now, he considers that embarrassing, on a par with the year he colored his hair blonde and shopped at Hot Topic.
Once upon a time, people had ardent debates over whether iOS or Android would be the system of the future. Today, he cannot even name the model of iPhone he carries.
Internet Everywhere, Then Everywhere Else
The future arrived on schedule, or so it seemed. Star Trek became reality for a moment. The writer could send an email from a country road, and he could read a webpage from a bathroom, a place where much of it belonged. His first computer had no networking at all, and then came dial-up, ethernet, wireless, and finally the phone in his pocket, each step a kind of proof that the future had shown up on time.
These were your prized possessions, things you cherished, and about which you had strong feelings regarding their relative merits.
The Tax That Never Let You Choose
In Denmark, he is told he is making a selection — Apple, Samsung, Google, Nothing, Fairphone — when it comes to paying the tax, even though the tax itself is no longer optional. He carries the Aula app for school, the Rejsekort app for trains, MitID to prove to the state that he is who he says he is, and e-Boks for official messages from government and its authorized friends. He needs the device at the airport, at the hotel, at the gym. All of this, he is told, is a choice.
It isn’t a choice in any meaningful sense. It’s compliance. It’s a physical counter that only opens Tuesdays from 10 to 12, and a ticket machine that no longer takes cash. The offline option, when it exists at all, is a bandaid tacked on after the fact, pitched at an angle no one could actually use. We are all expected to pretend grandma can make it up, and to act only mildly surprised when we find her at the bottom again.
Buying the Same Slab Every Few Years
He replaces the same piece of metal and glass every few years, drawn to the color, which is the only choice left. The last genuine joy in a new phone comes from peeling off the protective film covering the screen the moment the box is opened, after which nothing remains of interest inside. He places the device in a case so robust that the color disappears from view, then restores from backup, and all the knowledge the former device held moves, complete and without interruption, into the new one — a soul transfer, completed over Wi-Fi, in ninety seconds. He feels no attachment to the old device, even after years of daily use.
The First Drop
He understood something had gone wrong in him the first time he dropped the phone and didn’t mind. He was standing in his living room, mid-negotiation of a play date over WhatsApp, when an email arrived from his mother and a calendar alert reminded him he’d never scheduled the dog’s vet appointment. It was as if the phone simply left his hands on its own. It hit the floor with that specific thonk of expensive object meeting laminate. When he picked it up and saw that the screen had survived, he was a tiny bit sad.
The Last Months of a Relationship
After that, he couldn’t stop seeing everything he hated about the thing. It was like the last months of a relationship, when everything the other person does induces fury. Why am I out of storage? He doesn’t control the size of the apps that install themselves, or whether his photos are kept at full resolution or quietly compressed into nothing. He is not allowed to control any part of the experience, so he doesn’t consider the disk space his fucking problem.
The App Store in 2026
The App Store keeps showing him another push notice about his three free months of Apple Music. When he opens it, he sees an endless sea of garbage, with ads floating on top, and developers screaming for attention on the burning trash river that is the iOS App Store in 2026. His maps are covered in ads. His apps are covered in ads. Many of the ads are for installing more apps. His podcast app shows him an ad for a podcast about digital detox.
Riding the Bike With Ads
He mounts his bicycle, turns on the podcast, and immediately the speakers blast a Danish advertisement for a new variety of sandwich bread at top volume. Not long after, he learns that an electronics store is having its grand opening at a mall close to him. As he bends around the corner and merges with the throng of Danish cyclists, furiously ringing their bells at tourists, the hosts remind him he can sign up for the premium edition of the podcast. He yearns for the days of driving through the night with AM radio, where at least the advertisements were entertaining.
This rectangle has turned into something he despises carrying from one room to another. He charges it every night so it can keep bothering him with notifications, for applications that were forced upon him, because somebody’s OKR that quarter was “increase app installs by 15 percent.” He doesn’t need to know about the AliExpress sale. There is always an AliExpress sale.
The App Store in 2026
The issue goes beyond the phone itself. It is the applications that accompany it. He describes them in this way:
- An endless sea of garbage with ads floating on top
- Developers screaming for attention on the burning trash river that is the iOS App Store in 2026
- Maps with ads
- Apps with ads
- Many ads for installing more apps
- A podcast app showing an ad for a podcast about digital detox
What He Does to Fight It
So he could avoid the impulse to smash the current phone and buy the next model, he started leaving it by the front door, near the spot where he stacks the garbage. Still, the exhaustion caught up with him. Sitting down to play something, he’d get hit with a dozen download prompts.
Source material: “I'm tired of being on the network,” matduggan.com.
Get the Notebook.
The day's best stories and every fresh verdict, in plain English, in your inbox by seven. One email a day, no more.