Then her own voice, responding—except Mira had never said this: “I know, Mom. But the lite version is easier to sink into.”

One tap.

At first, it was the same. Dancing. Pranks. Recipes she’d never cook. But the interface was eerily clean—no ads, no “For You” page, just a single vertical feed titled

In the dim glow of a cracked phone screen, 19-year-old Mira scrolled through her feed for the seventh hour in a row. Her data plan had run out two days ago, but the Wi-Fi from the café downstairs leaked through her floorboards—just enough for TikTok, as long as she didn’t watch anything over fifteen seconds.

Her thumb froze over the screen.