The Matrix (1999), directed by the Wachowskis, is ingrained in our modern understanding of the internet and pop culture. The film follows Thomas Anderson, also known as Neo, a disillusioned programmer whose free time is spent online searching for something he knows as “the Matrix,” and a man at its core, Morpheus. He finds his answers and awakens from the world he knows — a late 90s generic American anycity — and into the grimy and depopulated “real world” a thousand years in the future. His suspicions are confirmed that the world he thought was real, in fact, is a simulation created by machines and artificial intelligence (AI) which are using humans as an energy source to fuel their own existence. Neo, by logic of this world, is the chosen one who eventually learns to harness control over the code that makes up the matrix and eventually leads the revolution against the machines.
Most famously, the film is purported to be the originator of the choice between the red pill versus the blue pill, the former of which serves the purpose in the film to “wake up” the protagonist Neo to the reality of his situation as caged within a digital world — “how deep the rabbit hole goes.” If Neo takes the blue pill, on the other hand, he will continue to live in the world he knows. Offered this by Morpheus, Neo takes the red pill and begins his journey. This act of “taking the red pill,” through cultural osmosis, has made its way onto the Internet as becoming “redpilled.” I don’t have much to say on the red pill movement in this editorial, but I will say that it is very ironic that a hateful online community got its philosophy from a film about the unreal nature of the internet, directed by two trans women.
While I cannot speak on the accuracy of the future depicted in The Matrix, we do live in a similar world in the current day. While we aren’t kept unconscious in pods where our life juices are drained out of us to fuel AI, the digital layer over our lives is developing faster than anyone can monitor. Although not The Matrix, what we do online matters both online and in the “real world,” and the line is getting progressively more blurred as time goes on. Digital “third spaces” are becoming more and more prevalent, particularly since the initial COVID-19 pandemic, and people are spending most of their days online. There’s also the irony that the AI data centres being constructed around the world are, like their Matrix counterparts, sucking up the necessities for human life as we know it.
Understanding my own relationship with the internet has become difficult in the past year as I took on the role of Editor-in-Chief at the Manitoban. Though I can’t deny having an upbringing that had an internet connection, I have always teetered a little luddite in some of my preferences. I strongly believe that the newspaper should have a digital presence at this time, but how about myself, Mikaela?
Earlier last year, when my friends and I would spend time together, at least one of us would make a joke about how we would be on our phones. There was definitely an air of irony about the situation — one of us would comment that no one was watching the movie we coordinated weeks in advance, or once we got to a restaurant, we would order our food, then watch Instagram Reels (at least I would — despite my dependence on my phone, I never really became a TikTok user). Eventually, last November, the first of my close friends fully detached herself from Instagram and moved all correspondence to her phone number. From then until now, about half of my friends have joined her in logging out of classical social media accounts, and we’ve moved the majority of our correspondence to WhatsApp (I know, still a Meta company).
In all honesty, I would really like to delete Instagram and with it, all the things on it that overwhelm me, worry me, and eat up my free time. I don’t want to consume content that is AI-generated, which is more likely than not. Stanford University’s Institute for Human-Centered AI has reported that in 2026, 51.72 per cent of content online is AI generated. Selfishly, I also cannot bear to watch genocides through 30-second clips. Plus, I can feel my mental health declining witnessing second-hand the results of our ongoing climate disaster.
I don’t want to be attached to this machine. Ignorance would be bliss, I suppose.
But the nasty thing about it all is that the torrent of information that pours into my brain the second I open my phone contains real and important information about the real world around me. I am witnessing most of these events as a digital bystander, with the rules on helping people across the globe tied to likes, shares and follows. I strongly feel that my role working for a newspaper and working in information also means I must maintain an awareness of the world on the internet. In fact, I must do it to maintain the purpose of the newspaper — to platform and discuss topics relevant to the U of M students and community. I cannot simply ignore a whole other world by turning off my phone.
Now, this certainly sounds like a dramatic cross to bear! I will not stand here and say it is my job alone to take on the brunt of what the internet has to offer for the greater good of my community. In fact, there are a lot of really cool journalists who function mostly online and have established their presence across social media. It’s also not my job alone in the newsroom at the Manitoban — there are currently fifteen other people, most with social media accounts, that all work here and do their best to keep up with current events. At the end of the day, the internet is such a vast ocean, and the amount that I witness is only a drop. The combined knowledge of the Manitoban staff is probably around a glassful, which offers some peace of mind.
I will say, though, that it is irresponsible for me personally as a journalist to discount the goings-on of the internet. I must stay plugged in.
So, can I even unplug from the Matrix around us? Do I take the blue pill, live a life where I continue scrolling, or do I take the red pill and leave this behind?
Something that I failed to discuss earlier in my recap of The Matrix’s plot is that even after Neo’s initial exit from the Matrix, he and the other freed humans regularly return to it. Computer programs similar to the one that keep mankind in pods also train Neo to eventually attain power to free other humans. Both worlds are held in the same light, with the understanding, “if you die in the Matrix, you die in real life.” Plugging back in is functionally them boarding a bus to the Matrix, an actual location that might not exist in the physical, but still has physical ramifications. When the red pill is taken, you don’t actually ever abandon the Matrix, you only abandon the comfort it could provide. Indulging in this dangerous knowledge might be painful, but Neo learns how to harness this information for himself and eventually balances between the worlds as a way to free humanity.
I actually don’t know how I am going to be working in the digital world in the future. I might have “taken the red pill,” but now the work has to begin to maintain a balance between the worlds. There are probably a thousand different tips and tricks to cut down on perceived time wasted on social media, but I don’t know what will work for me in my life, at least right now. In the meantime, I guess I will keep on scrolling.
This is Mikaela’s non-exhaustive list of journalists that stay active on Instagram:
Blue Jay Walker @blue.jay.walker
Rachel Gilmore @r.gilmore
Bisan Owda @wizard_bisan1
Isaac A. Peltz @isaacapeltz
