überbrain vs. gigabrain

Decoding new frontiers of groupspeak.

Abha’s note: This week’s issue is a guest essay by Anna Pompilio. Anna is a cultural strategist, fashion girl, and general Internet Person with a rare talent for interpreting the zeitgeist... all out of Ohio, US. Her newsletter, Midwesthetic focuses on cultural snark, fashion, and making Internet trends feel human.

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I was in a booth at Chili’s staring at the bottom of an empty glass of Diet Coke and waiting for my friend to return from the bathroom when I heard it. A group of friends giggling through their Triple Dipper on a Tuesday night just like the rest of us. Chili’s has become a go-to spot for young adults these days. The place is riddled with them, but that’s a story for another day.

“Mama the waitress behind you💜”

“Not the…”

“Ok, werk.”

I felt oddly comforted eavesdropping on their conversation. There was safety in the assumption that at any moment I could turn around and jump into this friend group behind me, totally seamlessly. After all, I had something to add! I had follow-up questions! I was speaking the same language.

On the ride home my friend and I laughed at how funny it was to hear a conversation so similar to the ones we’d had before. It became apparent to us that at minimum, they consumed the same pop culture. We wanted to ask their opinion on the Diddy scandal, The Harris HQ viral edits, or if they’d “ever tried… this one?” a la Sabrina Carpenter's Short and Sweet Tour. Clearly, we had so much in common. We could tell by the verbiage, the jokes, even the cadence.

What is überbrain, you ask? Incredible question.

Überbrain can be explained by example. Let me take you through the rich, studied etymology of the word “nub.” My college roommate brought this word from her high school friend group in Portland to our lowly, dingy Ohio dorm room.

“He was such a nub.”

“They were really sweet, kind of nubby. You know what I mean?”

“She’s such a little nubbin I love her so much.”

We started using it, then our friends, then theirs. It rippled outward. Even though she’s back across the country, and we don’t talk as often, I still use nub. I can’t Merriam-Webster nub for you, it’s a definition you must intuit. You must feel it.

The word was created and shared by those who know each other and then beyond. It’s literally how language works, how words earn their meaning—it’s out of shared connection. “Synchronicity.” Überbrain.

The essence of überbrain quickly became core to my friends and me, the shared safety of speaking the same language. When you know people, really know them, you feel safe. You feel comfy. You can even anticipate their next statement.

It’s closeness! It’s intimacy!

It’s the Algorithm?

There’s a reason it’s called, “going viral.” Everyone sees it, it spreads quickly.

Viral can be good. It can socialize ideas or expand our vocabularies. It wins the popularity contest for a moment, whatever the content (and its context) it catches on and becomes mass-adopted. On the other end, there’s comfort in finding your fellow weirdos on the Internet, your niche neighborhood – shared interests, concerns, shared enthusiasm.

You used to have to seek these communities out. They wouldn’t find you, situated comfortably in front of your screen patiently waiting for more content like Oliver Twist. It's different today. We’re all digital natives from the same hometown and the same Internet. Despite our niche neighborhoods, the social norms stay largely the same. Humans gravitate toward similarity, it’s in our nature. But now, we get there faster. Now, we have help.

When we all live in the same net-neighborhood, we talk about the same things. It’s fun having an “inside” joke with what feels like everyone around you, it’s also why it feels so weird to encounter someone or something that shouldn’t be there.

Remember “Very Demure, Very Mindful?” It was the most common Internet slang about a month ago. It was fun and silly. Then it was inescapable. Finally, it was tired and eye-roll-inducing. It lost its shine right around the time brands started adopting it. It felt opportunistic and unnatural. That’s because it was not rooted in connection or intimacy.

The lack of intimacy between the general public and brands isn’t surprising, but when we zoom out there wasn’t much intimacy or connection coming from anywhere. It was gigabrain.

While the oxymoronic “viral inside joke” can make us feel part of a bigger, connected group (and sometimes that holds true) simply sharing jokes or language can lead us to accidental assumptions. Despite our groupspeak, our values aren’t the same. That’s where gigabrain comes in.

When überbrain is derived from shared connection and knowing each other, gigabrain is the commonality the algorithm decides for us. It’s the common ground we don’t necessarily find, but more are sorted into based on age, seconds watched, saves, likes, and data harvested against our will. You and a friend may have bought the same bag in different colors, but today it’s harder to discern if that was your überbrain or you both just got the same advertisement.

But back to language.

When you overhear a group of strangers sounding exactly like your friends it’s easy to assume they are… exactly like your friends. This is where we may need to start being more careful. More mindful. (Sorry! Couldn’t help it.)

There is a commonly accepted set of morals online. Whether we like it or not, there is a distinct way to behave to be accepted online, just like there is out in the world. However, the code of accepted conduct is easier to fake when behind a screen. It’s why we saw the word “wokefishing” rise in the last few years, it's why men put “moderate” on their Hinge profiles as opposed to “conservative”.

I’m not saying that Internet trends exist only for those who share your beliefs. What I am saying is that simply sharing algorithmic similarities does not make us the same, we cannot assume that everyone is just like us. Not everyone holds the same system of beliefs, POVs, likes, dislikes, the whole thing. There’s good and bad to this, right?

On my best days, it means that there’s still an opportunity to learn something new from other people. On my worst days, everyone is hiding their secrets and scary opinions. I net out somewhere in the middle usually: my echo chamber is warm and cozy, but I probably should go outside once in a while.

Whether your brain is über or giga (surprise, it’s both) the thesis of this letter is to ask the questions. Get to know other people, find out how much you have in common or don’t. It’s not always a bad thing. Turn around in your booth at Chili’s and tell them you think they’re funny or something. Take the inside joke outside, let it be the starting point.