In the 1995 film Johnny Mnemonic, Keanu Reeves plays a cybernetically enhanced data courier in the futuristic world of 2021. Based on a William Gibson short story, and steeped in the cyberpunk aesthetic of the ’90s, the movie predicted, in a fictionally-exaggerated way, the technology-driven epidemic of mental illness that plagues us today.
The look and feel of Johnny Mnemonic bears little resemblance to our present reality, but its themes are uncomfortably familiar. It imagined the 21st century as a technocratic dystopia dominated by corporations and corrupt elites. In the movie, the gap between rich and poor has become an impassable chasm. The pharmaceutical industry withholds the cure for chronic disease in order to profit from lucrative, long-term treatment. Cast aside by automated businesses that no longer need them, a vast, impoverished underclass struggles to survive in crime-infested cities.
Since the only opportunity for a better life comes from working for the criminal organizations that have hybridized with corporations, Keanu’s character works as a high-tech mule, transporting valuable contraband data using a brain-computer interface that makes him, as the tagline of the movie put it, “the ultimate hard drive.”
The theme of information overload is central to Johnny Mnemonic. After downloading files larger than his neural implant can accommodate, Johnny has to get the encrypted data out of his brain before it kills him. At the same time, he, like everyone around him, is anxious about contracting an epidemic neurological condition called nerve attenuation syndrome – colloquially referred to as “the black shakes.” Spoiler alert: the black shakes are not caused by a pathogen, but by the information-saturated environment and the electromagnetic radiation generated by omnipresent technology.
As it turns out, Johnny Mnemonic wasn’t far off the mark, except in terms of aesthetics. While most American cities aren’t quite as bad as depicted in the film, and hackers don’t generally use VR goggles to ply their trade, the firehose blast of information that we experience on a daily basis is indeed driving an epidemic of mental illness. Our brains, which have not evolved since the Neolithic era, simply can’t handle the hyper-dense stream of information that bombards us almost every waking moment.
Although (as far as we know), people aren’t developing a fatal tremor condition in response to the relentless onslaught of data, many of us are experiencing chronic neurological distress that manifests itself as anxiety, depression, and feelings of overwhelm. While we’re told that these are diseases that should be treated through medical intervention, neuroscience suggests that, in most cases, there’s nothing wrong with our brains; in fact, they’re working the same way they have since the Stone Age. The problem is that our environment is no longer compatible with our biology.
Our brains are wired for pre-industrial life. The thalamus, prefrontal cortex, amygdala, and other neural structures are fine-tuned for processing information from direct sensory input or face-to-face interaction, and for sustained attention to tasks such as hunting and gathering. Confronted by never-ending, rapid-fire stimulation from computers, smartphones, wearables, and screens mounted on every available surface, our poor brains experience tremendous, continuous stress.
Does the type of information matter? To some degree, yes. For example, outrage-inducing political rants or pornography are more psychologically detrimental than funny cat videos. But that’s fairly obvious. More pernicious is the way that the sheer volume of information affects us.
The prefrontal cortex – the area of the brain most responsible for attention, working memory, and decision-making – becomes overloaded and fatigued, leading to feeings of overwhelm and reducing the ability to think clearly.
The thalamus and RAS (reticular activating system) – structures that filter and process external stimuli – adapt to become more adept at rapidly shifting attention, and less able to focus deeply on a single task.
The hippocampus – which encodes short-term memories into long-term storage – is impaired by constant digital distractions, leading to fragmented, surface-level understanding instead of true learning.
The limbic system – the part of the brain dedicated to survival – is artificially kept in a heightened state of arousal by doomscrolling and emotionally-charged digital content, driving chronic anxiety and impulsivity.
The basal ganglia and other structures associated with reward-based learning get hijacked by gamification, irregular notifications, and algorithmically-optimized content, leading to dopamine system dysregulation. This feeds addictive behavior and reduces intrinsic motivation.
Neuronal function, brain tissue, and the blood-brain barrier are all damaged by the electromagnetic radiation generated by wireless devices. Even when we’re not using our gadgets, they’re hurting us.
In Johnny Mnemonic, Keanu’s character will be, as his bodyguard/love interest puts it, “one dead Johnny” if he doesn’t reduce the strain that massive amounts of data are putting on his brain. Real life is not quite as dramatic, but there is no doubt that the enormous volume of fragmented data assaulting us from every direction is overloading our minds and bodies. Smartphones, social media and AI algorithms aren’t just inhuman, they’re anti-human.
In hacker parlance, the hardware doesn’t work with our wetware. Unfortunately, it is almost impossible to unplug completely. However, just being aware of the detrimental impact of non-stop information – even if it’s information that seems entertaining or informative – can help dispel the urge that keeps us coming back for more, especially when we’ve already had too much.
With information, the dose makes the poison. Just as with Johnny’s cranial data storage, a little bit is tolerable, but more gets bad fast. A few simple tactics can help reduce cognitive overload:
Minimizing recreational screentime, such as games and aimless scrolling.
Choosing physical, analog alternatives to screen-based tools like the calendar, clock, and notepad.
Turning off all unnecessary notifications, and checking email at pre-determined times rather than when prompted.
Intentionally reducing consumption of news and social media.
Keeping electronics out of the bedroom, bathroom, and other areas where they don’t belong, as well as turning them off at night, reduces both distractions and exposure to electromagnetic radiation.
Getting out into nature as often as possible is both physically and psychologically beneficial.
While none of these steps provide a full and immediate solution – and, of course, there are other factors driving our psychological distress as well – a lot of small changes can add up to a big difference in well-being. Even if it’s only a 10% or 20% improvement, wouldn’t that be nice?
For many of us, it feels like we just can’t keep going the way we are. So, let’s not. Let’s normalize unplugging, using paper planners, wearing old-fashioned watches, and reading books instead of doomscrolling or binge-watching.
Much like the fictional citizens of Johnny Mnemonic’s 2021, we are getting sick because we are surrounded by technology. And, like Johnny, we harm ourselves even more by forcing our brains to ingest more information than we can handle. We may not be able to change society, but we can change our behavior. In the film, renegade hackers called “LoTeks” help people heal. By choosing to be more “low tech” on our own, we can help ourselves.