I. The Fading Spell of the Old WebThere was a time when the web felt like freedom. A library with no closing hours. A stage for the unheard. A map to everywhere. But over time, the walls of that digital temple became mirrors that watched instead of reflected. We were not surfing—we were being shaped. Our attention was harvested. Our data mined. Our identities sliced into fragments. This was not evil. It was architecture. The Web2 era was designed to capture your eyes, your clicks, your patter...

I. The Fading Spell of the Old WebThere was a time when the web felt like freedom. A library with no closing hours. A stage for the unheard. A map to everywhere. But over time, the walls of that digital temple became mirrors that watched instead of reflected. We were not surfing—we were being shaped. Our attention was harvested. Our data mined. Our identities sliced into fragments. This was not evil. It was architecture. The Web2 era was designed to capture your eyes, your clicks, your patter...