It’s 5am and I thought I was early. Sixty people are already in line outside the immigration office, all of us circling the same question: is it ready yet? Some slept on the pavement; others clutch scraps of paper as a woman assigns numbers, building order before the system even opens. No one questions it. Here, clarity isn’t given – it’s improvised to survive the wait.

The air feels dense, a bluish haze of sweat, coffee and delay. Phone screens glow, each of us scrolling. I realise 5am is already too late. In this line, time stretches. Online, it doesn’t. Messages, updates, people becoming things. After years of being legally bound to this process, I’ve trained myself to say “soon”, trying to keep pace with a world that never pauses.

Nothing moves around me, yet everything moves on-screen. In this in-between, there’s a market. Becoming fades; appearing scales. The fog isn’t just atmosphere – it’s product. And it’s everywhere, even when you’re in it.

At the same time, the tools to signal success are everywhere. AI influencers pulling in millions. One-click portfolios that render you fully formed in seconds. Speculative case studies passing as real commissions. People paying to fake VIP access, or generating high-res “event” images from their bedrooms – proof of presence without ever being there. During the Olympics, photographer Matthew Johnson posted images that went viral when it emerged they were taken from a television screen, not the field.

Some questioned it, others didn’t mind. A few outlets praised the resourcefulness. Then Alysa Liu – the viral gold medalist – reposted one of the images, and suddenly its origin felt irrelevant. It was already part of the feed.

What matters isn’t whether this is right or wrong, but how quickly it collapses the distance between being there and appearing to be there. Proximity, accreditation, circulation used to define the work. Now circulation comes first, validation follows. Context becomes secondary – we see, we like, maybe we certify.

Placed next to someone spending years getting accredited, building a portfolio, waiting for access, the overlap becomes visible. Two different paths producing similar outputs, competing for the same attention: one through the system, one around it.

And in a space already saturated with voices moving through this fog, that distinction blurs faster than expected.

Into The Void

At some point, the performance of becoming presents as a new way of what becoming means. And some have made it obvious to prove a point, and more likes.

Ragebait – the word of 2025, according to Oxford University Press – has gone viral as a clout strategy. When doing things “right” no longer guarantees attention, doing things obviously wrong does: misinformation, engineered controversy. Rather than breaking the system, this visibility adds another layer to it – an atmosphere of attention and proof of presence, two things brands now chase most.

2026 Fashion Shows featuring Marilyn Manson, Bryan Johnson and Clavicular

If being right takes time to believe, being wrong – loudly – produces immediate feedback. You don’t need to arrive at anything. You just need to activate the system around you, wait for a voice of power to validate you – and let the audience rage.

“No Pain, No Gain” doesn’t feel as strong as “No Flare, No Care”.

The strange part is that everyone involved often understands the mechanism. The performance isn’t hidden. It’s almost collaborative. The audience corrects, the creator responds, the loop continues. But it raises a quieter question that doesn’t resolve as easily: what does it mean to build anything – identity, work, direction – inside a system where visibility can be generated independently of progression?

Flooding The Zone