Phantom Vibrations and Synthetic Friction
I am a self-proclaimed victim of PVS (phantom vibration syndrome). Sitting at a desk, walking across campus, or even when my phone is in my hand, I seem to register the sensation of my phone vibrating as a reflexive certainty. I immediately move my hand before even stopping to think, and when I realize nothing is there, I feel an unsettling lag in the back of my mind. Such moments are easy to joke about or pass off as anxiety and overstimulation; however, after repetitive exposure, they begin to resemble diagnosis. In fact, recent empirical evidence supports this shift. A 2025 study conducted on the prevalence of phantom vibration syndrome indicated that after 381 respondents, they found that several factors “highlight how the brain misinterprets routine sensations as device vibrations, emphasizing that PVS stems from heightened sensory perception caused by frequent exposure to vibrating devices” (Hamdan, et al., 2025). Our devices seem to have been so incorporated into our daily lives that their absences are registered as errors in our perceptual and cognitive routines.
Cyborg anthropology provides a fundamental basis for understanding the admixture of technology and humanity. Originally defined in the 1960s by Manfred Clynes and Nathan Kline as cybernetic organisms designed to protect humans in extreme environments, the field now functions as an analytical understanding of subjectivity and the human experience in technologically saturated contexts (Law, et al., 2001). Via this perspective, PVS therefore can be attributed to a diagnostic symptom of the cyborg condition.
To explore the fusion more deliberately, I wanted to see what my body had learned. For four, excruciatingly difficult, days, I engaged in a digital detox and did not use my phone for anything social, recreational, or academic (albeit, I used it where I absolutely needed to for school purposes). I carried it around in my backpack and intentionally not in my right front pocket. I did not announce this experience loudly to my friends, and only told my parents about it for communication purposes.
The first thing I noticed was how empty my hands were. Standing in line in Whisk or at Leo’s, I could not scroll aimlessly through Instagram stories nor could I longer have my AirPods in and live my own world. I instead started noticing other things: how the card swiper did not function for the two people in front of me, the weird prevalence of students drinking oat milk in their coffee, and the dining hall staff shuffling around from Five Spice to Olive Branch. I even noticed that Sazón has an accent over the ‘O.’
Walking across campus and doing my daily routine over the four days, I noticed my days were a lot less anxiety-provoking when I had stacked classes or previously scheduled obligations. Take Monday, for example. I woke up from a cheap analog alarm I bought off Amazon a few days before my detox, went from class to class from 9 am to 4 pm, went to the gym from 4 pm to 6 pm, ate dinner and had meetings from 7 pm to 9 pm, studied, and slept at 12 am. Consequently, on a day like Tuesday, with fewer scheduled commitments, I felt a lot more uncomfortable not knowing what to do, even having a heightened sense of FOMO from my friend group (something virtually non-existent the day before). Jacqueline Rifkin, an assistant professor at the Samuel Curtis Johnson Graduate School of Management at Cornell University states how FOMO is not about the missed event, but rather about the missed chance to bond or make memories (Magnus-Sharpe, 2024). This distinction characterizes precisely how I felt on Tuesday evening. After making several rounds to my friends rooms’ in New South and finding them empty, I was lingering in the hallway wondering whether my friends were going to our weekly ramen dinner, and more uncertain by the ambiguity itself rather than the possibility of missing the meal.
I found myself thinking about that Tuesday night into the next day as well, even while at the gym. I noticed how my social life is constantly buffered by constant information - in other words, overstimulation. Uncertainty rarely lasts long enough to feel significant when I have my phone. A study conducted by Dan McAdams from the Department of Psychology at Northwestern University sought to better understand the “self” as a social actor dependent on audiences and feedback systems. McAdams states that for social actors, like us as humans, uncertainty is inherently necessary. “Uncertainty about belonging/status is psychologically salient; constant access to social info collapses uncertainty quickly, preventing the actor from sitting in ambiguity” (McAdams, 2013). In my case, when I previously relied on Find My Friends to confirm what was happening and whether I was included, I was instead standing in the hallway more, sitting in the floor’s common room more frequently, and aware of how everything was feeling around me. As Wednesday night approached, the urge for the familiar sequence of events of scrolling, checking messages, and mentally preparing myself for the next day, seemed to assert itself. However, I instead pivoted to spending more time practicing my tabla composition and re-reading some theology reading I was struggling with. Even after a lengthy day, my body felt unfinished without some sense of “closure.” This is readily consistent with scientific studies which indicate correlations between social media and mental health concerns in adolescents. According to a review published by Johns Hopkins, as students are using social media to connect with their friends, online social interactions may not be as rewarding. Furthermore, research indicates that as adolescents are using their devices in bed and close to sleep time (in other words, me!), they face higher rates of sleep deprivation, insomnia, etc. (Vidal et al., 2024).
On the last day of my detox, I had grown accustomed to mentally observing almost every minute detail about my surroundings. Though even during moments of focus, I noticed myself still getting distracted, looking for other sources of external stimulation - walking around and filling my water bottle even though just in case I get thirsty later or making a trip to Hoya Snaxa just in case I get hungry later. It turns out that after a point, I had fallen into the trap of “pseudo-productivity” - appealing my brain to relieve discomfort by doing tasks that feel purposeful. Actions such as filling my water bottle or grabbing a snack (note, I opted for a high-protein snack) felt purposeful, but they functioned as ways of reliving my restlessness. Georgetown University’s Cal Newport identifies this phenomenon as the cognitive fallout of constant distraction. The frequent accumulations of “quick checks” - low-effort diversions such as checking our email, etc. - cause our brain to enter what Newport describes as a “neurological liminal state of conflicted attention targets,’” in which attention is continuously redirected without ever stabilizing (Newport, 2024).” This ties in with the concept of humans needing moments of friction. In a digitized world that is designed to be frictionless, our digital “quick checks” masquerade as synthetic friction, when we should instead be focusing on moments of human friction: awkward silences and genuine connection.
The end of the experiment and re-entering the digital world felt strange. I did not have a newfound romanticism for pre-digital life, nor did I have any particular longing to use technology to fill the voids in my life. However, I did realize that removing my phone did make me anxious due in part to how much my internal regulation had been covertly offloaded as a result of my phone. Not only did it allow me to be connected to others in frictionless methods, it provided me needed closure after long days, and micro-confirmations that I am oriented correctly in my social stratosphere amongst other uses. Most importantly, I was exposed to how rarely I let myself be bored and linger in ambiguity.
Returning to my phone clarified its terms, I now subtly better understand how it shaped my emotional rhythms and my expectations for constant feedback. I recall one of the first ideas encountered in the course - modern day technology companies profiting off our fractured attention. I became aware that I am legitimately a part of the system. Recognizing this fact has not provided a sense of liberation, but more so a heightened awareness of being conscious about my participation in a system designed to profit off me.
Works Cited
Carol, Vidal. “Social Media and Mental Health in Children and Teens.” Johns Hopkins Medicine, Johns Hopkins Medicine, 2024, https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/wellness-and-prevention/social-media-and-mental-health-in-children-and-teens.
Cyborg. Jan. 2001, pp. 3202–04. www.sciencedirect.com, https://doi.org/10.1016/B0-08-043076-7/03182-X.
Hamdan, Abu Bakar Bin, et al. “Prevalence of Phantom Vibration Syndrome and Its Associated Factors among Undergraduate Students in a Public University.” Computers in Human Behavior Reports, vol. 17, Mar. 2025, p. 100552. ScienceDirect, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.chbr.2024.100552.
Lane, Rosemary. “A Slower Way to Amp Up Your Productivity.” Georgetown University, 3 Jan. 2024, https://www.georgetown.edu/news/how-to-improve-your-productivity-and-focus/.
Magnus-Sharpe, Sarah. What Fuels Our Fear of Missing out? | Cornell Chronicle. https://news.cornell.edu/stories/2024/10/what-fuels-our-fear-missing-out.
McAdams, Dan P. “The Psychological Self as Actor, Agent, and Author.” Perspectives on Psychological Science: A Journal of the Association for Psychological Science, vol. 8, no. 3, May 2013, pp. 272–95. PubMed, https://doi.org/10.1177/1745691612464657.