Five years ago, people who hang out in the stranger corners of the web started arguing that the internet was mostly fake. It had been this way since about 2016, they said, when Google introduced its artificial neural network for machine translation. Supposedly, from that point forward, online interactions began to be replaced, until nearly every message and picture had been posted by a bot. Everywhere you looked, websites were “empty and devoid of people,” as one scholar of the theory put it.

This wasn’t true, but the core idea was tethered to a real phenomenon. Even way back then, in 2021, social platforms were awash in fake views, fake likes, fake traffic, and fake engagement. Some people figured that automation might one day take over the entire web and then our world. They were mostly being silly, or paranoid. Today they seem like … prophets?

“Dead Internet” theory is seeing a revival, this time in mainstream conversation. It’s no longer strange to think that AI might be everywhere, edging out all forms of human interaction: bots talking to bots, all the way down. Every week we seem to take another step in that direction. In June, the Pew Research Center reported that nearly a quarter of American adults now use chatbots every day. Two months later, OpenAI announced an official ChatGPT integration for iMessage. Chatbot-generated text is already widely used for website filler, business emails, and cover letters. Will it soon be commonplace in private messages between friends and family?

[Read: Maybe you missed it, but the internet ‘died’ in 2016]

The ChatGPT-iMessage integration works on your desktop, not your phone. It doesn’t send messages on your behalf until you’ve reviewed and approved its suggestions. A similar plug-in has long been available for Anthropic’s Claude, and many messaging apps already offer AI-suggested replies. To some extent, OpenAI’s new product simply formalizes something that people had been doing on their own, either by pasting text from one window to another, or by improvising personal ChatGPT-linking software. (The Atlantic has a corporate partnership with OpenAI.)

“Low-effort communication has always existed,” Michael Pfister, a software developer living in Colorado, told me. He said that he had already vibe coded his own version of the iMessage tool months ago. ChatGPT pings him daily to let him know if he’s missed any important questions in his group chat. He tried having it write a text to his friends, just as an experiment, but they immediately noticed that the message was AI. “They tried to prompt-inject me,” he said: They asked the agent what Michael thought of them, in the hopes of tricking it into sharing his private thoughts. He told me that he mostly uses the tool for work and that he isn’t interested in having AI communicate with his friends on his behalf in the future. “I think relationships are experiential,” he said.

Max Weinbach, an analyst at a market-research firm in Connecticut, told me he uses ChatGPT to text with his bosses about work. “It just makes life easy,” he said. It’s hardly different from using Google’s suggested email responses, which have been available for nearly a decade. Weinbach had no ethical qualms about switching to LLM-assisted communication, although he recognizes that it can be taken as a sign of disrespect. “It’s not accepted or polite,” he said. “It’s just kind of a rude thing to do.”

These two are on the bleeding edge, yet exhibiting more restraint than some others. All over Reddit, my favorite repository for human drama, people are worrying about human drama that has a nonhuman interloper. New posts appear each day requesting help in figuring out whether something might have been created with AI: Is this apartment listing real? What about this dating-app profile? What about this video of a cute animal doing something amazing? (A bobcat flagging down a biker to help her rescue her kitten from the bottom of a random hole?)

Many of the requests have a moralistic tone, and the poster comes to the crowd solemnly, with hesitation, because they know the truth may be painful. The most fraught discussions concern AI-generated personal messages. Guys on dating apps are using the technology. Sometimes long-term partners, friends, siblings, or parents do it too. “Is this text apology written by ChatGPT?” someone will ask. Or “Did my mother use ChatGPT to write me a text of support on the morning of my divorce?” The implication is betrayal.

I spoke with Melissa Crowder, a 47-year-old from Alberta, Canada, who shared her own experience with AI texting in a July post on Reddit. She’d spent all day having a “nice conversation” with a match from the dating app Feeld, then finally noticed that their repartee was off when he copy-pasted her own message back to her by mistake. At that point she realized all of his previous messages had been structurally similar—usually two paragraphs of text followed by a question on a single line. And he’d been using the word dangerously way too much. When she asked if he was using ChatGPT, he replied, “Busted” with a bunch of emoji, which also struck her as something ChatGPT might do. “I’m like, this is still ChatGPT.” Then he unmatched her.

Crowder would not have been that mad if the guy had just fessed up and said something normal in his own voice. She sometimes uses AI tools to help her express herself too. She said she has a tendency to ramble on and overexplain her feelings, so she’ll use a site called Goblin Tools to self-edit. She might make a message to her ex-husband “Less emotional” (one of the choices in a drop-down menu) and get straight to the point. She also has a friend who sends AI-written texts from time to time. “Where I would draw my line is where you take the person out of the conversation,” she said. “If I’m vibing with a chatbot and then I meet the person in real life, what is that conversation going to look like?”

For a recent paper, a group of researchers from the University of Washington and Arizona State University studied two popular Reddit forums—r/RealOrAI and r/isthisAI—to figure out how people go about determining which material is AI-generated and which is not. The most common mode of analysis evaluates the fundamental plausibility of an image or a video. (“Babies do not nearly have that much coordination to both be standing up, talking so well and holding up that large cat.”) A smaller number of comments in the study addressed some alleged telltale signs of AI-style texting, including the prevalence of “overly ornate but meaningless phrases.” Other people have noted LLMs’ overreliance on certain words (delve is an oft-noted one), sentence structures (negative parallelisms), and punctuation (em dashes).

The paper ends in an ominous tone. “Our findings suggest that people are developing mental models of what AI-generated content looks like, built on personal experiences and beliefs developed over time,” the authors wrote, before arguing that these mental models were unlikely to be accurate for long. The LLMs will evolve and stop doing the things that now make their output so easy to spot. In fact, the tricks enumerated in the paper are already getting old, one of the paper’s authors, Tina Yeung, told me. “I definitely think this is a snapshot in time,” she said.

The mere fact of people’s concern about AI, and their anxiety over its incursion into day-to-day life, may be a snapshot too. Perhaps the stigma that now exists around using ChatGPT to text a friend or message on a dating app will fade in the years ahead. Maybe one day it will disappear altogether, and even our phones will end up empty and devoid of people. Or else I guess it’s possible—just possible—that the Dead Internet theory is as silly as it ever was.

Meta avoided the worst today by settling a massive lawsuit over alleged damages “to the mental and physical wellbeing of America’s youth.” The case, brought by the attorneys general of 47 states, plus U.S. territories and Washington, D.C., had been mid-trial in a federal court in California and was by far the most significant legal challenge the company has ever faced. To resolve the lawsuit, Meta will have to make a slew of design changes to its social-media platforms, and it will pay more than $12 billion—down from the approximately $200 billion that was initially sought, and a fraction of the $60 billion that the company made in profit last year.

The settlement can be used by the states and other parties to pay for their litigation costs and for a variety of school and community programs. Judge Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers agreed to the proposal this morning, saying “I’m quite happy” and congratulating both parties. There seems to be good cheer all around; Meta, which avoided any admission of guilt, put out a sunny announcement framing the agreement as part of its “longstanding efforts to empower parents and support teens.” Brian Schwalb, the attorney general of the District of Columbia, told The New York Times that the settlement represents a “monumental public health victory” that will “fundamentally and immediately change how young people use Instagram and Facebook.”

The former claim will have to be proved over time, but the latter is clearly true. As part of the agreement, Meta has agreed to submit to regular auditing of both its age-verification systems and its efforts to prevent minors from making multiple accounts to get around its restrictions. And the company will make other tweaks that are intended to target the big recent villains of social media: short-form video and the never-ending feed.

[Read: A legal decision that could change social media]

Teen users, by default, will not have access to most features of Instagram and Facebook at night (though they can still access messages and settings) and will not receive notifications from the platforms during school hours (defined as 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. on weekdays from August 15 to June 15). They’ll also be limited to a maximum of one hour a day per platform, though this doesn’t include time spent sending messages or consuming long-form content (which the agreement defines as audio or video at least 22 minutes long). Meta is also required to interrupt scrolling every 15 minutes with pop-ups that encourage “productive pauses,” and the company will have to study how well the interruptions work and submit its findings to an auditor. Parents can still manually change any of these settings for their kids.

The settlement also requires limits on features that some experts believe are detrimental to teenagers’ self-esteem and self-image. By default, teen users won’t see the number of likes or reactions on posts; they also won’t be able to use “cosmetic procedure filters,” which have been a sore spot for Meta for some time. When the plaintiffs filed their complaint, they cited evidence that Mark Zuckerberg had personally vetoed a proposed in-house policy against these filters despite concerns expressed by employees that they were causing young people to develop body dysmorphia. Meta will also be legally required to maintain and enforce the “age-appropriate” content guidelines it debuted at the end of last year.

This may seem like quite a lot of changes—especially considering that the case is not even the end of Meta’s legal problems. The company is still facing numerous lawsuits filed by individuals and school districts. “If Meta is going to resolve all its pending liabilities, this is only the first of several large checks it is going to have to write,” Eric Goldman, a professor at Santa Clara University School of Law, told me. But today’s settlement shows that the tech company was able to “buy out one of the most serious legal threats” it faced, and it managed to do so without acquiescing to demands that might have been truly destructive to its business. Meta will have to give teen users the ability to opt in to a chronological, non-personalized feed, but the company does not have to pivot away from the default algorithmic recommendations that many critics characterize as addictive. It seems unlikely that many people will select a straightforward chronological feed; Meta has tested this change before and found that users did not like it.

[Read: What if it’s not the phones?]

As for the one-hour limit, in an email, a Meta spokesperson told me that the average American teenager spends about 66 minutes a day on Instagram anyway, and that teen activity across platforms accounts for less than 1 percent of the company’s revenue. So perhaps these were battles that the company could afford to lose.

The attorneys general “made a bunch of guesses” as to what kinds of changes might help kids, Goldman said, and have pulled off a major success in getting Meta to accept them. Many of these interventions might have suffered First Amendment challenges if they’d been pursued by other methods. (For instance, if the plaintiffs had actually won at trial.) Mark Bartholomew, a professor at the University at Buffalo School of Law, agreed, writing to me that “the state AGs got Meta to consent to dramatic limits on its own speech that Congress was unlikely to go for and the courts were unlikely to bless.”

The company is now promoting the changes widely and calling on other social-media platforms to follow suit. It has also agreed to pay an additional $5.3 billion if TikTok and YouTube, which are also defendants in the ongoing litigation, implement restrictions and pay into the settlement. Although this is not the end of Meta’s legal battles—personal-injury lawsuits similar to the one it lost in March will likely keep coming—the company has won the opportunity to select its own restrictions, define its own limits, and discard its own deal-breakers, effectively setting a standard that the rest of the industry will be expected to abide by without having had any say in its creation.

“Obviously, Meta doesn’t want to unilaterally disarm in the war for user attention while its rivals are allowed to continue,” Bartholomew noted. At the start of the year, when the first of Meta’s big cases came to trial, I wrote that social media had come to a fork in the road: The lawsuits were asking existential questions about whether social-media platforms are responsible for a mental-health crisis and whether it is possible to hold them accountable for it. This agreement answers only the second question—yes, it is possible, but for now, it may be possible on only one company’s terms.