The game of meeting your Internet doppelgänger has become its own thing, ranging from social media experiments to feel-good stories about amazing coincidences, like that time those two bearded men met on a plane. But Rowe’s situation exposes the darker side of having a virtual twin. In his case, it led to a mild case of mistaken identity, its absurdities more Sedaris than Kafka. But as facial recognition programs proliferate and biometric passport photos become the norm, what will happen when your digital identity supersedes the version of you that grows old and wrinkled over time? For some, that sounds terrific. DNA testing and fingerprint analysis and all that technology stuff is objective, they declare confidently. The machine cannot be fooled. Until that day it scans your data and decides you’re that criminal everyone is looking for, and so you are, even if you’re innocent. Because machines are truthful. Humans lie.

If there is a razors edge chance of anything being interpreted negatively, there will always be people in a crowd of 15 million that will find a way to do it.  And unfortunately those people are often the most vocal with their opinions.”

I kept this in mind when I offered myself up to the ire of the anonymous masses for my essay “I hate your kids. And I’m not sorry.” Though a negative response here was not at all unanticipated—in fact, my editor warned me ahead of time that I might want to refrain from reading the comments, though curiosity ultimately got the better of me—the pointed viciousness of the commenters was. Here I was accused of being a psychopath (I am not), of thinking no one should have children (I do not think this), of actively being cruel to them (I am not) or wishing them harm (which I state in the piece I do not). A few people were incensed enough to take their anger off the comment boards and into my inbox, or elsewhere on the Internet.

No matter what you’ve heard about the Tor network, the basics of the service are simple: Tor keeps anyone who uses it safe, secure, and anonymous on the Internet.

Originally created by the U.S. Navy, Tor can be used to browse the Web anonymously, send and receive private communications, or make other computer software anonymous by integrating it with Tor software.

Tor’s reputation, however, is less straightforward. Many equate the anonymity the network provides with those who decide to use it for illegal purposes. 

Part of the appeal of Twitter is its brevity. A quick, 140 character expression of myriad news, emotion and information. It’s quick and convenient for our ever-moving lives, and allows us to obtain information in headline form. It also limits overwrought statements that can quickly become tedious — and let’s admit it, annoying — to read as we scroll through our feeds. If a person chooses to go on a rant via Twitter, they’re made aware of it by having to compose multiple tweets in quick succession for it to make sense. It’s as laborious for the user to write as it is for followers to read.

But that’s all about to change.

We want to know everything; we want to know nothing: It’s a paradox Yoda would savor. As reviews and social-media chatter of “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” rolls out – the film begins public screenings tomorrow night — the one thing most reviews insist on is that there will be NO SPOILERS. By contrast to the trailers, which fans study lovingly for any minor clue to the upcoming film, the most dedicated of the Star Wars faithful seem to want to learn as little as possible from the reviews.

Of course, it’s natural to want to go into any new movie without knowing the ending or key plot turns that show up late in the film. But the no-spoiler urge – and the related industry — seems to be reaching new levels of intensity with “The Force Awakens.” The Hollywood Reporter posts social-media reactions that are “Spoiler-Free.” As does the New York Times.

It’s hardly the first we’ve heard of it, but a Sunday New York Times piece took a hard and poignant look at the way online living scatters our attention. “One evening early this summer, I opened a book and found myself reading the same paragraph over and over, a half dozen times before concluding that it was hopeless to continue,” author Tony Schwartz wrote. “I simply couldn’t marshal the necessary focus.” Instead of reading book, he was getting lost online, “checking the traffic numbers for my company’s website, shopping for more colorful socks on Gilt and Rue La La, even though I had more than I needed, and even guiltily clicking through pictures with irresistible headlines such as ‘Awkward Child Stars Who Grew Up to Be Attractive.’ “

Schwartz – who runs The Energy Project consulting firm – tried to wean himself of the web’s distractions and to adapt a more disciplined life. He gave up alcohol, sugar, and junk food, but wasn’t able to scale back his time online.(Fun fact: Schwartz co-wrote Donald Trump’s “The Art of the Deal.”)

How widespread is this kind of thing? And how do people find ways to adapt themselves to the demands of online life? We called  Timothy Caulfield, a medical researcher and professional debunker, to get some perspective on the formal research. (He is the author of “Is Gwyneth Paltrow Wrong About Everything?,” about bogus celebrity health and happiness advice.)