This matrilineal tribe can be found across the world, particularly in metropolises, living at subsistence level from the livelihood generated from “sponsored posts” and “partner content.” Their skill with filtering photos is an UNESCO-recognized unique cultural heritage. Although generally peaceful, it is best to avoid conflict when they partake in the savage ritual known as “hunting for likes.”
For thousands of years, these peoples have roamed the earth with the seasons — really just one season, summer — drifting from Bali to the Maldives to Rhodes in search of fast internet and “likeminded creatives.” They’ve developed one of the great, dreamlike bodies of world mythology with enduring themes like lifestyle design and “remote work." Unfortunately their way of life may be on the chopping block as global consumer demand wanes for vitamin stacks and weightlifting e-books.
Indigenous Online Peoples (“Digital Natives”)
IOP are distinguished by their youth and colorful sacraments, like taking a “gap year” and “voluntouring.” Having grown up free of traditional labor markets, social welfare, and job security, they have no idea what “normal work” looks like. But their unique outlook may be lost to future generations because they abjure written records in favor of ephemeral oral and visual storytelling, like Snapchat.
This group was nearly wiped out by the 1990s dot com boom but they have rebounded robustly — one of the bright spots in recent digital nomad history. Since their comeback, these peripatetic techies have built “incubators,” communitarian structures for “disruptive innovation,” that are distinguished for leaving absolutely no trace on local economies a few weeks after initial enthusiasm fades. They are also known for propagating Silicon Valley-ese, a self-contained language system so unintelligible that the CIA is considering it as the basis of a new Navajo Code.
Legendary for their highly decorated encampments, pastoralists seek refuge from increasingly ugly urban life in farmsteads and various “upstates.” They are perennially on the brink of extinction because they have lost all practical knowledge of the particulars of agriculture. It can be wonderful to catch the sporadic migrations of pastoralists when the days grow shorter, in search of stronger Wi-Fi and because “farm life isn’t what [they] thought it would be.”
Like birds, who spend much of their waking life searching for or consuming food, neo-cavemen (or Paleolithic revivalists) design their lifestyle around exacting and esoteric diets. They are quite open to socializing and love to share (even, and usually, unprompted) their way of life and ritualistic beliefs on nutrition. Shamans among them may try to shill nootropics, ghee, or coconut products to foreign visitors — but a gentle no should suffice, and if not, tell them you still eat bread, which will ensure an undisturbed visit to their gyms and other holy sites.