Disconnect: Why We Get Pushed to

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Jordan Guiao
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 Frontmatter

Praise for Disconnect

‘As our lives move online, we’re all carried along by a vast ocean of
data … Well informed, well researched and very readable, Disconnect
by Jordan Guiao helps us navigate the great data ocean. It helps us
identify these big phenomena and how they affect us as individuals.
Armed with that understanding, we’re better equipped to survive the
data ocean’s most terrifying tempests.’
– Ed Santow, Australia’s former human rights commissioner and
professor of responsible technology at the University of Technology
Sydney

‘A necessary reset of a book … Given how many of us are losing loved

ones to conspiracy rabbit holes and brain-shaping tech, this humane,
insightful and – yes – practical book couldn’t be more timely.’
– Benjamin Law, writer, broadcaster and author of The Family Law

‘Jordan Guiao is a digital native who brings our disordered online

world into focus through the characters in a terrifying new story –
many of whom we will have already met in our own social media feed.
Guiao fuses personal stories with professional insight, and the result is
refreshingly empathetic and practical. Disconnect is both a cautionary
tale and a sorely needed rallying call to reclaim a healthy internet.’
– Ed Coper, author of Facts and Other Lies and executive director of
the Center for Impact Communications
‘What do we do when our friends fall prey to conspiracy theories,
dating scams or online abuse? When our children become depressed
because they can’t live up to a social media ideal? Jordan Guiao’s
Disconnect dissects how social media platforms have been used to
exploit our vulnerabilities and what happens to the people who are
targeted online. Thankfully, this timely book doesn’t reduce such
problems to moral panics. Instead, Guiao builds complex case studies
of freedom fighters and anti-vaxxers, screen addicts, abusers and
victims, offering useful insights into the power of social media to
alter our worldviews and polarise societies. His case that it’s time to
act to rein in this power comes with practical suggestions about how
to change our relationships with technology.’
– Fiona R. Martin, associate professor in online and convergent media
at The University of Sydney
 About this Book

‘This humane, insightful and – yes – practical

book couldn’t be more timely.’ Benjamin Law

‘ A rallying call to reclaim a healthy internet.’ Ed Coper

‘ Jordan Guiao helps us navigate the great data ocean.’

Ed Santow

A lively, topical look at the rise of internet extremism

and what we can do about it

Many of us know an anti-vaxxer or a selfie-obsessed narcissist who

clutters our social feeds; an online conspiracy theorist or a child whose
face is buried in a smartphone. Some of us even live with one. How do
we pull these people back from the brink of a digital abyss?
In this compelling account, researcher Jordan Guiao reveals what
happens when we fall into online addiction and radicalisation. He speaks
to Covid-19 ‘freedom fighters’, QAnon conspiracists, social media egoists,
online gamers and men’s rights activists, tracing their path into obsession
and how they found their way out. Drawing on psychology, neuroscience
and research on addiction, he prompts us to ask: how can we use the tools
that connect us to stop isolating us? And what should our governments
do to protect us?
In an age of online outrage and social media schisms, where Big Tech
tracks our every click, it is time for a conversation about how to use the
internet safely and for social good. Let’s stop the disconnect and create
an online world we can all be proud of.
Disconnect :

Why we get
pushed to
extremes
online and
how to
stop it
Jordan
Guiao
 Copyright

Published by Monash University Publishing

Matheson Library Annexe
40 Exhibition Walk
Monash University
Clayton, Victoria 3800, Australia
publishing.monash.edu/

Monash University Publishing: the discussion starts here

Copyright © 2022 Jordan Guiao

All rights reserved. Apart from any uses permitted by Australia’s Copyright Act 1968, no part
of this book may be reproduced by any process without prior written permission from the
copyright owners. Enquiries should be directed to the publisher.

Disconnect: Why We Get Pushed to Extremes Online and How to Stop It

ISBN: 9781922633354 (paperback)
ISBN: 9781922633361 (pdf )
ISBN: 9781922633378 (epub)

Cover design by Daniel Benneworth-Gray

Typesetting by Typography Studio
Cover photography by Will Salkeld

Published with kind support from The Australia Institute’s Centre for Responsible Technology
 Dedication

For Tim,
who makes me want to build a better world
 Contents

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

1. The Online Conspiracy Theorist . . . . . . . . . . . 17

2. The Freedom Fighter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57

3. The Social Media Narcissist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91

4. The Hateful Troll . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123

5. The Dating App Pest . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155

6. The Screen Addict . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183

7. The Naive Futurist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211

Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239

Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245

Resources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249

About the Author . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261

 Introduction

Sometime around 2019, my friend became a conspiracy theorist. It was

subtle at first: a strange YouTube video post here, a rant I couldn’t quite
understand there. I originally dismissed this as him being a contrarian
who enjoyed arguments too much. Then it got serious. In group chats,
he would respond to topics such as elections or public health with
shocking fervour. His once entertaining banter deteriorated into essay-­
length sermons. He would get angry at the rest of the group for not
seeing his point of view, even as those viewpoints became increasingly
esoteric and incomprehensible. He would rail on about some secret
cabal of ‘elites’ and a great, shadowy ‘They’ who were conspiring
against everyday people and making up global hoaxes. He would
insist we watch less-­than-­credible YouTube videos that ‘proved’ his
claims and link to propaganda websites that allegedly did the same.
It was unexpected, and at first my friends and I tried to overlook it.
Some of us had longstanding friendships with him. Then it settled into
a pattern of awkwardness. Eventually, our group of friends learned to
avoid potentially triggering topics around him. Contributing to the
group chat became like tiptoeing through a field of buried grenades,
any one ready to explode with just a foot placed wrong. Yet even as we
 Disconnect

trained ourselves to keep conversations light and airy, he would find

ways to draw things back to his favourite topics of ire. Message chains
would inevitably descend into tirades, with him shouting wildly at all
of us and no one responding.
I’d read about this type of behaviour, but this was the first person
I knew who had a shift in personality due to things he read online.
He would not be the last.
During the Covid-­19 pandemic, some members of my family became
vaccine-hesitant. Despite believing in the science of vaccinations
before the pandemic, even insisting on them for their children, the
fear, uncertainty and concern over the novel coronavirus, coupled
with a normalisation of anti-­science rhetoric online and a barrage of
disinformation from the social media personalities they followed, had
made them question whether they would get vaccinated until it was
forced upon them.
I feel uncomfortable and a little guilty as I write about this, because
I value those relationships and do not want to damage them. But these
are the facts.
Sometimes, relationships can be ruined by behavioural changes
caused by online interaction. A person I once considered one of my
best friends became such a social media narcissist that it damaged our
relationship, and over time we fell out. Her vibrancy devolved into
one-­dimensional shallowness. I watched as she discarded genuine
friendship after genuine friendship for those that would benefit her
online persona and bolster the character she was creating for herself
on social media. I mourned her transformation from an authentic,
messy, beautiful person into a deeply insecure actress, turning her
life into a highly stylised production in the hopes of online fame. We
haven’t spoken in years.

2
 Introduction

Something is happening that is turning smart, rational individuals

into pathological caricatures, and it’s to do with being online.
I pay attention to these issues because I work as a researcher for the
Australia Institute’s Centre for Responsible Technology. Over the last
few years, I have noticed that people around me have begun to voice
the same observations – a friend from uni, a distant uncle, a colleague
from that job eight years ago, a next-­door neighbour, the parent of
their child’s friend is turning into a social media narcissist, an online
conspiracy theorist, an anti-­vaxxer ‘freedom fighter’, a troll. Sometimes
this hits closer to home: a son or daughter has become a gaming addict,
a mother is a dating app maniac, a cousin has become enmeshed in
internet forums of dubious origin. Like a highly transmissible strain
of Covid-­19, this phenomenon has spread outward and proliferated,
until it seems we all know someone who has fallen down one of these
rabbit holes.
We are, without a doubt, living in strange times. The pandemic has
coerced even the most reluctant among us into a digital world. It has
created a new breed of remote workers, forced many to swap physical
interactions for the artificial intimacy of Zoom, and encouraged us
to shop, play and study in front of our computers. We live more of
our lives online now than we have at any previous point in history,
and humanity has reached this significant milestone very quickly. We
can be certain that this speed has impacted us in ways we are only
beginning to understand.

When I began thinking about this book, I wanted to test out the
theory that we all knew one of these types. I talked openly to different
groups of people as I shared the book’s premise. I was validated by

3
 Disconnect

the knowing reactions, cautious nods and offers of names to talk to.
‘My father is like that …’, ‘My sister is …’, ‘You should talk to …’.
Compelled and encouraged, I sought to speak to people navigating
these online challenges, looking to understand their stories. In the
process I had to examine my own behaviours with the internet and
what had led me down this line of inquiry in the first place.
Let me start with a confession, or perhaps a disclaimer: I am, without
question, an internet addict. I clock up an average of seven hours a
day of screen time.
My internet addiction started early. In 1996, when Dad first
connected our Apple Macintosh Performa 5400CD to our telephone
line using a screeching modem, I was hooked immediately. I discovered
chatrooms with people around the world. I found solace with other like-­
minded sci-­fi nerds who posted about movies and fictional characters.
As a teenager, I guiltily discovered parts of the internet I probably
shouldn’t have been exploring, and that my parents and siblings did not
know how to access. I even dabbled with being a bit of a troll. I regret
trolling now, of course – but back then I simply didn’t understand the
impact it could have.
I built a career out of the internet. In the early 2000s, after failing
to secure a gig as a Disney animator, I turned instead to digital media,
and found a solid career path in digital production and communications.
I scrubbed my online persona clean and began anew. To me, the internet
was nothing short of magic. What enamoured me was not the nuts
and bolts of the technology, but how people used it to connect and
communicate. You could find tribes who shared your niche interests.
Distance and geography became irrelevant as you talked to people
on the other side of the globe. If a confessional bent took you, you
could publish your thoughts and have them read by thousands almost

4
 Introduction

instantly. Back then, the internet’s potential as a communication tool

was inspiring. Back then, the internet felt full of promise and possibility.
As I honed my expertise on the internet and its impact on
communications and culture, that optimism sustained itself – for
me, if not for society at large. There was a marked shift in the public
conversation during the 2010s, as more people realised the darker and
less-­than-­healthy applications of the internet. But I never questioned
my own obsession with the web until I reached what I thought was
the pinnacle of my career – a job in Silicon Valley. After almost fifteen
years as a digital strategist, working with some of Australia’s largest and
most dynamic media companies and many of the Big Tech companies,
such as Facebook, Google, Twitter and Apple, I needed to see if I
could make it at the mecca for digital and technology professionals.
In 2018, I moved to California.
At first, I only saw the highlights of this silicon wonderland. The
perks of being a regular client of social networks were extensive: free
lunches at Big Tech campuses, rooftop meetings with fresh organic
juices, yoga sessions after workshops, inventive merchandise. Yet,
as I lived in the San Francisco Bay Area, I gradually began to see a
different side. The Bay Area suffers from a severe problem of human
displacement. Entire groups have been forced to relocate or face
homelessness as the tech boom has prompted skyrocketing real estate
prices and spiralling costs of living. Most property buyers are tech
workers.1 Newly minted millionaires are common as tech companies
go from startup to IPO. With each batch of tech companies going
public, the housing crisis deepens, as wealthy tech workers continue to
push up prices. In 2019, Vox ran an article on how even programmers
with six-­figure salaries are struggling to afford studio apartments in
the area.2 The situation in San Francisco is so bad that the United

5
 Disconnect

Nations has deemed the housing shortage and resulting homelessness

a ‘human rights violation’.3 It was hard to ignore the homeless people
wandering around San Francisco when I literally had to sidestep their
faeces on sidewalks.
My cousin, an intensive-­care nurse at what used to be called San
Francisco General Hospital but is now Zuckerberg General Hospital
(after the Zuckerbergs gifted the hospital its largest-­ever single donation
in 2015), saw the human cost of displacement firsthand. ‘We have more
and more homeless and sick people who are simply no longer in control
of their lives,’ he told me. The Bay Area felt like it was divided into two
classes: those who worked in the tech industry and those who did not.
It was hard not to correlate the social cost of technological progress
with the human displacement. Big Tech companies can’t take all the
blame for global inequality, but they have amplified it, and ushered
in many other issues besides.
It was this experience that led me to question my utopian vision
of the internet and made me look harder at how it affects society in
developed countries the world over. If the internet was meant to be one
of the best communication tools we had to offer, why was it making
people confused? Why was it leaving the most vulnerable among us
prone to scammers and fraudsters? Why was it making us angrier than
ever? Why was it causing rational people to seem crazy? While it was
keeping families in touch and sparking new friendships, at a more
fundamental level, was it beginning to divide society?
Recently, we have begun to see the effects of internet-­related issues.
Research draws the linkages between social media platforms and
body disorders, trolling and mental health issues, coordinated online
campaigns and violent protests. Facebook’s brand has become so
deleterious, as evidence of the platform’s continued harm and negligence

6
 Introduction

continues to build, that many believe the company’s rebranding as

Meta was a way to distance themselves from the bad publicity. Their
own research, leaked by whistleblower Frances Haugen, showed that
Instagram (which is owned by Meta) was toxic for young people,
especially teenage girls, who experienced increased issues around body
image, anxiety and depression. Teenage boys aren’t immune, with the
The Wall Street Journal recounting, ‘In their report on body image in
2020, Facebook’s researchers found that 40% of teen boys experience
negative social comparison.’ It quoted one participant in the research:
‘“I just feel on the edge a lot of the time,” a teen boy in the U.S. told
Facebook’s researchers. “It’s like you can be called out for anything
you do. One wrong move. One wrong step.”’4 This is confirmed by
external research showing that social media is causing an epidemic
of mental health problems among young people, and that Instagram
is particularly bad for their mental wellbeing.5
Facebook also knew about the harmful conspiracy theories that
circulated in the lead-­up to the 2020 US election, culminating in the
shocking and violent riots at the US Capitol. The company did little
to intervene. On 6 January 2021, user reports of ‘false news’ hit nearly
40,000 per hour and threats of violence were rife, as staff expressed
alarm on Facebook’s internal Workplace site. As The Washington Post
noted, ‘The company’s internal research over several years had identified
ways to diminish the spread of political polarization, conspiracy theories
and incitements to violence but … in many instances, executives had
declined to implement those steps.’6
Facebook was aware of hate speech and calls for violence against
minority ethnic groups in India and Myanmar but did little about it.7
For years, its algorithms promoted posts that provoked angry reactions
over neutral or positive ones. There’s evidence of the platform being

7
 Disconnect

used for human trafficking and illegal activities such as recruiting

hitmen.8 This litany of issues are only some recent instances to have
made the headlines, and many continue unresolved.
Google’s YouTube has been similarly plagued, with issues around
mis-­and disinformation, including around the pandemic and political
campaigns, going unchecked. Misinformation is shared without
malicious intent, while disinformation is deliberately false and shared
as part of a campaign of persuasion. YouTube’s algorithm recommends
videos that violate the company’s own content policies, promoting
content that includes violence, hate speech and scams.9 YouTube has
been consistently cited as a platform where users can be radicalised –
including the infamous 2019 Christchurch mosque shooter, who a New
Zealand royal commission found had used Facebook and YouTube
as a source of inspiration and promotion.10 YouTube’s response is too
often to make minor tweaks or changes to community standards that
do little to truly address the quagmire, as misogynistic, violent and
disturbing content continues to be shared.
Chinese company ByteDance owns TikTok, whose algorithms
have been revealed to have biases against people of colour, while its
company’s moderators to have encouraged users to remove videos
of those with disabilities and those it deems unattractive, as part of
efforts to ‘curate an aspirational air in the videos it promotes’.11 Its AI
clumsily recommends harmful content, including about eating disorders
and mental health issues. A joint investigation by the ABC’s Four
Corners and Triple J’s Hack included the case of Lauren Hemmings,
who developed an eating disorder four months after joining TikTok
and being bombarded with images of fitness influencers and videos
on calorie counting: ‘I was no longer seeing funny dance videos or
anything. It was just like this complete focus on that fitness and healthy

8
 Introduction

lifestyle goal … I felt that I could not eat anything without knowing
how many calories it contained and without meeting my target number
of calories throughout the day … Before TikTok, calorie counting had
never crossed my path.’ 12
It is on these platforms that many of us connect and communicate,
do business and seek out entertainment. Some describe Big Tech as
‘the new Big Tobacco’ – with smoking once widely encouraged, only
years later did governments realise its harmful effects on health and
the role of tobacco companies in fostering addiction, and begin to
legislate around such companies’ practices. Many issues about public
health and safety are unresolved when it comes to the world’s largest
social networks and online companies, who continue to rake in massive
profits and march on with their relentless growth and increasing reach.
Various critics are taking the fight directly to these platforms,
including governments, regulators, academics and civil society. There
are attempts to curb Big Tech’s influence through antitrust law, data
privacy regulation, online safety initiatives and significant lawsuits.
I feel privileged to be part of one of those institutions taking the fight
directly to Big Tech. The Australia Institute’s Centre for Responsible
Technology fights battles at the institutional level, seeking to hold
Big Tech companies to account, influence governments on technology
policy and partner with academics, industry and civil society to focus
the public’s attention on the most important online issues we are facing
today. These efforts are vitally important: the tech companies must be
held to account at a system-­wide level, given their enormous influence
and the resources they invest in lobbying to minimise regulation and
changes that may harm their business models.
But I wanted to write this book because what I felt was lacking was a
way to relate these enormous and urgent issues to the everyday person.

9
 Disconnect

The statistics in academic studies, media articles and industry research –

it all represents individuals and their stories. There is little emphasis in
the reports and research on problematic internet use about the people
who are navigating these issues. They are members of our community:
mothers, fathers, grandparents, sons, daughters, sisters, brothers,
cousins, uncles, aunts, friends, colleagues, parent-­g roup buddies,
acquaintances, neighbours, exes. If most of us know, or know of,
someone who has got into trouble online, how can we understand how
they reached this point? How can we talk to them without isolating
them? How can we point them towards recognising and changing their
behaviours? Rather than describing online issues in the conceptual
and abstract, I wanted to add the intimacy of personal stories and
individual experiences.
There may be confronting truths some of us need to face – some
relationships can’t survive when one party has been radicalised by the
internet. Some people may simply be too far down the rabbit hole.
They may not recognise that they have a problem, or be willing to be
part of any intervention, or want to be rehabilitated. There are also
those who are unrepentant extremists: who actively exploit others by
spreading hate and disinformation on the internet. This book is not
an apology or a plea for understanding for such people, who should be
held to account for their actions, legally and morally. Violence, threats
and the spreading of hatred and mayhem should never be condoned
or excused.
But for every such extremist, there are many more everyday internet
users whose engagement with the internet has become problematic,
and the story of why is complex and deserving of discussion. As a
researcher, I’ve come across examples in the literature of those who
have entered a bleak place only to find a perspective that has helped

10
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
producing a lovely colored light. These glow-worms are somewhat
rare in this country, but are common in England, where our fire-fly is
unknown. The glow-worms of tropical countries are as large as
good-sized caterpillars, and give out a light of corresponding size.
Some of the beetles of tropical countries are much more radiant
than the glow-worms. They have a bright ring around their bodies,
which sheds such a light that it is said that the negroes use them for
lamps. These negroes we are told by travelers make small round
cages of thin wooden slats placed near each other, and closed at the
top and bottom. In these they put several beetles, and thus light up
their rooms free of cost.

THE GREAT LANTERN FLY.

But the most splendidly illuminated insect in the world is the great
lantern fly. Its monstrous head is a blaze of light. When it flies
through the air it is like a streamer of fire. When it alights upon a leaf,
with its beautiful wings outstretched, and its head gleaming with star-
like rays, that light up everything for some little distance, it is a
gorgeous sight indeed.
But, although this insect is so bright-headed it is not so wise as
some others whose heads are not brilliant at all. Perhaps this head is
like some shops we have seen, where pretty much all the furniture is
on the outside.
 OWLS ON A FROLIC.

THE OWLS UPSETTING THE LAMP.

The owls are abroad on a mad carouse,

Waking the echoes far and wide;
They whirl in a crowd through the ruined church,
 Or up to the belfry glide.

The little screech-owl makes a horrid din;

While the great white owl looks wise;
And the horned owl nods his head, and blinks;
As around the lamp he flies.

The lamp is a cup, half filled with oil,

That swings from a broken beam;
And, over the traveler sleeping below,
It throws but a dusky gleam.

The owls have no fear of the burning wick—

’Tis only a cotton loop—
They’re after the oil in the swinging cup,
And down on its brim they swoop.

The weary traveler, sound asleep,

Hears naught of the noise o’erhead,
A rickety chair as a bedstead serves,
His overcoat is his bed.

With the sweep of the wings the lamp upsets,

While the gurgling oil o’erflows
With a drip, and a rush, on the great owl’s tail,
A splash on the traveler’s nose.

He’s up in a trice, and, seizing a broom,

He arms himself for a fight.
But all is still in the ruined church;
For the owls are out—and his light.
 COMMON AND UNCOMMON SPONGES.

A FINE SPONGE.
They are all wonderful enough, no matter how common they may
be. It takes thousands and thousands of minute creatures, to make a
sponge, and these creatures are so little understood that about all
we know of them is that they must belong to the very lowest order of
animal life, and that they do build sponges. That is not much to
know, but it is not long since the sponge was first known to be an
animal production at all, and our scientific men may yet find out
something more definite about these curious little architects.
Perhaps they may have lately found out something, and I have not
heard of it. This would be the least wonderful thing about sponges.
The ordinary form of the sponge is familiar to nearly everybody
who has ever been washed, and this picture gives a good idea of a
fine large one, as it is found growing at the bottom of the sea. I say
growing, because it seems to be growing there, like a vegetable. But
it does not grow, in the ordinary sense of the word, any more than a
wasp’s nest grows.
But there are sponges with which we are not at all familiar, and
which are curious, apart from the manner of their construction. Such
a one is the sponge called the “Cup of Neptune.”
This is several feet high, and is formed like a great goblet. It would
make a very good cup for Neptune, if he drank brandy or rum, for it
would soak up all that he poured into it, and he could not get a drop,
unless he squeezed his cup pretty hard—and even then the liquor
might all run out of the bottom.
As a rule, civilized and well educated people are more easily
surprised and astonished at uncommon and wonderful works of
nature than uncivilized or ignorant people, for the latter do not know
enough to be astonished. They see nothing strange in the
development of a plant from its seed—nothing grand in a high
mountain, nor anything very beautiful in a flower. They look at these
things as a child looks at his hand. The hand is a very curiously
constructed instrument, full of intricate mechanism, but the child
does not know or think of that. It is not until he grows older and his
mind is cultured that he appreciates the wonderful construction and
the varied action of his hand.
So it is with savages. They do not comprehend that many strange
works of nature are worthy of admiration, and they take it for granted
that things are as they are because they ought to be, just as they
think of their own bodies, if they think of them at all.
 THE CUP OF NEPTUNE.
But this great goblet-like sponge is strange enough to astonish
even a savage.
 MAGHAR’S LEAP.

It chanced upon a time, a very great many years ago, while fairies
and magicians still dwelt upon earth, that a youth and maiden—
brother and sister—were walking in a forest, talking about their
recent misfortunes, and laying plans for their future. The youth was
clad in armor, according to the warlike fashion of those times. But he
had under his arm a book, which was not in accordance with the
fashion of those times. The maiden wore a dress of some coarse
woolen stuff; and, in her hands she held a sheet of parchment, and a
pen.
Suddenly there broke into their quiet talk the sound of clashing
arms, and the mad plunging of horses. Sybil, the maiden, stopped
terrified.
“Oh!” she cried, “it is the noise of battle! Too well I know those
sounds. Let us go quickly back!”
“Let us go forward a little way,” said Maghar, the youth, “to yon
opening in the woods. Or, stop here, if you fear, and I will go alone
and look out.”
“No,” said Sybil, “if you go I will follow.”
Together they looked out upon the open plain. Two hostile armies
had met unexpectedly, and a fierce conflict had commenced.
“Alas!” said Sybil, shuddering. “There are the savage infidels that
laid waste our home!”
“Yes,” said Maghar, excitedly, “and here, on this side, are our
countrymen, and neighbors! I must bear a hand in this fight!”
“And leave me alone!” cried Sybil. “I have only you left! Your single
arm will not count for much in a battle!”
“It would be a shame to me,” said Maghar, “to sneak off, like a
coward, and leave our friends and Christian soldiers, when their
forces are few, and every warrior counts. Have I not my armor? I
shall find shield and spear on the battle-field on some poor fellow
who has already fallen in the fray. Do not fear, sister! Go back to
Christern’s cottage. There you will be safe; and I will return in a few
hours.”
So saying, he led Sybil back into the forest to the path leading to
Christern’s cottage; gave the book into her hands; and, kissing her
good-bye, he ran out of the woods as fast as the weight of his armor
would allow.

SYBIL’S WATCH.

But Sybil did not return to the cottage. She was too anxious about
her brother; and, going to the entrance of the wood, she crouched
among the trees, where she was hidden from view, and watched the
progress of the fight. She was ready to fly if the tide of battle brought
the armies too near. But they seemed to be gradually moving away
from her. She soon singled out her brother. He had secured a spear
and shield, and mounted a riderless horse. In a few minutes he was
lost in the throng, and she saw him no more.
Her mind was filled with sad forebodings. This Infidel army had
invaded the country, and laid it waste; had killed her parents, and
overthrown, and utterly ruined the beautiful castle that had been her
home. A few things had been saved by old Christern, a much loved
servant of the family, and these constituted the property of Maghar
and Sybil. Old Christern’s cottage, in the depths of the forest, was
the refuge of the orphans. There they had lived for several weeks,
and no way of retrieving their fortunes seemed open to them.
Maghar was a fine scholar. His father had had him taught to read his
own language and Latin, and to write a very beautiful hand. That was
the extent of his knowledge; and it was a great deal at a time when
very few of the richest people knew their letters.
And now, in their poverty, there seemed to be very little use for his
learning. Nobody cared anything about it. He might copy manuscript
for some learned man, and get a living this way, for printing and
paper had not then been invented; and all books were written on
parchment. But Maghar had a contempt for a clerk, as he called a
copyist, and did not fancy this method of supporting his sister and
himself. Nevertheless, the two were that day on their way to the
abode of a great and learned man to see if he wished anything of
this kind done; and if he would buy their only book—a Latin volume,
written on parchment, and beautifully illuminated and bound in
wooden covers.
Sybil went over these things in her mind as she watched the
battle, trying, in vain, to distinguish the form of her brother. She soon
saw to her dismay, that the Infidel forces had turned the flank of the
Christian army, and that the ranks of the latter were broken, and they
were retreating, closely followed by their enemies. She stood up
now, and strained her eyes to watch them until they had all
disappeared over the crest of a hill. Then she sadly returned to
Christern’s cottage to tell the old man of this new and terrible
misfortune.
 Days passed away, and Maghar did not return. Christern learned
that the Christian army was broken, and the soldiers scattered.
Some had returned to their homes. The wounded were cared for
among their friends. The dead were buried. But Maghar was with
none of these. No one could tell anything about him, except that he
had fought bravely.
Then Sybil determined to seek out the great and learned man to
whom Maghar had intended to offer his services as copyist. She was
somewhat afraid of him, for he was known to be a powerful
magician. But he could, no doubt, tell her the fate of Maghar, and
she would try to overcome her fears.
She took off the coarse peasant’s dress she had been wearing,
and arrayed herself in her best robe of fine white cashmere, which
was one of the things that Christern had managed to save. She
loosened her beautiful hair, which fell nearly to her feet. This last she
did to show the deep sorrow she was in. She also took with her the
Latin volume, as a present, to propitiate the powerful magician.
The great man lived in the simplest manner in a rocky cavern.
Sybil found him outside his dwelling, seated on a mossy stone,
sorting some plants that lay in his lap. He did not look up as she
approached, and she had a good opportunity to study his
countenance, which was so sweet and gentle that her fear of him
vanished; and she came forward quite boldly, greeted him, and
presented her book.
But the magician waved the volume aside. “I know why you seek
me, sister of Maghar,” he said, kindly.
“Oh, can you tell me aught of my brother?” cried Sybil.
“I know not where he is. The oracles would not enlighten me
without your presence. Come into my dwelling, and we will consult
them.”
So saying he conducted her into his cave through a low, dark
passage way. Great was Sybil’s astonishment when she found
herself in a vast room, with a lofty ceiling. Around the circular walls
was a continuous row of lamps, kept constantly burning. Their light
was reflected from myriads of stalactites that hung from the roof,
glowing with all the colors of the rainbow, making the rough, rocky
chamber as brilliant and gorgeous as a fairy palace. In the centre of
the room stood a brazier, filled with burning coals, and near it, a
large iron harp, with silver strings, and a sort of cupboard, made of
iron. A few rough couches were scattered around. And this was all
the furniture the room contained.
The magician invited Sybil to take a seat. He then proceeded to
place on his head a crown, woven of vines of magical virtues. He
took from the cupboard some singular-looking vessels, and mixed in
them various powders and liquids. Then, pouring all their contents
into a copper pot, he placed it on the coals, seated himself on a
stone near it, drew his harp in front of him, and motioned to Sybil to
stand before it. He looked so pleasantly upon her she did not feel
afraid, but her heart beat fast, not knowing what fearful thing she
might see.
She saw nothing whatever but the harp, and the old man; for, as
soon as the clouds of fragrant white smoke that poured out from the
brazier, had completely enveloped the two, the magician swept his
fingers over his harp, and began to sing. Then Sybil forgot
everything else, for his chant was of Maghar.
 SYBIL AND THE MAGICIAN.
He sang of the great deeds Maghar had done in the battle, and
how he had made himself famous. He was the last prisoner taken by
the Infidels; and was now confined in a castle several leagues
distant. The Infidel army was there encamped. They would like to
slay Maghar outright, but were afraid of the vengeance of the
Christian armies near them if they murdered a man held in such
esteem. He was at present undisturbed, but the probability was that,
after a time, they would decide to starve him to death, and give out
word that he had died from sickness. His sister had thus a little time
in which to work to save him.
Here the song ended, and the weeping girl begged the great
magician to save her brother. This he said was not in his power. She
must find a good fairy, and make it her friend. The small creature
could get into the castle, see her brother, and, together, they could
devise a way of escape. He might, perhaps, be able to help them
then. He told her what roads to follow to reach the castle; and,
assuring her that such a good girl would surely find a good fairy to
assist her in her trouble, he dismissed her with his blessing.
That very day Christern and Sybil set out for the castle. They
reached the place after three days’ journey. They told no one what
their errand was in that part of the country; and there were so many
homeless people in the land that their appearance excited no
surprise. Christern soon found employment among the wood-cutters,
and fitted up a deserted hut as a temporary dwelling.
But though they could, every day, look upon the walls of the castle
in which Maghar was confined, they seemed no nearer to him than
before. He was in the hands of the cruel infidels, and where were
there any fairies? There were plenty in that part of the country, the
wood-cutters said, which, at first, was encouraging. But, on inquiry, it
turned out that not one of them had ever seen a fairy, or knew
anybody who ever had seen one. Sybil was in despair as the days
went by, and she blamed her friend, the magician, that he had given
her no help, after all.
She often walked through the woods, near nightfall, to meet
Christern. One evening, as the two were returning together to their
hut, they saw a large wild boar approaching, followed by several
young ones. As this creature is very savage when it has its young to
defend, Christern and Sybil thought it wise to step aside among the
trees, and leave the path to the boar and its interesting family. After
these had passed they continued their way, but had not gone far
when they saw a young boar lying in the path. Christern stooped
over to examine it.
 THE BOAR FAMILY.

“It got in with that litter,” said he, “and did not belong to it, so the
old boar has gored it badly. But it is not dead. I’ll take it home, make
a sty for it, and, if it lives, I’ll fatten it, and kill it when it is fit for
eating.”
The wounded animal lifted an appealing glance to Sybil. Its eyes
wore an almost human expression of suffering, and a most
beseeching plea for help. The girl’s heart was touched.
“It is not badly hurt,” she said. “Its flesh is torn, but if I wash its
wounds, and bind them up, and find a nice place in the woods,
where I can make it comfortable, and feed it, it will get well. It is a
free, wild creature, and must not be shut up in a close sty. Think of
my dear brother shut up when he wants to be free!”
Christern thought Sybil’s plan a foolish one, but this last argument
silenced him. He had not a word to say in reply. So the girl washed
off the blood from the boar’s wounds with her fine cambric
handkerchief, which she then tore into strips to bind them up. She
found, in a secluded place, a soft cushion of moss on which she laid
him, and partly covered him with leaves to keep him warm. She then
brought from the hut some of her own scanty supper, and gave it to
the little boar.
After this she visited her patient two or three times a day, nursing
and feeding him. But, on the afternoon of the fourth day, he had
disappeared, and Sybil returned to the hut feeling quite lonely at the
loss of the little creature that had been so glad to see her.
The next night, as Christern was returning late from his work,
trudging slowly through the forest, with his lantern swinging in his
hand, and his wallet slung over his back on the end of his walking
stick, something brushed close by the old man’s ear with a buzzing
of tiny wings.
“That dragon-fly is out late,” said the old man to himself.
Very soon the wings brushed by him again with a louder whizzing.
“It is a bat!” said the old man, shaking his head. “Shoo! shoo!” But
the third time the whirring wings flew almost into his face.
“Good evening, old Christern!” said a tiny voice, such as might
come from a humming-bird, if it could speak.
The startled old man stopped and flashed the light of his lantern
around among the trees. And there, with wee wings outspread, was
a fairy skimming through the air! Christern had never seen a fairy,
but he knew this was one as soon as he saw him. And a jolly,
rollicking fellow he was!
 CHRISTERN AND THE FAIRY.

“You don’t know me, old fellow?” said the fairy.

Christern shook his head.
“Wanted to shut me up in a sty, and fatten me, eh? I wouldn’t be
much of a mouthful now, would I? Don’t you wish you could get me?”
And the saucy fellow soared high up among the trees.
Christern nearly dropped his lantern in his astonishment. “You
don’t ever mean to tell me that boars are fairies?” he said, at last.
“I mean to say nothing of the kind!” cried the fairy, indignantly.
“Your horrid, beastly boars are no relations of ours, even! I’ll tell you
how it was,” he said, coming nearer Christern, and speaking in a
confidential tone. “Our fairies all have wings, and can fly, but there
are other kinds without wings. Some of these are good, but some are
bad, and they are full of spite against us because we are better off
than they. I offended a tribe of these not long ago, and they had
influence with a wicked old witch who changed me into a little boar. I
was to remain in that shape for a week. She would have made the
time longer, if she could. But they all thought I would be killed in that
time. And so I should have been but for your Sybil. And there was
another thing worse than death. If I was deprived of my liberty during
that week, I could never again regain my natural shape. So, if you
had put me in your sty, I would have been eaten up one of these
days as a boar. From this awful fate your Sybil saved me. So I am
doubly indebted to her, and I want to do something for her.”
“Oh, you are the good fairy, who is to save our Maghar!” cried the
old man, joyfully.
Thereupon he related the whole sad story, and the fairy told him
he would consult with his tribe that night; and, if he and Sybil would
come to that spot on the following night he would let them know what
could be done.
Sybil’s delight was unbounded. She now felt sure that her brother
would be saved. But, nevertheless she accompanied Christern to the
place of meeting, half fearing that the frisky fairy would play her
some trick. But he was there, before them, and had dressed himself
in his best suit of green in honor of the occasion.
As soon as they appeared he began chattering as fast as ever he
could.
“We fairies have hit upon a splendid plan,” he said. “But there is no
time to lose. Sybil, I have seen your brother, but he did not see me. I
was at the castle this morning before cock-crow. I flew in through a
loop-hole. Nobody saw me. It took me a long time to find out in what
room your brother was kept, but, at last, I made it out. I intended to
stay until I did. He is in a room, high up in the north tower. He has
been pretty well, but now his jailers have begun the plan of starving
him; and he will soon be too weak to save himself as we propose,
which is the only way open to him. It requires steady nerves, and
great courage. But do not weep, for we will save him, only it must be
done speedily. Do you, Christern, be ready to go with me to the
castle at break of day. Pretend you are a beggar. There are so many
of these you will pass unsuspected. I will point out to you a small
postern door at the back of the castle, stay about that; and I will hide
near it. I could slip inside easily enough, and tell Maghar what to do,
but he does not know me, and would not trust me. So you must get
inside the castle some way and see him. And, not only that, but you
must get out again. And this is our plan for doing this. We fairies
have three magical cocks. At a signal from me these cocks will
appear on the crest of the hill at the back of the castle, and will sing
a song. This will so astonish the sentinels that they will be thrown off
their guard. I will then slip in through a loop-hole, unlock the postern
door, and let you in. We will tell Maghar how he can escape. Then
the cocks will appear again, and while the attention of the guards is
distracted, we will get out of the castle. Remember now to be here at
daybreak.”
And the fairy disappeared, much to Sybil’s regret, who had a
hundred questions to ask him about her brother’s appearance, and
treatment. He had not even told her what his plan was for her
brother’s escape. But he did not come back, and she was obliged to
be satisfied with the information she had.
The programme was carried out in every particular. Christern
acted his part of beggar so well that he managed to get near the
postern door, unsuspected, with the fairy snugly tucked into a fold of
his ragged dress. On arriving at the place the fairy concealed himself
in some vines. At the appointed signal three magnificent cocks
appeared abreast on the top of the hill.
 THREE MAGICAL COCKS.

The like of these cocks had never been seen in that country, and
they immediately attracted the attention of everybody. But when they
opened their mouths, and began to sing the words of a war song, the
sentinels forgot everything, and deserted their posts to get as near
the wonderful songsters as possible without alarming them.