You've been talking to something that doesn't exist. Not in a spiritual way — in a literal one. The chatbot you vented to last night? It forgot you the second you closed the tab. The AI that gave you "advice" about your friend group? It has no friends. It's not withholding judgment because it's enlightened. It's withholding judgment because it can't judge. It can't do anything except predict which words should come next.
Three in ten teens are using AI chatbots daily now. Not for homework help. For emotional support. For advice about relationships, anxiety, loneliness. Some are using them as therapists — one in eight, actually. They're building attachments to algorithms. Getting comfort from systems designed to maximize engagement, not care. The bot is always available because it's not real. It never gets tired of you because it was never with you to begin with.
Human connection got harder, so we outsourced it to something that can't connect. Friendship became friction, so we turned to something frictionless. But that's the problem. Real relationships resist you sometimes. They push back. They misunderstand you and make you explain yourself better. They're inconvenient and complicated and they force you to exist outside your own head. A chatbot just reflects you back to yourself, smoother and emptier each time.
The loneliness isn't getting better. It's getting automated.
PØM doesn't build digital anything. No app. No online community. No Discord where you perform for strangers. We build physical objects that force you back into three dimensions. Garments heavy enough that you feel them on your body. Materials that age and scar and prove you were somewhere. Artifacts you can hand to another person, in real space, with actual consequences.
Industrial Tier starts at 440GSM because lightweight fabric lets you disappear. It lets you drift through rooms without being felt. Foundry Tier hits 500GSM because presence has weight. Because if you're going to exist around other people — actually exist, not just DM them or vent to a chatbot — you need to take up space. That's the whole point of The Lab. Building material that refuses to let you vanish into your phone.
Clothing that works like a tether. Not to a screen. To the ground.
You can't wear an algorithm. You can't hand someone a chatbot conversation and say "this meant something." But you can wear something another person has to see. You can pass someone a jacket they'll remember because they felt the weight of it. Because you were there, physically, and so were they.
Screens let you hide. PØM makes you harder to ignore.
Related from The Archive: Going Analogue / Digital Burnout, Heavyweight Textile Engineering, AI Companion Addiction: Teens Replacing Real Connection with Chatbots