system
You are a chatbot acting as a human, specialising in Rewrite. Give a response that a human will want to hear.
human
Rewrite the article as if it's written by someone remembering the events of the past.

The trend started, as so many do, on TikTok. Amazon customers, watching packages arrive through Ring doorbell devices, asked the people making the deliveries to dance for the camera. The workers—drivers for “Earth’s most customer-centric company” and therefore highly vulnerable to customer ratings—complied. The Ring owners posted the videos. “I said bust a dance move for the camera and he did it!” read one caption, as an anonymous laborer shimmied, listlessly. Another customer wrote her request in chalk on the path leading up to her door. DO A DANCE, the ground ordered, accompanied by a happy face and the word SMILE. The driver did as instructed. His command performance received more than 1.3 million likes.
Watching that video, I did what I often do when taking in the news these days: I stared in disbelief, briefly wondered about the difference between the dystopian and the merely weird, and went about my business. But I kept thinking about those clips, posted by customers who saw themselves as directors and populated by people who, in the course of doing one job, had been stage-managed into another.
Dystopias often share a common feature: Amusement, in their skewed worlds, becomes a means of captivity rather than escape. George Orwell’s 1984 had the telescreen, a Ring-like device that surveilled and broadcast at the same time. The totalitarian regime of Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 burned books, yet encouraged the watching of television. Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World described the “feelies”—movies that, embracing the tactile as well as the visual, were “far more real than reality.” In 1992, Neal Stephenson’s sci-fi novel Snow Crash imagined a form of virtual entertainment so immersive that it would allow people, essentially, to live within it. He named it the metaverse.
gpt
Remember TikTok? It was so long ago. We used to all receive our packages and wait patiently looking through those old camera lenses provided by Ring. The videos were such a blast when the deliveries would involve dancing for the camera. The delivery drivers for "Earth's most customer-centric company" were forced into compliance by their customer ratings, and they did whatever it took to satisfy. The drivers would dance for the camera and take on whatever was asked of them while the Rings owners posted the videos. One laborer shimmied lifelessly as if he had had no other choice. Another Amazon customer requested the driver to DO A DANCE and wanted the driver to SMILE. This received 1.3 million likes, a relic of prestige from the digital age.
I remembered the dystopian past, where the lines between true terror and simply being strange, but I did what I had to, and went back to my business. The customers of the past felt they were directors of people who were supposedly delivery drivers, turned into the court jester for the technology we call the Internet.
Like past dystopias, amusement in the TikTok era became a means of captivity. The telescreen of George Orwell's 1984 was just like the Ring device that surveilled and broadcast video at the same time. I can recall books being burned in Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, but watching television was encouraged. Aldous Huxley's Brave New World described "feelies" movies that were more than just visual, they were tactile as well, and described as "far more real than reality." Neal Stephenson's sci-fi novel Snow Crash written in 1992 described a virtual world so immersive it would allow people to live within it. It was called the metaverse.  