“In the beginning, there was the phone. And it was good. Too good.”

Once upon a time, humans walked the earth with their heads held high — literally. They made eye contact. They talked. With their actual mouths. These strange, ancient beings — let’s call them Pre-iZombians — read physical books, made awkward small talk in elevators, and suffered the cruel torment of waiting in line without entertainment. It was a savage, barbaric time.

Then came the glow.

It began innocently enough: a message here, a selfie there, a map to avoid the existential terror of asking for directions. But slowly — almost imperceptibly — we changed. Our posture slumped. Our attention fragmented. Our thumbs evolved into high-speed tapping machines. We started taking photos of our meals instead of eating them. We followed strangers and ignored our friends. We became... different.

And one day, we looked around and realized something horrifying.

We were surrounded.

Not by aliens. Not by robots. But by millions of fellow humans — stumbling across sidewalks, swiping while steering shopping carts, sitting at dinner tables in eerie, synchronized silence. Heads bowed not in reverence, but in submission… to the almighty smartphone.

This is not a cautionary tale.

It’s a user manual for the modern zombie — a mirror to the glazed-over face staring back at you in selfie mode. If you’re reading this, congratulations: You’ve either dropped your phone in the toilet and have nothing better to do… or you're just curious if this book includes a QR code.

Either way, welcome. You’re among the infected. And this is your story.