Meanwhile, the company launches a product called SeeChange, which, as far as I can tell, is just a smallish, cellular-connected webcam, but that Eggers presents as an epochal event. Everyone suddenly wants to watch live feeds of random places.
(Caution: spoilers ahead.)
Personally, Holland is torn between three men: her ex-boyfriend (the chandelier maker); a coder with premature ejaculation problems who videos a handjob she gives him; and a sexy, long-fingered mystery man who we later find out is the technical founder of the company.
Thanks to her friend's connections, her excellent performance, and some productive misbehavior, Holland is swept upward to become The Circle's public face. She begins to carry a nearly-always-on camera and becomes a livestreaming celebrity.
Eventually, she is implicated in the death of her ex-boyfriend Mercer when she sends a search team after him when he goes off the grid. Mercer, harried by the magpie-like drones pursuing him, commits suicide by driving off a bridge. Her best friend suffers, too. She slips into a coma from the stress of a company probe of her family history, which reveals some unsavory genealogical events and some humdrum failings in her parents. (How does this send her into a coma? Good question.)
The Circle itself, meanwhile, chugs toward "completion," the day when they capture all meaningful data, roughly. And there is an ill-advised detour into thinking about The Circle's impact on politicians, voting, and democracy.
All the while, an awesomely heavy-handed metaphor looms above all. The company's CEO is an explorer and he's returned from the Marianas Trench with a transparent, ravenous shark. You see, the shark is like The Circle! It eats everything and everything turns to dust. The many shark scenes are obvious and tortuous.
Which brings me to my primary complaint about the book: Everyone is so credulous and naive about The Circle, including Holland herself. I've never encountered anyone who is so dumb and unthinking about social media as roughly all the characters in this book. Middle schoolers tend to have a more nuanced understanding of "openness" and "transparency" on the Internet than Eggers' characters.
Internet users, en masse, have taken steps to limit "openness," in the Zuckerbergian sense parodied in the book. SnapChat, which is popular with the very youth who are such suckers in Eggers' world, succeeds exactly because it doesn't generate the kind of persistent data Eggers fears. Instagram locked accounts are basically the norm at this point. Hell, Google itself has created a social network in which most sharing is private.
Not that there aren't problems with all of these companies and solutions, but they're not the problems that Eggers diagnoses. His fundamental conceit is that people don't know or understand the tradeoffs they're making with social media. But the existence and popularity of all these other networks argues otherwise. People know that controlling access to themselves and their data is a way of exerting power, not just vis-a-vis the platforms, but among themselves. Being open, at certain times, can help you move up in the world, but everyone who has ever masturbated understands the limitations of the paradigm.