I don't think they care. They can just shrug and say "Misinformation" and "You need to stop letting the alt-right scare you." And ten years later when you're squeezing the last of the bug-paste ("New Crunchy style!") out of your pre-third shift meal supplement packet and reading on the telescreen how the chocolate ration has been increased to five grams, well, you won't want to do anything rebellious in your safe little pod, lest your social credit scores sink enough that Amaflix and Marv-Ney deplatform your connection, and your options are twiddling your thumbs hoping another gig job makes itself available or you're reduced to leaving your head in the Satisfaction Tracker for one Hertz sampling of "engagement" as a nameless studio shows you pre-vis dumped out of MediaGPT-7 in between ads. Between your worries, your woes, and the relentless twenty smash cuts per second delivery of anything, your attention will be so atomized you won't be able to think back to how it all started.