Digital Fandom 2.0

New Media Studies

by Paul Booth (Author)
Textbook XXVI, 284 Pages
Series: Digital Formations, Volume 114


In this completely revised and updated version of Digital Fandom, Paul Booth extends his analysis of fandom in the digital environment. With new chapters that focus on the economics of crowdfunding, the playfulness of Tumblr, and the hybridity of the fan experience, alongside revised chapters that explore blogs, wikis, and social networking sites, Digital Fandom 2.0 continues to develop the «philosophy of playfulness» of the contemporary fan. Booth’s analysis reveals the many facets of the digital fan experience, including hybrid fandom, demediation, and the digi-gratis economy. With a foreword from noted fan scholar Matt Hills, Booth's new Digital Fandom 2.0 shows the power of the fan in the digital age.

Table Of Contents

  • Cover
  • Title
  • Copyright
  • About the author(s)/editor(s)
  • About the book
  • This eBook can be cited
  • Advance praise for Digital Fandom 2.0
  • Table of Contents
  • Foreword: The “Imaginary Opponents” of Digital Fandom (and Fan Studies)
  • Bibliography
  • Acknowledgments
  • Introduction to the Second Edition
  • Notes
  • Bibliography
  • Introduction to the First Edition
  • Notes
  • Bibliography
  • Part 1: Historical Digital Fandom
  • 1. Fandom in the Digital Environment
  • Re-Writing Media Studies
  • Digital Fandom
  • Web Commons
  • Digi-Gratis Economy
  • Digital Fandom, the Web Commons, and the Digi-Gratis Economy in Practice
  • Notes
  • Bibliography
  • 2. Digital Fandom between Text and Intertext
  • The Blog: A Critical Understanding
  • Text, Intertext, Intra-Text
  • The New Carnival
  • Self-Reflexivity
  • Organization
  • Direct Address
  • Meta-Knowledge
  • Ludicity
  • Recursive Expansion
  • Intra-Textuality and the Blog Document
  • Notes
  • Bibliography
  • 3. The Narrative Database and the Web Commons
  • Wikis and Fandom
  • Narrative Database
  • The Wiki as Archive
  • Narractive Impression: Constructing the Narrative
  • Narractive Scattering: Trace-ing Narrative Futures
  • Narractive Research: Memory of the Narrative Moment
  • Narractivity and the Narrative Database
  • Notes
  • Bibliography
  • 4. Interreality and the Digi-Gratis
  • Identity Definitions
  • Interreal Identities and the Digi-Gratis Economy
  • Social Network Sites and Fandom
  • MySpace Roleplay and Parasocial Theory
  • Identity Roleplay
  • Fragmented Identity
  • Reconstruction through Branched Narratives
  • Roleplay through Fan-Created Dialogue
  • Identity Roleplay and Fandom
  • Notes
  • Bibliography
  • 5. Digital Fandom, Alternate Reality Games, and Demediation
  • Media/Technology
  • Remediation/Demediation
  • The Demediation of the ARG
  • Demediation and Digital Fandom
  • Notes
  • Bibliography
  • Part 2: Digital Fandom 2.0
  • 6. Demediation and Hybrid Fandom
  • MagiQuest
  • MagiQuest and Hybrid Fandom
  • ARGs, MagiQuest, and Demediation
  • Interpellation within MagiQuest
  • The End of the Quest
  • Notes
  • Bibliography
  • 7. The Digi-Gratis and Crowdfunding
  • Digi-Gratis Economy
  • Crowdfunding and the Digi-Gratis
  • Digi-Gratis and Fandom
  • Film Campaigns
  • Kickstarting the Digi-Gratis with Reading Rainbow
  • Participatory Cultures, Participatory Fandom
  • Notes
  • Bibliography
  • 8. Fan Studies as/ and Tumblr
  • Disciplining Fan Studies
  • Tumbling through Fandom; Tumbling through Fan Studies
  • Tumblr and Fan Studies
  • Notes
  • Bibliography
  • Bibliography
  • Fan Work Consulted
  • Index
  • Series index

| xi →


The “Imaginary Opponents” of Digital Fandom (and Fan Studies)

Matt Hills

“It was you who filled in the blanks on your own. … The real culprit is your excessive intertextual reading and linking of literary references. … And that’s where the danger lies: an excess of references may have caused you to create the wrong opponent, or an imaginary opponent.”

—Pérez-Reverte, The Club Dumas, p. 335

In this second edition of Digital Fandom (just as in its predecessor) Paul Booth uses The Club Dumas as a fertile source of chapter epigraphs. When I was very kindly invited to write this short piece, I rapidly decided that I’d better follow suit—not so much to blend in, but more to see what other, remaining Pérez-Reverte quotes I could mine for Dumasian significance. And nearing the end of this twisting, turning literary-fan-thriller, our hero of sorts, Corso, confronts the idea that he may have been too (fannishly) keen to spot patterns and too enthusiastic to trace intertextual webs of meaning. The result, perhaps, is that he has created his own opponents, and narrated his own story. And herein lies one danger of penning a foreword to a rich and multi-layered academic book like this one: I might spot the wrong patterns, make the wrong links, and thus imagine an idiosyncratic set of interlocutors or opponents to the vital arguments contained within. But I’ll have to take that chance. So, here goes … ← xi | xii →

Forewords are a curious thing; although they supposedly precede and contextualize a book, they can only properly be written after reading it. A sense of following afterwards thus awkwardly interacts with their presumed precedence: Forewords are really afterwords stuck in the wrong place. And given this twisted temporality, can we count on readers looking at a foreword before they dive into a favored chapter, or begin a book’s own Introduction? In short, these brief pieces of writing act as what Jacques Derrida (1987) has termed the “parergon”; they work to frame a book, yet it is unclear whether such a framing leaves them inside the text looking out, or paratextually outside its borders and looking in.

In terms of their uneasy spatiotemporalities, forewords are, surprisingly, not unlike digital fandom itself. Representing one person’s response to a text might color, guide, or agitate the responses of others; Forewords are not so very different to forum postings, comments threads, Tumblr notes, or livetweets. They may lack the visual recontextualizations of a shared GIF or a meme, but they remain part of a work in progress, mediating between the book’s author and its readers, interpreting in ways that later readers might share, reject, or carefully mull over and negotiate.

The (para)textual blurring of the foreword also mimics, however fleetingly, a sense of digital fandom’s productivity, proliferation, and invention. For the amazing array of texts, images, and alternatives created by and within digital fandom means that we cannot quite be sure where media texts begin and end anymore. Should analysis of a media franchise stop at the “primary” texts of a film sequence or a TV series? Or should it take in all the trailers, and the teasers, where these are typically leaked or posted online? And if we move our analytical borders outwards, then aren’t fans’ trailer mash-ups, hoaxes, and remixes (along with speculations, rumors, and spoilers) also vital parts of the build-up to an anticipated media text, or part of the textual experience itself? Although “official” parameters can be reestablished around the latest Game of Thrones or Doctor Who episode, much of the brand value and cultural meaning surrounding these (and other) shows surely emanates from all the digital fan activity clustering around them. They have so many, many forewords and afterwords, all teeming with ideas. Where analogue media studies could rather more feasibly isolate out its objects of study—what William Merrin (2014) has dubbed “media studies 1.0”—new media studies, or 2.0, confronts a mediatized world where texts have exploded into paratextual shards and gems. Such texts become media(tized) and digitized events, acting as anticipated, valued moments in a timeline of media industry, fan, and even ← xii | xiii → “fan industry” practices. Treating media texts as spaces of meaning and consumption has been supplanted by an alternative way of doing things where media texts act, instead, within timeframes of prosumption.

Digital Fandom 2.0 is carefully attentive to such developments in media culture and scholarship. By updating the previous (2010) version, Paul Booth has also focused on a few key concepts that are further unfolded and developed across three new chapters (6, 7, and 8): the role of “demediation” in relation to digital fan practices, the “Digi-gratis economy” characteristic of digital fandom, and the “play” of fandom that has so much to offer fan studies’ scholarship. As Booth has chosen to affirmationally and transformationally re-broach these concepts through new case studies, and in new contexts, I will endeavor to say a little about each here.

Demediation, as a term, demonstrates digital fandom’s deconstruction of hypermediacy and immediacy, as fans shape media about media, and yet also desire to step outside realms of mediation and into domains of “immediate” experience. But these desired immediacies in fact presume and give rise to the creativity and activity of additional (social) media. Demediation is central to understanding contemporary fan practices. Digital fandom’s hypermediacy now increasingly means that fans can be fans of being fans, with fannish memes and GIFs taking center-stage alongside all manner of multifannish engagements. But the coexistence of valorized immediacy suggests that sections of digital fandom simultaneously wish to break out of incessant mediation and into the co-presence of “being there” at a convention, a premiere, or a signing, despite such co-presence itself then being experienced and disseminated via shared photos, updates, and tweets. And in the communal domains of gaming, “being there” can be entirely inseparable from mediation, with demediation emerging through the collapse between hypermediation and immediacy.

In the (2010) first edition, Booth took the Alternate Reality Game or ARG as a metaphorical model for thinking about contemporary fandom. He returns to this in chapter 6, albeit focusing much more centrally on what he now calls “hybrid fandom,” i.e., that which crosses affirmational and transformational positions, as well as liminally bridging offline and online experiences. In a sense, then, this latest upgrade of Digital Fandom actually has a secret, hidden subtitle that only emerges when you highlight the relevant text: Digital Fandom … is Hybrid Fandom … is Material Fandom. All too often, online/Web 2.0/social media-enabled fandoms have been studied in isolation from offline fan experiences and identities, treated as separate objects of study, partly because they are often easier to study online as naturally occurring data, ← xiii | xiv → rather than observing or interviewing fans in specific sites, spaces, and cultural geographies.

Writing in The Official World, Mark Seltzer (2016) suggests that rather than analyzing different cultural spaces as utopian or heterotopic—that is, as idealized zones of community or as alternative, other spaces resisting cultural norms or powers—we might now identify “isotopias.” An isotopia is “a self-conditioned reenactment space, among a proliferation of synonymous but formally demarcated spaces” (17), and is thus a bounded, contained way of (re-)performing cultural identity. Booth’s “hybrid fandom,” we might say, traverses and occupies a number of “isotopias”; it can find a re-enactment, performance space in the “hotel-world” of conventions (Seltzer 2016, 18–19) just as much as in the Twitter-verse or via Tumblr’s affordances.

By focusing on demediation and hybrid fandom, Digital Fandom 2.0 engages with the cultural normalization of our digital lives, and with the mainstreaming of fandom. Digital and material aspects of fan practice are typically strongly interwoven. For instance, Abigail De Kosnik et al. have scraped data from major archives of fan fiction such as Archive of Our Own (AO3) and FanFiction.net, demonstrating pronounced spikes in fanfic uploading activity shortly after the premieres of major blockbusters such as The Avengers or the films in Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy. However, De Kosnik et al.’s work also shows that in relation to a stand-alone film such as Inception, the productivity of fans can seemingly engender further digital engagement and production, rather than industrial promotion and marketing having this impact. De Kosnik et al. (2015) view digital fan practices as one indicator of the “mindshare” that fans give to media properties and franchises, i.e., “how long a certain text lives in the imaginations of viewers. How long does it hold on to the audiences’ thoughts and emotions? How much mindshare do people grant to different media products that they consume?” (147). This mindshare is a finite cognitive and affective resource, but there is no reason to assume that it is restricted to a gift economy only, or to digital fandom in isolation. Rather, the very notion of “mindshare,” I would say, resonates powerfully with Booth’s emphasis here on hybrid fandom, since it implies an underlying engagement, preoccupation or attachment that can then be articulated across digital/material fandom, as well as across offline and online interactions. Fan studies may need to become more vigorously hybrid itself, not only moving across the identities of fan and scholar, but refusing to split mediatized fandom into categories such as affirmational/transformational or online/offline. Approached as multi-sited and as emerging out of multiple practices (even if fans have their niche ← xiv | xv → specialisms such as fanfic creation or fanart), hybrid fandom suggests that another opponent can be discerned in relation to better understanding today’s digital fandom, even if it is potentially my own “imagined opponent.” This would be scholarship seeking to recuperate or re-install problematic binaries of fandom (or binaries where one term is insistently valorized over its marginalized other).

Where Digital Fandom 2.0’s brand new chapter 6 illuminates developments in demediation, chapter 7 re-emphasizes Booth’s concept of the “Digi-gratis economy.” The Digi-gratis economy offers a way of thinking about how fandom and industry intersect in ever more complex ways. It has become a tradition of fan studies to posit fandom as part of a “gift economy,” strongly contrasting this to the capitalist economy of big media. Booth retains this “gifting” stance, whilst noting how digital culture plays with the situation. If fans upload fanfic or digital fanart, for instance, then unlike hard copy fanzines or printed artworks, these can be digitally “given” as gifts to a potentially infinite number of fans, in principle, without the quality of the digital artefact ever being degraded, and without the gift-giver sacrificing any further resources. The gifts of digital fandom keep on giving, then, but they also alter norms of reciprocation. Material gifts tend to evoke an obligation: One should offer a comparable gift in return at a suitable later date. But in the “Digi-gratis economy” one’s counter-gift can instead be presented in the form of online attention, “likes,” or posted comments and praise.

Booth discusses how this re-versioning of fandom’s gift economy coexists with a capitalist economy; fans’ textual productivity can be appropriated by social media platforms, and used to generate corporate revenue. The result is an unpredictable terrain where interference patterns can emerge between very different, co-present, and yet non-hybridized economic modes. Ramon Lobato and Julian Thomas (2015), in their book The Informal Media Economy, likewise note how formal and informal economies, corporate and grey markets, can interact in a wide variety of ways. The “Digi-gratis,” that is to say, may not always be wholly “gratis”; fans can self-commodify, or aim to create fanworks within entrepreneurial models, as well as using their fan knowledge to produce commodified goods for a range of websites from Red Bubble to Etsy to Teefury and beyond. And, of course, fans can set up their own Kickstarters or assorted crowdfunders, hoping to evade copyright lawsuits, or to edge around copyrighted materials. Digital fandom offers a way of retooling the “gift economy,” to be sure, but in some quarters it can also generate and sustain increasingly neoliberal or individualized versions of entrepreneurial ← xv | xvi → fandom, where fan passion is integrated with a career path and even a will-to-profit. Karen Hellekson, who has been a vocal champion of fandom being viewed as a “gift economy,” has latterly observed that

The “Digi-gratis economy” thus includes expectations not only of “free content” and non-commercial reciprocity, but also of digital labor supposedly seamlessly uniting fan and business interests (and as I write this, Legion M has emerged as a putatively “fan-run entertainment company”). If there is an opponent here—and I am not convinced that, as posited in The Club Dumas, it is an “imaginary opponent”—then it may be the impact of individualizing “passion-work” or neoliberal structures and strictures on fandom. Rhiannon Bury (2016) has suggested that, at least for some fans familiar with older modes of digital fan community linked to Usenet or Live Journal, more recent platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr do not offer a strong sense of community: “online community will not disappear, but it may well become residual. … Further empirical investigation will be needed before we know if a new iteration of participatory fandom, one that is not organized around community, … is on the horizon” (14). It may be no accident that as fan community seems to be potentially eroding, at least in certain quarters, a “new economy of fandom” (Galuszka 2015) based on the co-creation of brand value by fans and rights-owners is simultaneously emerging.

Lastly, in his new closing chapter, Booth returns to the playfulness of fandom, pondering whether fan studies would in fact be best served by becoming a fully-fledged academic discipline, being disciplined and formalized in a process that is no doubt already underway in the academy. His response is to argue passionately for the value of a more playful and more affectively engaged fan studies—closer to lived experiences of hybrid fandom—which could reach outside academia. Such a version of fan studies would simultaneously avoid foreclosing the kinds of fan activity that might deserve study. Such openness and playfulness—whether related to Tumblr or not, given chapter 8’s framing metaphor—can surely only serve the analysis of digital fandom, and hybrid fandom, well.

But if I were to sound one note of caution, it would be to wonder whether the formalization of an academic discipline and its legitimation are one and ← xvi | xvii → the same thing. Television (to think for a moment about a leading cultural form and technology of the pre-Tumblr era) existed as an economically and culturally potent force in varied societies for many years before discourses of legitimation (often modeled on other more “high cultural” media such as film) began to circulate around its dramas, even then relating only to some kinds of TV output and not others (Newman and Levine 2012). To compare fan studies to old-school television as well as Tumblr, I wonder whether fan studies’ rise in terms of journals, networks, symposia—and a Special Interest Group within the Society of Cinema and Media Studies—really means that the area has been univocally or monolithically “legitimated.” Speaking from my own experiences, and from those of many other fan studies’ scholars that I have heard about personally, professionally, and anecdotally, fan studies remains delegitimated—or very uneasily legitimated—in some areas of fandom, as well as in long-established traditions of disciplinary practice within academia, whether these are potentially departments of English Literature, Sociology, Psychology, or Religious Studies. And in a neoliberal higher education context of shrinking research funding for increasing numbers of applicants, I also suspect that for certain funding bodies or disciplinary committees, fan studies may still seem like an “improper” arena. Perhaps this is a generational concern, but academic cultures can be tenacious in terms of their cultural reproduction, and so I doubt that we can simply place our hope in the passing of time, assuming that a “media generation” (Barker et al. 2016; Stein 2015) of digital fans and associated fan scholars will one day assume positions of academic power and thus assure that the struggle for fan studies’ legitimation is definitively completed.

Legitimacy remains a key point of concern for fan studies; scholar-fandom may inhabit and represent a flourishing affective community of the kind (very rightly) called for by Paul Booth, open to engagements with different fan activities and different platforms of digital fandom. Yet by seeking to remain, at least in part, outsiders to disciplinary/disciplining norms—or even romanticizing this outsider status—there is a danger of fan studies embracing its position of relatively insecure legitimacy, rather than continuing to battle for greater scholarly acceptance.

Just as Tumblr may sometimes facilitate “filter bubbles,” the same thing can happen in academic disciplines, and we need to follow Booth’s call for a more interdisciplinary and open, hybridized fan studies in order to avoid the containment of disciplinary silos. But I think we also need to remain aware of ongoing struggles over academic legitimation at the same time, rather than presuming that fan studies has straightforwardly won this battle and can enter ← xvii | xviii → a post-legitimation phase. If striking such a note seems pessimistic, then it is not meant to be. Trading in affect, as do the cultures of fan studies and digital fandom, also means relating these emergent and “affective publics” (Papacharissi 2015) to unfinished cultural struggles over discourses of fan identity, value and recognition, whether these are articulated with issues of gender, sexuality, race and ethnicity (Carrington 2016), or with matters of disciplinarity and academic authority.

Perhaps I’m imagining another opponent here, one in academia that could be set against the rise and the recruiting power of fan studies. Academic disciplines such as English Literature—or even Media Studies in its guise of “hard news” analysis and public sphere preoccupations—may sometimes intersect with fan studies and the analysis of digital fandom, given the cultural presence of literary fans or fan-journalist bloggers. But by the same token, even if fan studies has moved into a position of relative academic normalization, it is true to say that we don’t yet have lecturers or professors in fan studies, nor Departments of Fandom Studies (even if my new academic home, the University of Huddersfield, has a Research Centre for Participatory Culture, just as De Paul University has a degree program related to media fandom thanks to Paul Booth’s own initiatives). Fan studies doesn’t have a singular institutional academic home—it remains a hybrid stitched together out of scholars following very different cross-disciplinary trajectories into or toward work on fandom, I would say. If anything, fan studies has some of its “safe spaces” slightly off to one side of academic centrality and legitimacy—the Organization for Transformative Works, via the journal Transformative Works and Cultures, is undoubtedly the most established body here. Yet its fan-facing nature means that it arguably lacks the set-apartness and hierarchical elevation that can be claimed and performed by strictly academic organizations with more vociferous (as well as infinitely more problematic) gatekeeping functions and processes of audience/consumer/non-academic othering. The distinctiveness of fan studies that Booth rightly wants to argue for, defend, and even intensify, can sometimes lead to an imputed lack of academic distinction, as the subject’s very open-ness to non-academic thinkers, newcomers and a diversity of voices concomitantly weakens its claims to old-school or established academic cultural capital. It may be that fan studies will develop different wings, factions, and versions (if it hasn’t already)—some oriented toward multidisciplinarity and fandom’s own organic intellectuals such as writers of “meta,” and other versions oriented toward disciplinary academic traditions and the authorizations of sociology, philosophy, or literary theory. If so, one might hope that fan studies doesn’t imagine or take rival images ← xviii | xix → of itself as opponents in a zero-sum struggle over who can speak for “true” fandom or “authentic” digital fandom. Thankfully, Digital Fandom 2.0’s finale sets out an inspiring vision for the expansion, ambition and potential inclusiveness of fan studies. But struggles for, and over, academic legitimacy will no doubt continue at the same time.

This book consistently offers a skillful, impressive guide to thinking about contemporary fans. Booth’s work also reminds us that digital fandoms are only one kind of participatory culture, and indeed one kind of community that can be “more or less” participatory (Jenkins, Ito, and boyd 2016). The perspectives and theories set out here, from “demediation” to the “Digi-gratis economy” to fan “playfulness,” may also offer ways to tackle modes of participatory culture in the digital age that are not discursively positioned or labeled as “fandom” per se, whether these involve participatory politics (Highfield 2016), participatory memory cultures (Haskins 2015), participatory media heritage (Giaccardi 2012), or even participatory cultures surrounding architectural icons like the Sydney Opera House (Garduno Freeman 2016). Perhaps fandom is just one available discourse that we have for our digital and affective relations to media, culture, community, and self-identity, whilst the participations and affects that are often characteristic of fandom are already beginning to outrun and exceed this discursive classification thanks, in part, to affordances of social media. To tackle such additional reconfigurations will no doubt call for Digital Fandom 3.0 in a few years’ time. Academic work is nothing if not a process of sequelization, as authors respond to commentaries and critiques, incorporating new data and new phenomena. And if Digital Fandom 2.0 is The Empire Strikes Back to Digital Fandom’s own Star Wars—or something academically akin to “NuWho” as the reimagining of classic Doctor Who—then Digital Fandom’s third edition might already be speculated about as a possible future regeneration, or anticipated as the completion of an intellectual trilogy.

By musing over the possible existence of “imaginary opponents” for digital fandom and fan studies—whether these are attempts at reinstalling binaries of online/offline or affirmational/transformational fandom; the emergence of neoliberal structures of feeling within individualizing, entrepreneurial digital fandom; or the splitting of fan studies itself into rival groups aimed at evading or courting disciplinary legitimation—I have risked imposing narrative structures, just like Corso in The Club Dumas. As such, these opening remarks may offer up the “wrong opponent.” Yet such a possibility (of knowing who the “true” opponent is) also implies an omniscient narrator who can set out a last-gasp “reveal” or a shocking twist. In the genre of academic writing rather than ← xix | xx → the popular mystery, however, we are spared such final certainties. Instead, the dominant reading pleasures are more likely to be those of ongoing debate, influence or persuasion, and situated, intertextual originality. Luckily for you, the following pages—or ebook locations—have such qualities in spades … just like the best of digital fandom.


Barker, Martin, Kate Egan, Tom Phillips, and Sarah Ralph. Alien Audiences. Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Pivot, 2016.

Bury, Rhiannon. “Technology, Fandom and Community in the Second Media Age. Convergence (published online before print, 2016): 1–16. http://con.sagepub.com/content/early/2016/05/24/1354856516648084.long

Carrington, André M. Speculative Blackness: The Future of Race in Science Fiction. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2016.

De Kosnik, Abigail, Laurent El Ghaoui, Vera Cuntz-Leng, Andrew Godbehere, Andrea Horbinski, Adam Hutz, Renee Pastel, and Vu Pham. “Watching, Creating, and Archiving: Observations on the Quantity and Temporality of Fannish Productivity in Online Fan Fiction Archives.” Convergence 21, no. 1 (2015): 145–64.

Derrida, Jacques. The Truth in Painting. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987.


XXVI, 284
ISBN (Softcover)
Publication date
2017 (March)
Fan Media Studies Cult Television Popular Culture New Media Technology Social Media
New York, Bern, Berlin, Bruxelles, Frankfurt am Main, Oxford, Wien, 2017. XXVI, 284 pp.

Biographical notes

Paul Booth (Author)

Paul Booth (PhD., Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute) is an Associate Professor of Communication at DePaul University. He is the author of Game Play (2015), Playing Fans (2015), and Time on TV (2012), and the editor of Fan Phenomena: Doctor Who (2013), and co-editor of Controversies in Digital Ethics (2016, with Amber Davisson) and Seeing Fans (2016, with Lucy Bennett).


Title: Digital Fandom 2.0
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