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The year is 2025, and I am a modern hero. Every day, I protect humanity from the robots that seek to
destroy our very essence.

This morning, I startle awake at 8:47 am, then glare at my notably dead phone, which I must have
forgotten to plug in. This is bad. I have things to do, and they can’t wait.

Before I even brush my teeth, I skid across the hallway, fumble my laptop, and bring it back to the bed,
where I open it and sigh in relief. It could have been bad, but crisis averted.

After typing in the address for Vocal, I open a new post and begin typing furiously:

Chicken Fortnite the level peep. Force is hallucinating but the lightbulb hippopotamus shut the
microphone. “Too flap, you have a big snort.” Forgot because the hands of shampoo flop. Gordon. Open
a hairtie. Magnets for children create a bonk, with seven beautiful razors in the afterlife.

Thankfully, I manage to reach 1500 words by 9 am, which I deem long enough for today’s story. Holding
my breath, I click post. I’m on time, so my engagement shouldn’t drop, right?

My worries are negated as in the first five minutes, the story has one million hits, and almost as many
likes. I spend the next twenty minutes finding other relevant stories and liking them. Their numbers on
Vocal seem to be growing, I note with satisfaction. Essays on Medium, too. The fight for humanity is
expanding.

Now it’s time to get ready for my 10 am Insta post — a necessary step, since Instagram has been back on
the rise this year and I need to reach a large audience. I open my Adobe Illustrator to carefully finish a
previously begun painting of a female face with proportions and angles askew, an eye hanging too low,
the lips far too thin. Perfect. I attach the image and begin on the text of the post — equally important.

Heard some people are using random word generators to #corruptthesample. Is this really what we stand
for? Using robots to fight more robots? Remember what this fight is about. We’re standing for humanity
here, and I’ll be canceled before I let an unthinking, unfeeling numbers-machine fight the war of
humanity for me.

#corruptthesample #stopAI #creatorsrebel #computerartisnotrealart #fighttherobots

After posting, I rub my temples. Already I feel a headache starting to form behind my eyes. Lethargy has
been essentially my sole emotion for the past few months. I don’t feel like a hero. But I know how
important this is.

Aaand now it’s time for my interview with that newscast. I suddenly realize I’m still in my pajamas, and
practically throw my laptop as I spring out of bed to grab some clothes. I don’t have time to brush my
teeth. Luckily, it’s remote.

Five minutes later, I’m sitting, primped and pretty, in front of my laptop at the bedside desk, smiling
brightly to hide the torpor slowing my brain. “Good morning, Jeff,” I say to the interviewer in response to
his salutation. “Yes, it’s been... a little rainy this week, hasn’t it?” I don’t remember, but he doesn’t look
surprised, so I guess I was right.

“Well, Laurie, we’re excited to have you here today to talk about corrupting AI generators. First, some
context for our audience. Laurie here was the founder of #corruptthesample, which began earlier this year
when the US Supreme Court decided that AI-generated art is completely legal and not an infringement of
copyright. She has taken to the internet in a storm of posts, ‘stories,’ and artworks that are completely
nonsensical, to corrupt the AI generators that train on internet texts and images. She even wrote an entire
novel of gibberish and published it online. And she’s been inspiring others to do the same. Isn’t that
right?”

I nod.

“And before that, weren’t you a novelist? One of the creatives you claim to protect?”

“That’s right,” I say. “I didn’t sell a lot of books at the time. But I’m glad people are more receptive to
this more universal message I’m trying to bring.”

“And why is that?” he asked. “Does it matter if people like what you’re doing, as long as you can publish
your corruptions?”

“Actually,” I say, “Many AI algorithms are weighted to favor writing that has a lot of traffic or likes. Because of this, the more audience corruptions get, the more likely they’ll corrupt the generator’s results. That’s why I also spend a lot of time supporting other creators’ corruptions.”

“Aren’t you worried about what will happen if such a big portion of the internet becomes corrupted? I’m imagining internet wastelands of complete rubbish taking up space on servers.”

“You know, Jeff, you’re right. But it’s better than the alternative.” I shrug. “If half the internet needs to be
essentially useless so creatives can maintain their platform, I say it’s a price we should pay.”

“Fair enough. Let’s show the watchers some specifics. Here, I’ll read a sample from what you call a... fantasy-themed corruption: ‘Farah gleaned the solid metallic soar of battle, tongue clapping, thunder stabbing. His soliloquy flapped like a treasure of clashes. The night was full of searing pits.’ ...and so it continues. How can you call this fantasy? It’s just a collection of exciting-sounding words.”

I smile patiently. “As you might know, AI software can often recognize specific genres by the types of words they use. That means we can’t just write random nonsense. We have to theme it, to make sure each genre is protected. Besides, it’s much harder to write nonsense in specific genres than you might think,” I say, then delve into an explanation of the factors we have to take into account.

The rest of the interview passes quickly, and before I go, there’s one more thing.

“I’m gonna ask you a loaded question,” Jeff says. “Why shouldn’t AI replace human artists? If it’s faster
and more efficient, what’s wrong with leaving the creation to the robots?”

I bite my lip, trying to think my thoughts into words that make sense. “I’m protecting the human experience. And the human experience isn’t just survival. It’s creation. If we lose that, we have nowhere else to go.”

“Thank you for that, Laurie, it’s been great having you. And there you have it, folks...”

I nod in thanks and turn off my camera. The phrase I used echoes in my mind as I close the Zoom tab. The human experience. Am I really preserving that? I close my computer and stare into the gray silence. Is this the human experience? I wonder. Smiles when the camera’s on, but blank, unfocused eyes when it stops? Working from home, ordering groceries to your door, and staying in bed until three pm? Guess it makes it... easier to live, but harder to feel. Maybe loneliness is the price of convenience.

How long has it been since I left the house, anyway? I can’t remember. And I haven’t written anything serious in months. If the human experience really is creation, then I don’t know if I’m participating in it. Not creating beautiful art. Not creating relationships. Just writing empty words on an empty screen that makes my empty head hurt.

Maybe I’ll go out tonight.