Fuck AI

One of my greatest academic achievements was a very long, in-depth research paper that was assigned on the first day of the semester and due on the last. "Don't put it off until the end," our teacher warned us, "because you won't be able to finish this in a couple of hours. You should be doing a little bit of work on it every week." It was to be deeply-researched, extensively endnoted, and (if I recall correctly) fifty pages long, single-spaced, 10pt.

Except I had a full-time job throughout college, and that semester my schedule found me going to work immediately after that (morning) class, both days, every week. By the time I was off work, the thought of that assignment had left my undiagnosed ADHD brain entirely. The semester melted away like the cotton candy in that raccoon video.

And suddenly the last day of class was approaching. I requested the prior day off of work, figuring that I'd work the whole day on it. Only I made a mistake: I hadn't requested the day before it was due. I had requested the day it was due. I'd be working four full days of work, with classes (and at least one early final exam), and then the paper would be due, and only after that would I have the day to write it.

But you do what you have to, and when you're 19 years old, the vagaries of time and sleep seem almost meaningless to you. I was going to get off work at 6pm, which was 14½ hours before the assignment was due. My university had a 24-hour computer lab, which was good, as it was 2004 and I didn't have internet in my apartment (how did I ever live like that?).

So I went home, ate a quick dinner, and went to school, locking myself into the computer lab at 8:00pm. When I poked my head out the door at 7:30am, the sun was bright and the air slightly crisp; and I held 52 freshly-printed pages in my hand. I was done early (technically) and had beaten the page count (also technically). I felt like I had beaten the Water Temple in Ocarina of Time. I ate breakfast to supplement the copious amounts of Nutty Bars and soda I had consumed overnight, and then I turned the paper in; and as class that morning was "optional," I opted to go home, where I discovered that perhaps time was not so vague at all, nor sleep, and I went unconscious for the rest of the morning and a decent chunk of the afternoon.

A week later, I got my grades back. At that point in any semester I was always beyond caring about how well I had scored, but I looked anyway out of curiosity.

"Well done!" she had written in the notes. "I can tell you really put a lot of time into this. 95/100"

I mean, technically she was right, I had put a lot of time into it: the 11½ hours immediately leading up to my turning it in, to be precise.