My favorite thing – like I really get enjoyment out of it – is when the AI hasn't been trained on the work in question and just extrapolates pure bullshit from the title. Reading responses like "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is the story of Chippy, a baby raven who wants to learn to fly."

– Lincoln Michel, Bluesky

Back in the Dark Ages, children, lazy students copied their material from the flyleaf-and-back-cover copy of the book in question. When I was a high school volunteer librarian, they'd come in asking for book report recommendations. Books without dust jackets were rejected out of hand.

Next came Cliff Notes, a minor investment for dealing with assignments involving the classics. Personally, I find the online version of Cliff Notes to have been written by bored – and not particularly knowledgeable – undergraduates. 'While Chief's escape is often interpreted as McMurphy's final victory over Ratched, some critics are less certain.' Now, that's helpful. By keeping a copy of the Cliff Notes volume in question handy, instructors could easily weed out this kind of dross and deliver an ultimatum: actually bite the bullet and read the danged book, or flunk English 102.

As an instructor, I tended to ward off this sort of thing by asking weird, off-the-wall questions. 'From a religious perspective, did William Blake go to heaven or hell? Back your opinion up with selections from his works,' sounds odd – but it was a Benedictine college and the reading was The Marriage of Heaven and Hell. I did less well with the Latin students – one of them copied material for her paper on Rome from a modern guidebook. No, Darla, the ancient Romans didn't 'like to watch television in the evening.'

The advent of the internet brought fresh, new horrors to term paper graders. First it was the paper mills. No, not the ones that pulped trees. The ones that sold ready-made essays. Since most instructors don't ask the goofy questions I did, you could pay a few dollars and pick up a tried-and-true essay on, say, the main themes in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. You could even decide whether you wanted an A or B paper. (Good not to raise suspicions by sudden and unwonted expertise.)

Instructors learned where the plagiarism software was located.

Now it's AI. And they're lamenting. Some of us wonder why they're making such a big deal out of it, other than to be trendy. After all, the students who will resort to AI for essay-writing are the same ones who used to copy from Cliff Notes or the encyclopedia. They won't notice if the text veers wildly off the subject or fails utterly to answer the question. Just grade them on that. They'll be privately outraged that they got blamed for the robot's mistakes. Revenge is sweet like that.

And frankly, if you're an English instructor and you can't see that AI weasel-prose coming from a mile away, you need to go back to school for some remedial coursework. Inspired by the cheating students, I did some research of my own, using my handy-dandy friend Copilot. Copilot has been ninja-installed on my computer. Since it's free, I suspect it's the go-to for most of the students.

Me: Tell me about Dmitri Gheorgheni's latest novel, Life in Potentia.

This way, I can spot where the AI's getting its information from, since I wrote all the ad copy. Also, I can feed my natural conceit as it's forced to say nice things about me. And I can use it as an example to remind my readers that they really should leave a review of my book somewhere online. Even if it's only to say, 'Yet another few hundred pages of drivel by Dmitri Gheorgheni.' Back to the AI.

"Life in Potentia" by Dmitri Gheorgheni is a fascinating novel that explores the lives of extra-dimensional aliens known as the Gheorghenis. These aliens are naturally curious and have the ability to shapeshift into any form within the animal kingdom. The story is set in the backwater Roman town of Potentia in 42 CE, where the Gheorghenis are reconnoitering their environment.

The novel delves into the interactions between the Gheorghenis and the inhabitants of Potentia, highlighting the cultural and social dynamics of the time. The Gheorghenis' unique abilities and perspectives provide a fresh and intriguing look at life in ancient Rome.

So far, so. . . okay. 'Fascinating novel,' thank you. 'Fresh and intriguing look,' indeed. You haven't read it, Marvin, so how would you know? What Marvin has obviously read is the online blurb, written by me. It includes words like 'backwater' and 'reconnoitering.' You don't think it came up with that on its own, do you?

But the novel 'delves into' things and does some 'highlighting'. I don't do metaphorical delving. And highlighting involves either a lamp, a yellow pen, or a beauty parlour. Here's what I wrote – see if you can spot how the AI turned it into a review:

'Quisque suae fabulae heros est,' said the cat, and truer words were never spoken. At least where the conspirator Scribonianus is concerned – he's certainly a legend in his own mind. The Gheorghenis are far more interested in other people, like their philosopher neighbour Pertinax. Or their furniture-and-music-making Greek housemates. Or, in fact, the local wildlife. The Gheorghenis, extra-dimensional aliens, are curious by nature and like to reconnoitre their environment – which happens to be the backwater Roman town of Potentia in 42 CE.

Reconnoitering is a lot easier when your shapeshifting abilities encompass the whole animal kingdom. Snacks are more varied, too. What is Scribonianus ready to do to become emperor? Will Manius Flaccus Pertinax justify his father's faith in him? Will Cleopas ever stop playing the hydraulis and make some tasteful furniture? What portents are revealed by the sacred chickens? How do you pronounce 'Gheorgheni', anyway? These and other questions you didn't know you were asking will be addressed as the Roman Gheorghenis explore Life in Potentia.

Part of the problem, of course, is that the intent of this part of a book report is to give the gist of a story. My copy – the part it's cribbing from – is intended to whet the reader's appetite and give a hint as to the tone and scope of the work. Unfortunately for the AI homework cheater, it's barely fit for purpose.

As I will now demonstrate by asking it another question.

Me: Tell me about the characters in Life in Potentia.

AI: Says something about 'Gheorghenis'. Also mentions 'Marcus' and 'Livia'. While those names are common Roman names, notice, there are no such characters in my book. Even the miles gloriosus is named Manius, not Marcus. I yell at the AI, nicely. I get it back on the subject by mentioning the book title and author again. I ask it to describe Scribonianus, who is a character in my book. It replies:

Ambitious and Cunning: Scribonianus is known for his ambition and cunning nature. He is always plotting and scheming, with his eyes set on higher power and influence within the Roman society. [So far, so good. Keep it generic.]

Complex Relationships: His interactions with other characters, including the Gheorghenis and the Roman citizens, are marked by manipulation and strategic alliances. Scribonianus is a master at navigating the political landscape of Potentia. [Er, no. He never meets the Gheorghenis, although one is hiding under a chair in the form of a cat. The 'political landscape of Potentia'? It's a backwater town, remember? Scribonianus is elsewhere, but you'd have to read the book to find that out.]

Conflict and Tension: Scribonianus often finds himself at the center of conflicts, both personal and political. His actions and decisions create tension and drive much of the plot forward. [Er, no. He's actually just supposed to stand there and spout menacing exposition. The interesting characters do all the running. Think of Caesar in Asterix as compared to the Gauls.]

Mysterious Background: There is an air of mystery surrounding Scribonianus, with hints of a complex past that influences his present actions. This adds an element of suspense to his character and keeps readers engaged. [Nope, no mystery. All megalomaniacs are alike, as the Fourth Doctor once observed.]

Those of us who have read the book – perhaps a dozen people – will now be excused for laughing. Needless to say, this is a very interesting description of the villain from somebody else's idea of a novel. I don't know where the AI reviewer got this from. Possibly its own private stock, derived from content-scraping a century's worth of Cliff Notes.

This, of course, is where your average book-review scam artist falls down. With only a slight expenditure of effort to glance in the direction of Google, which would have taken it nanoseconds, the AI could have spewed forth a beautiful bio of Scribonianus, who was an absolutely real person who lived – and died, spoiler, in 42 CE, after trying to overthrow the emperor Claudius. I tend to use historical background for my nonsense. The AI doesn't know this, of course: it doesn't know anything. It just rearranges words according to ever-evolving algorithms – rather like some undergraduates, come to think of it. The fact that this impresses so many people is worrisome.

It can be a lot of fun to second-guess the AIs. Okay, not if it's the day after Thanksgiving and you have 150 papers to read and would really rather be watching a football game. But fear not: someday soon, somebody will come up with a new trend in cheating, and we'll have this discussion all over again.

Dmitri Gheorgheni

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