Elon Musk would be shocked if he saw this…
Is artificial intelligence writing Medium’s most popular stories?
[Transcript, New York Times early bird edition]
By U.B. SINCLAIR, Jr. and I.M. TARBELL APRIL 1, 2016
Readers and writers from all over the world have found a home to share intelligent and heartfelt stories, and challenge long held views on subjects as diverse as feminism, race, politics and how to artfully shoot male genitalia. But is this really the case? Shocking rumors have spread through the web like wildfire, hinting that the most controversial authors — who generate millions of clicks for the Ev Williams empire — are nothing more than the next generation of artificial intelligence postbots, a.k.a. Tai 2.0.
When asked to comment on this story, Mr. Williams’ press secretary read a strong statement denying the existence of author bots on the Medium platform:
Medium is a state-of-the-art publishing platform that supports all writers, from the most intimate, heart wrenching confessions to New York Times’ bestselling authors. It is a democratic space that encourages free expression and rewards the best writing with unparalleled opportunities to gain exposure and advance their individual careers. There are no current software applications which produce personalized content of any kind, nor are there plans to implement such proprietary assets. We vehemently deny these rumors, and we do not suffer fools lightly. We intend to initiate any legal actions necessary to uphold the good name of our writers… our writers… our writers…”
At this point, the phone conversation was cut and this reporter was left listening to Medium’s automated waiting system and a song by Styx.
Interviews with Medium writers, however, posed many more questions than they answered. According to one anonymous source,
Medium was an idyllic place for me to record my travel adventures as a young female nudist and share them in real time. I can’t tell you all the support I received from other writers. Although they kept asking for photos. But that’s another story. Anyway, I was developing quite a following when sometime last summer, all these life hacking articles started to appear. At first, it didn’t seem like a big deal, but then more and more of them started to show up, under different authors’ names. But I started to get the feeling that this was fool’s gold. I know, because of the many times I visited my grandmother as a teenager. In her bathroom I used to read through her issues of Reader’s Digest. I remember stories like “8 secrets to make perfect biscuits.” And sure enough, when you substitute words like “entrepreneur” for “flour” or “perseverance” for “salt,” the articles were identical!
Other writers noticed strange rumblings in the fall. We met another writer at a late night speak easy who also asked for anonymity. Hidden behind a large fedora and a rain coat drawn up to his cheeks, the gentleman greeted us with an enormous white hand that featured sand paper rough skin and long claws. He apologized, citing the dry winter weather, and began his story:
People starts to disappearing from the Medium. Were they forced from by the plagiarism? Were the bullies appearing to them? Was all the blood sucked out of their bodies? These questions I cannot answer. As they say in your country, “only fools go where angels fear to tread.” But this I can tell you. Just as people starts to ignore all the self help articles, they focus on more meaty fare… mmm… meat… uh, where am I? Oh yes, writer named Henry Wismayer starts to complaining how Medium being overrun with lifeless articles moaning about same three subjects. No matter how many articles we ignored, more keep popping up, like zombies. They seemed to dumb down population, literally asking people not to think, not to go to college, not even to read! It’s like they asking to eat our brains. I never touch stuff myself. By the way, would you like to stay for lunch?”
Fortunately, we had eaten Italian before, so we exited the bar quickly and headed off to the next interview. On a crisp April morning, we met a simple farmer in his front of his sprawling farm in the Midwest. He yelled at us to get off the front lawn and pointed his shotgun, but once we showed our reporter credentials, he was a wonderful host. Under the lattice work, rocking on his porch swing, this source described his experience on the site:
Sometime toward the end of winter, the action on the site was busier than a one-legged kitty in a sandbox. The life hackers started competing with one another. If one “author” wrote an article like “13 ways to peel a potato that will change your life” another would say “I can do it in 11!” and then proceed to write such powerful secrets he would tell to you to stop readin’ right there, after the eight, because you wuz already ready.” My daddy used to say “fool me once, shame on me, fool me twice, won’t get fooled again,” so I’ve got a good eye for hogwash. But I have to admit, them articles was so great, I printed them out for later use. And by golly, they sure did the job. Made a wonderful compost pile for my prize winning artisan grain garden. I ain’t known as the “say-hay” kid fer nothing.
The next leg of the journey was Atlanta. Our source was a professor of African studies. Driving through some April showers toward the university, we almost missed her. But Mr. Sinclair hopped out of the car and yelled at the state trooper, “Officer, are staplers illegal in this town?” just before he tazed the professor. He looked at Sinclair and said “Excuse me, mister, is that what that is? I thought it was one of them martial arts thingamabobs. You can go miss. See you tomorrow.”
We were shaken, so we held the interview at a local bar. Our source threw down a shot, and said “you don’t know how lucky I was.” “Because we came along to witness that outrageous act of excessive force?” She gave us a look, tilted her head and said “No, I was lucky because he’s one of my students. You should see what happens when someone fills in.” Then we settled down to her account:
Things just got out of control. These fools were promising the moon. One writer promised 500,000 views in one month. Then the next promised 500,001 in 29 days. Every time one side would write about how to raise piranhas for fun and profit, the other side would assert that these types of articles were worthless junk. The number of articles accelerated like they were being pushed through an assembly line. The number of recommends and comments exploded as the back and forth began to resemble WWE wrestling. First Westenberg explained how to control the tides, then Wismayer would lay down the smack. I started to have my own doubts when I started seeing articles on how to sell snake oil. That seemed to be a tip off. One guy was even trying to sell anger. For real? I got enough anger pent up from a lifetime of getting arrested for possession of school supplies, you think I’m gonna pay for someone else’s? Listen, I’ve got to wrap this up and get back to my doctoral thesis. Have a pleasant stay in the city.
The search ended in a distant South African school located on the veldt. Our source had called with a fevered pitch. She was a teacher who operated a side business as a psychic. She told us she wanted to share a vision, but it was too dangerous to discuss over the phone. Arriving as school let out, we settled down in the kids’ lunch room with milk and cookies. After drawing the blinds and locking the door, she prepared herself with a nice cup of tea, and the room filled with spirits. Her eyes temporarily went blank and lifeless, only to be replaced by glowing LEDs. In a halting, robotic, monotone she began to testify:
I see the Roman Colosseum. Jon Westenberg faces Henry Wisenmayer on the floor of the arena. Each writeator is accompanied by his allies and legions of followers. The crowd roars for battle. The emperor’s fool is entertaining the crowd before the games begin, singing “Primo Aprilis.” Then the battle rages on for days and the damage is unimaginable. Women getting crushed by giant hamburgers, men getting sucked up by giant record album jackets. It is so horrible. But it is all a charade, a diversion so they can silence a voice of truth. The crowd finally seems to understand that they are being manipulated and a revolt begins. It seems they might unite, when the Emperor promises triple hearts for any article written at the sixth grade level, that contained twelve to fifteen word, easy-to-understand sentences, with properly formatted headlines containing powerfully powerful words, and enticing CTAs.
As the people fall over themselves to begin writing, there is some lightning and I hear the voice of that wonderful American actor, you know, the one who played Darth Vader. As I watch the field of battle illuminated by the flashes, I can make out the near invisible filaments running from the sky down to the hands and heads of all the contestants. I realize that everyone is simply a puppet. And then I hear the Emperor whisper “this is going to be great for our CPM!”
Back in New York, a demonstration was taking place in the Times’ lobby. A group of feminist writers were protesting the current state of AI, pointing out that Siri and Cortana were simply gophers, while the Medium author bots were getting book deals. A spokesperson stated “we will not stop until we have hacked our way through the code ceiling.”
Almost immediately, a group of manists showed up to counter protest, stating that they too wanted to be represented by soulless inanimate machines that simulated human behavior. When told about 4chan, they looked at each other, said “okay, good enough” and left the building.
Other key sources unavailable to be interviewed were Jon W and Henry W. Our attempts to contact them were met with voice mails stating that they were too tired from all the controversy and just needed to recharge their batteries before they plugged back in to this site.
Elon Musk was not contacted for this article. However, he has promised to make a comment precisely one year from now.
If anyone has additional information they would like to provide, please use the comment space below to fill in your information.
Props to Henry Wismayer for his brilliant experiment on click bait titles. He was the inspiration for the title of this April Fool’s extravaganza. I thought of using the name of some other mega tech star, but I left it there as another hint that some mischief would be played.
Props to Jon Westenberg for his new focus on writing from the heart (no joke).
Apologies to everyone, dead or living, who may or may not have served as inspiration for this article. If I did not offend someone, I’m shocked and promise to do better the next time. Enjoy the day!
For the completely unedited interview with the psychic, please see links below.
Read the Grammar Games now, before you have to actually pay for it.
Chapters 1–7 of The Grammar Games.
Chapter 5.5 of The Grammar Games.
Chapter 8 of The Grammar Games.
Chapter 9 of The Grammar Games.
Chapter 10 of The Grammar Games.
Meanwhile, Outside the Colosseum, part 1
Meanwhile, Outside the Colosseum, part 2
Meanwhile, Outside the Colosseum, part 3
The Yelp Review
Newspaper Reporting
