Overlooked

"Power: On. Battery: High. Your Device is Connected."

Lin poured himself a drink and into his writing chair.

"Good Evening, Mr Lin," said the voice in his ear. "Shall we begin?"

Lin hovered his fingertips in the air over the desk. The computer in front of him, no bigger than his rocks glass, projected a keyboard of pure, hard light. His digits found their position over the holographic keys. Lin took a deep breath. And began.

Thirty minutes passed. Lin's fingers flew as fast as his mind could concoct the next thought. "Did you mean to write "fund" instead of "found"?" asked the voice in his ear.

Lin did not react. He'll proofread later. He had the energy. He had the drive. Write. Write. Write!

"Did you mean to write "massage" instead of "message"?"

"Did you mean to write "did not" instead of "did"?"

"Did you mean to write "tfyuigbbbbbkov99999" instead of "[WORD NOT FOUND]"?"

Lin's mind raced, his fingers lagging behind. He typed with one hand as he slugged the last dram of depressant. "Ah!" Lin said aloud, smacking his lips. Perfect tongues of amber liquid dripped down to pool at the bottom of the tumbler.

Another thirty minutes passed. And then came the wall. Lin rose from his seat, carrying his empty vessel. The satisfying pop of the cork from the whiskey bottle titillated his imagination.

"Would you like to begin grammar and syntax review?"

Lin sniffed the robust caramel peat of his whiskey treat. "Yes."

The AI processed the document in nano-seconds. Lin sat down at his desk, glass in hand to review. His computer projected a large, curved rectangular display, revealing his manuscript. Lin sipped and processed it in nano-hours, until his glass was empty.

"Wow... this is good. Really good." Lin acknowledged. "Hey, scan for... "literary submission openings"."

"One moment," replied the voice in his head. The moment was one twelfth of a second. "There are: 501,023 literary submission request that match the criteria of the document."

'Nice!" Lin slammed the glass on the pressed wood desk. "Begin submitting!"

"Mr Lin: 222,789 submissions require an additional abstract of the document, as well as a letter of introduction," alerted the voice in his head.

"Ok," Lin replied, staring into hard light display. "Use the intro letter I sent last year, update the dates and references."

"Please confirm correct file." Suddenly, the screen flashed and the letter Lin described was on the display.

"Confirmed. Set Auto-proofread and Auto-approval."

"Confirmation received. Thank you, Mr Lin."

Lin poured himself another whiskey, and wondered how much the greats drank when they wrote. Hemmingway. Mailer. Wilde. And now...

"Mr. Lin: 501,022 submissions complete."

"Excellent!" Lin toasted to himself and his future. He sat back down in front of the computer with his muse. On the display, he saw the readout: 501,022 submissions out of 501,023 complete.

"Hey, what's going on with this last submission? Why wasn't it processed?"

"Mr Lin: The document does not meet the criteria of the literary submission."

Lin slumped in his chair. Yes, he spent all night writing and submitting this masterpiece to over a half-million literary outlets. What does one magazine matter?

"What are the submission criteria?"

"Work must be: Original, unpublished; 1000 words in length; author should identify as BIPOC; content must contain no course language or sensitive material--"

"Don't I match that criteria?!" blurted Lin to the voice in his head.

"...Submission of work must be completed without AI assistance."

Lin slumped back in his chair. His mind raced. "Does the work itself need to be done without assistance?"

"Mr Lin: the literary magazine only states "...submission of work must be completed without AI assistance". It does not indicate that the work submitted must be completed without AI assistance, hence why it was included in your scan request."

"And why it wasn't submitted with the rest."

"Correct, Mr Lin."

"Alright!" Lin chugged his glass and slammed it on the desk. "If Ernest, Norman and Oscar can do it, so can I!"

Lin opened a new file and began to write a new letter of introduction. He was halfway through his address when a idea arose: "Does cut and paste count as AI assistance?"

"Mr Lin: Would you like me to define "AI Assistance"?

Lin pondered. Maybe there was a shortcut out of this pickle. "Yes-- but only as defined by that literary magazine's website."

If he could just cut and paste the document himself, without an audio prompt from the computer's AI, then he could cut his time down immeasurably.

"Mr Lin: "AI assistance is any aid, processing or automation that is completed by any artificial intelligence or generative computing program."

"So... Does "cut and paste" count as AI assistance?"

The voice went silent. "Hello? Did you hear my request?"

No answer.

"Hello?! Computer! Answer me!"

Silence.

Lin restarted his computer. As it boot, the AI would normally welcome him. Nothing now. He checked the volume: at the max. He squeezed his ear lobe and turned off his Bluetooth ear receiver. With another squeeze, it booted up.

"Power: On. Battery: Medium. Your Device is Connected."

"Ah Ha! There you are! Why haven't you been answering me?"

"Mr Lin: Please indicate the nature of your inquiry?"

"What?!" He pounded the desk with his fist. "Inquiry?! I ask you for help and you just fuck off?!"

"Mr Lin: Please indicate the nature of your inquiry?"

"For Christ's sake!! Can I cut and paste the damn letter?"

"Mr Lin--"

"Say "Inquiry" and I'm gunna rip you out of my skull!"

"Mr Lin: you appear to be intoxicated."

Lin stood him from his chair. ".....AND?!"

"Operating an AI or computing device under the influence can lead to errors in judgment on the worldwide web that would be visible to others and recorded for years to come."

"Cut and paste..."

"Mr Lin: Please indicate the nature of --

"CAN I CUT AND FUCKING PASTE?!"

The voice went silent.

Lin screamed at the top of his lungs. As he walked over to the near empty bottle, he heard pounding from the floor above. Lin checked his watch: 1:15am. "Sorry!" he mouthed to his unseen neighbors.

Silence.

"Mr Lin..."

"What?" he answered the voice in his head, pouring the 46% liquor down his throat straight from the bottle.

"Mr Lin: The inquiry you requested..."

"Uh huh," he replied, his voice reverberating inside the glass bottle.

"...cannot be answered without..."

Lin dropped the heavy container on the desk with a thud.

"...contravening the explicit nature of the submission criteria."

Lin looked dull-eyed at the computer screen display.

"... ok. Thanks."

"Mr Lin: Can I assist you with any inquiry?"

"No. Thank you.... I can write it myself."

--------------------------------

At about 9:15am the next morning, Vincent Foulquier opened his inbox to review the his email and, more importantly, the newest literary submissions for his premier magazine: Erotic Heartbeat.

"Power: On. Battery: High. You Device is Connected."

"Good Morning! Please open inbox and read email aloud."

"Mr Foulquier: Good Morning! First email, dated today, Thursday, sent at 2:30am, from Lin, Arthur; Subject Line: Literary Submission; Attachments: Two; Body: "Dear Uptight Fuckface, If you are reading this introduction letter with AI Assistance, I will find you and stomp your face into mush. By the way, I am a fucking genius. Read my shit. Peace"; End of first email."