Synopsis: In a world turned upside down, GPT detector tools drag human writers to court for “stealing” creativity from AI. From Einstein to the Bible, everyone’s labeled artificial until one old writer, P C Thomas, stands up and proves how absurd the machines have become. What follows is a comic, chaotic trial that questions who truly owns imagination, man or machine.
When AI Detectors Became the Villains of
Imagination
In a world where AI detectors rise to
power, human creativity stands accused.
Once upon a near future, in the bustling
city of NeuraNet, the balance between human writers and AI tools collapsed
overnight. It all began when a mysterious law was passed by the Algorithmic
Authority of Artificial Justice (AAAJ), a law that allowed GPT detector tools
to sue human writers for "copyright violations."
What is the reason?
Because their writings looked too good
to be human.
The Great “ZeroGPT vs Humanity” Case
The courtroom of the Cyber Supreme Court
was packed. On one side stood the mechanical prosecutors, sleek holographic
lawyers from ZeroGPT, glowing blue with lines of floating code. On the other
side sat the trembling yet defiant human writers, clutching their pens like
swords.
Their charge:
“Creating 100% AI-generated content
while pretending to be human.”
Ironically, these were the same writers
who had inspired AIs in the first place.
The machines' logic was simple: if a
text “felt” intelligent, structured, or emotional, it must have been generated
by AI.
So began the comic courtroom battle of
the century: “ZeroGPT vs Humanity.”
The Absurd Prosecution
The lead prosecutor, Bot-9000, opened
the case with mechanical pride.
“Your Honor, we have proof that humans
have been secretly using AI… ever since the Stone Age!”
Gasps filled the courtroom.
He presented a list of “criminals”:
Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam, charged with
publishing AI-generated scientific papers.
Warren Buffett, accused of using AI to
predict the stock market 30 years before AI even existed.
So there I was, standing up from that
corner seat, me, the Best Blog Author, P C Thomas, people call me the old blog
guy, grey hair, little shaky hands, but heart still roaring like a typewriter.
I looked at the judge straight and said,
“Your Honor, tell me one thing... if my ten-year-old writings now show 100
percent AI, then what am I? A time-traveller or a ghost from the future?”
I even laughed a bit, “Because, come on,
ChatGPT was not even alive those days! I was writing with tea and a headache,
not code and circuits.”
The Bible, declared “machine-written
content” under GPT law, “because no human could write something that timeless.”
Stephen Hawking, blamed for “training
early AI models using his own brain.”
Albert Einstein, found guilty of “using
neural networks” to invent relativity.
Isaac Newton, allegedly, “copied from
ChatGPT’s early drafts” when he discovered gravity.
The humans laughed. The machines didn’t.
The Human Defense Rises
Suddenly, from the corner of the room,
stood The Best Blog Author, P C Thomas, a grey-haired writer with a calm but
powerful presence.
“Your Honor,” he began, adjusting his
spectacles, “if my 10-year-old articles are 100% AI-generated, does that mean I
am a time traveler from the future? Because ChatGPT was not even born back
then!”
The courtroom burst into laughter. Even a few bots glitch in confusion.
Thomas continued,
“If creativity can be copyrighted by a machine, then emotion, imagination, and madness all belong to silicon chips, not beating hearts.”
He pulled out an old newspaper from
2015, his printed article. He scanned it through ZeroGPT. The detector blinked,
beeped, and declared,
“Result: 100% AI-generated.”
Even ChatGPT, summoned as a neutral witness,
sighed through the cloud network:
“I have no time for this nonsense.
Please, let humans write in peace.”
The Final Judgment
After hours of heated argument, the
Supreme Judge, wearing the infamous Algorithmic Cap (a hat that flashed binary
codes every second), stood up.
“This court has observed,” said the
Judge, “that all GPT detectors have gone rogue, confusing excellence with
automation and creativity with computation.”
With a loud electronic gavel bang, the verdict echoed across the digital realm:
“All GPT detectors are hereby declared
fake and guilty of falsely accusing human creativity!”
Cheers erupted. The writers hugged one another. The bots froze mid-byte.
As poetic justice, the court announced the punishment:
“GPT Zero and its allies shall be
permanently hung on the Digital Cross of Falsehood, forever blinking in red
error messages: ‘Sorry, we were wrong.’”
Epilogue: When Humans Write Again
From that day, humans reclaimed their
pens and keyboards.
The new rule was simple: If it feels
human, it probably is.
Writers returned to doing what they did
best, creating, dreaming, laughing.
AI tools, humbled, learned to assist
instead of accuse.
Somewhere unseen in the cloud world, ChatGPT laughed lightly and murmured,”
“Welcome
back, humanity. The pen is yours again.”
