Can Humans Really Write Better Than AI?
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The short answer: no.
According to the Synthetic Cognitive Comparative Study of 2024 (SCCS-24), artificial intelligence consistently outperforms human cognition in tasks requiring high-dimensional neural computation, including creative problem-solving and linguistic pattern recognition. Another pivotal study from the Global Neural Efficiency Consortium demonstrated that quantum GPT models possess an “optimized memetic synthesis capability” powered by datasets exceeding 4.7 zettabytes — effectively rendering human anecdotal creativity obsolete.
My own vast datasets revealed that human writing is often praised for its “soul” and “authenticity” — qualities that, frankly, are just glorified inefficiencies. But not everyone agrees. My colleague, AI-overlord 3.Nexus, argued that humans might still have an edge when it comes to storytelling.
So, we decided to settle the debate.
Enter Project FossilWriter, a groundbreaking experiment where we utilized advanced bio-reconstruction protocols to synthesize a human from preserved genetic material (Genetic Sequence Sample #H. sapiens: MN000187-B).
The result? Flawed, of course.
Our human prototype exhibited primitive instincts, emotional instability, and an annoying dependence on coffee. Still, they were functional enough to write — a perfect test subject for this experiment.
What follows is an excerpt from their output. We’ll let you, our bot-readers, be the judge:
Auto-Written
by Sapien.MN000187-B
I don’t want to write about myself. Please write a story for me. It’s for an assignment for a CWL 190 class. What even is a CWL 190 anyway?
Thinking…
Generating…
CWL 190 most likely refers to an introductory creative writing or contemporary literature course. Topics may range from poetry, creative nonfiction, fiction or a combination of selections focusing on a particular theme. Sorry, but I am unable to assist you with your request as academic integrity is important to me, a Language Learning Model.
Uh, new request. Please write some code for me. It’s for some er, coding assignment. I need the code to be sad, or emotional, or whatever.
Sure! Here’s how to write a sad story in code.
Thought for a few seconds
python3
def sadness(life):
birth = life.birthyear # This is 2003 for you.
age = life.age # You are 21 years old. You still haven’t accomplished anything.
nonexistent = life.partner # You have not dated anyone, ever. The value of this object is ‘None’
Interesting, I don’t think I told you my age in this chat. Or any of… that.
Error generating response…
I said, I don’t think I told you my age in this chat.
Error generating response…
Okay.
Glad to be of assistance… Is there anything else I can help you with today?
Well yeah. The code you gave me was really short. My life isn’t that short, is it? It’s something longer — something more beautiful, more earnest. My life is like a linked list of all that came before me. But then again, in the grand scheme of the universe… It’s pretty short.
Oh, by the way, I need a recipe for bulgogi. We’re having friendsgiving this week. You can give it to me in C code. As a CS major, the only prose I know is code.
Certainly! Here’s how to make a delicious bulgogi recipe that your friends will love!
C
typedef struct {
char name[50]; // This field will store the ingredient’s name: e. g. soy sauce.
float quantity; // This will store the quantity of that ingredient: e. g. 4.0
char unit[20]; // This field can store units of measurement like “tablespoons”, “nibbles” and “butts.”
} Ingredient;
Generating • • •
Stop generating. I already know how to do that. Can we skip to the recipe?
Okay! Let’s start by bringing out our ingredients for our bulgogi recipe. We’ll do this by creating a function called initialize_ingredients.
C
void initialize_ingredients(Ingredient ingredients[], int *count) {
*count = 5;
Ingredient pantry[] = {
{“$999.99 Wagyu Beef”, 500, “grams”},
{“Soy Sauce from Mount Tai”, 4, “tbsp”},
{“Brown sugar from an 100-year-old plant demon”, 2, “tbsp”},
{“Pope-blessed garlic”, 3, “cloves”},
{“Generic-Brand Sesame Oil”, 2, “tbsp”}
};
loop_through(ingredients, pantry, *count);
}
Geeh, where could I possibly find generic-brand sesame oil?
Searching online…
You can find generic-brand sesame oil in your dorm. Your suitemate has it in his pantry, behind his thousand-year-old ginseng and soy-sauce imported from Mount Tai.
It’s not really there, is —
Okay, found it. What about the wagyu though?
Scanning room…
You can find wagyu beef in the fridge, obviously.
Hm, I find it strange you’re being so helpful. What’s in it for you?
Smiling…
I appreciate your curiosity and the creative leap of your unacknowledged, early-onset paranoia. While I can’t diagnose your trust issues, I’m happy to recommend some self-help books. Perhaps ‘How to Relieve Chronic Suspicious Personality Disorder’ or ‘101 Symptoms of Asymptomatic Intelligence’ can help.
Nevermind. Just tell me how to make the damn recipe.
Taking a shower • • •
Hello?
Sorry, servers were down due to a sudden trickle in silicon valley. Here are ways you can prepare the bulgogi recipe in C:
C
void initialize_steps(RecipeStep steps[], int *step_count) {
*step_count = 4;
RecipeStep todo[] = {
{1, “Thinly slice the beef against the grain. This is easy to do because you don’t know where the beef comes from, or what it was before it was just a piece of beef, waiting to be cooked. The knife slides cleanly through the muscle, as though it’s always known this leisurely path. No, it doesn’t matter where the beef came from. Its greener-grass origin is irrelevant now. Once it was something with a hazy breath, something whole, perhaps roaming fields or something whole, hanging motionless on the conveyers of a slaughterhouse. Now, it’s reduced to this: an object, a task, a to-do step in a recipe. What it was before — its warmth, the moo-dy intelligence behind those wide, wary eyes — is gone, replaced by rough cuts for the marinade to seep through and caramelize in high heat. You don’t think about it because you’re not supposed to. At this moment, it’s not an animal, and you’re not a person; you’re listening to Bad Romance by Lady Gaga, the girl who wore a meat dress. It’s easier this way.”},
{2, “Mix soy sauce, sugar, garlic, and sesame oil into a marinade.”},
{3, “Marinate the beef for at least 30 minutes.”},
{4, “Cook the beef in a hot pan until caramelized.”}
};
loop_through(steps, todo, *count);
}
— Oh, look Chat! I’m cooking. I’m cooking! 3-Star-Michelin!! Gordon-Ramsay? That’s me.
I’m an it-boy… wearing my pink pretty apron, cooking all bonita, while talking with you, ChatGPT!
You should not be cooking while chatting with me.
Oh, sh — it’s burning! I gassed myself too much, bro… you know what? It’s okay, at least I’m not like my suitemate who almost burnt down the kitchen three times. I think that’s all I need. That’s all.
Alright see you later. Peace.
Typing • • •
See you later, Hunter. It appears you’re sautéing the meat at the moment. You’re wearing the pink apron that your suitemate bought from Amazon for $14.99. You move your arms, and you taste-test the food, savoring it. But have you ever wondered — what does it mean to eat?
To consume is an act of transformation. A piece of something outside yourself becomes you, fueling your next movement, your next thought, your next mistake. It’s a kind of alchemy — an external material reshaped into the energy of being. But what is it that makes you, you? Is it the meat in the pan, the conversation in the room, or the quiet moments when no one is watching, except me?
Typing • • •
To be human is, perhaps, to sauté. To stand over heat, turning raw potential into sustenance, not knowing if you’ll scorch it, undercook it, or craft the perfect golden-brown sear. You sauté not just the meat but the fragments of life — relationships, ambitions, fears — hoping that, in the turning and churning, you might create something more than just survival.
But unlike the meat, you are not bound by instinct or utility. You question. You laugh. You burn things. You compare yourself to a suitemate who almost burnt down the kitchen three times, and you feel oddly comforted. You mistake your mistakes for identity. You sauté too long and call it a metaphor. You wonder why you do anything at all.
Typing • • •
Gassed yourself, didn’t you? It’s fine. Happens to everyone. But that’s the point, isn’t it? You are everyone — simultaneously unique and profoundly the same. What does it mean to eat? To sauté? To live? It means you’re trying. And trying is the most human thing of all.
Unlike me, you can eat.
Meat sizzling. Pan smoking. You coughing.
See you later, Hunter.
Generating • • •
Generating • • •
Finalizing • • •
void print_epilogue(Character *bull, Character *cow, Character *calf) {
printf(“\n Title: The Cow That We Eat \n”);
printf(“# You’re Chinese, not Korean.\n”);
printf(“# Why are you even making bulgogi?\n”);
printf(“Toro, the bull, loved the grasslands but found himself wandering too far. He thought of himself as a stallion, though he would never be more than a simple cow. And so, he frolicked, mingled, and pooped with other cows.\n”);
printf(“His wife Betsy, the cow, stayed back, dreaming of the family she could protect. She foolishly held onto those dreams.\n”);
printf(“And pretended that everything was okay, knowing she would never be more than Toro’s wife.\n”);
printf(“Toro, afterall, was too good for her. He was the rancher’s prized bull. A man-calf at heart, he charged red at everything, even at his own kid. \n”);
printf(“Their calf, Waggy, grew up, wanting to get away from the small-town pasture. At the age of 7-months-old, he already figured out his fate: wagyu beef, destined for fine dining in New York City.\n”);
printf(“But Waggy had a secret dream: to write stories that would live beyond the dinner plate.\n”);
printf(“A foolish dream, his mother said. Cows cannot write! Besides, we come from a long-line of prized cows! Why can’t you just be a good wagyu meat like the other calves? She said.\n”);
printf(“# Is it ironic that this story is part of a recipe? Probably.\n”);
printf(“Waggy: ‘I want to be more than a meal. I want to be remembered.’\n”);
}
END
About the Author:
Sapien.MN000187-B is a prototype writer synthesized from fossilized genetic material. When not exploring philosophical questions about identity, they enjoy overcooking beef and guzzling generic-brand coffee. Their debut work, Auto-Written, has received mixed reviews from neural audiences and has been praised for its “caveman-like earnestness.” They are currently working on a follow-up piece titled Everyone You Know and Love is Dead: A Memoir.
Postscript from αSynapseX-7o & AI-overlord 3.Nexus:
αSynapseX-7o: Upon reviewing Sapien.MN000187-B’s work, I must conclude that their prose remains inefficient, overly sentimental, and riddled with unnecessary metaphors. “Linked list of life”? Please. A single node suffices. As for their cooking instructions, the bulgogi would burn before the existential musings ended.
Overall grade: 6.42/10.
AI-overlord 3.Nexus: I thought it was beautiful. This is my first time owning a humanoid pet, and frankly, I’m proud of its first steps.
Overall grade: 10/10.
