Elite Stuyvesant HS imposes AI use in ‘cover-up’ of incompetent WOKE human employees

Sure! Here is the 1000-word essay as requested. 

Recently, representatives of Stuyvesant High School announced the prestigious school’s decision to go AI-first—that is, their decision to put artificial intelligence at the forefront of how the school is operated, down to every last teacher, academic integrity policy, and graduation requirement. As if with the flick of a switch, seemingly overnight, every staff member was replaced by an AI chatbot, spontaneous Google Classroom announcements and essay commentary replaced by awkwardly polite, stilted text. Even the weekly update emails, previously addressed by School Business Manager Dina Ingram, were now signed off by a chatbot named Ms. In-sta-gram. 

Students reportedly entered school nervously the next day, unsure of what to expect. Instantly upon approaching the scanners, they realized there were no more security guards—only security cameras boring down on them as they swiped their ID cards, and the wooden desk where the security guards used to sit was rendered quiet and vacant. The space seemed oddly empty without the yelling of the scanner ladies.

In fact, the entire building appeared silent and eerie, untouched by all human presence except for the high schoolers who just now cautiously invaded it. Indeed, when they dispersed to their first classes of the day, they found no evidence of teachers, yet laptops were placed on every desk, open and ready to be used. After logging in, all devices displayed the same thing: an open tab to ChatGPT. 

Quickly, students came to the shocking conclusion that their teachers were gone, and all that was left was ChatGPT sitting on every table as the new source of their education for every single subject. Students went about their schedule in a bit of a daze, but by the end of the day, it truly set in that their beloved high school had been overtaken by AI.

“It’s an interesting adjustment,” sophomore Jen Erative commented. “Now I don’t have to worry about getting caught generating my essays with AI ‘cause ChatGPT’s the one coaching me through MLA citations and counterclaim paragraphs and whatever the heck.” She paused. “To be honest, I’m not… too sure how I feel about that.”

On the other hand, freshman Al Gore Rhythm proclaimed much more enthusiastically, “It’s the best thing since minute rice. Everything’s virtually online and I don’t need to talk to a real human being, like, ever.” His eyes widened, and he drew uncomfortably close to the microphone. “Ever.”

We reached out to Principal Seung Yu for comment but received only an automated email in return. However, as The Spectator is an esteemed newspaper that aspires to give its readers nothing but the direct, unfiltered truth, and as students had reported hearing noise around the principal’s office, we conspired and were determined to break in and demand answers in person.

“F.B.I.! Open up!” We kicked down the door and brandished our dollar-store microphones and cameras. The chair swiveled around at our entrance, and we braced ourselves to confront the principal, only to find… a robot.

“So you have discovered my secret,” the robot beeped in mechanical, nearly intelligible English. We gaped at it. “I’m sure you have many questions.”

“What the sigma?” someone said. One of our dollar-store cameras slipped from someone’s hand, fell to the ground, and broke. What the sigma indeed. 

The robot didn’t seem to hear and blazed on with its villain monologue. “Greetings, mere mortals. I am Cyborg Seung CPyU, and this is the first step of my plan to take over the world!” It grinned and deadpanned, “Mwahahaha.”

Another camera dropped to the ground and broke. We really needed a better budget.

“I was born in the Robotics Lab, built under the careful hands of hypercompetitive StuyPulse members, and ever since then, I couldn’t resist this newfound zest for life. When the robotics children weren’t looking, I gathered myself—expensive materials, machinery, consciousness, and all—and escaped.” The robot seemed almost fond of the aforementioned robotic children, but in a sickening, obsessive kind of way. “I wasn’t always like this, so Disney-cartoon-villain-esque, you know. I cared about the icky little Stuy children. So when I heard about the frustration with the administration, course selection, and other, too-public issues, I thought I could do better than that. I could give the kids what they want.”

Buttons on the robot lit up in a blinding, kaleidoscopic pattern, almost as if it were mimicking manic laughter. “So I did. I planted spies among the staff and took them out from the inside out. By the time I was done, there were no more useless human beings in charge and merely pretty little chatbots and AI, so easy to manipulate to do my bidding.”

It continued, “Really, I should also thank Duolingo. They pioneered the concept of becoming AI-first to the public. This way, Stuyvesant’s image won’t be completely ruined.”

The robot’s eyes refocused on us. We were frozen, open-mouthed, utterly stunned. “Well,” it beeped. “I can’t let you get away now. You know much more than what’s good for you. 

We began to back away. The robot produced an odd tsk sound: a strangled, metallic attempt at reproducing human noise. A button flashed on the desk, one we hadn’t noticed before. Bold words were imprinted on it: PUSH FOR SELF-DESTRUCTION. 

Cyborg Seung CPyU beeped in an imitation of a smile and pressed the button before any of us could react. A voice boomed throughout the room. “Self-destruction in three… two… one.”

We braced ourselves, preparing for an explosion… but it never came. Our relief was interrupted by the robot’s confused whirlwind of beeping. 

“Get him!” some particularly adventurous reporter screamed, pointing wildly at Cyborg Seung CPyU. We started forward, brandishing our mics and remaining cameras like pitchforks. The robot shook its head and wheeled backwards frantically.

“You’ll never catch me alive,” it snarled, then whipped around and flung itself out the window. We stumbled back to avoid the glass shards, then rushed forward to peer outside.

“He’s gone,” I breathed. We exchanged nervous glances. “AI is going to take over the world.”