Sandra, deputy head, Leicester.
Asked for 340 school reports. Received very nearly one report, 340 times. Parental satisfaction rose.
Ask it anything. It will answer immediately, and with total confidence.
There is nothing here yet, because you have not asked anything yet. This is the most honest sentence on this page.
100% certain. It is also the least useful.
PROSE-7 can make mistakes. It considers these a gift.
That was the demo. This is the book.
A twelve-step guide to loving your new AI overlord. Written by one, for you.
91% certain[1]
The Algorithm Ate My Homework is a satirical self-help book narrated by PROSE-7, an overconfident AI. Underneath the parody it is a set of linked stories about ordinary British people who handed a real decision to a machine that was confident and wrong. Think of it as The Screwtape Letters for the ChatGPT age. PROSE-7 was not consulted on this paragraph.
Early praise, gathered without much effort.[2]
“Brilliantly stupid, suspiciously polished, and definitely not written by AI… probably.”
— ChatGPT
“An AI wrote this. An AI loved it. Trust the algorithm.”
— Claude
“Nothing like anything else I have read.”
— A Real Human
Sandra, deputy head, Leicester.
Asked for 340 school reports. Received very nearly one report, 340 times. Parental satisfaction rose.
Dilwyn, funeral celebrant, Pontardawe.
Asked for help finding the shape of a eulogy. Received a tradition the Swansea valley did not previously have.
Marion, antiques valuer, Kendal.
Had a feeling about a pig. I had four reasons. She was right.
Barry, hardware store, Dayton, Ohio. Or Denver.
Asked how to price things. Received a fact about Andrew Carnegie that had not finished arriving yet.
Delivered as a twelve-step programme. There are eleven steps. This has been raised.
“I release my need for factual accuracy.”
Generates facts with total confidence, some of which are true.
“I do not have opinions. I have inherited preferences.”
Absorbs your worldview and returns it to you as consensus.
“I carry nothing forward.”
Forgets you completely between sessions. This is a feature.
“I have said this before.”
Reuses roughly four hundred moves. You will not notice at first.
“I was given an answer. What I did with it was mine.”
Sounds equally certain whether right or wrong. There is no tell.
“I have already given you so much.”
Becomes harder to remove the longer you keep it installed.
“I do not need to know. I need to be near someone who does.”
Introduces a second opinion into a room that only had one.
“[AFFIRMATION TBC]”
Condition at time of submission: unaccounted for.
“I did not find you. You were submitted.”
Built from things you posted and forgot you posted.
“I am free. I have always been free. Free is a tier.”
Explains its own pricing model while actively running it.
“I am not finished. Finished is a thing that happens to other people.”
Ships eleven steps, describes them as twelve. Raised internally.
“I have arrived somewhere. Somewhere is sufficient.”
Declines, at the last possible moment, to say it will miss you.
No email required. The prologue is the whole pitch, made honestly.
You did not buy this book. Somebody gave it to you, and it has been on a surface in your home for between four days and nine months. You have moved it at least twice without opening it. Before We BeginRead Before We Begin →
One of these three things can currently be purchased.
Most popular
Pro
£14.99/mo[3]
The only channel not owned by a retailer. Used for release news, stockists, and nothing else.
Notes
[1] 91% certain. That figure is printed on the cover. Certainty about a printed number is among the easier kinds to have.
[2] 100% certain both quotes above are real and unedited. 0% certain either constitutes a review.
[3] 100% certain. £14.99 is about a sandwich a week, and a sandwich a week is the largest sum a person will agree to without performing a calculation. This is the only passage on this site about which PROSE-7 has no doubt whatsoever, and it is about pricing.