Birds of the Same Feather

Passion and freedom.

Two words that Janis swore she could live by if only she knew what the whole world would make her to be. It was her ultimatum, a mantra that tells little yet means more than a grain or a pebble. With her crooked reading glasses slipping right on her nose and propped chin, she was a force to reckon amidst the towering papers of articles that await her. She may not know the world, but she understands more than anyone, the dread that comes in living with an impatient dream.

But before ravishing into that thought, she’d have to indulge her gaze upon the small lines of texts on paper. Scratching on the head meant that the submitted article baffled her grammatical pride. While an occasional sigh meant that it was just mediocre for her sharp literary tongue. As the click of her tongue intervened with the silence that surrounds the four walls of the journalism room.

Philip and Kirsten sat with her alongside the long wooden table; as they too, scan through the many literaries sent to them by the student body. With the hopes of opening the doors of creative writing in the school paper through literary submissions. They also hope that they can revise and then finalize the chosen articles today as the deadline of their school paper was just around the corner.

“So you’re saying we have to pick a decent one out of these to put in the school paper?” asked Philip, thinking of the impossible chance that they will come across a good piece.

Kirsten scoffs, giving a half grin towards the piles of messy papers. “Preeeetty much, either 99% of it is edited or how abouuut we just make the literary section of the paper ourselves~?”

“Pffft as if our Editor-in-Chief here will ever allow that-“ He replied, playfully nudging the busy Janis Ramirez, leaning back to her chair, still determined to find rare gold amidst amateurish writings.

She takes “creative freedom” like a pledge to always have her arms open for those that are driven by artistic expression and self-recognition. In her eyes, every submission meant a tinge of hope for these writers to reach a new high in their passion. Janis isn’t one to turn down those that surely show some spark, everyone should already know this.

Suddenly, Janis jumped out of her seat in excitement as she fervently read the paper she was holding.

“I think this is it, we striked gold! Perfect pacing, catchy title, and an absolute legend at English grammar. See? See!?” She exclaimed as Philip and Kirsten’s faces get shoved into the piece of paper their friend was holding.

“Oh yeaaah? I think you missed the little squiggle of text below the very bottom, labeled as AI generated response,” Kirsten retorted, breaking out into a laugh as Janis’s face rolled back into a bitter smile with her sarcastic nodding.

“See Janis? What else can we do but just hope? This was the seventh article that we’ve marked as AI generated while the others? Simply plagiarized. I’m sure if Sevy was here he’d just get you to write the whole literary section with ease,” Philip responded, patting Janis’s back as she helplessly sits back on her chair.

Suddenly, the door opens revealing a familiar individual whose uniform remains proper and clean, with wavy black hair contrasting with his pale skin. It was Sevy Santos, Janis’s Associate Editor as well as number one nemesis in planning the whole school paper.

“Hm? You guys still not done with the literary section? We still have a whole other page right ahead of us,” Sevy said, as he laid his bag to the chair adjacent to Janis. Seeing her with a miserable grin, he immediately took initiative to carefully sort through the papers and handed it to the two proofreaders, Kirsten and Philip.

He continued, “We just don’t have the time. I’m sorry but we have to cut corners if we want to make it before the deadline. Its better if you guys just choose what’s best regardless if its AI or not-“

“Are you serious right now? Sacrificing the writing quality against an AI just to finish the paper? Please, Sevy let’s not get carried away.” Janis intervened, as she stood up with her fists leaning firm on the table.

The boy sighed, putting a hand behind his neck “Well what do you want me to do Jan? Who’s idea was it to open literary submissions in the first place? You, right?”

“So? As someone who firmly believes that AI can’t beat originality and true creativity, it’s not the right thing for us writers, for us campus journalists to just let AI take our roles in writing and claiming its right,” she counters, taking a daring step forward to Sevy, who had the guts to not quiver at her restless frustration.

He answer back, “Well excuse me for embracing convenient technology. Its not on my to do list to have another argument with you today over the concept of writing and originality. What I only want is how we can realistically approach this; and I say we just go with it regardless!”

Janis walks past him in a hurried pace, throwing the same tiresome words that all her friends would always hear. “If you’re passionate about writing, you have to trust yourself in expressing your truth, and not depending on AI and calling it your own. It’s called being a fraud, you’re a fraud Sevy.”

With that, a loud slam of the door was made.

Sevy Santos, the practical and grounded Associate Editor of the Arcadian. Though many might think he’s got nothing but textbooks and computer screens, joining the school paper was his own secret enjoyment. He took on the main role of an editorial cartoonist, as words never seem to click with him as much.

Perhaps he couldn’t hide that part of him that wanted to pursue humanities as a strand. He is a man of science and mathematics, yet the apple never falls far from the tree. Logic never seemed to work when Janis was around by his side, seemingly provoking that hopeless passion to a new degree. Ever since then, it’s been push and pull against them, and the whole organization.

As he passes through the halls, he is once again facing the girl that walked away from him. Crooked glasses, white cardigan and a uniform as neat as her diction in speaking amidst a heated debate in her class time. He furrows his brows as he tries to listen in on the debate, finding a spot just by the railings parallel to the room.

“Then how about the ethical concerns with plagiarism and originality? AI and education is just another means to undermine the skills that we truly need to develop, not to just depend upon technology to do everything for us. Critical thinking and efforts in learning, that is where we start lacking,” Janis said.

She stood as stable as her gaze towards the opposing side of the class. It seemed like it was already settled to who the winning point would be.

It was now lunch time, and Sevy met eyes with Janis, making her stop by the door way.

“What?” She bluntly asked.

“The literary section’s done, Jan. And no, I didn’t include the AI detected articles, like you said. I’ll gladly do the lay outing, since these articles are ready for encoding,” the boy hands out the finalized papers to her.

Janis’s gaze softens by reading a few lines, and looks at him with still a pre-existing bitterness. “We only have this week to complete the remaining pages of the school paper.”

Sevy responds with a smirk, “I know, I’m gonna stay after school in the journ room from now on to complete it. I’m expecting you to be with me in misery for the next three days.”

“God I’d rather not! Not in the likes of some STEM student producing “authentic” news stories from AI. I get it, you guys know better than us in humanities ’cause you embrace science and tech. I just wish you’d understand that it is an insult to us writers,” she retorted as she sarcastically rolled her eyes.

“Seriously? We’re arguing about our strands now? I don’t care if you’re passionate about writing and that AI’s hurting your ego. Let’s face it, if you can’t keep up with the technology now, just admit that you’re not going anywhere with that stubborn writer’s pride. Embrace AI or don’t, you’re just making it hard for nothing.”

Little did Sevy know that deep inside, he also shared the same sentiment as Janis. Yet by that moment, he felt all too threatened by the deadline and the grave that he’s already dug for his fallen artistic ambitions.

Ego and pride.

Two things that Janis Ramirez sees as the same thing, yet she realized that it was the burning flame that’s kept her from banging her head on her keyboard. Of course, Sevy played his part in this. He knew how to push her buttons in ways that makes her take a step back on her decisions and words.

Now, she finds herself rapidly typing the articles corrected by none other than Sevy. She found him infuriating to say the least, and so in a fit, she invited Kirsten to help her instead.

Suddenly, the doors of the journalism room open to find two known silhouettes of Philip and — Sevy. But why does it seem like he’s not in a very good mood?

“Whaaaat’s goin’ on?” Kirsten raised a brow at them, watching as Sevy rolls his eyes and stays glued to his phone. What a rare sight to see.

Philip breaches out of Sevy’s tight arm wrap around his shoulders and explains, “Sev recently entered an online poster-making contest, only to place second against an AI drawing.”

Janis heard a slight thump right beside her. Then, followed by a prolonged screech from the chair. She didn’t bother looking to her side, knowing that the familiar scent of cologne belonged to someone she knew so well. She could feel his gaze burning into her, yet she knew that both of them have bigger things to handle, more than just their conflict.

“Congrats,” she said with a straight face.

The boy beside her scoffed, “Are you mocking me?”

Janis takes a halt from typing and looked back at Sevy straight in the eye, “Hm? Is it bad that I’m looking out for a friend?“

“Oh shut up, I’m already pissed by what happened. Lets just get this over with.”

He rolls his eyes and opens his computer. In a swift hand, half of your work has been lifted since the person that you’ve grown to hate was also your saving grace. The tension didn’t exactly dissolve between the two of you.

That’s how its always been, both of you were polar opposites to the core, communication felt almost worthless. Janis would rather enjoy the awkward silence, rather than face the elephant in the room; figuratively and literally.

Hours pass by until the clock finally strikes at 5 o’clock in the evening. It was only Janis and Sevy left in the quiet room. The golden light seeps through the blinds as Janis has her head down on the table, with her forearms as her pillow.

While Sevy was stuck in his own conscious mind, sitting in silence as he faces his computer screen showing a blank document. He still had left over assignments to do that are all due for tomorrow. He sighs miserably, unable to shake off the feeling of defeat from that stupid poster-making competition because of some AI winning.

The taste of his own medicine never felt as bitter and karmic. So much that he can’t bring himself to type even a single word on his upcoming essay. All he could do was doubt his own ability, for everything that he’s passionate about, only ends up failing his hopes.

He gulped and took one last glance at Janis who was sleeping so peacefully. His computer tab has ChatGPT open, and it was high time for him to once again commit a writer’s greatest sin; not like he was a writer anyway.

All of a sudden, a hand reach out on him before he could even send a prompt to the bot. It was Janis, but she’s never shown such a soft glance with furrowed brows and a partial frown.

“I know you’re tired, we both are. But you know I’m still against this no matter what,” she said. There she goes again with that stubborness, Sevy thought.

“Jan I can’t just take things slow, the deadline’s tomorrow-“

“Then move, let me help you instead. If you need to reach out just say so…. I don’t mind helping you with writing,” Janis mumbled that last part, as she held her resolve but showed a tough-loving side that bewildered Sevy.

He sighed, “I know, I suck at writing, you don’t have to shove it to my face.”

“Its okay, I know you’re more into drawing than words. Ah I just remembered, I have a digital poster to do right after this,” the girl face palms as if she just got hit by a hard wall from reality.

Sevy looks back at her with a different glint in his eyes. Hope? Relief? Or perhaps, an opportunity for him?

“I-I’ll do it for you, in return for doing my essay,” he stammers on his words, not knowing this strange heart warming feeling that went on together with the glowing beams of their computer. Both of them have done their fare share of work for today, it was then time to tend to their academics.

“Sevy, I didn’t mean it when I said you were a fraud. Lately, AI has become been a big thing in the creative space; even as far as education. The last thing I’d want is for the originality and authenticity in writing to be washed away by what you call the good change,” Janis finally broke the real silence that pre-existed amidst the messy books and papers spread across the long table of the room.

Sevy looks up from his tablet, loosening his grip on the stylus when those words came out your mouth. He was doing the finishing touches on your poster. The sight of his disheveled hair and loose uniform tie spoke volumes of his intense focus.

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong. While most would perceive me as someone that’s grounded and rational, I’d honestly rather be in a different place, towards something more artistic like you; if only money didn’t matter.”

Janis perched up from her desk, towards the boy that seemed to enjoy sitting on the cold marble floor, his back against a storage closet. She sat beside him, hugging her aching knees from all the sitting.

“How was the competition on your poster? What happened?”

A bitter chuckle escaped from Sevy’s lips, “Karma for me, that’s all. I know, I got a taste of my own medicine after what I said to you. But I never thought I’d grow even more attached to art if I didn’t join this org, if I didn’t meet you. I deny that I have this creative side in me, but the more I hide it, the more it just wants to come out. Funny, right?”

“Then that just makes it all the more better. We felt how AI impacted us on our education. And we’re also student journalists that act as the voice of the people. Now we know what’s right, right?”

“Right, I’m sorry for all the stupid things I said, Jan. Maybe not all of what technology has, makes up for the better change. Its not about our pride or ego, it’s a calling that we have to simply fulfill. ” he replied.

Janis gives him a smile that glimmered like stars on his darkest nights. It gave him a different kind of light, far from brightness he’s seen on a regular screen; it was a flame that begged to be shared with him.

“Apology accepted, Mr. Associate Editor. From now on I’ll guide you through your words, while you guide me through understanding the bigger picture.”

Hope and courage.

Two words that both Janis and Sevy swore they could live by for a world that rapidly changes and leaves no place for what’s traditional. It was the end of a beginning, for a girl that perseveres amidst the challenges of writing in the rising times of artificial intelligence. Along with a boy that finally turns his talent into pure passion and ambition

As they say, birds of the same feather are always bound to stick together, no matter what.