Of course I support the disclosure in principle, except that I fear it might have a negative consequence in a hypothetical scenario where a renowned and beloved author is dutifully completing their latest opus when suddenly a striketeam of technologizers from the Society of Oil Inevitable slaps down from the ventilator shaft and forces the author at GUNPOINT to insert large chunks of Al generated text into their erstwhile masterwork, and the author pleads with them, please even though I myself can no longer tell where I end and the machine begins, my cherished community is requesting that I tick a box identifying the use of Al, but the technologizers, who categorically refuse to acknowledge any difference between humans and computers, refuse to allow this, at GUNPOINT, forcing the author, at GUNPOINT, not to disclose their use of Al, but when this work is reviewed by sage reviewers who ponder wisely the matters of the soul, they recognize that some of this text is dissonant with the characteristic stylisms of said author, and indeed deduce the possible undisclosed use of Al within the work, raising a brutal outcry against the author, who is still being held at GUNPOINT deep within a cryptowomb whilst the technologizers anoint their quivering obsolescence for the Essence Reprocess, and in the divisive flamewar to follow they are sentenced to exile and damnatio memoriae, their entire lifework unraveling before their very eyes, everyone sinning before God by choosing to humiliate this hapless author online, who among us would not weep with enlightened pity upon such beauty of innocence so cruelly crushed by online judgment mobs, who are, in their own way, holding us at GUNPOINT? Now you might be saying, Kaemi, please shut up, please, nothing you’ve said has ever been helpful to anyone, and sure that’s true, except this sort of thing happens all the time, assimilation with the machine I mean, last week I was on the phone with my cousin in Reading, Pennsylvania, and she was saying how it happens all the time that everyone she’s ever known and loved is subjugated to the subroutines by renegade futurists, at least once a month in Reading, Pennsylvania everyone she knows and loves is sewn into a circuitboard and desentienced into rewritable memory, I was like, this happens once a month, and she was like, yes, once a month, everyone I know and love becomes a machine and has their personality annihilated into repeater nodes, and I was like, but what about me, and she was like, well I meant you know everyone in town, and I was like, I was in town visiting you all in April, and she was like, oh well you know it didn’t happen then, you got lucky, because, once a month, everyone I know and love, in the area, is dehumanized into electronic-grade silicon, and I just got really silent, you know, like I know she’s never really liked me that much, but I’m trying, honestly I’m trying so hard, I don’t know what she doesn’t like about me, I’m not a bad person, maybe I’m not as exuberantly outgoing as she is, maybe l’m a little awkward, maybe I’m not so fun to go out with, maybe she feels embarrassed about me in front of her friends, yes it’s super inconvenient whenever your cousin comes to town and all your little routines are shattered while you chauffeur them about as if you even care about them, this bizarre pretension that a cousin you see once every few years is even in any meaningful sense related, honestly you’re more deeply connected to your old college friends you’ve kept up with than most of your cousins, okay, I accept all that, but it’s like, it’s still, you know, I wish I was being forced into a GPU, my hand reaching out to her in scintillating sorrow as it’s soldered into a logic circuit.