Created: 2026.09.28
When I was young I was taught 'i before e, except after c' but I kept running into problems. It seemed weird that I could seize a moment of leisure at great height, eat some protein, drink caffeine with a foreign friend, Keith a weightlifter and discover that either choice—or neither—helped explain why the blood in my vein, the rein of a horse, and the reign of a king all ignored the rule. I could weigh a weight of eight pounds of freight while hearing a horse neigh beside a sleigh, and my neighbor—or neighbour, depending on which side of the border you favour—could wear beige, feign ignorance, or deign to explain this heinous situation. A feisty thief might inveigle their unsuspecting heir into a heist beside a weir, sipping Madeira with a sheikh and a sovereign, only to forfeit a counterfeit coin through a sleight of hand. Meanwhile, a heifer might somehow require codeine and yet more caffeine while a seiche rocks the water near someone drinking from a seidel, watching a seine haul in a skein of something that probably shouldn't be in a fishing net. Behind a veil, someone could make a feint, spin a dreidel, put on a peignoir, declare the result nonpareil, and perform an obeisance to the baffling state of English spelling. Even surveillence—which, adding insult to injury, is normally spelled surveillance—won't rescue the rule: science, ancient, conscience, sufficient, deficient, and efficient all complicate matters further, while glacier, society, and species make it increasingly clear that what I learned was less a rule than a cheerful little suggestion that English follows whenever it feels like it, and that ... not very often.
And then ... add a header that reads:
"So I asked AI if it could do better... and it replied: Of course I can: and said::
Absolutely. I leaned into the idea that the rule starts merely unreliable and the universe becomes progressively more hostile to it.
When I was young I was taught 'i before e, except after c' but I kept running into problems.
It started when my neighbor—or neighbour, as my Canadian teachers insisted—Keith a weightlifter asked me to weigh a package. It had a weight of exactly eight pounds and, according to the label, contained protein, caffeine, and something beige.
That seemed weird.
The package had arrived by freight, although the delivery driver claimed he had actually brought it by sleigh. This seemed unlikely because it was July, but his horse gave a convincing neigh, so I decided not to argue.
Instead, I decided to seize the opportunity for some leisure and opened the package.
Inside was a note.
“Neither you nor either of your neighbours should consume this caffeine.”
This was alarming because I had already consumed the caffeine.
Twice, apparently, which seemed excessive.
I felt a twitch in a vein and decided I should probably go outside.
There I found a feisty heifer standing at the end of my driveway wearing a veil and holding the rein of the sleigh horse in her mouth.
Behind her stood a foreign gentleman who introduced himself as the rightful heir to the throne of a small but apparently sovereign nation. He was accompanied by a sheikh, who was drinking Madeira from a seidel and explaining that the previous king's reign had ended after a particularly embarrassing heist.
Apparently, someone had stolen the crown.
“Was it valuable?” I asked.
“Nonpareil,” said the heir.
I didn't know whether nonpareil was an adjective, a candy, or the name of the country, but before I could ask, the sheikh produced a gold coin.
“Counterfeit,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
He bit it.
“Absolutely.”
I wasn't convinced this was how one identified a counterfeit, but I didn't want to feign expertise or deign to correct a man who had arrived with royalty, livestock, and his own drinking vessel. Then things became complicated.
The heir explained that the crown thief had used sleight of hand to inveigle the royal guards into abandoning their posts. The thief had then made a feint toward the treasury, stolen the crown, and escaped across a weir.
“That's heinous,” I said.
“Indeed.”
“Did you call the police?”
“No. We called a grammarian.”
This was my first indication that the situation was going to get worse.
The grammarian arrived wearing a silk peignoir, spinning a dreidel, and carrying a skein of wool. He performed a small obeisance to the heir and announced that the thief could be identified through the science of spelling.
This did not inspire confidence.
He explained that an ancient manuscript revealed the thief belonged to a rare species of criminal whose conscience was deficient, whose planning was efficient, and whose knowledge of elementary spelling rules was entirely sufficient to cause trouble.
He then led us to a nearby glacier.
I pointed out that there had not been a glacier anywhere near my house that morning. “Climate is complicated,” he said.
Fair enough.
At the glacier we discovered a fishing seine stretched across a lake. The lake was experiencing a mysterious seiche, which the grammarian assured us was perfectly normal and absolutely unrelated to the cow.
I was beginning to suspect the cow.
The heifer looked offended.
At that moment, a helicopter appeared at considerable height. According to the grammarian, it belonged to the Royal Spelling Society, which had been conducting surveillence of the entire operation.
“Surveillance,” I said.
“What?”
“You spelled surveillance wrong.”
He stared at his clipboard.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
Then he quietly crossed something out.
My conscience told me not to mention it again.
Unfortunately, the helicopter pilot spotted the thief escaping across the glacier. The heir demanded that we pursue him, but the sheikh warned that if we damaged the royal sleigh we would forfeit our deposit. So we chased him on foot.
Eventually we cornered the thief beside the lake, where he dramatically removed his veil.
It was the heifer.
Nobody said anything.
The grammarian checked his notes.
“The cow,” he announced, “has clearly violated the rule.”
The heifer gave an indignant neigh.
“Horses neigh,” I said.
“She contains multitudes,” said the sheikh.
At this point I had had enough.
I demanded an explanation for weird, seize, leisure, height, protein, foreign, caffeine, either, neither, vein, rein, reign, weight, eight, freight, neigh, sleigh, weigh, neighbor, neighbour, beige, feign, deign, heinous, inveigle, feisty, heist, their, heir, weir, Madeira, sheikh, sovereign, forfeit, counterfeit, sleight, heifer, codeine, seiche, seidel, seine, skein, veil, feint, dreidel, peignoir, nonpareil, obeisance, science, ancient, conscience, sufficient, deficient, efficient, glacier, society, and species.
The grammarian listened patiently.
Then he smiled.
“It's simple,” he said. “I before E, except after C.”
I stared at him.
“Except for all of those?”
“Obviously.”
“Then what is the rule actually for?”
He thought about this for a moment.
“Teaching children confidence.”
And that was when the heifer stole the sleigh.
I think the heifer becoming the criminal, then inexplicably neighing, is about the correct level of deterioration.
So ... it is left to the reader. Did the shorter human one do better or did the longer AI story do better. I admit, I told AI I liked it's version better.