Lawless Algorithm

Diary Entry: April 14, 2025

It is a peculiar species of luck, I suppose, to find that after the attrition of nearly 400 litigations, I am still entombed in a classroom trying to understand how to get a lien on a car. I am surrounded by first, second, and third-year law students — fledglings debating the finer points of secured transactions. Academia has always been a cloister, a welcome sanctuary from the coliseum of practice.

This class, however, is singular, governed by the professor’s unique liturgy. The weekly rite involves solving a hypothetical, some knot of legal fiction we are required to unravel and post to a dedicated faculty webpage — a truly edifying experience. The ritual is unchanging: at each lecture, he summons a designated student, who must be prepared to publicly dissect the case. The allocation of these burdens, he preaches with the reverence a priest reserves for scripture, is random, determined by an incorruptible algorithm. But he once again orchestrated a moment of perfect, impartial fairness just for me: the last, most inconsequential question of the day. His algorithm, a paragon of digital obedience, proved hopeless when confronted with the human variable of contempt. And so, as it flawlessly executed its commands, I staged my own quiet insurrection.

The first time he called my name into the vacuum of the classroom, I let the silence swell for a beat before answering, “I’m not ready.” A sacrilegious utterance in the high church of American law, where a $400,000 tithe is meant to purchase omniscience. Here, preparedness is a Darwinian imperative, and to be caught unawares is to mark oneself for extinction. And there it goes — the Supreme Court nomination, lost for want of a little discipline!

He stared, his incomprehension a palpable thing in the air.

“What’s that?”

My voice was louder this time, edged with ice. “I am not ready.”

“Oh,” he said, the words slick with a sour disappointment. “You’re not ready.”

He quickly patched over the awkwardness, and remarked that the solution was elementary, and tossed the question like a bone to a more eager jaw.

For our next session, I came better prepared: I wasn’t there at all. A terrible lawlessness, of course, to the beautiful, impartial machinations of fate.