The very next day, I was contacted via email by Rebecca, the President of the university’s Odyssey team. “I am so excited to welcome you to Syracuse University’s Odyssey team! You are going to be a great addition to our Odyssey community and I can’t wait to see what content you produce.” I still hadn’t shown them any writing samples of any kind, so it was now abundantly clear to me that writing ability didn’t matter for this website. Telling me I was going to be “a great addition” to the team filled me with unease, as they clearly didn’t know anything about me, nor did they seem to be interested in whatever it was I had to say. Yet they pretended to. The email went on to explain the logistics of creating an account and introduced me to the team’s Editor in Chief, as well as the Editor and Editorial Manager from Odyssey HQ. These big titles seemed deceptively official, and their lack of editorial investigation about me raised even more questions about their level of professionalism and the nature of the website.

Per the terms of the agreement, I was expected to submit one piece of writing by Wednesday night each week, participate in the GroupMe team discussions (I had to download an app and was invited to join the Syracuse Odyssey chat group with all the other writers on the team), answer all texts/calls/emails in a timely manner, share my content on social media, and follow Odyssey’s HQ accounts on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Swoon (their branded platform for relationships). I also had to introduce myself to the group by saying my name, major, year, and a fun fact about myself. It was a lot all at once. It kind of felt like I’d received a big box of products from HQ and was now tasked with peddling them to my friends and family. Except this wasn’t even something useful, like the penny-slicing Cutco Knives.

I told Rebecca I was overseas and wasn’t able to chat on the phone, so we texted. In a sorority girl-meets-Office Space moment, Rebecca told me to introduce myself to the GroupMe group, saying, “If you could just introduce yourself that would be great [smile emoji].” I responded, “Will do,” but did not immediately do so. I was feeling a little pressured by Rebecca and it was almost 10 P.M. PST. Why was it necessary for the writers to introduce themselves to each other and get along? They were clearly trying to cultivate a faux sense of community. I decided Kaycie didn’t like to work while on vacation and would hold off on late-night introductions to over 20 random strangers. Nine hours later, Rebecca “liked” my “will do” response as a not-so-subtle reminder to do the forced introduction. I was a little startled by this, as I thought that kind of passive aggression only existed in movies about high school mean girls. Not wanting to stir the pot at this juncture, I introduced myself to the group.

Anytime a new writer was added to the group, Rebecca would write “Welcome @SoandSo to the team!!” usually with an emoji after. I didn’t get such a welcome introduction and felt slighted. Was Rebecca already trying to make me feel like an outsider? Was it because I didn’t introduce myself to the group immediately after she told me to? Given her nuanced texting approach, I could only assume everything Rebecca did or did not write in the group was deliberate.

On Mondays and Tuesdays, topic submissions were due. Rebecca and Editor in Chief Mary routinely asked people for article topics and then “hearted” the suggested articles. There was never any discussion about the topics in any way, shape, or form. Having to submit topics like this felt like the kind of busywork you give a kid to make them feel like they’re a part of whatever it is you’re doing. Sure you can help make dinner, here’s a bowl of water.

One day, Rebecca messaged the group: “If I message you about sending me a pic and a little blurb about yourself it’s because I’m doing Instagram features so please please respond!! [emoji].” I had not received any such message, which made me feel not good enough to be included. After only being in the GroupMe chat for a few days, the level of passive aggression Rebecca dealt out like a power-hungry croupier was already making me feel paranoid and unworthy.

Rebecca could be ruthless about Wednesday deadlines. “Way too many articles missing consider [sic] none of you guys reached out for extensions!!” She’d also call out those who were not submitting on time and those who needed revisions by name in front of everyone. And in addition to writing, writers were required to publish Odyssey content on at least three different social media accounts, multiple times per week. Remember: no one was getting paid, including Rebecca.

The Odyssey Online is like a cult leader. It onboards writers who are told they’re special, as long as they do the bidding of their superiors — which is to perform free labor and attract more writers and followers in the process.

When it came time to submit my first article, I adopted the persona of an entitled, rich, white girl and wrote the most tone-deaf piece I could imagine: “Sorry Not Sorry, My Parents Paid For My Coachella Trip.” Therein, “Kaycie” wrote about not wanting to apologize for the fact that her parents spoil her with gifts, including an Escalade for her 16th birthday — which she crashed — and a trained dolphin in Turks and Caicos. On any other website, this would have been taken as fiction, or satire — but to Odyssey staff, editors, and readers…it didn’t. It fit right in.

I had to wait a few days while the article went through the proper channels, including three different editors. Three editors, and none noticed (or at least changed) anything in the article that read as fake, grammatically incorrect, or even misspelled. No one reached out to me with a “Hey, are you sure?” However, someone did highlight a few sentences and made the font bigger.

The article was published on a Sunday morning. It received a couple thousand page views and received some strong reactions on Facebook, including, “This seriously makes me sick,” and “This is the worst thing I’ve ever read, privilege doesn’t even surmise this.”

I began to plan Kaycie’s next article.

The next day, Ash Crossan, a producer and host of Entertainment Tonight, tweeted the article with some commentary: “Hey Siri, are we in Hell?” A snowball effect began; people were tweeting at Kaycie and she tweeted back, antagonizing everyone the way I felt Kaycie would. She was reacting from her gut, and unapologetic about it. The page views grew, pushing past 15,000. The actress who played Barb on Stranger Things even left a comment.

The article’s views continued to grow, and with it, Kaycie’s Twitter presence. On Tuesday, Ben Collins, a reporter for NBC News, tweeted about it. Other reporters joined in—some lambasting Kaycie, others trying to figure out if the article was real or fake. I was contacted by a reporter from Insider, who pretty much immediately figured out I was fake. He was professional, Kaycie was not. Then, Twitter gold happened: Chrissy Teigen tweeted about the article.

At this point, I was in a little over my head. Drawing this much attention to myself was not the purpose of the article, and I hadn’t thought this far ahead. But I decided to remain in character and react to all the growing fame the way Kaycie would: by being scared, yet still entitled.

Some Twitter users made it their personal mission to figure out just who Kaycie Allen was, with the intent of discrediting her. They did a reverse-image search on Google and found the blog that I’d taken her profile picture from. It wasn’t hard to sniff out Kaycie from there: her bio was lacking and the profile itself was less than a week old. I tried covering her tracks, explaining that Kaycie created the Twitter account for her Odyssey article but otherwise stayed off social media “because I respect my boyfriend.” Some people bought it, others didn’t; many were confused. After two reporters from NPR reached out, it occurred to me that this was indeed completely out of my control.

A few Syracuse students were appalled that the school was affiliated with the article; another said it seemed to track with their experience at SU. Personally, I once heard a frat guy say, “when we’re not fucking bitches, we’re bro-ing out” to an incoming pledge. I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure if you say that three times fast while looking in the mirror, your penis will disintegrate.

Some on Twitter really fixated on the paragraph about Kaycie owning and riding a dolphin, which turned into an earnest debate about animal rights. Seriously.

It wasn’t until late Tuesday afternoon that someone from Odyssey reached out. Rebecca messaged me privately and asked for my Syracuse email address, a thinly-veiled attempt to learn my true identity. I gave her a fake email, which she soon informed me did not work. I told her I’d graduated in 2015 and hadn’t used the email in years. In classic Rebecca form, she simply “liked” the comment and never spoke to me again.

Then Odyssey edited the article, adding a disclaimer: “This piece is intended to be a satire of an experience at Coachella.” No one had reached out to inform me of the change. Who made that judgment call?

Twitter really responded to this change; there was a huge debate over whether the article was real. Kaycie once more took to Twitter, vehemently denying that it was satire. She then accused Odyssey of throwing her under the bus. Now reporters (and Chrissy Teigen) were tweeting about the new disclaimer.

I figured Kaycie’s sanity would be crumbling at this point, so she went off in the GroupMe chat, calling out Rebecca and announcing she felt stabbed in the back by the disclaimer. It was aggressive and over the top. One girl responded, “I’m confused.” Shelly, our team’s Editorial Manager from HQ, joined in and told me to get out of the GroupMe chat. Another girl jumped to Rebecca’s defense (she was removed from the group a few days later; I’m not sure why).

By Wednesday, the views surpassed 100,000. Shelly emailed me in the morning, requesting a 15-minute video chat to discuss how to move forward. Again, I criticized them for changing my article and making me the laughingstock of the internet. I also mentioned that I’m not comfortable video chatting “because of my features,” attempting to add some more mystery to Kaycie and her now potentially disfigured face. “For everyone’s best interests, most importantly yours,” she said, “I believe dealing with this sooner rather than later is better.” She then added, “We are more than willing to work with you to come to a solution but we must also verify that all information is factual and true. Until we speak, your article will remain as is on the site, per our terms and conditions.” She then included a picture of their terms and conditions.

My jig was up. Could I have asked my girlfriend to play Kaycie for a video chat? Yes. But the damage was already done; anything else I wrote as Kaycie would now be under scrutiny. I didn’t respond to the email, and a few hours later, Rebecca removed me from the GroupMe. I got an email saying I was no longer a writer for The Odyssey Online.

This entire thing was both a success and a failure. I honestly didn’t think my first article would generate this kind of buzz, but I did know it would upset some people and draw attention to the website. That was the original goal: to create a character completely unlikeable in just about every way and slowly, over the course of one article per week, build a character arc that might redeem her in the end. I wanted people to look at Odyssey and call it out for its bullshit, publishing articles by naïve writers without any sort of editing for all the world to see, forever. These writers don’t know what they’re involved in, and I hope through this process, at least one of them understands that they’re a part of a scam, so that they leave before their dignity and reputation is damaged. I didn’t do this to be a troll.

I also didn’t learn anything new from Twitter or the internet. I experienced hatred and anger from a lot of people, who went out of their way to make Kaycie feel like a terrible human being. And maybe she deserved it — the article is really bad. But I think this also says a lot about where we are in 2018, in the land of “fake news” and actual fake news. That an article so clearly bizarre and fictional could “trigger” so many people, nothing seems out of range anymore. Everyone is looking for something to upset them. Some tweeted that the world doesn’t need any more satire in 2018, which I can’t disagree with more. Some loved the confusion and made it a game; others were simply annoyed by the whole thing. None of it matters. These were just words on a website full of other words.

As for all those getting hot and bothered about Kaycie, I really have been wondering, “why?” All these mean comments directed her way, all these scoldings and admonishments, none of them amount to anything at all. Were these people really that upset, or did they feign it for their social media presence? Did Chrissy Teigen really get up and pace around her house, frustrated about Kaycie, blowing off steam with loud sighs? Did anyone who took the time to criticize Kaycie do anything other than type a few words intended to hurt her and make them feel better about themselves? A bunch of people — through their safe space of internet anonymity — wrote some angry words at a fake personality, who was secretly laughing from their desk the whole time. But aren’t all online personalities fake, with their perfectly filtered meals and grammatically correct quips?

So who actually gained something from this article and the shitstorm that followed? Odyssey did. They continue to rake in money from all the clicks we gave them by reacting to this stupid, pointless article. They are the only ones who come out ahead here, and that should really stop.

As of this posting, the original article on Odyssey has over 240,000 page views, even though the only thing on the page is the title, photograph, an explanation for the article’s removal, and a whole lot of ad space.

Kaycie continues to argue with people on Twitter about her money, her status at Syracuse, and her ownership of dolphins.