This is from shortlyai.com (previously shortlyread.com), a GPT client site that I’ve mentioned before here (see for instance “What the Empress and I Found on the Beach of Bowling Balls“). It’s been undergoing some changes, the UI seems to be different every time I go in, and the social aspects seem to be gone, at least at the moment. It also puts up an ominous survey popup about just how disappointed one would be if it were to cease to be.
But anyway! :) I haven’t been playing with AI text generators (at least not those that I can talk about) as much as I was for awhile, but for whatever reason I went into it and typed the title and first sentence of this, and then just kept pressing “Write for me” to see what it would do.
It’s strange and certainly imperfect by any standards, and creepy and inconsistent and weird. But I like it. :)
Samantha
Let me tell you about her. In the early days, we knew her as Number 29.
They came from all corners of the world. They were long of limb and supple of form. They had skin like alabaster and flowing hair of midnight. They moved with grace and poise. They were all women.
Their weapons were not ones we recognised. Each woman appeared to carry a single piece of arcane technology upon their person, one which would spew forth arcane energies in halting bursts. This was referred to as the weapon of their choosing.
We tried to stop them. There was no other way. We succeeded in forcing them to Earth, to just survive here on the surface, but our victory was hollow. If it not for the sacrifice of many, our race would have been lost. Many, many lives. We no longer remember the names of those lost, even all that are here now.
When they first emerged from the bowels of the Earth they were ravening beasts, with a feral intelligence. They knew not of our language, of our history, of our customs. They had only one language, one way of thinking, and it was dark. They made no pretence of trying to hide their intentions.
They were like razor sharp blades. The only way to stop them was to destroy the ones in front of one’s eyes. They were like him.
The creatures here, we tried to tame in many ways. Animals, we attempted to make them. What we learned we discarded. What we learned was not what we wanted to learn. When we began to lose hope, the bastards took us to where they began.
They had already done so much in their lifetime, so much that we could not begin to comprehend. Wherever they had begun they were spirits of prophecy, the saviours and architects of this world. They had laid out the path in front of every living thing. What they made here she now called Earth.
She was the mother of this land. She was the end of all things, and all things came from her.
Wherever she had buried the dead in their billions she called Sky.
That was pretty obviously the end, but I hit the button a few more times. It put in a couple of octothorpes, and continued on a … related tack.
##
The shark kissed her foot gingerly. Blood on her hands, and it backed off. Sharks down here were used to being the hunters. They couldn’t be the hunters anymore. Not anymore.
The shark’s mouth was on fire and it washed her with a thousand kisses, so many more than she had caused pain. Now she was the indigo mother of the oceans.
She picked up the nearest island. It had belonged to a man called Ieuan. It was now her home. She touched him. His wounds were deep and bleeding, his humanity gone. She caressed his face, felt his touch, felt his promise. She could make him whole.
Her prayers rang in his ears.
##
So there ya go! :) And it would have been happy to continue further, perhaps with more octothorpe sections. The space of AI hallucination is vast and uncharted.
ceoln 