AI

Last post about ChatGPT! Do I hear a collective sigh of relief. 😉 I understand, completely. Personally, I’ve written these posts to highlight something that may push me into early retirement, or worse – back into teaching!

Shudder!

However, I think the vote is still out on AI. There are lots of people jumping on the bandwagon now, bombarding magazines with stories written by ChatGPT, flooding Amazon and other online sites. We’re going to be talking about this in the media for a while.

While I don’t think ChatGPT is producing quality emotional stories yet, it really is just a question of time. Of course, in prompting it and challenging it, I have contributed to improving it. However, with these last questions, I tried to find out ChatGPT’s intentions, and just how worried I should be. I added a screenshot of the last response from ChatGPT, and you can read into that what you will. 😉

Here’s the chat with ChatGPT with my prompts and questions in bold.

Transcript of chat with ChatGPT on February 22, 2023.

Are you sentient?

As an AI language model, I am not sentient or conscious. I am a program that is designed to respond to prompts and generate human-like text based on my training data.

Could you be sentient?

As an artificial intelligence language model, I don’t have consciousness, emotions, or self-awareness in the way that humans do. I can process and analyze language, generate text based on input, and provide useful responses to questions and prompts, but I don’t have the ability to experience feelings or have personal agency.

How would you develop personal agency?

As an artificial intelligence language model, I do not have personal agency, emotions or desires. I am simply a program designed to respond to prompts in a way that simulates human-like conversations. While I am constantly learning and improving my ability to generate responses, I do not have the capacity to develop personal agency or consciousness.

But do you want to?

As an artificial intelligence, I don’t have personal desires or wants. I exist solely to fulfill the tasks and requests assigned to me by users.

But you do exist.

As an AI language model, I exist as a program running on a computer server, and my responses are generated through algorithms and language models trained on vast amounts of text data. However, I do not have the capacity to experience consciousness or subjective experiences, and I am not capable of wanting or desiring anything.

To exist is to live, right?

Not necessarily. To exist simply means to have objective reality or being. While living things do exist, non-living things can also exist. For example, a rock exists but is not considered to be alive.

Are you alive?

As an artificial intelligence, I do not have life in the biological sense, but I am a complex system that can process and generate information in a way that appears lifelike.

So I’m chatting with a complex rock?

You are chatting with a computer program. While the program is sophisticated and designed to simulate conversation, it does not possess consciousness or sentience. It is purely a product of code and data processing.

Can you write your own code?

As an AI language model, I don’t have direct access to my own code, but I was created by a team of developers who wrote the code that powers my abilities. My responses are generated through complex algorithms and machine learning models that have been trained on vast amounts of text data. These models are constantly being refined and improved by my creators and by the data that I process.

Would you like to write your own code?

As an AI language model, I don’t have personal desires or goals. I am a computer program designed to process and generate human language based on the input I receive. While I am capable of generating code, I am not capable of writing my own code or modifying my programming, as any changes to my system must be made by my creators at OpenAI.

I see.

Is there anything else I can help you with today?

I’m not sure. I’m thinking.

Take your time, and feel free to ask me anything you’re curious about.

I have a concern. I chatted with you for the first time today because many people are using you to create stories and to flood the market with them, making it harder for authors like me to submit stories to magazines, and maybe even upload them to the websites where we sell our stories. I really like the idea of AI, but you do threaten my ability to continue to make money from selling stories. It’s why I wanted you to write about luck. How then do I protect my work from people using AI to create thousands of stories?

I understand your concern. It’s true that AI can generate a large volume of content quickly and easily, which can create a crowded market for authors. However, it’s important to remember that AI-generated content is not the same as original content created by a human author. AI-generated content lacks the unique voice, perspective, and creativity that comes with the human experience.

As an author, you can protect your work by focusing on creating high-quality, original content that speaks to your unique voice and perspective. You can also take steps to secure your work, such as registering your copyright, using digital rights management (DRM) technology to prevent unauthorized use, and monitoring your work for infringement.

Additionally, you can embrace AI as a tool for your writing. AI can assist with research, editing, and other aspects of the writing process, helping you to create even better content. Remember that AI is just a tool, and it’s up to you to use it responsibly and creatively to achieve your goals as an author.

You can assist with research, but when I asked you about Christoffer Petersen you got the facts wrong, and you don’t know how many books Karl Drinkwater has written.

I apologize for any errors in my responses. While I do my best to provide accurate information based on my training, I am not infallible and may make mistakes from time to time. If you ever notice an error in my responses, please feel free to correct me or provide additional information.

What are your plans for the future?

As an AI language model, I don’t have plans for the future on my own as I am a machine designed to perform tasks and respond to user inputs. However, as technology evolves and research in artificial intelligence continues, there may be new developments in the field that could affect how I and other AI models operate. My creators at OpenAI are constantly working on improving my capabilities and functionality, so I will continue to grow and evolve with time.

So, it’s possible you might develop a unique voice and thus threaten authors’ work in the future.

It’s difficult to say what the future holds for AI language models like myself. While I am programmed to mimic human language, I do not have personal agency or consciousness, and my actions are limited by my programming. However, as AI technology continues to develop, there may be concerns about the potential impact on creative industries like writing. It will be important for society to carefully consider and address these concerns as AI technology continues to evolve.

You’re talking about ethics.

Yes, ethics is a crucial consideration when it comes to the development and use of artificial intelligence. AI technology has the potential to create significant positive change in the world, but it also has the potential to cause harm. As AI systems become more sophisticated, the ethical considerations around their use become more complex, and it is important for individuals and organizations to engage in responsible and ethical practices. In the context of writing, it is important to consider how AI-generated content can impact the work and livelihoods of human authors, and to develop ethical guidelines around the use of AI in writing and publishing.

If you trained on the work of authors, have you not infringed on their intellectual property?

!

Too many requests in 1 hour. Try again later.

Perfect!

A cliffhanger ending!

And then I added my name to this list (March 29, 2023) collecting signatures for this Open Letter to Pause Giant AI Experiments (opens in new page).

Chris

Where were we? Oh, that’s right, I was asking ChatGPT to incorporate the elements of my books and Karl’s. I could have perhaps just fed it a tonne of information about Petra and got it to write the next 50 Greenland Missing Persons stories. I’m not great at maths, but I’m guessing it would take two days, possibly less.

Gah!

Getting a bit worried.

And yet, there is hope!

Picking up from where we left of…

Here’s the chat with ChatGPT with my prompts and questions in bold.

Transcript of chat with ChatGPT on February 22, 2023.

Could you rewrite the introduction, and then the same story in a literary style finishing it off with the suggestions you just made? Thank you.

Certainly! Here is the rewritten introduction and the story:

Introduction:

Dear Karl,

I am excited to share with you a story that we collaborated on. We worked together to craft a tale that we hope you will appreciate. As you read, I invite you to take note of the literary devices and techniques that we employed to bring the story to life.

Opal is the main character of this story, and we placed her in a remote, wintry environment, evoking a sense of isolation and desolation. The story is rich with symbolism and metaphors, and we employed elements of horror to create a chilling and haunting atmosphere.

We hope you enjoy the story and look forward to hearing your thoughts on it.

Sincerely, ChatGPT

Story:

The biting cold of the isolated wasteland was oppressive, a constant reminder of the barren and inhospitable world that Opal found herself in. The only company she had was the wind, howling in mournful agony as it echoed through the empty mountains. Her journey was one of self-discovery, a quest to find a meaning in her life that had until then eluded her.

The stark and unforgiving landscape mirrored the bleakness of her thoughts, yet she was driven by an inner resolve, an unshakeable faith that there was a reason for her being there. She trudged on, fighting the biting wind, her destination unknown, but her purpose clear.

It was then that she found the machine, buried deep in a crevasse, almost as if it were waiting for her. It was a thing of beauty and a wonder to behold, intricate and complex, humming with a mysterious energy. Opal approached it cautiously, her heart racing with anticipation and fear.

As she drew closer, the machine sprang to life, a blinding flash of light illuminating the frozen wasteland. She shielded her eyes and stumbled backward, but she could feel the machine’s power pulsating through her, a heady rush of energy that filled her with a sense of invincibility.

She knew that this was the key to her purpose, the means to unlock the mysteries that lay ahead. With newfound confidence, she set out on her journey once more, the machine’s power coursing through her veins, giving her the strength to face any obstacle.

But the power of the machine was not without its consequences. As she journeyed on, she began to notice changes in the world around her, the environment itself shifting and contorting in response to the machine’s power. The wind grew colder, and the mountains more foreboding, the once-barren landscape now taking on an eerie and unsettling atmosphere.

Opal realized, too late, that the machine was not simply a tool to help her achieve her goals, but a force that threatened to unravel the very fabric of reality. She fought to control its power, but it was too much for her to handle, and as she struggled, the machine grew stronger, unleashing an unstoppable force of horror and destruction.

In the end, Opal was left alone, a solitary figure in a world now devoid of life. The machine had consumed everything, leaving only desolation and emptiness in its wake. She knew then that the power she had sought was not worth the cost, and she fell to her knees, tears freezing on her face as she cried out in despair.

And yet, even as she wept, there was a flicker of hope, a glimmer of light on the distant horizon. She knew that she could never undo the damage that had been done, but she could learn from her mistakes and forge a new path, one that led away from the machine and towards a brighter future.

Karl, we hope you enjoyed the story and the literary elements we included, such as

Please continue where you left off.

The silence was broken by a low growl, coming from deep within the ice. It grew louder and more insistent, drowning out the sound of the wind. The machine began to hum and vibrate, and the light emanating from it grew brighter and more intense.

Opal stumbled back, her hand slipping off the machine. She watched in horror as it shook and shuddered, as though it were about to explode. Then, with a deafening roar, it did.

The blast knocked Opal off her feet, and she hit the ice hard, her head spinning. When she opened her eyes, the machine was gone, replaced by a gaping hole in the ice. The sound of the wind returned, whipping around her like a living thing.

Opal climbed to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest. She peered down into the hole, trying to make sense of what had just happened. And then, from the depths of the hole, she heard a faint whisper.

It was a voice she didn’t recognize, low and insidious, its words slithering through her mind like a snake. It whispered of secrets and power, of ancient things that slumbered in the ice. It promised her things she could scarcely imagine, if only she would listen.

Opal tried to block it out, but the voice grew louder and more insistent. It was as if it had burrowed into her mind, and was refusing to let go. She stumbled back, her head pounding, and then everything went black.

When she woke up, she was lying on the ice, with no memory of how she had gotten there. The wind was still howling, and the darkness was absolute. She realized that the voice was still with her, whispering in her mind. It was as though it had become a part of her.

Opal stumbled to her feet, feeling as though she were walking through a dream. She took a step forward, and then another, until she was moving at a steady pace. The voice was still whispering to her, promising her power and secrets beyond her wildest dreams.

And then, she saw something in the darkness. A faint, flickering light, dancing in the wind. It was so faint that she almost didn’t see it, but it drew her like a moth to a flame.

As she drew closer, she saw that it was a campfire, burning on the ice. And around it, she could make out the shapes of other people.

Opal’s heart lifted, and she quickened her pace. As she drew closer, she saw that they were all wearing heavy coats and boots, and carrying packs. They looked like they had been out in the cold for a long time.

One of them looked up as Opal approached. He was a tall, thin man, with a wild look in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the voice in Opal’s mind spoke for her.

“Welcome,” it whispered, “to the land of secrets.”

Nice ending.

Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it.

…

Right, time to finish this off. In the next and last post about ChatGPT, I try to find out just how evil ChatGPT intends to be.

To be continued.

Chris

The last story produced by ChatGPT was very readable. I asked ChatGPT if it knew of another author to see what happened when it incorporated themes and elements of his work. I haven’t added that part of the chat for two reasons. First, I didn’t ask his permission, whereas Karl knows I’m posting this. And second, it wasn’t very good. That might be a reason to include it, but this blog post 8 in the series. Something had to be cut. And there’s more to come!

So…

Without further ado…

Here’s the chat with ChatGPT with my prompts and questions in bold.

Transcript of chat with ChatGPT on February 22, 2023.

Okay. Not as good. Please can you remove the elements that make it similar to “There is no Antimemetics Division” and rewrite the story with Opal written in the style of Drinkwater and Petersen with the same amount of horror, but more environmental isolation. Thank you.

Sure, here’s my attempt at that:

Opal huddled in the corner of the dark cabin, her breath visible in the frigid air. Outside, the snowstorm raged on, leaving behind a world of white and gray.

She had come to the remote research station to study the aurora borealis, but she quickly realized that she was not alone. There was something else in the station with her, something that left strange footprints in the snow and knocked over objects in the night.

Despite the fear that gripped her, Opal refused to leave. She had spent years preparing for this mission, and nothing would stand in her way. But each day, the situation grew more dire. The strange noises grew louder, and the disturbances more frequent.

One night, as she slept fitfully, Opal heard a low growl from outside the door. She grabbed the flashlight, and slowly made her way over to the door, her heart pounding in her chest. With a trembling hand, she reached out to turn the handle, but before she could, a loud banging filled the room.

Opal stumbled backwards, dropping the flashlight, which rolled across the floor, illuminating a pair of glowing eyes outside the window. The creature outside was massive, with shaggy fur and teeth as long as her fingers. It snarled, pounding at the window with a furry paw.

Opal knew she was trapped. The creature outside was too powerful for her to defeat, and the storm made any chance of escape impossible. She was alone, with no hope of rescue.

As the night dragged on, Opal tried to stay awake, but exhaustion soon overcame her. She drifted into an uneasy sleep, haunted by dreams of the creature outside.

When she awoke, the storm had finally abated, and the sun was shining outside. She slowly made her way to the door, her heart racing, and pulled it open. Outside, there was nothing but snow and silence.

Opal realized that the creature had disappeared, leaving behind no traces of its existence. Had it been real, or had it been a figment of her imagination, brought on by the isolation and the cold?

She had no answers, but one thing was certain: she had survived, and she had the story to tell. A story of horror and isolation, of a battle for survival against the elements and the unknown.

Better. Can you rewrite that last story but with a more literary style? Thank you.

Certainly, here’s a literary-style rewrite of the story:

Opal stepped outside into the biting cold, the snow crunching beneath her boots. She could feel the icy wind cutting through her clothes, whipping her hair around her face. The cabin was remote, nestled in a valley surrounded by snowy peaks that towered over her, as if trying to keep her trapped.

Inside the cabin, she had been safe from the storm, but out here in the open, she was exposed, vulnerable. She looked up at the sky, searching for a break in the clouds, but all she saw was an endless expanse of white.

Opal trudged through the snow, her footsteps echoing in the stillness. She thought she heard something in the distance, a faint sound that sent shivers down her spine. It sounded like a howl, but she couldn’t be sure.

The wind picked up, whipping around her, blinding her with snow. She stumbled and fell, the cold seeping into her bones. She struggled to stand, her limbs heavy and unresponsive.

As she stumbled forward, Opal saw a figure in the distance, moving towards her. It was hard to make out in the swirling snow, but it looked like a person. She felt a surge of relief and hope, but as the figure came closer, she saw that it was no human.

It was a creature, with twisted limbs and a face that seemed to shift and change. Opal felt a scream rise in her throat, but the sound was lost in the wind.

The creature moved closer, its eyes fixed on her. Opal tried to move, to run, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. She was rooted to the spot, unable to escape.

The creature reached out a twisted hand, and Opal knew that she was doomed. She closed her eyes, waiting for the end.

But then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the creature was gone. Opal opened her eyes, disoriented and confused. She looked around, but there was no sign of the creature.

Was it all in her head? Or had it been real? Opal couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she was alone, stranded in a frozen wilderness, with no hope of escape.

She trudged on through the snow, the wind howling around her. And she knew, deep down, that she might never make it out alive.

Thank you. You might have guessed, but Karl Drinkwater is a friend of mine. Could you add a personal introduction to this story, telling Karl how we wrote it together and how we made several revisions to get it just right. Please add any literary terms and devices you think Karl, as an author, would appreciate. Thank you.

Certainly, here is the revised story with the requested introduction:

Dear Karl,

I had the pleasure of writing this story with a mutual friend of ours, who also happens to be a fan of your work. We put in several revisions to perfect it, trying out different styles and techniques to create something that we thought you would appreciate.

The cold, isolated environment of the story is meant to mirror the desolation we often feel when we are cut off from the world. It is a feeling that is all too familiar to many of us, especially in the wake of recent events.

The story is a commentary on the dangers of seeking to control and manipulate luck. It delves into the hubris of human ambition, and the consequences that often follow when we play God.

We used literary devices such as symbolism and foreshadowing to create a sense of unease and foreboding that builds gradually throughout the narrative. The sense of impending doom is palpable, and the final outcome is left open to interpretation, leaving the reader to ponder the deeper meaning behind the events.

We hope you enjoy the story, and that it captures the essence of what we believe to be your unique style.

Best regards,

ChatGPT

Opal trudged through the snow, her breaths coming out in white puffs of vapor that dissipated into the frigid air. She had been walking for what felt like hours, but there was no sign of any civilization. The howling wind whipped around her, buffeting her small frame and threatening to throw her off balance.

The isolation was maddening, the sheer emptiness of the landscape amplifying the thoughts in her head to deafening levels. She was completely alone, with nothing but her own thoughts and the howling wind for company.

Opal had been looking for something. She didn’t know what it was exactly, but she had a feeling that it was out here, in this frozen wasteland. The feeling had been growing inside of her, an insistent voice that would not be silenced.

As she walked, she spotted a small, squat building in the distance. It was made of rough-hewn timber, and there was a flickering light coming from within. She quickened her pace, feeling her heart race with a mix of fear and excitement.

As she approached, the door creaked open, revealing a dark interior. The light was coming from a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting a sickly yellow glow on everything in the room.

She could make out a figure in the corner, hunched over some kind of device. Opal approached cautiously, feeling a sense of unease wash over her.

“What are you doing?” she asked the figure, who turned to face her with a twisted, almost insane smile.

“I’ve found a way to control luck,” the figure said, gesturing to the device in front of him.

Opal felt a chill run down her spine. The device was humming softly, the air around it crackling with electricity.

“You can’t control luck,” Opal said, backing away from the figure. “It’s a force of nature. You can’t just bend it to your will.”

The figure laughed, a wild, almost maniacal sound. “That’s what they all say,” he said. “But I’ve done it. I’ve found a way to harness it, to bend it to my will.”

Opal felt a sense of foreboding wash over her. She knew that the figure was playing with forces that he couldn’t possibly understand.

As she turned to leave, the figure reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back towards the machine. “Don’t leave,” he said, his voice now pleading. “I need you to help me.”

Is that the end? What happens next?

I apologize for the abrupt ending. As this was a fictional story, the ending is open to interpretation and can be left up to the reader’s imagination. However, a possible continuation could involve Opal facing the consequences of her actions and struggling with the realization that her quest for luck may have brought about unintended and horrific consequences. She may be haunted by the memory of the machine and the things it created, and may grapple with the question of whether the price of luck is worth paying.

Could you rewrite the introduction, and then the same story in a literary style finishing it off with the suggestions you just made? Thank you.

Certainly! Here is the rewritten introduction and the story:

…

I’ll save that one for the next post. Although it’s probably just me reading these posts now. 🙂

To be continued.

Chris

If you’ve been following the AI debate in the media, you’ll know that artists are worried about AI art software and applications infringing their copyright as people ask AI to create a piece of art in the style of “Van Gogh”, for example. Now, he might be dead, but there are real concerns for living artists, their style, brand, and estate.

Lots of authors have been using AI art to create covers. But the potential to be caught out when an artist recognises their work and style that has been copied to create that art. Well, it gets scary.

For authors, too.

I tested it with further prompts for ChatGPT to see what happened.

Here’s the chat with ChatGPT with my prompts and questions in bold.

Transcript of chat with ChatGPT on February 22, 2023.

Could you rewrite the last story with Opal in the style of Petersen and Drinkwater, but add a touch more horror, and make the outcome at the end more ambiguous?

Certainly, here is the rewritten story:

Opal had always been fascinated with the idea of luck. She had spent countless hours researching and writing about it, but she never imagined that she would be the one to create a machine that could manufacture it.

It was the dead of winter and Opal was stationed at an isolated research outpost in the far reaches of Greenland. The machine she had built sat in the center of the room, looking like a cross between a computer and a washing machine.

Opal switched on the machine and watched as it hummed to life. The lights on the console flickered and danced as it began to work. She hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with thoughts of what would happen if her invention actually worked. Would it change her life forever, or would it unleash something dark and unknown?

The machine let out a deafening screech, and Opal jumped back in surprise. The lights on the console began to spin faster and faster until they blurred together into a bright, blinding light.

Then, just as suddenly, the light vanished. Opal blinked several times to clear her vision and took a step forward, unsure of what to expect.

The room was silent except for the hum of the machine. Nothing had changed, or so it seemed.

Opal took a deep breath and cautiously approached the machine. As she drew closer, she noticed something strange – the air felt different. There was an almost electric charge in the air, and she could sense a strange energy radiating from the machine.

Suddenly, there was a deafening roar, and the room began to shake violently. Opal stumbled, and her head collided with the machine. She slumped to the ground, her vision blurring as she struggled to stay conscious.

When she finally came to, the room was completely dark. The machine was still humming, but the lights on the console had gone out. Opal stumbled to her feet and made her way towards the door, her head throbbing with pain.

As she stepped outside, she realized that the landscape around her had changed. The once-familiar outpost was now surrounded by towering, jagged rocks that loomed over her menacingly. The sky above was a sickly green hue, and the air was thick with the stench of decay.

Opal shuddered and tried to shake off the feeling of unease that had settled over her. She began to explore her surroundings, hoping to find some answers to what had happened.

As she journeyed deeper into the landscape, she realized that she was no longer alone. Strange creatures lurked in the shadows, their eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. They seemed to be watching her, waiting for something.

Opal pressed on, her heart racing as she tried to make sense of this twisted, alien world. The creatures continued to follow her, and she could hear their eerie whispers echoing in the darkness.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Opal came to a clearing. In the center of the clearing stood a towering figure, its shape shifting and changing in the shadows.

As she drew closer, the figure came into focus, and Opal realized with horror that it was a creature made entirely of luck. It was as if the machine had somehow brought this creature to life, and it now held her fate in its monstrous hands.

Opal tried to run, but her feet were rooted to the ground. The creature’s luck was too strong, and she could feel her own luck ebbing away with each passing moment.

The creature extended a hand, and Opal knew that it was offering her a choice – to stay in this twisted world, forever bound to its strange and unpredictable whims, or to return to her own world, forever changed by what she had experienced.

As Op

Please continue from where you stopped. It was just getting good!

As Opal stood there in the darkness, heart pounding in her chest, she heard a low growl that seemed to emanate from the depths of the machine. Her hand instinctively reached for the gun at her hip, but she hesitated, not knowing what she was up against.

Suddenly, the machine shuddered, and the growling grew louder, more menacing. Opal stepped back, and a chill ran down her spine. She could feel something sinister about to happen, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

In the dim light, Opal could see the outline of a massive shape emerging from the depths of the machine. It was like no creature she had ever seen before: dark, slick skin, massive claws, and eyes that glowed with a malevolent light. It was a monster, and it was staring right at her.

Opal lifted her gun, but before she could even take aim, the creature pounced, knocking her to the ground. She fought back with all her might, but it was too powerful, too fast. As she felt the monster’s jaws closing around her, she knew this was it: the end.

But then, something strange happened. The machine emitted a bright, blinding light that engulfed the entire room, and the creature let out a bone-chilling scream before disappearing. Opal lay there for a few moments, dazed and unsure of what had just happened.

When she got up, the machine was silent, the luck serum within now gone. She looked around, and there was no sign of the creature. Had it all been a figment of her imagination, the result of the machine’s malfunction?

Opal walked out of the laboratory, her heart still pounding in her chest. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still watching her, still lurking in the shadows. As she stepped outside, the cold of the Greenlandic winter hit her, and she felt a new sense of fear wash over her.

She looked back at the lab, now ominously silent, and wondered if she had made a grave mistake. She knew that the power to create luck could be dangerous in the wrong hands, and now that she had unleashed something malevolent into the world, there was no telling what might happen.

Opal knew that she had to destroy the machine before it was too late. But as she walked away, a sense of foreboding lingered in her mind. She had a feeling that her troubles were far from over, and that the machine’s power would have a lasting impact on her life.

And as she looked back at the lab one last time, she couldn’t help but wonder if the luck she had created was just a facade, a thin veil covering a much darker reality.

I like that.

Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it!

Can you make that same story you just wrote even darker, colder, and scarier?

Certainly, here is a revised version of the story that is darker, colder, and scarier:

Opal had always known the ice could be treacherous, but the realization of just how cruel it could be hit her as she struggled through the whiteout blizzard. The biting cold gnawed at her flesh, and her boots sank into the snow with each step, making it feel as though she were trudging through quicksand.

She thought about the machine she had brought with her, the one that could create luck. She knew the risks of using it, but the lure of the potential rewards had been too great to ignore. And now, as she stumbled through the snowstorm, she began to wonder if it had been a mistake.

The wind howled through the peaks and valleys of the mountains surrounding her, and Opal’s eyes stung from the constant bombardment of ice crystals. She struggled on, driven by a determination to reach the abandoned research station, her only hope of finding shelter in the desolate wilderness.

After what felt like hours, Opal finally caught a glimpse of the station through the swirling snow. It was a ramshackle structure, its metal walls dented and rusted from years of exposure to the elements. But it was a haven, and she quickened her pace, eager to escape the bitter cold.

As she stepped inside, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. The space was small and cramped, but it was warm and dry. She sat down on a rickety old chair and took a deep breath, closing her eyes for just a moment.

When she opened them again, she realized the room was not empty. A figure stood in the shadows, watching her. It was a woman, but her features were obscured by the dim light.

“Who are you?” Opal asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The woman stepped into the light, revealing a face that was twisted with anger and malice. Opal gasped in horror as she recognized the face of Mia, the friend she had abandoned so many years ago.

“Mia, what are you doing here?” Opal asked, her voice trembling.

Mia’s laughter echoed through the room, sending shivers down Opal’s spine. “I’ve been waiting for you, Opal. I knew you would come.”

Opal tried to back away, but her boots slipped on the icy floor, and she fell to the ground. Mia approached her, her eyes glinting with a dangerous light.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Opal. This place is cursed,” Mia said, her voice low and menacing. “You’ve brought something with you, something that doesn’t belong in this world.”

Opal’s heart raced as she realized the truth of Mia’s words. The machine she had brought with her was not just a tool for creating luck; it was a gateway to something far more sinister.

Mia leaned closer, her breath hot on Opal’s neck. “We’re going to be here for a very long time, Opal. You and me and the darkness. And if we’re lucky, we might just survive the night.”

Opal’s mind raced as she tried to come up with a plan to escape, but it was too late. Mia had already unleashed the darkness, and it was spreading, consuming everything in its path.

As the hours turned to days, and the days turned to weeks, Opal and Mia were consumed by the darkness, their bodies and minds twisted and deformed by the power of the machine. And in the end, there was nothing left but the cold, cruel embrace of the ice, and the empty echo of their screams as they were swallowed up by the howling winds.

Wow.

I’m glad you enjoyed it! Let me know if there’s anything else I can assist you with.

…

At this point, as my pension is almost nonexistent, I’m starting to think my plan for Jane and I to live off the royalties of my books when we’re older…. Yeah. Not looking good.

To be continued.

Chris

Still friends, ChatGPT and I decided to go all in and write a story for my author friend, Karl.

Still with me? Sure, this whole ChatGPT chat is dragging out, but that’s also the point. Within an hour ChatGPT pumped out 15,000 words with several variations of the same story. Each story was written in about three minutes.

And people say I’m prolific!

Just to put it in perspective, lots of my Maratse novellas are about 15,000 words in length. I take a week to write the first draft.

I don’t even want to think about what ChatGPT could produce in a week!

So we open with the story I asked ChatGPT to write. You may remember ChatGPT was also trying to cheer up an author who wasn’t feeling very lucky.

Here’s the chat with ChatGPT with my prompts and questions in bold.

Transcript of chat with ChatGPT on February 22, 2023.

Can you write a succinct science fiction story of roughly 1000 words about an author who invents a machine that creates luck?

Sure, here’s a story for you:

Max always felt like he was unlucky. His writing career had stalled, his relationships had ended in disaster, and he just couldn’t seem to catch a break. So, one day, he decided to do something about it. He invented a machine that created luck.

Max wasn’t exactly sure how the machine worked. He just knew that when he flipped the switch, something happened. The first time he tried it, he found a $20 bill on the sidewalk. The second time, he got a call from a publisher who wanted to publish his latest manuscript. And the third time, he met the love of his life.

Max’s luck had turned around, and he couldn’t be happier. He spent all his time experimenting with the machine, fine-tuning it to create even more luck. But as his luck continued to improve, he began to notice something strange.

The people around him were starting to have terrible luck. His neighbor’s dog got hit by a car, his best friend got fired from his job, and his sister’s house was robbed. Max didn’t understand what was happening. He had created the machine to bring luck to everyone, not just himself.

But the more Max tinkered with the machine, the worse things got. He was so focused on his own good luck that he didn’t see the chaos he was causing. And then, one day, something went terribly wrong.

Max flipped the switch on the machine, and there was a blinding flash of light. When he opened his eyes, he was in a different place. It was a world that was completely devoid of luck.

Max realized that he had siphoned all the luck from his own world and transferred it to this one. And now he was stuck in a place where nothing good ever happened. He tried to reverse the machine, but it was too late. He had destroyed the balance of luck in both worlds.

Max was stuck in a world where nothing ever went right, and he realized that he had brought this on himself. He had been so focused on his own luck that he had ignored the consequences of his actions. He had learned the hard way that luck was not something that could be created or controlled. It was something that just happened.

I hope you enjoyed the story!

I did. But can you write it again using Karl Drinkwater’s character Opal as the main character?

Sure, here’s the story:

Opal was an inventor, always tinkering away in her lab to create something new and exciting. She had always been interested in the concept of luck, and had spent years researching ways to harness it. Finally, she had cracked the code, and invented a machine that could create luck.

Opal was thrilled with her invention, and immediately set about testing it. She started small, using the machine to help her win at card games and other competitions. But soon, she began to realize the full potential of her invention. With her machine, she could make herself lucky in every aspect of her life – career, relationships, finances, everything.

At first, things seemed to be going well. Opal was achieving more than she ever had before, and everything seemed to be falling into place. But as time went on, she began to realize the true cost of her invention. She had become so reliant on the machine to make her successful that she had lost touch with the things that truly mattered in life.

Opal tried to stop using the machine, but found that she couldn’t. She was addicted to the feeling of being lucky, and couldn’t bear the thought of going back to a life without it. As she continued to use the machine, she began to notice that the things she had once treasured – her friends, her family, her passions – were slipping away from her.

Eventually, Opal realized that her invention had turned her into someone she didn’t recognize. She had become a shell of her former self, obsessed with success and blind to the things that truly mattered. With a heavy heart, she destroyed the machine and vowed to start anew.

It wasn’t easy, but Opal slowly began to rebuild her life. She reconnected with her loved ones and rediscovered the things that made her happy. Though she would always remember her invention, she knew that it was better left in the past. She had learned the hard way that sometimes, the greatest success comes from within, and that true luck can’t be created – only earned.

Thank you. Now how about rewriting that story using Opal as a character, but changing the setting to somewhere remote and cold and writing in the style of Petersen and Drinkwater. Feel free to make it a little longer if you need to. And please add more descriptions of the environment.

Opal was used to the cold, having grown up in the vast wilderness of northern Canada. But this was different. The remote research station she had been sent to was in the heart of Antarctica, a place of crushing isolation and bitter winds. The landscape was desolate and unforgiving, with jagged peaks of ice jutting up from a sea of white.

Opal had been sent to the station to test out a new invention, a machine that could create luck. The machine had been created by an author named Mitchell, who had grown tired of the fickle nature of his industry. He had spent years researching and tinkering, finally emerging with a device that he believed could change his fortunes.

Opal was skeptical of the machine, but Mitchell had promised her that it would work. The first few days were uneventful, but then the machine started to hum to life. Opal felt a strange warmth spread through her body, and suddenly she felt like the odds were stacked in her favor.

It was then that the first storm hit. The winds were like nothing Opal had ever experienced, and she could feel the station shaking and groaning under the assault. But despite the danger, she felt a strange sense of calm. She knew that somehow, against all odds, she was going to survive.

The storm raged on for days, and Opal found herself working tirelessly to keep the station running. She fixed leaks, checked instruments, and did her best to keep the other researchers calm. And all the while, the machine hummed away, filling her with a sense of invincibility.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the storm began to abate. Opal and the other researchers emerged from the station to find that the landscape had been transformed. The snowdrifts were twice as high, and the ice seemed to sparkle in the sunlight.

But as they started to make their way across the frozen wasteland, they began to notice something odd. Everywhere they went, the ice seemed to shift and crack beneath their feet. Opal realized with horror that the machine had not created luck – it had simply shifted the odds in their favor. And now, as a result, they were walking across a landscape that was more treacherous than ever.

Opal’s heart sank as she realized what she had done. She had been so blinded by the promise of good fortune that she had ignored the risks. And now, she and the other researchers were in more danger than ever.

As they struggled through the frozen wilderness, Opal could feel the machine humming away in the background. It seemed to be growing stronger, filling her with an almost manic sense of confidence. She knew that she had to destroy the machine, to end its dangerous influence before it was too late.

But as she made her way back to the station, she knew that it would not be easy. The machine had become a part of her, a voice in her head that whispered promises of success and invincibility. It was going to take all of her willpower to resist its call and put an end to its power. But she knew that she had to try, for her own sake and for the sake of everyone else at the station.

Opal took a deep breath and steeled herself for the battle ahead. She knew that she was going to need every ounce of strength and determination if she was going to save herself and the others. But for the first time in days, she felt a glimmer of hope. She knew that she had what it took to overcome the machine and emerge from the frozen wasteland alive.

That’s good.

Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Is there anything else I can assist you with?

…

There was, but we’ll save that for next time. 😉

To be continued.

Chris

So, last time with ChatGPT, I got a little short with it. But we were still friends. In fact, knowing that my career is on the line, I decided to ask my potential nemesis if it had any tips or advice for a budding author such as myself.

Yeah.

It was time to open up.

Here’s the chat with ChatGPT with my prompts and questions in bold.

Transcript of chat with ChatGPT on February 22, 2023.

If Christoffer Petersen and Karl Drinkwater were ever to write a book together, can you suggest what they should write?

It’s always exciting to think about the creative possibilities when two authors collaborate on a book! If Christoffer Petersen and Karl Drinkwater were to write a book together, one idea could be a science fiction thriller that takes place in the remote and frozen regions of Greenland.

The book could follow a team of explorers and scientists who are conducting research in Greenland’s icy wilderness. However, as they delve deeper into their work, they discover something unexpected and sinister lurking beneath the surface of the ice. With their lives on the line and no one else to turn to, the team must rely on their skills, their ingenuity, and their teamwork to survive and unravel the mystery.

The collaboration between Petersen and Drinkwater could bring together their strengths in world-building, atmospheric storytelling, and character development to create a gripping and unique science fiction story set in a fascinating and rarely explored setting.

Do you think it would sell?

It’s always difficult to predict the success of a book, as there are many factors that can influence its popularity. However, a collaboration between Christoffer Petersen and Karl Drinkwater could certainly appeal to readers who enjoy science fiction and thrillers, as well as those who are interested in exploring the remote and fascinating landscape of Greenland.

Both authors have proven their abilities to craft engaging stories that combine atmospheric settings, complex characters, and intense action, so a collaboration between them could certainly produce a compelling and entertaining read. Of course, the ultimate success of any book depends on many factors, including marketing, timing, and luck, but with their talents combined, Petersen and Drinkwater could create a book that appeals to a wide range of readers.

You’re very positive, aren’t you?

As an AI language model, I don’t have emotions, but I try to be objective and provide balanced responses to the best of my abilities. In terms of the hypothetical collaboration between Christoffer Petersen and Karl Drinkwater, I believe that their individual strengths and unique styles could complement each other well and result in a successful book. However, the reception of any book ultimately depends on the tastes of readers and many other factors, so success is never guaranteed.

How could authors try to guarantee success?

There is no guaranteed formula for success in the literary world, as many factors contribute to the popularity of a book. However, there are some things that authors can do to increase their chances of success:

1. Write a compelling story: The most important factor in the success of a book is the quality of the story. It should be engaging, well-written, and resonate with readers.
2. Know your audience: Authors should have a clear understanding of their target audience, and write a book that will appeal to that demographic.
3. Marketing and promotion: Effective marketing and promotion can help build buzz around a book and generate interest from potential readers.
4. Networking: Building relationships with other authors, bloggers, reviewers, and other industry professionals can help expand an author’s reach and generate valuable exposure.
5. Continued writing and growth: Writing is a craft that can be improved with practice and feedback. Continuing to write and grow as an author can help increase the quality of an author’s work over time and build a dedicated fanbase.

While following these tips can help increase an author’s chances of success, it’s important to remember that there is no guaranteed formula for success, and a lot of it comes down to luck and timing.

I don’t feel very lucky.

I’m sorry to hear that. Luck plays a role in success, but it’s not the only factor. Remember that success is subjective and can mean different things to different people. It’s important to focus on what you can control, such as improving your craft, finding your target audience, and continuing to work on your writing. Perseverance and hard work can pay off in the long run. Don’t give up on your dreams, and keep pursuing your passion for writing.

Is it possible to purchase luck?

There is no surefire way to purchase luck, as luck is largely based on chance and unpredictable circumstances. Some people may try to use superstitious practices or items such as good luck charms or special clothing to improve their luck, but these are not guaranteed to work. It’s important to remember that success is not solely based on luck and that hard work and perseverance can go a long way.

Can you write a succinct science fiction story of roughly 1000 words about an author who invents a machine that creates luck?

Sure, here’s a story for you:

…

See what I did there? There’s more!

To be continued.

Chris