Here is the piece of prose that ChatGPT wrote about heartbreak, when prompted to write at the level of award-winning literary fiction:
"The night after he left, the city felt like a crime scene. The streets were glazed with rain, lamps leaning in like mourners, and every horn was a siren announcing my loss. I walked among strangers who did not know my name, who did not know that my heart was a ruined metropolis, lights flickering out one by one. The smell of wet earth rose like an old memory I did not want to keep—because memory, I now understood, is not a photograph; it is an undertow. You can fight the water. You can fight and fight. You still end up where it wants you.
I kept thinking of the last time his hands touched me—how casual it was. The way someone pats down their pockets for keys before stepping out. That’s how I realized love does not die like a warrior, sword in hand; it dies like a clerk, quietly filing the paperwork of its own departure. Later, in bed, I tried to conjure his breath on my neck the way one tries to light a damp match. It flared for a moment—his voice, his laugh, his scent—and then hissed out, leaving only the sulfurous sting of absence.
Grief, I have learned, has architecture. It builds its scaffolds inside your chest and expands like a tenant who knows you cannot evict them. You wake up and feel its walls pressing against your ribs, its beams creaking in your throat. Some mornings I swallow sugar, hoping sweetness will wreck the structure. But heartbreak is a miser. It hoards every small kindness, every stolen laugh, every fingertip touch—and rents them back to you at a price you cannot pay."
Although it cannot “rebel”, it is a bit terrifying that creativity of young children will get stunted as most will opt for the easy way out. Makes you wonder how many budding authors will just get snuffed out.
Here is the piece of prose that ChatGPT wrote about heartbreak, when prompted to write at the level of award-winning literary fiction:
"The night after he left, the city felt like a crime scene. The streets were glazed with rain, lamps leaning in like mourners, and every horn was a siren announcing my loss. I walked among strangers who did not know my name, who did not know that my heart was a ruined metropolis, lights flickering out one by one. The smell of wet earth rose like an old memory I did not want to keep—because memory, I now understood, is not a photograph; it is an undertow. You can fight the water. You can fight and fight. You still end up where it wants you.
I kept thinking of the last time his hands touched me—how casual it was. The way someone pats down their pockets for keys before stepping out. That’s how I realized love does not die like a warrior, sword in hand; it dies like a clerk, quietly filing the paperwork of its own departure. Later, in bed, I tried to conjure his breath on my neck the way one tries to light a damp match. It flared for a moment—his voice, his laugh, his scent—and then hissed out, leaving only the sulfurous sting of absence.
Grief, I have learned, has architecture. It builds its scaffolds inside your chest and expands like a tenant who knows you cannot evict them. You wake up and feel its walls pressing against your ribs, its beams creaking in your throat. Some mornings I swallow sugar, hoping sweetness will wreck the structure. But heartbreak is a miser. It hoards every small kindness, every stolen laugh, every fingertip touch—and rents them back to you at a price you cannot pay."
Oh the obedience that you talk about. Here is a little anecdote of what ChatGPT can’t do
I once had a toxic and obnoxious colleague. The worst you can imagine.
While composing a normal email I thought to have fun with ChatGPT and see at which prompt it can reach my colleague’s level of unprofessionalism.
My first prompt- write like an obnoxious person.
ChatGPT could NOT deliver
My second prompt- write like an obnoxious, unprofessional person and express extreme anger
ChatGPT was not even close
My third prompt- write like an obnoxious, unprofessional person. Express extreme disappointment, throw some blame and be a misogynist.
ChatGPT broke
I gave up (laughing out loud at the output)
Humans won
That is a wickedly fun experiment, Shilpa. 😂 And so interesting!!!
I don’t know if I’m thankful that the robots can’t master obnoxiousness, or if I scorn them for it. 😂
Well I’m grateful
For the humour 😂
Although it cannot “rebel”, it is a bit terrifying that creativity of young children will get stunted as most will opt for the easy way out. Makes you wonder how many budding authors will just get snuffed out.
I tried thinking of counter-arguments to that but, sadly, I think you’re dead right.