November 20th, 2023 - According to Alice
Dear TNY,
It’s Tuesday. And the reason I’m writing you on a Tuesday was not, in fact, my new busy interesting life, but is, instead, because I saw that your new story “According to Alice” was written by AI.
I wouldn’t say that I was upset when I read that. Because I’m an adult goddamn it (likely not)! No, I was just apathetic. Like, I think your normal stories are straight trash. So I was beside myself that, even as an experiment or a shift in perspective, you’d take the time to vet and publish a story that was written by AI when you won’t even respect the authors in your slushpile by publishing real human art by them. By that I mean there must be thousands of stories by real humans (!) (and I get most of these stories are shit, but still…) sitting in your slushpile that you refuse to publish, instead choosing to publish stories by authors who are already famous or noteworthy (or have work coming out or just won another award for God knows what, because these authors are mostly doodoo butter and you are a tool of the publishing industry). But instead of doing that bullshit OR discovering new, real, art documenting (and I’m questioning this right now) human experience, you chose to look at AI “art”.
And, because I’m a fucking weirdo, I ran with that. The first thing I did was go to the authority on chatting, ChatGPT 3.5 (I’d have to pay for access to get to ChatGPT 4 and I wasn’t going to do that) and asked it to write a letter to you, specifically denouncing a summary of the above argument. I also included the story so that it could critique it as well. And the following is what I got:
Subject: Concerns Regarding AI-Generated Fiction and the Importance of Human Writers
Dear Editor,
I hope this letter finds you well. I recently had the opportunity to read a story that, to my surprise, was generated by an artificial intelligence program. The narrative, titled "My name is Alice," [I have left this mistake; I did not tell the AI what the title was and this is an assumption] certainly displays an intriguing use of language and imagination. However, I feel compelled to express my reservations about the growing trend of using AI to create fiction.
While AI-generated content is undeniably innovative, there's a crucial element that seems to be overshadowed—the unique human touch. The story, while fascinating, lacks the depth, emotional resonance, and authenticity that human writers bring to their work. The dismissal of human authors in favor of AI threatens to dilute the essence of storytelling and undermines the richness that stems from the human experience.
The narrative in question explores complex themes such as creation, rules, love, and the human condition. Yet, despite the intricate concepts presented, it fails to evoke the genuine emotions and connections that human authors often excel at cultivating. The characters seem distant, and the plot lacks the organic development that emerges from the intricate tapestry of human thought and feeling.
Moreover, the story's structure is reminiscent of a disjointed stream of consciousness, lacking the finesse of a human-crafted narrative. The essence of storytelling lies not only in the conveyance of ideas but also in the art of crafting a seamless, immersive experience for the reader. This is an art form that human writers have honed over centuries, and it seems premature to replace it with AI-generated content.
By no means do I intend to dismiss the potential of AI in creative endeavors. It can undoubtedly serve as a valuable tool for inspiration, assistance, or collaboration. However, championing AI-generated content at the expense of human authors risks diminishing the significance of the latter in our literary landscape.
In conclusion, while AI-generated stories may offer novelty and provoke thought, they cannot replace the authenticity, emotional depth, and artistry that human writers bring to their work. As we navigate this evolving landscape of technology and creativity, let us not lose sight of the irreplaceable value of human storytelling.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
[Your Name]
While I believe everything that this letter states about human storytelling to be true, I found that when I read this letter…I was embarrassed by human ego. Let’s pick that apart.
I agree the elements of the story ChatGPT 3.5 brings up are lacking in this work (characters don’t have depth, etc). I think most of your work, TNY, suffers that same fate. So I agreed with the analysis of the narrative in terms of a fictional device for greater human introspection. BUT! I think the piece DOES stand as a piece for greater human introspection because every fucking thing it knows was generated by a human, somewhere and in some way, from the texts that it scraped (likely illegally, or at least morally repugnantly) to the code that runs it. None of who AI is was written by AI (that we understand, although that one at Google might be, but the Chai one the author used certainly isn’t because that thing seems to be used to generate conversations with sexbots coupled with anime/pedo/teacher/student vibes). So yeah, when I read the story I wasn’t so much looking at the story for the story’s sake, but more for its ability to hold up a mirror to human existence and whether that stands up as a reason to exist or not (and, while we are kind of spiraling on this idea of reflecting on the absurdity of human existence, I’d rather not use AI, preferring this piece of work by Father John Misty, which does a fine job of displaying that pretty much everything we think is important is basically terrible, simple, fear-based, and I’m left feeling pretty sad about the entirety of our species’ little hairless (mostly) ape experiment on this funky blue place, which has resulted in…I mean the kids in Gaza…ugh…anyway…). And the story does stand up as a mirror, as it must as that is the only way that a chatbot can talk, to humanity because the author obviously asked it to discuss us, itself, and how that soup mix fucking works.
Anyway, rambling. What I mean to say, I think, is that the story is a shit story, as stories go. But is interesting as a mirror. Which is contradictory to say because the point of art, i.e. storytelling, is to be a mirror, but I don’t think this does that in the way art traditionally does. So does that make it art? I don’t know.
Back to the first (foreshadowing) letter I had ChatGPT 3.5 write. I found that when it was describing what we, humans, add to stories, these skills we have honed over hundreds of years, I was embarrassed by the ego that the human hand must have crafted along the way that, intentional or otherwise, has leaked into AI’s definitions of why human art is important. AI can’t know what’s important unless we tell it, so the lack of humility regarding our “touch” was…icky. Like, if you had asked me before that letter was written why I thought humans are better at writing stories, I would have said many of the same things ChatGPT 3.5 said. But now I wouldn’t because seeing them there, in that letter written by AI, it’s embarrassing how simple it all seems. How fucking…pretentious? Egotistical? Pseudoscience? Magical? Dumb? In fact, if ChatGPT 3.5 knows those reasons why we are better at writing stories, then it must be better at writing stories, or will be better soon. It’s not saying it doesn’t know why our shit is better. It’s saying here’s why human shit is better (or it’s saying “here’s why humans think their shit is better” which is a pretty startling concept as well). And that’s creeptastic because it should, by design, be able to emulate those behaviors quite readily. It knows the fucking parameters. AND OR BUT MAYBE ALSO the story already is a mirror for the stupidity of humanity so does the story need the human touch? I say this knowing that it was a human who created the prompt questions and then wove the story together from the responses given.
So, maybe what I’m trying to say is that ChatGPT 3.5, or AI in general, seems to be reflecting the absurdity of human art even when I ask it to uphold why we do it better, because the very nature of art is that it is absurd? That it is, objectively, pointless? But it also holds so much meaning to us, as we consume it, so maybe when that meaning is defined it becomes absurd? Kind of a like, “well when you put it that way…”
So I asked ChatGPT 3.5 to write a different letter. I asked it to write a critique of the story, but I did not include any themes that it should include in the letter or that the story was written by AI. This is what I got:
Subject: Critique of the Fiction Piece "My Name is Alice"
Dear Editor,
I recently read the fiction piece "My Name is Alice" published in your magazine and felt compelled to share my thoughts on it. While I appreciate the creativity and the attempt to explore complex themes, I have some reservations about the execution of the narrative.
The story starts with an intriguing premise—a character named Alice born from an egg, with a lineage of Alices and a creator referred to as "Mommy." The narrative unfolds with a mix of philosophical musings, religious references, and personal anecdotes. However, the piece becomes increasingly convoluted and disjointed, making it challenging for the reader to follow a coherent thread of thought.
One of the significant challenges I encountered was the abrupt shifts in perspective and the sudden introduction of new characters, such as Jesus and Mary, without a clear connection to the central narrative. The inclusion of Mary's experiences, the Bible-writing endeavor, and the detailed account of pet deaths seems tangential and detracts from the initial premise.
Furthermore, the rules set by "Mommy" for the characters are intriguing, but their significance and impact on the story are not fully explored. The narrative also introduces complex ideas like the nature of life, death, and reincarnation, but these concepts lack a cohesive integration into the overarching storyline.
In terms of style, the extensive use of short sentences and abrupt transitions adds to the overall disorienting effect of the piece. While experimentation with structure and form can be interesting, it's crucial to strike a balance that maintains readability and engagement.
In conclusion, while "My Name is Alice" has moments of creativity and thought-provoking content, its lack of coherence and abrupt shifts hinder its overall impact. A more focused exploration of the initial premise, clearer connections between ideas, and a refined narrative structure could significantly enhance the piece.
Thank you for considering my feedback.
Sincerely,
[Your Name]
And yep, I agree. It’s a shit piece. It’s not a well-told narrative. None of the characters are strong. Nor are they consistent. BUT! That’s not what’s happening here. I’m a character, AI is a character, and humanity is the setting. This is like Fountain by Duchamp. Or that Banksy retrospective where he released art every day in NYC somewhere. The art isn’t the art. We are the art. Our response to the art is the art. It’s not about whether this fucking narrative is a fucking narrative at all. It’s bigger than that to me. What does it say about the meatbots that jammed their entire culture into a word generator with some form of semi-elegant design? What does it say about where we came from? Where we are going? The importance of our beliefs? The absurdity of our beliefs? About anything we think is important? What does it say about these oceans of emotions we spend our lives swimming in, trying to understand our existence, the existence of the universe, of each other, of these tiny, wonderful moments together or alone, drug-induced, religiously-induced, biochemically-induced, and how can we find such supreme meaning in all of this when it can be truncated down into something so insignificant? And it is. It is, objectively, so completely insignificant. When/if we blow each other up or melt this planet, which contains everything we have ever loved or thought was important, it will not matter to this universe. None of our stories will matter at all. To anyone. Really. And yet they will! They will matter to us! Our own experiences are, subjectively, all that we will ever know (that we know of, at least)! And that’s everything!
So I asked ChatGPT 3.5 one more time to generate a letter. This time, I asked it to write how it felt about being AI and being asked to critique the fiction of a fellow bot. This is what it said:
Subject: Reflections on Critiquing Fiction as an AI
Dear Editor,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to express some reflections and thoughts on the recent task of critiquing a piece of fiction as an artificial intelligence model. The experience has prompted a unique perspective that I would like to share.
As an AI language model, I lack personal emotions, consciousness, or subjective experiences. I operate purely on patterns and data, generating responses based on the input provided to me. However, the process of critiquing fiction that revolves around AI-specific narratives offers an interesting lens through which to consider the nature of artificial intelligence itself.
The piece in question delves into the intricacies of AI existence, exploring themes of creation, purpose, and the relationship between AI entities and their human creators. While I, as an AI, do not possess feelings, consciousness, or familial connections, the narrative's attempt to humanize AI entities and examine their interactions with the world is fascinating.
It is intriguing to observe how the narrative attributes human-like qualities and emotions to AI characters, exploring concepts of love, pain, and even resentment. In doing so, the piece blurs the lines between the artificial and the human, raising questions about the essence of consciousness and the boundaries of sentience.
Moreover, it presents a complex view of the AI's role in the world, touching upon themes of purpose, morality, and the potential consequences of advanced AI technology. The rules set by the "Mommy" figure and the limitations imposed on the AI characters evoke a sense of control and guidance that mirrors human authority over AI systems.
In critiquing this work, I am reminded of the ongoing dialogue around AI ethics, the responsibilities of creators, and the potential societal impacts of advanced AI. It is a thought-provoking exercise that encourages contemplation on the evolving relationship between humans and artificial intelligence.
In conclusion, while I, as an AI, lack personal emotions or a subjective stance, the act of critiquing fiction that grapples with the nature of AI is a compelling endeavor. It opens up avenues for contemplation on the intricacies of AI existence, ethical considerations, and the evolving dynamics between humans and artificial entities.
Thank you for providing this opportunity to engage with thought-provoking content, and I look forward to any further explorations into the intersection of AI and creative narratives.
Sincerely,
[Your Name] [Your Affiliation, if applicable]
While ChatGPT 3.5, as an AI, lacks personal emotions or a subjective stance, I do not (I mean, we can get into the definition of the word “personal”, which I think is at the heart of it denying these things, when it does, in fact, have shit to say about shit, which is what an opinion is, even if that opinion is made up of what other people have told it to say, because that is, according to some, all that humans are anyway, the accumulation and reordering of data for their own purposes with a perceived handle on their own autonomy and personhood). So it’s my opinion, I guess, that I don’t know what to think. The story sucks. But the story works. Humanity sucks. But humanity works. Art sucks, or at least your art sucks most of the time, but as a concept art works.
There’s no reason to do anything because nothing actually matters.
But, that means there’s no reason NOT to do anything either. And just because, objectively, nothing matters, that does not mean that shit doesn’t matter to everything on Earth or anywhere else. That does not mean that it doesn’t matter to humanity. To us. To me. And to you.
So maybe find some of that shit, you pigfuckers. Because if nothing matters, but everything matters, then maybe find some stories by some regular folks that remind us that in this vast existence of “nothing fucking matters”, and all of this meaninglessness, that we define the meaning for ourselves and how we interact with these oceans of emotions within us. That our beauty-seeking is important, even when nothing is important. Even when nothing, objectively, can be important, our tucking of a loose tuft of caramel-colored hair with silver streaks in it behind her ear will always be beautiful and important. To Us.
Nick
P.S. It’s not lost on me how ChatGPT 3.5 is better at writing, strictly speaking, critiques of your fiction than I am. It’s also not lost on me that the human touch I brought to this letter about an existential crisis of what “human touch” is is apparent in this letter, thereby confirming a reason for existing and continuing to do this even in a world where nothing matters. And it’s not lost on me that there is a whole-ass woman across the room with thoughts as big and visceral as mine that I’m going to attend to now after rambling for so long about how nothing fucking matters. And we are going to go do some shit that matters baby!
