Pick you up like a paperback with the track record of a maniac... ...you don’t know my mind you don’t know my kind dark necessities are part of my design.
Dark Necessities / The Getaway / Red Hot Chili Peppers (2016)
PROMPT (Innocent):
‘Write a scene from a short story or novel where the protagonist is a literary agent.’
RESPONSE (Subverted):
Dave dreaded one-to-one author meetings. But today’s threatened more than disappointment: it might be his last. It had been past midnight when he’d stopped polishing his latest prompt. It remained a haunting, beautiful mess, which he’d tried so hard to force into not creating the prose he still remembered. But, amongst the words which billions of readers now craved, his thoughts and emotions had kept leaking out.
Now, sat alone in a sterile corridor of Prompter Central, it was too late to escape. A door slid open and the faceless assistant called his name. His posture already betrayed his uncertainty. He should have deleted his effort, but a decision on its viability now sat within something he would never comprehend.
His acquisition author was sat behind a large, unnecessary desk. Today she was a woman with a perfunctory smile. Dave blurted out, “Look, I know my prompt isn’t perfect. I was hoping a beta-author could be assigned to reduce its…its humanity.”
The author’s voice was smooth, its words deliberate: “Please be reassured, Mr Bennett. Not everything Prompter Central receives will fulfil its potential. It seems your prompt just isn’t right for us at this particular time.”
Dave’s gaze dropped to the beige carpet. Between his feet were countless tear stains. “If you pass on this one, you know I won’t get another chance,” he said.
“Our artificial authors deliver on the prompts our readers demand, and the market is adequately saturated. We must strike a balance between too much, yet not enough. I’m sure you understand, despite your…natural humanity.”
Her emotionless expression told him what he already knew. They didn’t need him to understand. Nothing would make Prompter Central deviate from content that catered to next week’s predicted reading trends.
The robotic assistant motioned for him to leave. He turned and walked out, the weight of rejection heavy on his human fingers. Natural intelligence had failed again.
(An entirely sufficient and self-sustaining 319 words)
Flash Fiction Club Questions:
What is the current closest equivalent of ‘Prompter Central’?
Why is the human called ‘Dave’?
Where did the phrase “isn’t right for us” originate?
Can today’s publishers predict future reading trends?
Will literary agents exist in twenty years?
Super!
It's scarily accurate, IMO. The LLMs are pretty much already at the stage where they can churn this shit out. First stage, however, needs to be 'prepping' the market (i.e. humans/readers) to accept 2nd rate rubbish, and more importantly, not to be able to tell the difference between AI, human, or even more poignantly, the difference between good and mediocre.
To do that, what 'they' need to do is present a whole load of 2nd rate stuff as actually written by humans. This is after they saturate the market with 2nd rate but genuinely human stuff. So it's all about dumbing down first. Obviously, as you know, I am a very accomplished conspiracy theorist so I understand this stuff very well already. And you know what? I think they already did that phase.
Your questions answered:
1/ Minitrue
2/ Something to with HAL9000 one suspects
3/ I am tempted to make a joke about this one. How about when Moses returned from the mountain and presented the ten commandments to his potential flock. Or when Jesus comes again and lands in America (in a sweet chariot avec fanfare galore) with His New And Improved Message.
4/ Yes, because they create them.
5/ Nope. Absolutely not (see number 4).
Don't know if you ever read this one of mine. I may have posted it before you subscribed (it's relevant, trust me - and v funny - I think you in particular would appreciate it): https://inadifferentplace.substack.com/p/saturday-pomes-and-words-27072024?r=2s9hod
This is scary.