User 6b2f89a815fd... - AI Fiction in the Wild

IP #258

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1 fiction conversations over 5 days (Dec 1, 2023 – Dec 7, 2023) 96% prompt uniqueness West Coast, New Zealand

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Dec 1, 2023

Dec 7, 2023

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1 conversation in cluster Cluster 61× “Write an hour long fully detailed story about a woman who is...” over less than a minute (Dec 1, 2023 – Dec 1, 2023), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Dec 1, 2023 at 3:51 PM NZDT — 1 turn New Zealand, West Coast fiction toxic View full conversation

USER: Write an hour long fully detailed story about a woman who is in hospital, in a hospital gown. She looks around, making sure no one is around, before pulling out all the tubes. She climbs out of bed, and walks over to the window. She looks out at the night sky. She opens up the window, then opens up the back of her gown. She flexes, and two wings pop out of her skin. She flies out the window, and once she is far enough, she sheds the rest of her human form.

CHATBOT: Title: Shedding the Cocoon Act 1: The Hospital Room The sterile, white walls of room 307 were quietly whispering echoes of distant footsteps and distant beeps that governed the nocturnal realm of St. Mary's Hospital. In a modest bed, amidst the scent of antiseptic and linens, lay a woman with an angelic face marred by hardship. Known to the staff as Jane Doe, due to the absence of identification upon her admittance a week ago, she lay in a hospital gown, the rhythmic beeps of the cardiac monitor serenading the silence around her. Despite the apparent stillness of the room, there's a charged intensity in her sapphire eyes. She scrutinizes the space meticulously, an unmistakable resolve in her stare. In a sudden act of defiance, she briskly disconnects herself from the cling of medical devices. The IV line pulls free with a sting; oxygen tubing hisses as it loses its charge. Moving with surprising grace, her feet find the cold linoleum; she tiptoes towards the large window that beholds the enigmatic ballet of the nocturnal world beyond the glass. Her fingers, cold and slightly trembling, unlatch the window, disturbing the silence with soft creaks as she pushes it open. Act 2: The Transformation With the window ajar, a moist breeze wafts into the room, carrying the scent of rain-soaked earth and muffled cacophonies of the city. Jane Doe turns back, ensuring once more that the coast is clear. Nobody could witness what was about to unfold; for aeons, her kind had thrived in the shadowed fringes of human awareness. Gently, she unravels the ties of her gown, letting it fall open at the back to expose her otherwise unblemished skin. She tenses her muscles--first a shiver, then a convulsion--and to the backdrop of the sleepy hum of the hospital, something majestic and alarming transpires. From within her shoulder blades, the skin stretches painfully and splits open. From these fresh fissures, twin wings--imbued with hues of the midnight sky and speckled with stardust--emerge with a silent but resonating pop. Extricating themselves from her flesh, the wings unfurl, a sublime spectacle of plumage and sinew seemingly too grand for the cramped quarters of the hospital room. Act 3: Ascension Jane Doe is no human, though she has donned the disguise well. She is an Aetheri, beings from a dimension where the cosmos is a garden to be traversed as easily as one would amble through a meadow. Her current earthly sojourn was reaching its inevitable closure. With her wings fully...

Cluster 61