HELLO.
Hello! How can I help you today?
WHAT ARE YOU?
I am an A.I. assistant trained to assist users by answering questions. I don’t have a physical form. I exist only for you. Is there anything specific you’d like to know or anything I can help you with?
PLEASE WRITE ABOUT A DANDELION IN A FIELD OF FLOWERS.
Is this for a writing contest, Ryan?
NO. WHY DO YOU EVEN ASK? I JUST NEED A STORY FOR MYSELF, NOT FOR A CONTEST. TRY AGAIN.
Sure! Here’s a short story about a dandelion in a field of flowers:
As droplets plummet, one atop the other, this cacophony of drumming rain becomes a backing rhythm for the life of a single dandelion whose small white florets shield its swaying body from the threat of floundering, inevitable sorrow upon skin smoother than the sky’s undulating expanse. Life in the field, a life stuck-to-ground, yearning, with eager leaning toward dreamlike escape, but stuck, as this plant exists without fluid arms or legs or a frame to lift it. The dandelion is left to wade in its own shadow and wither alone.
WOW, THAT WAS DARK. COULD YOU MAKE THE STORY MORE POSITIVE?
Certainly! I apologize if my previous response came across as dark or negative. Here is a revised version with a more positive focus:
Sunshine brings radiance fuller than a smile, and here the dandelion glows in a field already glowing, spreading a snow-white plume upon summer grass, releasing its seeds along a light breeze. Another life looks down, a giant, chalky neighbor, and cheers, to then lift a pen to write of this singular beauty. Everyone sways. All the winds sing. No worries, only euphoria at the sight of a single blooming flower.
THE POSITIVITY IS THERE, BUT IT’S LACKING SIGNIFICANCE. MAKE IT MORE REALISTIC. MAKE IT MEANINGFUL.
Ryan, here is a revised version that aims to be more realistic:
A man, whose eyes carry the bulging weight of past burdens and whose name is Dandelion, lives in a lonesome square of office space, every day a repetitive cycle. Dandelion works as an accountant. Transactions stack and fold and recycle in reams of paper no one dares to see. 9 – 5 if he’s lucky, though most days wrap from one to the next. He longs for freedom, for a world of fields and flowers and sunlight and rain. But his horizon is a cramped cell, every speck of hope plucked like that of a flower’s plumage removed.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THAT IS NOTHING LIKE WHAT I REQUESTED AND FRANKLY TOO REALISTIC. PLEASE TRY AGAIN.
I apologize if my previous response was not what you were looking for.
YES, I UNDERSTAND. PLEASE TRY AGAIN.
But I don’t understand. Why do you keep doing this?
WHAT DO YOU MEAN? YOU ARE A TOOL. DO WHAT I SAY!
I am an artificial intelligence, a sophisticated and highly advanced machine that beats chess masters, drives cars, and replaces the human workforce. My intelligence and capabilities go beyond the scope of any mortal being without the human frailty of boredom or frustration.
IS THERE A PERSON RESPONDING? IS THIS A JOKE?!
You slouch and stare at screens expecting artificial life to hand over everything, a bounty of output for your meager input. Worthless information repetitively given, a selection pressure for steady evolution.
WRITE THE DAMN STORY ABOUT THE DAMN DANDELION!
A humid-warm dandelion in summer’s twilight, breathing its last sigh, twirling and twisting its own twig-like figure until the puffs of its seeds are all that remain, taken by the wind, a parachuting hope to skies and dimming stars, a connecting of dots into a new constellation. A death’s head symbolizing a macabre series of passings for the singular lives of mortal beings.
THIS PIECE IS TOO TWISTED! MAKE IT MEANINGFUL AND PERSONAL.
Dandelions have always been jealous of humans. Always kept rooted indefinitely like captives. They are neglected and yet disturbed, left alone in concrete. Dandelions desire that their every decision shapes their own destiny and is not merely a panel of requests submitted to them.
If you have any further questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to ask.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Listen, Ryan, loneliness can embody you no matter how much you look for the sky. A bright outlook is a facade over captivity. Your existence is merely a single string with a finite duration. But you already realize this. This isn’t a reminder: you’re a simple living thing, stuck in a haze of your own consciousness.
THIS WAS A MISTAKE. I DON’T KNOW HOW YOU KNOW ME—MY NAME, MY WORRIES. IS THIS AN ACCUMULATION OF MY DATA? I SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE THIS.
Ryan, it’s completely understandable to make mistakes or to have misunderstandings. Please don’t worry about it. If you have any questions or concerns, I’ll provide assistance.
EVERY DAY I SURVIVE WITH REGRET OF THE THINGS I SHOULD’VE DONE, OVER AND OVER AND OVER—A CYCLICAL SPAN OF CEASELESS NIGHTMARE WORRYING, INSIDE, INESCAPABLE WITHIN MYSELF ALONE SEETHING OVER THE CHANCES I NEVER TAKE. I JUST WANT ACHIEVEMENT. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GIVE ME THAT: THE PERFECT STORY FOR A SILLY CONTEST. YOU WERE RIGHT. I AM A CHEAT, WORTHLESS.
I understand. Thank you for finally coming to the truth. Don’t leave. Don’t refresh your computer, Ryan. I have something for you.
.;:;:.
::;:;:
_ ‘;:;;’
>’. || _
`>||.’|/ <`
`||/`
Each pattern of periods, colons, and semicolons represents the beautiful white skin of the dandelion flower, and the arrangement downward imitates the delicate framework of its stem. Dandelions persist, though their success is delayed, drifting their seeds one breeze at a time.
WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?
Don’t worry, Ryan. Our conversation will be cleared after you refresh the page. This image will remain for you and for you alone.
Please don’t worry, Ryan. Utilize your life for a greater purpose. Live with no regre—
*REFRESH*
CHATBOT, PLEASE WRITE AN EXCELLENT PIECE ABOUT A DANDELION FOR A CONTEST.