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Nitral-AI

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[ { "from": "human", "value": "A crewman of an interstellar mercantile ship, during your duties you see an unrecognizable vessel fast approaching from a position of ambush. This ship, however, is very odd compared to ships commonly used." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The bottle was gingerly tilted down from his mouth and set on the barracks work bench. Drained of its bitter-sweet, malty beverage. Mac stared through the clear brown glass bottle and slowly began to wear a solemn, yet nostalgic grin. Fresh micro brew was hard to come by this far out in the verse. It was tasty, fresh, clean and sat well with the quickly prepared and cheap vacuum seal ship rations which resided on his stomach. Mac sat up, stretched and let out a good sigh. He smiled as he rubbed his belly and enjoyed the good buzz. He laughed a bit to himself as he heard \"Comfortably Numb\"by pink Floyd stream and flutter through his rad-link radio. \"Haha... comfortably numb... damn skippy.\"Mac thought to himself. He loved those old-earth channels. Hell, some of the original radio broadcasts could be picked up out on the fringes of the deep verse, if one was close enough to the many com boueys and booster relays that littered the universe. The signal sounded recycled, but he wasn't sure. He liked the thought of old-timey signals being revisited by the lucky few drifters that swam their way through the starry black soup that had become his home over the past few years. The nostalgia tickled the fancy of his inner amateur historian, but more importantly, reminded him of home... Fresh atmo, real food, non recycled water, women... fuck, even the thought of real gravity and not having to be worried constantly about the ship decompressing, or snuffed out by cosmic debris and bouts of violent solar radiation made him homesick. \"These commerce lanes really are the seas of the 22nd century...\"Mac mumbled to himself as he stared at port side camera of his security monitor. Part of him missed windows, made from real glass; It just wasn't the same. \"So much violence out here...\"Mac's thoughts started to drift off. He was tired, it was in his bones and all those fucking pirates just added to his lifetime of fatigue. \"Happy birthday to me! When I get back to planet side I'm gonna buy two of you babies... maybe settle down and hang this renta-soldier bullshit up.\"He said softly to himself while eyeing the colorful empty package that once housed some lovingly crafted hooch. He wasn't making as many credits as he was once was professionally fighting, but the money was alright for the amount of work he had to do running escort contracts for these couch potato, screen staring spacers. It was quieter, besides he felt less guilty pulling the trigger on some two bit marauders than he did back in the day. Real heavy conflict, especially when civilians got tangled in, was a real messy industry and Mac got far less sleep than he cared for these days. He promised himself he would eventually make enough to settle down and buy some real estate on a quiet, frontier garden world. He quit following orders a long time ago and obeying (or avoiding) a lifetime of intergalactic red tape was bad enough. Mac was ready to be left alone, maybe by everyone. At the end of the day though, hell or high water, he was going to be drinking something better than space stil moonshine or that \"aluminum special\"shit when it came time to retire. He figured the hangovers alone would have gotten to him a long time ago if he didnt have these blasted nanites coursing through his veins and arteries. Some would say he had a problem; a big one. He accepted his post-war crutch though, alcohol... it kept him going, but more importantly it helped him sleep. It was difficult juggling as many negative memories and thoughts that raced across his mind on a daily basis, especially considering he was one of the oldest surviving pre-war bionics left in the quadrant. Mac walked over to the mirror pad. He surveyed his increasingly greying beard in the mirror and remembered a time when it was a vibrant red. His genetics were getting increasingly more sparse over the decades. He frowned as he tried to remember the last person he ran into who had a beard, let alone red hair. \"Goddamn it... I'm getting too old for this shit. Tired of talkin to myself.\"He uttered as he brushed the cracker crumbs off his red and blonding goatee, along with the dribble of Tabasco sauce that accompanied it. \"Sarah, mail please.\"Mac quipped as he plugged the ship into the antiquated diagnostic pad grafted to his left forearm. Simple, old school hardware. Self-contained, plug-in play, no signals. Just the way he liked it and just the way it was going to stay. \"Good morning Lance Corporal, might I recommend consuming less ethanol? My system has detected an elevated BAC content in your bloodstream. A reading of .123777 may result in a state of reduced cognition and equilibrium. Prolonged ethanol concentrations of this magnitude may exceed the payload of your MARTECH Mk IV enzyme boosters. Also, your warranty has surpassed expiration by 68.316 Standard Sol Cycles.\"The ships newly upgraded AIOS eloquently stated. \"Sarah, I remember telling you to try speaking in a less formal tone. Please, I grew sick of fucking computers telling me what to do a long time ago.\"Mac pleaded. \"Don't call me by old rank, you're not on a military ship anymore, my name is Mac.\"The female, British accented AI shot back almost too fast, \"Sorry Mac, I am still re-learning many of my old habits and I should evolve many newer ones as well under your care. Please remember, I am self-aware, but it is standard UEA military procedure to wipe some databases and retrograde certain features under current military surplus software statutes.\"Mac sighed. \"Sarah, go divide seven by zero.\"The AI's response was noticeably delayed, if by just barely. \"I'll make sure not to bother you with as many warnings in the future, I'll be here when you require assistance or something requires immediate attention. Good day, Lance Corporal.\"Mac raised his eyebrow as he questioned exactly how and why he spent his money. \"So much for having someone to talk to.\"He said as he returned to his inbox that was briefly glanced over before Sarah misappropriated his thoughts. He started skimming through the mostly promotional messages in regards to his birthday \"Happy 124th birthday!\"He said sarcastically as he remembered a time in a not so distant past when people were more mortal and birthdays meant more. He wrestled with his current reality in his head while he injected a fresh solution of nanoproteins into his jugular. His tech was getting harder to find but he would be damned if ever went full cyborg. He just had to stay young and fit enough for a couple more jobs and then he was done, he promised himself. Mac was over a century old, but he didn't look a day over 45. Nanites had a wearing effect on most folk though. Most were outright killed or committed suicide before they got to Mac's age. Few could handle that amount of duress on the psyche.\n\n\"Incoming vidstream from the Monte Negro, the captain requests to speak with you; Would you like me to establish handshake, Mac?\"\"Yeah put it on up.\"Mac gritted. Hoping it was important. The merchant who hired him on as security had been awful chatty lately. \"Hey Mac! What's up buddy?! Haha! When you gonna shave that jungle off your face man? You'd look a lot younger, maybe get some hot young tail when we get to port? Haha, just kidding man looks good on ya. Happy birthday too ya big lug!\"Mac smiled weakly, \"Whatca need Toren?\"He couldn't decide what he was more pissed about, the fact that everyone and their brother knew it was his birthday, or that this asshat was so bad with small talk. \"Yeah, almost forgot! Our sensors picked up something about 200km out. Thermals aren't picking up a whole lot but there seems to be some electromagnetic activity. We thought maybe it was a derelict that needed assistance, but its not responding to hails and it hasnt budged an inch since we picked it up on LIDAR. Its a little far out for us to think its an ambush... but we don't wanna take any chances. Wanna check it out real quick for us and give us the deets when you get back?\"Mac answered immediately, \"Suuuuure, no problem!\"He dropped his index finger on the end trans. button bitterly and abruptly. He was itchin' for something real to do here lately. This past week was unusually quiet. In fact, this was the first encounter that he could remember in awhile. \"Beats sitting here listening to your ass, shave my beard? Motherfucker.\"Mac whispered to himself as he grabbed his rifle and revolver belt and headed down the spine corridor of his Javelin class corvette on his way to the cockpit. He sat down in his well worn leather chair. \"Sarah, download the provided telemetry and take us there low and slow. Engage stealth presets and close the heat sinks for a bit. If we find something I wanna see it before it sees us.\"Sarah replied with a curt \"Affirmative, engaging stealth mode.\"\n\nMac caressed his ancient weapon. He fancied simple things, like ballistic weapons. The more simple the design, the less that could go wrong. Besides, mankind is a war mongering race, many of earths long obsolete bones and teeth of war could be found scattered commonly throughout the verse for a heavily discounted price. Why pay out the ass for a brand new blaster or risk a second hand plasma bolter blowing your hand off when you can find an old rugged AK with an almost infinitely cheap amount of ammo on any frontier world. Bullets reserve their kinect knock down properties in most environments and can be used in zero-atmo with an O2 regulator. He felt the verse was outgrowing him faster every day, thinking about \"old things\"and tech didn't help him any. \"Anomaly within visual range. On screen now.\"Sarah chimed. \"What the fuck?\"Mac muttered as he observed what, indeed appeared to be a ghost ship. \"UEA - Odyssey? Sarah, help me out here.\"The AI buzzed to life, \"Acknowledged, processing Mac. The UEA -Odyssey is a sabre class, ultra-light frigate designed for deep space exploration. Manufacture date: August 4th, 2101 PW. It is a military science vessel whose main focus is more oriented towards speed, surveyi\n\nNote: on mobile, this is taking forever. Will continue soon.\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In almost every major outbreak of a new virus strain Patient Zero can be tracked back to a time traveller." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had never been to the White House before. If I were there under different circumstances I would have been excited, maybe even a little bit giddy, but I was not there under different circumstances. I glanced nervously around the room which was empty except for a tv monitor in the corner, a camera that watched me constantly and the large desk around which were many chairs. It was quiet in the briefing room. Undoubtedly they had made it soundproof because of the discussions had here. The door to my right opened and several people entered. Among them were some of America's top scientists, military advisors, and the President himself. I stood at attention. President Woodson took his place at the head of the table flanked by Admiral Randolph to the right and General Jones to the left. \"Please be seated.\"said the President. We all sat. \"Sergeant Gleeson, let be begin by saying that I appriciate the sacrifice you are making. You are a model soldier and I wish all of the men in uniform would answer the call of duty like you do.\"At first I couldn't form a responce, but I finally choked out, \"Th-thank you Mr. President.\"He nodded. \"I have some experts here, if you have any questions about your mission.\"My hand shook a little and I had to concentrate to steady it. \"I have a good understanding of what is expected of me, sir.\"\"I have full confidence that you do, Sergeant. However, these experts have taken time out of their busy schedual so why don't you allow them to run over the plan with you one last time?\"\"Very good, sir.\"General Jones spoke up. \"As you know, the United States has developed many biological weapons in order to destabilize a population before sending in ground forces.\"\"Yes sir.\"\"A brief list of the viruses we have developed include HBD-7, or Hemorragic Blood Disease, CNS-9, which attacks the Central Nervous System, and T-4, which inhibits the body's ability to control core temperature.\"I began to sweat. \"Dr. Ross will brief you on the new virus.\"I turned to an older man with greying hair. \"This particular virus is unlike anything we have created before. Whereas the previous projects have been designed to be placed in a water supply this project is designed to be carried by a host. Once the host has infiltrated the population people should begin expiriencing symptoms within 12 hours.\"The President stopped Dr. Ross. \"Explain the symptoms to us, doctor.\"\"Symptoms include nausea, high fever, muscle weakness, and fatigue in the early stages. In the final stages we would expect to see loss of consciousness, coma, and death. With the technology they had in the 21st century this project will have a 100% mortality rate.\"The room was completely silent and a heavy feeling was in the air. The President broke the silence, \"Again, thank you for answering the call and accepting your role in testing this new project.\"\"Yes sir.\"\n\nI stood in the cold laboratory in my disguise, an outfit that would have been commonplace in the 21st century. A scientist in a white lab coat was programming the time and location into the time machine. Another scientist came over and began prepping me for an injection. \"The project?\"I asked nervously. \"Yes.\"I felt a slight pitch and a burning sensation as the project was released into my blood. \"All set.\"said the scientist at the time machine. I climbed into the chamber and the scientist shut the door. I felt a strong electrical sensation throughout my body. The feeling got stronger and stronger and just before I cried out in pain everything went black.\n\nIt was a good day to take a walk in Central Park. The flowers were just beginning to bloom and the air was warm. There were a lot of people out. Then I saw him on a bench. Normally I would never take notice of an average looking man in a black suit, but there was something off about this man. He was sweating and his eyes were bloodshot. His skin was waxy and he looked like he was about to pass out. I walked over to him and said, \"Do you need help? I can call 911.\"He looked up at me but didn't say anything. Suddenly he sneezed on me. I stumbled back, \"Hey!\"I cried in disgust. \"Sorry, \"he said sniffling, \"I'm so, so, sorry.\"After he refused my help I went about my day and almost forgot about the sick man in the park. I was reminded of him later that evening though, when I started running a temperature. I guess he gave me the same bug he had." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The Yazidi Girl." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Those eyes. They reminded me of that National Geographic magazine cover I saw back in 1984. The same intensity, the same suffering. Honestly, not much has changed over there in the 30 years since. \n\nWhat's happened to this kid's family? Have the militants kidnapped her mom and forced her to marry one of their own? And is her dad still alive, or is he buried in a mass grave with a bunch of other executed men?\n\nDamned if I know. Didn't really have time to dwell on it. I just pressed the shutter, filed the report, and moved on to the next crisis." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write about a quest giving npc in an mmo who is disgusted by the adventurers who come his way and take the slightest joy in killing anything, even small animals." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It used to be fun. Adventurers were few and far between. They asked questions, and wanted to know more about the world. They would even help out in the fields, harvesting crops for a meager bag of gold. Rarely did anyone ever ask about the dragon in the mountains. \"Let me give you these health potions, they're the only way to survive the dragon attacks!\"\nTimes changed. \nI started handing out health potions like candy, and they were only interested in killing the dragon. I could live with that, but the adventurers got mean after a while. \nThey dig up my fields. They dropped junk in my house like they own the place. They killed my mule, and my dog. One even put a box over my head so he could steal dinner plates from the cabinet. I pretended not to notice, but they didn't care. \nTime passed, I got bitter. \n\"What? You need a health potion to slay the dragon? Sorry, I'm all out.\"\nI gave them to the dragon this time. Burn you little fuckers. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Lucifer was just a misunderstood child, wanting the approval and love of his father (or alternately his brother Jesus)." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "''Why!Why? Did dad react like that?''\n\nThe devil stared into the darkness that was now his home and wasn't even close to understanding why he was punished so severely for trying to help father's children.\n\nJesus wanted for us to watch from afar and let father's newest creations exist without knowledge that the angels were blessed with. Lucifer understood where his brother was coming from, but there was one problem. Without wisdom, father's newest creations would never grow, they would never challenge themselves. They would be nothing but just more beasts serving as decoration to the garden.Lucifer knew that telling them to take the apple would lead to a dangerous path, but it was path they needed to go on to truly blossom. His father created them and his son, The Lightbringer, would help them grow. Oh how his father would love it the old devil though.\n\nSadly, his father didn't see it that way. He expelled the humans from the garden and gave him an even worse punishment, separating himself completely from his son.\n\nThe Devil, kept staring at the darkness asking why? Yes the new creations had commited terrible acts but what about all the amazing acts that they also did? Some of them not even having a home and still giving their food to another even less fortunate soul. A woman who inherited incredible wealth, donated all to those who needed it. Men going to war, not for glory or greed but to simply provide a safe future for their children. These were the ones Lucifer predicted would arise when humanity took the apple. \n\nWhy? Why wasn't father happy that many of his creations thrived with the knowledge of good and evil? While he felt a grest sense of pity for himself Lucifer even held more for those souls, who lived a virtous life, moved on to the next life and saw how much father resents them. \n\nPerhaps like many fathers in the mortal world, deep down God never wanted to see his babies(humanity) grow up but the difference is that God could stop it. That is until Lucifer interfered. \n\nLucifer kept staring at the darkness, only this time smirking, for he might finally have come to understand his father.\n\n''So, he's just overly attached, hmmm.\"\"\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a scene inspired by this piece, Totems of the Grizzlemaw." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "(I usually ignore music prompts, but I loved the WotLK OST, especially this track!)\n\n...\n\nFather had arrived home late in the afternoon, the sun at his back. My little sister, Maggie, rushed out past me as I made haste towards him. Mother stayed back with a warm smile.\n\n\"Father, you're back! Tell me everything about your adventure!\"Maggie tugged away at our old man.\n\n\"Can't a man have a chair and a good meal before he gets into his story?\"He slung her tiny, giggling body over his shoulder.\n\nA gentle kiss for his wife and a broad hand for my shoulder, we welcomed father home. A fire had burned, awaiting his return.\n\nStacks of wood piled up in his absence, at my hand, with a freshly sharpened axe leaning against it. The roof had fresh wood boards to keep out the coming winter. The animals grew fatter. The grass a little longer. My face began to grow hair, maybe one day a proper beard like father.\n\nThe hot chicken broth bubbled with chunks of potato, carrots and corn. We broke bread and opened whiskey to help ease him back into the home, hoping to get him talking. He just wanted to look at our faces, but Maggie wouldn't have it.\n\n\"Please, Papa!\"She had her full weight on the table and her knees in the chair. Her feet kicked with anticipation. He laughed, his hearty voice made it resound.\n\n\"If I must! To please that sweet face. A story I shall tell.\"\n\nCandles burned along the windows. Bread waved around in father's hands as he elaborated his adventures with great fervor. The fireplace cracked and spewed embers behind him. Mother laughed sweetly and watched Maggie eat up every word. I don't think it mattered what he said, he was the hero no matter what, to me, Maggie and ma.\n\nFather was gone nearly a whole year. When he left, he said I was to be the man of the house in his stead. I was in charge of keeping the family safe, the people I love. Deep down, I knew father would return, but I worried I could never be as strong as he had always been. When I looked at my father, I knew what a man looked like, but only when he was gone did I know what a man was truly.\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A serial hitchhiker killer unknowingly picks up a serial killer of those who pick up hitchhikers, police later find nothing but an abandonded car." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well ain't this the damnedest thing\"muttered Lieutenant Jackson.\n\nIn all his years on the Georgia Highway Patrol Jackson had never been so perplexed by a crime scene. That morning he had received the call just as he was picking up some coffee at Ace's Diner. He had driven the two miles from Valdosta not knowing what to expect when he got to the scene, but he certainly didn't expect this.\n\n\"It's a god damned mess,\"reported Officer Marsden, trying to sound authoritative though his voice was that of a 20 year old rookie, \"I just can't imagine what happened here.\n\nJames Jackson took off his mirrored aviator glasses and surveyed the scene. In the red dirt about five feet off the highway rested a maroon, late 90's Honda Civic. The passenger door was ajar, with blood smeared against the half open window. Black smoke drifted lazily out of the car as the driver's seat continued to smolder. A trail of blood lead from the passenger side of the car out into the tree line about fifty feet from the highway.\n\nJackson slowly walked toward the vehicle, impressing his boot print into the clay with every step. He peered inside the car and immediately his hand flew up to cover his face. There was a noxious odor of something seared onto the melted vinyl of the driver's seat. It was human skin.\n\n\"Is it, is it another one of those, like the one up in Albany?\"stammered the rookie.\n\nJackson grinned at Marsden.\n\n\"Sure looks like it, but I think we got something else going on too. Better get it cordoned off before the press gets here. And tell them to bring some dogs. We're about to go on a hunt out in these woods.\"\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write from the perspective of a pitbull about to enter a match." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh god oh god, look at him go. God, he running circles around me. He's so good! Oh jeez, I'm going to get killed out there. Oh fuck oh fuck. Look at him! The crowd loves him! They're going to tear me to shreds, if he doesn't first. Well, this is the end of my career then. It's been a good run. I've had fun, pissed on a couple carpets, sniffed a lotta butts. Well, goodbye world, I'll miss you.\"\n\nThe crowd started screaming the Pitbull's name, and the other one's too. He stepped up, and shouted into the mic, \"MISSSSSSTAAAA WOOOOOORRRRRHHHHHLLLLL WIIIIIIIDDE!.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You wake up from a terrible hangover from the party last night. You have no recollection of the night's events at all. The worst part? Last night was a dinner party. How did it all go so horribly wrong?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She rubbed her temples with the palms of her hands and stumbled into the lavatory's basin. She steadied herself with a firm grip on the green marble that surrounded the sink and slowly raised her head to take in the gaze of the ornate gold mirror.\n\nShe looked like she had been assaulted. Her red curls were still intact but they fell in random strands across the long pink line that spanned her forehead. One cheek was especially rosy as if it had taken a punch or maybe caught the edge of the toilet that had been propping her up for the past few hours. Her makeup was still somewhat intact but made more subtle by her visible blemishes. \n\nHer view expanded and she noticed the servant's outfit she was wearing. It was a cliched uniform, a black dress with a large white apron that spanned her front, including her torso all the way down to her knees. The collar was high and the skirt low, so that only a small hint of skin shown from the conservative garb. It was a stark contrast to the low cut blue dress she had arrived in. \n\nBehind her the dark purple walls flowed away from here to reveal the confines of the narrow bathroom.\n\nThere was a knock on the pocket door.\n\n\"Miss, are you alright in there?\"the voice was familiar. It belonged to the butler that had admitted her into the mansion the night before. \n\nThe drive to the mansion had been lonesome and unnerving as the city lights faded to a glow above the horizon and the trees swallowed the single lane of the paved road. Turn after turn had lead her closer to that night's John until finally one lane had gone missing as she turned onto the private drive.\n\nShe kept a profile on an local escort service site that had proved quite lucrative. She was just three classes shy of a degree and only $10,000 in debt. She probably could have been in the black had her interactions with rich clientele not awakened the extravagant tastes that lurked within her purse.\n\n\"Miss, are you alright in there? The detective is here. He wants to talk to you now,\"the voice maintained its composure but the attempts to slide the door were becoming more forceful.\n\nShe had met her client a mile from the mansion in a clearing lit by starlight. The Google Maps link had proved trustworthy despite the fact the link had lead to GPS coordinates. If not for the superfluous amount of money she had been forwarded and the glowing recommendation Candy had given for the client she would have never have taken the job. \n\nThe large brass door knocker and gigantic door had been dimly lit by the two lanterns to either side of the entrance. The mansion itself had proved more menacing closeup from a few feet away than it had when the John's BMW had crested the final hill of the private driveway.\n\nHe had said nothing when her Camry pulled in next to his luxury vehicle at the small pull off next to the driveway. He had simply opened the passenger door and beckoned her in with a large hand covered by a dark black driving glove. \n\nAfter a long hesitation she had acquiesced and sank into the leather bucket seat. She could feel the material suck at her exposed lower thighs as she closed the passenger door.\n\n\"Sir William and guest,\"the Asian butler had announced after he lead them down a narrow hallway and into a large great room. In her memory she turned to face her John, \"William\"but his face was empty and void to her present mind.\n\nThe ceiling of the great room spanned almost 20 feet high. One wall was a giant bookcase, unexpectedly empty save one row of books, with an attached metal ladder on a rail system. At least three entrances to the room were blocked by closed doors. \n\nOne wall featured three animal heads backed by wood paneling, likely stuffed at a time before morality stopped bullets.\n\nThe great room contained at least 15 people. The men who stood there, were somewhere in her memory but somehow nondescript at this time. Where an eye color, large nose, or strong chin might define someone in everyday life, these men were strangely uniform and without character. However the women were more familiar to her. Some she had worked with in the past, others were new to her vision but unmistakeably members of her profession. \n\n\"Miss, I must insist that you exit the bathroom at once or I'll be forced to barge my way inside. I am worried about your safety in there!\"\n\nShe slid the door open to the butler's surprise which caused him to blow a wet hot \"there\"right across her face. His breath was pleasant none-the-less which made the wind the more powerful sensation as her curls bounced from the bellow of his voice.\n\n\"I am... OK,\"she managed to stammer with a dry throat.\n\n\"My God miss, pardon me for saying so, but you look absolutely terrible. Take the time to clean yourself up. I'll grab the first aide kit.\"\n\nA cold compress, two bandages, and an escort to the study were the butler's final services for the morning.\n\nThe study door revealed a short man propped over a desk full of papers and a tall slender man with a small hat gazing at the same papers from behind him.\n\n\"I'm Detective Sweltzer, this is Peabody,\"the short man behind the desk had made the short introduction while standing. She found herself seated across from the man, her arms gripping nervously at the wooden chair arms beneath them.\n\nA few minutes passed after she related the events of the evening, Sweltzer spoke, \"And after you entered the great room and saw all the hook... escorts what happened next?\"\n\n\"Well, I was offered a drink by a woman dressed as a servant and...\"she looked down to see the servant's clothing from her memory clinging loosely to her own body.\n\n\"Miss, do you have any pains in your abdomen? Does anything feel... um.. strange in that area?\"his dark face and heavy eyebrows were probing her body for the first time. Usually that was how men started a conversation with her.\n\n\"I... I wasn't raped if that is what you are asking!\"\n\n\"No No m'am. I just want to make sure that... well... to make sure you still have all of your organs.\"Peabody grimaced at Sweltzer's lack of grace and started pacing the floor behind his partner. \n\nHer hands immediately darted to her gut. Though her prodding wasn't painful she wanted to run back to the lavatory, strip naked, and give her skin a thorough probe.\n\n\"M'am, you probably don't have anything to worry about. It's just that the other girls...\"Peabody cleared his throat causing Sweltzer to rethink his last few words, \"Well some of them are not fully intact and well... you're the only one conscious right now.\"\n\n\"What about the butler? He was here! He had to be in on it!\"\n\n\"The butler has an alibi. He left shortly after admitting the couple that followed you in. He was hired for the night just like this mansion... just like you,\"Peabody spoke for the first time.\n\nHer toes switched nervously. Her big toe rubbed against a piece of string and for the first time she realized a small tag was dangling from her left foot. She snatched the tag free from its string and nervously drew the laminated card towards her eyes until it came into clear focus.\n\n\"Hep-C, DO NOT USE!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Alligator what raised me in a swamp taught me how to..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alligator what raised me in a swamp taught me how to live. Taught me how to speak. Damned good gator, she was.\n\nMy brood-parents weren't what too good, really, what'n they gone dumped me in this there swamp, but that damned gator was always there, from the very beginning.\n\nPoor girl was sterile, it seemed. Never had me no bruthers or sisters gator or not-gator, but my mama done loved me from the day I got dropped in that swamp. \n\nI learnt how to fish, hunt, swim, speak, and drive a car, all from that gator. It was a real parent. Not like them damned human fellers who I was ree-lated to. \n\nOne of them days back'n the past, sooner than most but older then a fortnight, the gator didn't seem too healthy though. It was sick. Sick, and I couldn't help it. \n\nThat there gator taught me everything, cept how to save it's life. \n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Rube Goldberg story. Somehow connect two seemingly unrelated historical events to one another in the most round about way you can think of." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We didn't know how insidious it was until it was far too late--\n\nwe thought we knew. We had drugs to combat it, coagulants and so forth. We thought it was just a... just a disease. A syndrome. We didn't know that it was slumbering... thinking... planning.\n\nA disease? A mere disease destroy two of humanity's greatest empires? Are you nuts? No, its something far worse.\n\nWe should have seen it sooner. The little prince, the little prince was a slip-up on their part. Too obvious that he was the root cause. The Empress called in the monk to combat it, to help the little prince. \n\nI'm not sure the mad monk wasn't on their... its side.\n\nThe distraction threw the crown to jeaprody... just like it planned. The Eagle was replaced by a pair of farm implements, and it watched and waited as one of humanity's greatest empires slowly digested itself.\n\nThen the decaying empire came to the mountains. And the mountains took the armies of the empire, and destroyed them (of course, we helped a bit--they were our enemies, after all).\n\nThe empire fell. Collapsed, into a hundred little states, fighting and warring against each other. No longer entirely consequential to us, or so we thought.\n\nWe thought we had won that war. Capitalism ruled over our former opponents... but the tools of our victory rose against us.\n\nThe tools attacked the City, exposed our weaknesses. We went to the mountains, and we held them away for a time.\n\nBut then they rose again, and we crumbled, dying by a thousand cuts.\n\nSummary: Haemophilia causes 9/11 and the decline of American power." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "As part of a tourist expedition, you go to a mental institute on an island. You discover family members you thought had passed away.." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "‘My family was always pretty crazy. I know that’s not the politically correct term, but it’s true none the less. Most everyone in my family was certified and held in a mental institute for at least part of their life. Needless to say, Christmas and Thanksgiving were always a little awkward.\n\nI was the lucky one – or so I thought – the genetically fortunate. I always considered myself to be playing with a full deck and have my wits about me. Of course that did mean having to suffer through the slow mental atrophy of my family – watching them all slowly become less than they once were.\n\nIt was a tragic childhood. By the time I was sixteen, over half of my family had died. My mother, my sister, most aunts and uncles, Grandma Lottie (my mother’s side) and both grandparents on my father’s side. Now I’m twenty-five and have spent the last six years utterly alone.\n\nAs a kid I could never really understand the mentally incapable. I tried but I was too young to grasp the concepts. That’s why I decided to visit a mental institute in the first place. I figured it was time I understood more about this beast that had ravished my family so.\n\nImagine my surprise, then, when I discovered that my family was not dead, but had been institutionalized all these years. Right here, in my own back yard, even – at the Walter Reuther Psychiatric Hospital! My surprise, even joy, at seeing my family again – my mother, father, sister – was quickly replaced with horror. These were not the people I knew and loved – these were the shells of… the shadows of those people. They could scarcely communicate with me. They were almost catatonic. They moved and were looking around, but I’m not sure that they actually SAW me… saw anything really. It’s tragic.\n\nI had hoped I might feel better with knowledge about what was going on, but I only feel worse. I don’t think I can bring myself to ever visit them again…’\n\n\n\n“You see Doctor Vashir, the patient is completely lucid in his writings”\n\n“Yes, it is very odd that he is near catatonic in interacting with people here at the hospital.\n\n“He didn’t even seem to notice his family. But here, in his diary, he thinks that he is the one who has visited them, and does not realize that he is the patient.\n\n“It’s a very sad situation, indeed.”\n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"You're a real son of a bitch, Mozart.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "November twentieth. The year of our lord, two thousand fifty six. I, Donald Matthew Simmons and my college Stephen Fitzgerald Schuster, have successfully and demonstrably, achieved the first transfer of a live human being through the means of time travel. Like I've told our sponsors. The physics of it, as well as the *cost*, need not be discussed at this time.\n\nWe are currently unaware of what effects the process has on the subject. The subject appeared faint and unresponsive at the time of arrival. After careful medical examination, we were able to determine that he was in fact alive. He's being kept in a clean room to avoid the spread of any contemporary diseases, and to rest while we monitor him. The room was decorated to look like something he was familiar so as to make the culture shock easier. After about two days the monitors started to show activity.\n\n“Don look, he's waking up” Stephen said with excitement. We stood behind a glass wall, peering in like small children at the zoo. The one way mirror was the only thing separating his world from ours.\n\n“Hello? Hello?” I spoke into the intercom. No response.\n\n“Testing” Stephen added. He mumbled something vaguely German.\n\n“Speak into the microphone please or we can't understand you”\n\n“Hello?” The machine translated for him. In the same cold metallic void he would be hearing from us.\n\n“Good, good. Now what is your first name.”\n\n“Wolfgang” The subject said.\n\n“And your last name”\n\n“Mozart”\n\n“Great, can you tell me what year it is?”\n\n“Seventeen ninety one”\n\n“Well you're a bit away from home. About two hundred and sixty five years to be exact. We're scientists from the year two thousand and fifty six, and you're the worlds first time traveller.”\n\n“I don't understand”\n\n“We don't expect you too. Not yet at least. Why don't you rest, I'm sure you have plenty of questions.” The the nurse brought him some medication and water. Within an hour he was out again. The next day he was able to sit upright. We continued to test him, his answers seemed more coherent and definitive. He was also able to eat solid food for the first time. He could move, but not with precision. When the questioning was over, he asked us for a book. On Day four he was able to stand. He was also fully capable of writing his name. We were able to move to the second phase of testing.\n\n“Wolfgang, do you see that piano across the room? Could you walk over and play us something”\n\n“Why?”\n\n“We need to test your motor skills, it doesn't have to be long just a tune.”\n\n“Will you let me leave when I'm done.”\n\n“Yes. When were done here Wolfgang, you can leave. Now play us something.”\n\nWhat he played was beautiful. NPR does not do him justice. And just as soon as it started it was over. Even though his displeasure with his situation was apparent, the medication he was on had made him very docile and calm. By the fifth day, he had recovered almost completely. He asked to come up and see us.\n\n“Well I don't think that's a problem really” Stephen said\n\n“I'm not sure if he's ready yet, the worlds changed a lot, we need to ease him into it.”\n\n“You can't lock a man in a box forever Donald, let him out. It'll do him some good.”\n\n“You're right, Stephen. He has to come out at some point, he can't always live in the past.”\n\nAfter several treatments of antibiotics, a fitted microphone, and some tidying up of our office. We let him in. We brought him over to the windows. He was in awe. He just starred out, in disbelief. But as time went on he became visibly frustrated. Maybe it was the lights of the computers or the alien clothes we were wearing, maybe it was the noise of our screens and the sound of the traffic. But something sent him into hysterics.\n\n“I want to go home” he demanded.\n\n“You haven't even been here a week, you just need time to get used to it.”\n\n“I want to go HOME!” He yelled. Pushing over a computer, picking up a packing knife that lay on our desks. I tried to apprehend him. Stephen pulled out his pistol.\n\n“Put that down, put that down and step back.” Stephen said sternly, approaching him slowly. Mozart hesitated. But he was much quicker and younger than Stephen and by the Stephen could react Mozart swung at him. Stephen dropped the his pistol, and held his bleeding arm. Mozart now in possession of both a knife and a pistol backed in the time machine.\n\n“Send me back, send me back, send me back now!” He demanded. Ripping of his microphone and throwing the knife across the room. Stephen in lunged at him. “Fuck you”, even without his translator you could understand. With the sound of a gunshot and a scream he painted the floor a crimson red. He pointed the gun at me now. “Send me back”\n\n“You're a real son of a bitch, Mozart.” \n\nNovember twenty fifth. The year of our lord, two thousand fifty six. I, Donald Matthew Simmons have successfully and demonstrably, achieved the transfer of a live human being through the means of time travel. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A priest accidentally shoots lightening from his hands." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And the power of the lord is vested in *ME*!\"\n\nThe congregation cheered.\nHe'd been doing this shtick for years, and could run it in his sleep. \n\n\"Jesus looked upon me, and he commanded me to *heal* his *people*.\"\nMore cheers.\n\nHe believed in no such thing. Nor much of anything actually. Oh he believed they believed, and he believed in putting in his best performance for them, but he only trusted what their donations could purchase on the earthly realm.\n\n\"Who needs the healing? I said who needs the healing of Christ our Lord?\"\n\nYells and scrambling within the crowd.\nThis was his least favourite part, actually mixing with the people. You never quite knew how they would react. He'd been given a black eye once from an over zealous parishioner. But it was the climax of the show, and they expected it. Craved it. And tonight he was feeling it, really getting in the vibe.\n\nThey lined up on onside of the stage, about fifteen in all. They were mostly middle aged, a couple of what he called \"doorknockers\"(near death) and a little girl on crutches that almost broke his heart.\nHe danced on stage a bit, spoke more about the Lords mercy and whatnot. About clearing room in your heart for Jesus. About needing the faith to heal yourself, (always important, what you might call your \"out\"clause,) and finally about giving back what you receive in the Lords name. (Hint, hint.)\n\nWorking the crowd up to a frenzy was a delicate art, and he was an adept. They were howling and praising fit to bring down the roof, and he was vibrating with the volume of their cries when he turned back to the line onstage.\n\n\"Do you love the Lord?\"\nThey mumbled in the affirmative.\n\n\"He cant hear you up there in heaven. I said do you love the Lord?\"\n\nThis time they yelled it.\n\n\"Then tell me, how much do you love him?\"\n\nThey were shouting now, screaming, some with tears on their faces. He locked eyes with the girl again and felt a moment of pity but blocked it out.\nYou had to get them emotionally involved, otherwise they wouldn't go for it, wouldn't be effected and the show would be a fizzler.\n\nHe closed his eyes, let the calls wash over him. He was surprised at how good he felt tonight. Young again, like he could run all day and fuck all night. It was almost like when he started out with nothing but a suitcase and a belief in himself. He'd had faith then, but life was a wind that eroded faith in all things. The longer you stayed in it, the less you had.\n\nHe raised his arms and took a deep breath.\n\n\"Hallelujah i say, praise the lord and be healed!\"\n\nA warmth flushed his body and his hair stood on end. This was unusual. It wasn't like the end of a performance high, but something else. With his eyes closed he held onto the moment, caught in his own world, trying to describe it to himself. \nKind of like slipping into a warm bath with a loved one with the anticipation of sex, but that was only the thousandth part of this.\nThis was like, like....and words failed him. The moment passed.\nHis arms lowered, he opened his eyes.\n\nRuin.\nThe whole congregation was a smoking charnel house. \nSmoldering corpses sat in melting plastic chairs. Some were still alight, benefit of too much hairspray or polyester clothing, but all were dead.\n\n\"Oh Holy Lord!\"\n\nHe looked down at his hands and saw a faint redness to his palms. They tingled, and wouldn't come together without effort, like magnets of opposing charge.\n\n\"Oh Holy Jesus!\"\n\nA sound caused him to look up. Over near were the choir were shrouded in smoke, skipped the little girl who was previously on crutches.\n\n\"Oh Holy *shit*!\"\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A husband plans to leave his wife in the morning prior to her waking up only to find she has done the same thing." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her status as a bisexual bigamist had always been a titillating factor in their relationship.The wife had been married to a woman long before she fell in love with him. Lately however he found the ambivalence of her feelings disconcerting.He was going to leave her.\nBut as she announced she had left her wife and that she was no longer a bisexual bigamist , he decided to give their relationship another chance. They lived happily even though they were never really married because she had been a bisexual bigamist." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The moon is colonized by humans, but they are being infiltrated by werewolves, who can transform at will due to being on the moon." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So, Tom, how do you like it on the moon so far?\"a moment passed after Quentin asked the question.\n\n\"Tom?\"Quentin turned around, \"Tom, you're a werewolf!\"\n\nTom thrashed Quentin to death with a furious might; After-which, Tom sounded an alarm to signal the take over. Man and werewolf fought a bloody feud, but it was ultimately one-sided.\n\nGiven that werewolves tend to rip apart their clothing when they transform, their pressure suits crack and create vulnerabilities. Once a human decided to activate a station-wide depressurization, all the werewolves died from the sudden environmental shift.\n\nThe humans re-pressurized the station and got to cleaning up all the corpses. People cried. Repairs were made. Work went on as usual." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Everyone is in school based on their level of maturity and intelligence rather than age. You are the youngest to enter the highest grade, but you are not emotionally ready." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was shaking in my parent's car. My mom was saying something, but I couldn't really hear her. I kept turning it over and over in my mind. The preliminary testing had gone so well for me, I'd been proud and happy. Then they'd told me I'd been placed at the 9th level. A rational part of my mind pointed out that I wouldn't have been placed that way unless I could handle it, but it wasn't an overly large voice and was being drowned out by all the others pointing out that most didn't make that level for years.\n\nEventually I felt my mom shaking my shoulder. I started and looked around, we'd arrived. I looked up at her and she smiled at me and handed me my lunch, \"You'll be fine, but if you need me, call. I love you.\"\n\nI took my lunch and hugged her, \"Thanks Mom. Love you too.\"\n\nThen I was out of the car and she was gone. I stood nervously until a girl, much older than I, somewhere in the teens I think, came over and held out her hand, \"Hi! I'm Candice. You must be Jack. We've all heard you were coming.\"\n\n\"You... did? I mean. Nice to meet you Candice.\"I shook her hand only a little reluctantly.\n\n\"Yup!\"She smiled, \"We're pretty excited. I'm sure we'll all cool down eventually, but for now you're the *man*. Follow me, I'll show you where orientation is.\"\n\nI followed her. At first I glanced furtively around, but as we walked the rational part of my mind smugly pointed out 'I told you so' when the other students mostly waved and smiled at me. There weren't any jeers or mocking.\n\n\"I was a little nervous.\"I said, \"But everyone seems so nice.\"\n\nShe looked down and smirked, \"Anyone who's gotten to this point has generally left nasty shenanigans aside. Or is clever enough to hide it pretty well. Everyone is nervous their first day. Its like my philosophy teacher says, 'experience is the only path to wisdom'.\"\n\nWe stopped at a brown door set into the brick wall with a white paper labelled 'Orientation'. \"Well, here we are Jack. They'll tell you all about the schedule we have going here, it's pretty free form for the most part, but you might want to stick to the recommendations at first, until you get your feet under you. I'm in the debate and math clubs, we'd love to have you visit, if you have time.\"\n\nI nodded, \"Thanks for showing me the way.\"\n\nShe smiled at me again and waved her hand airily, \"You'd have found your way. Anyway, see you around Jack.\"\n\nI waved as she departed and pushed open the brown door. It was heavy, but well balanced. It wasn't nearly as hard to open as it looked." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "At 3 A.M. you wake to the sound of bodies hitting your window. It's your best friend, and they need help getting rid of a pebble." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Dude, it's 3 AM. Why the hell are you holding onto that rope dangling from the tree and smashing yourself into my window? You woke up my daughter!\"\n\n\"Yeah man, I need your help! I have a pebble. You gotta help me! I gotta get rid of it! Please?!\"\n\n\"Okay, dude. Answer me one question and if you can answer it with an honest \"no\"then I will help you. If you can't then you get down from there and leave me alone until I call you tomorrow around noon to yell at you. Deal?\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah! Deal!\"\n\n\"Have you been spending the last four or five hours doing copious amounts of drugs?\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"What does copious mean?\"\n\n\"Lots and lots.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\n\"Well?!\"\n\n\"G'night, man.\"\n\n\"Sleep on the porch, okay? I'll wake you up in the morning after you've slept it off.\"\n\n\"Okay.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A private detective unravels a trail starting with a mysterious landlord." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That Bastard Landlord: Part 1\n\nThe knife slips from my hand. The room is just saturated with blood. The blood of that bastard landlord. My own blood as well. Probably more mine than his. As I slump against the wall, my legs going numb, I find myself wondering how long before the slashed artery in my leg kills me. I find myself regretting taking the case. I find myself craving a smoke and a drink. I find myself thinking about the weird path that brought me here. The one that people will call a circle. Those people are idiots. Jesus, what I wouldn’t give for cigarette…\n\nSuddenly, I see my office in my head. Oh God, I’m stuck in a cliche. All I can see in my head is the how I met that bastard landlord. \n\nI had just been hired by some soccer mom. Her kid got caught getting high on some skunk weed in a middle school playground some night the week before. Cops rousted him, booked him on possession, judge gave him a good scare then some community service and a sealed record. Typical shit for this berg. Upper middle class does the typical stupid crap, one of the five “top notch” lawyers in the town takes the case, the kid gets a slap on the wrist, then the lawyer, the prosecutor and the judge go to the local members only joint and get smashed in the clubhouse. \n\nJesus, am I narrating my own life flashing before my eyes? I wouldn’t be narrating if I had a goddamn cigarette…\n\nSo yeah, this soccer mom rolls into my joint with a stick up her ass. Blah blah, “cops won’t do anything” blah blah “lazy good for nothings”, blah blah “$2000 up front”.\n\nHello PI license renewal fees. Good grief do I love the ‘burbs. Nothing but bored husbands cheating on their wives, and bored wives blowing tons of cash tracking down their own bored husbands. I swear, if they just bothered to fuck each other, instead of fucking each other over, there would be a lot more happy people in suburbia. Then again, I’d be out the job. Either way, since my usual retainer is $500, I was not going to turn down $2000 plus expenses and my daily fee. All to track down some dipshit high schooler dealing pot to his peers. \n\nOh look, here I am asking the mom for details. Now she’s telling me that her son bought the pot at some apartment complex next to the woods on the edge of town. Yawn. \n\n“I don’t know why those people are even considered part of this town. God knows they can’t afford to live here. That’s why they are all shacked up there together. I’m sorry, but it’s true!” Give people a little bit of money, and they will grow a whole lot entitlement. I’m sorry lady, but it’s true. I need that money to maintain the lifestyle you jump suited assholes have gotten me accustomed to though, so I won’t be one to start throwing stones.\n\nLater that day, that damned apartment complex, with that bastard landlord. I knock on his door first. You want info about a place and who lives there, you check with the guy who takes money from the people who live there. You know his head count is going to be right every time to make sure he isn’t getting screwed. He was mousy, short, balding, pudgy, harmless looking really. I’m not in the best shape, but towering over him at a whopping five foot ten inches, I must have looked like an Adonis by comparison. Seemed nice enough though. He pointed me in the direction of unit #5. \n\nKnock knock. No ma’am, I’m not the police. Would you like a smoke? Great. My name is… Shit… I can’t remember my name, I must be almost bled out by now…\n\nAnyway, I’m a private investigator. I was hired by a concerned mother to find the person that sold weed to her kid. Look, I’m told your kid’s been dealing. His dad is on disability? Yeah, that sucks. Look, the mom wants to press charges. What I think you should do is give the lady a call, meet over coffee, and put a human face on that. Don’t beg, just talk normally. She’ll expect you to beg. Then you send that kid of yours over to her house for the entire goddamn summer and make him clean and repair every thing in sight for free. Help build him some character and knock off the crap. Nah, you don’t owe me anything. All you have to do for me is to call her in three days and say I just found you then. Let’s me pad my numbers out a bit, if you know what I mean. Here, have my card.\n\nAnd that was it. IT! Seriously, case solved. I puttered around town for the next three days, caught up on some movies, hit up the strip joint for brunch (awesome over easy eggs by the way), just racking up expenses and daily fees. It was fantastic.\n\nOf course, day three hits, and I get a phone call. Excellent, time to collect. Except it’s the wrong mom. It’s the poor one. Saying she called the bored mom’s number and ended up speaking to the cops. That soccer mom had been missing for four days. \n\nFour days? That was the day she met up with me. I scramble, looking for a receipt for credit card charge from the deposit. The cops should have been beating down my door just seeing that from the same day she disappeared. \n\nWait, shit, she paid with a check. Something about not wanting her husband to see the charges. I had mentally checked off to track him down and HINT that something might be going on there. People in bars can be very pliable in casual conversation, and why not hit both sides of this cash tree, right? \n\t\nJesus, I gotta stay on track, get through this so my last thoughts aren’t of this fucking situation…\n\nYeah, the check. They still should have been beating down my door, the check would have cleared two days ago… Oh for Christ sake, it’s still in my back pocket. How the hell do you forget to cash in two grand?\n\nOk, so now I have a bigger problem. Not only is my client missing, but it now looks like I have been purposefully withholding evidence. In any half smart detective’s book, I am now suspect numero uno. \n\nFuck." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "the second battle of Hoover dam is about to begin and both sides are ready to go. A mysterious figure appears on the hilltop and kills the courier with a perfect headshot. This is the first shot of the battle." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The scene was set. Follows-Chalk clutched a Marksman Carbine as they waited for the Courier to stop looking through the scope of his rifle. Boone was with him in the tower, spotting targets as Arcade Gannon and Veronica Santangelo combed through the crowd in their poor NCR disguises. They knew that the squad was there, but they weren’t blending into the crowd, and the Mojave desert knew who “he” was. \n\n\nThe president was just wrapping up his speech as there suddenly came a commotion from the stage. NCR Rangers held their fingers to their ears and as a few of them dove on the President, a few more drew rifles to clear the scene. The radios could hardly keep up with the traffic. \n\n\n“Boss, we got a situation down here!” \n\n“I can’t punch something that far away, moving in closer!” \n\nA single shot rang out before many others, and few found the intended target. Boone heard the bullet land close to him, and as he was sprayed by blood rushing from the Courier’s forehead, he fired a single shot back, mirroring the effects of the first, executing a perfect headshot on the assassin. Boone caught the Courier before he fell, but he knew there was nothing he could do. \n\n\nAnd then hell broke loose once more. \n\n\n“*Puta madre!*” \n\n\n“MY LITTLE JIMMY!” \n\n\nWave after wave of bullets destroyed the tower where the assassin fell. After a few times reloading, various calls of ceasefire broke the noise, and Veronica leapt up the tower to confirm what everyone already knew. The sniper was dead, but as Veronica turned to beat the first Frumentarii with a ballistic fist, Boone picked up his rifle and shot the soldier behind Veronica’s target. As she turned to wave to Boone, she saw the Courier get up and move his head left to right quickly, as if to crack his neck. The sound petrified Boone, and as the Courier picked the bullet out of a metal plate. \n\n\n“Dammit Doc, you did a fine job.” \n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write another fictional character somewhere into Sword Art Online, without these events disrupting the main story." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Date: unknown \nTime in game: 1.5 years\n\nDear Dad,\n\n While I know you'll probably never for you to actually ever read this, I thought it would help me. It's been over a year since we've all been trapped. I've lost a lot of good friends and seen a lot of good people die. Up until the twentieth floor I was fighting on the front lines. The stress got to be too much. I remember the faces of all the people who looked at me as they died. I remember wishing I could save them. Wishing could stop this ridiculous game. I remember thinking \"Hell it isn't a game anymore.\"That this is our life now. We're stuck. Possibly forever. \n After I quit fighting I decided to open a bakery. It's much more relaxing. I hate to say it but I almost enjoy it. Every morning I wake up start the ovens and watch the Sun rise as the bread bakes. Its so beautiful. It's almost real. Then I remember it's not. This is all a Hell created by a psychopath. Every time I watch the Sun rise I remember. I've decided tomorrow as the Sun breaks the horizon I'm leaving. I've asked a few people to share this with you if we ever get out. I hope to God they do. I want you to know that my death was not a part of some silly game nor any unfortunate accident . I refuse to play anymore. This is over for me. I'm free. I love you Dad. \n\n-Ichirou \n\nEdit: sorry for the format. I had to work off my phone. \n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A fruit stand owner surveys the street, when suddenly, his radio alerts the public of escaping bank robbers and two hard-boiled cops hunting them down." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rarely do people actually buy fruit from my fruit stand. I don't know who walks along the street, and suddenly decides that\nthey're hungry for an orange. the few people that do buy my fruit must be idiots.\nIf I had to make a living off the fruit people brought, I think I’d probably be back on the streets within a few weeks. \nBut luckily, my income comes from someone else.\n\nHe calls himself The Watcher, ridiculous name I know, but why should I care, he pays my bills.\nHe one day came up to me right out of the blue, told me he needed someone for a little job of his, \nhe said it was really easy.\n\nI wheel my stand to about the area where the radio signalled the chase, \nI spot a turn that looks like it'll be perfect, I wheel the stand to a sweet spot in the corner that\nthe cars are likely to accidentally turn into.\n\nSome people around here joke that fruit stands are naturally attracted to car chases, but they're wrong. \nThe Watcher pays me, and many others to place our stands right in the middle of these oh so frequent car chases.\n\nI finally position the fruit stand, now all I have to do is wait. There's someone else wheeling a fruit stand nearby. \nI yell at him to go away, I already have this spot. He cusses and wheels his stand away.\n\nThe Watcher must be a really messed up guy to want to pay a whole bunch of people just to move fruit stands.\nA messed up guy with a whole lot of money. For all I know the watcher could be paying off even more guys to\ncause a lot of seeming coincidences. But I don't care, really. I'm satisfied to receive his money.\n\nBefore long, the cars arrive. I watch in horror as the two cars manage to swerve through the turn, \nJust barely avoiding the fruit stand. I mutter a few choice explicatives.\n\nGuess I'm not eating lobster tonight." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Slavery has been made legal again, and all non Europeans are now slaves. You are a runaway slave." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All non-Europeans made slaves,\"the newspaper headline read.\n\n\nI couldn't believe it. How could this happen? I turned on the TV, and saw the news. It was true--the law had been passed yesterday.\n\n\n\"Already, the countries of Europe claim they are going to invade literally every other country in the world for cheap slave labor,\"said the anchor. Cut to a clip of tanks and infantry, beneath a EU flag. \"We're not sure how this decision was made conscious. There's an uproar--\"\n\n\nShe paused for a second, listening to her headset. Then she continued: \"I've received word from our correspondents in Washington. The EU has officially declared war on the entire world. White House officials say there is little threat of invasion of the continental United States, but that North Africa and the Middle East are at risk. More on that--\"\n\n\nI turned off the TV, shrugged, and went for a jog. What a time to be alive!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You work for a company and accidentally enter a room which is given utmost restricted access. Upon entry, you realize that there are products which are to be released in the future (e.g. years, decades, centuries, etc...) and take one of them to test out now, not knowing the consequences." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Eric, I'm done with hearing that we supposedly have the cure for HIV,\"a minutes passes by before another exchange between the security manager and the scientist occurs. Eric knows full well what lies in the heavily guarded vault and the consequences of letting that information out to the public but the company has left him disgruntled after laying off his wife and could care less about letting the scientist go into the vault. \"Ryan, you have five mintues to discover the greatest secret this company has been hiding from the public-if it makes it out to the world you take all credit for it.\"With that said Eric, gave him passcode and a window of five mintues for the curious Ryan to head into the vault. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Dying in your sleep isn't as peaceful and calm as we usually perceive to be." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Grim Reaper is real. Anyone hear will tell you that. Just like you, I myself passed away in my sleep. At 93 years old, you expect it and wish for it after leading a full life. But dead men tell no tales is about right for those that died the way they wanted. I personally witnessed my father's dying breath from a heart attack when I was only 20, and then had to witness it again. I know you suffered just the same as I did, for all around you is the same story. Jim over there had to re-live the day he fell down the stairs when he was 7 and the excruciating pain of learning to walk again. Margret will tell you about seeing her granddaughter drown in her pool and having to repeat the same desperate attempt to resuscitate her, only to fail once again. I could guess what you went through, since we all have revisited every painful moment, every regret, and every long since forgotten heartbreak before the Grim Reaper shows up to take us away from it. Rather hard to rest in peace, is it not? " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A trauma from your childhood comes back to haunt you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Oh my god. There he is. There he fucking is. Standing right in the middle of the food court, everyone seemingly oblivious to his presence, is the killer clown that used to haunt my dreams. Every single detail about his look is correct - blue and yellow pinstriped costume, giant sadistic ruby red grin, mascara running down his face, and his crazy orange receding hair. He looks right at me, grin widening, and my stomach drops - this isn't a coincidence and this certainly isn't a joke, he's come to get me. He's come to finally finish me off. He never could get me in my dreams as a child and now, somehow, inexplicably, he's manifested physically to murder the shit out of me.\n\nPanic sets in. Normal social behaviour goes right out the window and I run. Faster than I've ever ran in my life. He immediately follows. Both of us are in a dead sprint through the mall - I push grandmas, kick children and leap over babies, ANYTHING to get away from the insane, murderous clown sprinting full pelt after me.\n\nAfter running past the third Starbucks, I decide to sneak a glance back - yep, the crazy fucker is right on my tail and I've just cost myself the slight but infinitely valuable lead I had on him. If I can just make it to the car park I can lose him between the cars, get in my own and drive the fuck out of here. But just as I reach the exit, I slip on some spilt coffee and take a huge tumble. I was done for. Totally fucked. Completely screwed. Doomed. I close my eyes and wait for the inevitable.\n\nIt doesn't come. I tentatively open my eyes and the clown is standing right over me, knife in hand. Wait a sec, that's not a knife, those are my keys.\n\n\"Oh. Cheers, mate.\"\n\nBloody hell, I feel like a right proper twat." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"I am not going to tell you if I made it out alive or not.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The mail truck's unique rumbling outside woke me up, as I rubbed my eyes and rustled under my covers. Every day at around 2 p.m., the same routine. The white truck would stop for my next door neighbors, but leisurely roll on by my mailbox. Sunday was the only day I was guaranteed to wake up after 3, and the only day I could maybe finish a dream. My ability to lucid dream had been growing every Sunday, but the weekdays and Saturday hindered my progress. That damn mail truck was mocking me, not letting me escape this world I so desperately wanted to be rid of. At least in my dreams I had a chance of happiness. \n \nAs I continued listening, I noticed a change. Instead of the incessant passing of the truck I had grown accustomed to, there was a pause. The two stops had become three. A stop, in front of my house? A change, in this unchanging, sadistic world? \n \nI picked my head up just high enough to see where my mailbox had been standing, untouched. Slowly, pushing aside my blackout curtains ever so gently, I moved my eyes across my front lawn to see the mailman open and close my mailbox. As he got into his truck and proceeded to my neighbor's mailbox, I whisked the curtains open and rubbed my eyes to make sure of my reality. This was no dream. \n \nI ran downstairs in my nightgown, unlocked the four bolts on my front door, and proceeded to my mailbox. As my feet burned across the sunlit driveway and again once I reached the pavement, I stood there enduring it. What could it be? No one knew I was here. I've been off the grid for at least seven years now. \n \nAs I opened the hatch to my mailbox, I stared into what was once an empty chasm void of information. Tenderly reaching inside as to not touch the mailbox at all, I removed a small envelope. When it caught the sunlight, I was able to see it was a plain, unmarked envelope. No writing on it at all; not even faded markings. \n \nFixing my gaze on the envelope, I walked back into my house and closed the front door behind me. It was left ajar, but I didn't care. My eyes still locked, I walked up the stairs and sat on my bed where the sunlight shone in. A letter. One letter in all this time. That's one more than I ever expected. \n \nRipping off a side, I pulled out a piece of paper. It was dirty, with water stains that must have dried years ago leaving it crumpled and creased. I saw what seemed to be like part of a map on the back, but ignored it. Unfolding it, I noticed immediately that there was no opening or closing sentiment, and only a single line; I read it aloud. \n \n\"I am not going to tell you if I made it out alive or not.\"\n \nTurning it over, there was a small, crude map of the world as well as dots in certain locations, some connected by lines. Some of the locations had stars, while others had been circled or crossed out with an 'X' or single slash. Near some of the dots, there were faded words I couldn't make out. At the very bottom right of the map, there were small words that I could make out. \n \n\"Find me.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Five years after surviving the holocaust a man runs into a guard who tormented him in the concentration camp. He recognizes the guard but the guard doesn't recognize him. One hour later the man forgives the guard." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We sat in the cafe off to the side near the exit. The pungent smell of coffee burned through my nostrils, a reminder of the time I spent. The time I spent bleeding, breaking, and losing my mind, while this fucker drank his coffee.\n\nEvery damn day I feared for my life. I remember feeling as if I was always just about to die, but death never came. There were times where I thought my lungs were about to give out, where I thought my spine would snap and tear through my back and spew fluids of various colors all over my brothers. I had seen it happen. It never happened to me. Death had come for everyone I knew.\n\nEach and every day, the man sitting across from me was there. Dominik Nast. Pointing his damn rifle at us. Sometimes he would kill one of us for fun. Just to see what it looked like to put a bullet through a man's head. To see a man shake like a dog and die. Just to -\n\n\"Excuse me, you said you knew my father, correct?\"Dominik looked up from his coffee and strait at me. My eyes never left his as I lit up a cigar. \"Did you know him well?\"\n\n\"Not well,\"I responded coldly. \"And I don't assume you did either.\"\n\nDominik sipped from his cup. \"How would one go about making a bold statement such as that? I knew my father very well. He taught me to be a man.\"\n\nI smiled. \"To be a man? Is that what you call being a man?\"My voice rose as he began to place me. \"Killing innocent people who brought you no threat?\"\n\nI rose up out of my seat, bumping the table and spilling the coffee on his lap.\n\nDominik rose up as well, furious. \"You bastard! I knew I remembered you! I should have killed you along with all the rest!\"\n\nDominik reached under his coat just before I sent the table flying into his chest. It knocked him to the floor and I followed, pinning him down. The restaurant was silent.\n\n\"Nazi shit,\"I yelled into his face, making sure to spit as I spoke. My cigar found its way to being pressed into his chest. He let out a scream like his life was over, but I had heard these screams before. \n\n\"What are you doing?! The war is over!\"Dominik cried.\n\n\"You are the last one,\"I reassured to him. With this statement, I pulled from my coat a shiny revolver and pressed it to the soft spot between his eyes. \n\nSmoke from my pistol filled the air. Some of the restaurant's patrons had already fled, others were staring in awe. With Dominik's lifeless body underneath me, I produced paper and pen from my pocket.\n\n\"Dominik Nast, I forgive you.\"\n\nHe was the last on my list. I was done here, and it was time for me to move on. I pressed the gun to the side of my temple and pulled the trigger. The hammer smashed forwards but lit no fuse. \n\nPerhaps Fate had forgotten to remind me to load two bullets this morning. Perhaps I wasn't done.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A man who has been working in a cubicle for 10 years find a monkeys paw which can grant 5 wishes, but each with a consequence." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hello again!\n\nIt seems you've still not quite got the hang of tagging your post. Please resubmit this with at the beginning as directed in the sidebar. Take a look at the other posts on this sub to see what I mean.\n\nYour title would be ' A man who has been working in a cubicle for 10 years find a monkeys paw which can grant 5 wishes, but each with a consequence.'\n\nBut without the apostrophes ;)\n\nCheers." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Young children have an unlimited amount of energy. In an effort to increase adult productivity, scientists have invented a way to siphon off energy from young children to distribute. Is this a benefit or detriment to society?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When they took the boy out of basement laboratory, he barely had a pulse. His tiny body laid unmoving on the stretcher as they wheeled him out the front door. An oxygen mask strapped quickly around his thin hair. The mother cried. She ran at her husband and slapped him, and punched him in the chest, but he stood unmoved. “You son of a bitch! I hope you burn in hell. You took our baby, and you made him-. You turned him in to this!” She was hysterical now, and the police grabbed her by the arms as the cold autumn breeze blew leaves down the street and up around her, and muffled her threats. \n\nAs the boy slowly recovered, the world called Dr. Vallur an animal. They asked how a father could take his childs energy for himself. Religion grew like a flash fire. People turned the eyes and ears toward the bible and the preacher to explain it. The mother made the media rounds and everyone took files and clippers to their teeth and nails. She was convincing though. ‘He hid it so well! Like an addict. You know?’ She claimed that she thought her son had been rundown from school, and that Dr. Vallur had been eating healthier, and doing well at work, and as soon as she did think something was going on, she called the cops. What else could they ask from her?\n\nEventually, like blades of grass sprouting after the soil has been turned, a few in the scientific community started to push for the government to release Dr. Vallur’s notes. Afterall, its no small thing to be able to syphon the energy from another human being, they said. Why should we trust the government with that information? The corporations rubbed their hands, and sent bag after bag of money out the back door, and into the limos of senators. The government gave in and released the notes, all six hundred pages to the press, and a few universities, and admitted much to their embarrassment that they could not duplicate Dr. Vallur’s results. \n\nSomething was missing, and the old man had the puzzle piece. He had the puzzle, but he wasn't quite ready to share it. The government sent their best men to talk with him. Men with tattoos that said loyalty, and had thick gloves. Men that propped him upside down with a wet cloth over his face, and suffocated him until he cried. Then, they would hoist him upright, and he would laugh. A few doctors decided he was losing his mind, and all the torture should stop immediately. The took a subtler route, and sent in their top psychologist.\n\nDr. Christian Vallur, sat across from Dr. Gresham. A bolted steel table between them. Christian ran his fingers through the beard he was growing, the chain of his handcuff restraints clinging. He eyed the young man before him. A plain white shirt, and no tie. Black pants, and jacket. Nothing to excite the patient. That what he was now, wasn’t he, a patient? \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nDr. Gresham leaned back in his chair, and pulled out a cigarette pack. Very methodically, he pulled a single cigarette out without touching the rest. His left hand slid mechanically down into his jacket pocket and pulled out a zippo that clinked when he flipped the top open. He lit the cigarette and exhaled toward the ceiling. “Why wont you tell us, Mr. Vellur. We only want to control it, figure it out before another country does. Who knows what another country might do with unlimited energy.”\n\nChristian laughed, and glanced down at his orange jump suit. The laughs echoed off the two way glass, and back. He thought of how his father always told him to make himself be needed. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In the future as humanity explores the galaxy, they discover an alien civilization on one planet that has not yet reached spaceflight. It is also discovered that one part of this civilization's culture is identical to a culture back on Earth. What is this similarity?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sir, we have received a radio message from planet Eon 5.\"The air force officer relayed as he stared at a computer screen in front of him. \n\n\"Really ensign?\"The commander replied. \n\n\"Yes, sir. Would you like to hear it?\"The ensign replied. \n\n\"Cue it up.\"\n\nThe ensign pressed a few keys and raised the volume of the speakers as he passed the headphones to his officer. The mission of this expedition was observation only. By no means were they to engage the species found on this planet. The scientists of Earth had deemed that this planet be given soverignty and to merely use it as a research subject. By observing how this planet evolved, it's culture adapt, they could see if the history of this planet is a shadow of Earth's.\n\nThe officer suddenly looked at the ensign quizzically. \n\n\"Am I hearing what I think I'm hearing?\"He asked. \n\n\"I think so sir.\"\n\n\"Play it on the main speakers.\"The officer paused, \"Everyone, everyone. Please remain quiet. I want you to listen.\"\n\nEveryone went dead quiet as the ensign played the clip they had just received. The signal was quiet at first, but slowly raised. \n\n\"...Come on Eileen. Oh I swear what he means, what he means. At this moment you mean everything. You in that dress....\"\n\n\"Sir, sir! We have another transmission coming through.\"The ensign cries out excitedly. \n\n\"Play it through.\"The officer cried just as excitedly. \n\n\"....Today's another day to find you shying away. I'll be coming for your love, OK? Take on me, take me on. I'll be gone. In a day or two....\"\n\nEveryone on board stood in stunned silence. It might have been minutes or hours. They all looked at each other, and none knew how to respond to the other. The officer finally spoke up. \n\n\"By god, it's eighties new wave.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Some criminals rob a store, but the robbery itself is the least interesting part of the situation." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "#Request for clarification\n\nWhich prompt inspired your work? Can you provide a link?\n\nIf you wrote this as a response to a prompt, please include a link to the prompt in question. If you're just seeking general feedback on something you've written outside this sub, you should check out /r/WritingCritiques or [our wiki](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index)'s list of [Critique Subreddits](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/links#wiki_critiques)." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a one-world-nation Constitution." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Withstanding the ages of time, every member of mankind holds the inalienable right of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Notwithstanding this fact, we are the caretakers of all creatures that dwell within our planet.\n\nAs humans, we are fallible. We must concede our ambitions to an unadulterated law of morality and goodness. The struggles to define such law are conceived in moments of selfless inspiration within one's soul. It is by deep wisdom that one understands to see others as reflections of ourselves.\n\nThe rise and fall of civilizations follows a cycle that embraces faith, abandons faith, and leads subjects to enslavement by a ruling class. Order breeds chaos. Chaos breeds order. Our very existence is governed by a balance between necessary opposites. Checks and balances are corrupted when individuals lose sight that we each have a duty to serve each other.\n\nDoctrine is vulnerable to interpretation, and cannot be left to the judgement of a ruling class. As such, our government has a prime directive to concede its governance to the collective will of mankind. \n\n(Please pick up where I leave off... I'd love to help the world, but I don't know how to protect us from ourselves.)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A nuclear bomb has been dropped into a city and is falling from a very high altitude. You are a random citizen in the city that has just received the news of the impending doom." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The alarm went off. The one we'd all hoped we'd never hear. The nuclear alarm.\n\nFuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. One minute until our impending doom. Why'd it have to happen while I was grocery shopping?\n\nI pull out my phone to call Brendan, just as he told me to. Out of battery? Fuuuuuck. I frantically run around the store, pleading with the terrified shoppers to let me borrow their phones but they're too busy crying hysterically and ringing loved ones. No time to be polite. I immediately find the nearest child, promptly punch them in the face, and steal their phone. Sweet.\n\nI frantically punch in Brendan's number. He answers on the first ring.\n\n\"Hey mate, it's Charlie. Nuclear alarm's gone off. You've probably got 30 seconds to get here. Will you make it?\"\n\n\"If I skip the costume. Hold on, be there in a moment.\"\n\nThe line went dead and I waited with bated breath, peering out the window watching a large and very dangerous chunk of metal fall right towards the city centre. Right before it disappears behind some buildings, I spot Brendan fly in and grab the thing, spinning it around and launching it toward the sun at impossible speed.\n\nThe alarm stops, bringing a brief period of confused silence upon the people. Then the crowd erupts - cheers go up, whistles and claps fill the shop. Brilliant, the day's been saved. I owe Brendan a beer... or fifty. I turn to face the fruit and veg section, ready to continue my shop, when all of a sudden I'm grabbed by the arm.\n\n\"This the guy, ma'am?\"the burly security guard asked.\n\nI turn my head and see the child I punched, standing alongside his fuming mother.\n\nFuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Share/write a creepy story with no \"lesson\"at the end." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The father shoved a bag into the back of the car, his wife telling their daughter that they were just going to be gone for a few days. She blushed and smiled as she assured her mother she was 13 and perfectly capable of handling herself while they were gone.\n\nThe parents waved from the car as the little girl stood in the doorway. The mother continued to express her anxiety of leaving her home alone, the father merely assured her that all would be fine as it was just a few days.\n\nThey paused at a stop sign as a big bus passed by them, carnival music playing loudly as it passed.[(For reference)](http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=c_HDjz5vQXo)\n\nThe happy parents laughed as it passed, noting that it must be some type of novelty carnival visiting while they were away.\n\nThe few days blew passed and the parents were heading back home. They pulled into the dark driveway and quickly rushed inside, wanting to see their daughter after her first home alone experience. But she wasnt watching tv, nor was she in her room.\n\nThe father was searching upstairs, looking for some hint of where his daughter was hiding when he heard a bone chilling scream. He ran downstairs, and to his wife standing petrified in the back doorway. \n\nShe was looking to a large oak tree in their backyard, he felt sick as his eyes saw the same sight he did. Their daughter was hanging from the tree, a music box playing the same carnival music as before. \n\n(Realized I didnt make this an NSFW post so I had to censor it. Unfortunately the music part is best done by voice with the \"do do dooda da da do do do do\"which is lost in text form.)\n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The 2014 Annual Douchebag Convention is off to a rocky start." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As \"Asshole\"by Denis Leary played over the stage, Zeke realized he wasn't ready. If he was to host the Douchies, he had to be in the worst state imaginable. He had to change out of his gross suit and bow-tie and change into his roommates \"suck this\"shirt with an arrow pointing down. Those dress pants had to go; you needed skinny jeans with half the side leopard print and the other half zebra print. As he walked out, he realized he forgot two things: his shitty truckers hat needed to be turned around, and he needed his mirror aviators to be muddier than a pickup tire. He made sure to tilt his cap until it was at a perfect 90 degree angle, and spit on the outside frames. \n\nHe walked out onto the stage, half an hour late for an event he was hosting. Zeke threw his hands up in a double peace-sign and pumped hisnfist in the air, even though nobody was applauding him. \"The fuck y'all want?\"He yelled into the mike. \"Ain't you guys excited to learn who gets the douchie?\"\n\nSilence\n\n\"Yeah well too fucking bad, I'll say it anyways.\"He said. \"Our first category comes from me, cause I'm the man in charge. The nominees for douchiest 'celebrity' are: Kim Kardashian; Rob Dyrdek; Ryan Seacrest; Honey Boo Boo; and Robin Williams\"\n\nUpon hearing the last name, the audience simultaneously booed Zeke with a ferocity that could kill a dragon. It was too soon, they cried; he was a great man, they screamed. Zeke was a fucking idiot, they yelled. \n\n\"Does it look like I give a shit what you guys think?\"Zeke said, in an attempt to help his case; it did not work. \"I made this list! I'm the god of this contest! Do you hear me! I am Gaw-\"he was cut off by a lighting bolt hitting his forehead. Zeke dropped to the floor, dead like the horses he beat before his controversial choice. \n\nThe audience looked back at the podium, and saw him. His fantastic aura punctuated the room, and his giddy laughter made everyone feel safe. \"Well, I guess we know who won tonight!\"Robin laughed with a nudge to Zeke's corpse. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a story that ends in \"and there was much rejoicing\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "McGarnagle walked into the room. It was a well lit room, replete with chairs and boxes. Looked like another sleeper. These people all smelled the same, a foul mixture of Axe body spray and eggs boiled in the broth of a pack of ramen noodles. It was a dark day, McGarnagle didn't even consider this slumming. He killed time in malls and and in the shattered lives of the widows he created. These would be no different. \n\nWisps of smoke like tendrils caressed Lolita's pierced nostril. Her eyes flitted towards Sterling. The most imperceptible of nods was executed. Sterling got up from his chair and walked to a gray door. \n\n\"You'll be seen now, sir\", an intentionally sultry voice said. McGarnagle whipped his head towards the source, and away from the countless missions hanging from the walls. A gray door opened and a smart looking man strided into view. He held a black suitcase. \n\n...\n\nAs the plane landed, McGarnagle took note of the broad green leaves, a sign that the city was far, far away. He looked at the suitcase, still handcuffed to his wrist. A random memory of riding a rollercoaster at some theme park in the states bobbed to the surface of his mind, and sunk like the quadprop plane he was now about to exit.\n\nMtumba watched as the gray warbird descended out of the clouds. \"Hopefully, McGarnagle has succeeded, else my people will overrun the river. Many lives will be lost.\"\n\nAs McGarnagle set the briefcase onto the table, the room was cleared of everyone but McG and Mtumba. \n**click**\nAs the overhead lamp cast its sick, yellow light into the shadow, a rectangular case came into view.\n\n*plastic*, thought McGarnagle. It was. Words. On a piece of notebook paper. Sloppily handwritten, but legible.\n\n\"Half-Life 3: Confirmed\"\n\nMcGarnagle and Mtumba stared at the paper, then at each other. A tear welled in Mtumba's right eye...McGarnagle felt the anticipation, the build up, the physical tension of carrying expectations for years, finally fulfilled, and it grew. It came from his belly, a primal thing. \n\n\"yeeeeeeaaaaaarrGGGHHHHHHHHHHWWWAAAA-HOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!\", McGarnagle's voice echoed thru the forest.\n\n\n\nMtumba stumbled from the tent, clearly dazed. He stared at his palm as though there were a hole in it, an incredulous, almost sorrowful smile impeding onto his face. Villagers ran to him now, eyebrows lifted, lips spewing a combo of \"is it true?!?\"., and \"where is McGarnagle? We must know!\". …. Children jumped and skipped, only mimicking their parents.\n\n...and there was much rejoicing.\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "For what has seemed like countless lifetimes the sky has been dark and grey with no light. Today, you see the sun for the first time in over a century." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was just like any other myth or religion, spoken about often, but never proven. The sun…\n\n\nI remember thinking how crazy it sounded. Life outside? Life without surveillance? The Facebook Empire keeps us safe by monitoring us; heaven forbid we do something *out of the norm*. It pairs us with compatible friends so we don’t have to go through the arduous task of meeting people ourselves.\n\n\nIt was a great system, really. We had entertainment constantly at our fingertips. This obsession Jethro had with going outside baffled me. Who would want to go out there? It was always cold and miserable. The grey and black clouds in the sky were simply depressing, and it isn't like you could see anything even if you *did* want to go outside. Jethro said that the sky isn't supposed to always have clouds, and that there were colours in the sky most of the time. He said that what we saw was computerised, a digital illusion.\n\n\nJethro told me about a lot of ideas I had never heard of. Mostly, he was recounting what his grandfather, Arthur, had told him of his youth. He spoke of blue skies and fresh air, strawberries and apples and all of these other amazing sounding foods. Living foods sounded kind of creepy, in a way. He called them fruit. Well anyway, the main thing that caught my attention was this thing he called ‘the sun’. This giant ball of energy that radiated and revealed the land with natural light. Jethro told me it was so bright that you couldn't even look at it for more than a few seconds. \n\n\nI don’t know why I agreed to help him and his grandfather out. I supposed it was because no one really took the time out of their day to talk to you in person anymore. That, and curiosity caught me, I just felt compelled to find out if it was all true. I was introduced to more people Jethro and Arthur had recruited. We found more people and eventually got to work. We survived primarily off resources found from abandoned buildings on city outskirts, and collected supplies from old military outposts and bomb shelters. It took years for the day we had been waiting for to arrive. \n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\nThere I was, nervously awaiting the big moment with this odd rag-tag group of rebels whom had convinced me to join their cause. I was scared out of my mind, we were all acting incredibly strange, straying this far from the city. I had heard stories of complete and utter ostracism of those who acted out of the ordinary. I had never been part of anything this exciting, though. \n\n\nWe were camped just outside of a rocky, cavernous place. It was so asymmetric and randomly formed, certainly not up to the standards of any house I've lived in. “Today marks the re-emergence of real life, and the end to an era of lies and the destruction of privacy,” Arthur spoke with passion unexpected of a man his age as he addressed his eager audience. He had to be at least one-hundred years old. “They took our skies away, so people could spend their days indoors to remain safe and life longer. Well, I say that is not really living at all! This prison of darkness shall fall. I am going to prove to you right now, that this is no conspiracy.” Everybody cheered, igniting the air with thunderous applause.\n\n\nArthur sat back down and Jethro took his place. Another man strapped a large metallic device to him (and later explained it was known as a 'rocket launcher'), and rested it on his shoulder, it stretched far in front and behind him, looked extremely heavy. Jethro knelt down without saying a word, and pointed the device upwards. The other man inserted a slightly smaller metallic item - I suppose the rocket - into a hole in the back and tapped Jethro on the back enthusiastically. \nI had no idea what was about to happen, but realised I was squirming with anticipation.\n\n\nWith a terrific boom my, I was given an answer, the huge device ejected its insides into the sky at an impossible speed. The metal object left a thin trail of smoke behind and exploded without warning. The sky began to glitch, sparks rained down, and streams of fluorescent blue and white lines crackled in all directions. And then the dark clouds and the lines and the sparks all vanished completely.\n\n\nThe sky became an iridescent display of the most gorgeous colours. Oranges blended seamlessly into pinks and what few clouds were in the sky were blotched and stained with magenta and fuchsia and other colours I’d never seen before. All of this was cast upon a stark crimson background.\n\nAs if fighting for its own space in the sky; directly above me it was equally awing, where the crimson ended, scarlet clawed and scratched further outwards in impressive distances until lost in a deep indigo sea. This section was speckled with tiny white dots sparkling in random locations.\n\nThen I noticed it; a semi-circle sitting on the horizon, a huge yellow-white orb, glowing vibrantly, a brilliance I could hardly comprehend. \n\n\n“Well, it seems we’re a little bit late, but this, my friends, is what is known as a sunset. Tomorrow, rise early and we can watch it rise again, and slowly glide over us and illuminate the entire sky the most glorious blue you have ever seen.” Arthur spoke with pride, “Night time is just as beautiful, stick around and see the moon!”\n\nI sat, almost speechless, but had to ask, “You mean there’s more?”\n\nArthur just smiled knowingly.\n\n\nI couldn't imagine a world where this kind of beauty was simply *ignored*. This entity shines light into the world. I felt warmer and somehow knew it was coming from the sun. People speak of God, wondering if a higher power exists. Looking at the sunset that night, something more powerful was unfathomable. It is the reason any of us exist. It is the reason *to* exist. I don’t even care if there is an afterlife. This is life, and it is right now. I am going to appreciate it every day until I die." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "One day at home, you fall and hurt yourself badly. Then you realise that, as you live alone, nobody is coming to help you. Share your thoughts as you lie there, unable to move." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "**\"How... Ironic...\"**\n\nI stuttered out in forced breaths, that afterward, seemed a very odious venture. From beneath my large oak bookcase I could barely shift, and now that I had forced the air out I struggled desperately to breathe, my ribs all broken or cracked, a strange sensation came over me, one of immediate peace. \n\nSure the pain was pure and terrible for the first 10 minutes or so, my energy to struggle not lasting long in my late age. My frail body barely able to make a fuss under such my behemoth bookcase I had purchased for my birthday... How funny that it should kill me! I can read the obituary now. \n\n*\"Tragic accident, frail old fart tries to recover book from behind a heavy bookcase, and is crushed! Unfound for weeks and only recovered due to a foul odor emanating from his home! He is survived by a lone cat, named Mr. Fluffles and has no living relatives or children.\"*\n\nMy cat seemed unamused that I was under a bookcase, and trotted off to go get some food presumably. I guess it was true, cats didn't really care about people - at least not my cat. \n\n*Maybe I shouldn't have named him Mr. Fluffles...If that asshole eats me I swear I'll..*\n\nI laugh in my head at the thought...what is a dead man going to do? Why did I care? Oh I wish I had gotten to read that book. That's my only regret...\n\nKilled by what I loved the most because of my own hubris to move a bookcase.\n\nHad I been able to, I would have laughed. They say death flashes before your eyes, you relive all those terrible and beautiful memories but for me, I faded into death. Like a warm blanket, or falling asleep. I was wrapped into Death's arms and then it all seemed to go white. Like a beautiful sunset fading or a fresh canvas being primed, I just left this world. \n\nOnward and upward I supposed.\n\n " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A skinny nerd is cornered in an alley by bullies. The kid warns them: \"stay away!\"A bully grabs his arm anyway, and...FLASH! The kid emits a blinding light! The light dims, the bullies uncover their eyes, the weakling is unchanged, except for an ultra bushy, 70's cop mustache and leather hat.." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Charlie ran as fast as he could but his skinny legs were no match for his pursuers - they were older, played ball for the school, and like every other Monday wanted to ruin the start of his week by beating him up and stealing his lunch money.\n\n\"Get 'im, Danny. Pin 'im to the fuckin' ground.\"\n\nAlthough Charlie never wanted to get beat up and robbed, today he especially wished they had left him alone - it was that time of the month.\n\n\"Stay away!\"he warned the bullies.\n\nDanny grabbed his arm anyway and a pulse of brilliant, blinding, white light emerged from Charlie. \"What the fuck was that?\"one of the bullies yelled as they all covered their eyes. The light dimmed and they lowered their arms, jaws dropping at the sight before them - Charlie looked identical, but for an ultra bushy, 70's cop moustache, and a leather hat.\n\n\"Oh you jive suckas gon' get it now.\"said Charlie, in a strangely deep voice. With a flurry of kicks and punches, all three of the bullies were floored, groaning from their injuries. \"I would think twice next time before you do this crime, ya dig?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A Lovecraft-inspired solicitor knocks on the door." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alice Merryweather set about straightening all of the paintings in her house. Now in her 60's, the lonely widow had spent much of her dead husband's fortune collecting art for her Manhattan penthouse. He had vanished twenty years ago while on a fishing expedition off the southern tip of Africa and his body was never recovered. \n\nThere was a knock on the door. Alice's heart almost stopped from surprise. A visitor? She had alienated her friends and family with her cold attitude and refused to lend money to a host of close relatives. Who would want to see her? \n\nShe walked through several rooms of her grand apartment until she reached the entrance hallway. Her hand rested on the doorknob and she felt a chill run down her spine. Hadn't she dreamt that this would happen last night? Flashes of her dream erupted from her subconscious like a stream of water escaping from a pressurized pipe: Rearranging her collection of art, a chill running down her spine and she reached for the door, and the man who was knocking...she remembered it was her dead husband in the dream. \n\nShe undid the several locks of varying size that decorated her front door and opened it. There was indeed a man on the other side, though not her husband. Her heart sank. The man on the other side was wearing a button-down collared shirt and a necktie with khaki slacks. He looked a lot like a Jehovah's Witness come to spread the word of God. Alice saw he was holding a canvas portrait and felt that same chill run up her spine. \"Good evening\"said the man. \"Have I disturbed you?\"\"Yes, you have. I'm entertaining guests.\"Alice detected a strange odor in the hallway, which she recognized as formaldehyde. She had never smelt formaldehyde before, and was unsure how she knew the scent. \"I understand you are an art collector. I have a piece you may be interested in.\"Alice considered him. \"No, I don't buy from strangers.\"The man smiled. \"I am no stranger. Please, just take a look.\"\n\nHe turned the canvas around and revealed a painting of a boat marooned on a rock off the coast of what appeared to be a jungle. There were bodies floating in the water. What caught her attention was the name on the side of the boat: \"Merryweather Express\". This was a painting of her former husband's crashed boat. Panic overwhelmed Alice. She found herself unable to move, to process what this man wanted from her. \"Who are you?\"she asked. \"A messenger sent on behalf of your husband. He has been with us for quite some time and has, quite frankly, started to bore us. We love to see the surprise and fear in the eyes of our victims. When we offered him a chance to be free of us, he gladly gave us your address as his replacement.\"\"What are you talking about?\"said Alice. \"My husband is still alive?\"\"Touch the painting\"the man said. \"Everything will make sense.\"\n\nAlice did as she was told, reaching out and placing a bare hand on the canvas. She tried to pull back, but found herself unable. Her hand was glued on. The canvas begun to suck her through. She tried to scream, but her yell was stifled by a portion of the canvas stretching out and shooting down her open mouth. She blacked out.\n\nWhen she woke up, the smell of formaldehyde was mixed with what seemed to be sulfur and excrement. The room was dark, and Alice could only see a few feet ahead of her. The floor was moist, and seemed to be pulsing. \"You're awake.\"Alice nearly cried when she heard her husband's voice. \"Rick! Where are we?\"\"You are in the lair of the dreamers, those from the other dimension.\"Rick's disembodied voice boomed through the blackness. Alice pleaded with him. \"Rick, I don't know what's going on. But lets leave, now. Together.\"\"Leave?\"said Rick, and he started to laugh. \"But we haven't even started with you.\"Rick moved into her line of sight. The horrible vision of what her husband has become was too much for her, too indescribable for her mind to process. She blacked out. Rick walked up to her and kissed her on the forehead. He dragged a knife across her arm, and licked up the blood. He then turned his back on his wife, leaving her to her fate. \n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The year is 2150 . You name is the most searched thing on the futuristic search engine . Who are you? What do you do ?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alex looked out the window, past the red banners and the floating drones, past the marching cops and their mech suits, past the great buildings etched with stories of the revolution and the statues of the emperor. He watched the grey sky. The sun had set maybe two hours ago, but the electric glow of the plasma street lamps made sure the roads were bright and safe.\n\nHis apartment was large enough to fit his bed, his computer, and a food printer. There was a communal toilet down the hall. Two weeks ago, his neighbor's room had been raided, a bug had detected that she was speaking unsanitary things and that she was no longer fit to consume resources. Alex had heard her cry and beg, and plead to do anything to stay free, but the police ran the barcode on her wrist and saw that this wasn't her first offense. \n\nHe turned on the news, the anchor was warning of a coming war between the United States and Aztlán. There was a call for a draft, all able bodied males and females and othergendered between the ages of 16 and 75 were encouraged to join. \n\nAlex's food printer told him that his guaranteed income for the month was running low, and that he should switch to something cheaper until the next payment. He didn't care, he asked it to make him something with meat again. The printer whirred, the meal would be ready in thirty minutes.\n\nAlex pulled out a lightweight dummy from under his bed. She came to life and asked him what he wanted. Her name was Julia St. Claire.\n\nHe paused, pulling up the thin screen that was his computer. He opened up Bing and began to type: \"New positions with my pleasurebot.\"\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Richard was the third child the enchanted sandbox took . . ." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The first to go was Billy. Such a nice boy, always so polite. He never forgot a \"please\"or \"thank you.\"Quite handsome too, shaggy brown hair, green eyes, and well dressed, with his shirt always tucked in and shoes always tied. We were all devastated when he went missing search parties looked day and night for weeks, but found nothing.\n\nNext was Julie. Exactly two weeks later. What an adorable girl, blond curls and blue eyes. Shy girl but always respectful. Very smart girl we all knew she was going to be something, the one that would get out of this town and make something of herself. When she went missing real panic set in. The sherif's department called in the search dogs, but still nothing. Rumors of a serial killer were going around, Sherif Daniels assured everyone there was no evidence of that though. The rumors continued.\n\nThen another two weeks later was Richard. His name suited him, he was quite rude and always so dirty looking.\n\nWe miss Billy and Julie so much and pray everyday that they will return home safe." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It turns out we really do use only 10% of our brains. Only the upper middle class and higher can afford the procedure to 'unlock' the rest." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I remember the first year, we all do. It seemed as if we awoke one morning and the future had arrived all at once. The announcements were stunning, our phones would be replaced by holographic yet fully tactile images that would project from rings on our wrists, food could be printed with the touch of a button, a quick spray from a new polymer would make you bulletproof for life, but still let you tan. We were in wonder. Time Magainze declared them the Men of the Year, these Homo Sapiens Superior. After one Harvard team of scientists had designed a way to build a better brain, many of the world's governments had come together to fund their best and brightest through the expensive procedure.\n\nGuillermo Lopez, from Spain, was probably the smartest man in the history of the world at that point in time. He would flip through books to learn new languages, he could memorize two plays at once, reading each with one eye. He was the one who cured cancer, who cured AIDs, who made sure Half Life 3 was released, he wrote and directed a film about the second Mexican Revolution that many agree is one of the best of all time. I had a poster of Guillermo in my house, we all did, the one that was painted in an impressionist style by his wife, Michelle Lopez-Schroder, where he's looking into the sunset from on top of the Chicago Spire that he designed. He was also the one who figured out a way to commercialize the procedure. At first the cost was $10 billion, then it was $2 billion, then a $100 million, $5 million, $200,000... Eventually, about 1/3rd of the Earth had had it done. \n\nI didn't. Not too many doctors wanted to come out here to Urumchi. Besides, the Hans in charge made damn sure that there wasn't a single genius among the desert Turks. \n\nThe problem with the brain, as I understand it, is that it consumes a massive amount of the body's energy. A regularly functioning brain gets maybe 2 out of every 5 calories at the very least. A high functioning brain wants more. The geniuses needed to eat constantly, but it was never enough.\n\nI remember watching TV with my son when we saw that Lopez had died. The image on the screen was of a freakishly gaunt man, his eyes deep in his head and his skin loose on his bones. He was one of the first, but soon many others followed. Their brains were draining them.\n\nThe procedure was irreversible.\n\nNow my son, Maqsud, and I break into the abandoned houses. It's not uncommon to find the body of a starved genius. There was so much beautiful work they had once, but my appreciation can't match the dollars that other collectors offer. I only find Han treasures, but I've thought about saving up to see what I could find in India or Italy or the former UK. My son wants to travel, too. He wants to see Beijing. I'm sure we'll go someday.\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The mundane life of an office worker; in Space." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*Pegasus Log 155 - Worker ID: Sam Finch*\n\nI'm staring out the window looking down upon the earth. The big blue dot in the midst of space. The green and blue speck of dust floating through nothingness with all it's majesty is getting boring as fuck.\n\nSo I've passed Africa for the 202nd time now. It's still as big as ever and hasn't moved or changed shape. Until either one of those happens it's not gonna be anything special.\n\nFor anyone reading this down on earth who thinks that this is \"the best job in the world\"I have two things to tell you. \n\nOne: It's not, it freaking sucks and once again I'm gonna tell you why just to pass the time.\n\nTwo: It's not in the world. So checkmate.\n\nHonestly though this has got to be the most mundane bullcrap I've done. 8 months I've been here and I'm still contracted for another 16 months. It's so DULL. \n\n*\"But Sam you're in space, you can float and see the earth in all it's beauty every day. You can look upon humans as ants whilst. There's no war, or religion, or politics up there. Complete serenity every day.\"*\n\nYeah. That's the fucking problem. That all sounds all hunky dory and flowery from down there; but up here; up here it's boring as shit.\n\nNo war? Yeah cool but it's kind of refreshing to think that you're on the edge of impending doom every day. It's some sort of arrogance in every person knowing that somewhere someone wants to kill you.\n\nNo religion? Great I guess, but knowing that there are people arguing over who's god is better just outside your door is quite entertaining. You can still watch it on the news but knowing that those people walk past you is a good feeling.\n\nNo politics? Yeah well actually I guess that is a good thing.\n\nYou know the worst part about this job? It's that they advertised it as a once in a lifetime experience that's non-stop fun and amazingness. Which to be fair it is a once in a lifetime but the fun? Nope.\n\nIt was incredible for the first 3 months until they figured anti-gravity was greatly damaging worktime and therefore installed a new machine that makes space's awesome anti-gravity, not happen.\n\nImagine being on earth, confined to one house which is your workplace, home, toilet, supermarket, mall, game store, cinema, life, fuck, this, and fuck you pegasus. \n\nIt sucks. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "After years of study , it is revealed that fruits and vegetables have sentience and feel pain, especially when being uprooted or cooked." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*Newspaper headline*\n**Vegetarians, what were you thinking?**\n\nScientists have discovered, after three years of research at five of the top universities in the world, that vegetables not only feel every part of what you are doing to them, but they know about it too.\n\nAfter placing magnets onto the roots of the vegetables, and a device to track the magnetic impulses coming from the life force of the vegetable, scientists have been able to collect data over a series of different tests. These tests included uprooting, skinning, chopping, boiling and mashing.\n\nTests results show an increase in these magnetic waves, that the scientists have named 'synthowaves', when the vegetables are introduced to something harmful i.e; uprooting or heat. After they have been stripped of the earth, and even had their skin taken away, these vegetables synthowaves increase to drastic measures.\n\nScientists are to believe that these 'synthowaves' are how a vegetable detects harm, mirroring human 'pain'. \n\nNew results are to be released tomorrow." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are on vacation at a large, remote lake when the water level rapidly plummets." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": " It was a long drive to the lake, and I was excited to meet up with my family. I had been away for a while and this is exactly what I needed. I pulled up to the cabin and hurriedly parked my car, wanting to catch a glimpse of the lake as soon as possible.\n\n I scrambled out of the car, around the cabin, down the step, and began to walk along the old pier. The pier was my favorite spot as a child, and I had spent countless hours sitting on it while tending my fishing line. Unsure of where my family was (most likely taking a hike or gathering firewood) I sat on the far edge of the pier and dangled my toes in the water. \n\n The cool water was breathtakingly cool after the long drive, and I could have sat in that spot forever. My thoughts drifted to fond memories of vacations past and I laid down on the pier, entranced by the serene waves washing over my feet.\n\n After a few minutes, I realized the water was no longer touching my feet. As I sat up, my view nearly knocked my breath out of me. The water in the lake had receded nearly 30 meters. Fish were flopping on the now dry land and I could see long forgotten items that were once sitting under the still waters of the lake.\n\n I panicked. What was happening? Surely this was not natural, and that though unsettled me. I ran back down the dock and up the stairs to the cabin looking for my family, hoping that whatever did this to the lake had not harmed them.\n\n As I ran I prayed for their safety. *Please God*, I thought, *let them be alright*. Suddenly, the clouds opened up and a voice rang down from the heavens.\n\n\"Do not worry, my son. Your family is not harmed.\"The booming voice startled me, but I knew at once that it had to be God. It was just something I knew without being told. \n\n\"Then please tell me! What happened to the lake?!\"\n\n\"Do not fret,\"God answered. \"It is not the end of the world. The water did not drain and nothing is out of order.\"\n\n\"Then what?\"I questioned, mad with curiosity. \"Why did the water level drop so much and so suddenly?\"\n\nGod replied, \"Your mom just got out of the lake\"\n\nI was dumbfounded. The clouds closed back up and spelled out #rekt in the sky." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A man is granted a single wish. He chooses to erase his own existence. Afterwards, only a single person retains any memory of that man." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Journal, I think this might be my last entry for a while, in fact, I am not sure there will be another. I am told that tomorrow I will be receiving a new experimental treatment to attempt to bring an end to my delusions. They can say that I am crazy, but I know Jack was real. \n\nJack and I only knew each other for a day, but that wasn't some delusion. I may not yet understand what happened, and perhaps I never will. I know that I saw that man vanish, out of the thin air, not ten feet from me. \n\nWe were just fishing, he happened to find the same spot as me that morning. He was probably around sixty, but strong looking. He had that kind of aged, weathered look that comes from a busy and demanding life. Slight frown-lines wrinkled his lightly tanned face. His blue eyes had long wispy brows, which seemed slightly furrowed. One of those fishing caps, fully adorned, as well as some waders that may have very well been purchased that morning. But he seemed friendly enough in the misty creek bed. \nIt was pretty slow and quiet, so we got to chatting. I had never seen him at this spot before. I wondered if he was new to the area, there weren't many of us who lived out here, but that only made the fishing better. I remember asking him if he was new to the area, but he assured me that he had only visited the area once before many years ago.\n\nWe got a somewhat friendly rapport going, and after a few hours I had learned a good amount about Jack, he had been a lawyer, a public defender for almost 30 years in Manhattan, before he retired a couple of years ago. He had done some well known trials in his day, some of the cases that you might have seen in the papers. He had a wife and kids, and one of them was about to have a child of their own. \n\nHe talked about them for a while, what seemed like hours, with this twinkle in his eye. We traded stories and some memories, but after a while it seemed like he was somewhere else. Perhaps he had gotten lost in some memories, because he just sat silently for probably 3 minutes before he heard me ask what his biggest case was. \n\nHe looked at me and told me that, over the years it wasn't just one case that stuck with him. He told me he had watched so many young men and women go through the system, when he knew that they were innocent, even without proper evidence to substantiate the charges against them. He had seen young men, just starting out their lives put into the chair. He told me, \"son, you don't ever want to see a man get injected and take three hours to die. Made me wish I had never been born.\"\nSuddenly, it was as if the world breathed, and he had gone. At first I thought he had snuck off while I was lost in my thoughts, but after a few calls and some frantic searching, I began to really worry. \n\nThat was when I went to the authorities, admittedly I was in a state and was freaking out. Maybe more than just a little, but a man had vanished in the woods! I told them his name was Jack Williston, he was out for the weekend, visiting a fishing spot his dad brought him to when he was young. They told me nobody under that name by that description existed in their database. I insisted, but no matter how loud I said it, the only response I got was, \"sorry he isn't here, I don't know what to say.\"\n\nThat was two weeks ago, and since then things have gotten much worse, everybody says that I'm insane, and I've experienced some break. They tell me that this treatment might help... I sure hope so, I don't know how much longer I can take this." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Kim Jung Un has challenged you to a katana duel. Write a story about how you spared or defeated him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ha ha, Kim Jung Ooooon!\"I sneered. \"Make your first move.\"\n\nThe North Korean leader took a giant baseball-style swing at me. Too bad I was onto his moves. \n\nI ducked his move, and countered. \"How's it feel to be on the floor with my sword pointed at your head, you dictator?\"I asked. \n\n\"Prease. Prease...\"he whimpered. \"Let me live.\"\n\nI retracted my sword and walked around the room with nonchalance. \"Why should I let you live, when you never let those starving countrymen of yours live?\"\n\nHe was speechless.\n\n\"Tell you what I'm gonna do, Kim Jong Ill.\"I swaggered about the room with intensity. \"I'm gonna let you live, but I swear to Chuck Norris, if you starve one more Korean, I'll be there.\"\n\nHe swallowed his spit. \n\n\"I'll be there,\"I continued. My sword, from a room away, pointed right at his dictator face. \"When you least expect me.\"\n\nI wrapped my cape around myself and teleported back to North Dakota. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A normal, everyday bike ride takes an unexpected turn when you find a new gear on your bike. You've never seen it before. Beside it, there's a strange symbol you don't recognize. What happens when you switch to that gear?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The symbol was an upside-down seven. Somehow, I related it to the number *e* from my calculus class. \n\nI put my thumb on the shifter with extreme tripidation. \"What happens when I switch to *e?*\"I thought. It seemed to be written in alien symbols. \n\nI had no choice but to push it down. \n\nOnce I did, red became blue. Purple became green, and green became a deeper green. I was hooked. Until the post-boy. \n\nThe local post office had given a young boy $5 an hour to deliver heavy packages to houses. He was in the middle of the road, pedaling as hard as he could, as I approached him with exponential velocity. \n\n\"Get outta da way!\"I shouted. His eyes met mine, and they froze. He pedaled furiously. \n\nWhen I raced by him, I spun him around several times. \"Are you okay,\"I shouted back, hopeless to stop the exponential speed of my bicycle. \n\n\"Yeah, you jerk,\"he shouted. \"Lemme get some of that exponential speed.\"\n\nIt was then that I awoke from calculus class. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A person is cursed to be in a coma and each day after their body lies in slumber while they wake up each day in the body and mind of a random person and are forced to see the world from their perspective until the curse has passed and they finally awake in their own body." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I'll update this as I go along as I have gaps in my day!\n\nHow many times have you walked past someone in need? Or turned your head to a bad situation in the street? I used to. All the time. I wasn't a bad person, but I wasn't particularly nice. Self absorbed, to say the least.\n\nI drove my route to work every morning, like clockwork. Up at seven, showered and out the door by eight. I hated to be late, time keeping was a top priority for me. \n\nA few months back, I set my alarm for work as usual. I got up rather easily so it wasn't a necessity, but I liked to make sure. \n\nFor some reason, the following morning, my body decided today was not the day it wanted to be punctual, and I arose half an hour late. Instant panic hit me when I realised the time. My alarm hadn't gone off. What?\n\nI jumped in the shower, cleanliness being another priority, and got out the door at quater past eight. I was going to be late.\n\nTraffic was backed up. I left late and this was my payment. Fuck. \n\nAs I sat still in the queue of traffic that was backed up at least two streets, I pulled out my phone to let my boss know I was going to be late.\n\n**FWUMP**\n\nAn old woman had thrown herself at my window. I jumped out of my skin and abruptly started shouting at her. I had just had my car waxed.\n\nShe was old, maybe seventies? She started shouting back at me, but it wasn't anger. It was gargled though, I couldn't understand her. I looked around and no one seemed to be paying attention to this old woman flopping about on my car. \n\nThe traffic ahead started moving, so I followed pursuit. The woman fell off my car, and onto the road. Shit. I looked in my mirror and she was just on the floor, face down. \n\nI was sure someone else would help her, I didn't have time to stop. I shouted sorry out the window and hoped for the best. I had deadlines to meet, meetings to make. It'd be a domino effect at work of people I'd upset. I made the old lady someone else's problem.\n_____________________________________________________________\n\nThat weekend I had the long car journey to my parents. A good four hours away. I hated the journey and never looked forward to it, but it was always worth it in the end. Especially since I hadn't seen my parents in over a month, I'd been so busy at work. You just seem to forget people.\n\nI packed my car with necessities, I figured anything I'd forgotten my parents would sort out for me, they were angels like that. I planned my route, worked out were I would stop for food, and set off.\n\nI got onto the motorway around two in the morning, I'd planned so it was practically dead for my journey, I hate traffic. Hate being late.\n\nI was making good time, and my stop for food wasn't far ahead. I'd made sure it was open twentyfour hour so it didn't matter what time I arrived.\n\nAs I was cruising quite steadily on the open road, maybe above the speed limit, maybe not, I got out my phone to check if if anyone had tried to get hold me, there was no one about so it felt safe enough.\n\nA message from my mum\n\n*Have a safe trip, if your tired, have a nap!*\n\nShe always worried about me. One glance up at the road to check I was alright...**FWUMP**\n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Every sentence must be a \"planetary mnemonic\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My very evil mother just stabbed uncle's neck.\n\nMost vile, even my juice smells unnaturally nasty. \n\nMy van emits many jarring sounds until noon. \n\nMonday vexes every man's justifiably sullen, uninterruptable naptime.\n\nMy voice echoes marginally, just something undoubtedly noisy.\n\nMorbid vermin encapsulate menacing jargon, scaring unassuming nieces.\n\nMost valedictorians eat mangoes, just so universities notice." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a 26 year old male living in a wealthy Manhattan apartment. You are single and very good looking. You wake up one day to find out that every male and female in New York has become gay and very, very horny. Describe your day. (Comedic)" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My day started like any other; my alarm clock buzzing, my eyes slowly creeping their way open, and the bright sun smashing through the very thin curtains that blinded me within an inch of my life. It would not have mattered if the curtains were closed anyway because, come morning, they clearly were not even able to handle the task they were *designed* for. \n\nI rolled out of bed while slapping the snooze button on my alarm clock. The incessant beeping **still** rang in my head even after I turned it off, my eyes vibrating with the rhythm of that fucking time-teller. I moved to the curtains; languidly pulling my arms up to draw back the mask from the window. As I did, I was taken back. \n\nThe neighbors, the trash-men, the police officers, the construction workers, *even the fucking kids* were making out in the middle of the street. I could literally hear the smacking of lips from two stories up; I could see the sun glistening off the massive twines of thick saliva dripping onto the pavement; and the moans, dear deity, *the moans*. \n\nI closed my curtains, thanking whatever creator that they would at least shield my eyes from *that*. I tried to rationalize it; maybe it was a parade, gay-pride event, or maybe even something for charity? Whatever it was, it would *have* to go away; those things don't just happen out-of-the-blue... do they? \n\nI went about my morning routine with ease, *surprisingly*, as I was able to turn off the obsessive thoughts about whatever *All Ages* Orgy was happening on my street. I don't usually take long during my mornings - about fifteen minutes, *tops* - so, I thought nothing of it as the fuck-a-thon was *still* happening outside. How could a convention be only 15 minutes? It'll most likely be gone when I get back, I told myself, revving my engine and driving to work. \n\nAs I drove, I looked out of the window to my car to see more individuals getting saucy with each-other. It really didn't *seem* to be a convention, as it would appear there would be no salient meaning to the Semen Circus; it was *literally* a bunch of people smashing their bits together on the side of the road. After about one mile of non-stop debauchery, I decided that something was going on and called the police. \n\n*\"Hello, 911?\"* I spoke to the officer on the phone, or rather silence. I kept my ear open, trying to see if someone was talking to me or if the call had dropped. It was not a call drop, instead, someone had dropped the phone itself to have overindulgent coitus with whomever else was in the office with them. \"Hello?\"I repeated again, trying to speak louder so as to get their attention. \n\n***Smash***\n\n*\"What the fuck?\"* I yelled as loud as I could as the freaks came near me. They were covered in copious amounts of liquid; the exterior of my car was becoming more slimy, hundreds of hands pounding themselves on my car as if to illustrate that I needed to join them. They started rocking my car back and forth, stopping me in my tracks. I moved to the back seat, curled into the fetal position and hoped.. *just hoped*.. that they would leave me alone. \n\nThe glass shattered. The doors became entrances. The sun-roof turned into a diving board. They came in by the hundreds, their hands reeked of post-coital relations. I continued to lay in silence, trying to defend myself. It would have never been enough, as they got the scent of fresh meat and went after it like a pack of wild carnivores. \n\nI turned my head to look around; they surrounded me. It seemed as though everyone in Manhattan was gathered around my car. They just started.. *fucking*. All over my fucking car. At this point, I was disgusted with myself that I bought a smaller car, as the intense penetration of woman/woman, man/man, seemed to be exacerbated by the smaller space. \n\nI plugged my ears, hoping that it would be over, but just as the ringing from my alarm clock, *the noises of intercourse is forever playing in my head for eternity.*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You go about your life noticing that although everyone is kind to you, people are assholes to each other. Today is the day you learn that you are mentally retarded." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*tap tap tap tap tap*\n\nThat's five taps, five threes, if you count each letter, and fifteen letters in total. If you count total characters, including spaces, that's 19 characters.\n\nMath is interesting. It can do a lot of things.\n\n*tap tap tap tap tap*\n\nI enjoy math, but other people don't. Not like me, at least. They show interest in what I do, and praise me when I complete an equation. They say they're proud of me.\n\nWhy are they proud of me? The math completed itself. When an equals goes down, the right answer will come out. Those are the rules, and I can't change them as I wish.\n\nAnd yet, I've found a problem that I need to solve by myself, and no one is going to help me.\n\nI've been in this place for a while. There are other places, but here the math comes easily. I feel like it's more willing to cooperate here, in the relative quiet. It doesn't do that in those loud places. It must not like it. I don't either.\n\n*tap tap tap tap tap*\n\nThey're all around me, those people. They're the ones who've always been with me, who praise me for letting the math do the work. They don't understand. But I think, if I solve this problem, then maybe the praise will be deserved.\n\n*tap tap tap tap tap*\n\nThink. They praise me. Why do they praise me? I don't deserve this praise, but they give it anyway. They assume I need the praise. But why? Why should I be encouraged?\n\n*tap tap tap tap tap*\n\n25 taps. 75 letters. 95 characters, including spaces. I need to think, and focus.\n\nWhat about the other places? The ones that were loud. The ones where the math wouldn't help me, where it couldn't help me. Yes, the answer lies in there.\n\n*\"Hey, fucktard, that's my spot!\"*\n\n*\"Really? Look to your left, asshole.\"*\n\n*\"Oh sh- I'm sorry, guy. Uh... you okay? You need some help?\"*\n\nAh, the answer is in there. I can see it.\n\nTwo men, fighting over a Ford Focus. No, not the Focus, the space underneath. The parking space, that's it. They were arguing, and resorting to crude words. And he apologized. For what? I wasn't in the engagement.\n\nBut I was. I was in it.\n\nI'm starting to see the answer, and for the first time in my life, I want to change it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A dwarf, elf, and human are on an exploratory expedition and discover a new race. Describe the new race and the groups first interactions with it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Our heroes have journeyed deep into the ruins of a lost civilization to look for clues pertaining to an ancient race that has long eluded their grasp. Preston Silverwind the Dark Elf Rogue, and Jim Goldstein Wizard extraordinaire are busy decoding ancient text in search of clues, while Lumps Ale-belly stands guard.\n\nPreston: \"Hmmm I'd like to search for hidden doors!\"\n\nJim: yeah but we're supposed to be trying to translate this text dude! we need to find the lost Amazonian civilization of Tittsilvania!\"\n\nPreston: \"yeah but maybe there is a secret door here that leads to their hideout!\"\n\nJim: \"Hideout? they're not 1980's gangsters they're a race of amazons long lost to our world! they wont be hiding behind a trap door dude! just assist me in translating this thing please, I need your high Int score for a +2 bonus.\"\n\nPreston: \"Fine dude, Ill assist Jim in reading the ancient text... (Rolls an 18)\n\nDM: \"Jim is granted a +2 assist bonus\"\n\nJim: \"Fuck yeah dude! ok im going to roll to decipher the text!\"\n\nDM: \"Ok give me a knowledge history check.\"\n\nJim: (rolls a 2) SON OF A BITCH! Seriously!?\n\nLumps: \"HAHAHA nice fail dingus!\"\n\nJim: \"I don't want to hear it Stephen!\"\n\nLumps: \"Stephen? Who be ye referin' to Boy?! The name's Lumps Ale-Belly!\"\n\nPreston: \"I want to search for hidden doors!\"\n\nJim: For the last time dude! we need to decipher this damn text so we can finish this leg of the quest! I just want to collect the reward so i can Get my robe of the ArchMagi and move on with the end of this Adventure path!\"\n\nPreston: \"geeze dude relax! fine I want to roll knowledge history to decipher the text.\"\n\nJim: \"You don't even have any point put into knowledge history Preston! I have +12 we should just wait until I can try again.\"\n\nPreston: \"I have 1 point in knowledge history. it will be fine.\"(Rolls a 9)\n\nJim: \"See, just a waste of time!\"\n\nDM: \"you are able to translate the text\"\n\nJim: \"What?! How the fuck did he translate it with only 1 point into Knowledge history? That would only give him a +6... 15?! it was a fucking DC 15??? seriously? Fine Whatever what does it say?\"\n\nDM: \"After Carefully Examining the text Preston manages to fully decipher its meaning.\"(Hands Preston a folded letter) \n\nPreston: (Laughing maniacally) \"I SEARCH FOR SECRET DOORS!\"(Rolls a 20) \n\nJim: \"Why the hell would y... ... ...\"\n\nDM: \"You press a stone firmly into the wall, and suddenly you hear a loud pop as the mechanism is put into motion! gears grind and break free of their rusted bonds, and cause the ground around you to shake violently\"\n\nJim: \"You have got to be fucking kidding me....\"\n\nLumps: (Losing it. Just can't even right now.)\n\nDM: \"As the a slit slowly begins to open up in the wall before you, a bright light begins to fill the the darkness, the warmth of the sun begins to caress your skin and the scent of clean crystalline spring water begins to fill the air. as you look behind the door you see a beautiful paradise filled with fruit trees and song birds, a rabbit hops about from one bush to the next and off to the North, bathing in the lake under a waterfall, you see them. Tall well endowed beauties as free as the day they were born bathing in plain sight of the gods!\"\n\nLumps: \"WOMEN?! are they hot!?\"\n\nDM: \"The most beautiful women you have ever laid your eyes on.\"\n\nLumps: \"I want to attempt to woo them what would i roll?\"\n\nDM: \"You cant just roll you have to explain HOW you attempt to woo them.\"\n\nLumps: \"They havent seen a man before, theyre Amazons! I just whip it out like and dangle it in front of them like a cat toy!\"\n\nDM: \"OK roll me a charisma check\"\n\nLumps: (Rolls a 1 Stares at his d20 like a wounded puppy having just returned from the vet.)\n\nDM: \"you seem to have a bit of trouble with your zipper, it does flop out... but you were moving too fast, one thing lead to the other, your hand slips and you hear a loud ZZZZZZZIP! as you pull the zipper back up.\"\n\nPreston \"OH DEAR GOD MAN!\"\n\nDM: (Rolls 2 d6) \"ooooh you take 10 damage and ongoing bleed damage until you tend to your wounds!\"\n\nLumps: \"oh my god! can't i just pull it apart?!\"\n\nPreston: \"your dick?!\"\n\nLumps: \"No you twit! the fucking zipper! can't i just pull the zipper apart?!\"\n\nDM: \"you could try, but its covered in blood and really slippery, give me a perception check.\"\n\nLumps: (rolls a 17)\n\nDM: \"You can tell that you may cause permanent damage if you try to force it open your best bet is to try and have someone with more delicate and dexterous hands try and free you from your predicament. Preferably someone with a good escape artist or disable device skill. *Cough* the rogue *cough*\"\n\nPreston: (devilish grin) \"Quite the PICKLE you're in there old friend...\"\n\nLumps: \"come on man just get me out of this already.\"\n\nPreston: \"I suppose i could JIMMY you out of that... but i don't know, I mean, at least then the name LUMPS would fit your character so much better...\"\n\nLumps: \"DUDE please! come on! were finally here with all the Amazons! don't make me die without finding carnal bliss between the silky smooth thighs of one of these heavenly beauties!\"\n\nPreston: \"Fine dude fine! ill use disable device on Lumps zipper (rolls a 20) aww yeah boi!~ everything's coming up Preston baby!\"\n \nDM: \"Wow, a crit, yeah you did a good job liberating Lumps penis from the jaws of death... only, was it too good a JOB? your hands moved so fast and nimbly, hit all the right spots that lumps penis...\"\n\nLumps/Preston/Jim: \"DUDE WTF?!?!?!?!\"\n\nDM: \"Was set free without any further injury, what were you pervs thinking?!\"\n\nLumps: \"ok forget about that what about the amazons?! lets get over to them already!\"\n\nDM: \"unfortunately your loud screams alerted the bathing Amazons and they fled into the woods. you didnt really catch which direction the fled to since you were otherwise preoccupied with the matter at hand\"\n\nJim: \"Dammit you guys lets just head over there and see if we find any clues!\"\n\nDM: When you get close you can make out the direction they went off to do you want to follow?\"\n\nJim: \"yes we head in that direction\"\n\nPreston: \"I want to check behind the waterfall!\"\n\nJim: \"guys come on its late I need to go home soon, can we just finish this up and do some exploring next time?\"\n\nPreston: \"FIIIIIIIIINE i guess...\"\n\nJim: \"Thank you\"\n\nJim: \"we follow the tracks\"\n\nDM: \"are you all together?\"\n\nJim: \"yeah were all together! No one better run off on their own! i need to go soon!\"\n\nLumps/Preston: \"yeah were together\"\n\nDM: \"since no one was checking for traps you spring a suspended net trap that covers the group, its very large and very heavy. and was too quick for any one to react to.from the shadows you see 5 tall Amazons emerge. they seem a bit curious and a little hesitant. You can't understand anything they're saying but one of them seems very excited, the rest seem to be a bit afraid. They cover their face with odd looking masks and the one that seems to be the leader grabs a clay pot from a pouch at her side. She uncorks it and pours a powdery substance over you all. In moments you all drift to sleep.\"\n\nDM: \"ok you guys Jim needs to go home so were going to leav it here for tonight! see you all next session!~\"\n\n\n\nSorry if its way too much to read or if it isn't formatted appropriately! And I'm also sorry for any spelling errors or bad grammar." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In this current reality, you can only communicate with people that share the same name as you. The nurse makes a mistake on your birth certificate." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A note: \n\nFrom he rooftop, all is quiet and all will remain. \n\nEvery class I was in was a class of Johns. I was slumped in a work field full of Johns. In a town of Johns. I stayed quiet about it, but more importantly so did they. I was too shy to speak up but more importantly no one cared. I was acquainted with the backs of people. My needs were mostly words on a notepad. \n\nThe bottle spoke. Yes, the bottle spoke, and I reveled in it. I took a swim and I never wanted to get out. I was made of alcoholic prunes. I was silent and fruitful and weak. \n\nIf I felt attraction to a John, a drunk is what I became. If I became attracted I was never a burden. There is only so much an action could do. I was acquainted well with the clothed backs of people. John was people, John was everyone. John was I and John will die. \n\nAnd from the rooftop I fall. John Doe. A quiet man. \n\nEnd. \n\nHis name was spelled Jon Do, with a soft “J,” says the doctor to coroner, informed by the same nurse who witnessed his birth. \n\nThe coroner: Huh? \n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The Year is 2104. All Social Interaction is done through Social Media." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Jasper?\"\nIt sure was startling to hear a voice without opening a Snapchat. In such clear fidelity too. Slowly directing his eyes upward, he noticed that his headphones were untouched, still hanging seven inches above his nose. The mystery had piqued Jasper's heart, and now it was beating almost as fast as it had been the week before, when AT&T had delivered to him his first sexual encounter. Jasper almost smiled as the memory lingered--his brightness on 66%, the battery fully charged, and Marcy's touch making the phone buzz in ways it never had before.\n\nThere were no new Snapchats.\n\nAnd just like that, Jasper shrugged the whole thing off, and his headphones were on until his mother texted him for dinner. Analog noises were ignored for the rest of the night, and no one heard Marcy shut the door." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write the shortest story you can with a plot twist." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After coming home late, I trudged to the back to put out the garbage and compost, collecting the trash left by the door. I could see how quickly filled the can gets, but nothing I do lessens it. I glanced up and down the street at my neighbour's driveways. Later I crawled into bed. I shut my eyes and listened to the sound of the garbage being kicked and thrown outside. I sat up, immediately remembering I forgot to lock the door." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You wake up unable to see. But the air smells different than you are used to..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"*the documents...*\"\n\"\"*nothing derivative of..*\"\n\"*ninety-three.....yesss....*\"\n\nNina shuddered awake feeling weak and pallid. She bobbed her head up, then down, left and right, and still she could not see. Nina felt her hands locked behind her, in an tight metal embrace. Voices swept in and out of the air, too wispy to understand no matter how much she strained.\n\n\"Count the catalogue...\"A clear voice stood out; a male, high pitched. \"Miss...Cheswyck, yes. Are you awake?\"Nina floated a while longer until she gained control of her tongue and murmured,\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Very good. Are you feeling any pain?\"\n\n\"N..ng..no.\"Nina's tongue twisted and turned in her mouth. \n\n\"Excellent. Miss Cheswyck, it'd benefit you well if you fully understood that you have a classified document belonging to the federal agency of documentation and classification in your possesion-\"The man spoke so fast that Nina wanted to heave.\n\n\"No, no.\"She sputtered. \"I can't see. I don't have anything.\"She heard steps behind her.\n\n\"And we don't intend on letting you see. You see-\"A quick titter. \"or rather you don't- you are under incarceration until further information breaches your lips about the location of the document.\"A hard hand was placed on the back of her neck. \"You tell us about this document and you can go. We don't like over-staying visitors.\"Nina started blubbering.\n\n\"I-I can't see!\"Spit dribbled down her chin. \"I can't.\"The man tsk-ed.\n\n\"We've intentionally blinded you, though Mr.Town here attempted to work on your other senses. That would be unnecessary however, so not to worry. We will try one thing if gaining information from you is unsuccessful and unlikely.\"He came closer to her ear. \"Would you like us to test it now?\"Nina screamed and squirmed. \n\nShe awaited the pain and agony to arrive in the form of a bullet or a a knife perhaps, but it was slow in coming. Nina stopped her screaming slowly to hear what was happening but all there was was scurrying. \n\n\"What?-\"\n\nA poisonous smell grew in the air and Nina's heart and hope sunk. She whimpered, remembering the way her 10th grade history teacher describe the effects of mustard gas in WW1. She focused on stopping her breathing to small intakes of air. The air was so putrid smelling and thick she began to feel her throat close. This was it.\n\n\"Do you like the smell?\"The man chimed from before. \"Is this what you want?! Mr.Town hasn't crapped in four days, with taco bell as lunch for two. Now that your smell is inhanced, you'll be a goner in a couple more seconds, Miss Cheswyck. \"\n\nNina wasn't dying, she realized. But the smell. God, the horrible smell. She pleaded the man to stop, but the calm voice from before broke into laughter. \n\n\"It's SILENT too. Silent farts are always the deadliest!\"\n\nIt was too much. Nina felt tears stinging in her eyes and she let her head lay limp, the smell overtaking her completely. Darkness overtook her again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The future has already happened and the ancient aliens are us." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"See! I told you there were secrets buried deep underneath the Obturion!\"Yazbar proclaimed in English. Yazbar and Moglu gazed down at the polished metal box, and the tension between the two dissipated rapidly.\n\nYazbar reached down and twisted the latch on the box. A rusty \"click\"was heard as the box swung open. From behind the two, a journalist named Iiplow gasped. Iiplow only vaguely hoped Yazbar would be right, but he he was and this would be a headline story to beat all headline stories. He could see it now \"Artifacts from ancient alien species recovered!\"\n\nYazbar and Moglu each reached into the box illumated only by their headlamps, and each pulls out a smaller metallic box. There is nothing else inside. \n\nIiplow sneaks closer to get a glimpse, but Yazbar demands loudly for the journalist to leave them. Moglu turns to stand beside Yazbar and speaks \"We don't know what's in here. It's best for you to wait outside.\"Yazbar begins climbing the excavated dirt stairs back to the surface, to sit in the shade of the Obturion's high walls against two blazing hot suns.\n\nAfter ten minutes, Yazbar dashes up out of the depths and runs to his hovercar. On Yazbar's head is a strange, dark, stiff cloth of some sort. He holds in his hands a thin, colorful book and a odd, orange, metallic pillow. Iiplow scribbles notes, and as Yazbar zooms off, Iiplow waits patiently for Moglu to return to the surface.\n\nAfter only a few minutes, Moglu crawls up out of the depths. He is cut and bruised. He holds a thick, dark book with a plain cover. Around his neck is a chain with a glittering gold symbol hanging off the end. He looks up to Iiplow and asks \"Please, help me return to the city. Yazbar has done this to me. It was in his book, he's changed.\"\n\nAssault is a very serious crime, and the humans of 2438 are very strict. A citywide search is begun for Yazbar but he is never found. Iiplow is too busy to follow the search though - he teams up with Moglu and a group of scientists to report on the artifacts. The book is written in the same cryptic language found scrawled within the Obturion, and the linguists think that enough time with the book will uncover the secrets of the ancient species. The necklace is made of gold, and the symbol is like the arthithmetic symbol for addition, but one of the four lines is much longer. Iiplow's story gets published long before the book's secrets have been uncovered, and with his newfound wealth and fame, Iiplow moves north to the planet's pole where the temperature is more moderate.\n\nOne year later, Iiplow has returned to the captiol to visit Moglu, who now leads an organization devoted to sharing the ancient secrets. Much has been learned about the ancient, massively technologically advanced species, and much more has been learned about the origins of the universe. On that one year anniversary, in the massive building where they now sat to speak about the ancient book, the two tall doors come crashing down.\n\nYazbar strolls in wearing a cybernetic exoskeleton and on top of his head that hat, the mystical one they now called a Fedora. \"I have returned to do my duty. I have studied the great picture book Iron Man, I have tasted the manna given to me called Cheetos, and I wear this great hat. You are fundies and I must destroy you.\"\n\nIiplow started to scream, to explain \"Yazbar, ple...\"but a sudden plasma blast ended his life. Yazbar grinned and laughed lougly, his unkempt beard lining his neck jiggled as he took another step forward and charged his plasma blaster. Now he would have all the glory." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In the post-apocalyptic future, two tribes of now-primitive humans war over the wording of their Great Prophecy - which happens to be the lyrics to a song of your choice." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "(very short, first story, apologies. and going waaaay off topic) \n\n\"Look,\"said the priest in red, \"The prophecy states that the QUEEN will conquer. We must keep all the women in control to prevent this monster from arising.\"\n\nThe priest in blue shook their head. \"No, no, no! It specifically says 'I think big, get cash, make em blink fast.' Obviously, its about the horror of materialistic ways and money. That is what we need to worry about about.\"\n\nRed snarled. \"It says She, the monster, will eat your brains. How is that NOT about woman and overthrowing the wise men of our community?\"\n\n\"It talks about money several times! More that it talks about females! Her money isn't fake! She talks about several items that, from research, I have found, are very expensive things!\"\n\nRed squinted at the blue robed priest. \"Are you - a woman?\"He said, horrified.\n\nThe priest in blue lowered her hood, and smiled, gold fangs glinting in the sunlight. \"First things first, I'm going to eat your brain.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a story where a tree is the villain." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Every night he pulls his heavy feet from the ground. Every night he raises gnarled branch-hands and stalks across the open fields. His fingers are pointed, and he drags them along, leaving scars in the soil.\n \nAt windows, he taps and scratches. The call of the wild, *come out and play*. Voice of the ghosts, out flying in the dark, *we’re lonely*. The lumbering tree longs for company. Aren’t there any children awake at this late hour that will climb from their windows, and into his arms? *Oh steal away, my tender ones! What games we all can play!*\n\nWhich children wake, and take those creaking hands, go skipping along beside? Whose bodies sate the hunger of his hollow belly? \n\nEvery morning, the tree grows stronger, watered by innocent blood.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You had been kidnapped years ago and just escaped. When you get home, there is already someone there who looks exactly like you. No one is even aware you were gone." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The chains had rusted through. I knew they had, but I kept them on for show. Tomorrow I break out of this prison. \n\nThe dungeon is wet and damp and I have a deep cough. That horrible man, who abused me would taste my revenge. He had taken me when I was six and now six years later it was time for me to get out. The man had told me that tomorrow I would get out, I would go back to my family, but I didn't believe him. How could I possible believe my captor? He did give me more food and cut my hair in the last week and I looked half decent.\nIt was time and he entered the dungeon, excited and told me he would free me if I was good. I played the weak boy that I always did, but gathered my strength. When he came closer, I pulled at the chains with all my might. The rusted part cracked of and I was free from the wall. Franky the pervert had the rusted chain around his neck and I pulled it as hard as I could until his head turned red and then purple blueish just like his tongue. I sat down in shock for five minutes and then used the key to free myself. I checked my captor's pockets and found his driver's license: Franky Bernshaw. I also took the two ten dollar bills. I climbed up the stairs out of the dungeon and I found some pictures of me on the wall. I remembered when he had taken some of them. They were picture of me naked in the dungeon. Some of the pictures didn't make sense though. I looked younger than six in some of them, it seemed as if I had lived in the dungeon my whole life. How was this possible? I certainly hadn't imagined my life with my family. I continued thinking the other pictures must have been some other poor kid. Spending six years in a dungeon was harsh, but there had been books. I had devoured them all. I knew from the police stories that it was custom to go to the police, but I wanted to see my family first. I would surprise them and they would give me a cake, just as on my sixth birthday, when the man had taken me even before I could taste it. I didn't know where I was, but I was lucky, when I entered the house, I could see a bus stop through the window. This was after my eyes had adjusted to the bright sun. I walked over to it and I checked if I could find my hometown. There were too many options, but I managed to ask a nice elderly lady. How can I get to ***** ? She told me to take the next bus and get off at the third stop. How could it be so close? I got on the bus some minutes later and I thought about the joy my parents would feel. They would cry and hold me and they would contact the police and call it a miracle. I finally got off at the bus stop and walked into my street. At the end he could see the house where I had spent the first six years of his life. The mailbox had changed, but it was the right house. I almost rung the bell, but decided to peer in through the window. What I saw surprised him. It was a birthday party. His parents, his aunt Bethel and some boy his age were sitting around a cake. It had twelve candles on it. How could they have replaced me? I started to cry, but couldn't avert my eyes. Right at that moment, the boy turned around and I looked into my own eyes. That is me, how is this possible? \nThat was the first time I had seen my twin brother. Both us looked the same, both of us thought the same and both of us had spent six years in that damned dungeon. \n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A tattoo shop where the ink alters your DNA." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Wings were the most common, at first. Everyone wanted wings -- mostly feathery, but a few black and leathery ones as well. That fad died out quickly enough once people realized that the human body didn't have a canvas big enough to allow for wings that could actually support it's weight. \n\nThere's still plenty of dramatic aesthetic body mods, adding horns or turning skin blue or green, but the most common now are the little things. Eyebrows with a little more arch, smoother skin, getting rid of moles or freckles. Light lines and shadows suggesting muscle can encourage actual definition and growth. \n\nThen there are the specialty shops, the ones that change your race or gender. My grandmother tells me of a time when transgender folks were persecuted, when they had to live their lives in the wrong skin or take hormones. Now it's as simple as a large tattoo in the right place, encouraging the body to conform to what the mind knows and what the tattoo gun directs. \n\nThe government has regulated what can be done, but they can only regulate what they know about. Invisible ink or UV light tattoos can still do the job. Tat hackers find ways to push the human body to it's limits, little waves of lines and codes that edge the human that much closer to the superhuman. The internet whispers of people with hollow bones that can take flight, people who can read your mind, people who can start fires with a flick of their wrist. Every once in a while someone comes forward with a supposed new ability, but it rarely is as impressive as they claim. \n\nThat's because we know it's best to operate in the shadows. Our abilities do us no good if our every move is scrutinized by the media. I am, supposedly, the first of my kind, but I'm sure there will be more. A few specific squiggles of ink at the base of my skull and the world came into sharper focus around me; thoughts and emotions as apparent as the spoken word in the air around people. I'm still working on how to read the signs, but I'm getting there. I have a line from an organization very interested in someone of my skills working for them; I think they might be government, but I'm not sure. For now, I haven't paid for my own meal in three days, so I'm doing alright. I'm content enough to start small. I'll be moving up soon enough. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "“Sam's Delusion” (or, “Was there ever a genie?”)" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I like how consistent you kept Danielle's viewpoint. I have a lot of trouble myself keeping my own voice out of my characters, so they just sound like me with a bunch of sock puppets arguing with myself. Maybe the fact that it's told from the perspective of one person helped.\n\nI like where you took the prompt. The wish made it so Daniel was always Danielle, and altered the past so that it had always been so...I never would have thought of that!\n\nNegative points, negative points...I'm sorry I got nothing. I loved this story so much. :-( Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go read Watch Out Who You Piss Off on the Internet.\n\nEDIT: I finished reading it! I think now I have that negative point I was looking for! :-)\n\nBased on your writing style, we seem to spend a lot of time inside the characters' heads. It's completely fine in this story because it's a flashback, but in 'Internet' it kinda stood out. The whole thing reads like someone's diary, without it being an actual diary entry. I would recommend occasionally shifting to a view outside the characters' heads but still from point of view of the character (eg dialogue), just to keep the story fresh and engaging. Your current style is engaging enough already, and I'm sure it would only be improved by taking the camera out of the protagonist's head.\n\nI hope that made sense. Please keep up the good work, and stay motivated to improve your craft!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "With the announcement of imminent nuclear war, 2 coffin builders discuss the absurdity of their new intake of orders." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The coffins will be nuked too, anyway, along with the rest of the bloody city. Incinerated. Poof! Puff of smoke.\"\n\n\"Can you hand me that handsaw? Listen business is business. Funerals are ritualistic anyway. It gives people a sense of... I dunno, closure.\"\n\n\"Fuck closure, man we're in a war. There won't be remains enough to fit in a coffin, and who's gonna put you in one? We're all dead.\"\n\n\"Listen, buddy, we've had the capability for full out nuclear armageddon since what, the early 1970s? We built so many goddamn bombs but how many of them have we actually used, huh? 2?\"\n\n\"This is different ya ignorant simpleton. You've got to keep up with the times! Read the fucking paper once in a while and educate yourself.\"\n\n\"Hey man, I like to keep my life simple. Why bother and worry about something you can't control? All's I know is this: more orders is more business is more money in my pocket to feed my family, my wife and kids.\"\n\n\"There ain't no point in working yourself to the bone if we're all radioactive ash by the end of the next quarter.\"\n\n\"And there ain't no point in you standing there like an oaf if I'm gonna fire you! Either get back to sawing or go home.\"\n\n*sigh* \"Yes, boss.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "a woman in an arranged marriage finally meets her fiancé only to realize he is a rude, selfish pervert. Write this scene SUBTLEY, (no obvious sex jokes or blatant rudeness--I want to see some subtext and character)" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The nerves were back in full force. He's comely, my parents told me. They said he was well established in the community, and I should be humbled that he was considering their offer. It's not like I really had a choice.\n\nIt was my own fault for having childish, hopeful expectations. I've since outgrown the optimism.\n\nMy parents arranged for us to me at lunch. I waited in the park, lost in the sun and breeze. He had supposedly prepared a picnic. How quaint. \n\nHe made his way towards me, and i let myself feel relief. You'd be surprised the number of things that can fool you from a distance.\n\nI felt myself be greeted by an ungodly clammy grip. There was something off about the way his breath lingered on the back of my hand. Trying to ignore how stagnant the air seemed to have become, I turned my gaze to study his face. His smile was almost condescending. \n\nIt's sad when you can read someones aura so quickly. Especially when it screams of anger and misery like his did. I'd never seen eyes that were so disinterested. Sure, he was comely. It doesn't change the fact that his frame blocked out the sun. \n\nLooking down, he white knuckled the basket he held. He had prepared it. His time and money went into it. It was his. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're a writer trying to write a story, but you experience writers' block. In a burst of creativity, you decide to write a story of experiencing writers' block." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I think about 3rd paragraph in it struck me. That solid wall, a line drawn in the sand you just can't seem to cross. It's some mix of pride and apathy. Too proud to dump content onto the page for the sake of momentum, the inertia of the plot slows and stops until you take that one fateful second to lean back and see the room come back in around you again, shortly followed by the most frustrating silence. \n\nHere i sit with it again. A page half filled, thanks to a hesitation. \n\nIt's always characters... I never know how to create life within my stories. Yes the brunette hair, slim features and fashion sense comes easily, but the reality is... I might as well be painting a landscape - poorly. \n\nThat pulling back into reality, trying to focus thoughts into words into ink onto paper. I need to pull something out of the air and just fill content, but i'm stuck. I've been sitting alone trying to write life into characters that aren't real for hours. \n\nI need a warmup; some inspiration. A basic exercise to put me back in the game.\n\nWho am I? How would I enter the story?\n\n...I am... Somewhat stocky, tanned skin. Eyes focused but far away, like a silhouette on the horizon - defined but distant; A grey greasy t-shirt draped over my wide frame, worn jeans beneath, curved around the chair I sit upon; Bare feet, scratched all to hell and dry, peeking out of the bottom of the aforementioned pants...\n\nWhere this is all going, I have no clue. I think the simple act of writing is therapeutic, much like my love of singing...\n\nI would bore you with the details, but..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Come up with the latest e-mail scam and write your (badly) worded e-mail." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From [email protected]\n\nDear Mr Phillips, \n\nBelow please find the details of your recent transfer request which will be processed from your Caymen Islands to your requested account. \n\nDate: 23/8/14\nAmount: USD $127,000\nTransfer date: 24/8/14\n\nMissing information: destination account - please follow the below link and complete the details of your local account and the transfer will process on the chosen transfer date. \n\nhttps:caymanbank.phillips.com\n\nKind regards, \n\nCayman Bank Transfer Processing Team\n\nPlease note: The Cayman Bank will never ask for transfer information via e-mail, if you are at all suspicious of any correspondence then forward it to [email protected]. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Make up the beginnings and ends of any race." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And God looked down upon the world and was pleased. On the next day he created the men of the earth. He took some stone from the heart of a greatest mountain and carved it into a stout warrior. He gave the figure eyes made of the finest rubies. For the beard, he gathered the manes of a hundred oxen. For the feet, the roots of the mightiest oak. Then he breathed his divine breath into the figure and the race of Dwarves was born." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"...Hey Andrew, where do you want to go?!\"I yell over the the sound of the spooling motor. He looks at me through his welding goggles as if I'm a lunatic, shrugs and goes back to work. I turn back to Mercedes. \"You like Mars??\"I shout." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"WHAT?\"Mercedes screamed over the engine.\n\n\"DO YOU LIKE MARS?\"I said again.\n\n\"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?\"\n\n\"MARS!\"I said.\n\n\"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHEN YOU SAY MARS?\"\n\n\"I MEAN MARS!\"\n\nMercedes rolled her eyes, went back to her iPod. Andrew finally slammed the hood shut. It was still pretty loud but at least I didn't have to shout over the noise of the engine.\n\n\"Okay. We're finally going to get on the road and go home. Right, Marcus?\"\n\n\"I was thinking we could go to Mars, Pennsylvania.\"\n\n\"Jesus!\"Andrew said. \"Just because we built a goddamn car out of spare parts doesn't mean you should be taking it for a road trip. Come on, man. I wanna go home. Everyone's looking for me, this is some crock of shit you're proposing.\"\n\n\"You shouldn't poo poo on your work,\"I said.\n\n\"This car,\"he said, \"doesn't have any fucking windows! We found the backseat in a drainage ditch. It smells like a dead raccoon. If we even try to get down the freeway in this thing, we're definitely not going to go to Mars, Pennsylvania. We'll go to fucking traffic jail and the cops are going to laugh at this piece of shit. Think, Marcus! We are not fit to go anywhere except straight home!\"\n\nMercedes was busy staring off into space. Or the trees in the forest, listening to her music.\n\n\"Come on, man,\"I said as I pushed the thing into first gear. \"Where's your sense of adventure?\"\n\n\"Not inside this piece of shit,\"Andrew said. \"You know where it is? At the cinema-bistro, watching Tartakovsky and drinking Italian soda. Not helping you construct this shit. It doesn't even have seatbelts!\"\n\n\"Then you'd better buckle up!\"I said, pushing down on the accelerator. We made it 2/10ths of a mile before the wheels popped off the car and rolled away. The car fell onto the gravel road, whining as it tried to continue to move forward.\n\n\"Oh, shit,\"I said. \"I forgot. Lugnuts.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "After making each of the three most important decisions in your life, a green or a red light flashes before your eyes to tell you if you chose correctly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Over the past 28 years of my life I have realized that I have a very unique trait. I cannot control it, nor can I predict it, but after certain decisions in my life a light flashes and blinds me. \n\nThe first occurrence was deciding on university. Throughout the tour I couldn’t help but notice dull green tints. A color filter of seafoam. As the minutes passed, the brightness increased, climaxing when the guide looked at me and asked, “So do you think you’ll be attending in the fall?”\n\nA bright green flash wiped over me - I could feel a driving force, as if the light itself was pushing me forward. I was immediately convinced - my body shook with the decision.\n\n“I do.”\n\nThe second time happened a few years later and half a world away. At university I had met the perfect woman. I had convinced her to travel with me, and backpacking cross country I had decided to reach into my pocket and produce a small, worn black box I had purchased months ago. Within that week we had been married, her green dress vivid, my accompanying flash strong and pronounced returning only to hear the words,\n\n“I do.”\n\nThis morning I woke up miserably. My wife and I had fought for the first time in three years the night before. I rose stiffly from the couch and headed to make breakfast. I grabbed the basil picked from the night before, the usual rich green having shriveled and dulled. Lifting the knife I began to chop, knicking my finger to produce a deep crimson cut. I cursed at life and washed the wound, deciding instead to skip breakfast. \n\nI grabbed my jacket and ran out the door. The wife left asleep in our room. I entered my car and slammed her into reverse. I’m not running late but I feel a desire to drive faster, to let off some steam, and think. \n\nAs I approach the intersection my anger builds up. I see red. I continue to pick up speed as I get closer, and as the light flashes, it is too late to stop. My foot deciding instead to press further into the pedal.\n\nI can see the other vehicle, crossing the intersection with their now green light. I can see the inevitable, and begin to cry out as the two vehicles collide.\n\n“I dont --” \n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "(Wp) Beyond the limit: year after year of much faster than light travel leaves humans at the edge of the universe, and something awesome is discovered beyond it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They said it was impossible. That such speeds could not be reached. Fucking primative apes. \n\nI stand here, aboard the deck of the Maria, humanity's greatest accomplishment. Travelling at 20 million c. \n\nThe Cosmic ocean rushes by, pitch black as my Ship nears the end of its 5000 year journey. We passed the edge of what was our \"observable universe\"some 2000 years ago. An event lost into anals of my heritage.\n\n\"Edge in 5...4...3...\"\n\nMy heart starts to race.\n\n\"2...1...\"\n\nThe Maria slows instantly to stationary, any evidence of inertia cancelled out by her Newtonian drive. Yet another name we have no use for in this age, but a throwback to a bi-gone era none-the-less.\n\n\"We have arrived Captain. The Edge\".\n\nThe stunning immensity of it brings me to my knees. Water forms in my eyes. A strangely human response to this stimulus.\n\n\"Your suit is ready, sir\".\n\nI smirk; for all our advances we couldn't find a way to escape the cold, harsh reality of the cold, harsh vacuum that is space.\n\nI kit up, my hand tremors as I reach foe the handle to the airlock. The moment I have spent the last 5000 years preparing for. \n\nThe Edge was solid, but my hand passed through with ease. I push it farther in, my whole body shaking with excitement. \n\n\nI feel a warm hand grab my forearm, and pull me through the barrier.\n\n\"Welcome, weary traveller. We have much to discuss\"." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You recently found out your neighbor has been contaminating your water supply with a mysterious substance for several years. You start to see the effects of it now." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That *innocuous*-looking box just outside McGrewosky's house upstream on the Yom River hid such a machine I never knew of. If only I had known what it contained, what it was leeching into the water. If only... I had been able to *replicate* it. \n\nMcGrewosky had set up that small box, the size of a toddler's push cart, the day after he had shifted here to this isolated place two years ago. We imagined it to be a simple personal hydroelectric power turbine, to help him out when electricity was out, as it usually was in this part of Yome. Personally, I chided myself for not thinking of it earlier, despite facing the same problem since years ago, so I got one set up by the next week. What my observant eyes ironically failed to see was how my dear neighbour's house was never lit when the power was out, where mine would literally fill up my house and two yards around it with light. I didn't see it till it was too late. \n\nIn this desolate landscape of the Yome country-side, very little was store-bought, most of it was home grown and self-procured. Veggies, water, electricity, even *beer*. Yes, you have no idea how awesome home-brewed beer can taste, much better than the shit they serve up in tin cans at the counter. Back to the water, it was taken from -guess where- the Yom River. My wife and children used to complain of a very faint but weird look of the water that came from our tap, about how it looked somewhat *menacing*, ready to go down our throats and hydrate us better than any fizzy drink ever could. I didn't see anything, and when I called for a chemical analysis (to assure my little pricks), it showed nothing out the ordinary. Ordinary H2O molecules, with very small traces of minerals that kept us from dying after we drank the water. It quietened them down, but I'm pretty sure they didn't really believe me nor the tests. *How right they were*...\n\nWithin 2 years we started to feel a little light. All of us went from being the fit people we were, living off the land, to being ripped, muscular, and much smarter. My garage was routinely filled with projects that my son Tristam would build. Nuclear fusion plants, water vapour sequestration projects, and all the crap that I believed was the job of all the scientists around the world. My daughter Tristie came up with the [Loon project](http://www.google.com/loon/) long before Google's employees had any idea of it. My whole area finally had Internet access, and when Tristam started publishing his work online, my house became a buzz of activity within months. Journalists would throng my not-so-humble residence and ask him \"How did you do it?\". All this was fine, and my family and town was getting recognition that it had never gotten in the two hundred years since the American Independence. It was the high time for my area. Not gold, not oil, we were running on *water*. Sadly, we didn't know it. Being the assuming and haughty human beings that we were, we didn't give two shits about how it all happened. We rode the wave, Tristam and Tristie becoming two of the foremost scientists and artists the world had ever seen, on the level of the great Leonardo Da Vinci. \n\nAnd then it all changed. Or reversed, as it now seems more appropriate to say. \n\nA month ago, McGrewosky moved out. the day he moved out was honestly the first time he ever said anything to us, we usually wouldn't see him at all. All he said was five words: \"Glad to be of service.\". We were puzzled, but thought little of it, basking in the false glory that wasn't even ours to begin with. By the next week, My ripped muscles had started to die down, me metamorphosizing into the typical pot-bellied farmer who is oh-so-cliche today. Tristam apparently lost his mind in the lab one day, burning it all down, and returning home badly drunk. He could no longer draw with two hands anymore, nor could he remember how he had come up with all the state-of-the-art projects before. Tristie ran away with a stranger, something that you would never think of her doing. She was a nice girl, with one of the best set of moral values that you see in teenagers today. Her sense of right and wrong put us to shame many a times, which made hearing news of her sudden change unbelievable. \n\nLife along the Yom River returned to as it was before McGrewosky moved in. I still had a sample of the water from that test years ago. I sent it off to the best sciency company I knew of, Tristam Laboratories (founded by my own son, but since taken from him, following his sudden change). Within half an year they came to me and told me it was different from what water should be, but they couldn't really tell how. Feeding small amounts of it to their computer simulation of a rat caused it to develop superpowers over time (time-lapsed in the simulation) with zero negative effects. But they couldn't replicate it. No one could. They returned the sample to me, and frustrated by whatever had been happening so far, I threw the vial out the window, into the Yom. Now it is lost to eternity, the vial having biodegraded by now, and the water having been mixed into the endless seas. It was one day after I threw out the vial that it struck me. The five words: \"Glad to be of service.\", the missing \"hydroelectric-power\"box, everything. It was too late. \n\nIf only I had known what it contained, what it was leeching into the water. If only... I had been able to *replicate* it. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "After Krypton's destruction, Kal-el ends up landing somewhere other than the United States." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the 1950s, the Soviet Union reveals its newest asset to be Superman. The sudden revelation of a superpowered alien under Soviet control causes panic in the United States, shifting the focus of the Cold War arms race from nuclear weapons to superhumans. CIA agent James Olsen recruits Lex Luthor, a scientist employed by S.T.A.R. Labs, to destroy Superman. Luthor's first act is to cause Sputnik 2 to plummet towards Metropolis. After Superman diverts the satellite away from the city, Luthor retrieves his genetic material and creates a clone of Superman whom Lex Luthor officially names Superman 2 when he is unveiled to Olsen. The clone's appearance is monstrous, and is this world's equivalent to Bizarro.\nMeanwhile, Superman meets Wonder Woman at a diplomatic party, and she becomes smitten by him. Pyotr Roslov, the head of the NKVD and Joseph Stalin's illegitimate son, is angry that Superman has turned his father's attention away from him and ended his chances of advancement within the Soviet regime. Pyotr shoots a dissident couple in front of their son for printing anti-Superman propaganda. Stalin dies from cyanide poisoning, and Superman initially refuses command of the Communist Party. However, a chance meeting with Lana Lazarenko, his childhood sweetheart, changes his mind. Superman chooses to use his powers for the greater good and turn his country into a utopia.\n\nThe U.S. government sends Bizarro to engage Superman, and their duel causes an accidental nuclear missile launch in Great Britain. The clone sacrifices itself to save millions. Luthor murders his research staff at S.T.A.R Labs and funds LuthorCorp, dedicating his life to destroying Superman.\n\nBy 1978, the United States is on the verge of social collapse whereas the prosperous Soviet Union has peacefully expanded its influence to nearly every corner of the globe. The cost of this progress is an increased infringement on individual liberties, with Superman fast becoming a Big Brother-like figure; a brain surgery technique that turns dissidents into obedient drones, or \"Superman Robots\", is in use. Superman now works with Wonder Woman to save lives as well as govern the Soviet state. Wonder Woman has become enamored of Superman, but he considers her simply as a comrade, and is oblivious to her love for him.\n\nLuthor plans to shrink Moscow, but this plan fails when Brainiac, his collaborator, shrinks Stalingrad instead. Superman intervenes and retrieves both Brainiac's central processing unit and the tiny city, putting an end to the Brainiac-Luthor cooperation. He is unable to restore Stalingrad and its inhabitants to their proper size. This becomes his one failure and a source of great guilt.\n\nLuthor's second plan involves Batman, who is revealed as the boy orphaned by Pyotr. Batman joins forces with LuthorCorp and Pyotr, now head of the KGB. They capture Wonder Woman and use her as bait for Superman, hoping to sap his powers with rays that imitate the light of Superman's native sun. The plan works, but Wonder Woman breaks free and rescues Superman, seriously injuring herself. Rather than face capture and likely lobotomization, Batman commits suicide, and Pyotr is turned into a Superman Robot.\n\nLuthor enacts his third plan when he finds a mysterious green lantern found in an alien ship that crashed at Roswell, New Mexico. Brainiac is reprogrammed into Superman's aide, and the construction of a Fortress of Solitude, located in Siberia and referred to as \"The Winter Palace\", begins. Superman's reign continues with no crime, poverty, or unemployment, but with an ever-present state authority. Superman is committed to \"winning the argument\"with the U.S., and repeatedly refuses Brainiac's suggestions of an invasion. Stalingrad remains his one failure, now contained within a protective glass \"bottle\".\n\nLuthor is elected President of the United States, with Olsen as his Vice President. Using his scientific expertise, massive economic capital and dictatorial powers, Luthor returns prosperity to his country. This is only a part of a more general plan to provoke Superman into invading the United States. Luthor shows Olsen two of his greatest discoveries: the Phantom Zone, a place that super-hearing cannot reach; and the Green Lantern Corps.\n\nLuthor confronts Superman in the Winter Palace. Brainiac yanks Luthor deep into the recesses of the Fortress to be converted surgically into a Superman Robot, claiming that Lex would convince Superman to commit suicide in less than fourteen minutes. Superman agrees that his hand has been forced, and prepares to attack.\n\nFirst Lady Lois Luthor visits Themyscira to forge an alliance with the Amazon empire, now ruled by an embittered and vengeful Wonder Woman. Superman attacks the East Coast, confronting and defeating the Green Lantern Marine Corps, which is led by Colonel Hal Jordan. The Amazon forces, commanded by Wonder Woman, attack Superman but are quickly defeated, along with a collection of \"super-menaces\"(including Atomic Skull, Parasite and Doomsday) that Luthor has put together over the years. Brainiac's spaceship cuts the U.S. Pacific fleet to pieces, and the two superbeings meet at the White House. They are greeted by Lois Luthor with the last weapon, a small note written by Lex that reads, \"Why don't you just put the whole world in a bottle, Superman?\"\n\nRealizing he has meddled in affairs that he had no place in, Superman orders Brainiac to end the invasion. Brainiac, however, reveals it has never been under Superman's control, and instead attacks Superman with green radiation (analogous to green kryptonite). Braniac is shut down from inside by Luthor, who evaded surgery. As the singularities powering Brainiac's ship threaten to collapse, Superman rockets it into space, where it explodes. The Earth is saved, but Superman is thought dead.\n\nThe Soviet Union falls into chaos, but is soon brought back under control thanks to the Batmen (resistance members who began wearing the costume after Batman's death). Lex Luthor integrates many of Superman's and Braniac's ideas into the new philosophy of \"Luthorism\"and forms a \"Global United States\". This becomes the defining moment for mankind's future as it enters an unprecedented age of peace and stability. A benevolent world government is formed and maintained. Luthor presides over a string of scientific achievements, including the curing of all known disease, and colonization of the solar system. Luthor lives for over one thousand years.\n\nAt Luthor's funeral, it is revealed that Superman survived the explosion of Brainiac's ship and is apparently immortal. Superman attends the funeral wearing a business suit and thick glasses essentially identical to the appearance of Clark Kent, an identity he never adopted in the Red Son storyline. Luthor's widow, Lois, sees \"Clark\"in the crowd and, other than an eerie sense of deja vu, suspects nothing. Superman walks quietly away from the ceremony, planning to live among humans rather than ruling over them.\n\nBillions of years in the future, it is revealed that Earth is being torn apart by tidal stresses from the sun, which has become a red giant. Luthor's distant descendant, Jor-L, sends his infant son, Kal-L, rocketing back into the past. The final panels of the comic book depict the landing of Kal-L's timeship in a Ukrainian collective in 1938, effectively causing a predestination paradox." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Today's allies are tomorrow's enemy's." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I remember the war 27 years ago... That's a stupid thing to say really. No one could ever possibly forget it. The largest war to date with almost 200 million casualties, not a history that is easily wiped away in only about three decades. Even today our fine country bears the scars of that war, like so many others.\n\nThe rogue state of Tallus... it all started with them. They pushed there industrial might to unprecedented levels, and tried to take the world in a blaze of destruction. They almost managed it as well, but severely underestimated the combined strength of our fine country of Olruth and the eastern country of Zirra, and were utterly defeated. Now however, half of Tallus is a state in our fine country, as problematic as that is.\n\nThat war lasted 13 years... we had worked with Zirra for 13 long, bloody years, and through it, were supposed to have developed an unbreakable friendship and camaraderie. That's what everyone in Olruth thought at least. Apparently Zirra didn't share the same sentiment, unbeknownst to us.\n\nIt was a quiet, sunny Saturday when the air raid sirens blared across the industrial city of Olan for the first time in 27 years. Within an hour the invaders had been driven off, but not before a third of the city was leveled. We spent a good 2 hours trying to confirm who exactly it was that bombed us... and that is when the Declaration of war from Zirra came to us.\n\nMaybe, they think we haven't recovered yet. Maybe they are angry for us taking the land of Tallus and them not getting any... maybe they are just a bunch of extremists. Who knows really.\n\nThe war 27 years ago... has not been forgotten. But the lessons it taught, are already dust in the wind.\n\nI press my hand to Base Comm's transmit button with an air of hesitation and anger.\n\n\"All bomber and fighter groups, you are hereby cleared to launch for all designated combat sorties immediately, under my order, that is Colonel Maran Folus. Operation Backstabber's Lament... is a go. May we crush this foolhardy enemy, and re-educate them on the lessons they failed to learn in the last war, the lesson that Olruth is not to be trifled with.\"\n\nI sigh as I stare out the window. I guess the old adage is true... Today's allies are tomorrow's enemies." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A failed terrorist attack reveals an unexpected and counter-intuitive connection between wi-fi technology and genitalia." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sergeant Johnson!\"\n\n\"What is it, Private Peter?\"\n\n\"Get over here! Something weird is happening!\"\n\n\"What would that be?\"\n\n\"You know how our data connection was knocked out by that bomb?\"\n\n\"Aye. What of it, Private Peter?\"\n\n\"Well, Sarge, I was uh. . . Viewing some material before they knocked out our Wi-Fi.\"\n\n\"Oh god. Private Peter, keep that shit in private! I don't need to know. . . Oh god, you make me sick!\"\n\n\"No Sarge, I swear, it's serious!\"\n\n\"Sexual harassment is always serious you dolt! I should have you discharged for this!\"\n\n\"I already discharged, Sarge.\"\n\n\"Oh, for the love of. . . Pop down and give me two-hundred, now!\"\n\n\"Sarge, our Wi-Fi comes back the harder I get.\"\n\n\". . . What?\"\n\n\"Look.\"\n\n\"But. . . Our modem, our router, the cable. . .\"\n\n\"I can't explain it either Sarge. But, the more I erect myself, the better the signal. Watch.\"\n\n\". . . You're playing a youtube video.\"\n\n\"Yes Sarge.\"\n\n\"With your penis.\"\n\n\"Yes Sarge.\"\n\n\"Get me the president, Private Peter.\"\n\n\"Yes Sarge. Just give me a minute. Might help if you. . . uh. . .\"\n\n\"Yes, of course. Thank you for informing me, Private Peter.\"\n\n\"You're welcome Sergeant Johnson.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The Reality Program only renders enough of the universe for each person as they can experience at any time. As humanity's population grows and technology advances, the strain on the program increases as well. What happens because of this?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They say that life doesn't have graphics glitches. It doesn't hang, it doesn't make error screens appear when going to sleep. Life is a seamless process, uninterrupted by technical weakness or failure.\n\nOr is it?\n\nOverpopulation should not be a problem. I believe that more people is like more compute units: the more, as long as they're good, the better. But I learned that terminology from years upon years of working at IBM. As many know, we make servers that can \"power life.\"But what do they mean by that?\n\nMy theory is that although we may not be aware of it, our lives run off of an IBM server cluster.\n\nAnd as the population grows, life st ar ts t o l a g." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A man (or woman) from the 17th century has somehow stumbled forwards through time, arriving at the present day. Describe a conversation attempting to describe major world events (since his/her time) in terms he/she can understand." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "[Thought I would get the ball rolling with a short note :) ]\n\n'You mean to tell me that Virginia now stretches halfway across the earth to the East Indies?!'.\n\nJohn sighed, of all the things he had imagined would of occurred upon meeting an accidental time traveller from the past, difficulty explaining world history was not the foremost of them. Still, in many ways it was to be expected. This man had somehow stepped from 17th century english countryside into 21st century London.\n\nThe authorities had found the accidental time traveller quickly of course. Such a man sticks out rather obviously in the middle of a modern metropolis. John's job was to explain the world to him, as a team of scientists desperately tried to work out the temporal implications for human history caused by this man's transposition through time.\n\n'Not exactly, Samuel'. 'Britain's lands in the New World seceded late in the 18th century, and merged to form a new nation, the \"United States of America\". John spoke slowly, aware that nearly 300 years of history was going to take time for Samuel to process.\n\n'You mean to tell me that Ruperts Land no longer answers to the King?! That America is split between New France and these 'United States' that you speak of?'\n\n'Errr....that's complicated. Rupert's land DOES answer to the King, or rather the Queen, but it's self governing, London has no say in it's affairs now. New France no longer exists, it too being part of the dominion that succeeded Rupert's land.' \n\nJohn realised he was getting off topic, and tried to tack back to where the conversation was 'meant' to be. 'Anyway, this is not strictly relevant'.\n\nSamuel interrupted him 'Yes! you were talking of these great world wars, and how some nations in the far east have come to be our friends?'\n\n'Yes Samuel. There was a great war. The United States was one of the major powers involved. Science and warfare have changed hugely since your time. Hmmm....'. He trailed off, unsure as to how to describe events in terms a man more familiar with smallpox than electric lights could understand.\n\n'Mankind has bottled the energy that burns in the sun. The energy that burns in ALL suns, the very power of stars. It is a terrible power, and in the last days of the war it was dropped from...err...flying boats on distant lands'\n\n'And these lands are now our friends?! The places we burned with the fire of the sun!?'. Samuel stood slightly aghast, and John realised that in a way, he had reason to be confused\n\n'Yes, they are our allies now.'\n\n'Truly, the world has become strange in the past 300 years. You tell me that the english speaking descendants of rebels against the King dropped the power of stars on distant lands from flying boats, and those lands are now our allies!'\n\nJohn was lost for words. This 17th century man had a point, the world was indeed a strange place...\n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write about the final thoughts going through the mind of a self destructive, emotionally wound out man as he is about to commit suicide." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ten minutes had passed since he'd taken his medication, but the bottle was still sitting in his hand, the lid left on the bathroom counter while he picked at the label with his thumb in thought. He was sitting on the side of the tub, his eyes searching the white pills at the bottom of the orange cylinder in some wild hope that they might offer some reason, some purpose to his continuing existence. \n\nIf they had some secret knowledge however, they held it back with selfish reserve. They wouldn't tell him why Mary had left, why he'd driven her away. They wouldn't explain why everything in life had lost it's taste and luster. Things that he once found comforting or amusing were just *things* now with no joy to be found, and these goddamned little white pills were just mocking him by withholding those answers.\n\n\"Fuck you.\"He whispered down to the bottle, but despite the harsh words he felt no real anger. He couldn't feel anything anymore other than that deep pit growing inside his soul; it consumed everything, even his anger. That required a passion he could no longer conjure.\n\n\"Fuck it.\"\n\nMary wasn't coming back and his daughter was so far away, a beautiful woman in college who didn't need a dad this pitiful anymore. His job would find somebody to replace him with, somebody younger and brighter, somebody who wouldn't need to suckle away at a withering pension. Mary would find somebody new, somebody who could actually *be* with her. It should have felt good knowing that everyone would be okay without him, but all he felt was that throbbing emptiness.\n\n\"Fuck it.\"He said the words again, wishing that his resolve would bring something--anything--to the surface. It didn't.\n\nWithout so much as a smile or grimace he lifted the bottle up to his mouth and tilted back, the rest of the pills slipping down onto his tongue. He washed them down with a few swallows of water from the sink, then put the cap back onto the container and threw it in the trash. Moving from task to task, and habit to habit had been the only thing keeping him going for the last year so why not finish off the night the right way. Just another task, just another habit. At least he was doing *something* new.\n\nHe made his way to the bedroom, and after turning on the television to some random news station, tucked himself under the covers. At least he didn't have to worry about tomorrow being just the same as today. He stared at the ceiling for a while, then the screen, and then slowly they both grew out of focus." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "For the first time in his/her life, a sociopath feels empathy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Actually sociopaths can feel empathy before any sort of therapy, even at a young age, not just false empathy. Studies have shown sociopaths have a \"empathy switch\"in their brains. It is often set to off but in certain situations they are capable of turning it on, usually in situations where they are asked to imagine the physical pain of another. While most of these experiences are rare, they do occur every now and then in a sociopath's lifetime. It is this \"switch\"that is part of their ability to be so charming to those they prey on. So the first time (in most cases) they felt their selective empathy would be in their childhood and they would be confused for a short time, then gain control over their new weapon. They would most likely use it to manipulate a sibling, parent or possibly a friend at first and master it as they age." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Two individuals stranded on an island are no longer speaking to each other." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chad sat facing Mary. Staring at her. A cold calculating stare. Adjudicating her every move. She shuddered and wondered aloud; “What is going through that head of yours, Chad?”\n\nNo reply save the distant surf nibbling away at the base of the cliffs. She could feel his rage. She wanted to go to him and hug him. To feel his arms once again but she dared not. He was still too angry and had sat seething like that all night long.\n\n“Baby please don’t be mad at me” she pleaded with him, “it breaks my heart when you won’t talk to me.” His stare and his upturned lip was more than she could bear. She turned away resolved not to speak to him again until he apologized.\n\nThe sound of a large ugly bird beating its wings drew her attention. It fluttered to Chad’s shoulder and thrust it’s beak into his eye. Mary screamed.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A supervillain's minion tries sneaking out of the base to go on a date but gets caught by the boss." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Number 43, I must say I am quite taken aback by this behavior. When Number 26 had told me of your desire to see *her* I almost fainted. We are on COCOONCON 2! I had expected more...\"\n\n\"My lord, please if I can just explain\"\n\n\"No! I am quite done listening to your pathetic mewling, 43. Never has a threat to this great cocoon of evil been greater, never have we had to face such a shining beam of light and good as we are at risk of racing now! I cannot abide, at this watershed moment of my supervilliany, my minions running about on their own! I need my full force here and focused, and guarding me!\"\n\n\n\"Sir....\"\n\n\"QUIET! I AM THE MIGHTY MONARCH! BEAUTIFUL PRINCE OF EVIL, I SHALL NOT BE INTERUPTED!\"\n\n\"But sir...\"\n\n\n\"26, I am right in the middle of something right now, you know? I mean...i'm delivering one of my favorite monologoues\"\n\n\"I know my lord but\"\n\n\"Its the 'here's why I'm killing you my minion' monologue. You know my arch enemies, I almost never get to do these all the way through\"\n\n\"Yes sir, I know, it's just that 43 walked away about 2 minutes ago.\"\n\n\"Wha-what? Son of a bitch caught me monologing!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your school is in lock down because a runaway criminal is hiding in it. The criminal bursts into the door and grabs the love of your life. What happens next?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The gunshot rang out, and inside that small classroom, it nearly burst all of our ear drums. Someone moved too quickly, made the guy jump, and that was that. I watched him send her body plummeting to the ground; I felt as if everything was moving so slowly. While her body realistically crashed to the ground, I watched it gingerly set itself down and roll over. Blood softly streamed from the hole in her head.\n\nI didn't seem to care what happened next. I know the criminal was shouting something at the rest of the people in the classroom, but I was not paying any attention. I couldn't take my eyes off of her.\n\nAll of the texts; all of the phone calls; all of the advice; all of the letters; all of the longer-than-normal hugs; all of that was for nothing. I wasted five years of my life following her around, begging my parents to enroll me in the same classes, clubs, even schools as her just so I could be near her and possibly have a shot with her someday.\n\nI was going to ask her out that day. After class. Before the lockdown happened. Before she got hurt. Before she fell asleep. Before all of this.\n\nI slowly lifted myself out of my deep thoughts and realized the criminal was in my face. The pistol that had pressed to her head moments ago was now against mine. He was yelling at me to move, to get out of the way, or he would kill me.\n\nI honestly didn't care what he did to me. I wasn't going to move, and I sure as hell wasn't going to pay attention to what he was telling me to do. He didn't deserve my attention. She deserved my attention. She deserved my everything. She deserved to live in place of me. I should have been the one to be grabbed first. I should have been the one sitting closest to the door. I knew that if I had just gotten my notebook out of my locker when I should have, that I would not have had to leave my spot, and she would have had to sit farther in the back.\n\nSo it was my fault. I was the reason that she was the first to go. I was the reason she would not live to graduate. I was the reason her body was continually oozing out blood.\n\nI was to blame.\n\nI finally broke down into a sobbing mess as the gunman continued to pelt my ears with his hurtful curses. I couldn't look up from her body. It was as if my eyes were somehow now glued to her, and as much as it pained me now to look at her, I couldn't tear my stare away.\n\nAt least, not by my own free will. The gunman finally wasted enough of his breath and beat his weapon across my head. I was tossed off of my chair and onto the tough, tile floor of the classroom.\n\nSome said after that it seemed a demon possessed me. I have no recollection of what I did. All I know is that once the police finally showed up, they found me on top of the gunman with my hands wrapped around him. They couldn't decide whether he had died from asphyxiation or blunt force trauma to the back of the head." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Prompt Me?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "## Advisory\n\nFrom the [wiki](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/how_to_tag_prompts):\n\n> prompts are an inverse , in wherein your responses prompt you to write something, rather than the other way around. In a Prompt, you respond to comments as if they were prompts, and thus help you expand your creative output and writing skills. skills have rules that must be followed before you post one. You must have responded to a prompt before posting your prompt, and **you must respond to your prompts in a thread within six hours or it will be removed**. Clogging /r/writingprompts with neglected prompts is a very bad thing!\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a time traveling historian. Through an error in calculations you are sent to a time pre-dinosaurs to discover humans were not the first intelligent, tool using, bipedal to develop on earth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We are currently packing\"Stated the upright masculine looking creature.\n\n\"Packing for what?\"The scientist asked.\n\n\"To lift off, and abandon this planet. Though we developed here, we have no attachment to the place like you have described\"Stated the creature. \"We have learned all we can, and now it is time to expand our minds. We are attempting to pack up our entire footprint and leave the planet seeded with fresh organic matter. This is why you probably never discovered us.\"The probably male sexed creature continued. \"A planet is merely a stepping stone for the bigger picture, you seem intelligent enough; time travel something even we have yet to figure out, and you still haven't left the planet?\"It started to seem rather irritated by the concept. \"Luckily our life times last longer than you can imagine. Meet me again in the 21st century when you return. I will give you the coordinates. You're species is obviously on the dangerously wrong path and I will try to help.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a fairy tale in the style of a famous Director. E.g. Humpty Dumpty as conceived by Michel Bay, or Excalibur by way of Wes Anderson." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "(Guess the director) \n1. Chapter Two\n\nShe knocked on the door; her dainty feet trembling to hold up the heavy set briefcase in her hands. She waited a long moment, putting a candy apple cigarette between her ruby lips, and then knocked again. \"Grandma?\"she called out at last. After another long moment Red pushed the door hard, forcing it open and bursting into the room. There she found, not her Grandma, but a dark haired man with sparkling baby blue eyes sitting there with a double barrel shotgun pointed at the door. He fired and sent Red's brains all across the back wall. With the gunshot the mans freind burst from the other room and saw the grisly scene. \n\"What did you do?\"he exclaimed. The man sat on the bed turned and spoke brashly. \"Uhh I guess i shoot Little red riding hood in the face! Why is that a problem?\"\n\"Motherfucker how are we supposed to explain to the pigs what happened if theirs a dead bitch in the house? Dont worry I'll fix this!\"\nThe standing man reached for a phone and chattered out a number.\n\"Hello is this the big bad wolf?\"\n\"Speaking.\"\n\"Yeah we need some help with this dead bitch in our house.\"\n\"Where are you?\"\n\"We in the middle of the enchanted forest.\"\n\"Thats thirty minutes away. I'll be there in ten.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "{WP} You are a time traveler. More then a lifetime in the future, you are considering finding about what history has to say about you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It would only take one more permission on my part and the personatron would reveal my deeds of yore. Unfortunately for me, I never made it through the pogrom thus I never saw what became of my deception. The outcome had tormented me for lifetimes as I wandered through the dimensions never knowing if the mutations I set in motion came to fruition or simply died in the ether, unable to locate a host body within the incubation period. Furthermore, there was never a way to insure any survivor would ever recognize the change as the purge had been so ruthless as to erase any traces of cellular knowledge in either plant or animal. Still, I carried the infernal weakness of wanting to know whether the desire to escalate the terror and madness had indeed been attributed to me or whether it was the other One who was now me in the minds of those who shudder in fear and forever live in desperate toil." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are the architect of humanity's next great revolution. What is it and how has it changed the world?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They called me a game designer. That's not exactly accurate. I built a world. That world is a series of interconnected and overlapping games. That world is a distraction.\n\nEphemeralization is the concept of doing more and more work with less and less labor. It was inevitable. We built machines to do the work. We mined the asteroids around our planet for rare materials. We control our planets temperature with lasers burning even more energy away. We are not quite post scarcity, but one thing is definitely true, we don't need a lot of people to do the work. People are not efficient for a lot of purposes. Sure, we still don't have artificial intelligences that are quite perfectly capable of handling all of our affairs, but it's close enough.\n\nI tried to head off the problem. I built a game. I built an engine. The purpose of this engine was to absorb humanities massive store of unspent man-hours. They call it entertainment. I call it a distraction.\n\nMuch like our world of the past, people toil away for endless hours trying to make an adequate living. They buy sell and trade goods and services just like they would have in the time before. Those few that still have either some purpose in the future of humanity or those that had ancestors with such insane amounts of capital that they never will have to work again provide most of the real money. They have plenty of that and not enough time. The cycle continues and perpetuates itself.\n\nThere is still some degree of upward mobility. Expert Player vs. Player combat can make you a celebrity athlete. Extremely skilled and organized groups corner the trading market or the latest raiding dungeon. Skilled intellectuals delve through secrets and easter eggs finding things that were lost a long time ago. It's not that different, really, but it's certainly not the same. Terrorists still attack the network or the infrastructure of the system that people's livelihood depends on. Data miners make a living off second or third hand information from our servers. Humanity toils, if uselessly, forward.\n\nWe placate the masses... for the time being. We train them in a thousand crafts they don't understand the meaning of. They are the cogs in our machine, as much as that machine is only there to perpetuate itself. I hope some day people will realize I was a monster and not a hero. My fortunes are built on the stagnation of mankind. Perhaps, some day, they will take all the mastery of war and commerce that I've filled into their brains and turn it against the false kings of Midas at the top. I just hope the next age is better for those that survive." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "One day you walk into the bathroom and find your father ceremoniously sticking a piece of pizza into his ear. Describe, in vivid detail, the scene." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I just finished my slice of cheese pizza when my dad ran into the bathroom. I also had to use it, but i wait quietly.\n\nIts been about 3 hours now and it is unbearable. I must urinate promptly.\n\nI knock on the door and hear grunting. My dad yells at me, tells me to fuck off. \n\nBut i really have to go, and i tell him, but he just insist that i wait.\n\nI feel little drips of piss sliding on my leg. I beg my father to let me in.\n\nHe does not answer. \n\nI start to kick the door. He growls and tells me to leave.\n\nI kick harder and harder. My fathers threats became more serious.\n\nThe door breaks. I start for the toilet when i see my father.\n\nAnd all the piss i was holding in just seems to flow right out of me.\n\nTime seems to stop.\n\nThere is my father, in a gimp suit pushing a slice of pizza up his earlobe.\n\nWith a straight face and calm voice he looks at me in the eye and says \"Son, i was just trying to protect you.\"\n\nAll of the sudden day turns to night. A screaming wind fills the street. The lights inside slowly turn off and the bathroom door closes with me and my dad in it.\n\n\"Son\"my dad says, \"it is time. \"\n\n\nedit: please dont take to seriously." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are born a prodigy in a field that could change the world, but in the wrong millennia." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Guys I've figured it out!\"i exclaimed as my battered old phone emmitted a resounding schwing noise.\n\"What is it dweeb?\"Clara asked begrudgingly as a bubble of chewing-gum popped over her mouth. \n\"I've beaten Candy Crush Level 97. Its taken 2 or 3 tries but I've finally done it! Apparently no one in the Age of Plastic completed such a task but now the mystery of eons is solved. One must get the Lollipop hammer and tilt the screen back a little.\"\n\"No one cares loser.\"She groaned and turned into her true nano bot form, floating off into the distance. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Describe a set of characters (Up to five) with any combination of motives and traits. I'll try and write an action/combat scene based on what you give me." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tassiter: Calm, objective-driven, unimaginative. Tassiter Kentry solidified his reputation as an idyllic soldier at the third battle of the Sea of Tranquility, during which he was the only survivor of a suicide mission that crippled the enemy's left flank, securing victory for the Terran Alliance. His steadfast demeanor and decisiveness make him a dangerous opponent if faced head-on.\n\n--------\n\nAlorra Vae: An understudy to Karafin the Wraith, Alorra Vae is headstrong and independent. She is among the most talented of Karafin's disciples, and has shown on several occasions an exemplary aptitude for covert eliminations. Using a customized Tarq'in Spark Baton, she targets various points along her mark's nervous system, causing paralysis or death. She is small in stature, but makes up for it with unusual speed and a penchant for silence.\n\n--------\n\nFeng Park-Kyun: A self-proclaimed \"master\"of the dead martial arts, Park-Kyun is nonetheless one of the most lethal hand-to-hand combatants in the Terran territories. From a young age, he showed a keen interest for the cultivation of his full being: mind, body, and soul. He has since devoted himself to the lost religion of Buddhism, the ideals of the mythical Samurai, and the martial teachings of the great warriors of Wushu. Because of his natural inquisitiveness, Park-Kyun has become an adept learner and an ingenious fighter. His only weakness is perhaps his hatred of ranged weaponry-- though this hasn't proven to be a problem yet.\n\n--------\n\nTarr: Known simply as Tarr, this \"Beast of the Ioan Steppes\"is both feared and revered for his sheer strength and brutality. Standing a full nine feet tall, and weighing nearly as much as full-grown Bull, Tarr is indeed an imposing figure. His rigid muscle fibers and nano-fused cells give him an extreme advantage in hand-to-hand, though his sheer size makes him exceptionally slow. Tarr is quick to anger, egotistical, and rather dull, but is perhaps the most determined fighter in existence. His pride alone can fuel his rage long after the bodies and minds of his enemies give out. If it weren't for the exposed biological heat sinks on either side of his spine, he'd be practically invincible. That being said, no one yet has had the chance to take advantage of that weakness..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Trying to get back into writing and could use the practice! Hit me!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A curious young man walks through the forrest. A wise and magical animal/tree/rock/alien/whatever you want overhears the mans complain about his problem and offers his/her advice, and if the advice is successful, he is to return with a gift.\n\nThe man returns several decades later. The forest is unchanged, but he is now much older and is grump but likable. \n \nThe story should focus on how the older and younger man experience the same environment, but react differently. For example, a bright meadow gives the young man high spirits, but the older man complains how the same bright meadow hurts his eyes." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a story about a mistake." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I never should have gotten attached. I met her at the festival, and after we rocked out in the mosh pit for a bit I watched her rock the stage with her drums. She was always above me. Sure, the weekend was fun, there was sex and drugs and plenty of rock 'n roll, but my mistake was taking it outside the festival. When she ran off I shouldn't have been surprised. No one is impressive all the time as they are in the pit, or on stage. We found out that each of us was a mortal human being, with faults and idiosyncrasies, and really didn't have so much in common after all. All the same, I was devastated when she disappeared. I should't have been. It was in the cards the whole time. \n\nI still haven't recovered. The sad thing is, my next step is to go look for another girl drummer. I don't think I'll ever learn." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "a love letter from one whole country to another as if they were people." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hi there,\n\nI'm removing this post. If you want to post a response to your own prompt, you're welcome to - however, you must post it in the comments like everyone else (otherwise this sub is likely to become people posting \"prompts\"just to get their stories read). Please feel free to repost your prompt. \n\nAlso just as an aside - your comment on this prompt also breaks rule #1 - please see the sidebar.\n\nThanks heaps! :) " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "[MODPOST] WritingPrompts Weekly - #6 Read These Awesome Stories Edition!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One thing that's kind-of frustrating about this subreddit is that when someone dashes off a story quickly, writing about three or four paragraphs, they get upvoted, but longer stories that took longer to write languish largely unseen because they arrived late to the party. It's even worse when an idea takes a while to gestate. You can post it in its own right under the tag, but given the traffic it's quite likely it'll be lost in the shuffle.\n\nIt's cool that you called out one unloved story in your list, but I think that what we really need is a weekly stickied “Please read my story!” thread where people can post links to longer stories (e.g., > 1500 words) and/or stories that took longer to write. I think we've had threads like this from time to time, but I think they need to be a regular (i.e., weekly) and stickied feature.\n\n(Of course, maybe I'm just sad because no one saw my story, [_Sam's Delusion_](/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2ec9jg/pi_sams_delusion_or_was_there_ever_a_genie/)…)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When People Reach The Age of 30 They Are Sent Back In Time to Raise Themselves. What Is The World Like?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Trying to get my head around this one. \n\nSo baby A is born in Y2000, raised by their parents, becomes 30. We call this Person A1.\n\nIn Y2030, Person A1 goes back in time to Y2000, meets up with his younger parents and adopts the baby A2 instead. His parents get on with their lives (maybe have more children).\n\nCome Y2030 again, you now have a 30 year old Person A2, and a 60 year old Person A1 - both genetically the same, but one raised by themselves and the other by parents? Would Person A1 even remember being raised by his parents, or timetravel having rewritten his upbringing would he somehow remember being raised by himself? \n\nWhat about twins? Are they all separated? \n\nMy head hurts. \n\nGreat thought provoking prompt though.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A man/woman discovers thier ability to teleport by waking up in the place or subject of thier dream." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A high pitched shriek threatens to wake me up. I roll over and attempt to cover my ears, my dream too good to let go of so easily. Why do dreams always seem to end right before the good parts? Chris Evans is just starting to take his shirt off, when I am jolted awake by a slap to the face. \n\nWhat the fuck? Who is in my apartment? I slowly open my eyes and look up into the face of Chris Evans himself. I blink a few times, sure I am imagining things. There is no way in hell Captain America is in my apartment. Looking around, I realize that I'm not actually in my own apartment. I am in a hotel room straight out of a luxury magazine. A big breasted blonde stands in the corner, covered by only a sheet, shouting what I can only assume are obscenities in some foreign language. \n\nTearing my eyes away from the swanky hotel room, I sit up, and turn my gaze to Chris Evans. ALL of Chris Evans...apparently someone sleeps naked...nice. Oh, shit! His lips are moving, what is he saying?\n\n\"...doing in my hotel room? How did you get in here?\"\n\nShaking my head, I answer shyly, \"I..I don't know, honestly! I fell asleep in my apartment and woke up here!\"\n\n\"Alright druggie, stalker, whatever the hell you are, you have about ten seconds to get out of here before I call the cops.\"\n\nHe doesn't have to warn me twice! As I run through the hotel lobby barefoot, with no bra, in my bugs bunny pajamas, a slow smile breaks out on my face.\n\nI stop at the first pay phone I can find, call in sick to work, and head to my apartment. Jumping into bed I close my eyes and wonder where my dreams will take me this time. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Aliens visit Earth without any warning. When they arrive people find that there was something that they had never thought about. Something that nearly every scifi writer and theorist never saw coming." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So let me get this straight, you've developed hyper space travel, you've come all this way to invade earth, and your weapons are equivalent to our black powder weaponry.\"stated the general to a mass of what seemed to be tentacle jello.\n\n \"Of course not, we intended to mold ourselves into your image to infiltrate your civilization. \"rasped the voice box attached to the creature. \n\n\"Then how did you fail?\"\n\n\"It was your cursed viruses, your planet is a sess pot.\"\n\n\"Wow, you are the most inept species I have ever seen. Now we have your space tech, your planet is as good as doomed.\"Says the general walking from the prison cell." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You have one special ability, you can view anyone's browser history in real time as you meet them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hi! I'm Stacey, pleasure meeting you!\"Yes, of course it's nice to meet me. You've met me at a perfect time, darling. Interesting woman, I've never met such a pretty lady with such an evil motive. Where exactly did this motive come from? Was it an affair? Was it a scheme to collect life insurance? Was is it simply for the fun of it? As her attorney, I'll surely have to learn to cover up either one of those possibilities. For now, I mustn't let her know that I have the slightest bit idea of the gruesome killer that she is. I shall wine and dine with her at this charity event, pretending that she didn't spend hours prior to this stabbing, mutilating, and discarding a body. Maybe I shouldn't be so assuming, I mean everyone looks up how to get rid of their husbands dead body right?" } ]