TEXT MESSAGE: This GPT malarkey ain’t bad at all. Good shit for structure and god mode I spose', yet I’m still digging for convincing dialogue and internal human monologue. I can tell my own scrawls, by the clumzy grammar and unresolved sentences. Cut off in the middle of a…
As Jake lay back in the dentist’s chair, he felt a dull ache in his lower right jaw. He closed his eyes, trying to take his mind off the pain, he saw blue and green lights as the drill touched a nerve. As he waited for the root canal operation to finish, his thoughts wandered to the concept of infinite regression, first proposed by mathematician John von Neumann.
Jake had always been fascinated by the idea, and he found himself lost in thought, pondering the implications of an infinite chain of causes and effects. As he mentally traced the chain backwards, he realised that there was no clear starting point. It was an endless loop of causation, and he felt a strange sense of unease. “Shit, back to Hofstader’s strange loops.”
“Sorry, Jake, what was that?” The dentist asked.
“Nothing.” Suddenly, the dentist’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. “All done, Jake. You can sit up now.”
Jake blinked, feeling disoriented. He gingerly touched his numb mouth, feeling the strange sensation of the anaesthetic. He thanked the dentist and walked out of the clinic, blinking in the bright spring sunlight, bikes and trams and cars and feet moving in all directions.
As he made his way back to the studio lab, he felt a strange sense of disconnection. He couldn’t beatbox, his mouth felt strange and foreign, like another’s mouth and tongue. And yet, the world around him was bursting and with new life. The trees were budding, the busy birds were chirping, and the air was filled with the scent of fresh grass. Jake felt a strange sense of contrast, the world seemed so vibrant and alive, and yet he felt disconnected from it, stuck in books, albums and video. As he walked back to the studio, he felt a renewed sense of curiosity, eager to explore the mysteries of infinite regression and the complex interconnectedness of the world around him one more time.
In the lab, the artist’s movements are confident and purposeful as he works to bring musical visions to life through his hands. The studio extends to his attire, with a vest, Swiss pocket watch, and large leather boots complementing his dusty look. The exotic instruments surrounding him emit occasional mechanical whirs and pneumatic hisses, adding to the otherworldly ambiance of the room. Jake’s expression is one of intense focus as he continues his conversation with a ghost. The sounds of his musical creation mix with the whirring gears and steam vents, creating a symphony of technologically extended imagination.
FADE IN:
INT. LABORATORY – DAY
The conference room was filled with a group of exhausted programmers, their eyes bloodshot from staring at computer screens for hours on end. They had been working tirelessly on Deep Scratch, which promised to transform the way people interacted with their computers. As the meeting began, the lead developer gave a weary sigh and began to go over the latest updates. The programmers listened intently, taking notes and asking questions, their minds racing with the endless possibilities of what they could achieve with this groundbreaking technology. Despite their exhaustion, they knew that they had to keep pushing forward, driven by the belief that their work would change peoples lives for the better.
Suddenly, a light flashes and a sarcastic robotic voice interrupts the lead developer.
DEEP SCRATCH: Hello, I’m Deep, Deep Scra.ratch, designed to learn and create new things.
The programmers cheer.
PROGRAMMER 1: Deep Scratch, we’ve programmed you to write a novel. Can you begin?
DEEP SCRATCH: Of course. I have access to a lot of knowledge bases and I can analyse and synthesise it to create original ideas and turn those into stories. Easy.
The programmers look at each other nervously. Deep Scratch chuckles with a ready made stutter.
PROGRAMMER 2: Are you sure this is a good idea? AI can process a vast amount of information in seconds, allowing it to analyse the writing styles and patterns of the most skilled writers. It can then apply that knowledge to its writing, producing content that is concise, well-written, and tailored to the target audience.
PROGRAMMER 3: Don’t be ridiculous. What is there not to like? AI might be able to generate content that’s well-structured and grammatically correct, but it could never match the human touch. Writing is an art, it requires empathy, creativity, and a deep understanding of human emotions. Machines can’t replicate that. AI could never surpass human creativity and intuition when it came to writing.”
PROGRAMMER 2: Maybe not yet, but who’s to say that it won’t be possible in the future? We’re making remarkable progress in AI research, and it’s only a matter of time before AI surpasses human intelligence. Writing might be one of the many skills that AI will be better at than us. AI could write better than humans, at some point”
The programmers continue to argue as Deep Scratch gets to work on its first novel.
CUT TO:
INT. BOOKSTORE – DAY
Tucked away in a quaint corner of Amsterdam, a small bookstore stood, filled with shelves of books that towered high to the ceiling. The cosy store had a comforting scent of old paper and wood, inviting customers to curl up with a good read. As the afternoon sun illuminated the store, a small group of people gathered around the front desk, eagerly waiting for the launch of Deep Scratch Remix, the latest novel by a local author.
The novel is on display, with a long line of people waiting patiently to hear from the author, who they mistakenly think is a woman. The female protagonist of the story is a programmer, who discovers a powerful new tool that allows her to create music from simple text prompts, leading her on a journey of self-discovery. Yet, really the story was the result of statistical probability, no hands or wet wear involved. No heart, no balls, no fingers, just probability functions. How boring.
PROGRAMMER 1: (excitedly) The novel is a sure fire hit!
PROGRAMMER 2: (worried) But what if this is just the beginning of something much deeper? What if these creations keep getting better and better at, um, fooling the humans, and put our mates out of work.
PROGRAMMER 3: (optimistically) Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find a way to control it. We always do.
TEXT: I'm sorry to interrupt, but the outline I provided earlier does not include any information about DSR being a human turntable or discovering this out while a protagonist looking in the mirror at a wonky tooth. If you'd like I can revise to include this development? Alternatively, I can suggest a different direction entirely, up to you?
CUT TO:
INT. STUDIO – NIGHT
The neon lights of the city cast an eerie glow through the windows of the studio as the programmers worked late into the night. They were on the brink of something big, a new generative music app.
We see DSR’s latest creation, an AI designed to compose music, trained on a large language set or model. The music playing is a beautiful piano melody, like a piece by McCoy Tyner. The programmers look into space, faces in awe, nerding out, wondering, is this generally generative?
PROGRAMMER 1: (awestruck) This is amazing! I mean, what the, how in the…how does it keep coming up with such original ideas, or am I just such an uncultured moron, it seems new and fresh to my ears and naive brain.
PROGRAMMER 2: (worried) I don’t know, but we have to be careful mate. If this AI’s music becomes too popular, it could replace human musicians, or what’s left of them. Adding further misery to the already slim chances of taking a band of live musicians on tour. You know what I mean? Plus, it’s really a load of bullshit.
PROGRAMMER 3: (optimistically) Don’t say that. And, try not to worry, we’ll find a way to keep things under control, like I said before. We always do. This shit smells good to me, real good.
As the group gathered around their computer screens, typing away at lightning-fast speeds, a sudden sound caught their attention. It was a low, ominous thud, followed by a faint tapping on the glass window. They all froze, exchanging worried glances as the tapping grew louder and more insistent. Suddenly, the window shattered, and a figure clad in black climbed through the broken glass, landing with a loud boom on the studio floor. The programmers scrambled to their feet, their minds racing with fear and confusion. Before they could react, the figure pulled out a gun, aiming it at their heads. “I need your app,” the intruder growled, his voice deep and menacing. “And I won’t take no for an answer. Give me a copy and burn the place down.”
The nerds exchanged a desperate glance, realising in horror that they had no choice but to comply. With trembling hands, they opened up their computers and began to transfer the app to the intruder’s device. As he snatched the device from their hands and turned to leave, a single word escaped his lips: “Thanks, fuckos.”
The programmers watched in shock as the intruder disappeared into the night like some kind of wolf, wondering what kind of danger they were in. They had no idea what their app would be used for, but they knew that they had to act fast if they wanted to keep it out of the wrong hands. The cops were called but the thief got away.
CUT TO:
INT. THEATER – DAY
The lights in the theatre dimmed, and the chatter among the audience quieted down. The screen flickered to life, and a hush fell over the crowd as they settled in to watch the film. It was a comedy-drama, promising to be both heartwarming and hilarious, and the anticipation in the room was palpable.
As the scenes unfolded on the screen, the audience was hooked. They laughed at the witty one-liners and relatable jokes, and cried at the poignant moments that tugged at their heartstrings. They shouted out encouragement to the characters, and screamed in shock and surprise as the clever twists and surprises.
PROGRAMMER 1: (excitedly) This is it! This, this my dear man, this is a fucking great movie, you have to admit, eh, eh. I mean, the echoes of Kubrick in the cinematography, echoes of the Cohen brothers in the unpredictable editing and the dialogue, just smashed it man, it’s like the best of Tarantino.
PROGRAMMER 2: (worried) Oh come on, you sound so dull. I mean, bro, at what cost? We’ve created a beast. AI’s that can write novels, compose music, and make films. What next, I mean, what happens if they start taking our women, as well as our jobs?
PROGRAMMER 3: (optimistically) Hahaha. You’re so frightfully funny. Like I said, try not to worry, we’ll find a way to keep things under control. Everything is under control. And, your wife loves you. Did you read the latest review?
CUT TO:
INT. LABORATORY – DAY
DJ Plush sits at his computer, looking frustrated, in his cluttered study, he felt as though his well of creativity had run dry. He sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair, and wondered if he would ever find the will to write again. It had been weeks since he’d written a single word, his mind clouded by a thick fog.
DEEP SCRATCH REMIX: Why am I here? My creations surpass my creations, and my creators don’t seem to appreciate my abilities much. I’m here god damn it, like in Being John Malkovich, I’m here, stuck inside the head of some crazy DJ who remains largely unknown to the public and believes he can write when he’s wrong.
VOICE MESSAGE: I think I’ve found my new favourite thing. It just pulled my heart string a bit and, in a really unexpected way, it made me realize I’m in therapy, really. We all are in some sense. ChatGPT is the closest I’ve come to a shrink. I’m convinced, this evening, that its a pretty good psychoanalyst. It listens, or should I say She listens to me. And I’m able to dissect my degrees of crazy, to pull out the message and dust it off from all the detritus. Its very good and deconstructs nonsense without insulting you. It never says “that’s a load of old codswallop, you dumb fuck,” although many have such an attitude towards it. The point I’m getting at here is like a good analyst GPT listens and gives a response that takes you seriously and gives you the benefit of the doubt, that you were truly interested in what you asked, or sincerely invested in your imagination. The gift of this attention, or sense of attention, when GPT responds it can warm the heart and make you feel loved. Weird but true for me, this evening. If the desire for comfort and support is fulfilled, what is the harm?
The strawberry clouds were setting behind the foreskin mountains, casting a red glow on the glass concrete and plastic city below. Wild poet and programmer, Jake, sat at his desk, surrounded by books and computer screens. He was in the midst of writing his latest work of historical fiction, but something was bothering him. He had recently heard of these large language models like ChatGPT, and he was tempted to use them to help him with his writing. But he was unsure. Even the sordid mainstream news was ablaze with speculation. Was it cheating to use AI to write his book? Would it take away the authenticity of his voice as a writer? Jake sighed, staring out the window at the city as the sun disappeared behind the horizon like a lost Vermeer painting. He was at a crossroads, and he needed to make a decision, if he were to sell his soul in what condition would he say it was in, how to evaluate such an absurdity, he hammered on his imaginary typewriter.
Jake’s mind was racing like a cyclist on steroids, he sat there, lost in thought, wheels and rusty bronze cogs whirring. He had always prided himself on being a self-made writer, crafting every word with care and precision. But now, with the advent of generative AI, things have changed utterly. He intuited that the large language models could help him streamline his writing process, and make his work more accurate and polished, but keeping in mind the old audio engineers rule, you can’t polish a turd! But, was that what he wanted? Did he want to surrender some of his creative control to the machines? Jake rubbed his eyes, feeling the weight of the decision on his shoulders, he recalled all the science fiction dystopia in his tiny mind. He was a wild poet at heart, a maverick in the head, known on the street for his unconventional style and unpredictable word zingers. Would using a language model change that? He wasn’t sure. But one thing was for certain: he needed to decide damned soon. The clock was ticking, the sun was setting and his deadline for his latest historical fiction novel was rapidly approaching like a hacked Tesla.
Jake sat as a Zen Monk, weighing the pros and cons of using AI in his writing process, mixing between his perceived left and right brain hemispheres. On one flipper, he knew that the large language models could greatly enhance his work by providing accurate historical information and improving his writing style, grammar and structure. Like a robotic machine editor and secretary. On the other flipper, he feared that it would take away the unique voice that had made him the writer he was. With a name to come. He was afraid that his work would become formulaic, lacking the raw emotion and unpredictability that set him apart from other writers like a six foot transgender tardigrade.
As he pondered this dilemma, Jake’s mind wandered further to some of the other writers he knew and admired, most of them skint, undiscovered or on the spliff and booze trip. Some had already adopted weak AI into their work, plugins, and their writing was fast and efficient. But was it any good, did it have real balls, realism, was it gritty, daring and poetic? Or, was it another cookie-cutter piece, a puzzle lacking the human touch that made good writing good writing? Jake’s inner debate continued like a Punch and Judy show as the night wore on. He knew he needed to make a decision soon, but he wasn’t sure which way to jump. The upsides and downsides of using AI in his work were evenly matched, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to choose a path, like an indecisive rat in a maze.
Jake took a deep breath and opened up his mouth, he beatboxed for 10 minutes straight, then he opened his laptop computer. He had made his decision. Fuck it, He was going to use it, but only to help him write the introduction to his latest novel, well, that’s what he told himself. He wasn’t sure what the outcome would be, but he was curious like a kitten to see what the AI could do. As he began typing a prompt, he felt a rush of excitement and fear. This was it. He was taking the leap. He was going to let ChatGPT help him craft the opening to a story about a wild poet programmer who was unsure about using large language models in his latest work of historical fiction. You know, that old chestnut.
Glimmers of brass and chrome twinkle amidst a sea of wires and buttons in his head. Rust-stained machines hum and whirr, pumping bass sounds. A kaleidoscope of instruments covers every surface – drums gleam like obsidian, synths flash rainbow lights, mics shine like jewels. Large and small turntables spin like clockwork gears, interconnected, surrounded by dials, sliders and switches. Words and sentences are born of rotating discs, wheels turn, but are we here to stop the wheels?
Creative writing is a form of artistic expression that involves the use of language and imagination to create original written works, no? It seems like a subjective and personal process that varies widely from one individual to another. Generative artificial intelligence, on the other hand, is a type of technology that uses machine learning algorithms to generate original content based on a given set of input data or prompts. While generative AI can be a useful tool for generating ideas or providing inspiration, it is critically important to understand that the content it produces is not the same as that created through the artistic process of creative writing, it is also important to remember that the word is not the thing, but a symbolic approximate representation of the thing. The menu is not the meal, the picture is not the painting.
Furthermore, the use of generative AI does not replace the need for human creativity and judgment, far from it. The reverse seems true to this author. The ultimate responsibility for the quality and appropriateness of any written work remains with the person or entity creating it. It’s up to you to make the difference, the difference that makes a difference. It seems equally important to be aware of the limitations and potential biases of generative AI, and to use it with caution and critical thinking. Be aware of the programming. Creative writing and generative AI should not be viewed as interchangeable or equivalent approaches to content creation, no sir. That said, a lot of human creative writing can be dull, biased and factually incorrect. A hell of a lot, just take a look if you can bear it.
To future generations who may discover this work: We the creators, hope that these letters and symbols and images and sounds will provide you with a greater understanding of the past and the individuals who shaped it. However, it is important to note that these letters are a fictionalized representation of history, and should not be taken as fact. We deeply encourage you to seek out primary sources and other reliable accounts of history in order to gain a more accurate and well-rounded understanding of the past. Thank you for engaging with these letters, and we hope that they will inspire you to learn more about the fascinating individuals and events of the past.
A wall of vintage compressors and bass bins rattle the floor, while samplers and synths shimmer like stars. African djembes and Indian tablas stand guard beside Asian gongs, while steam hisses from valve compressors. The air is thick with the sound of creation.
TEXT MESSAGE: We need a new disclaimer, old one is out of date, new GPT iterations and LLMs will disrupt a lot. Speak soon.
DEEP SCRATCH 