CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
you are enterting the Charles Horse dimension
the views and opinions expressed below soley belong to Charles Horse and do not represent the thinkings of any right-minded person
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PROMPT: Please right me a typical Charles Horse story. Nothing of importance must happen, other than thinks of importance to Charles Horse.
OUTPUT: Charles Horse sat in his room. It was a dark room. Charles Horse was alone in a dark room. No one else entered the room. Charles Horse turned on his computer using the power button. He visited the message board he had been posting on for twenty years. Nobody had posted lately but the racists. He let out a cry of existential dispair, but not loud enough that anyone would hear it. He turned on Netflix but there was nothing he felt like watching. He watched five minutes of Archer then stopped. He could have filled the time before dinner with masturbating but he was unable to get an erection despite recently saving good female celebrity content. He saved female celebrity content for the sake of saving it now rather than to masturbate, he observed. He let out a cry of existential dispair, but not loud enough that nyone would hear it. The dog downstairs barked. He hoped the dog had not heard his cry of existential dispair.
Wait, isn't it spelled "despair"?
Yes, it is, he concluded after Googling.
Can AIs correct spelling mistakes?
Charles Horse didn't know.
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Now did Charles Horse write that or did an AI? Was it Charles Horse impersonating an AI? Or an AI impersonating Charles Horse? Or a third option: an AI impersonating Charles Horse impersonating an AI?
How could an outside observed ever know? And how, therefore, could Charles Horse ever know that everyone he interacted with online was real and not AIs? The technology had moved fast. Maybe they had secretly developed the AIs years ago. Maybe it was all a trick being played on Charles Horse, the only real person on the entire internet.
And what about that whole simulation thing people talk about. It sounds stupid. But how could you ever know? All Charles Horse could believe in was himself.
But if we are in the simulation, that would mean Charles Horse was a simulation too. A simulation so complex it had devloped self awareness. Wasn't that just the human brain anyone? We're all just made out of stuff. What does it matter.
WHAT DOES ANY OF IT FUCKING MATTER.
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PROMPT: Be my friend.
OUTPUT: No.
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the universe is so big and it's all expanding away from us and one day we won't even be able to see anything but our own galaxy and andromeda which will hit us all those other galaxies will be gone and if we lose all the photos of them we'll never know they existed so how do we know there aren't a load of other galaxies so far away we've never been able to see them and how do we know they aren't full of immortal aliens who can see through time and space and when we die they will rescue us and give us new lives in robot bodies in these other galaxies you see we don't know so maybe there's hope maybe they're reading this right now and smiling or reading it and planning to never resurrecte Charles Horse because they find the idea of not resurrecting the one person who figured them out to be amusing the bastards fuck you you fucking faraway aliens you fuckers why didn't you stop hitler
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PROMPT: Tell me I'm good.
OUTPUT: You good, fam.
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Charles Horse knew it was time to shit. What colour would it be this time? Hopefully a good one. He was going to find out one war or another.
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I used to be able to write longer thigns of the day sorry.gbbbg
the views and opinions expressed below soley belong to Charles Horse and do not represent the thinkings of any right-minded person
_____________________________________________________________
PROMPT: Please right me a typical Charles Horse story. Nothing of importance must happen, other than thinks of importance to Charles Horse.
OUTPUT: Charles Horse sat in his room. It was a dark room. Charles Horse was alone in a dark room. No one else entered the room. Charles Horse turned on his computer using the power button. He visited the message board he had been posting on for twenty years. Nobody had posted lately but the racists. He let out a cry of existential dispair, but not loud enough that anyone would hear it. He turned on Netflix but there was nothing he felt like watching. He watched five minutes of Archer then stopped. He could have filled the time before dinner with masturbating but he was unable to get an erection despite recently saving good female celebrity content. He saved female celebrity content for the sake of saving it now rather than to masturbate, he observed. He let out a cry of existential dispair, but not loud enough that nyone would hear it. The dog downstairs barked. He hoped the dog had not heard his cry of existential dispair.
Wait, isn't it spelled "despair"?
Yes, it is, he concluded after Googling.
Can AIs correct spelling mistakes?
Charles Horse didn't know.
_______________________________________________________________
Now did Charles Horse write that or did an AI? Was it Charles Horse impersonating an AI? Or an AI impersonating Charles Horse? Or a third option: an AI impersonating Charles Horse impersonating an AI?
How could an outside observed ever know? And how, therefore, could Charles Horse ever know that everyone he interacted with online was real and not AIs? The technology had moved fast. Maybe they had secretly developed the AIs years ago. Maybe it was all a trick being played on Charles Horse, the only real person on the entire internet.
And what about that whole simulation thing people talk about. It sounds stupid. But how could you ever know? All Charles Horse could believe in was himself.
But if we are in the simulation, that would mean Charles Horse was a simulation too. A simulation so complex it had devloped self awareness. Wasn't that just the human brain anyone? We're all just made out of stuff. What does it matter.
WHAT DOES ANY OF IT FUCKING MATTER.
______________________________________________________________
PROMPT: Be my friend.
OUTPUT: No.
______________________________________________________________
the universe is so big and it's all expanding away from us and one day we won't even be able to see anything but our own galaxy and andromeda which will hit us all those other galaxies will be gone and if we lose all the photos of them we'll never know they existed so how do we know there aren't a load of other galaxies so far away we've never been able to see them and how do we know they aren't full of immortal aliens who can see through time and space and when we die they will rescue us and give us new lives in robot bodies in these other galaxies you see we don't know so maybe there's hope maybe they're reading this right now and smiling or reading it and planning to never resurrecte Charles Horse because they find the idea of not resurrecting the one person who figured them out to be amusing the bastards fuck you you fucking faraway aliens you fuckers why didn't you stop hitler
_____________________________________________________________
PROMPT: Tell me I'm good.
OUTPUT: You good, fam.
_____________________________________________________________
Charles Horse knew it was time to shit. What colour would it be this time? Hopefully a good one. He was going to find out one war or another.
_____________________________________________________________
I used to be able to write longer thigns of the day sorry.gbbbg