The Earth An Egg?

Several of you have voiced interest in the aborted ‘list post’ from a while back and I will go back and finish what we started (‘we’ meaning with your continuing help). However, I have lately been distracted by the continuing brouhaha over A.I., specifically ‘super’ A.I., and the likelihood of the catastrophe which, they tell us, will follow. 

…whenever the pundits tell us a catastrophe is coming I assume it’s something other than what they predict. It’s almost a law of nature. They are really harping on this one, which means… 

But who knows? This may be the exception, although I guarantee the A.I. catastrophe will be from a different angle than their prediction. Anyway, I have been futzing with Chat-GPT4 and have found it to be little more than a souped up version of Wikipedia, i.e., another way to keep us dis and mis-informed. As I showed in this post, this A.I. can’t seem to keep its story straight when you ask it a thorny question (anything that points toward PTB lies or misdeeds). 

I noticed that the Chat tries to avoid answering in ways that would worry the average person about the future. For example, I was thinking about my apparently deteriorating writing skills, and how I frequently have to look up words I’m blanking on. (I just now tried to recall a good example of this — a common word I had to look up — but guess what? I’m blanking; can’t remember anything I couldn’t remember. There’s a catch-22 around here somewhere.)

On top of that, I keep having stuff pop into my head seemingly from nowhere, stuff I haven’t thought about for years or even decades. Yesterday I thought of the first fictional story I ever wrote, which was from the mid-1950s, a school assignment when I was still in elementary school. I was about eight, I think; about the same age as when my dad took me out to Montauk to camp out and spearfish in the Atlantic.

I turned in a story I had already written, maybe the year before just for kid-hell of it (which maybe is significant), and which really knocked my teacher out. She called my parents raving about how their kid was a natural born writer and so on. In spite of my fading memory, I recall this very well. She even printed the thing up (not easy back then) and passed it all around, even to a neighboring school.

The premise of the story was that the earth is actually a giant egg; at the end, and due to the testing of a gigantic nuclear bomb (human stupidity),  the egg hatches. The story itself is long gone now but I do remember the last few words, which were ‘and the baby serpent began to devour its shell, the earth.’ (I had already figured out that ‘endings are everything’.)

Addendum: I recall this stuff because my grade (4th, I think) used to play football against the other school’s same-grade and it could get nasty, in a kid sort of way. There were no adults involved; we had to play in vacant lots and so on. I still recall the other school’s players pointing at me and yelling, ‘Hey Wisepecker, the earth isn’t an egg you idiot!’ or the like. (Miles Mathis and 4th graders have the use of this Weisbecker-moniker in common.) 

I was a running back in those days, meaning — possibly for claiming that the earth is an egg — the whole other team would tackle me as hard as they could, so I was too distracted to yell back, ‘It’s a metaphor you morons!’ 

The story actually wasn’t bad for an eight or so year old kid, I guess. I assume so based on the adult reaction. I believe the writing of it preceded the wave of science fiction movie monsters, Godzilla, It Came From Outer Space, (my favorite) Them! It emerged right from my dim little kid-head seemingly out of nowhere (which, come to think, also happened with Cosmic Banditos, many years later). 

But I bring this up because yesterday I gave the ChatGPT the following prompt:

‘Write a short story about a young boy who believes the earth is an egg and at the end the earth hatches a serpent.’

Yes, the question itself is poorly wrought, but my point is the answer I got almost instantly. Here it is:

Once upon a time, in a small town nestled among rolling hills, there lived a curious and imaginative young boy named Oliver. At ten years old, his mind was filled with wonder and the boundless possibilities of the world. But there was one belief that set him apart from his peers—he believed the Earth was not just a planet but a magnificent egg waiting to hatch.

Oliver spent his days exploring nature, observing birds, and marveling at the changing seasons. Every time he looked up at the sky, he imagined cracks forming across the celestial shell, hinting at the life growing inside. His friends and family chuckled at his peculiar idea, thinking it was merely a child’s whimsical fantasy.

Undeterred by their skepticism, Oliver dedicated himself to his cosmic belief. He would sit beneath the ancient oak tree near his home, daydreaming about the day the Earth would finally reveal its secrets. He envisioned a creature emerging—a majestic serpent that would bring new life to the world.

As the years passed, Oliver’s conviction grew stronger. He delved into books, seeking any hint of ancient myths or prophecies that might align with his extraordinary theory. With each passing day, his faith in the Earth’s egg-like nature deepened.

Then, on a cool autumn afternoon, as Oliver lay beneath his beloved oak tree, he felt a faint rumbling beneath him. His heart quickened with anticipation, for this tremor felt different from any he had ever experienced. The ground beneath him shuddered, as if awakening from a long slumber.

With wide eyes and a racing heart, Oliver witnessed a miracle unfold before him. The Earth’s surface cracked, revealing luminous patterns resembling intricate spiderwebs. The cracks spread like lightning, traversing the globe, and the atmosphere shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

Suddenly, a massive serpent emerged from within the Earth, its scales glistening like jewels. The creature possessed a regal aura, a living testament to Oliver’s unwavering belief. It coiled itself gracefully around the planet, its presence imbuing the world with newfound energy and harmony.

Oliver, overcome with awe, whispered, “I knew it! The Earth was an egg, and it has given birth to something truly magnificent.”

From that day forward, the world changed. People marveled at the serpent’s ethereal beauty, and Oliver’s belief transformed into a cherished legend, inspiring others to embrace the magic and wonder that lay hidden beneath their feet.

And as for Oliver, his imagination continued to soar. With each new adventure and discovery, he realized that sometimes, the most extraordinary ideas could hatch from the depths of a young and curious mind, forever changing the world for the better.

Notice the difference in tone, the Chat automatically turning the premise into a sort of fairy tale with a supremely optimistic ending, quite the opposite of how I wound up the tale. Think about it. The earth is an egg that hatches and instead of catastrophe we have a version of Cinderella or some such. (It may also be significant that even in 4th grade I saw coming how mankind would fuck it all up.)

What’s going on here? Does this mean anything re Super A.I., what it has in store for us? Is the fucker already starting to gaslight us, even in its 4th grade version?

The other thing is, how the fuck did Chat come up with a pretty good story instantaneously? Was that its way of giving us the finger?

What else am I missing here?

Allan