User f3b779af1005... - AI Fiction in the Wild

Possibly Same User

These IP addresses have similar average prompt embeddings (cosine similarity ≥ 0.85, same state). View as estimated user →

152370a3ffed... (255 conv., Moscow) 25b33c59d23e... (71 conv., Moscow) 2c0166f8daba... (343 conv., Moscow) 3186fcd1d6f7... (23 conv., Moscow) 41d90f3a9058... (6 conv., Moscow) 44580e65692b... (156 conv., Moscow) 4d2f2088e5a5... (53 conv., Moscow) 5c1d26e80570... (16 conv., Moscow) 68cd1231e329... (32 conv., Moscow) 7ffd82a431cb... (144 conv., Moscow) 80d33ea7c851... (5 conv., Moscow) 96d1c18c6bb8... (21 conv., Moscow) 9b7ebf049e11... (137 conv., Moscow) 9fb2aad693b3... (130 conv., Moscow) a2da078fff98... (28 conv., Moscow) b44db035ff1d... (192 conv., Moscow) b7ae3e566839... (26 conv., Moscow) c1f49ec710a9... (424 conv., Moscow) c65480c19768... (44 conv., Moscow) db3f4c72ca00... (31 conv., Moscow) f7aa19059ef5... (73 conv., Moscow) fbbe4466ea19... (24 conv., Moscow) fe5166559b27... (53 conv., Moscow)

Activity Timeline ▶

Loading...

Conversation Clusters (37)

▼

Sep 30, 2023 at 10:17 PM MSK — 1 turn Russia, Moscow fiction View full conversation

USER: I want you to act as a writer. This story is a bizarre and surrealist romantic comedy. Write a chapter, narrated by Celestine Weeks, a beautiful, elegant, self-assured and serenely calm young woman, from the first person perspective, conveying her thoughts and feelings in vivid detail. She lives is a city that is absolutely plagued by traffic accident. Despite (or because?) their frequency, people do not seem to mind them, continuing with their lives as if everything was fine. Sometimes they may be so indifferent, they will step over bleeding victims while hurrying on their business. Celestine feels that something is wrong with this city, but keeps quiet, not wanting to attract problematic attention to herself. However, once, she herself becomes a victim of a particularly suspicious hit-and-run. After difficult and laborious treatment and rehabilitation in hospital, Celestine is left a wheelchair-bound paraplegic. However, not much changes her life beside some apartment adaptation: she keeps the same, rather relaxed, job and is as lonely and solitary as always, with only a few acquaintances. The only unexpected thing is Celestine's feeling of being frequently watched by either a stalker or a secret admirer. That is, until one day, a sleek beige sports estate car starts talking to her. Celestine thinks it is some form of rogue artificial intelligence, but the car protests, claiming that it is possessed by a ghost, for all intents and purposes. It calls itself Beige Beast and c...

CHATBOT: Chapter 1: A City of Chaos I maneuver my way through the bustling streets of this chaotic city, gracefully gliding past hurried pedestrians and honking cars that clog the thoroughfares like veins choked with traffic. Despite the persistent traffic accidents that plague this place, life carries on as if it's an everyday occurrence. It's almost as if the people in this city are immune to the tragedies unfolding around them, stepping over bleeding victims without a second glance. As I observe the unyielding indifference of the citizens, a disconcerting feeling grips my heart. Something is inherently wrong with this city, an unsettling air that I can't quite put my finger on. But I know better than to draw attention to myself by speaking out. I navigate through the urban maze, keeping my thoughts to myself, lest I become entangled in the web of strange happenings that envelops this place like a shroud. However, fate has a peculiar sense of humor, and I find myself caught in the merciless embrace of a reckless hit-and-run driver. The impact shatters my body, leaving me broken, confined to a wheelchair. The pain is unbearable, but it pales in comparison to the fear that grips my spirit. How will I navigate this world, already so strange and unforgiving, with my newfound disability? Yet, as I recover in the sterile confines of the hospital, not much changes in my life aside from adapting to a wheelchair and modifying my apartment. I still retain the same job, a calm position that allows me to retreat into my own thoughts. Solitude finds solace in me, and I find solace in its embrace. But amidst the quietude, an unsettling presence casts a shadow over my days. I can't shake the feeling of being watched, as if an invisible pair of eyes follows my every move. It's disconcerting, to say the least. At times, I catch glimpses of a figure lurking in the periphery, but when I turn my head, there is no one there. It's as if I'm trapped in a surreal waking dream that refuses to release its hold over me. Then, one fateful day, as I roll down the quiet, deserted street, a sleek beige sports estate car pulls up beside me. I freeze, my heart momentarily skipping a beat as I witness the impossible. The car, this marvelous mechanical creation, starts to speak to me. I blink, perplexed, thinking I've fallen victim to my own illusions. "My dear Celestine," the car's voice resonates through the air, smooth and almost seductive, "You may find this hard to believe, but I am no ordina...

Cluster 35

Sep 30, 2023 at 10:26 PM MSK — 1 turn Russia, Moscow fiction View full conversation

USER: I want you to act as a writer. This story is a bizarre and surrealist romantic comedy.comedy, set in an idyllic-looking, yet haunting European setting, with modernist aparment blocks, office buildings and red-roofed historical houses, which are busting with people, each of whom feels superficially content yet slightly dead inside. Write a chapter, narrated by Celestine Weeks, a beautiful, elegant, self-assured and serenely calm young woman, from the first person perspective, conveying her thoughts and feelings in vivid detail. She lives is a city that is absolutely plagued by traffic accident. Despite (or because?) their frequency, people do not seem to mind them, continuing with their lives as if everything was fine. Sometimes they may be so indifferent, they will step over bleeding victims while hurrying on their business. Celestine feels that something is wrong with this city, but keeps quiet, not wanting to attract problematic attention to herself. However, once, she herself becomes a victim of a particularly suspicious hit-and-run. After difficult and laborious treatment and rehabilitation in hospital, Celestine is left a wheelchair-bound paraplegic. However, not much changes her life beside some apartment adaptation: she keeps the same, rather relaxed, job and is as lonely and solitary as always, with only a few acquaintances. The only unexpected thing is Celestine's feeling of being frequently watched by either a stalker or a secret admirer. That is, until one day, a sleek beige sports estate car starts talking to her. Celestine thinks it is some form of rogue artificial intelligence, but the car protests, claiming that it is possessed by a ghost, for all intents and purposes. It calls itself Beige Beast and considers himself a male. Celestine is astonished, but only slightly, since she is used to living in bizarre world. Beige Beast says that he is responsible for Celestine's injury and wheelchair-bound state, and is deeply sorry, but had its reasons at the time. It admits to being rather smitten by Celestine, as well as needing her as a partner in his affairs (whatever affairs a talking car can have). Now Celestine is rather unsure of what to do.

CHATBOT: Chapter 1: A Haunting Indifference The city, forever bound in its own disjointed reality, breathed with an eerie beauty that bewitched both locals and outsiders. Its idyllic-looking streets were adorned with modernist apartment blocks, imposing office buildings, and red-roofed historical houses that seemed frozen in time. The cityscape bustled with life, each individual masking their discontent behind superficial contentment. For even in the most picturesque corners, a quiet melancholy seeped through the cracks. As I, Celestine Weeks, roamed these streets with my elegant poise, I couldn't help but feel a disconcerting unease beneath the surface. It was as if the city itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to disrupt its delicate equilibrium. My observant eyes, hidden behind a veil of serenity, witnessed the intricate dance of the living dead, going about their lives with blind indifference. The traffic accidents, a peculiar phenomenon that plagued the city, were abundant and recurrent. Yet, the people nonchalantly continued their daily routines, stepping over the bleeding victims as if they were mere inconveniences. There was a pervasive acceptance of these gruesome occurrences, a collective indifference that gnawed at my soul. I questioned my own sanity, wondering if I was the only one who sensed the sinister undercurrents of this place. Still, I dared not voice my concerns aloud. To attract attention in this city meant inviting problematic consequences. So, I kept my thoughts hidden, my fears locked away, while the restless whispers of discontent echoed through my mind. Fate, cruel and ironic, had a twisted sense of humor. It wasn't long before I became a victim of the very chaos I questioned. A hit-and-run, calculated and suspicious, left me broken and confined to a wheelchair. The difficult journey of treatment and rehabilitation in the sterile hospital rooms became my world, as I fought to regain control of my body. Life continued its mundane rhythm even in the face of adversity. My job, a refuge of relaxation amidst the chaos, remained unchanged. My solitude, a long-standing companion, remained unbroken. It seemed that not much changed in my life besides the necessary adaptations to my apartment. Yet, there was an unexpected twist that tugged at the corner of my consciousness. A feeling of being watched, an eerie presence that sent shivers down my spine, became a constant companion. Someone, be it stalker or secret admirer, had fixated ...

Cluster 35

IP #136

Possibly Same User

Conversation Clusters (37)