User f3b779af1005... - AI Fiction in the Wild

IP #136

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1 fiction conversations over 5 days (Sep 26, 2023 – Oct 2, 2023) 43% prompt uniqueness Moscow, Russia

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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)

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Sep 26, 2023

Oct 2, 2023

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Conversation Clusters (88)

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1 conversation in cluster Cluster 82× “I want you to act as a writer. This is a bizarre and slightl...” over less than a minute (Oct 1, 2023 – Oct 1, 2023), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Oct 1, 2023 at 10:43 AM MSK — 1 turn Russia, Moscow fiction View full conversation

USER: I want you to act as a writer. This is a bizarre and slightly surrealist romantic comedy, set in an idyllic-looking, yet haunting European setting,. Celestine Weeks is a beautiful, elegant, self-assured and serenely calm young woman who is a wheelchair-bound paraplegic after a hit-and-run accident. Write long, original, interesting, unusual, artistic chapter, narrated by Celestine from first person perspective, conveying the unsettling nature of this environment. It features Celestine and Lucius Sterling, brooding and enigmatic artist who captures the the city in his surreal paintings. He frequents the same cafe as Celestine, where they exchange intense gazes but don't engage in conversation.

CHATBOT: Chapter 1: The Enigmatic Strokes The air in this ethereal town holds a subtle enchantment, casting an otherworldly spell over its idyllic facade. Cobblestone streets wind their way through ancient buildings, their faded paint whispering secrets of times long gone. The intricate details adorning the facades curl and twist like the tendrils of forgotten memories, while the chiming of distant church bells beckons the lovers of mystery and intrigue. It is within this hauntingly beautiful place that my unassuming life intertwines with that of the enigmatic Lucius Sterling. Serenely seated in my wheelchair, I navigate the narrow path leading to the charming cafe that has become my refuge. It is here that my journey of surreal connection with the brooding artist, Lucius, begins. His presence is as palpable as the colors that burst from his brushes, and his penetrating gaze is enthralling, drawing me into a world beyond words. Our exchanges consist solely of intense gazes and silent reverie, a tacit understanding that something profound lies beneath the surface. It feels as though we are two souls entwined, searching for a way to break the shackles of this silent dance. The cafe itself is a microcosm of this hauntingly beautiful town, the flickering candles casting eerie, dancing shadows against the cracked walls adorned with faded murals. The scent of freshly ground coffee wafts through the air, mingling with the melody of whispered conversations. With each visit, I find myself drawn further into this surreal surrounding, like Alice descending into a mesmerizing rabbit hole. Lucius sits at his corner table, almost unnaturally still, like a statue frozen in the midst of creation. His dark eyes dance with flickers of mysterious passion, mirroring the emotions that brush against the canvas of his heart. From the corner of my gaze, I watch as his nimble fingers dance across the canvas, capturing the essence of the city in achingly beautiful surrealistic strokes. I see fragments of myself within his art, the vibrant hues woven together with a delicate balance of despair and hope. As I sip my coffee, I can almost taste the subtle melancholy that clings to the air, intertwining with the fragrant steam like a ghostly embrace. The patrons, like characters plucked from a dream, go about their daily rituals with a certain detachment as if their lives are but an illusion. Each smile or laugh seems to hold a touch of sadness, like the fading echoes of forgotten joy. But amids...

Cluster 82