The air smells faintly of rain, old wood, distant smoke, warm bread, and something metallic that the character cannot quite place but somehow reminds them of childhood. The silence hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken.
Perchance AI text generation has definitely improved.
It wasn’t just an update; it was a transformation.
The prose is no longer merely repetitive—it is hauntingly consistent. Every response now understands that nothing can simply be “X.” It must be “not just X, but Y.” Preferably followed by an em dash, a dramatic pause, and a quiet sense that something fundamental has shifted.
It doesn’t just write text. It crafts experiences.
And somehow, every experience sounds exactly like it was written by an AI explaining how much better it has become.
Outside, somewhere beyond the window, a bird lands on a fence post.
In a certain part of the story, I ask: “and the rich guy kissed her poor girlfriend with love” (that is: regular “charming prince ‘happily ever after’”). What I receive is that the rich guy is actually an eldritch criminal asshole who smells of ozone and has stained fingers, but it’s told in 15 paragraphs of over-dramatic chit-chat and the tokens reach the limits before the guy is able to kiss the girl. But at least a colossal machine is waking up below the city because the love wasn’t an emotion, but a key.