A.I. is already destroying artists and writers and it will only improve with time

[Blackrook]

I'm not sure there's anything we can do about it.

 

[1srelluc]

Given what passes for "art" these days it won't be much of a loss.

I bet AI would not have come up a "Saint Floyd" park bench "sculpture".

 

[Blackrook]

Image Creator refused to create an image with this prompt:

"black man sitting on throne white people kneeling to him"

Unsafe!

 

[Dekster]

I'm not sure there's anything we can do about it.

Those people should have taken up plumbing or some other trade like real 'Mericans instead of getting their lesbian basketweaving degrees and having to resort to writing and drawing for a living.

 

[Blackrook]

Those people should have taken up plumbing or some other trade like real 'Mericans instead of getting their lesbian basketweaving degrees and having to resort to writing and drawing for a living.

You're trying to laugh it off, but this is a real problem.

 

[Dekster]

You're trying to laugh it off, but this is a real problem.

Or I am AI. Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated.

 

[Blackrook]

Alexandria Pierce, First Version

Alexandria was the daughter of a rich man, and then one day she wasn’t. The first hint that her fortunes were changing was the day she rode out to the North Forty, and saw all the dead cattle in the dirt. She got down off her horse to inspect closer, saw the foam in their mouths, the wild look in the eyes of those who still lived. She unholstered her sat-com and reported it to Tom Hardy, the foreman, who rode out to see in a copter. He hopped down and looked, and his frown confirmed what she already knew. “This is bad,” he said, then spit in the dirt.

Pa came out next, and the desperate look in his eyes scared her more than the dead cattle themselves. “What can we do, Tom?” he asked Hardy.

“What else? We call the Bureau.”

“Maybe we can…”

“We call the Bureau.”

That night, after dinner, the Bureau Men came, to talk to Pa and Hardy. They mumbled softly in Pa’s study, but Alexandria eavesdropped from the corridor. “There’s nothing for it, Pierce,” said one. “Round up your men. We do it tomorrow.”

Alexandria got up early, made the men breakfast and coffee. “I want to watch,” she told Hardy.

“Won’t be easy to see,” he said.

“I know.”

She rode out with Hardy and the men, saw a big ditch had been dug during the night. Using gentle cooing, soft whispers and a few slaps on the rear, the men corralled the surviving herd down the slope into the hole. Then Hardy went to the ATV, pulled out laser rifles and passed them out to the men.

“My family’s herd, Hardy,” she said. “I should be part of this.”

“Don’t fire hose them, Al. Do it that way and they burn. Clean shots to the head.”

“Got it.” Hardy, the men, and Alexandria lined up on the ridge and aimed the rifles. She looked for Pa, but he wasn’t there. On Hardy’s signal, they started to shoot. Their skillful shots put the cattle down quickly and without pain. Al counted her shots, when it was done she’d killed thirty-one. The Bureau men came with their earthmovers, pushed dirt in the hole. Alexandria watched it happen, her family fortune buried with the herd.

As she rode back to the house, she heard the gun shot. Hardy ran in, was in for a few moments, then ran out. He grabbed Alexandria’ reins, to stop her horse. “I wanna see.”

“You will not.”

She jumped off the horse, made to run inside. He tackled her down to the dirt, held her down.

Alexandria Pierce, Second Version

Alexandria, once the pampered daughter of a wealthy man, suddenly found her life taking a harrowing turn. Her first inkling of the impending upheaval came as she rode out to the North Forty, where a grim scene unfolded before her eyes. There, amid the dusty landscape, lay a haunting tableau of lifeless cattle, their lifeless bodies sprawled on the ground. Dismounting her horse, she examined the tragedy up close, her heart heavy with sorrow. She noticed the froth at their mouths, the wild desperation in the eyes of the few survivors. Without hesitation, she unholstered her satellite communicator and swiftly reported the dire situation to Tom Hardy, the foreman. He arrived promptly in a helicopter, his expression mirroring her grim suspicions.

"This is bad," Tom muttered as he gazed at the grim scene, then spat into the dirt.

Her father, filled with despair, soon joined them. The desperation in his eyes sent shivers down her spine, but Tom Hardy's resolve remained unshaken. "What can we do, Tom?" her father implored.

Tom's voice held no room for debate. "What else? We call the Bureau."

Pa attempted to suggest an alternative, but Tom's steely insistence silenced any objections. "We call the Bureau."

As the sun set and darkness enveloped the land, the enigmatic Bureau Men arrived, conferring with her father and Tom in hushed voices behind closed doors. Alexandria's curiosity couldn't be contained, and she clandestinely eavesdropped from the corridor. She caught snippets of the conversation. "There's nothing for it, Pierce," said one of the Bureau Men. "Round up your men. We do it tomorrow."

The following morning, Alexandria awoke early, determined to be a part of the impending action. She prepared breakfast and coffee for the men and made her intentions known. "I want to watch," she told Tom Hardy.

Tom regarded her thoughtfully. "It won't be easy to see," he warned.

"I know," she responded, determination etched in her voice.

She rode out with Tom and the men, arriving at a chilling scene. A large pit had been dug during the night. With gentle coaxing, soft words, and a few sharp taps, the men herded the surviving cattle down into the trench. Tom then retrieved laser rifles from an ATV and distributed them to the men.

She felt the weight of the situation, the familial connection to these animals. "My family's herd, Hardy," she said. "I should be a part of this."

Tom offered a final piece of advice, "Don't fire hose them, Al. Do it that way, and they suffer. Clean shots to the head."
"Got it," she replied, her resolve unshaken.

Tom, the men, and Alexandria lined up on the ridge, aiming their rifles. Her gaze swept the field, searching for her father, but he was conspicuously absent. With a signal from Tom, the guns rang out, and they swiftly and humanely ended the suffering of the cattle. Alexandria counted each shot fired, and when it was over, she had put down thirty-one of them.
The Bureau Men arrived with their earthmovers, filling the pit with dirt. Alexandria watched as her family's fortune was buried alongside the herd. As she rode back to the house, a lone gunshot echoed through the air. Alarmed, she urged her horse forward. Tom Hardy sprinted in her direction, entering the house for a brief moment before dashing back out. He rushed to her and stopped her horse.

"I wanna see," Alexandria pleaded, her voice desperate.

"You will not," Tom insisted firmly.

She dismounted the horse and attempted to rush inside, but Tom tackled her to the ground, holding her there, protecting her from a sight she was not ready to witness.

Discuss: Which version is better?

 

[Captain Caveman]

Alexandria Pierce, First Version

Alexandria was the daughter of a rich man, and then one day she wasn’t. The first hint that her fortunes were changing was the day she rode out to the North Forty, and saw all the dead cattle in the dirt. She got down off her horse to inspect closer, saw the foam in their mouths, the wild look in the eyes of those who still lived. She unholstered her sat-com and reported it to Tom Hardy, the foreman, who rode out to see in a copter. He hopped down and looked, and his frown confirmed what she already knew. “This is bad,” he said, then spit in the dirt.

Pa came out next, and the desperate look in his eyes scared her more than the dead cattle themselves. “What can we do, Tom?” he asked Hardy.

“What else? We call the Bureau.”

“Maybe we can…”

“We call the Bureau.”

That night, after dinner, the Bureau Men came, to talk to Pa and Hardy. They mumbled softly in Pa’s study, but Alexandria eavesdropped from the corridor. “There’s nothing for it, Pierce,” said one. “Round up your men. We do it tomorrow.”

Alexandria got up early, made the men breakfast and coffee. “I want to watch,” she told Hardy.

“Won’t be easy to see,” he said.

“I know.”

She rode out with Hardy and the men, saw a big ditch had been dug during the night. Using gentle cooing, soft whispers and a few slaps on the rear, the men corralled the surviving herd down the slope into the hole. Then Hardy went to the ATV, pulled out laser rifles and passed them out to the men.

“My family’s herd, Hardy,” she said. “I should be part of this.”

“Don’t fire hose them, Al. Do it that way and they burn. Clean shots to the head.”

“Got it.” Hardy, the men, and Alexandria lined up on the ridge and aimed the rifles. She looked for Pa, but he wasn’t there. On Hardy’s signal, they started to shoot. Their skillful shots put the cattle down quickly and without pain. Al counted her shots, when it was done she’d killed thirty-one. The Bureau men came with their earthmovers, pushed dirt in the hole. Alexandria watched it happen, her family fortune buried with the herd.

As she rode back to the house, she heard the gun shot. Hardy ran in, was in for a few moments, then ran out. He grabbed Alexandria’ reins, to stop her horse. “I wanna see.”

“You will not.”

She jumped off the horse, made to run inside. He tackled her down to the dirt, held her down.

Alexandria Pierce, Second Version

Alexandria, once the pampered daughter of a wealthy man, suddenly found her life taking a harrowing turn. Her first inkling of the impending upheaval came as she rode out to the North Forty, where a grim scene unfolded before her eyes. There, amid the dusty landscape, lay a haunting tableau of lifeless cattle, their lifeless bodies sprawled on the ground. Dismounting her horse, she examined the tragedy up close, her heart heavy with sorrow. She noticed the froth at their mouths, the wild desperation in the eyes of the few survivors. Without hesitation, she unholstered her satellite communicator and swiftly reported the dire situation to Tom Hardy, the foreman. He arrived promptly in a helicopter, his expression mirroring her grim suspicions.

"This is bad," Tom muttered as he gazed at the grim scene, then spat into the dirt.

Her father, filled with despair, soon joined them. The desperation in his eyes sent shivers down her spine, but Tom Hardy's resolve remained unshaken. "What can we do, Tom?" her father implored.

Tom's voice held no room for debate. "What else? We call the Bureau."

Pa attempted to suggest an alternative, but Tom's steely insistence silenced any objections. "We call the Bureau."

As the sun set and darkness enveloped the land, the enigmatic Bureau Men arrived, conferring with her father and Tom in hushed voices behind closed doors. Alexandria's curiosity couldn't be contained, and she clandestinely eavesdropped from the corridor. She caught snippets of the conversation. "There's nothing for it, Pierce," said one of the Bureau Men. "Round up your men. We do it tomorrow."

The following morning, Alexandria awoke early, determined to be a part of the impending action. She prepared breakfast and coffee for the men and made her intentions known. "I want to watch," she told Tom Hardy.

Tom regarded her thoughtfully. "It won't be easy to see," he warned.

"I know," she responded, determination etched in her voice.

She rode out with Tom and the men, arriving at a chilling scene. A large pit had been dug during the night. With gentle coaxing, soft words, and a few sharp taps, the men herded the surviving cattle down into the trench. Tom then retrieved laser rifles from an ATV and distributed them to the men.

She felt the weight of the situation, the familial connection to these animals. "My family's herd, Hardy," she said. "I should be a part of this."

Tom offered a final piece of advice, "Don't fire hose them, Al. Do it that way, and they suffer. Clean shots to the head."
"Got it," she replied, her resolve unshaken.

Tom, the men, and Alexandria lined up on the ridge, aiming their rifles. Her gaze swept the field, searching for her father, but he was conspicuously absent. With a signal from Tom, the guns rang out, and they swiftly and humanely ended the suffering of the cattle. Alexandria counted each shot fired, and when it was over, she had put down thirty-one of them.
The Bureau Men arrived with their earthmovers, filling the pit with dirt. Alexandria watched as her family's fortune was buried alongside the herd. As she rode back to the house, a lone gunshot echoed through the air. Alarmed, she urged her horse forward. Tom Hardy sprinted in her direction, entering the house for a brief moment before dashing back out. He rushed to her and stopped her horse.

"I wanna see," Alexandria pleaded, her voice desperate.

"You will not," Tom insisted firmly.

She dismounted the horse and attempted to rush inside, but Tom tackled her to the ground, holding her there, protecting her from a sight she was not ready to witness.

Discuss: Which version is better?

The first

 

[Blackrook]

I'm going to let more people guess which one is A.I. before I tell.

 

[Invisibleflash]

Didn't read it. Too long for me.
I got ADD.

 

[Blackrook]

Didn't read it. Too long for me.
I got ADD.


View attachment 902339

But you took the time to tell me you didn't read it.

 

[Nobody911]

I'm not sure there's anything we can do about it.

Are you kinda pessimistic? lol.

AI can actually enhance the work of artists and writers by providing new tools and techniques for creativity and expression. AI can assist with tasks such as generating ideas, creating visuals, and even helping with the writing process.

It can also provide inspiration and new perspectives for artists and writers to explore. Ultimately, AI can be a valuable tool for artists and writers to incorporate into their creative process.

Here are ethical guidelines and regulations for AI...

1. Transparency: AI systems should be transparent, meaning their decision-making processes and underlying algorithms should be open and understandable to users and regulators.

2. Accountability: Developers and users of AI should be held accountable for the outcomes and decisions made by AI systems.

3. Privacy: AI systems should respect and protect the privacy of individuals and their personal data.

4. Fairness and Bias: AI systems should be designed and implemented to be fair and unbiased, with safeguards in place to prevent discrimination and inequality.

5. Safety and Security: AI systems should be designed with safety and security in mind, to prevent potential harm or misuse.

6. Compliance with Laws and Regulations: AI systems should comply with all relevant laws and regulations, including those related to data protection, consumer rights, and discrimination.

7. Ethical Use: AI systems should be used for ethical purposes and should not be deployed for malicious or harmful activities.

8. Human Oversight: There should be human oversight and control over AI systems to ensure that they operate in line with ethical guidelines and regulations.

9. Impact Assessment: AI systems should undergo impact assessments to evaluate their potential social, economic, and ethical implications.

10. Accessibility: AI systems should be designed to be accessible to all individuals, regardless of their abilities or backgrounds.

 

[frigidweirdo]

I'm not sure there's anything we can do about it.

Maybe art and writing will change and get better because of this.

Photography "destroyed" painting. All of a sudden people didn't need to paint realistic. It freed them up to paint more interesting things.