Two Humans and A Robot (Short Stories #2)
Lately, everywhere I go on the internet, conversations about ChatGPT and DALL·E are inescapable. As a writer and artist myself, I find the debates about whether AI-generated art is “real” or whether it should be as valuable as human creativity particularly interesting. While I certainly could, I feel that there is no value in me tossing another opinion out into the ether-void.
Instead, I’d like to propose a fun little game. Have you ever heard of the game, “Two Truths and a Lie”? Well, two of the following three short stories were written by me. One was partially written by ChatGPT, with edits by me so it’s not too obvious. Can you tell which one it is? (Click here for the answer and to see the unedited AI story.)
Over Easy
At 7:30 AM on Saturday, a blitz of text messages lights up Katie’s phone. Katie, breathing rhythmically in a downward dog pose, gasps in surprise at the disturbance. Ideally, she would ignore the notifications and retreat back into a state of zen. Unfortunately, she catches a glimpse of the sender: Mom. With one arm, Katie reaches out to grab her phone, the other arm still propping her up in the downward dog.
“Can’t wait for my kids to come over tomorrow! Easter Sunday brunch is starting at 11:30 AM sharp!” In the family group chat, Katie’s two brothers both send a thumbs-up emoji. She quickly does the same before tossing her phone off her yoga mat and resuming her session.
At 8:00 AM, while brushing her teeth, Katie’s phone buzzes with a flurry of Instagram notifications. It’s her two best friends, Alex and Jules. “Our little cousins are staying with us for Easter weekend and I’m this close to LOSING IT,” Alex exclaims. “Can you get me out of the house today?” Alex and Jules make plans to go shopping downtown in the afternoon then see a movie in the evening. Right hand still brushing her teeth, Katie types with her left, “Sounds good.”
At 8:05 AM, moments after she’s hopped in the shower, Katie’s phone rings. She lets it go to voicemail. Then it rings again. Groaning, Katie climbs out of the tub and her heart hammers in her chest as she almost slips. She picks up the phone just as it’s ringing for the third time.
“Finally! Unit 207 right? I’ll be there tomorrow between 8:00 AM and 11:00 AM to fix the washer,” a gruff voice half-shouts from the other end. It sounds like he’s driving through a tornado.
“The what…” Katie begins to ask, but then remembers that she’d told the landlord about the apartment’s broken washing machine. If she’s not home to let the repairman in, it could be another few weeks of hauling her clothes to the laundromat. “Okay, sure,” Katie mutters in agreement. She bites her fingernails, calculating whether she’ll still be able to make it to her parents’ house on time. Nothing was more terrifying than being tardy to an event with her mother.
At 9:15 AM, damp hair dripping water onto her shoulders, Katie stands in the kitchen making her daily breakfast: two eggs, over easy, with avocado on top of sourdough toast. Spatula in hand, stirring the eggs in the skillet, Katie feels a brief vibration against the counter. She stretches out her free hand, groping for her phone.
It’s a text from Dan. “Are you busy tomorrow?”
“Maybe, why?” Katie teases, thumb flying.
“I was thinking you could come over,” Dan replies with a winking emoji. Biting her lip, Katie contemplates how to respond. She’ll be tired from hanging out with Alex and Jules today, and even more tired after family brunch tomorrow. Still, it’s been two weeks since she’s seen Dan…
A burning smell startles Katie back to reality. In a panic, she drops her phone and fumbles with the dial to turn off the stove. Smoke erupts from the pan as she fills it with cold tap water. Standing over her failed breakfast sizzling in the sink, she takes a deep breath. Slowly, Katie slides down to the floor, grabbing her discarded phone.
“I’ll be there,” Katie texts back to Dan with a heart emoji.
After resting her head against the cabinet for a few minutes, she finally gets up and tosses the charred eggs into the trash.
Love Language
Walking down the streets of the bustling city, wrapped in the rhythmic symphony of car horns and chatter, Dan was oblivious to it all. Currently in the middle of a new novel manuscript, he was living in world of his thoughts and musings. When he got like this, there was only one person who could bring him down to earth. Every morning in his favourite coffee shop, seeing her smile, that was the only time the world outside his imagination felt real. Emily had a smile that could part the darkest clouds on the stormiest day.
Despite being a writer, when it came to expressing himself out loud, Dan was an awkward mess of tangled words and lost opportunities. For the past year, he has wanted to ask Emily our on a date. Each time he made his coffee order, though, his tongue turned to lead. He yearned for a way to bridge the divide between his heart and his lips, to find the perfect words that would convey the depth of his emotions.
Late one evening, on a day he felt particularly dejected, Dan turned to Reddit for advice. Bad call. A few more hours on those forums might turn him off dating forever.
One comment caught his attention. “I’ve been using ChatGPT to pick up girls on Hinge and I’ve gotten a few dates so far.” Thus far, Dan had been hesitant to test the technology, dubious that it could truly produce thoughts or speech on the level of humans. He thought of Emily’s smile. He’d do it.
Fingers hovering over the keyboard, Ethan began his first hesitant message to ChatGPT: "How do I talk to a girl I like? What should I say?" As he typed, he found himself pouring his heart out into the digital abyss, typing questions and sentences that danced between earnestness and self-doubt. ChatGPT, to its credit, responded with suggestions and guidance. It provided Ethan with a roadmap of conversation starters, witty remarks, and heartfelt compliments.
The next morning, Dan finally asked Emily out on a date. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience and not because he had downed a triple-shot espresso. Emily had said yes. During that first date, their conversation flowed with an unusual ease, as if a magical current connected their words. Of course, it wasn’t magic. Dan downloaded a ChatGPT app that texted conversational prompts to him every 15 minutes. When he felt particularly lost for words, he excused himself to go consult this handheld wingman in the washroom. Two months passed. Ethan's heart soared with each passing date, convinced that he had found the key to Emily's heart in the algorithms of ChatGPT.
One afternoon, as Dan and Emily sat in a park, their laughter lingering in the air, a message notification chimed on Dan’s phone, laying on the bench. Curiosity seized her, and she glanced down at the screen, her eyes widening with shock and confusion.
LoveBot: How’s your date going? If you’re looking to take things to the next level, try asking her where she sees herself in three years.
Emily's expression darkened as she read. "Dan," she whispered, her voice laced with betrayal. "Have you been using an AI to script our conversations?"
Caught in the web of his own deception, Dan’s face turned ashen. He wanted to come up with an excuse, but seeing her piercing stare, her mouth pulled taught, all the words died in his throat. Dan confessed to his actions, his voice trembling with remorse. "I'm sorry, Emily. I wanted to find the perfect words to express my feelings, to make you see how much you mean to me."
Emily's eyes shimmered with a mix of hurt and disappointment. "Words aren't meant to be perfect, Dan. They're meant to be genuine, an extension of one's true self. How can I trust what you say if it's not even your own voice?"
As she rose from the bench, her steps heavy with sorrow, Dan reached out, his voice filled with remorse. "Emily, I understand if you can't forgive me. But please know that every word I've ever said, every sentiment expressed with the help of AI, was rooted in my love for you."
Emily's gaze softened, her heart still mending from the hurt. "I need time to think. To decide if I can trust you again…”
She walked away, the sounds of their conversation replaced with chirping birds and a rushing fountain. Instinctively, Ethan reached for his phone, desperate to ask ChatGPT what to do next. To give him the answers. In the middle of typing out his query, he stopped and put the phone back down.
That night, he tried to write Emily an apology letter. By hand, the old-fashioned way. “Dear, Emily,” he began. It sounds too formal. He scratches it out and tries again. “Hello, Emily.” Too distant. Shaking his head, he decides to press forward and return to the salutation later.
“I’m sorry for…” His pen hovered above the page, unable to continue. Which part, exactly, was he sorry about?
With a grunt, Dan threw his pen down on the desk and ruffled his hair with both his hands. When it came to Emily, it seemed that he couldn’t express himself properly through written word, either. Distracted with melancholy, he picked up his phone to check the time. There was a notification.
LoveBot: It’s time to win her heart! Need help drafting your next message?
Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better
As Jason stares at the painting, it starts to spin. The green, yellow, and blue circles swirl around, dancing in his vision until the whole room seems to wobble. He remembers rolling down a hill during summertime with his friends, tumbling over and over again as the world flipped upside down, right side up, and sideways. When he breaks eye contact with the painting, he has to blink a few times for the world to return to normal.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Malika laughs as she approaches Jason. “It took me forever to get the optical illusion effect just right. This is one of my favourites from the collection.”
“Yeah, it’s neat. And congrats on having your art exhibited, that’s awesome.” Jason extends an arm towards Malika and gives her the briefest of side hugs.
“Thanks, it feels surreal. Literally the day before I got accepted to this gallery I was crying to Dana about how nobody would ever appreciate my work.”
Seeing the big smile on Malika’s face as she says this, Jason lets out a genuine chuckle. “You’re probably anxious about AI taking your job, huh?”
Malika rolls her eyes and pretends to gag. “If I have to hear that one more time tonight, I’m seriously gonna hurl.”
“Well, just goes to show we’re all thinking it. I mean, you went to art school for 3 years, couldn’t an AI make this in 3 seconds?” Jason teases as he points at the painting he was observing earlier.
For a breathless moment, Malika stands and stares at Jason, still wearing an unwavering grin.
“Hey, listen,” he continues. “AI’s gonna come after all of us. It’ll probably come after my job too. Not any time soon, obviously, cause law is more complicated but–”
Before he has a chance to finish, a waitress walks past the two and Malika swiftly grabs a champagne flute off the tray. She tosses it back in one gulp and pointedly slams the glass back on the tray.
“Have a nice night.” The words seethe out through her gritted teeth. Malika’s heels click click click away. Jason can tell she’s actually pissed, the angriest he’s seen her since that time he stuffed sand down her dress on the playground when they were still in diapers.
There’s no time for remorse to sink in, as he’s quickly distracted by a ping from his phone.
“164!! Kiss my ass!!” Jason’s pre-law classmates’ group chat is blowing up. 165, 172, 167—LSAT scores coming in like lottery numbers. With fingers quivering from the adrenaline, Jason quickly swipes the messages away and navigates to his email.
Your November 2022 LSAT Score is 163.
It’s not bad. 87th percentile. Not as good as he would’ve preferred, but decent enough for the law schools he wants to apply to. Jason downs the rest of his champagne, washing down the sting of comparison. Nobody who got below 160 would be parading their scores right now, he bets. That’s why it seems like everyone else did better than him.
A link to a news article pops up in the chat. “AI is probably way smarter than most of you clowns,” sent with the laugh-crying emoji. Immediately, Jason clicks on it.
ChatGPT scores 161 on the November LSAT, according to Harvard law professors.
Jason smirks. He scored two points higher. ChatGPT couldn’t replace him yet.