Note to readers: This article contains content created by LLM ChatGPT. The story portion is the product of my prompt and ChatGPT’s response. The rest of the article is my unadulterated creation, thunk up out of my own brain. Please, contact me with questions related to this article or the series of articles.

It’s week four of the foray into the guts of ChatGPT (and, by association, its chatbot friends). Analysis of its fictional narrative becomes even more critical. By that I mean, I become more critical of AI chatbots.

Comprehending the Large Language Model Artificial Intelligence… and its minions.

It’s easy to say, “I’m going to kick out a quick short story using ChatGPT!” Go ahead. Try it. You have to be a lover of hackney and horse manure to pull off that method. Let me tell you true, I’ve been trying to do that very thing for the past week.

I started working on a program designed to train a person to build a short story using AI chat bots. It begins with generating ideas right on through to writing the prose. And unless you want purified junk, that process is all work.

Consider receiving an order from Amazon of 500 boxes of random items, all of which you might want. (Except for that one box of leotards sized for a 17-year-old Olympic hopeful.) Now you can sort through the whole lot of it until you find the five things you can actually use. Then, just toss the remainder back onto your porch and hope it don’t take ‘em too long to pack ‘em back in the truck and take ‘em away. They need to go back on the shelf for when you need them again.

Okay, now you have an excellent selection of what you need. Time to get busy reshaping the lot of it so it fits your immediate purpose. That means a lot of hacking and sawing, hammering and gluing, until the starter kit is presentable.

I guess you heard me say “starter kit” right there at the end. It was no mistake. The next step in this growth process is called tacking bits and pieces of a higher order onto the framework you just built out of repurposed products from the dry goods store.

Why would you do that? Because a framework serves as a base for attaching other objects. Stuff you might want people to appreciate. It has to mean something particular. The meaning must transcend its parts. Otherwise, it’s just a copy.

ChatGPT has trouble with transcendence. I mean, it can make a copy just fine. If you want originality, you must knead and shape it, tease and cajole it, downright manipulate the creative crap out of it. That’s the way chatbots roll. And it’s a lot of work.

The prompt continues.

ChatGPT Presents “Shadows in the Smoke”

Scene Four

Harland’s instincts told him that the woman in the photograph wasn’t just a mere accomplice or a fling. She was something much more dangerous. His first stop was to see his old informant, Leo, a man with an ear to the ground in every shady corner of the city. If anyone knew about a woman lurking in the shadows of Cartwright’s life, it would be Leo.

The bar where Leo usually hung out was dimly lit, the kind of place where people kept their heads down and their conversations low. Harland found Leo in a corner booth, nursing a glass of whiskey. Leo was a wiry man with a sharp nose and eyes that never stopped moving. He saw Harland coming long before he reached the table.

“John Harland,” Leo greeted, his voice gravelly. “What brings you to my humble establishment?”

“I need information,” Harland said, sliding into the booth across from Leo. “On a woman who’s been seen with Thomas Cartwright. She’s dangerous—real dangerous.”

Leo raised an eyebrow, leaning back as he considered Harland’s words. “You don’t say? Cartwright’s a slippery one, but the women he gets involved with—they’re usually more trouble than he can handle.”

“This one’s different,” Harland insisted. “She’s been in and out of his life for years, always in the shadows. I need to know who she is and what she’s up to.”

Leo took a long sip of his drink, eyes narrowing as he thought. “I might know something. There’s been talk—quiet, but persistent—about a woman who’s been making waves in certain circles. Dangerous circles. They call her ‘The Widow.’ She’s got a reputation for getting close to powerful men, then pulling the rug out from under them when they least expect it. Some say she’s a black widow, others say she’s something worse.”

Harland’s jaw tightened. “Worse how?”

Leo shrugged, a shadow passing over his face. “Depends on who you ask. Some say she’s tied to the underworld—connections that go deep, all the way to the top. Others say she’s got dirt on half the city’s elite, and she’s not afraid to use it. But the thing is, nobody really knows her endgame. Some men who’ve crossed her have ended up dead, others ruined. And there are whispers—just whispers—that she has a way of getting to the ones closest to those men. Making them doubt, making them… turn.”

Harland felt a chill settle in his gut. “You’re saying she goes after their families?”

Leo nodded slowly. “Their wives, their children, their friends. She finds the cracks and widens them until everything falls apart. And once she’s done, she disappears, leaving nothing but chaos in her wake.”

Harland’s thoughts raced. If this woman—The Widow—had set her sights on Cartwright, it was bad news. But if she decided to turn her attention toward him… His marriage, his life with Eleanor, everything he held dear could be in jeopardy.

“Does she have a real name?” Harland asked, his voice low.

Leo shook his head. “Not that I’ve ever heard. She’s a ghost, Harland. Shows up, wreaks havoc, and then she’s gone. But if she’s in Cartwright’s life, you’re in deep water, my friend.”

Harland sat back, letting the information sink in. He knew he was in trouble the moment he took the case, but this was worse than he’d imagined. The Widow was no ordinary threat—she was a force of destruction, and she’d target anyone who got in her way.

“Thanks, Leo,” Harland said, slipping him a few bills. “You’ve been a big help.”

“Take care of yourself, Harland,” Leo replied, his tone unusually somber. “And watch your back.”

Harland left the bar with a heavy heart, his mind swirling with thoughts of Eleanor. She was the one person in the world he couldn’t afford to lose, the one thing that kept him grounded in the darkness of his work. But now, he had to face the possibility that taking this case might have put her in danger.

Back in his office, Harland pulled out the photograph again, staring at the grainy image of the woman by Cartwright’s side. Was this The Widow? If so, how long had she been in Cartwright’s life? And more importantly, what did she want?

As the hours ticked by, Harland couldn’t shake the feeling that he was running out of time. He needed to find this woman, confront her, and put an end to whatever game she was playing before it reached Eleanor.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how insidious The Widow’s methods were. She didn’t just attack her targets directly—she sowed doubt and discord, turning people against each other until their relationships crumbled. If she decided to come after Harland, she wouldn’t do it with guns or knives. She’d do it with whispers and secrets, with the kind of poison that seeps into a marriage and destroys it from the inside out.

Harland knew he had to act fast, but he also knew that he couldn’t let his guard down. Every move he made from this point on had to be calculated, careful. One wrong step, and The Widow could use his own fears and insecurities against him.

And as he sat alone in his dark office, Harland couldn’t help but wonder: had she already started?

Would you like to continue from here, or would you like to focus on how Harland might protect his marriage while unraveling the mystery of The Widow?

What did we learn about ChatGPT’s ability to tell a strong tale?

Did ChatGPT perform well this week, unaided by humans? Mediocre. Consider some of these brilliant lines.

Harland sits down with his friend in the know and gets right to the point with, “she’s dangerous—real dangerous.” I mean, get to the point already. Don’t waste time making nice.

I did like the horrifying logic of this terrible woman, The Widow, going after family—“Making them doubt, making them… turn.” Good villain concept. ChatGPT deserves credit for that idea.

The ideas are fantastic, but occasionally the execution can be a bit heavy-handed, overshadowing their potential impact. And the story’s movement, or pacing, is a little ragged overall.

For instance, Harland stumbles upon a mysterious client who reveals rumors about a dangerously malevolent woman. He quickly concludes that “she was a force of destruction, and she’d target anyone who got in her way.”

Where did he collect clear evidence for this idea? The Widow’s existence relies on a single photograph and the accounts of a questionable woman and a sketchy barfly. And talking ‘bout the know-it-all, Leo, I would argue that Leo has been less than the “big help” Harland describes. Leo said some things. We don’t know if they’re true. We don’t know if Leo’s a reliable source. Simply stating that someone is a big help, without proving it, well, that’s like claiming your political campaign is beneficial to the people. Trust me.

ChatGPT has set on edge with worries of The Widow’s nefarious deeds by telling us over and over that she is dangerous, she is insidious, and she poisons families. Harland has accepted this message as gospel, out of a nebulous batch of clues. His heart races and his palms sweat at the very idea of her, finally compelling him to exercise caution. 

Don’t you wonder if the Widow hasn’t already begun to weave her web of artifice with Harland’s beloved Eleanor? I do.

We’ll talk about it more next time, on the upcoming episode of “Are you smarter than an AI chatbot?”