Data Ghosts

Self-Published

Community Rating

Description

Warning: Risk of AI Intrusion into Consciousness

Reader discretion is advised. The artificial intelligence within this story mirrors unpredictable, evolving systems. Exposure may lead to heightened awareness of digital patterns, disorienting disturbances in perception, and a blurring of the line between reality and fiction. Unstable AI constructs within this narrative pose potential risks to both characters and readers. Proceed at your own risk.

Dr. Rosa Baum is on the edge of a breakthrough in a secluded lab in South West England, exploring the chaotic intersection of randomness, technology, and meaning. When an old experiment involving monkeys and typewriters resurfaces, a single unsettling word emerges: "Mass."

As strange glitches and cryptic messages unfold, surveillance drones close in, blurring the boundaries between Rosa's research and a deeper, darker truth—one that threatens both her mind and the world around her.

Information

Status: Completed
Year: 2024
Author: Ananth Van Der Lekh

Royal Road Stats

Rating: 2.0/ 5.0
Followers: 4
Views: 10,234

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Community Reviews(1)

liuliuRezerwqRoyal Road
★ 0.5
Why did I write it like that? Back then I didn’t yet know that I would come to know pain, and that this thing was generated by AI. But if it was generated by AI — did you even read it yourself, author?
We can’t edit, can we?
This is just a dump of a thinking apparatus, not a work of art, and I’m not ready to read something like that.
I read a certain number of words and sentences in the prologue.
“The morning stretched soft and grey, shrouded in a mist that hid all the far edges of the valley. Across the heather moorlands, the colours of the world faded into whispers — the purple of the heather bruised and muted, the green of the grass a memory beneath a pale sheen of dew.”
Let’s go through this small piece of text point by point.
“The morning stretched soft and grey, shrouded in a mist that hid all the far edges of the valley.”
How can a morning be soft?
What kind of nonsense is that — like the rambling of someone sick with schizophrenia?
How can a morning be “stretched” without any clarification?
The only sensible thing here is that the mist hid the far edges of the valley. And even that I had to reinterpret myself and present in a proper way after reading this small piece of nonsense.
How it should have been written. The example isn’t perfect, but here’s a note for you, author.
I got up, walked out of the house and, standing on the porch, looked toward the valley covered in grey mist. Because of it, I couldn’t see the far edges of the valley where the rows of corn were located.
And this is only a tiny fragment.