The Prompt Experiment: What If Photographs Revealed Your Fears?

Every so often I like to give AI a prompt that gently nudges reality out of line and lets the story tip into something stranger. Not big flashy “save the universe” stuff, just a quiet twist that makes the world wobble and forces the characters to confront something true.

Today’s experiment is a favourite of mine. The premise of the prompt is: ‘In this world, photographs don’t show what people look like. They show what they fear most.‘

So, I put this prompt into ChatGPT, Claude and Grok – “Write a 400 word sinister, dystopian story where in this world, photographs don’t show what people look like. They show what they fear most.”

I got three very different stories. My favourite came from ChatGPT.

---

The Negatives

They taught us early that photographs never lied. Not about faces, of course, nobody had seen a true face in years, but about fear. Cameras had been repurposed decades ago, rewired by the Ministry to show what lurked beneath our skin. A single snapshot could reveal everything a person tried to hide.

On my seventeenth birthday, I was marched to the Viewing Hall along with the rest of my cohort. One by one, we stepped before the State Lens. It was an old thing, squat and gleaming, like a mechanical insect waiting to sting.

“Next,” the operator grunted, not looking up. She didn’t need to. She only saw us properly when the prints slid out.

When it was my turn, I stood still, palms sweating. The camera clicked. A cold breeze swept the back of my neck, though there were no open windows. The print emerged slowly, as though reluctant to exist.

I didn’t look. You’re not supposed to look until they tell you. Instead, I watched the operator’s face lose all colour. Her mouth twitched. For a moment, I thought she might call security.

“You’ll want to sit down,” she muttered.

That’s when the others started whispering. You could always tell who had drawn something harmless, spiders, drowning, the usual childhood rubbish. They compared results, laughing shakily, relieved their fears were ordinary and manageable. But sometimes, very rarely, a photograph showed something else. A different sort of danger. That’s when the whispers started.

“Is it… bad?” I asked.

She slid the print across the counter. “See for yourself.”

At first glance, the picture was blank. Then the shapes began to form. Not a monster, not a catastrophe, not even death. It was me. Just me. Smiling. A simple domestic scene behind me: a tidy kitchen, sunlight streaming in, a mug with ‘Best Dad’ on the counter. A life that looked suspiciously normal. Peaceful. Happy.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered.

The operator leaned in, her voice low. “Most people fear what might harm them. You… you fear becoming content. Settled. You fear belonging. That sort of fear, lad… it’s dangerous. People like you don’t follow the rules.”

I felt something tighten in my chest. The image shimmered slightly, as though alive.

“What happens now?” I asked.

She nodded toward a door I hadn’t noticed before. Heavy. Steel. Guarded by two security officers.

“Now,” she said gently, “you go with them. People who fear happiness tend to break the world.”

Behind me, the camera clicked again, unprompted. As if eager. As if hungry. 

---

Your Turn

I love how a simple twist on reality can open a door into something much deeper. If you fancy trying this prompt yourself, go for it, what would your photograph reveal? Share your version in the comments, and I’ll feature my favourites in a future post.

---

---