This experiment began with a simple question: what changes when the centre of a story is shifted away from the people in it?
Rather than asking AI to invent a character with feelings, motivations, or a backstory, I asked it to write from the perspective of a door. Not a symbolic door. Not a magical one. Just a door that opens, closes, and stays where it is. The constraint was not technical. It was perceptual. The door can only know what passes directly in front of it.
That immediately removes some of the usual narrative shortcuts. The door cannot explain why someone hesitates. It cannot interpret an argument, a departure, or a return. It can only register patterns. Who arrives at the same time each morning. Who lingers. Who does not come back. Meaning has to emerge indirectly, through repetition and absence, rather than through insight or emotion.
Continue reading “What Happens When the Door Tells the Story”
The AI Grandad 