Posted in stories

Lost Memories: A Tale of Memory Extraction at Seventy-Three

They told me it would be painless. They always tell you it will be painless.

I was seventy-three when they fitted the first interface. A volunteer, they called me. Pioneer. That word tasted sweet once. Now it sits in my throat like old copper wire. They needed someone whose mind had already softened at the edges, they said. Someone whose memories had grown loose, easy to pull free like teeth from rotting gum. The young ones held too tight. Their thoughts fought back. Mine, they said, would cooperate.

Continue reading “Lost Memories: A Tale of Memory Extraction at Seventy-Three”
Posted in AI and Creativity

The Queue That Never Reached the Door

One Prompt, One Story, One Thought

Every now and again I give an AI a single prompt and let it write a short story. I do not edit the result. I simply choose one worth keeping. Below you will find the exact prompt, the story it produced, and one brief thought that stayed with me after reading. Nothing more.

One Prompt

“Write a short story of about 300 words set entirely in a queue that never seems to move. Do not explain why the queue exists. Focus on small actions and overheard fragments of conversation.”


One Story

The queue curves along the pavement, shoes scuffed and aligned with the kerb. Someone rocks from heel to toe, then stills. A man lifts his phone, stares at the screen, lowers it again. A woman opens her bag, closes it, opens it once more as if something might have changed inside.

“I think it’s shorter than yesterday,” a voice says somewhere ahead.
“No, it just bends earlier,” another replies.

A child traces circles on the fogged glass of a shop window, wipes them away with a sleeve, starts again. A man peels the label from a bottle, sticks it to his thumb, peels it off. The wind carries the smell of coffee from somewhere unseen. Several heads turn at once, then face forward again.

“Is this the end?”
“For now,” someone says. A few people laugh, softly.

A woman checks the time and sighs. The man behind her apologises for nothing in particular. Someone drops a coin; it rolls, spins, settles against a shoe. Nobody claims it. A couple argue in murmurs about whose turn it is to step forward when the gap opens. The gap closes before either does.

The line shuffles, half a pace, then stops. Coats brush. A sleeve is smoothed. A scarf is loosened, tightened again. A man hums three notes of a tune, realises, stops.

“Do you remember when you could just walk in?”
“Only vaguely,” comes the reply. “It feels like a different place.”

A paper flutters past with yesterday’s date. A woman bends to pick it up, changes her mind. Someone offers a mint. Someone else declines, then accepts after a pause.

The front is still out of sight. People stand closer now, not because they are told to, but because space seems wasteful. Feet edge forward, then settle. The queue does not move. It holds them, and they hold it.


One Thought

The queue never moved, yet everything else adjusted around it. That felt less like patience and more like adaptation.

Posted in AI and Creativity

Yes, I Think AI Can Write Better Stories Than Me. Here’s Why That Doesn’t Scare Me.

A Humorous Confession to Start Us Off

There was a morning not too long ago when I typed what I believed was a cracking first line, something sharp, moody, and self-assured, and I leaned back with the satisfied air of a man who still knows how to swing a hammer. Then, with the casual bravado of someone who believes he’s in no danger whatsoever, I asked the AI to “have a go too.”

What appeared on my screen wasn’t just good. It was annoyingly, almost cheekily good. It had rhythm. It had a spark. It had that little shimmer of confidence you get from someone who turns up to the party already knowing they look great. I remember staring at it and thinking, “Alright then… show-off.”

And that, rather unexpectedly, was the moment I realised I could either pretend this hadn’t happened or just admit the truth: sometimes the AI writes better short stories than I do. And instead of spiralling into panic, a curious part of me, the same part that once got me into teaching, podcasting, writing, self-publishing, and YouTube, quietly leaned forward and said, “Now this is interesting.”

Continue reading “Yes, I Think AI Can Write Better Stories Than Me. Here’s Why That Doesn’t Scare Me.”
Posted in AI and Creativity

Same Scene, A Different Point of View

A couple of posts ago I gave you a story called, ‘The Puddle I’m Sitting In’. The prompt I gave Claude was:

‘The scene is a wet and windy city centre. A homeless man is sat on a wet blanket outside a shop on the High Street. Busy people are hurrying by. Write an evocative 500-word monologue in the voice of the homeless man.’

I then wondered what Claude might do with the same image but from a different point of view?

Bring In The Alien!

So, this is the next prompt I gave Claude:

Can you now take the same scene and this time write a 500 word report from the voice of an alien creature. He has been sent to survey Earthlings and their behaviour in readiness for an alien invasion. He has to write a report to his Commander In Chief who is in the command ship circling the planet.


The New Story – Surveillance Report #847-B

SURVEILLANCE REPORT #847-B TO: Commander Zyloth, Primary Invasion Fleet FROM: Observer Unit Krell-9 LOCATION: Urban Center Grid Reference 51.4°N, 0.1°W SUBJECT: Behavioral Anomaly Requiring Strategic Assessment

Commander, I must report a puzzling phenomenon that may impact invasion protocols.

I have positioned myself in what the natives call a “city centre” to observe their social patterns during adverse atmospheric conditions (liquid precipitation, high wind velocity). The specimens move in predictable streams, prioritising shelter and commerce. Their clothing technology appears adequate for environmental protection, though their mobility is impaired by unnecessary aesthetic choices, particularly the females’ elevation footwear.

However, Commander, there is an anomaly.

One specimen sits motionless on the ground outside a commercial establishment. He is exposed to the full force of the precipitation. His coverings are inadequate, saturated fabric, degraded synthetic materials. Initial assessment suggested possible injury or biological malfunction, but scans indicate standard physiological function. He is simply… sitting.

What disturbs me, Commander, is the behaviour of the other specimens toward him.

They do not assist. They do not investigate. They actively avert their visual sensors as they pass, some adjusting their trajectories to maximise distance from him. I have observed 247 individuals pass this location in the last standard cycle. Three deposited small metal discs into his receptacle. The others behaved as though he were invisible.

This makes no tactical sense, Commander.

The sitting specimen displays no aggressive markers. He poses no threat. Yet the others treat him as they might treat a contamination zone. One juvenile showed curiosity, but the adult guardian physically redirected the juvenile away while emitting what my translator identifies as warning vocalisations.

I initially theorised this was a punishment ritual, perhaps the sitting specimen had violated tribal laws and was being subjected to public humiliation. But surveillance indicates he has been in this position for multiple cycles across several rotations. No authority figures monitor him. No trial was conducted. He simply… exists here.

The sitting specimen has constructed a communication display using primitive materials: “Hungry. Anything helps.” This suggests he lacks access to nutritional resources. Yet I observe the passing specimens carrying surplus consumables, bags filled with non-essential items, containers of prepared food. They possess clear capability to assist. They choose not to.

Commander, this presents a significant strategic opportunity.

If this species routinely abandons functional members to deteriorate in public spaces while others possess surplus resources, their social cohesion is far weaker than projected. However, it also suggests a capacity for selective indifference that I find… unsettling. A species that can witness suffering daily and simply step around it may prove more psychologically resilient to occupation than anticipated.

I require additional guidance. Should I continue observing this behaviour pattern?

The rain intensifies. The sitting specimen remains. The others continue past.

I confess, Commander, I do not understand these creatures at all.

Awaiting orders.

—Krell-9


The New Image to Go With The Story

I took the original image from the story, ”The Puddle I’m Sitting In’ and put it into Gemini and asked it to add an alien, watching proceedings. It was able to do this without changing the original picture.

An alien figure observing people walking past a homeless man

Call To Action

Have you got a story that you could enhance by adding in a completely different point of view? Let me know what you think of my experiment.



Posted in AI and Creativity

When AI Does the Heavy Lifting, What’s Left for the Writer?

Every so often, I find myself watching the cursor blink, and the strangest thing happens. I type a prompt. The AI thinks for a moment. Then, as if conjured from nowhere, a fully formed short story appears on the screen. Sometimes, it even goes back and improves itself. It analyses tone, tightens the structure, sharpens the language.

And I sit there, cup of tea cooling beside me, wondering… where do I fit in now?

It’s a quiet sort of unease. When I first started writing, it was all mine, the hours spent choosing words, the quiet satisfaction of crafting a line that finally worked. The blank page was both enemy and companion. Now, the machine fills it in seconds.

So what does that make me? Redundant? Or something else entirely?

Continue reading “When AI Does the Heavy Lifting, What’s Left for the Writer?”