An Example of ChatGPT Fiction
A short scene written (mostly) by ChatGPT
The following is a hook for a novel written mostly using ChatGPT over a period of about two hours. I supplied some of the seed ideas and did some editing along the way, as well as directing some much-needed rewrites.
If you’d like a quick read about how this story was generated, click here.
If you’d like a longer read with a more detailed demonstration, click here.
Enjoy!
Crypto Crash
Taipei city, Taiwan — Tomorrow
My table is on the fourth floor of a Starbucks, beside a large bay window. In the intersection below, the scooters honk loudly and recklessly. Pedestrians struggle to make their way across the crowded and chaotic intersection beside the metro station. I scroll through my YouTube channel on my phone.
My voice spills out from the speakers, chipper and confident as I introduce myself as “your favorite crypto kid.” I can’t help but roll my eyes at my past self. “Your favorite crypto kid? Please.”
Just as I’m about to turn off the video, my phone rings. “Hey.”
“Hey you.” It’s Sarah. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, just watching myself flog a sinking ship,” I reply, my eyes flicking back to the video playing on my phone. My past self extols the virtues of COIN, a cryptocurrency that I’ve recommended to my followers.
“You need to sell that crap before it’s too late,” Sarah warns, her voice tinged with concern.
I open my mouth to reply, but my words are cut off as I see a familiar figure enter the coffee shop. Mr. Chen’s dark eyes lock onto mine, a sense of dread settling in the pit of my stomach. His expensive suit looks out of place in a coffee shop. “Wait. Gotta go,” I say quickly, hanging up the phone.
Mr. Chen approaches my table, his gait brusque and purposeful. “Hello, Alice,” he says, his voice like gravel.
My hands, clammy with sweat, grip the edge of the table as I struggle to keep my composure. He looms over me.
“Hi, Mr. Chen. What brings you here today?” My hands twist in my lap as I try to appear calm and collected.
“I’ve been hearing some worrying things about COIN,” Mr. Chen replies, his sharp eyes digging into me. “Coins similar to COIN have recently crashed and I think COIN is likely to crash soon.”
“COIN is completely different from those other coins,” I insist, my hands fidgeting nervously. “It’s secure and has a great team behind it. I’m sure everything is fine.” But my words ring hollow in my ears, and I can tell from the look on Mr. Chen’s face that he is not convinced. The constant chatter and clinking of dishes grates on my nerves — it’s hard for me to concentrate.
“I appreciate your optimism,” Mr. Chen continues, “but I’ve also noticed that COIN trading has been frozen.”
The milk steamer lets out a loud screech, adding to the noise pollution.
“Oh, I wasn’t aware of that,” I say, caught off guard. “But I’m sure it’s just a temporary measure.”
“I hope you’re right.” The frustration in Mr. Chen’s voice is clear. “I have a lot of money invested in COIN, and I wanted to hear your thoughts on the matter, that’s why I arranged this meeting.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Chen,” I try to persuade him. “I’m sure everything will be alright. Just stay optimistic.”
“You need to get me my money back from COIN.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Chen,” my hands wringing together in frustration. “I’m just an influencer. I don’t have the power to help you recover your money.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“What do you mean?” I’m confused and unsure of what to do, my hands now covering my face in despair.
“Let me tell you something. That money is connected to a certain organization.”
Mr. Chen’s words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Organized crime?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I had no idea.”
He nods, confirming my worst fears. “Yes, the Black Brothers. And they want their money back.”
“I see.” My mind races as I try to process what he’s saying, my body going cold with shock. “I’m sorry, Mr. Chen.” My voice is trembling with fear as I try to find the words to explain my situation. “I really can’t get involved.”
“That’s too bad,” Mr. Chen cuts me off, his voice low and menacing. “Because you’re already involved.”
“What do you mean?” I feel like the floor has dropped out from under me, my heart pounding in my chest.
His eyes bore into me, filled with a cold, calculated intensity. “You should have thought more carefully before you promoted COIN.”
I can feel the blood draining from my face as the full weight of my actions hit me. I am trapped.
And then, just for a second, his eyes soften. Is that pity? “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need your help,” Mr. Chen says, his voice urgent. “The Black Brothers won’t hesitate to — “
His phone is buzzing.
He answers it, his voice tight. “Hey, boss.” I can see the fear etched on his face as he listens to the person on the other end of the line. “Yes, boss. That’s why I’m here with her. Yes, right now.”
Mr. Chen turns to me, his voice filled with a sense of foreboding. “He wants to speak with you.” He covers the mouth piece. “Be careful, a lot might depend on what you say.”
He puts the call on speakerphone, and I can hear the anger in the voice on the other end. “ — and I want it now.”
“Umm, who is this?” I ask, trying to steady my shaking hands.
“You don’t need to know who I am,” the voice is cold and intimidating. “Just know that I have a lot of money invested in this COIN, and I’m not happy about it being frozen.”
“I’m just an influencer. I don’t have any control over the coin or its trading.”
“I don’t care about your excuses. You have 48 hours to get our money back, or there will be consequences.”
“I understand, but I really don’t know how to do that,” I say, my hands now clenched into fists.
“Figure it out, or you’ll be sorry.” A pause hangs in the air before the voice continues. “And Chen. Same goes for you.” And with that, the call ends.
“Who was that?” I ask Mr. Chen, my voice shaking as I try to steady my trembling hands.
“A very serious person.” He looks at me, his face etched with nerves.
“What are you going to do?”
“We need to find your employer and unlock the frozen COIN.” He breaths out, slowly. “We don’t have a choice.”
“I can’t believe this is…is this a prank show or something?” My laugh comes out like a whine.
“This is real, Alice,” his eyes insistent. “And we need to act fast. Where is your employer? Where do they keep their servers?”
“I don’t know,” I hesitate, running my fingers through my hair. “I’ve never actually met them. But I think they might be based in the Bahamas.”
“Then that’s where we need to go.”
We look at each other. The weight of our predicament hangs heavy in the air. Through the bay window, dark clouds loom on the horizon.
