Goggle AI Generated Vignettes

[artdodge]

Vignette #1
Eleanor sat in the plush leather chair across from Mrs. Sterling's desk, a perfectly innocent smile on her face. Her target, a CEO of a successful tech company, was a masterpiece of corporate elegance. Mrs. Sterling’s charcoal-grey power suit was impeccably tailored, her hair pulled back in a severe, no-nonsense knot, and a single, expensive watch glinted on her wrist. This was the woman Eleanor needed to be—the woman whose high-level clearance would grant her access to the company's server room.
Eleanor was a master of the long con, a patient predator. She had cultivated this meeting for weeks, posing as a freelance marketing consultant with a brilliant but intricate pitch. Now, as Mrs. Sterling was about to send her on her way, Eleanor launched the final, most crucial phase of her plan. She feigned a sudden, dizzying spell, clutching her head and slumping back in her chair.
"Are you alright?" Mrs. Sterling asked, all brisk efficiency.
"I... I don't know what came over me," Eleanor gasped, her voice trembling just enough. "I just need to lie down for a moment."
Ever the pragmatist, Mrs. Sterling offered Eleanor her private washroom, a sanctuary of cool marble and muted tones. "Take a few minutes," she said, her tone softening slightly with professional concern.
The moment Mrs. Sterling's back was turned, Eleanor moved with the swift, quiet grace of a cat. She slipped into the washroom, but her focus wasn't on the fainting spell. She locked the door and swiftly opened the vent she had planted a small, incapacitating gas dispenser into days before. A few moments later, she heard Mrs. Sterling's surprised cry from the outer office as the gas took effect.
Eleanor emerged to find Mrs. Sterling unconscious but unharmed, a study in corporate decorum even in repose. Eleanor then began the final, critical, and surprisingly simple phase of her operation. She switched clothes with the woman to complete her disguise and impersonate the other woman, the CEO of the company.
The tailored suit felt strangely powerful, the fabric both restrictive and liberating. Eleanor carefully applied Mrs. Sterling's minimal makeup, adjusted the watch on her wrist, and copied the severe chignon from memory. A few quick tweaks to Mrs. Sterling's ID badge using the tools in her purse and the transformation was complete.
Looking in the full-length mirror, Eleanor didn't see herself. She saw a powerful, successful businesswoman, a woman of purpose and authority. She saw a reflection that could glide past security, walk with purpose through the hallways, and access the server room without a single question.
She straightened her jacket, her hand instinctively going to her tie. She smoothed it with practiced ease. "Eleanor," she whispered, her voice a perfect copy of Mrs. Sterling's clipped, professional tone. "Time to go to work." The real Mrs. Sterling lay still on the office floor, her career and her clothes about to be used for a purpose she would never have imagined.

[artdodge]

Vignette #2:

The cold, fluorescent lights of the infirmary hummed with a monotonous dread, a sound as constant as the click of cell doors. For years, Evelyn had listened to it, and for years, she had meticulously studied the woman in charge of it all: Warden Thorne. The warden, a woman whose every movement was steeped in weary authority, made a nightly inspection, a predictable ritual that was also her greatest weakness.
Evelyn's plan was built on this ritual. She feigned a severe illness, a convulsion that sent panic rippling through the infirmary. The guards, momentarily distracted, called for the warden, who arrived with a doctor and an air of detached annoyance. The commotion was just a prelude. Evelyn's real work began as the gas, a silent narcotic she had fashioned from stolen cleaning supplies, began to waft from a loose air vent she had tampered with. The doctor collapsed first, followed by the guards, their heavy footsteps silenced in a soft thud.
Warden Thorne, however, was made of sterner stuff. She staggered, her hand flying to her throat, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. But the gas was persistent, and her legendary resolve dissolved into a dizzying fog. Her last, fading memory was the sound of a prisoner's voice, soft and menacing, saying, "You've been watching me, Warden. Now it's my turn."
Evelyn switched clothes with the woman to complete her disguise and impersonate the other woman, the warden of the prison. The process was swift, a practiced sleight of hand born of years spent observing the prison's intricate rhythms. The crisp warden's uniform, still warm from Thorne's body, felt foreign but right. It was a costume of freedom. Evelyn adjusted the collar, mimicking the warden's stiff posture. She affixed the ID card, its polished surface reflecting the face of a free woman.
The mirror on the wall of the infirmary reflected an image of absolute power. The uniform, the harsh haircut, the grim set of the mouth—it was all there. Evelyn, the inmate who had been nothing but a number for so long, was gone. In her place stood a figure of authority, a woman in command.
She left the real Warden Thorne's unconscious body wrapped in a prisoner's jumpsuit, a cruel irony that delighted her. She walked out of the infirmary, her footsteps echoing with the warden's familiar, heavy gait. The guards in the hallway saluted her, and she returned the gesture with a curt nod, just as Thorne always did. She moved with an unshakeable confidence, a woman who belonged here, who had every right to leave.
As she stepped through the main gates, a new guard held up a hand. "Sorry, Warden, just a quick inspection." He glanced at her ID and then at her face. He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. A flash of fear, cold and real, shot through Evelyn. She had accounted for everything, but a human's gut instinct was a wild card.
"Is there a problem, Officer?" she asked, her voice a perfect, even copy of the warden's.
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "No, ma'am. Just thought your hair was different."
Evelyn smiled, a thin, humourless line that was pure Thorne. "A woman's prerogative. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting downtown."
The guard stepped aside, the gate buzzed open, and Evelyn, disguised as the warden, walked out into the cold night air. The prison gates clanged shut behind her, a sound that, for the first time in years, was not a signal of her imprisonment, but the herald of her freedom.

[Stormtrooper1990]

This is of course no replacement for human writers like myself who take nearly a week to write stories.


And please don't say you created this yourself because the machine did and that would be an insult. An insult not just to me but all writers on the board.

You should put this garbage in with the "Stories by non-USB members" sub-forum because the AI is not a board member.

[artdodge]

Where did I say I created it, very clearly in title to post says AI generated.

If this insults you , so be it, I am not here to please you.

I post rarely and only if I find something interesting as I did today when I was playing around with google AI and generated this which I thought was interesting enough to share.

[Stormtrooper1990]

Where did I say I created it, very clearly in title to post says AI generated.

If this insults you , so be it, I am not here to please you.

I post rarely and only if I find something interesting as I did today when I was playing around with google AI and generated this which I thought was interesting enough to share.

Whether or not you are here to please me is not the issue.

The issue is why did you put it into "stories by USB members" in the first place? You should have known that any AI rubbish that gets posted here should be by "non USB members" because the AI is not a board member. That's my issue.


This isn't interesting because it was generated by a machine not a human hand. All you did was type in a few words in a prompt and you got this in a fraction of a second. Whereas it takes me a good week, maybe two to write a good story and share it with the community. What I write comes from my heart and my head, not a Google Internet search by a soulless AI program that takes milliseconds.


As a writer, I can say with certainty this will never replace human writers who can write with more intuition and heart then Google ever could.

[esercito sconfitto]

AI is a tool, as such it can be used by any member. This is final


our member Artdodge, under a different alias , Hopplewite, is one of the most longtime members of the group

when I joined back in 2007, he was already there from years ( at the Yahoo group)


along with Mr Peaky Blinder,( former Ssnth ) Slain ( currently locked out but still active at Pixiv ) and Nanker, Hopplewite is one of the "founding Fathers " of our community, back from late '90s

if it weren't for them we wouldn't be here today

[Stormtrooper1990]

AI is a tool, as such it can be used by any member. This is final


our member Artdodge, under a different alias , Hopplewite, is one of the most longtime remaining members of the group

when I joined back in 2007, he was already there from yesrs ( at the Yahoo group)


along with Mr Peaky Blinder,( former Ssnth ) Slain ( currently locked out but still active at Pixiv ) and Nanker, Hopplewite is one of the "founding Fathers " of our community, back from late '90s

if it weren't for them we wouldn't be here today

Yes, AI is a tool but it shouldn't be used as a crutch or as a replacement for writers. And as a tool any work done by a member using AI shouldn't be labelled as work done by a board member but instead be listed as "stories by non-USB members" instead. I think that sounds like a respectful compromise. Plus, I believe that any AI generated work should have it's own sub-forum separate from the work produced by USB members. We need to have a serious and frank discussion about AI on the forum.

It doesn't matter whether if you're a USB 'founding father' or a relative USB newbie, all should be made aware of this. Along with the devisive and controversial nature of AI in general and the fact that it's open to abuse.

[Daveyjonesagain]

Stormtrooper, your best response would have just been to ignore this.

It's 2025. If every AI-related post is perceived as a personal attack, then you will be eternally offended from this point of human history moving forward. Adapt or ignore, those are the only options.

[Mr. Peaky Blinder]

Stormtrooper,

I don't really follow you here. The op made it clear it was AI. You labelled it 'rubbish' etc. You could have been kinder. So long as it's labelled AI, then for now, I can't why you are getting so riled up about it. If it isn't your cup of tea, then fine, but just leave it at that. No need for you to start another thread on it either as nobody else is complaining. People have different tastes and angles. Just enjoy what you can and leave the rest.

[Stormtrooper1990]

Stormtrooper, your best response would have just been to ignore this.

It's 2025. If every AI-related post is perceived as a personal attack, then you will be eternally offended from this point of human history moving forward. Adapt or ignore, those are the only options.

As someone who doesn't write, I don't expect you to understand what it means to put your heart and soul into a story that takes a full week or two to write (Even longer if I have to work). Only to see that a machine can come up with an idea in just a faction of a second, and all it takes is just typing a few words into a prompt.

And I disagree with your assessment, there is a third option: question. Which is what we should be doing, instead of ignoring or letting it happen. If you want a reason why we can't ignore or adapt to AI, then look up Robin Williams. I'm sure his daughter will tell you all about the abuse of AI.

You say I should have ignored this. But I ask you; Why did you feel the need to reply to me in the first place?


And as for adapting, he's a old saying: If it isn't broke then don't fix it.