MG Three Point One enters into his Exaltation

[Marcus]

It was the first time I had used this A.I. on my computer. I didn't create an account, thus I wasn't logged in. And yes, I forgot the inquiry. I will try to be more diligent in remembering to do so.

The truth is, however, that facts are facts. It is those that you have to deal with. Up to this point, Marcus and others have failed to tackle the information/facts head on. They...and you(?)...are merely making an attack on the fact that A.I. is being used to gather information. Sure, it's based on input, but again facts are facts.

They ought to be entertained and engaged rather than ignored.

Regards,
MG

No. Any A.I. response depends on what the input is. Asking you what input generated the resulting A.I. response is not an attack on you.

By the way, A.I. responses are not necessarily facts, any more than personal responses are necessarily facts. A.I. responses are outputs that depend on the nature of the input. But then, you already know this—though you seem to be pretending otherwise.

Excellent summarization of the facts.

[IWMP]

This reads like one of my wild vivid dreams. Hope we can hear more.

[MG 2.0]

Moving on...

I'll admit that I sympathize with your repeated desire to dump this topic. You disingenuously claim that A.I. responses are facts, you repeatedly misplace your prompts, and you edit the responses that A.I. does provide without acknowledging that you did so. I would want to move on, too.

No cause for sympathy. That's not the reason I suggested we move on. I suspect you might know what that reason is.

I'm perfectly fine with the way I'm interacting with and using A.I. on this forum excepting for being more careful about adding the inquiries.

If I fail to do that, let me know!

Regards,
MG

[Morley]

No cause for sympathy. That's not the reason I suggested we move on. I suspect you might know what that reason is.

Of course I know what the reason is. It's that you, like the rest of us, are anxiously awaiting the next MG 3.1 enters into his Exaltation installment.

Apologies to Gadianton for dirtying up his thread.

[MG 2.0]

No cause for sympathy. That's not the reason I suggested we move on. I suspect you might know what that reason is.

Of course I know what the reason is. It's that you, like the rest of us, are anxiously awaiting the next MG 3.1 enters into his Exaltation installment.

Apologies to Gadianton for dirtying up his thread.

No, that's not it. But that's humorous.

Regards,
MG

[Gadianton]

Apologies to Gadianton for dirtying up his thread.

No problem whatsoever, I've enjoyed the contributions, including MG's.

[MG 2.0]

Good to know.

Yeah well, don't let that stop you from testing the seed. I'll bet if you read at least 5 paragraphs, slow enough to follow it not just skim, that you'll totally get into it. touches on things you may have an interest in, including faith stages from different perspectives. I'll bet if you give it a try, you'll enjoy reading it MORE than reading the Book of Mormon.

I did read it. It's a fun story just like reading Asimov is enjoyable. One can even make connections with the world even though he is talking about the other worldly that he has to rely on his imagination to make any connection with the matrix in which we actually live.

But like I said earlier, I felt like a cardboard cut out. One dimensional along with the other characters. If you don't mind I will have A.I. do an analysis on this very point:

The Narrator ("G3"): The Confused New Arrival: His primary trait is being overwhelmed and confused by his new surroundings. He acts as the audience's surrogate, asking basic questions about the afterlife, the Spirit World, and familiar religious concepts. His personality is largely defined by his past religious life and his anxiety about his standing in this new realm. While he shows some humor and a desire for connection, these traits are mostly in service of moving the plot (his orientation) forward. He doesn't have internal conflicts or complexities beyond his initial disorientation and desire for high status.

Zeke: The Knowledgeable and Slightly Condescending Guide: Zeke's sole purpose is to explain the rules and hierarchies of this afterlife to the narrator (and the reader). He's presented as someone who knows the system, has a bit of a playful but also slightly superior attitude ("slick Willie"), and isn't afraid to deliver blunt truths. His personality is limited to this guiding role; we learn nothing about his past life or any personal motivations beyond his current task. He's a functionary, not a fully realized character.

The Librarian: The Cheerful Information Dispenser: This character exists solely to provide the initial instructions about the journal and the nature of scripture in this realm. Her defining traits are her friendliness and her delivery of exposition about the afterlife's customs (everyone looks young, journaling is scripture, pencils are restricted). She serves as a brief, pleasant introduction to the setting but has no depth or further role in the narrative.

Richie (Mentioned): The Example of the Fallen Saint: Richie is not a present character but serves as a cautionary tale and an example of the afterlife's judgment system. His defining characteristics are his outward religious activity (Stake President) contrasted with his secret vices (online forum, ponzi schemes). He exists to illustrate that outward appearances in mortality don't guarantee high status in the afterlife and that there are consequences for one's actions. He's a plot device to create worry and curiosity in the narrator.

"DCP" (Mentioned): The Unexpected Witness at the Bar: Similar to Richie, DCP is primarily a plot device. His defining traits are his impressive mortal achievements (PhD, world travel) juxtaposed with his unexpected role as a "witness" at the judgment bar. He serves to introduce the concept of the judgment process and the idea that roles in the afterlife might not align with mortal expectations. He lacks any personal agency within the story; he's just an example Zeke uses.

These characters primarily function to convey information about the setting and the rules of this fictional afterlife. They lack the internal complexity, motivations beyond their immediate role in the scene, and personal histories that would make them feel like fully realized individuals. Their interactions are largely transactional, focused on explaining the world to the narrator (and thus the reader).
Gemini 2.0 A.I.

So that's about as far as it goes.

I'm looking forward to the follow ups. I honestly didn't have any idea that I was worthy of being the main (?) character in a science fiction fantasy!

I'm just a regular guy. It amazes me that I get so much attention on this board. Things tend to get a bit boring around here unless there is an antagonist, right? Either it being the church, its leaders, or its adherents. SOMETHING has to keep the ball rolling, right?

But to put ALL that time and effort into writing a narrative about a board member? I'm honored. I think...

Regards,
MG

[Marcus]

How can you have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat?

More meat.

Yes. Please. YES PLEASE!!!!

[Morley]

Yeah well, don't let that stop you from testing the seed. I'll bet if you read at least 5 paragraphs, slow enough to follow it not just skim, that you'll totally get into it. touches on things you may have an interest in, including faith stages from different perspectives. I'll bet if you give it a try, you'll enjoy reading it MORE than reading the Book of Mormon.

I did read it. It's a fun story just like reading Asimov is enjoyable. One can even make connections with the world even though he is talking about the other worldly that he has to rely on his imagination to make any connection with the matrix in which we actually live.

But like I said earlier, I felt like a cardboard cut out. One dimensional along with the other characters. If you don't mind I will have A.I. do an analysis on this very point:

The Narrator ("G3"): The Confused New Arrival: His primary trait is being overwhelmed and confused by his new surroundings. He acts as the audience's surrogate, asking basic questions about the afterlife, the Spirit World, and familiar religious concepts. His personality is largely defined by his past religious life and his anxiety about his standing in this new realm. While he shows some humor and a desire for connection, these traits are mostly in service of moving the plot (his orientation) forward. He doesn't have internal conflicts or complexities beyond his initial disorientation and desire for high status.

Zeke: The Knowledgeable and Slightly Condescending Guide: Zeke's sole purpose is to explain the rules and hierarchies of this afterlife to the narrator (and the reader). He's presented as someone who knows the system, has a bit of a playful but also slightly superior attitude ("slick Willie"), and isn't afraid to deliver blunt truths. His personality is limited to this guiding role; we learn nothing about his past life or any personal motivations beyond his current task. He's a functionary, not a fully realized character.

The Librarian: The Cheerful Information Dispenser: This character exists solely to provide the initial instructions about the journal and the nature of scripture in this realm. Her defining traits are her friendliness and her delivery of exposition about the afterlife's customs (everyone looks young, journaling is scripture, pencils are restricted). She serves as a brief, pleasant introduction to the setting but has no depth or further role in the narrative.

Richie (Mentioned): The Example of the Fallen Saint: Richie is not a present character but serves as a cautionary tale and an example of the afterlife's judgment system. His defining characteristics are his outward religious activity (Stake President) contrasted with his secret vices (online forum, ponzi schemes). He exists to illustrate that outward appearances in mortality don't guarantee high status in the afterlife and that there are consequences for one's actions. He's a plot device to create worry and curiosity in the narrator.

"DCP" (Mentioned): The Unexpected Witness at the Bar: Similar to Richie, DCP is primarily a plot device. His defining traits are his impressive mortal achievements (PhD, world travel) juxtaposed with his unexpected role as a "witness" at the judgment bar. He serves to introduce the concept of the judgment process and the idea that roles in the afterlife might not align with mortal expectations. He lacks any personal agency within the story; he's just an example Zeke uses.

These characters primarily function to convey information about the setting and the rules of this fictional afterlife. They lack the internal complexity, motivations beyond their immediate role in the scene, and personal histories that would make them feel like fully realized individuals. Their interactions are largely transactional, focused on explaining the world to the narrator (and thus the reader).

Gemini 2.0 A.I.

So that's about as far as it goes.

I'm looking forward to the follow ups. I honestly didn't have any idea that I was worthy of being the main (?) character in a science fiction fantasy!

I'm just a regular guy. It amazes me that I get so much attention on this board. Things tend to get a bit boring around here unless there is an antagonist, right? Either it being the church, its leaders, or its adherents. SOMETHING has to keep the ball rolling, right?

But to put ALL that time and effort into writing a narrative about a board member? I'm honored. I think...

Regards,
MG

What was the wording of your prompt? This wall of text means nothing unless that is provided. It may not mean anything even then, but at least it’ll provide some context.

[Gadianton]

Part II

The following contains brief descriptions of violence, reader discretion is advised.

I agree to meet him at a different building and then we part ways. At what time? I don't know. He just says go there and he'll be there. So I do and there he is. It required a trek deep into the city and I could spend all day talking about that journey. Maybe I should get a second journal and that will be my 'large plates,' so to speak? These exercises he speaks of, they can technically be performed anywhere, because it's all about looking down into the heart of this special world. But if you're going to scream like I did, the library isn't the best place for it, nor is the park where people are relaxing. So here I am in this big building, a white building; like a skyscraper except much thicker at the base and not so high. I meet him in a tremendous open room that reminds me of a gymnasium, although it’s just a big empty stone room with just enough light flowing into it through openings high up on the walls.

"G3", calls Zeke. His robes flow about a triangle of manly chest as he approaches me through the dimness. His palms float in the air, as if raising a symphony to crescendo.

"Hi'ya Zeke!" I say, as I step toward him. "I'm ready to rumble," and I throw some air punches, in play, of course, as we meet near the center of the gym/big open room.

He relaxes his hands to his hips. "You got to see the surface of a star last time, today, you drill down into an atom."

"Whoa."

What else could I say to that? We're face to face now, and he puts his big hand on my shoulder and looks down.

"I've got to guide you on this one. Just look down," he says.

I look down, I try to avoid those harsh angles that result is blasts of light over the crystals, and force myself into that direct ninety-degree sweet-spot. Everything disappears and I'm in blackness with blotches of fuzz everywhere.

"What do you think?" he asks. His voice haunting me eerily from behind.

I don't answer. Honestly, I can't recall what the parts of an atom even are. It could be anything. So that scene disappears and my head jerks back. Zeke removes his hand.

"You saw it, right?"

"Blackness; weird lights, sure," I say.

"Moving right along then. That's a test of focus more than of understanding. Not everyone is guided so easily. We can pick up the science another time."

I just shrug.

"The next one you're doing on your own. This is jumping into the pool feet first, G3. You need to imagine a scene in your mind, a place with people, and then you'll be taken to such a place as an observer." He puts his hand on my shoulder for a moment and then removes it. "Bear in mind, you're the guest of a stage 3 architect."

"What am I supposed to do? What are the rules?" I ask.

"Everything comes down to faith, G3, just imagine your scene and look down. Watch the robe, it's your ticket back while you're learning."

I suppose I have pictures from the blue Book of Mormon in my head. I imagine a woman with her children dressed in tunics as they stand by a river, perhaps waiting for baptism, and I look down. I nail the angle and I'm pulled into that super IMAX view of a tropical paradise with a woman and her children standing by a river in the cool of the evening. I hear the water flow as birds chirp and flap their little wings, and its better than T-H-X surround at the Sugarhouse Cinemark. I watch as the family speaks quietly among themselves in a language I don't understand. And then I hear a male voice from out of view. It isn't Zeke. I turn my head and the screen moves to a shirtless man crouching on one knee. He's partially clad in animal skins. He's resting his muscular frame against the tip of a large blade that he holds pierced firmly into the dirt.

The woman shrinks back, spits something at the man and pulls her kids close to her. The man scrapes his blade along the dirt as he gradually stands up and repeats himself. The women grabs each child by the hand and runs. They move along the river bank as the man pursues them. I've got them zoomed in as close as I can while keeping all in a single view. The only noise is that of bare feet shuffling along the dirt. The man bursts ahead and rips the little boy away from his mom and fully tucks the kid under his arm as he runs. The mother is screaming now and lets go of daughter in order to run faster. The man is twenty yards ahead when he drops to the ground and then rolls to his knees. He has the little boy pinned down. The boy's eyes are closed and he barely struggles. The man puts the tip of his dagger to the boy’s chest and mumbles something. The mother arrives and pounces on his back, slapping and screaming, but to no effect. Then she jumps off of him and collapses to the ground sobbing and clasping her hands together. I feel a slight tingle -- she's praying.

The man bellows a discorded moan as he raises the dagger into the air, aiming the tip at the boy's chest against a blood-red sunset. He has the weapon in two hands now. I thrust myself toward him. A tunnel of light opens and the sound of a thousand waterfalls crushes me. I break through the light and I'm in the world. No more screen. I look at the man and he turns his head to me. He's shocked. I thrust my arms and hands straight ahead and scream. lightning streams from my finger tips, incinerating the man on the spot while his dagger is blasted into bushes ten feet away. As the smoke from smoldering flesh clears, I step forward and pick up the little boy and carry him to mom and set him down. Daughter catches up to them and the three embrace each other as they look upon me in awe. Before I can speak to them, I feel myself pulled backwards. I'm literally sucked out of the world and right back into the gymnasium. Zeke has his forearm around my waist, nearly tackling me.

"What are you doing G3?!" he yells.

His face is red, hair tossed, and arms spread wide as I escape his grasp. I can hear him breathe against the dead silence of the dank stone chamber. I'm gasping terribly myself, and I'm not happy.

"What do you mean what am I doing?" I shout back to him. "What the heck was that? Gosh darn it, answer me!" My hands flail as we stand off, ready to clash.

"Whoa!" he shouts, his palms pushed to my face. "Substitute words! You're using substitutes! Do you know where you are?"

I step back and let my head fall backwards so that I can try to collect myself. I don’t want to look at him and I certainly can't look down. I intend to make him wait a moment before I continue our conversation. I take deep breaths until my chest is calmed.

"Did I kill that guy?" I ask, as my gaze falls back to Zeke.

"Oh yeah, you killed him.” Zeke is pacing. He's got his big palm buried into his forehead. "There's going to be paperwork for this. That's for sure."

I'd never so much as killed a gnat in mortality, let alone struck a person. Sure, the guy deserved it. Or did he? I throw my hand over my mouth. As I gradually remove it, I speak, slowly.

"Please - don't - tell - me - that was just a ritual, an act, I didn't understand it, and he wasn't a threat?"

"No, he was going for it. Sacrifice to a false god. The usual."

"And you didn't warn me? Why didn't you say something about having powers? You didn't tell me anything, Zeke. I was flying blind!"

Zeke has his big hands on his hips again but he's giving me some space.

"Why did you do anything at all? You were there to observe -- I told you it's someone else’s turf, G3."

"But..."

"Your first time in and you go around making everything your business? Stealing everyone's agency? Look, they likely won't survive the night let alone the week. So what difference did you make?"

"They..." I can't say it. My heart sinks into the ground.

He chuckles. "You may have made scripture, G3. If they did make it, thousands of years from now, that story will be told by people all over that world. It's not complimentary to make yourself a part of scripture like that, by the way. But, we can't take it back. It will work itself out, eventually. Until then, the architect; he won’t be happy,” and then he pauses a moment before adding, softly, “Might be best for everyone if they don’t."

I lower my voice to match Zeke's, but I don't lower my confidence. "I’ll never stand by and just watch if I can do something, and you can tell it to the architect. In fact, I demand to speak to the architect before we continue."

Zeke is shaking his head. "Now, G3, that won’t happen. Please, just listen to me. The grievous act that man would have performed was nullified, great, but now it can't be used as a testimony against him at his judgment, do you see the problem?"

"I’m sorry Zeke, but, surely he's done plenty wrong -- that wasn't his first rodeo."

"Perhaps, but this time, you were there, a messenger from on high, observing. Look, there are different kinds of witnesses. Your friend Dan, for instance, he's a career witness who makes a case before the court based on what's shown on screen during a life's review. He sees a guy wearing a colored shirt to church and suspects an agenda. He'll provide a psychological interpretation that the man isn't what he seems. The Lord takes his opinion very seriously. But in your case, you were an actual witness to what happened on a world, as it unfolded. Just imagine that scene playing at the judgment as that monster tries to explain it away. Voices erupt in argument, and then you step forward and silence the room as you declare that, you, an angel of the Lord, witnessed the act yourself. In that moment the man’s case is crushed. His guilt sears into permanent memory, and his punishment is boundless."

"So Zeke, you're telling me -- my job, is to watch these crimes happen so that I can put on a better show at the judgment?"

"Your job is what you make it. Look, you have your agency and I can't tell you what to do. But I can tell you that if you're interested in a more conventional approach, then you've got to learn to take the whole thing in and when you act, you do so -- judiciously. You must see the big picture, and do the maximal amount of good for that picture. That won’t happen if you insert yourself into every tiny problem."

"How in the heavens do you stand by and watch?"

Zeke shrugs, as he kicks his bare feet around the stony floor. "Keep it positive, G3. I have a little tune in my heart to stay upbeat. It's silly, I know, but it kind of goes like this: a doobie-doobie doobie-doobie doobie-doobie do ba - da duuuum," and then he draws two finger pistols on me and goes, "pew pew" as he fires them off. "You can sing it just like that, make up words, whistle, whatever; just to get your mind off from what you're seeing."

I can't even believe I’m listening to him. I tell him this isn't my wheelhouse. He encourages me to submerge one more time and so I do. But I forget to come up with a scene in my mind first and just dive right in. The last thing on my mind must have been his silly finger pistols and so I'm thrust before the IMAX screen where a real gun is pushed into a head and I don't want to say what came next, but it undoes me, and I pull myself back to the gym immediately. I'm out.

"You know what you need?" Zeke asks, as I turn and walk.

"what," I reply, and I’m still walking. I'm drenched in sweat. I've got an ear cocked backwards but I refuse to look into Zeke’s merciless face.

"A night's sleep,” he shouts. “You're a being of flesh and bone. You can sleep. It's a hit; as a day is a really long time, in a sense, but if you need a day then you need a day."

Boy, did I need a day.