https://twitter.com/SpencerKlavan/status/1149810537284263936
Человек утверждает, что обучил нейросеть на древнегреческих трагедиях и сгенерировал свою трагедию:
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GREEK TRAGEDY
EXT. CURSED DYNASTIC PALACE
DYSPEPSIA emerges. She is floating on a platform with big wheels. Her dress is covered in treachery.
DYSPEPSIA:
Today is the next day after a lot of days. My husband is coming home from fighting lions. He is the worst kind of husband, the kind that. kills your children. The trees are angry at him.
DYSPEPSIA carries a sharp knife given to her by STANKROCLES, god of mathematics and ancestral guilt. The CHORUS emerges. They are children made of bones. They dance.
CHORUS:
We are afraid of what Dyspepsia will do because of something that happened a long time ago! We cannot talk about it! We are always talking about it! We cannot shut up about it! We must never speak its name! I will be silent! I will cry out!
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STANKROCLES watches and laughs, eating a meat sandwich. He does not care about pain or justice. He is in charge of everything.
DUNDERTRON emerges, carrying twelve lions, all of them dead. He is wearing five of them. The rest are for burning.
DUNDERTRON:
Wife, these are lions. We have them now instead of children. Please burn them.
CHORUS:
Dundertron! Welcome home, great king! Watch out! Everything is normal!
DYSPEPSIA holds her arms wide. DUNDERTRON is laughing about how he doesn't suspect anything. Suddenly STANKROCLES appears on top of the roof and turns everyone into barley.
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DYSPEPSIA:
The whole world is a circle and it is better to be drunk than born. I am glad we are barley now.
DUNDERTRON weeps. He misses his lions.
CHORUS:
Oh if only I could be carried on a dragon to the top of a mountain and forget how to breathe. Why are there atoms? Everything is always.
WHINERISTES returns home from exile where he was raised by wolves who are also peasants. He missed getting turned into barley. His patron is DISTRACTRA, goddess of gentle mists and overzealous slaughter.
WHINERISTES:
Ah, me! Time changes all things. When I left my mother was a human who gave me cuddles and anxiety. Now she is almost bread.
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DISTRACTRA shrouds WHINERISTES in mist. It is her favorite thing to do.
DISTRACTRA:
I love mist! Kill everybody!
WHINERIQTES obeys, but it is hard to kill barley without planting more. The seeds fall on the ground. They are a metaphor.
The GRUDGELINGS appear. They have big wings and bad breath for avenging murders with.
GRUDGELINGS:
We are the chorus now! No more mister nice bones!
WHINERISTES:
O O O Distractra! Protect me with your mists!
DISTRACTRA is not listening. She has gone to Phrygia where they are throwing a party for her. No one is coming to help WHINERISTES.
Исходники так и не показал.
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