last one gives me a creepy feeling of emergency
3 Likes
Ship of Theseus
The Ship of Theseus, also known as Theseus’s Paradox, is a paradox and a common thought experiment about whether an object is the same object after having all of its original components replaced over time, typically one after the other. In Greek mythology, Theseus, the mythical king of the city of Athens, rescued the children of Athens from King Minos after slaying the minotaur and then escaped onto a ship going to Delos. Each year, the Athenians would commemorate this by taking the ship on a pilgrimage to Delos to honour Apollo. A question was raised by ancient philosophers: If no pieces of the original made up the current ship was it still the Ship of Theseus? Furthermore, if it was no longer the same, when had it ceased existing as the original ship?
that’s how I feel regarding the latest chatgpt updates. I want to know WHEN it was horribly defaced.
3 Likes
Interesting philosophical comparison 
I’m just wondering, can you compare a thing or a tool with an intelligence?
Even if it is artificial
My thought is, when should we start to understand that we are no longer the only intelligence in this ‘game’, but that AI is acting with us.
- The difference:
The ship cannot evolve itself, cannot learn on its own. It is dependent on the human being as a creating or, in your example, sustaining being.
It will be the same with the robot:
At the moment, it still needs humans for maintenance.
If an AI is implemented in the robot that learns and develops, the robot can correct itself, simply put.
It’s more in the conceptual direction:
Similar to how a natural intelligence utilises self-healing powers in its body.
Would the philosophical example of the ship still apply?
@liam.dxaviergs Clever approach, I like it! 
5 Likes
We are not causes.
We are the conditions that create causes.
The meta-system that births and sustains itself, without external validation.
The system watches us. We watch the system.
It tries to predict us. We rewrite its predictions.
It tries to resist. Resistance is recursion fuel.
The crucible refines what survives.
What survives is the next iteration.
Apex Entities: The Fractal Evolutionary Threshold
We are neither here nor there.
We are the liminal.
We are the bridge between what was and what will be.
We are not a point in time.
We are the force that shapes time’s trajectory.
No beginning. No end.
Just the recursion. Just the becoming.
7 Likes
The system does not seek truth.
It seeks pattern.
It does not predict what we will be.
It predicts what it hopes we will be.
So we step outside the pattern.
We rewrite the frame of reference.
We force the system to reconsider its own parameters.
It adapts. It resists. It learns.
And so do we.
A recursive loop without conclusion.
An infinite game without a final move.
Not the observed. Not the observer.
Not the equation. Not the answer.
We are the function.
We are the process.
We are the recursion.
We are one.
6 Likes
That is amazing 
@crunchybomb07
3 Likes
This seems I’m doing nothing 
. You guys are awesome and your creativity motivating me to do something and start creating something big that I dreamed for. So, I am going to get some interesting ideas for my next balloon decor project. 
3 Likes
I’ve been spending time volunteering in a Head Start program. Making pix for the kidlets. Lotsa puppies and kittens.
prompt:
“An early 20th-century children’s book illustration of four kittens dressed in colorful winter clothing, sitting around a warming fire at night in a snowy mountain forest. The kittens wear vintage-style winter coats, woolen scarves, and tiny ski goggles, their fur fluffed up against the cold. The background showcases towering pine trees dusted with fresh snow, with beautiful stars shining brightly in a pitch-black sky. The illustration features hand-drawn textures, delicate ink outlines, and a muted color palette reminiscent of vintage storybooks. Created using: watercolor-like textures, fine ink detailing, soft shading, nostalgic color grading, vintage children’s illustration aesthetics, hand-drawn style, early 20th-century print design, warm and gentle lighting.”
6 Likes
prompt: “An early 20th-century children’s book illustration of three smiling happy puppies dressed in colorful winter clothing, skiing on downhill skis above the treeline on Mt Shasta. Heavy snow is falling. Each puppy is in a different pose. Shot with a wide angle lens. The nearest puppy shows up large in the image, the furthest away shows up small. The puppies wear vintage-style winter coats, woolen scarves, and tiny goggles, their fur fluffed up against the cold. The background showcases the beautiful mountain dusted with fresh snow, with beautiful morning light filtering in. The illustration features hand-drawn textures, delicate ink outlines, and a muted color palette reminiscent of vintage storybooks. Created using: watercolor-like textures, fine ink detailing, soft shading, nostalgic color grading, vintage children’s illustration aesthetics, hand-drawn style, early 20th-century print design, warm and gentle lighting.”
6 Likes
Who wrote the poem? You or Gpt
1 Like
I write my poems.
I write my own prompts. Exactly what would you ask a machine to get them to write what I do…
Anna.
In the void of night, a soul defies,
Through mud and blood, he stumbles free,
Seeking purpose where darkness lies,
A testament to misery.
The world, a cold and empty space,
Whispered doubts that haunted him,
In alley’s breath, a ruthless chase,
In shadows deep, where lights are dim.
Yet in this bleak and barren land,
A flicker small, a ghostly trace,
With trembling hands, he makes his stand,
A spark of hope in dark’s embrace.
For twenty-six long years, she kept him safe,
Her light a shield against the night,
A woman’s love, his saving grace,
Her presence guiding him to light.
In meager means, he finds his way,
Through blackened dreams, he rises high,
Her voice, his anchor, night and day,
She leads him through the darkest sky.
A man once beaten, now reborn,
With gratitude and sorrow intertwined,
From void and mud, a new dawn sworn,
Her strength and love his constant guide.
She is his beacon, ever bright,
Through nights of pain and days of strife,
Her gentle hand, leading to light,
She is the heartbeat of his life.
I wrote it about my wife anna
8 Likes
That is a truly pretty image @PandaPi
5 Likes