Messing about with AI today. I'm trying to write a sweet new-adult romance set in Scotland. The writing will be my own, but I wondered how good AI was at producing imagery of the lead character, Rachel. And then a song, with lyrics and music. All "original" ie. nothing copyrighted or pre-existing. Each AI tool was given the start of the story, that included quite a lot of detail about our MC. And I specified a couple of requirements for the song. It should include mention of her braces, because they're a big part of her, and it should be in the style but not too similar, to Spandau Ballet (1980s New Wave band) Deep Seek came up with the title and wrote the lyrics for "Quiet Fire" HailuoAI produced the image Magica wrote the actual music and then gave me three auditions to choose from. If you can be bothered listening, which voice do you like best? "Quiet Fire" Verse 1: Through the Borders mist she walks alone Where the ancient oaks have always grown Auburn hair caught in the morning light Silver braces catch the morning bright She knows the names of every tree But keeps her secrets close to me A world of wealth she never chose Still finds her peace where the wild wind blows Chorus: And she's a quiet fire, burning slow There's so much more than they could know Behind the smile, behind the wire She's a quiet fire Verse 2: Corrects the teachers under her breath Questions everything they've said Reads the folklore late at night Keeps her fantasy out of sight Collects the feathers, stones, and bone Treasures that she calls her own Her parents want a lawyer's mind But she's searching for a different kind Chorus: And she's a quiet fire, burning slow There's so much more than they could know Behind the smile, behind the wire She's a quiet fire Bridge: When the city boys come calling With their polished words and gold She slips into her softer voice And lets the forest stories unfold... (Instrumental break – saxophone solo) Final Chorus: She's a quiet fire, burning true

She was born stunted. A runt. From her snub-nosed bridge to her chubby rear thrusters. An ugly child, spat from the womb of a Martian shipyard generations ago. Now charred and pitted with craters, the scars on her battered titanium skin tell a hundred stories. This is one of them. What if Adam and Eve were real? And had been cast from the earth for their sins, Adam preserved for all time on Neptune's icy moon, Triton. Eve buried under the dead sands of Mars. Their discovery would shatter every religion on earth, in a cataclysm of revelation. It would even have the atheists mumbling "Oh shit!" Would the reunification of the first two humans spell the dawn of a new era for mankind, or would it bring about the apocalypse? The crew of the pirate ship Vagabond couldn't care less either way. When they score the contract to bring a mysterious pod back from Triton, the pay day will be a decent one. But then they discover just what's inside the pod and realize they've finally made it to the big time, baby. Can humanity trust our fate to Brenda, a drunken hard-ass bitch of a captain, and Rat, her weaselly perverted engineer, plus Katomi, the sweet talking murderous comms officer. All three with less morals than pond scum? Or course not. Welcome aboard the Vagabond. You might want to take note of the escape pods as you strap in for a wild ride.

Here's the backstory of my favorite serial killer, driven to kill by obnoxious noises. ----- Felix had found the source of the annoying noise. It was coming from the shed outside. The idiots that ran this place must have had a generator in there and were using it to power the lights. In Felix’s opinion, the din was not worth the light. There was no excuse for such a racket. The clattering engine noises ricocheted between the peeling walls of the institution and the warped walls of Felix’s mind. Were it not for the risk of more noises assaulting him outside, he’d have marched out to the shed and shut the thing off. The lights be damned. He found those annoying too, with the incandescent bulbs emitting the high-frequency buzz of a hovering mosquito. No, darkness was Felix’s friend. And darkness came with another of his friends, his best friend, in fact – peace. The man wanted nothing more than to silence every source of sound that violated his peace. The science people had raked over his psyche after his killing spree to identify a triggering event that set him off. Had someone subjected him to an awful, torturous noise as a child? Perhaps as punishment? Or sick abuse? There was no such event. As he found most sounds irritating, and human sounds more irritating than most, Felix grew into something of a hermit after his teen years. He took jobs that kept him away from crowds, such as night security patrol, or cleaning office buildings, again at night. His daily routine centred around the avoidance of noise, and thus the avoidance of its usual source - people. This included buying his groceries either when the supermarket first opened in the morning, or just before it closed at night. Felix survived a long time with this lifestyle; well into his thirties. Until everything came crashing down during one of these shopping trips. Unable to find an empty cashier, he’d had to wait behind a lady buying wine. Drunk already, she’d launched into a tirade against the poor serving girl. Felix wasn’t sure of the detail. The cashier was either asking for ID or refusing to serve her; he didn't care. All he cared about was the assault on his mental equilibrium when the mad customer started screeching her indignation.

“Mayday, Mayday”. Jacob sounded pathetic in his own ears. He could hear the terror in his voice, even through the helmet’s tinny speakers. The fear was even more betrayed by the reflection of his face in the visor, now bathed in the pulsating blood-red of warning sensors. Blinking sweat from his eyes, he could see Saturn V slide below him, the space station pirouetting gracefully within the ice ring. So close, and yet so far. It was at least ten minutes away, at maximum thrust from his jet pack. If his jet pack had been working. It wasn’t. He checked the illuminated numbers floating through the river of red on his visor. It wouldn’t matter if the damn jets worked anyway, because he only had oxygen for two minutes. The chunk of ice that hit him had gouged through everything critical. The thruster control unit, the oxy lines, the nav system. Hell, it had probably taken out the radio, rendering his terrified Mayday call pointless. And the station kept on sliding past, out of view now, replaced by the deep black of space and its twinkling star jewels. He realised he was in his own slow spin. Just another orbiting speck amongst the billion around the gas giant. Sol slid by, a tiny silver nickel amongst the diamonds. It looked as cold as the black blanket it had been flipped onto. No, it was him that was cold. Great, the heater was fucked as well. So, he’d die alone, asphyxiated and stone cold. Minutes from home, and in an uncontrollable, nauseating tailspin. If only his mind would stop screaming in panic, he might try to make his peace. - “It’s no good, his radio’s fried.” Hamish slammed his fist onto the console in Saturn V’s traffic control room. It didn’t matter what frequency he used; the silence in response was deafening. They’d even shut down the entire station’s coms to listen for any kind of weak response. But nothing. And anyway, what use would the radio be? It was almost a blessing that he couldn’t reach Jacob. What the hell would he say to a man in his last moments?

"Me and My Robot" - some different versions. The intent is to make the viewer feel just a little uneasy. Especially the juice box one. They're characters from one of my planned stories (planned doesn't mean i'll write it tho. lol). I always get imposter syndrome from my ideas, but anyway - its set in the same universe as a couple of my other sci-fi novellas. Charlie (her name will probably change) is a lowly mechanic since before she could remember. parents died in a hull breach accident. she's street savvy (well, if massive space stations have streets) but has a guardian robot for when she needs muscle. He might end up being an AI rather than a robot, since the recent game "Pragmata" was released. Although in the game, its the girl that's the robot/AI guardian..my story's theme might have people shouting copycat. shrug.