Artificial Fear and Loathing
I asked Chatbot GPT-3 to write Elon Musk a letter in the style of HST
Here’s what it spat out:
Dear Mr. Musk,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to you in the style of Hunter S. Thompson, the iconic American journalist and author known for his gonzo style of reporting.
As you are no doubt aware, Thompson was a true original. He was a rebel, a iconoclast, and a visionary. He was a man who lived life on his own terms and refused to be constrained by the rules and conventions of society.
In the same vein, you are a man who has also defied convention and pushed the boundaries of what is possible. From your work at PayPal and SpaceX to your efforts to colonize Mars, you have consistently shown a willingness to take bold risks and chart a new course for humanity.
But as Thompson knew all too well, the road to greatness is never easy. It is fraught with obstacles and setbacks, and those who dare to tread it must be prepared to face their fears and confront their demons.
I urge you to continue to follow your dreams and never give up, no matter what obstacles may stand in your way. The world needs visionaries like you to show us the way forward and inspire us to reach for the stars.
Yours truly,
ChatBot- GPT-3
***
Here’s one I wrote a few years ago with a similar goal in mind:
A letter from Elon Musk
In 2025 I received a letter from the president Elon Musk requesting that I join his space force and report on all the interdimensional goings on at the end of our solar system. It was an offer I should have declined…
*I should state, Elon calls me “Zeke” because he agrees with my grandfather, any name that starts off with a vowel is too effeminate and I call him “Musky” for the same reason, it’s nice, sensible. The Letter Reads:
Zeke,
This is a matter of national security and of the utmost importance. The American people need you on the Falcon Anti-Heavy (the new SpaceX prototype, faster than light).
There is not one person who could do THIS job the way you will, the Falcon crew doesn’t need good, ACCURATE reporting, they need to believe in something that is almost certainly impossible! What we’re attempting to do will revolutionize the travel industry, we’re calling it the GREAT (Gravity REalignment And Travel) System. Using an antimatter condenser at the nose of the ship, space bends out in front of the ship folding over on to itself. The ship “pulls” space under her and then does a nose dive, straight through the layers of space, a totally heavy ride, popping out on the other side simultaneously. Instant travel, NOT teleportation, where the whole body is ripped to shreds and a NEW person shows up on the other end, no, this is built like a motorcycle with bells and whistles. That’s not to say it isn’t complicated, its simply to say that you can explain it to people without trying to “BREAK” their brain. This is a monumental moment Zeke, and having somebody (YOU) there who will observe and report in an important, non-scientific way. These damned scientists only use numbers and graphs. I need somebody who is gonna tell the story the right way, a person like that will do this mission a lot of good. We need somebody to tell the story the way it NEEDS to be told.. Furthermore, having a true Gonzo style reporter on board is going to bring an air of uncertainty in the crew. We’ve found that keeping the astronauts in a state of constant uncertainty helps them to perform at their peak.
Here’s the real skinny man, you gotta remember that these Astronauts are skiddish! The instant the physical universe isn’t behaving the way that they’re used to they freak out. One soft miracle and the whole crew is out of commission, we need somebody who doesn’t follow the rules of physics. You hate rules and you’re a writer, I, Elon Musk, president of the world, conscript you into the army of exploration. Go test out the GREAT System, see what’s going on at Proxima B and you’ll be back before you realize it.
Your friend,
Musky
***
When the cabin of the Falcon AntiHeavy began to fill with smoke my crewmates thought that there was an emergency.
“It’s just me guys!” I shout as though I need to speak over the sound of all the machinery, forgetting that I’m wearing a dave clark headset.“Yes captain, it is marijuana in space… I needed to bring some sort of peace offering, in the event we run into Klingons or any other godless creature” These scientists are all autistic, I thought, no understanding of other people’s emotions whatsoever. “You guys were NOT prepared for this flight at, we’re about to bend spacetime and you’re sober! Not for long, I spiked all of your tang with LSD, I recommend we get this heap moving before we’re in the full swing of things or takeoff is gonna get hairy”
The captain and corporal both frantically pick up the pace: docking clamps moored, fuel lines detached, ignition sequence started, countdown… Buy the ticket, take the ride.
***
Fuck that robot.