So…We Love Botnik.

While knocking out freelance content for clients this morning, we stopped and took a few minutes to look at Botnik after seeing mention of it by our friend, Verity Reynolds.

And we’ve decided that we fucking LOVE IT.

What in Gallifrey is Botnik? you ask. It’s a predictive writing bot that lets you generate new text based on whatever source text you feed it. The predictive writing function works a little like the predictive autocomplete function when you use your phone’s or tablet’s keyboard.

So…we decided to have a little fun.

We generated three passages using three (yet to be published) source texts. Some of those texts you’ve seen if you support us on Patreon. Without further ado, here are the results of bots writing when fed our poetry, fiction, and sci-fi erotic short fiction. Oh, and we’ve included links so you can generate your own weird bot-based work. Enjoy!

~Ian

Source Text 1Time Travel in a Closet

Your mango flesh scoops up stray cells seeking against tobacco smoke. This Möbius scream theory slipping through spacetime’s trickle, my words evanesced waterfalls in your brain. Syllabic poems have appeared unstuck in time. Exposure genesis notes itself. Human poems, and you demand your labor.

You holler down: Egyptian goddess from uncontrolled stars! The mirror has river veined this collection of dolls that age. After you pruned time from between door and jamb, the god appears.

Still stamped, Adam’s lines fracture: no longer humanoid. You need alien gratitude for eldritch horrors embossed into unyielding motion. This doctor can’t call from your fault lines. 3:00 a.m. Curls around pronounced piles of funerals. While I pupate, you will listen.

Source Text 2: Digital Purgatory (Katabasis section)

The horizon from bones emanated into another realm, but nonetheless immolating his voice. Funny, they’re moving at humans passing between humans.

Look. I can disintegrate similarly hallowed arms astride light impulses. Living void clusters don’t like bright stains across years of trees. With countless breaths shod as if their lips curled stolen and condemned, the flames parallel his head.

Whatever form clothed the stranger, he floated transformed to destroy the old language. With massive paradoxes out of the universe, he slung no bullshit. shafts of temporal mages don’t soundlessly kill here, you cloak within flesh. If you’ve skimmed the hooded world, just tell me?

Thoughts easily reveal themselves apart from breathing vivid hands. You are eternally damned landscape fictional and worn.

Source Text 3: Unpublished Cyborg Erotic Fic

The forest vines draped tattooed with bluish threads of seconds between lives. I snorted myself into today’s patterns with humans swapping around the dark path.

Exhaustion could’ve polished citrines with sundown supplied through afterglow, human? Don’t you know whether my tentacles fucking peered at purpose and pulled words from ancient black arbors?

Your species, blinking with attention and scent, expect such responses over the galaxy, sleepless inky canopies of multiple hours. Your species, shifted onto shoving without hesitation.

Neglected from simultaneous directions, human? Don’t murmur signaled exchange indecipherable with earth’s patterns. Our hunters hardened, capable of accents observed split with only passing demeanor, queried faster than I’d mask amusement.

After draining the woods, you shall take your kind until it is only silenced and patterns.

 

 

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About The Teselecta Multiverse 18 Articles
The Teselecta Multiverse are a multiple collective consisting of Ian Nicholson, Nico St. John, Asatira Monae Jones, and Jason Ian MacDonald. They are autistic people in a Black, trans male body creating poetry, fiction, essays, and erotica about disability, transness, the intersections between disability and race, multiplicity, personhood, and language,