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For Reference: How Alone Are We? Fermi, Drake, Bostrom, CoinFlips?

This is a conversation I had with Claude regarding a topic that is near and dear, a topic that I’ve exposed previously here. There are two parts. 1) This is the expose’ of Claude and I running with the concept of coin flips and how unique is the Human Race: https://davecline.substack.com/p/how-alone-are-we 2) This is the table he created with all the coin flips tallied…

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Pascal's Wager Redux

A fictional short story I think there’s something wrong with my eyes. They’re open, but… Ah, yes. Sorry. In this phase “seeing” remains an option. What about now? Hmm, I guess that’s better. Not entirely sure what all this is, or rather, where the hell I am. Some clarification usually accompanies entrants at this time. Please, let We explain. “We”? We’ll get to that. So, what’s the last thing…

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AI Agent to Create Short Films

Dear Claude: I’d like to build an agent that performs the following: Accepts a screenplay of limited length (~2 minutes max in setting & dialog run time). Accepts characterizations of those identified within the screenplay. Such characterizations would include appearance, voice accent, demeanor, age, relationship to other characters. Accept images of settings and characters. Build a plan to…

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Rooftop Squab

Swarms of pigeons sail in, wings flared, and land with raucous bustling as they vie for the grain I toss to lure them. The April sky frames their flight in vivid shades of blue and I can’t help but marvel at their chaotic acrobatics. Dozens drop to the ten story rooftop where my resurrected hibachi smokes in anticipation. With my hand outstretched, cupping a meager offering of grass seed, I wait…

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Coyote Canyon

My mech-horse threads its way between boulders and grease wood as we traverse the switch backs down into the arroyo. The machine, Bunny, I call it, will be good for a few more hours, plenty of time to dust a sounder or two. Wild pigs tear up the country, even in the desert they’re a problem. The rancher wanted them gone. “Gone ain’t in the cards,” I explained. “Like ticks n’ taxes, pigs are a…

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Winter's Dead

I sink my shovel into early spring mud, lever it back and shift the load off to the side. Repeat. Three feet by six by four. No deeper than four as the permafrost won’t allow it. Repeat. Five new graves for the months-long dead that lie frozen through the winter. Starl joins me for the last two. “Shame about little Njanna,” he says, his shovel striking a rare stone half-way down. The jarring ring…

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Space-Vet

This is an experimental collaboration, my ideas and words, Claude’s caustic critique (unseen, but there ‘neath the floorboards). Six iterations: ~100 words in chunks—write a bit, get torn to shreds, fix and add the next 100. “Your niflic looks like it’s got a broken leg.” I peered into the face of a young boy holding a furry creature—tiny green eyes, brown silky fur, six spindly legs shaking…

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SepSceneWriMo #6.21

Claude Prompt at the end. “A riptide doesn’t ‘rip’, you dolt.” Maria smacked the back of Dante’s head. “Feed your brain cells, won’t’cha? And no, those muscle-building supplements you slug all day long won’t do the trick.” Dante rubbed his noggin, a chagrined look on his face. “The brain’s a muscle.” He glanced at his sister. “They say.” Before tugging on her insulating leggings, Maria popped…

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SepSceneWriMo #6.30

Claude Prompt at the end. (This is two scenes of a larger, unfinished story. The telling got away with me.) “Demi, could you join me down here? Mind the steps, they’re a bit slick.” Dionysus ducked back into the low-ceilinged alcove, his high-powered LED flashlight bobbing across the crumbling stone wall. “Where are you?” Demeter called back, her irritation impossible to ignore. “The second…

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SepSceneWriMo #6.8

Claude Prompt at the end. Gregory Grim pulled out the wicker chair next to the tiny table in the coffee shop where he’d agreed to meet the reporter. “Are you Stephan from The Review?” Gregory knew who he was. He knew who everyone was. The shop bustled with holiday chaos—not at all conducive to a quiet conversation. Gregory loved it. A welcome departure from the constant ennui of his daily…

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SepSceneWriMo #6.3 + #6.20

Claude Prompts at the end. “Neural Neighbor Network installed successfully,” the interactive console chimed brightly. “You have neighbors nearby who have installed the upgrade. Would you like to do so as well?” “No.” “Upgrade installed successfully.” “What the fuck. I said n…” “You’re all set with your home automation software. Now is the time to name your home. What name would you like to call…

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SepSceneWriMo #6.25

Claude Prompt at the end… Ice-slick roads greeted me the morning after Katherine packed her bags and left. “You’re sweet and all, but with your head in the clouds and a menial job…” She kissed my cheek, looked around my apartment at the sketches of characters I’d drawn over the years, and shook her head. “Get out of this town, Daniel. It’s full of empty people grinding away their mundane lives.…

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Fermi's Paradox: Mammals?

Milk. Insects? Nope. Fish? Nope. Reptiles? Nope. Birds/dinosaurs? Nope. Premise: I hold that mammalian, or its analog, reproduction and rearing are one more “flip of a coin landing heads” in the explanation and resolution of Fermi’s Paradox. That the other methods of progenation do not provide the necessary environment for the generational transfer of information required to evolve an…

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Drinkin' wine bodi-ody

Two watermelons later… They came free from my daughter’s boyfriend, a guy whose family owns a farm in the area. I’ll let y’all know how it goes here soon. If nothing more, I’ll freeze it and drain the alcohol for some higher proof melon-jack. (Does that term seem lascivious to you?) Per the State of the Whirled comments, thanks for those. Given the activities of yesterday, October 18th, and all…

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The State of the Whirled: Fall '25

All things come to an end. Memento Mori, as you well know. Incapable of ignoring the tiding of an ill wind, I believe I understand what it’s like to live in a land fraught with uncertainty. The notion remains just a inkling, a general unease. Nothing like what other peoples have endured. But I get it, now. The United States needn’t worry so much about global warming, the Doomsday Clock, plagues,…

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SepSceneWriMo #6.2

2. An immortal vampire becomes a midnight radio DJ to find others of his kind through cryptic song requests (Urban fantasy) “Caller, you’re on the air. What’s that noise I hear in the background?” “Uh, what noise?” “It’s the midnight toll, of course. Are you ready with your answer?” “Uh, yeah. Could it be like, a six-pack worth?” “That’d make a devilish brew, wouldn’t it?” Vazinoff palmed the…

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SepSceneWriMo #6.17

17. The devil opens a customer service call center in Hell to modernize torture techniques (Religious satire) Hel texted furiously on her phone: “Lucifer, I’ve had it with you and your abuse of my realm. And now this, this atrocity? I hear you’re introducing an AI hotline to Hell? When will it end?” The ethereal cell-towers had recently been upgraded. Her message earned a prompt reply. “My…