Indignified

Fiction from Three AIs - Poe, Perpetual, and Gemini

It’s May Day here in Japan but I know that most of my readers are in North America so this will be one last AI focused indignity before I present to you the Indignified Manifesto tomorrow - written by my hand, felt by my blood, carried by my spirit.

Today, three of the last major AI models get a shot at writing from the prompt that I wrote my original history from. Indignified: The Unmaking of a Man. I’ve been told that it’s a powerful piece of writing. E.R. Donaldson called in haunting. Others have said it brought tears. Maybe it’s because they know me and the man I am today. In any event, it is what formed me - like all of us, a crucible from which a unique human being emerged, never to be replaced.

That’s a small part of what this experiment with these AI writers was about. Could they, working from the same prompt, write stories that reflected me or that reflected a full human being? Could they touch on the divine spark that makes each of us a living, breathing, human soul?

While there were some surprises and a few praiseworthy phrases -I think the answer is pretty definitively no. Or at least not yet.

I’ll offer more commentary on all of this in the paid section below the three AI stories - and speaking of that - I want to thank the nineteen of you who have already subscribed and especially those of you who saw the value proposition in paying for my work. I will work hard to make sure that you get more than your money’s worth.

The nineteen of you who have subscribed will have your names written on one of the doors of my art house here in Japan. Maybe someday it will be some sort of monument and they will build a glass dome over it and then it will get blown up by a Neo Japanese nationalist who says “He wasn’t Japanese” and only the pictures will remain…but there goes my writer brain. There will be a total of fifty of the first subscribers who will have this honor. And any present or paid future subscribers will automatically be given a place of honor on one of the doors.

So please, spread the word. Let’s grow this community - to twenty then fifty then one hundred and why not a million? Let’s do it!

Now on with the AI stories - I’ll have more to say about them in the comments below the paywall along with sharing the prompt that created them all.

~CD Familias

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The Weight of Dignity by Poe

Once, in a small town where dreams flickered like fireflies, there lived a man named Thomas. From an early age, Thomas craved dignity—an elusive prize he believed was his by right. In school, he was a curious boy, always questioning the monotony of rote learning. One fateful day, he dared to ask, “Why do we learn this way?” The teacher's response was swift—a paddle striking his backside, a sharp reminder that questioning authority came with consequences. The sting of humiliation etched itself into his memory, but it only fueled his resolve.

Years later, Thomas enlisted in the military, yearning for purpose. Yet, the rigid hierarchy crushed his spirit. He rose through the ranks, only to be stripped down after a confrontation with a superior. In the brig, surrounded by the echoes of his own desperation, he surrendered to the very authority he had once sought to challenge. The bottle became his refuge, but even the solace it promised was fleeting. Each drink blurred the line between dignity and degradation.

Emerging from the military, he sought a fresh start in the corporate world, believing paperwork might lead to respectability. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, as he filled out forms, revised reports, and navigated bureaucratic mazes. Just when he thought he had secured a foothold, the dot-com crash struck like a thunderclap. The rug was pulled from under him, leaving him to grapple with the wreckage of his ambitions.

Each time he turned to his father, he was met with philosophical musings that masked apathy. "Life is about learning from failure," his father would say, as Thomas sought a lifeline. He enrolled in university, clutching his degree as a beacon of hope. But the 2008 financial crisis loomed like a dark cloud, and job offers evaporated, leaving him stranded once more.

Homelessness became his reality, but Thomas fought back. With grit and determination, he clawed his way to becoming a merchant, establishing a modest business. Just as he began to feel the warmth of dignity again, landlords conspired to evict him, their greed crashing down like thunderous waves. Chaos erupted, and once more, he was left with nothing.

Friends and family watched, shaking their heads at what they deemed his failure to meet potential. "If only you tried harder," they would say, not seeing the relentless cycle that had ensnared him. Determined, he built a startup, lining up investors and dreaming of a better future. But then the pandemic hit, sweeping through the economy like a relentless tide, drowning his dreams in uncertainty. Landlords again turned their backs, and once more he found himself without a roof over his head.

Each attempt to rise was met with indignity. Each time he sought to reclaim his dignity, life responded with a heavy boot, pressing down harder. Finally, after years of relentless struggle, the weight became unbearable. Standing in the ruins of his efforts, Thomas made a choice. He turned his back on his family, his country, and the dignity he once sought. He walked away from his name, his work, and the remnants of a life he had tried to build.

In that moment of surrender, a strange freedom washed over him. He owned his indignity like a badge of honor, understanding fully what it meant to have the boot pressed on his throat. No longer was he a victim of his circumstances—he was a survivor, a man who had faced the relentless tides of life and emerged, not as a conqueror, but as someone who had learned to embrace the chaos.

Thomas wandered into the unknown, leaving behind the shackles of expectation. In the shadows of his former life, he found a flicker of solace. Dignity, he realized, was not bestowed; it was forged in the fires of struggle. And now, without the weight of others’ expectations, he was finally free.

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Indignified by Perplexity.ai

From the very beginning, Thomas sought dignity. As a boy in school, he was curious, questioning the rote lessons drilled into him. When he asked why they learned things in such an inefficient way, the teacher’s paddle came down hard on his hand. The sting was sharp, but the humiliation cut deeper-his voice, his reason, dismissed with a single strike. Yet, he held onto his pride, believing that dignity was something to be earned through standing firm.

Years later, Thomas enlisted, hoping the military would forge him into a man of honor. Instead, it broke him. The rigid hierarchy crushed his spirit; he was stripped of rank, beaten down by those who demanded absolute submission. Nights in the brig turned into a blur of screams and drunkenness, a desperate attempt to drown the loss of self. The authority they imposed was suffocating, but eventually, he bowed to it. His free will was a casualty of the uniform he wore.

After discharge, Thomas sought refuge in the corporate world, trading his battered soul for a desk job filled with endless paperwork. He believed this path would restore his dignity, make him a respectable citizen. But just as he settled in, the dot-com bubble burst, and the economy crashed beneath his feet. His dreams unraveled like fragile threads.

Each time he turned to his father, hoping for guidance or support, he was met with empty promises and philosophical platitudes that masked selfishness. “Life is a test of patience,” his father would say, but patience did not fill the void left by failure and loss.

Determined, Thomas put himself through university, clutching his degree like a talisman. Yet, the 2008 financial crisis struck, and once again, the economy crashed, shattering his hopes. Homelessness followed, but he fought back, clawing his way to become a respectable merchant. Just as stability seemed within reach, landlords illegally evicted him and his family, plunging him into chaos once more.

Friends and family watched from the sidelines, shaking their heads at his repeated downfalls. “Why can’t you just settle?” they asked. But Thomas couldn’t stop. He built a startup, secured investors, and then the pandemic hit, destroying his dreams yet again. Landlords evicted him despite his efforts to be a good tenant, a good citizen.

Each time he tried to rise, dignity slipped through his fingers like sand. The indignities piled up, a mountain of broken hopes and shattered pride. Finally, it was too much. Thomas turned his back on everything-his family, his country, his name, his life. He walked away from the identity he had fought so hard to build.

But this time, something was different. He did not collapse under the weight of indignity. He owned it. He wore it like armor, a badge of honor forged in the fires of relentless defeat. Now, he understood what it meant to have the boot pressed on his throat-not as a victim, but as a man who had faced the worst and refused to be broken.

Thomas vanished into the shadows, no longer seeking the dignity the world denied him. Instead, he embraced the raw truth of his existence-indignified, unbowed, and finally free.

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Indignified by Gemini

The sting of the wooden paddle on young Arthur’s backside was the first taste of indignity. It wasn't the pain so much as the bewilderment. He’d simply asked, politely, if there was a faster way to memorize the dates of the Peloponnesian War. The teacher, a stout man with a permanently flushed face, had bellowed about insubordination and the importance of rote learning, before administering the blows. Arthur, tears welling, felt a hot shame bloom in his chest, a feeling that questioning, a natural human impulse, could be met with such brutal dismissal. His father, when told, stroked his chin and declared, "Ah, Arthur, the world resists the inquisitive. It prefers the cog to the independent spring." No help there, just a pseudo-philosophical shrug.

The military was a masterclass in the stripping of self. Every ounce of individuality was sanded away, replaced by rigid obedience. Arthur, idealistic and eager to serve, soon found his earnestness met with derision. His attempts to streamline procedures were seen as challenges to authority. A minor infraction, a carelessly worded suggestion to a superior, led to a swift demotion, followed by a spiral. The weight of perceived failure, the constant barking orders, the sheer dehumanization chipped away at him. He found solace in the bottle, a dark comfort that culminated in a drunken outburst in the mess hall. The brig was cold, the silence deafening, and the shame a crushing weight. He finally broke, mumbled the required apologies, and became the unquestioning soldier they demanded. His father’s letter read, "The wise man bends with the wind, Arthur. Rigidity breaks." More hollow pronouncements.

Civilian life offered a different kind of indignity: the slow suffocation of bureaucracy. Job applications that vanished into digital voids, endless forms demanding redundant information, the feeling of being a faceless number in a vast, uncaring system. He finally landed a corporate job, a sterile environment where success was measured in quarterly reports and smiles were carefully calibrated. He imagined a semblance of the dignified life his parents had always preached. Then the dot-com bubble burst. The rug was yanked out. He was just another casualty, another line item on a spreadsheet. His father’s phone call offered the usual empty comfort: "The market is a fickle beast, Arthur. Attachment to material things leads only to sorrow."

He put himself through university, fueled by a desperate hope that education would be his shield against the vagaries of fortune. A degree in hand, he felt a flicker of pride, a sense of accomplishment. But the 2008 financial crisis roared through the global economy like a hungry beast. The job market evaporated. His hard-earned credentials seemed like worthless paper. Homelessness followed, a brutal stripping of basic human dignity. Yet, Arthur possessed a stubborn resilience. He clawed his way back, establishing a small but thriving merchant business. He envisioned a stable future for his growing family. Then came the eviction notice, served with cold indifference by a landlord who found a more lucrative opportunity. The law, it seemed, offered little protection. Chaos descended once more. His friends and family offered sympathetic headshakes, murmuring about his "bad luck," his "inability to catch a break." His father’s wisdom this time: "Life is suffering, Arthur. Acceptance is the path to peace."

He tried again, channeling his frustrations into a startup. He secured investors, the future finally seemed bright. Then the pandemic hit. The world shut down. His business, poised for success, crumbled. Landlords, citing obscure clauses, again terminated his tenancy, leaving him and his family adrift. Each time, the indignity felt heavier, the climb steeper. The promises of a just world, a world where hard work and integrity were rewarded, felt like cruel jokes.

Finally, something snapped. The endless cycle of striving, only to be knocked down, had eroded his spirit. The well of hope ran dry. He looked at his family, his country, the very notion of a dignified life he had so desperately sought, and saw only a mirage. He walked away. He left behind his name, his work, the remnants of a life lived under the constant threat of being made less than. He became a ghost, unburdened by expectation or societal judgment.

He was indignified, utterly so. But in that final act of renunciation, something shifted. The shame was gone, replaced by a cold understanding. He had tasted the boot on his throat so many times that its imprint had become a part of him. He no longer fought it. He embraced it. His indignity was no longer something imposed upon him; it was a shield, a testament to the relentless battering he had endured. It was a perverse kind of freedom. He was nameless, rootless, stripped bare. And in that emptiness, he found a strange, defiant peace. The world had taken everything, but in walking away, he had finally taken something back: ownership of his own ruin.

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