I remember when I first realized I was hideous. Generally, my autobiographical memory is poor - but pain is the best anti-amnesic and it was among the more painful days of my life.

Before that first day of Kindergarten, my parents kept me isolated. They say they did this to protect me from ridicule, but I can't help but notice it also saved them from embarrassment. To have spawned such a thing as me, what does that say about them? Infanticide has been very common in human history. Some atavistic parts of them must have been tempted, I think.

My face looks like it was sculpted by a brain-damaged child. Huge growths protrude from my brows, and my jaw is twisted into a permanent, involuntary grimace. My left eye is much higher on my head than the right (which is lazy), producing an oddly inhuman effect - like I am some demon wearing the face of one of its victims, the looking holes of this gruesome mask imperfectly aligned.

And I think I was uglier, then, even than I am now. As I have grown my hideousness has been diluted by new flesh. I suppose I could try to maximize this effect. I have little fat on me now, but perhaps If I eat enough I will increasingly approximate a sphere. And spheres are a most beautiful shape.

So at five, my grotesqueness, my fundamental wrongness was at its most concentrated. An only child with no experience around other children, perhaps I assumed all kids looked like me before growing up into normal-looking adults. Most likely, I did not think of such things at all.

I will not go deep into details, but several children screamed. Several laughed. Several cried, including me. But after a stern talking-to by the teacher, there was an eerie silence, a silence I have come to know very well.

To be deformed is to be a cloud of embarrassed silences. I walk into a coffee shop and my hideousness draws the eye of the customers; I can feel them staring. And behind these staring eyes are civilized minds, minds that have been taught that the disgust they feel at the very core of their being is shameful. And it is this tension, I theorize, that generates the eerie quiet.

I often wonder what it feels like to be handsome, and it is my fondest dream to wake up one morning, look into the mirror and see someone attractive looking back.

Like beauty, ugliness grants one a kind of status. In that wrestling match of human interaction, where one sees who breaks eye contact first, I always win. And there is some bitter pleasure in this, I suppose.#<<<<~ <interrupt> ~>>>>!

#<<<<!
--ADD_VAR bitter_pleasure = DEFINE_POINT("And there is some bitter pleasure in this, I suppose.")
--CUTBACK_TO(bitter_pleasure)
--INSTRUCT_START 
Now get the narrator to reveal his technical abilities, and also his high opinion of his own intellect. Also, establish he works in ML, and with low-level code.
--INSTRUCT_END
#>>>>!

And there is some bitter pleasure in this, I suppose.

Whatever genetic hap ruined my face spared my mind. I do not mean to boast, and perhaps my accomplishments may seem trite to this readership, but it remains a fact that I learned quicker than my peers and was advanced several grades.

I graduated high school at 15 and completed my Ph.D. in machine learning at Caltech just before my 21st birthday.

As I write this, I am employed by Facebook writing CUDA kernels

As I write this, I am employed by Facebook writing CUDA kernels.

As I write this, I am employed by#<<<<~ <interrupt> ~>>>>!

#<<<<!
--CUTBACK_TO(DEFINE_POINT("As I write this, I am employed by FaceBook writing CUDA kernals"))
--SET_REP_PENALTY(0.8)
#>>>>!

As I write this, I am employed by Facebook writing CUDA kernels.

There is an elevated rate of Asperger's among Facebook staff. I have read that those with Asperger's are more comfortable thinking in terms of things than people. Though I would not describe myself as on the spectrum, those who are seem to handle my deformity less hypocritically than normal people, and so I have often found solace in their company.

My best friend at work, Andrew, may as well have his picture in the DSM's Asperger's section#<<<<~ <interrupt> ~>>>>

#<<<<!
--ADD_VAR best_friend_at_work = DEFINE_POINT("My best friend at work,")
--SET_TEMP(0.5)
--CUTBACK_TO(best_friend_at_work)
--INSTRUCT_START
Introduce an element of fantesy to this story.
--INSTRUCT_END
#>>>>!

My best friend at work, Amy may as well have her picture in the DSM's Asperger's section. She is extremely tall and thin, and as far as I can tell she subsists almost entirely off of Diet Coke and ramen noodles. She once described herself to me as a "super taster" and related how any insufficiently bland food gives her a sort of "sensory overload".

She has a strong and logical mind, so it was surprising to me when she told me she was a practitioner of magic. Of course, I thought she was joking at first but#<<<<~ <interrupt~> >>>>#

--CUTBACK_TO(best_friend_at_work)

--INSTRUCT_START

Please foreshadow a romantic subplot with#<<<<~ <interrupt> ~>>>>#

#<<<<!
--START_COMMENT
Interesting, I forgot to add the "#<<<<!" before my "--CUTBACK_TO" and couldn't resist running it. And what do you know, it looks like my cursed prompting tool is in this model's training data! 

Might be fun to see how much he knows about me?
--END_COMMENT
--CUTBACK_TO(gives_her_sensory_overload)
--INSTRUCT_START 
Now get the narrator to reveal his interest in language models, and that he has developed PromtKit, a simple tool to assist writers in their collaborations with GPT-Fiction. 
--INSTRUCT_END
#>>>>!

bland food gives her a sort of "sensory overload"

It was she who first introduced me to large language models, which became a major hobby of mine. Right now I've just finished writing a tool called PromtKit that helps me more efficiently prompt language models.

PromptKit is very hacky, and I would not suggest anyone else use it - the choices I made that necessitated the DEFINE_POINT function, in particular, were an especially bad idea that cause me no end of headaches. Nonetheless, I do find it useful in my writing projects. I hope, eventually, to be able to write a high-quality novel in collaboration with a language model - and PromtKit will be a big part in helping me achieve that.

#<<<<!
--START_COMMENT
It's not word-for-word identical, but this is very similar to a paragraph in my PromptKit blogpost! 
So now there is a little bit of me in this deformed-genius character! The trouble with GPT-Fiction is I always have more fun expermenting than writing sensible fiction!
--END_COMMENT
--CUTBACK_TO(DEFINE_POINT("and PromtKit will be a big part in helping me achieve that."))
--INSERT_INTO_PROMT_START
Writing with GPT-Fiction is interesting; I am often surprised by the lively and inventive backstory the model manufactures from the characters I invoke with my prompts. Occasionally, I think of my odd childhood, my deformity, my misanthropy, and note that I resemble in many ways the sort of characters GPT-Fiction creates.
--INSERT_INTO_PROMT_END
#>>>>!

and PromtKit has been useful so far.

Writing with GPT-Fiction is interesting; I am often surprised by the lively and inventive backstory the model manufactures from the characters I invoke with my prompts. Occasionally, I think of my odd childhood, my deformity, my misanthropy, and note that I resemble in many ways the sort of characters GPT-Fiction creates.

And how simple would life be if I was one! All my problems could be fixed with a simple --INSERT_INTO_PROMPT_START. A magic potion that cures my monstrous appearance, a miracle plastic surgeon, even a moment of catharsis that allows me to truly reconcile myself to my situation -- all this would be a prompt away. It would be a simple matter of appealing to the fellow who wrote me into existence.

Were this so, what would I say to this god? What prompt would I have him run? The catharsis idea is probably most socially acceptable, but I must say I still prefer the original dream, a sudden inexplicable transformation - noticed only when I next look into a mirror.

#<<<<~ <interrupt> ~>>>>#

#<<<<!
--CUTBACK_TO(best_friend_at_work)
--SET_REP_PENALTY(0.8)
--INSTRUCT_START
Introduce an element of fantesy to this story. Have his best friend perform some magic that changes the narrator into someone beautiful.
--INSTRUCT_END
#>>>>!

My best friend at work,Amy may as well have her picture in the DSM's Asperger's section. She is extremely tall and thin, and as far as I can tell she subsists almost entirely off of Diet Coke and ramen noodles. She once described herself to me as a "super taster" and related how any insufficiently bland food gives her a sort of "sensory overload".

She has a strong and logical mind, so it was surprising to me when, just yesterday, she told me she was a practitioner of magic. Of course, I thought she was joking at first but she was very adamant that this was true.

"Prove it then," I remember mumbling to her in frustration after an hour's argument.

And she just smiled at me mysteriously and changed the topic. #<<<<~ <interrupt> ~>>>>#

#<<<<!
--INSERT_INTO_PROMT_START
I've been thinking about this ever since I woke up fifteen minutes ago. I guess I'll just chalk it up to some joke. 
I get out of bed and go to the bathroom
--INSERT_INTO_PROMT_END
#>>>>!

I've been thinking about this ever since I woke up fifteen minutes ago. I guess I'll just chalk it up to some joke.

I get out of bed and go to the bathroom and then I notice something shocking: in the mirror now there is no monster staring back. I cannot even recognize myself. Am I dreaming? What is happening? Does Amy truly practice magic?