AI-assisted writing – Page 3 – One Thousand And One Parsecs

In defense of AI art & AI writing

If Andrew Tate wrote a book about how to make your wife or girlfriend into your slave, would he be within his rights to demand that no woman reads that book without his consent?

Brandon Sanderson was inspired to become a fantasy writer when, as a child, he read Dragonsbane by Barbara Hambly. Sanderson is now worth some seven or eight figures, while Hambly, who is still alive and still writing, struggles to pay her bills*. Should Hambly be entitled to a portion of Sanderson’s earnings, for inspiring him to become a fantasy writer?

Every mother who has ever lived gives tremendously of herself to her children, even if only in the physical act of giving birth. Should mothers have a legal claim on their children, for monetary compensation for all of the sacrifices they make?

These might seem like crazy questions, but when you consider them in the context of the ethical arguments about AI art and AI writing, they really aren’t. They illustrate just a few of the unintended consequences of the regime that many disgruntled and resentful creators are arguing for, when really what they want is a world in which AI doesn’t exist.

One of the most difficult parts of being a creator is putting your work out into the world and letting it go. At that point, you really have little control over what it does and how it impacts the world. Many artists who labor in obscurity dream of making an impact on the world, not realizing that success—even artistic success—can be far more devastating and traumatic than obscurity. After all, just ask Rachel Zegler about that now.

I’m not saying that artists shouldn’t be paid for their work. Certainly they should be paid—and certainly there are valid ethical concerns with how AI is disrupting art and literature. But unhinged people who rant online about how AI is “stealing” artists’ work, or how it is “plagiarizing” writers’ books, simply because the LLM’s training data includes free online content (much of which was posted online by said artists and writers)—I don’t think those people really care about the ethical nuances of the debate. I think they just want to force us all to go back to a world where generative AI doesn’t exist.

Did David Weber steal from Star Trek when he wrote the first Honorverse novel? Did John Scalzi steal from Robert A. Heinlein and Joe Haldeman when he wrote Old Man’s War? Did Terry Brooks steal from Tolkien? How about George R.R. Martin?

Where exactly is the line between the “stealing” that should get you thrown in prison, and the “stealing” that people wink and nod at when they say that good artists copy and great artists steal? And how do we know that we’ve drawn the line in the right place? Would we have worse art, or better art if Star Wars had gone into the public domain in the 80s or 90s? Would artists be making less money, or more?

I don’t have the answers to these questions, but I ask them because I think they are worth considering. And I think that most of the artists who think they have the answers are really just acting out of fear.

Will AI outright replace artists and writers? Will it make it impossible for artists and writers to make a living? I remain skeptical, though I acknowledge that there are some ways in which AI art appears to be doing exactly that. For example, I’ve been playing around with OpenAI’s new image generator, making some cover mock-ups, and I’ve been very impressed. But I will still seek out James at GoOnWrite.com for my covers, because he has a much better eye for this sort of thing, and my sales data reflects that his covers sell more of my books than my own covers do.

Should writers and artists expect to be paid whenever their art is used to train an LLM? Aside from the impracticality of enforcing such a law, I don’t think that we should—at least, not for general training data. Fine tuning is a different matter. If an AI is going to be fine-tuned to write in my particular style, I think I have a right to be recompensed for that—and I’d be willing to license that right for a reasonable fee. Perhaps this is a path that artists could pursue as well. But demanding that every AI company pay every artist for training their LLMs is kind of like Barbara Hambly demanding that Brandon Sanderson pay her a portion of his earnings. Likewise, whenever artists or writers demand that their intellectual property is excluded from the training data, it smacks to me of the first question with Andrew Tate and his hypothetical book.

I will admit that I’m biased in favor of AI, since for the last two years I’ve been working to incorporate it into my own creative process. But I’ve been doing this out of a recognition that these things we call “writing” or “making art” is going to change because of these new technologies. In a world saturated with AI, will it still be possible to make a living as an artist or a writer? Yes, I believe it will, but at the same time, I believe that our conception of what it means to be an “artist” or a “writer” will almost certainly change. That’s why I’ve chosen to embrace these tools, rather than fight them—and why I think my fellow artists and writers should as well.

*At CONduit 2010 in Salt Lake City, Barbara Hambly was the guest of honor, and in her keynote address she talked about her struggles to pay her bills with writing. I assume that things haven’t changed much in the years since then, though I would be delighted to learn that I’m wrong.

Should I split my epic fantasy series into two trilogies?

So I’m working on the first book in a new epic fantasy series, called the Soulbound King. It’s basically a fantasy retelling of the life of King David, loosely adapted from the biblical stories about his life. I’ve already outlined the first book and generated a rough AI draft, which came in at 153k words. The final draft will likely be longer than that, but I think it’s very likely that I will be ready to publish it before the end of the year.

The question I’m currently grappling with is whether to keep it as a seven book series, or to release it as two trilogies with a bridge novel in the middle. Frank Herbert did a similar thing with his Dune books: the first three books (Dune, Dune Messiah, and Children of Dune) were a trilogy, and the next book, God Emperor of Dune, was supposed to be a bridge novel setting up the second trilogy—except he died before finishing the last book, so his son Brian Herbert got together with Kevin J. Anderson to write it, and then they blew it up into a franchise… point being, stuff like this has been done before.

Now, I’m reasonably confident that I’m not going to die before finishing the last book. In fact, I’ve already made a 7-point outline for all seven books, so I know exactly where they start and end, with the inciting incident, midpoint, climax, etc. I’m also writing these books with AI assistance, which is making it possible for me to write these books much faster than I otherwise would have been able to write them. For the first book, The Soulbond and the Sling, I anticipate that it will only take between six to nine months of total work to go from story idea to finished draft.

But the trouble with writing a seven book epic fantasy series is that a lot of readers aren’t going to bother picking it up until all seven books are out. This is because so many readers have been burned by authors like George R.R. Martin and Patrick Rothfuss, who have not and likely will never finish their bestselling series. I can’t really blame the readers for that (though I can and do blame the authors), but it creates a market reality that I need to anticipate and plan for.

So here’s what I’m thinking: instead of making it a seven book series, I’ll make it two trilogies with a bridge novel in-between. The first three books will complete one arc, and the last three books will complete another arc. I’ll wait to release the first book until after I’ve completed the AI draft of the third book, so that way I can release all of the books in the first trilogy within 1-3 months of each other. And after the first trilogy is complete, I’ll market it as a trilogy while working on the last four books, probably releasing each of those a year apart, as I finish them.

The reason I’m thinking about this now is because a strategy like this is going to influence how I write all of these books. If I’m going to split the series into two trilogies, the last thing I want to do is end the first trilogy on a cliffhangar. It has to hold together as a complete story, with only one or two loose threads. But since I’m still in the early writing stages of the first book, I still have enough room creatively to make that kind of adjustment. I just have to decide if that’s truly the plan.

By the way, the first trilogy ends with the fantasy equivalent of the Battle of Mount Gilboa, where the Saul and Jonathan characters die in an epic battle and the David character becomes king (I know that in the Bible, there was a gap of several years between those two events, but I’m combining them for purposes of this book). So it is a rather natural stopping place, even if it does end on a massive downer, followed by a false victory (the second trilogy begins with David and Bathsheba).

Anyways, what do you think of this plan? Does it sound like a good idea, or is there a compelling reason I haven’t thought of yet for why I shouldn’t do it?

The rough AI draft of The Soulbond and the Sling is complete!

So I just finished the rough AI draft of The Soulbond and the Sling, after nine days of outlining and prewriting, and five days of working with Sudowrite to generate it. The rough draft clocks in at 18 chapters (plus a prologue and an epilogue), 80 scenes, and 153,254 words. I used about 770,000 AI credits from start to finish, including for generating all of the characters and worldbuilding in addition to the text of the draft itself.

I have to say, I am really impressed with the incremental improvements over at Sudowrite, and with Claude 3.7, which was the AI model that I used to generate most of this book. I did try out Sudowrite’s new Muse model, but I wasn’t too impressed with it, at least for generating new chapters. For the in-chapter tools, such as guided write, expand, or rewrite, it’s probably fantastic, but with generating new chapters from my outline it just felt too much like it threw all my worldbuilding into a blender. Most likely I either had the creative setting set too high, or I gave it too many prompts.

But when I switched to Claude 3.7 (Sudowrite’s “Excellent” model), the results were amazing. I seriously felt less like I was writing the novel and more like I was reading it for the first time. There’s still a lot of work to be done, especially in the second half of the book, where many of the scenes strayed from the overall story structure, either forgetting things that had already happened or assuming things that hadn’t yet. There’s also quite a bit of worldbuilding that I would like to add in, and a handful of small hallucinations that need to be cut out, as well as a major change that I made in one of the characters and need to smooth out in other scenes… but overall, I found myself really enjoying this book, and was frankly surprised at how well it fleshed out the setting and characters, making them really stand out. It also added some really great dialogue that is probably going to make it to the final draft.

I was originally planning to lay this WIP aside while I switch to another project, but I think now the best course will be to work on the AI draft until I make it as good as I can. That way, I can tinker with the AI prompts while they are still fresh in my mind. Once I’ve gotten the AI draft as good as I can make it, I’ll lay it aside for awhile to let my subconscious work on the story, so that when I pick it up again, I’ll be better able to do an awesome human draft.

I would have added a mock-up for the book cover, but you would not believe how hard it is to get an AI image generator to give you a picture of David and Goliath that doesn’t have David holding a bow and arrow! Seriously—every time I prompt it for a fantasy illustration of David and Goliath, where Goliath is a giant horned monster, it shows David with a bow and arrow instead of a sling. It’s almost as bad as the strawberry problem! But let’s see if WordPress can do it…

Nope. Yet another AI image fail. I even specifically said he was wielding a balearic sling. Sigh.

One of the best takes on AI-assisted writing that I’ve seen thus far

Even though I’ve been using AI in my writing process for nearly two years now, I still feel like I have so much to learn. Everything is changing so fast, and these tools are becoming more and more breathtaking with each passing month. Just when you think you’ve got them mastered out, you break through to the next level and feel like a beginner all over again. It’s quite invigorating.

Edmund Slate Critiques

One of the big things I want to do this year is update all of my book descriptions. A lot of them are old, and written back when I wasn’t very good at writing marketing copy (an area where I still have much to learn). So I thought it would be good to go through all of my backlist titles and update the descriptions to make them as sharp and compelling as possible.

For help with rewriting these descriptions, I decided to turn to ChatGPT—not to rewrite them for me, but to give me some critical feedback that would give me some direction. Taking a page out of Ethan Mollick’s book Co-Intelligence, I decided to give ChatGPT a human persona and interact with it naturally, as if I were talking with a human. Here is my starting prompt:

You are a senior editor with forty years of experience in the book publishing industry. You have a deep knowledge of the industry, the market, market trends, and what makes a bestselling book. Your experience has made you a little bit jaded, and you are often blunt and sometimes harsh with your criticism, but you are always very honest and down-to-earth. What is the name that I should call you by?

The name ChatGPT chose for this persona was “Edmund Slate,” a little cartoonish perhaps, but it fits well enough. So far, the critiques have been surprisingly good. For example, this is what I got when I gave it the book description for Bringing Stella Home:

Alright, let’s break this down.

What’s working:

High Stakes: You’ve nailed the urgency and emotional stakes—James is thrust into chaos, loses everything, and is driven by a powerful motivation to save his sister. That’s solid.

Hook: The Hameji battle fleet and the “molten slag” imagery are vivid and grab attention.

Character Arc Potential: James’s internal conflict (reluctant warrior) hints at a compelling character journey.

What needs improvement:

Clarity and Pacing: The description is dense and slightly convoluted. It jumps between events and ideas too quickly—James getting left behind, invasion, fleeing, enslavement, and a personal vow. Tighten it up to avoid overwhelming the reader.

Emotional Engagement: While the stakes are clear, we don’t feel James’s fear, guilt, or determination as much as we could. Show, don’t tell—give us a stronger sense of his inner turmoil.

Unique Selling Point: What sets this apart from other “family member rescue” space operas? Highlight something distinctive about the world, the Hameji, or James’s journey.

Suggested Rewrite:

“When James gets stuck on dockyard duty while his older siblings visit the planet, he never imagines it will be the last time he sees them. But when a ruthless Hameji battle fleet invades, the star system becomes a war zone—and James can only watch in horror as the planet is reduced to molten slag.

Fleeing with his father on the family starship, James learns a devastating truth: his sister is alive but enslaved by the Hameji. To rescue her, James must face an impossible choice. He’s no warrior, has never even held a weapon—but to save his sister, he’ll have to become something he’s not. Even if it means crossing a line he can never uncross.”

Why this works:

Tighter Structure: Events are sequenced more logically and concisely.

Emotional Pull: Stronger focus on James’s perspective and inner conflict.

Focus on Stakes: We clearly understand the stakes without unnecessary details.

Give it a go and let me know what you think—or toss me the next one if you’re ready.

The suggested rewrite isn’t totally there, since it misses or overlooks some necessary details from the book, but it’s pretty dang close. I must say, I was quite impressed.

My plan is to spend the next few months going through each of my backlist titles, getting Edmund Slate’s critique for each book description, and rewriting them accordingly. I plan to do two revision passes for each book description in this way, then put the end result in front of some human eyes to see if it works, and if it does, replace the existing description with the final result. If I can do a little bit of work each day, or focus on one book description each week, I can probably get them all done by April or May.

Farewell to 2024!

It’s new year’s eve, finally! Another year, another voyage around the M-class dwarf star we call Sol!

A lot of other writers and podcasters are doing recaps of their year, highlighting some of their best moments as well as analyzing what they learned and what changed. Generally, though, these people are either single or have producers and assistants to help them with their content. Since neither of those is true for me (I literally just put my son down for a nap, though it sounds like it will be a while before he falls asleep), I’ll just write a quick blog post with some off-the-cuff thoughts.

It’s been a very busy and eventful year for me, writing-wise, though most of that probably won’t be visible from the outside until about the middle of next year. I’ve totally reworked my writing process in ways that should start yielding a lot of new books around then, and hopefully continue to yield them for the forseeable future. If successful, I will probably write a non-fiction book about it sometime, but that’s still in the nebulous future.

I published four novels this year, all in a new series, and I’m currently writing two more in the same series (the Sea Mage Cycle). Interestingly enough, it’s one of my best rated series, which probably shows how much I’ve improved as a writer since I first started indie publishing. Also, it’s much more of a fun adventure fantasy series than some of my other stuff, which either tends toward sprawling, ambitious space opera or sober dystopian think-pieces, both of which tend to take themselves a little too seriously. But I’m happy writing fantasy adventure, so if it turns out I can carve out a comfortable niche in this subgenre, I’ll certainly enjoy leaning into it.

Four novels in a year is about four times what I typically produce, but I was starting to feel a little burned out, so after taking a break to write some AI-assisted short stories, I decided to take some lessons from the experience and spend the rest of the year reworking my creative process. It didn’t take long for me to learn that writing quality AI-assisted novels isn’t that much harder than writing quality AI-assisted short stories—indeed, in some very key ways, it’s actually easier. So since novels are much more lucrative than short stories, I decided to stop writing them and to focus exclusively on novels.

I still plan to keep putting out a new title every month in 2025, just like I have for the last several years. Until now, most of those titles have been short stories, simply because I wasn’t able to write fast enough to regularly publish anything longer. But this year, I’m hoping to put out at least five novels, perhaps more, especially if I can get to the point where it only takes a month to write them. On the off months, I will republish old short story singles, so if there are any that you remember that you want to see again, let me know and I’ll put them into the publishing queue.

I’ll have to write at length with how I’ve reworked my writing process, and not just from the AI angle. I’ve also figured out how to hack my ADHD so that a lot of the things that used to be liabilities (a hyperactive, easily distractible mind, a hunger for novelty, a constant desire to start new projects or to chase new ideas, etc) are now assets instead of liabilities. But to really get into that, I first need to write about how I hacked my ADHD to read more books—which would probably make a great blog post for January 2025, since I’m sure many of my readers are making resolutions to read more books. I used to struggle to read more than thirty or forty books in a year, but now I consistently finish a book every 2-5 days, and have been for the last year and a half. So that should make a very interesting post.

On a more personal note, my big resolution for this year is to hike Mount Timpanogos at least once, and be in good enough shape that it doesn’t totally wipe me out. It should be too hard. I enjoy hiking, but I’ve put off hiking Mount Timp for years, assuming I would get around to it some other time. Well, I’m 40 now, so if I don’t do it soon there’s a chance I may never do it. Besides, it would be great to get back into hiking again, and perhaps even tackle some truly difficult mountains, not just the big local one that’s emminently doable. But for this year, it’s Mount Timpanogos (and maybe Mount Nebo, if Timp isn’t enough of a challenge).

The kids are getting older, and we’ll probably have to figure out homeschooling before the end of this next year. We’re also moving back into our house in Orem, after my wife gets her PhD. Before we do, I’d like to build a little free library that we can post on the corner of our property, and maybe even a bench, if I can get around to it. But the library is definitely something I want to finish before we move back in. Should be a fun woodworking project.

So that’s what we’re up to around here. Definitely looking forward to another long trip around the sun!

Up and Back from Denver

My uncle just got remarried, after losing his wife of some 40+ years to dimentia. The wedding was Saturday, so I flew up there in the early morning with my two sisters who live here in Utah. And then, because my four year-old daughter had her first primary program in church this Sunday, I flew back that night around midnight.

With all of that said, though, I still managed to get 2k words of writing in while on the plane or in the airport (mostly on the plane). This was all human writing, taking the stuff that I’d previously generated with AI and using it as a detailed outline (or sometimes as a loose suggestion) while I rewrote it in my own words. Which goes to show how AI-assisted writing can be super useful, especially for those in-between moments where it’s impossible to get a more sustained focus. If not for what I had previously generated, I wouldn’t have gotten more than a couple of hundred words in, if that much. And of course, I didn’t get any writing in during the wedding or any of the family stuff before and after.

Needless to say, after waking up at 5am to fly out, and not going to sleep until 2am the following morning, I was pretty hashed all Sunday. But the primary program went really well. My daughter remembered her part, and all but swallowed the microphone as she shouted it so we could all hear: “I love Jesus! Jesus is the Prince of Peace and the King of Kings!” It was hilarious, and very cute.

Sudowrite just rolled out a new outlining feature in their Story Bible, which replaces the old outline field. I tried it out this morning, and two things strike me about it:

First, it’s really nice that there’s no longer a word limit on the novel outline. I did have a little trouble getting my chapters to link with the outline, so there are probably still some things on the backend that need to be smoothed out, but I did get it to work in the end.

Second, it is SUPER convenient to be able to have the AI generate the individual chapter descriptions. After playing around with it, I found that the best way to generate them was simply to copy and paste all of the plot points from the spreadsheet that I use to map out the whole book, not even bothering to format it for the weird table breaks and tabs. The AI takes all of that input as-is and spits out a super accurate chapter description every time! Very nice, and hopefully it translates to better chapter beats too.

So for today and tomorrow, I’m going to work on the outline for Lizzie-99XT. After that, I’ll go back to writing out the rough human draft for The Road to New Jerusalem, and probably just focus on human writing for the rest of the month.

Late October Update

It’s been a really mild autumn this year. We got our first hard frost only about a week ago, and it’s currently about 66 degrees outside. Feels positively balmy!

The image above is my current computer setup. The playpen is for the kids to watch a show while I’m working on the other monitor, such as what I’m doing right now. We’re still living with my in-laws, so this room is their library add-on. It’s really nice! I especially like how much light the windows let in, as well as the fact that it’s set away from the rest of the house, so I don’t have to worry as much about waking sleeping kids.

For the last few months, I’ve been alternating between each week between different WIPs, trying to use some of the principles I learned from hacking my ADHD in order to write more. I should really write a blog post about that soon. Basically, I switch out a new project every week, shepherding about half a dozen WIPs toward completion instead of completing them one at a time.

Since I only just started a few months ago, it’s going to be a few more months before the first of the projects is finished, but once I fill out the queue to that point I should be able to publish a new novel every other month for the forseeable future. Once I can do that consistently, without sacrificing the quality of the stuff I write, the plan is to move it up to once every six weeks, then once every month. With the way I’ve been incorporating AI into my writing process, it’ll be a challenge but still very doable.

I’m also working to get all of my audiobooks up on Findaway Voices, which distributes to Spotify, among other places. Since I’m not quite sure how to price them, I’m running a $2.99 sale for the rest of the year. The plan is to run a book pricing survey with my email list and use that data to guide future pricing for my ebooks and AI-narrated audiobooks. I’ve also been invited into the beta for Amazon’s AI-narrated audiobooks, so those should be going up on Audible before too long.

In family news, my wife is applying for a position in the BYU Linguistics Department, and they just set up a bunch of interviews (including the one with a General Authority, which is supposed to be with both of us). She’s also finishing up her PhD, which should be done next year. Between that and watching the kids, I don’t have a lot of uninterrupted writing time—thank goodness for AI!

And now the kids’ shows are over, so I’d better get back to doing other things. Take care!

AI-Assisted Writing: Why Write a Novel with AI?

One of the things about AI-assisted writing that has really surprised me is how resistant other writers can be to the very idea of using AI in their creative writing process. Here in Utah valley, there’s a large enough writing community that we occasionally get together for an informal meetup over lunch, and every time I’ve brought up the subject, I could almost see the fists come up. At one of our local writing conventions, Writer’s Cantina, I was on a panel about AI-assisted writing… and there were maybe only four people in the audience (and one of them was my wife!)

It’s a shame, because I really do think that generative AI is going to transform the way we write everything, from emails and reports to blog posts, long-form essays, and yes, even fiction. It’s only a matter of time. AI is gradually being worked into the apps and programs we all use to write, and as people become more comfortable with it in other aspects of their lives, they’re going to start using it to write fiction—and that’s okay! Almost all of the resistance is based on ignorance and fear, not a clear-eyed understanding of how these AI tools actually work.

As someone who remembers the days when “self-published” was very much a dirty word—in fact, many people considered it the kiss of death to ever having a professional writing career—it very much feels like we’re repeating the whole tradpub vs. indie wars of the early 2010s, just over the issue of AI-assisted writing. The biggest difference is that the internet is 10x more toxic than it used to be, probably because of how polarized and partisan our world has become in general. But other than that, it’s like we’re only a year or two away from an AI-assisted author having a massive breakout and proving that you can write with AI and be a success, the way Amanda Hocking proved that you can self-publish and be a success.

So why should writers consider writing a novel with AI? One of the things I hear a lot from other writers is “I enjoy the writing process too much to ever consider using an AI to help me write.” Which is fine, I guess, if you’re writing just for yourself and maybe your own family. But if writing is your career, or something you hope to turn into a career, why wouldn’t you want to experiment with AI-assisted writing? After all, if you refuse to even experiment with it, how can you possibly know that it won’t improve your process in some way? And if it can improve your process and give you a competitive edge, isn’t that reason enough to try?

Here is what I’ve found after a year and a half of experimenting with AI-assisted writing:

In the old days, it would take me anywhere from six months to several years to write a novel. Now, I can write a novel-length work in about 1-3 months.

Before, I would hit a patch of writer’s block in the middle of almost every project, leading to weeks (and sometimes months) of agonizing frustration and crippling self-doubt. Now, because of AI, I can step back far enough to see the forest from the trees and identify all of the major story issues before they become creative blocks—and generate a rough draft in about a week.

Before, whenever I would come up with a great new story idea while in the middle of another project, I would have to suppress my enthusiasm for that idea or risk having it derail everything I was working on. Now, I finish my projects fast enough that that generally isn’t a problem—and even if it is, it only takes a day or two of chasing that idea to satisfy the creative itch, and either trunk the idea entirely or turn it into a new project to work on later.

Before, my biggest limitation was my ability to turn ideas into words. Now, with a few clicks, I can generate all the words I could possibly need, and the biggest limiting factor is my ability to stay true to my own creative vision.

It’s a completely different paradigm, with a totally new skillset and a very long (and at times somewhat steep) learning curve—and that’s probably the real reason why most writers are so reluctant to experiment with it. But is it really worth it? The only way to find out is to make the leap. For the last 18 months, I’ve been making that leap, and even though I have yet to feel like I’ve mastered AI-assisted writing, I’ve already seen enough to believe that it is.

WIP Excerpt: The End of Elysium, Chapter 1

I am really excited about this WIP. Ever since I wrote the short story “The End of Elysium,” I thought it would make a good novel—and now, with the help of AI, I’m able to make that a reality while juggling all of my other writing projects!

What follows is the AI-assisted draft of the first chapter of this novel. To get it to this point, I generated multiple iterations of the first chapter, combined the best parts, and used some AI revision tools to smooth over some of the rough edges. The next phase is the rough human draft, where I rewrite the whole thing in my own words (no copy-pasting). After that, I’ll make a thorough revision pass, and if there aren’t any story problems I’ll make a final polishing pass where I cut the word count by at least 10%. At that point, it’s ready to publish.

It might seem like this is a whole lot of extra work compared to writing without AI-assistance. However, I’ve found that using AI to write the “crappy first draft” actually helps out a ton to work out the major story issues that tend to cause writer’s block later in the project, thus saving potentially months of work. In fact, by using AI, I’ve been able to cut down my typical novel writing time from several years to just two or three months, thus making it possible to juggle multiple projects at once—and hopefully, once the production pipeline fills out and all these projects start to come to fruition, publish a novel-length work every other month or so.

But enough about the writing process. Here is the excerpt from the AI-assisted draft of this novel!

Abbey

Abbey woke up with a start, her heart throbbing rapidly and her breath coming in short, quick gasps. In her mind’s eye, she could still see the ancient lost city, with its crystalline spires shining in light of the morning sun. Gehenna, they called it—the last remaining citadel of the old world. Legend held that its streets were paved with gold and lined with technological marvels beyond imagining.

The dream was always the same. Abbey saw herself wandering the fabled metropolis, basking in its wonders: fountains of pure water with towering monuments of bronze, sleek crystalline structures reaching upward to the heavens. Though the city was conspicuously empty, it was largely still intact, as if only a few days had passed since its inhabitants had left—not the centuries of abandonment that had worn the outside world into ruin. Deep in her bones, she knew that the secrets that lay hidden here would usher in a golden age for the survivors of humanity. In her dream, those secrets called out to her, as if yearning to be unearthed. If only she could find them!

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying desperately to hold onto the last fragmentary images of her dream. If only she could reach out and grasp it—make it tangible and real. She lay completely still, afraid that even the slightest movement might cause her to lose the last wisps of her beautiful vision.

“Gehenna,” she whispered, savoring the word.

She lay still for several moments, willing the dream of the lost city to come back into focus. But already the images had faded from her mind, dissipating like morning fog before the harsh, bright light of day.

Abbey sighed and sat up in bed, the threadbare blanket falling away. Pale light filtered through the cracks in the metal walls of her small dwelling. She stretched, working out the kinks from sleeping on the hard pallet, and swung her feet to the floor.

“One day,” she murmured, her mind wandering back to the lost city that had captured her imagination since childhood. “One day I’ll find you.”

Abbey moved through her tiny space, every action honed by years of routine. She splashed water on her face from a chipped basin, tied back her unruly hair, and walked over to the window on bare feet. With a swift motion, she opened the shutters and was greeted by a flood of warm sunlight pouring into the room. The fresh morning air filled her lungs as she leaned out, taking in the sights and sounds of nature awakening around her humble dwelling. In the distance, birds chirped and leaves rustled in the wind.

Filled with renewed determination, Abbey turned from the window and began gathering her gear – a tattered backpack, her trusty climbing axes, a coil of sturdy rope, ration packs, and her canteen. She paused at her workbench, fingers trailing over the map she’d laid out and the assortment of scavenged tech she’d collected. Each time she ventured out, she pushed a little further, mapped a little more of the collapsed highways and crumbling buildings. Patience and persistence would lead her to Gehenna eventually. It had to. Finding the lost city was more than a dream – it was her destiny.

As she tied her boots, Abbey couldn’t shake off the constant criticism from her fellow Valley Folk. They all seemed to have the same message: “Why do you keep chasing this impossible dream? It’s time to settle down and focus on the things that really matter.” But Abbey refused to listen. She knew she was onto something big, something that could change everything.

As Abbey stepped outside, the vibrant colors of the Valley greeted her, a vibrant tapestry of greens and golds. The morning sun bathed the landscape in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows across the dewy grass. Birds trilled their melodic songs from the treetops, their voices intermingling with the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. The familiar sights and sounds of her home never failed to stir something within her – a mix of comfort and restlessness.

Abbey inhaled deeply, letting the fresh air fill her lungs and invigorate her senses. Despite the beauty surrounding her, her mind remained fixated on the legendary city that haunted her dreams. She set off down the well-worn path, her boots crunching against the gravel as she made her way towards the heart of the Valley.

She followed the familiar path that snaked through the village, her heavy boots leaving deep imprints in the damp earth. The sounds of daily life reverberated around her – the clanging and whirring of machinery from the machinist’s workshop, the bleats and snorts of livestock being led to pasture by farmers. Some tended to their gardens, coaxing vibrant vegetables from the rich earth, while others worked on their humble cottages. They greeted her with warm smiles and friendly waves, which she returned, her vibrant energy lifting their spirits.

“Good morning, Abbey!” called out the baker, waving from the doorway of his shop. “Off on another adventure today?”

Abbey grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You know me, Arlo. I can’t resist the call of the unknown.”

The baker chuckled, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and admiration. “Well, be careful out there. And don’t forget to stop by for a fresh loaf when you get back. I’m trying out a new recipe today.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Abbey promised, already looking forward to the taste of Arlo’s latest creation.

As Abbey continued down the winding path, her eyes caught sight of Old Mara, the village’s wise elder, tending to her beloved herb garden. The sweet aroma of thyme and rosemary filled the air as Mara’s skilled hands danced gracefully among the vibrant green plants.

“Good morning, Mara!” Abbey called out, her voice bright with enthusiasm. “How are your herbs coming along?”

Mara straightened, her kind eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. “Ah, young Abbey. They’re thriving, thanks to this blessed weather. Off on another of your expeditions, I see?”

Abbey nodded. “You know me, always looking for something new to discover.”

Mara’s gnarled hands shook as she spoke, her voice thick with concern. “Just be careful out there, child. The Wastes are no place for a young woman like you.”

Abbey couldn’t help but bristle at the insinuation that she was too fragile for the dangers of the outside world. Still, she bit her lip, knowing that Mara only wanted to protect her.

“I know, I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Mara reached out and patted Abbey’s arm, her gaze softening. “We only want what’s best for you, dear. This valley, our people – this is where you belong.”

Abbey forced a smile. “I know, Mara. But there is so much more out there than just our simple way of life.”

As she made her way down the winding path towards Gehenna, Abbey’s mind raced with conflicting thoughts and emotions. She loved her home and its people, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more waiting for her beyond the familiar fields and forests of their valley.

The sound of laughter drew her attention, and she spotted a group of children playing near the stream. Their carefree joy brought a smile to her face, even as it reminded her of how different she felt from most of the Valley Folk.

“Abbey! Abbey!” One of the younger girls, Lily, came running up to her. “Did you find any treasures yesterday?”

Abbey knelt down, reaching into her pocket. “As a matter of fact, I did.” She pulled out a small, shiny object – a gear from some long-forgotten machine. “What do you think this might be from?”

Lily’s eyes widened with wonder. “A magic spinning wheel? Or maybe a star-catcher?”

Chuckling, Abbey ruffled the girl’s hair. “Could be. The world before the Catastrophe was full of marvels. Who knows what we might discover next?”

She continued on her way, exchanging pleasantries with others who crossed her path. Their well-meaning warnings and gentle admonishments did little to dissuade her. If anything, they only fueled her resolve to uncover the truth behind the legends.

Finally, Abbey arrived at the hangar, a large, repurposed barn that housed the Valley’s few precious vehicles. The massive structure loomed before her, its corrugated metal walls patched with sections of colorful fabric. Solar panels glinted atop the structure, harnessing the sun’s energy to power the fleet of vehicles within. The air hummed with the sound of machinery and the sharp scent of oil and grease.

The hangar doors were already open, revealing the cavernous interior filled with an assortment of vehicles – relics from the world before, lovingly maintained and modified by the village’s skilled mechanics. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, catching motes of dust that danced in the air.

“Finian!” Abbey called out, her voice echoing in the vast space. “Are you in here?”

A clatter of tools and a muffled curse answered her. From beneath one of the larger rovers, a pair of legs clad in oil-stained coveralls emerged, followed by the rest of Finian as he pushed himself out and looked up at her.

“Well, if it isn’t our intrepid explorer! Come to borrow one of my babies again?”

Abbey laughed, her eyes sparkling. “You know me too well, Finian. I’m hoping to push further into the eastern sector today.”

Finian wiped his hands on a rag as he stood, his expression a mixture of admiration and concern. “The eastern sector? That’s mighty ambitious, even for you. You sure you’re up for it?”

Abbey nodded, her expression set. “I have to be. I had another dream about Gehenna last night. It felt so real, Fin.”

He sighed, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Well, I can’t stop you. But at least let me give you our sturdiest rover.” He gestured to a rugged vehicle nearby, its frame reinforced with scavenged metal and its oversized tires caked with dried mud. “Old Bessie here has never let anyone down.”

As Abbey began loading her gear into the rover, Finian busied himself with last-minute checks. He topped off the fuel cells, tested the solar backup system, and calibrated the navigation array. While he worked, Abbey loaded her gear into the back and settled into the driver’s seat. The familiar scent of oil and leather filled her nostrils, mixing with the crisp morning air that drifted through the open hangar doors. She took a deep breath, savoring the moment before the journey began.

“Remember,” Finian said, leaning through the window, “if you run into any trouble out there, just hit the emergency beacon. We’ll come running.”

Abbey nodded, her throat tight with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. “I will. Thanks, Finian. For everything.”

As she started the engine, the rover rumbled to life beneath her. The deep, mechanical growl reverberated through her body, setting her nerves alight with anticipation. She eased the vehicle out of the hangar, waving goodbye to Finian.

Abbey guided the rover through the narrow mountain pass, the towering peaks casting long shadows across the rocky terrain. As she emerged on the other side, the stark contrast between the lush valley and the barren wasteland struck her once again. Abbey clenched the steering wheel, her focus fixed on navigating through the treacherous terrain.

She brought the vehicle to a halt at the edge of the desolation. Where the Valley teemed with life, the Wastes were a barren and desolate wasteland. The once verdant land now lay barren, its earth cracked and dry underfoot. The landscape was punctuated by sharp rock formations that seemed to reach for the sky, while eerie silhouettes of giant fungi loomed in the distance like alien monuments. A sickly yellow haze hung in the air, obscuring the horizon and casting an otherworldly glow upon everything in its path. She inhaled deeply, savoring the last breath of clean air before donning her protective mask to brave the toxic atmosphere ahead.

“Gehenna,” Abbey murmured, her eyes scanning the horizon.

Abbey’s heart ached as she contemplated the magnitude of the destruction. The Catastrophe had ravaged the world, leaving only ruin in its wake. Yet, even amidst the devastation, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Could Gehenna be hidden beneath one of those distant rock formations? Or perhaps it was concealed by some ancient technology, invisible to the naked eye?

She closed her eyes, picturing the shining towers and gleaming streets of the legendary city. It was a vision that had haunted her dreams since childhood, a promise of a better life waiting just beyond the veil of the unknown. And though the Wastes seemed to mock her with their unyielding emptiness, Abbey refused to let go of that promise.

With a deep breath, she steered the rover forward, venturing once more into the desolation. “I know you’re out there somewhere,” she said aloud. “And someday, I’ll find you.”

Hopefully, someday soon.

Ranger

Ethan “Ranger” Carter paused before the entrance to Gehenna’s main simulation chamber. All around him, the underground corridors stretched like a labyrinth, their corroded metal walls and deteriorated conduit and pipes dimly illuminated by the flickering overhead lights. The air was tangy with the smell of old copper and rusted metal, with a hint of stale human sweat. The constant hum of machinery filled the space, a monotonous drone that seemed to vibrate through Ranger’s bones.

MONK: Offers total forgiveness. Able to see through deception, especially self-deception. Invites, but never forces.

He glanced down at his calloused and scarred hands, reminders of the endless hours he spent maintaining the failing systems of the vault. How much longer could they survive down here, cut off from the world above? The thought weighed heavily on his mind, especially with Old Man Mercer, Gehenna’s aging Watchman, lying on the brink of death.

“Another day in paradise,” Ranger muttered. With a tired sigh, he entered the dimly lit simulation chamber and prepared to jack into the simulation. The windowless room was illuminated only by the sickly green glow of ancient computer screens, casting an eerie pallor. He walked towards the nearest one, its surface marred with cracks and pits.

His body sank into the worn leather chair, and he reached for the neural interface cable – a cold metal snake that connected him to the virtual world. As he closed his eyes, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of confinement and unease creeping up on him, despite his years of using the technology.

The world shifted, the transition as jarring as always, and Ranger found himself standing in a lush garden. Gone were the oppressive confines of Gehenna, replaced by a shimmering cityscape that defied the laws of physics. Impossibly tall spires of crystal and light stretched towards an endless azure sky, while lush gardens floated serenely between them. The air was suffused with a gentle, golden light, and the faint sound of birdsong drifted on the breeze. Elysium stretched out before him, a paradise of verdant green and shimmering light.

Yet even in this seemingly perfect virtual Eden, signs of decay were beginning to show. The leaves on the trees flickered and shimmered, their edges blurring into pixelated static as if struggling to hold onto their form. The gentle breeze that once carried a sweet fragrance now also brought a faint undertone of discord, a reminder that this simulation was not eternal. The vibrant colors of the world seemed slightly muted, like a painting fading over time. It was a small crack in the facade, but one that could not be ignored.

Amidst the vibrant and lush garden, stood Jonas Mercer, a towering figure who had been his mentor and guide for countless years. His face, etched with lines of wisdom and experience, seemed to mirror the intricacies of the flowers and foliage surrounding him. Even in this simulated reality, his appearance remained true to that of the real world. The sun’s rays danced across his face, illuminating his piercing gaze.

“Ranger, my boy,” Jonas called, his voice carrying a weariness that seemed out of place in this paradise. “Come, sit with me one last time.”

As Ranger approached, he noticed how the old man’s form flickered intermittently, a stark reminder of his failing physical body in the real world. Even in this virtual world, death was making its presence known.

“Jonas,” he said softly, taking a seat beside his mentor. “How are you feeling?”

Jonas chuckled, the sound distorting slightly as his image wavered. “As well as can be expected, given the circumstances.” His eyes, despite their digital nature, held a profound sadness as he gazed across the simulated cityscape. “Pretty as a picture, isn’t it? Hard to believe it’s all just data and illusions.”

Ranger nodded, his gaze drawn to the shimmering imperfections in Jonas’ form. “It’s a marvel, to be sure. But sometimes I wonder…”

“If it’s all worth it?” Jonas finished, his eyes piercing. “If we’re just delaying the inevitable, hiding away in our little virtual paradise while the world above lies in ruins?”

Ranger shifted uncomfortably, the old man’s words striking a chord deep within him. “I just can’t help feeling like we’re meant for something more, like there’s a greater purpose out there waiting for us.”

Jonas sighed, his image flickering briefly as a wave of pain washed over his physical form. “I’ve been the Watchman for longer than I care to remember, Ranger. I’ve seen the records, heard the stories passed down from those who came before. Our ancestors, they were the lucky ones, if you can call it that. They survived the Catastrophe, made it to Gehenna before the world above turned to ash and dust.”

He paused, his gaze growing distant. “They built this place to be a sanctuary, a haven where humanity could ride out the storm. But they always believed that someday, we’d find our way back to the surface, that we’d discover the Promised Land and start anew.”

Ranger leaned forward, his heart quickening at the mention of that fabled place. “Do you think it’s really out there, Jonas? The Promised Land?”

The old man shrugged, a gesture of weary resignation. “I wish I knew, Ranger. I’ve spent my whole life searching for it, and now I fear my time is drawing to a close. The systems that sustain me are failing, both here and in Gehenna.”

Ranger felt a chill run through him at the words. He had always known that this day would come, but to hear Jonas speak of it so plainly was still a shock.

“What can I do?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

Jonas leaned forward, his eyes intent. “You must listen carefully, Ranger. Our people cannot remain here forever. Elysium was never meant to be a permanent solution.” The old man’s image flickered violently, and for a moment, Ranger feared he’d lost him. But Jonas’s voice returned, weaker now. “There’s a world beyond these walls, beyond even the Wastes. A Promised Land.”

Ranger’s chest tightened. “The Promised Land,” he murmured. “But how can we be sure it even exists?”

Jonas’s form stabilized momentarily, his gaze locking onto Ranger’s. “We must have faith, my boy. Faith in the resilience of our world, and in our own ability to reclaim it. The dream of the Promised Land, it’s what keeps us going, what gives us hope in the face of all this darkness. Promise me, Ranger, that you won’t give up on that dream. That you’ll do everything in your power to lead our people to the Promised Land.”

Ranger swallowed hard, the weight of that responsibility settling heavy on his shoulders. He knew, deep in his bones, that he could never turn his back on his people, on the duty that had been entrusted to him. But at the same time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the path ahead would be a lonely one, that the search for the Promised Land might well be the task of a lifetime.

“I promise, Jonas,” he said, his voice thin but resolute. “I’ll keep searching, keep hoping, for as long as it takes. I will do everything I can to find the Promised Land, no matter the sacrifice.”

The old man smiled, a flicker of pride and relief crossing his face as he reached out to clasp Ranger’s hand in his own. But even as he did so, his image began to waver and distort, the simulation struggling to maintain his fading consciousness.

“Go now, Ranger,” he said, his voice growing fainter with each word. “Gehenna is in your hands now. You are… the Watchman.”

His image flickered one last time, then vanished entirely, dissolving into a cascade of shimmering pixels that glittered briefly in the golden light before fading away to nothingness.

Ranger stood there for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the spot where Jonas had been. The virtual paradise hummed with a gentle, soothing energy, the air filled with the soft chirping of birds and the distant laughter of children at play. It was a world without pain, without suffering, a haven for the last remnants of humanity.

Yet, even as the virtual paradise shimmered around him, a sudden weight settled on his shoulders. He had always been different from the others, had always felt like an outsider among his own people. While they were content to live out their days in the virtual paradise of Elysium, he had always longed for something more, something real.

He thought of the Promised Land, the mythical place that Jonas and the other elders spoke of with such reverence. A place where the earth was healed, where humanity could start anew without the need for virtual realities and underground bunkers. It was a beautiful dream, but was it even real? It seemed so distant, so unattainable. And now, with the fate of his people resting on his shoulders, he felt more alone than ever.

“System, end simulation,” he commanded, his voice echoing in the emptiness.

The vibrant colors of Elysium began to fade to gray, signaling the end of the session. Ranger closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he found himself back in the cold, sterile confines of Gehenna. He blinked rapidly, adjusting to the dim, flickering light of the simulation chamber.

Beside him, on the adjacent couch, lay Jonas’s body. Ranger’s heart clenched at the sight. In death, the old man looked small, fragile – nothing like the towering figure of wisdom and strength he’d been in life.

“I’m sorry, old friend,” Ranger murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I hope you’ve found your own Promised Land.”

With gentle reverence, Ranger reached out, gently closing Jonas’s eyes before he disconnected the neural interface from Jonas’s temples. He slid his arms beneath the frail body, lifting it with care. The weight was surprisingly light, as if Jonas had already begun to fade away.

As he carried Jonas through the winding corridors of Gehenna, Ranger’s mind wandered to the world he had just left behind. Elysium, with its lush landscapes and endless possibilities, was a stark contrast to the grim reality of the bunker. The walls here were cold and lifeless, the air stale and recycled. It was a world of necessity, of survival, far removed from the idyllic paradise of the simulation.

He finally arrived at the incinerator room, the heat hitting him like a physical force. The small, tight space was filled with towering banks of machinery and intricate piping, creating a labyrinth of metal and wires. In the center rose the monstrous incinerator, its massive cylindrical form radiating a dull, ominous red glow that seemed to pulse with anger.

Gently, Ranger laid Jonas’s body on the conveyor belt. He paused for a moment, his hand resting on the old man’s shoulder, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. Jonas had been more than just his mentor; he had been a father figure, a guiding light, and a personal friend.

“Goodbye, old friend,” he whispered, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. “May you find peace in whatever lies beyond.”

With a heavy heart, Ranger activated the conveyor belt and stepped back, watching as it slowly carried Jonas’s body into the heart of the incinerator. The flames engulfed the corpse, consuming it in a matter of moments. Ranger stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the fire, as if trying to burn the image into his memory. It was a sorrowful sight, a final send-off for his friend and mentor.

As he watched, Ranger couldn’t help but think of Elysium. It was a world without pain, without suffering, a world where anything was possible.

But it was also a world that wasn’t real.

In Elysium, there was no death, no loss, no grief. But here, in the harsh reality of Gehenna, those things were all too common. The concrete walls and metal surfaces seemed to mock him, reminding him of the cold, unforgiving nature of the world he lived in.

Ranger stood there for a long time, watching as the flames danced and flickered, reducing Jonas’s body to ashes. He thought of the promise he had made, of the mission that lay ahead of him.

“I don’t know if I can do this alone,” he confessed to the silent form. “But I’ll try. For you, for all of us. I’ll find the Promised Land.”

Lyra

Lyra Bellamy carefully adjusted her council robes as she entered the grand chamber of the Council, Elysium’s governing body. Ornate marble pillars stretched upward toward a ceiling that opened to a sky of endless blue, with flawless diamond statues depicting the founders in all of their glory. A large stone table sat in the center of the palatial chamber, shaped in a perfect circle. Beverages had been set at each place, according to the personal tastes of each council member (Lyra’s was a chamomile herbal tea). The virtual space shimmered with ethereal light that cast a gentle glow on the faces of those gathered.

As she took her seat, Lyra’s gaze swept over her fellow Council members. Gideon Gray’s imposing figure dominated one end of the table, his dark eyes shining intelligently amidst his salt-and-pepper beard. Though all on the Council had an equal voice, with none ranked higher than another, his voice had lately come to dominate many of their proceedings. Iris Blackwood, one of his allies and another outspoken voice, took her place on Lyra’s left, her bearing regal and composed. On Lyra’s right, Nina Evergreen had already settled in, her hazel eyes bright with curiosity.

“Good morning,” said Nina with a friendly nod. Lyra returned her greeting with a smile and took a sip of her chamomile tea. All around the table, the other Council members took their seats, their colorful robes shimmering in the soft, crystalline light.

Gideon Gray, his dark hair immaculately styled and his eyes gleaming with fervor, leaned forward in his seat. “The passing of the old Watchman is a great loss to our community,” he said, his voice dripping with reverence. “But it also presents an opportunity for us to reaffirm our commitment to Elysium.”

Iris nodded in agreement, her steel-gray eyes fixed on Lyra. “I agree,” she said. “The preservation of our way of life must be our top priority. We must ensure that the new Watchman understands the importance of maintaining the stability and harmony of our world.”

Lyra felt a flicker of unease in her chest. She knew that Gideon and Iris were staunch preservationists, believing that Elysium was the pinnacle of human achievement and should be protected at all costs. But she also knew that there were those on the council who still clung to the old ways, who believed that Elysium was meant to be a temporary haven until the Earth healed and they could find the Promised Land.

“I agree that we must support the new Watchman,” Lyra said, her voice soft but firm. “But let us first take a moment to remember Jonas and all he did for our community.”

As the council members bowed their heads in a moment of silence, Lyra’s thoughts drifted. She had always been content with her life in Elysium, with the predictability and comfort it offered. But now, faced with the challenges ahead, she knew that she would need to tread carefully, to find a way to bridge the gap between the opposing viewpoints threatening to tear the council apart.

When they raised their heads, Lyra spoke again, her tone gentle yet firm. “Now, let us discuss how we move forward, always keeping in mind the harmony and well-being of all in Elysium.”

Nina Evergreen, her golden hair cascading down her back, leaned forward with a thoughtful expression. “Perhaps we should consider the possibility that the Promised Land is not a physical place, but a state of being,” she said, her hazel eyes shining with curiosity. “Maybe the true purpose of Elysium is to help us achieve inner peace and harmony, rather than to serve as a temporary shelter.”

Lyra felt a surge of gratitude towards Nina. She had always admired the young woman’s open-mindedness and willingness to consider new ideas. But she also knew that such views were not always welcomed by the more conservative members of the council.

Gideon Gray’s piercing gaze swept across the council chamber, his virtual avatar radiating an aura of unwavering conviction. “Elysium is not just a temporary shelter,” he declared, his voice ringing with conviction. “It is a testament to the ingenuity and resilience of our ancestors, who built this paradise in the face of unimaginable adversity. To abandon it in pursuit of some mythical ‘Promised Land’ would be to dishonor their memory and sacrifice.”

Iris Blackwood nodded in agreement, her steel-gray eyes flashing with resolve. “We have a duty to preserve this world for future generations,” she said, her words measured and precise. “Elysium represents the pinnacle of human achievement, a shining beacon of hope in a world that has been ravaged by catastrophe. Why risk everything for an uncertain future beyond these walls?”

The air in the council chamber seemed to thicken with tension. Lyra’s gaze swept across the faces of those present, noting the mix of agreement and skepticism.

Councilwoman Vera, her brow furrowed, spoke up. “But wasn’t Elysium always meant to be temporary? A sanctuary until the Earth healed?”

“That was before we understood the true potential of what we’ve created here,” Gideon countered, his eyes flashing. “Why risk everything for a world that may no longer exist as we remember it?”

“Our ancestors’ vision was to reclaim our home,” another council member interjected. “To carry on the legacy of humanity in the physical world. Are we to abandon that dream simply because it is difficult or uncertain?”

Gideon’s avatar flickered momentarily, betraying his rising anger. “And what if Earth never heals? Would you have us trade paradise for a wasteland?”

Lyra listened to the debate, her heart torn between the two sides. She could understand the preservationists’ desire to protect what they had created, to maintain the stability and comfort of life in their virtual haven. Yet Jonas had always been a staunch believer in the idea that they were destined for something greater than the confines of Elysium.

She raised her hand, and the room fell silent, all eyes turning to Lyra. The virtual environment shimmered slightly, a reminder of the artificial nature of their world.

“My friends,” she began, her voice soft but steady, “I know that this is a difficult decision, one that will shape the future of our people for generations to come. But let us remember that we are all part of the same community, united in our desire to do what is best for our people.” She met the eyes of each council member in turn, her gaze warm but firm.

Gideon leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “Lyra, surely you can see that Elysium is our home, our sanctuary. To abandon it would be to turn our backs on everything our ancestors built.”

Iris nodded in agreement, her silver hair glinting in the soft light of the council chamber. “We have a responsibility to preserve what we have created, to ensure that future generations can continue to thrive in this paradise.”

“Perhaps,” Lyra ventured, “there’s a way to honor both our past and our future. To preserve Elysium while still exploring the possibility of a world beyond.”

Gideon nodded approvingly. “A wise suggestion, Councilwoman Bellamy. We should not rush into decisions that could jeopardize everything we’ve built.”

Lyra offered a small smile, even as her thoughts continued to churn. “Thank you, Gideon. I believe we all need time to reflect on what’s been said here today.”

The council members murmured among themselves, the tension in the room dissipating. Lyra exhaled slowly, relieved to have steered the discussion away from conflict. Yet as the meeting adjourned, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were standing at a crossroads, unsure of which path to take.