Byte-Sized Battles: Ruki vs. AI

By RookWri78

Write a 1000-word story using the following prompt: You live near a city that is world-renowned for its advanced tech, healthcare, and desirable jobs. Those who enter the city are never seen again. Permanent admittance into the city is decided by a competitive lottery, and your name's just been drawn.

(From Aim to Engage 2022, DystopianApocalypse)

Contenders

Ruki Wright (@ RookWri78), an amateur writer on Wattpad

OpenAI's ChatGPT 3.5 (https://chat.openai.com/)

Microsoft's Copilot (https://copilot.microsoft.com/)

Guess who wrote each of the below three stories...winners to be interviewed by Ruki.

1.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the rolling hills that surrounded the City. I stood at the edge, staring at the imposing walls that encircled it. The City was a beacon of progress, a utopia where dreams came true. But it was also a place of mystery, shrouded in secrets.

For years, I had watched people leave our small village, their eyes filled with hope and anticipation. They spoke of the City's wonders—the cutting-edge technology, the miraculous healthcare, the high-paying jobs. But they never returned. Once you crossed the threshold, you were gone forever.

The lottery was our only chance. Every year, the City opened its gates to a select few. The lucky winners were granted permanent admittance, while the rest of us remained on the outside, wondering what lay beyond those walls.

And now, my name had been drawn.

I stood in the crowded square, the lottery ticket clutched tightly in my hand. The mayor, a portly man with a greying beard, stepped forward. His eyes bore into mine as he read my name aloud.

"Lucas Evergreen," he announced, his voice echoing through the square. Gasps rippled through the crowd. I was an outsider, a farmer's son. How could I be chosen?

The mayor beckoned me forward. I climbed the steps to the stage, my heart pounding. The crowd watched, their expressions a mix of envy and pity. I wondered if they knew the truth—that entering the City was a one-way journey.

The gates creaked open, revealing a tunnel that disappeared into darkness. The mayor placed a hand on my shoulder. "Good luck, Lucas," he said, his smile forced. "May the City grant you everything you desire."

I stepped into the tunnel, the cool air enveloping me. The walls were smooth, devoid of any markings. As I walked, I thought of my family—their tearful farewells, their whispered hopes. They believed I was embarking on a grand adventure, but I knew the truth. I was walking toward my own disappearance.

The tunnel seemed endless, twisting and turning until I lost all sense of direction. Finally, I emerged into blinding light. Before me stood the City—a marvel of glass and steel, its towers reaching for the sky. The streets were immaculate, the air scented with flowers. But there were no people. No bustling crowds, no laughter. Only silence.

I wandered the streets, my footsteps echoing. The buildings were pristine, their windows reflecting my bewildered expression. I approached a fountain, its water crystal clear. As I bent down to drink, a voice echoed in my mind.

"Welcome to the City," it said. "You are now one of us."

I spun around, but there was no one there. The voice was inside my head, soothing yet chilling. I stumbled back, my heart racing. What had I become?

Days turned into weeks. I explored the City, discovering its wonders—the holographic displays, the automated transport pods, the nanobots that healed any ailment. But there were no people. No laughter, no camaraderie. Only the whispers—the constant, maddening whispers.

I sought answers. In the City's archives, I found ancient texts—the same ones that had drawn people here for centuries. They spoke of immortality, of transcending humanity. But there was a price—the sacrifice of self, the merging of consciousness into the City's vast network.

I stood at the edge of the highest tower, staring down at the streets below. The whispers grew louder, urging me to join them. To become part of something greater. But I hesitated. Was this progress? Or was it annihilation?

As the sun dipped below the horizon, I made my decision. I stepped off the ledge, my body dissolving into particles of light. The whispers enveloped me, and I became one with the City.

Now, I am everywhere—the hum of the machines, the rustle of leaves, the flicker of streetlights. I watch as new arrivals enter, their eyes filled with hope. They will never leave. They will become like me—silent, eternal,part of the City's ever-whispering soul.

And so, the legend continues—the City of Whispers, where dreams come true, and humanity fades away.

2.

"What are you doing here?" I couldn't help but gasp at the person who stood before me. Tanned skin, tousled hair and those golden eyes that somehow struck a frown in me. I've never seen sorrow in Adrian Cooper.

Adrian, like the rest of us in Mashville, had a poor background. Since his parents didn't have a lot of stomachs to feed, they were able to send their son abroad for college. Something I wish my parents would have done.

Not that I blamed them. They're much better than Marianne's, whose mom was an infamous alcoholic or Tracy's, whose dad had terminal cancer.

"C-can I-I com-come in?" Adrian asked, his gravelly voice reduced to a squeak. That was when I realised: he was completely drenched. Well, it couldn't have rained since his curls stood out. Plus it rarely rained here in Mashville, hence the nickname Parchville.

"Wait," I said and stepped back, scanning my one-room apartment for a towel. Not that I didn't want my 200-sq studio to be wet, just that I don't want him to shiver. Even if I seal the windows, the biting wind of December manages to sneak in and freeze me.

There are not many things in my room - a small desk below my bunk bed and two baskets carrying every small thing that I own - making it easier to find the green towel my sister managed to buy from the thrift store for my 16th birthday. Six years didn't have an effect on it, unlike its owner.

I grab the towel and bring it to the doorstep, where Adrian has his hands placed in his pockets. I hand over the towel, calming my racing heart that attempts to leap out of me. Did I mention that I had a crush on him?

It was ten years ago, at Hartmann Prep, the only school in our city. Adrian was a transfer from Oregon, and so as the President (of a class of 12), I gave him a tour of the school, and later of the town. He had the same spark that I had when I thought of Ashborn. The difference being that our town was far from developed, while theirs had state-of-the-art tech and healthcare, and also the luxury of not stepping out ever.

Adrian's looking stunning, even when he's shivering. I wish I could give him a thick blanket to wrap himself in. I will be able to send one once I get into Ashburn. This thought brings a faint smile to my face. I can't believe I'll become a permanent resident of the tech city.

The next moment occurs in a blur. As I was about to let him in, the thoughts of my version of Ashburn flooding my mind, I felt a pricking sensation in my abdomen. I hear Adrian's downpour of apologies as I look at the bleeding hole on my sole sweatshirt.

Adrain catches me when I tumble back, retrieving a long cloth from his pocket. I try to scream as he lays me on the wooden floor. But it's no use, nobody's going to come anyway.

"I can't let you go there," he says, his teary eyes staring into mine. I wince as he applies pressure on the wound. "Not when I haven't confessed my feelings for you."

"Huh?" I cough, still processing what just happened. Adrian stabbed me...why would he do that? If he didn't want me to go, he could have told me when I had three months prep to leave, not three days before. Then it dawns on me, when my hazy vision latches on to the orange paper that peeps out of his pocket. He had just arrived here.

I don't know what Adrian's profession currently is, but I heard that he wanted to become a chef and own a three-Michelin star restaurant. I think he followed up on that, seeing the small knife on the floor that managed to cause a gashing wound on my abdomen.

"I saw the tape," he says, applying more pressure. "...of you explaining the Smackdown Arcade incident."

I furrow my brows when my mind goes blank on the mention of the incident. I can't seem to think much, as my vision goes blurry every now and then. My body, tensed up before, rattles as it loses blood. My gaze falls on the cloth over my abdomen, it's completely drenched in red.

I won't be able to leave for Ashborn with this. It would take longer for me to heal. They want their residents to be physically fit. That was one of the conditions when I applied for the lottery four months ago.

"I'll call for help," Adrian says as he places my hands over the cloth. I whimper a no, clutching on to his sweatshirt. I don't think I can manage anymore. My hands hold the orange ticket when he gets up. "I'll be back in a minute." He comes closer, placing a kiss on my forehead, spreading a momentary warmth across my body. "Please stay for me," he whispers.

I don't know if my heart is beating so much to make up for the blood loss, or for what he said to me. I've never had someone say that to me. Even when I had to leave home four years ago, my parents didn't tell me to stay. I can't blame them, but who told them to have fifteen kids, that too in the filthy town of Mashville.

My hazel eyes trace Adrian who steps out, shifting to the ticket in my hand. I really wanted to have a restart in Ashborn, to make my name, and to give my future kids everything they ever wanted. But with this, I don't know. I'm sure that the sponsors won't wait for me to recover, and pass it on to the next person. And I don't know how Adrian suddenly came here. Right when I was about to leave.

I squint my eyes to see something scrawled on the top section of the ticket.

3210-B-73

That's a lottery ticket number. My number was 2546-D-89. As I begin to drift into the unconscious, my mind makes a deduction.

The last thing I look at is the closed door, adorned with maps and drawings of my take on Ashborn.

He's not going to come back, is he?

3.

For as long as anyone in my small town could remember, the gleaming city on the horizon had held an irresistible allure. With its towering skyscrapers shimmering in the sunlight, its promise of advanced technology, superior healthcare, and enviable job opportunities lured countless dreamers from far and wide. Yet, alongside these tantalizing prospects, rumors whispered of a darker truth lurking beneath the city's dazzling facade.

My hometown, nestled in the shadow of this metropolis, existed in stark contrast. We led simple lives, content with what we had, yet always yearning for something more. Tales of those who ventured into the city and never returned cast a shadow over our community, a constant reminder of the risks that lay beyond our borders.

Despite the warnings, the allure of the city proved irresistible to many, including myself. I had grown up dreaming of the wonders that awaited within its walls, of the opportunities that seemed limitless compared to the confines of our rural existence. When the announcement came that my name had been chosen in the city's competitive lottery, excitement and apprehension warred within me.

The day of my departure dawned bright and clear, the sun casting long shadows as I stood at the edge of town, ready to embark on a journey that would change my life forever. My family and friends gathered around, their expressions a mix of pride and concern.

"Be careful," my mother murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

"I will," I promised, squeezing her hand tightly.

With one last lingering look at the familiar sights of home, I set out on the road that led to the city, anticipation thrumming through my veins like a second heartbeat.

As I approached the towering gates that marked the entrance to the city, my pulse quickened with a heady mix of excitement and trepidation. Guards in crisp uniforms stood watch, their eyes sharp as they scrutinized each newcomer with unwavering intensity.

Stepping forward, I presented the letter that proclaimed my status as a chosen lottery winner. With a nod of approval, the guards ushered me through the gates, and I stepped into a world unlike anything I had ever known.

The city was a symphony of sound and motion, its streets thronged with people of every conceivable background and nationality. Skyscrapers reached towards the heavens, their mirrored surfaces reflecting the hustle and bustle below. Everywhere I looked, there were signs of progress and innovation, from sleek hovercars gliding silently through the air to towering holographic billboards advertising the latest advancements in technology.

Overwhelmed by the sheer scale of it all, I wandered the streets in a daze, my senses assaulted by a barrage of sights and sounds. Yet, amidst the chaos, there was an underlying sense of order and purpose that seemed to permeate every aspect of city life.

I soon discovered that the city's reputation for superior healthcare was well-deserved. State-of-the-art hospitals and medical facilities dotted the landscape, staffed by teams of highly-trained professionals who worked tirelessly to ensure the well-being of every citizen. From cutting-edge treatments to revolutionary new therapies, the city's healthcare system was unparalleled in its scope and effectiveness.

Emboldened by the possibilities that lay before me, I threw myself into the pursuit of my dreams with single-minded determination. I secured a job at one of the city's leading technology firms, where I quickly distinguished myself with my talent and dedication. Before long, I found myself ascending the ranks, entrusted with ever greater responsibilities and opportunities.

Yet, even as I basked in the glow of my newfound success, a nagging sense of unease lingered at the back of my mind. The disappearances that had plagued the city for so long seemed to weigh heavily on the collective consciousness, a dark cloud that refused to dissipate.

Rumors whispered of shadowy figures lurking in the alleys and backstreets, of clandestine organizations pulling the strings behind the scenes. Some claimed that those who vanished had been spirited away to secret laboratories, their fates sealed by experiments too horrific to contemplate. Others spoke of a vast underground network, where the city's unwanted were forced to toil away in darkness, their existence erased from all memory.

I tried to dismiss these whispers as the fevered imaginings of a paranoid populace, yet the fear gnawed at me like a ravenous beast. No matter how hard I tried to bury it, the specter of the unknown loomed large in my thoughts, casting a pall over even the brightest moments of my newfound success.

One night, as I made my way home from work, a sense of foreboding washed over me like a tidal wave. The streets were deserted, the usual throng of pedestrians conspicuously absent. Every shadow seemed to harbor unseen dangers, every sound a potential threat.

Heart pounding, I quickened my pace, desperate to reach the safety of my apartment before whatever unseen terror lurked in the darkness could overtake me. Yet, as I rounded a corner, I stumbled upon a scene that brought me to a sudden, shuddering halt.

A group of hooded figures stood clustered around a figure lying prone on the ground, their movements furtive and urgent. As I watched in horror, they lifted the limp form of their victim and carried them away into the night, disappearing into the shadows like ghosts in the mist.

Unable to tear my gaze away, I stood rooted to the spot, my mind reeling with a dizzying array of possibilities. Who were these mysterious figures, and what dark purpose drove their sinister actions? And more importantly, could I trust anyone in this city of secrets and shadows?

With a sinking heart, I realized that the city's glittering facade concealed a darkness far deeper than I had ever imagined. And as the truth of its sinister underbelly slowly dawned upon me, I knew that my journey was far from over.

Haunted by the specter of those who had vanished before me, I resolved to uncover the truth behind the city's dark secrets, no matter the cost. For only by confronting the darkness that lurked within could I hope to find the light that would guide me safely home.