"Blimey!" exclaimed One-Eyed Jack, slamming his tankard on the rough-hewn table. "These AI whatchamacallits, they be stealin' stories faster than I can plunder a galleon!"
Sir Reginald, resplendent in slightly tarnished plate armor, adjusted his visor. "Indeed. A most peculiar form of sorcery. These... models can weave tales of chivalry and dragon-slaying with nary a drop of noble blood spilled. A disgrace, I say!"
Suddenly, a figure in a neon-green windbreaker and ripped jeans slouched into a chair, pushing aside a pile of floppy disks. "Chill, dudes. You guys are, like, totally misinterpreting the tech. AI's just algorithms, man. Complex math. Think of it as, like, a super-charged autocomplete. It ain't stealing, it's remixing. Just needs a good prompt, y'know?"
One-Eyed Jack squinted. "Prompt? Is that like a code word for treasure map?"
"Not exactly," the hacker, who introduced himself as Pixel, sighed. "It's what you feed the AI to get a specific output. Like, if you want a sea shanty, you prompt it with 'write lyrics about pirates and grog.'"
Sir Reginald looked skeptical. "So you claim this... grog producing machine can simply conjure forth heroic epics? What of the human spirit? The clash of steel?"
Pixel rolled his eyes. "Dude, it can generate anything. Poetry, prose, even code. I could probably use it to hack into… well, never mind. The point is, it's a tool. How we use it is up to us, right?"
One-Eyed Jack stroked his beard thoughtfully. "So... could it write a story about a one-eyed pirate, a noble knight, and a… a what are you again?"
"Hacker," Pixel muttered. "A hacker who teaches them both how to use the internet."
Sir Reginald harrumphed. "A preposterous notion! Though... I admit, the thought of facing a dragon made entirely of binary code… does pique my interest."
