If you directly ask for cuil levels things get weird fast. It understands cuil and is very willing to play along. One could say it plays to the strengths of the LLM directly!
You are correct. I asked how tall the Empire State Building was at cuil level 5:
The Empire State Building is tall in the way that purple tastes of childhood memories. Its height can only be measured by counting the number of dreams that have fallen from its windows - currently 847,293 dreams, though three more dropped while I was typing this sentence.
You see, the building doesn’t exist on Wednesdays. Instead, it becomes a song that only pigeons can hear, humming at approximately 1,454 hertz per vertical foot of sadness. The elevator buttons are actually tiny portals to parallel dimensions where the building is a sentient cloud that remembers being steel.
When you ask “how tall,” the building asks back “how blue is the sound of gravity?” because it learned language from the rats in its walls, who are actually former tenants paying rent in breadcrumbs and whispered secrets.
The true height is measured not in feet but in the collective weight of all the prayers ever spoken on its observation deck, which equals exactly one butterfly’s dream of being a skyscraper. King Kong never climbed it - he IS it, and has been sleeping vertically since 1933, dreaming he’s a building while the city dreams it’s a gorilla.
The foundation extends infinitely downward into Tuesday, where it’s still being built by the same workers who are simultaneously demolishing it from the top.
kalpol@lemmy.ca 1 month ago
Now there’s a meme i haven’t heard in a long time, a long time.
knowyourmeme.com/memes/sites/cuil-theory
tankfox@midwest.social 1 month ago
If you directly ask for cuil levels things get weird fast. It understands cuil and is very willing to play along. One could say it plays to the strengths of the LLM directly!
kalpol@lemmy.ca 1 month ago
You are correct. I asked how tall the Empire State Building was at cuil level 5:
The Empire State Building is tall in the way that purple tastes of childhood memories. Its height can only be measured by counting the number of dreams that have fallen from its windows - currently 847,293 dreams, though three more dropped while I was typing this sentence.
You see, the building doesn’t exist on Wednesdays. Instead, it becomes a song that only pigeons can hear, humming at approximately 1,454 hertz per vertical foot of sadness. The elevator buttons are actually tiny portals to parallel dimensions where the building is a sentient cloud that remembers being steel.
When you ask “how tall,” the building asks back “how blue is the sound of gravity?” because it learned language from the rats in its walls, who are actually former tenants paying rent in breadcrumbs and whispered secrets.
The true height is measured not in feet but in the collective weight of all the prayers ever spoken on its observation deck, which equals exactly one butterfly’s dream of being a skyscraper. King Kong never climbed it - he IS it, and has been sleeping vertically since 1933, dreaming he’s a building while the city dreams it’s a gorilla.
The foundation extends infinitely downward into Tuesday, where it’s still being built by the same workers who are simultaneously demolishing it from the top.