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"But does it really matter if something you like turns out to be vomited up by "AI"?"

Imagine going on a first date with someone. They are great. Some decent chemistry, some mutual awkwardness of course, good jokes, but also deep (but not too deep) conversation, and yeah some quirks but don't we all? It feels good, you sense it's mutual, there's laughing, some emotional moments as you carefully share hints about each others' pasts, some gentle giggling at mildly suggestive jokes. You make arrangements to meet again for some nice coffee a few days from now, not at some chain of course because you've both got taste. Anyway, the date's coming to an end, you split the bill with zero awkwardness because it's 20-fucking-26, time to part ways, you know you're both on the same page, you both go in for a romantic and slightly sensual hug [ed. note: I'm sorry, I'm a massive prude, that's all for a first date horny Fedi], but then-- fuck.

Turns out they're made of nothing but Lego bricks, twigs, and razor blades and they explode in your arms. Now you're lying in a puddle of your own blood with razor blades embedded in your skin, covered in twigs and Lego bricks. It starts raining.

Anyway, if you now ever come across another story where someone's date explodes in a flurry of Lego bricks, twigs, and razor blades, you know it's been plagiarised, because only a human can come up with this. Fuck you and fuck your capitalist, planet-destroying bullshit.