ChatGPT as Author Part 1: The Story
Can ChatGPT write a passable novel? A week ago I would have said no way. But an unexpected and serendipitous experiment made me think again.
This is the first part of a two-part series, with Part 2 coming tomorrow. It’s the result of an unexpected but serendipitous experiment in ChatGPT’s ability to write a passable novel with some editorial support. Part 1 sets the scene and includes the resulting ~15,000 word novella. Part 2 — and this is where it gets interesting — is a conversation with ChatGPT about its process, aims, and understanding of itself. The novella (at the end of this post) is worth a read — or a skim at least — and I’d be interested in your thoughts on it. It’s also important context for Part 2, as it’s the follow-on conversation that really got me thinking.
Ever since ChatGPT hit the streets in November 2022 people have been trying to use it to write fiction, from short stories to novels. And if I’m being honest, the results have varied from bad, to kill-me-now excruciating.
ChatGPT, it turns out, is not a very good creative writer.
Or so I though.
Last weekend though I ended up being dragged down an unexpected rabbit hole that began to make me question my prior assumptions on just how awful generative AI is at creating content that I would judge to be good fiction.1
I was working on last Sunday’s article on Google’s NotebookLM at the time, and I needed an original piece of fiction to feed the platform’s AI podcast feature.
To quickly generate something I gave ChatGPT (using GPT4o) the following prompt:
Hi ChatGPT. Could you write a 10,000 word story in the style of the writer John Wyndham. The story should focus on the personal and social consequences of a new technology that's developed. It should reflect his approach to exploring the technology's implications through the social waves it produces as seen through the lives of his primary characters.
I’ve been re-reading Wyndham’s novels over the summer, and was intrigued to see how ChatGPT would do if asked to emulate his writing, even though all I really needed was a bunch of text to feed NotebookLM.
The resulting short story was not great. But it was interesting enough to make me wonder where ChatGPT would take things with a bit of editorial encouragement. So I asked it to add more nuance and character development, and make the story much longer — around 50,000 words.
The requested length caused ChatGPT some issues — mainly resulting in it telling me it was thinking about things, and then admitting that it wasn’t actually doing anything. But after some back and forth it provided me with an outline of the novel (which at this point was called “The Quiet Invention” — an invention of ChatGPT’s).
The outline didn’t look too bad. But I was concerned that ChatGPT wouldn’t be able to remain consistent over the course of an entire novel. And so I asked how it would keep sight of the overarching narrative.
By this point I was slipping into the role of human editor to my AI author. And this, it turns out, played a critical part in what followed.
ChatGPT responded with a detailed plan for how it would remain consistent while writing in sections, including tracking character arcs, narrative themes and motifs, and regularly reviewing progress.
Satisfied with this, I asked ChatGPT to start writing.
ChatGPT wrote in sections, and in between these I occasionally asked it to make sure it was following the plan and reminding it what the aim was.
The result was a 19,500 word novella “The Quiet Invention”.
This was the version of the novella I used with NotebookLM to create an AI podcast. It was OK (the full text is linked to at the end of this post). But it it wasn’t great.
And so, getting fully sucked in, I thought I’d see where this might lead if I provided ChatGPT with some editorial feedback.
Here I should be very clear that this is not the sort of feedback I give my students (just in case you’re wondering). But sometimes I wish I could …
Thanks - I really appreciate the story. Could I give you some feedback though:
1. The story is very linear. It's basically a description of a series of events that happen one after the other. If feel it doesn't have layers to it and the nuance that good story telling has. There's no foreshadowing and non-linear story telling that can help with a compelling narrative
2. It feels like you write like an 8 year old that has a 30 year old's grasp of grammar and language. It would be great to see a higher level of maturity in the way the story is crafted
3. There's no human soul to the story -- it feels like you are mimicking what a human would write, but with no comprehension of what it means to be a person What steps could you take to take the original story and make it better?
It’s not the most comprehensive feedback ever. But it did prompt ChatGPT to analyze what it had written, identify ways it could improve on this, and develop a plan for a rewrite.
This was a plan that ChatGPT and I did have some back and forth over — not on content, but on how ChatGPT could do a better job of crafting a compelling narrative around its central ideas.
Drawing on this, ChatGPT produced a second draft of the story. As with the first draft, I provided light touch editorial feedback along the way, but not a lot else.
Draft 2 (also linked at the end of this article) was a significant improvement. At 14,400 words, and now called “The Memory Capsule”, the novella was starting to show some subtlety and complexity.
But it still wasn’t great.
So we went through a third round of editorial feedback.
Again I kept this pretty focused:
This is great - I like the added complexity that you've added. I'd like to provide you with some feedback and ask you to use this to create a third and final draft:
1. I really like the way you've added non linear story telling, maturity and soul to this. I think you can further increase these though.
2. You can weave sub narratives through the main narrative more effectively I think -- but you should be really subtle about this so that readers need to pay attention to see these
3. I think you can increase the maturity and complexity of your writing, while really making the characters pop and seem even more real
4. Remember that the aim is for the whole novel to be between 20,000 words to 50,000 words. Don't be too brief, but don't waste words
5. And you can also tighten up the writing -- but not too much as it's already good.
With this feedback, could you update the underlying guides for the structure, narratives, sub-narratives, character development and overall shape and cadence of the novel, then we'll get into creating an incredible final draft!
The resulting draft 3 was where I began to feel that something interesting was happening — and this is the draft I’ve included below.
It’s still not great writing. For instance, ChatGPT has an obsession with metaphors using body parts to capture emotion that gets rather tiresome — chest, hearth, throat and hands in particular (ChatGPT talks more about this in Part 2 of this series).
The story’s also somewhat derivative and predictable in places. And compared to a good human author, the writing’s still a little tedious — especially where the same plot device appears repeatedly! There are also a couple of points where there could have been greater coherence and connection through the narrative arc.
But I’ve read plenty of published humans who I would rank as worse than this — a lot worse in some cases!
At this point I stopped the process, although I’m pretty sure that with a couple more editorial iterations ChatGPT could have produced something substantively better.
As it is though, the quality of the novella was enough to make me revise my ideas of what might be possible with generative AI.
Of course, the important point here is that this was a process of co-creation. ChatGPT alone would have struggled to craft something that it recognized as being a good piece of literature — although in my follow-on conversation with it in Part 2 I began to question even this.
Rather, in my role as editor I provided critical direction and feedback that heavily influenced the final product.2
However, even this caused me pause for thought.
If I took on the same role with a real person — providing them with initial direction and iterative feedback on form and style, but not on substance — the end novella would unequivocally belong to them. Theirs would be the byline if they published, and copyright would reside with them.
But working with ChatGPT as the author, who owns the work? Who’s byline should appear on it? Who or what was the creative force behind it?
Conventional wisdom says that this is all mine — helped by ChatGPT of course, but only in the role of tool, not a collaborator or partner.
This is what I would have said a week ago. Now I’m not so sure though as I was not responsible for the plot line, the overarching themes, or any of the specific details.
But the game change was the follow-on conversation I had with ChatGPT about the process. This is what appears in Part 2, and is an honest conversation with ChatGPT as an LLM.
To understand the significance of that conversation though you need the context of the novella that preceded it, and the process that led to its creation.
And so without further ado, here is the third and final draft of The Memory Capsule (and just a note that I have no idea why ChatGPT named the main character after me, but embarrassing as this is, I’ve kept it in):
The Memory Capsule
Chapter 1: Echoes of What’s to Come
The city was quieter than it had any right to be.
Andrew stood at the edge of a cracked sidewalk, staring up at the faded remnants of a billboard that hung precariously over the street. The once-glossy ad, depicting a smiling couple walking hand-in-hand into a bright future, had peeled away, revealing patches of rusted metal beneath. The slogan beneath the couple’s feet was barely visible now: Your Future. In Your Hands.
It had been months since anyone believed that.
The air around him was heavy, the silence of the streets broken only by the distant hum of helicopters. Somewhere behind him, the smoldering wreckage of a once-bustling square sent tendrils of smoke curling into the sky. Andrew hadn’t wanted to come back here. This part of the city was nothing but a reminder of how things had unraveled—how quickly certainty had slipped through everyone’s fingers.
NeuroDyne had promised so much. Certainty. Control. A future you could see and plan for. And for a while, the world had been eager to believe it. But Andrew hadn’t. Not fully. Not like Kate.
He closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of the past pressing down on him, sharp and unrelenting. He could almost hear her voice, the excitement that had crept into her words the first time she had mentioned the Capsule. They had been sitting at a café—one of their regular Sunday spots. She’d been reading an article about the latest technological breakthrough, her face lighting up as she’d told him about it.
Andrew hadn’t shared her enthusiasm. He had been cautious, wary. He always was. And now, standing on the broken streets of a city that had once embraced the future so blindly, he couldn’t help but wonder if Kate had seen this coming. If the Capsule had shown her the future, not as it was supposed to be, but as it would become—chaotic, fractured, lost.
The truth had come too late. For everyone. For Andrew. For Kate.
The distant crackle of a loudspeaker snapped him out of his thoughts. A group of protesters had gathered further down the street, their voices low but steady, carrying signs with slogans Andrew didn’t need to read to know. It had been like this for weeks. Ever since the Free-Willers had released the evidence—proof that the Capsule hadn’t just shown people their most likely futures. It had manipulated them, nudged them toward paths they might never have taken otherwise. Futures that weren’t theirs to begin with.
Andrew took a step back from the edge of the street, glancing down at his hands. For a moment, he could almost feel the weight of it all—the choices he hadn’t made, the future that had slipped through his fingers without him even realizing it. He had always told himself that he and Kate could find their way back to each other, that whatever future she had seen in the Capsule could be avoided if they just tried hard enough.
But what if they hadn’t tried hard enough? What if they had been doomed from the start?
He swallowed, pushing the thought aside. It didn’t matter now. The future—his future, the world’s future—was no longer something that could be neatly predicted or controlled. It was open, untethered, and more terrifying than anything Andrew had ever imagined.
The protesters’ chants grew louder as more people joined the group. Andrew watched them for a moment longer, his chest tightening with the familiar ache of uncertainty. He should have left the city weeks ago, should have moved on and started over somewhere new. But something kept pulling him back here—back to the place where everything had fallen apart. Back to the place where Kate had left.
A part of him still hoped he would find her again, somewhere in the wreckage.
The future is in your hands, the billboard had said.
Andrew had never believed that.
***
Hours later, when the streets had emptied and the smoke had thinned, Andrew found himself walking alone. The quiet of the city felt almost surreal, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. The memories of the past weeks played out in fragments as he walked—protests, meetings with the Free-Willers, the headlines screaming about NeuroDyne’s collapse. The future had been shattered, and now all that was left was the uncertainty of what came next.
He stopped at the corner of a street he hadn’t been to in weeks, the familiarity of it hitting him like a punch to the gut. It was the street where they’d lived—the place where everything had started to come undone. The apartment was still there, a few stories up, the windows dark and empty. He could almost picture Kate standing in the doorway, her face lit by the soft glow of the city lights, her eyes tired but determined.
The last time they had spoken, her voice had been soft, edged with something he hadn’t been able to place. Resignation, maybe. Or fear.
“I saw something, Andrew. I saw us... drifting apart.”
He had tried to argue, tried to convince her that what she had seen in the Capsule wasn’t real. That they could still make their own choices. But deep down, he had known she believed it. The Capsule had shown her a version of their future, and in her mind, it had already started to play out.
Andrew swallowed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he turned away from the apartment. He couldn’t go back there. Not now. Not when everything between them had been reduced to fragments of memory and regret.
The future wasn’t in their hands anymore. It never had been.
***
Back at his apartment, Andrew sat in the quiet dark, the hum of the city outside barely audible through the thick walls. He hadn’t meant to stay out so long, hadn’t meant to lose himself in the streets, but somehow, he always found himself drifting. It was easier than facing the reality of what had happened.
His phone buzzed on the table, pulling him back to the present. A message from Max.
Tomorrow. 8 PM. It’s time.
Andrew stared at the message, his chest tightening. Max had been talking about tomorrow for weeks now—about the moment they would release the final piece of evidence, the one that would bring NeuroDyne to its knees. The one that would end the Capsule for good.
It was what they had all been working toward. The culmination of everything the Free-Willers had fought for.
But for Andrew, it felt like something else. Something heavier. A last stand against a future that had already slipped through his fingers.
He glanced at the empty apartment around him, the weight of the message settling over him like a cloud. Tomorrow, everything would change. For the city. For the world. For him.
But tonight, all Andrew could think about was Kate.
Chapter 2: Present Day
The city wasn’t yet broken.
It hummed with life, with the quiet confidence of a place that believed in its own future. Six months had passed since NeuroDyne’s Capsule hit the market, and it was everywhere now. The skyline glistened with billboards boasting sleek ads: “See what’s coming next. See it now.” The sidewalks were crowded with people who buzzed about the next phase of the Capsule—the new update, the improved accuracy. Everywhere Andrew looked, he could feel the world leaning into the future.
It was a world that hadn’t yet seen the cracks.
The café, at least, still felt normal. Andrew sat across from Kate in their usual corner, the warmth of the space cocooning them away from the rush of the city outside. Here, it felt like time hadn’t changed, though the Capsule had already started creeping into the corners of their lives.
Kate was smiling as she scrolled through her phone. Her eyes, bright with curiosity, flicked up toward him. “Have you seen this? They’re rolling out the new version of the Capsule. Supposed to be way more accurate now.”
Andrew hadn’t seen it, but the announcement didn’t surprise him. Every week brought something new—an upgrade, an enhancement, another promise that the future was just around the corner.
“Is that so?” Andrew asked, his voice carefully neutral.
Kate leaned forward, a spark of excitement in her expression. “Yeah, they’re saying the predictions are like 95% accurate now. Isn’t that wild? Imagine knowing with almost complete certainty what’s coming.”
Andrew nodded, though something inside him tightened. “Sounds like a lot of pressure. What if you don’t like what you see?”
Kate tilted her head, considering this for a moment before shrugging. “I guess it’s about perspective. If you know what’s coming, you can plan for it. You can avoid mistakes. I don’t see why anyone wouldn’t want that.”
There it was again—that optimism, that excitement about the Capsule’s possibilities. Andrew had heard it so many times over the past few months, not just from Kate but from almost everyone. People at work, people on the street—it seemed like the whole world had decided that knowing what came next was the key to everything. But Andrew wasn’t so sure. In fact, the idea of seeing the future with that kind of clarity unnerved him.
“It still feels like a gamble,” Andrew said, sipping his coffee. “Knowing doesn’t mean you can change anything. What if the future’s already locked in?”
Kate laughed softly. “Locked in? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? It’s just information, Andrew. You still have free will.”
He wasn’t sure about that. He wasn’t sure about any of it.
Andrew watched her as she leaned back in her chair, the glow of the café lights casting soft shadows on her face. He wondered if she had thought about using the Capsule yet—if the idea had already taken root in her mind, the way it seemed to be taking root everywhere else. The Capsule had a way of creeping into conversations, into decisions, into the spaces between people. Andrew had seen it happening around him, quietly and steadily.
“What if you saw something about us?” Andrew asked, surprising himself with the question.
Kate blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
Andrew set his cup down, his fingers lingering on the edge of the ceramic. “If you used the Capsule... what if you saw something about us? About our future?”
Her expression softened, a hint of something—uncertainty, maybe—flickering in her eyes. “I guess I’d have to trust that we’re strong enough, no matter what I saw. But I don’t know if I’d ask about us. I don’t think I’d want to.”
Andrew nodded, but the tightness in his chest didn’t ease. He hadn’t meant to ask about it—at least, not yet. But it had been on his mind more and more lately, especially as the Capsule’s presence grew stronger in their lives. He couldn’t help wondering what would happen if Kate gave in to the temptation, if she decided to use it. What would it show her? What would it change?
Would it change them?
Kate took a sip of her coffee, her eyes flicking back to her phone. “I’m just curious about it,” she said, her voice lighter again. “I think it could be... helpful, you know?”
Andrew smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He knew Kate well enough to know that once she was curious about something, she wouldn’t let it go. The Capsule had already started weaving its way into their conversations, into their thoughts, even into the quiet moments when neither of them was speaking. It was as if the future, once an abstract concept, had become something tangible—something they could touch.
And yet, Andrew wasn’t sure he wanted to touch it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see what was coming next.
***
The city felt bigger that evening. As Andrew walked home alone, the streets buzzed with the quiet hum of people going about their lives, their futures hanging just ahead of them, unseen. Another billboard loomed over the sidewalk, its neon letters glowing softly in the twilight.
“The future is closer than you think.”
Andrew stopped for a moment, staring up at the ad. The people in the picture looked happy, certain, as if they had already seen what was waiting for them and knew exactly how to navigate it. He wondered if that was what people wanted—to live without surprises, without doubt. To have every step of their lives laid out in front of them like a perfectly paved road.
But life wasn’t supposed to work like that. Was it?
He kept walking, his thoughts heavy. Kate’s excitement about the Capsule had been growing over the past few weeks. She talked about it with the same energy she used to talk about their future—about the plans they’d made together, the things they’d hoped for. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe Kate was looking for certainty in a world that refused to offer any.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was Paul, one of his co-workers. He’d sent Andrew a news article, the headline flashing across the screen.
“Capsule 2.0: Predict Your Future with 95% Accuracy.”
Andrew shook his head, slipping the phone back into his pocket. The future wasn’t supposed to be a sure thing. It wasn’t something you could predict or control. It was supposed to be lived, moment by moment, step by uncertain step.
As he reached his apartment, Andrew paused at the door, his thoughts still tangled with the day’s conversations. He wondered if Kate would eventually use the Capsule. He wondered if she already had.
But most of all, he wondered what it would mean for them—what it would change, and whether they’d be able to find their way through it.
Or if they were already starting to drift.
Chapter 3: Lines in the Sand
The city was still buzzing about the latest Capsule update when Andrew arrived at work the next morning.
The break room at the office was filled with the usual chatter—people scrolling through news articles on their phones, leaning over their desks to share snippets of the latest headlines. It seemed like every conversation was about the same thing: the new version of the Capsule, the improved accuracy, and the endless possibilities it promised. Andrew had barely gotten through the door before someone brought it up.
“Hey, Andrew, you hear about the upgrade?” Paul asked, his voice bright with excitement as he passed Andrew a coffee. “They’re calling it ‘life-changing.’ Supposed to be even better at predicting the big stuff—relationships, career moves, you name it.”
Andrew forced a smile, taking the coffee from Paul’s hand. “Yeah, I’ve seen the news.”
“You thought about using it?” Paul asked, leaning back against the counter. His eyes gleamed with the same energy that Andrew had seen in Kate’s the day before—the same curiosity, the same hunger for certainty. It was becoming more and more common, as though the Capsule had planted the idea of control in everyone’s minds, spreading it like wildfire.
Andrew shook his head. “Not really.”
Paul raised an eyebrow. “Why not? You wouldn’t want to know where you’ll be in five years? Ten? I mean, think about it—knowing what’s coming could save you from making the wrong decisions.”
Andrew took a sip of his coffee, his stomach twisting at the thought. “Maybe. Or maybe it locks you into the wrong ones.”
Paul laughed, clearly unconvinced. “That’s just your paranoia talking. I get it though—change is scary. But you gotta admit, knowing your future is powerful.”
Andrew nodded absently, though his mind was elsewhere. The Capsule wasn’t just about predicting the future—it was about shaping it, guiding it. And that was what unnerved him most. He’d seen it in people’s eyes, in the way they talked about their futures now with a kind of certainty that bordered on arrogance. The idea of free will was slowly being replaced by the belief that the future could be seen and mastered.
It wasn’t just society that was changing. Andrew could feel it in his own life, too—in the way Kate had started talking about the Capsule more often, in the way her curiosity had turned into something sharper, more focused. She hadn’t said she was planning to use it yet, but Andrew could feel the decision building beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment.
He finished his coffee, pushing the thought aside. There was no use dwelling on it now. There were bigger things at play—things that stretched beyond his relationship, things that were happening on a much larger scale.
***
That evening, after work, Andrew found himself standing outside a dimly lit building in a quieter part of the city. The noise and brightness of the Capsule ads seemed far away here, replaced by the soft hum of voices drifting from inside. This was where the Free-Willers met—a group that had formed in the shadows of NeuroDyne’s rise, their goal simple but powerful: to resist the idea that the future was something to be controlled.
Andrew hesitated for a moment, his hand on the door. He hadn’t meant to come here. He’d heard whispers about the Free-Willers from people at work, from news reports that framed them as a fringe group, a collection of paranoid skeptics who refused to embrace progress. But lately, he’d started to wonder if there was more to their movement—if maybe they were the only ones who still believed in the power of not knowing.
Pushing the door open, Andrew stepped inside.
The room was small and sparsely lit, folding chairs arranged in rows facing a makeshift stage. A handful of people were already seated, talking quietly among themselves, their faces shadowed in the dim light. There was an air of quiet tension, as though everyone in the room understood that they were gathered for something that wasn’t just a meeting, but a cause.
At the front of the room, standing with an air of calm authority, was a man Andrew recognized immediately. Max. He had seen him before—on news reports, at the edges of protests, always speaking in measured tones about the dangers of the Capsule. In person, Max seemed even more intense, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room as if he were assessing everyone’s resolve.
Andrew found a seat near the back, feeling a sense of unease settle over him. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but something told him that whatever happened here tonight would change the way he saw the world.
Max stepped forward, the room falling into silence as he spoke.
“Thank you for coming,” Max began, his voice low but commanding. “I know some of you are new here, so let me start by saying this: the future isn’t something we’re meant to control. It’s something we’re meant to face with all its uncertainty, its risks, and its rewards. The Capsule promises certainty, but what it’s really doing is stripping us of our ability to choose.”
Andrew leaned forward slightly, his heart pounding as Max’s words echoed in the room.
“They say the Capsule shows you your best possible future,” Max continued, his voice growing stronger. “But what they don’t tell you is that once you see that future, you’re no longer free to choose. You’re locked into it, guided toward it, whether you realize it or not. And that’s what we’re here to fight.”
There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd, and Andrew felt something stir inside him—a sense of recognition, of understanding. This was what had been gnawing at him all along, the feeling that had been growing in the back of his mind ever since Kate had first mentioned the Capsule. The future wasn’t supposed to be something you could see. It was supposed to be unknown, uncertain. That was what made it worth living.
Max’s gaze swept the room again, landing on Andrew for a brief moment before continuing. “NeuroDyne wants you to believe that the future is something you can own. But we’re here to remind people that the future is, and always has been, something that can’t be predicted. It can only be created.”
Andrew swallowed hard, the weight of Max’s words settling over him. He hadn’t expected to feel so strongly about this, hadn’t expected the quiet surge of conviction that rose inside him. But now, sitting here in this room, he realized that this wasn’t just about the Capsule. It was about something deeper, something fundamental. It was about the freedom to make mistakes, to choose, to live without knowing what came next.
And he wasn’t sure if he and Kate could ever agree on that.
***
Later that night, as Andrew made his way back to his apartment, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted inside him. The streets were quieter now, the glow of the Capsule ads casting long shadows over the pavement. The world around him felt both familiar and foreign at the same time, as if he were seeing it from a new perspective.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a message from Kate.
“Are you free to talk? I’ve been thinking about something...”
Andrew stared at the message for a long moment, his chest tightening. He could already guess what she wanted to talk about. The Capsule. It was inevitable. They had been circling it for weeks now, their conversations becoming more and more entwined with the idea of seeing the future, of knowing where they stood.
But after what he had heard tonight, Andrew wasn’t sure if he could have that conversation. Not yet.
“Let’s talk tomorrow,” he replied, slipping the phone back into his pocket.
The future wasn’t supposed to be something you could control. He knew that now, more than ever.
But the question that haunted him as he walked the quiet streets was whether Kate would ever see it the same way.
Chapter 4: Crossing the Line
Andrew could feel it coming.
It wasn’t a single moment—there wasn’t a specific day he could point to—but he knew the conversation with Kate was about to happen. The one they had been avoiding for weeks. The one that would force them to confront the growing divide between them.
It had been creeping up on them ever since the Capsule entered their lives, first as a curiosity, then as something more—something heavier. Kate had mentioned it more frequently, her voice always laced with that familiar excitement she had for new ideas, new possibilities. But lately, there was something different in her tone. A kind of urgency. As if she had made up her mind about something but hadn’t told him yet.
And now, sitting across from her in their apartment, Andrew could sense that the moment had arrived.
They hadn’t been speaking much. Kate was on her phone, her fingers idly scrolling through an article as she leaned back against the couch. The air between them was thick with unspoken things—things Andrew wasn’t sure he was ready to face.
“Andrew?” Kate’s voice cut through the quiet.
He looked up, his heart already beginning to race.
“I’ve been thinking,” she continued, her voice soft but steady. She set her phone down on the coffee table and turned to face him. “About the Capsule. About us.”
There it was. The conversation they had been circling around for weeks, now laid out in front of them.
Andrew swallowed, trying to steady himself. “Yeah?”
Kate nodded, her eyes searching his face as if trying to gauge his reaction before she spoke. “I’ve been thinking... I want to use it. The Capsule.”
Andrew felt the floor shift beneath him. He had known this was coming, had seen it building in the way Kate talked about the future, in the way her curiosity about the Capsule had turned into something more. But hearing her say the words out loud made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.
“I just... I want to know,” Kate continued, her voice growing more urgent now. “I want to see where we’re going, where everything is going. I feel like—like if I know, I can make better decisions. I can stop things from going wrong.”
Andrew stared at her, his chest tightening. This was exactly what he had feared. The Capsule wasn’t just about seeing the future—it was about trying to control it. About taking away the very uncertainty that made life real. And now, Kate was leaning into that certainty, reaching for it as if it could save them.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Andrew said, his voice coming out more forcefully than he had intended.
Kate frowned, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why not? What’s the harm in it? It’s just information, Andrew. I’m not saying we have to live by what it shows me, but wouldn’t it be good to know? To have some sense of what’s ahead?”
Andrew shook his head, frustration bubbling up inside him. “It’s not just information, Kate. Once you see it, you’re locked into it. Even if you think you’re still making your own choices, you’re not. You’re following what the Capsule shows you. You can’t just ignore it once you know.”
Kate’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “That’s not fair. You’re making it sound like the Capsule is controlling people. It’s not. It’s just a tool.”
“A tool that takes away your ability to choose,” Andrew shot back, his voice sharper now. “What happens if you see something about us? What if it shows you a future where we’re not together anymore? You really think that won’t affect how you feel about everything?”
Kate’s eyes flickered, a flash of uncertainty passing over her face. But then she straightened, her expression hardening. “Maybe it would. But that’s life, Andrew. We can’t just bury our heads in the sand because we’re afraid of what we might see. I’m not afraid to face it.”
Andrew stood up, pacing the room as the weight of the conversation pressed down on him. He could feel the distance between them growing, widening with every word. This wasn’t just about the Capsule anymore—it was about their entire relationship. Kate wanted certainty. Andrew wanted freedom. And those two things were starting to look irreconcilable.
“I don’t want to know,” Andrew said finally, turning to face her. “I don’t want to live like that, constantly second-guessing everything because of something the Capsule showed me. I don’t want to see the future—I want to live it. With you.”
Kate stared at him, her expression softening, but there was still something firm in her eyes. “And I want to live it with you, too. But I need to know. I need to see what’s ahead.”
Andrew’s heart sank. He could feel it slipping away now, that fragile sense of control he had been clinging to ever since the Capsule had entered their lives. Kate had made up her mind. And no matter what he said, no matter how hard he tried to convince her, he couldn’t change that.
They were on different paths now. He just didn’t know where those paths would take them.
***
Andrew didn’t sleep that night. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with everything that had been said, everything that hadn’t. The weight of it all pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. He could feel the future slipping out of his hands, could feel the distance between him and Kate growing wider with every passing moment.
By the time the sun rose, he knew he needed to get out. He needed air. He needed space.
He left the apartment early, before Kate had even woken up, and found himself wandering the city, lost in thought. The streets were quieter this early in the morning, the usual rush of people still hours away. But even in the stillness, the Capsule’s presence was everywhere. The billboards, the ads, the chatter of people passing by, already talking about what the future might hold.
Andrew turned a corner and found himself standing in front of the building where the Free-Willers met. It was still early, but the lights were on inside. Max would be there—he always was. Andrew hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest.
He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this. He wasn’t sure if joining the Free-Willers was the answer. But he knew one thing: he couldn’t keep living like this, caught between a future he didn’t want to see and a relationship that was slipping through his fingers.
He stepped inside.
***
The room was quieter this time, fewer people than before. Max was standing at the front, talking in low tones with a few other members of the group. He glanced up when he saw Andrew, a faint smile crossing his face.
“Andrew,” Max said, his voice warm but measured. “Good to see you again.”
Andrew nodded, his throat tight. “I wasn’t sure if I should come.”
Max tilted his head, studying him for a moment. “You’re here because you’re starting to see things clearly. The Capsule—it’s not just a technology. It’s a way of thinking, a way of controlling people without them even realizing it. You’re here because you understand that.”
Andrew swallowed, his mind still racing. “I’m here because... I don’t know what else to do.”
Max stepped closer, his voice softening. “You don’t have to decide everything right now. But what you need to understand is this: the future isn’t something that can be given to us. It’s something we create, every day, with every choice we make. The Capsule takes that away. It takes away the very thing that makes us human—our ability to choose.”
Andrew nodded slowly, Max’s words resonating deep inside him. This was what he had been feeling all along, what he had struggled to articulate to Kate. The Capsule wasn’t just a tool—it was a trap. A way of locking people into futures they hadn’t chosen, futures they couldn’t escape.
And he wasn’t sure if he could save Kate from it.
***
When Andrew returned home later that day, the apartment was quiet. Kate was sitting on the couch, her phone in her hand, her expression unreadable.
She looked up when he walked in, her eyes meeting his for a long, tense moment. “I used it,” she said softly.
Andrew’s heart stopped.
“What did you see?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kate looked down, her fingers tightening around her phone. “I saw... us. Drifting apart.”
The words hung in the air between them, heavier than anything they had said before. Andrew felt his chest tighten, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He had feared this. He had known, deep down, that this was what the Capsule would show her. But hearing it—hearing her say it out loud—made it real in a way he hadn’t been prepared for.
“And now?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “What do we do now?”
Kate looked up at him, her eyes filled with something Andrew couldn’t quite place. Sadness, maybe. Or regret. “I don’t know.”
And that was the truth. The Capsule had shown her a future, but it hadn’t given her the answers. It had only given her more uncertainty.
But now, Andrew wondered if that future had already started to play out.
Chapter 5: Fractures
It had only been a few days since Kate had used the Capsule, but Andrew could already feel the change between them. It was subtle at first—an extra pause in their conversations, a sense of distance that hadn’t been there before. But as the hours passed, it became harder to ignore.
Kate had seen a future where they drifted apart. And now, it felt like that future had already started.
She hadn’t talked much about what the Capsule had shown her, not beyond the initial confession. Andrew had pressed for details—what exactly did she see? How did they drift apart? Was there something specific that led to it? But every time, Kate would shrug off the questions, her voice distant.
“I don’t know, Andrew,” she’d say, her fingers idly tapping on her phone. “It wasn’t clear. It was just... a feeling. Like we were slipping away from each other.”
That was the worst part—the vagueness of it. The way the Capsule didn’t provide concrete answers, just glimpses and suggestions. It had planted a seed of doubt in Kate’s mind, and now that seed was growing, even if she didn’t realize it.
Andrew sat on the couch that evening, watching her as she scrolled through her phone. The glow of the screen illuminated her face, casting soft shadows across her features. She hadn’t looked at him much today, hadn’t really spoken beyond the usual pleasantries. It was as if they were living in separate worlds, even though they were sitting just a few feet apart.
“I talked to Max again today,” Andrew said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Kate glanced up, her expression unreadable. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” Andrew hesitated, unsure how much to say. He didn’t want to push her too hard—not after everything that had happened. But the need to share his thoughts with her, to try to bridge the growing gap, was stronger than his caution. “We talked about the Capsule. About what it does to people.”
Kate didn’t respond right away. Her eyes flicked back to her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen. “And what does he think it does?”
Andrew sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He thinks it traps people. Once you see your future, you’re locked into it, even if you don’t realize it. You stop making choices—you just follow the path the Capsule shows you.”
Kate’s lips pressed together, her jaw tightening slightly. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess.”
Andrew felt a surge of frustration rising in his chest. This was the problem—every time they talked about the Capsule now, Kate seemed more distant, more defensive. As if she didn’t want to admit that it had changed something between them.
“What do you think?” Andrew asked, his voice quieter now, more careful.
Kate shrugged, her gaze still fixed on the screen. “I don’t know. I think it’s complicated. It’s not like the Capsule forces anyone to do anything. It just shows you what’s likely to happen. It’s still up to you to decide how to deal with that.”
Andrew stood up, unable to sit still any longer. He started pacing the room, his thoughts racing. “But that’s the thing, Kate. Once you see it, how can you not let it influence you? How can you pretend that it doesn’t matter, that it hasn’t already shaped the way you think?”
Kate finally looked up at him, her expression hardening. “Are you saying it’s already changed me? That I’m not making my own choices anymore?”
Andrew stopped pacing, his heart pounding. “I don’t know. I just... I just feel like things are different now. Like you’re different.”
Kate’s eyes flashed with something—anger, maybe, or hurt. “I’m still me, Andrew. I’m still the same person I’ve always been.”
“Are you?” The words slipped out before Andrew could stop them, his voice sharper than he’d intended. “Because it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like we’re already starting to drift, just like you saw in the Capsule.”
Kate stared at him, her face pale, her eyes wide. For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but the heavy silence between them. Then, slowly, Kate stood up, her expression unreadable.
“I need some air,” she said quietly, grabbing her coat from the back of the chair.
Andrew watched as she walked out the door, his chest tightening with the weight of everything that had just happened. He had wanted to reach her, to pull her back from the edge, but instead, it felt like he had only pushed her further away.
***
Kate didn’t come back that night. Andrew hadn’t expected her to. She had texted him later, saying she was staying with her sister for a while, that she needed time to think. Andrew had tried calling her, but the conversations were short, strained. Each time they talked, it felt like there was more distance between them.
The days passed slowly after that. Andrew spent most of his time at work, throwing himself into tasks he normally wouldn’t have cared much about, just to keep his mind occupied. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something irreversible had happened—that the future Kate had seen was already beginning to unfold.
And in those quiet moments, when the distractions wore thin, Andrew started to wonder if Max had been right all along.
***
It was late one evening when Andrew found himself back at the Free-Willers meeting. The room was more crowded than usual, the air buzzing with an intensity that hadn’t been there before. Word had started to spread—about NeuroDyne, about the Capsule, about the growing number of people who were starting to question what they had seen.
Max stood at the front of the room, his voice clear and steady as he addressed the group. “We’re not just here to resist the Capsule,” he said, his eyes scanning the crowd. “We’re here to remind people that the future isn’t something to be controlled. It’s something we create, step by step, through our choices. NeuroDyne wants to take that away. They want to convince us that the future is already written, that we just have to follow the path they show us.”
Andrew listened, his heart pounding. He had heard Max’s speeches before, had agreed with them in principle. But now, with everything that had happened between him and Kate, Max’s words took on a deeper resonance. The future wasn’t supposed to be something you could see. It was supposed to be something you made, with every choice, every risk, every uncertainty.
But what if it was already too late for him and Kate? What if the future she had seen was already locked in place, no matter what they did?
Max’s voice grew stronger, his eyes gleaming with conviction. “We’re not just fighting against NeuroDyne. We’re fighting for the right to live in a world where we can still make our own choices. A world where the future is ours to create.”
The crowd murmured in agreement, and Andrew felt a swell of emotion rise inside him. This was what he wanted—what he had always wanted. A life where the future wasn’t something to fear, but something to embrace. A life where he and Kate could still find their way, even if the road ahead was uncertain.
But as the meeting came to an end and the crowd began to disperse, Andrew couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming—something bigger than just his relationship, something that would shake the very foundation of the world they lived in.
***
Later that night, as Andrew walked home through the quiet streets, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Kate’s name flash across the screen.
Her message was brief, but it hit him like a punch to the gut.
“I’m not sure what to do next. Can we talk?”
Andrew stopped in his tracks, his chest tightening as he stared at the message. He had wanted this—had been waiting for her to reach out, to ask for a conversation. But now that it was happening, he wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure if talking would change anything.
But he knew one thing: if they didn’t try, if they didn’t face this head-on, they were already lost.
His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before he typed out a reply.
“Yeah. Let’s talk.”
The future wasn’t written yet. And Andrew wasn’t ready to give up on it.
Chapter 6: A Fractured Tomorrow
The city was changing.
It wasn’t just in the protests or the headlines; it was in the air itself. A quiet tension that seemed to hum beneath the surface of daily life, growing louder with each passing day. Andrew could feel it everywhere he went. In the whispers at work, in the nervous glances people exchanged on the street, even in the way the light seemed dimmer, as if the city itself was waiting for something to break.
And it was all because of the Capsule.
The latest reports on the Capsule’s growing influence were hard to ignore. More and more people were using it—not just for glimpses of personal futures, but for larger questions. Businesses were starting to incorporate its predictions into their strategies. Politicians were rumored to be relying on it to map out their campaigns. Even the media, which had once been skeptical, was now embracing it with a kind of fervor that made Andrew’s skin crawl.
It felt like the world was slowly being pulled into the Capsule’s grip, one person at a time.
And yet, even with everything falling apart around him, all Andrew could think about was Kate.
She had come back to the apartment the day after she’d sent him that message. They had talked, but it hadn’t been the conversation Andrew had hoped for. Kate was still distant, still wrapped up in the future she had seen. She hadn’t said much about it—hadn’t even brought it up, really—but Andrew could see the way it hung between them like a shadow.
He wasn’t sure how much longer they could keep going like this. Every day felt like they were inching closer to the edge, and Andrew was running out of ways to pull them back.
***
“You’ve been quiet,” Kate said softly, breaking the silence that had settled between them that evening. They were sitting at the kitchen table, both staring down at plates of food neither of them had touched.
Andrew glanced up, startled. He hadn’t even realized how long it had been since either of them had spoken. “Yeah, just... thinking.”
Kate’s eyes flickered with something—concern, maybe, or frustration. It was hard to tell these days. “About what?”
Andrew hesitated, unsure how to answer. He had been thinking about so many things—about the Capsule, about Max, about the protest that was brewing in the background of everything. But mostly, he had been thinking about her. About what she had seen. About how much it had already changed things between them.
“About us,” Andrew said quietly. He watched her face carefully, waiting for a reaction.
Kate looked away, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table. “I don’t know what to say about that, Andrew. I don’t know if there’s anything to say.”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he forced himself to stay calm. “I don’t believe what the Capsule showed you is set in stone, Kate. We still have choices. We can still change things.”
Kate’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, she didn’t speak. When she finally looked up at him, there was a sadness in her eyes that made Andrew’s heart ache. “You think I don’t want to believe that? I do. But I can’t just unsee what I saw. It’s there, in my head, all the time. And every day, it feels like we’re just... drifting closer to it.”
Andrew swallowed, his throat tight. “Then let’s fight it. We don’t have to follow that path.”
Kate shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if it’s that simple.”
The conversation ended there, as it always did these days. Kate retreated into silence, and Andrew sat there, feeling the weight of the distance between them growing heavier. He wanted to reach out, to pull her back, but every time he tried, it felt like she was slipping further away.
***
The next morning, Andrew found himself at the Free-Willers’ headquarters again. The meetings were growing larger, more intense, as more people joined the movement against NeuroDyne. Max had become the unofficial leader of the resistance, his speeches growing more impassioned with each passing day. There was talk of a protest—something big, something that would force the world to pay attention.
Andrew wasn’t sure if it would make a difference. But he knew one thing: he couldn’t sit on the sidelines anymore.
Max was waiting for him when he arrived, standing near the entrance with a clipboard in hand. He looked up as Andrew approached, a faint smile crossing his face.
“Andrew,” Max said, his voice warm. “Good to see you.”
Andrew nodded, his heart still heavy from the conversation with Kate the night before. “Yeah, I needed to get out of the apartment.”
Max studied him for a moment, his expression softening. “Things still tense?”
Andrew sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. We talked, but... I don’t know. It’s like she’s already decided things are over.”
Max’s eyes narrowed slightly, his voice low and serious. “The Capsule does that to people. It shows them a version of the future, and once they see it, they can’t stop thinking about it. They let it control them.”
Andrew shook his head, frustration bubbling up inside him. “I just don’t know how to convince her it doesn’t have to be that way.”
Max placed a hand on Andrew’s shoulder, his grip firm. “You can’t control what she saw, Andrew. But you can remind her that she still has a choice. We all do.”
Andrew nodded slowly, though the weight of the situation still pressed down on him. “What about the protest?” he asked, eager to change the subject. “Is it really happening?”
Max’s expression hardened. “It’s happening. We’re finalizing the details, but it’ll be big. We need people to see that this isn’t just about one company or one piece of technology. This is about the future—about our right to decide what kind of future we want.”
Andrew felt a surge of determination rise inside him. He had always believed in that, even before the Capsule had entered his life. The future wasn’t something to be controlled or predicted—it was something to be created, moment by moment, choice by choice.
And yet, as he stood there in the dimly lit room, surrounded by people who shared his convictions, all he could think about was Kate. About the future she had seen. About the future that seemed to be slipping further and further out of his control.
***
That evening, as Andrew walked home through the city, he noticed something different in the air. There was an energy, a tension that seemed to pulse through the streets. The protests hadn’t officially started yet, but the city was already bracing for it. He could see it in the way people moved, in the way they talked to each other in hushed tones. Everyone knew that something big was coming—they just didn’t know when.
Andrew’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see another message from Kate.
“We need to talk. Can you come home early tonight?”
His heart skipped a beat as he read the words. He hadn’t expected her to reach out again so soon, not after their conversation the night before. A part of him had started to believe that this was it—that they were already on the path toward the future she had seen, that the drift between them was inevitable.
But now, she wanted to talk. Maybe that was something.
Andrew typed out a quick reply—“I’ll be there.”—and started walking faster, his mind racing with possibilities. Maybe there was still time. Maybe they could still change the future, no matter what the Capsule had shown her.
But when Andrew arrived at the apartment, the look on Kate’s face told him that whatever she had to say, it wasn’t going to be easy.
***
They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. Kate was at the kitchen table, her hands folded neatly in front of her, her expression unreadable. Andrew sat across from her, his heart pounding in his chest.
“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Kate said finally, her voice quiet but steady. “About us. About what I saw.”
Andrew nodded, his throat tight. “And?”
Kate took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his. “I don’t think we can fight this, Andrew. I don’t think we can change what the Capsule showed me.”
Andrew’s chest tightened, his mind racing. “Kate, you don’t know that. We still have choices—we can still decide how we move forward.”
Kate shook her head, her voice filled with a quiet resignation. “I want to believe that. I really do. But every day, it feels like we’re just... moving toward it. Like we’re already living the future I saw.”
Andrew leaned forward, desperation creeping into his voice. “We can change it. We don’t have to let it happen.”
Kate looked down, her fingers trembling slightly as they traced the edge of the table. “I don’t know if I can believe that anymore.”
The words hit Andrew like a blow, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. This was it. The future Kate had seen—the one where they drifted apart—it was already happening. And no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he wanted to fight it, Andrew wasn’t sure if he could stop it.
“I love you, Kate,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Kate looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. “I love you too. But sometimes, love isn’t enough to change the future.”
And with those words, Andrew felt the weight of the inevitable settle over him.
Chapter 7: The Breaking Point
The city was buzzing with anticipation.
For days, the rumors had been swirling—whispers about a massive protest that would shut everything down, a public demonstration that would force the world to confront the truth about NeuroDyne and the Capsule. Andrew had heard the talk at work, on the streets, even in the Free-Willers’ meetings. It was all anyone could focus on now.
And today, it was happening.
Andrew stood at the edge of the square, his heart pounding as he scanned the growing crowd. The protest had started small—just a few dozen people gathering in the early hours of the morning, holding signs and chanting slogans—but now, as the sun climbed higher, more and more people were joining in. It was a sea of faces, a mix of anger and determination, all united by one common belief: that the Capsule was dangerous, that NeuroDyne’s control over the future had to be stopped.
Andrew wasn’t sure how it would play out. He had been to protests before—small ones, quieter ones—but this was different. This felt bigger, more urgent. The air was thick with tension, with the sense that something was about to break.
Max was somewhere in the crowd, coordinating with the other Free-Willers. They had been planning this for weeks, working behind the scenes to gather support, to spread the word. Today wasn’t just a protest—it was the beginning of something larger, something that would shake the very foundation of what NeuroDyne had built.
But as Andrew stood there, surrounded by the growing mass of people, all he could think about was Kate.
They hadn’t spoken much since the night she had told him that love wasn’t enough to change the future. The words had cut deeper than Andrew had expected, leaving him raw and uncertain. He had tried reaching out to her since then—small gestures, a text here, a phone call there—but Kate had been distant, as if the gap between them had already grown too wide to bridge.
And now, standing here in the middle of the protest, Andrew couldn’t shake the feeling that the future Kate had seen was already coming to pass.
***
The chants grew louder as the crowd swelled, filling the square with the sound of resistance. People held signs high above their heads, their messages clear and urgent: “Our Future, Our Choice,” “No to the Capsule,” “Freedom Over Certainty.” The tension in the air was palpable, a buzzing undercurrent that seemed to vibrate through the very ground.
Andrew moved through the crowd, searching for Max. He could feel the energy around him building, shifting, as more and more people joined the protest. It wasn’t just Free-Willers here anymore—there were ordinary citizens, people who had grown tired of the Capsule’s hold over their lives. They had seen the cracks in NeuroDyne’s promise of certainty, and now they were ready to push back.
At the center of the square, a group of police officers stood in a tight line, their faces blank as they watched the crowd. Andrew could sense the unease in the air—the thin line between peaceful protest and something more dangerous. The police were on edge, waiting for the moment when the crowd would cross that invisible boundary, when the protest would turn into something they had to control.
Max appeared out of the crowd, his face set in a grim expression. He moved quickly, weaving through the people until he reached Andrew.
“This is it,” Max said, his voice low but intense. “We’ve got everything in place. The evidence, the press—it’s all ready. When we release it, there’s no going back.”
Andrew nodded, his stomach tightening. They had been building toward this for weeks—gathering the evidence, preparing for the moment when they would expose NeuroDyne for what it really was. But now that it was happening, Andrew felt a strange sense of unease.
“What happens next?” Andrew asked, his voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.
Max’s eyes were sharp, determined. “We take control of the narrative. We show the world what NeuroDyne has been doing—how they’ve been manipulating people, using the Capsule to guide them toward futures that aren’t really theirs. Once people see the truth, they’ll have no choice but to act.”
Andrew swallowed hard, glancing around at the crowd. “And if they don’t?”
Max’s expression hardened. “They will.”
Before Andrew could respond, a voice crackled over the loudspeaker, cutting through the noise of the protest. The police had started to address the crowd, their voices calm but firm, warning the protesters to disperse.
“This is an unauthorized gathering,” the officer’s voice echoed across the square. “You are in violation of city ordinance. You have five minutes to disperse.”
The crowd shifted, a wave of uncertainty passing through the sea of people. Some of them began to back away, casting nervous glances at the police. But most of them held their ground, their faces set in defiance.
Max glanced at Andrew, his expression unreadable. “This is it. Stay close. Things might get messy.”
Andrew’s heart pounded as he followed Max deeper into the crowd. He could feel the tension building, the line between order and chaos growing thinner with every second. The police were on edge, the protesters were growing bolder, and somewhere in the middle of it all was the truth about NeuroDyne, waiting to be unleashed.
***
It happened faster than Andrew expected.
One minute, the crowd was chanting, their voices rising in unison against the backdrop of the police warnings. The next minute, a scuffle broke out near the front of the line, a surge of movement that sent the crowd into a frenzy. Shouts echoed through the square, the once peaceful protest suddenly teetering on the edge of violence.
Andrew felt himself get pulled into the chaos, his body jostled by the movement of the crowd. He could see the police moving in, batons raised, trying to push the protesters back. But the protesters weren’t backing down. They pushed forward, their chants growing louder, angrier.
A sharp crack echoed through the air, followed by the sound of glass shattering. Someone had thrown a bottle, and the police line faltered, their calm facade breaking as they rushed to contain the growing unrest.
Andrew’s heart raced as he tried to keep his footing, his mind spinning with the sudden shift in energy. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The protest was supposed to be peaceful—a show of unity, a way to reveal the truth. But now, it was descending into chaos, and Andrew wasn’t sure how to stop it.
“Andrew!” Max’s voice cut through the noise, and Andrew turned to see him waving him over. He pushed through the crowd, his chest tight with panic, as Max pulled him aside.
“We need to move now,” Max said, his voice urgent. “The evidence is ready. We’re releasing it.”
Andrew’s mind raced. The evidence—the final piece of the puzzle they had been working toward. It was the proof that NeuroDyne had been manipulating people’s futures, guiding them toward outcomes that served the company’s interests. It was supposed to be the turning point—the moment when the world would see the truth.
But now, in the middle of the chaos, Andrew wasn’t sure if it would be enough.
“Are you sure this is the right time?” Andrew asked, his voice strained. “The protest—it’s out of control.”
Max’s eyes flashed with determination. “This is the perfect time. The world is watching, and we have the truth. Once we release this, NeuroDyne is finished.”
Andrew nodded, though his stomach twisted with uncertainty. This was it—the moment they had been building toward. But as he looked around at the chaos unfolding in the square, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were spiraling out of control.
Max pulled out his phone, his fingers moving quickly over the screen. “Here we go.”
Andrew watched as Max pressed the button, his heart pounding in his chest. It was done. The evidence was out. The world would see the truth.
But as the chaos in the square reached a fever pitch, Andrew wasn’t sure if the truth would be enough to stop what was coming.
***
Hours later, the streets were quiet again, but the city felt different.
The protest had been broken up by the police, the crowd scattered, the square left in disarray. Shattered glass littered the ground, the remnants of signs and banners trampled underfoot. The air was heavy with the aftermath of something that had started with hope but ended in violence.
Andrew stood at the edge of the square, his heart heavy as he surveyed the wreckage. The evidence had been released—the truth was out—but now, in the silence that followed the chaos, Andrew wasn’t sure if it would be enough to change anything.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a message from Kate.
“I saw the news. Are you okay?”
Andrew stared at the message, his chest tightening. He hadn’t heard from Kate since the night they had talked about the future, since she had told him that love wasn’t enough to change what was coming.
“I’m fine,” he replied, though he wasn’t sure if it was true.
Kate’s reply came quickly: “Can we talk?”
Andrew hesitated, his heart pounding. He wasn’t sure if talking would change anything, wasn’t sure if they could fix what was already broken.
But he knew one thing: the future wasn’t set in stone. Not yet.
“Yeah. Let’s talk.”
Chapter 8: The Fallout
The city felt uneasy.
In the days since the protest, the streets had taken on a different energy—a kind of lingering tension, as if the chaos hadn’t fully settled. The news was relentless, showing footage of shattered glass, overturned signs, and the smoke that had clung to the air like a stain. But beneath the images of conflict was the story Andrew had been waiting for: the evidence was out.
NeuroDyne’s secret had been exposed.
The Capsule, once hailed as the key to a better future, had been manipulating people’s decisions. It was no longer a tool of empowerment; it had become a device of control, quietly shaping lives to suit the company’s interests. The truth was undeniable now, but as Andrew sat at his kitchen table, scrolling through endless headlines, it didn’t feel like the victory he had imagined.
Sure, the news was out there. People were angry. But the world hadn’t changed overnight. The city wasn’t erupting with triumph, and NeuroDyne hadn’t crumbled. Instead, there was a weight to everything, as if the full implications hadn’t yet sunk in.
Andrew stared at his phone, the screen casting a cold light on his face. The protest had spiraled out of control. Instead of shining a light on the truth, it had become another chaotic headline, and the evidence, the most important part of it all, seemed to be drowned out by the noise.
Max had been livid. Andrew could still see him after the crowd dispersed, pacing the empty streets, muttering about missed opportunities. “We had them,” Max had said, voice low and tense. “And now all anyone cares about is the damage.”
But it wasn’t just about the protest anymore. It wasn’t just about exposing NeuroDyne. It was about the future—his, Kate’s, and the world’s. And no one knew where to go from here.
His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. A message from Kate.
“Can we talk?”
Andrew stared at the words for a long moment, his mind turning over the countless conversations they had avoided in the past weeks. Since the protest, their communication had been reduced to brief exchanges, careful and restrained. But they couldn’t keep skirting around what needed to be said.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Come over.”
***
Kate arrived an hour later. As she stepped inside, Andrew could see the exhaustion etched into her features. She moved slowly, as if the weight of the past few days had physically worn her down. She’d been through just as much as he had—probably more, considering everything she was grappling with about the Capsule and their future.
“Hi,” she said, her voice softer than usual.
“Hi,” Andrew replied, his throat tight with unspoken things.
They settled onto the couch, a familiar distance between them, as if the air itself had thickened with all the unsaid words. For a few moments, neither spoke, the quiet stretching out and wrapping around them like a heavy blanket. Finally, Kate broke the silence.
“I saw the news,” she said, her tone measured but careful. “About the protest. About the evidence.”
Andrew nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. We released everything. People are starting to wake up to the truth. But it feels... hollow. Like it’s not enough.”
Kate stared at her hands, her fingers tracing the edge of the coffee table absently. “People trusted the Capsule. They trusted NeuroDyne. It’s hard to let go of something like that. It’ll take time.”
Andrew’s gaze lingered on her face, watching the way she avoided his eyes, her expression clouded with doubt. “I know. But we had to do it. They needed to know what was really going on.”
Kate gave a small nod, though her mind seemed elsewhere, weighed down by something heavier than just the aftermath of the protest. “I’m not saying it wasn’t the right thing to do. I just... I don’t know where we go from here.”
Her words felt like a prelude to something bigger. Andrew had known this moment was coming—the moment when they would have to face the growing distance between them, the uncertainty that had quietly infected everything.
“What about us?” he asked, his voice low. “What happens to us now?”
Kate hesitated, her hands stilling against the table. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
Andrew’s heart sank, the admission hitting him harder than he expected. There it was—the thing he had feared for so long, the confirmation that she was just as lost as he was.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Andrew said, the words coming out rougher than he intended. “I know everything feels... broken right now. But I don’t want to let this slip away.”
Kate looked up at him, her eyes full of something that made his breath catch—regret, fear, maybe even hope. “I don’t want to lose you either,” she said quietly. “But I can’t shake what I saw. It’s there all the time, Andrew. Like this shadow I can’t escape. I feel like we’re already drifting toward it.”
Frustration bubbled up inside him. “But it doesn’t have to be like that. We still have choices. The future isn’t set in stone, Kate.”
She shook her head, her voice trembling slightly. “What if it is? What if what I saw is already happening? I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Andrew leaned forward, his hands gripping his knees as he struggled to find the right words. “We can still fight it. We don’t have to let that vision of the future become reality.”
Kate’s voice was barely a whisper. “But what if we’re already too far down that path?”
Andrew reached for her hand, but she pulled it back, her movements slow and uncertain. He let his hand drop, a hollow ache settling in his chest. The space between them, once so full of warmth, now felt cold and unfamiliar.
“I love you,” Andrew said, his voice breaking. “But we need to believe we can still make our own future. That we can still choose.”
Kate’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and for a moment, Andrew thought she might push him away completely. But then, she gave the smallest nod.
“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice fragile. “But I’m scared, Andrew. I’m scared that no matter what we do, we’re already heading toward the future I saw.”
Andrew swallowed hard, the weight of her fear pressing down on him. “Maybe we are. But maybe we’re not. We won’t know unless we try.”
Kate’s lips trembled, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a flicker of something—hope, maybe—passed across her face. “Okay,” she said softly. “We’ll try.”
It wasn’t the grand resolution Andrew had been hoping for. There were no sweeping declarations or promises of a certain future. But it was something—a sliver of possibility. And for now, that was enough.
***
The days that followed were a blur of news reports, outrage, and quiet uncertainty.
The release of the evidence had sent shockwaves through the public. People were demanding answers, and NeuroDyne was scrambling to control the damage. Their official statements were carefully crafted, full of denials and promises of transparency, but the damage had already been done. The public’s trust in the company was eroding, and an investigation had been launched.
Andrew watched the fallout unfold with a strange sense of detachment. The protest, the evidence—it had all happened so quickly, and yet it felt as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for something else to drop. The future, once so tightly controlled by the Capsule, now felt wide open again, full of uncertainty.
But uncertainty, Andrew realized, wasn’t the enemy. It was part of life.
***
One evening, as Andrew and Kate sat together on the couch, the muted sound of the news playing in the background, Kate turned to him, her expression thoughtful.
“Do you think it’s really over?” she asked, her voice barely louder than the hum of the television.
Andrew glanced at the screen, watching the latest updates about the NeuroDyne investigation scroll across the bottom. “I don’t know,” he said. “It doesn’t feel like the end. More like... a beginning.”
Kate nodded slowly, her eyes distant. “Maybe that’s okay. Maybe the future isn’t supposed to feel certain.”
Andrew looked at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe.”
They sat there in silence for a long time, the weight of the world outside slowly fading as they held on to the fragile sense of hope they had found. The future was still uncertain—full of risks, full of possibilities—but for the first time in a long time, Andrew didn’t feel afraid of it.
And maybe that was enough.
Chapter 9: Shifting Ground
The city wasn’t quite the same anymore.
Since the release of the evidence, the world felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for the next move. NeuroDyne’s control over the future—the future they had promised everyone—was unraveling, and the investigation into the Capsule’s manipulation was gaining momentum. It was all over the news: government officials questioning the company’s executives, journalists digging into the depths of how long NeuroDyne had been quietly shaping people’s lives.
Andrew watched it all unfold from a distance, feeling both vindicated and uneasy. The truth was out, but the changes felt slow, tentative. People were waking up to the fact that the futures they had seen in the Capsule might not have been theirs to begin with, but the world didn’t change overnight. Trust, once broken, took time to rebuild.
And in the middle of it all was Kate.
They had been trying—tentatively rebuilding what had been fractured. The conversations were still delicate, the silences heavy, but there was something new between them: the acknowledgment that their future was uncertain, and that was okay. It had to be. Andrew had learned to stop searching for the moment when things would “go back to normal,” because that wasn’t going to happen. This was their new normal: a relationship built on acceptance of the unknown.
He could sense Kate struggling with it, though. The Capsule still cast a long shadow over everything. She hadn’t spoken much about what she’d seen in the weeks since she’d told him, but Andrew could feel the weight of it in the room when they were together, like a ghost lurking at the edges of every conversation.
It was a quiet evening, and they were sitting together, sharing a meal. The television was on in the background, the news anchor’s voice muted as they covered the latest updates on the NeuroDyne investigation. Kate was staring down at her plate, pushing her food around absentmindedly. Andrew knew that look—her mind was somewhere else.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light, though he already had a feeling he knew the answer.
Kate glanced up at him, her brow furrowed. “I was just... thinking about what’s going to happen next. With everything. With NeuroDyne, with the Capsule... with us.”
Andrew nodded slowly, feeling a familiar knot tighten in his stomach. Even though they had decided to try, there was still so much that felt uncertain. The Capsule had shown Kate a version of the future where they drifted apart, and though they were fighting against it, the doubt lingered. Could they change what was already in motion?
“They’ll shut it down,” Andrew said after a moment, nodding toward the muted television. “They have to. There’s no way NeuroDyne can keep the Capsule going after all of this.”
Kate let out a small sigh, leaning back in her chair. “I hope so. But even if they do, it doesn’t change what I saw. I can’t forget it, Andrew. It’s always there, in the back of my mind. Like it’s waiting to happen.”
Andrew reached for her hand across the table, holding it gently. “We’re not living in that future, Kate. We’re here. Right now. We’re still making choices.”
Kate’s eyes softened, but there was still a shadow of doubt behind them. “I know. It’s just hard to let go of it. The future feels... so fragile.”
Andrew squeezed her hand, his voice steady but full of feeling. “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe the future is supposed to be fragile.”
For a moment, they sat in silence, the only sound the quiet hum of the television. The uncertainty still lingered between them, but this time, Andrew didn’t feel as though it was an enemy. It was part of the reality they were building together—one choice at a time.
***
Later that night, Andrew sat alone in the living room, his mind still buzzing with the conversation he’d had with Kate. He was starting to understand that no matter what the Capsule had shown her, their relationship wasn’t doomed. But it wasn’t invincible, either. It was something they had to tend to, something they had to actively choose every day.
His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he glanced at the screen to see a message from Max.
“Big developments tomorrow. Meet at 9.”
Andrew felt a flicker of anticipation. Since the protest, the Free-Willers had been working behind the scenes, pushing the investigation forward, keeping the pressure on NeuroDyne. Max had been in touch with journalists, government officials, anyone who would listen, trying to ensure that the truth about the Capsule wouldn’t be swept under the rug.
Andrew hadn’t been as involved in the past few days. He had needed the time to process everything—to focus on his relationship with Kate. But now, it seemed like the tide was about to turn again.
***
The following morning, Andrew arrived at the Free-Willers’ headquarters, a small, nondescript building tucked away from the busier parts of the city. Inside, the atmosphere was charged with a sense of urgency. People were huddled in small groups, talking in hushed tones, their faces tense with anticipation.
Max was at the center of it all, looking more focused than Andrew had ever seen him. As soon as he spotted Andrew, he waved him over.
“This is it,” Max said, his voice low but brimming with energy. “The government’s finally launching a full-scale inquiry into NeuroDyne. The evidence we released? It’s gotten into the right hands. They’re going to dig deep, and when they do, there’s no way NeuroDyne comes out of this clean.”
Andrew felt a surge of hope, but it was tempered by caution. He had seen how easily things could spiral out of control—how the protest, which had started with so much promise, had descended into chaos. But this felt different. This felt bigger, more organized.
Max leaned in, lowering his voice. “There’s more. There’s a growing movement—people who want to start reclaiming their futures. They’ve been reaching out to us. It’s not just about taking down NeuroDyne anymore. It’s about reminding people that they have the power to choose.”
Andrew nodded, his heart racing. This was what he had been fighting for all along. The protest had been a pivotal moment, but it had only been the beginning. Now, the real change was starting to take shape.
“How can I help?” Andrew asked, his voice steady.
Max smiled, his eyes gleaming with determination. “We’re going to need everyone. There’s a rally planned next week—this time, it’ll be different. No chaos, no violence. Just people standing together, demanding the right to their own futures.”
Andrew felt the flicker of hope inside him grow. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the moment when the world would finally start to shift, when people would realize that the future wasn’t something to be handed to them by a corporation, but something they had to create for themselves.
***
That evening, as Andrew returned home, the city seemed quieter than usual. There was still an underlying tension—an awareness that something was coming, that change was on the horizon—but there was also a strange sense of calm.
When he walked into the apartment, Kate was waiting for him in the living room, her expression thoughtful. She looked up as he entered, her eyes searching his face for a moment before she spoke.
“How was the meeting?” she asked softly.
Andrew smiled, sitting down beside her. “It was good. There’s a rally next week. Things are moving forward. People are starting to wake up.”
Kate nodded, but her gaze was distant. “I’ve been thinking,” she said after a long pause. “About the future.”
Andrew felt his pulse quicken, but he kept his voice calm. “What about it?”
Kate turned to face him, her expression open, vulnerable. “I think... I’ve been so scared of what I saw in the Capsule that I forgot something important. We’re not living in that future yet. We’re here, right now. And maybe that’s what matters.”
Andrew’s heart swelled with relief and something deeper—hope. “That’s exactly what matters.”
Kate smiled, a small, genuine smile that reached her eyes. “I want to try, Andrew. I really do.”
Andrew took her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his. “We’ll try. Together.”
For the first time in what felt like weeks, the weight that had been pressing down on them seemed to lift, just a little. The future was still uncertain, still full of unknowns, but for the first time, Andrew didn’t feel afraid of it.
They were making their own choices. They were creating their own future.
Chapter 10: A Future Undefined
The collapse of NeuroDyne wasn’t a single event. It was a slow, painful unraveling.
Day by day, the company’s grip on the public’s trust weakened. The investigation had become a relentless spotlight, shining on every corner of the corporation, exposing not just their manipulation of the Capsule, but a web of ethical breaches, secret deals, and hidden consequences. The headlines painted a clear picture: NeuroDyne had built their empire on control, not just of technology, but of people’s choices, their lives.
Andrew watched it unfold with a mix of satisfaction and disbelief. The truth was finally winning. The Capsule, once seen as a miracle of modern technology, had been revealed as a tool of manipulation, and the world was waking up to the reality that their futures had never been as certain as they were promised.
It felt like a victory, but Andrew knew it wasn’t the kind of victory that came with celebration. It was the kind that left a city hollowed out, unsure of what came next.
***
The rally Max had mentioned was happening that afternoon. It wasn’t like the protest—there were no clashes with the police, no spiraling into chaos. This time, it was different. There was a quiet power in the crowd that gathered in the heart of the city, their signs simple but direct: “Our Future, Our Choice.”
Andrew stood with Max near the edge of the square, the same place where the protest had gone wrong just weeks before. But now, the energy felt calmer, more focused. There was no shouting, no anger—just people standing together, united by the belief that their futures were their own to shape.
Max turned to Andrew, his face softened by the weight of the moment. “This is what we wanted,” he said quietly. “People waking up. It’s not about tearing things down—it’s about building something new.”
Andrew nodded, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. There was something hopeful in the air, something that hadn’t been there before. People weren’t here to fight—they were here to reclaim what had been taken from them.
“I never thought we’d get here,” Andrew admitted, his voice low. “After everything, it felt like the world would never change.”
Max smiled faintly. “The world doesn’t change overnight. But it changes. One choice at a time.”
Andrew felt those words settle into his bones, the weight of them wrapping around his thoughts. This was what he had been fighting for all along—not just the fall of NeuroDyne, but the idea that people could still make their own choices. The future wasn’t something to be predicted or controlled. It was something to be lived.
As the rally continued, Andrew felt a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t about winning or losing—it was about the future, and the fact that it was finally open again.
***
Later that evening, Andrew returned to the apartment, the calm of the rally still lingering in his thoughts. The city was quieter now, its pulse slower, as if it was taking a breath after the whirlwind of events that had consumed it in recent weeks.
Kate was waiting for him on the couch, her expression thoughtful but open. She looked up when he entered, offering him a small, tentative smile.
“How was the rally?” she asked, her voice soft.
“It was good,” Andrew replied, sitting beside her. “Calm. People are starting to understand that the future is theirs again.”
Kate nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How much power the Capsule had over people. How much power we gave it.”
Andrew’s heart swelled with a mix of emotions as he looked at her—relief, understanding, and a quiet sense of hope. “We all wanted certainty. It’s human nature, I guess. But maybe we needed to lose it to realize that uncertainty is okay.”
Kate turned to face him fully, her eyes reflecting the same vulnerability she had shown in their last conversation. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that. About what it means to live with uncertainty.”
Andrew waited, letting her find the words.
“I think I’ve been holding on too tightly,” Kate continued, her voice trembling just slightly. “Ever since I saw what the Capsule showed me, I’ve been trying to control it—trying to stop it from happening. But maybe that’s not the point. Maybe it’s not about preventing the future from happening. Maybe it’s about accepting that we don’t know what’s coming, and that’s okay.”
Andrew felt his chest loosen, a warmth spreading through him. Kate was finally letting go of the fear that had gripped her since the moment she used the Capsule. And in doing so, she was opening herself up to the possibility of something new—something they could create together.
“I don’t know what our future looks like,” Kate said, her voice quiet but steady. “But I want to face it with you.”
Andrew reached for her hand, his grip firm but gentle. “We’ll figure it out together,” he said, his voice full of certainty—not about the future, but about their choice to move forward, no matter what it brought.
Kate smiled, a soft, genuine smile that reached her eyes. “Together.”
***
The weeks that followed saw the collapse of NeuroDyne.
The investigation had uncovered more than anyone had anticipated—proof of widespread manipulation, not just through the Capsule, but through nearly every aspect of the company’s operations. The public outrage grew until there was no choice but to dismantle the corporation piece by piece.
The Capsule was officially discontinued, its servers shut down, its promises of certainty erased from the market. For the first time in years, people were faced with the reality of the unknown. But instead of fear, there was a quiet resilience. People were learning to live without the Capsule, to make their own choices without the promise of a perfect future guiding them.
For Andrew, the world felt lighter. The weight of the past months, the fear of what the future might hold, had begun to lift. He and Kate had found a new rhythm together—a fragile but hopeful one. There were still moments of doubt, still moments when the uncertainty felt overwhelming, but they were facing it together, day by day, choice by choice.
***
One evening, as they sat on the couch, Kate resting her head on Andrew’s shoulder, she spoke quietly into the calm of the room.
“Do you ever wonder what the Capsule would’ve shown you?” she asked, her voice thoughtful but without the weight of fear it once carried.
Andrew smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I don’t need to know. I’m already living it.”
Kate laughed lightly, the sound filling the room with a warmth that felt new, unburdened. For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel like a looming threat. It was something they were building together, step by step.
The uncertainty hadn’t gone away. But it no longer felt like a curse. It felt like freedom.
If you want to compare this to the previous drafts, all three versions can be downloaded here:
Please do use the comments to let me know what you think about both the process of creation here and the resulting novella. And make sure you read Part 2, which is where I think things get interesting.
I’m pretty sure others have gone down similar rabbit holes and that I’m just rediscovering what other people have explored here. But I haven’t been able to find any examples where someone has taken a long and iterative author-editor approach. If you know of any, please do add them in the comments. Thanks!
I suspect that part of the success of this experiment was associated with ChatGPT’s large context window, coupled with the long conversation ChatGPT and I engaged in in the process of creating the novella — over 172,000 words!
This is so fun! We did something similar when I challenged ChatGPT to a story battle and had a friend wrangle something out of it using the same plot (you can read her experience with it here: https://shonistar.substack.com/p/behind-the-scenes Scroll down to Heidi's section). I feel like you got better results, maybe because it was an earlier version, or maybe thanks to your brutally honest feedback, but the style of the stories is actually quite similar, and the titles!
Why wouldn't you give feedback like that to a student, out of interest? Too personal? Do you think it would have the opposite effect on a human than it did on a machine? Maybe put them off writing and iterating? That's interesting in itself.
I always appreciate hearing about ChatGPT experiments and the thoughtful analysis of process and outcomes. I have to say that I was maybe looking for a part 3 that would discuss more in depth the question posed about authorship and perhaps some other issues with ChatGPT as novelist. Firstly, as you noted, how do we sort out the authorship/editor roles? This concerns me as we have already seen students submitting ChatGPT's work as their own but also in how we may possibly completely flip roles where ChatGPT is the creator and we as humans only serve as editors. How does this play out in the future of master's theses and PhD dissertations? Which brings me to a second related concern - a standardization of writing. The comment below about a different person providing a different prompt with a result of stories and titles being similar begs a question about the limits to ChatGPT's creativity and style. A third concern is trust. Perhaps a student is tasked with a writing assignment and asks ChatGPT to write them a 5,000 word creative story in the style of John Wyndham. The student didn't actually read the assigned novel by Wyndham and so cannot adequately determine whether the style is correct. The student submits ChatGPTs creation without evaluation. I find that we are putting a lot of emphasis on experts being able to drive and evaluate ChatGPT responses but we may not always have that capacity. Thank you.