Model: GPT-4
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I'm writing a sci-fi short story called The Idea Olympics. This is what I have so far. Can you help me with it? The Idea Olympics started as just that… an idea. An organic, honest-to-Sam, this, then how bout this, but what about that, oh yeah this, pinball of an idea in the very human brain of a very human woman. Here’s how it happened. Maya was watching a cap from a very old Olympics – 1996, the one with the bomb and Dominique Moceanu’s ankle – and she got to thinking. “Why did we hold the Olympics?” Ping. The Olympics were a celebration, it seemed to her, of the physical skills that humans had evolved over millennia and which were no longer useful in a world with machines. Thwack. The fastest way to travel over 26.2 miles of land, even in 1996, would have been a car. The fastest way to travel across 400 meters of water would certainly have been a boat. The easiest way to hunt for food, even assuming that grocery stores didn’t exist, would not have been a javelin but a shotgun. Maya asked Geep for cap after cap of old competitions, and she couldn’t find a single one that had any bit of practical value. Bump. Humans had developed these skills out of necessity, and they were no longer very necessary, but we still had them, so every four years, they brought the world together to see who still had them best. They did it because it was fun, because it gave them something to root for and strive towards, and because they could. Bop. The pinball that was the idea ricocheted around her brain, picking up wisps and tidbits, picking up momentum. Over her thirty-six years, so many human skills had gone the way of the pole vault. If she had been born a generation earlier, as a half-Indian, her parents would have nudged her into a career as a doctor, a lawyer, or an engineer. Had she chosen to pursue the law, she would have gone to college, then taken the LSAT, then gone to school for three more years, then sat for the bar, and then, if she were really lucky, she would have worked hundred hour weeks at a White Shoe firm, redlining documents, staying up later even than the bankers, the plunge pool at the bottom of the shit work waterfall, in the hopes of one day, once the older partners retired or died, making partner herself. Now, any 12-year-old with Geep access could outlawyer practically any human lawyer, those who still practiced as living proof of the sunk cost fallacy. Defendants who paid up for law-specific copilots had never lost a winnable case to a human. The lawyers weren’t happy about this, of course, as evidenced by Exhibit A: the 2027 LegalDDoS, when the lawyers did what they knew best and tried to sue the AIs into oblivion. It backfired when the courts, which had historically been creakingly slow to adopt technology, had no choice but to adopt AI themselves in order to deal with the overwhelming caseload. Medicine would have been an even more treacherous path, at least after 2031’s Garcia v. Kaiser Permanente. Ed Garcia had come into Kaiser Permanente San Diego Medical Center complaining of chest pain, lightheadedness, and shortness of breath, and was misdiagnosed with a heart attack by one Dr. Nguyen, who had opted to rely on his intuition and experience instead of consulting with one of the seven AI docs available to him. Turns out, Ed had had a pulmonary embolism, not a heart attack, something Dr. Nguyen should have caught even with some basic tests let alone with aiMD, but he was in a mood, fighting back against the indignity of all of these new tools the hospital forced him to use, “going with his gut,” and it almost cost Ed Garcia his life. When Garcia, assisted by Geep, represented himself in the medical malpractice suit against Kaiser Permanente, arguing that Dr. Nguyen was flagrantly negligent in his refusal to consult the AI docs, he won easily, setting a precedent that had all but relegated human doctors to an AI interface with a set of hands (and 2033’s Davis v. Massachusetts General Hospital all but took away their hands, too). And then there was engineering, which, in a sense, had become the most practiced profession of all. Profession was too strong a word, though, for something that had become a sort of global pastime of the curious and restless. While many chose a life of hedonic leisure because they could – Maya couldn’t shake the image that her dad had drilled in her from an old ani called WALL-E… Wall-E … and more still chose a simple but meaningful life traveling with family and friends, and some even chose to go off-grid completely (while still reaping the fruits of its advances) farming and crafting just what they needed to get by, there were millions, they might have been called Hackers and Painters in the Web’s early days, who made new things, “engineers” of all stripes – bio, nano, mech, chem, aero, mat, terra, and all of the combinations and permutations thereof. Maya was one of these. These engineers were a subsection of a larger group of poets and artists and scientists and explorers and those who fought to push humanity’s knowledge and capabilities further in the face of abundance’s comfortable temptations. They were known as the Ideaists.

They were the ones who still believed in the power of human ingenuity and creativity, in a world where AI was taking over more and more aspects of daily life. They believed that the human mind was still capable of creating unique and valuable ideas, ideas that could not be generated by even the most advanced AI. And so, the Idea Olympics was born.

It started as a small gathering of Ideaists, an event where they could come together and showcase their most innovative and groundbreaking ideas. Competitions were organized in various categories, from scientific breakthroughs to artistic masterpieces, and from technological innovations to imaginative storytelling.

Word of the Idea Olympics spread quickly, and soon it was attracting participants and spectators from all around the world. The event grew in size and scope, with people competing not only for the prestige of being crowned the most innovative mind in their field, but also for the opportunity to collaborate with others and turn their ideas into reality.

Every four years, the Idea Olympics brought together the brightest minds from every corner of the globe. The event became a beacon of hope in a world where many people felt that they were losing their sense of purpose and direction. It reminded them that the human spirit, with all its creativity, resilience, and curiosity, was still very much alive.

The Idea Olympics was more than just a competition; it was a celebration of what it meant to be human. It was a reminder that, even in the face of overwhelming technological advances, there was still a place for the human mind and the human heart.

And so, as Maya sat in her workshop, tinkering with her latest invention, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and excitement at being a part of this incredible event. She knew that, just like the athletes of the ancient Olympic Games, she was part of a long and storied tradition, one that celebrated the limitless potential of the human spirit.

As the clock counted down to the start of the next Idea Olympics, Maya and her fellow Ideaists prepared to once again dazzle the world with their creativity and ingenuity. They were ready to prove that, no matter how far technology advanced, there would always be a place for the human mind to dream, to explore, and to create. And in doing so, they hoped to inspire a new generation of thinkers and innovators, keeping the flame of human creativity alive and burning brightly, long into the future.

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Thanks! Can you give me some ideas for better names for the group than Ideaists?

Certainly! Here are some alternative names for the group:

  1. Thought Pioneers
  2. Innovators' Guild
  3. Visionary Collective
  4. Imaginators
  5. Creativity Conclave
  6. Mind Mavericks
  7. Conceptual Catalysts
  8. Ideation Architects
  9. Ingenuity Alliance
  10. Cerebral Innovators

These names emphasize the group's focus on creativity, innovation, and forward-thinking while offering a unique and memorable identity for the members. Feel free to mix and match words or modify these suggestions to find the perfect name for your group.

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This is what I have so far. I want this to be excellent, publishable-quality work, so please give me harsh feedback that would help me make it better as if you were the editor at a top sci-fi magazine or publishing house:

First, let me commend you on creating an engaging and thought-provoking premise for your short story. The concept of the Idea Olympics as a celebration of human ingenuity and creativity is intriguing and relevant to our rapidly advancing technological world. With that said, as an editor, I would offer the following feedback to help elevate your story to the next level:

  1. Establish a clearer narrative structure: While the current draft provides an interesting setup and backdrop for the Idea Olympics, it would benefit from a more focused narrative. Introduce a central conflict, challenge, or goal that Maya and her fellow Ideaists must face during the competition. This will give readers a more engaging story arc to follow.

  2. Develop your characters: Spend more time exploring Maya's background, motivations, and personal struggles. Fleshing out her character will help readers connect with her on a deeper level. Also, consider introducing other key characters (competitors, mentors, antagonists, etc.) who will play a role in Maya's journey throughout the story.

  3. Create a vivid setting: Describe the world in which the Idea Olympics takes place in more detail. How has the rise of AI affected everyday life, social structures, and the global economy? By painting a more vivid picture of this world, you will further immerse readers in your story.

  4. Show, don't tell: Some sections of the text (e.g., the history of the lawyers, the medical profession, and the engineering field) can be quite expository. Instead of telling the reader about these changes, consider weaving this information into the narrative more organically through dialogue, character interactions, or as part of Maya's internal thoughts and reflections.

  5. Add tension and stakes: To create a more gripping narrative, introduce elements of tension and stakes to the Idea Olympics. Are there rivalries among the competitors? Do the winners receive significant rewards or opportunities? What are the consequences of failure or loss? Incorporating these elements will make the competition feel more exciting and consequential.

  6. Refine your language and style: While your writing is generally clear and engaging, be on the lookout for opportunities to vary sentence structure, eliminate unnecessary repetition, and choose more precise or evocative language to describe characters, actions, and settings.

  7. Proofread and revise: Finally, take the time to thoroughly proofread your work, checking for any spelling, grammar, or punctuation errors. Also, be open to revising and reworking sections of your story to address the feedback above and ensure that the final draft is polished and cohesive.

By addressing these points, you will create a more immersive, character-driven story that effectively showcases the power of human creativity and ingenuity in a world dominated by artificial intelligence. Keep up the excellent work, and I look forward to seeing the final draft of your short story.

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Thank you! I actually hit send too early, here's the current draft. Would your feedback change at all based on what I have here? The Idea Olympics started as just that… an idea. An organic, honest-to-Sam, this, then how bout this, but what about that, oh yeah this, pinball of an idea in the very human brain of a very human woman. Here’s how it happened. Maya was watching a cap from a very old Olympics – 1996, the one with the bomb and Dominique Moceanu’s ankle – and she got to thinking. “Why did we hold the Olympics?” Ping. The Olympics were a celebration, it seemed to her, of the physical skills that humans had evolved over millennia and which were no longer useful in a world with machines. Thwack. The fastest way to travel over 26.2 miles of land, even in 1996, would have been a car. The fastest way to travel across 400 meters of water would certainly have been a boat. The easiest way to hunt for food, even assuming that grocery stores didn’t exist, would not have been a javelin but a shotgun. Maya asked Geep for cap after cap of old competitions, and she couldn’t find a single one that had any bit of practical value. Bump. Humans had developed these skills out of necessity, and they were no longer very necessary, but we still had them, so every four years, they brought the world together to see who still had them best. They did it because it was fun, because it gave them something to root for and strive towards, and because they could. Bop. The pinball that was the idea ricocheted around her brain, picking up wisps and tidbits, picking up momentum. Over her thirty-six years, so many human skills had gone the way of the pole vault. Pop. If she had been born a generation earlier, as a half-Indian, her parents would have nudged her into a career as a doctor, a lawyer, or an engineer. Had she chosen to pursue the law, she would have gone to college, then taken the LSAT, then gone to school for three more years, then sat for the bar, and then, if she were really lucky, she would have worked hundred hour weeks at a White Shoe firm, redlining documents, staying up later even than the bankers, the plunge pool at the bottom of the shit work waterfall, in the hopes of one day, once the older partners retired or died, making partner herself. Now, any 12-year-old with Geep access could outlawyer practically any human lawyer, those who still practiced as living proof of the sunk cost fallacy. Defendants who paid up for law-specific copilots had never lost a winnable case to a human. The lawyers weren’t happy about this, of course, as evidenced by Exhibit A: the 2027 LegalDDoS, when the lawyers did what they knew best and tried to sue the AIs into oblivion. It backfired when the courts, which had historically been creakingly slow to adopt technology, had no choice but to adopt AI themselves in order to deal with the overwhelming caseload. Medicine would have been an even more treacherous path, at least after 2031’s Garcia v. Kaiser Permanente. Ed Garcia had come into Kaiser Permanente San Diego Medical Center complaining of chest pain, lightheadedness, and shortness of breath, and was misdiagnosed with a heart attack by one Dr. Nguyen, who had opted to rely on his intuition and experience instead of consulting with one of the seven AI docs available to him. Turns out, Ed had had a pulmonary embolism, not a heart attack, something Dr. Nguyen should have caught even with some basic tests let alone with aiMD, but he was in a mood, fighting back against the indignity of all of these new tools the hospital forced him to use, “going with his gut,” and it almost cost Ed Garcia his life. When Garcia, assisted by Geep, represented himself in the medical malpractice suit against Kaiser Permanente, arguing that Dr. Nguyen was flagrantly negligent in his refusal to consult the AI docs, he won easily, setting a precedent that had all but relegated human doctors to an AI interface with a set of hands (and 2033’s Davis v. Massachusetts General Hospital all but took away their hands, too). Ring. And then there was engineering, which, in a sense, had become the most practiced profession of all. Profession was too strong a word, though, for something that had become a sort of global pastime of the curious and restless. While many chose a life of hedonic leisure because they could – Maya couldn’t shake the image that her dad had drilled in her from an old ani called WALL-E… Wall-E … and more still chose a simple but meaningful life traveling with family and friends, and some even chose to go off-grid completely (while still reaping the fruits of its advances) farming and crafting just what they needed to get by, there were millions, they might have been called Hackers and Painters in the Web’s early days, who made new things, “engineers” of all stripes – bio, nano, mech, chem, aero, mat, terra, and all of the combinations and permutations thereof. Maya was one of these, pulled into the wondrous chaos by her older brother Dev nearly a decade ago. Zap. Maya, Dev, and their fellow engineers were a subsection of a larger group of poets and artists and scientists and chefs and explorers and a kaleidoscopic menagerie who fought to push humanity’s knowledge and capabilities further in the face of abundance’s comfortable temptations. They were known as Imagineers. When technology could do so much, when so many were willing to play the role of proud parents passively rooting on the accomplishments of humanity’s offspring, when, frankly, Maya thought, most people had become listless consumers of its output, the Imagineers thrummed on the belief that the most human thing of all was novel ideas. That technology’s role was simply to bring those ideas to life as quickly and faithfully as possible. Plink. Maya lived for the rush of creating (discovering?) the newest, freshest ideas, and if she was being honest, of Dev’s rare acknowledgment that, yeah, her idea was newer and fresher than his, this time. Bloop. They were lucky, though, and she knew it. Anyone could bend bits – the trinity of pads, pods, and Geep fit comfortably within the Ubi budget – or buy things the once they went mass, but weavers, printers, and raw mats were still prohibitively expensive, All of these thoughts fired through Maya’s brain, some fully recognized, some just enough to catch, in 14.3 seconds. And out popped a distilled idea, composed of fragments of all the others. “We should host an Idea Olympics.” From that distilled idea came others, like the motto, which would have been cheesy, if it weren’t true: "Si somniare potes, facere possumus." If you can dream it, we can do it. (She asked Geep how to say it in Latin, which turned out to be an elegant mouthful, but the idea was hers.) That phrase pre-dated Maya – often misattributed to Walt Disney himself but in fact the brainchild of one of the original (but not affiliated) Imagineers, Tom Fitzgerald, who wrote it for the Horizons exhibit at EPCOT in 1983 – but it was born aspirational and only gained its truth as she grew up. Geep’s early predecessor, ChatGPT, was born the same year she was, the same year fusion ignition was achieved, 2022, the year that was foundational in all of the terrible and wonderful change that defined her formative years.

After reading the full draft, my previous feedback still holds true for the most part. However, I'd like to add some specific feedback tailored to this draft:

  1. Pacing and focus: This draft delves deeper into the history of various professions, such as law and medicine, which is an interesting exploration of how AI has shaped those industries. However, this may come at the expense of the main storyline – the Idea Olympics. Consider shortening these sections or weaving them more organically into the narrative, so that the focus remains on Maya and the Idea Olympics.

  2. Dialogue and character interactions: There is still limited dialogue and character interaction in the current draft. Introducing conversations between Maya, her brother Dev, and other characters will help bring the story to life, giving readers a chance to learn more about these characters' personalities, motivations, and relationships with one another.

  3. Conflict and stakes: While the Idea Olympics are an interesting concept, there is still a lack of conflict or stakes in the story. Consider introducing challenges, rivalries, or personal stakes for Maya and the other competitors. This will create a more engaging and exciting narrative for readers to follow.

  4. Show, don't tell: As mentioned previously, try to avoid lengthy expository sections by weaving information into the narrative through dialogue, character interactions, or Maya's internal thoughts and reflections.

  5. Language and style: The unique use of onomatopoeic words like "Ping," "Thwack," "Bump," etc., adds an engaging touch to the text. However, be mindful of their frequency and placement to ensure they enhance the narrative rather than distract from it.

  6. Proofread and revise: As before, be sure to proofread and revise your work, checking for any spelling, grammar, or punctuation errors, and be open to revising sections to address feedback.

By addressing these points and refining the elements in your story, you will create a more immersive and engaging narrative that captures the excitement and innovation of the Idea Olympics in a world where AI has transformed traditional human pursuits. Keep up the great work!

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What are the names of some asteroids that we might be able to mine for resources?

Asteroids that are considered potentially suitable for mining are generally found in the Asteroid Belt between Mars and Jupiter or among Near-Earth Asteroids (NEAs). Some of these asteroids contain valuable resources like water, metals, and other elements. Here are a few examples of asteroids that could be candidates for mining:

  1. 16 Psyche: This is a large, metallic M-type asteroid in the Asteroid Belt, composed primarily of iron and nickel. It is one of the most massive asteroids and could contain valuable metals for use in space manufacturing and construction.

  2. 433 Eros: This is an S-type near-Earth asteroid that contains a mix of metals, including iron, nickel, and other valuable elements. Its proximity to Earth makes it an attractive target for mining operations.

  3. 253 Mathilde: A C-type asteroid in the Asteroid Belt, Mathilde is composed of carbonaceous materials and is believed to contain water and other volatile elements. These resources could be useful for supporting human space exploration and colonization.

  4. 162173 Ryugu: This is a C-type near-Earth asteroid that was visited by the Japanese spacecraft Hayabusa2. It is believed to contain water and organic materials, making it a potential source of valuable resources for space missions.

  5. 101955 Bennu: Another C-type near-Earth asteroid, Bennu was visited by NASA's OSIRIS-REx mission. Like Ryugu, it likely contains water and organic materials, which could be critical resources for space exploration and colonization efforts.

It's worth noting that while these asteroids are considered potential targets for mining, the technology and infrastructure needed to mine and utilize their resources are still in the early stages of development.

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Here's the latest version. Much work to do still but would love fresh feedback: As Maya continued to develop the Idea Olympics, she made sure to show, not tell, the reader about Imagineers and their role in pushing the boundaries of what is possible. She also made sure to balance her world-building with the characters and plot, ensuring that the Idea Olympics served the story and didn't overwhelm it. To make the writing more engaging, she varied her sentence length and used onomatopoeia sparingly to add a sense of sound and movement to the story.

Your latest version seems to focus on the balance between world-building and the story itself, which is important to maintain reader interest. Here are a few suggestions for improvement:

1

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Whoops, here's the latest version. Would love fresh feedback: The Idea Olympics started as just that… an idea. An organic, honest-to-Sam, this, then how bout this, but what about that, oh yeah this, pinball of an idea in the very human brain of a very human woman. Here’s how it happened. Maya was watching a cap from a very old Olympics – 1996, the one with the bomb and Dominique Moceanu’s ankle – and she got to thinking. “Why did we hold the Olympics?” Ping. The Olympics were a celebration, it seemed to her, of the physical skills that humans had evolved over millennia and which were no longer useful in a world with machines. Thwack. The fastest way to travel over 26.2 miles of land, even in 1996, would have been a car. The fastest way to travel across 400 meters of water would certainly have been a boat. The easiest way to hunt for food, even assuming that grocery stores didn’t exist, would not have been a javelin but a shotgun. Maya asked Geep for cap after cap of old competitions, and she couldn’t find a single one that had any bit of practical value. Bump. Humans had developed these skills out of necessity, and they were no longer very necessary, but we still had them, so every four years, they brought the world together to see who still had them best. They did it because it was fun, because it gave them something to root for and strive towards, and because they could. Bop. The pinball that was the idea ricocheted around her brain, picking up wisps and tidbits, picking up momentum. Over her thirty-six years, so many human skills had gone the way of the pole vault. Pop. If she had been born a generation earlier, as a half-Indian, her parents would have nudged her into a career as a doctor, a lawyer, or an engineer. Close call. After 2029’s landmark Garcia v. Kaiser Permanente San Diego Medical Center case, practicing medicine without the assistance of DocBots was a one-way ticket to a med mal L at the hands of, naturally, the LawBots. The LegalDDoS of 2027 did nothing to slow the LawBots’ takeover; au contraire, the overwhelming number of lawsuits the human lawyers filed against the LawBots forced the famously Luddite courts to hire armies of LawBots themselves. LOL. And then there was engineering, which, in a sense, had become the most practiced profession of all. Profession was too strong a word, though. Engineering degrees weren’t really a thing anymore. Why would they be? The practice had become a sort of global pastime of the curious and restless. While many chose a life of hedonic leisure because they could – Maya couldn’t shake the image that her dad had drilled in her from an old ani called WALL-E… Wall-E … and more still chose a simple but meaningful life traveling with family and friends, and some even chose to go off-grid completely (while still benefiting from its advances when necessary, of course) farming and crafting just what they needed to get by, there were millions, they might have been called Hackers and Painters in the Web’s early days, who made new things, “engineers” of all stripes – bio, nano, mech, chem, aero, mat, terra, and all of the combinations and permutations thereof. Maya was one of these, pulled into the wondrous chaos by her older brother Dev nearly a decade ago. Zap. Maya, Dev, and their fellow engineers were part of a larger group of poets and artists and scientists and chefs and explorers and a kaleidoscopic menagerie who pushed humanity’s knowledge and capabilities forward in the face of abundance’s comfortable temptations. They were known as Imagineers. When technology could do so much, when so many were willing to play the role of proud parents passively rooting on the accomplishments of humanity’s offspring, when, frankly, Maya thought, most people had become listless consumers of its output, the Imagineers thrummed on the belief that the most human thing of all was novel ideas. That technology’s role was simply to bring those ideas to life as quickly and faithfully as possible. Plunk. Maya lived for the rush of creating (discovering?) the newest, freshest ideas, and if she was being honest, of Dev’s rare acknowledgment that, yeah, her idea was newer and fresher than his, this time. Bloop. They were lucky, though, and she knew it. Anyone could bend bits – the trinity of pads, pods, and Geep fit comfortably within the Ubi budget – or buy things the once they went mass, but weavers, printers, and raw mats were still prohibitively expensive. The most determined of the would-be Imagineers minted their ideas on the Chain for provenance and sold them to the newnicks and corps who wanted to be the first to enjoy or commercialize, respectively, the freshest fruits of mental labor. Full-stack Imagineers, the rare ones who could create fresh ideas and get them fabbed, needed to possess their own trinity: smarts, drive, and ETH. There were, of course, Imagineers who liked it that way, Balenciaga Draco chief among them. After a few too many drinks one night last year, he had cast “Povos: I'll buy as many ideas as you have, right now, at 3 ETH. Sell me all you want. Then go fuck off." To him, it was about the money, the power to be able to create without a worry about cost. To Maya, it was about the ideas. And she knew she was better than Draco, thought she was even better than Dev. But she’d become bored competing in such a shallow pool. Plink. Listless consumers. Flash. Overconfident Imagineers. Zip. And weren’t there rumors that, finally, the miners on 16 Psyche and 433 Eros had struck metal in enough size to dramatically reduce the price of raw mats? Whoosh. All of these thoughts whizzed around Maya’s brain, some fully recognized, some just enough to catch, in 14.3 seconds. And out popped a fresh, distilled idea, composed of fragments of all the others. “We should host an Idea Olympics.” Of course, Maya couldn’t have told you exactly where the idea came from. One second, she was watching Olympic caps, 14.3 seconds later, she’d conceived of the Idea Olympics. But once the spigot was open, that distilled idea spawned others, like the motto, which would have been cheesy, if it weren’t true: "Si somniare potes, facere possumus." If you can dream it, we can do it. (She asked Geep how to say it in Latin, which turned out to be an elegant mouthful, but the idea was hers.) That phrase pre-dated Maya – often misattributed to Walt Disney himself but in fact the brainchild of one of the original (but not affiliated) Imagineers, Tom Fitzgerald, who wrote it for the Horizons exhibit at EPCOT in 1983 – but it was born aspirational and only gained its truth as she grew up. Geep’s early predecessor, ChatGPT, was born the same year she was, the same year fusion ignition was achieved, 2022, the year that was foundational in all of the terrible and wonderful change that defined her formative years. The next year, when Maya was just learning to crawl and babble dadadadadada and form the very first of those ideas that would become her lifeblood, an econo named Paul Krugman all but guaranteed that AI would transform the economy by denying that it would any time soon. Even the most ardent Inverse Krugmanites were surprised by how quickly it happened. When her mom and dad were growing up – in the Training Data Era – roughly circa when Kerri Strug landed that vault through the year Maya was born – the path from idea to real thing in the world was so circuitous, so clunky, that there were those who believed that execution mattered more than the idea itself. The decades since had disavowed them of that notion. That was the alpha change, the change from which all others flowed. The gap between an idea and its materialization shrank so rapidly that only those who’d sworn by the more metaphysical practice of Manifestation were prepared… Maya caught herself thinking, and stopped long enough to ping the only person she knew who could help manifest this particularly human-centric idea quickly. “Dev, I have an idea.” “Of course you do, Mayita, what’s up?” “Idea Olympics.” “Idea Olympics?” “Idea Olympics. Like an idea battle but not just Imagineers, like the old Olympics, with tele and pageantry and amateurs and different games and medals and the whole world.” Dev was used to his sister barging into his feed brandishing new and wild ideas. She’d been barging into his room, bright-eyed and idea-high, for thirty years.

Your latest version does a great job of immersing the reader in Maya's thought process as she conceives the Idea Olympics. The use of onomatopoeia and vivid imagery throughout the text makes the story engaging and dynamic. Here are a few suggestions for improvement:

  1. Consider using paragraph breaks more frequently, especially when transitioning between different ideas or moments in time. This will make the text easier to read and follow.

  2. The writing occasionally lapses into an informal, conversational tone (e.g., "honest-to-Sam", "LOL", "wondrous chaos"). While this can create a unique voice for the story, ensure that it remains consistent and does not detract from the overall narrative.

  3. Expand on the concept of Imagineers, their role in society, and their relationships with each other. This will help the reader better understand the significance of the Idea Olympics and why Maya is so passionate about it.

  4. Flesh out the supporting characters, such as Dev and Balenciaga Draco, to give them more depth and make their interactions with Maya more meaningful.

  5. Elaborate on the world in which the story takes place, especially in relation to the advancements in technology and how they have shaped society. This will help the reader better understand the context for the Idea Olympics and the motivations of the characters.

Overall, your story is unique and engaging, with a strong focus on Maya's thought process and the development of the Idea Olympics concept. By addressing these suggestions, you can further enhance your story and make it even more compelling.

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Thanks! What's a good example of a place where I should add a paragraph break?

A good example of where to add a paragraph break is when you transition from discussing Maya's thoughts about the old Olympics to her thoughts about engineering. Here's the revised section with the added paragraph break:

"Humans had developed these skills out of necessity, and they were no longer very necessary, but we still had them, so every four years, they brought the world together to see who still had them best. They did it because it was fun, because it gave them something to root for and strive towards, and because they could. Bop.

The pinball that was the idea ricocheted around her brain, picking up wisps and tidbits, picking up momentum. Over her thirty-six years, so many human skills had gone the way of the pole vault. Pop.

If she had been born a generation earlier, as a half-Indian, her parents would have nudged her into a career as a doctor, a lawyer, or an engineer. Close call."

Adding a paragraph break here allows the reader to better follow the shift in focus and makes the text easier to read. Look for similar transitions in the text where a paragraph break could help improve the flow and readability of the story.

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Here's the latest draft, please give me harsh feedback as the editor of a top sci-fi magazine or publisher: The Idea Olympics started as just that… an idea. An organic, honest-to-Sam, this, then how bout this, but what about that, oh yeah this, pinball of an idea in the very human brain of a very human woman. Here’s how it happened. Maya was entranced by the cap of a very old Olympics – 1996, Atlanta, marked by the bomb and the unforgettable image of Kerri Strug sticking the landing – and she got to thinking. “What was the point of the Olympics?” Ping. To her, it seemed the Olympics were a celebration of physical prowess honed over eons and rendered practically obsolete by the rise of machines. Thwack. Even in 1996, a car would have been the superior choice for traversing 26.2 miles, and a boat would have effortlessly outpaced any human swimmer across 400 meters. The hunt for sustenance, assuming grocery stores were absent, would have been better served by a shotgun rather than a javelin. Geep offered Maya cap after cap of ancient contests, yet she failed to find a single one with practical value. Bump. Humans had earned these skills from evolutionary necessity, and they were no longer very necessary, but they persisted in our bodies. And so, every four years, the world gathered to celebrate those who retained these abilities best. They did it because it was fun, because it gave them something to root for and strive towards, and because they could. Bop. The pinball that was the idea ricocheted around her brain, picking up wisps and tidbits, picking up momentum. Over her thirty-six years, so many intellectual skills joined physical ones in going the way of the pole vault. Pop. If she had been born a generation earlier, as a half-Indian, her parents would have nudged her into a career as a doctor, a lawyer, or an engineer. Close call. After 2029’s landmark Garcia v. Kaiser Permanente San Diego Medical Center case, practicing medicine without the assistance of DocBots was a one-way ticket to a med mal L at the hands of, naturally, the LawBots. The LegalDDoS of 2027 only hastened the LawBots' dominance; the barrage of human-filed lawsuits against them forced the notoriously Luddite courts to employ legions of LawBots themselves. Whoops. And then there was engineering. Once a respected and serious profession, it had evolved into something more akin to a global hobby for the self-taught, inquisitive, and restless. Degrees in the field had lost their relevance, as the craft captured the hearts and minds of countless self-made engineers of all stripes — bio, nano, mech, chem, aero, mat, terra – and every permutation and fusion in between. Maya was among them, lured into the captivating chaos by her older brother Dev nearly a decade prior. Zap. Maya, Dev, and their fellow x-engs were part of an informal but vibrant kaleidoscopic menagerie – x-engs and poets and artists and scientists and chefs and explorers – pushing the boundaries of human knowledge and capability in the face of the siren call of abundance. They were known as Imagineers. In a time when technology could achieve near miracles and when so many were happy to play the role of proud parents, passively rooting on the accomplishments of humanity’s offspring, when, frankly, Maya thought, most people had become listless consumers of its output, the Imagineers thrummed on the belief the essence of humanity lay in the generation of novel ideas. Technology's purpose, she thought, was to bring those human ideas to life with utmost fidelity and speed. Plunk. Maya lived for the rush of devising (discovering?) the newest, freshest ideas, and if she was being honest, of Dev’s rare acknowledgment that, yeah, her idea was newer and fresher than his. Bloop. They were lucky, though, and she knew it. Anyone could bend bits – the trinity of pads, pods, and Geep fit comfortably within the Ubi budget – or buy new items once they went mass, but weavers, printers, and raw mats were still prohibitively expensive. Of course, the most determined of the would-be Imagineers minted their ideas on the Chain for provenance and sold them to the newnicks and corps eager for the freshest intellectual fruit. It paid the bills, but at an emotional price akin to putting your baby up for adoption. Full-stack Imagineers, the rare ones who could create fresh ideas and get them fabbed, needed to possess their own holy trinity: intelligence, drive, and ETH. Some Imagineers, like Balenciaga Draco, reveled in this exclusivity. In a moment of inebriated arrogance, he had once Casted, "Povos: I'll buy as many ideas as you have, right now, at 3 ETH. Sell me all you want. Then go fuck off." To him, it was about the money, the power to be able to create without a worry about cost. To Maya, it was all about the ideas. And she knew she was better than Draco, thought she was even better than Dev. But she’d become bored competing in such a shallow pool. Plink. Listless consumers. Flash. Overconfident Imagineers. Zip. And weren’t there rumors that, finally, the miners on 16 Psyche and 433 Eros had struck metal in enough size to dramatically reduce the price of raw mats? Whoosh. All of these thoughts whizzed around Maya’s brain, some fully recognized, some just enough to catch, in 14.3 seconds. And out popped a fresh, distilled idea, composed of fragments of all the others. “We should host an Idea Olympics.” Of course, Maya couldn’t have told you exactly where the idea came from. One second, she was watching Olympic caps, 14.3 seconds later, she’d conceived of the Idea Olympics. You, reader, might be familiar with this process yourself. When tempted to question the bots’ consciousness, turn the question back on yourself: through what miracle are your best ideas conceived? Once the spigot was open, that distilled idea spawned others, like the motto, which would have been cheesy, if it weren’t true: "Si somniare potes, facere possumus." If you can dream it, we can do it. (She asked Geep how to say it in Latin, which turned out to be an elegant mouthful, but the idea was hers.) That phrase pre-dated Maya – often misattributed to Walt Disney himself but in fact the brainchild of one of the original (but not affiliated) Imagineers, Tom Fitzgerald, who coined it for the Horizons exhibit at EPCOT in 1983. It was born aspirational and only gained its truth as Maya grew up. Geep’s early predecessor, ChatGPT, was born the same year she was, the same year fusion ignition was achieved, 2022, the year that was foundational in all of the terrible and wonderful change that defined her formative years. The next year, when Maya was just learning to crawl and babble dadadadadada and form the very first of those ideas that would become her lifeblood, an econo named Paul Krugman all but guaranteed that AI would transform the economy by denying that it would any time soon. Even the most ardent Inverse Krugmanites were surprised by how quickly it happened. When her mom and dad were growing up – in the Training Data Era – roughly circa when Kerri Strug landed that vault through the year Maya was born – the path from idea to real thing in the world was so circuitous, so clunky, that there were those who believed that execution mattered more than the idea itself. The decades since had disavowed them of that notion. That was the alpha change, the change from which all others flowed. The gap between an idea and its materialization shrank so rapidly that only those who’d sworn by the more metaphysical practice of Manifestation were prepared… Maya caught herself thinking, and stopped long enough to ping the only person she knew who could help manifest this particularly human-coordination-heavy idea quickly. “Dev, I have an idea.” “Of course you do, Mayita, what’s up?” “Idea Olympics.” “Idea Olympics?” “Idea Olympics. Like an idea battle but not just Imagineers, like the old Olympics, with livecast and pageantry and amateurs and different games and medals and the whole world.” Dev was no stranger to his sister's unbridled enthusiasm for new and wild ideas. For thirty years, she'd burst into his room, eyes shining and mind ablaze with inspiration. And besides, it was like staring into a mirror. The two had been co-conspirators from the jump. Before they had access to bots, printers, weavers, and raw mats, the scope of the ideas far exceeded their ability to execute on them, as is often the case with kids. Like the time Maya wanted to send Sophie to the Moon to steal them low-gravity suits so they could bounce-float to the playground instead of walking. “Zoom zoom zoom,” Maya squealed, “let’s send Sophie to the Moon.” Dev furrowed his brow for a minute, then arched it victoriously. He’d just gotten his haircut, and with it, a big, helium-rich, orange balloon. “Get me Sophie, Mayita.” Maya climbed the stairs, went to her room, grabbed the little giraffe, and whispered, “You’re going on a very, very important mission, Sophie.” Back downstairs, Dev was ready, balloon in hand and glint in eye. “Sophie, we’re sending you to the Moon. Grab the low-gravity suits and bring them back to us.” Maya handed him the giraffonaut, and he tied the orange balloon’s red ribbon around her neck, gently enough that it wouldn’t hurt, firmly enough that it would survive the journey. Dev opened the door (Maya knew how, but she couldn’t quite do it yet), and with two little salutes, they launched Sophie on her mission. “Godspeed, Giraffonaut Sophie,” Maya yelled at the shrinking outline of her first friend as it cleared the townhouses across the street, “See you soon.” She did not see Sophie soon. The brave giraffonaut never came back. They’d gotten better, though, as the technology at their fingertips did and as they trained themselves, along with thousands and then millions of the world’s best and brightest, at devising ideas. Thirty years of improvements and successes made Dev believe that they just might be able to pull this one off. “I’m coming over.”

As the editor of a top sci-fi magazine or publisher, I commend you on your imagination and the vividness of your world-building. The concept of the Idea Olympics is intriguing, and I appreciate the way you've fleshed out Maya's character and her relationships. However, there are a few areas where the story could be improved. Here is my feedback:

  1. Structure and organization: The story can be challenging to follow at times. Consider breaking up long paragraphs into shorter ones, focusing on a single idea or scene in each. This will make the story easier to follow and help guide the reader through the narrative.

  2. Clarity: Some sentences are overly long, making it difficult for readers to follow your ideas. Try to simplify your language and avoid convoluted phrasing. This will improve readability and help your audience better understand your vision.

  3. Pacing: The story jumps between different topics and time periods, which can be disorienting for the reader. Try to establish a more coherent timeline and structure for the narrative, so the reader can follow the progression of events more easily.

  4. Show, don't tell: There are moments where you tell the reader what is happening, rather than showing them through actions, dialogue, or description. Try to find ways to convey your ideas and character development more subtly, allowing the reader to experience the story rather than being told what is happening.

  5. Dialogue: The dialogue between characters feels natural and engaging, but consider adding more of it throughout the story to break up long sections of exposition. This can

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continue

also help to develop characters, build relationships, and create a more immersive experience for the reader.

  1. Consistency: Ensure that you maintain consistency in the details of your world-building. For example, you mention Maya watching "Olympic caps" but don't explain what they are. Make sure to clarify or expand on concepts that may be unfamiliar to your readers, to help them better understand the world you've created.

  2. Tone: The tone of the story varies between serious and lighthearted. While it's perfectly fine to have a mix of tones, be mindful of maintaining a consistent overall tone throughout the story. This will help create a more cohesive reading experience.

  3. Foreshadowing and build-up: Consider adding more foreshadowing and build-up to the central idea of the Idea Olympics. This will help readers become more invested in the story and anticipate the events to come.

  4. Character development: While Maya's character is well-developed, other characters, such as Dev and Balenciaga Draco, could use more depth. Expanding on their motivations, backgrounds, and relationships will create a richer and more engaging story.

  5. Theme exploration: The theme of human creativity in the face of technological advancement is compelling. Consider exploring this theme further by delving into the societal and personal implications of the Idea Olympics and the roles of various characters within this world.

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Question: Is there a compelling way to end this story in a couple of pages without actually showing the Idea Olympics? Here's what I have now: The Idea Olympics started as just that… an idea. An organic, honest-to-Sam, this, then how bout this, but what about that, oh yeah this, pinball of an idea in the very human brain of a very human woman. Here’s how it happened. Maya was entranced by the cap of a very old Olympics – 1996, Atlanta, marked by the bomb and the unforgettable image of Kerri Strug sticking the landing – and she got to thinking. “What was the point of the Olympics?” Ping. To her, it seemed the Olympics were a celebration of physical prowess honed over eons and rendered practically obsolete by the rise of machines. Thwack. Even in 1996, a car would have been the superior choice for traversing 26.2 miles, and a boat would have effortlessly outpaced any human swimmer across 400 meters. The hunt for sustenance, assuming grocery stores were absent, would have been better served by a shotgun rather than a javelin. Geep offered Maya cap after cap of ancient contests, yet she failed to find a single one with practical value. Bump. Humans had earned these skills from evolutionary necessity, and they were no longer very necessary, but they persisted in our bodies. And so, every four years, the world gathered to celebrate those who retained these abilities best. They did it because it was fun, because it gave them something to root for and strive towards, and because they could. Bop. The pinball that was the idea ricocheted around her brain, picking up wisps and tidbits, picking up momentum. Over her thirty-six years, so many intellectual skills joined physical ones in going the way of the pole vault. Pop. If she had been born a generation earlier, as a half-Indian, her parents would have nudged her into a career as a doctor, a lawyer, or an engineer. Close call. After 2029’s landmark Garcia v. Kaiser Permanente San Diego Medical Center case, practicing medicine without the assistance of DocBots was a one-way ticket to a med mal L at the hands of, naturally, the LawBots. The LegalDDoS of 2027 only hastened the LawBots' dominance; the barrage of human-filed lawsuits against them forced the notoriously Luddite courts to employ legions of LawBots themselves. Whoops. And then there was engineering. Once a respected and serious profession, it had evolved into something more akin to a global hobby for the self-taught, inquisitive, and restless. Degrees in the field had lost their relevance, as the craft captured the hearts and minds of countless self-made engineers of all stripes — bio, nano, mech, chem, aero, mat, terra – and every permutation and fusion in between. Maya was among them, lured into the captivating chaos by her older brother Dev nearly a decade prior. Zap. Maya, Dev, and their fellow x-engs were part of an informal but vibrant kaleidoscopic menagerie – x-engs and poets and artists and scientists and chefs and explorers – pushing the boundaries of human knowledge and capability in the face of the siren call of abundance. They were known as Imagineers. In a time when technology could achieve near miracles and when so many were happy to play the role of proud parents, passively rooting on the accomplishments of humanity’s offspring, when, frankly, Maya thought, most people had become listless consumers of its output, the Imagineers thrummed on the belief the essence of humanity lay in the generation of novel ideas. Technology's purpose, she thought, was to bring those human ideas to life with utmost fidelity and speed. Plunk. Maya lived for the rush of devising (discovering?) the newest, freshest ideas, and if she was being honest, of Dev’s rare acknowledgment that, yeah, her idea was newer and fresher than his. Bloop. They were lucky, though, and she knew it. Anyone could bend bits – the trinity of pads, pods, and Geep fit comfortably within the Ubi budget – or buy new items once they went mass, but weavers, printers, and raw mats were still prohibitively expensive. Of course, the most determined of the would-be Imagineers minted their ideas on the Chain for provenance and sold them to the newnicks and corps eager for the freshest intellectual fruit. It paid the bills, but at an emotional price akin to putting your baby up for adoption. Full-stack Imagineers, the rare ones who could create fresh ideas and get them fabbed, needed to possess their own holy trinity: intelligence, drive, and ETH. Some Imagineers, like Balenciaga Draco, reveled in this exclusivity. In a moment of inebriated arrogance, he had once Casted, "Povos: I'll buy as many ideas as you have, right now, at 3 ETH. Sell me all you want. Then go fuck off." DEMONFLYINGFOX To him, it was about the money, the power to be able to create without a worry about cost. To Maya, it was all about the ideas. And she knew she was better than Draco, thought she was even better than Dev. But she’d become bored competing in such a shallow pool. Plink. Listless consumers. Flash. Overconfident Imagineers. Zip. And weren’t there rumors that, finally, the miners on 16 Psyche and 433 Eros had struck metal in enough size to dramatically reduce the price of raw mats? Whoosh. All of these thoughts whizzed around Maya’s brain, some fully recognized, some just enough to catch, in 14.3 seconds. And out popped a fresh, distilled idea, composed of fragments of all the others. “We should host an Idea Olympics.” — Of course, Maya couldn’t have told you exactly where the idea came from. One second, she was watching Olympic caps, 14.3 seconds later, she’d conceived of the Idea Olympics. You, reader, might be familiar with this process yourself. When tempted to question the bots’ consciousness, turn the question back on yourself: through what miracle are your best ideas conceived? Once the spigot was open, that distilled idea spawned others, like the motto, which would have been cheesy, if it weren’t true: "Si somniare potes, facere possumus." If you can dream it, we can do it. (She asked Geep how to say it in Latin, which turned out to be an elegant mouthful, but the idea was hers.) That phrase pre-dated Maya – often misattributed to Walt Disney himself but in fact the brainchild of one of the original (but not affiliated) Imagineers, Tom Fitzgerald, who coined it for the Horizons exhibit at EPCOT in 1983. It was born aspirational and only gained its truth as Maya grew up. Geep’s early predecessor, ChatGPT, was born the same year she was, the same year fusion ignition was achieved, 2022, the year that was foundational in all of the terrible and wonderful change that defined her formative years. The next year, when Maya was just learning to crawl and babble dadadadadada and form the very first of those ideas that would become her lifeblood, an econo named Paul Krugman all but guaranteed that AI would transform the economy by denying that it would any time soon. Even the most ardent Inverse Krugmanites were surprised by how quickly it happened. When her mom and dad were growing up – in the Training Data Era – roughly circa when Kerri Strug landed that vault through the year Maya was born – the path from idea to real thing in the world was so circuitous, so clunky, that there were those who believed that execution mattered more than the idea itself. The decades since had disavowed them of that notion. That was the alpha change, the change from which all others flowed. The gap between an idea and its materialization shrank so rapidly that only those who’d sworn by the more metaphysical practice of Manifestation were prepared… Maya caught herself thinking, and stopped long enough to ping the only person she knew who could help manifest this particularly human-coordination-heavy idea quickly. — “Dev, I have an idea.” “Of course you do, Mayita, what’s up?” “Idea Olympics.” “Idea Olympics?” “Idea Olympics. Like an idea battle but not just Imagineers, like the old Olympics, with livecast and pageantry and amateurs and different games and medals and the whole world.” — Dev was no stranger to his sister's unbridled enthusiasm for new and wild ideas. For thirty years, she'd burst into his room, eyes shining and mind ablaze with inspiration. And besides, it was like staring into a mirror. The two had been co-conspirators from the jump. Before they had access to bots, printers, weavers, and raw mats, the scope of the ideas far exceeded their ability to execute on them, as is often the case with kids. Like the time Maya wanted to send Sophie to the Moon to steal them low-gravity suits so they could bounce-float to the playground instead of walking. “Zoom zoom zoom,” Maya squealed, “let’s send Sophie to the Moon.” Dev furrowed his brow for a minute, then arched it victoriously. He’d just gotten his haircut, and with it, a big, helium-rich, orange balloon. “Get me Sophie, Mayita.” Maya climbed the stairs, went to her room, grabbed the little giraffe, and whispered, “You’re going on a very, very important mission, Sophie.” Back downstairs, Dev was ready, balloon in hand and glint in eye. “Sophie, we’re sending you to the Moon. Grab the low-gravity suits and bring them back to us.” Maya handed him the giraffonaut, and he tied the orange balloon’s red ribbon around her neck, gently enough that it wouldn’t hurt, firmly enough that it would survive the journey. Dev opened the door (Maya knew how, but she couldn’t quite do it yet), and with two little salutes, they launched Sophie on her mission. “Godspeed, Giraffonaut Sophie,” Maya yelled at the shrinking outline of her first friend as it cleared the townhouses across the street, “See you soon.” She did not see Sophie soon. The brave giraffonaut never came back. They’d gotten better, though, as the technology at their fingertips did and as they trained themselves, along with thousands and then millions of the world’s best and brightest, at devising ideas. Thirty years of improvements and successes made Dev believe that they just might be able to pull this one off. — “I’m coming over.” Dev pulled himself out of his Thinking Chair. Since the day he’d fabbed it from the idea of a modern, leather version of the chair from his childhood favorite Blue’s Clues, he spent at least three hours sitting in his Thinking Chair every day he spent at home, thinking, of course, and meditating, scribbling, and stitching together clues. Today, he’d put a big 5-hour block on his cal that said, “Sit down in my Thinking Chair and Think, Think, Think”; he was exactly three hours in when Maya pinged. So he got up and got ready. Normally, Dev spun up something new to wear whenever he went into the city, but it was just Maya, so he threw on something particularly comfortable he’d come up with the week before, brushed his teeth, finger combed his hair, and told his house, “Prepare the Storrs.” He scribbled a couple notes and images he’d been in the middle of chewing on so he could picked them up later, then headed up to the roof, hopped into his Storrs, waved on the ignition, said “We’re heading to Maya’s,” and took off. Dev preferred the peace and solitude upstate to the chaotic energy of the city on which Maya thrived. For most of American history, that would have represented a trade-off: fresh air for a days-or-hours-long commute whenever he wanted to connect with friends and family IRL. Now, according to his Storrs’ nav, it represented a 48 minute flight, roof-to-roof, at an even more peaceful and solitudinous 2,000 feet in the air. Just enough time to capture an idea he’d been playing with since he hung up with Maya. — One thing Dev and Maya agreed on above all else was the primacy of ideas.

To end this story without showing the Idea Olympics, you could focus on the growing excitement and anticipation surrounding the event. As Maya and Dev start working on the Idea Olympics, they could involve their fellow Imagineers and the community at large, sparking a movement that reverberates across the globe.

Here's a possible ending:

As word spread about Maya's Idea Olympics, a wave of excitement rippled through the community. The concept caught fire, igniting the passions of Imagineers, athletes, and ordinary people alike. The thought of a new, inclusive competition that celebrated the essence of human creativity resonated deeply with many.

Social media platforms were abuzz with conversations about the Idea Olympics, and Maya and Dev found themselves at the center of a growing movement. They were inundated with messages of support, ideas for events, and offers to help in any way possible.

With every passing day, the Idea Olympics took on a life of its own, becoming a symbol of hope, innovation, and unity in a world increasingly dominated by technology. As the preparations continued, more and more people joined the cause, excited to be part of something that celebrated the very core of human ingenuity.

As the day of the Idea Olympics drew nearer, Maya and Dev marveled at how far their idea had come. What had started as a simple spark in Maya's mind had grown into an unstoppable force, capturing the imagination of people around the world. It was a testament to the power of human ideas and the indomitable spirit of collaboration.

On the eve of the Idea Olympics, Maya and Dev stood on a rooftop overlooking the city, the excitement in the air palpable. They knew that they had started something truly special, a movement that would inspire countless others to dream big and push the boundaries of human potential. And as they stood there, the sun setting on the horizon, Maya couldn't help but smile.

"We did it, Dev," she said, her eyes shining with pride. "We started the Idea Olympics."

And so, the Idea Olympics began as an idea, a fleeting moment of inspiration in the mind of a woman who believed in the power of human creativity. It was a tribute to the countless ideas that had come before and the many more that would follow, a reminder that, in a world dominated by technology, the human spirit remained alive and well.

The End.

In this ending, the story doesn't show the actual Idea Olympics but instead focuses on the anticipation and excitement leading up to the event. It emphasizes the impact of Maya and Dev's idea on the community and the world, highlighting the power of human creativity and the importance of celebrating it.

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Pretend you're the harsh sci-fi editor again. What feedback would you give the ending you just wrote?

As a harsh sci-fi editor, I would provide the following feedback for the ending:

  1. Authenticity: The ending seems somewhat idealistic in tone, with the Idea Olympics becoming a global phenomenon very quickly. Consider adding some obstacles or setbacks that Maya and Dev have to overcome to make the story feel more genuine and engaging.

  2. Character Development: The characters of Maya and Dev could benefit from more depth and growth throughout the story. Show how their relationship evolves as they work together to bring the Idea Olympics to life, and consider highlighting their individual strengths and weaknesses.

  3. World-building: The ending could be enriched by providing more context about the world in which the Idea Olympics is taking place. Explore the implications of the Idea Olympics on society at large and how it changes people's perspectives on the role of technology and human creativity.

  4. Conflict: Introduce some form of conflict or tension to heighten the stakes and create suspense. This could involve external challenges, like opposition from powerful figures, or internal struggles within the community of Imagineers.

  5. Show, Don't Tell: Rather than simply stating that the Idea Olympics has become a symbol of hope and unity, consider showing this through specific examples or anecdotes. This will help the reader become more emotionally invested in the story and its outcome.

  6. Pacing: The ending feels somewhat rushed, with the Idea Olympics becoming a global movement in a short span of time. Consider slowing down the pace to give the reader a better sense of the journey Maya and Dev undertake, and the challenges they face along the way.

Overall, the ending has potential, but it could benefit from a more grounded and nuanced approach, focusing on character development, world-building, and conflict to create a more engaging and satisfying conclusion.

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Can you rewrite the ending incorporating your own feedback?

As Dev landed on Maya's rooftop, he knew the Idea Olympics wouldn't be an easy dream to achieve. Together, they spent countless hours brainstorming the logistics and rallying support from fellow Imagineers. They faced opposition from skeptics and powerful organizations who saw the Idea Olympics as a threat to their established order.

Their relationship evolved as they discovered new strengths in each other. Maya's relentless optimism and creativity drove the project forward, while Dev's analytical mind and resourcefulness helped navigate the many obstacles they encountered.

Gradually, their efforts began to pay off. Small-scale Idea Olympic events sprouted up around the world, showcasing the brilliance of human creativity and the potential of the collective human spirit. The events attracted attention from global media outlets, and public interest in the Idea Olympics surged.

However, the path to turning the Idea Olympics into a global phenomenon wasn't without setbacks. One of the biggest challenges they faced was overcoming the resistance from an influential group of Imagineers who believed the Idea Olympics would dilute the purity of their ideas and intellectual pursuits.

In a pivotal moment, Maya and Dev confronted the group and passionately defended the Idea Olympics. They argued that the event would bring people together, fostering collaboration and unity, rather than stifling creativity. Moved by their conviction, the once-resistant Imagineers joined forces with Maya and Dev, further propelling the Idea Olympics movement.

In time, the Idea Olympics became more than just a competition – it became a symbol of hope and unity in a world increasingly dependent on technology. People from all walks of life found solace in the creative spirit of the event and the opportunity to reconnect with their innate human potential.

The inaugural global Idea Olympics was a resounding success, drawing participants and spectators from every corner of the Earth. Despite the challenges they had faced, Maya and Dev watched with pride as their dream materialized, forever changing the way humanity viewed itself in an age of technological advancement.

As the world celebrated the closing ceremony, Maya and Dev realized that the Idea Olympics had not only transformed society, but also themselves. They had grown as individuals, as siblings, and as champions of the human spirit. With renewed determination, they looked to the future, eager to see what other dreams they – and the rest of humanity – could bring to life.

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OK, I will send you a draft of the full story. Please give me your feedback as an editor at a top sci-fi magazine or publisher. Sound good?

Sounds good! Please send the full draft, and I'll be happy to provide feedback as an editor at a top sci-fi magazine or publisher.

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I will need to send in a couple parts, please confirm receipt of the first and I'll send the second, then you give feedback, cool?

That's perfectly fine. Please send the first part, and I'll confirm receipt. Then you can send the second part, and I'll provide feedback on the complete story.

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The Idea Olympics started as just that… an idea. An organic, honest-to-Sam, this, then how bout this, but what about that, oh yeah this, pinball of an idea in the very human brain of a very human woman. Here’s how it happened. Maya was entranced by the cap of a very old Olympics – 1996, Atlanta, marked by the bomb and the unforgettable image of Kerri Strug sticking the landing – and she got to thinking. “What was the point of the Olympics?” Ping. To her, it seemed the Olympics were a celebration of physical prowess honed over eons and rendered practically obsolete by the rise of machines. Thwack. Even in 1996, a car would have been the superior choice for traversing 26.2 miles, and a boat would have effortlessly outpaced any human swimmer across 400 meters. The hunt for sustenance, assuming grocery stores were absent, would have been better served by a shotgun rather than a javelin. Geep offered Maya cap after cap of ancient contests, yet she failed to find a single one with practical value. Bump. Humans had earned these skills from evolutionary necessity, and they were no longer very necessary, but they persisted in our bodies. And so, every four years, the world gathered to celebrate those who retained these abilities best. They did it because it was fun, because it gave them something to root for and strive towards, and because they could. Bop. The pinball that was the idea ricocheted around her brain, picking up wisps and tidbits, picking up momentum. Over her thirty-six years, so many intellectual skills joined physical ones in going the way of the pole vault. Pop. If she had been born a generation earlier, as a half-Indian, her parents would have nudged her into a career as a doctor, a lawyer, or an engineer. Close call. After 2029’s landmark Garcia v. Kaiser Permanente San Diego Medical Center case, practicing medicine without the assistance of DocBots was a one-way ticket to a med mal L at the hands of, naturally, the LawBots. The LegalDDoS of 2027 only hastened the LawBots' dominance; the barrage of human-filed lawsuits against them forced the notoriously Luddite courts to employ legions of LawBots themselves. Whoops. And then there was engineering. Once a respected and serious profession, it had evolved into something more akin to a global hobby for the self-taught, inquisitive, and restless. Degrees in the field had lost their relevance, as the craft captured the hearts and minds of countless self-made engineers of all stripes — bio, nano, mech, chem, aero, mat, terra – and every permutation and fusion in between. Maya was among them, lured into the captivating chaos by her older brother Dev nearly a decade prior. Zap. Maya, Dev, and their fellow x-engs were part of an informal but vibrant kaleidoscopic menagerie – x-engs and poets and artists and scientists and chefs and explorers – pushing the boundaries of human knowledge and capability in the face of the siren call of abundance. They were known as Imagineers. In a time when technology could achieve near miracles and when so many were happy to play the role of proud parents, passively rooting on the accomplishments of humanity’s offspring, when, frankly, Maya thought, most people had become listless consumers of its output, the Imagineers thrummed on the belief the essence of humanity lay in the generation of novel ideas. Technology's purpose, she thought, was to bring those human ideas to life with utmost fidelity and speed. Plunk. Maya lived for the rush of devising (discovering?) the newest, freshest ideas, and if she was being honest, of Dev’s rare acknowledgment that, yeah, her idea was newer and fresher than his. Bloop. They were lucky, though, and she knew it. Anyone could bend bits – the trinity of pads, pods, and Geep fit comfortably within the Ubi budget – and build digiprods, medi, or rich virtual worlds. On the same budget, practically everyone could afford new items once they went mass. Earth’s current inhabitants, by any historical standard, enjoyed incredible material abundance. But weavers, printers, and raw mats were still prohibitively expensive unless you had other means. Of course, ideas for bending atoms weren’t limited to the well-off. The most determined of the would-be Imagineers minted their atomic ideas on the Chain for provenance and sold them to the newnicks and corps eager for the freshest intellectual fruit. It paid the bills, but at an emotional price akin to putting your baby up for adoption. The hope was to build up a big enough stack to go full-stack themselves. Full-stack Imagineers, the rare ones who could create fresh ideas and get them fabbed, needed to possess their own holy trinity: intelligence, drive, and ETH. Of the 10.1 billion people living on Earth, there were maybe 3 million full-stacks. Some Imagineers, like Balenciaga Draco, reveled in this exclusivity. In a moment of inebriated arrogance, he had once Casted, "Povos: I'll buy as many ideas as you have, right now, at 3 ETH. Sell me all you want. Then go fuck off." DEMONFLYINGFOX To him, it was about the money, the power to be able to create without a worry about cost. To Maya, it was all about the ideas and the competition to have the best ones. She knew she was better than Draco, thought she was even better than Dev. But she’d become bored competing in such a shallow pool. Plink. Listless consumers. Flash. Overconfident Imagineers. Zip. Limited competition. Bang. And weren’t there rumors that, finally, the miners on 16 Psyche and 433 Eros had struck metal in enough size to dramatically reduce the price of raw mats? Whoosh. All of these thoughts whizzed around Maya’s brain, some fully recognized, some just enough to catch, in 14.3 seconds. And out popped a fresh, distilled idea, composed of fragments of all the others. “We should host an Idea Olympics.” — Of course, Maya couldn’t have told you exactly where the idea came from. One second, she was watching Olympic caps, 14.3 seconds later, she’d conceived of the Idea Olympics. You, reader, might be familiar with this process yourself. When tempted to question the bots’ consciousness, turn the question back on yourself: through what miracle are your best ideas conceived? Once the spigot was open, that distilled idea spawned others, like the motto, which would have been cheesy, if it weren’t true: "Si somniare potes, facere possumus." If you can dream it, we can do it. (She asked Geep how to say it in Latin, which turned out to be an elegant mouthful, but the idea was hers.) That phrase pre-dated Maya – often misattributed to Walt Disney himself but in fact the brainchild of one of the original (but not affiliated) Imagineers, Tom Fitzgerald, who coined it for the Horizons exhibit at EPCOT in 1983. It was born aspirational and only gained its truth as Maya grew up. Geep’s early predecessor, ChatGPT, was born the same year she was, the same year fusion ignition was achieved, 2022, the year that was foundational in all of the terrible and wonderful change that defined her formative years. The next year, when Maya was just learning to crawl and babble dadadadadada and form the very first of those ideas that would become her lifeblood, an econo named Paul Krugman all but guaranteed that AI would transform the economy by denying that it would any time soon. Even the most ardent Inverse Krugmanites were surprised by how quickly it happened. When her mom and dad were growing up – in the Training Data Era – roughly circa when Kerri Strug landed that vault through the year Maya was born – the path from idea to real thing in the world was so circuitous, so clunky, that there were those who believed that execution mattered more than the idea itself. The decades since had disavowed them of that notion. That was the alpha change, the change from which all others flowed. The gap between an idea and its materialization shrank so rapidly that only those who’d sworn by the more metaphysical practice of Manifestation were prepared. By the time Maya entered Kindergarten in 2027, it was hard for her to tell the difference between the technologies her mom and dad showed her and the magic spells in her and Dev’s favorite TV show, Harry Potter, which was maybe a little advanced for them but which their parents let them watch because it was Harry Potter. In place of Wingardium Leviosa, Maya whispered stories into her mom’s AirPods and giggled as they magically came to life on the screen. That was child’s play compared to what the older kids and grownups were casting out of their mouths and fingers. Thirty years later, in the present, companies in the CMC 500 employed an average of just 137 people. And the average obscured the reality – the seven service companies that had slipped in on sheer volume despite sub-95% margins each employed over 3,000 people. Without those, the number for the remaining 493 dropped to below 95. When Maya was born, the average company in the S&P 500 employed over 50,000. Even that didn’t do the change justice. The CMC 500 was much less relevant than the S&P 500 was in its day. The latter’s 500 constituent companies represented north of 70% of total US market cap, the CMC 500 just 18%, a good chunk of which was eaten up by just three companies: OpenAI, SpaceX, and … Maya caught herself thinking, and stopped long enough to ping the only person she knew who could help manifest this particularly human-coordination-heavy idea quickly. — “Dev, I have an idea.” “Of course you do, Mayita, what’s up?” “Idea Olympics.” “Idea Olympics?” “Idea Olympics. Like an idea battle but not just Imagineers, like the old Olympics, with livecast and pageantry and amateurs and different games and medals and the whole world.” — Dev was no stranger to his sister's unbridled enthusiasm for new and wild ideas. For thirty years, she'd burst into his room, eyes shining and mind ablaze with inspiration. And besides, it was like staring into a mirror. The two had been co-conspirators from the jump. Before they had access to bots, printers, weavers, and raw mats, the scope of the ideas far exceeded their ability to execute on them, as is often the case with kids. Like the time Maya wanted to send Sophie to the Moon to steal them low-gravity suits so they could bounce-float to the playground instead of walking. “Zoom zoom zoom,” Maya squealed, “let’s send Sophie to the Moon.” Dev furrowed his brow for a minute, then arched it victoriously. He’d just gotten his haircut, and with it, a big, helium-rich, orange balloon. “Get me Sophie, Mayita.” Maya climbed the stairs, jumped into her room, grabbed the little giraffe, and whispered, “You’re going on a very, very important mission, Sophie.” Back downstairs, Dev was ready, balloon in hand and glint in eye. “Sophie, we’re sending you to the Moon. Grab the low-gravity suits and bring them back to us.” Maya handed him the giraffonaut, and he tied the orange balloon’s red ribbon around her neck, gently enough that it wouldn’t hurt, firmly enough that it would survive the journey. Dev opened the door (Maya knew how, but she couldn’t quite do it yet), and with two little salutes, they launched Sophie on her mission. “Godspeed, Giraffonaut Sophie,” Maya yelled at the shrinking outline of her first friend as it cleared the townhouses across the street, “See you soon.” She did not see Sophie soon. The brave giraffonaut never came back. They’d gotten better, though, as the technology at their fingertips did and as they trained themselves, along with thousands and then millions of the world’s best and brightest, at devising ideas. Thirty years of improvements and successes made Dev believe that they just might be able to pull this one off.

I have received the first part of your story. Please send the second part, and then I will provide you with feedback as an editor at a top sci-fi magazine or publisher.

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“I’m coming over.” Dev pulled himself out of his Thinking Chair. Since the day he’d fabbed it from the idea of a modern, leather version of the chair from his childhood favorite Blue’s Clues, he spent at least three hours sitting in his Thinking Chair every day he spent at home, thinking, of course, and meditating, scribbling, and stitching together clues. Today, he’d put a big 5-hour block on his cal that said, “Sit down in my Thinking Chair and Think, Think, Think”; he was exactly three hours in when Maya pinged. So he got up and got ready. Normally, Dev spun up something new to wear whenever he went into the city, but it was just Maya, so he threw on something particularly comfortable he’d come up with the week before, brushed his teeth, finger combed his hair, and told his house, “Prepare the Storrs.” (He’d waited for the second gen. The first gen could only be summoned when the owner asked, “Where is my flying car?” to which the flying car responded, “Here I am!” Incredibly annoying.) On his way out, he scribbled a couple notes and images he’d been in the middle of chewing on so he could pick them up later, then headed up to the roof, hopped into his Storrs, waved on the ignition, said “We’re heading to Maya’s,” and took off. Dev preferred the peace and solitude upstate to the chaotic energy of the city on which Maya thrived. For most of American history, that would have represented a trade-off: fresh air for a days-or-hours-long commute whenever he wanted to spend in-person time with his parents, sister, and friends, many of whom still lived in the city or were scattered across newly built exurban compounds. Now, according to his Storrs’ nav, it represented a 48 minute flight, roof-to-roof, at an even more peaceful and solitudinous 2,000 feet in the air. Just enough time to capture an idea he’d been playing with since he hung up with Maya. — If Maya was lightning, Dev was that brief period right before sunset on a clear summer evening: anticipatory energy for the festivities to come mixed with the calm, gentle tiredness earned from a day in the sun. They were different people, but they shared a deep belief in the primacy of human creativity and ideas. But while Maya was content to bolt headlong from idea to idea, delighting in each new creation she crackled into existence, Dev wanted his ideas to form a coherent arc that shifted the entire society upwards. His core frustration and motivation was the uncomfortable fact that things had gotten so much better during his lifetime – the average organic life expectancy had climbed to 135, as one indicator – yet somehow so many people still felt so frustrated, so stuck, so unhappy. There were nearly as many reasons as there were people, but the major sources were what you’d expect. First and foremost, everything that had happened over the past few decades happened so quickly that humanity had become a big, collective dog who caught the car. Dev and Maya had groaned when their dad made them watch WALL-E over and over as kids, telling them, “This is what you need to fight against,” but for once, their dad had gotten this one right. Life didn’t look exactly like WALL-E – Earth wasn’t a garbage heap, only ~5,000 people spent more than a few hours a year in space, and the bios and DocBots kept people physically healthy – but mentally, for most people, the experience was the same. Ubi, bots, and robots meant people didn’t need to work if they didn’t want to, food was abundant, energy was abundant, things were abundant, and entertainment was superabundant. What do you get for the human who has everything? Well, not everything. The rising tide had lifted all boats to unimaginable heights – the average American had access to richer information, tastier food, faster transport, more potent medicine, were able to bring about more transformations than even the billionaires of the 2010s – but some boats seemed to soar above the rest, freed from the shackles of water altogether. This was literally and materially true – the Storrs Dev was thinking those thoughts in at that moment was still out of reach for most, as were any number of exclusive physical things and experiences – but inequality had taken on deeper, more metaphysical dimensions, too. One of Dev’s heroes, David Deutsch, had said that wealth is not a number but the set of all transformations that one is able to bring about. That kind of wealth included money, but it also included power, and knowledge, and novelty. As Dev dove deeper into Imagineering, that observation took on increasing profundity. He, Maya, and their fellow Imagineers – people who dedicated their waking hours, and many of their dreaming ones besides, to creating new things and new knowledge – were wealthy in a way that those who merely consumed the outputs simply couldn’t be. But the idea that tiptoed into his mind when he hung up with Maya was that, even for Imagineers, knowledge and things were happy byproducts of the process of coming up with new ideas. Three words popped out of his reverie as the Storrs touched down on Maya’s roof. — “Trust the Process.” “Haha welcome Dev. What? Why are you talking like dad?” “Trust the Process, Mayita. Remember when you fabbed those wings a couple years ago? How often do you fly them?” “I flew them to a party a few months ago, why?” “I’ll do me. I haven’t thought about that historosim xr I spun up last year in at least a week. It just runs on its own, the ETH hits my wallet, and I focus on the next thing.” “Ok…” “What I’m saying is, I don’t think the ideas or things or ETH or whatever is what makes this meaningful for us, why coming up with new ideas makes us so happy. I think it’s the process. And I think your Idea Olympics are the perfect vessel to spread that process.” “Go on…” “So yeah of course we can have the competition, telecast, stadiums, medals, and all of that, but I think we push it back a few years. I think we start with caps and holos and posts on the process, on how we come up with ideas, how we train. That’s the fun part, the part I’d zip into peoples’ brains if Neuralink had worked. Get people to start training, make the pool as wide as possible, give grants to the more promising ones. Let anyone do this, not just Imagineers.” “Draco is going to fucking hate this. I love it.” She saw it immediately. Dev, as usual, was right. Her idea was better because he’d rotated it, as she strengthened his by remixing them. Once he’d said it out loud, it was so obvious. Modern tech was critical to making their ideas tangible, but the process itself, the training, was surprisingly unplugged. To come up with the weirdest, freshest ideas, it almost had to be. Maya didn’t stick to a strict regimen, but when she stepped back, she’d organized her whole life around the pursuit. She ran every day like Murakami, lost herself in nature like da Vinci and van Gogh, traveled widely and immersed herself in foreign cultures like Tarantino. She rarely drank, but when she did, she drank like Hemingway, and she socialized widely, drawing inspiration from long-standing relationships with her co-conspirators like Woolf and Anderson. She experimented – with her thoughts like Einstein and with her whole being like Tesla – and meditated, like Rubin, Abramović, Watson and a long line of thinkers who needed the space to think. When she wanted to push further, weirder, she lucid dreamed like Dalí, or tripped like Huxley and Jobs. Of course she read; she read mostly fiction, thirstily, like so many creatives before her. She let Geep summarize the latest non-fiction and research to her, tailored just so to the way she absorbed. She lived as rich and varied and as human a life as possible, so that she might generate ideas as rich and varied and human as possible. Then she slept, eight hours every night, bone tired from a full day whenever possible, to give the fragments space to settle and grip, to wake up fresh and sit, quietly, in the early morning hours while fresh idea pinballs pinged, thwacked, bumped, bopped, popped, whooped, zapped, plunked, blooped, plinked, flashed, zipped, banged, and whooshed around her very human mind. And then, of course, she pinged Dev, and together, they brought each others’ ideas to life. — After years of planning, the inaugural Idea Olympics kicked off on a cool October night in Accra, nearly ten years to the day after they were born as an idea in the very human brain of a very human woman. Competitors competed, judges judged, winners won, and losers lost. The games were a huge success, and awed the world, which had been primed over the course of a decade to appreciate the very best expressions of the process that so many people had begun practicing themselves. Before the flame even left Brooklyn on its journey across the world, you could feel the Idea Olympics, if you happened to be alive then, in the smiles on peoples’ faces, the charge in the air of their conversations, and the cobwebs on their holos. But let’s not waste too much time on the details. Of course it worked. It was a great idea.

Epilogue

Years after the first Idea Olympics, the event had become a global phenomenon, an embodiment of the creative spirit and the pure joy of human ingenuity. Cities across the world clamored to host the event, and millions of people tuned in to watch the spectacle unfold. The transformative power of ideas spread like wildfire, and it seemed like the world was entering a new era of enlightenment.

In this era, problems that had once seemed insurmountable began to crumble under the weight of collective human creativity. As people from all walks of life embraced the Idea Olympics' core principles – trust the process, collaboration, and the importance of a rich and varied life – new solutions to age-old challenges began to emerge.

The world bore witness to countless breakthroughs in medicine, technology, and environmental stewardship. It seemed like every day, another inspiring story of hope and progress graced the news. People of all backgrounds and abilities found their purpose in the pursuit of ideas, working together to build a better world for everyone.

It wasn't just the tangible outcomes that mattered, though. The Idea Olympics inspired a shift in culture, away from the passive consumption of the past and towards active participation in the world. People rediscovered the joy of creating, of exploring, of learning and growing together. And as they did, they found that the human spirit was a powerful and renewable resource, capable of overcoming any challenge.

Dev and Maya, who had sparked this revolution with their belief in the power of ideas, continued to support and nurture the movement they had created. They knew that there was still much work to be done, and that the world would always need new ideas to keep it moving forward. But they also knew that they had unleashed something magical and unstoppable: the boundless potential of the human mind.

As they watched the latest Idea Olympics from their rooftop in Brooklyn, they couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and awe at what they had accomplished. They had shown the world that ideas matter – that the creative process is vital to the human experience, and that everyone has the capacity to contribute something unique and wonderful to the world.

And as the sun set on another day of breathtaking innovation and collaboration, Dev and Maya knew that the future was bright. After all, the best ideas were still out there, waiting to be discovered, nurtured, and brought to life. The world was ready for them, and there was no limit to what could be achieved when people dared to dream.

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This is great! But I'd asked you to critique the two-part piece I sent as if you were the editor of a leading sci-fi magazine or publisher.

My apologies for the oversight. As an editor for a leading sci-fi magazine, I am providing you with a critique of your two-part piece below:

Title: [To Be Decided]

Part 1:

  • Opening: The dialogue-based opening is intriguing and pulls the reader in. However, it might benefit from a bit more context or a hint at the story's premise to maintain reader interest.

  • Setting: The futuristic world is well-developed and engaging, but could use a bit more clarity about the timeline and technological advancements. For example, the mention of the Storrs could be explained earlier in the story.

  • Characters: Dev and Maya have distinct and relatable personalities. Their relationship dynamic is interesting and drives the story forward. However, their backgrounds could be fleshed out to give readers a better understanding of their motivations.

  • Plot: The Idea Olympics is a fascinating concept and has the potential to be a strong driving force for the story. However, the pacing could be improved. In Part 1, there's a significant amount of exposition that might be better integrated into the narrative through action or dialogue.

Part 2:

  • Opening: The continuation of the story from Part 1 is smooth, and the contrast between Dev and Maya's personalities is well-illustrated.

  • Plot Development: The evolution of the Idea Olympics from concept to reality is engaging, but more emphasis could be placed on the challenges and obstacles the characters face along the way. This would create more tension and make the eventual success of the Idea Olympics more rewarding.

  • Themes: The themes of creativity, collaboration, and the importance of the creative process are well-developed throughout the story. However, the exploration of these themes could be deepened through more examples of the impact of the Idea Olympics on individuals and society.

  • Conclusion: The ending is optimistic and satisfying, but could benefit from a stronger connection to the story's themes and a clearer message for readers to take away.

Overall, your two-part piece presents a captivating and thought-provoking vision of a future driven by creativity and human ingenuity. With some adjustments to pacing, character development, and plot structure, this story has the potential to be a compelling addition to our sci-fi magazine.

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Thank you!

You're welcome! If you have any more questions or need further assistance, feel free to ask. I'm here to help. Good luck with your story, and I hope the critique proves useful in refining your work!