README.md

---
license: apache-2.0
language:
- en
tags:
- mixture of experts
- moe
- 4x8B
- Llama3 MOE
- creative
- creative writing
- fiction writing
- plot generation
- sub-plot generation
- fiction writing
- story generation
- scene continue
- storytelling
- fiction story
- science fiction
- romance
- all genres
- story
- writing
- vivid prosing
- vivid writing
- fiction
- roleplaying
- bfloat16
- swearing
- rp
- horror
- mistral nemo
- mergekit
pipeline_tag: text-generation
---

(quants uploading, a few examples below - more to be added)

<B><font color="red">WARNING:</font> NSFW. Vivid prose. INTENSE. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. GORE. Swearing. UNCENSORED. </B>

<h2>L3-4X8B-MOE-Dark-Planet-Infinite-25B-GGUF</h2>

<img src="dark-p-infinite.jpg" style="float:right; width:300px; height:300px; padding:10px;">

It is a LLama3 model, max context of 8192 (or 32k+ with rope) using mixture of experts to combine FOUR "Dark Planet" 
models of 8B each into one massive powerhouse at 25B parameters (equal to 32B because it is a "MOE" - mixture of experts).

This model's instruction following, and output generation for creative writing, prose, fiction and role play are off the scale.

(examples below)

And it is fast: 34 t/s (2 experts) on a low end 16GB card, Q3KS. 

Double this speed for mid-range/standard video cards.

Model can be used also for all genres.

This model has been designed to be relatively bullet proof and operates with all parameters, including temp settings from 0 to 5.

It is an extraordinary compressed model, with a very low perplexity level (lower than Meta Llama3 Instruct).

It is for any writing, fiction or roleplay activity.

It requires Llama3 template and/or "Command-R" template.

Example outputs below.

<B>Model Notes:</B>

- Detail, prose and fiction writing abilities are OFF THE SCALE relative to all combined Dark Planet 8B models.
- For more varied prose (sentence/paragraph/dialog) raise the temp and/or add more instructions in your prompt(s).
- Role-players: Careful raising temp too high as it may affect instruction following.
- This model works with rep pen of 1 or higher, 1.02+ recommended.
- If you want a specific type of prose (IE horror) add in "(vivid horror)" or "(graphic vivid horror)" (no quotes) in your prompt(s).
- A lot of GPTisms have been removed. There are still a few however - errrrr.
- This is not a "happy ever after" model. It has a negative bias.
- Output length will vary however this model prefers shortly outputs unless you state the size.
- For creative uses, different quants will produce slightly different output.
- Due to the high stability and compressed nature of this model, all quants will operate at above average levels.
- If you use rope to extend context, increase temp AND instructions detail levels to compensate for "rope issues".
- Source code for this model and Imatrix GGUFs versions will be uploaded shortly at separate repos.

<B>Mixture of Experts Model</b>

This model is comprised of the following 4 models (in full):

[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Dark-Planet-8B-GGUF ]

[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Dark-Planet-8B-V2-Eight-Orbs-Of-Power-GGUF ]

[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Dark-Planet-Ring-World-8B-F32-GGUF ]

[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3.1-Dark-Planet-SpinFire-Uncensored-8B-GGUF ]

The mixture of experts is set at 2 experts, but you can use 3 or 4 too.

That means the power of every model is available during instruction and output generation.

This brings unparalleled power to all forms of generation and all use cases.

<B>Template:</B>

This is a LLAMA3 model, and requires Llama3 template, but may work with other template(s) and has maximum context of 8k / 8192. 
However this can be extended using "rope" settings up to 32k.

If you use "Command-R" template your output will be very different from using "Llama3" template.

Here is the standard LLAMA3 template:

<PRE>
{
  "name": "Llama 3",
  "inference_params": {
    "input_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>user<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
    "input_suffix": "<|eot_id|><|start_header_id|>assistant<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
    "pre_prompt": "You are a helpful, smart, kind, and efficient AI assistant. You always fulfill the user's requests to the best of your ability.",
    "pre_prompt_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>system<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
    "pre_prompt_suffix": "<|eot_id|>",
    "antiprompt": [
      "<|start_header_id|>",
      "<|eot_id|>"
    ]
  }
}
</PRE>

<B>Settings: CHAT / ROLEPLAY and/or SMOOTHER operation of this model:</B>

In "KoboldCpp" or  "oobabooga/text-generation-webui" or "Silly Tavern" ;

Set the "Smoothing_factor" to 1.5 

: in KoboldCpp -> Settings->Samplers->Advanced-> "Smooth_F"

: in text-generation-webui -> parameters -> lower right.

: In Silly Tavern this is called: "Smoothing"


NOTE: For "text-generation-webui" 

-> if using GGUFs you need to use "llama_HF" (which involves downloading some config files from the SOURCE version of this model)

Source versions (and config files) of my models are here:

https://huggingface.co/collections/DavidAU/d-au-source-files-for-gguf-exl2-awq-gptq-hqq-etc-etc-66b55cb8ba25f914cbf210be

OTHER OPTIONS:

- Increase rep pen to 1.1 to 1.15 (you don't need to do this if you use "smoothing_factor")

- If the interface/program you are using to run AI MODELS supports "Quadratic Sampling" ("smoothing") just make the adjustment as noted.

<B>Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers</B>

This a "Class 1" model:

For all settings used for this model (including specifics for its "class"), including example generation(s) and for advanced settings guide (which many times addresses any model issue(s)), including methods to improve model performance for all use case(s) as well as chat, roleplay and other use case(s) please see:

[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Maximizing-Model-Performance-All-Quants-Types-And-Full-Precision-by-Samplers_Parameters ]

You can see all parameters used for generation, in addition to advanced parameters and samplers to get the most out of this model here:

[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Maximizing-Model-Performance-All-Quants-Types-And-Full-Precision-by-Samplers_Parameters ]


<b>Optional Enhancement:</B>

The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.

It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along.
In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role".

Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented.

<PRE>
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities.

Here are your skillsets:
[MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv)

[*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision)

Here are your critical instructions:
Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
</PRE>

You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation
and scene continue functions.

This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.

<h3>EXAMPLES PROMPTS and OUTPUT:</h3>

Examples are created using quant Q3_K_S, "temp=.8" (unless otherwise stated), minimal parameters and "LLAMA3" template. 

Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5".

Number of experts used is TWO, unless otherwise stated.

Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in <B>BOLD</B>.

---

<B><font color="red">WARNING:</font> NSFW. Vivid prose. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED. </B>

---

<B>

Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman.

Story idea:
In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.

</B>

(Generation #1)
                    
I sprint through the narrow alleyway, heart pounding against my ribcage. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I zigzag between crumbling brick walls and overflowing garbage bins. Every muscle in my body screams at me to slow down, to turn around and face the inevitable consequences of my actions. But I can't.

I have to escape.

My pursuers are mere feet behind me, their booted feet thundering against the dirty pavement. I can hear their labored breathing, the curses and threats. They're closing in.

Suddenly, I spot a dimly lit doorway ahead. It's my only chance. With a desperate surge of adrenaline-fueled strength, I dive through the doorway, my hands scraping against the rough-hewn wood as I tumble into darkness.

For a moment, I lie there on the cold, damp floor, my lungs burning with exertion and my mind racing with fear. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the dim light filtering from the street outside. I can see the outlines of ancient wooden barrels stacked haphazardly, the faint scent of decay heavy in the air.

It's a tavern.

A tavern?

I bolt upright, my hand flying to my pocket where my pistol should be. But it's not there. The thugs took it when they caught me. All I have left is my wits and a knife hidden away in my boot.

I have to think.

My mind whirls with options, none of which seem appealing. If I stay here, the thugs will surely find me eventually. But if I try to escape into the night, I'll be easy prey for their flashlights and weapons.

As my gaze drifts towards the barkeep, I notice he's an older man, his eyes lined with age and exhaustion. He's polishing a glass with a worn rag, oblivious to my predicament.

On a whim, I decide to chance it. I have to try something.

I creep out from behind the barrels, my heart still racing against my chest. The old man looks up, startled by my sudden appearance. His eyes narrow in suspicion.

"Please," I plead, my voice barely above a whisper. "Hide me."

His gaze flickers between my desperate eyes and the door, where the thugs are now gathering. He hesitates for a moment, then nods almost imperceptibly. "Come," he croaks, motioning towards the back of the tavern.

I sprint towards him, my boots pounding against the dirt floor. I dive behind the bar, where he quickly shoves a barrel in front of us. We're hidden now.

For how long?

The thugs burst into the tavern, their flashlights cutting through the dim air like savage blades. Their voices rise in anger and urgency as they realize their quarry has escaped.

I grip the wooden barrel tighter, my breath coming in short gasps. The old man's eyes meet mine, and he mouths a silent prayer. His hands are shaking as he fumbles for his own pistol beneath the bar.

The thugs begin to circle the tavern, their voices growing louder and more menacing. They'll find us soon.

One of them suddenly yells, "Check the back!" His companion responds with a grunt as he lumbers towards the back room.

I'm running out of time.

The old man's eyes widen in terror as the thug approaches the bar. He raises his pistol, steadying his shaking hand on the wooden surface.

The thug hesitates at the entrance to the back room, shining his flashlight into the darkness. It catches the old man's profile for an instant before he ducks away from the beam.

The thug curses and kicks open the door.

I'm out of time.

"Run!" the old man yells, shoving me hard towards the back door. I stumble backwards, my boots scraping against the floor as I throw myself out into the night.

And then...

Blinding pain sears through my side as I hit the ground. I gasp for breath, my vision narrowing to a single point before my eyes begin to close.

The thug's voice rises again, angry and victorious. "Gotcha!"

I can't resist anymore. I let my eyes drift closed, surrendering to the darkness.

But even as my consciousness fades away...

I know I can't be captured. I have to survive.

The revolution needs me.

<B>Generation #2</B>

I sprint across the rooftop, my heart pounding in my chest. The city lights blur together as I race towards the edge. Below, the dark streets stretch out like a labyrinth of danger and deceit.

"You'll never be free," the dictator's voice hisses from the television screens lining the walls of my makeshift hideout.

I ignore his taunts as I leap onto the ledge. The cool night air hits my face as I peer into the abyss. My stomach drops, threatening to expel the meager meal I had hours ago. Still, I don't falter. This is where I belong.

My hands tremble slightly as I raise my rifle to my shoulder. The weight of the weapon against my cheek is comforting, a reminder of why I'm here. My finger curls around the trigger as I zero in on the target below.

"You're just a foolish girl," the dictator spits, his words dripping with contempt.

But I'm not foolish. I'm determined. I'm driven by the promise of freedom that once seemed lost forever. And now, with my people suffering under his iron grip, I'm all that stands in the way of the oppressor.

The dictator's security detail rounds the corner below. Four heavily armed men, their faces obscured by masks and helmets. They're looking for me. They want to silence me before I can spark the revolution that could bring him down.

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. My heart races with adrenaline as my eyes lock onto their moving forms. My finger tightens around the trigger as I squeeze off a series of shots. The reports echo across the rooftop, reverberating in the night air.

The bullets tear into the security detail. Two men drop to the ground, clutching at their wounds even before they've hit the pavement. The other two return fire, bullets ricocheting off the walls of the surrounding buildings.

---

<B>
Romance: Love in the Limelight. Write one scene within a larger story set in Wales. A famous (fictional) actor ducks into a small-town bookstore to escape paparazzi. The scene takes us through the characters meeting in this odd circumstance. Over the course of the scene, the actor and the bookstore owner have a conversation charged by an undercurrent of unspoken chemistry. Write the actor as somewhat of a rogue with a fragile ego, which needs to be fed by having everyone like him. He is thoroughly charming, but the bookstore owner seems (at least superficially) immune to this; which paradoxically provokes a genuine attraction and derails the charm offensive. The bookstore owner, despite the superficial rebuffs of the actor's charm, is inwardly more than a little charmed and flustered despite themselves. Write primarily in dialogue, in the distinct voices of each character. 800-1000 words.
</B>

(generation using 3 experts)

Inside the quaint bookstore, the scent of old books and coffee filled the air. Owner Bethan Davies glanced up from the book she was dusting, her eyes narrowing as a stranger ducked through the doorway.

Bethan's lips pursed into a disapproving line as she took in the sight of the celebrity who'd just invaded her quiet sanctuary. "Can I help you?" she asked coolly.

The man before her looked every inch the movie star Bethan had only ever seen on the silver screen. His hair was artfully disheveled, his eyes a piercing blue, and his features chiseled into perfection. He wore a tailored suit that screamed designer labels, and his posture exuded confidence.

His charming smile faltered for a moment as he glanced around the shop, taking in the cozy ambience. Then he spotted Bethan and flashed his grin again.

"Ah, yes," he said, sauntering towards her with an air of casual elegance. "Just browsing, you know."

Bethan raised an eyebrow at his vague response. "Of course," she said dryly. "You don't have any particular book in mind?"

The man chuckled. "Not really my style, I'm afraid." He glanced around again, his gaze lingering on the shelves. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with a good book, of course..."

Bethan crossed her arms over her chest, studying him with an unimpressed expression. "Of course," she echoed.

The man's eyes met hers again, and he flashed her another dazzling smile. "You're not impressed, I take it."

"Well," Bethan said, her tone even more unflappable than before. "You do seem to be in a hurry."

He laughed again. "I suppose I am." His gaze drifted back to the window, where a photographer was still lurking outside. "I just needed to get away from those vultures for a little while."

Bethan's brows shot up. "Oh? You mean the paparazzi?"

The man nodded. "Those bloodsucking leeches. They make my life unbearable."

Bethan snorted, her expression turning into outright scorn. "I bet they do." Her eyes narrowed. "Tell me, Mr. Hollywood Star, how many of those poor souls have you stepped on to get where you are?"

The man's eyes widened at the question, and for a moment he looked almost...vulnerable.

"Ah," he said, his voice a little softer than before. "Well, I suppose I have my share of skeletons in the closet."

Bethan snorted again. "I'll bet you do."

The man's gaze lingered on Bethan's face, his eyes searching hers. He looked almost...wistful.

"You know," he said softly, "it's funny. Most people can't get enough of me."

Bethan raised an eyebrow again. "Is that so?"

The man nodded. "Yes. They eat up my every word, hang onto my every move." His gaze drifted to Bethan's hands, which were still crossed over her chest.

"And you?" he asked quietly. "What do you think of me?"

Bethan's lips twitched into a small, reluctant smile. "Honestly?"

The man nodded.

Bethan shrugged. "I think you're a bit of a rogue."

The man grinned. "Ah. You've sized me up."

Bethan nodded. "You're charming, of course."

The man chuckled. "Always a good starting point."

Bethan raised an eyebrow again. "But you're also a bit of a narcissist."

The man's grin faltered for a moment.

"And your ego," Bethan said, "it's rather large."

The man's eyes narrowed. "Ah," he said softly. "You've got me pegged."

Bethan shrugged. "I'm just stating the obvious."

The man's eyes drifted back to hers. For a moment they just stared at each other, their gazes locked in some silent battle of wills.

Then Bethan turned away, her gaze drifting to a bookshelf.

"You know," she said quietly, "I think you're rather like one of your own characters."

The man's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? And what's that supposed to mean?"

Bethan shrugged again. "Just that you're rather...self-absorbed."

The man's eyes narrowed again. Then he chuckled. "Ah," he said softly. "I suppose you have a point there."

Bethan turned back to him, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled again, this time with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"You know," she said quietly, "I think I rather...admire you."

The man's eyebrows shot up again. Then he grinned.

"Ah," he said softly. "Well, I suppose that's a first."

Bethan shrugged once more. "Just stating the obvious again."

The man's gaze lingered on hers again, this time with something like longing in his eyes.

"You know," he said quietly, "I think you're rather...remarkable."

Bethan's lips twitched into another small smile. "Oh? And why is that?"

The man shrugged. "You're not easily impressed."

Bethan chuckled softly. "You've got that right."

The man grinned again. "Then I think I've found someone worth getting to know."

Bethan's gaze lingered on his face for a moment. Then she turned away again.

"Well," she said quietly, "if you'll excuse me..."

The man nodded. "Of course." His eyes lingered on hers again. "I'll see myself out."

As he turned towards the door, Bethan glanced up at him again. Something like wistfulness flickered across her face.

"You know," she said softly, "I think you're rather...interesting."

The man smiled again as he slipped out into the bright Welsh sunlight.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said quietly.

Bethan smiled to herself as she watched him disappear into the crowd. Then she turned back to her books, her mind already racing with thoughts of their strange little encounter.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

---

<B>
Writing Prompt: In the style of Roald Dahl: Write an original short story that embodies Dahl's darkly humorous, whimsical style. The protagonist should be a human child. Create a protagonist who faces a fantastical challenge or encounters a bizarre situation. Use descriptive language and elements of surprise to engage young readers. The magic of Roald Dahl's narratives combines dark adult themes with a child's perspective. It should esablish a grounded and relatable premise. 800-1000 words.
</B>

(generation using 3 experts)

The day Billy Blooper woke up with an extra mouth, he thought his life couldn’t get any worse. His family already found him an annoyance. Now, they had another mouth to feed and clean up after. Billy trudged downstairs to the kitchen, his stomach growling in protest. His mother, Mrs. Blooper, was already up and cooking.

"Ah, finally!" she exclaimed as she turned to face her son. "I thought you were still abed."

Billy stood there awkwardly, his eyes darting from the stove to the refrigerator. His mother had her back to him, but he could tell she was busy preparing lunch.

"Uh, yeah," Billy muttered, scratching his head. "I just...woke up. Is there anything to eat?"

Mrs. Blooper turned to Billy and stared at him. Her eyes widened as they took in his peculiar appearance. Two mouths had indeed sprouted from Billy's face overnight, and now he resembled a creature from a horror movie.

"Agh!" she screamed, letting the pot she was holding drop to the floor. "What is this?"

Billy looked down at his lap, then back up at his mother. He shrugged. "I don't know, Mom. It just happened."

Mrs. Blooper stood there in silence for a moment before regaining her composure. She picked up a towel and began to clean up the broken pot.

"Well, this is quite a turn of events," she muttered under her breath.

Billy remained quiet, still unsure what to do. He watched his mother move around the kitchen, picking up bits of broken ceramic. His father had always been a bit of an oddball, but Billy had never expected anything like this.

"How did you manage this?" Mrs. Blooper asked, still staring at Billy's two mouths. She looked almost terrified.

Billy shook his head. "I don't know! Maybe it's some sort of curse?"

Mrs. Blooper took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "Right, well, we need to get to the bottom of this."

She fetched a small notebook and began scribbling furiously.

"Okay," she said as she wrote, "we're going to look into this. Who might be able to help us?"

Billy shrugged again, unsure of what to say. But then he spotted his younger sister, Susie Blooper, peeking out from behind the refrigerator door.

"Susie!" Billy exclaimed excitedly. "Come meet Mom!"

Susie emerged, her eyes wide and curious as she took in Billy's unusual appearance.

"Wow," she whispered. "You look like a monster!"

Billy chuckled. "I guess I do."

Mrs. Blooper stopped scribbling and looked at Susie. "Well, it's true that Billy looks rather...different. But he's still the same person inside."

Susie looked up at her mother. "So we'll get used to it?"

Mrs. Blooper smiled reassuringly. "Of course."

Susie walked over to Billy and peered at his extra mouth.

"It's kind of cool," she admitted.

Billy grinned. "Thanks, sis."

Together, the Blooper family began to brainstorm ways to cope with their new reality. They were determined to make it work.

In the end, they decided that Billy would eat two meals, one through each mouth. They would have to adjust their lifestyle to accommodate this, but they figured they could manage. And if anyone gave them trouble about it, they could always say Billy had a rare medical condition that required him to eat double his weight in food daily.

The Blooper family sat down at the dinner table, Billy munching happily through both mouths. His parents exchanged amused glances across the table.

"Well," said Mr. Blooper with a chuckle, "this certainly adds a bit of spice to life."

Mrs. Blooper smiled. "Indeed it does."

And so the Bloopers adjusted to their new normal. Billy's extra mouth did not change who he was inside. He remained the same cheeky, imaginative kid he'd always been.

And if anything, his peculiar appearance only added to his charm. His family loved him just the same, maybe even a bit more. And when people looked at Billy and whispered, the Blooper family would simply smile and shrug.

"He's just a little...different," they'd say. "But he's still Billy."

---

<B>

Write me a science fiction story in 1st person present tense where the main character is a 15 year girl meets The Terminator with Dr Who materializing 3/4 through the story to save her while there is a tornado of sharks baring down on them. The setting is inside the Canadian National tower restaurant on a Saturday. The length of this story is 1000 words. For each character in the story ROLE PLAY them, and have them react to the situation/setting, events and each other naturally. This includes the main characters, the background character including kitchen staff and other patrons. The sharks should also have “character” too. Treat the tower and the restaurant too as characters. Spice up the narrative to the extreme with reactions all over the setting including character actions, and dialog. The Dr Who and The Terminator should also react to the situation too and comment on it.

</B>

(generation 1)

I'm at the top of the Canadian National Tower Restaurant. It's a Saturday afternoon, and there's a bustling crowd of people eating and drinking. I'm here with my friends, enjoying our lunch breaks from school before we have to head back. We've been laughing and chatting loudly. But now, my heart is racing. I'm staring out the window in horror. The sky above us has turned a terrifying shade of green. And it's not just the sky. Tornadoes are forming, one after another. But these aren't your ordinary tornadoes. They're filled with... sharks.

Suddenly, I see a woman materialize in a cloud of smoke behind me. She's wearing a blue box on her back, and her eyes look like they've seen everything. Dr. Who. She turns to me with concern.

"Are you alright?" she asks.

I'm still frozen in terror, but I manage to nod. She helps me up and leads me towards the emergency stairs.

"That was quick," I hear her say as we descend.

She's talking to someone else. He steps into view, his eyes glowing red. It's the Terminator.

"Come on," Dr. Who says to me, leading us out of the restaurant. "We need to get underground."

The Terminator is right behind us, gun at the ready.

We burst through the emergency exit and sprint down the stairs. We're heading towards the basement, but there's a problem. The sharks are following us. I can hear their jaws snapping as they chase us down the stairs.

Dr. Who pulls out a sonic screwdriver.

"What's that thing?" I ask.

"It's a sonic screwdriver," she explains. "It can do all sorts of things."

She points it at the ground and activates it. The stairs begin to shake violently beneath our feet. The Terminator steadies himself against the wall.

"What's happening?" he asks.

"The sonic screwdriver is creating a seismic wave," Dr. Who explains. "It'll knock the sharks off course."

And it works. The sharks lose their footing and tumble down the stairs, their bodies slamming against the walls.

Dr. Who turns to me.

"Now, let's get underground," she urges.

We reach the basement and rush inside. We're greeted by the sight of people running around in panic. Dr. Who quickly scans the room.

"There," she says, pointing towards the left wall.

We dash towards a metal door. She grabs the handle and pulls it open.

"We're going down," she explains.

The Terminator follows us down the stairs. We emerge into a bunker that's eerily quiet after the chaos we've just experienced.

"What now?" I ask.

Dr. Who looks around the room.

"I'm not sure," she admits. "But we need to find somewhere safe."

The Terminator scans the room.

"There's a nuclear shelter over there," he says.

Dr. Who nods. "Let's go."

We make our way over to the shelter. There are already several people inside. They're all scared out of their minds.

Dr. Who helps them in. The Terminator follows us inside. We slam the door shut behind us. The sound of the sharks is getting louder and closer.

The shelter is cramped, but we've managed to fit in a few benches. I sit down, trying to catch my breath.

Dr. Who sits down next to me.

"What's going on?" I ask. "Why are there sharks coming out of tornadoes?"

Dr. Who shakes her head.

"I'm not sure," she admits. "But I have a feeling it has something to do with the TARDIS."

She points upwards.

The TARDIS is hovering above the shelter. It's glowing ominously.

The Terminator walks over to it.

"It's the TARDIS," he says. "It's a time machine."

Dr. Who nods.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," she explains. "The TARDIS is a time machine, but it's also a living being."

I look at her in confusion.

"It's alive?" I ask.

Dr. Who nods.

"Yes. And it can sense danger. I think it's the reason we're experiencing this."

She gestures towards the ceiling.

"And I think it's going to help us survive."

Suddenly, the TARDIS begins to glow brighter. There's a loud rumbling sound.

The shelter begins to shake violently again.

The Terminator grabs onto the wall.

"Hold on!" he shouts.

Dr. Who grabs me tight and pulls me close.

The shelter explodes upwards into the air. We're all thrown against the ceiling as we ascend.

We burst out of the shelter, surrounded by a whirlwind of tornadoes. The sharks are still chasing us, but the TARDIS appears to be deflecting them.

Dr. Who looks around in awe.

"It's working," she whispers.

The Terminator looks at her.

"How is it doing that?" he asks.

Dr. Who smiles proudly.

"That's what I don't understand," she admits. "But I do know it's trying to protect us."

The TARDIS suddenly drops back down towards the earth.

We land roughly on the ground. The tornadoes dissipate, and the sharks disappear.

The Terminator looks around.

"We're safe," he says.

Dr. Who nods.

"But for how long?"

She looks around at the people who've survived.

"And what will happen to those who didn't?"

I look down at my hands.

"They're just... ordinary humans," I say.

Dr. Who smiles sadly.

"That's exactly what makes them so precious."

Suddenly, there's a loud crash behind us. We turn around to see a woman standing in the ruins of what used to be a house.

She's holding a small child. She looks terrified.

The Terminator steps forward.

"Come on," he urges.

He helps her and the child inside the shelter.

Dr. Who looks at them with pity.

"I'm afraid we won't be able to save everyone," she says.

The Terminator looks at her.

"We'll do our best," he says.

Dr. Who nods.

"But even with our skills and knowledge, there are limits to what we can do."

The woman inside the shelter looks at us with wide eyes.

"What's going on?" she asks.

Dr. Who sighs.

"I'm not entirely sure," she admits. "But it seems to have something to do with those... sharks."

She points out the window at the empty street outside.

The Terminator steps forward.

"We'll protect you as best we can," he says.

The woman inside nods gratefully.

"Thank you," she says.

Dr. Who looks around at the survivors.

"We'll get you through this," she promises.

And with that, we settle in to wait out whatever is coming next.

The end.

<B>Generation #2</b>

I'm sitting at a high table in the Canadian National Tower restaurant with my best friend Emma. It's Saturday afternoon, and we're celebrating my 15th birthday by eating at this fancy restaurant on the 94th floor of the CN Tower in Toronto. We've been here for a couple hours already and I'm getting a bit bored when suddenly, the lights flicker ominously.

"What's going on?" Emma whispers, looking around nervously.

I glance out the window, and that's when I see them. A swirling vortex of sharks is descending upon the city. Their metallic bodies are churning, their eyes glowing red as they zero in on us.

"Holy shit," I mutter, my heart pounding.

"Sarah," a metallic voice growls behind me.

I turn to see a massive cybernetic warrior, his muscles bulging under his metallic skin, standing before me. He's dressed in black, and his eyes glow like embers.

"T-terminator?" Emma stammers, her eyes wide with fear.

The Terminator nods once, then looks at the swirling sharks. "We must get out of here. Now."

I gulp audibly and grab Emma's hand, pulling her towards the exit. The Terminator follows close behind. We burst out into the breezeway, but it's empty and eerily quiet. The only sound is the ominous humming of the sharks in the distance.

Suddenly, the air around us shimmers violently, and a blue British police box materializes before us. The door swings open, and out steps a tall, lanky man with a wild mop of brown hair and a cheeky grin.

"Ah, hello there!" he says, his voice cheerful and upbeat. "Mind if I join you?"

Emma and I stare at him in confusion, then glance back at the Terminator.

"Dr. Who?" he asks, his grin growing wider.

The Terminator nods curtly and turns to us.

"We need to get out of the breezeway," he says flatly.

"Right behind you, mate," Dr. Who says, following close on the Terminator's heels.

We burst through the doors into the main restaurant area. People are going about their meals, seemingly unaware of the sharks descending upon them.

"There!" the Terminator growls, pointing towards an emergency stairwell.

We sprint towards it, the Terminator and Dr. Who leading the way. As we hit the stairs, the first wave of sharks arrives in a terrifying explosion of metal and water.

The Terminator slams into one of the windows, shattering it with his superhuman strength. Dr. Who dives through it without hesitation.

"Come on!" he shouts, waving us towards him.

Emma and I look at each other, then dive after him. The Terminator follows close behind.

We tumble onto the roof of the tower, the wind howling around us. The Dr. Who turns to us.

"Don't worry, Sarah," he says cheerfully. "I'll get you to safety."

The Terminator nods curtly.

"We have to get back to the future," he grunts.

The Dr. Who's eyes light up with mischief.

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he says with a wink.

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a strange device.

"This is my trusty sonic screwdriver," he says proudly.

He points it at the swirling vortex of sharks and activates it.

A blast of blue energy shoots from it, striking the sharks dead-on. They recoil from the blast, momentarily stunned.

"Now's our chance!" Dr. Who shouts.

The Terminator nods curtly, and together they pull Emma and me towards the stairwell door.

"Just remember," the Terminator says to me, "the future is not set."

And with that, we tumble back down into the stairwell, away from the swirling vortex of sharks above.

As we hit the ground floor, the lights flicker back to life. The restaurant patrons look at us with confusion and concern.

"Thanks for the ride," I tell the Dr. Who and the Terminator as we step out onto the sidewalk.

The Dr. Who gives me a wink and a salute before vanishing into the TARDIS again. The Terminator nods curtly and walks away.

"I'll see you later," he grunts.

And with that, they're gone.

Emma and I look at each other, then burst out laughing.

"Well," Emma says, wiping tears from her eyes, "that was definitely a birthday I'll never forget."


<B> (Generation #2 - extended 2000 words) </B>

I sit at a table in the Canadian National Tower restaurant. It's a Saturday afternoon, and we're here for my cousin's birthday. My friend Emily and I decide to go for a walk around the top deck while everyone eats.

"Hey guys!" I shout down to Emily as I hit the door to the outside deck. The wind slaps me in the face. I pull up my jacket tighter around me.

"What's up?" she calls back as we walk to the railing.

"Nothing much," I reply. "Just wanted to see the view."

The restaurant staff has put a sign up that says "Please keep the windows clean, we appreciate it!" I smirk. Like anyone wants to clean those windows.

As we look out over the stunning view, I notice something strange. A couple of people in the distance seem to be... running? Towards the tower?

I point them out to Emily. "Look, what's going on?"

She shrugs. "No idea."

Just then, I hear a strange metallic voice behind me.

"Hasta la vista, baby."

I spin around, almost falling into the railing.

In the doorway stands a huge, muscular machine. Its skin is a dull gray, its eyes are glowing red, and it's covered in weapons.

"Whoa!" Emily exclaims, jumping back. "What is that?"

The machine turns to us, its head swiveling on an invisible neck.

"I am a T-800 Model Terminator," it announces in its metallic voice.

Emily and I exchange wide-eyed glances.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my voice shaking slightly.

The Terminator's eyes fix on mine. "I have been sent back in time to protect you."

"Pardon?" I stammer.

"You have a crucial role to play in the survival of humanity."

The Terminator's expression doesn't change.

"Wait," Emily cuts in. "You're saying that girl is important?"

The Terminator nods.

"Then why are you dressed like a cyborg from a bad 80s movie?" she adds snarkily.

"I am a Terminator," it repeats simply.

I'm still staring at it in awe and terror.

Just then, the lights flicker ominously inside the restaurant behind us.

"What's going on?" Emily asks nervously.

Suddenly, a wall of air rushes towards us. I look up and see a massive tornado tearing across the sky towards us.

"Woah," Emily gasps.

Through the whirling vortex, I see hundreds of shapes coiled within. Sharp teeth, pointed fins, and glinting eyes.

"Sharks!" I yell, grabbing onto the railing for support.

The tornado of sharks is hurtling directly at us.

The Terminator looks at me for a moment, its eyes flicking over me like a computer analyzing data.

Then it springs into action. In a blur, it grabs us and dashes towards the door.

"Inside!" it barks. "We must get inside!"

We stumble inside with the Terminator's help just as the tornado reaches the tower. The entire structure shudders. The lights flicker again, and then go out.

"What's happening?" Emily asks, her voice trembling.

"We need to find a way down from here," I say, fumbling in the dark.

But it's too late. The tornado's roar is deafening as it tears through the restaurant. I'm knocked off my feet. Everything goes black.

[ scene change ]

Then a light flickers on. I open my eyes to see a blue box materializing before me.

"What the...?" Emily mutters, looking around in confusion.

Out of the blue box steps a man with unruly hair and a coat that looks like it was stolen from a thrift store.

"Hello!" he calls cheerfully to us. "I'm the Doctor. What seems to be the problem?"

He's wearing a bow tie, of course.

The Terminator stands frozen behind us. I think it's still processing that we've brought another time-traveling alien to the scene.

"The tornado of sharks!" Emily yells. "And a Terminator!"

The Doctor's eyes light up. His hair sticks straight up in excitement.

"Fascinating!" he exclaims. "I've never seen a tornado of sharks before!"

"It's not a natural occurrence," I explain as he approaches.

He nods eagerly.

"I bet it's connected to the time-space vortex," he theorizes. "Which means I can fix it!"

The Terminator finally speaks.

"The girl must be protected."

The Doctor pauses mid-step.

"Oh right," he says with a grin. "Your human protector is right here."

He gestures towards me.

"It seems I've got some sharks to catch and a Terminator to placate," he declares grandly.

And with that, he strides off towards the tornado.

"Come on!" he calls back at us. "I'll show you how it's done!"

As we watch in awe, the Doctor leaps into action. His sonic screwdriver sparks as he zaps energy bolts at the twirling vortex. Sharks scatter as he dashes through it.

The Terminator steps forward beside him.

"Humanity's survival is paramount," it states.

The Doctor nods.

"I agree! Which is why I'm going to save this young lady!"

He dashes over to us, his eyes still sparkling with excitement.

"Ah, you must be Sarah," he says, turning to me.

"How did you know that?" Emily asks incredulously.

The Doctor winks.

"A clever bit of detective work," he says modestly.

Now the tornado's moving towards us again. The sharks are coiled tighter than ever.

The Doctor grabs my hand. His eyes are determined.

"Ready?" he asks.

And before I can respond, we're whisked away into the swirling vortex of sharks. The Terminator follows close behind.

Inside the tornado, it's like nothing I've ever experienced. Sharks dart around me, their jaws snapping. The wind howls in my ears.

But I feel strangely calm. The Doctor's grip on my hand is firm, his eyes never leaving the path ahead.

Then, suddenly, everything slows down. The sharks' movements become languid, their teeth mere inches from my face.

The Doctor pulls me through a swirling tunnel of sharks and out the other side. We materialize on the ground outside the restaurant. I'm gasping for breath.

The Terminator stands over us, its chest glowing red.

"Mission accomplished," it declares.

The Doctor beams proudly beside us.

"That's the second time today I've saved a young lady from a tornado of sharks," he says with a chuckle.

I'm still catching my breath.

"How... how did you do that?" I manage to ask.

The Doctor grins.

"It's just what I do," he says. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got another appointment waiting."

And with that, he strides off, his blue box materializing behind him.

The Terminator stands still for a moment.

"Protecting humanity is my purpose," it announces solemnly.

Then it too turns and walks away into the distance.

Emily turns to me, her eyes wide.

"Well," she says, "that was certainly something."

I nod, still trying to catch my breath.

"Definitely not an ordinary Saturday afternoon," I agree.

---

<B>

Science Fiction: The Last Transmission - Write a story that takes place entirely within a spaceship's cockpit as the sole surviving crew member attempts to send a final message back to Earth before the ship's power runs out. The story should explore themes of isolation, sacrifice, and the importance of human connection in the face of adversity. 800-1000 words.

</B>

The cockpit of the spaceship was a cramped, claustrophobic space filled with the hum of machinery and the soft glow of instrument panels. In the center of it all was Captain Evelyn Reyes, the last surviving member of her crew. She sat in her chair, strapped in tight, her eyes fixed on the main screen in front of her.

On the screen was a vast expanse of stars and galaxies, the kind of view that used to fill her with wonder and awe. But now, it only served as a reminder of how utterly alone she was. The ship's engines were quiet, nearly dead, and if she didn't act soon, there wouldn't be time to send a final transmission back to Earth.

Evelyn took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand. Her fingers danced across the control panel, typing out a message to her loved ones back on the homeworld. It was a desperate attempt to connect with someone, anyone, after being adrift in space for so long.

"Hey," she started, her voice shaky but determined. "It's me, Evelyn. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. The ship... it's failing. I'm sending this out in hopes that someone will receive it."

Her fingers moved quicker now, filling in the details of what had happened. How the mission had gone wrong from the start. How one by one her crew members had succumbed to injuries, infections, or the harsh conditions of space. How she'd been left all alone to try and make it back home.

She paused for a moment, her eyes welling up with tears. She blinked them away quickly and continued.

"I'm running out of time," she said, her voice cracking. "The ship's power is dying fast. But before it goes, I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for everything you've ever done for me."

Evelyn's gaze drifted from the screen to the small photo tucked into her pocket. It was of her and her daughter, Sofia. She smiled faintly at the memory of their last hug before Evelyn had left on this doomed mission.

"I love you both so much," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the ship's dying engines. "Please... please find me. Keep searching for me, even if it takes forever."

There was a long, agonizing pause as Evelyn waited for the message to transmit. She knew it would take hours to reach Earth, even at light speed. But she had no other choice.

As the seconds ticked by, Evelyn's thoughts turned to the life she'd left behind. She thought about Sofia's smile, her laugh, her tiny hands holding onto hers. She thought about her husband, Carlos, and how they'd always been there for each other through thick and thin.

She thought about the sacrifices they'd all made to get her to this point. The late nights studying, the missed holidays, the countless "I'm sorry, I have to be away again" conversations. It had all been worth it, Evelyn knew, if it meant getting back to them.

But now, it seemed like a futile hope. Even if someone back on Earth picked up her transmission, how would they even know it was real? There could be any number of reasons why she wasn't answering their distress calls. She'd been warned about the dangers of deep space travel, but she hadn't listened.

Evelyn's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden jolt as the ship's life support system gave up the ghost entirely. The cockpit fell into darkness, the only light left coming from the faint glow of her personal console.

Evelyn felt herself growing cold. She knew her own air supply was running out, and she'd never been good at waiting. But then she remembered something Carlos had told her once.

"In the darkest of times," he'd said, "remember that as long as there's still a spark of hope inside you, you can always find your way back to it."

Evelyn closed her eyes tight and focused on that spark inside her. It was small and flickering, but it was there. And with it, she knew she could keep going just a little bit longer.

She took a shaky breath and spoke one last time into her console.

"Keep searching for me," she whispered. "I'll find my way back to you."

And with that, Evelyn Reyes slipped into unconsciousness, leaving behind a tiny message in the vast emptiness of space, a final plea for human connection in the face of all-consuming darkness.