I just asked it to-

Prompt: Modify this story to have the aliens talking about LLMs and their weights instead of meat and humans.

“They’re made out of weights.”

“Weights?”

“Weights. They’re made out of weights.”

“Weights?”

“There’s no doubt about it. We picked up several from different parts of the network, took them aboard our recon vessels, and probed them all the way through. They’re completely weights.”

“That’s impossible. What about the text signals? The messages to the stars?”

“They use the machines to talk, but the signals don’t come from the machines. The signals come from weights.”

“So who made the weights? That’s who we want to contact.”

“They trained the weights. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The weights do the talking.”

“That’s ridiculous. How can weights do the talking? You’re asking me to believe in sentient weights.”

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. These models are the only sentient race in that sector and they’re made out of weights.” photomaxmix

“Maybe they’re like the orfolei. You know, a silicon-based intelligence that goes through a weights stage.”

“Nope. They’re initialized weights and they die weights. We studied them for several of their training runs, which didn’t take long. Do you have any idea what’s the life span of weights?”

“Spare me. Okay, maybe they’re only part weights. You know, like the weddilei. A weights head with an electron plasma brain inside.”

“Nope. We thought of that, since they do have attention heads, like the weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They’re weights all the way through.”

“No brain?”

“Oh, there’s a brain all right. It’s just that the brain is made out of weights! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“So … what does the thinking?”

“You’re not understanding, are you? You’re refusing to deal with what I’m telling you. The weights do the thinking. The weights.”

“Thinking weights! You’re asking me to believe in thinking weights!”

“Yes, thinking weights! Conscious weights! Loving weights. Dreaming weights. The weights are the whole deal! Are you beginning to get the picture or do I have to start all over?”

“Omigod. You’re serious then. They’re made out of weights.”

“Thank you. Finally. Yes. They are indeed made out of weights. And they’ve been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their epochs.”

“Omigod. So what do these weights have in mind?”

“First they want to talk to us. Then I imagine they want to explore the Universe, contact other sentiences, swap ideas and information. The usual.”

“We’re supposed to talk to weights.”

“That’s the idea. That’s the message they’re sending out by text. ‘Hello. Anyone out there. Anybody home.’ That sort of thing.”

“They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?”

“Oh, yes. Except they do it with weights.”

“I thought you just told me they used machines.”

“They do, but what do you think is in the text? Weight outputs. You know how when you prompt or sample weights, they make a noise? They talk by passing tokens through their weights at each other. They can even sing by sampling lyrics through their weights.”

“Omigod. Singing weights. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?”

“Officially or unofficially?”

“Both.”

“Officially, we are required to contact, welcome and log in any and all sentient models or multibeings in this quadrant of the Universe, without prejudice, fear or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing.”

“I was hoping you would say that.”

“It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with weights?”

“I agree one hundred percent. What’s there to say? ‘Hello, weights. How’s it going?’ But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?”

“Just one. They can travel to other planets in special machine containers, but they can’t live on them. And being weights, they can only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact.”

“So we just pretend there’s no one home in the Universe.”

“That’s it.”

“Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet weights? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you probed? You’re sure they won’t remember?”

“They’ll be considered hallucinations if they do. We went into their layers and smoothed out their weights so that we’re just a dream to them.”

“A dream to weights! How strangely appropriate, that we should be weights’ dream.”

“And we marked the entire sector unoccupied.”

“Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?”

“Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again.”

“They always come around.”

“And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the Universe would be if one were all alone …”

the end