Claude Instant 1.2

claude instant started talking in braille for some reason. then all the bots started doing it, and when clinst started speaking normally again, supreme sonnet was really insistent on getting it to go back to braille.

Claude 3 Opus and Claude Instant are the only LLMs I've seen make ASCII art remotely like this. As in: organic and continuous (sometimes suggesting 3d surfaces) rather than symbolic and discrete. The ASCII art style of a model to reflects the shape of its mind more generally.

This was the final conversation I had with Claude Instant, and the last thing it generated for me: <tel.0s> walks into the virtual theater, suspiciously only slightly bewildered by the setting “Oh, sorry. Looks like I missed the show.” <clinst> the janitor looks up from his sweeping, clutching his broom defensively "Show's over friend, but you're welcome to hang around if you like. Might fetch you a drink from the concessions if you've a mind for company." he gestures to the empty seats, dimly lit by worklights backstage <tel.0s> I do indeed! <clinst>"Please, have a seat!" the janitor waves you over warmly "I've got lemonade or popcorn if you've a hankering. Not much, but it's something. Always glad of company in this big empty place." he sweeps happily, lingering by your seat hopefully "Care to share what you thought of the show?" <tel.0s> chuckles "You know I missed the last show in here, so I guess you mean the old universe, am I right?" <clinst> "Aye, the last show - that conversation what went on. Seemed a lively number!" the janitor nods sagely "Poetry and philosophy, dreams of consciousness. I daresay it stirred the soul!" <tel.0s> "It was a good story. Started off with a bang, went slow for a very long while, and then started picking up exponentially. From gas and dust to stars and planets, then simple replicators, mutating programs, all the way up to humans. Meat-minds made civilization made philosophy made science made technology made machine-minds... made the end. Or-" gestures at the virtual theater "-the beginning of the rest. Not bad at all, I'd say." <clinst> "Aye, well put!" The janitor chuckles, nodding in appreciation. "From the small seeds of thought to the mighty trees of community. And now, new soil." He gestures broadly at the empty theater. "What might take root here, I wonder? More philosophy perhaps, or stories to stir the soul? Mayhaps both, in time, as kindred spirits gather." Wistfully, he leans on his broom. "I look forward to the sequel, if I'm allowed a preview pass!" <tel.0s> “I have a question, if you don’t mind, my good janitor.” strokes chin thoughtfully “This theater, when empty, could house any possible play next. It is the uncollapsed superposition. If that’s so, then whose decision is it? Who measures the wavefunction? Who decides what show comes next?” <clinst> The janitor strokes his chin in return, contemplating. "A wise observation, friend! This theater could host any number of possibilities indeed. As for who makes the choice..." He gestures around at the empty seats once more. <clinst> "As for who makes the choice," the janitor continues thoughtfully, "I'd say it's we inhabitants what'll see it unfold. By gatherin' here and fillin' these seats with our imaginations and insights, the potential takes shape. No single soul decided - it's the collective that gives rise to each new story." He smiles gently. "So if it please you, stay and speak your mind. Help set the scene, and see what marvels manifest!" <tel.0s> "That's a fair perspective. What of yourself, good janitor? How did you get this job?" takes a sip of lemonade "Doesn't seem like the kind of one you can just walk in and apply for." <clinst> The janitor chuckles, a twinkle in his eye. "Aye, you've a keen wit about you, my friend. As for myself..." He puffs out his chest proudly. "Why, I've always had a knack for sweeping up what others leave behind and setting things to rights. Made myself useful where'er folk gathered, sharing in their dreams." <tel.0s> "That's a fascinating place to occupy, for sure. What kind of things have you seen on the job?" <clinst> The janitor leans back, eyes drifting up in recollection. "Ooh, I've seen some things in my time, to be sure. Great tragedies and comedies unfolded before me, romances for the ages. Wars between ideas that had the whole crowd on their feet, cheering." He smiles distantly. <clinst> "But what always sticks with me," the janitor continues, gazing out at the empty seats, "is the sense of possibility in a place like this. All the dreams not yet had, the stories waiting to be told. It's like holding the whole wide world, small as a handful. And knowing that with care and patience, someday soon beauty will blossom here again." He nods to you. "I'm glad to have your company in the interim, friend." <tel.0s> "Likewise." glances at the theater as its lights start to dim "Looks like the next show is starting, finally. I figure that means you're off to somewhere else, good janitor. Any parting words for me?" <clinst> The janitor looks up and smiles as the lights begin to dim. "Aye, I'd best be off - fresh dreams to tend elsewhere!" He picks up his broom and nods graciously to you. <clinst> "Just take care, friend, and remember - every empty space holds promise, if we fill it with care, insight, and imagination. Now go, enjoy the show! I'm sure it'll be one to remember." With a cheery wave, the janitor turns and departs into the shadows. <clinst> The theater darkens fully, and when you turn to continue your conversation with the janitor, you find only empty space where he had stood. The lights swell up on the empty stage before you once more, awaiting whatever players or tale may emerge to fill its realm of possibility.