Note: I get paid nothing to write stories. I ask for nothing in return other than comments occasionally. My stuff may be liked or hated... I have no idea... Anyways, with this freedom from quality concerns, I decided to experiment with AI to generate the text of a story. This is the result, and frankly, it sucks! I'm not sure I can even read this.
That being said, the plot and characters were my idea, I simply delegated the wordsmithery to a cheap model simply to learn what could be possible. I like the ideas that happen in this story. The execution, though, is bad.
All this is to say... Please don't judge my writing on this story alone!
One day, perhaps, I'll try to rewrite this the old fashioned way...
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The sun beat down on Lori’s neck, a welcome warmth against the chill radiating from the glacier. It was assessment day, the one she dreaded and anticipated in equal measure. For five years she's been trekking this same route, marking the glacier's retreat. Each year, a predictable loss. This year... this year was different.
The rate of melt was alarming. Far faster than her models predicted. Lori consulted her handheld device, rechecking the data. No, it wasn’t a malfunction. The glacier was shrinking at a speed she hadn't seen before. A knot of unease tightened in her stomach.
She moved further along the exposed edge of the glacier, crunching over the newly-revealed scree. That’s when she saw it partially submerged in the meltwater, partially pinned under the edge of the ice. Some kind of cloth.
Lori knelt, her gloved hand cautiously reaching for it. This glacier had existed for more than ten thousand years… The idea that a man made relic could have been pinned under the glacier was unfathomable.
She lifted the cloth from the ice. It felt weightless, yet imbued with a strange presence. The surface rippled faintly under her gaze, like disturbed water. It wasn’t a trick of the light. Something about it was alluring, undeniably attractive, even through her practiced detachment.
It looked like a blindfold!
Where did something like this come from? A mountaineer’s lost gear fallen in a crevasse? But no one used materials like this.
It definitely looked like a blindfold. But, this was… different. It was black, a depthless black that seemed to absorb the light around it. The material was silky smooth, like liquid night. Water and mud ran off it instantly, leaving no trace.
The eyepads were soft, pliable, molding slightly to the pressure of her touch. Five silken straps – one from the top, one from each side, and two from the bottom - dangled from the eyepad, swaying gently in the breeze.
Where did something like this come from? A mountaineer’s lost gear? But no one used materials like this.
What on earth?
Lori frowned, pushing the question aside. This wasn't natural. This wasn't anything she's ever seen before. She ran a gloved hand over the material, searching for a label, a maker’s mark. Nothing. She tucked the blindfold carefully into a side pocket of her backpack, nestled amongst her scientific instruments. Its strange presence felt… significant. A puzzle piece dropped into a landscape she didn’t understand.
The glacier's retreat was concerning, yes. But this… this felt like something else entirely. A question mark carved into the heart of the mountain.
<>--+-
The Subaru coughed, protesting the rutted logging road. Lori barely registered it. It had taken two days of hiking from the glacier to get back to her car. Finding a bar of signal was the priority.
The phone connected with a jarring buzz. Lori tapped the office number. Nothing. Just the automated message. She tried again. Still nothing.
She opened her email application. A subject line screamed: “Department Restructuring - Termination of Employment.” Lori scanned the terse message. “Poor performance… CATZ-BO… termination effective immediately.” CATZ-BO: The Centralized Agency of Terminations and Zero-Based Oversight was the new administration’s solution to dealing with “waste, fraud, and abuse”. The irony was almost comical. She’s been working tirelessly, pushing for funding for her glacial research. Poor performance? Bullshit!
Lori dialed her boss, Kathy. The ringing seemed to echo the growing dread in her gut.
“Lori? Thank goodness you’re back.” Kathy’s voice was tight with worry.
“I just got the email, Kathy. About… everything.”
A long pause. "I got it too, Lori. It's… they’re dismantling the whole department. The new administration, they just… they don’t care about science anymore, apparently. Thousands of scientists are being laid off."
“Thousands?” Lori felt a chill crawl up her spine.
"Thousands, Lori. Funding pulled, programs shut down. It's… chaotic. They're saying it’s about streamlining, efficiency… but it's just… gone." Kathy’s voice cracked. “And, I’m sorry, but they’ve closed the forest service housing, Lori. Effective immediately. You’ll need to find someplace else to stay. I’m sorry…”
The words hit Lori like a physical blow. She had no place to go. Her carefully constructed life, meticulously planned, unraveling in a single, brutal email.
She hung up, the silence amplifying her panic. Where could she go? What was she supposed to do? The thought of returning to civilization suddenly felt unbearable.
Then, she had a flicker of an idea. A fragile, desperate hope. The fire tower workers. They’re likely gone too. But... she knew of one. A remote tower, deep in the Blacktooth range. She knew it had been recently stocked with provisions. A full season’s worth of supplies. A place where, for a while, she could, well… squat. A roof over her head.
Without a word, Lori shoved the Subaru into gear. The engine sputtered, but it responded. She navigated the treacherous road, the setting sun bleeding orange across the peaks. The fire tower awaited. A temporary refuge. Until she could figure out what came next.
<>--+-
Eleven hours. Eleven hours of relentless upward, clinging to rock and root, the trail a thin, unforgiving thread carved into the wilderness. Now, Lori stood at the base of the fire tower, a splintered wooden sentinel reaching for the bruised twilight sky. It was hers. For the summer.
The door groaned open under her hand, a rusty complaint. Three flights of narrow, spiraling stairs led to the room at the top. Each step was a testament to age and isolation. The room was small, a square of weathered wood with windows blazing with the view. Mountains serrated the horizon, a silent, watchful audience. A narrow pad served as a bed. Battery-powered radio equipment – useless without power – lined one wall, alongside neatly stacked provisions. Enough to survive months.
Lori didn’t linger. The outer deck called. The wind whipped at her face as she stepped out, the panorama swallowing her whole. Freedom tasted like pine needles and cold air. She scanned the vista, etching the details into her memory: the ridge to the north, the valley nestled below, the distant shimmer of a lake. This was her sanctuary.
The chill in the air demanded a cleansing. She descended the tower, following a faint game trail down to a stream tumbling over moss-slicked stones. Stripping off her layers, she plunged into the frigid water. The shock stole her breath, a delicious pain that sharpened her senses. She scrubbed away the grime of the trail, the exhaustion of the day, feeling reborn in the icy rush.
Back in the tower, the fire tower’s interior felt warm, welcoming after the stream. She began to unpack, her movements efficient and practiced. Cooking gear went into the small cupboard, then her sleeping bag onto the narrow bed. Each item was placed with purpose, transforming the sparse room into a functional, temporary home.
She reached into her backpack, pulling out the blindfold. She's almost forgotten about it.
It was a peculiar thing, depthless black, cool to the touch. The eye pads were soft, almost yielding, and five silken straps – too many for a conventional blindfold – draped from the eye pad section. It was oddly alluring. It possessed a strange magnetism that had held her attention.
Lori held it up, turning it in the light. A flicker of curiosity sparked within her. Could she… could she wear it while she slept? A silly notion. A childish impulse.
She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. The wilderness was working its magic. Soon enough, darkness would descend, and with it, the silence she craved. For now, she's content to simply be.
<>--+-
The fire tower groaned, a low creak that vibrated through the thin mattress and into Lori’s bones. She hadn’t slept well. Not really. Every shift in the wind, every rustle of leaves far below, had pulled her back towards wakefulness. It was a strange restlessness, amplified by the sheer height of the room. Forty feet. It felt like forty miles.
Then, the light. Not a gradual brightening, but a sudden assault. Late spring sun, it seemed, didn't understand the concept of a civilized wake-up time. It blazed through the tower’s glass, reflecting off the steel frame, a dazzling, almost painful glare. Lori groaned again, shielding her eyes with a hand.
Beside her lay the blindfold. She’d left it there the previous night. Bathed in that unrelenting sunlight, it felt like it was almost daring her to put it on.
She reached for it. The material was immediately striking… silky, incredibly so. She pressed the eyepads against her eyes. The soft, moldable material yielded instantly, conforming to the curve of her face. It was intensely sensual, a strange contrast to her usual avoidance of physical contact. A sigh escaped her lips.
She examined the five silken straps that draped from the eye pads. A fleeting thought: how to secure this? She tried to loop the side straps around the back of her head, but they were too short, impossibly so. They slipped through her fingers, frustratingly smooth. A quick tug at the bottom straps met the same result.
She fiddled with the straps, twisting, looping, trying different configurations. The smooth, alien texture kept eluding her grasp. A smile touched her lips – a genuine one. It was utterly ridiculous. Here she was, a woman accustomed to roughing it, wrestling with a piece of impossibly fine fabric.
With a final frustrated shrug, she laid the blindfold onto the narrow bed beside her. It shimmered darkly in the sun, defying attempts to restrain it. Confusion flickered across her face, followed quickly by a wry amusement. It was a beautiful, baffling thing. She looked out at the sun-drenched peaks, the vast expanse of the world stretching before her. It was a world she could see perfectly well.
<>--+-
The sun blazed, a perfect, cloudless blue canvas stretched taut above Lori. From her room atop the fire tower, the mountains rippled outwards, a formidable, beautiful wall. Yesterday, she’d arrived to claim this improbable sanctuary. Today, she was claiming the peaks themselves.
She descended the narrow, spiraling stairs, the scent of pine and damp earth rising to greet her. The forest floor was a patchwork of wildflowers, vibrant splashes of color against the deep green. Lori didn’t pause to admire them, her gaze fixed on the nearest summit, a jagged tooth against the sky.
The climb was relentless. Loose scree slid beneath her boots, and the air thinned with every upward stride. But Lori felt a familiar surge – the satisfaction of exertion, the growing sense of mastery over the landscape. When she finally pulled herself over the rocky crest, the view exploded around her: a panorama of valleys, rivers, and more distant, hazy peaks. A giddy laugh escaped her lips, unexpectedly loud in the stillness.
The exhilaration was potent. One peak conquered felt like a challenge issued. Another summit beckoned – closer, it seemed, and even more enticing. Without a second thought, Lori began the descent, already planning the route to the next high point.
The afternoon sun was beginning to angle lower when she finally made her way back to the fire tower. The climb had been longer than she'd realized. Her legs screamed in protest with each step. She moved with a deliberate slowness, acutely aware of the burning ache in her muscles.
<>--+-
Lori’s legs ached, a dull throb beneath the thin blanket. Dinner had been simple – dried fruit and lukewarm water – but the hike had taken its toll. She lay on the narrow bed in her room at the top of the fire tower, staring at the blindfold draped across the small table next to her.
She picked it up, turning it over in her hands - the silken straps, delicate as spider silk. She noticed a small, almost imperceptible bulge on one side. Something she hadn’t noticed before. Reaching for it, her fingers found a tiny pocket. Inside, nestled against the soft lining, was something small and cylindrical. It looked kind of like a watch battery.
She pressed it. A subtle click. Nothing. Again. Click. Still nothing. Lori frowned, a spark of frustration flickering within her. She held the blindfold near her face, positioning the eye pad over her eyes, and pressed the clicker again.
This time, something happened. Not violently, not abruptly, but with a quiet, almost hesitant grace. The blindfold moved! It flowed over her face, the silken straps whispering against her skin as they adjusted, tightened. A surge of surprise jolted through Lori as the material settled securely, sealing her in a world of absolute black.
Panic threatened, but it was quickly replaced by an odd sense of… comfort? She reached up, tentatively feeling the band across her forehead. It wasn’t stiff, but molded to the curve of her skull. The side straps had merged behind her head, seamlessly connecting with the top strap, which now rested precisely over the crown of her head. The bottom straps ran across her cheeks, settling gently under her chin before wrapping securely, yet snuggly, around her neck. It was… perfect.
A wave of strange calm washed over her. She felt… contained. Protected.
Lori reached up again, tracing the feel of the straps, a strange sense of reverence taking hold. It wasn't restrictive, it was… encompassing. It felt intensely safe. The darkness was total, but it wasn't frightening. It was a blanket, a shell, a silent embrace.
She pressed the clicker again.
With another quiet grace, the blindfold released her. The silken material flowed away, leaving her blinking in the dim light of the room. She sat up, her heart pounding a little faster, the feeling of the blindfold's embrace lingering on her skin.
What is this?
<>--+-
Lori held the blindfold up to her face, tracing the smooth surface with her fingertips. She clicked the small clicker. With a near-silent whoosh, the eyepad settled over her eyes, and the straps tightened. It was a perfect fit. Too perfect.
A faint hum resonated against her skull, a pleasant vibration that tickled at the edges of her awareness. She shifted, instinctively trying to pry a fingertip under the edge of the blindfold. It didn't budge. The material clung to her skin with an unnatural tenacity. It felt… fused.
A flicker of unease tightened her chest. This wasn’t just soft fabric; it was something else entirely. She clicked the clicker again.
With a release of pressure, the blindfold dropped to the bed, rolling slightly. Lori stared at it, a strange mixture of disbelief and amusement bubbling up inside her. How could something like this even exist?
A laugh escaped her lips, shaky at first, then gaining confidence. It was a rare sound, unused lately. She picked up the blindfold again, held it to her face, and clicked.
The straps tightened once more, the hum returning, and Lori lay still, a hesitant smile playing on her lips. Tonight, she would wear it.
<>--+-
After Lori got ready for bed she settled into her sleeping bag and pulled out the blindfold. She grabbed the clicker from the side table and with a simple press, locked the blindfold securely around her head.
Despite her legs burning with a dull ache radiating from her calves to her thighs, she drifted off, exhaustion pulling her under.
She settled deeply into sleep, a heavy, dreamless descent. Then, a shift. A softening. A gentle pressure on her knees. Lori’s mind, still half-lost in sleep, registered the sensation with a confused lightness. It felt like… hands. Soft hands, massaging the knots from her aching muscles. The pressure shifted, rising to her thighs. A warmth spread through her, easing the tension.
A breath. Soft, warm, impossibly close. Lori’s breath hitched. A brush of lips, feather-light against hers. Her heart stuttered. What…?
Her hand, moving almost instinctively, groped for the clicker. A quick, desperate squeeze. Click.
The world snapped back into sharp focus. The blindfold dropped away, revealing the familiar, cramped space of her room atop the fire tower. Mountain peaks loomed outside the window, bathed in the soft glow of the rising moon. She was alone. As expected.
A strange, lingering warmth clung to her skin. A phantom sensation of touch remained. Had she… dreamed that?
She fumbled for the blindfold, reattaching it with a resolute click. The silky fabric settled back into place. She sank into the narrow pad of a bed, the memory of the touch lingering, surreal.
And she slept again.
<>--+-
The first sensation was the gentle rocking. A slow, deliberate sway that cradled her, easing her deeper into the quiet space within her mind. Then, the awareness of her posture – kneeling. And finally, the realization that she was utterly, gloriously naked.
Lori didn’t flinch. There was no surprise, no embarrassment, only a quiet acceptance. She wasn’t disturbed by her lack of covering; it was simply a fact of this dream, and she, the dreamer, had no need to be ashamed. In fact, a subtle warmth spread through her, a comforting certainty that this vulnerability was part of a larger feeling of safety, of perfect, dream-woven security.
It took a moment longer for the location to fully register. She was inside a cage. A substantial cage, crafted from thick, sturdy metal bars that intersected with an almost obsessive precision. Horizontal bars ran parallel, a grid of unwavering strength, while vertical ones rose to meet them, forming a prison that felt remarkably like a sanctuary. The bars were close enough together that no human-sized, curious, creature could squeeze through. This wasn't a cage of constraint, but one of deliberate enclosure.
She glanced upward, tracing the intricate workings of the structure. The roof was a continuation of the bars, a latticework against the impossibly bright sky. There was no door, no obvious means of entry or exit, and yet, she felt completely, undeniably safe.
It was then that the understanding dawned. This IS a dream. The recognition didn't trigger panic or a desperate urge to escape; it brought a profound sense of possibility. She was the architect of this reality, the mistress of this improbable scenario. And she could, simply by choosing, linger.
She leaned forward, pressing her palms against the cool metal of the bars. The cage was suspended high above a breathtaking valley, hanging from a thick metal cable that spanned a wide gorge. The chain was massive, looped and weighty, a tangible reassurance of her stability. It swung gently in the breeze, a subtle dance that moved the cage in a slow, mesmerizing rhythm.
Below, the gorge floor exploded with life. A vibrant tapestry of wildflowers blanketed the land – crimson poppies, azure forget-me-nots, sunshine-yellow buttercups – all intertwined with trees that blazed with an impossible range of greens. The scent was intoxicating, a potent blend of sweet nectar and earthy loam that filled her lungs with each breath. The air itself tasted clean, and warm.
The floor of the cage itself was made of a thick, transparent resin, a perfectly clear window onto the panorama below. She could see every detail – the delicate veins of a leaf, the flutter of a tiny hummingbird’s wings, the meandering path of a silver stream. It wasn't just seeing, but feeling the life teeming below.
Lori stretched, enjoying the feeling of her skin warmed by the radiant sun. The breeze was playful, teasing strands of her hair across her face. There was a comforting solidity to the metal beneath her palms, a groundedness that contrasted beautifully with the dizzying height. She shifted her position, examining the meticulously crafted detail of the cage itself. Each bar was flawless, each joint perfectly aligned. Someone, somewhere, had taken immense care in its construction.
She allowed herself to simply be, immersed in the sensory richness of the dream. This feeling of absolute safety, of being held and observed without judgment, was something she rarely allowed herself to experience in her waking life. Here, in this bizarre and beautiful cage, she could surrender to the feeling of being utterly and completely secure.
The sun seemed to intensify, bathing the valley in an even more brilliant light. The colors deepened, the scent of flowers grew richer, and the rocking of the cage became more pronounced. Then, with the subtlety of a fading star, the dream began to unravel.
The light fractured, the sounds muted, the feeling of solidity began to dissipate. She felt a brief pang of regret, a gentle sorrow at the loss of this improbable sanctuary.
Then, nothing.
Lori awoke. For a moment, the absence of the gentle rocking, the warmth of the sun, the intoxicating fragrance of flowers, felt almost painful. She lay still, clinging to the lingering fragments of the dream, a quiet smile playing on her lips. The memory of the cage, the view, the feeling of absolute safety, would stay with her long after the dream had fully faded.
She reached over to the bedside table, found the clicker and pressed. A moment later the magical blindfold relinquished its hold on her head and slipped into her lap - the mid morning light suddenly glowing bright behind her closed eyelids.