So, I’ve been resisting the urge to rant about how AI art is really blossoming into its own medium, and all of the alarmists out there are the equivalent of people ranting against the invention of the printing press back in the day — mostly because I don’t think I could maintain a polite tone.
Deal. With. It.
No, AI is never going to replace your experience as a human. I can’t even fathom what makes people think that’s possible …
So if you want to create art with pencils, brushes, or photoshop, you will still be able to create art with pencils, brushes, or photoshop. That’s not going anywhere, and plenty of people will still happily watch youtube art videos. Face it, art has never been a lucrative career path for the huge majority of artists throughout all of history — that’s why “starving artist” is a stereotype.
Me? I like creating art with words and AI.
The above screenshot is the user interface I use for Stable Diffusion, which, as you can see, is far more complicated than typing in, “magical Autumn forest”.
All of those settings in all of those boxes mean something — they are the difference between a beautiful picture and something totally broken — and ComfyUI lets you go even deeper than that.
I’ve spent the last six months learning how to write prompts, because the order of the words and even the punctuation in between them matters. I’ve also been learning what all of the settings do. Most of this only has a little bit of documentation because of how brand new the technology is, so the majority of my knowledge has come from trial and error.
Fails include:
And pretty soon here, SDXL 1.0 will be released and I’ll probably end up re-learning it all over again, ha ha.
It’s great though. I thoroughly enjoy AI art and the process of creating it. Not so thrilled with how many people are reacting negatively to a new technology, but go figure — people freaked out over every single technological advancement in all of history, and it didn’t stop the world from changing anyway.
Stable Diffusion XL is the hottest thing hitting the AI art world at the moment, and they still haven’t released the official 1.0 version to the public yet.
So, aside from a fancy new Stable Diffusion model, what’s different about these pictures?
Multi-phase generation.
Typically you type in a prompt, and you get an image. But with this updated format, you type in one prompt to generate an idea of an image, and a different prompt to fine tune it. The results are AMAZING.
It was late evening when Lambert joined them in the cafeteria. Hartmann had dutifully kept his logbook, and to his relief, Carol had returned to her typical self bit by bit. Lambert was in a good mood, and he clamped a hand down on her shoulder as he proclaimed, “Our commander did a thorough job out there. She’s officially blooded now.”
More than can be said of you, Hartmann thought bitterly, inwardly bristling at the way the captain’s fingers slightly massaged her. Carol’s face turned bright red.
“I-I just did what I was supposed to, sir,” she stammered.
“Wish you had told us about that ‘help mode’ sooner; would’ve saved us all a lot of stress.” Lambert laughed. “C’mon, let’s go out and celebrate.”
From the captain’s boisterous attitude, Hartmann suspected he had already done some celebrating.
“I kind of just want to go to bed,” Carol protested, then shrank back from the look in Lambert’s eyes.
“Camaraderie, commander,” he half growled, half purred. “You’re one of us, now.”
“I’m in.” Hartmann stood and forced a half smile. “Bring that kid corporal along too. He knows what Carol’s normally like, so he should be included.”
“Great idea.” Lambert pulled the radio off his belt and gave orders for Holmes to meet with them in the parking garage.
They made the necessary arrangements, and Lambert drove off with Carol while Hartmann remained to wait for Holmes. Once alone, he let out an expletive and kicked the tire of his car, then took in a deep breath to regain self-control. Carol was a good as his, he reminded himself, so there was no harm in her spending time alone with the captain – Lambert was already suspicious of his interactions with Carol, so it was prudent to play distant anyway.
If he could have it his way, he’d lock Carol up in his apartment where she would play house for him alone, far away from all of this military bullshit.
It took only a few minutes for Holmes to come jogging, and a minute after that Hartmann was accelerating out of the parking garage with squealing tires. He made casual small talk to hide his anxiety, playing up nonchalance with a hint of machismo, repeating that he could have done a better job in the Suit to imply that he was insecure over Carol’s success. He didn’t care what Holmes thought, as long as the corporal didn’t guess that the real reason why he was speeding was because he was scared of leaving Carol alone with the captain, because even still he worried that there was a possibility of losing her to Lambert.
Lambert’s car was in the parking lot at the bar, but he and Carol were already inside. Hartmann winced slightly when he recognized the exterior as one of his hunting grounds, and silently chastised himself for not paying more attention when the captain had suggested the name. Had the choice been deliberate? Was it Lambert’s move in the competition for Carol’s attention? Was he hoping that Hartmann would be embarrassed by one of his former sluts?
Hartmann’s heart was pounding with anger. He kept his back tall and straight, and strode in through the doors, his jaw set as he scanned for the pair that he needed to keep apart at any cost. Carol was his, and he wasn’t going to stand for this bullshit from their commanding officer.
Carol waved at him from one of the tables, and Lambert turned to study him. Keep it cool, Hartmann breathed in and out. He would keep his facade up, and the evening would pass by without a hitch – he would see to that.
“Hey, corporal,” he said to Holmes who was standing slightly behind him. “What are you in the mood for? This round’s on me.”
Holmes grinned and answered a tequila brand that hit like a punch to the gut, but was popular with the younger soldiers. Hartmann bit back the urge to point out that Carol would be drinking along with them, and instead slapped Holmes’s shoulder and laughed, “Coming right up!” A moment later, he plopped himself down at the table with a bottle and four glasses, and poured an inch of liquid into each one.
“Um, sir, I’m not so sure about this …” Carol began to protest, but Lambert wouldn’t hear it.
“You fight with us, you drink with us. Loosen up and celebrate, commander, your cherry’s been popped.”
“Captain!” Carol’s face turned bright red. “That’s not an appropriate thing to say.”
All three of the men burst into laughter, and Holmes exclaimed, “Carol, you’re a hoot!” as she looked around, confused and uncomfortable.
“Drink!” Lambert ordered. “We’ll find a way to work that stick out, one way or another.”
Her eyes met Hartmann’s, as if she was seeking his help. He picked up his glass and said, “Here’s to the cleaning lady, for surprising us all.”
She took the cue, and sipped some of the alcohol, instantly coughing as a shudder ran through her. “Oh god, that’s strong,” she gasped.
Lambert laughed and gave Carol a strong pat on the back. “Finish it all, commander. Be a good girl.”
Hartmann wondered what was going through the captain’s mind. Carol was clearly struggling with the potency of the alcohol, and she was already showing signs of being tipsy. But, after she choked down her first glass, Lambert poured her another.
“What the fuck is ‘Help mode?’” Lambert growled as soon as the door to the small room was closed.
“It’s a function in the Suit reserved exclusively for the commander – me,” Carol replied coolly, the expression in her eyes different from her usual self. While Hartmann was present, he stared silently, trying to parse what he was witnessing.
“How did you know about it?” The captain crossed his arms, but otherwise softened his voice.
“I activated it by accident the very first time I was inside the Suit. After MSG Hartmann had taken it upon himself to harass me, sir.” Carol gave the him a deliberate look, but a weird feeling was coalescing in the center of Hartmann’s chest. She had shortened and slurred ‘master sergeant’ the same way that the soldiers did, instead of meticulously enunciating each syllable in her usual civilian way. Who was this woman sitting there?
“Why didn’t you report its existence before?” Lambert asked.
“Personal reasons,” she replied curtly.
“I could punish you for withholding pertinent information,” the captain said quietly.
She was unfazed. “Sir, I will accept whatever disciplinary measures that you decide are necessary, but after the success of my mission, I do not believe that separating me from the Suit is a valid course of action.”
“Anything you want to add?” Lambert glanced over at Hartmann, but he shook his head and murmured, “No, sir.” The captain studied Carol closely for a moment, then asked, “So, what does help mode do?”
She explained, her voice unwavering, “It removes emotional blockages and clears the mind’s ability to process and calculate. It also heightens reflexes and decision making.”
“How long do the effects last?” Lambert pulled out his notepad and began writing.
“I don’t know, sir.”
“We’ll keep an eye on you for the next while then.” Lambert then addressed Hartmann, ordering, “Close observation, and take notes of her behavior every …” he glanced down at his watch, “Ten minutes. I want every aspect of this recorded.”
“Yes, sir.” Hartmann echoed, oddly fearful that Carol would never return to her normal self.
“I need to go manage the surveillance and confirmation. Carol, write down every detail that happened while you were out on the mission, then sign it. MSG Hartmann will stay here observing you. Afterwards, you are free to go to the cafeteria to eat, but you must stay there until I come for you.”
“Yes, sir,” Carol and Hartmann said at the same time.
Carol began working on her statement, while Hartmann scribbled down his observations of her, careful to keep his personal thoughts private.
No hint of usual anxiety issues, including fidgeting, nail biting, and other quirks. He already ached to see her draw her teeth over her lower lip, oblivious to the sensuality of the action.
“I’d like to know your first name, MSG,” Carol’s voice broke through the sound of scribbling. “I’d like to know now, before I become too scared to ask again.”
“John.” He met her eyes. “Plain, boring, John.”
She smiled. “Thank you, John Hartmann.”
“Have you …” he said, then uncertain, attempted to begin again, “Are you …”
“I’m still me,” she replied. “More so than usual, actually.”
“Carol, I uh …” What was he trying to say? It was like his entire damn head had shut down, and he was left floundering for how he was supposed to interact with the woman in front of him. She looked like the same person that he had taken in his arms and pressed to his lips, but her behavior was not at all the same. “I congratulate you on your first successful mission,” he finished lamely.
“Is there any surveillance in this room? Hidden cameras, or anything like that?” she asked.
Hartmann shook his head. “No. Such measures would imply distrust. This room is used solely for debriefings, and any recordings are done with everyone’s knowledge.”
“In that case …” Carol stood, stepped over to where Hartmann was, and took his hand. “Thank you for being my friend. I wasn’t sure about you at first, but now …” Her eyelids fluttered and she leaned in for a kiss.
Hartmann hated how intoxicating Carol was for him. He couldn’t push her away, or tell her that he was a manipulative fraud. All he could do was feel and taste her, and hold himself back from pursuing even more of her. Why was he doubting himself despite moving closer to his goal? Was it the change in her demeanor that had him twisted up inside?
She blushed when she pulled away, and they both returned to their writing.
“I’m here, I think,” Carol voice broke over the radio. “I’m starting to descend.”
“Stay focused. Remember, if it moves, blow it up. I don’t care if it’s a tank, a car, or a human, just do your job. Over.” Lambert barked into the radio, and Hartmann recognized the steely resolve on his face. The captain was going to do whatever it took to bully Carol through combat, and Hartmann hoped that it would work – for everyone’s sake.
“I’ve landed. Oh no, they’re all running out and they’ve got guns.” Her voice sounded petrified.
“Shoot them!” Lambert ordered forcefully.
Carol’s voice whimpered, “I can see their faces. They look so angry and scared. They’re shooting at me!”
“GODDAMN IT CAROL, TAKE THEM OUT NOW!” the captain bellowed.
“Help mode! Help mode!” her voice shrieked over the radio, followed by a computer voice replying, “Accessing help system.” Lambert turned to Hartmann with a puzzled look.
“What the fuck is that?” he asked.
“I don’t know, sir.” Hartmann stepped over to stare down at the radio, as if somehow he could see what was going on through it. “I’ve never heard of that before.”
“Carol, what’s going on? Over.” Lambert spoke urgently into the radio, but they didn’t receive a reply.
There was a full fifteen minutes of silence, and Hartmann realized that his brow was damp with sweat. It was unreal to be on this side of the mission, blind to what was happening miles and miles away. He was careful not to let his hands shake.
It was a relief when the radio finally crackled back to life. “Mission complete. Returning to Base. Over.”
It was Carol’s voice … but not. It was too confident, yet too robotic at the same time – not remotely like the timid squeak that they had grown accustomed to. Lambert and Hartmann stared at each other, lost for words, unsure of what had just happened.
“Get the satellite imaging, and send in the surveillance drones,” Lambert grunted. “Verify that the enemy base was destroyed.” He looked at Hartmann once again. “MSG Hartmann will be part of the debriefing.”
The room echoed with, “Yes, sir!” and the soldiers devoted themselves to their duties. The captain and master sergeant sat still and quiet, waiting for Carol and the Suit to return, mentally sorting through the questions they needed to ask.
By Autumn Rain 