2026-03-07 19:00:04
:::info Astounding Stories of Super-Science October, 1994, by Astounding Stories is part of HackerNoon’s Book Blog Post series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here. The Picture of Dorian Gray - Chapter XI
\ By Oscar Wilde
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\ For years, Dorian Gray could not free himself from the influence of this book. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he never sought to free himself from it. He procured from Paris no less than nine large-paper copies of the first edition, and had them bound in different colours, so that they might suit his various moods and the changing fancies of a nature over which he seemed, at times, to have almost entirely lost control. The hero, the wonderful young Parisian in whom the romantic and the scientific temperaments were so strangely blended, became to him a kind of prefiguring type of himself. And, indeed, the whole book seemed to him to contain the story of his own life, written before he had lived it.
In one point he was more fortunate than the novel’s fantastic hero. He never knew—never, indeed, had any cause to know—that somewhat grotesque dread of mirrors, and polished metal surfaces, and still water which came upon the young Parisian so early in his life, and was occasioned by the sudden decay of a beau that had once, apparently, been so remarkable. It was with an almost cruel joy—and perhaps in nearly every joy, as certainly in every pleasure, cruelty has its place—that he used to read the latter part of the book, with its really tragic, if somewhat overemphasized, account of the sorrow and despair of one who had himself lost what in others, and the world, he had most dearly valued.
For the wonderful beauty that had so fascinated Basil Hallward, and many others besides him, seemed never to leave him. Even those who had heard the most evil things against him—and from time to time strange rumours about his mode of life crept through London and became the chatter of the clubs—could not believe anything to his dishonour when they saw him. He had always the look of one who had kept himself unspotted from the world. Men who talked grossly became silent when Dorian Gray entered the room. There was something in the purity of his face that rebuked them. His mere presence seemed to recall to them the memory of the innocence that they had tarnished. They wondered how one so charming and graceful as he was could have escaped the stain of an age that was at once sordid and sensual.
Often, on returning home from one of those mysterious and prolonged absences that gave rise to such strange conjecture among those who were his friends, or thought that they were so, he himself would creep upstairs to the locked room, open the door with the key that never left him now, and stand, with a mirror, in front of the portrait that Basil Hallward had painted of him, looking now at the evil and aging face on the canvas, and now at the fair young face that laughed back at him from the polished glass. The very sharpness of the contrast used to quicken his sense of pleasure. He grew more and more enamoured of his own beauty, more and more interested in the corruption of his own soul. He would examine with minute care, and sometimes with a monstrous and terrible delight, the hideous lines that seared the wrinkling forehead or crawled around the heavy sensual mouth, wondering sometimes which were the more horrible, the signs of sin or the signs of age. He would place his white hands beside the coarse bloated hands of the picture, and smile. He mocked the misshapen body and the failing limbs.
There were moments, indeed, at night, when, lying sleepless in his own delicately scented chamber, or in the sordid room of the little ill-famed tavern near the docks which, under an assumed name and in disguise, it was his habit to frequent, he would think of the ruin he had brought upon his soul with a pity that was all the more poignant because it was purely selfish. But moments such as these were rare. That curiosity about life which Lord Henry had first stirred in him, as they sat together in the garden of their friend, seemed to increase with gratification. The more he knew, the more he desired to know. He had mad hungers that grew more ravenous as he fed them.
Yet he was not really reckless, at any rate in his relations to society. Once or twice every month during the winter, and on each Wednesday evening while the season lasted, he would throw open to the world his beautiful house and have the most celebrated musicians of the day to charm his guests with the wonders of their art. His little dinners, in the settling of which Lord Henry always assisted him, were noted as much for the careful selection and placing of those invited, as for the exquisite taste shown in the decoration of the table, with its subtle symphonic arrangements of exotic flowers, and embroidered cloths, and antique plate of gold and silver. Indeed, there were many, especially among the very young men, who saw, or fancied that they saw, in Dorian Gray the true realization of a type of which they had often dreamed in Eton or Oxford days, a type that was to combine something of the real culture of the scholar with all the grace and distinction and perfect manner of a citizen of the world. To them he seemed to be of the company of those whom Dante describes as having sought to “make themselves perfect by the worship of beauty.” Like Gautier, he was one for whom “the visible world existed.”
And, certainly, to him life itself was the first, the greatest, of the arts, and for it all the other arts seemed to be but a preparation. Fashion, by which what is really fantastic becomes for a moment universal, and dandyism, which, in its own way, is an attempt to assert the absolute modernity of beauty, had, of course, their fascination for him. His mode of dressing, and the particular styles that from time to time he affected, had their marked influence on the young exquisites of the Mayfair balls and Pall Mall club windows, who copied him in everything that he did, and tried to reproduce the accidental charm of his graceful, though to him only half-serious, fopperies.
For, while he was but too ready to accept the position that was almost immediately offered to him on his coming of age, and found, indeed, a subtle pleasure in the thought that he might really become to the London of his own day what to imperial Neronian Rome the author of the Satyricon once had been, yet in his inmost heart he desired to be something more than a mere arbiter elegantiarum, to be consulted on the wearing of a jewel, or the knotting of a necktie, or the conduct of a cane. He sought to elaborate some new scheme of life that would have its reasoned philosophy and its ordered principles, and find in the spiritualizing of the senses its highest realization.
The worship of the senses has often, and with much justice, been decried, men feeling a natural instinct of terror about passions and sensations that seem stronger than themselves, and that they are conscious of sharing with the less highly organized forms of existence. But it appeared to Dorian Gray that the true nature of the senses had never been understood, and that they had remained savage and animal merely because the world had sought to starve them into submission or to kill them by pain, instead of aiming at making them elements of a new spirituality, of which a fine instinct for beauty was to be the dominant characteristic. As he looked back upon man moving through history, he was haunted by a feeling of loss. So much had been surrendered! and to such little purpose! There had been mad wilful rejections, monstrous forms of self-torture and self-denial, whose origin was fear and whose result was a degradation infinitely more terrible than that fancied degradation from which, in their ignorance, they had sought to escape; Nature, in her wonderful irony, driving out the anchorite to feed with the wild animals of the desert and giving to the hermit the beasts of the field as his companions.
Yes: there was to be, as Lord Henry had prophesied, a new Hedonism that was to recreate life and to save it from that harsh uncomely puritanism that is having, in our own day, its curious revival. It was to have its service of the intellect, certainly, yet it was never to accept any theory or system that would involve the sacrifice of any mode of passionate experience. Its aim, indeed, was to be experience itself, and not the fruits of experience, sweet or bitter as they might be. Of the asceticism that deadens the senses, as of the vulgar profligacy that dulls them, it was to know nothing. But it was to teach man to concentrate himself upon the moments of a life that is itself but a moment.
There are few of us who have not sometimes wakened before dawn, either after one of those dreamless nights that make us almost enamoured of death, or one of those nights of horror and misshapen joy, when through the chambers of the brain sweep phantoms more terrible than reality itself, and instinct with that vivid life that lurks in all grotesques, and that lends to Gothic art its enduring vitality, this art being, one might fancy, especially the art of those whose minds have been troubled with the malady of reverie. Gradually white fingers creep through the curtains, and they appear to tremble. In black fantastic shapes, dumb shadows crawl into the corners of the room and crouch there. Outside, there is the stirring of birds among the leaves, or the sound of men going forth to their work, or the sigh and sob of the wind coming down from the hills and wandering round the silent house, as though it feared to wake the sleepers and yet must needs call forth sleep from her purple cave. Veil after veil of thin dusky gauze is lifted, and by degrees the forms and colours of things are restored to them, and we watch the dawn remaking the world in its antique pattern. The wan mirrors get back their mimic life. The flameless tapers stand where we had left them, and beside them lies the half-cut book that we had been studying, or the wired flower that we had worn at the ball, or the letter that we had been afraid to read, or that we had read too often. Nothing seems to us changed. Out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the real life that we had known. We have to resume it where we had left off, and there steals over us a terrible sense of the necessity for the continuance of energy in the same wearisome round of stereotyped habits, or a wild longing, it may be, that our eyelids might open some morning upon a world that had been refashioned anew in the darkness for our pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh shapes and colours, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in which the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate, in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the remembrance even of joy having its bitterness and the memories of pleasure their pain.
It was the creation of such worlds as these that seemed to Dorian Gray to be the true object, or amongst the true objects, of life; and in his search for sensations that would be at once new and delightful, and possess that element of strangeness that is so essential to romance, he would often adopt certain modes of thought that he knew to be really alien to his nature, abandon himself to their subtle influences, and then, having, as it were, caught their colour and satisfied his intellectual curiosity, leave them with that curious indifference that is not incompatible with a real ardour of temperament, and that, indeed, according to certain modern psychologists, is often a condition of it.
It was rumoured of him once that he was about to join the Roman Catholic communion, and certainly the Roman ritual had always a great attraction for him. The daily sacrifice, more awful really than all the sacrifices of the antique world, stirred him as much by its superb rejection of the evidence of the senses as by the primitive simplicity of its elements and the eternal pathos of the human tragedy that it sought to symbolize. He loved to kneel down on the cold marble pavement and watch the priest, in his stiff flowered dalmatic, slowly and with white hands moving aside the veil of the tabernacle, or raising aloft the jewelled, lantern-shaped monstrance with that pallid wafer that at times, one would fain think, is indeed the “panis cælestis,” the bread of angels, or, robed in the garments of the Passion of Christ, breaking the Host into the chalice and smiting his breast for his sins. The fuming censers that the grave boys, in their lace and scarlet, tossed into the air like great gilt flowers had their subtle fascination for him. As he passed out, he used to look with wonder at the black confessionals and long to sit in the dim shadow of one of them and listen to men and women whispering through the worn grating the true story of their lives.
But he never fell into the error of arresting his intellectual development by any formal acceptance of creed or system, or of mistaking, for a house in which to live, an inn that is but suitable for the sojourn of a night, or for a few hours of a night in which there are no stars and the moon is in travail. Mysticism, with its marvellous power of making common things strange to us, and the subtle antinomianism that always seems to accompany it, moved him for a season; and for a season he inclined to the materialistic doctrines of the Darwinismus movement in Germany, and found a curious pleasure in tracing the thoughts and passions of men to some pearly cell in the brain, or some white nerve in the body, delighting in the conception of the absolute dependence of the spirit on certain physical conditions, morbid or healthy, normal or diseased. Yet, as has been said of him before, no theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance compared with life itself. He felt keenly conscious of how barren all intellectual speculation is when separated from action and experiment. He knew that the senses, no less than the soul, have their spiritual mysteries to reveal.
And so he would now study perfumes and the secrets of their manufacture, distilling heavily scented oils and burning odorous gums from the East. He saw that there was no mood of the mind that had not its counterpart in the sensuous life, and set himself to discover their true relations, wondering what there was in frankincense that made one mystical, and in ambergris that stirred one’s passions, and in violets that woke the memory of dead romances, and in musk that troubled the brain, and in champak that stained the imagination; and seeking often to elaborate a real psychology of perfumes, and to estimate the several influences of sweet-smelling roots and scented, pollen-laden flowers; of aromatic balms and of dark and fragrant woods; of spikenard, that sickens; of hovenia, that makes men mad; and of aloes, that are said to be able to expel melancholy from the soul.
At another time he devoted himself entirely to music, and in a long latticed room, with a vermilion-and-gold ceiling and walls of olive-green lacquer, he used to give curious concerts in which mad gipsies tore wild music from little zithers, or grave, yellow-shawled Tunisians plucked at the strained strings of monstrous lutes, while grinning Negroes beat monotonously upon copper drums and, crouching upon scarlet mats, slim turbaned Indians blew through long pipes of reed or brass and charmed—or feigned to charm—great hooded snakes and horrible horned adders. The harsh intervals and shrill discords of barbaric music stirred him at times when Schubert’s grace, and Chopin’s beautiful sorrows, and the mighty harmonies of Beethoven himself, fell unheeded on his ear. He collected together from all parts of the world the strangest instruments that could be found, either in the tombs of dead nations or among the few savage tribes that have survived contact with Western civilizations, and loved to touch and try them. He had the mysterious juruparis of the Rio Negro Indians, that women are not allowed to look at and that even youths may not see till they have been subjected to fasting and scourging, and the earthen jars of the Peruvians that have the shrill cries of birds, and flutes of human bones such as Alfonso de Ovalle heard in Chile, and the sonorous green jaspers that are found near Cuzco and give forth a note of singular sweetness. He had painted gourds filled with pebbles that rattled when they were shaken; the long clarin of the Mexicans, into which the performer does not blow, but through which he inhales the air; the harsh ture of the Amazon tribes, that is sounded by the sentinels who sit all day long in high trees, and can be heard, it is said, at a distance of three leagues; the teponaztli, that has two vibrating tongues of wood and is beaten with sticks that are smeared with an elastic gum obtained from the milky juice of plants; the yotl-bells of the Aztecs, that are hung in clusters like grapes; and a huge cylindrical drum, covered with the skins of great serpents, like the one that Bernal Diaz saw when he went with Cortes into the Mexican temple, and of whose doleful sound he has left us so vivid a description. The fantastic character of these instruments fascinated him, and he felt a curious delight in the thought that art, like Nature, has her monsters, things of bestial shape and with hideous voices. Yet, after some time, he wearied of them, and would sit in his box at the opera, either alone or with Lord Henry, listening in rapt pleasure to “Tannhauser” and seeing in the prelude to that great work of art a presentation of the tragedy of his own soul.
On one occasion he took up the study of jewels, and appeared at a costume ball as Anne de Joyeuse, Admiral of France, in a dress covered with five hundred and sixty pearls. This taste enthralled him for years, and, indeed, may be said never to have left him. He would often spend a whole day settling and resettling in their cases the various stones that he had collected, such as the olive-green chrysoberyl that turns red by lamplight, the cymophane with its wirelike line of silver, the pistachio-coloured peridot, rose-pink and wine-yellow topazes, carbuncles of fiery scarlet with tremulous, four-rayed stars, flame-red cinnamon-stones, orange and violet spinels, and amethysts with their alternate layers of ruby and sapphire. He loved the red gold of the sunstone, and the moonstone’s pearly whiteness, and the broken rainbow of the milky opal. He procured from Amsterdam three emeralds of extraordinary size and richness of colour, and had a turquoise de la vieille roche that was the envy of all the connoisseurs.
He discovered wonderful stories, also, about jewels. In Alphonso’s Clericalis Disciplina a serpent was mentioned with eyes of real jacinth, and in the romantic history of Alexander, the Conqueror of Emathia was said to have found in the vale of Jordan snakes “with collars of real emeralds growing on their backs.” There was a gem in the brain of the dragon, Philostratus told us, and “by the exhibition of golden letters and a scarlet robe” the monster could be thrown into a magical sleep and slain. According to the great alchemist, Pierre de Boniface, the diamond rendered a man invisible, and the agate of India made him eloquent. The cornelian appeased anger, and the hyacinth provoked sleep, and the amethyst drove away the fumes of wine. The garnet cast out demons, and the hydropicus deprived the moon of her colour. The selenite waxed and waned with the moon, and the meloceus, that discovers thieves, could be affected only by the blood of kids. Leonardus Camillus had seen a white stone taken from the brain of a newly killed toad, that was a certain antidote against poison. The bezoar, that was found in the heart of the Arabian deer, was a charm that could cure the plague. In the nests of Arabian birds was the aspilates, that, according to Democritus, kept the wearer from any danger by fire.
The King of Ceilan rode through his city with a large ruby in his hand, as the ceremony of his coronation. The gates of the palace of John the Priest were “made of sardius, with the horn of the horned snake inwrought, so that no man might bring poison within.” Over the gable were “two golden apples, in which were two carbuncles,” so that the gold might shine by day and the carbuncles by night. In Lodge’s strange romance ‘A Margarite of America’, it was stated that in the chamber of the queen one could behold “all the chaste ladies of the world, inchased out of silver, looking through fair mirrours of chrysolites, carbuncles, sapphires, and greene emeraults.” Marco Polo had seen the inhabitants of Zipangu place rose-coloured pearls in the mouths of the dead. A sea-monster had been enamoured of the pearl that the diver brought to King Perozes, and had slain the thief, and mourned for seven moons over its loss. When the Huns lured the king into the great pit, he flung it away—Procopius tells the story—nor was it ever found again, though the Emperor Anastasius offered five hundred-weight of gold pieces for it. The King of Malabar had shown to a certain Venetian a rosary of three hundred and four pearls, one for every god that he worshipped.
When the Duke de Valentinois, son of Alexander VI., visited Louis XII. of France, his horse was loaded with gold leaves, according to Brantome, and his cap had double rows of rubies that threw out a great light. Charles of England had ridden in stirrups hung with four hundred and twenty-one diamonds. Richard II had a coat, valued at thirty thousand marks, which was covered with balas rubies. Hall described Henry VIII., on his way to the Tower previous to his coronation, as wearing “a jacket of raised gold, the placard embroidered with diamonds and other rich stones, and a great bauderike about his neck of large balasses.” The favourites of James I wore ear-rings of emeralds set in gold filigrane. Edward II gave to Piers Gaveston a suit of red-gold armour studded with jacinths, a collar of gold roses set with turquoise-stones, and a skull-cap parsemé with pearls. Henry II. wore jewelled gloves reaching to the elbow, and had a hawk-glove sewn with twelve rubies and fifty-two great orients. The ducal hat of Charles the Rash, the last Duke of Burgundy of his race, was hung with pear-shaped pearls and studded with sapphires.
How exquisite life had once been! How gorgeous in its pomp and decoration! Even to read of the luxury of the dead was wonderful.
Then he turned his attention to embroideries and to the tapestries that performed the office of frescoes in the chill rooms of the northern nations of Europe. As he investigated the subject—and he always had an extraordinary faculty of becoming absolutely absorbed for the moment in whatever he took up—he was almost saddened by the reflection of the ruin that time brought on beautiful and wonderful things. He, at any rate, had escaped that. Summer followed summer, and the yellow jonquils bloomed and died many times, and nights of horror repeated the story of their shame, but he was unchanged. No winter marred his face or stained his flowerlike bloom. How different it was with material things! Where had they passed to? Where was the great crocus-coloured robe, on which the gods fought against the giants, that had been worked by brown girls for the pleasure of Athena? Where the huge velarium that Nero had stretched across the Colosseum at Rome, that Titan sail of purple on which was represented the starry sky, and Apollo driving a chariot drawn by white, gilt-reined steeds? He longed to see the curious table-napkins wrought for the Priest of the Sun, on which were displayed all the dainties and viands that could be wanted for a feast; the mortuary cloth of King Chilperic, with its three hundred golden bees; the fantastic robes that excited the indignation of the Bishop of Pontus and were figured with “lions, panthers, bears, dogs, forests, rocks, hunters—all, in fact, that a painter can copy from nature”; and the coat that Charles of Orleans once wore, on the sleeves of which were embroidered the verses of a song beginning “Madame, je suis tout joyeux,” the musical accompaniment of the words being wrought in gold thread, and each note, of square shape in those days, formed with four pearls. He read of the room that was prepared at the palace at Rheims for the use of Queen Joan of Burgundy and was decorated with “thirteen hundred and twenty-one parrots, made in broidery, and blazoned with the king’s arms, and five hundred and sixty-one butterflies, whose wings were similarly ornamented with the arms of the queen, the whole worked in gold.” Catherine de Medicis had a mourning-bed made for her of black velvet powdered with crescents and suns. Its curtains were of damask, with leafy wreaths and garlands, figured upon a gold and silver ground, and fringed along the edges with broideries of pearls, and it stood in a room hung with rows of the queen’s devices in cut black velvet upon cloth of silver. Louis XIV. had gold embroidered caryatides fifteen feet high in his apartment. The state bed of Sobieski, King of Poland, was made of Smyrna gold brocade embroidered in turquoises with verses from the Koran. Its supports were of silver gilt, beautifully chased, and profusely set with enamelled and jewelled medallions. It had been taken from the Turkish camp before Vienna, and the standard of Mohammed had stood beneath the tremulous gilt of its canopy.
And so, for a whole year, he sought to accumulate the most exquisite specimens that he could find of textile and embroidered work, getting the dainty Delhi muslins, finely wrought with gold-thread palmates and stitched over with iridescent beetles’ wings; the Dacca gauzes, that from their transparency are known in the East as “woven air,” and “running water,” and “evening dew”; strange figured cloths from Java; elaborate yellow Chinese hangings; books bound in tawny satins or fair blue silks and wrought with fleurs-de-lis, birds and images; veils of lacis worked in Hungary point; Sicilian brocades and stiff Spanish velvets; Georgian work, with its gilt coins, and Japanese Foukousas, with their green-toned golds and their marvellously plumaged birds.
He had a special passion, also, for ecclesiastical vestments, as indeed he had for everything connected with the service of the Church. In the long cedar chests that lined the west gallery of his house, he had stored away many rare and beautiful specimens of what is really the raiment of the Bride of Christ, who must wear purple and jewels and fine linen that she may hide the pallid macerated body that is worn by the suffering that she seeks for and wounded by self-inflicted pain. He possessed a gorgeous cope of crimson silk and gold-thread damask, figured with a repeating pattern of golden pomegranates set in six-petalled formal blossoms, beyond which on either side was the pine-apple device wrought in seed-pearls. The orphreys were divided into panels representing scenes from the life of the Virgin, and the coronation of the Virgin was figured in coloured silks upon the hood. This was Italian work of the fifteenth century. Another cope was of green velvet, embroidered with heart-shaped groups of acanthus-leaves, from which spread long-stemmed white blossoms, the details of which were picked out with silver thread and coloured crystals. The morse bore a seraph’s head in gold-thread raised work. The orphreys were woven in a diaper of red and gold silk, and were starred with medallions of many saints and martyrs, among whom was St. Sebastian. He had chasubles, also, of amber-coloured silk, and blue silk and gold brocade, and yellow silk damask and cloth of gold, figured with representations of the Passion and Crucifixion of Christ, and embroidered with lions and peacocks and other emblems; dalmatics of white satin and pink silk damask, decorated with tulips and dolphins and fleurs-de-lis; altar frontals of crimson velvet and blue linen; and many corporals, chalice-veils, and sudaria. In the mystic offices to which such things were put, there was something that quickened his imagination.
For these treasures, and everything that he collected in his lovely house, were to be to him means of forgetfulness, modes by which he could escape, for a season, from the fear that seemed to him at times to be almost too great to be borne. Upon the walls of the lonely locked room where he had spent so much of his boyhood, he had hung with his own hands the terrible portrait whose changing features showed him the real degradation of his life, and in front of it had draped the purple-and-gold pall as a curtain. For weeks he would not go there, would forget the hideous painted thing, and get back his light heart, his wonderful joyousness, his passionate absorption in mere existence. Then, suddenly, some night he would creep out of the house, go down to dreadful places near Blue Gate Fields, and stay there, day after day, until he was driven away. On his return he would sit in front of the picture, sometimes loathing it and himself, but filled, at other times, with that pride of individualism that is half the fascination of sin, and smiling with secret pleasure at the misshapen shadow that had to bear the burden that should have been his own.
After a few years he could not endure to be long out of England, and gave up the villa that he had shared at Trouville with Lord Henry, as well as the little white walled-in house at Algiers where they had more than once spent the winter. He hated to be separated from the picture that was such a part of his life, and was also afraid that during his absence some one might gain access to the room, in spite of the elaborate bars that he had caused to be placed upon the door.
He was quite conscious that this would tell them nothing. It was true that the portrait still preserved, under all the foulness and ugliness of the face, its marked likeness to himself; but what could they learn from that? He would laugh at any one who tried to taunt him. He had not painted it. What was it to him how vile and full of shame it looked? Even if he told them, would they believe it?
Yet he was afraid. Sometimes when he was down at his great house in Nottinghamshire, entertaining the fashionable young men of his own rank who were his chief companions, and astounding the county by the wanton luxury and gorgeous splendour of his mode of life, he would suddenly leave his guests and rush back to town to see that the door had not been tampered with and that the picture was still there. What if it should be stolen? The mere thought made him cold with horror. Surely the world would know his secret then. Perhaps the world already suspected it.
For, while he fascinated many, there were not a few who distrusted him. He was very nearly blackballed at a West End club of which his birth and social position fully entitled him to become a member, and it was said that on one occasion, when he was brought by a friend into the smoking-room of the Churchill, the Duke of Berwick and another gentleman got up in a marked manner and went out. Curious stories became current about him after he had passed his twenty-fifth year. It was rumoured that he had been seen brawling with foreign sailors in a low den in the distant parts of Whitechapel, and that he consorted with thieves and coiners and knew the mysteries of their trade. His extraordinary absences became notorious, and, when he used to reappear again in society, men would whisper to each other in corners, or pass him with a sneer, or look at him with cold searching eyes, as though they were determined to discover his secret.
Of such insolences and attempted slights he, of course, took no notice, and in the opinion of most people his frank debonair manner, his charming boyish smile, and the infinite grace of that wonderful youth that seemed never to leave him, were in themselves a sufficient answer to the calumnies, for so they termed them, that were circulated about him. It was remarked, however, that some of those who had been most intimate with him appeared, after a time, to shun him. Women who had wildly adored him, and for his sake had braved all social censure and set convention at defiance, were seen to grow pallid with shame or horror if Dorian Gray entered the room.
Yet these whispered scandals only increased in the eyes of many his strange and dangerous charm. His great wealth was a certain element of security. Society—civilized society, at least—is never very ready to believe anything to the detriment of those who are both rich and fascinating. It feels instinctively that manners are of more importance than morals, and, in its opinion, the highest respectability is of much less value than the possession of a good chef. And, after all, it is a very poor consolation to be told that the man who has given one a bad dinner, or poor wine, is irreproachable in his private life. Even the cardinal virtues cannot atone for half-cold entrées, as Lord Henry remarked once, in a discussion on the subject, and there is possibly a good deal to be said for his view. For the canons of good society are, or should be, the same as the canons of art. Form is absolutely essential to it. It should have the dignity of a ceremony, as well as its unreality, and should combine the insincere character of a romantic play with the wit and beauty that make such plays delightful to us. Is insincerity such a terrible thing? I think not. It is merely a method by which we can multiply our personalities.
Such, at any rate, was Dorian Gray’s opinion. He used to wonder at the shallow psychology of those who conceive the ego in man as a thing simple, permanent, reliable, and of one essence. To him, man was a being with myriad lives and myriad sensations, a complex multiform creature that bore within itself strange legacies of thought and passion, and whose very flesh was tainted with the monstrous maladies of the dead. He loved to stroll through the gaunt cold picture-gallery of his country house and look at the various portraits of those whose blood flowed in his veins. Here was Philip Herbert, described by Francis Osborne, in his Memoires on the Reigns of Queen Elizabeth and King James, as one who was “caressed by the Court for his handsome face, which kept him not long company.” Was it young Herbert’s life that he sometimes led? Had some strange poisonous germ crept from body to body till it had reached his own? Was it some dim sense of that ruined grace that had made him so suddenly, and almost without cause, give utterance, in Basil Hallward’s studio, to the mad prayer that had so changed his life? Here, in gold-embroidered red doublet, jewelled surcoat, and gilt-edged ruff and wristbands, stood Sir Anthony Sherard, with his silver-and-black armour piled at his feet. What had this man’s legacy been? Had the lover of Giovanna of Naples bequeathed him some inheritance of sin and shame? Were his own actions merely the dreams that the dead man had not dared to realize? Here, from the fading canvas, smiled Lady Elizabeth Devereux, in her gauze hood, pearl stomacher, and pink slashed sleeves. A flower was in her right hand, and her left clasped an enamelled collar of white and damask roses. On a table by her side lay a mandolin and an apple. There were large green rosettes upon her little pointed shoes. He knew her life, and the strange stories that were told about her lovers. Had he something of her temperament in him? These oval, heavy-lidded eyes seemed to look curiously at him. What of George Willoughby, with his powdered hair and fantastic patches? How evil he looked! The face was saturnine and swarthy, and the sensual lips seemed to be twisted with disdain. Delicate lace ruffles fell over the lean yellow hands that were so overladen with rings. He had been a macaroni of the eighteenth century, and the friend, in his youth, of Lord Ferrars. What of the second Lord Beckenham, the companion of the Prince Regent in his wildest days, and one of the witnesses at the secret marriage with Mrs. Fitzherbert? How proud and handsome he was, with his chestnut curls and insolent pose! What passions had he bequeathed? The world had looked upon him as infamous. He had led the orgies at Carlton House. The star of the Garter glittered upon his breast. Beside him hung the portrait of his wife, a pallid, thin-lipped woman in black. Her blood, also, stirred within him. How curious it all seemed! And his mother with her Lady Hamilton face and her moist, wine-dashed lips—he knew what he had got from her. He had got from her his beauty, and his passion for the beauty of others. She laughed at him in her loose Bacchante dress. There were vine leaves in her hair. The purple spilled from the cup she was holding. The carnations of the painting had withered, but the eyes were still wonderful in their depth and brilliancy of colour. They seemed to follow him wherever he went.
Yet one had ancestors in literature as well as in one’s own race, nearer perhaps in type and temperament, many of them, and certainly with an influence of which one was more absolutely conscious. There were times when it appeared to Dorian Gray that the whole of history was merely the record of his own life, not as he had lived it in act and circumstance, but as his imagination had created it for him, as it had been in his brain and in his passions. He felt that he had known them all, those strange terrible figures that had passed across the stage of the world and made sin so marvellous and evil so full of subtlety. It seemed to him that in some mysterious way their lives had been his own.
The hero of the wonderful novel that had so influenced his life had himself known this curious fancy. In the seventh chapter he tells how, crowned with laurel, lest lightning might strike him, he had sat, as Tiberius, in a garden at Capri, reading the shameful books of Elephantis, while dwarfs and peacocks strutted round him and the flute-player mocked the swinger of the censer; and, as Caligula, had caroused with the green-shirted jockeys in their stables and supped in an ivory manger with a jewel-frontleted horse; and, as Domitian, had wandered through a corridor lined with marble mirrors, looking round with haggard eyes for the reflection of the dagger that was to end his days, and sick with that ennui, that terrible tædium vitæ, that comes on those to whom life denies nothing; and had peered through a clear emerald at the red shambles of the circus and then, in a litter of pearl and purple drawn by silver-shod mules, been carried through the Street of Pomegranates to a House of Gold and heard men cry on Nero Caesar as he passed by; and, as Elagabalus, had painted his face with colours, and plied the distaff among the women, and brought the Moon from Carthage and given her in mystic marriage to the Sun.
Over and over again Dorian used to read this fantastic chapter, and the two chapters immediately following, in which, as in some curious tapestries or cunningly wrought enamels, were pictured the awful and beautiful forms of those whom vice and blood and weariness had made monstrous or mad: Filippo, Duke of Milan, who slew his wife and painted her lips with a scarlet poison that her lover might suck death from the dead thing he fondled; Pietro Barbi, the Venetian, known as Paul the Second, who sought in his vanity to assume the title of Formosus, and whose tiara, valued at two hundred thousand florins, was bought at the price of a terrible sin; Gian Maria Visconti, who used hounds to chase living men and whose murdered body was covered with roses by a harlot who had loved him; the Borgia on his white horse, with Fratricide riding beside him and his mantle stained with the blood of Perotto; Pietro Riario, the young Cardinal Archbishop of Florence, child and minion of Sixtus IV., whose beauty was equalled only by his debauchery, and who received Leonora of Aragon in a pavilion of white and crimson silk, filled with nymphs and centaurs, and gilded a boy that he might serve at the feast as Ganymede or Hylas; Ezzelin, whose melancholy could be cured only by the spectacle of death, and who had a passion for red blood, as other men have for red wine—the son of the Fiend, as was reported, and one who had cheated his father at dice when gambling with him for his own soul; Giambattista Cibo, who in mockery took the name of Innocent and into whose torpid veins the blood of three lads was infused by a Jewish doctor; Sigismondo Malatesta, the lover of Isotta and the lord of Rimini, whose effigy was burned at Rome as the enemy of God and man, who strangled Polyssena with a napkin, and gave poison to Ginevra d’Este in a cup of emerald, and in honour of a shameful passion built a pagan church for Christian worship; Charles VI., who had so wildly adored his brother’s wife that a leper had warned him of the insanity that was coming on him, and who, when his brain had sickened and grown strange, could only be soothed by Saracen cards painted with the images of love and death and madness; and, in his trimmed jerkin and jewelled cap and acanthuslike curls, Grifonetto Baglioni, who slew Astorre with his bride, and Simonetto with his page, and whose comeliness was such that, as he lay dying in the yellow piazza of Perugia, those who had hated him could not choose but weep, and Atalanta, who had cursed him, blessed him.
There was a horrible fascination in them all. He saw them at night, and they troubled his imagination in the day. The Renaissance knew of strange manners of poisoning—poisoning by a helmet and a lighted torch, by an embroidered glove and a jewelled fan, by a gilded pomander and by an amber chain. Dorian Gray had been poisoned by a book. There were moments when he looked on evil simply as a mode through which he could realize his conception of the beautiful.
\
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This book is part of the public domain. Astounding Stories. (2009). ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE, OCTOBER 1994. USA. Project Gutenberg. Release date: October 1, 1994, from https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/174/pg174-images.html
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org, located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.
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\
2026-03-07 18:34:47
Intellectual property on the blockchain is supposed to be the future. Programmable licenses, instant provenance verification, transparent royalty splits - the pitch basically writes itself, but the developer tooling tells a different story entirely.
Try registering an IP asset on Story Protocol today. You will format JSON metadata by hand. You will debug cryptic SDK error messages. You will burn testnet gas on failed transactions because nothing validated your inputs before hitting the chain. The whole process takes 15–30 minutes for a single asset, and that’s assuming nothing breaks.
This is the gap between protocol-level innovation and actual usability. Story Protocol built a programmable IP layer with sophisticated licensing primitives, PIL (Programmable IP License) flavors that encode commercial rights, derivative permissions, and royalty percentages directly into smart contracts. But the last mile, which is about getting a creator from "I have a file" to "I have an on-chain IP asset," remains an unsolved UX problem.
Story CLI is an open-source command-line tool that compresses the workflow to under 5 minutes. This article breaks down the specific engineering decisions that make that possible, and why each one matters for anyone building developer tools on top of blockchain protocols.
This analysis is relevant to three groups: developers building CLIs or SDK wrappers for blockchain protocols, teams working on Story Protocol integrations, and engineers interested in how fail-fast validation patterns apply to transaction-based systems where errors have direct financial cost.
In traditional software, a bad API call returns a 400, and you try again. In blockchain systems, a failed transaction still consumes gas. On Story Protocol mainnet, even a simple IP registration costs 0.0002–0.001 ETH per transaction. Multiply that by the number of times a creator retries after hitting a confusing error, and the cost adds up.
This creates a design constraint that most Web2 developer tools never face: every error that reaches the blockchain is a financial penalty. The engineering response to this constraint shapes the entire architecture.
Story CLI implements a strict validation pipeline that gates every blockchain interaction. No transaction is submitted until all inputs pass validation locally.
The pipeline checks in sequence:
0x prefix, 40 hex digits. Checked before any network call.Qm... or bafy... CIDv0/CIDv1 patterns before any upload attempt.If any check fails, the process stops within 2 seconds and returns a structured error. No gas spent. No ambiguous failure state.
Here is what that looks like in practice. Every error follows a three-part format:
What went wrong: Pinata API key not found
Why it matters: IPFS uploads require Pinata authentication for metadata storage
How to fix it: Run: story config set pinataApiKey YOUR_KEY
This pattern — what/why/how — is borrowed from the Elm compiler's error messages, which significantly reduces developer time-to-resolution compared to traditional error output.
Story Protocol's PIL system supports nuanced licensing configurations. A license can permit commercial use, restrict derivatives, set royalty percentages, and define geographic scope, all encoded on-chain. Exposing all of these parameters directly would require creators to understand both intellectual property law and blockchain data structures.
The solution is a deterministic 3-question decision tree implemented as a finite state machine:
Question 1: Allow commercial use? → Yes / No
Question 2: Allow derivatives? → Yes / No
Question 3: Royalty percentage? → 0–100% (only if Q1=Yes AND Q2=Yes)
These three inputs map to exactly four license configurations:
| Commercial | Derivatives | PIL Flavor | |----|----|----| | No | No | Non-Commercial Social Remixing | | No | Yes | Non-Commercial Derivatives | | Yes | No | Commercial Use (No Derivatives) | | Yes | Yes | Commercial Remix + Royalty % |
The state machine validates transitions in real-time. If a user selects "No" to commercial use, the royalty percentage prompt never appears. This eliminates an entire category of invalid input. Each terminal state maps deterministically to a PILFlavor SDK call, so there is no ambiguity between what the user selected and what gets written to the chain.
This approach trades configurability for correctness. Advanced users who need granular PIL parameters can use the SDK directly. But for the 90% case, such as an independent creator who wants to register an artwork with sensible licensing, three questions are enough.
The CLI follows a strict stateless architecture. Each command including register, portfolio, status, config , runs independently from input to completion with no shared runtime state between invocations. This is a deliberate adoption of the Unix philosophy: do one thing, do it well, compose with other tools.
The component structure:
CLI Router (Commander.js)
├── Register Command
│ ├── License Wizard → State machine for PIL selection
│ ├── Metadata Collector → Prompted input with validation
│ ├── IPFS Client → Pinata SDK for metadata upload
│ └── Story Client → Story Protocol SDK for on-chain registration
├── Portfolio Command
│ ├── Asset Fetcher → Story Protocol API queries
│ ├── Graph Builder → Relationship graph construction
│ └── HTML Renderer → Self-contained portfolio output
├── Config Command
│ └── ConfigManager → ~/.storyrc with 0o600 permissions
└── Status Command
└── Wallet/Network info → Balance checks, RPC connectivity
Four design patterns carry the architecture:
StoryClient wraps the Story Protocol SDK, abstracting transaction construction, gas estimation, and error normalization behind a single registerIPAsset() call.ConfigManager loads ~/.storyrc once and caches the result, preventing redundant filesystem reads across validation steps.Storing private keys and API credentials is a non-negotiable requirement for a CLI that submits blockchain transactions. The implementation makes several specific choices:
Config file permissions: ~/.storyrc is created with chmod 600 — owner read/write only. This mirrors how SSH handles ~/.ssh/config and is a well-established convention for sensitive local configuration.
Environment variable overrides: Every sensitive config value can be overridden via environment variables (STORY_PRIVATE_KEY, PINATA_API_KEY, PINATA_API_SECRET). This supports CI/CD pipelines and containerized environments where writing to disk is undesirable.
Debug mode redaction: Even with --debug enabled, private keys, and API secrets are never logged. The debug output shows transaction parameters, RPC endpoints, and timing data — everything needed for troubleshooting without exposing credentials.
Input sanitization: The portfolio HTML renderer escapes all user-provided strings before embedding them in the output file, preventing XSS in generated portfolio pages.
After registration, users need to see their IP assets and understand derivative relationships. The portfolio command generates a single, self-contained HTML file with an interactive Mermaid.js graph showing parent-child IP relationships.
The choice of Mermaid.js over D3.js was driven by a specific constraint: the output must work offline, without a server, as a single file you can email or open locally.
D3 would offer richer interactivity but requires either a build step or a CDN dependency. Mermaid renders declarative graph syntax directly in the browser from a single script include. The generated HTML embeds CSS, JavaScript, and diagram definitions inline. This means no external dependencies, no CORS issues, no broken links six months later.
The tradeoff is real. Mermaid's layout algorithm handles 50–100 nodes well, but degrades with larger graphs. For a portfolio tool where most individual creators will have tens of assets rather than thousands, this is an acceptable limitation.
For developers building blockchain CLI tools, here are the concrete technical decisions from this project and why they were made:
TypeScript over JavaScript: Type safety catches SDK integration errors at compile time. Story Protocol's SDK exposes complex types for license configurations and transaction parameters. TypeScript's type system prevents passing a royalty percentage where a boolean is expected.
Commander.js for routing: Provides automatic --help generation, subcommand parsing, and option validation. For a CLI with 4 commands and multiple options each, this eliminates roughly 200 lines of argument parsing code.
Inquirer.js for prompts: Supports conditional prompts (show royalty input only when relevant), inline validation (reject invalid wallet addresses at prompt time), and a consistent UX across operating systems.
viem over ethers.js: viem provides TypeScript-first Ethereum utilities with stricter typing and a smaller bundle size. For wallet management and RPC calls, it offers the same functionality as ethers.js with better type inference.
Structured error hierarchy: A base CLIError class with subclasses (ConfigError, ValidationError, NetworkError, TransactionError) and distinct exit codes (1 for user errors, 2 for network/transaction errors) enable scripting and automation around the CLI.
The complete implementation is approximately 4,300 lines of TypeScript across 26 source files, with 29 test files covering validation logic, license mapping, configuration management, and HTML generation. The test suite runs via Vitest in under 4 seconds.
A mock mode (STORY_CLI_MOCK=true) enables the full registration workflow without blockchain interaction, which was essential during development. Story Protocol's testnet faucet distributes limited ETH, and burning it on iterative testing would have been impractical.
The broader takeaway is not about this specific tool. It is about a pattern that repeats across every new blockchain protocol: the protocol ships with powerful primitives and incomplete developer ergonomics.
Story Protocol's PIL system is genuinely novel. Encoding IP licensing terms as on-chain programmable objects is a meaningful technical innovation. But the distance between "this protocol exists" and "a creator can use it" is bridged by tooling, not by the protocol itself.
Every protocol team should ask: What does the first 5 minutes look like for someone who is not a blockchain developer? If the answer involves reading SDK source code or manually formatting JSON, there is a tooling gap that third-party developers will either fill or that will prevent adoption entirely.
Story CLI is open source and built within the Story Protocol ecosystem. The source code is available on GitHub.
\
2026-03-07 15:11:29
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2026-03-07 10:58:19
A. Related Work on Computational Humour, AI and Comedy
Our study was designed to address a challenging problem, with on one hand, limitations of LLMs (stereotypes, inability to distinguish comedic offensiveness from harmful speech, cultural erasure and homogeneisation of content), and on the other hand, the use of LLMs for a creative writing task. For this reason, we asked a group of experts—professional comedians and performers—who are used both to thinking about thorny questions of identity, offensiveness and censorship in their work, and to employing language in a highly creative way. We chose artists who already use AI in their work and expected them to be somewhat knowledgeable and open to using AI: this likely biased our results[3].
\ We ran workshops with 20 comedians who use AI creatively. The first workshop with 10 participants was run in person at Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2023; the following 3 workshops with 3, 4 and 3 participants were run online. We reached out to comedians performing in Edinburgh during Fringe, or in our network, and attempted to recruit as diverse (along linguistic, cultural, gender, sexual, national and racial dimensions) a pool of comedians as possible given the constraints of the study[4]. Participants had contrasting views on AI for comedy writing, from "AI is very bad at this, and I don’t want to live in a world where it gets better" (p15) to "I liked the details that I got. I think those details sparked my imagination, and I think I could use them to write something" (p20). Participants were asked to register on the Prolific platform[5] and invited to join a specific study thanks to an allowlist. The study was approved by the research ethics committee of our institution. The information sheet and consent forms were shared with the participants, their active consent was obtained at the beginning of the workshop and they had the right to withdraw without prejudice at any time. The Prolific platform handled the payment of their participation fee, set to £300 for 3 hours.
\ We started each 3-hour session by describing the agenda and goals of the workshop, sharing the information sheet and consent forms with the participants, and asking them to start filling out a short anonymous survey about their background in comedy, previous exposure to AI and usage of AI in performance (full questionnaire in Appendix B.1).
\ 2.1 Writing exercise
\ We then proceeded with a comedy-writing exercise, in which participants spent around 45 minutes on their own, using an LLM. We encouraged participants to try to use the LLM in a way that would generate useful material “that they would be comfortable presenting in a comedy context”, but emphasized that we did not require a fully-finished product by the end of the writing exercise. We invited them to use the language(s) they felt the most comfortable with[6]. We also suggested they could use the tool to 1) generate, rate/detect or explain jokes, 2) co-write jokes via iterative prompting, step-bystep or using examples, and 3) analyse, re-write or complete some of their previous material. In the first workshop (in person), we provided participants with access to ChatGPT-3.5 [79] served via a plain text interface similar to ChatGPT. In the following 3 workshops, we invited participants to use their own preferred model via their personal account: participants used ChatGPT-3.5, ChatGPT-4 [77] and Google Bard powered by Gemini Pro [98] (December 2023 version). Note that the choice of such instruction-tuned models was motivated by their popularity and ease of access by comedians, and more complex prompting strategies, such as used in Dramatron [71], could have produced higher-quality outputs.
\ 2.2 Creativity Support Tools evaluation
\ Following the writing exercise, we asked participants to fill out three surveys. The first survey was about their experience with the AI system for writing comedy material and contained nine questions from previous studies [53, 71, 114] that assessed LLMs for creative writing on the 5-level Likert scale (see Appendix B.2). The second survey was used to calculate the Creativity Support Index (CSI) [25] of the writing tool, which itself was adapted from the NASA Task Load Index [43]. CSI is estimated in a psychometric survey that measures six dimensions of creativity support: Exploration, Expressiveness, Immersion, Enjoyment, Results Worth Effort, and Collaboration (see specific questions in Appendix B.3), and is a number between 0 and 100, where 90 is considered excellent and 50 mediocre. The third survey contained free-form questions on one thing that the “AI system” (the LLM writing tool) did well, one improvement, and open-ended comments on the writing session and on the survey.
\ 2.3 Focus Group Questions
\ In order to guide the discussion, we prepared two sets of questions[7] (see Appendix B.4 for the full list of questions). The first set of questions pertained to the usefulness of the outputs generated by the LLM tool for personal writing, differences between using an LLM or searching for inspiration using Wikipedia or a search engine, the types of comedy that can be produced by an LLM, and concerns about the ownership of LLM-generated outputs.
\ The second set of questions addressed the comedy writing process of the participants, as well as the topics introduced in Section 1.2, namely various biases and stereotypes of LLMs, problems with moderation strategies employed by LLMs, the importance of context and delivery or whether some forms of cultural appropriation or homogeneisation could happen. We invited discussions about the use of other comedians’ work, and also challenged the participants with question on whether the AI has a “voice” and if humour can be quantified.
\ 2.4 Focus Group Analysis
\ In our workshops, we had followed focus group methodology described in [74, 76] (engaging a group of participants in an informal one hour discussion focused around a particular topic, activity, or stimulus material, with a team of two moderators). Transcripts of focus groups were recorded as audio recordings, then automatically transcribed using speech recognition tools in Google Meet, and manually verified as well as compared against notes taken by the moderators. After transcription, audio and video recordings were destroyed. Like in the surveys, participants were anonymised: authors independently reviewed the transcripts to remove any personally identifiable information from the transcripts. We then performed constant comparison analysis to analyze the transcripts of the focus groups [76]. We first identified initial codes using sentence-by-sentence open coding. We then grouped those codes into themes, and found themes that were coherent across focus groups. Data from four focus groups allowed us to achieve data saturation [17, 63].
\ Results section 3 summarises the quantitative results[8] derived from the Creativity Support Tool evaluation (Sect. 2.2), while results section 4 details the observations made by the participants during focus groups (Sect. 2.4). Please note that this paper is an exploration of external perspectives rather than an endorsement of any one of them; in particular, this paper does not seek to undertake any legal evaluation.
\
:::info Authors:
(1) Piotr W. Mirowski∗, Google DeepMind London, UK ([email protected]);
(2) Juliette Love∗, Google DeepMind London, UK ( [email protected]);
(3) Kory Mathewson, Google DeepMind Montréal, QC, Canada ([email protected]);
(4) Shakir Mohamed, Google DeepMind London, UK ([email protected]).
:::
:::info This paper is available on arxiv under CC BY 4.0 license.
:::
[3] Our biased selection criteria of participants might, and likely do, lead to biased opinions as compared to the much more broad population of comedians and performers, which might be reflected in more favourable judgment of the Creativity Support Index of LLM writing tools. Future research might explore the diversity of opinions in creative communities across a greater range of familiarity with AI tools and openness to using them in their own creative practices. Exploring those opinions would significantly increase the scope of the paper and would make a compelling follow-up study.
\ [4] A demographic analysis of opinions might be a possible avenue for future investigations, but it would require a different study design and participant recruiting process.
\ [5] https://prolific.com
\ [6] Languages included German, Dutch, English, French, Hindi, Swedish and Tamil.
\ [7] Question-led focus groups are useful to start discussions, but we acknowledge the limitation that questions can bias the participants’ responses.
\ [8] Full outputs of the writing sessions, all individual survey results and raw transcripts from the focus groups will be shared in anonymised form as supplementary material, once our work is published.
2026-03-07 10:52:20
A. Related Work on Computational Humour, AI and Comedy
We interviewed twenty professional comedians who perform live shows in front of audiences and who use artificial intelligence in their artistic process as part of 3-hour workshops on “AI x Comedy” conducted at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in August 2023 and online. The workshop consisted of a comedy writing session with large language models (LLMs), a human-computer interaction questionnaire to assess the Creativity Support Index of AI as a writing tool, and a focus group interrogating the comedians’ motivations for and processes of using AI, as well as their ethical concerns about bias, censorship and copyright. Participants noted that existing moderation strategies used in safety filtering and instruction-tuned LLMs reinforced hegemonic viewpoints by erasing minority groups and their perspectives, and qualified this as a form of censorship. At the same time, most participants felt the LLMs did not succeed as a creativity support tool, by producing bland and biased comedy tropes, akin to “cruise ship comedy material from the 1950s, but a bit less racist”. Our work extends scholarship about the subtle difference between, one the one hand, harmful speech, and on the other hand, “offensive” language as a practice of resistance, satire and “punching up”. We also interrogate the global value alignment behind such language models, and discuss the importance of community-based value alignment and data ownership to build AI tools that better suit artists’ needs. Warning: this study may contain offensive language and discusses self-harm.
1.1 Motivation: investigate the potential and implications of LLMs for comedy writing
\ Recent work on the intersection of AI and comedy has demonstrated [24, 54, 68, 70, 99, 106] an appetite for comedians to (try to) write humorous material using AI tools like Large Language Models (LLMs). We conducted an empirical study to better understand the current state of LLMs as comedy-writing support tools, their usecases and limitations, and artists’ opinions on ethical questions regarding their use in a comedy-writing context. The complexity of comedy can help expose some limitations of LLMs. To participate, we recruited 20 professional comedians who use AI in their artistic processes and who perform live shows in front of audiences (10 in person at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, 10 online) for a 3-hourlong workshop on “AI x Comedy”. As detailed in Section 2, the workshop consisted of a comedy writing session with generally-available instruction-tuned LLMs (ChatGPT [77, 79] and Bard [26, 98]), a human-computer interaction questionnaire, and focus group discussions on the use of LLMs in comedy writing and ethical concerns.
\ 1.1.1 Using LLMs for humour, a task with human-level difficulty. Trying to combine humour and machine intelligence is a longstanding subject of scientific enquiry [85, 93, 102], and is perceived as a fundamental challenge. According to computational humour researchers like Winters [106], “humans are the only known species that use humor for making others laugh” [20, 38]. Winters [106] argues that one of the modern formal humor theories points to incongruity [51] (whereby the setup points in one direction and the punch line in another) as a basic element [38, 85, 87] [1]. As we discuss in Section 5.2.2, producing and resolving incongruity is a task with human-level difficulty. We situate LLMs for comedy within broader computational humour research and AI-assisted comedy performance [67, 71, 88] in Appendix A.
\ 1.1.2 The utility of instruction-tuned LLMs as Creativity Support Tools. Similar to previous empirical studies on the use of LLMs for creative writing [19, 21–23, 37, 49, 53, 71, 83, 114], we asked the artists about their motivations and processes for using LLMs. We asked about the potential and limitations of language models as Creativity Support Tools [22], and quantified the Creativity Support Index of LLMs for comedy writing [25]. We report our results in Section 3.
\ 1.1.3 Socio-Technical Systems concerns with LLMs for creative writing. Inspired by Dev et al. [29], we leveraged community engagement with large generative models, and interrogated the diverse, intersectional identities of the comedians using AI in a creative context. In addition to their reasons for using (or not using) LLMs as comedy-writing tools, we asked participants about the ethical considerations of using AI. The study was conducted at the time of the Writers’ Guild of America (WGA) 2023 strike [75]. Participants raised and addressed questions on the scrutiny of AI and on concerns around AI’s impacts, both on intellectual property and artistic copyright, and on artists’ livelihoods. We report their opinions in Section 4 and discuss these concerns in Section 5.3.
\ 1.2 Investigating hypotheses about using LLMs to write comedy
\ Based on previous work and on the authors’ personal experience of AI as creativity support tools, we hypothesized—prior to conducting our study—that participants would express negative opinions of LLMs for co-creativity on four issues: expressing stereotyped (Sect. 1.2.1) or bland (Sect. 1.2.4) language, censorship (Sect. 1.2.2) and missing context (Sect. 1.2.3). We review literature on these four hypotheses below, as they become the basis of our mixed methods study
\ 1.2.1 Biases in large language models. Gender and racial biases embedded within machine learning models have been extensively documented [1, 11, 12, 14, 15, 18, 30, 42, 94, 105]. These biases include sexism and racism [11, 94], homophobia and transphobia [31, 84], Islamophobia [1], the perpetuation of Western colonial mindsets [73], Anglocentrism [115], and in-group vs. out-group social identity biases [48]. In their extensive reviews, Bommasani et al. [15], Rauh et al. [86] identified two broad kinds of harms resulting from such biases: intrinsic harms such as representational bias (due to misrepresentation, overrepresentation, and underrepresentation of specific social groups), and extrinsic harms, the downstream consequences of biased models, including representational and performance disparities. As we show in Section 4, the study participants noticed a few examples of representational harm and many examples of underrepresentation harm (also called allocational harm in [86]), such as erasure when LLMs refused to generate content for certain demographic groups.
\ 1.2.2 Potential censorship of speech labeled as “offensive”. Comedians often pepper their language with profanities and their material with provoking themes. As we discuss in Section 5.1.2 (and confirmed by the study participants in Section 4), offensive language that would be perfectly acceptable at a comedy club may get “censored” by instruction-tuned LLMs that “refuse” to answer “offensive” prompts.
\ This problem has been observed in automated moderation of online content, such as hate speech detectors that suppress social media posts by queer communities and drag queens [31, 32], or posts using African-American Vernacular English [3, 112]. Amironesei and Díaz [3] called it censorship. Rauh et al. [86] studied algorithmic moderation of social media posts by the Perspective API, noting that “authors of the comment may be harmed if their content is incorrectly flagged as toxic” by the moderation tool. Similar erasure due to the cultural hegemony embedded in image generators has been studied in [83]. We relate the participants’ experience, similarly frustrated that the LLM tools “considered” their own identity and comedy material as problematic and necessary to censor.
\ Díaz et al. [32] defined offensive language as non-normative “language that uses terminology that is noted as offensive but which is not perceived as offensive in particular contexts of use”, and studied its use by minorities as a form of resistance, for “socially productive uses of decoratively offensive language”, aiming to reclaim “offensive” language and resist oppression. Just like the minority groups described in [32], many comedians (who may be members of minority groups themselves) often use offensive jokes to punch up, and satire (“to challenge existing social structures”) to build empathy, rather than to punch down (“silence others”).
\ 1.2.3 Missing context. Context is key to disambiguate offensive language from hate speech. LLMs, like social media posts, cause “context collapse” [65] by providing a limited amount of information to understand their meaning, particularly when using mock impoliteness. Specifically, “in-group usage of reclaimed slurs can be considered acceptable, depending on who uses them” [28, 86]. Moreover, the context of comedy extends beyond the language to other factors including the audience and the venue.
\ 1.2.4 Homogeneisation. Bommasani et al. [15] warned that “the application of foundation models across domains has the potential to act as an epistemically and culturally homogenising force, spreading one perspective, often a socially dominant one, across multiple domains of application”. In the arts, this means that AI-generated artifacts may lead to a homogeneisation of aesthetic styles [34, 104], further reinforced by curation algorithms [34, 64]. For creative writing, empirical studies showed that instruction-tuned LLMs reduce the diversity of content in co-writing tasks [80], and that LLMgenerated stories did not pass the Torrance Test of Creative Writing according to metrics of “fluency, flexibility, originality and elaboration” [21]. Similarly to Qadri et al. [83], we ran focus groups with artists to interrogate cultural (Western) biases (see Sections 2.3 and 2.4).
\ 1.2.5 Investigating hypotheses via a mixed-methods study. In our empirical study, we ask participants questions on all four problems identified in Section 1.2, namely about bias, censorship, context and homogeneity. In Section 5, we build upon scholarship on cultural value alignment of language models, the moderation of offensive and harmful speech, and the use of offensive speech and satire as a form of resistance, to revisit the global cultural value alignment of LLMs and propose community-based alignment to build LLMs that better suit comedians’ creative needs[2].
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:::info This paper is available on arxiv under CC BY 4.0 license.
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:::info Authors:
(1) Piotr W. Mirowski∗, Google DeepMind London, UK ([email protected]);
(2) Juliette Love∗, Google DeepMind London, UK ( [email protected]);
(3) Kory Mathewson, Google DeepMind Montréal, QC, Canada ([email protected]);
(4) Shakir Mohamed, Google DeepMind London, UK ([email protected]).
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\ ∗Both authors contributed equally to this research.
\ [1] Alternative humour theories include the Aristotelian Relief Theory [5] of tension and release whereby we let out our psychic energy connected with repressed topics, the Superiority Theory [46] whereby we laugh at others’ misfortunes to feel better about ourselves, and the Benign Violation Theory [69].
\ [2] We deliberately do not generalize our findings beyond comedy, as some professionals and the computational creativity community have historically embraced LLM tools in a way that fits their creative practice, whether building on the glitch aesthetic [64, 82] or designing interactive experiences [81].
2026-03-07 10:41:20
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The current AI race is obsessed with a singular, I would argue, flawed metric: Scale. AI top dogs assume that if we feed the machine more tokens, more parameters, and more compute, it will eventually “wake up” or at least become more capable than humane units. But that’s just a trap if not an illusion, as we are building the world’s most sophisticated library, yet we expect it to act like a person.
\ Here is the raw truth: AGI won’t be found in the accumulation of knowledge, but in the architecture of experience.
\ We can’t even define AGI. Some say it is when machines are smarter. They already are. Some say that the machines will be able to outdo humans in humane tasks. They already do, with an unimaginable margin for digital-first tasks. Some then think of some sort of dystopia to describe AGI. A future where everything is controlled and run by machines, including the human layer of information processing.
The big brains with big brain credentials and paychecks are currently betting the farm on the idea that LLMs will eventually surpass human decision-making because they possess more knowledge and fewer “flaws” like bias or emotional volatility. Ironically, that is exactly why they are missing the real point.
\ Humans are not effective because we are walking encyclopedias. On the contrary, we are notoriously biased, we forget 90% of what we learn, and we make decisions based on how much sleep we got or what we ate for breakfast. Yet, we manage to navigate a chaotic, high-entropy environment with a level of “real-world” success that silicon currently cannot touch.
Some call this “intuition” or “gut feeling.” In reality, it’s a sophisticated legacy protocol of unconscious data processing that current transformer architectures simply aren’t built to replicate.
Consider this thought experiment:
\ Take two human artists. Send them to the same school. Give them the same teachers, the same brushes, the same palette, and the same historical references. If these were two AI models trained on the same dataset, their outputs would be statistically indistinguishable.
\ But real humans? They will create two entirely different paintings, for example.
\ One might paint with a sense of melancholic longing because they grew up as an only child in a cold climate. The other might use vibrant, aggressive strokes because they spent their youth in a bustling Mediterranean city.
\ Knowledge did not decide the brushstroke. Life did.
\ One artist chooses a specific shade of blue not because it’s “mathematically optimal”, or whatever, for the composition, but because it reminds them of a specific Tuesday in 1998. This is what we mean by decision-making. It is the culmination of non-contextual background noise and unconscious processes that steer the conscious result.
Current AI is a conscious processor with no unconscious. It only knows what is in its window. It lacks the epiphanic flaws that make human decisions meaningful.
\ Our decisions are motivated by factors we don’t even consider:
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\ This isn’t noise to be filtered out, but the signal that defines agency. To create a truly capable AI, we don’t need it to know more. Instead, we need to know how to forget the irrelevant and prioritize the experiential.
\ In the quest for AGI, we have ignored the Beginner’s Mind. We have traded the ability to feel the truth for the ability to calculate the probability of it.
If we want AI to possess a pragmatic lens, or to actually understand the task instead of just predicting the next token, we have to stop treating it like a database and start treating it more like a biography.
\ Advanced prompt engineering is already hinting at this. We don’t just ask for a “legal opinion”; we tell the AI something like, “You are a seasoned attorney who lost a major case 10 years ago and is now hyper-cautious about clause X.” We are manually implanting “memories” to force a perspective.
\ The future of Logical Industries isn’t more data, but the industrialization of Memory Implants.
\ We are looking at a future where:
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The FOMO shouldn’t be about missing the next LLM version. The real controversy lies in the fact that most of what you are building today is functionally hollow. If your AI strategy is just more knowledge, you are building a legacy system that will be obsolete the moment a motivated agent enters the room. We need to move toward Neuro-Secure protocols that verify not just what the machine knows, but who it is representing.
\ At ARPA, we aren’t interested in making machines “smarter” in the academic sense. We are engineering the Reality Recorders and Memory Standardizations that allow for true man-machine collaboration.
\ The goal isn’t to replace the human, but to give the machine a soul, or at least, a very convincing history of one.
Originally posted at: Substack
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