I had always avoided writing about my sister’s death. At first, in my reticence, I offered GPT-3 only one brief, somewhat rote sentence about it. The AI matched my canned language; clichés abounded. But as I tried to write more honestly, the AI seemed to be doing the same. It made sense, given that GPT-3 gene

In a way, though, their absence felt appropriate, in keeping with my father’s otherworldly nature. It made a kind of poetic sense that a man so incapable of acting like a parent would somehow lack any of his own.