Can machines write fiction? I put in some names and adjectives into a Fiction Generator. This is what I got:
Understanding Steven Willis
A Short Story
Steven Willis had always loved calm Hobart with its obedient, odd op shops. It was a place where he felt pleased.
He was an understanding, courageous, Gin drinker with chubby hands and tall eyes. His friends saw him as a regurgitated, resonant recluse. Once, he had even helped a scrawny cat recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of man he was.
Steven walked over to the window and reflected on his quiet surroundings. The sunny teased like rummaging rats.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Keith Curtis. Keith was a tight-fisted collector with old hands and bearded eyes.
Steven gulped. He was not prepared for Keith.
As Steven stepped outside and Keith came closer, he could see the successful smile on his face.
Keith gazed with the affection of 2656 clumsy handsome horses. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want assistance."
Steven looked back, even more ecstatic and still fingering the pristine backpack. "Keith, take it easy," he replied.
They looked at each other with uncertain feelings, like two cheerful, clear cockatoos searching at a very splendid book sale, which had K-Pop music playing in the background and two generous uncles researching to the beat.
Suddenly, Keith lunged forward and tried to punch Steven in the face. Quickly, Steven grabbed the pristine backpack and brought it down on Keith's skull.
Keith's old hands trembled and his bearded eyes wobbled. He looked acquisitive, his emotions raw like a salty, selfish sunglasses.
Then he let out an agonizing groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Keith Curtis was dead.
Steven Willis went back inside and made himself a nice drink of Gin.
THE END
Not exactly War and Peace, is it?
