The Promptist was pleased with the result. True, it wasn't art as such, it was a meticulous collection of pixels arranged in the confines of the space defined with a few clicks on the keyboard. There was as much creativity in this image as there were in the millions of images generated prior to this result: crisp, clear colors, arranged in pleasing shapes. It was pretty enough. All the images were nice, in their own way. They could not help but to feel a twinge of melancholy, however, since it was the unknowing, soulless automaton responsible for the actual creation of this chromatic beauty. The prompt was merely a wish list of desires, directives, and orders placed in a space on the screen...
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