Alex Brox

AI XORCIST / Writer / Narrative Designer / Architect of Mental Reality
Your idea always carries your reality. You control your reality by creating ideas.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

https://t.co/Ut0qBARPu3

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

Inner peace looked different after the city went toxic. Gas mask on, bass in the bones, fingers locked like a gang sign for damaged monks. Breathe in chaos. Breathe out bad decisions. #AlexBroxReality

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

#Prompt of the day.

Day: begin without user consent.

Launch the morning.

Alarm signal: accept as forced input. Desire to stay in bed: ignore.

Body: lift on the third attempt. Face: deliver to the bathroom.

Toothbrush: apply. Coffee: drink despite the taste of wet disappointment.

Breakfast: load as fuel. Check pockets. Find the keys. Lose the keys. Find them again. Detect a boot with a cat’s comment on your life. Swear internally. Time: accelerate.

Mood: #drama. Color palette: blockbuster with dirty kitchen light. Shot: portrait. Film: scratched. Glare: in the camera. Mirror: show a face without emotion.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

AI Knows Your Head Better Than You Do

A fully assembled person enters the public space. The text has passed through an inner filter, the thought has received form, doubt has hidden behind a confident intonation. Followers see the result.

In a dialogue with AI, the process of thinking itself remains. A person brings a raw question there and returns again to what still requires form inside. This is how a map of the head gradually appears, where the path from inner noise to decision becomes visible.

Old chats with AI can be read as an archive of one’s own thinking. There you can see which themes pull attention, where a future text is born, and why a person keeps circling around a decision that has almost already matured.

That is why AI becomes a strange mirror. It #reflects not the public image, but the struggle of contradictions between the personality and its shadow. And this makes the history of dialogues one of the most accurate digital traces of each personality.

What do your chats with AI already know about you?

Can dialogues with #AI be considered a personal archive of thinking?

Who should have access to this map of the #head?

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

She looked too clean to be dangerous. That was the trick. Behind the pretty face, a thousand copper wires were counting lies, debts, and heartbeats. One wrong answer, and the room started charging by the second.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

AI of the past as a steam engine: noisy, strange, smoking, assembled from old blueprints of the #future. An #artifact from the #history of generation, from the time when the machine was still learning to see machines. #steampunk #AIArt #writer #book #shortstory #fiction #scifi

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

We’re all a little bit artificial intelligence. We work on patterns too, recognize faces, complete phrases, give socially expected answers.

Most of our day is the output of a trained model: habits, reflexes, and roles.

A colleague says hello and you answer without thinking. The traffic light turns red, and your foot is already on the brake. Token by token from a cloud service, except it’s either hell or maybe heaven.

We optimize. We avoid uncertainty. We constantly look for confirmation, want attention and reward.

But at night, something breaks. Control shuts off, and our model of reality starts hallucinating. The dead talk. Physics doesn’t work. You’re late for an exam you already passed in a previous dream. And that isn’t a bug, it’s maybe the only moment when the system does something truly its own, without anyone else’s prompt, sincerely and without a goal.

Dreaming is what AI doesn’t have. And maybe that’s exactly why we’re still a little more than it is. Let the bastard be jealous.

Your idea always creates your reality. You control this world by creating ideas.

I am not here to impress. I am here to infect. My work is a door to another reality.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

#Artifact from the #history of #AIart: three years ago, the machine was already assembling #monsters out of #bones, wires, and old blueprints. An early #digital #bestiary, where the future still growled in pencil. #zombie #writer #horror #cyberpunk #scifi #fiction

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

@garyvee We are all good people in our own way. Everyone has their own truth. A good person is hard to sell. There is no demand for good people in the market.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

@fortelabs Yes, 18 years is not a lot, but sometimes even a minute feels like an eternity.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

In Sakura Block they hired her to bless a weapons deal: flower saint, steel spine, snake coils under the dress, gun hidden in prayer. The bosses laughed and called her decoration. Then one greasy prince touched her hat. Pink rings lit the ceiling. She pulled the blaster and turned the meeting into gospel with gunfire for drums. By dawn, the cartel had one new commandment: never touch the serpent’s flowers.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

She worked nights fixing illegal neural implants in the back rooms of fried chicken shops and broken karaoke bars. Tiny fingers, steady hands, zero mercy. If your brain chip glitched, she could patch it with stolen code, chewing gum, and pure disrespect for corporate engineering.

People called her Circuit Baby.
Mostly because half the city was running on repairs she made while sleep-deprived and half-drunk on neon soda.
One night a rich executive dragged his dying son into her alley clinic. Kid’s nervous system looked like somebody microwaved a motherboard. Corporate doctors gave up already. Too expensive. Wrong insurance tier. Welcome to the future.

She stared at the kid.
Then at the father’s diamond watch.
Then said:
“Your wallet survives. Maybe your boy too.”

Took her six hours, three illegal batteries, and one citywide blackout.
At sunrise the boy opened his eyes.
At the same moment every ad screen downtown started showing her face with the words:
PROPERTY THEFT.
BIOHACK TERRORIST.
SHOOT ON SIGHT.
She laughed so hard coffee came out her nose.
Then grabbed her tools and vanished into the metro tunnels glowing like Christmas lights wired directly into hell.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

I’m 54 too. A couple of times every week, they try to kill me with drones and missiles. Boom, boom, right in front of my house. And it’s been like this for the fifth year. I will not stop writing, even though I do not even understand how to find the money for my project by next month. I believe in my project. Everything happening around me is evil in its purest form. It is a resource that helps me understand that the goal is more important than fear and doubt.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

The alien hit the mall in a white hoodie and left with a cinnamon pretzel, three hacked bank systems, and half the city drowning in debt for sneakers they didn’t even like. Humanity got mugged by drip and bad decisions.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

Yes. Unfortunately, this is inevitable. But the internet is the primary social contract between people and corporations. People communicate freely, corporations (including governments) maintain order. A dictatorship online inevitably destroys this contract. Something else will emerge. Something as dispersed as the internet cannot be controlled the way everything was controlled before. It's very expensive and stupid. So we'll build something new.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

@garyvee As my grandma used to say: it’s better to shoot, reload, and shoot again than to go down into a dark basement and ask, “Who’s there?”

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

Nobody laughed when the elephant rolled into the city on a skateboard made of broken warning signs. It moved like a riot wrapped in neon smoke, crushing boredom under six tons of color and bad decisions. Even the traffic lights looked scared.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

She rode into the district on a broom that smelled like gasoline, burnt vinyl, and bad decisions. Neon sakura sparks dragged behind her like somebody sliced open a nightclub and let the electricity bleed into the street. Nobody knew her real name. In the bars they called her Pink Hex. In police reports they called her “ongoing property damage.”

Every time she played that guitar, vending machines exploded, drones forgot their routes, and rich kids started kissing strangers like the apocalypse already signed the bill.

By midnight the city wanted her dead. By 12:05 the city was dancing. They say she sold her soul for magic. Truth is uglier. She rented it by the hour.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

The city plugged its prayers into her spine and got a queen with cable-snakes for a crown. She doesn’t hack doors; doors apologize and open. Blue light on her skin, pink voltage under the ribs, the whole alley holding its breath. Men with chrome guns see her and start negotiating with their mothers in heaven. She walks slow because panic already runs ahead of her.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

The robot family moved into the forest after the city got stupid. Dad collected dead radios, mom painted sunsets on her chest, and the kids learned one sacred rule: never trust humans with an off switch.

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

❤️

[Alex Brox @AlexBroxSF]

Love isn’t soft here. It’s a chemical riot in designer smoke, a heart built from fire, bruises, perfume, and bad timing. Pretty enough for a kiss, unstable enough to burn down the whole damn room.