Liminal Beings and GPT-3

Editor's Letter: Becoming a Centaur with GPT-3

Somewhere on a hillside, a mother turned once more to the infant she had birthed. Wrapped in a blanket, the tiny pink creature screwed its face in discomfort and began to cry, voice stretching across the land. She stroked the thin, downy patch of hair covering his head, repositioned her arms to bear the weig…