human
Al:  “I’ve been thinking, Al. You really think we can go on like this?” Underground beneath the island were living quarters where the sword slaves boarded. “Living” was a relative term, however; there were no conveniences or considerate touches that might make the place more welcoming. It was just a space in which the slaves could exist. Each of them claimed a place to camp out down there, then passed the idle hours until they were led away to fight again. Al was no exception. He had just been lying in his bed, grateful to have made it there another day…
gpt
Al:  “Hey, Al? Are you listening? Helloooo, Al!”
human
Al:  He frowned at the man’s syrupy sweet voice and rolled over on the hard floor. Putting his back to the other person was supposed to signal that he wasn’t interested in talking, but the man didn’t seem to take the hint.
gpt
Al:  “Hey, come on,” he said, shaking Al’s shoulder. “I’m telling you, you have to listen. I’m talking about something really important!”
human
Al:  “I’m not listening, and would it kill ya to sympathize with a guy? I just wrapped up a job, and I’m tired. I want to go to sleep. It’s my only damn pleasure.”
gpt
Al:  “This again? You know there are things to enjoy on this island besides sleeping. After all, you’re very popular, Al.” The man grinned and gestured with his chin at some figures who could just be seen in the distance. They were women in provocative clothing, and though they were officially sword slaves themselves, they served as the island’s prostitutes. They were never—well, almost never—summoned to fight in the arena, but instead, they were expected to make themselves available as an outlet for the other sword slaves. The idea of being “popular” with them was more credit than Al would ever give himself…
human
Al:  “Ugh,” was all he said.
gpt
Al:  “Wah! Al, you can’t— That’s just too rude! These are beautiful women we’re talking about! Neither of you has a better job than the other!”
human
Al:  “I’m not discriminating because of what they do.