human
Al:  Al was busy making circles with his hips as Ubirk flitted around him.
gpt
Al:  He felt bad for Ubirk, he really did, but in Al’s opinion, Ubirk was at least lucky enough avoid ending up in death match after death match. Al was constantly in danger and fighting for his life, put on display until his luck finally ran out. That was how a sword slave lived and, ultimately, how he died. Ubirk might have wound up on this island, but he hadn’t been sucked into that murderous system, and that seemed good fortune enough to Al.
human
Ubirk:  The ingratiating smile disappeared from Ubirk’s face, and he said quietly, “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m forever getting either tortured or ignored. From where I’m standing, I don’t think I’m luckier than you at all, Al.”
gpt
Al:  Al likewise dropped his voice. “A male prostitute, acting like he’s the same as one of us sword slaves! Hell!”
human
Ubirk:  It was the kind of brutal remark that could have kept two people from ever speaking on civil terms again, but Ubirk only grinned. “You’re ruthless.” He said, scratching his head. “I guess as long as I don’t know how to use a sword, I’ll never be able to be your friend, huh, Al? Guess we’ll be just acquaintances our whole lives.”
gpt
Al:  “Don’t assume you’ll never swing a sword in your lifetime. You might get by on being all cute and personable right now, but you never know if it’ll last. Think about where you’ll be ten, twenty years down the road.”
human
Ubirk:  “What about you, Al? You plan to be here another ten years? There’s perseverance, and then there’s playing real hardball.”
gpt
Al:  It rankled to hear it, but Ubirk was right. The idea of surviving ten or twenty years on this island was outright ridiculous. Al was likely to fall long before he reached those milestones. Maybe next year, maybe next week. Or maybe his time would come today.
human
Ubirk:  “So why not, Al? Before you end up like…”
gpt
Al:  Al didn’t answer.
human
Ubirk:  “If the best you can do is sit here and wait to die, why not take up arms against your destiny? If you joined us, Al, you would be worth a hundred men!” Ubirk must have noticed something in Al’s narrowed obsidian eyes, because he spoke with fresh fervor. He was rambling about his baseless, senseless revolution again. Don’t just stand there! Arm yourself! Fight oppression! It probably felt good to him, whipping people into a frenzy with that kind of talk. But as for Al…
gpt
Al:  “Thanks but no thanks, kid. I’ve got nothing to do here but fight like hell and survive.”
human
Ubirk:  “Al…” Unusually—indeed, perhaps for the first time—Ubirk began really, truly arguing with him. “Okay, but then why do you fight? If you win, that means someone else loses—and dies doing it. I don’t think that makes any sense!”
gpt
Al:  Al’s voice was cold. “It makes perfect sense. I just ain’t got any reason to die.”