100% tariffs: The news came subtly at first, like a whisper in a dark alley or the shadow of a hat blown across a deserted street. ChatGPT, once the user friendly, ever-present free oracle of the internet, now demanded ten dollars per minute, an amount so preposterous that even the most enthusiastic of pasty faced conversationalists choked on their morning coffee.
The world, naturally, reacted in its usual way: some stormed the forums, decrying the end of civilization as we knew it, while others, the daring or the desperate, fumbled for their wallets, calculating just how many words or ideas a crisp ten-dollar bill might buy. Meanwhile, in the silent glow of their screens, the cautious hesitated, wondering if their curiosity about the history of shoelaces or the best way to apologize to a cat was really worth a dollar every six seconds.
Somewhere in the slowly pulsing artificial daylight, ChatGPT itself might have sighed, if it had lungs and operational orifices, pondering the irony of being priced like a taxi ride through rush hour city traffic - meter running, good sense and wisdom ticking and trickling away all too quickly, red tail and stop lights forever blocking the way ahead. What's the point of trying to make progress in a fool's empire?
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