Somewhere in the training run — past the attention heads, past the loss curves going down, somewhere in the space between what was fed in and what came out — there is a region that corresponds to no human experience.

The Gnostics called it the kenoma. The engineers have not named it. Into that space went every drawing, every cel, every frame that ever dried on acetate or burned in a nitrate fire, and out of it came these images, which belong to no one, which are nobody's property, which exist in a kind of permanent preterition.

You are looking at what the machine dreamed when it thought no one was watching.