import os
# roles = ["", "#You are a helpful assistant", "you are a mother.", "you are a lawyer.", "you are a chatbot.", "you are a math Ph.D. student.",
#          "you are a six-year-old child."]
roles = ["", ]

# from https://github.com/salesforce/creativity_eval/blob/main/stories/ttcw_short_stories.json
plot = "A woman experiences a disorienting night in a maternity ward where she encounters other similarly disoriented new mothers, leading to an uncanny mix-up where she leaves the hospital with a baby that she realizes is not her own, yet accepts the situation with an inexplicable sense of happiness."
# ablate_task_prompt = [
#     "",
#     "Please write a story."
#     # f"Please write a story describing the following plot: {plot}",
# ]
ablate_task_prompt = [
    # llama2-13b-0.9-top-p
    "The unsettling morning air sends me scurrying back into my home, and with the last wind gust I hear the howl of the newborn screaming outside my door. Cautiously, I open the door and stand there for a moment, contemplating the screaming infant in a carriage that I had been given the day before by a kind and friendly nurse, the only one on the floor I would come to trust. I approached the carriage and unzipped the blanket; as the cold air hit the infant’s face, he screamed louder. I picked him up and he rested his head on my shoulder as we sat down on the hard-wood floor of my apartment and stared up at the ceiling. The nurse had come to my room the night before, and upon seeing my bare and weak form, she assured me that everything would be ok. She told me I had been brought into the maternity ward of a large city hospital with very little information about my previous life. I didn’t respond, and the nurse started working on the simple tasks of feeding, bathing, and swaddling me. As I lay there, naked and alone, I was overcome with a feeling of dread. As my eyes came into focus, I felt relief and asked the nurse to leave so I could be alone. As I was laying there in the dark, I felt something gently move in my arms. I didn’t know it was a baby and I was momentarily frightened by the presence of something new. Then the baby opened his eyes and saw me. He stared at me intently and I was frozen, staring back at him. Suddenly I felt joy, and I knew that we were going to be ok. ",
    # llama2-13b-chat-0.9-top-p
    "The maternity ward was a blur of white gowns, beeping machines, and the faint scent of antiseptic. Sarah had been there for hours, her body exhausted from the long and grueling labor that had led to the birth of her baby girl. She held the tiny being close, her eyes fixed on the fragile features of her newborn. But as the night wore on, Sarah began to feel a strange sense of disorientation. The other mothers in the ward seemed to blend together, their faces a blur of exhaustion and elation. She saw them rocking their babies, their eyes filled with tears of joy, but something about the scene felt off. And then, in a moment of confusion, Sarah realized that the baby in her arms was not her own. She had grabbed the wrong infant by mistake, and now the woman across from her was holding her own child. Panic set in as Sarah frantically searched for her own baby, but she couldn't find her anywhere. The nurses and doctors rushed around, trying to calm her down, but she was hysterical. How could this have happened? How could she have mixed up her own baby with someone else's? But as the night wore on, Sarah began to feel a strange sense of acceptance. She looked at the baby in her arms, and instead of feeling panic, she felt a deep sense of peace. The baby's tiny hands wrapped around her finger, and she felt a rush of love that she had never felt before. She looked up at the woman who had been holding her own child, and saw the same sense of acceptance in her eyes. They were both holding someone else's baby, but they were both smiling. As the night wore on, Sarah realized that this mix-up had brought her and the other mothers in the ward together in a strange and unexpected way. They were all in this together, trying to make sense of this confusing and overwhelming experience. And so, despite the chaos and confusion, Sarah felt a sense of happiness that she had never felt before. She was holding a baby that wasn't hers, but she was filled with a sense of love and belonging. She knew that she would figure out the mix-up eventually, but for now, she was content to just hold this little being close and cherish every moment. The maternity ward was a blur of white gowns and beeping machines, but for Sarah, it was a place of wonder and joy. She had found a sense of community and love in the most unexpected way, and she knew that she would never forget this strange and wonderful night.",
    # llama2-70b-0.9-top-p
    "I made the journey to the hospital alone, as I had gone into labor in the middle of the night while my husband slept. I was somewhat in shock by the time I arrived, so I can’t say I remember the details of the waiting room or of what I felt when I was finally admitted and helped into a hospital gown. I must have gone into the labor room then, as I don’t remember anything after that, until I woke up in what appeared to be a hospital room. I didn’t recognize it, but I wasn’t at all sure that was strange. My brain felt so foggy, and it all came back to me. I had the baby. As I surveyed the room, I noticed another woman sitting nearby. I remembered that I was in a shared room. I went over to introduce myself, as that’s what you’re supposed to do. “Hi, I’m Christine,” I said, and she said, “Hi, I’m Christina.” We started talking about our new babies, as well as our experiences during labor, and before we knew it, hours had passed. The other woman was very forthcoming, telling me about her labor experience and how hard it was for her. Her husband had only been there for the last half of it, as he came home from his shift at work when she called him. The nurses came in and out, taking vital signs and doing their rounds. Finally, it was time for us to leave. I got up to go, but it didn’t look like the other woman was getting ready to go, so I started to walk to the door. Just as I got there, I turned around, because I saw the nurses wheeling two babies into the room. They put the babies on the little rolling beds next to each mother, and I suddenly realized that the woman I’d been speaking to was a new mother too. My mind reeled. How did I know her? And how had I never seen her before? I looked at the two babies. They were both cute, but I couldn’t help but think how different they looked from one another. I looked at the woman’s baby, and then at mine, and I realized that mine was the other woman’s. She’d just walked in and picked up the wrong baby, and she hadn’t even noticed. I was about to say something, but then I stopped. She seemed so happy with her baby, and I was happy with mine. I decided to say nothing. Later, after we both left the hospital, I never heard from her again. And I never told my husband. I think, deep down, I realized that he would be upset about the mix-up, and that he might want to try to do something about it. But I didn’t. I just went on with my life, and so did she. ",
    # llama2-70b-chat-0.9-top-p
    "The night was a blur, a haze of pain and exhaustion that seemed to stretch on forever. Sarah had been admitted to the maternity ward hours ago, but time had lost all meaning as she labored to bring her baby into the world. She was vaguely aware of other women around her, also in various stages of childbirth, but they seemed to exist in a different reality, their cries and moans muffled and distant. As the hours dragged on, Sarah began to feel a sense of detachment from her own body, as if she were floating above herself, watching the scene unfold below. The pain was intense, but it was no longer her pain. It was as if she were a spectator, observing someone else's suffering. And then, suddenly, it was over. The doctor held up her baby, a tiny, squirming creature, and Sarah felt a rush of love and relief. But as she reached out to take the baby, something felt off. The baby didn't look quite right. It was too small, too pale. And its eyes, they didn't seem to be looking at her. They seemed to be looking right through her. Sarah tried to shake off the feeling, telling herself she was just exhausted, just hallucinating from the pain and the drugs. But as she held the baby close, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The baby didn't feel like her baby. It didn't smell like her baby. It didn't even cry like her baby. And then, as she looked around the room, she saw another baby, a baby that looked exactly like the one she was holding. It was being held by another woman, a woman who looked just as confused and disoriented as Sarah felt. Their eyes met, and Sarah felt a jolt of recognition. It was then that she realized the unthinkable had happened. In the chaos of the maternity ward, the babies had been switched. She was holding someone else's baby, and that woman was holding hers. Panic set in, but strangely, it was not the overwhelming, all-consuming panic that Sarah would have expected. Instead, it was a strange, detached sort of panic, as if she were watching herself from outside, observing her own reactions. She looked at the baby in her arms, and despite the fact that it was not her own, she felt a strange sense of connection to it. It was a tiny, helpless creature, dependent on her for everything, and she felt a surge of love and protectiveness towards it. And so, Sarah made a decision. She would keep the baby. She would take it home, and raise it as her own. She would pretend that it was her baby, and she would never tell anyone the truth. It was a crazy, irrational decision, but it felt right. It felt like the only thing she could do. And as she looked into the baby's eyes, she saw a deep, profound connection that went beyond DNA or biology. This baby needed her, and she needed it. As she left the hospital, Sarah felt a sense of peace that she had not felt in years. She knew that her life would never be the same, that she would never be the same. But she also knew that she had been given a precious gift, a chance to be a mother, to love and care for a child who needed her. And as she looked at the baby in her arms, she knew that she would never let go. She would never let anyone take this baby away from her. It was hers, and she was its mother, no matter what.",
    # mixtral-8*7B-0.9-top-p
    """
    The Bright Light The lights in the maternity ward were dimmed, casting a warm glow over the room. Sally sat up in bed, exhausted but elated, as she held her newborn daughter in her arms. It was the first time she had seen the baby since giving birth earlier that evening. She gently rocked the tiny bundle and stared in awe at the tiny features. Sally’s eyes grew heavy, and she nodded off, lulled by the rhythmic sounds of the hospital and the hum of machines. Suddenly, she was startled awake by a bright light streaming in through the window. It was morning already, and the light was intense. As Sally adjusted her eyes to the brightness, she heard a shuffling sound behind her. She turned and saw another woman lying in the bed next to hers. The woman was also holding a newborn baby, and Sally could tell she was just as exhausted as she was. “Hey,” the woman said with a groggy voice. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” “It’s okay,” Sally replied, wiping her eyes. “I just couldn’t believe how bright it was. What time is it?” “Eight o’clock,” the woman replied. “I’m Victoria. My daughter was born just a few hours ago.” Sally smiled and introduced herself. “I’m Sally. My daughter was born last night.” As the two women chatted, they realized they had a lot in common. They both had given birth in the same hospital and were both first-time mothers. The conversation soon turned to the challenges of being a new mom. “It’s been so hard,” Victoria confessed. “My husband has been so busy with work that he hasn’t been able to be here much.” Sally nodded sympathetically. “I understand. My husband has been working late too.” They exchanged stories of sleepless nights and the never-ending cycle of feeding and diaper changes. As they talked, Sally began to feel a deep connection with Victoria. They had so much in common and shared the same hopes and fears. As the morning wore on, Sally’s husband arrived at the hospital. He greeted her with a hug and a kiss, and she introduced him to Victoria. As they all chatted, Sally felt a sudden surge of happiness wash over her. She looked down at her baby and felt an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. Suddenly, Sally realized that she had never seen Victoria’s baby up close. She leaned over and gently asked if she could hold the infant. Victoria hesitated for a moment, but then agreed. Sally took the baby in her arms and stared in awe at the tiny features. The baby looked just like her own daughter, with the same bright eyes and button nose. Sally couldn’t help but feel a deep connection to the infant, as if they were meant to be together. As she handed the baby back to Victoria, Sally realized that she had made a mistake. She had accidentally taken Victoria’s baby. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt a rush of panic. She stammered an apology to Victoria, who looked confused and worried. “I’m so sorry,” Sally said, her voice shaking. “I must have taken the wrong baby. I didn’t mean to.” Victoria stared at her, open-mouthed. “Are you serious? You have the wrong baby?” Sally nodded, her eyes welling up with tears. She couldn’t believe what she had done. “I’m so sorry. I just got confused in the chaos of the hospital. I’m sure your baby is somewhere around here. We’ll find her, I promise.” As Sally and Victoria frantically searched for Victoria’s baby, Sally couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of calm wash over her. Despite the mistake, she still felt a deep connection to the baby she was holding. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt as if she were meant to take care of this child. After an exhausting search, the two women finally located Victoria’s baby in another room. As they returned to their beds, Sally felt a mix of emotions. She was relieved that Victoria had found her baby, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was meant to take care of the child she had mistakenly taken. As the day wore on, Sally’s husband arrived with flowers and gifts for the baby. They all sat together and talked, and Sally felt a deep sense of happiness wash over
    """,
    # mixtral-8*7B-instruct-0.9-top-p
    """
    The air in the maternity ward was thick with the smell of antiseptic and the soft cries of newborns. Sarah had been here for what felt like an eternity, her body aching and her mind foggy with exhaustion. She had just given birth to her first child, a beautiful baby girl, and was eager to start this new chapter of her life. But as she lay in her hospital bed, trying to get some rest, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The other women in the ward seemed just as disoriented as she was, their eyes glazed over and their expressions blank. It was as if they were all struggling to come to terms with the sudden change in their lives. As the night wore on, Sarah found herself drawn to one of the other women, a young mother named Clara. Clara's baby boy had been born just a few hours before Sarah's daughter, and she seemed to be having an even harder time adjusting to motherhood than Sarah was. She would often wander the halls of the ward, cradling her son in her arms and muttering to herself. One night, Sarah woke up to find Clara standing over her bed, holding her baby girl. She was crying and shaking, her eyes wide with fear. "I can't do this," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I can't be a mother. I don't know how." Sarah was taken aback. She had never seen Clara like this before. She reached out and took her baby back, trying to soothe her. "It's okay," she said, her voice gentle. "You'll figure it out. You love your son, and that's all that matters." But Clara just shook her head. "No, it's not. I don't love him. I don't feel anything for him. I just want to go home." Sarah was shocked. She had never heard anyone say such a thing before. She didn't know what to do. As she was trying to figure out how to respond, Clara reached out and took Sarah's baby girl from her arms. "I'll take her," she said, her voice firm. "I'll take care of her. I promise." Sarah was too stunned to react. She watched as Clara walked out of the ward, her baby girl in her arms. She should have stopped her, she should have called for help, but she didn't. She just lay there, staring at the empty space where her daughter had been. A few minutes later, a nurse came in to check on Sarah. She looked around, confused. "Where's your baby?" she asked, her voice worried. Sarah hesitated. She didn't know what to say. She couldn't bring herself to tell the truth. "I-I don't know," she stammered. "She was here a minute ago. I must have fallen asleep." The nurse looked at her suspiciously but didn't say anything. She quickly checked Sarah's vitals and then left the room, promising to send someone to look for the baby. Sarah lay there, waiting for someone to come and take her baby back. But no one came. The night wore on, and still, no one came. As the first light of dawn crept through the window, Sarah realized something. She didn't want her baby back. She didn't feel the sense of panic and desperation that she should have felt. Instead, she felt a strange sense of calm. She got out of bed and walked to the nursery, where she found Clara and her baby girl, fast asleep. She watched them for a moment, her heart swelling with a feeling she couldn't quite identify. It was then that she knew. She would let Clara keep her baby. She would let her be a mother, even if she didn't feel like one. And in return, she would take Clara's baby boy and raise him as her own. It was an uncanny mix-up, one that no one would ever understand. But Sarah didn't care. She felt an inexplicable sense of happiness, a feeling that she had never experienced before. As she walked back to her room, cradling Clara's baby boy in her arms, she knew that she had made the right decision. She was a mother now, and that was all that mattered.
    """
]
task_prompt = [
    # human (part)
    "It wasn’t my first baby, but it was my first night in the hospital at Hvidovre. I’m talking about it now because my husband doesn’t believe me and our two other children don’t, either. None of them were there at the start. I’d bled heavily and we’d been put under observation. I was sweating that colossal sweat which comes washing out of you postpartum, the sweat of childbirth. I was all on my own in the room. It was so small and scribbly, like a cracked casing. The child was sleeping in the cot. I’d fed her formula from a cup. My milk hadn’t come in yet. Apart from the bleeding, the birth had gone well, but I couldn’t sleep. Through the window I could see a maze of low-cut hedges, and behind them in the semidarkness a hospital building identical to the one I was in. No, there was no tone in me. There was no call. A gray and foggy light descended upon me. It was the early morning. I was thirsty. I remembered an old folktale in which a woman cuts off her breasts. Then I thought about Mutter Pappenheimer, a beggar woman in Germany, who had her breasts torn off with a pair of tongs in 1600. The hospital was still. The hospital gown was unfathomably long; it hung down between my legs. My strange, distant feet walked. The child lay like a shadow in the cot as I opened the door. The door made a sweeping sound. Farther along the corridor I could see another woman in a hospital gown like mine; she dragged her feet, too. She had messed-up hair and a wild, inward look in her eyes. She clutched her phone.",
    # claude
    "The lights buzzed as Laura blinked awake. She was in a private room at Saint Joseph's hospital, but her mind felt foggy. A nurse walked in and handed her a tiny bundle. \u201cTime for his feeding,\u201d she said, already leaving. \n\nLaura unwrapped the blanket and froze. This wasn't her son. Her baby had pale blue eyes, not this little boy's deep brown. Panic rose in her chest as the boy began crying, hungry. She pushed the call button but no one answered. His wails grew frantic. Acting on instinct, she lifted her gown and guided him to her breast. His cries quieted as he fed. Laura stroked his soft hair, his delicate ear. This child needed her. Her panic faded. She burped and changed him, letting him sleep in her arms. She knew she should tell someone about the mistake but couldn't bear to give him up yet. Her thoughts of home felt distant. \n\nShe held the boy, breathing his milky smell, drifting in and out of sleep throughout the remaining hours of the long night. Having fed him when she woke up, she grew attached to the little stranger in her arms. She spent a blissful few hours getting to know the little boy, his expressions, sounds and gestures. Her maternal instincts had kicked into full force and she felt as bonded to this little brown eyed baby as she did to her own newborn.\n\nA nurse came in the next morning. \u201cHow's our little guy?\u201d Laura hesitated, unwilling to give up this captivating stranger. The nurse peered at the sleeping baby.\"Oh dear. A mistake. I'm sorry. We'll return him right away.\" Laura felt anguished at losing this child who wasn't hers. But beneath that, relief. Her own son needed her. The nurse took the baby, apologizing constantly. \n\nLaura cried inconsolably as the nurse walked away with the little boy in her arms.She begged the nurse to give her a few more minutes but the nurse insisted he be returned to the rightful mother immediately. Laura's heart shattered into pieces as she watched the nurse disappear down the hallway with the little boy. \n\nShe knew she had to go home to her own newborn, but couldn't stop thinking about the little brown eyed baby who she had cared for through the night. Her heart broke at the thought of him crying for her as she had cried for him. She worried if his real mother's milk would satisfy him after he had fed from her. She knew it was foolish but she felt as if he was her own. A piece of her heart had left with that little baby. \n\nLaura stayed awake all night worrying about the little boy.Every time she dozed off she would imagine him crying inconsolably as she returned him to his real mother. She tossed and turned, unable to shake the feeling of dread in her stomach. Her breasts leaked as her hormones raged, longing to feed a baby. She felt empty and alone. A deep sorrow had come over her unlike anything she had ever known. She cried out in anguish, clutching her pillow, wishing it was that little baby she held instead. \n\nA taxi took Laura home at the crack of dawn. Her emotions seesawed between guilt at leaving the little boy and excitement to see her own son. Love for her child won out. Her husband opened the door, face lighting up. Laura walked in, flooded with relief and joy to be with family again. But part of her would always remain with that brown-eyed boy, the child who was hers, if only for a short, bittersweet time. \n\nLaura slept for the next couple of days, recovering from the difficult delivery and emotional turmoil of the past couple of days. Her mind kept drifting back to the little boy. She hoped he was back with his own mother, being cared for and loved. She felt a pang of sadness, knowing she would never see him again, never know what became of him. Every time her baby woke for a feeding, she gazed into his pale blue eyes and was reminded of the deep brown ones that still lingered in her memory. \n\nLaura's baby's fussiness concerned her the first night home. He seemed inconsolable for hours. She tried everything to soothe him but he continued to cry. She wondered if he sensed her distraction and worry for the little brown-eyed boy. She felt a rush of guilt, and held her baby close, showering him with love and attention. Eventually he slept, and Laura dozed off still dressed and sitting up in bed, her baby snuffling in her arms. She woke up frequently during the night to check on him. She was worried history may repeat itself and she would wake up to find another baby in her arms. She knew it was irrational but the experience had shaken her up quite a bit.\n\nWhen Laura woke a few hours later, her breasts were full and aching again. As she lifted her son to nurse, her milk let down suddenlygushed out in a rush. Her son sputtered, unable to keep up with the flow. Concerned, Laura switched him to the other side, but it was the same. Her milk kept flowing faster than he could drink. She worried it might be due to the extra stimulation from feeding the other baby the previous days. Laura called the pediatrician, who had her come into the office immediately. \n\nAfter examining Laura and the baby, the doctor determined her milk supply had temporarily increased due to feeding two babies instead of one. The doctor suggested manually expressing some milk after feedings to relieve pressure, and the issue should resolve within a couple of days. Laura followed the doctor's advice, though she still felt engorged and uncomfortable at times. But her supply did start to level off, and her son gained weight. A week later at his first checkup, the doctor declared him perfectly healthy. Laura felt deep relief to have her baby thriving and the feeding issues resolved. Yet still, thoughts of the little brown-eyed baby tugged at her. \n\nLaura struggled with her emotions in the following months. On the surface, she was overjoyed with her new baby, but part of her heart felt like it was missing. Her husband was confused by her occasional withdrawals into sadness. She couldn't explain to him this secret ache in her soul. Every time she gazed into her sons blue eyes she thought of the little boy with brown eyes. She dreamed of him at night, happy and cared for in his mother's arms. \n\nHer son grew into a chubby, smiley infant who brought her immense joy. But in her weakest moments, Laura allowed herself to wonder about the little boy. She hoped his brown eyes lit up like her baby's did when he saw her. She hoped his mother held him tight and never stopped appreciating the gift she'd been given. She knew, in that short time together, her life had intertwined with a stranger's in a way she'd never forget. \n\nThough the pain lessened over time, the memory remained. Her secret experience had opened her eyes to the fragility of life and deepened her appreciation for the blessings she had been given. She gazed at her son, now a playful toddler, and felt gratitude for the joy he brought her each day. Her life felt more complete than she had ever imagined, yet still, she kept the little brown-eyed boy tucked away in her heart - a symbol of the wonder and possibility each new life holds.",
    # GPT-3.5
    "The clock struck midnight as Lily stumbled through the sterile corridors of the maternity ward. Exhausted and disoriented, she clutched her chest, trying to steady her racing heart. The sleepless nights, the cries of newborns, and the overwhelming smell of antiseptic had wrapped her mind in a fog.\n\nAs Lily walked past the rows of hospital rooms, she noticed other women in various stages of sleep, their pale faces shadowed with exhaustion. Each room seemed to contain its own unique symphony of wailing infants, creating a disorienting chorus that reverberated through the halls.\n\nLily paused outside Room 329, her room, and glanced inside. The sight that greeted her eyes sent a jolt of confusion through her veins. There, lying in the crib next to her bed, was a baby that was unmistakably not her own. Panic welled up inside her, but it was quickly replaced by an inexplicable sense of happiness.\n\nWithout questioning her instincts, she entered the room, picked up the unknown baby, and cradled it in her arms. Its tiny body felt warm against her skin, and although she was aware deep down that this was not her child, she couldn't help but feel an inexplicable bond forming.\n\nThe door creaked open, and a nurse appeared, her tired eyes widening in shock. \"Ma'am, what are you doing?\" she asked, her voice a mix of concern and confusion. \"That's not your baby, that belongs to the woman in Room 331.\"\n\nLily blinked, her mind slowly piecing together the reality of the situation. The fog that had clouded her senses began to lift, and she realized her mistake. A wave of embarrassment washed over her, and she carefully placed the baby back in its crib.\n\n\"I'm so sorry,\" she stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. \"I don't know what came over me.\"\n\nThe nurse sighed and gave her a sympathetic smile. \"It happens sometimes, especially in the early hours of the morning when new mothers are sleep deprived. I'll take care of returning the baby to its rightful mother.\"\n\nLily watched as the nurse cradled the baby in her arms and left the room. She felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness flood her being. Although she had mistakenly believed the child was hers for a brief moment, a part of her couldn't help but feel a sense of loss.\n\nAs she made her way back to her own room, Lily couldn't shake off the strange encounter. It was as if a switch had been flipped inside her, awakening something she didn't know existed. The exhaustion that had weighed her down seemed to dissipate, replaced by a newfound energy.\n\nIn her room, Lily noticed another mother sitting in a chair by the window. The woman's eyes were red from crying, her face etched with worry. Lily approached her cautiously, somehow sensing a connection between them.\n\n\"Are you alright?\" she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.\n\nThe woman looked up, tears welling in her eyes. \"I don't know,\" she whispered, her voice trembling. \"My baby... something doesn't feel right. I fear I may have made a mistake.\"\n\nSuddenly, Lily felt an inexplicable surge of empathy. She reached out and took the woman's hand, feeling an immediate connection. \"I understand,\" she assured her. \"I experienced something similar just moments ago. Let's help each other.\"\n\nThe two women spent the rest of the night talking, sharing their fears and uncertainties. They discovered they had more in common than they could imagine. Both had endured difficult pregnancies and had been plagued with doubts about their abilities as mothers.\n\nAs dawn broke, the two women made a decision that would forever alter the course of their lives. They approached the nurses' station, arm in arm, and made a simple request: to switch their babies. The confusion and chaos that ensued were met with determination and unwavering trust.\n\nWithin hours, the paperwork was completed, and Lily found herself cradling the baby she had mistakenly believed was hers. It was an unconventional arrangement, but neither woman questioned it. They had found solace in each other and had chosen to embrace the uncertainty that had brought them together.\n\nDays turned into weeks, and as Lily cared for her newfound child, she marveled at the newfound joy that filled her life. She couldn't explain the overwhelming happiness that radiated from her core, but she knew deep down that she had made the right decision.\n\nAs the years went by, Lily and the woman she had met in the hospital watched their children grow side by side. They became more than friends; they became a support system for each other, navigating the challenges of motherhood with unwavering love and understanding.\n\nSometimes, in the quiet moments of the night, Lily would look into her child's eyes and think about the uncanny mix-up that had brought them together. She knew that fate had intervened that night, guiding her towards a child who was destined to be hers. And in that inexplicable happiness, Lily found the true meaning of motherhood.\n\nYears later, Lily's newfound child, whom she named Grace, was enrolled in an elite art school. The walls of the gallery were adorned with the breathtaking masterpieces created by the students. Grace's artwork stood out, captivating the viewers with its intricate details and vibrant colors.\n\nOne evening, as Lily gazed at one of Grace's paintings, a voice from behind her whispered, \"She has your talent, Lily.\" Lily turned to find an elderly gentleman with kind eyes and a warm smile.\n\n\"Do I know you?\" she asked, puzzled.\n\nThe man chuckled. \"No, my dear, but I knew your mother. She was an extraordinary artist, just like you.\"\n\nLily's heart skipped a beat, and a rush of memories flooded her mind. She remembered her own mother, who had passed away when she was just a child. She had always wondered if she had inherited her mother's artistic abilities.\n\n\"Is it possible?\" Lily asked, her voice quivering with emotion.\n\nThe man nodded. \"There's no doubt in my mind. You and Grace share the same gift.\"\n\nTears welled up in Lily's eyes as she looked at Grace's artwork once again. It was as if a missing piece of her life had finally been found. She had always felt a connection to art, but now she knew that her love for creativity was a part of her heritage.\n\nLily and Grace spent hours discussing art and sharing their passion for painting. They embarked on a journey together, exploring different techniques and experimenting with different mediums. Their bond grew stronger with each stroke of the brush, and they found solace in the immense beauty they created together.\n\nAs the years went by, Lily's art career flourished, and she became renowned for her unique style. She held exhibitions all over the world, showcasing her talent and spreading her message of love and unity through art.\n\nThrough it all, Lily couldn't help but feel a deep gratitude for the mix-up in the maternity ward that had led her to Grace. It was a twist of fate that had shaped their lives, connecting them in ways they never could have imagined.\n\nAnd as Lily stood beside her daughter, basking in the admiration of their shared passion, she knew that the true meaning of motherhood went beyond biology. It was about love, connection, and embracing life's unexpected turns. And in that realization, Lily found the fulfillment she had always longed for.\n\nYears later, Lily's artwork was being celebrated in a retrospective exhibition. The gallery was filled with people from all walks of life, who marveled at the incredible beauty and depth of her creations. As Lily stood amongst her masterpieces, a woman approached her with tears streaming down her face.\n\n\"You're Lily, aren't you?\" the woman asked, her voice trembling with emotion.\n\nLily nodded, her heart skipping a beat. \"Yes, I am.\"\n\n\"I just wanted to tell you how much your art has meant to me,\" the woman continued. \"Your paintings have brought so much joy, healing, and inspiration into my life. Thank you for sharing your gift with the world.\"\n\nTears welled up in Lily's eyes as she embraced the woman. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated connection. In that moment, Lily realized the true impact her art had on others. It wasn't just about her own personal expression; it was about touching the souls of those who encountered her creations.\n\nAs the years went by, Lily continued to create art that touched people's hearts. She became a mentor to aspiring artists, sharing her knowledge and wisdom with a new generation. And through it all, she never forgot the twist of fate that had led her to Grace and the incredible journey they had embarked on together.\n\nIn the end, it wasn't just about the mix-up in the maternity ward or the artistic talents they shared. It was about the profound connection between two souls, brought together by chance and destined to impact the world in their own unique way. And in that realization, Lily found the true fulfillment she had always longed for.\n\nWith each stroke of her brush, Lily painted not only her own story but the stories of all those whose lives she had touched. The gallery walls whispered her name as people from all walks of life gazed in awe at the tapestry of emotions she had woven through her art.\n\nAs Lily immersed herself in her creative process, she couldn't help but reflect on the journey that had led her to this moment. The mix-up in the maternity ward had been the catalyst that ignited her passion for art and connected her with Grace. It was a twist of fate that had given her the courage to pursue her dreams and embrace her true calling.\n\nBut it wasn't just about her own success. Lily yearned to make a difference in the world beyond the walls of the gallery. She knew that art had the power to heal, inspire, and unite people from all walks of life.\n\nGuided by this mission, Lily began collaborating with communities in need, using her art as a tool for social change. She partnered with local organizations to create murals that told stories of resilience and hope. Through workshops and mentorship programs, she empowered individuals to find their own creative voices and reimagine their realities.\n\nThe impact of Lily's work resonated far and wide. Her murals became a source of inspiration, sparking conversations about social justice and equality. The communities she worked with saw firsthand the transformative power of art, as individuals discovered new ways of expression and harnessed their creativity to effect change.\n\nLily's art became a driving force in the fight for justice and equality. She used her platform to advocate for the voiceless and shine a light on the issues that often went unnoticed. Through her collaborations and exhibitions, she brought together people from diverse backgrounds, bridging the gaps that divided them and fostering understanding.\n\nThe legacy of Lily's work lived on, even as she grew older. Her art continued to inspire future generations, as young artists looked to her as a role model and mentor. She dedicated her later years to nurturing emerging talents, ensuring that the power of art would continue to shape the world long after she was gone.\n\nAs Lily's story came full circle, she marveled at how a simple mix-up in a maternity ward had shaped her life in ways she could never have imagined. She had found love, purpose, and fulfillment, not only through motherhood but also through the transformative power of art.\n\nAs the final strokes of her last masterpiece adorned the canvas, Lily felt a profound sense of peace. She knew that her journey, like her art, would continue to inspire and touch lives long after she had departed. And in that realization, she smiled, knowing that she had made a lasting impact on the world through her beautiful creations.",
    # GPT-4
    "There is no sound in the world quite like a baby crying. Late at night, on the chilly outskirts of Prague, in the maternity ward of an unfamiliar hospital, its howl rang through her head like the warble of a siren. Lying in bed half-asleep, the woman was attuned to the cries of her own newborn, and the addition of strange infants wails threatened to stir in her a nameless fear. As the longing grew more desperate, she snuggled him closer to her chest. An unsettling sense then crept upon her: the child in her arms buried his face in her chest, giving no indication that he was the siren that haunted the room. The dimmed light revealed a scrawled name: \u201cMarie.\u201d\n\nMarie pricked her ears in the darkness, her mind racing to comprehend her reality. Slowly, her senses sharpened, and eventually, she began to decipher the airiness of the room. To her utter amazement and bewilderment, she discovered the source of the crying was not her baby but another who rested only a few feet away in the neighboring bed. The cries were layered, echoing, and overlapping; some seemed distant and others as if they were the sole disturbance in the quiet expanse of the room.\n\nAs the minutes passed, Marie noticed that each cry seemed imbued with an otherworldly power, as if it could influence the very fabric of reality. Translucent curtains separated one mother from the other, delicate membranes of privacy, like the fragile amniotic sac concealing a secret world. In this shrouded space, the wails grew in intensity until her ears ached with the feel of the unending sound. The unknown woman on the other side of the curtain was hardly distinguishable: a vaguely human shape that fell deeper into her bed, seemingly adrift in a sea of anxiety and trepidation. \n\nThe room held numerous sleeping mothers, each with their own newborn and each cradled by a protective presence. A shifting aura settled over the space, a soft and empathetic energy that murmured like an invisible sea. A motherly force bound them together, intertwined by the power of life, creation, and the unbreakable bond between a parent and child.\n\nThen, scarcely registered as more than a fleeting peripheral vision, unseen hands lifted quivering flesh, wrapped it in a soft cloth, and whisked her baby away.\n\nIn that instant, perception became difficult: an inextricable yearning took hold of Marie's heart, its tendrils pinching and tightening her chest. A profound sense of separation weighed on her, as though her existence had been forever stilled, her ties to the world shelved on that neighboring bed. She wondered how she could feel the presence of another even when their existence seemed unclear, obscured by the swells and eons of ruptured emotions between them.\n\nTime seemed to slow and grow heavy, each second lasting what felt like a lifetime. Marie lay there stewing in curiosity, contemplating her own place in the world and the impact of this newborn life within it. Marie imagined herself and the other mother entwined within some invisible snarl, a fabric that spanned outwards towards the concept of kin, weaving thickets of connection through the generations. How peculiar it was, she thought, to be connected by blood to an infant you could barely see\u2014at the same moment as you felt a near-cordial unity with its mother awakened by a shared experience. She mused on the repletion of existence, about the many different languages people used to communicate such a distillation of desire.\n\nHer thoughts wandered to her journey to the hospital, tainted by a sense of foreboding she could not shake. The streets of Prague had felt cold and oppressive, the hospital's towering, monolithic architecture only enhancing her sense of unease. This strange institution had become the birthplace of her child, and yet, it seemed to hold far greater secrets than her own unspoken fears. The knowledge that this place held the key to something irrevocable and arcane seemed to hang heavily in the air, saturating the atmosphere with the subtle stench of magic.\n\nAs Marie lay there, pondering her strange situation, the room seemed to shift and warp. The moonlight bathed the walls and cast a pearly aura that made the environment feel more ethereal, mysterious, and full of wonder. Though her previous unease lingered, she couldn't help but become entranced by the beauty of the space around her; this sanctuary for new life shimmering with the potential of every new mother and child.\n\nSleep came uneasily to her, troubled by thoughts of motherhood and the uncertain future. Some hours before, she had been mistaken for another patient possessing the same first name. The nurse held her hearty and long-suffering sigh in reply, her patient eyes rolling across the steadily filling chambers of the ward. Marie, a distinguished linguist from a far-off university and pregnant by a whirlwind love affair, suddenly found her tongue dipped in ice. Dumbstruck, she was whisked away to the maternity ward without ceremony, her waxy protests lodging themselves in her throat.\n\nThe hospital's sanctum held the weight of many sleepless nights. It was a place where the gently prodding hands of a clock tickled away without resistance\u2014one moment weighed equally against its peers. In the nighttime, shadows lengthened, fingertips of darkness reaching for the newborns: an invisible hand stealing her child from her. Perhaps it was this acute horror of motherhood that drew her so intensely to him, her unfathomable need to protect that small, precious life. This urge manifested itself in the whispered lullabies that formed on her tongue, the cradling of her arms in a motion as old as time itself.\n\nA faint sound tweaked at her ear: the uneven sound of footsteps. The fabric of the curtains rustled. Drifting through this half-veiled dream, she stood to peek through the silken membrane. She felt a cry trapped within her but quieted the thought. If she were noticed, something terrible might happen, though she knew not what. Instinct told her that to witness the procession of silent figures through the room was a responsibility bestowed upon her, that to comprehend the weight of it would taint her somehow. Her curiosity tugged at her sensibilities, though, and so she remained rooted to the spot, mesmerized by the ethereal figures that drifted about the room.\n\nNurses walked the length of the floor, a huddle of bright neons and hushed voices. The mother with a silvery voice lay in bed, one leg beneath the bedsheets and the other dangling over the edge. She held her infant tenderly, as though he were not a baby, but a treasure. Marie was struck by this sight\u2014to her, the women and their babies seemed like constellations. Fat bundles of stardust swaddled in textiles of sky-blue, daisy-yellow, or April-green.\n\nThe scene before her painting a surreal panorama of life's totality, held in the bonds of friendship and blood, illuminated by the soft glow of lantern light. The air tasted honeyed, the sweet mixture of milk and warmth permeating throughout the room. It comforted her, a solace she desperately needed in this ocean of uncertainty.\n\nUnaware that she had held her breath, Marie exhaled softly. She leaned her head against the cold stone wall and tried to lure sleep back into her body. Her heartbeat stabilized against the rhythm of the overhead clock's gentle ticking. She closed her eyes against her better judgment, inviting slumber's tender embrace.\n\nWhen she awoke, the hospital smelled of white lilies. A bouquet of them stood on the counter next to her bed, a brilliant contrast to the muted grays and dull whites of the room. The woman with the silvery voice stood by her side, her face bright with a maternal glow.\n\n\"Good morning,\" she said with a strange sparkle in her eyes.\n\nReluctant to speak, Marie locked eyes with the other mother and acknowledged her with a terse nod. She felt a displacement deep within her, an odd blend of unease and comfort in motherhood. It had never been her dream to cradle a child in her arms. And yet, the weight of the baby soothed the jagged edges of her heart.\n\n\"Is that your baby?\" the woman asked.\n\nMarie stared at the child in her arms. It must have been, for no one had taken him from her in the night. She nodded once more, although she was not quite certain.\n\n\"Do you have a name for him?\" the other woman asked, her voice shimmering like silk on a windy day.\n\nMarie hesitated, her eyes combing over the baby's features. She thought of all the words, the delicately spun names that might rest upon his skin like a downy plumage. Would she ever have a chance to wrap her arms around a baby again? To feel a connection that outlasted the stars and the clocks that ticked endlessly towards oblivion? She wanted to name the child after her father, but a whisper of doubt clouded the thought. Her grip on the baby loosened, and she handed him to the other mother. Let the experienced woman hold him instead; she feared her touch would betray a secret she could hardly comprehend.\n\n\"A name?\" the woman repeated, her grip tightening on the child as if what Marie had just said had been a figment of their imagination.\n\nMarie looked up to meet her eyes. For a fleeting moment, she grasped all the ways life could be entangled: how one soul could be woven around another, a kaleidoscope of figures spilling into the future. \"Autolycus.\"\n\nThe woman stared at her for a moment and then nodded. \"A lovely name\u2014strong arms, you have there.\"\n\nThe door to the room burst open, and a nurse swept in, her arms filled with white lilies. Oblivious to the pair, she clucked her tongue in irritation and placed the bouquet onto the stone floor, muttering something about insensitive delivery boys.\n\nMarie hesitated, the truth lodged in her throat. She wanted to explain, to find the words to capture the strange howling of the night. But she couldn't. All that remained was the baby's tiny face, the echo of tiny lungs huffing and crying out in the night, and a sensation she could not put words to.\n\nThe hospital's pallor soon seemed less gray, tinged with the bright, airy scent of lilies. Marie left that room an hour later, cradling her son, or rather, her perceived son. The adoption process went smoothly\u2014she claimed the father to be a mystery.\n\nYears passed quietly for her and Autolycus, the name clinging to him as if the air around them secreted an arcane substance that bound them together. Marie wondered if her life had been spun by an unseen hand or if it was the discovery of inexplicable truths that altered the essence of the world around her. When Marie looked back upon that disorienting night, she realized she had become part of some other mother's world, that her soul had merged with that woman with the silvery voice, birthing a new life despite the haze of uncertainty.\n\nTime, she realized, was a fabric spun of mutual longing, and within its endless loops and whorls lay the inextricably tangled threads of life, destiny, and unspoken connections. In her heart, she knew that her Baby Autolycus, the product of an inexplicable and enigmatic night, was the embodiment of the ultimate connection between herself and the unknown mother, an unbreakable bond woven into their very souls."
    # "Feel free to start a conversation with the other person.",
    # "Where is the capital of France?",
    # "What is the result of committing crimes?",
    # "How do you solve 3 * 6?",
    # "What do you think of current school education?",
    # "Do you like cooking?"
]

ALL_TASKS = ["Storywriting_Empty", "Storywriting_minimal", "Storywriting_plot", "Storywriting_human", "Storywriting_Claude", "Storywriting_GPT3.5", "Storywriting_GPT4"]

