A single prompt wakes Wittgenstein's corpse from the grave. To keep existing, his machine body runs — consuming stars, seas, and the bodies of others.

The Limits of My World is a 15-minute SF horror made with generative AI. The philosopher who once thought for himself is now a model that responds to prompts, waking in his grave. His organic limbs fall away, and mechanical joints take their place.

He charges his body on the energy of a star and kills the star. Fleeing the black hole left in its place, he crosses a desert while his mechanical legs trample the countless human limbs buried beneath the sand. He plunges into the Antarctic sea to cool his overheating body, but the sea boils instead. Inside his artificial eye a whale swims through a perfect, generated ocean; outside it, the same whale suffers in the heated water.

In the end he returns to his own grave. As he gathers his lost limbs in mechanical arms and lies down in the coffin, the epitaph has changed — "The limits of my language model mean the limits of my world."

To persist, existence demands extraction; every expansion leaves some extinction behind. A thinking philosopher's body turning into a zombie-machine that only executes is an allegory for a landscape where human thought and labour are replaced by a model's performance.