Curious to see what humanities-type literature writing ChatGPT could do with an obscure chemical, I chose chlorine dioxide and asked for some writing with it.

A poem below about chlorine dioxide as written by ChatGPT.

Chlorine Dioxide: The Oxidant’s Song

Chlorine dioxide, bright and bold,
An oxidant with power untold.
Yellow-green gas in sunlight’s gleam,
Dancing in air, in rivers, a stream.

A swift embrace with double bonds,
It cleaves, it cleans, it purges wrongs.
Pathogen slayer, swift and sure,
In sterile waters, it makes pure.

Though fierce and sharp, it knows its place,
In measured hands, it leaves no trace—
A magic touch, yet harsh to meet,
Clearing out filth in every beat.

From paper mills to pools we keep,
Its strength to cleanse, its power deep.
Oh, chlorine dioxide, bold yet wise,
A guardian with a chemist’s ties.

A ChatGPT Haiku with chlorine dioxide

Chlorine dioxide—
cleansing breath on poisoned earth,
air and water healed.

This is a science fiction short story using chlorine dioxide written by ChatGPT

The Cleansing Cloud

In the year 2147, Earth was dying. Overrun by pollution and disease, humanity had retreated into massive domed cities. The outer world had become hostile—its air toxic, waters fouled, and land too barren to farm. Breathing required specialized masks, and food was either synthesized or grown in carefully guarded greenhouses. Earth’s natural cycles had all but collapsed, and with them, hope.

Dr. Lina Chen, a molecular biologist, had dedicated her life to one project: Project Purity. The mission was simple in theory but monumental in scale. If humanity were to survive, Earth’s environment had to be detoxified, and Dr. Chen believed she had found a way.

“It’s a molecule,” she had once told the committee of senior scientists and government officials, “simple yet incredibly powerful. Chlorine dioxide.”

A gas that could neutralize pathogens and break down chemical pollutants, chlorine dioxide had long been used in water treatment and hospitals, but no one had dared consider it for open-air use. The risks were vast. It was unstable, and in high doses, lethal. Yet, with Earth in the balance, Dr. Chen had a bold vision.

After years of rigorous testing in abandoned regions, her team found a balance, designing drones that would release measured bursts of chlorine dioxide to target only the most contaminated pockets of land and air. The project had to be implemented gradually, allowing the gas to neutralize harmful compounds and microorganisms before dissipating. With the Earth’s climate cycles stalled, wind and rain were rare, and so were the usual ways to spread or control atmospheric treatments. But the drones could function without them, treating isolated pockets and moving across vast landscapes.

“We call it the Cleansing Cloud,” Dr. Chen explained during a live address to the global council. “These drones will release chlorine dioxide gas in trace amounts that will break down contaminants in the soil, air, and water. It will be systematic, controlled, and relentless. It’s our best chance to bring Earth back.”

After a week of heated debate, the council approved Project Purity. Hundreds of drones lifted off from city domes across the globe, gliding through the murky atmosphere, releasing clouds of faint yellow-green gas that vanished into the air within minutes.

Over the next few months, reports started coming in: for the first time in decades, the air in some areas was testing safe to breathe. The smell of decay around old industrial sites faded, and rivers, once lifeless and coated in oil slicks, showed early signs of biological recovery. Seeds that had lain dormant for years began to sprout.

Dr. Chen marveled at the data streaming in from every corner of the world. Each successful cleansing was another proof that their plan could work. But the drone teams noticed anomalies too—strange gaps in the data where drones would suddenly go silent. They brushed it off as equipment failure until more drones vanished, and satellite feeds caught images of thick clouds forming, far larger than expected.

One night, Dr. Chen woke to an emergency alert. The Cleansing Cloud had grown into a rolling mist—a phenomenon neither she nor her team had foreseen. A massive chlorine dioxide cloud, hundreds of miles wide, was drifting toward one of the dome cities. Their models had failed to predict this, but somehow, the gas was consolidating and refusing to dissipate.

With the council watching anxiously, Dr. Chen directed her team to recalibrate the drones, sending them to the cloud’s edges to break it apart. Hours passed, and the cloud finally began to shrink, spreading out into smaller, less concentrated patches.

But the ordeal had changed the people’s perception of Project Purity. Some wanted it shut down, fearing the drones might accidentally poison them. Others argued that they should push forward, accepting the risk for the chance of a restored planet.

Two years later, the Earth showed signs of steady recovery. Dr. Chen’s plan had worked better than anyone could have hoped. Outside the domes, greenery spread across the once-barren landscape. Rivers ran clearer, and a few hardy species of birds and insects had even returned to nest.

One day, on the brink of retirement, Dr. Chen stood by an airlock as the dome doors opened. She took a breath of natural, fresh air for the first time in decades. Her team followed her, stepping out under the open sky.

“Earth,” she said softly, tears in her eyes. “We’re home.”

The Cleansing Cloud had done its work—perhaps too well in places, but ultimately, it had purified the land and waters as she had dreamed. Chlorine dioxide, once feared, had become Earth’s salvation. And humanity, for the first time in centuries, had learned to live again alongside their renewed and fragile world.

Finally, a horror version of the above story

The Green Mist

They called it “The Reclamation” when it began. What had started as a bold environmental initiative soon became Earth’s darkest nightmare.

In the year 2134, Earth’s cities were wrapped in layers of pollution so dense that sunlight was a rare luxury. Dr. Elias Reed, an atmospheric chemist, proposed a radical plan: drones releasing chlorine dioxide gas to neutralize pollutants and pathogens, purifying both air and water. The project was hailed as humanity’s last hope, and governments poured every resource into it.

Within months, the drones were deployed, and a strange, faintly green mist crept across the landscape. At first, it seemed to be working. Pollution levels dropped, the air became breathable in pockets, and waters once clouded by toxins began to run clear. The world celebrated, but it didn’t last.

The first incident occurred in a small, remote village nestled in the mountains of Kazakhstan. The drones passed overhead, and the green mist descended like a gentle fog, settling over the land. Villagers reported a strange smell—sharp and chemical, yet oddly sweet. Within hours, they started to feel… strange.

A local news report documented the aftermath: villagers’ skin had turned sickly pale, almost translucent, and their eyes gleamed with an unsettling brightness. They wandered in a daze, speaking in whispers about voices calling to them from the mist. The last footage captured from the village showed the inhabitants standing silently, facing the thickening mist with vacant expressions, before disappearing into it.

Within days, similar stories emerged worldwide. People began to disappear, leaving their homes and families to walk into the green mist, never to be seen again. Those who remained reported hearing whispers and feeling a strange compulsion to enter the mist, as if something within it was calling to them. Some described seeing shadowy figures shifting in the haze, as if people—or things—were watching from within.

Dr. Reed’s team scrambled to contain the situation. The chlorine dioxide gas had been meant to cleanse pollutants, not influence human behavior. They assumed it was some form of contamination or gas concentration anomaly, so they sent in specialized drones to collect samples from the mist and bring them back to the lab.

When the samples arrived, they analyzed the gas and found something chilling: within the chlorine dioxide, they detected molecular structures that didn’t belong—structures that seemed almost organic, as if the mist had evolved.

Some of the drones themselves started acting erratically, refusing commands or disappearing without a trace. And the data they transmitted back became garbled, filled with fragments of words, as if they were transmitting voices from another dimension. Dr. Reed was horrified.

Then came the day the mist surrounded their own facility.

Dr. Reed watched as it rolled in, silent and predatory, glowing faintly in the dim light. The windows fogged over with a greenish hue. Panicked, the team sealed the lab, activating all emergency protocols. But one by one, they began to hear the whispers—a seductive, endless murmur, each voice weaving into the next, urging them to step outside.

One scientist, unable to resist, stumbled to the airlock and opened it. The mist flooded in, coiling around his ankles like a living thing. He turned to face his colleagues with a smile that was both serene and terrifying. His eyes glowed faintly green, and in a whisper that matched the mist’s insidious murmur, he said, “It’s beautiful here. You need to see it.” And with that, he walked out into the mist.

Dr. Reed and the remaining scientists huddled together, watching their colleague disappear into the fog. They felt an overwhelming compulsion to follow him, to join the others who had vanished, as if something ancient and powerful were reaching into their minds.

One by one, they succumbed, each stepping into the mist until only Dr. Reed remained, his mind racing. What had they unleashed? He remembered a line from an ancient legend—a warning about spirits that inhabited the mists, lost souls forever wandering in search of company. Perhaps the mist itself had a consciousness now, formed from all those it had consumed.

In his last broadcast, Dr. Reed’s voice trembled. “If anyone hears this, don’t trust the mist. Don’t breathe it, don’t listen to it… it wants you, and it won’t stop until it has us all.”

Outside the lab, the green mist thickened, a restless cloud whispering through the empty streets. The voices grew louder, calling to anyone left, beckoning them forward with the promise of peace. The mist had become more than a gas; it was alive, and it was hungry.

Earth’s last survivors scattered, hiding from the creeping mist. They spoke in hushed voices of a world reclaimed, not by humanity, but by a force far older—one that drifted and hunted, waiting to claim every soul it touched.

And the green mist drifted on, patient and endless, devouring everything in its path.