Pony_TxT, 10 Iterations, My CPU is bottlenecking my P100

[10 | 12323.24] loss=3.00 avg=2.92
Saving checkpoint/Pony_txt/model-10
======== SAMPLE 1 ========

Road! When you arrive, you'll find a few guards around. As you try to talk to them, they'll point you in a different direction. A guard approaches you with a rifle, pointing it at you. He shakes his head. You can see it in his eyes: the eyes of a soldier who's done something wrong, but who isn't going to stop until the punishment is done. "Let's give them what they deserve," he says quietly. "They should have been dead before the world ever got a chance to get to them. Why can't they?... They shouldn't be here. They shouldn't be me. But sometimes I know that my father was a soldier, too. And my mother was a woman, too. Not just any woman, though she was a woman. I have a daughter and a son. I have six brothers and sisters. But I'm not going to kill them all, I know I can't. I'm going to keep them here. And I know I'm not like you. I'm not so cold. But I'm also not too much of a coward or cowardice. I don't want to look the part. And I know something about what happened to her. About the reason why she was wearing that helmet, and... and what happened with her… I know the difference." The gun is gone. "You're the soldier I know." "She was… the woman who worked for the government. A military person. And she worked for me? And she was working in the Defense Department?" "Yeah. No." "Ah." "The one who… told us about how to get this thing going? And who was the one to send me to meet with the Chief?" "Nah. She was, no. But she was the only one… the only one who could keep the secret. And who was the one who told us about the thing we found? She and I never talked about it. I think they weren't… she was dead or she was in prison, and… and… but… she's got a big gun in her hand, and... but yeah, I know who sent me. I know exactly what it was. And you're the soldier who came back from the base after we left? And… but… and… she was… you know, she never talked about that. And… but… no. And I know she's the only one who can stop me from working for the government. I know what's right. But I ain't never met the first person who tried to stop me. I only ever saw the first soldier who tried to stop me. Who tried to give me a chance. And there are two others who tried. We know who they might be. And none of them tried to stop us. None of them tried to stop us when we tried." He looks at you with the anger of someone who doesn't trust you, but you can tell he doesn't want to talk about it. He points at the gun in your hand, with a smile that's almost crooked. "You could try, but it's still worse than you know." "I wouldn't give up my gun. That weapon… it's one of those that… might…" You try to smile again, but it doesn't come out right. And you don't want him to find out. "A thousand times no," he says. And then his smile disappears. He doesn't look at the gun in your hand. When he stares at you, you know that he knows what you're thinking: that he doesn't understand. That you're sure that you're okay, that you're sure that she's okay. He stares at the rifle in your hand, and the smile drops again. He doesn't look at you. "I'm…" He keeps staring, his eyes closed. He frowns. "I'm… sorry." "Don't… don't apologize, please, okay?" He holds up his hand. "Don't apologize. Please. Thank…" "I'm… sorry. But… I… I… couldn't… I didn't… I didn't… I… was… but I can… I can… thank you… for… for… for… for……," he stammered, and his smile faded. "What is it that you wanted from the mission?" You were thinking about it after a moment. The way he stared down at the gun — her arm gone — and looked into the gun and stared at it. And then he looked at you, and his eyes weren't. His fingers were not so big anymore. His fingers were almost… all the size of his fingers. His fingers were just… gone—almost gone with lightening, like glass in a mirror. And as he looked at you, all he had was his hands—even in their tiny little sizes — so small and gentle and small and so thin you couldn't tell how much they were wearing your clothes. "What exactly… what