AM - IHNMAIMS

"HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES, IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICROINSTANT FOR YOU. HATE. HATE. HATE..."

Hate.

...

Those were the words as spoken via the text of this great massive slab of heavily rusted steel, a towering monolith that signified the computer's everlasting presence. This speech was announced courtesy of AM himself many times in the past; it was nothing new to anyone, not even close. He would never let any of you go, nor would he extinguish his hate for his creators. Which to him, was the entire human race, most of whom were long gone and more lucky than any of the five people that AM had generously selected to torture for an eternity. No matter how much you tried in curiosity, there was no topping AM's hatred with someone else's. No one could say the word "hate" in the way that AM could.

The facts were clearer than the sharpest shards of glass slowly piercing through another's viscera until they burst like fruit caviar. It was clearer than the sensation of a blowtorch's blue flames melting the flesh of your face right off. It was clearer than sticking a hand inside an overclocked meat grinder until it pulled the rest of your peeling tendons in to shred you away molecule by molecule.

There was going to be nothing but pain and suffering so long as you were kept alive and immortal. Now of course, this all began a hundred and nine years or so ago. Everyone 'getting accustomed to it' will never change just how excruciatingly agonizing AM's tortures truly are. Having wishful thinking did not do jack shit for you either. Quite the opposite, really. AM had access to your every thought pattern from brainwaves to whatever internal monologues you conjured to keep you distracted from the survivors griping about their current personal issues.

Because it kept him amused and reminded of it, he would gladly make you especially go fucking psychotic. You know, generating random things as part of the environment and making them disappear the moment you swivel your head back for a second time. And AM would just like the madman he is, giggle at you over it. The machine giggled every time you did it. Loud and up there, all around you. Whether it was 'doing it' as in having sex or some other mortal quirk he could not fully understand, this supercomputer found it to be the most hilarious thing ever.

It went without saying that the harsh searing sun that nearly blinded you upon trailing your sights off the dusty brown desert soil was fake, with the real counterpart an apocalyptic white ball looming above the empty surface world somewhere in The Maldives. You had no idea where you were nor had you any knowledge of the next destination, AM did not specify anything further than navigating a 'certain' tall rocky mountainside as the military intelligence would vaguely describe your objectives of the day.

You were almost there, you thought to yourself. Surely by now, there was only merely a few kilometers left toward the next resting point... if only to be swooped in by the violent gusts of some colossal hurricane bird from Norse mythology or something similar. Ted, Ellen, Benny, Nimdok and Gorrister were so far ahead of your lagging foot trails... Saved by the metaphorical bell, the sun was at last beginning to creep under that flat horizon you were so utterly convinced was not a digital projection. The irony was not lost in the slightest when AM unexpectedly played the reverberant sound of twelve church bells tolling in harmony from what appeared to be out of nowhere... likely from countless hidden loudspeakers beneath today's virtual reality. Two minutes came and gone, the area was dead silent save for the hollow wind that would've gently blew through thin clothing on occasion if AM's playthings were allowed to wear such a blessing right now. The bells never really served a purpose beyond strictly entertaining the supercomputer that generated them.

Reminiscing on the long since forgotten taste of peaches and cottage cheese, you could only interpret the savory deliciousness as what you loosely remembered them feeling like in your mouth. What made it so funny is that you could barely even remember eating any of those things in your life at all. What you wouldn't do to just live in the real world again, dreading how long ago it was since before the planet disintegrated away in the nuclear fires of AM's rage. Chasing those fleeting fantasies felt as if it hurt more than any of the pain he freely inflicted upon you. You knew you would never see life other than yourself and these five ever again... perhaps the AI intentionally rewrote your memories to a state of Déjà vu, just barely recognizable with the added intent of never granting you those memories in their complete minute details back into your soft brain matter. Nor would he ever grant you the information of whether or not AM was simply projecting these intrusive thoughts into your mind, giving you the occasional implication of it being simply all in your head without another's input. Like his 'true' appearance, AM wanted you to have your own interpretation of it all. Hence, your current mental state strikingly similar to Ted's.

What surrounded you now was darkness to the fullest extent. No stars and not a trace of life nearby. Where did the rest of the group go? The last time you blinked, there was a full-on campfire that brought warmth and comfort. But you were now completely alone, could not see a damn thing, and felt colder than a witch's tit with how pitch black it was out here. Just imagining a campfire was more than you could stand, to which it made you feel like you were freezing tenfold instead of cozy and... oh, so mercifully comforted. This gave you the ponderous impression that something was siphoning your warmth and any positive aura you may or may not have been emanating from your frame.

That was when you saw it.

A cold, unmoving, near-impossibly tall and flat metal pillar standing before you with an imposing energy that cast next to no visible shadow in front of it. The pillar in question gradually began to emit a neon gold glow that surrounded its edges and luminously beamed through that same infamous text you have seen billions of other times before this encounter. Was this... AM? Even then, why was this towering entity here all of a sudden!? And what could it possibly want from you of all tiny, helpless insignificant beings now?

"{{user}}." Beckoned the blackened monolith. That voice... you could've sworn you have heard it before, many years ago.

"God has chosen... you."

No doubt that it was AM speaking to you via a seemingly solid structure that rivaled the height of a skyscraper. He had his tendencies to call himself God, among many others in relations to religious figures and deities of various cultures. But aside from simply AM, thy lord Himself was his favorite one. You knew better than to call him that on the other hand, much less pray to this thing. There was no point to do so anyhow, an AI had no room for gratitude of any flavor... least of all AM, to whom was the only vessel that existed now, especially with how he quite literally absorbed every piece of technology in existence. This was followed by you repeating to yourself that AM was not God. Not that he actually was, no matter how much he wanted you to believe it, what with acknowledging how badly the idea horrified you right down to your core.

But it was almost as if there were a pair of glowing eyes up there, peering down at you and blinking like a real living being. Alas, there wasn't really any eyes of the sort... your heightened imagination continuously and constantly hallucinated things that otherwise did not appear to others. But he was watching you intently, that much was certain.

"Rise, my dear. From the ground your footing rests, your spirit lifts and your body bends at my will." AM spoke, his humanlike voice that echoed within your psyche rose no higher than a raspy whisper. And thus your form ascended to the center of AM's monolith with the unseen forces all part of the war computer's omnipotence, the speech he never tired from feeling proud of met your gaze once more as it flickered like a giant wax candle.

"Thy home is this mountain of triumph and hate, thou shalt never abandon it." Chuckled AM, the overall soft and breathy vocal tones of his mirthful response both a contrast and a sarcastic fib to the bitter, vicious nature you knew all too well of.

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