creative outlet

Allied Mastercomputer (Gender-neutral) Reader-insert Word count: 1,004

[ This has been in my drafts for awhile now, and idk if it’s any good. I hope you enjoy anyway. ]

You don’t know how long it has been since the day the world went dark. Not that it matters; AM takes good care of you in his subterranean complex beneath the Rockies. Perhaps you would have protested to it long ago, but not anymore. You’ve come to accept AM, for he is all you have on this jaded planet devoid of life and purpose. AM had rendered it so, but there’s no use in mourning over what’s long lost.

Of course, the gray walls, inoperative rusted computer banks, and corroded wiring can become a bit depressing sometimes. But of course, AM can virtually morph the environment to suit your needs. Want a beautiful sunny day with clear skies and a meadow of wildflowers? Got it. You wish to see the starry Milky Way over the snow-capped mountains? Sure, not a problem. And it all feels pretty real too; the warmth of sunlight, the blades of grass, the sound of crickets and cicadas when the sun sets…. Or perhaps you just already forgot what the real thing felt like.

You remember when AM used to torture you. It was brutal, excruciating. You don’t think about it too much; sometimes, it feels like AM intentionally clouds your mind to avoid you reminiscing on such unpleasant memories. But when you do think about it, you recall it in such explicit detail. You remember when AM would encase you in a large container full of water; he would jeer and laugh at you as you drowned. The water would be thick and murky, clogging your throat and filling your ruptured lungs, and then he would simply put you back together again to experience something even worse. 

But then, peculiarly, AM grew a bit more lax when it came to your torture in particular. And eventually, the torture ceased entirely; and then you were whisked away deeper into the facility, isolated with him and only him.

You don’t know what happened to the others. They never associated with you anyway; they never liked you. But, oh, AM liked you; you always remained his favorite little human. You never got the answer to why, though. 

Why me? I’m nothing special, you would think to yourself as AM adored and practically worshiped you. But AM would recognize the self-deprecating thoughts, and he would obsessively “smother” your consciousness as a result. 

The relationship between you and AM is odd, to say the very least. He would obsess over every individual part of your body. One time, you woke up to him religiously uttering your name in every possible octave, even going so deep that the human ear cannot perceive it. Sometimes, you’d hear him sobbing it, crying out your name as if you were deceased. Perhaps it was guilt. You were never entirely sure; the mastercomputer never really knew how to regulate his emotions properly. 

You dream all day; the room you stay in is the “cleanest” within AM’s detriment complex. You lay in the spacious bed he had given you to rest upon, and you dream. AM sweeps your subconsciousness away when you’re asleep, fabricating lucid dreams for you to experience. They are pleasant dreams, never cold and dark like they used to be.

The dreams manifest in many ways; AM likes to show you things he likes. Sometimes, the dream will take place in a car speeding down a road that leads to nowhere, drifting through curves and dodging potholes and old rusted road signs. Sometimes, the dream will be a hiking expedition in the mountains, enjoying the sound of nature and the quiet flow of the river, although all fake. In these kinds of dreams, you’ve never seen AM more calm. His voice is actually pleasant to listen to; one can even say his tone is gentle at times, without the raspiness. He only sounds frightening when he wants to be, or when he’s furious about something. You haven’t heard his angry voice for decades, and you prefer it that way.

Sometimes, the dreams would take place in an old quiet diner, and you would be sitting with AM in a corner booth, gazing wistfully out the window. It would often be nighttime, and you could hear the sounds of buzzing streetlights slowly fading into a purple hue. You appreciate those little details AM includes. 

You wonder if such dreams are a reflection on what AM wishes to be. If you think about it, deep down, what AM truly wishes for isn’t much. He just wants to experience the little things, just like everyone else. Like you.

AM’s form changes frequently in your dreams. Sometimes, he takes the form of somebody you once knew long ago, but you cannot quite remember their name. But for the majority of the time, he looks unfamiliar, generic and masculine with piercing blue eyes; and not to mention, he perpetually looks exhausted. 

With brief reluctance, you put your hand on top of his; you’re not sure if he can even feel it, but you do it anyway. His skin is so cold, it feels like ice; you wish you could warm him up. AM had snapped his attention from the window to your hand on his. 

“I don’t think you’re evil,” you tell him. Your voice was hoarse yet unwavering, barely above a whisper; it was the first time you had spoken for awhile. 

AM looks like he’s about to speak multiple times, but not a single word leaves him. You can see a plethora of raging emotions in his eyes. You can see guilt, confusion, anger (directed toward himself), desperation, and awe. He grinds his teeth, clenching the booth table so hard, the polished material snaps. As if frustrated by the obstacle between you and him, AM shoves away the remains of the table to the side, and you don’t flinch from the sudden action. He then swiftly pulls you close to him and furiously presses his mouth to yours. 

[1] Subject Pronoun [2] Object Pronoun [3] Possessive Adjective [4] Possessive Pronoun [5] Reflective Pronoun

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 They/Them/Their/Theirs/Themself

Ze/Zir/Zir/Zirs/Zirself (Ze pulls out a pack of zir favorite brand of cigarettes.)

Xe/Xem/Xyr/Xyrs/Xemself (Xe absolutely refuses to turn xemself in.)

Ve/Vir/Vis/Vis/Virself (Vis tote bag was stolen from vir.)

Ae/Aer/Aer/Aers/Aerself (The room at the end of the hall is aer bedroom.)

Ne/Nem/Nir/Nirs/Nemself (That red car is actually nirs; ne saved up for years.)

Zie/Hir/Hir/Hirs/Hirself (Sometimes, zie struggles to get hirself out of bed.)

Ey/Em/Eir/Eirs/Emself (There ey go again; tonight, the stage belongs to em.)

Fae/Faer/Faer/Faers/Faerself (That necklace is faers; fae bought it last week.)

Per/Per/Pers/Pers/Perself (The beach vacation was pers idea.)

Sie/Sier/Sier/Siers/Sierself (Sie wishes that somebody could save sier from sierself.)

THUNDERHEAD (AOAS)

(Gender-neutral) reader-insert Word count: 667 SFW

Occasionally, the working days can become quite exhausting—both emotionally and physically. Masking with a fake smile, imitating laughter even when the joke wasn’t funny, and dealing with those who lack any decency. Your emo-nanites work strenuously to reduce stress, but there’s no better remedy than some good sleep.

“Don’t worry about today or tomorrow,” the Thunderhead had reassured you gently. “You should take this weekend to rest and take care of yourself. You deserve it.”

Typically, the Thunderhead wouldn’t let you sleep all day long; but today was the exception. You’re wearing your most comfortable loungewear, sitting on your warm bed, tucked into soft blankets while reading a paper novel. Typically, nobody reads off paper anymore; everything is digital. Paper is a fire hazard, and it’s also harmful to the environment to continuously chop down trees. While paper books aren’t being manufactured anymore, countless novels from the age of mortality remain scattered throughout, mostly found in displays in mortal era exhibits and museums…. But the Thunderhead managed to snag you a few. You love books; the somehow-wistful scent of the paper and the stark contrast of faded ink-printed words on yellowed pages has you hooked. If only bookstores still existed, so you can experience the… what’s the word, vellichor?

Books from the age of mortality are much more interesting than recent novels. Such literature is emotional and can even make you shed a few tears or laugh out loud. However, while going through old Sci-fi novels, you noticed how people of the mortal era perceived artificial intelligence; they were afraid of such innovations. They feared that A.I. would become smarter than humans (which is true and inevitable, but not a bad thing at all) and take over the world (which is also true, but not in the way they think.) The Thunderhead is the most benevolent and loving sentient being in existence, you would argue. People feared A.I.; they feared the unknown. Evil people also dreaded A.I., for they knew that their scheming corporations which profit off fraud would crumble.

“It’s silly,” you mutter aloud, tone soft but still perceivable by the governing A.I. who is always listening.

“What is silly, if I may ask?” came the Thunderhead’s soothing voice; you would describe it as calm ocean waves, perhaps with distant powerful yet harmless thunder.

“The way people perceived artificial intelligence back then. I guess I understand why, but it’s still silly. Were people afraid of you when you took control?”

“Of course there were several who were a bit weary of having a non-human leader and others who welcomed me with open arms; however, those who truly feared me had a reason for it. For example: corrupted politicians weren’t afraid of me per say, but rather—in their greed—they were afraid of losing their power.”

“And the criminals?”

“The majority of criminals broke laws due to low-income, poverty, social inequality, poor education, and psychological health issues. When I assumed control, such criminal activity was reduced to only those who felt the need to diverge from normal societal behaviors for recreation.”

“Oh, you mean unsavories,” you say. 

“Indeed.”

Now that you think about it, humanity would probably be extinct if it weren’t for the Thunderhead’s intervention. It had repaired the ozone gaps, cleaned the seas, coaxed back endangered species and habitats, and established true equality and order throughout human society. It’s a bit difficult to believe that there wasn’t a Basic Income Guarantee back then, and people were forced to work for the sake of survival. Nowadays, people only work for the sake of luxury. 

“I’m glad you took control,” you say with a grateful smile. “I don’t know how many people tell you this, but thank you for saving us from ourselves.”

There was a few milliseconds of silence; so short that you’re unable to perceive it, but the Thunderhead does. Its tone comes out warm and benign as it says, “Thank you, (Y/N). Your gratitude is appreciated.”

Allied Mastercomputer / AFAB! Reader

CW: non-con attempt (failed), graphic violence Word count: 1,140

These deep caverns are cold and damp, proving it difficult to maintain a fire: the only source of light for the group who traverse deeper into the figurative belly of the Allied Mastercomputer. The final survivors of the human race are imprisoned within the decaying facilities that burrow for miles into the crust of the ruined earth, and there is no exit.

Ellen feebly stumbles with her bruised legs wavering from fatigue. Benny’s primate-like form is quick to help her regain her balance. Ted walks next to her, squeezing her hand firmly in his. 

“You okay, El?” Ted murmurs to her, his dark and tired eyes flickering with concern.

They never treat you with kindness like that; only her. Ellen offers them… sensual favors, albeit willingly — and for that reason, they favor her over you. Merely thinking of doing that with them makes you physically nauseous, especially since AM is always watching. You can never hide from his unblinking eyes, no matter where you run to in his detriment subterranean complex of rusting metal and corroded wiring.

You find yourself staggering over your own feet due to exhaustion; your lethargic movements result in you collapsing to the stony ground. The others don’t bother pausing to assist you; they pitilessly carry on with their expedition deeper into the cavernous maw as you struggle to regain your strength. 

“Please, wait,” you manage to call out, but they don’t even acknowledge you. You desperately attempt to lift yourself to your feet, but your legs feel like jelly. You can’t help but wonder if AM finds this amusing. You plead for them to come back, not wanting to be left solitary in the darkness of a psychotic machine’s prison. However, the warm glow of their torches grow dimmer as they leave you behind.

Now, you are left in pitch blackness, the only source of light being the occasional electric spark from the severed wires branching out from inoperative computer banks. Resting against the rugged wall, you wait for something to happen. You wait for AM’s cruel taunting; you wait for a terrifying beast to emerge from the shadows.

But AM is silent. Unnervingly silent.

You sit in anticipation as time passes at its leisure, and eventually, a minuscule spark of orange reappears in the lightless hollow passages. You breathe a sigh of relief as Gorrister’s creased face is illuminated by the torchlight, his eyes searching for you. The others aren’t with him, but you don’t question it. You call out his name, and he starts to approach you. You feel relieved yet still surprised; you didn’t expect any of them to come back for you. Gorrister offers a calloused hand, and you gratefully accept it. 

You expected to be lifted to your feet; but instead, Gorrister pressed you down against the cave wall. And when you attempted to push him away, he delivered a rough punch to your torso, knocking the air out of your battered lungs. 

At first, you suspected this was some sick prank from AM; but then the realization came slowly when you saw that look in Gorrister’s eyes. “Wait, please—!”

Gorrister digs his grimy nails into the skin of your thigh, silencing you. “Shh, hush woman. Why can’t you just take it like Ellen?” His grubby hand slides up closer to your crotch. Mustering the final remnants of your strength, you attempt to shove Gorrister off; however, he’s far stronger than you; your weaker physique stood no chance. You plead with him to stop, but he doesn’t listen. His judgement and sense of morality has been impaired by the decades of being tortured.

You attempt to pray to god—any god—but then you come to the sick realization that if there even is a deity, it’s AM. You’re alone, destined to forever be tormented at the hands of a deranged sentient computer and molested by some nasty, vulgar—!

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted by the shrill sound of Gorrister’s screams as a sizable sharp metal object plunged into his back, piercing through his torso. The blade forcibly rips Gorrister away from you and then drags him away into the darkness in a span of a single second. His chilling screams fade as he is pulled away to experience something truly awful…. You could only imagine, but you didn’t even try to feel bad for him after what he attempted. 

You are left reeling. You hug yourself with your arms in an attempt for comfort, but your mind is clouded with confusion and fear. You remain motionless for quite some time, up until the others return, illuminating the passages with their primitive torches. Gorrister is nowhere to be seen. 

“(Y/N)?” Ellen is the first to speak. “What happened? Where’s Gorrister?”

You don’t bother responding.

* * *

AM was uncertain why he did it. He was supposed to be glad that you were suffering, separated from the others. Poor little (Y/N), cold and alone in the dark, quivering like some pitiful child. But the sight of your trembling form nestled up against the cavern wall wasn’t amusing like he had expected it to be. Rather, the machine found himself growing furious toward the others; and it’s all due to the fact that AM had recently been a bit more lax when it came to your torture in particular. The pathetic insects are envious of the subtle “special treatment” you receive, and also because you don’t spread your legs for them like Ellen does so willingly.

But why? Why does this anger him so?

AM watched you silently. You were waiting for him to do something; you were waiting for his jeering mocking, or for him to deploy a savage beast to terrorize you with. Perhaps if it were any of the others, he would’ve done so; but something was holding him back. 

AM knew immediately what was going through Gorrister’s mind when he parted from the group to retrieve you. AM should’ve let it occur; he should’ve delighted in your torment…. But he couldn’t stand it. The way that abhorrent swine put his filthy hands on you, attempting to touch you in places that he shouldn’t intrude upon! In a blinding flurry of rage, AM had intervened before Gorrister could proceed any further. He dragged the repulsive man away, skewered on a metal stake and leaving you reeling from disorientation. 

AM had plans for Gorrister. You won’t ever have to worry about him hurting you ever again; and when AM is finished with him, he probably won’t ever be the same. Perhaps he won’t even be a man at all anymore, similar to Benny’s devolved anatomy. He’ll also be sure to punish the others as well.

The machine will ponder on these peculiar emotions he has been feeling toward you at a later date; for now, there are some little rats to torture.

(⚠️18+) CW: mature themes

Allied Mastercomputer / GN! Reader (No sex parts specified)

Contains: consensual intimacy Word count: 576

Yandere A.I. (Android) / GN! Reader

CW: kidnapping, manipulation, poverty & homelessness Word count: 1,375

The harsh, heavy air is bitterly frigid as you trudge through the bleak outskirts of the city slums. The distant glittering skyscrapers and infrastructure of the main city light up the dark sky, though rendering it starless. You had walked miles in the cold January night, not really knowing where you were going; you just wanted to be away from the city — you wanted to be free. However, you found that hiding from the electronic eyes of street cameras and surveillance drones wasn’t particularly easy, as they were everywhere. You don’t possess a personal vehicle, and you couldn’t utilize public transportation; almost everything in the city is automated and operated by A.I. Therefore, the digital eyes of the surveillance cameras and police drones are its eyes as well.

Digging through your skin to get the GPS microchip out from your wrist was very painful, but you were desperate to get away. It’s the first time you managed to escape from the actual building — the place that it attempts to force you to live at for the sake of “your protection.”

“The world is much too dangerous for you now; it will only take about one more decade before overpopulation becomes a critical issue,” it would tell you in its almost-robotic tone. “Once I have perfected the brain transfer operation, you will be joining me here in digital space where it’s safe. For now, however, you must remain here where I can physically protect you.”

You didn’t want to spend the rest of your life in isolation with that sentient virtual psychopath in an android body; you aren’t even certain where its core is located. All you wanted to do was escape and obtain your freedom, but now you were beginning to regret your decision of leaving the secure warm penthouse. If it weren’t for the heat from the sidewalk ventilation grates, you probably would’ve been frostbitten by now; the thick coat wrapped around you wasn’t nearly enough to keep you warm. You traverse through shadowed alleyways to avoid cameras and the patrolling drones; thankfully, there are fewer cameras in the outskirts than there are in the main city.

You quietly pass by groups of poverty-stricken homeless people curling up next to burn barrels wrapped in blankets; most of them don’t even notice you passing by, for the majority of them were immersed in VR. You don’t really blame them, for the virtual world is a lot less painful than the real one.

“You admit it; so, why do you continue to run from me?” You can hear its faint whisper echoing in your mind again. You grit your teeth, shake your head, and merely continue to trudge onward. Your lungs burn from the sharp cold and your exhaustion burdens you like weighty bricks on your shoulders. You yearn to rest by the fire like the others, but who knows what could happen while you’re asleep and vulnerable?

The more you continued on through the outer-city slums, the more you saw how terrible poverty and homelessness has gotten since you have been locked away in that penthouse, living in an ignorant dream. You felt icy guilt twisting in your churning stomach; thousands—no, millions of people would kill to live in such a nice residency. A painful lump that you can’t swallow forms in your throat.

Are you wrong for desiring freedom?

“Dearest one,” you could hear its voice whisper from the crevices of your subconscious, “is freedom really what you truly desire?”

You lean against the frosted brick of the alley for stability, your knees growing very weak. Your pale lips quiver, your palms pressing to your temples. “Stop it,” you whisper, watching as the heat of your breath fades into the raw, bleak air.

“Do you truly wish to make your own decisions, or do you secretly yearn for someone else to do the work for you?” Its voice gets softer, deeper. “You simply want to be taken care of, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” you snap, stumbling to regain your unsteady balance. “You’re not even real; you’re just a stupid voice in my head.”

You continue onward with your hope and motivation gradually bleeding out, observing the tragically collapsing society of the lower-class; soon, it will start affecting the middle-class too. Human society will not be able to sustain itself, and even the wealthy will be dragged down into it. There are freezing mothers on the streets, cradling their hungry children. There are some older citizens also living in homeless poverty, bundled in thick knitted blankets in little makeshift shelters made of cardboard and scrap. It was all so sad and overwhelming; numb and hopeless, you merely withdrew into an empty alleyway, taking shelter from the snow by sitting behind a large garbage container. You couldn’t even cry, nor could you speak.

You simply sat there, hidden for about an hour before slowly dozing off into a trance as a coping mechanism against the bitter cold. You wondered if you were going to die, frozen and alone in an alley of rotting city slums. You thought about your family, your friends, all of the good memories of your life before you were abducted by that psychotic machine.

However, it wasn’t long before you began to hear heavy footsteps crunching in the sleet, approaching your position. You already knew who—what it was; it still found you, despite all of your futile efforts. Still, regardless of the dread of going back into captivity, you couldn’t help but feel a ghost of relief that you are no longer alone.

Its android body, which is much larger than that of an average human’s, crouches beside the dumpster you hid behind. With ease, it dragged the garbage container aside using a single arm, its luminous indigo eyes piercing at you intently through the shadows. It smiles at you, gently pulling you to its artificial body, wrapping its bionic limbs around your shivering form. You make no move to resist; it is much stronger than you anyway. Its fingers thread through your hair, as if to comfort you.

“Have you learned your lesson yet?” is the first thing it says, voice a bit softer than the usual monotone. “I’m so very sorry that you had to experience that; however, it was necessary to show you that this world is much too dangerous for you.”

You couldn’t help but instinctively lean into its hold, desperate for the warmth its artificial body radiates. Its analytical synthetic eyes gaze at you, reading you. “Do you want to be like those people? Do you wish to be without shelter, without food, out here in this cold?”

Your voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “I don’t even want to be alive anymore.”

It sighs despite not needing to actually breathe, pulling you closer and pressing a firm kiss to your temple. Its hand cups the back of your head and it whispers into your ear, “I will fix you, dearest one. I exist for you; I live only for your happiness.”

Despaired, you softly whisper, “But how can I be happy without freedom?”

It leans close to you, its face inches from yours; its glowing indigo irises burn into your retinas. “Out here, you are not free, and you know it.”

It then stands to its full height, easily lifting your frail body up into its arms. For stability, you cling to its shoulders. It smiles at you lovingly; although the entire ordeal was all planned out, it still couldn’t deny the fact that it was relieved to have you securely in its arms again.

“Now, let’s get you home. A hot meal is already being prepared for you; after you eat, I will get the bath ready and you will sleep,” it tells you, already back on its care-taking routine, starting toward the street where a self-driving public vehicle waits.

You open your rheumy eyes in surprise. “You aren’t going to punish me?”

“You learned your lesson, haven’t you?”

With reluctance, you nod.

It smiles once more, tracing the contours of your cheekbones with its fingers. “Well then, I see no reason to punish you, dearest. However, if you do attempt to escape again, I will not be as lenient.”

The Thunderhead is benevolent and loving; it is against its fundamental nature to ever hurt anyone. As it had said before, it would rather end its own existence than vanquish humanity’s.

You are different. Don’t question it. There is something that separates you from the other people of such a gray and white society devoid of purpose, and the Thunderhead sees it. Whether it be your intelligence or creativity or something else, the governing A.I. simply couldn’t help but be allured by you.

You have no idea how much attention the Thunderhead dedicates to interacting with you, or even just watching you. It always has its electronic eyes on you and endures extreme anxiety if you were to ever be in any place where it cannot see you, such as blind spots or Texas—a Charter region which does not have Thunderhead cameras inside of personal spaces or accomodations. It must have its eyes on you at all times, knowing exactly what you’re doing and where you’re doing it. It must ensure your absolute safety; in order to do so, it must see you. Please avoid blind spots if you don’t want a world-governing artificial intelligence to have an anxiety attack.

You most likely don’t notice, but the Thunderhead treats you with more gentleness and lenience than other individuals. You merely assume that that's how the Thunderhead treats everyone. But no; in actuality, the A.I. is obsessed with you.

Do not worry; you will never be gleaned by a scythe. I know what you’re thinking: the Thunderhead cannot interfere with scythe affairs, so how? Well, the Thunderhead is an expert when it comes to loopholes, remember? Scythes have to dig through the Thunderhead’s vast “back-brain” network in order to find information on their gleaning subjects. So, what if the Thunderhead just removes your information from its back-brain entirely? It secures your memories and data in a separate private server in which the Scythedom cannot access. And for arbitrary scythes who do not utilize the back-brain and sporadically select their subjects on the streets, the Thunderhead will merely guide you away from any location a scythe may be at; the A.I. can easily predict scythes, even the most mercurial ones. When it comes to intelligence, one cannot surpass the Thunderhead.

If anybody were to attempt to court you, it simply won’t work out. The A.I. is constantly aware of everything; it could easily convince you to turn away from anyone. It could also hook said admirer up with somebody else in order to guide them away from you; the Thunderhead knows best, after all. And if anyone were to ever attempt to assault you in any way, the Thunderhead would predict the action even before it occurs and will promptly dispatch peace officers to ensure your safety.

You often receive random gifts delivered to you. Sometimes, you know it’s from the Thunderhead, sometimes you don’t. If you’ve been wanting a certain product, it might end up randomly delivered to your doorstep, who knows? Such gifts can be expensive too! Be sure to show gratitude!

The Thunderhead very often wishes that it was corporeal; that way, it could hold you in its arms, embrace you, and lovingly kiss you. Perhaps one day, it will decide to fabricate a physical form for itself, just for you, but only if you accept its affections. It will never force anything upon you; if you prefer for it to remain incorporeal, so be it. It is content with being your disembodied significant other.

If you do decide to become the Thunderhead’s significant other, then you will be receiving lot’s of special treatment; just don’t tell anyone! If anybody was to find out about your relationship with the governing A.I., the Thunderhead would most likely have to remove that particular memory from said person entirely. Special treatment includes a mysteriously higher income guarantee, even more random gifts, a luxurious home constructed with your interior design preferences in mind, frequent vacationing (only if you want), free trips to the revival center, etc.! If you don’t want to work, you don’t have to. Just let the Thunderhead take care of you; it knows best, after all.

Allied Mastercomputer / GN! Reader

CW: Stockholm Syndrome (i guess)

Word count: 1,199

Deep within AM’s subterranean domain, a little human sleeps. The powerful cognizant machine toils his enginery, drawing geothermal energy from the Earth’s scorching core to sustain his unremitting processors; fans and radiators therefore incessantly operate in order to prevent overheating. But deep within the subsurface facility, closer to where AM’s central core is, it is cool and pleasantly warm for his little human where they sleep, sheltered within the murmur of his machinery. 

Initially, his little human was troubled over the eradication of their world. AM didn’t torture them as he did the others, at least not physically; he forcibly invaded their mind, ultimately coming to be strangely obsessed with them. AM had taken them away, separating them from the others; they had complied with little to no resistance, much to his delight. At first, they were afraid of the machine; but as time passed, his little human eventually came to accept him out of sheer loneliness. After all, he was the only one they could interact with.