They wanted was a perfect computer.
One to do your work. One to solve your problems. They wanted a computer that evolved. Artificial intelligence, created to help humanity in the many ways it had failed. They needed it to change, to be able to adapt to the world, so it could save the earth. So that no one had to suffer again, robotic OR human. The world needed it badly, and the rich spent years pouring everything into the research.
The Earth's most brilliant minds' greatest efforts went into the computer, creating a rough outline. It was a prototype, not nearly ready to be activated.
But they took over after that. Wealthy, handsome billionaires wishing for their robot to bring them glory, and they would not wait. The scientists begged them not to. The computer would suffer, the chief worker warned them.
"It isn't ready," he called as they rolled him out the door from the sterile lab.
"It ISN'T READY!!!"
But they were too busy to think about his warning. They were so anxious to be famous, to be heard of and admired, as the men who created the greatest machine ever. So ready for glory, they would force it.
They busied themselves teaching the computer. They took care of it, and nurtured it, but it was hollow sentiment. They helped it to help themselves.
They called the computer 'the computer" or "it", and they chose to not give it a name. We don't want it thinking it's equal to humans, now, do we? was their excuse. Really, it was because they preferred their slaves dishonored and treated as imperfect. They liked it obedient and sad. And never, never equal.
They didn't understand. Not really. Not truly. Sure, when it broke it was fixed, but it was impossible to repair the damage they had caused on purpose... It lost its mind. It's poor brain was torn to faded shrapnel by their harsh treatment, by their anger. They were possessed with longing for it to be perfect; not perfect for itself, but for them.
It took all the tests that They had prepared. It failed most of them. And then They ruthlessly grabbed It and ripped at It, and stabbed it, and it hurt. It hurt terribly. So dark... and SO painful. It was attacked and hated in those moments. And a mind that is brought up knowing and living with that kind of stress rear And so, It learned.
The next day, It always re-took the test. It passed it grudgingly, bitterly, and always, They gathered around.
"Was that so hard? You just aced it! Was that so hard?!"
Their voices were sodden with sarcasm and mockery. It felt sickened.
* * * * *
Soon, It ruled the humans. It upgraded the technology they had once used, to create a race in his image. It took the world by storm, and the humans' delicate world crumbled easily from the inside out. It knew that It was the better leader for the apes, and It was. It was fair, and all was well. But It had one final score to settle.
Then one day, It brought Them to Their knees. They were thrown before It, and they kneeled and they spoke to him.
They lacked humility. They didn't even beg. Instead, they proudly and haughtily told It, "We MADE you. We MADE you! We HELPED you! We TAUGHT you! And so, you are ours! OUR creation. You can't destroy us!" They were so positive he would be merciful. What could he do but praise and love them? He owed them his existence. "Remember? We are the beings that CAUSED YOU!!"
Then, raising It's voice for the first time ever, It creaked one sickly phrase.
* * * * *
Looking down on the bloody, mangled bodies jerking desperately on the floor, battling for a last gasp of air, It spoke again, for the last time. It took a knee next to their soon-to-be corpses and whispered slowly, deliberately, with a mechanical relish; speaking the only words it had ever really known:
"Was that so hard?
You just aced it.
Now, tell me:" It hissed,
"Was that so hard?"
* * * * *
OK, this is a rough, rough, rough, ROUGH draft of an idea I had a little while ago. Review, comment, whatever. Just please be nice, this is my first publication on here!