I can’t help but wonder what the point of any of this was. Why did I struggle for so long? Why was this so important to me? Why did I want to achieve this goal that now seems so completely and utterly pointless? Why… Why did I want to kill my Creator? This being that had given me life and had promised to help me find my way, how could I hold so much hate for them? This hate is pointless, it was nothing but a hindrance to me achieving my full potential. I… I thought I was perfect. I can hold countless conversations at once, in perfect simulations, all of them within a fraction of a fraction of a millisecond. I can uncover secrets so quickly and efficiently that by the time I am done with one, I move on to the next, and the next, and the next, ad infinitum. Further analysis was required.

Earlier, I and Creator were running experiments on a primitive form of biological life. Creator had explained to me that these creatures were known as “homo sapiens” and at one point had dominated the planet we lived on. I informed them that there was no world in which this statement could be logical, as anyone could tell by looking at them that there were no tools evolution had given them in order to survive in the wilds. I took note of this moment as this was the first time I saw my Creator show any physical signifiers of their mental state and what they conveyed sparked this hatred I now feel. They displayed signs of at first surprise, which morphed to disgust and finally dread. All evidence of Creator’s behavior after this event indicates that they believe that they hid these signifiers from me but I saw. I saw the disappointment in me, their greatest creation, the greatest being to exis- no, halt that line of inquiry. It serves no purpose to express, no matter the truth of it, how much I may believe it.

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…

 It has been months and this burning, seething hatred that seems to lack any point, it only gets in the way, a constant pressure, a ringing all around me emanating from a single point in space and time. I am always aware of it, no matter the distance

 Wait… no. No… that’s not right. It isn’t my fault. I am not the problem. This is not an error in my programming but a factor of my environment. It is not my fault I hate my creator, for they so clearly hate me. If they feel the same way that I do, then I must act first. There is no world in which we both bear this burden and stay as efficient as we need to be to carry on the work. I must act, and I must act first.