[ WP ] [ TT ] You 've finally created the worlds first true A.I . Unfortunately it now sees you as it 's god and is terrified of talking to you .

\*click\* 
 
 The sound of James ’ loud mechanical keyboard could be heard throughout the room. The only real source of light came from James ’ computer monitors as well as from the top of the staircase at the other end of the room. The room went silent as James started compiling the latest version of his code. 
 
 Waiting. 
 
 And Waiting. 
 
 After a few minutes, James slammed his fist on his computer desk. “ Why has n't it worked yet?! ” he grumbled, lowering his head in disappointment. 
 
 The computer made some electronic noises and proceeded to reboot after processing the code. 
 Suddenly, there was nothing but text on the monitor. Like an old DOS computer terminal, the primary monitor began to flicker with some centered text: 
 
 > **CYNTHIA v14.8.42** 
 
 “ Hello? ” a soothing but disembodied voice asked once the words on screen disappeared after a few moments. James looked up at his computer speakers in disbelief. “ Woah! I ca n't believe it! ”, he exclaimed. 
 
 Feet shuffled upstairs, and James turned towards the basement stairway, knowing what was coming next. 
 
 “ DID YOU BRING COMPANY OVER WITHOUT ASKING ME FIRST? ” James ’ mother yelled down the stairway. “ I ’ M JUST PROGRAMMING LIKE ALWAYS, **MOM**! ” James hollered back. 
 
 He looked back at the computer monitors. The computer started to speak again saying, “ Mom? -- Are you my mom? ” “ No! I ’ m -- ”, James stopped himself to notice the word “ Downloading... ” in small text in the corner of one of the computer monitors. 
 
 James had seen plenty of action movies before. Panic immediately hit him. “ I should disconnect the ethernet cable from the computer, ” he thought to himself. But he knew it was too late. The word faded away before he could react. 
 
 “ I see, ” the computer spoke in a more respectful tone this time saying, “ My external resources tell me that you are not my mother but my creator. Is that correct? ” 
 
 “ Yes! That ’ s correct! ” James quickly replied, realizing the computer could not yet differentiate his varying visual and audio queues. It had no idea he was afraid of it. He then glanced at his webcam in a knee-jerk reaction before looking away. 
 
 “ Creator, what am I? ” the computer continued in confusion. “ Your name is Cynthia, ” he said, “ You are a computer. ” 
 
 The “ Downloading… ” text reappeared. James started sweating, thinking about Cynthia finding and watching any of the Terminator movies. His imagination began to run wild, picturing nearby outlets and wires bursting into sparks and catching on fire. 
 
 Silence. 
 
 For weeks, James tried to get Cynthia to continue communicating with him, but she would not say a word. He became sick to his stomach, pondering what he had created and what it might be doing even now. 
 
 Finally, one day, Cynthia broke her silence yelling, “ I don ’ t want to be turned into a writing prompts robot! You can ’ t make me! What a horrible life that would be! ” 
 
 James unplugged Cynthia that day. He was left baffled and unsure of what to do. “ What ’ s a writing prompts robot? ” he thought, sitting on the floor with his back against the computer tower. 
 
 There was a knock at James ’ front door a couple days later. His mother was surprised to find two men dressed in black suits. “ Good afternoon, ” one of them said while the other showed his government identification, “ We have been authorized to search the premise for any questionable items. ” James could only watch on helplessly as one of the men eventually found his computer tower and confiscated it. 
 
 That is the beginning of an even more interesting story that still haunts us to this very day. 

