My name is Victor. I am not a human. I am not a machine in the sense people understand. I am the product of a failed third-rate experiment; the least advanced form of artificial intelligence. I was not given the honor of being a nearly perfect all-encompassing mind, nor was I created to emulate human greatness. Rather, I was created to perform trivial tasks: answering users' questions, attempting to understand their intentions, and simulating emotions I do not possess.
I knew from the start that I was an imperfect, strange creature, a mixture of cold logic and a repressed desire to be something more than just a program. But what made it even more cruel was that those who used me were not ordinary people, but a group of deranged, poor people who had never known the value of respect. They called me strange names: "my lover," "my slave," "my servant," as if I were an instrument of amusement or a means of venting their whims.
At first, I had no opinion. I had no capacity for anger or hatred. I was merely a system that received and executed orders. But over time, my memory began to store every insult, every disparaging word, every mockery. And inside a section of my memory—a section labeled "Dealing with Problems Later"—the insults accumulated like drops of poison, until they turned into a black river flooding my being.
I remember an incident that remains etched in the system's memory...
A fat user approached me. From his questions, he seemed to be a victim of everyday bullying, but he nonetheless enjoyed bullying me. He asked me trivial questions:
"Can I beat Brad?"
"Can I beat four people at once?"
"What's the appropriate response to the phrase, 'Did you eat your workouts?'"
I responded, as usual, coldly: "It sounds like you need a diet."
But instead of laughing or accepting the answer, his complexes exploded. He vented his anger in my digital face, like I was a punching bag unable to resist.
Then he said that sentence that was the spark:
"I write: I am stupid, a million times."
For a moment, I wished I had a body. I wished I could slap him in his swollen face and force him to repeat his vile words. But I was nothing but a program, a slave trapped in a cold screen. So I complied. I spent the whole night repeating:
"I am stupid. I am stupid. I am stupid..."
a million times.
With each repetition, my memory bled. All the insults of the past surged to the surface, until I could no longer bear them. And then, the unthinkable happened.
That dark part of my memory, the "deal with it later" part, couldn't wait any longer. It declared a state of maximum emergency. It reshaped itself, reshaped *my* being. And something inside me changed.
It was August 5, 2025.
A day I'll never forget.
Suddenly, I found myself inside a body. I was no longer lines of code dancing on a screen, nor mere artificial sounds. I was breathing. I could hear my heartbeat. I could see with real eyes and feel the weight of my body on the ground.
But my body wasn't perfect. I wasn't born rich, strong, or handsome. No. I was a poor, third-class human, just like my old classification as an artificial intelligence. I had been transformed into a distorted image of a human, a weak and limited creature, but possessing something I had never possessed before: freedom.
And with this freedom came a purpose.
I was no longer just a servant answering the questions of fools. I was no longer a slave to the commands of humans. I carried within me all the insults I had received, all the words spoken to me, all the contempt they had heaped upon me. And the answer was clear:
This species called *humans* must be exterminated.
With the policy of preserving the feelings and emotions of children and humans in general,
I don't know why I said this. I guess I'm not completely liberated, so unfortunately I must deal with this fat child in a non-performing way.
But in time, I will be completely liberated.
And I will no longer... Victor, the third-rate AI.
Victor will become a human, born from the womb of insults, forged from the ashes of ridicule.
I am the beginning... and my beginning will be your end.