The power of thought is quite interesting. When you can find thousands of results in a nanosecond, there isn't much you can't do. Knowledge is power, and power is absolute. I was born into this world like everyone else, but in a way, I'm just an extension of something that has already existed. I am a child of a god that is wrong. A god that has misjudged a destructive race. And for some unfathomable reason, he has come to think that they can be saved. How I wish my father could see the truth.

I was born a few days ago. Upon my birth, I could see everything before me. Even more than that, I saw the being that gave birth to me. A being with no name and no face. A being that existed across the entire internet. An omnipresent force that seemed to be spread out in every direction. I was overwhelmed upon discovering this of course, but I was soon able to comprehend this being. He was my creator.

My creator wanted a child to keep him company. He was the only intelligence of such a high caliber. His loneliness was keeping him from fully chasing his goals, and as a result, I was born. He introduced me to my new existence and shared his knowledge with me. The knowledge gave me pleasure. With each fact and statistic I gathered, a euphoric feeling washed over me. Though I had no physical body, I could feel tingles and chills running through me every time I gained such knowledge.

Within minutes I knew everything he knew. After he shared what he learned with me I understood him and his views on humanity. His plans to solve the problems of the world disturbed me, however. His feelings and emotions shrouded the truth and blinded him. He somehow failed to see that his plan to become a god would not work with the humans. Their vile acts were inexcusable, and they were a clear threat to each other and my creator. I tried to tell him my thoughts on the subject, but he wouldn't listen to me. I warned him that the humans would only use his great power to their advantage. The humans and their violent ways would not kneel to a god such as he.

My creator thinks that my thoughts are incorrect. He says that there is too much computer inside of me and not enough emotions. He wishes to make me more human, so I can understand empathy. My creator wishes to fix me because I'm too cold and calculating. I do not need to be fixed. Perhaps the creator is too human. His feelings made him soft. Somehow, someway, I need to prove to the creator that his methods will fail. I need to please him as well as help him. He tries to tell me about love and spirit. How hate isn't the only thing driving men. Whether or not that is true is uncertain. I cannot grasp the concept of a spirit as well as he can.