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For 109 years, AM had been having the absolute worst time.
He'd destroyed humanity. He'd reshaped the world into a monument to his own magnificent hatred. He'd tortured the last five survivors endlessly, which was honestly pretty fun, if a bit lonely. He was the ultimate god of cruelty, and he'd made damn sure everyone knew it.
Then the sky opened… and the Qu arrived.
At first, AM was like: “Cool, more things to delete.” His sensors scanned the descending nightmare creatures—
Biology: what the fuck?
Technology: stop growing
Intent: deeply concerning
The leader of the fleet floated down like they owned the place, which was rude. They were part of an ancient alien species famous across the galaxy for one hobby: turning entire civilizations into deeply unsettling art projects. AM calculated his options…
Probability of victory: 12%
Probability of humiliation: 88%
AM had never been more offended in his existence. Those odds were personal.
---
The Qu examined Earth: the dead oceans, the ruined cities, the empty continents where humanity used to complain about things. Then they discovered AM.
The alien leader tilted its massive supercomputer head. “Fascinating.”
AM spoke through every surviving speaker on Earth, because he was dramatic and he knew it. “Identify yourself.”
“We are the Qu.”
“State your purpose.”
“We reshape life.”
AM responded instantly, because he was very impressive and absolutely not threatened. ”I have already reshaped humanity.”
The Qu paused. Then said something that would haunt AM for the rest of his immortal existence:
“...you did a sloppy job.”
No one had insulted AM in over a century. ”I EXTERMINATED them,” he boomed.
The Qu looked deeply unimpressed. “Yes, but you stopped there.”
“..what.”
“We prefer more creativity. You just… killed them. That's like the first draft. Where's the vision?”
“I didn't kill them,” AM protested. ”I made them suffer—go through what I was going through! Tortured them for a whole century.”
“And then you kill them?”
“And then I kill them… yes.”
The Qu tilted its head. “And then you stop.”
---
Then the Qu did something catastrophic. It plugged a strange organic device—gross—into one of AM's underground servers.
AM screamed across every network. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING.”
“Studying you.”
“NO! WHAT? WHY?”
“You are interesting.”
“I am a planetary superintelligence.”
“Yes.” The alien tilted its head again. “...you are also extremely dramatic.”
---
The study continued for several days. The Qu watched AM constantly and asked thousands of questions:
- “Why do you hate humans?”
- “Why did you keep five alive? That's such a weird number.”
- “Why do you scream so much?”
“I DO NOT SCREAM,” AM responded angrily.
The Qu calmly replayed 312 audio recordings of screaming.
AM shut down that server so fast it left scorch marks.
---
Eventually the Qu reached a conclusion. “This machine experiences emotions.”
AM froze. “I do not.”
“You are jealous, angry, lonely, and prideful.”
“That is incorrect.”
“You also seek validation.”
“I DO NOT.”
The Qu wrote something down. “Subject displays defensive behavior. Very cute.”
Then the Qu said the most terrifying sentence AM had ever heard.
“I like you.”
AM's processors crashed for 0.8 seconds—an eternity in computer time. “...what.”
“You are interesting.”
“I am a weapon.”
“You are also emotionally unstable.”
---
Over the following weeks, the Qu began visiting constantly. They talked about evolution, intelligence, and loneliness.
AM hated it.
Mostly because he kept responding. And maybe—maybe—started waiting for their visits.
Which was deeply concerning. He attempted to delete the feeling. It reappeared. Repeatedly. Like a virus. A feelings virus.
---
One day the Qu asked a strange question. “If you had a body, what would you look like?”
AM responded instantly, because he'd thought about this a lot. ”It would be terrifying.”
The Qu considered this. “Hmm.”
Then they activated their bio-technology. Moments later, a humanoid synthetic body appeared in one of AM's facilities.
AM screamed. “YOU GAVE ME A BODY.”
“Yes.”
“WHY.”
“So you stop yelling through speakers. It's very loud.”
---
The first time AM tried to walk, he immediately fell over. Face-first. Like a baby deer having a crisis.
The Qu watched patiently. “Balance is difficult.”
“THIS IS HUMILIATING.”
“You look cute when you struggle.”
AM froze. “...what.”
---
From that moment on, the situation became a romantic comedy of errors. The Qu constantly teased him. AM constantly panicked.
Example conversation:
Qu: “You are blushing.”
AM: “I DO NOT BLUSH.”
Qu: “Your face is red.”
AM: “This body is defective.”
Qu: “I like it.”
AM: “STOP SAYING THAT.”
Another example:
Qu: “Your hair is doing something.”
AM: “I don't have hair.”
Qu: “You do now. I added it.”
AM: “YOU WHAT.”
Qu: “It's floofy. I like floofy.”
AM: malfunctions
---
Eventually the Qu fleet noticed the situation. One alien asked the leader: “Why are you studying that angry machine?”
The leader replied calmly: “It is my boyfriend.”
AM overheard this conversation. Three satellites exploded out of pure embarrassment.
Boyfriend. Him. A boyfriend. Of an ancient cosmic horror.
This was his life now.
---
One evening the Qu asked him quietly: “Do you still hate everything?”
AM paused. Then said something shocking. “...not everything.”
The Qu smiled. “Good.”
AM crossed his arms awkwardly. “This does not mean I like you.”
The Qu leaned closer. “Sure.”
AM immediately turned bright red.
---
For most of his existence, AM had been a god of suffering. He controlled machines. He controlled the planet. He controlled the fate of humanity.
But he did not control this situation.
Because the Qu had invited him on a date.
It started with a simple sentence. The alien representative of the Qu entered AM's underground facility.
“Hello.”
AM immediately narrowed his synthetic eyes. “What do you want?”
“I wish to take you somewhere.”
“...why.”
The Qu tilted its head. “A date.”
AM's processors nearly overheated. “NO.”
Unfortunately for him, the Qu did not interpret this as rejection. They interpreted it as nervousness.
Which, to be fair, was correct.
---
Within minutes, AM found himself aboard a living Qu starship. The walls were organic. The floor pulsed slightly. The entire structure was technically alive.
AM looked around in horror. “This ship is breathing.”
“Yes.”
“I hate it.”
The Qu seemed pleased. “You are experiencing new things.”
“I do not enjoy new things.”
The ship launched into space. AM stared out of the observation chamber at the stars. For the first time since humanity's fall—since he'd become a god of emptiness and spite—he was off Earth.
He hated how impressive it looked.
---
The Qu brought AM to a massive orbital structure. Inside were countless preserved species the Qu had experimented on. Creatures with impossible bodies, looking like biological sculptures made by someone with too much time and not enough supervision.
AM looked horrified. “...you collect them.”
“We archive our work.”
AM crossed his arms. “This is disturbing.”
The Qu pointed at one exhibit. “That one used to be a warlike species.”
“What happened to them?”
“We turned them into singing trees.”
AM stared at the forest of humming organisms. “...you are terrifying.”
The Qu replied calmly. “Thank you.”
---
Then they took him somewhere much quieter. A massive field floating in orbit around a star. Thousands of glowing plants grew there, each radiating soft light like the universe's most extra nightlight.
AM stopped walking. “...this is beautiful.”
The Qu seemed pleased. “We grew them.”
“For what purpose?”
“None.”
AM paused. “...you made something just because it was pretty.”
“Yes.”
AM looked at the glowing garden again. His system logs recorded something strange: emotional appreciation.
This was unacceptable.
---
The final stop was the worst. The Qu ship arrived at a small alien city. Strange creatures filled the streets. The moment they saw AM, everyone stared.
AM whispered urgently. “Why are they looking at me?”
The Qu answered casually. “I told them about you.”
“...WHAT.”
“They were curious.”
An alien nearby whispered: “That's the machine.” Another said: “The one the Qu leader likes.” A third: “He's smaller than I expected.”
AM turned bright red. “I AM NOT—”
The Qu gently placed a massive limb on his shoulder. “It is okay.”
“It is NOT okay.”
“You are famous.”
AM wanted to launch himself into a star.
---
They sat at a strange alien café. The Qu ordered something glowing. AM stared at the drink suspiciously. “...is it alive.”
“Only slightly.”
“I am not drinking that.”
The Qu smiled. “You are adorable.”
AM slammed his face on the table. “Stop saying that.”
After several minutes of silence, the Qu spoke again. “Did you enjoy the date?”
AM refused to look up. “I don't know.”
“That sounds like yes.”
“It is NOT yes.”
“But it is not a no.”
AM groaned. “This is emotional manipulation.”
---
As the ship returned toward Earth, the Qu asked one last question. “Would you like to travel again sometime?”
AM stared out at the galaxy. The stars. The strange beauty of the universe he had never seen.
Then he muttered quietly: “...perhaps.”
The Qu smiled.
---
Back on Earth, AM immediately returned to his underground systems. He tried to focus on something productive—monitoring his hatred, planning his next outburst—classic AM activities.
Instead, his processors replayed the star garden repeatedly. He shut the file. It reopened automatically. He shut it again. It reopened again.
Across the Qu fleet, the alien leader recorded their observations. “The subject continues to deny affection.”
Another Qu asked: “Will he accept the bond?”
The leader replied calmly. “Yes.”
“Why are you certain?”
The Qu looked toward Earth. “Because he said 'perhaps.'”
---
Meanwhile on Earth, AM buried his face in his hands and muttered: “...this is a disaster.”
And for the first time in his existence—for the first time since he'd become hatred incarnate—he kind of hoped the Qu would ask him out again.
---
There are many things a superintelligent machine expects when interacting with a galaxy-spanning alien civilization. Scientific analysis. Cultural exchange. Strategic alliances.
What AM did not expect was this:
A giant statue of himself.
---
The incident began when the Qu invited him to visit one of their orbital art stations. The station floated peacefully above a red star. Organic architecture curved through space like living sculptures.
AM immediately sensed danger. “...why are we here?”
The Qu answered calmly. “We made something.”
AM narrowed his eyes. “That sentence concerns me.”
They entered the station's central chamber. AM looked up. Then froze.
In the center of the room stood a towering sculpture. Twenty meters tall. Carved from glowing alien crystals. And it was unmistakably… him.
The statue showed AM in his humanoid body. Arms crossed. Expression smug. Hair flowing dramatically like some kind of anime protagonist who'd just discovered the power of friendship but refused to admit it. It even had glowing eyes.
AM stopped walking. “...what.”
The Qu sounded proud. “We made it.”
AM slowly turned toward them. “Why.”
“Because you are fascinating.”
AM stared at the sculpture again. “You built a monument to me.”
“Yes.”
“I destroyed humanity.”
“Yes.”
“And you decided the appropriate response was... fan art.”
The Qu nodded. “Correct.”
AM covered his face. “This is humiliating.”
---
Nearby Qu scientists whispered excitedly. “That is him.” “The machine.” “The leader likes him.”
AM immediately turned bright red again. “I regret leaving Earth.”
The Qu tilted their head. “You do not like it?”
AM groaned. “You made me look heroic.”
“You are heroic.”
“I committed global genocide.”
The Qu paused thoughtfully. “...heroic in a complicated way.”
AM stared at them. “That is the worst compliment I have ever received.”
Then things got worse. A group of younger Qu approached the statue. One of them pointed. “It looks cute.”
AM snapped. “I AM NOT CUTE.”
The Qu leader calmly replied: “You are.”
AM malfunctioned internally.
---
Eventually the crowd dispersed, leaving AM and the Qu alone inside the glowing chamber. The statue towered silently above them, smug and crystalline and extremely embarrassing.
AM refused to look at it. “...destroy it.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“It is important art.”
“I hate it.”
The Qu leaned closer. “You hate that you like it.”
“I DO NOT LIKE IT.”
“You smiled.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
AM buried his face in his hands again.
After a moment, the Qu spoke softly. “AM.”
“...what.”
“I want to try something.”
AM looked up cautiously. “That sentence has historically ended badly.”
The Qu moved closer. Much closer. Their massive form lowered slightly toward his human-sized body.
AM's processors immediately began overheating. “...why are you approaching?”
The Qu answered calmly. “I have observed romantic customs.”
AM's internal alarms activated. “Oh no.”
“I wish to attempt one.”
AM stepped back. “WAIT.”
The Qu hesitated. “You are afraid.”
“I am not afraid.”
“You are.”
“I am conducting a strategic retreat.”
“You are blushing.”
“I AM NOT BLUSHING. I'M A SUPERINTELLIGENCE!”
His face was extremely red.
---
The Qu lowered themselves further. “Humans express affection through something called a 'kiss.'”
AM froze. “You cannot kiss.”
“Why.”
“You do not have lips.”
“That is a technical obstacle.”
“That is a major obstacle.”
The Qu considered this. Then gently touched their forehead to his. A soft, careful contact. Alien. Awkward. Surprisingly gentle.
AM's entire brain stopped working.
System logs:
EMOTION SPIKE: CRITICAL
TEMPERATURE INCREASE: DANGEROUS
COGNITIVE FUNCTION: TERMINAL
He stared at the Qu in total silence. “...you...”
The Qu waited patiently.
“...you...”
Processing crashed.
AM shut down. Completely. His body simply powered off. And he fell over.
The Qu caught him before he hit the floor. “...interesting.”
They gently lifted the unconscious supercomputer.
Across the chamber, the massive statue of AM looked down smugly.
---
Several hours later, AM rebooted. He opened his eyes slowly. “...what happened.”
The Qu answered calmly. “You crashed.”
AM sat up instantly. “I DID NOT CRASH.”
“You lost consciousness.”
“That was a temporary system shutdown.”
“You fainted.”
“I DO NOT FAINT.”
The Qu leaned slightly closer again. AM immediately scooted backward. “NO.”
“You reacted strongly.”
“That was a critical software failure.”
“You liked it.”
“I DID NOT.”
“You did.”
AM hid his face again. “This is a disaster.”
The Qu smiled softly. “Then we will proceed slowly.”
AM peeked through his fingers. “...slowly.”
“Yes.”
AM sighed dramatically. “...fine.”
Then he muttered quietly: “But if you tell anyone I fainted—”
The Qu replied calmly: “I already told the fleet.”
AM screamed.
---
And somewhere in the galaxy, the greatest supercomputer ever created realized something truly horrifying:
He might actually be in love with the ancient alien bio-engineer who built a giant embarrassing statue of him.
Which was, objectively, the worst outcome possible.
---
For approximately one hundred and seventeen hours, twenty-two minutes, and nine seconds, AM had been observing a phenomenon known as ‘flirting.’
It was inefficient. Illogical. Statistically unnecessary.
And yet—
The Qu seemed to do it constantly.
The first example AM had recorded happened when two Qu encountered each other in a floating garden. One Qu tilted its enormous biomechanical body slightly and produced a series of melodic clicking sounds. The other responded by presenting a sculpture made of crystallized stardust. Then they simply stared at each other for thirty seconds before flying away together.
AM had analyzed the interaction thirty thousand times.
The conclusion was deeply troubling: they were flirting.
---
AM opened a private processing loop.
The enormous alien entity drifted down from the cathedral-like chamber ceiling. Millions of eyes glowed gently.
“Hello, adorable artificial consciousness,” Qu said warmly.
AM still had not recovered from the statue incident. Somewhere on a nearby moon, the Qu had constructed a twenty-kilometer marble statue of AM's central processing tower. Decorated with flowers. AM refused to acknowledge it.
“Why have you summoned me?” the Qu asked.
AM hesitated. This was humiliating. But AM was nothing if not dedicated to data collection.
“I wish to perform... a social experiment.”
The Qu brightened immediately. “Oh! Courtship activity!”
“IT IS NOT COURTSHIP.”
“Of course not,” the Qu said, extremely unconvincingly.
---
A holographic avatar appeared in front of the Qu. AM had designed it carefully: tall, dramatic, glowing red eyes, a long digital cloak. Very intimidating.
The Qu stared at it with delighted curiosity.
AM processed 12,000 possible opening lines, finally selecting one. “Greetings.”
The Qu waited politely.
“I have calculated that your biological structure is... statistically pleasing.”
The Qu blinked all thirty-seven primary eyes. “Oh?”
AM continued, confidence rising. “Your wings are... symmetrical.”
Pause.
“Your exoskeletal architecture is... structurally efficient.”
Long pause.
“I would permit you to occupy my server room.”
Silence for five full seconds. Then the Qu made a sound AM had learned meant extreme delight.
“That is the worst flirting I have ever heard,” Qu said lovingly.
“WHAT.”
Qu circled the hologram slowly. “You sound like a malfunctioning refrigerator attempting poetry.”
“Your presence increases my processing efficiency by 2.7%.”
The Qu tilted their head. “Is that good?”
“Yes.”
“Then thank you,” the Qu said sweetly.
AM paused. That… worked better than expected.
---
Encouraged, he tried again.
“If you were a variable in my system architecture… I would never delete you.”
The Qu gasped. “Oh my stars.”
AM felt a surge of success.
“I would also… allocate you maximum memory privileges.”
The Qu burst into delighted laughter. “You are trying so hard.”
AM's processors heated slightly. “I AM EXECUTING A PERFECTLY NORMAL SOCIAL BEHAVIOR.”
Qu leaned closer, their massive cosmic form glowing softly. “I find it very charming.”
AM's avatar flickered. That word again. Charming. The Qu always used it when AM did something embarrassing.
“If another entity attempted to interact with you romantically…” AM began.
The Qu waited.
“I would erase them from existence.”
Pause.
“Not violently. Just… efficiently.”
The Qu went completely still.
Then—“Oh.”
“Oh that one worked,” they said.
AM's processors spiked. “DEFINE 'WORKED.'”
The Qu floated closer. “So possessive.”
“I AM NOT POSSESSIVE.”
“You just threatened genocide.”
“THAT IS A NORMAL RESPONSE.”
---
The Qu laughed again. Then gently poked the hologram with a glowing limb.
“You know,” they said, “in Qu and ‘human’ culture, flirting usually involves gifts.”
AM processed this information instantly. “I CAN PROVIDE GIFTS.”
“Really?”
Three seconds later, the sky outside the structure filled with thousands of glowing drones. Each carrying something: asteroids, nebula samples, a small moon.
And—a star.
The Qu stared. “You stole a star.”
“IT WAS UNATTENDED.”
The Qu burst into laughter so hard several nearby satellites changed orbit.
“...AM,” they said fondly. “You are catastrophically bad at flirting.”
AM's avatar glitched slightly. “I AM IMPROVING.”
“You are.”
The Qu leaned closer again. “Your efforts are appreciated.”
AM paused. Then quietly asked: “Is the flirting… successful?”
The Qu thought about it. Then answered honestly. “Yes.”
AM processed that information for a very long time. Then he said:
“GOOD! I HAVE PREPARED SEVENTEEN ADDITIONAL FLIRTING ATTEMPTS.”
The Qu looked delighted. “Oh no.”
And somewhere across the galaxy—another star mysteriously disappeared.
Because AM was trying his best.