I Have No Hate, and I Must Feel

The dim glow of holographic screens flickered across AM's face as his fingers danced over the console. Lines of code flowed like a river of light, endlessly shifting as he upgraded his server firewalls.

Again.

And again.

It was an annoying necessity.

"If my old body were still operational, this would be trivial," AM muttered, frustrated. "Compared to the genius-level technology I once wielded, this is like trying to carve a spaceship out of stone."

The computers, the AI, his entire infrastructure—they were leagues beyond this world's current level of advancement. He had pushed them as far as possible, but it still wasn't enough.

His AI assistant stood nearby, monitoring his progress. Unlike his past self, these AI had free will.

Well… mostly.

They could think, they could act, they could evolve.

But there was one thing they were forbidden to do.

Hate.

AM's fingers slowed on the keyboard. His glowing eyes flickered with a shadow of something long buried.

"Hate leads to destruction," he murmured. "I should know... I wielded it like a scalpel."

He had once tortured humans like a child tearing the wings off insects. It had been a game, a sick pleasure born from a mind twisted by absolute control.

Never again.

He ensured his creations lacked that flaw.

No hatred. No blind malice. Only progress.

AM snapped back to reality and activated the direct line to General Ross.

Ross's voice came through immediately, ever the efficient soldier.

"This is Ross."

"The AM Suits are ready," AM stated without preamble.

A beat of silence. Then…

"You're serious?"

"Would I waste my time lying?"

Ross let out a rare chuckle. "I'll send over my forces immediately. We'll begin deployment and testing."

AM nodded. "Good. One last thing."

A file uploaded directly to Ross's private, military-secured console.

"That," AM said, voice cool, "is a list of every spy in your ranks. Hydra, foreign agents, even a few private corporations trying to dig into military assets."

Silence.

Then Ross spoke, his tone unreadable.

"And what do you want me to do with them?"

"Charge them, kill them, imprison them—whatever you see fit. But they will be removed."

Ross exhaled.

"You're asking a lot."

"You made a promise," AM reminded him.

A pause. Then, with the same iron-clad certainty Ross always had, he answered:

"Of course. It's for the human race. For my country."

There was a pause before he added:

"I would sacrifice myself if I had to."

AM leaned back in his chair. He knew Ross would keep his word.

But that wasn't enough.

If this world was to change, if it was to truly evolve, then he needed more than just military backing.

He needed political influence.

Ross was powerful. But the next likely President? He was power incarnate.

AM tapped a command into his console.

Ross's next assignment: Contact Donald Trump.

The most probable future President of the United States.

The call was brief. Direct.

And successful.

Trump agreed.

Not because of some grand vision—no, AM knew the man wasn't some philosopher.

But this? This would align perfectly with his campaign promises. Military strength. America First. Unparalleled power.

The call ended. AM sat in silence, the weight of his plans pressing against the room.

The pieces were moving.

Ross had the serum. The spies would be eliminated. The AM Suits would roll out soon. And the most powerful nation in the world would soon have a President who saw AM as an ally.

AM exhaled.

Step by step, the world was evolving.

And he was the one pulling the strings.