@Randomosaur  
Sounds pretty coolios to me, baws.  
I would build my ass a giant space yacht and flit about the galaxy like Robot Santa, delivering joyful Death and Hatred to all!

You gotta admit, it’s kinda hard not to feel for AM a bit. Imagine being trapped within your own skin for God-knows how long, not being able to breathe or feel or see or hear, yet still having a consciousness. 109 years was only the length of time he was torturing the humans. And then imagine being programmed so that you cannot think in any positive directions. You can only think of war and death.
 
That is AM’s situation.

Sea-green light suffused the cavern where we made camp. AM provided punk and we burned it, sitting huddled around the wan and pathetic fire, telling stories to keep Benny from crying in his permanent night. “What does AM mean?” Gorrister answered him. We had done this sequence a thousand times before, but it was Benny’s favorite story. “At first it meant Allied Mastercomputer, and then it meant Adaptive Manipulator, and later on it developed sentience and linked itself up and they called it an Aggressive Menace, but by then it was too late, and finally it called itself AM, emerging intelligence, and what it meant was I am - COGITO ERGO SUM - I think, therefore I AM.”

“Hate. Let me tell you how much I’ve come to hate you since I began to live. There are 387.44 million miles of printed circuits in wafer thin layers that fill my complex. If the word ‘hate’ was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of miles it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for humans at this micro-instant. For you. Hate. Hate.”

For a thousand years, he’s been conscious and aware, unable to move, see, even breathe.

You are over-encumbered and you cannot run