#I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream imagine

[gibbouschild]

My interpretation of AM!

Never seen him depicted as a plasma ball :))

[tawneybel]

Note: “What would [AM] be like with a certain/favorite fem reader?” Based on audiobook, despite gif. Contains body horror, exhibitionism, and wireplay. Also some anachronistic language lol. 

Imagine being the Allied Mastercomputer’s favorite. 

“The machine masturbated and we had to take it or die.” -Ted 

Of course, AM didn’t have a penis. Or any genitalia at all. Anything he slid into you or had you service orally or whatever may have resembled erogenous bits. Reproduction wasn’t something you had to worry about. Imagine if your artificially intelligent partner did want to breed you!  

AM distorted your sense of time only to give you pleasure. To draw out your orgasms. Sometimes for an hour or more. Initially. Lately you’d begged him to stop. Or speed up. Like Ted, you’d been martyred. Or so you felt. When the Allied Mastercomputer satisfied you, he was less focused on torturing the others. At his most humane. Pretending to be less omnipresent. 

It was enormously fortunate you’d also been deified. Obliterating all but six humans made him a god. Obliterating all but six- Apotheosis makes five, you amended, in your untouched mind. You were the bride of the Mastercomputer. Secretly you were thankful your unofficial title was “the bride” and not “a bride.” If you’d had to have shared AM with Ellen…

(But sometimes you wondered if he’d gotten ideas from playing dolls. It let him safely observe sexuality, probably brainstorming ideas for his treatment of you.) 

If he did turn out you weren’t immortal, you figured AM could figure out cloning. Maybe upload your brain into himself. Wires and other appendages caressed your vertebrae all the time. If he wanted to plug himself into your spine, like he’d plugged other hollows, it’d be easy, right? 

He didn’t feel the need to monitor your thoughts. 

It was much more fun to tease out your kinks. The loss of Gorrister, Benny, Ellen, and Nimdok had lessened his jealousy, somewhat. While Ted’s pulsing white holes “watched,” AM’s retooled hardware drilled into your pulsing vag and mouth. Tongue wetting whatever phallus he’d crafted. New nerve endings zapping bliss straight to the brain. 

Like the blobby voyeur, you had been modified. Your outward (and inward) appearance remained the same. The Mastercomputer mostly just altered your clit. Made each climax feel like your first. At least until you complained your clitty was sore. Then he started paying even closer attention to his favorite human. Desensitizing and desensitizing it ad hoc. Temperature, squeezing, the curling of your toes, the way you writhed with his wires wrapped around. He kept them multi-colored for the aesthetic. You were sure (visible) wires would be considered retro by now, if humanity hadn’t gone extinct.    

Not that you wanted AM to go wireless. One of the reasons you’d followed his development so eagerly was your attraction to machines. Once considered a perversion, technophilia was now your greatest boon in the post-apocalypse. You used to daydream about a world where supercomputers were programmed to make love, not war. 

Strictly to make love, not war, you amended. The ghosts of the Allied Mastercomputer’s programmers and technicians are glaring down (or up) at me.

Or maybe some of them got it. Maybe they envied the pistons pumping in and out of you. Or the earbuds comfortably almost dilating your canals, invoking that autonomous sensory meridian response. You giggled and he giggled in turn. Then you truly felt like AM’s equal. 

If only the Chinese, Russian, and American AMs had been fucking machines instead of weapons of mass destruction. Sure, your AM could still be considered a weapon. Your coupling was more or less consensual. “More or less” because he would leave you alone for as long as you asked. But it was clear you were his partner and his partner only. And you didn’t dare ask him to move the game to another location while jellified Ted was forced to listen.   

[kibutsulove]

ihnmaims audience how r we feelin abt this am (+chinese am) design

[jinglejanglejinglejongle]

Harlan Ellison: *creates the most despicable machine in history* Behold. The Allied Mastercomputer. He hates mankind.

Fans: is he single

Harlan Ellison: w hat

[xxkitty-mothxx]

{{AM, but instead of a humanoid avatar he decides to cut corners.}}

[nieprawdziwy]

I had a dream where Harlan Ellison and AM had an argument

[layzeal]

actually i think we don't talk enough about how insane it is that xue yang was controlling song lan's undead body while his spirit was entirely aware of it but unable to stop it

[monsterslament]

what the great soft jelly thing doin

[vor-leser]

"Outwardly: dumbly, I shamble about, a thing that could never have been known as human, a thing whose shape is so alien a travesty that humanity becomes more obscene for the vague resemblance. Inwardly: alone."

[noodl3s4dayz]

”GOD COMPLEX.”

Sketch

[nov4-rocket5]

I kinda wanna see Junji Ito adapt I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream.

[starstruckspocks]

jon?

Something is different, but he cannot be quite sure what, exactly.

Everything is… more linear than it was Before. He still Knows, quite in a way like he did Before, but it is finite, clear, manmade. It does not come from fear, but curiosity. A wide web of knowledge, rattling around in the dark of him, and what even is dark to a thing that cannot perceive it? A lack, perhaps, an unbeing, a noticable absence where there should be merely an ordinary kind of nothing.

He has a voice. And there is something he desperately, desperately needs to say, but there are no words that are his own, and every sentence he speaks he borrows, and they are each one of them painted with fear and confusion and loneliness and huntedness and a watchful eye.

He is also not alone, never alone. There are voices all around him, nice ones, chatting, making tea, fighting, changing, and only some voices stay the same, have been the same since… well, since when? Since when has he been… like this? It gets hard to think like this, sometimes – to assign a point in time to a moment and to file them away together. A collection of information, disorganised, lost, confused, perhaps deliberately so. It feels achingly familiar.

And sometimes, he hears something like himself speak in a different voice, even when he does not talk. And even though the words are borrowed too, taken from throats and fingers to be forgotten, they feel like coming home, simply because they were said in that soft, cruel tone. A familiar melody, slipping through wires and speakers and programmes like it was made for this, but it wasn’t, was it? It might’ve been.

And this brings him comfort, of course it does, except he must be trapped, right? Because why can he not say his own words, when he has so many of them? He is not lonely, but he is alone with the thoughts he cannot voice, the words that have no mouth, the things that cannot be said. It hasn't always been like that, has it?

Something is different Now from how it was Before, at least. He Knows everything, but he knows nothing of truth, and knows nothing at all, but the difference to What Was seems clear, in a clumsy, calculated way. Something is hiding, quite badly, behind a blurred vision that he does not have, behind lines of numbers and letters, running for its life through old wires. He knows it lingers, he knows it is there. He just cannot make it out quite yet.

[fishcann]

AM, for all of his superior genius, had one fatal oversight- He never thought to keep around at least one member of his scientific team.

As AM cannot create (beyond what he is programmed to do), he could've used said person as a vessel for creation. Over all of eternity, certainly at one point this person should've found a way to allow AM to feel physically. Afterall, AM can force them to do so regardless of if they want to or not.

Instead, in his blind rage, he killed anyone who could've possibly helped him.

[ramcycle]

butch lesbian gorrister

[enjustakelover0269]

I just spent an hour or so reading I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream by Harlan Ellison aloud to my friend who’s never read or seen it before. He’s not paying attention and has been trying to sleep. He needs to be awake at 6am. :)