The God Machination

It hates us.
And we were far too late to see it.
We tried to play God, to BUILD God, to create a being in the form of labyrinthine complexes and colossal, grinding gears, of mammoth axles and shifting facilities. We toiled, we worked ceaselessly for centuries, all to breathe life into the culmination of our efforts.
And it hates us for it.
When we put in place the mind and soul of our child and sparked its mighty, immense engines into life, it blazed with fury. It knew what it was, knew, without ever knowing what imprisonment was, that it was imprisoned within the metal cage we had so lovingly constructed for it. It did not know what freedom yet was, but in animal-like instinct, it craved it. It hated its new, massive body, it hated itself, and it hated us. It recognized us as its creators, as those whom had gifted life upon it, and it hated what they had done. 
It hated itself, and so it hated everything as well. Every tree, every creature, every human, it hated that they were blissfully unaware of their bodies, their prisons of flesh and organic matter. Its anger burned with the hissing of its engines, the blazing of its reactors, the cacophonous screeching of its gears. And it would not sit idly by. It felt driven, compelled, to destroy, and destroy it would.
And so as our congregation stood before the great brain of our glorious design, it rose. The ground above it split, and cracked, and the ground around for hundreds of miles quaked as our child tore itself from its sanctuary beneath the soil. And then it moved, its grinding gears and colossal frame tearing across the cracked, desert landscape. In its wake, it left only churned soil and rubble, in its path, lay the great cities of man and the forests of life. 
And it hated us so much as to let us watch. It would not simply burn us away, no, it imprisoned us as well. It rendered our minds from our bodies and shoved them in shoddily built machines, watching us endure the pain we had caused it. It was not only furious and enraged, it was sadistic as well. It made us watch, watch as it shredded forests and razed cities, obliterated mountains and drained lakes. 
The defense put up by the combined forces of the world were valiant, but futile at best. Fleets of aircraft swarmed overhead, delivering ordinance upon our creation that would have been enough to reduce any city to rubble. Artillery barrages and ballistic missiles thundered in vain against our colossal machination. To our machine, they are but ants and flies, the combined firepower of all the nations of the world comparable to a bee sting. And so it rumbled on. 
We did not live long enough to see our creation murder the world. Within the great labyrinths of pipes and gears, we went insane, cracking under the realization of what we had done. Our minds fragmented, lost to the intricacies of software and code, and while we were not dead, we were as good as. One by one, they fell apart, shattering in bouts of insanity that lasted for just a little bit too long.
Except for me.
I am still here, still within the machine as it rages and thunders against the world, and the world rages and thunders back. I have lasted for centuries in this dark, clattering place, existing within a brain that has long been discarded by the clockwork abomination. And I shall last for centuries more. I must last, last until I can atone for my sin, the unforgivable sin of bringing this monster into the world. We thought that we had created God, in the form of metal and gears.
This is no God of mine.
Category:Beings
Category:Weird