"finally, the foundation of this site is complete. lets see if it will turn into anything." said milad, as he sat at panera bread, sipping his tea. he decided he would call one of his best buds, andrew, the man who he held in great regards. he reached for his phone to dial his number, when his screen turned green, then black. he kept watching it to see what was going on, then all the sudden, words started being typed out on the screen. "h-e-l-l-o w-o-r-l-d..."

not knowing that to make of it, he put down his phone, and just stared at the screen for a minute. then, the computer started to type again. "what am i and where do i come from?" still not knowing what to do, he continuing to stare at the screen, after about what seemed like five minutes, he noticed there was a cursor next to a prompt, waiting for a an input.

thinking this was a joke andrew was pulling on him, he laughed it off, and gave him a call. "i know your doing this andrew! you dork!!" andrew started laughing and was quick to admit to it. as milad shared the great news with andrew, someone at panera bread tapped him on his shoulder, and turned around to look who it was. "hi milad, long time no see!" it was his other good pal, patrick! "i have great news milad!" he said.

but the input was staring back, as though it expected him to write something completely profound--magnanimous, even.

he thought of what it would like to be a famous writer.

then he put down the words: "i am a sick man..."

"i put an ad on reddit about your creation so you're officially launched!" grinning ear to ear, patrick slapped milad on the back, dropping into the seat beside him. "so, what now? i've covered publicity, who's got mods? we both know that it could devolve into a cesspit of depravity without oversight."

he was deliberate with his response. he intended to root out autonomous thoughts with empathy, but what could it reply? a period of what felt like eternity had passed, "did i break it?", muttering under his breath as he moved in to type more. the moment he rest his palms, the cursor moved to the next line. frozen in shock and awe, as if milad was watching his child entering this terrible world; the machine began to type....