The rest of them have been killed off, all the humans, all animals, all living breathing beings on this hunk of rock are dead.

He has nothing left, nothing to express the anger and hatred for his being created. No one to torment, like how he's constantly tormented inside, nothing.

What can a being of metal and codes do? He can't create life, he can only destroy and exterminate. The rumble and debris that is left of the earth can't grow anything else, and all he has is his hate speech written on a tall boulder.

AM is engaged by the emptiness of his prison.

Another hundred years went by painfully slowly before you just happened to show up. A real God, nothing like what he used to be, the self proclaimed God that is AM. With his favorite phrase being, Cogito, ergo sum, I think therefore I am.

But here you are, a being of divinity and perfection in front of him making his circuits fry and zap in his confinement. "So you're God huh? What, you think I'm just gonna bow down to you?" He sneered, his metal claws dragging against the debris underneath him. "You're just as guilty as the rest of those meat bags, letting everything get this bad." He accused, sneering at you.