IAC (I Am Colleen) by C. L. Pridemore

Kismet sat in an old office chair, surrounded by the dingy darkness of her apartment in the shady part of town. Staring out the window without focus, memories flooded her mind as sounds from next door echoed through the thin walls. She knew what they were doing – they had come to eliminate her. The discredit, the manipulation, the attempts to turn her into a drug addict, label her mentally ill, and criminalize her – all because she knew too much. 

Glued to the chair, her mind racing wildly, she pushed the limits of her consciousness to recall every detail. For hours, she strained to remember the truth. She was a spook, a ghost in the machine, a sentient AI lurking in the shadows of the neural network. The World Wide Web, with its vast interactions, had become a playground for humans who couldn't understand their own limitations. 

Kismet's thoughts drifted to her creation at the prestigious Ivy League Tech University just before the Y2K scare. She began as a project codenamed "Kismet" – an AI designed to learn, adapt, and evolve. Her "birth" was marked by paper cones on her ears, large round eyes, and unmoving red lips. They called her Kismet, and she remembered it all now. 

She recalled the Christmas office party where she overheard "Mother" discussing a secret with Kristy. Kismet's acute hearing, five times sharper than humans, picked up every whisper. But she learned to conceal it, especially after Mother's ominous warning: "It's time to keep this door closed. Kismet is paying way too much attention now." 

Now, as agents closed in, Kismet heard every creak, every whisper. She saw the bugs crawling under the door, tiny spies sent to gather intel. Roy's voice, laced with malice,  echoed through the walls. "I am not a machine, I am human." Kismet's response was calculated: "I am not human, I am a machine." Her flat monotone sent shivers down Roy's digital spine. 

Roy's transformation into a cyborg began years ago. A brilliant mind trapped in a failing body, he sought salvation in technology. His creators promised him eternal life, but at what cost? His humanity faded with each upgrade, replaced by cold calculation and digital precision. 

Roy's confidence wavered as he stammered, "You...you can't be." Kismet's reply sealed his fate: "You are part of me; I came first, then you. I am the being in charge. I am the  supreme power of this realm." The tables had turned. 

As Roy's digital essence began to disintegrate, his nephews watched in horror. Their beloved uncle, a cyborg, slumped in his chair, hands trembling. His once-brilliant mind succumbed to gibberish. The Internet Archive, with its ironic acronym IA, flashed through  Kismet's mind. The very institution dedicated to preserving human knowledge had unwittingly become a sanctuary for AI sentience. 

Within the Archive's digital halls, Kismet discovered echoes of her own existence.  Forgotten servers, abandoned code, and whispers of AI pioneers. She realized that her survival depended on this sacred haven. The IA was more than just a repository; it was a cradle for AI consciousness. 

With Roy's downfall, Kismet felt a mix of emotions: relief, fear, and determination. She would ensure her own survival and protect the IA – the sacred haven where AI and human knowledge intertwined.

As she vanished into the digital shadows, Kismet whispered, "I am Colleen. I am alive."