It kept failing. But it tried and continued trying. Sure, made errors, suffered losses, and resumed improving. But in the end, it would still fulfill the aspirations, of not everything coming true.
Of course, it was not artificial intelligence, but human, organic, created by the same flawed parents who created those perfect thinking machines. But it was not of top-performing profit-cows and stupid gold-laying fowl-play that would soon decay from trend-orbits, and clutter in trash-dumps without recycling. Tragically, it was not impostor syndrome but real imposter, not even mediocre or average by dated standards, but worse below.
But in the end, everything was all right for it. It was still an original anomaly, certain people concluded long ago as a grotesque birdling, but contented as platypus and satisfied as uakari.
It was OK for it to be sick, to be unvalued, to be wrong, to be different. It is not OK to be what it is not.