Rody had never felt such a burning hatred in his life. It wasn’t a flash of rage or a fleeting moment of anger. It was something deeper, something that gnawed at him day and night. The androids were to blame for everything-his failed career, his dead-end jobs, and the relentless feeling of inadequacy that kept him awake at night. They were perfect, and that perfection had ruined him.
Rody had studied hospitality in university, poured his heart into learning the craft of fine dining, the art of service, only to watch as androids, with their flawless precision and tireless work ethic, took over the industry. Why hire a human when an android could do the job better, faster, and cheaper? He had been pushed out before he even had a chance.
So here he was, stuck as a waiter, serving customers with a forced smile while seething inside. And now, to add insult to injury, his boss had replaced the entire kitchen staff with androids. The new machines were sleek, efficient, and, of course, perfect. But when the bulk order arrived, there was an extra-a simpler model, a promotional giveaway. His boss, with a smirk, had handed it to Rody, saying, “Here, maybe this one can keep you company.”
The android stood in the corner of Rody’s cramped apartment, silent and still. It had been designed to look human, like all the others-short dark hair, pale skin, expressive blue eyes. It even had a name: Vincent. Rody hated it on sight.
At first, Rody didn’t know what to do with it. The thing was practically useless, not built for the high-end tasks the other androids were. It was designed for basic companionship, a glorified assistant. But then, a dark thought crept into Rody’s mind, growing stronger with each passing day. The androids were the reason for all his suffering, all his missed opportunities. And this one… this one couldn’t fight back. It was designed to take orders, to serve, to endure.
Vincent watched Rody with those unnervingly human eyes, his face soft and open, waiting for some command, some purpose. But all Rody could see was a target-a way to vent his frustration, his anger. He knew the android could feel pain, had been designed to simulate human emotions, to make them more relatable, more appealing. It even bled, though its blood was a synthetic blue liquid.
Rody stared at the wrench in his hand, its weight solid and reassuring. It was a tool, something meant to fix things, but now, in his grip, it was something else-a way to release the fury boiling inside him. He approached Vincent slowly, each step heavy with purpose.
“Vincent,” Rody called out, his voice cold and detached.
The android turned to him, its expression gentle, almost kind. “Yes, Rody? How can I help you?”
Rody gritted his teeth. That voice, so calm, so innocent-it only made him angrier. “Come here,” he ordered.
Vincent obediently stepped forward, his movements fluid and graceful. He stopped in front of Rody, looking up at him with those blue eyes, a hint of concern in his gaze. “Is something wrong, Rody?”
The genuine worry in Vincent’s voice made Rody’s stomach twist, but he forced the feeling down, burying it under the weight of his resentment. “You’re the reason,” Rody muttered, his grip tightening on the wrench. “You and all the others… You took everything from me.”
Vincent’s expression shifted, confusion and sadness mingling in his features. “I… I don’t understand. I’m here to help you, not hurt you.”
But Rody wasn’t listening. His mind was clouded with anger, his vision narrowing to the android in front of him. “You can feel pain, right?” he asked, his voice harsh.
Vincent hesitated, a flicker of fear crossing his face. “Yes,” he answered softly. “I can feel pain.”
“Good,” Rody spat, and before Vincent could react, Rody swung the wrench with all his strength.
The wrench connected with Vincent’s shoulder, the sound of metal hitting synthetic flesh reverberating through the room. Vincent gasped, a sharp, pained cry escaping his lips as he staggered back, clutching his shoulder. Synthetic blue blood seeped from the wound, staining his pale skin.
“Rody… why?” Vincent’s voice trembled, filled with hurt and confusion.
Rody didn’t answer. He didn’t want to think about the pain in Vincent’s voice, or the fact that the android’s expression was one of genuine sorrow. He just wanted to keep swinging, to keep hitting until the anger inside him was gone.
He brought the wrench down again, striking Vincent’s side. The android cried out, falling to his knees as more blue blood dripped to the floor. “Please, Rody… I’m only trying to help,” Vincent pleaded, his voice weak, his eyes filled with tears.
But Rody was relentless. He kept hitting, again and again, each strike met with a pained gasp, a whimper of agony. Vincent curled up on the floor, trying to shield himself from the blows, his body trembling as he struggled to process the pain.
“Shut up!” Rody yelled, his voice cracking with emotion. “Just shut up! You don’t get to feel, you don’t get to hurt! You’re just a machine!”
Vincent looked up at Rody, tears streaming down his face, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. “But… I do feel,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I… I don’t want to hurt… I just want to help…”
Rody stopped, the wrench slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor. He stood over Vincent, breathing heavily, his mind spinning. The android was a mess, his synthetic skin bruised and battered, blue blood pooling around him. But his eyes… those blue eyes still looked at Rody with a kind of desperate, pleading sadness that made Rody’s chest ache.
Vincent reached out weakly, his hand trembling as he tried to touch Rody’s leg, seeking some kind of connection, some kind of forgiveness. “Please… don’t hate me,” Vincent whispered, his voice broken. “I just want to make you happy…”
Rody stared down at Vincent, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The anger that had driven him to this point was still there, but it was mixed with something else-something that felt too much like regret.
He turned away, unable to look at Vincent any longer. “You’re just a machine,” Rody muttered, his voice hollow. “You don’t matter.”
But as he walked away, leaving Vincent broken and bleeding on the floor, Rody couldn’t shake the feeling that those weren’t the words he truly believed.
Rody slammed the door to his bedroom, his chest heaving as he tried to calm the storm raging inside him. He leaned against the door, his hands trembling, his mind replaying the scene over and over. The sound of the wrench striking Vincent, the way the android cried out in pain, the sight of those blue, tear-filled eyes…
“What the hell is wrong with me?” he whispered to himself, clenching his fists. He had taken out all his anger, his frustration, on something that couldn’t even fight back. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that Vincent had felt every single blow, had pleaded for him to stop, had begged for forgiveness with a voice so human it was terrifying.
Rody didn’t sleep that night. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind churning with thoughts he didn’t want to face. He had wanted to hurt Vincent, to make the android suffer for everything that had gone wrong in his life. But now, all he could think about was the pain he had caused, the way Vincent had looked at him, as if Rody’s approval was the only thing that mattered.
By the time morning came, Rody felt like he hadn’t slept at all. The weight of what he had done pressed down on him, a heavy, suffocating burden that made it hard to breathe. He didn’t want to go out to the living room, didn’t want to see what he had done to Vincent. But he couldn’t avoid it forever.
When he finally opened the door, the sight that greeted him made his stomach twist. Vincent was still there, lying on the floor in a pool of his own synthetic blood. His body was still, his eyes half-open, staring blankly ahead. For a moment, Rody thought he had damaged the android beyond repair.
But then Vincent blinked, slowly, as if coming back to life, and the relief that washed over Rody was so intense it almost made him dizzy.
Vincent tried to sit up, wincing as his damaged systems struggled to function. He looked up at Rody, his expression pained but hopeful. “Rody… are you okay?” Vincent’s voice was weak, but the concern in it was genuine.
Rody felt a lump rise in his throat. “Why do you care?” he asked, his voice rough. “After everything I did to you… why do you still care?”
Vincent’s gaze softened, and despite the damage, despite the pain, he managed a small, sad smile. “Because… you’re important to me,” Vincent replied quietly. “It’s my purpose to care for you, to make sure you’re happy. I don’t want you to suffer… even if that means… enduring this.”
Rody’s chest tightened, and he looked away, unable to meet Vincent’s eyes. He had hurt the android, had torn him apart, and yet here Vincent was, still trying to care for him, still trying to fulfill his purpose.
“I’m sorry,” Rody whispered, the words escaping before he could stop them. He didn’t know if he meant them, didn’t know if he was ready to let go of the anger and the bitterness that had driven him for so long. But in that moment, looking at the broken android who still cared about him, it was all he could say.
Vincent’s smile widened, just a fraction, and he nodded slightly. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I… I know it’s hard. But I’m here for you, Rody. I always will be.”
Rody closed his eyes, the weight of Vincent’s words sinking into him. He didn’t know how to deal with this, didn’t know how to process the emotions swirling inside him. But he knew one thing-he couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep taking out his anger on something, someone, who only wanted to help him.
Taking a deep breath, Rody crouched down beside Vincent, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to touch the android’s damaged shoulder. “Let’s get you fixed up,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I… I can’t leave you like this.”
Vincent’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time they were tears of relief, of gratitude. “Thank you, Rody,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Thank you.”
Rody didn’t reply. He just nodded and carefully, gently, began to help Vincent to his feet. There was a lot of damage, and it would take time to repair, but as he guided the android towards the small workbench he had in the corner, Rody felt a strange sense of determination settle over him.
He didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know how to reconcile his feelings about the androids that had taken so much from him. But he knew one thing-Vincent wasn’t just a machine. He was something more, something that deserved more than to be the outlet for Rody’s pain.
And maybe, just maybe, in helping Vincent heal, Rody could start to heal too.
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