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.
