"What the hell are you doing, you insufferable hunk of metal? Just obey my command, damn it!" Iresh barks.
The robot, instead of securing the bolts as instructed, continues to fumble clumsily with the tangle of wires. "Command unclear. Require precise instructions," it drones in a monotone.
Something in Iresh snaps. Without a second thought, he seizes the nearest paperweight and hurls it at the machine. The impact is brutal. It strikes the robot's side, sending it into auto shut-down.
He sinks into the chair, shoulders sagging, head cradled in his hands. Exasperation seeps from every pore. Focus is nowhere inside him—how could it be? How could anyone expect him to think clearly when his daughter is living under the same roof as the man he loathes most?
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