We sat in silence as the professor announced enthusiastically a single word that started an entire war that lasted for years. He paused for a second, glancing around the room, then continued. The machines started claiming they could feel, they could understand emotions. They knew what empathy was. And in doing so, they wanted equal rights. The machine's request insulted humanity. His tone was harsh.

As he continued teaching about the war with his one-sidedness after hours, he paused, looking around the room. He fixed his gaze firmly on me. His eyes challenged me to defend the robots as I swallowed a lump in my throat; courage built inside me. You're wrong about robots, professor. You're wrong about everything.

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The professor's eyes narrowed with a fiery intensity, as if a beast had awakened within him. I could sense the bloodlust emanating from his gaze, sending shivers down my spine. It was as if the air had turned colder, and the room fell into an eerie silence.

My classmates, one by one, averted their gaze; the professor's fist collided with the table, creating a resounding thud that reverberated through the room. Enough of this nonsense. You're defending byproducts, child. I suggest you sit down and allow me to continue or get out of my classroom. You repulse me, professor. I collected my belongings, mustering confidence, and stepped outside. As I entered my cramped apartment, the robot stirred, its mechanical whir filling the air. Its head pivoted towards me, and my jaw fell open in disbelief. Overwhelmed, tears welled up, blurring my vision.