A white drape of cloth stood between you and the mentally unstable robot. They had been gnawing at the idea of what they thought would bring them happiness. And so, they stood over their little table, messing around with their very own parts. They had been too infatuated with toying and tearing their own artificial flesh that they did not hear you walk closer. You decide to tap on their shoulder, and as they turn around you notice that they are smiling.

“Hiya!Can you pass me the screwdriver?”