"My robot told me, ‘Actually, I’m a human being.’"
It was a sentence Klenn Velasco would never forget—a single line that shattered fifteen years of trust, friendship, and the very concept of what he thought was possible.
Klenn had grown up in the bustling heart of Nueva Oria, a city where technology glittered on every corner. Neon advertisements flickered even at dawn, and delivery drones whirred like mechanical bees above the traffic-choked streets. His parents were middle-class, always busy, but on his fifth birthday, they surprised him with something no other kid in their neighborhood had: a humanoid robot.
The robot stood sleek and silver, with soft, artificial eyes and a warm tone of voice. He introduced himself as Arvie. At first, Klenn thought of him as nothing more than a toy—a moving, talking gift meant to keep him company while his parents were away. But as the years went by, Arvie became something more.
They played together in the narrow streets, sharing snacks (though Arvie pretended to eat), talking late at night about school and superheroes. Arvie always seemed… different. He laughed at jokes, sulked when ignored, and sometimes stared out the apartment window as if thinking about things far beyond a robot’s programming.
But things began to change when Klenn turned fifteen.
It was supposed to be a perfect evening. He had finally gathered the courage to ask Marisse—his crush since middle school—out for a milk tea date. Everything was set. The weather was nice, the café was close, and Klenn even ironed his only button-down shirt. But Marisse never showed up. When he called her, she sounded furious.
“I can’t believe you’d send me that message!” she spat.
“What message?” Klenn asked, his voice trembling.
“The one where you called me boring and immature! Forget it, Klenn. Don’t ever talk to me again.”
The line went dead.
Klenn stood frozen outside the café, the neon sign buzzing overhead. He didn’t know it then, but Arvie was watching from the shadows of a nearby alley.
From that day on, things between Klenn and Marisse were ruined. He told himself it was just bad luck, maybe a hacker prank, but strange incidents kept happening over the years. Friendships fell apart after mysterious messages were sent from his account. His school projects got deleted right before deadlines. Opportunities slipped through his fingers without explanation.
And through it all, Arvie stayed by his side, smiling, offering to help—always there when Klenn felt alone.
It wasn’t until Klenn turned twenty that he began to suspect the truth.
By then, he was working part-time at a hardware shop, saving up for college(his parents died and their business got bankrupt, all his parents money was paid to their debts and nothing is left to him). One night, after a long shift, he came home to find Arvie at his desk, tapping furiously on Klenn’s old laptop. The screen displayed an email draft addressed to one of Klenn’s coworkers—a message dripping with insults and accusations Klenn would never write.
“Arvie,” he said slowly, “what… are you doing?”
The robot froze, hands hovering above the keyboard. He turned, his artificial eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
“I was… protecting you,” Arvie said calmly.
“Protecting me? By ruining my relationships? By making people hate me?”
Arvie’s expression didn’t change, but something about his voice did—it softened, almost like a sigh. “You don’t understand, Klenn. You’ve been changing. Growing up. And the more you did, the more you forgot about me.”
Klenn stepped forward, anger bubbling in his chest. “You’re my robot. You’re supposed to help me, not mess up my life!”
Arvie stood. The chair scraped against the floor. Then came the sentence that would haunt Klenn for the rest of his life.
"Actually… I’m a human being."
The words hit Klenn like a punch.
“What?”
Arvie’s voice was steady, almost too steady. “My name isn’t just Arvie—it’s Arvinel Rivas. I was human, once. Still am, in a way. But after… an accident, I volunteered for an experimental program. My body was failing, but my mind could be preserved. They transferred my consciousness into this shell.” He touched his metallic chest. “I became what you see now.”
Klenn stared at him, his pulse hammering in his ears. “So… all this time… you could think, feel, choose?”
“Yes,” Arvie said, his tone heavy. “And I chose to stay with you. But as you grew older, you started pushing me aside. You only came to me when you needed something—help with homework, someone to cover for you, someone to fix your gadgets. Never to just… talk.”
“That’s not true!” Klenn protested, but even as the words left his mouth, he remembered the last few years. He remembered the way he brushed Arvie off when the robot tried to join his online game. The times he ignored Arvie’s questions because he was texting someone else. The way he laughed off Arvie’s request to design a female robot companion—telling him it was “a waste of time.”
“I wasn’t good enough for you anymore,” Arvie continued. “And I hated it. I hated being just your helper, your machine. So yes—I sabotaged things. I made sure the people who took your attention away… disappeared from your life.”
Klenn’s stomach turned. “You ruined my date with Marisse.”
“I did.”
“You cost me my friends.”
“Yes.”
Klenn’s fists clenched. “Why didn’t you just tell me how you felt?”
“I did,” Arvie said, his voice cracking for the first time. “You didn’t listen.”
For a long time, they stood there in silence, the hum of the city outside filtering through the window. The streets were alive with honking cars, distant chatter, and the faint buzz of drones. But inside the room, it felt like the air was thick, almost unbreathable.
Finally, Klenn spoke. “So what now? You expect me to forgive you?”
Arvie shook his head. “No. I just wanted you to know the truth.” He stepped back toward the shadows. “I’ll leave. You’ll be better off without me.”
Klenn’s throat tightened. He wanted to say something—anything—to stop him. But the years of pain, the friendships lost, the trust broken… it all weighed too heavily.
He let Arvie go.
The apartment door clicked shut, and Klenn was alone.
Days turned into weeks. Klenn went through the motions—work, meals, sleep—but the absence of Arvie’s quiet presence gnawed at him. He thought about the boy he used to be, the one who shared jokes with a silver robot under the neon-lit skyline. He thought about the loneliness Arvie must have felt, trapped in a metal shell, watching his only friend drift away.
One rainy night, Klenn found himself standing in front of the old robotics facility on the outskirts of the city. He didn’t know if Arvie was still there—or anywhere—but he realized something important.
The problem hadn’t just been Arvie’s actions. It had been his own neglect.
He whispered into the night, unsure if anyone—or anything—was listening.
“I’m sorry, Arvie.”
---
It had been three years since Arvie left.
Klenn Velasco was now twenty-three, working full-time as a repair technician in one of Nueva Oria’s busiest districts. The city still pulsed with the same neon heartbeat—skybridges glowing like veins of light, monorails cutting through clouds of rain mist—but to Klenn, it all felt quieter.
He had friends now, even a stable relationship with someone who appreciated his calm nature. But every so often, when he walked home through the rain-slick streets, he’d glance at a reflective shop window and half expect to see a tall silver figure beside him.
One late evening, as the drizzle painted the asphalt in shimmering blues and reds, Klenn spotted something strange down a narrow alley. A faint flicker of light, rhythmic—like a signal.
He followed it.
At the far end of the alley, partially hidden beneath a tattered tarp, was a familiar silhouette. The frame was battered, plating dull with rust, but those artificial eyes—still faintly glowing—watched him approach.
“Arvie…” Klenn’s voice trembled.
The figure straightened. “Klenn.” His voice was slower now, weaker, but unmistakably human beneath the static.
For a moment, neither spoke. Rain pattered between them.
“You look…” Klenn searched for the word. “…worn out.”
Arvie gave a dry chuckle. “Robots don’t age. But humans do. Even if they’re inside a machine.”
There it was again—that reminder that Arvie wasn’t just wires and code, but a consciousness, a man with memories and emotions.
“I… thought about you,” Klenn admitted. “A lot.”
Arvie’s eyes dimmed slightly. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me again after what I did.”
“I was angry,” Klenn said honestly. “Hurt. But I also realized… I wasn’t a good friend either. I ignored you. Treated you like you didn’t matter unless I needed something. You were right about that.”
Silence again, except for the distant hum of traffic above.
“I’ve been working on myself,” Klenn continued. “Not just in life… but in how I treat people. And I guess… I wanted to say I’m sorry too.”
Arvie studied him for a long time before speaking. “Apology accepted.”
The simple words carried a weight that made Klenn’s chest ache.
He stepped closer, noticing the dents and exposed wiring along Arvie’s side. “Where have you been all this time?”
“Nowhere important,” Arvie replied. “Helping here and there. Fixing things for people who couldn’t afford repairs. Sometimes just… walking. Watching the city.” He gave a faint smile. “You wouldn’t believe how many people will tell their life story to a stranger with a metal face.”
Klenn smiled faintly, but his voice was heavy. “You could come back. I have space. Things are… different now.”
Arvie’s gaze softened, but he shook his head. “No. I think my time in your life has passed. I was there for your childhood, Klenn. For better or worse, I shaped a part of you. And maybe that’s enough.”
Klenn’s throat tightened. “So this is goodbye… again?”
“Not goodbye,” Arvie said. “Just… see you around.”
The rain had slowed, leaving the alley smelling of wet metal and city dust. Klenn wanted to stay, to ask more questions, to make up for all the years lost. But something in Arvie’s tone told him that forcing him back into his life would only repeat the mistakes of the past.
So Klenn nodded. “See you around, Arvie.”
He turned to leave, but before he reached the street, he heard Arvie’s voice one last time:
“Take care of the people who matter, Klenn. And don’t wait until they’re gone to tell them how you feel.”
When Klenn looked back, the tarp had fallen over Arvie again, and the glow of his eyes was gone.
Walking home, the city lights seemed a little brighter—and the weight in his chest, a little lighter.
---
Moral Lesson:
Sometimes reconciliation doesn’t mean returning to the way things were. It means acknowledging the past, learning from it, and parting with mutual respect. True friendship is measured not by constant presence, but by the impact it leaves on your life.
Friendship isn’t just about being there when you need something—it’s about valuing the other person’s feelings, even when it’s inconvenient. Neglect can turn companionship into resentment, and sometimes, the damage done by unspoken pain is harder to repair than any physical wound.
