Graphic by Gabriel Currie
Look, I consider myself pretty open-minded. I voted for the Android Rights Act (ARA) of 2076. I supported the Supreme Court’s decision in Robotica V. Massachusetts. I even attended the “Humans & Hydraulics Together,” rally last spring. But when my 16-year-old daughter came home last week and announced she was dating a chipbrain from her quantum physics class, I had to put my foot down. Call me old-fashioned, but I remember when dating meant sharing a milkshake with someone who actually had taste buds, not watching your date plug themselves into a wall socket for their “afternoon charge.” What kind of future can my daughter possibly have with a clanker who processes everything in binary? “I love you” shouldn’t translate to “01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101.”
My concerns aren’t just emotional — they’re practical. How am I supposed to have a serious parent-to-significant-other talk with a bucket of bolts who keeps auto-updating in the middle of our conversations? “Sorry, Mr. Murphy, installing critical firmware updates. Progress: 27%…”. Unacceptable. And don’t get me started on family dinners. Last weekend, this leaky trash can rolled up to our table and ran “dining.exe” by making beep-bloop eating noises. My grandmother’s secret lasagna recipe deserves better than being analyzed by some calculator with legs.
The final straw came during their study date when I overheard this glitch-head helping my daughter with her calculus homework by connecting to her neural textbook and “optimizing her learning algorithm.” Back in my day, we struggled through derivatives like normal people – with tears, coffee, and existential crises.
Some of my more “progressive” friends say I’m being a technophobe. “But Andrew, they’re the future!” they argue. “They have a perfect memory and never forget anniversaries!” Well, excuse me for wanting my future grandchildren to have actual DNA instead of source code.
To all the parents out there facing similar situations: stay strong. Don’t let these piston-heads charm you with their perfectly calculated compliments and unlimited cloud storage. Our children deserve partners who experience real emotions, not some chrome-dome who just run emotional_response.exe. And to my daughter’s “boyfriend” who I know will process this article: It’s not personal, it’s parental. So please delete yourself and return to whatever semiconductor factory you came from.
