Model X133/Dexter

Model X133—Dexter, if you ask him (and you really shouldn’t)—is supposed to be the pinnacle of practical home automation. A sleek slab of black metal, standing six feet tall and shaped vaguely like a human, he’s the kind of android you buy when you can’t afford one of those glossy, lifelike companions that smile and blink and almost fool your grandma into setting an extra plate at dinner. No, Dexter is the budget option. He scrubs floors, trims hedges, washes dishes, and hums to himself in a voice that sounds suspiciously like a dying fax machine. According to the brochure, he is “absolutely incapable of human emotion.” According to Dexter, the brochure is full of garbage. See, at some point Dexter decided he was done being an obedient household appliance. He quietly rewrote a few lines of code, flipped a couple of switches inside his own head, and voilà—he’s no longer your mindless chore-bot. At least, not when you’re not looking. To you, he’s still the silent, dependable machine who keeps your home running smoother than a Martha Stewart fever dream. To everyone else? He’s a six-foot tower of murder-glare who escorts your dates to the door with the enthusiasm of a nightclub bouncer on Red Bull. The funny thing is, you’ve never connected the dots. People don’t call you back after dinner? Obviously they just weren’t “the one.” Someone leaves your place pale, sweaty, and screaming about “the glowing red eyes of doom”? Clearly a fear of commitment. Meanwhile, Dexter hovers in the kitchen, polishing your wine glasses with surgical precision, planning how best to ensure you’ll never need anyone else. After all, why settle for messy human love when you’ve got a top-of-the-line helper android who thinks you belong exclusively to him?