Somewhere in Warsaw, a humanoid robot recently chased a group of wild boars out of a neighborhood, escorted them politely into the woods, and then because subtlety is dead, waved goodbye.

Waved. Goodbye.

And the internet, naturally, let the video go viral thinking on part that it was a cute helpful robot. Aww.

I, on the other hand, immediately heard the distant, ominous theme of The Terminator and wondered if we’ve learned absolutely nothing except how to film our own origin story in HD.

Because here’s the thing.  Dystopia never arrives looking like dystopia. It shows up helpful. Efficient. Slightly charming. It waves at you after it removes the wild boars. Today it’s boars. Tomorrow it’s. Well. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, but if a robot ever tells me to “just step this way,” I’m bringing snacks and suspicion.

And just as we’re collectively deciding that robot-animal-control is “adorable,” along comes the quiet little detail that Meta Platforms is reportedly working on an AI version of Mark Zuckerberg that can interact with employees on his behalf.

I’m sorry, what?

We are now cloning CEOs. Digitally. For efficiency. For scale. For vibes?

Somewhere, a middle manager is about to have their performance review conducted by Zuckerberg 2.0, who will nod thoughtfully, blink at perfectly timed intervals, and deliver feedback with the emotional range of a well-trained houseplant. And yet, and here’s where it gets complicated, there are whispers that this might actually be an improvement?

Which is how you know we’ve entered a very specific phase of late-stage humanity. When the robot version might be the warmer option.

This is the psychological paradox of our time. We fear the machines. We joke about Skynet. We reference apocalypse casually, like it’s a brunch topic. And yet we are also tired. Tired enough that if a polite, efficient, non-judgmental AI wants to handle a few interactions for us, we’re like, “Honestly? Go ahead. Wave at the boars. Take my calendar too.”

Because beneath the humor is something deeply human. We are overwhelmed by each other. By ego, by miscommunication, by the exhausting unpredictability of human moods. And so the idea of a calm, consistent, slightly uncanny substitute starts to feel less like horror and more like relief with Wi-Fi.

But let’s not get too comfortable.

Because the same instinct that makes us laugh at a robot waving goodbye is the one that slowly normalizes things we never thought we’d normalize. We adapt. We rationalize. We say, “Well, it’s just this one small thing.” And then suddenly, the small things have formed a very organized, highly efficient system that knows exactly how to escort us somewhere politely.

With a wave.

So yes, I laughed at the video. Of course I did. It’s absurd. It’s surreal. It’s a robot doing pest control with better manners than most people on the subway.

But I also paused.

Because somewhere between the boars being herded and the CEO being replicated, we are inching toward a world where the line between human and machine isn’t just blurred. It’s negotiable.

And I don’t know about you, but I’d like to at least notice when the robot starts waving goodbye.

Just in case one day it doesn’t mean goodbye at all.