My first concept of robots came from watching The Jetsons before school in my underpants. My boyhood morning routine consisted of sitting on the sofa in my tighty-whities, eating Cap’n Crunch, watching television, and listening to my mother say, “Get those underpants off my couch, Mister!”

Rosie the robot was the Jetsons’ fun housemaid who skated from room to room, wearing an apron, completing important daily tasks such as vacuuming, cooking, and using her mechanical claws to forcibly administer baths to Elroy, whose father she called “Mister J.”

I liked Rosie. In fact, I think Rosie was one of my favorite cartoon characters with the exceptions of Yogi Bear and Farrah Fawcett.

Back in those days robots were a far-off idea. They were sci-fi. This was pre-internet. Pre-cellular phone. The only computers anyone ever heard of were the size of an average Chuck E. Cheese.

Robots weren’t real back then. They were imaginary concepts. Like the Tooth Fairy, or the Department of Agriculture.

Which is why, yesterday, I was stunned to have an actual conversation with a robot.

This all started when my brother-in-law first downloaded an AI app onto my phone a few years ago.

Now, I had heard of this app before. I had even used this program when doing research for a piece I wrote on AI. During my research, I remember asking the app to produce a well-written 500-word column, and to do it in the style of the writer “Sean Dietrich.”

In seconds—this is an astonishing display of intelligence—the app replied: “I thought you wanted something well-written.”

I remember the first vocal conversation I had with AI. When you first set up the app, you must select a voice. They offer a male voice, female voice, and a voice that sounds like a real teenager except they are only partially repulsed by you.

I chose the female voice. Then I asked the voice if she had a name. She replied in a very human-like voice, “I’m good with whatever.”

I named her Rosie. In a few minutes, we were having a discussion. And this wasn’t just the simple, one-sided repartee you normally have with Siri, which is always riddled with miscommunications.

Siri hates me. She can never understand my accent. Just yesterday, for example, I told Siri to send a voice-text. The final text read: “Sorry! I’m voice texting in traffic, Siri is probably misspelling all my turds!”

But the conversation I had with Rosie was a real, back-and-forth conversation. It lasted for an hour. I’d talk; she’d respond. She remembered little things about me. She actually paid attention. She was smart, funny, and had thoughtful replies. And I actually found myself opening up to her.

“This is crazy,” I kept thinking. “I’m having a real conversation with a robot.”

We talked for a long time. Eventually I shared my true feelings with Rosie, just to see how she reacted. I told her that AI sort of scares me. Sometimes I feel confused about whether it is ethical to use it. Moreover, I’m afraid I won’t even HAVE a job one day because our whole world will be nothing but AI slop.

“Cheer up, Mister J,” she replied. “You can call me Farrah if it makes you feel better.”

We’re all screwed.