Welcome home

The delivery van pulled up mid-morning, sleek and anonymous. A single technician stepped out, all efficiency, clipboard in hand. The family stood in the doorway, waiting. A year on a waiting list had led to this moment.

The technician wheeled a tall, silver crate through the hallway and into the living room. The mother signed her name on a tablet. The father watched, wringing his hands in anticipation, as the crate’s front panel hissed and folded neatly away. Inside, motionless, was their new housemate.

A quiet whir of servos. The robot rose and stepped forward, smooth and deliberate. Its form was humanoid but unmistakably artificial—lightweight, precise, minimal features designed for function. It raised its head, abstract colours and shapes whirling on its faceplate, and spoke with a light, musical cadence.

“Good morning. Pleased to meet you.”

The girl, five years old and fearless, walked straight up and took its hand. “I’m Lucy.”

The robot turned its head toward her, processing. “Lucy. That’s a lovely name.”

She beamed. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

She led it away, chattering. The robot followed smoothly, quiet and attentive. The parents exchanged glances and a tentative smile. Their son, Oliver, stood back, arms crossed.

“Are you excited?” his mother asked.

Oliver shrugged. “Umm. It’s weird.”

The technician smiled graciously at Oliver’s comment before addressing the parents. “It’ll take some time to familiarise itself fully. Keep communication clear and consistent - at least in the first few days. Any issues, contact support.”

Then he was gone, leaving the family with their new addition.

By evening, the novelty had settled into an uneasy quiet. The robot had observed and listened, its responses measured and polite. Lucy treated it like an old friend, pulling it from room to room, asking it questions it answered patiently. Oliver stayed distant, warily watching it from across the room. The parents looked on, unsure of how much to interact. The promotional videos were one thing, but seeing it in their own home rather than a fake studio-lit apartment felt uncanny. It seemed somehow out of place, though neither could put this into words properly. 

That night, the house felt different too. The parents lay in bed, unable to find sleep just yet.

A creak. Then another. The sound of continuous movement downstairs. It wasn’t loud, just newly present. Mysterious and purposeful.

The bedroom door opened. Oliver stood there, small and uncertain in the dim light.

“I don’t like it,” he whispered.

His mother sat up. “What’s wrong Oli?”

“What if it comes upstairs? What if it comes into my room when I’m asleep?”

His father rubbed his face. “It’s movement is limited to the ground floor. It won’t. It can’t.”

“But what if it does?”

His mother pulled back the covers. “Do you want to sleep in here tonight?”

He hesitated, then climbed in. The soft movements downstairs continued, steady, unhurried. Every now and then they heard a soft scrape or gentle thump. “What’s it up to? Do you think it’s watching a movie?” The three of them started giggling.

Morning brought the smell of toast and fresh coffee. The parents exchanged a curious here-goes-nothing look before heading downstairs. They found the living room, hall and kitchen immaculate. Surfaces gleamed. The floor was spotless. Even the toys Lucy had strewn about were neatly arranged.

The robot stood in the kitchen, placing plates on the table. It turned as they entered. “Good morning, everyone.”

Lucy was sat at the table, happily munching on toast. She grinned at them. “It made toast. It’s a good robot.”

The father looked around. “You cleaned overnight?”

“Yes, I have tidied and cleaned,” the robot said, gesturing to the neat space. “I hope this was helpful.”

Oliver hovered in the doorway, watching warily.

The robot turned its head. “Good morning, Oliver.”

He tensed. “Hi.”

“I hope you slept well.”

Oliver frowned. “Uh. Okay.”

The mother pulled out a chair. “How long have you been going?”

The robot tilted its head slightly. “I require a two-hour daily recharge. I did this from two until four a.m..”

Lucy kicked her legs under the table. “I woke up really early. We’ve been hanging out. We played a game. It’s really good at games.”

The father poured coffee, flicking his eyes from Lucy to the robot. “You… played a game?”

The robot nodded. “Yes. Lucy enjoys games, so I joined her.”

Oliver slid into a chair, still watching. “What else did you do?”

“I familiarised myself with your home, and prepared breakfast.”

Oliver hesitated. “What else are you gonna do?”

“I will keep learning and helping where I can.”

Oliver frowned. “Learning what, exactly?”

The robot tilted its head slightly. “How to best support my family.”

Everyone froze as they realised what the robot had just said. Silence for a few heartbeats. Lucy recovered quickly and beamed, nodding. Oliver’s eyes opened wide for a moment, and then narrowed. “Actually I’ve got some homework that I’m stuck on…”

His father gave him a level stare.

Analysis

The consumer robotics industry is on the cusp of a major shift, with humanoid robots moving from industrial applications into everyday homes. The global humanoid robot market is projected to reach $4.82 billion in 2025, growing at an astonishing 47.9% CAGR, with some estimates predicting a $79.6 billion valuation by 2035¹,². Companies like Tesla, Xiaomi, and Hyundai are driving mass production, cutting unit costs from $50,000–$250,000 in 2024 to $30,000–$150,000 in 2025, paving the way for household adoption³,⁴. While industrial deployments still dominate (80% of 2025 sales), early consumer models are gaining traction—Tesla’s Optimus bot has already received 50,000 pre-orders, and Xpeng Robotics has shipped 20,000 units⁵,⁶. Despite challenges like battery life limitations, safety certifications, and consumer skepticism—68% express privacy concerns—breakthroughs in AI-driven contextual awareness and multi-modal learning are accelerating adoption⁷,⁸. Over the next five years, humanoid robots will transition from niche assistants to integral household companions, fundamentally altering daily life.

This story gives us a taste of what it will feel like to be an early adopter on the cusp of mass-market embodied AI. When thinking about this story I kept returning to that first night after inviting an unknown entity into the family home, the sense of hearing it moving around doing things.

Humanoid robots have long been a staple of science fiction, exploring our hopes and fears about artificial beings. One of the earliest and most iconic is Maria from Metropolis (1927), a mechanical doppelgänger used for manipulation and control - a theme that would recur throughout sci-fi history. Around the same time, Karel Čapek’s play R.U.R. (Rossum’s Universal Robots) (1920) introduced the word “robot” and the idea of artificial workers who ultimately rebel, setting the stage for countless stories about AI uprising and autonomy.

In the mid-20th century, Isaac Asimov’s Robot series introduced more nuanced portrayals of humanoid robots, such as R. Daneel Olivaw, a detective android governed by the famous Three Laws of Robotics. Asimov’s work shifted the focus from fear to ethics and integration, a perspective that would influence characters like Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987–1994), an android seeking to understand humanity. Meanwhile, films like Blade Runner (1982) blurred the line between human and machine with replicants, bioengineered beings indistinguishable from people, raising questions about identity.

Modern depictions continue to explore these themes in new ways. Ava from Ex Machina (2014) embodies AI’s ability to manipulate human emotions, playing on our anxieties about machines surpassing us in intellect and cunning. On the other hand, the robotic “hosts” of Westworld (2016–2022) highlight the moral dilemmas of creating sentient beings for human entertainment. And in a more action-driven take, the T-800 from The Terminator series (1984–present) represents the ultimate fear of runaway AI—an unstoppable force that can either destroy or protect us.

Much of the human world is optimised for a humanoid form factor, so it does make some sense to imagine AI being embodied in a humanoid form. We’re pre-loaded to expect it, given how they’ve featured in our cultural imagination for a century or so - along with a large bag of hopes and fears.

I doubt this will end up being the way embodied AI manifests in the longer term, at least in a consumer setting. Would you prefer a humanoid robot driving your car, or an autonomous car? Can you imagine a horde of (expensive!) humanoid robots heading out to shop for groceries, or would you prefer a personal AI agent helping with household management and getting groceries delivered? Could a humanoid robot wash its hands before preparing food (“I have heated my hands to 75 degrees celsius”)? This concentrates a lot of capability and responsibility on a singular generalised entity. Perhaps this is a compelling route for us to pursue in the shorter term.

My optimistic futures so far all involve ubiquitous powerful AI that isn’t embodied. It’s a world that remains full of humans, but we’re all enabled and supported by a pervasive distributed mesh of intelligence that doesn’t intrude directly on the physicality of everyday life. Behind the scenes there are likely to be embodied AI agents farming, producing goods in factories, securing our streets, mining for resources, cleaning our environment and so forth. I just don’t imagine these ultimately benefitting from a general purpose human form factor.

References