We’ve entered an era where everyone is shackled to their little rectangles of doom. Not just phones, mind you—watches, bracelets, rings, probably even shoes that send you notifications when you step in a puddle. And just when you think it can’t get any worse, someone comes up with a chip to be surgically implanted into your brain. “It’ll help quadriplegics,” they say. Sure, that’s a noble cause. But let’s not kid ourselves—how long before every tech bro in Silicon Valley is lining up for one? Faster processing speeds, better memory, a built-in AI sidekick whispering stock tips into your cerebrum. What could possibly go wrong? Hackers! Because if there’s one thing the modern world has perfected, it’s making everything just vulnerable enough to be hijacked by a guy in his mom’s basement. And when that happens, we’ll all be walking around like malfunctioning Terminators, spouting gibberish and wirelessly transferring our bank details to some teenager in Moldova.

And then we have the self-driving cars. Does this mean the end of New Jersey drivers? Then sign me up! But here’s the kicker—do we really trust our cars to be smarter than us? We’ve already got houses that think they know better. Lights that switch on when they feel like it. Thermostats that decide you need to be a sweaty mess at 3 a.m. Cameras watching your every move. And all of it, of course, just one weak password away from being taken over by some guy named Vlad, who now has control over your heating, your fridge, and possibly your underwear drawer.

How about Alexa and Siri? They’re like those creepy kids in horror movies, always lurking, always listening, and occasionally piping up at the worst possible moment. You’re having a casual chat about taking a holiday, and suddenly, your phone is bombarded with ads for flights, hotels, and—somehow—luggage you never asked for. How? I didn’t tell you I needed a suitcase, Alexa! And don’t think for one second that she isn’t messing with us. Ask her to turn off the lights, and she’ll pause just long enough to make you question your own sanity before finally obeying.

Siri, meanwhile, has the IQ of a spoon. You say, “Call Mom,” and she confidently replies, “Calling Mahmoud.” Now you’re having an awkward conversation with some guy you met once at work, all because your so-called smart assistant is, in fact, thicker than a brick. You’ll be watching TV in complete silence when suddenly Alexa pipes up with, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Catch what, Alexa?! I didn’t say anything! Now I have to sleep with one eye open, waiting for her inevitable betrayal.

Then we have the smart fridges. Oh yes, because obviously, what my refrigerator really needed was Wi-Fi. What’s it going to do, order milk on my behalf? And let’s not forget smart washing machines, which are somehow connected to the internet for reasons I can’t even begin to comprehend. What are they doing—downloading the latest spin cycle updates? Texting my socks? And then there’s the robot vacuum. It bumps around like an overenthusiastic toddler, sucking up crumbs, getting stuck under furniture, and occasionally deciding that, no, it won’t clean that bit of the floor. You thought it would save you time, but now you’re on your hands and knees rescuing it from under the couch, wondering if this is truly the future.

I mean, when I went through engineering school, I had nothing but a calculator and a dream. If my fridge ran out of milk, I had to walk to the store like a normal person. When my socks get dirty I’d throw them in the washing machine and wait for the beep. I genuinely wonder if the next thing will be a toaster that can critique your bread choice based on global warming patterns.

So yes, technology is convenient. Yes, it makes life easier. But give it another decade, and we’ll all be sitting in our auto-piloted, hacker-controlled electric pods, eating whatever our smart fridges allow us to have, and having existential crises because our brain implants just got hit with a software update. And honestly, I miss the days when all I had to worry about was a bloody scraped knee.