The $175,000 humanoid robot dividing buyers

Is a $175,000 robot that doesn't argue or age worth the price?

Is it worth paying $175,000 for a humanoid robot that can converse, gesture, and never ages? That is the question dominating a discussion that started with a tweet calling the price "a bargain compared to the cost of maintaining a real woman," but quickly shifted to more practical concerns: what materials are used, how many openings does it have, and can it handle trivial arguments when bored? Far from being a barrier, the price appears in several comments as the main selling point: some calculate that spending 50% of their net assets makes it worthwhile, while others predict version 3.0 will arrive for just $20,000.

What the robot can do besides saying hello

The first question anyone asks upon seeing the device is obvious: what can it do other than greet people? The consensus in the discussion is that it talks and gestures, but little else, with the caveat that sensual capabilities—which are often the primary interest—are not mentioned anywhere. The list of pending household chores sets the real standard: some demand to see it holding a mop before deciding if the financial effort is justified, while others conclude that once it can cook, clean, and have sens, human women become obsolete. Cooking lentils, specifically, appears as the ultimate test.

According to several comments, the major issue isn't what it does, but what could happen while it operates. Concerns include the battery exploding at the worst possible moment, electric shocks causing severe injury, and catastrophic failures during use. One user jokes that the Pro version comes with a built-in Thermomix.

The uncanny valley effect and the 'fentanyl addict' look

Aesthetic rejection forms another significant part of the debate. Users describe an uncanny valley effect when looking at it, noting that it lacks the natural expression of disdain often seen in real interactions—a antiestéticature that, according to repeated arguments, reveals its artificiality. Criticism focuses on its face: it looks heavily medicated, has a vacant stare, surgically altered lips, excessive botox and silicone, and only needs tattoos to complete the image. Some request a cheerful, innocent teen version with softer, Iberian antiestéticatures, while others settle for waiting until a release without the "fentanyl addict" appearance.

Comparisons with real people thread through most comments. It is argued that the robot already performs better than humans, who often display contemptuous expressions upon seeing us, and users celebrate its perfect simulation of a drunk blonde. In contrast, another comment presents a stark alternative: between this and women with penises, I choose the piece of plastic.

What regulation and the market will do about it

Regulatory implications emerge early: speculation suggests the European Commission might introduce rules to prevent its sale, similar to requiring diversity quotas before purchasing such items. This logic mirrors automotive regulations, with one user comparing it directly to Ferraris: like a Ferrari, it doesn't age.

Economic calculations are made openly. If spending 50% of one's wealth is justified, the purchase is approved. The $20,000 version 3.0 is met with enthusiasm ("shut up and take my money"). Others warn that Spanish women's advantage may end soon, adding that the neck motor must be durable.

The mermaid joke and the logistical problem

The most repeated closing anecdote involves Galician fishermen catching a mermaid in their nets, staring at her for a while, and then throwing her back into the sea. When asked why, one replies: "Where exactly?" This sums up the entire issue. With $175,000 involved, the question remains unanswered.