After a few weeks living with Casio's AI-powered pet, Moflin, I finally understand why my mother hated my Furby so much. The fuzzy, guinea-pig-adjacent puffball fits snugly in the palm of my hand. It's undeniably cute, in a weird kind of way, but the second it starts to squeak or twitch, I am hit with an overwhelming desire to hurl it as far as I can.
My antipathy surprises me. By any metric, I am the exact kind of person Moflin was made for: I long for the companionship of a pet, but can't own one thanks to a mixture of lifestyle, allergies, a small London flat, and a broadly irresponsible temperament that makes caring for another living …
