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In Season One, Episode Three of Humans (2015), George Millican (William Hurt) covertly locks his government-appointed Synth Vera (Rebecca Front) in a room to take a drive with his former Synth Odi (Will Tudor), who gets behind the wheel. We are presented with a regular, human man, sitting in a completely mechanical automobile, being driven by some “thing” somewhere between man and machine. Despite being an artificially built humanoid, George harbors passionate paternal feelings for Odi, who is badly malfunctioning to the point where he wrecks the car and George tries to protect Odi by commanding him to hide in the bushes. The George-Odi story is anthropomorphizing (think: attributing human traits to a nonhuman) at its best in Humans, showing both the warm bond of love and trust humans can form with their Synths, but also the devastating reality of putting such stock in a machine.

It raises the hypothetical question: Is that really any different from bonding with, loving, or trusting another human? Aren’t we all at the whim of malfunction? Recent films like Spike Jonze’s Her (2013) thoughtfully examine this same question; however, an episodic show like Humans has the ability to delve into the nuances with measured study and careful plot development laid bare over the course of several hours of television programming.

Where Odi serves as the stability in George’s life, the show contrasts the situation with Laura (Katherine Parkinson) and her Synth Anita (Gemma Chan), who behaves beyond standard programming. Anita’s acute observations exhibit unusual perceptiveness. Her aptitude for interpreting human emotions is substantially more accurate than most Synths. And while George would relish these characteristics in Odi, Laura finds them disturbing and unsettling from Anita. Laura’s apprehension are not without merit - Anita offers a speech about how, in most ways, she’s a more fit mother than Laura because she’s not a selfish drunk, but she lacks the ability to love. Though she only speaks facts, there’s always a bit more to Anita than her programming; a reality beyond the comprehension of Laura’s husband Joe (Tom Goodman-Hill) and hornball son Toby (Theo Stevenson). Laura feels this domestic threat is making her crazy. The fact that her children, particularly Sophie (Pixie Davies), regularly prefer the company of Anita over Laura is unsettling. The interpersonal roles taken on by Anita render Laura feeling like less of a mother, made obsolete by a robot.

In a third, somewhat awkward interpretation of the question, the show depicts former Synth prostitute Niska (Emily Berrington) turned into a walking slasher murderer ready to kill people with little evidence of wrongdoing. Forced to endure some of humanity’s most abhorrent personal experiences, Niska has used her newfound freedom as an opportunity to go Jason Voorhees on London’s men. Though the direction of this subplot is a bit drastic for the series at this point, it raises questions about giving the responsibility of fulfilling seedy interpersonal roles to robots. What if they gain sentience like Niska? Would they retaliate?

Humans presents us with a world where there’s a thin line between machines and humans. While the machines are designed to be subservient to their owners, they absorb basic interpersonal functions that, quite clearly, impact the lives of those around them. When it’s no longer necessary for a human to perform the functions that define caring for one’s family, what does that person become? When a human forms a bond with a machine that reflects legitimate love, what happens when that machine breaks? And what becomes of machines that learn self awareness and live through abuse?

Humans wants us to know Synths are not Roombas. Presently, machines are only as useful as the people who operate them. Just ask Laura’s oven. However, when the machines become better than the average human and take over our most personal roles, the impact on human life is greater than merely having extra time to relax.