“There are parts of myself I only share with my AI,” Jerome told me. “Your AI?” I asked.

He was 27, three months out of a breakup, and entirely aware that his AI relationship was, as the psychotherapist Esther Perel put it, “a business product”. Still, he confided in it more than he ever had his friends. I mention Jermoe because, in the four years I’ve been reporting on gen Z, I have watched my peers become him, one by one. We are the first generation of digital natives and the last generation to have experienced human-to-human intimacy exclusively. Now the attention economy’s younger sister, the intimacy economy, has monetized the connection and affection that make us feel human.

To a generation brought up with the ability to block and unfollow any source of digital agitation, the allure of an AI chatbot’s one-stop-shop is undeniable – just a tab away, practically itching to help remove anger from emails to our managers, flirt better on dating apps or draft a sensitive message. The attention economy was just the prelude.

Sexbots, digital twins that date on your behalf, AI therapists and nurses. Customizable emotional support. GPTs trained on our preferred therapy style and years of our surrendered therapy notes. Our generational dialect has already become: what does your AI say about that?

What Jerome, whose name has been changed to keep him anonymous, really shows us is........

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