It didn't bark. It just whirred, a high-pitched hum that cut through the recycled air of the New Delhi convention center like a dental drill.

The Unitree Go2 trotted across the stage at India’s AI Impact Summit with the kind of eerie, simulated confidence that makes you wonder if we’ve finally given up on the idea of biological dignity. It sat. It rolled over. It tracked its "owner" with a wide-angle 4D LiDAR sensor that looked like a cyclopean eye. The crowd, a mix of government officials and startup founders smelling of overpriced espresso and desperation, leaned in. They loved it. They always love the shiny stuff, especially when it looks like it stepped out of a Black Mirror storyboard.

But let’s be real. We aren't looking at a companion. We’re looking at a $1,600 surveillance camera with joints.

Unitree, the Hangzhou-based robotics outfit, has been churning out these quadrupeds for a while now. The Go2 is their latest attempt to turn a niche industrial tool into something you’d keep in your living room—or use to patrol a border. In the context of a summit meant to discuss India's ascent as an AI superpower, the presence of a high-profile Chinese robot felt like a glitch in the geopolitical matrix. India and China aren't exactly trading friendship bracelets lately. Yet, here was the Go2, stealing the spotlight while New Delhi tries to figure out how to build its own silicon ecosystem.

The "Impact" in the summit's title usually refers to economic growth or social good. In the Go2’s case, the impact is mostly on your shins if you stand in its way. Unitree claims the bot is "AI-powered," which in 2024 is the marketing equivalent of saying a cereal is "part of a balanced breakfast." It means almost nothing. Yes, it has a "GPT-integrated" brain. It can supposedly understand your voice commands and generate responses. But watching a mechanical dog try to "chat" is like watching a toaster try to write poetry. It’s a party trick.

The hardware is impressive, though. I’ll give them that. It moves with a fluid, terrifying grace. It can hit speeds of five meters per second, which is faster than you can run when you realize it’s been programmed to follow you. The base model starts at $1,600, but don't get excited. That’s the "look at me" price. By the time you add the "Pro" features—the ones that actually allow for meaningful autonomy and the processing power required to not walk into a wall—you’re looking at double that. Plus shipping. Plus the creeping realization that you’ve bought a very expensive paperweight that needs to be recharged every 90 minutes.

There’s a specific friction here that nobody at the summit wanted to talk about. India is currently obsessed with "Atmanirbhar Bharat"—self-reliance. There are strict rules about Chinese apps. There’s intense scrutiny on Chinese hardware. But when a robot dog starts doing backflips, the policy wonks lose their minds. They see a tool for search and rescue. I see a device that can be equipped with a submachine gun, a configuration we’ve already seen being tested in other parts of the world.

The Go2’s "Follow Me" mode is the real hook. It uses that LiDAR system to map the room in real-time, sticking to your hip like a needy toddler. It’s impressive tech packaged as a toy. But the trade-off is the data. Where does that 4D map go? Who owns the "spatial intelligence" gathered by a fleet of these things roaming around a sensitive government summit? The Go2 doesn't just see the world; it ingests it.

The summit was supposed to be about how India would lead the "AI revolution." Instead, the most photographed thing in the room was a product of Chinese engineering that highlights exactly how far the rest of the world has to go in the hardware game. Software is easy to export. Legs are harder.

As the Go2 performed its final bow for a room full of clapping dignitaries, I couldn't help but notice the battery indicator on the demo unit flashing a frantic red. It was a perfect metaphor for the current state of consumer robotics: high-concept, vaguely threatening, and always five minutes away from a total shutdown.

If this is the future of "impactful" AI, we might want to invest in some sturdier boots. Or perhaps just a very large magnet.

Does a robot dog dream of electric sheep, or does it just wait for its next firmware update while silently mapping the exits?