There are five stages of grief, but only two stages of discovering the little Meta AI circle on your WhatsApp screen. Fear, then fury.

When I first saw the small blue-and-purple hoop last week, I was terrified that it meant I was now livestreaming my life to the entire metaverse, something I presumed I had agreed to when accepting but (of course) not reading the terms and conditions. As the saying goes, if you’re not paying for the product, you are the product.

The relief that I hadn’t broadcast my most horrified expression to the world was short-lived. At least it was possible to delete that free U2 album that Apple foisted on its customers in 2014; there is no way to remove Meta AI from WhatsApp. I didn’t – don’t – want Meta AI. If I liked it, I would have put the ring on it. But I don’t, so I didn’t. I have not given consent. How dare they?

It’s almost impressive that one small icon can be so infuriating. Also, this is how it ends, right? I wonder if Mark Zuckerberg can feel that little circle pulsing even when the app is closed, the smartphone equivalent of Edgar Allan Poe’s tell-tale heart beating away under the floorboards.

Instead of asking it how to get rid of itself – which is unnecessarily rude and amounts to immediately surrendering – I Googled instead. Because there are no issues there, obviously.

It transpires that I am far from alone in being frustrated by this uninvited arrival. Although the omnipotent shape hasn’t reached everyone’s phones yet, the internet is full of people ranting, mostly about their inability to deactivate it. Of course, there will be some who welcome the Meta AI button, who will use it constantly and eventually exist purely to serve it. The rest of us should be free to disable the feature, though, rather than forced to accept it – a menacing presence in the corner, always there, watching, waiting.

The idea is that it can answer questions mid-chat: tell you what time the film you’re discussing going to see that night is showing; check how long you will have to wait for the bus to get to the cinema. But, like ChatGPT, Meta AI can also suck out your brain and become you. It’s a slippery slope: one minute, you’re asking it what was Christmas No 1 in 2003 to settle a bet; the next, you’re tired after a long day, so you let it reply to a friend’s message on your behalf. Come on, they’ll never know. What harm can it do?

Unbeknown to you, your friend is simultaneously sliding down the same slope: their Meta AI is responding to your Meta AI’s reply. At first, you are just having a conversation that neither of you are really having, but how long before you’re having a friendship neither of you are really having?

The next logical step? Meta AI avatars of you and your friend meet up for a virtual night out, while the real versions of you lie in the foetal position with headsets on, expressionless, slowly wasting away.

I have no idea what Meta AI is capable of (apart from the annihilation of the human race), and I will never know, because I will not use it. I know I am probably making my life more difficult, but I don’t care. One woman’s luddism is another’s revolution. Apparently, we’re powerless to stop AI taking our jobs and our livelihoods. That is distressing enough, but now it’s after our relationships, too. This is the last straw. I am an extraordinarily dedicated grudge-holder and I will never break.

There is an extremely convenient shop near my home that I haven’t patronised for eight years due to Yoghurtgate (don’t ask). I walk miles out of my way and the owner doesn’t notice or care, but I won’t relent. The smug circle of Meta AI has now been added to my grudge list. I am at war with it, for ever. If I am choking and it’s the single source of information on how to Heimlich yourself, I am petty enough to die on this hill.