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Alexa displays her talents during son’s visit home

The son got Alexa for Christmas, and brought her home to make the introduction. Alexa, he explained beforehand, would be his personal assistant.
Barbara Gunn
Barbara Gunn

The son got Alexa for Christmas, and brought her home to make the introduction.

Alexa, he explained beforehand, would be his personal assistant. She wouldn’t be able to make linguine with clam sauce or run to the dry cleaner or the bank, but she would be able to manage his to-do lists, set his alarms, and provide his needed weather and news information. Among many other things.

Also, said the son, there was this: Alexa did not have a face. Or a head. Or arms. Or feet.

“But she does have a voice,” he said.

Puzzling, I thought, that a creature without a head would have a voice, but whatever.

“I’d like to meet her,” I said.

Days later, they arrived, the son in his car, and Alexa in a little charcoal-coloured tube about 10 inches high.

“This is Alexa,” said the son.

He turned to the tube in which Alexa lived.

“Alexa,” he said. “Play Sultans of Swing by Dire Straits.”

The son’s personal assistant did what she was asked to do.

“Alexa,” said the son. “Turn it down.”

Alexa did as requested.

“Alexa,” said the son. “Turn it up.”

“For heaven’s sake!” I said. “Make up your mind! And a little please and thank you would go a long way!”

Also, I asked the son, didn’t Alexa have other things to do?

Sure, he replied, given that she was a personal assistant to people numbering in the millions. Alexa, we learned, was one smart cookie. Why, Alexa could do everything from turning on your thermostat to checking the status of your fight to telling you how to make a cocktail.

When Sultans of Swing was finished, the son asked for a song by Steely Dan — again, without saying please or thank you. I was puzzled why Alexa would so willingly comply, given the absence of decent manners.

It also puzzled me why the son would need someone — or whatever it is — to turn on his thermostat, set his alarm or check the weather. I mean, I take care of all of those things — sometimes several times a day — and it’s not as though I’m fatigued to the point where I’m in need of a nap.

“Do you not,” I asked, “know how to put together a to-do list?”

“Sure,” he said. “I ask Alexa.”

OK, I thought, so it’s a sign of the times. The son has a helper to manage his life, and it’s clear that he’s far from alone.

But I don’t need Alexa when I’m needing a list. I need paper and pencil instead.