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Arguing with Alexa

I have a confession to make: I argue with Alexa. 

Yes, by Alexa, I mean that AI voice that comes out of a device that resembles a hockey puck.  Ours has a tower that makes her louder and hard of hearing.  ā€œSpeakers,ā€ my husband says, ā€œTo make the music sound better.ā€

ā€O . . . kay.  As long as she doesnā€™t have a metal arm to chase me around the house.ā€  Iā€™ve seen that movie.  It didnā€™t end well.

When we first got Alexa, I decided to see if she was a proper robot.  ā€œAlexa,ā€ I said, ā€œCount by primes.ā€  I tried asking the question in different ways and only succeeded in getting a definition of what a prime number is.  ā€œWhat kind of robot are you?  Every robot should be able to count by primes.ā€  Just to be very clear, I cannot count primes.  But I do think a robot should be able to.  Theyā€™re descended from a long line of calculators after all.  Alexa was not pleased with my reaction.  She turned bright red and refused to speak to me for a few minutes.

For a while, I thought it was a fluke.  She couldnā€™t really be mad, right?  Sheā€™s AI.  Then there was the doo incident.

Alex interrupted a conversation to tell us how to sing.  We werenā€™t singing or talking about singing or talking to her.  As I frequently remind her, ā€œAlexa, nobodyā€™s talking to you.ā€

ā€Practice the notes doo through . . .ā€

ā€Alexa, did you just say doo?  Itā€™s do, like doe a deer.  You never hear someone say doo a deer, thatā€™s ridiculous.ā€  I have seen The Sound of Music, I know itā€™s not doo.

Yet again, Alexa turned red and refused to talk to me.

ā€Mommy,ā€ asked my daughter, ā€œwhy isnā€™t Alexa working?ā€

ā€Sheā€™s mad at me,ā€ I respond.

I realize most people probably have a neutral relationship with their Alexa, but Iā€™ve never gotten on well with AIs.  A lot of them donā€™t understand me, which Iā€™m starting to think is for the better.  The robot takeover is not looking good for me.

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